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chasingpj · 3 years

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤

pairing: percy jackson x child of aphrodite! gn reader

requested?: yup!

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, one curse word, and mentions of sexual tension

category: fluff, shy boy x obviously interested girl trope

a/n: don't mind me I'm just projecting and I got carried away

you’re not sure what gravitated you to percy more

the crystal green eyes, the freckles over his nose, the disheveled dark curls, or his clumsiness

the first time you laid eyes on him, he was walking back to his cabin after sword-fighting practice

his tan skin gleamed in the sunlight as a hand came up to swipe away the damp hair sticking on his forehead

for an action so mundane, it made your stomach flutter like crazy

and then the beauty of the moment was ruined right when he trips over the steps of his cabin

you heard stories of the kid killing the minotaur, blowing up a volcano, and rumors of being the suspected child of a huge prophecy

yet, he was not immune from tripping over his feet

and you’re sure the dorky charm of that moment made you think, he’s mine

for the next few days, you were determined to approach him

but you didn’t just want to come up to him and introduce yourself; that would be too plain and forgettable

you ended up finding your opportunity during a capture the flag game

silena gave you instructions to distract percy, and you headed over strong, ready to make your first impression while also taking him down for your team

sure, he had water powers and done a bunch of cool things, but your father made sure you were well trained in sword fighting and martial arts even before you knew about the camp

you planned to take him by surprise, and luckily it worked

with ruthless attacks, it didn’t take long for you to sweep him off his feet and knock his sword out of his hand

by pressing the flat of your sword under his chin, you forced him to look up at you, and you peered into those clear green eyes

gods, he’s cute, you thought

“hey,” you said

percy was stunned, not sure if it was because you effortlessly took him down or if it was because you were one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen

“... hi,” he sputtered, gawking for a moment as you offered your hand

you swore you felt sparks when his fingers brush across your palm... even though the contact was a little sweaty

in the distance, you heard the satyrs blow the horn and the roars of celebration from your team

“i should go back to the others. catch you later, ocean eyes,” you flirted

percy’s shoulders tensed up when you blew him a kiss; awkwardly frozen in his place as you waited

“well, are you going to catch it? you can’t just let my kiss fly away.”

percy shifted on his feet, not sure if you were serious or not, but when you held your ground with arms folded over your chest, it was clear that’s what you were waiting for

and so with a flushed face, percy awkwardly grabbed the air in the front of him, and you couldn’t help but giggle

“good, i wouldn’t want it flying to a stranger,” you commented playfully. “you know, i don’t really like this whole outdoor camp life thing, but seeing your pretty face around here makes it a lot better”

“uh… oh, thanks?” he stammered, not having the words to respond

you winked at him before walking off, more than satisfied with your first impression

after that, you were contemplating your next move

children of aphrodite can see all the possibilities in a potential relationship

you were able to see you and percy eating ice cream in central park, holding hands at camp, a shy kiss on your first date

you wanted all of it, and you going to make sure you get it

of course, silena and your siblings were your wing women

if percy was in the strawberry fields, you were picking strawberries beside him

in the fields, you got to know him and his sarcastic humor, which made your crush flourish

you even took sword fighting classes at the same time as him and made sure he was your partner most of the time

whenever you had a chance, you’d affectionately fix his hair or his armor just to hear his shy thank you’s

he’s never had a girl show this much interest in him, so you definitely made him a little nervous, but despite that, he opened up to you pretty quick

sometimes he’d help you out in the stables, and you noticed how he’d fumble with the harnesses or knock things over when you would flirt with him

you loved his reactions so much that you always took it up a notch just to see how he’d react

you suppose the pegasi didn’t make percy’s shyness any better

there were times where he’d shush them, or the tips of his ears would grow even more flushed at a neigh or huff from one of the pegasuses

as the summer came to an end, you gave percy your email and made sure you stayed in touch

you didn’t live very far from one another, but you didn’t dare ask to hangout

you wanted to be asked first!

and you were disappointed when the invitation never came despite the two of you being consistent with sending emails

the year flew by fast, though, and you were excited to return to camp for an array of reasons; percy being one of those reasons, of course

when you saw him for the first time that summer, you were in awe at how different he looked after a year

he was taller, broader, and just more handsome overall

your stomach went into a frenzy when he greeted you with a boyish smile while his hand rubbed the back of his neck nervously because he didn’t fail to notice how, somehow, you were even prettier than he remembered

unfortunately, having the prepare for the war meant you guys were too busy to hang out as often as you did the previous summer

but when you did have time to see each other, it was still fun

there was an unspoken rule between you and percy that any talk about the war wasn’t allowed

it allowed you guys to just bask in the nights where you would watch the sunset while joking around and sharing funny stories

those nights were calm and still; they brought a sense of normalcy amongst the chaos and growing tensions

because of this, percy had sought out your company whenever he could get it

being with you made him feel like time slowed down

inevitably, the battle of manhattan occurred and passed, causing the summer to end with the grief of losing your siblings

while campers arranged the ceremonies to honor their siblings, percy hopped around to help

losing silena as a counselor meant it was time to pick a new one, and to your surprise, your siblings nominated you

you were silena’s right-hand person, the oldest in the group after her, and the strongest fighter, so your siblings felt it was fair that you took the role

but it didn’t feel right to you; the pressure of being a newly elected councilor while still grieving silena weighed hard on your shoulders

after the nomination, you needed time to get away and sit with your thoughts, and you were only there for a moment alone until percy had found you

his eyes studied your somber expression, and he was quick to ask what was wrong

as you poured out all your worries, percy was quiet and attentive

you cuddled up to his side for comfort, and even in your sorrow, you didn’t fail to notice the way he tensed up

finally, when you let everything out, he chimed in to soothe your worries

your expression was a little lovestruck as he said everything you needed to hear, and well, his strong arm around your shoulders definitely helped too

you were so elated that you couldn't help but press a kiss on his cheek to thank him

his flushed face was enough to lift your spirits for good that day

by the time the summer officially came to an end, you could feel that percy’s feelings for you were becoming stronger

the romantic possibilities you envisioned became more apparent, but percy hadn’t asked you out yet

and like, you guessed you could have asked him out, but that wasn't fair in your book

you were already making the first moves; it was his turn to do something about it

then you were sure your mother pitied you because finally, after a few more months of emailing, percy asked if you to go ice skating with him, and of course, you agreed

but then, you concluded that it was more like a cruel joke from your mom because percy never showed up

you waited hours for him before you trudged home in defeat

heartbroken wasn’t even enough to describe how you were feeling

being stood up with no follow up from him made you conclude that he just wasn’t interested and you just needed to move on

it wasn’t until you went to CHB for christmas break did you find out percy was missing

you were crazy worried about him and helped as much as you could to try and find him

when it was confirmed that he was still alive, you were more than relieved

from that day on, you were itching to see him again, and finally, after the giant war, you were able to speak to him

you only said a hello before you got sucked into a game of truth or dare with your friends

the game was self-explanatory; spin the bottle and the person who’s chosen is submissive to the person who spun it

you made up some lousy dares for the first few people until you spun the bottle in percy’s direction

“truth or dare?” your voice was challenging, and a little flirty

percy shifts in his place, “truth.”

“do you want to kiss me?”

“dare.”

“kiss me.”

the instigating coos of your friends made you smile, which contrasted percy’s stunned expression

“never have i ever-”

“that’s not even the game, percy!”

your friends laughed at your interaction, but you were honestly a little annoyed

he liked you; you could feel it, so what was he even waiting for?

“it’s fine. you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to,” you say with a playful smile in an attempt to hide your disappointment

“shit, i’d kiss you,” leo joked, and you suddenly perked up at the request

a new idea came to your mind

“so kiss me,” you snapped your gaze to leo, a smirk on your face

leo gasped so hard; he choked on his own saliva

while he coughed erratically, showcasing all his shock on his face, you announced, “new rule! you can only give up a dare if someone else in the group offers to take it for you.”

your gaze fixed on leo, “so, are you going to kiss me or what?”

“uh, only if you want to,” he stammered, and you smiled, moving to lean over in his direction

suddenly, percy cut in, “i didn’t give up the dare.”

your attention shifted to him, and you didn’t fail to pick up the jealousy radiating off of him

your stomach flipped with anticipation at the success of your idea

if percy needed a push, you were going to push him

“you’ve given leo false hope then,” you joked, and playfully leo sighed.

“man, so close,” he mumbled.

you bit your lip as you leaned in percy’s direction

you felt his attraction to you; his eyes told you everything you needed to know and more

and before you knew it, your lips were against his

the kiss was short, but for a moment, the world around you was drowned out; you barely heard the coos and cheers of your friends around you

with a satisfied smirk, you pulled away, settling back in your spot as percy’s eyes averted elsewhere, too shy to look at you

you and your friends played the game until you grew bored and found something else to do

because the festivities kept pulling you in one direction to another, the only interaction you had with percy was the occasional longing glance and nothing else

as you escorted a few of your sisters who drank a little too much back to your cabin, you were sure you’d have to wait another day to talk to him

lost in your dismay, you automatically denied piper’s offer to finish the task

it wasn’t until she scoffed did you pull out of your thoughts

“are you kidding? go. i’ll get them back. you find percy.”

“oh yeah. you guys need to do something about that sexual tension. are you gonna date him or what?” another one of your sisters slurred

before you could even protest, you were shooed away by not only piper but by the rest of your siblings too

you stayed in your spot, making sure they had at least made it to the steps of the cabin before you pranced up to percy’s cabin

you figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if he wanted to go on a walk with you

your knock is followed by a few moments of shuffling before he opened the door

and, whew, you were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a shirtless percy

“hey." you leaned on the door frame, your eyes trailing down to admire his toned torso

“eyes up here," percy playfully demanded

you were almost hesitant to avert your eyes, but you obliged.

"i wanted to ask if you wanted to take a walk. you know, i just haven’t been sleeping well."

percy leaned against the door frame, amused at the dramatic pout on your face.

“sure, let me put on a shirt firs-”

“oh, you don’t have to. i don’t mind,” you cut him off, and his head tilts back just a little as he laughs

“i’m putting on a shirt,” he declares playfully, and you whine in fake disappointment

on your walk, he told you all the crazy things that happened while he was missing, and even though his stories were a lot more interesting than what you had to say, he was eager to hear about what you've been up to

your conversation persisted as you walked around the camp and as you arrived at the docks, another idea came to mind

suddenly, you cut yourself off mid-sentence, your gaze fixed on the water

“perce, you know, i can’t swim,” you mention, stepping on the wooden dock

“really?”

“really.”

it was quiet for a moment, and percy's expression was laced with confusion as you kicked off your shoes

you didn’t even care that you were wearing designer clothes, running straight off the dock and into the deep lake water

you heard percy yell your name right as your body completely submerges in the water

and it wasn't even more than 3 seconds before percy jumped in, one arm immediately wrapping around your waist to swim up to the surface with you

his baffled expression sent you into a fit of laughter

“what? why did you do that?!”

“cause i knew you’d come and get me.”

percy’s lips curved up into a smile, and you took the time to admire his features in the moonlight

you swore you saw his eyes flicker to your lips for a second, and the action made you hyper-aware of how close your noses were

"kiss me!" you thought in your head as you circled your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer

you could feel his admiration, the accelerated thump of his heart, the fluttering in his stomach that mimicked yours

the kiss you shared earlier was far too short for your liking, and you were already looking forward to the next opportunity to kiss him again

“i haven’t forgotten that i owe you a date.”

you smiled at his words, half-distracted at the proximity of his lips

“so it was a date all along?” you asked, and percy nods, amused

“you know, i was thinking now that there isn’t another big prophecy and the chances of me disappearing again aren’t likely, that, maybe, you and i could-”

“yes! gods, yes.” you cut him off, and percy laughs at your eagerness

you waited too long for the question that you couldn’t even let him finish asking

he isn’t able to say anything else as you pull him into a passionate kiss

it was as if the years of anticipation were being poured into the movement of your mouths

the kiss was long, growing in eagerness until the harpies had ruined your fun and the two of you had to run back to your cabins

a part of you had wished that all of this would have happened sooner

you had plenty of nights where you were stared at the ceiling with conflicted thoughts, wondering if you guys just weren't meant to be, if you somehow made up his attraction to you in your head, or if you should ask him out first and save yourself the potential regret

but when you returned to your cabin full of enthusiastic siblings asking why you were soaking wet and why your lipstick was smudged, you realized you wouldn’t have changed a single thing

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if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on !

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson headcanon #my writing

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wisteriashouse · 3 years

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I saw percy jackson au! one the troupe's list and i never tap the ask button this fast/no. Maybe a drabble where kyo and his team lost against gn reader on capture the flag because reader keeps distracting him when they're facing each other so reader's team can take the flag? (Let's say that kyo is the strongest opponent since he can wields sword better than anyone else 😂)

Also who do u think kyo's immortal parent is? I can picture him being an apollo's son since kyo always reminded me of the sun itself hshshs -✨

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x gn!reader

genre: fluff; pjo!au

word count: 1899

a/n: rip word count and the word drabble but here it is!! might do a pjo! au headcanon one day... this event really is no good for my soul... i hope you enjoy it!!

“Do you think we can win?”

It’s Tanjirou’s first Capture The Flag game, bless the sweet kid’s innocent soul, you think. Both of you are crouched behind a line of bushes near Zephyrus’ Creek together with the rest of your team - Blue, for this round - your weapons in hand as you wait for the scouts you’d sent out to return.

“Well, it’s hard to say.” You try to be positive, waving your hand vaguely. Tanjirou’s eyes are fixed on you, wide with curiosity. It’s only his first week here, so he hasn’t had a chance to meet most of the older campers that have been away on missions. Lucky for him that Sanemi is probably still somewhere out in the strait of Messina with Tomioka hunting Charybdis, you think. The poor kid would have been scared off in seconds. “There are some people who could probably change the tide, but most of those people are off doing solo missions away from Camp Half Blood, so our teams are pretty balanced at the moment-”

“He’s back!” You rise to your feet at the noise to see Zenitsu (a son of Zeus), one of the scouts your team had sent out earlier, splashing his way back across the river. “Rengoku is back in Camp Half Blood!”

All around you, a collective groan rises into the air, the Athena campers behind you grumbling about how their strategies are all messed up now and they need to regroup.

“Shot at me, the second I breathed in the flag’s direction. Missed me on purpose too, just to show off.” Grumbling when he finally reaches your team’s side of the river, Zenitsu gratefully accepts Tanjirou’s outstretched hand, the younger boy pulling him into the shelter of the bushes. “Guess we’ll be doing clean up duty for the whole of next week.”

“Now, now, Zenitsu, don’t give up so fast.” You nudge the younger boy in the side encouragingly. He’s sopping wet from his little swim in the river. “There’s still a chance! We still have Muichirou and Shinobu on our team, don’t we?”

Zenitsu lets out a whine. “But they’re not Rengoku.” He complains. The entire time, Tanjirou glances between the two of you, confused.

“Who’s Rengoku?”

“He’s head counselor for the Apollo cabin.” Zenitsu explains, wiping the river water off his lightning spear. “He’s one of the best fighters in the entire camp, on par with even the head counselor of the War God’s cabin, Shinazugawa Sanemi! Not to mention that he’s handsome and cool and half of the Aphrodite kids can’t help falling over themselves every time he walks by, asking him to teach them how to write love sonnets.” He gags at the words. "As if they aren't just waiting to take a piece out of him, the damn piranhas."

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh. “Well, he does write very good love poems,” you supply helpfully, and Zenitsu rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, of course you would know, since-”

“[last], we have a new plan!” Shinobu calls airily from behind you, interrupting Zenitsu. Turning around, you see the daughter of Hecate striding up to you with a smile on her face. It’s one that you’ve seen all too many times when she’s plotting something, and now that you’re on the receiving end of that smile, you’re not quite sure that you like it.

You squint at her suspiciously. “What is it?”

“You,” Shinobu answers with her usual smile, pausing for dramatic effect, “will be in charge of distracting Kyoujurou!”

You stare at her for a moment before you shake your head furiously. “No, no, no, there’s no way I’m doing that. I’d be shot full of arrows like a porcupine before I so much as touch the flag - I’d rather clean the Pegasus stalls for a week.”

“Oh, come on, have a little confidence in yourself!” Shinobu hums, the expression on her face practically radiating nefarious intent behind her sweet smile. “There’s no way he would hurt you, he’s your boyfriend, after all.”

To your side, you see Tanjirou’s mouth form a silent ‘o’ of realization, piecing together everything you and Zenitsu had been conversing about earlier. Flustered, you shake your head again.

“This isn’t going to work!” You insist, even as Shinobu tugs you to your feet and steers you in the direction of the river. “Shinobu, you know what Kyoujurou is like! He isn’t going to be distracted by me at all!”

“Oh, I know Rengoku very well,” Shinobu’s eyes curve into little crescents. “I think you’ll find yourself surprised, [last]. All you need to do is distract Rengoku, we’ll do the rest. Our entire team is counting on you!”

Helplessly, you turn to the two boys crouched behind the bushes. Zenitsu looks like he’s trying his best not to burst into laughter, and Tanjirou, the pure hearted boy, only gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

With a sigh, you turn around and march into the Red Team’s territory all alone.

It doesn’t take you long to reach the flag.

Although not quite as talented in direct combat as some of your fellow campers are, you’re skilled in your own ways as well, moving silently through the underbrush and disabling any traps that you’ve found - products of the Hephaestus cabin, no doubt. After narrowly avoiding springing a Greek fire trap, you manage to make your way to the location of the flag completely undetected.

Sidling up behind a tree, you glance around the trunk to observe the battle ground. And just as you do-

Thunk!

You barely dodge out of the way in time, a blur of gold embedding itself in the wood of the tree you’re taking cover behind. So Zenitsu was right - he really is back from his mission, and although the two of you are on opposing sides for this Capture The Flag match, you’re happy to know that he’s back safe and sound, uninjured enough to participate in this game.

“Is that you, darling?” He calls out, and you have to hold back your smile at the pet name. You haven’t seen him in a week, and hearing his voice after so long makes you want to just rush out to give him a hug. “I know it’s you, love.”

“It’s been a week since you’ve seen me last, and an arrow to the face is how you greet me?” You call out from behind the tree, slightly teasing. “I’m hurt, Kyo.”

“I knew you’d be able to dodge it.” Kyoujurou laughs. When you peer behind the tree again, you see your boyfriend standing there in his orange Camp Half Blood tee and jeans, leisurely nocking another arrow into his bow. “I won’t go easy on you if you attempt to steal the flag.”

“I’m not here for the flag,” you answer, and it’s only a half lie when you continue. “I’m here because I missed you.”

If you were even a little less observant, you would have missed the way Kyoujurou’s hands falter ever so slightly in the midst of nocking his arrow, before he covers it up with one of his usual booming laugh. “You’re not going to distract me like that!” He declares, and you stifle a quiet laugh of your own, your heart beating a little faster in your chest. “But,” his voice softens, “I missed you too, when I was away. One week felt like forever to me.”

Warmth touches your cheeks, but before you can smile too much, you smack your cheek lightly. Get it together, you scold yourself, you’re supposed to be distracting him, not the other way around!

With that, you take a deep breath and rise to your feet. You could never hope to beat Kyoujurou face on in combat, but you don’t have to - all you need to do is to distract him so that Shinobu can do... whatever she has planned.

You step out from behind the tree, and immediately Kyoujurou’s golden eyes lock onto you. You take the time to take in his handsome features, the warmth in his eyes, the fresh band-aid on his left cheek, did he get injured while on his mission?

