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mediumgayitalian · 24 days

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The slam of his car door is loud enough to make him jump, echoing across the dipping valleys and proud hills. He curses to himself, standing frozen, one, two, three, four, but no one comes running. A light dusting of snow falls in a perfect circle around an invisible border, and Lee shivers as he jogs over to it, worn sneakers squelching over the wet, half-thawed grass.

As soon as he steps onto the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he feels the difference, the balmy breath of warm summer under the clear December sky. The power of Thalia’s tree sends its usual shiver down his back, and he touches it, briefly, as he speeds past, sending his usual prayer of thanks. He pauses at the crest of the hill, using the bright gibbous moon to survey the camp, marking his path.

“Two, four….twelve,” he mutters to himself, craning his neck to map every one of the patrol harpies. He crouches for a while, watching them, tracking their patrol: paired, hexagonal, staggered circuits around the cabins. Four minute window of opportunity.

He can do four minutes.

As the two harpies walking the Apollo-Artemis circuit begin to cross the common, Lee bolts. He keeps low and close to the shadows, sprinting fast and on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, and ducks behind whatever shadow is closest whenever something looks his way. By the time the harpies turn back towards Cabin Seven, he’s already on the rickety porch, tossing his backpack inside the window Michael left open for him and throwing himself in after it.

He lands palms-first, tucking into a roll to absorb the momentum. He freezes, panting, by the leg of what is usually Amir’s bed, straining to hear past the crickets and cicadas.

One, two, three, four.

Nothing.

He’s good.

“Took your damn sweet time, didn’t you.”

“Hello to you too,” Lee grumbles, pushing himself upright. From across the cabin, lounging on his bed like a goddamn French monarch, is his dick of a brother, grinning like the little shit he is. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, most people say hello, et cetera, et cetera.”

Michael shrugs. “You’re late. I watched you on the hill; you coulda made that run twenty minutes ago.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“I’m always asking me.”

“Get over her, boogerbrain.”

“Real mature,” Michael mocks, but ambles over anyway. He retches like a twelve year old when Lee hugs him, but twists his hands in the back of Lee’s shirt when he lets go too fast. Lee hides his smile in his over-gelled hair.

“You might miss me less if you actually write me letters, you know.”

“I didn’t miss you,” he responds automatically. “And I wouldn’t have to write you letters if you stayed home, already.”

Lee sighs. “…I have school, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure your dumbass bio teachers have loads to teach the guy who can do open heart surgery with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah, yeah. If anyone could do with a good, old-fashioned, public school humbling, it would be you, hothead. You ready to go?”

Michael pulls away with a roll of his eyes. “Only since yesterday. Been waiting for your sorry ass.”

“My sorry — your sorry ass doesn’t have a car!”

Michael snickers, jogging back to his bunk and grabbing the black duffel bag resting under it. Lee makes quick work of packing his own bag, stuffing in a couple squares of ambrosia and and giant roll of bandages, just in case, before creeping over to the only bed left with someone still in it.

“Hey, kiddo.” He folds over the sheet pulled all the way over messy blonde curls, immediately plaguing the cabin with loud snoring. He rests his palm over a sleep-creased cheek, mapping his thumb over the freckles dotting pudgy cheekbones, and brushes back the hair plastered to his baby brother’s forehead. “Will, sweetheart, get up.”

It takes him a couple minutes of gentle prodding — when Will is out he is out — to wake up, squinting blearily in the dim fairy lights strewn across his bunk. He blinks, one, two, three, four, then gasps.

“Lee!”

“Oof,” Lee grunts, shifting his weight as he is abruptly accosted with an armful of child. He smiles, curling around Will’s flailing, chattering form, tightening his hold on his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. “Hi, buddy.”

“—missed you so much! Is this why your letter was late? Are you staying? Is this why Diana left yesterday? Is she here now? Is Cass coming? Is everybody coming? Can I —”

“C’mon, Motormouth,” Michael interrupts, cuffing Will’s ear as he walks by. “Go get your sneakers on. We’re going for a drive.”

“‘Kay,” Will days happily, dashing off to find the light-up Star Wars shoes he refuses to throw out, even though there are literal holes in the soles.

“You got his bag?”

“Yep,” Michael affirms, holding up a straining backpack. “Toothbrush. Hairbrush that he won’t use. Three comic books. Change of clothes. And two more changes of clothes for when he inevitably destroys the first one,” he adds when Lee opens his mouth. He shoots him an exasperated look. “Me and Diana have been chasing after the little brat for four months, dude. I got him.”

“Alright, alright,” Lee grumbles. “Heaven forbid I double-check.” He turns over to the door, where Will is tying his shoelaces, tongue peeking out of his mouth. “You ready, Will?”

He tugs on the two loops. The entire knot unravels. Quick as a flash, he stuffs the laces inside his shoes, scrambling to his feet.

“Yes,” he lies. He scratches at his throat.

Lee and Michel sigh in unison.

Luckily, the reaction is hardly more than itchy eyes and a cough. Lee herds him towards the door, sliding the backpack over his shoulders and holding out his arm and —

“Hold on a sec.”

“Why?” Will whispers.

“Shh,” Lee says.

Window cracked open, Michael exhales. The release of his bow hardly makes more than a soft hiss.

The angle is odd, limited space as there is, but Michael never misses — the clunky arrow whistles through the open window, sailing past the sloped roofs of the west wing cabins, and thunks somewhere behind the first layer of trees in the forest. Immediately, it lets loose a burst of sound identical to a dropped bottle and a group of teenagers cursing. In seconds, the curfew harpies are screeching, descending upon the source of the noise with the fury of a thousand sun chariots.

“Go go go go go,” Michael orders, wrenching open the door.

Will, immediately, takes off, gleeful at the opportunity to run away with permission (usually, he’s running from one of them, screeching at him to get back here). (Or Chiron, although Chiron has a much easier time catching up, what with the six limbs and all). (…Is Chiron an insect? Technically?)

“How long do we have?” Lee whispers, once Michael has caught up.

He shrugs. “Seven minutes, give or take? More than enough time.”

Lee worries his bottom lip. “More than…” He glances at the forest. Vaguely, in the low firelight, he can see the odd wing, hear the odd screech. Nothing looks very close. He glances at the rapidly approaching Athena cabin, just a few yards out of their way. Hm.

“Detour!” he decides. “Will, c’mon!”

Ignoring Michael’s hissed complaints, he veers towards to neatly maintained cabin. He slips in the space between Cabins Six and Four, holding tight to Will’s hand. He counts the windows as he passes — one, two, three, four — and stumbles to a stop, crouching down in the dirt.

“Oh, are you — for the love of Zeus.”

Lee ignores his eye-rolling, scanning the ground for pebbles. He selects a handful of them, careful not to choose anything too big, and jogs a few steps back.

“What’re you doing?” Will asks, too loud, but at least he tries to whisper.

Instead