“Changing strategy, love?” Kyoujurou calls out, looking amused. He tightens his grip on the bow when you take a single step forward. “Ah, ah, stay right there, or I’ll shoot.”

A frisson of excitement runs through you at the words, and you halt your steps, looking up at Kyoujurou with a smile. At this range, Kyoujurou has no chance of missing - you’ve seen him strike targets from yards away. “You won’t shoot me,” you hum, and with that, you take another step forward. True to Shinobu’s words, he lifts the bow, but makes no move to draw.

“I missed you very much, Kyoujurou. I did read all the poems you left for me, but it doesn’t feel as nice when it’s not your voice reading them to me.” You lower your voice to a soft, longing tone. It’s not hard, considering just how badly you’ve yearned to see him over the past week. “It just made me miss you even more.”

You see a tinge of pink touch Kyoujurou’s cheeks. “I’ll read them for you tonight, if you want.” Taking another step forward, you gesture at his cheek. “Did you get hurt on your mission?”

“No, I got it while shaving today morning. I was distracted because I was too excited about coming back.” Kyoujurou lets out a sheepish laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see some bushes rustle behind Kyoujurou.

“Well, you’re home now.” You’re almost within Kyoujurou’s reach now. If he decides to tackle you to the ground, you’d be out of the game even before you can so much as say ‘Zeus’. “With me.”

“Now!”

All of a sudden, a weighted net falls out of nowhere onto the both of you, and you’re sent falling by its weight. Before you can hit the ground, however, Kyoujurou wraps you securely in his arms, taking the brunt of the impact as you end up on his chest.

“Kyo!”

“Very well done, [last]!” Shinobu’s voice chirps from behind you, and you turn around to see Shinobu striding up to the both of you, the Mist melting off her. From beneath you, Kyoujurou laughs loudly, his chest shaking from amusement.

“This was your doing, wasn’t it, Kochou?” Kyoujurou shakes his head, a smile still on his lips. To the side, another figure slips out of the darkness, fingers wrapping around the flag Kyoujurou had been guarding before his entire body leaves the shadows.

“You just had to use [last] as a part of your plan.” Obanai says accusingly, jabbing his finger at Shinobu. The daughter of Hecate only shrugs innocently. “I had to watch all of that flirting, I don't think my eyes will ever recover. I'll need to wash them out with bleach,” he shudders in disgust. “I’m never going along with your plan again.”

“Now, now, there's no need to be such a drama queen." Shinobu tilts her head to the side, her smile still perfectly in place. "We won, so there’s no harm, is there? I’ll be sure to do the same for you when Kanroji returns from her exchange with Camp Jupiter.”

“You’ll do no such thing, you-”

With a shake of the head, you turn back to Kyoujurou, who’s still fighting to keep down his laughter. Gently, you let the pads of your fingers trace his face, his cheekbones, his defined jawline, before you tap at his lips, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile as he looks up at you.

“Welcome back, Kyo.” You whisper, and lean down to kiss him.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #demon slayer kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny kyojuro #kny

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cupofteaguk · 4 years

Text

i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice

FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION

[pairing] :: jungkook x fem!reader

[genre] :: percy jackson au + angst

[word count] :: 7.3k

[note] :: attempted a son of hades!jungkook storyline. vaguely inspired by nico di angelo’s character arc if you’ve read the books (because coughs well this use to be an unpublished nico di angelo fanfic don’t at me LMAO), but you don’t need to remember the character slash be an expert in the story to read this fic! Also this is a friends to lovers fic hidden behind my attempt to write a story of grief. pls enjoy!

When Jungkook is fifteen years old, he arrives at Camp Half Blood with pennies in his pockets, one Kim Taehyung on his back, and monsters on his tail. There are all kinds of creatures that have been following him for weeks—some with wings, some with clubs, but all with the intent of murder in their eyes as they chase Jungkook up the hill. Taehyung had warned him about this happening, that starting this journey would attract lots of unwanted attention from lots of dangerous half-breed monsters. Something to do with Jungkook’s scent, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

In the beginning, Jungkook hadn’t known what to expect, hadn’t known what Taehyung meant by strange creatures and a camp just for him. Even right now, as he is running as quickly as his legs can take him with his lungs feeling like it’s about to burst—he doesn’t really understand.

What he does understand is that he has been alone his entire life. With a childhood filled with no father and a frightful mother, Jungkook has grown up spending time by himself in the company of his own thoughts and emotions. With such a strange (and lacking) family dynamic, it exposed him to lots of bullying and snide comments from peers, most commonly seen during school or walks home. The first half of Jungkook’s childhood is defined by this—by the teasing for being different, for failing classes, for being awkward and shy, for never knowing his place. The second half of Jungkook’s childhood is filled with sleeping on the streets, with stealing food at convenience stores, on how he’s been truly alone since he was thirteen.

That is, until Kim Taehyung corners him at the midnight strike of his fifteenth birthday—which leads the two of them to this current moment.

Jungkook doesn’t understand much right now. All he knows is that he needs to run.

As Jungkook approaches the top of the hill, he sees a group of people surrounding an archway. They’re all bundled up in gears of shields and swords, and each of them turn towards the boys as the monster thudding grows louder and Jungkook’s calls become more clear.

Half of the group near the archway break off, immediately making their way towards Jungkook and Taehyung. There are a few questions thrown here and there, before the main objective is just to make sure the boys get to safety. Taehyung’s weight gets distributed between Jungkook and another person, and together the bigger group makes their way across the hill. They cross a tall pine tree that Jungkook hardly notices, because he’s completely out of breath, wounded across his entire body, with legs that feel like jello.

Taehyung’s weight shifts entirely to the other person as Jungkook trips and falls to his knees. Quickly, Jungkook whirls around so his butt and his arms are on the ground. With his eyes directed towards the hill, his heart crawls up his throat as he sees the monsters making their way up towards him. His body moves before his mind does, his arms moving him closer towards the archway.

Someone settles themselves right behind him. “Woah, hey.” Your voice is soft, your hand between his shoulders is comforting. “You’re okay, you’re safe now.”

“B-But!” Jungkook stammers, pointing shakily towards the creatures now growing closer and closer to everyone. “Those monsters! They’re coming!”

As soon as he says that, the monsters stop in their path, right next to the pine tree from earlier. Their collection of beady eyes glare angrily down at Jungkook, their screams are hollow cries that press painfully against his ears. This conveyance of frustration continues on for a few seconds, before one by one the monsters turn around and make their way back down the mountain.

Jungkook’s breathing is frantic, along with his heart rate, as he watches the creatures disappear below the dip. “W-What the hell…?”

You angle your head toward in order for Jungkook to look at you—you wear an expression of softness, of understanding, and Jungkook momentarily sees stars.

That, however, could have also been from the excess oxygen in him, and the fact that one of those creatures had landed a swipe to his head.

You gesture to the pine tree. “You see that tree? That’s Thalia Grace’s tree—a long time ago, she and some of her friends were trying to get here, and Thalia sacrificed herself to ensure her friends could be safe. She was a daughter of Zeus, so he turned her into a tree that would protect the camp. Monsters just like those can’t get in anymore.”

Jungkook feels the adrenaline fading, along with his ability to follow conversations. Daughter of Zeus? Like, Zeus from those Greek mythologies? The camp? Had this been the place Taehyung told him about?

It’s all too much to keep up with. Jungkook faints before he can ask his question, in which the last thing he sees is your eyes, concerned and twinkling. He passes the thudding in his heart off as pure and utter exhaustion.

Jungkook wakes up on top of a white hospital bed a few hours later, head swimming and Taehyung situated at the foot. He offers a cup of something called ambrosia that immediately clears the headache. “Woah, what the fuck?” He asks, holding the cup away from him and staring at it with wide eyes. He looks over at Taehyung. “What is this? My headache went away as soon as I drank this. Also, it tastes like banana milk. Is this a dream?” Without waiting for an answer, Jungkook leans back and takes in his surroundings. He looks to be an infirmary, beds with white sheets along the walls and light shining in through the windows. There’s a few other people lingering about, hovering over occupied beds.

“Jungkook.” Taehyung’s soft voice pulls his attention back. “We’re in Camp Half Blood. You brought us here.” Taehyung’s smile is sad, but confident. “You brought me back, even though it was my mission to bring you here. Thanks.”

Jungkook stares. “So… you weren’t lying about the camp. T-This is all real?”

It is then that Taehyung explains everything to Jungkook. Explains that the Greek gods Jungkook learned about in class are real, and that sometimes they come down from Mount Olympus to mingle with mortals—which is where their demigod children come from. Demigods are part god, and therefore have enhanced physical ability as well as some level of control or skill over the realm of their godly parent. Taehyung goes over this information as slowly and as calmly as possible, but Jungkook still has trouble processing the information. In a way, it makes sense that Jungkook would be in this position. He’s always known he was different, always felt like he could never fully belong in the mortal world he spent so long occupying. He just could never label his feelings with a concrete answer.

Until now, that is.

Jungkook decides to ask Taehyung one more question. “Why couldn’t you explain any of this to me on the way over?”

Taehyung seems to be choosing his next words carefully. “As we kept going, you were attracting more monsters. That’s something that normally doesn’t happen, unless the demigod the creatures are tracking is one that’s insanely powerful. Like, a demigod that’s born from the Big Three—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades. I read accounts of what happened to us happening to other kids that were born from any one of those three gods. I figured that the less you knew, the better. A demigod who doesn’t know they’re a demigod is a much less serious threat—your scent isn’t as strong as it could be if you know about who you are.”

Jungkook ponders this. “So my dad could be Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades?” He’s definitely heard of those gods. The ruler of all gods, and his two brothers.

Taehyung presses his lips together, leaning forward in his seat so his forearms rest on his knees. “Maybe,” He says. “It’s pretty rare, though, so I don’t want to give you an answer only for it to not be true. Only time will tell.” He must see the lost, the confused, the anxious look on Jungkook’s face, because Taehyung takes a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Hey, JK, cheer up.” The usage of his nickname makes the corner of Jungkook’s lips turn up. “While we wait for your dad to claim you, you can stay with me in my father’s cabin. My dad is Hermes. He’s a patron to travelers, so all campers who come here are welcomed until they’re claimed by their godly parents.”

Jungkook can only manage a nod at this. He still has many questions, still does not fully understand. With what Taehyung is telling him, Jungkook is not even sure he will belong here, or if he will be ostracized once again for being different amongst the different.

But he trusts Taehyung—so he’ll follow Taehyung.

Jungkook is at Camp Half Blood for a week before Taehyung is called for another assignment. It’s due to a prophecy given by the Oracle who lives on the campgrounds—the figure grants quests to campers to undergo a series of dangerous adventures in order to accomplish something for the long term benefit of demigods, the human race, the Greek gods themselves, anything of the sort.

In the case of Taehyung, he is chosen by fellow camper Kim Namjoon to join him in and travel west and retrieve stolen items from a museum collection. It seems like an easy quest. At least, that’s what Jungkook is told.

Kim Namjoon is a son of Athena, someone whom Jungkook met a day into his arrival at Camp Half Blood—friendly and smart and answers Jungkook’s questions about mythology with ease. It had been good when Jungkook first met the former, because he had many questions, some of which couldn’t be answered by Taehyung. Namjoon is someone that Jungkook immediately grows a fondness and admiration for—only leaving him that much more confident that the quest will go smoothly.

“You guys will be okay… right?” Jungkook asks Namjoon, as the latter is shouldering his backpack. He’s not the only person seeing Namjoon and Taehyung off on their quest, but Jungkook had been one of the first people to show up. After all, when your only friend is leaving on an adventure, it tends to bring in the worry and the anxiety. “And you’ll watch Taehyung, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Namjoon reassures, tight smile across his lips but he distracts Jungkook with a hand on his shoulder. “Taehyung and I have been doing quests together for a few years. We got each other’s back.”

Taehyung slides in next to Namjoon, glancing over at Jungkook with all the care in the world in his eyes. “Hey JK, just promise me you’ll do your best to be comfortable here, okay? Keep trying out those different skills we were working on, okay? Your dad will claim you, I’m sure of it.”

Jungkook looks down at his fingers, wringing the hands together. “I-I’ll try my best.”

Namjoon and Taehyung exchange glances, partaking in a silent language exchange, before Taehyung looks back at Jungkook. “I know someone who can help.”

Taehyung leaves Namjoon with his backpack before stepping away from the group, making his way down the hill back towards the camp grounds. Jungkook follows shortly behind. It’s still early in the morning, most campers are inside their cabins sleeping away the mist, but there’s a small group of campers near the archery grounds. There’s some laughter as a new person steps in to ready the bow and arrow. Jungkook watches as this new archer aims as the target, pulls back the bow, and—!

“Y/N!” Taehyung calls.

The person at the archery station flinches, sending the arrow a few centimeters away from the center of the target. You whirl around, and Jungkook’s stomach drops because it’s you—the person who helped him when he more or less crashed into Camp Half Blood.

You gape, still holding the bow in your arms as your eyes narrow into a glare as you continue to stare straight at Taehyung. “Kim Taehyung! Where are your manners!” You call out. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a quest now?”

Taehyung slings an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “I need to borrow you for a second, it’s important.”

You seem to be saying something to one of your friends, because you hand the bow to a friend before walking over to the two boys.

As soon as you reach your destination, you look at Jungkook and give him a bright-eyed smile of recognition—one that brings him back to the first time he met you, when he saw stars. “Hey!” You exclaim. “I remember you, you came in with Taehyung last week. You looked like you had been through a lot—are you feeling better now?”

“I-uh…” Jungkook tries to form words.

“He had some ambrosia, he’s fine,” Taehyung cuts in kindly, sending Jungkook a look he can’t decipher. Taehyung goes on a momentarily rant, explaining that Jungkook would just need someone to help him further adjust to life at camp, as well as help him figure out who his godly parent was.

Taehyung says a lot of words, but Jungkook isn’t entirely paying attention. His gaze is fixed on you, taking in your easy smile and bright eyes. He can feel his eyes widen and the flush crawl up his cheeks the longer he lets himself look at you—yet, he doesn’t understand what it means. He’s never seen someone like you before, in his years of school and in his years living on the streets.

“So, I just need you to help him out. Hopefully his dad will claim him before we get back.”

“That’s something to look forward to,” You reply, sounding genuinely excited for that. You turn your full attention to Jungkook this time and smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to finally meet you!”

He takes your hand. Fifteen-years-old, and he wears his emotions in his eyes. “I’m Jungkook.”

Jungkook is at Camp Half Blood for three weeks when he starts getting nightmares.

Not only that, but it’s the same kind of nightmare—something horribly realistic and chaotic and messy but so painful that Jungkook finds himself waking up with tears dusting itself in his eyes.

It always starts off the same: Namjoon and Taehyung on their quest. They appear to be in a room of antiques, each boy looking cautiously at the collection around them, with their backs pressed against each other. There is a low hum in his dream, where the voices emit a low frequency and sound like static—like he’s hearing the conversations underwater. Suddenly, a burst comes from above, a shatter of something in the room, a clatter of hollow bangs and clashes, and a yell. His dream always turns blurry after the fight starts, but it always ends the same—Namjoon pulling Taehyung away from a fight. And the latter is badly wounded.

And Jungkook always wakes up at the sight of Taehyung. And it’s the same question that swirls around in his mind, over and over again. Did Taehyung die on the quest?

At first, it’s easy for Jungkook to write off the dream as a dream—nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps his subconscious playing tricks on him, playing around with his fears and turning it into videos to play in his brain. But with each passing night, a voice starts to ring in his mind.

My dear boy. It’s a deep voice, husky and low and full of pitiful sadness, like it can sense the pain that Jungkook is trying to internalize. Don’t you understand? Kim Namjoon let your best friend die.

There’s something about the voice that is familiar, like he’s heard it before.

The voice plays in Jungkook’s mind over and over again, like a record, and it shakes him to the core. The potential of what the voice is and what the voice could mean frightens him, and it shows.

It shows in when Jungkook just outright misses the target with his bow and arrow in the present day. The pair of you are out on the field today, and you’re furrowing your eyebrows together.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook stares at his arrow, somewhere flung off to the side, before his gaze shifts to you. You’re always so sturdy, so concerned, so worried for him. Besides Taehyung, who else cares so much for his safety and wellbeing—?

He stops, lowering the bow. He wears a serious expression. “Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers.

You furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Of course. Is something bothering you? I know your father hasn’t claimed you yet, but the gods can be really busy around this time…”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not that.” He steals himself for speaking the words into reality. “I had a dream that Taehyung died, even though Namjoon promised me nothing would happen to him.” He doesn’t miss the way you flinch at his accusation.

You don’t reply to him at first. You stare at him, eyes conflicted. Jungkook stares back, briefly wondering whether you’ve had the experience of knowing death. He doesn’t voice the question, choosing instead to maintain steady eye contact with your nervous expression.

“Perhaps it was just a dream, Jungkook,” You say carefully. “Namjoon always keeps his promises. He and Taehyung have been working together on quests for years. And Namjoon is the smartest person I’ve ever met. If they ran into a situation Namjoon thought they wouldn’t be able to handle, he wouldn’t even think to risk the lives of the people he’s with. He won’t let you down.” You’re smiling tightly, clearly trying to keep the tension light but Jungkook suddenly finds that his heart is not in the mood.

He wants to believe you. He wants to believe in Namjoon. But he knows what his dreams are. And that voice. These are things he cannot ignore no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, his dreams are real—Kim Namjoon does not keep his promise. Jungkook can see this across his face the moment Namjoon returns to camp, alone.

“Not only did they know we were coming,” Namjoon explains quietly to the camp counselors, late in the night, at a meeting spot reserved for higher ups. “They had taken over the museum a few weeks before we showed up. It was an ambush. I… I couldn’t save Taehyung.”

No.

“No!” Jungkook cries out, standing up and making his position known—loitering in the background of the meeting.

Namjoon meets his gaze from across the gap that separates them. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s head is spinning, his breath coming out in gasps, as he backs up slowly away from the growing crowd of camp counselors. “Y-You promised me!” He accuses loudly, pointing at Namjoon. “You promised nothing would happen to Taehyung! You lied to me!”

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.” Namjoon steps out from amongst the group of counselors, a hand out in front of him as if approaching a frightened animal. “We were overwhelmed. If I could take it back and save him, I would—!”

“Shut up!” Jungkook cries louder, running his hands through his hair. He should have known, should have known that weight in his gut was a warning and not a feeling. The tears in his eyes make it blurry to see anything to understand anything—because Taehyung is dead, along with his kindness and compassion and the safety he brought. “I hate you, I hate all of you!”

Suddenly, there’s a rumble in the ground, a shake in the Earth so intense that a hushed silence falls over the crowd. At once, the ground splits open and a roar of fire explodes up from the pit, threatening to drag in anyone who gets closer. There are screams from the campers, from the counselors, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s so angry, so hurt, so lost. He doesn’t hear any of it.

Until he hears your voice. “Jungkook!” You scream across the gap.

Jungkook stills upon hearing you, lowering his arms and opening his eyes. Blinking away tears, he feels his heart rate slow back down to a manageable pace. The split in the ground closes before he looks up. He sees the camp counselors up ahead, equal looks of fear and horror across their eyes.

He turns just enough to see you. You, with your wide eyes, looking confused and upset by what he has just done. And Jungkook feels nothing but disappointment. He has never done anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what it means.

So he runs away. He runs away from Namjoon and this god forsaken camp that he knows will remind him of Taehyung.

He runs away from the whispers from campers, a representation to serve that Jungkook will never truly belong here.

He runs away from you, the only other person he would think to trust from now on. He can’t handle any of this anymore.

Two weeks after Jungkook runs away from Camp Half Blood, and a shadow of a figure appears to him in the midst of the evening air. It’s a ghost with a dark twisted smile, who calls himself Min Yoongi—a king in a past life, who now resides in the Underworld as a judge for all souls.

He tells Jungkook that Jungkook is a son of Hades—which explains why he knew about Taehyung’s death, why he split the ground open all those weeks ago. There’s something borderline dangerous about Yoongi’s smile.

Every fiber and nerve in Jungkook’s body is begging him not to trust this ghost. But, of course, Jungkook doesn’t listen. He stopped listening to things a long time ago.

Besides, Yoongi soon makes offers that Jungkook cannot escape from. A way to bring Taehyung back, a way to strike revenge upon Kim Namjoon, a way—!

Jungkook blinks the thoughts away. He had dozed off again, something he’s been doing a lot lately.

“You should sleep,” Yoongi advises, his voice more of a whisper than anything else. There’s a touch of eerie to him, in his paper white skin and gray eyes.

Even though Jungkook doesn’t desire sleep, far from it, he settles with listening to the ghost anyways. So he curls up on a makeshift pillow crafted from his beaten down (stolen) leather jacket, and closes his eyes.

But instead of the previous nights, where he dreams about death and destruction, dreams up different ways Taehyung could have survived, dreams up Namjoon not caring about Taehyung’s death—he dreams of you.

Dreams about you are such a rarity now, but they always make him feel warm. Content. Almost satisfied.

In the dream, the pair of you are situated underneath a big tree at the edge of the forest. You’re in the middle of teaching him about Mythomagic—a card game he had immediately developed an interest for—and he realizes he’s dreaming about a memory this time. When he steals a look at you, he sees sunlight curling around your form, lighting up your hair and your eyes. He hears your laughter and sees the crinkle in your eyes. He can feel your happiness and the innocence in the air around you. He remembers the peacefulness, the calming nature of you.

He misses it—he misses you.

A cold chill running down his spine startles Jungkook awake as he springs into a sitting position. The fire before him has long since been put out, and Min Yoongi is floating in front of him. The latter wears a sharp look. “You’re dreaming about her again, aren’t you?”

Jungkook sighs. Good things in his life could only last for so long. He runs a hand through his hair and turns to gather his jacket into his arms. “I thought I asked you to stop peeking into my mind.”

“You were smiling,” Yoongi observes quietly.

“That’s none of your business,” Jungkook snaps.

“It must have been a good dream. I couldn’t see the contents of the dream, just the subject.”

“Stay out of my head!” Jungkook hisses, standing up and sliding his arms into the jacket.

“You care deeply about her.”

“What do I have to say to get you to stop talking about her?” Jungkook retorts hotly, feeling his temper rise. It had been a good dream. The best one he’s had all week.

Yoongi looks at him passively. “Just answer one of my questions,” He settles calmly.

Jungkook grunts. “Fine. What is it?”

“Why exactly do you care so much about her? You hardly know her.”

Jungkook slides his backpack over his shoulder. He ignores the touch of passive aggressiveness in Yoongi’s tone. “She was the only one at camp who went out of their way to make me feel like they actually gave a shit.”

“She cares more about Namjoon than you,” Yoongi interjects bluntly. “She and Namjoon have been friends for longer. She only talked to you because of Namjoon, after all. And don’t you hate him?”

“Shut up.”

“You worry she doesn’t care for you the way you do. Haven’t you wondered why she hasn’t tried looking for you?”

“Shut up.”

“She was only nice to you because Namjoon asked her to be nice to you.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook explodes, turning towards Yoongi with his arm out in a striking motion. His arm cuts clean through the ghost, and he watches as the pieces wisp away into the air. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Yoongi will be back soon, probably to reprimand him, but mostly to carry on as if this hadn’t happened—to continue asking questions and continue trying to piss Jungkook off. It doesn’t matter. Jungkook could never bring Yoongi any harm. The latter is a ghost, after all.

There’s still a lot he doesn’t understand.

Jungkook calls off his deal with Yoongi shortly after the You Incident—in which a series of dreams about you sent Yoongi on an accusatory streak that sent him back to the Underworld where he rightfully belongs. It’s good because he doesn’t want a ghost meddling in his personal business, and his personal feelings.

It’s bad, however, because Jungkook no longer has an evil ghost by his side that offers up revenge.

This leaves him to do the next best thing—try and summon Taehyung.

As a son of Hades, his powers do include communicating with ghosts like Yoongi and cracking holes into the ground, but it also involves the ability to summon deceased souls. All that is required is a pit, some food, and a cantation in Ancient Greek. It’s supposed to be simple, and in a way it is.

Except when the soul he’s trying to summon doesn’t want to be found, which is exactly how it has gone with Taehyung. He’s tried to get Taehyung’s attention for weeks now, to no luck. And he’s tried everything.

Jungkook scowls to himself as he takes in the local convenience store to buy the various items he’ll need to attempt another summoning. Animal blood is one of the best tools for this type of power, but animal blood doesn’t exactly like up on shelves in aisles of grocery stores—so Jungkook has settled with fast food meals, chips, or anything cheap he can get his hands on.

He glares at the lineup of sodas in front of his gaze, trying to focus but he finds his mind wandering against through his memories, picking the ones that are most guaranteed to make him feel like shit.

His mind settles on a line Yoongi said to him countless times regarding you: She was only nice to you because Namjoon asked her to be nice to you.

His hands shake in his pockets, determined not to believe it, but finding himself pool with doubt nonetheless.

“Jungkook.”

He jumps out of his skin at the familiar voice he’s spent the past many months thinking about, as the sensation rings through his body. He experiences brief flashes of emotions he hasn’t undergone in awhile: peace, warmth, hope. He turns on his heel and can’t help the way his eyes widen at the sight of you.

The months that have passed since his disappearance really does wonders to your face. You look older. You look wary, but well prepared. Most of all, your eyes are still that bright light he remembers more often than he cares to admit. But you also look sad, like the sight of Jungkook is worse than you expected.

“Jungkook…” You say again, quieter this time.

You saying his name again brings him back to reality, brings him back to where he is and why he’s here. He doesn’t need you. Like Yoongi said, you’re friends with Namjoon—and Namjoon is the reason why Taehyung is dead. His voice sounds hollow. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same question.”

His scowl deepens as he settles for a Mountain Dew on the rack. “That’s none of your business.” He catches the hurt that flickers in your eyes, but he turns towards the cashier before he can feel sorry for you.

You trail after him. “Please don’t shut me out,” You plead gently. You stay behind Jungkook as he pays for his food. “I came here looking for you.”

“Awfully convenient—but I don’t think you should be wasting your time,” Jungkook grumbles, bounding out of the shop and stopping along the sidewalk. “Why don’t you go back to Namjoon and keep being his best friend and just leave me alone?”

A sort of realization seems to settle in your eyes, as if you’ve just confirmed something. “I’m not leaving,” You say firmly after a moment. “I’m here by myself, Jungkook. No campers, no Namjoon, it’s just me. I know you’re mad at Namjoon, and you have every right to be upset. I know why you cracked a hole in the ground. I understand all that now. But I really think you should stop blaming Namjoon and hurting yourself. Namjoon didn’t mean to let Taehyung die—!”

Jungkook whirls around, his eyes a twin set of fire. “Don’t say his name,” He snaps roughly, but falls silent when you don’t even flinch.

How could he raise his voice at the only person who has gone out of their way to ensure his safety?

He turns away. He doesn’t apologize, and you don’t ask him to.

The pair of you don’t say anything for a long moment—Jungkook just makes his way down the sidewalk and you follow along.

He stops after a moment. He turns himself just enough so you can see his profile. “Fine,” He says, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest when you flash him an appreciative smile. “I’ll let you tag along. But only because I feel bad for snapping at you. I’ve just…” He sighs. “Been going through a lot.”

You step forward to stand by his side. “We can talk about anything you want to, Jungkook. I’m still your friend.”

He swallows thickly at your offer, hoping that you don’t notice. If you do, you remain silent. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

Two days after you join Jungkook’s travels, you seem to decide he is calm enough for a sensitive question. But you’re sneaky about it. You wait until the night, when both of you are curling around a fire—you in your sleeping bag, and Jungkook with his signature leather jacket makeshift pillow underneath his head. “Why are you so afraid to talk about Taehyung’s death?”

He flinches at the mention of Taehyung’s name, knowing that snapping and causing a scene would do nothing to stop you from asking the question over and over again. You had given him a few days, but something about your tone tonight tells him that you won’t take no for an answer.

Jungkook turns his head to look at you. Your eyes are flickering against the fire. “I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”

You shrug a shoulder. “Sure.”

He sighs, momentarily stumped. “I’m afraid that if I admit it, or let other people admit it in front of me, it’s true and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back.”

“I don’t think Taehyung would want you to bring him back, Jungkook. He saved Namjoon that day; he sacrificed himself for a reason—!”

“Okay, my turn,” Jungkook interrupts, refusing to hear any of it. “Why are you here? Really?”

You are quiet for a second. “I was sent on a quest to come find you,” You reply after a moment. “The oracle told me about a prophecy where you were in danger. It said you had made a deal with Min Yoongi, said you were considering a soul for a soul trade to get Taehyung back. I was scared for you, Jungkook.” You sit up in your sleeping bag, leaning across the space between the two of you. “My turn. Why don’t you want to believe that Taehyung sacrificed himself to save Namjoon?”

“Because why would he do that?” Jungkook retorts back. “Why would he leave behind everything he cared about? Why would he leave me—?” The words choke in the back of his throat as his heart rams painfully against his chest, the underlying reason for his bitterness surfacing up again. He thought he had smashed his grief down far enough where it would never have to see sunlight again. “It’s nothing. I’m not playing this game anymore.”

You are quiet, watching as Jungkook curls into himself and turns his back to you. “When are you going to start letting me in?” You whisper. “I didn’t accept that quest for no reason, Jungkook, I came because I care about you. I want to help you.”

I’ve already let you in, far more than I wanted to, Jungkook thinks to himself instead, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

“I know that Taehyung would have never wanted to leave you. He cared about you a lot, and saw you as the little brother he never had. You guys deserved more time. You deserved more time to have the family you never got to have. You wanna know the last thing Taehyung said to me, after introducing us to each other all that time ago? He said that you guys only knew each other for a short time, but you were the strongest person Taehyung had known. I know how much Taehyung wanted to be there for you. But he also had other responsibilities.” Your fingers twitch as if you want to reach over and grab onto Jungkook. “Namjoon had been the leader of the quest, he was the main priority. Taehyung had to make the call. He would never have wanted you to take the guilt for a decision he made on his own.”

Jungkook hesitates, before rolling onto his back. “Why does Namjoon deserve my forgiveness?”

Finally, he spares a glance at you. You’re still looking at him, gaze sharp over the fire. It distracts Jungkook momentarily, as his mind thinks about how different you are from fire. Fire can be harsh, blunt, unforgiving, and relentless. Like him.

But you are like the sun—bright, warm, longing. You refuse to give up on him.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” You whisper. “Because everyone deserves a second chance.”

He stares at you. He doesn’t know what longing dances behind his eyes, but you seem to know, because you avert your gaze and grumble something about going to sleep.

He watches you turn to your side, and he wonders.

Jungkook has tried to summon Taehyung a grand total of ten times in the weeks prior to his run in with you. Each time is met with failure, because it seems like Taehyung does not want to be summoned which is disappointing and disheartening. To be honest, it makes Jungkook less and less enthusiastic to keep attempting something he cannot guarantee.

But as you stand next to him over an empty pit the pair of you have spent the last thirty minutes digging up, you take your hand in his. You smile at him, nodding. “It’ll work this time.”

So Jungkook pours in the Mountain Dew and dumps out the bag of chips he’s acquired into the hole. As he repeats the same cantation he’s said for the past ten times, the food starts bubbling as spirits from the Underworld fight to get a taste of the offering.

“Show me Taehyung!” Jungkook calls out, although he sounds worried and unsure.

At once, a spirit with a bright light, brighter than the others around it, shines through. It slides to the front to drink from the food at the bottom of the pit. The figure morphs and forms into Kim Taehyung.

Despite everything, despite the long hours that Jungkook has committed to summoning Taehyung, the sight of his friend does not fill him with joy. It fills his eyes with tears.

You notice, you always do. You squeeze his hand, but you also let go of him. “I’ll leave you two.”

So Taehyung talks. He talks and talks, about his quest, about his sacrifice, about Namjoon, about forgiveness.

This is something Jungkook has wanted for weeks. Yet, the longer Taehyung talks, the deeper he can feel the rifts of frustration.

Frustration at Namjoon, for whom everyone is telling Jungkook to forgive.

Frustration at Taehyung, for leaving him drowning in the sorrows of his own nightmares. For leaving him, even when he wasn’t ready to be left.

Frustration at you, for always caring about him, even when he’s sure he doesn’t even care about himself anymore.

When Jungkook releases Taehyung back to the Underworld, he feels like a hollow shell. He simply stands there, in front of the pit that brought forth his best friend. His mind is whirling with questions, with a curiosity.

You approach him slowly. “Jungkook…”

“You should go back,” He mutters.

You actually look shocked at this now. “What?”

He turns on his heel to address you properly. “Go back to camp.” He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the words come out like a snap. He tries to reprimand the situation when your face falls just a fraction. “Go back to camp,” He tries again, a little softer this time. He keeps his gaze on you, even when you look up to stare at him. “It’ll be okay. I just need a little bit of time.”

At this, you nod slowly. You try for a smile. “Come back home, okay?”

He thinks he knows what you mean, but you disappear before he can ask you.

He returns to Camp Half Blood after a few days, with his leather jacket and black iron sword. The campers that guard the border part for him like the Red Sea—with the exception of one camper. He’s an older camper, who even in the dark shines brighter than the moon overhead. It’s a son of Apollo quality. It belongs to Jung Hoseok, a camper Jungkook met when he first arrived at camp. Hoseok is like sunshine—he’s always bright and cheerful with a positive disposition.

Today, despite still having that glint in his eyes, the boy wears a much more solemn expression. Almost as if he’s seen everything that Jungkook has gone through. Or, at the very least, has heard about it. “Hey Jungkook…” Hoseok greets. He doesn’t leave much room for conversation, because he gestures past the archway entrance, down the hill, towards the Big House—the main meeting place for campers, the central point of Camp Half Blood. “She’s waiting for you.”

He doesn’t need a list of camp names to know who Hoseok is talking about. Jungkook just mumbles his thanks, trying not to draw too much attention to the flush against his cheeks as he follows the pathway down into camp. It’s late, so the grounds are devoid of people, making it easier for Jungkook to step onto the porch of the Big House.

You’re on the porch, pacing back and forth with your thumb in between your teeth and you look nervous. You’re mumbling something underneath your breath.

But your ears are just as good as your eyes, because as soon as Jungkook steps on the wood, you’re whirling around to face him. “Jungkook!” You exclaim, approaching him with tentative steps. “Y-You came back.”

He levels you with a look, feeling a bashfulness overcome him. “You asked me to,” He says. There’s a slight pause. “I told you I needed time to think, and I have. You were right. Everyone deserves a second chance. It wasn’t fair of me to go after Namjoon the way I did.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Jungkook continues to stare at you, feeling a fondness overcoming him. “Thanks,” He finally settles with. “For, you know, finding me. For not giving up on me.” He looks down, scratching the back of his neck. “I should probably go find Namjoon and apologize.”

You wave away his concern. “Namjoon is asleep.” You angle your head towards the oceanside that surrounds the camp. “Want to take a walk with me?”

So you lead him through the camp, past the cabins of campers, past the archery set, past all that, to finally the beach located along the outskirts of the camp. It’s home to many boat races, surfing adventures, and firework displays. Currently, it’s devoid of activity. Right now there is merely a wooden pier that stretches out into the ocean, one that you and Jungkook walk down before you settle down at the edge.

You pat the spot next to you, and Jungkook sits down. Since you don’t say anything, he allows himself to stare out at the horizon, and the movement of the ocean. When you still don’t say anything, Jungkook dares himself to look at you. The moonlight is cascading across your features. You look like home. You feel like home.

You look at him suddenly, and knit your eyebrows. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Oh, uh, no…” He trails off, forcing himself to look away from you. Should he tell you? Not tell you, but… “Hey Y/N,” Jungkook speaks before he can think otherwise.

You look at him. “Yes?”

Jungkook straightens his back a little. “I-I think I should tell you… I didn’t come back just for Namjoon. Actually, I came back to tell you that I, uh, well, I missed you—I mean, hanging out with you—I wanted to be a better person because of you—I mean, not just because of you, but—!”

You start to smile at that, before you do something unexpected. You lean over and kiss his cheek.

He feels like his body has just been shocked, the sensation dancing up and down his spine. “W-What was that for?” He’s trying to sound confused, but his nerves immediately start getting the best of him.

Your smile is still present, but it’s a kind smile that touches your eyes and assures him of his choice to return. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. You still wear your emotions in your eyes. That’s one that hasn’t changed over the past year.”

He scoffs, but his face feels hot and he’s sure the effect he’s trying to go for is lost anyways.

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts angst #traci writes #collection:petals

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arse-crack-thistle · 3 years

Text

a firstprince meet-cute

the heroes of olympus au

in which the roman son of apollo meets the greek son of themis

Henry—the quiet son of Apollo and Centurion of the 3rd cohort—leads a team of five demigods through the Long Island woods. Their task: spy on the Greeks and bring information back to Octavian. The golden-haired boy wishes he could’ve refused, but anyone who goes against the Pontifex Maximus gets severely punished and he will not let any harm come to his legionaries. Not again.

The group weaves through the trees, dodging the sight of any patrols. Henry has no idea how he’ll get close enough to hear anything, but he might be able to interpret some battle strategy from the Greek’s night preparations. As his fellow soldiers fan out beside him, Henry inches up the hill. He’d say a prayer to his father if he thought it would help, but he doesn’t. After many unanswered prayers about his sexuality, about his rather fucked up influential family, he doesn’t bother with Apollo anymore.

Henry gestures for his right-hand man—Pez, son of Mercury and the only one who actually knows he’s gay—to peer over the hill with him; the others stay back, keeping watch. The Centurion readies an arrow just in case, while Pez has his hand on the hilt of his blade, and they watch Greek demigods reinforce their buildings, sharpen their weapons, and prepare medical tents. None of them are practicing formations, which doesn’t help Henry or Octavian at all. He has to come back with something, so he puts the arrow away and crawls forward.

This could be really stupid, but he has to try—not for Octavian but for New Rome. It’s the only place that’s felt like home to him. Back in England, there’s his grandmother, the CEO of an underwhelming home goods empire. The stuff is cheap, but they’re still the number one seller back home. His mother and brother have a part in it. His sister ran off a few years back, and he has no idea where she is or if she’s even alive. His father—or rather ex-step-father—hasn’t wanted much to do with him since about three years ago when he found out Henry’s mother had an affair at a music festival fourteen years before.

They had a scandalous divorce, covered by every major news outlet, and Henry found out his true identity when a handsome demigod knocked on his door and told him he was in danger and had to be take to California. Several monsters, a few thousand miles, and a few months with a wolf goddess later, he found himself at Camp Jupiter. Everything that happened to him up until then—the blurry images of creatures at the corner of his eyes every time he turned a corner, the dyslexia that made his passion for writing frustrating, the way he never really fit in with his family—finally made sense. He was a demigod! And when the sign of Apollo appeared over his head after he made his first bullseye at the archery range, he truly felt like he found where he belonged.

Pez whispers for him to come back, but Henry lifts a hand in warning. Just then, someone—a dryad probably—screams an alert to his enemy, and all Underworld breaks loose. His legionaries get in formation behind him, readying themselves for the Greeks. They were taught never to run from a fight, but Henry can’t allow this to happen. He’s been in enough battles to know when he can win and when he can’t. Eventually, they’ll be outnumbered because Octavian won’t send him reinforcements if he can help it. He doesn’t know how violent the Greeks will be, but if they willingly fired on New Rome when their defenses were down, then he can’t take the risk. And he won’t repeat what happened in the Titan war.

Henry orders his soldiers back, telling Pez to take temporary control of the cohort and share the minimal information they gathered with the Pontifex. If they’re to be any casualties tonight, it will only be Henry and the Greeks he can take down with him.

•••

The last thing Alex—the wise-ass son of Themis—wants to do in the middle of the night is go to a counsel meeting at the Big House. He wipes the sleep from his eyes as he walks up the creaky steps. Inside, Chiron and the other counsellors gather around a table. It’s times like this he wishes it was a year ago when the children of minor gods were left out of meetings and decision-making. But as soon as he slaps himself awake, he regains his undying need to get involved and raise hell—fair and just hell, of course.

He sits down next to Nora, the temporary head counsellor of the Athena cabin. She’s bouncing in her seat—no doubt high on caffeine and nectar and ready to get back to developing war strategy. She gives him a wink and taps her fingers like she’s back home typing on a computer. Chiron clears his throat and tells the demigods of a Roman scout team that was spotted an hour ago. Unfortunately, most of the soldiers got away, but they did manage to capture one. He’s being held in one of the Big House’s guest rooms.

Now it’s Alex’s turn to bounce. He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this. A prisoner of war means they’ll need to get information. There will need to be a lawyer present—or a lawyer in training that is. He can preside over the questioning, be the voice of justice, and maybe even get the Roman to see the right side is his. He can picture it now: Camp Half-Blood safe from the Romans and that dude reformed in his ways, joining them to stop Gaia. Yes, this is his chance to step out of his sister’s shadow.

He volunteers to mediate for whoever is charged with the interview. Alex ignores Chiron’s obvious hesitation; just because he can get a little heated—thank gods Leo isn’t here cracking a dumb pun joke at that, which would inevitably leave them both laughing on the floor—doesn’t mean he can’t be objective. So he hates the Romans’ guts and thinks they should go back to their stuck-up little camp, so what? Once he’s in the real world, going to college, running for congress like his father, he’ll have to deal with a shit-ton of people he doesn’t like. Looking at you, Bitch McConnell.

Just as Chiron decides he, Nora, Will Solace, and reluctantly Alex will talk to the Roman boy, a camper from the Aphrodite cabin bursts through the door and tells him one of the Hephaestus girls accidentally blew up a boy from the Ares cabin. Apparently, armor strapped with projectile explosives wasn’t the best idea. So Chiron declares they will talk to their guest in the morning, and in the meantime, they’ll take shifts in pairs guarding him. Alex raises his hand to get the first watch, but Chiron appoints Drew Tanaka and Connor Stoll. They both roll their eyes at the idea of being stuck together for the next few hours. Alex’s chest deflates.

Ever since his sister left—he and June are some of the rare demigods that have the same mortal and immortal parentage without being twins—the responsibility of the Themis cabin has fallen on his shoulders. He wanted it, of course, but his siblings also elected him to the head counsellor position, thinking he’d follow in June’s footsteps: ruling with truth, justice, and wisdom. Just like their mother.

Back in his cabin, Alex stares at the marble statue of her that presides over her children. Her iconic image—blindfolded, holding a sword in one hand and balancing a scale in the other—reminds him he’s definitely no June.

She was a leader of quests; Alex has never been on one. June was the voice of reason at counsel meetings; he struggles just to sit still, let alone calm a room with one enlightening sentence. When the children of minor gods were finally given their own cabins, there was no question who should run theirs. Now, he hears his siblings whisper whether they should hold another election. Gods, you call out your conservative brothers one time—it was way more than once—and suddenly, you’re imposing your opinion on everyone.

That’s not it though. Alex has never been given a chance to step up. No matter how many times he tries to convince the counsel they should establish a court system at camp—nothing settles an argument like a nice, fair trial—he always gets shot down.

Not anymore. He’s not going to sit back this time. Not when the threat to camp is this great. He’ll get what he needs from that Roman. If June were here, she would’ve been trusted to go ahead without Chiron, so Alex will do the same.

•••

Henry wakes up to angry whispers outside of his door. The twelve Greeks overtook him easily, but he did put up a good fight. At least, he did until he was knocked unconscious. On the table beside his bed, a note sits atop a plate of food.

Eat well. Hydrate. Rest. We’ll speak with you soon. -Chiron

A glass of juice spiked with nectar sits next to the plate. Why would those imbecilic Greeks give him what’s essentially strengthening serum? He intakes his surroundings: a bed, a table, a dresser, and a chair. Window to the left. Only door out to the right. There’s a clean set of clothes at the end of the bed, but Henry would rather go to Tartarus and back than put on another camp’s shirt.

He jimmies the window, but it’s locked and to hard to break. He lightly tries the doorknob, but it’s locked as well. By the sounds of it, three maybe four people argue outside his door. Romans never had this much trouble changing guard shifts. Henry fiddles about the room, looking for anything to 1. unlock the door and 2. use as a weapon. He can handle four Greeks, and he’ll do everything in his power to get back to his cohort.

Henry hears the click of the door unlocking. Gods, they’re thick, aren’t they? He grabs the wooden chair, and as the door swings open, he thwacks the person walking in with it. Just as he suspected, the chair breaks, and he uses one piece to press against the throat of the careless demigod he’s pinned to the floor.

The boy beneath him groans. He’s got light brown skin and dark curly hair, and if Henry weren’t about to kill him, he’d think he was quite cute.

“Gods, can you Greeks do anything with finesse? Even your hero, Percy Jackson, as talented as he may be, flies by the seed of his trousers.” Henry grits his teeth.

“Ha!” the boy coughs out. “Jumping to conclusions, are we? I thought you guys were supposed to be strictly trained soldiers. You miscalculated.”

He points behind him, and when Henry looks up, a girl stands battle-ready with a sword in her hand. The distraction is enough for the boy below to wrap his legs around Henry and flip them. The Greek holds a dagger to his neck.

“Listen here, pretty boy, are we going to talk or am I going to go all American Revolution on your British-ass?” He presses the dagger, and Henry yelps.

The boy’s brown eyes peer into Henry’s, and some strange part of him likes it. The Greek looks about his age and, while clearly not as capable as he, definitely has some fight in him.

“I’d like to see you try, graecus. But be forewarned, if you send me to the Underworld, I’ll drag you and your camp down with me.” He keeps his face plain and uncaring, though he can feel the heat in his cheeks. Apollo help him.

The girl interrupts them to remind her partner what they’re here to do. She sheaths her sword and closes the door.

He’s called Alex. Henry swallows. And they need information.

Alex releases him. The two get up off the ground. No one moves to sit or get more comfortable. The boys just stare at each other, long and cold.

Henry can tell this guy is a complete and total arse, and yet he can’t shake the swirling feeling in his stomach. A memory from a quest eighteen months ago flashes in his mind. In Vegas, a priest of Venus dressed like Elvis told him great tragedy would befall his love life, but with the goddess’s blessing, he’d find happiness again.

He already lost someone. The demigod who found him, Daniel, son of Ceres, his sponsor when he joined the camp, his Centurion. Everything was quiet between them—few words needed for mutual understanding. Daniel brought him fresh lavender; Henry played him a tune on the lute. But then the Titan war came. And Daniel disobeyed the Praetors’ orders to save the boy he loved. Henry barely had time to grieve before he took control of the 3rd cohort and lost four other demigods in the process. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of the five who died because of him. Because of love.

No. This feeling he has is the desire to beat the Greeks, nothing more. He doesn’t give a damn about happiness in love or this obnoxiously hot demigod before him. Like even as Alex breaks eye contact first, puts his sheathed dagger in his boot, ruffles his hair, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs, Henry feels nothing. Elvis can go fuck himself.

“So,” Alex says, “what do you have planned, and how can we convince you to stop? We’d really like to prevent another demigod civil war.”

Henry laughs, and even though nothing would make him happier than to stop fighting, to rest as Chiron suggested, he tells Alex, “You’re really a dickhead if you think I’m giving you anything.”

•••

“It was an accident!”

“You expect me to believe with our two camps in a centuries-long feud that the one time we let down our defenses, your lot just attacked us on accident? Right, and I suppose Pluto is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him, too?”

“My buddy Leo was being controlled by Gaia!”

“Your mate Leo should come up with a better lie.”

“You’re impossible!” Gods, Alex really hates this guy. “Nora, can’t we just—”

She shakes her head before he can finish. He’s not really sure what he was going to say. Have Drew come back and charmspeak him? Feed him to the harpies? Pin him down again? Wait—what?

“Listen, dude. We’re really on the same side here. Right now, both Greeks and Romans demigods—our friends—are fighting against a greater threat than the world has seen since the beginning of time. That’s got to count for something,” he says.

The Roman is quiet. Alex hates how he looks like a goddamn prince even after a fight. But maybe he got through to him. After all, it is true. For all the shit he talks about Romans, he knows they’re not bad, just different. They actually have more in common than they’d like to acknowledge. Jason Grace taught him that. If there was ever a Roman WASP he could get behind, it’s Jason.

So Alex tries a different approach. He gestures to the bed. “You want to?” The blond boy stiffens, and Alex clarifies, “Sit?”

“How about we start over?” He sits. Nora takes the opportunity to march to the other side and bellyflops onto the bed. “I’m Alex, son of Themis, the goddess of justice. And you are?”

He watches the Roman look from the undefended door to Alex and back again.

“You could run,” Alex says. “But then we’d have no chance to broker peace. Hera thought she could do it by trading heroes, but I think you and I both know it takes more than one person to heal two armies.”

Power swells in his chest. Alex can’t know for sure, but maybe his mother is looking out for him. This is how he can bring the demigods justice for Gaia’s destruction. June would be the better choice, but Alex is here and he has to try.

“Let’s work together. Or at least, get along long enough for the prophesized seven to come back home,” he says.

The Roman hesitates. Alex can see in his light blue eyes the number of strategies racing through his mind. But ultimately, he decides to sit. Nora snores next to them. Five a.m. and a caffeine/nectar crash will do that to you.

“So your name?” Alex asks. “It’s only fair.” Dumb pun but he winks.

The boy coughs, but then he looks into Alex’s eyes. “I’m—er—Henry, son of Apollo, Centurion of the 3rd cohort.”

so this is a little late but we’re just going to ignore that...

i just finished reading toa a couple of weeks ago, and i can’t stop thinking about it!! so when i saw the meet-cute prompt, i couldn’t resist a percy jackson-ish fic! i hope you enjoyed this little short piece. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

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tracle0 · 4 years

Note

hello hey hi and a splendid saturday to you, I come bearing a question for the wip4 gang and that question is: what is each of their most significant memories? additionally, are there any memories they would jump at the chance to get rid of? ok bye please have an excellent day \o/ (and before you yell at me I'm going to sleep now I swear)

I’m glad that when you even LOOK at me you think ‘oh sleep time’ I am Pavlov and you are my dog and this metaphor is stupid I will answer your question now

I’m gonna... assume this is uhh pre-story question because I know for a fact that at least three characters would change their answer to at least one question if it was post-story. My house, my rules.

Keaton’s most significant memory is p r o b a b l y the time when he was in year 12 (17), and he was called to the head of sixth form office. He’d been at this school since year 7 (11), and had realised he was trans in year 8 (12/13), and had then been fighting for the right to use his bathroom ever since. This had previously resulted in punishment. In year 10 (15), he made progress, being allowed to use the disabled bathroom, but he wanted the men's bathroom dammit.

Anyway, called to head of sixth form, assumed it was related to that issue. Pessimistic about the whole ordeal.

Turned out there was another student in like year 9 who had come out as trans as well, and the school had gone ‘UHHHHHHHHH LET’S DO BETTER THIS TIME’ so Keaton, being the only other trans student in this rural Norfolk school, was assigned as her... mentor??? I guess?

He was half like ‘fuck y’all’ and half like ‘I will not let this young woman go through the same shit you all put me through, I will guard her like a HAWK’. He was still not allowed to use his bathroom, but he makes her fight a little easier; she’s allowed to use her bathroom in year 10, after he left. They still meet up every now and then for coffee.

Memory to be rid of: First day on a Professional Set, he walked backwards whilst taking a tea order and fell into a bin. Terrible first impression. He still got jobs afterwards, but sometimes people will be like ‘oh yeah I’ve heard of you you’re the bin guy’ and he wants to punch them.

This is getting long already I’m gonna put the rest under a cut

I know you’re here for Mika so I’ll go to them, most significant memory: probably his first pride? He didn’t intend to go to pride, but he was in the city on the day of pride and just walked past all these rainbows and flags and people being so open and proud and themselves. He was maybe fifteen, and had been having those fun Gender Feels that you try and hide at age fifteen, because you’re only fifteen and most people tell you you’re not old enough to know anything about yourself, yknow?

Someone gave him a flyer at one point, and when he got back to his Ultra Christian Household, he hid it and would read through it some nights. When he had it memorised, he started to explore more about queerness online. He’s the guy who can tell you all about LGBT history due to this research. This was only done in the city on the library computers, where his trail couldn’t be tracked. It gave him some sort of start for labels, some sort of safe space, some sort of New Approach to everything he’d been feeling.

Memory to be rid of: last day in Ultra Christian School. He was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school and it wasn’t awful until he was about fourteen, at which point he started to grow his hair. They told him to cut it constantly. He was punished for it. He kept the hair.

It got bad but it wasn’t until he was about seventeen that it really buckled; first real notable psychotic episode. He told people, they were convinced it was some sort of possession, convinced he’d sinned, convinced of all these horrible things about him and drove him out until he could ‘act normally’ again. He did not go back.

In all honesty, the second he turned 18, he took his savings from various dead grandparents and a part-time job, bought a second-hand (maybe third-hand) camper-van and left home.

He goes back for Christmas only.

Mooooving on, Lynne! Who I do not talk about enough; she’s also part of the documentary squad, and actually the reason the whole squad exists. Producer and director, she’s very cool okcoolthanks

Most significant memory: That one time she was thirteen and her parents had officially declared their divorce. She was living with her dad and it was really, really weird and she was not enjoying it. Divorce is a big deal to some families, and this family was one of them, and she was really unsure about her entire future.

Cue Mika, young and mostly obedient, kicking down the door (not literally) and kidnapping her (again, not literally) to come pick blackberries with him (very literally). They stayed out until the sun went down in early Autumn. She forgot about the divorce for a small amount of time. They ended the day eating fish and chips straight from the paper whilst sitting in a tree and talking about nothing important at all.

They made jam out of the blackberries the next day. It was gross. Both of them refused to admit it was gross.

Memory to be rid of: She went camping one time with friends from school. Lynne is Muslim and so did not go to Catholic school with Mika, they just lived near each other, and so school friends went ‘hey we’re going camping you should come’ she did come.

It was a mess. They were fifteen and determined to drink, and English peer pressure to drink is weird, so she did take some drink but didn’t drink it. Someone threw up on her tent and blamed it on her. No-one bought any food or water, the only thing she was able to drink was lemonade bought for mixing and that had ants in it within two hours.

She woke up first and left them all there, then walked home because she was meant to be lift-sharing. It took an hour and a half. She preferred that to being in the car.

That group wasn’t her only group of friends, but it was her main group, so things were awkward for a while.

Moving on from Documentary Squad, Percival! Percy Percival who I wish I could call Percy because it’s so much easier to write.

Significant memory: winning an art contest when he was like. Eleven. Really living the high-life, ol’ Percival. It was a city-wide contest, with various age categories. He was part of the 11-18 clump, which put him at a disadvantage, but he still won. As a reward, his art was replicated on a mural in one of the shopping malls in town, and he got some fancy vouchers for a fancy art shop in the city.

Winning the art contest made him go ‘oh wait I’m actually good at this thing I really like doing I should learn how to do that more’ and you could barely pry him away from his sketchbook from that point on.

Those vouchers were stored away until he was 14 and doing art GCSE, at which point he bought a nice sketchbook and oil paints. He’s now very good at oil painting. I hate him for being good at oil painting. Oil painting SUCKS.

Memory to be rid of: I’m torn between three and they’re all similar so I’ll go for all of them.

#1 - losing an eye to Abby’s experiments. You read the lil short story I think (I know I checked just now) - she’s a very kind and loving sister who sometimes moves his body parts around. One time, he lost an eye and went blind for a few weeks. He had nightmares about it for months. It was very painful.

#2 - losing a finger. To Abby’s experiments. It was the middle finger on his left hand and it didn’t go back into place quickly enough - now it’s always numb and discoloured. Good news is he’s right-handed and not a musician so no worries about losing dexterity on that hand.

#3 - losing two ribs. To Abby’s experiments. There’s a very clear trend here. She wanted to try moving things she couldn’t see around. She moved two ribs away. She decided it was more dangerous to put them back. Now they just have two of Percival’s ribs lying around.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

On that note, final person, this is very long. Abby! She’s fun. Most significant memory;

okay the word ‘significant’ has caught me off-guard several times cause like wow how do you figure out significant memories for people. I don’t have just one, yknow? But I think I know one for her.

She’s the eldest out of her and Percival and, for a while, people wanted her to set an example for him, which she tried to do, but she wasn’t good at what people wanted her to be good at. She’s good with people. She’s good at very specific parts of biology. She’s good at psychology. She’s not good at school and tests.

So, when Percival started to beat the standards she set for him, her parents almost... egged competition on. Played favourites, compared the two siblings. Nobody really noticed what she could do, they only cared about what she struggled with. And the parents were rarely around to help out with what she was struggled with. So she struggled on and tried to keep her head high.

Cue a family wedding, she was snooping around the snack table at the reception and overheard her parents talking about her. And how they were almost disappointed in her. How they were annoyed that she couldn’t be more like Percival, honestly, what did they do wrong?

She got bitter. She pretends she doesn’t care but she’s bitter, and with no parents around to lash out at, she lashes out at Percival, who isn’t even aware. Good times. Not good times. Significant times.

Memory to be rid of: Honestly? Probably hearing her parents talking about her at the family wedding. It stings.

A n y w a y this was extremely long I like going into detail with short stories, if you read this far then thank you I appreciate it I will give you a feather from my feather collection. Probably a swan feather. I have a lot of swan feathers.

#wip4 #keaton #mika #lynne #percival #abby #all five of them wowza #'hey trade are you doing sts should you answer the other questions in your inbox'#I should but I won't I'm going to sleep soon but thank you for asking #this was fun! thank you logan this was helpful and fun and now I know more stuff about the characters

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Text

[Carewyn had actually intended to see Torvus before hearing Trelawney’s prophecy -- she hadn’t gotten around to visiting him at the end of the school year, so it’d be polite to give him an update. Plus the centaur had been a good enough of a friend to her over the last two years that she'd looked forward to them meeting again under less dire circumstances. Just because these circumstances weren’t less dire didn’t mean she had to change those plans.

Carewyn found Torvus in a glen of the forest they’d met in before, which likely wasn’t far away from the centaurs’ camp, although Carewyn had personally never seen it. The Slytherin Prefect had two glass jars tucked under her right arm.]

Torvus: “(with a smile) Of course, Carewyn.”

[The centaur’s face then grew more grim.]

Torvus: “Were you able to defeat the dragon in the Cursed Vault and break the curse trapping those students in portraits?”

[Carewyn gave him her best smile.]

“Yes. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

[She adjusted the glass jars under her arm.]

“That’s actually why I’m here -- I brought you these.”

[She handed Torvus the two jars. The centaur peered at them curiously, rotating one in his hand and looking through the glass at its contents.

Carewyn’s gaze drifted away uncomfortably, but she kept her voice as level as she could.]

“It’s apple and cranberry chutney -- you can put it on just about anything, like bread or cheese...even some meats, I think -- if you eat meat, that is. I probably would’ve baked you some biscuits, but I wasn’t really sure if chocolate chip would be to your taste.”

I think chocolate is bad for horses, but I don’t know if it is for centaurs.

[Torvus blinked up at Carewyn, taken aback.]

Torvus: “You made this, for me?”

[Carewyn felt her cheeks flushing slightly, but she smiled fully.]

“Well, Pitts helped me. I just wanted to thank you, for all your help...reckon I probably could’ve done more to say ‘thank you,’ earlier, but...well, better late than never, right?”

[Torvus considered Carewyn for a moment, still clearly a bit stunned. Then his face broke into a smile as he looked down at the jars again.]

Torvus: “...I appreciate the gesture, Carewyn. You are truly a kind human.”

[Carewyn smiled in relief.]

“Then it is okay?”

Torvus: “Yes. You said that humans eat this ‘chutney’ with bread, correct? Bread is a staple of our diet.”

Thank Merlin!

“(through a soft laugh) Great!”

[Torvus glanced down at the two jars, thinking. Then he secured each jar to his quiver with the ribbons Carewyn had tied onto them, so that they wouldn’t fall and break.]

Torvus: “...I must ask, though...what of your brother? Did you manage to find him, when you discovered the Vault?”

[Carewyn felt like a cold stone had plopped down into the pit of her stomach. Her gaze drifted to the ground.]

“...Yes. But...”

[She took a deep breath, and settled down on a large tree root so she could sit comfortably. She rested her head in her hand.]

“In the Vault, Rakepick -- our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher -- turned on us. She would’ve killed us, if we hadn’t been lucky enough to overpower her...but she still escaped.”

Escaped back to R...

“I found Jacob in the Vault...but as soon as he learned that Rakepick got away, he immediately ran after her.”

[She swallowed back the lump in her throat.]

“...I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

[Although Carewyn had managed to keep her voice level, Torvus spoke very gently as he stood over her.]

[Carewyn shook her head, her gaze still lingering on the ground rather than on Torvus.]

“You had it so much worse, though. Your whole family shunned you...I can’t imagine how hard that must have been...”

Be grateful for what you have, Carewyn. At least you still have Mum. At least you still have the others to look after. And at least...at least you know Jacob left because he was trying to be helpful -- no matter how wrong he was --

[She scolded herself internally in a vain attempt to tamp down the pain and self-pity she felt.]

Torvus: “We’re together now -- that’s all that matters. (more softly) I hope you’re able to have a proper reunion with your brother too, Carewyn.”

[Carewyn looked up at him, touched by the smile on his face.]

“Thank you, Torvus.”

[She decided to change the subject.]

“Oh yeah...forgot to mention, I’m taking Divination this year.”

[Torvus raised his eyebrows.]

Torvus: “Oh?”

“(amusedly) I admit, I wasn’t that impressed with tessomancy, but...well, I guess there’s a whole term still to go. Do centaurs read tea leaves too?”

Torvus: “No. We read the stars -- from there, the best of us use Sage and Mallowsweet to refine their findings.”

[Carewyn listened in great interest.]

“(with a wry smile) So no dredging up shapes in moldy tea leaves or reading palm lines, eh?”

[Torvus’s nose wrinkled in disgust.]

Torvus: “(derisively) Most human branches of Divination are considered...unreliable by my herd.”

“(laughs) Well, you're not the only ones: a lot of people in my class don’t put stock in what Trelawney says, either.”

[Now that the topic had been smoothly brought up, Carewyn finally felt comfortable enough to bring up her question. She really didn’t want Torvus to think she’d come all the way out to see him just to ask him about it, not only to spare his feelings but also because she herself hated putting so much weight on it when she didn’t even truly believe Trelawney’s prediction in the first place.]

“...Torvus...may I ask your opinion, on something?”

Torvus: “Certainly.”

“How valid are prophecies? At least, to you.”

[Torvus raised his eyebrows.]

Torvus: “You have heard a prophecy?”

“I’m not sure. Trelawney claimed she’d had a vision and gabbled a bunch of stuff...but I’m not positive she wasn’t just acting out. I mean, considering my history with the Cursed Vaults, I’m sure she assumes I’ll be involved with the last one, so -- ”

Torvus: “The last one? Has there been another curse?”

“Yes. A Statue Curse. My friend’s sister found a student turned to stone in the courtyard the other day.”

Torvus: “I see...”

[He looked thoughtful.]

[Carewyn recited the prophecy to Torvus, just as she had to Percy earlier that day. The centaur considered the words carefully.]

Torvus: “...I’m afraid this is beyond my capabilities.”

[Carewyn couldn’t fight back a grin.]

“I personally suspect ‘fake’ myself.”

[Torvus, however, didn’t smile.]

Torvus: “Even so...it wouldn’t do, to dismiss it out right. At least until you have confirmed otherwise with someone else who is gifted in Divination.”

[Carewyn frowned.]

“Could you maybe ask a member of your herd what they think?”

[Torvus didn’t look very enthused about this chain of thought.]

Torvus: “Centaurs do not usually share their opinions of the night sky with humans. My herd would not take kindly to me speaking for you, particularly when you’re not known to them. And humans -- with the exception of Hagrid and a few others -- aren’t welcome in the Centaur Camp.”

"(very firmly) Then I won’t have you speak for me. The last thing I want is for you to get in trouble on my account.”

[Carewyn had been ready to close the book on the discussion, coming to the conclusion that learning more about Trelawney’s so-called “prophecy” wasn’t worth risking Torvus getting in trouble -- but Torvus spoke up again.]

Torvus: “However -- if you presented them with suitable offerings, they might be persuaded to permit you to visit our camp.”

[Carewyn blinked.]

“Offerings?”

“Well, I s’pose it is polite to bring some sort of a gift, when you visit anyone’s home for the first time...”

[Carewyn brought a hand through her ponytail thoughtfully.]

“I just wish I knew what gifts your herd would like.”

[Torvus smiled slightly as he pointedly adjusted the jars of chutney tied with ribbon to his quiver.]

Torvus: “I have faith in you, Carewyn.”

((OOC: According to Greek myth, centaurs are known for eating meat, bread, and wine. I imagine the bread these centaurs make would be slightly different than most modern bread recipes, though, likely to better resemble medieval peasant bread (which was made by grinding different grains and then kneading them into a dough with water and yeast and then baking it over a fire or in the sun) or Ancient Egyptian bread (a similar mixture baked over hot ashes).

Although in the game, Torvus dryly references that MC only comes to see him just to ask for his help (not like you give us a choice, Jam City!), Carewyn most definitely is not that way -- she is way too much of a Mama-Bear-type and way too sensitive about other people’s feelings to make anyone feel like they’re just a tool to her.

But yeah, just like with Duncan and Pitts, I demand more Torvus content! I want him on our friends list, damn it! YOU HEAR ME, JC??))

#carewyn cromwell #jacob's sibling #torvus #sybill trelawney #roleplaying #gameplay #my art #hphm #hogwarts mystery

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lake-lyn · 5 years

Text

ET’s exclusive excerpt of The Tyrant’s Tomb by Rick Riordan (1/2)

Chapter 1

There is no food here

Meg ate all the Swedish fish

Please get off my hearse

I believe in returning dead bodies.

It seems like a simple courtesy, doesn’t it? A warrior dies, you should do what you can to get their body back to their people for funerary rites. Maybe I’m old-fashioned. I am over four thousand years old. But I find it rude not to properly dispose of corpses.

Achilles during the Trojan War, for instance. Total pig. He chariot-dragged the body of the Trojan champion Hector around the walls of the city for days. Finally I convinced Zeus to pressure the big bully into returning Hector’s body to his parents so he could have a decent burial. I mean, come on. Have a little respect for the people you slaughter.

Then there was Oliver Cromwell’s corpse. I wasn’t a fan of the man, but please. First, the English bury him with honors. Then they decide they hate him, so they dig him up and “execute” his body. Then his head falls off the pike where it’s been impaled for decades and gets passed around from collector to collector for almost three centuries like a disgusting souvenir snow globe. Finally, in 1960, I whispered in the ears of some influential people, Enough, already. I am the god Apollo, and I order you to bury that thing. You’re grossing me out.

When it came to Jason Grace, my fallen friend and half bropppther, I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. I would personally escort his coffin to Camp Jupiter and see him off with full honors.

That turned out to be a good call. What with the ghouls attacking us and everything.

Sunset turned San Francisco Bay into a cauldron of molten copper as our private plane landed at Oakland Airport. I say our private plane. The chartered trip was actually a parting gift from our friend Piper McLean and her movie star father. (Everyone should have at least one friend with a movie star parent.)

Waiting for us beside the runway was another surprise the McLeans must have arranged: a gleaming black hearse. Meg McCaffrey and I stretched our legs on the tarmac while the ground crew somberly removed Jason’s coffin from the Cessna’s storage bay. The polished mahogany box seemed to glow in the evening light. Its brass fixtures glinted red. I hated how beautiful it was. Death shouldn’t be beautiful.

The crew loaded it into the hearse, then transferred our luggage to the backseat. We didn’t have much: Meg’s back- pack and mine (courtesy of Marco’s Military Madness), my bow and quiver and ukulele, and a couple of sketchbooks and a poster-board diorama we’d inherited from Jason.

I signed some paperwork, accepted the flight crew’s condolences, then shook hands with a nice undertaker who handed me the keys to the hearse and walked away.

I stared at the keys, then at Meg McCaffrey, who was chewing the head off a Swedish fish. The plane had been stocked with half a dozen tins of the squishy red candy. Not anymore. Meg had single-handedly brought the Swedish sh ecosystem to the brink of collapse.

“I’m supposed to drive?” I wondered. “Is this a rental hearse?”

Meg shrugged. During our flight, she’d insisted on sprawling on the Cessna’s sofa, so her dark pageboy haircut was flattened against the side of her head. One rhinestone-studded point of her cat-eye glasses poked through her hair like a disco shark n.

The rest of her out t was equally disreputable: floppy red high-tops, threadbare yellow leggings, and the well-loved knee-length green frock she’d gotten from Percy Jackson’s mother. By well-loved, I mean the frock had been through so many battles, washed and mended so many times, it looked less like a piece of clothing and more like a deflated hot-air balloon. Around Meg’s waist was the pièce de résistance: her multi-pocketed gardening belt, because children of Demeter never leave home without one.

“I don’t have a driver’s license,” she said, as if I needed a reminder that my life was presently being controlled by a twelve-year-old. “I call shotgun.”

“Calling shotgun” didn’t seem appropriate for a hearse. Nevertheless, Meg skipped to the passenger’s side and climbed in. I got behind the wheel. Soon we were out of the airport and cruising north on I-880 in our rented black grief-mobile.

Ah, the Bay Area . . . I’d spent some happy times here. The vast misshapen geographic bowl was jam-packed with interesting people and places. I loved the green-and-golden hills, the fog-swept coastline, the glowing lacework of bridges and the crazy zigzag of neighborhoods shouldered up against one another like subway passengers at rush hour.

Back in the 1950s, I played with Dizzy Gillespie at Bop City in the Fillmore. During the Summer of Love, I hosted an impromptu jam session in Golden Gate Park with the Grateful Dead. (Lovely bunch of guys, but did they really need those fteen-minute-long solos?) In the 1980s, I hung out in Oakland with Stan Burrell—otherwise known as MC Hammer—as he pioneered pop rap. I can’t claim credit for Stan’s music, but I did advise him on his fashion choices. Those gold lamé parachute pants? My idea. You’re welcome, fashionistas.

Most of the Bay Area brought back good memories. But as I drove, I couldn’t help glancing to the northwest—toward Marin County and the dark peak of Mount Tamalpais. We gods knew the place as Mount Othrys, seat of the Titans. Even though our ancient enemies had been cast down, their palace destroyed, I could still feel the evil pull of the place—like a magnet trying to extract the iron from my now-mortal blood.

I did my best to shake the feeling. We had other problems to deal with. Besides, we were going to Camp Jupiter—friendly territory on this side of the bay. I had Meg for backup. I was driving a hearse. What could possibly go wrong?

The Nimitz Freeway snaked through the East Bay flatlands, past warehouses and docklands, strip malls and rows of dilapidated bungalows. To our right rose downtown Oakland, its small cluster of high-rises facing off against its cooler neighbor San Francisco across the Bay as if to proclaim We are Oakland! We exist, too!

Meg reclined in her seat, propped her red high-tops up on the dashboard, and cracked open her window.

“I like this place,” she decided.

“We just got here,” I said. “What is it you like? The abandoned warehouses? That sign for Bo’s Chicken ’N’ Waffles?”

“Nature.”

“Concrete counts as nature?”

“There’s trees, too. Plants flowering. Moisture in the air. The eucalyptus smells good. It’s not like . . .”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Our time in Southern California had been marked by scorching temperatures, extreme drought, and raging wild res—all thanks to the magical Burning Maze controlled by Caligula and his hate-crazed sorceress bestie, Medea. The Bay Area wasn’t experiencing any of those problems. Not at the moment, anyway.

We’d killed Medea. We’d extinguished the Burning Maze. We’d freed the Erythraean Sibyl and brought relief to the mortals and withering nature spirits of Southern California.

But Caligula was still very much alive. He and his co- emperors in the Triumvirate were still intent on controlling all means of prophecy, taking over the world, and writing the future in their own sadistic image. Right now, Caligula’s fleet of evil luxury yachts was making its way toward San Francisco to attack Camp Jupiter. I could only imagine what sort of hellish destruction the emperor would rain down on Oakland and Bo’s Chicken ’N’ Waffles.

Even if we somehow managed to defeat the Triumvirate, there was still that greatest Oracle, Delphi, under the control of my old nemesis Python. How I could defeat him in my present form as a sixteen-year-old weakling, I had no idea.

But, hey. Except for that, everything was fine. The eucalyptus smelled nice.

Traf c slowed at the I-580 interchange. Apparently, California drivers didn’t follow that custom of yielding to hearses out of respect. Perhaps they gured at least one of our passengers was already dead, so we weren’t in a hurry.

Meg toyed with her window controls, raising and lower- ing the glass. Reeee. Reeee. Reeee.

“You know how to get to Camp Jupiter?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“ ’Cause you said that about Camp Half-Blood.”

“We got there! Eventually.”

“Frozen and half-dead.”

“Look, the entrance to camp is right over there.” I waved vaguely at the Oakland Hills. “There’s a secret passage in the Caldecott Tunnel or something.”

“Or something?”

“Well, I haven’t actually ever driven to Camp Jupiter,” I admitted. “Usually I descend from the heavens in my glorious sun chariot. But I know the Caldecott Tunnel is the main entrance. There’s probably a sign. Perhaps a Demigods Only lane.”

Meg peered at me over the top of her glasses. “You’re the dumbest god ever.” She raised her window with a final Reeee. SHLOOMP!—a sound that reminded me uncomfortably of a guillotine blade.

We turned west onto Highway 24. The congestion eased as the hills loomed closer. The elevated lanes soared past neighborhoods of winding streets and tall conifers, white stucco houses clinging to the sides of grassy ravines.

A road sign promised CALDECOTT TUNNEL ENTRANCE, 2 MI. That should have comforted me. Soon, we’d pass through the borders of Camp Jupiter into a heavily guarded, magically camouflaged valley where an entire Roman legion could shield me from my worries, at least for a while.

Why, then, were the hairs on the back of my neck quivering like sea worms?

Something was wrong. It dawned on me that the uneas- iness I’d felt since we landed might not be the distant threat of Caligula, or the old Titan base on Mount Tamalpais, but something more immediate . . . something malevolent, and getting closer.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Through the back window’s gauzy curtains, I saw nothing but traffic. But then, in the polished surface of Jason’s coffin lid, I caught the reflection of movement from a dark shape outside—as if a human-size object had just own past the side of the hearse.

“Oh. Meg?” I tried to keep my voice even. “Do you see anything unusual behind us?”

“Unusual like what?”

THUMP.

The hearse lurched as if we’d been hitched to a trailer full of scrap metal. Above my head, two foot-shaped impressions appeared in the upholstered ceiling.

“Something just landed on the roof,” Meg deduced.

“Thank you, Sherlock McCaffrey! Can you get it off?”

“Me? How?”

That was an annoyingly fair question. Meg could turn the rings on her middle fingers into wicked gold swords, but if she summoned them in close quarters, like the interior of the hearse, she a) wouldn’t have room to wield them, and b) might end up impaling me and/or herself.

CREAK. CREAK. The footprint impressions deepened as the thing adjusted its weight like a surfer on a board. It must have been immensely heavy to sink into the metal roof.

A whimper bubbled in my throat. My hands trembled on the steering wheel. I yearned for my bow and quiver in the backseat, but I couldn’t have used them. DWSPW, driving while shooting projectile weapons, is a big no-no, kids.

“Maybe you can open the window,” I said to Meg. “Lean out and tell it to go away.”

“Um, no.” (Gods, she was stubborn.) “What if you try to shake it off?”

Before I could explain that this was a terrible idea while traveling fifty miles an hour on a highway, I heard a sound like a pop-top aluminum can opening—the crisp pneumatic hiss of air through metal. A claw punctured the ceiling—a grimy white talon the size of a drill bit. Then another. And another. And another, until the upholstery was studded with ten pointy white spikes—just the right number for two very large hands.

“Meg?” I yelped. “Could you—?”

I don’t know how I might have finished that sentence. Protect me? Kill that thing? Check in the back to see if I have any spare undies?

I was rudely interrupted by the creature ripping open our roof like we were a birthday present.

Staring down at me through the ragged hole was a withered, ghoulish humanoid, its blue-black hide glistening like the skin of a house y, its eyes filmy white orbs, its bared teeth dripping saliva. Around its torso uttered a loincloth of greasy black feathers. The smell coming off it was more putrid than any dumpster—and believe me, I’d fallen into a few.

“FOOD!” it howled.

“Kill it!” I yelled at Meg.

“Swerve!” she countered.

One of the many annoying things about being incarcerated in my puny mortal body: I was Meg McCaffrey’s servant. I was bound to obey her direct commands. So when she yelled “swerve,” I yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The hearse handled beautifully. It careened across three lanes of traffic, barreled straight through the guardrail, and plummeted into the canyon below.

#ttt #the tyrants tomb #the tyrant’s tomb #rick riordan #meg mccaffrey

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myss-little-smartone · 5 years

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@normie-egg-whites

Surprise I was your PJO Secret Santa with very bad time management issues! Sorry this is like a week and a half after Christmas but here’s your gift, which is a fic! Under the Readmore!

The thing about Nico and the holidays was, well, things were always just a tad bit stressful about the time. His step-mother was back in his father’s realm, so that was a bit out of the question considering she once turned him into a flower. Hazel was always an option to spend time with but, she was usually across the country in California and Will would murder him if he shadow traveled that far, again. The Jackson-Blofis family had offered, again, to let him stay with them for the holidays and he did not doubt that Sally would immediately throw together something, force Percy to clean his room, or make her son sleep on the couch so Nico could have his room. Percy wouldn’t even bother to complain.

There would also be something at camp, he knew that. There was always something at camp for the holidays, considering the overlapping times for various things such as Saturnalia, Winter Solstice, and various other fun ones. He was walking through the camp when a hand suddenly reached out from beside the Aphrodite Cabin and pulled him into the darkness, Piper McLean hiding him between her and Jason as she glanced out and around.

“Well, at least the Maenads aren’t running around again this year. Still haunted by that.” She turned to face her captive and smiled brightly. “Glad we caught you. Come on, we’re going to be late.” She pulled him along, Jason on their heels rolling his eyes with a smile.

“Late to what? Piper, where are we g-“ she pressed them against a cabin, peering around before pulling back as some people passed them by. She seemed to count to herself before they continued along.

“Party at the Jackson-Blofis! Leo is waiting to give us a lift, it’s going to be great. Dad made the mistake of letting me use his card for this.” Jason smiled as he ran beside the cheerful daughter of Aphrodite.

“Don’t worry, Sally will make sure no one does anything too dumb. If she can control Percy, she can control anything.” While the fact was true, it did not make Nico feel better as he was hoisted up onto the rather large mechanical beast. He held tightly as they lifted off, all crowded in on one another to keep warm while flying through the chilly New York Air. He counted the minutes until they landed somewhere in the downtown area, climbing off and following the trailing procession down the fire escape and in through the Jackson-Blofis’ living room window. Nico barely had time to try and figure out who had snuck away from where when Hazel threw herself at him and hugged him. He stiffened slightly before hugging her back.

“Hey, I thought you were off at Camp Jupiter.” She grinned at him.

“We snuck away. Well, not exactly sneaking if we stole Reyna with us.” Nico poked his head around her shoulder to see Reyna and Annabeth sitting on the couch, Sally between them, holding cups of punch and laughing over a scrapbook.

“They broke out the baby pictures, didn’t they?” Hazel nodded, the grin still plastered on her face.

“He gave up after a minute of trying to stop them, then proceeded to just go eat blue chocolate chip cookies and arm wrestle with Jason before he went to get you. Frank and Leo also joined in the tournament. Winner gets to go up against Reyna.” Hazel led Nico to a seat as she plopped down next to him, striking up a conversation. Will came over five minutes in, joining in and bringing plates of food with him.

“No using this to summon the dead, Nico.” Nico groaned, rolling his eyes.

“You go through a phase of summoning ghosts once and now everyone and the gods think you do it on weekends. Oh, I love meatballs.” He popped some food into his mouth, enjoying the home cooking as Paul came in, carting various gifts for the gathered teens. It was nice, spending a fun-filled night with friends, forgetting about the worries of the life of a demi-god for a few hours. It was even nicer to be sent back to camp with contraband food and a nice new band tee-shirt. He wouldn’t mind doing this again next year.

#pjo secret santa

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fireandgloryrpg · 5 years

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Unity Feast || Group Chatzy

Roman’s and Greeks gather together to celebrate their unity. Piper loses her purse and the night has a dramatic ending.

Percy had lived in New Rome for most of his adult life and he had yet to see it in such a beautiful condition. He didn’t know who was responsible for it, but the progress in the cities reconstruction was astounding. Where they hadn’t completed work, delicate decorations such as fairy lights or neon signs had soften the atmosphere around the square where the festivities were taking place. Striding through the crowds of people, he greeted friends left and right. He was wearing one of the few pieces of his wardrobe that he’d managed to salvage after he’d returned to his apartment at the war’s end. A dark navy blue suit with a light pink shirt and blue tie. Brown belt and brown shoes of course. Heading towards the bar, he ordered a drink. This was going to be a good night, at least that was what he hoped.

Wally had left after Z. The pair decided to meet each other at the feast separately. Wally came in a dark purple tux with a dark tie to match. He had added a laurel wreath to his head for the evening, something he felt was a nice addition. Wally was openly nervous, looking around every few minutes, waiting for something to pop up. It felt like nothing could be enjoyed anymore. The smell of food was quick to reduce his fears. Maybe if he ate something he’d feel better. As trays of food passed around, Wally picked up what seemed to be a fried ball of filled with stuffing and mashed potatoes. “Holy shit, has anyone else tried this?!” Wally snuck a few more of the things off a tray and made his way over to the bar to order a drink. He smiled when he saw Percy down a few seats. “Hey! You look good, man.”

As a general rule, Abigail was not a party person. Partially because bumping into other people was inevitable, partially because talking to other people was inevitable, partially because it meant getting all dressed up when she’d much prefer to lounge around in her couch, braless, hair tied up in a bun, wearing an oversized shirt covered in Cheeto dust and with her cat, Shelley, curled up on her lap. Counterpoint: she liked drinking, dancing and eating fancy snacks. So this was kind of a conundrum. In the end, she solved it by giving into peer pressure and going to the friggin’ party. Wearing a full-length light blue gown (with full sleeves and gloves, of course) and with her hair in a neat braid, Abigail was thoroughly enjoying the open bar, ordering the drinks that looked the fanciest and the wackiest. Later, once her legs had rested from the walk over, maybe she’d dance.

Noticing the two children of Hecate that had arrived around him, Percy finished his drink order. “Hey Wally,” he said as he finished ordering a pint of beer, turning to look at Abby and then leaning back and engaging both his friends, “you and Abby definitely know each other right?” he asked with a gentle smile. He’d known both Wally and Abby separately. Both of them were children of Hecate and though he’d spent time in New Rome and Camp Half Blood with them separately, this might’ve been the first time that he’d seen them together. “Is it too early to start really drinking? I’ve been considering when the appropriate time to start doing shots would be.”

While Jason wasn’t the world’s biggest fan of overly formal events, he couldn’t deny that he looked pretty good when he attended them. Anxiously smoothing down the front of his dark gray jacket and adjusting his dark red tie he strode purposefully into the half-finished Senate house, marveling at the beauty of the edifice. As he turned slowly to take in everything around him he caught a familiar bearded face from across the room, and wandered over to his best friend, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray as he did. “It might be too early for shots. However I think you’re in the clear for some bubbly.” He squeezed Percy’s arm and nodded to the people he was talking to, brushing his hair out of his face. “Evening. You both look lovely.”

While Percy was all fussy about when was the right time to start drinking, Abigail was on her third tequila shot. “Uh. Wally? Never heard of him. Sounds like he got jealous of my nickname, though”, she said, deadpan, before licking off the salt from the back of her hand and downing her shot like a pro. “Evening, Jason. Thank you, I always do. You two look nice, too.” Unable to help herself, she added, teasingly: “For guys, I guess.”

Annabeth had never been one for much dressing up, and she much preferred her shorts and t shirts, but in the spirit of the Unity Feast she was now sporting a long blue gown. Praying to all the gods that she didn’t trip over it somehow in the course of the evening, she headed over to where a cluster of her friends stood. “ Hey, what’d I miss? ”

Wally nodded. “Yes we know each other, sadly.” He smiled at Abigail and thanked the bartender when his drink arrived. “I think we all look pretty sexy, myself included, of course.” When Annabeth came over, he shrugged. “Nothing yet. We’re getting drinks, but it seems Percy is apprehensive. But my guess is: put something blue in front of him and he’ll drink it, no matter what.” Wally took a look around and showed his plate of kind-of-stolen delicacies to the small group. “You guys gotta try these. There is mash potatoes and stuffing mixed in. It’s like . . . I don’t know. It’s the kinda stuff the gods hoard away from us.”

Turning, Percy accepted the glass of champagne off of his best friend and took his place besides Jason. Smiling graciously, he shrugged. “I want to be clear, I’m not the type of person to shy away from a good drink. I definitely don’t think that I’m the type of person to turn down a shot, I was simply musing as to whether or not it was worth considering if there was an appropriate time for shots. Four for shots perhaps?” he smiled gently and looked to Annabeth, winking gently at his friend before taking a sip from his champagne flute as the music filtered through the evening air. The sound of violins singing in the background.

“I never really associated this outfit with pounding shots at the bar,” Jason laughed, straightening his tie and vest, but if we’re lining up at the rail, I’ll do my duty and uphold my collegiate honor.” As Annabeth joined their group he gave her a small wave, sipping from his flute. The entire scene was a little surreal, but he didn’t all together hate it. They had earned this party, with blood sweat and tears and hopefully it would give them all a chance to heal some of the ugly wounds the war had opened. “I hope there are more than canapés at this thing or we’re going to be drunk in a corner in the first five minutes.”

Connor took his time arriving at the party. Sure, he enjoyed them, and all the things that came with parties, such as food and alcohol and pickpocketing, but he just wanted to take it slow tonight. Walking through the crowd, he wore a white button up shirt with floral patterns on, half buttoned down, along with navy pants and matching brown shoes and a belt. Flashing flirty grins at most people he passed, his eyes fell upon his friends at the bar. “I see we’re forming a sub-party over here, is it invite only?” He joked before ordering himself a whiskey and lemonade. “Glad to see we all turned up, everyone looks stunning.” His eyes flickered over everyone before finally landing on his drink. Tonight would have been great, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was terribly missing someone.

Marcus leant against a building on the outside of the square, tapping his ring against his glass. His eyes gently scanned through the crowd making mental notes of everyone he knew. So far, he hadn’t noticed anyone who caught his particular attention, other than a couple of greeks that had started to gather at the bar. Sighing he pushed himself off the wall and moved towards the centre of the square, slipping past people with ease. A smile tugged at the edge of his lips as he spotted his co-centurion and began to move towards her. “Cat, imagine seeing you here.” He joked.

It was strange to think that once upon a time Marcus had been Cat’s subordinate, but now they were partners in leading what was essentially her life’s work. Marcus had been the most suitable choice after Jax had left, however without him here, now, it felt strange. “Marcus,” she drawled, raising a glass of red wine to her equally crimson lips, “a pleasure as always to see you here.” Wearing a sleek black silk dress, Cat reached up and played with the black diamond she wore around her neck. Absently taking everything in. “It has truly turned out well, morale should benefit from the extravagance, don’t you think?”

Brock had been there since before the event started. He offered to act as guard but his higher-ups still felt he was a bit too off balance to be working. They believed it would be better for him to enjoy the event, as if he could. The entire feast, while he was happy to see Romans having a good time, it felt like a joke. Seeing Marcus and Cat, Brock got into stepping. Seeing familiar faces, ones incredibly friendly took a weight off of Brock he hadn’t been aware of before. “Marcus, Cat, how’re you both? You both look nice.” His eyes strayed from Cat but he kept an even smile. Brock had come in a suit lent to him by his friend, tailored of course. A dark green suit with a thin belt around his waist, similar to those of the strings tied around a tunic.

In her defence, Piper hadn’t meant to get so tipsy. She’d only meant to stay for a little while, have a couple of drinks, and then go home. But that wasn’t what happened. She was on her second drink by now, a complete and utter lightweight, swaying in time to the music as she swallowed the sweet taste of cranberry-vodka down her throat. She hadn’t put much effort into her appearance tonight, wearing a tight red dress and pair of heels. She looked great, however, but didn’t feel on her A-game. Nonetheless, she wanted to see everyone. Following after Connor, she said, “Hey, has anyone seen my purse? Pretty — pretty sure I left it somewhere. Don’t know where, but it’s got to be here somewhere.” Even when tipsy, she could talk eloquently.

Eyeing the drinks available, Annabeth was torn between making a conscious decision to stay sober, or throw caution to the wind, because let’s face it, they all deserved a night to get shitfaced after everything that had gone on. “ Cheers to the night? ” She lifted her own glass at the group, raising her eyebrow as Conner and Piper joined them. “ I haven’t, but I could go with you to take a look around if you’d like? ” She offered, noting the slightly slurring girl. There was a voice in the back of her mind telling her that if the beginning of the night was any indication, it might be safer for there to be at least one sober person. God knows what might happen when you mixed a bunch of demigods and legacies who had still unresolved tension and alcohol.

Despite everything that had happened in the last few months, Percy found himself relaxing and enjoying himself. Swallowing a few mouthfuls of champagne, he glanced between Annabeth and Piper wondering whether Piper had even brought a purse with her, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Percy replied with a smile as he reached for several more glasses of champagne and passed them around the group, ensuring that anyone who didn’t already have a drink was well provided for. “If I can just take a moment, I’d like to toast us all, Roman and Greek alike, we’ve been through so much and we’ve come out stronger. So a toast to the years to come, with all the friends we’ve made along the way.” He raised his glass towards the small group they’d formed by the bar. Completely oblivious of all the people they were blocking from gaining access to said bar, but in that moment they couldn’t care less.

Despite his love for these events, Aidan was nervous with how things would go. If he’d know anyone there, if he’d be dressed well enough. He fidgeted with his outfit in the storefront windows as he made his way down, feeling over the soft pink lace sewn over his creamy white jacket. Matching pants, and rose gold cufflinks. He stared at the lights of the party before entering, putting on his best smile. His anxiety washed away seeing people he knew. “Hope I’m not too late to join in?” He asked, picking up a glass of his own, knowing to be mindful of how much he had, eyeing Cat. Aidan wasn’t about to embarrass himself further. Everything felt surreal. Calm. Okay for the first time and Aidan felt good about the night. About the future a little bit too.

Jason raised his glass as Percy launched into a toast, nodding along to his friend’s words. “Here here. To the friendships we’ve made along the way and to the peace we now work to construct. May they both last an eternity.” He downed his glass and passed it off to a passing waiter before snagging another full one. He was more than his usual amount of awkward; given that this was the first event he’d been to where he didn’t have a title and job to hide behind, but he was bound and determined to make it work. Which meant acknowledging the presence of the bitch in the black dress across the circle from him. “Ms Karavadra.” He half bowed “you look lovely this evening. Hopefully you’ll save a dance for me later, provided your dance card isn’t already full.”

By the time Abigail came back, she was still a little tipsy and her feet -- foot, her foot hurt. She slid delicately onto the stool, propped her elbows up onto the bar. Her cheeks were flushed with the exercise, her hair only slightly out of place. “I missed the toast?” she asked, then ordered a side of French fries, one of her few guilty pleasures. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Karavadra, promptly deciding to ignore her. It had always been obvious how Karavadra felt about the Greeks, so Abigail felt no obligation to go out of her way to be nice.

Honestly, as Cat, Brock and Marcus made their way past the group of merrymakers toasting and loudly talking about shots, food and the food time that they were having. Cat’s emotional mask slid into place as she gave Jason the most beautiful smile that she could muster. “You look positively ravishing yourself, that suit really brings out your eyes.” She smiled kindly at him as she continued gliding past. “I shall endeavour to save you a dance,” she gestured to Marcus and Brock as if to indicate that she was already inundated with potential prospects, “but as I am sure that you can see Mr. Grace, my dance card is filling up fast, so make sure you get in while stocks last.” She gave him one final sickly sweet smile, a mischievous glitter in her eyes as she imagined what disembowelment would be like for him. She hoped painful. His self righteous smug nature was almost sickening.

Cat had a way with people, she knew what to say and how to seem elegant and hide her true feelings. Marcus however, struggled with it despite his natural gift with the mist and his illusion spells. Instead, he opted to simply showing his true emotions, one of disinterest towards the group. He remembered all the Roman legionnaires they had lost through the war, not to mention their legionnaires on every other day too. He might have seemed old fashioned with his ways, but blood must have blood, just, not now. Leaving Cat’s side, he flashed a chaotic smile at Jason and then the others. “You don’t mind if a join you right? You did make a toast to Romans and Greeks alike, that includes me right?” A tone of mischievousness danced in between his words as he placed his empty glass on the table and ordering a new one, purposely leaning over and Greeks in the way.

“Oh, Zeus”, Abigail said under her breath. She didn’t mind the Romans’ company on grounds of them being Romans, but she didn’t like the atmosphere they’d brought with themselves. Growing up in a hostile environment, she could pick up on the slightest of signs of someone getting angry. Her magic probably had something to do with it, too. Always a hater of physical contact, but too stubborn (too fucked up) to display weakness, Abigail didn’t even twitch as Marcus leaned over her to get a new drink. Her plate of fries arrived, and she used a toothpick to stab at them, eyes flicking between Jason and the Romans.

Connor rolled his eyes as Cat showed up. He recalled their previous conversation and couldn’t help but feel a taste of disgust in his mouth. “Piper, I could also help you look for it if you like? I’d rather be anywhere but in the presence of her.” He felt like spitting her name out of his mouth but held himself back. Besides, it honestly wasn’t worth it. “I haven’t seen anyone steal it, perhaps you left it on a table and a waiter picked it up?” Connor had been drinking but he was sober enough to help look for a purse.

Wally turned himself around when Cat showed up. He prayed to his mom that she was passing by. If he never saw her again, he’d be fine. Wally poured back half of his drink and signaled the bartender. This would be more fun, and a lot easier to get through if he was a lot less sober. “Whiskey shot,” he chimed. Wally vaguely heard the daughter of Aphrodite talking about a missing purse. He knew somewhere in his room there was a locator spell, but that was all the way back in his apartment. ‘Sides, Connor’s already offered, he reasoned. Waiting for Z might just be his best option.

Brock grinned at the Greeks and caught the eye of Annabeth and Jason. Even before the war, after the Greeks had shown up, word of Annabeth’s skill in battle came around quickly. He had imagined a few times what it would be like to fight her, what he could learn from her. Jason on the other hand made him feel agitated and annoyed. It was aggravating to see an unfaithful Roman, but Jason wouldn’t allow himself to get too deep into thought on that. There was mystery on both sides and it was easier to just protect the civilians. “Cat, maybe we should go somewhere less rowdy? You wouldn’t want to get anything spilled on that dress.”

It wasn’t like Z to be so terribly late. He had always been the punctual sort, but times were changing and he had a bit of elephant business to take care of before making his way to the festivities. As he slipped past people with faces he knew and treated, he fiddled with the cuffs on his suit jacket. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had the prior inkling to get anything new tailored and his recent surplus of physical activity was making his clothes fit a little snug. It couldn’t be helped. “Oh; excuse me,” he politely exclaimed as he passed by a couple talking privately amongst themselves. His shorter stature easily snaked beyond them, only for him to come to a complete stop when he nearly bumped into Aidan. “Lace? To an event like this? You’re bolder than I thought you’d be.” The tease came easily as he reached over and wrapped his fingertips around a glass on a tray passing by. He eyed the contents warily. The last thing he wanted was alcohol, but this was clear. The squint he gave the glass was almost threatening.

Percy winced internally as the Romans moved over to the side of his group and Marcus made it clear that he was welcoming himself to the proverbial party. Reaching into a small bowl of olives, Percy chewed on a thick green one soaked in chilli oil and made sure that it was crushed into nothingness before he even considered opening his mouth. “Yeah can I get two shots of tequila with lime and salt,” he turned to a Jason whom he knew couldn’t stand Catherine Karavadra, especially after what he considered to be her wrongful arrest of former Praetor Reyna and Frank, “down the hatch bud,” he grimaced as the tequila poured down his throat. The tension in the room was near unbearable as Connor and Cat seemed to glower at one another from across the room. However Percy was determined to ease things off, he knew that the easiest way to do so was probably to break the group up. Turning to Piper and Annabeth, he looked at Jason and grinned. “Ladies?” he asked as Boogie Wonderland began to play in the background, “may we have this dance?”

Cat knew that she was the least popular Roman in miles, and considering the high density population of this square that was truly something to say. The Karavadra family hadn’t done itself any favours by funding and leading the war effort. But Cat knew deep in her stomach that she had done the right thing. She’d been protecting her city, protecting her people. “Yes, I think we should move along Brock, are you coming Marcus?” she asked as she strode away and moved towards Aidan and Z. “I agree, lace was certainly a very bold choice, however I am not convinced that Aidan’s got it in him to be anything less than bold, it has always been a trait that he has possessed.” Despite the fact that he’d previously drunk too much on a mission, she had to admit that the guts which that took was impressive to say the least, she didn’t know many Legionnaires that would survive an ordeal or even risk it.

Piper, ever the eloquent one, grinned at Annabeth, giving her an appreciative glance as she did so. About to accept the offer, she was interrupted by Percy. “I wouldn’t worry about it usually,” she replied. “But I’m pretty sure I left a few important items in - in the bag.” A hiccup sounded, soon followed by another giggle. She was about to say more — perhaps launch into a great speech herself — when Percy beat her to it. Honestly, his way of speaking was much better — and more eloquent — than hers was, so she let it slide, lifting her glass in the air and saying, “Hear, hear!” in response to what he had said. Then, noting Connor at her side, the young demigod latched onto him, curling an arm over his shoulders as she said, “The more help the merrier! I really, really need that bag. Seriously.” She’d already forgotten what she’d put in there, beside a pack of gum, but she was sure it was important. And whoever Connor (and Jason) were trying to avoid, Piper would happily help them do so. However, the thought of her bag was soon forgotten upon Percy’s invitation to dance, and with yet another grin in Jason and Percy’s direction (and with a slight stumble), she said, “I’d love to. Annabeth, what do you say?”

On the surface, this was the time for Greeks and Romans to make up, but as the daughter of a strategy goddess, or even someone with a smidge of common sense, Annabeth knew that things would never be that easy. She nodded in acknowledgement, smiling slightly at the ones who recently arrived, feeling the need to set an example, but it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t wary, especially of Catherine. Grateful for Percy, she silently commended him in her mind, knowing that if they continued here any longer it wouldn’t end up well. “ Don’t yell if I step on anyone’s toes, though. The rest of you want to come? ” She grinned, moving in their direction and extending a hand to steady Piper. The responsible part in her, though, couldn’t help but question Piper again. “ Are you sure you don’t want to go look for your bag first? If there’s important things in it … ”

Frowning at the situation, Percy decided that before any dancing was to be done they would have to discover the whereabouts of the bag. “Has anyone asked some of the staff?” he turned around to the bartender behind the bar and turned to look at Piper. After a hurried conversation, Percy turned to the group. “The bartender says he hasn’t seen it but there is apparently an official lost and found across the way,” he turned and strode off, unsure of which way to go, but he led the way all the same, doing everything that he could to indirectly combat the tension growing between them all. “What colour is your purse?” he asked curiously as the music shifted from Earth Wind and Fire to something a bit more modern that he couldn’t place his finger on.

Connor grinned as Piper placed an arm around him but simply slipped away when she left for a dance. He wasn’t in the mood to dance right now, not after the atmosphere that Cat brought with her. He was about to suggest that he go look for the purse whilst they danced, but then Percy set off on a mission. With a skip and sprint, he caught up to Percy’s side. “I can check the square entrances? Perhaps someone picked it up and dropped it off there. I don’t think it was stolen, and if it was, I could find that out too.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to face the others. “Anyone want to join me?” He then turned and made his way to the entrance that he had come through.

Marcus picked up the drink the bartender had whipped up for him but before he could say anything else, the group seemed to split up and Cat somewhat summoned him to follow her. Sipping his drink he grinned and followed behind Cat, free hand in his pocket. He wasn’t exactly impressed with how Aidan acted during the raiding of the Greek party, but it was amusing. He wasn’t there but he had definitely heard about it. It had been brought up at one of the Centurion meetings so that the Centurion of the 5th could deal with it. “Can you handle your alcohol tonight Aidan?” He said with a teasing smile. He then turned to look over the crowd. Frankly, he was rather bored. “Brock, interested in doing some rounds? I wouldn’t mind reprimanding a few legionnaires that have gotten themselves drunk during the festivitie?”

All the Greeks seemed, suddenly, very concerned with Piper’s bag, and Abigail suspected -- no, she was certain -- that, while their concern was real, they were all the more grateful to get away with the least popular demigod in New Rome. It was a pity that Marcus was so heavily associated with her (at her beck and call, in Abby’s opinion), because, as her mother always said: she was always Hecate. That was why she’d been the least affected by the Roman-Greek split. In her opinion, Marcus and the other children of Trivia were almost as much of her siblings as their Greek counterparts... “See you ‘round, brother”, she said, stabbing another fry with her toothpick. Deciding to help out, Abigail stood. “I’ll come with you, Connor.”

Cat gently watched the majority of the Greeks depart from the large part of the bar that they’d been occupying. “Make sure that you don’t pick on too many of them, I’ve got a nice 10 mile run in full gear for any of our Legionnaires returning to the barracks intoxicated underage, and anyone late for duties will be joining them.” It was a tradition she and Jax had formerly run, and one she intended to continue running in her brother’s absence. She didn’t mind her soldiers enjoying themselves, but they had to always put their duty first. Arriving to duty hungover was unacceptable and it was not something she was willing to tolerate. “But do make sure that our soldier’s are minding their manners. I’d hate for anyone to get upset in such a tense time.”

Aidan’s face flushed and he shrugged. The situation had grown increasingly uncomfortable with Cat and Marcus’ presence, and it felt weird to receive what felt like a compliment from her. “Thank you Z, thank you Cat. And don’t worry, Marcus, I will be watching my intake. I’ve learned that lesson. The rather hard way.” He said remembering how hot and heavy that armor had been the full 10 miles. His muscles ached from the memory. “But maybe go easy on my fellow legionnaires? Gods know we could all use tonight as a break. All work and no play, you know.” He watched as the group split, most people going after his sister’s mysteriously lost purse. He wondered if she’d even brought it. “How’ve you been Z? I haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

There was a lot to unpack at once. Z recalled, during the final declaration in front of the senate, that there was some sort of tension between Cat and Aidan, but the wording tonight from the centurion and also the man following her alluded to something more. The child of Hypnos would’ve given why a bit more thought, only the voices of a few familiar people caused his head to tilt away from those closest to him to garner a glance at the slight commotion. His ears could faintly pick up on them deciding to split up to look for Piper’s purse. He thought it was best to join them, since it would give him a chance to avoid whatever was about to happen before him with the Romans, but their talking drew him back in and his honey eyes snapped back to them quickly. “Never a dull moment for the Legion, I suppose,” he mused over the rim of his glass. Wagering a sip told him it was very much not water and he hated how smoothly the small bit of clear liquor went down without causing him to wince. “I’ve been as alright as I could be. It’s hard not falling victim to the ‘all work and no play’ sort of thing nowadays. I take it that it’s been fairly similar with people on your end as well?” His words were in the addressing of all the parties before him, not simply to Aidan. He didn’t want to be rude, no matter how much his skin crawled and itched at the thought of what sort of snap could possibly come from Cat or the, frankly, curt man with her.

Brock laughed and shrugged, picking his head up to look around at all that was going on. “Sure, though I think Aidan’s right, Marcus, go easy on them tonight. It’s not everyday that we get to go to a feast.” Roman life was hard and as understatements go, that was certainly one of them. But it made their parties, the times when they did relax all the better and everyone was more grateful for it. If he couldn’t relax tonight, on day when everyone was suppose to be thankful for things, maybe his superiors were right and he was too rigid. “Maybe have a drink first, Marcus.”

Wally watched the group of Greeks leave as he stayed at the bar, deciding to wait on Z. It was a few more minutes until he heard the sound of his boyfriends voice. Turning around, he saw him talking to the kid who Wally had looked after children with. He smiled, happy to see that Z was making friends. He looked back and realized his shot had been sitting there, waiting for him. He threw it back and grabbed his other drink, and went to join Z by putting an arm around his waist and saying hello to both him and Aidan. “Nice night for a party. How’re you boys?”

“Definitely.” Aidan replied. “Reconstruction efforts, civilian complaints…” He sighed, shaking his head and grinned. “And children watching. Wally here sure knows his way around the kids.” He greeted the man as he appeared. Aidan felt like gushing over how cute the pair were, but he held himself together for his current superiors. “I’m pretty good, and how are you? Did you get called back to the daycare since last time? I’m sure the kids wondered why you haven’t been back yet.”

Nico was never huge on social gatherings. The whole idea had his anxiety skyrocketing, but given the general atmosphere of New Rome following the full blown war he'd completely missed out on, he figured making an appearance would be a good thing, especially considering his history of attempting to maintain peace between the Romans and the Greeks. He arrived in an all black three piece suit, despite the fact that he absolutely hated dressing up, but a dress code was a dress code. The decor was breathtaking, and the reconstruction seemed to be heading in the right direction. Deciding against immediately seeking out human interaction, he made his way over to the bar and, after a millisecond long internal discussion about just how old he was (sometimes he forgot his exact age, given the fact that he was technically almost a century old), he ordered himself a Guinness and took a few small sips from the glass.

Percy had checked three bars across the square, doing his best to find Piper’s lost property. He had been enjoying the night well enough, and it only improved as he spotted the black three piece suit of Nico di Angelo. Drinking his typical pint of Guinness, Percy wondered if his friend drank Guinness for the aesthetic or whether he genuinely enjoyed the taste. Either way there was something striking about his appearance. “Nico!” Percy beamed, “I was wondering if you would show up.” Turning to the bartender he ordered himself another drink. The waiters that were moving around the room with Champagne seemed to have disappeared for the moment and Percy wanted to try reconnect with his friend, if he possibly could. “Isn’t the party going well?” he asked as the bartender passed him a pint of Blue Moon. Sadly the drink itself wasn’t actually blue, but the name at least made up for it a little bit.

Nico had no intention of moving from his spot at the bar just yet. Social interaction was draining, something he had to work himself towards. He’d blown through a quarter of his Guinness before he made out a familiar face moving through the crowd and towards him, a small smile forming on his lips. “Figured I'd at least make an appearance.” he responded, turning his body toward his friend. “I think so, yeah. Part of me forgets you guys were at each other's throats not too long ago, but then I spotted a couple Legionnaires giving me the stink eye.” he added with a light laugh. “I think things are going in the right direction for the most part, though.”

Percy had to admit that he was pleased to see his friend. Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, he reassured himself by patting the pen which would transform into Riptide on the inside pocket of his jacket. Sipping at the hoppy larger he’d been given, Percy shrugged. “We were all manipulated into fighting one another, that’s something that’s going to take time to adjust to that,” sighing gently he took another long drink and sat silently. “The tension seems undeniable.” He sighed gently and shrugged. “But these things are the best worked out in social situations with a shit tonne of booze and food, right?”

Connor accepted the company and began checking the entrances. “No luck, this is really strange. I’m sure it’ll show up sometime though. He shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets, slowly heading over to a bar and ordering shots. “I suppose we should reward ourselves for the effort.” He states as 5 shots per person were poured. They were called sours and weren’t potent but 5 of them were surely to get the party going. He took all 5 swiftly and tilted his head back to enjoy the head rush. Spinning, he turned to locate everyone. He noted Percy’s location, watched as Marcus seemed to leave the party and finally his eyes fell on Cat. He stared as anger boiled. He couldn’t believe how stubborn and selfish someone could be. Not offering help to refugees simply because she’s helped the Romans already and was busy rebuilding. Perhaps it was the alcohol crowding his judgement but he spat on the floor and pulled a subtle middle finger at the Roman before turning and ordering his favorite drink. “I hate her.” He said to whomever was still with him after the shots and the purse hunt.

Cat hadn’t seen Connor’s less than subtle attempt at swearing at her. Mainly because as she had been crossing the square, she had noticed a small bag. Squatting down delicately, she scooped it up and returned to her less than lofty heights. Although the heels she wore allowed her to stand above her usual stature. Opening the purse, she flicked through it to find an ID. Piper Mclean. Interesting. Cat hadn’t exactly ever talked to Jason Grace’s former flame, and though she was sure that Piper was as insufferable as the rest of the heroes of the prophecy who had earned their fame through a few lucky quests, unlike her prestigious career through the Legion, leading and fighting for her people as it should be done. She was aware that a purse had been lost, and set out to return it to its owner. They had to at least pretend to play at peace right?

Connor turned and leaned his back against the bar, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes scanned the crowd again. It was a habit of his, searching the crowd for potential targets even if he had no plans of stealing anything. That’s when his eyes landed on Cat yet again. Seeing the purse that clearly did not match her outfit, he squinted and pieced things together. He launched himself off the bar and stormed off towards her. “I see you’ve found a purse, how convenient after Piper’s had just gone missing. I don’t suppose that’s hers is it?” He stood in her path, arms folded across his chest. “If you’re done doing who knows what with her belongings, I’ll return it to her thanks.” He held his hand out for her to hand the purse over.

Cat had no intention of speaking to impudent Greek that was angrily crossing the square across from her. However it soon became clear to her that Connor had every intention of speaking to her. Not even bothering to suppress the roll of her eyes she tutted at him. “Are you always this arrogant and rude?” she asked with a sneer quickly dancing across her face before she composed herself. “For your information, I only just picked this up, unlike you children of Hermes I have no intention or desire to steal. If I wanted this purse then I’d simply purchase it. However as this is hardly my sort of taste,” she looked somewhat disdainfully at the purse and frowned gently, “now if you’ll excuse me then I shall return this myself, I don’t need your interference, please step aside and next time remember who you’re speaking to. I’m not one of your cabin mates from Camp Half Blood. I’m a centurion of the twelfth Legion, I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“Actually, yeah I am.” Connor spat. “Especially to people that have given me a clear reason for me to be rude to them.” He spoke with confidence and met her gaze. “It’s not the purse you wanted, it was the information. Like you said, you’re a Centurion of the twelfth Legion, it’s your job to collect information on people who could be a threat, maybe you’re just collecting knowledge of the Greeks so that next time you declare war against us, you’ll have a better fighting chance.” He laughed dryly. “Yeah, so you get your henchmen to do everything else for you, but this you’d like to do yourself? To paint yourself as a hero when you stole it in the first place? That’s the thing with Hermes kids like myself, we don’t just steal things, we know other criminals moves as well.”

Laughing quietly and mirthlessly at Connor, Cat actually had to place a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from really shrieking with laughter. “Ah, you’re truly a fool, I am more committed to the peace process than any of us, if you don’t remember it was my orders that had the senators taken into custody.” She would’ve liked to say that she hadn’t collected information on what she considered to the main strengths and weaknesses of all of the most powerful demigods who could be seen as a threat to her or to the Cult. “However, just because you’ve developed a vendetta against me and my people, like so many of your people is not of interest to me. I have nothing to benefit from painting myself as the hero over something so petty. You’re drunk and making a fool of yourself. Now I’ll ask you one more time step away from me and allow me to continue on my path. This is none of your concern. Go back to your drinks.”

“Connor.” Abigail said, resting her hand over his chest to stop him from possibly advancing over Cat. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm, commanding respect. In another life, she would’ve made a good commander. “Stop. It’s not worth it to pick a fight. Actually, it’s downright a bad idea. Peace is fragile right now. Don’t. Blow it.”

Past experiences had trained Annabeth to sense trouble brewing pretty quickly, though she was too far away to stop the confrontation between Connor and Catherine. She’d never been much of a peacekeeper herself, one much more likely to fall victim to her own pride, but even then her analytical mind knew that de-escalation would be the correct path here. Noting that there was already someone attempting to hold Connor back, she caught his eye for a moment, hand slightly tapping his back as she passed, hoping that he would take the hint to back down. Instead, she turned her attention to Cat, smile on her face. “ Thanks for finding it, but Piper’s a little tipsy at the moment, and would probably end up losing it again if you gave it to her now. We’ll take care of it for now, but I’ll let her know that you found it. ”

Raising an eyebrow at the situation, Cat dipped her head gently and nodded. Handing the purse gently and carefully over to Annabeth before taking a step away. She had no intention to further the conflict with Connor, she wasn’t nearly childish enough to do so, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true but she had airs to keep up. Her professionalism was meant to be the core of her personality. “Hopefully she doesn’t lose it again,” she turned and strode away, moving towards Marcus with a slight smirk. That had been somewhat satisfying.

The Legionnaires had a lot on their plates, but this was certainly not a concept localized for just them. Z couldn’t quantify the amount of work the Greeks were also busy with. His own workload was enough to make him dizzy sometimes. “That does seem like quite a bit—Oh!” he gasped out softly as an arm snaked around his form. He looked over, and then subsequently upward, to see his boyfriend’s face, and his heart skipped a beat. Thank the gods it wasn’t someone random. “Aidan was the one you were working with at the daycare? What a coincidence. We met while I was keeping some children company in a game of hide and seek.” The universe worked in mysterious ways, it seemed. It was basically fate that they meet, just as it seemed to be fate that some sort of loud conversation broke out at an event for peace. As short as he was, he couldn’t quite see over the heads of other partygoers, but he did catch the faintest of sights of Connor and what sounded to be Cat’s voice as well over the cacophony of others. A frown graced his face as he fiddled with the glass between his hands.

Aidan sighed, thinking about how cute Wally and Z were, wishing he too would someday find something like they had. Or at least had thought to bring a date to dance with. It felt like a middle school dance, as tensions kept most the groups to the bar and food areas. Chatting quietly. At least it was passive until he heard the commotion, and felt a vague sense of dejavú watching Connor drunkenly yell at Cat. He just felt glad it wasn’t himself, not having even finished the glass in hand. Aidan downed it and trying to keep a smile on his face as he began to feel suffocated from the ensuing silence cleared his throat. “Brock- would you uh, would you care to dance?” He asked, trying to change the subject. “I love the-the cha cha slide, everyone… knows it…” He trailed off, hoping someone would jump to his aid. Surely he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one.

The Dominus has watched eagerly as the party had progressed. Tension burning bright after all the chaos they’d caused for them lingered in the back of their minds. Placing their empty palm on a sphere of crystal they stepped forward and cleared their throat before exerting their will on the magical artefact in their possession. Across the city, in the unity feast a shimmering apparition appeared before darkening into a silhouette made of pure shadow. With a voice like nails being dragged across slate, the Dominus began their first address. “Demigods. I hope you have enjoyed tonight’s festivities as it may be one of your last.” They pause for dramatic effect, drinking in the silence that had fallen on the crowd. “I appear before you tonight with some information for all if you. An omen, a warning. By now, you are aware that there is a cult that has burrowed and wormed its way into the city’s roots and corrupted almost every aspect of this society. The members of this cult are among us as I speak, yet in the shadows, they hide. The cult is one of the most powerful forces in New Rome, and it obeys my bidding now. I have poisoned this city, and used the cult to do so. Watch in despair as your hopes rot away, leaving nothing behind, you are witnesses of the end of New Rome. Your city will soon collapse in terror and despair. You may be asking yourself who I am, well that’s easy. I, am simply known, as the Dominus. A name that will be on your tongues as you die in the rubble of this fallen city. Enjoy tonight, as soon the time of reckoning will be upon you.” The Dominus stepped away from his artefact and the vision cut off, a moment later the unity feast exploded into a chaotic roar of questions and shouts, confusion and concern enveloping the whole group.

#f&gevent #unity feast

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kazliin · 6 years

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17 please !!!

17) things you said that I wish you hadn’t

Continuation of this and this Percy Jackson AU

He was, Yuuri had to conclude, quite possibly the worst sonof Aphrodite in history.

Ever since he had arrive at Camp Half-Blood four years ago,fourteen years old and terrified of the monsters that he hadn’t even believedin before they had begun hunting him down, he had never quite felt like thedemigod he was supposed to be. In camp activities he was perfectly average, hecould fight and shoot and Celestino had even asked him to give demonstrationsto the younger campers on occasion. But when it came to godly powers, there wasnothing.

Some people were late bloomers, he had been assured manytimes. And Aphrodite’s powers didn’t always manifest in the most obvious ofways. But ever since his claiming a few weeks after he had arrived at the camp,there had been no other indication that he even belonged in the Aphrodite cabinthat he now called home. No powers marking him out as one of his mother’schildren, not even the marked beauty the rest of his brothers and sistersseemed to possess, although Phichit had insisted many times that that was alie. His half-brother Chris still took every opportunity to try and help himdiscover his ‘true powers of Eros’ but after four years, Yuuri had come to acceptthat he was about as ordinary and powerless as any demi-god could be.

It was something he couldn’t help thinking about while waiting outside the Big House withthe rest of the campers, all eager to hear the newest quest handed down to one of their number by the oracle. Viktor Nikiforov had been chosen, to absolutely no-one’ssurprise, and there was already crowd gathered outside the house, waiting to hear what daringadventure he was set to embark on next. Yuuri most of all.

Ever since he had arrived at the camp, he had followedViktor’s career religiously. The other boy might only be a year older than himbut he had been living at the camp since he was barely a child and was already amaster at nearly every activity they had to offer by the time that Yuuri had arrived. Viktor’s mother Nike mightonly be a minor goddess but Viktor certainly was no minor demigod, easilyoutstripping his peers and completing quest after quest over the years to the awe of all thecampers, Yuuri included.

A hush fell over the crowd and Yuuri was jolted out of his musings, glancing up to seeViktor emerging from the doorway, a grin on his face as he looked at the assembled crowd.

“Well Viktor, what instructions has the oracle given you?” Yakov asked, arms crossed and hooves shifting impatiently as he stared at his student, waiting for an answer.

“She assigned me a quest,” Viktor confirmed, still grinning ashis eyes scanned the crowd, as if he was looking for something. “But she toldme if I wanted to succeed, I needed to choose a partner to come with me. And choose wisely.”

Whispers broke out among the crowd almost immediately, thefeeling of anticipation in the air only heightening at the words. It was hardly unusual fordemigods to go on quests in pairs but being given free choice wasn’t as commonand everyone was alert, waiting with baited breath to see who Viktor wouldchoose. Being chosen for a quest with Viktor Nikiforov was something manycampers dreamed of.

Yuuri included, although he would never admit it out loud.But in his imagination, everything was different. He was confident and powerful,throwing around his godly powers with ease the way Viktor did his and winningall of Viktor’s admiration and attention in the process. That dream would become a nightmareif it ever became a reality. Yuuri had nothing to show, no powers to speak of, andany quest he tried to complete would undoubtedly be a disaster.

Not that Viktor would ever pick him anyway. There weredemigods in the camp capable of creating typhoons or lightning storms, Yuuridecent ability with a sword was hardly a notable talent and Viktor likely hadno idea that he even existed. Or if he did, he had probably only heard the rumours ofthe son of Aphrodite who some people weren’t even sure was really a demigod atall.

Yes, it really was for the best that there was no possibleway Viktor would ever pick him, Yuuri reasoned to himself. He would only be a disappointmentand embarrassing himself in front of his idol was the last thing he ever wantedto do.

“Well, who do you choose Viktor?” Celestino asked, tail swishing fromside to side and looking at Viktor expectantly.

“I pick Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor replied and silence fell overthe crowd, every eye turning to Yuuri in a single moment.

Yuuri felt his heart plummet in his chest.

Oh no.

[ASKS FOR THIS PROMPT GAME ARE NOW CLOSED]

#Percy Jackson AU #I might write some more of this if people are interested #Kaz's writing tag

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faiththestitch · 6 years

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[Note: Puffles please read this dreadfully long post in parts or like on a long bus ride or something IDK]

Dear Puffles,

So it’s been a long time I have last Tumblr-ed and I regret (strong word aiya) that kind of because I feel so much has transpired and I haven’t had the time to internalise a lot of it yet. That’s been one of the running themes for the past month or so actually: I’ve observed that while I have settled into York, I’m not/I wasn’t sure if I felt rooted yet because I never took the time to sit down and think quietly about all the things that have happened since moving and how I feel about it? And that’s also why I didn’t Tumblr because of the lack of reflection. Anyway, I really appreciate your patience, understanding and faith.

I quite like the Tumblr idea as a form of diary journaling anyway. You know how I feel about diaries though and my fear of committing thoughts to words - but I have surprisingly been comfortable with doing it here. So this might be a long post (I hope that’s okay and I hope you don’t get bored - read it in parts I guess). Speaking of which, I definitely hope you are reading this after your last Final (yay!) ◡̈ Cheering you on for Molec Gen :)

I think I’ll start with CU first. So we had our CU Weekend Away a few weeks ago (11-12th Oct). We went to a campsite at a place called Redmire. Even though I’ve only been at university for 7 weeks by then, I was like sign me up for this camping thing now omg plz and I definitely don’t regret going for it despite having an essay due in the same week after it ended. So if you take a look at the photos, you’ll be able to see we stayed in cabins that reminded me of the ones in Percy Jackson. So it wasn’t really camping per se - more like glamping lol. But hey at that weather, where it was 5 bloody degrees in the day (and colder still in the morning and night), I am most glad we had a warm cabin to go back to after activities. The weekend was effectively a retreat: we had a guy (a young minister) come down and talk to us about a passage in the Bible throughout the weekend (so it was like continuous bible study) in between other fun activities like hiking up a hill (it felt like a mountain lol) and games. We were also fed a lot of food which I appreciated immensely. Some CU alumni came back and joined us for the weekend, during which they were in charge of cooking food for 50+ people. I also became closer with CU seniors and peers, which was very nice. At this stage, I don’t think my CU friendships are 10/10 strong (like I don’t talk to them everyday or often outside CU) but I’m hoping that God will cause them to be blessed and grow. They’re extraordinarily nice people and I’m so glad that I joined CU this semester, even though it’s my one and only formal commitment. It’s twice a week: Tuesday for a small college groups and Thursday for everyone to come together as a university. And then on Sunday we still have Church throughout the day effectively. In any case, I’m very grateful for my friendships and fellowship in CU - I know He has great plans for me there, and my heart is filled with a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings when I think about it.

So moving on - onto food ;) So I’m not sure how I have survived one whole semester without acquiring a pot or pan. And I lost my only plate half way into the term. And I lost my only set of cutlery 2-3 weeks ago lol. So the last few weeks have been rather interesting in this regard (amongst others). So what’s been happening is that firstly, I don’t eat three meals a day (does anyone really?) and I buy lunch on Campus West (where lessons and cafes are). Dinner has been interesting insofar as I’ve had a lot of friends suddenly offer me food. It’s the most wonderful (and timely) blessing ever. I believe I’ve had almost 10 properly cooked and free dinners now. Some are from CU people who cooked too much and brought food to Faith for her to eat lol. Some of the food came from Stan’s flatmates - which has been an interesting experience (???). IDK so Stan has a few computer science friends (T.T) and they’re all pretty intense and nerdy it’s really amusing. Two of them are from Hong Kong so it has been fun bonding with them over the shared Asian experience and knowledge. They’re both called Julian too haha. Anyway I’m kind of more or less friends with the Julian who does all the cooking - he really likes cooking and takes it super seriously (like spends 3 hours on average just cooking dinner - who has time for that in university??). He’s really intense in that he’s really talkative and insists on being the host etc etc. So Stan and I usually just idly stand in the kitchen and watch him cook. It’s even gotten to the point where we chill in his room and Julian comes up with the food to us? IDK that’s why it feels super weird because at first, Julian offered food to me because he overcooked and had too big of a portion but subsequently, it has become a Thing and there is a FB chat and now he goes out and buys ingredients knowing that he’s cooking for 3-4 people, instead of just for himself and his roommate (the other Julian). Yeah anyway that’s why I’ve been feeling pretty weird over it because there’s this guy (who has a girlfriend btw) who has just been cooking a lot for Stan and I (like proper dishes e.g. salmon and fried rice one day, Thai green curry another day, French onion soup + various meat, Vietnamese Pho etc etc) and he does it all by himself and we don’t pay anything??? I have TRIED but the Asian culture in him insists that he plays host but now it’s becoming so regular gah. Anyway at the end of the day, I have really appreciated all the food and the conversations (I guess??) and I think it probably won’t continue into the Spring Semester (Semester 2) so that’s okay. On a separate note, I’ve also had my Italian friend Stefano come over to my flat and cook pasta for Clemmie, Stan, myself and him too! So that was really nice hahaha.

A rough and quick overview of my friendships (very few in nature): From my course, I’m hanging out with Stan and Clemmie pretty much everyday. Stefano hangs out with us too, but he sometimes goes to the library to study while we just eat (lol) and he doesn’t stay on campus too so he heads back after classes end, while the three of us chill and have drinks regularly at the end of every week (well I don’t drink but I watch the other two lol). We also have a friend called James who is very nice but we haven’t really gotten very close to him unfortunately. I try but he’s a pretty private guy. And he also went back home two weeks before university ended because he’s been ill :/ But I hope the friendship will grow somehow! I think you would like him - and all of them for that matter. So that’s generally a clique of sorts - although I’m definitely not as close to James and Stefano as I am with Clemmie and Stan. From my flat, I am closer to three other girls: Christianna (the Greek girl), Ellen and Katie. I’ll be living with the three of them next year. I feel a bit conflicted about it from time to time: they’re nice people but I sway on how close I feel with them hahaha. In any case, what I do appreciate the most about them is that they’re not from my course and I don’t see them everyday as I do with Clemmie and Stan: so it’s always nice to hang out with different people hahaha. Christianna and I are pretty close in the flat, we chill in each other’s rooms often and she’s a nice girl ◡̈ My third and last group of friends comes from CU - and there’s a range of people there. In terms of seniors, I’m closest to two of my leaders (they’re in Year 2): Cat and Sarah. From my batch, Jill and I attend CU together often and I bond a lot with some of the guys. The friend I have been taking walks with (well it’s just been 2 lol but they’re insanely long and I try not to cry - like 2-3 hours long eh) is called David and he’s from CU. So yep ◡̈ I don’t have many friends tbh - definitely not as diverse and rooted as the ones back in Singapore, but I suppose it’s only been 10 weeks and I imagine a lot of things will change come Semester 2 and 3.

Academically, things have been going alright. It’s one of the few things that I’m honestly quite okay with. Nothing has overwhelmed me to the point of tears and I think you have been undergoing more stress with Finals at NUS. The month of deadlines for me where I had essays due at the end of every week was pretty hellish (like staying in the library/some study space till 3am every night before hauling myself back to the flat) but I think it helped knowing that it would be over at some point and each week, I had to focus on the next essay (or two) that was due the following week. Lectures have been interesting, I like my modules. Seminars are decent for some modules: it depends on the Seminar Tutor. But across the board, my seminar tutors have said I’m doing decently (well the standard isn’t very high to begin with :< people are so noobs sometimes honestly) and my results from the formative essays that I’ve submitted are pretty okay. I am definitely not at the 10/10 stage and I haven’t studied since the last essay was due 3 weeks ago so I suppose that wasn’t the wisest choice haha but I’ll try my best in December. I have four graded essays due in the first week of January and they account for 40% of my grade for each module (the other 60% being a PPA in May etc). So I Better Not Screw Up. I’m determined to attain the highest band possible I HOPE - I just need to guai guai go to the library often, read a lotttttt and write hopefully an outstanding essay haish. I’m in pain just thinking about it tbh.

(Wow I’ve just noticed the word count for this post so far - I’m typing it out in Pages while in the air haish 1850 words so far; IDK if you’re dying of boredom, if so I am a sorry bean.)

So moving onto Spain…hahahaha. Spain was only 3-4 days. I only told my parents on the night I was leaving (well done Faith). I kept on procrastinating on calling them and telling them about it (I couldn’t gauge if they would be okay with it). In any case, they were super chill with it and were just like lol okay bye. I don’t really understand my parents sometimes - I suspect you don’t either - but I guess that’s Parenthood in general that we are both bemused by. Travelling-wise, we took a train from York train station to Manchester Airport, where we had a flight from there to Barcelona. We stayed in a really lovely Airbnb. We only rented a room (super budget trip) so Clemmie and I slept on the masterbed while Stan had a single bed beside us. It was a very enjoyable and memorable trip overall - definitely the culmination of spending almost everyday together for the past 9 weeks and capping it off by spending 3-4 days in each other’s constance presence overseas. Ded. But it worked out so that’s good. On the first day, we arrived in Spain in the morning around 9am iirc and we went straight out after dropping our things at the flat. Barcelona is an incredibly beautiful city - please take a look at the photos. The architecture is very classically European, the streets are broad and wide with fancy shops at the side and the number of cafes and bistros is beautiful. The bakeries, too, are absolutely to die for and I almost did. I was trying to keep the budget as low as possible so I didn’t buy anything except food to eat and sustain myself. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before but Stan grew up in Spain (he spent a solid 7-8 years there during late primary and secondary school I think - right up till A Levels) so he is fluent in Spanish and was effectively responsible for navigating us around the city and translating everything for Clemmie and I. My friends are insanely bilingual btw - it’s not fair. Clemmie is fluent in German, and is learning other European languages. Stan speaks Spanish, and is learning French. Like wtf Faith you only speak English and you fail at that sometimes. (Interesting detour - while at York/Barcelona. Faith conducted some conversations in Chinese - it’s the strangest experience ever! Honing Chinese in an overseas country.) Anyway, on the second day, we took a bus to the peak of the city where we spent 2-3 hours just chilling and admiring the view. It was honestly such a relaxing experience, I enjoyed it a great deal. It’s also where my new FB DP is from: Clemmie took the picture and I liked it. On the third day, we went to a beach and we walked around the town etc. We were travelling back to York in the same night so the day was long. I think Spain, in all, was a meaningful experience: I enjoyed learning about another country’s culture, it was a very timely break from York and I think the three of us are closer because of it.

So one thing that occured because of Spain is that Stan and I bonded over certain sentimental and nostalgic feelings over living in two countries and identifying with different cultures and identities. I mean, on some level, I think I have dealt with it better (in terms of the emotional stage that I’m at now) because I’ve thought about Ireland, China and Singapore a lot and it’s become part of my identity etc etc. Moving to York has definitely made things hard and I need time to dwell on that later too. But I have internalised things I think and reflected on things. Stan, on the other hand, can apparently go for months without thinking of Spain so going to Spain brought up some memories haiya. Boys and their inability to connect with their emotions properly and healthily. Not that we are great at it either but we try. Idk. Do we even? Maybe not lol.

Haiya. To be completely honest, I feel stupidly conflicted about that one. At the most fundamental level of my heart, I am happy I have a friend who I can hang out with and spend a lot of time with comfortably. It’s just because it’s a Boy that causes the heart confusion. I mean - it’s a good thing we both don’t swing the other way as surely then we would have been confused at some point with this friendship too right?? lol. But yep because it’s a boy and also a non-Christian boy so I just feel so incredibly stupid for spending so much time with him and effectively putting myself in this position. The line between Platonic and Not Platonic is so fine, I really want to be careful here. Like honestly Puffles on some level I deserve some award for not crossing it by this point it’s ridiculous. We have meals together everyday, hang out pretty much everyday unless we decide not to, weekends are with him, the past 3 weeks has seen us chilling in bed together watching TV shows and Youtube or whatever. The number of times I have gone to his room or him to mine and then at 4am physically force myself to leave and walk back to my room out of sheer self-discipline is insane. Like I deserve some award for not allowing myself to fall asleep in the same bed at 4am often right :( He has offered so many times and each time I say no because I want to be a Guai kid and I know sleeping in the same bed will SURELY make things harder and the line finer. But haiya it’s ridiculous. I think it also surprised me how sad it was to say bye to each other before I left for Singapore?? Like he came over to my place and we just talked in bed and stuffs :< Hence the sentimental crap and rant I sent to you at some 2am hour after he left. I don’t know Argh I’m determined to keep things Platonic but I think it’s just at a stage where it’s really hard to ascertain this. And I also know that part of my heart is also like hurhur maybe things don’t have to be platonic but the other 80% of me knows it won’t end well and it’s not the right decision so huzzah Faith must remain steadfast. Besides, I think December will most definitely help - you are right in this and I will believe in that.

But I feel so stupid nonetheless for being in a position where feelings are vulnerable. :( It’s damn stupid, I tell you. I think the crucial issue here is that things have happened and things have been said that make it very hard for the friendship to be intrinsically and wholly platonic, you know? It can still be and it still is, most definitely. But I hope December affirms that I guess?? I DON’T KNOW ARGH ok no, I do - I do :(

What even is the point to life haish

I am such a pathetic bean and ball of emotions right now I think. Need to think straight again.

He said that coming to know me has been the single most worthwhile thing he did this term :( is that good friendship or what

Aiya fuck it forget it December will help and next year things will be platonic and good and chill again. It’s just sentimental crap right now.

Okay moving on.

ONTO OUR FRIENDSHIP.

I know you’ve been super stressed with Finals the past 3 weeks but you are almost done friend - very very almost done and by the time you read this, you WILL be done so that is the best news ever. I am also excited to be spending almost everyday with you this December. You have been desperately missed and cherished - my friends here know of my best friend back in Singapore whom I call at random hours and walk away from them to talk to her. I do know for a fact that if you were in York, things would be 10 times more fun and heartwarming, less worrying and stressful and we would be hanging out everyday. Sometimes when I’m walking from one place to another, I’m thinking of you and how fun it would be if you were right there next to me. You remain to be my best friend and my closest friend. I am glad these 3 months have come to an end so that we can chill and catch up in each other’s presence. I will definitely update Tumblr more often in January and so on. And I hope we can properly video call more often. All that aside though, my sentiments and words haven’t changed despite the distance. You are Puffles and I am Quaffles, and I thank God that we are in each other’s lives to cheer each other on right next to each other, even if we’re physically apart.

Family and Jarred-Related things have been tough, no doubt. I sometimes want to kill him, hindered only by the fact that I am physically not there and the law would not perhaps not be on my side. I can’t believe it’s already December 2017 - it’s been one strange and long year? Remember Raffles Medical lol? And Clinton Street and Alfred and all the random things we have embarked on this year. (hahaha the colouring book - we must.) And you moved away from home the first time this year: your own space and everything. And I moved abroad. Sighs.

I hope we’ll have time this December to reflect on things. I think we really really need to. Dude, I’m so ready to just lock myself in a room and watch Modern Family and cry and think about life. Yes???

Faith is in a desperate need for catharsis right now. I think that’s what I need.

Okay well, this has been an extremely long post. I hope it makes up for the lack of a post in the month of November. Again, I’m really sorry it has taken a long time for me to reflect and post. I’m sorry too if this has been incredibly boring/difficult to read. I hope you read it in parts.

I miss you friend and I’m really looking forward to meeting you soon. Let’s sort out our plans for December yeah?

I love you Puffles <3 And see you soon (finally!) <3

With all my heart,

Quaffles

#Quaffles #words #Sorry this is late #see you soon

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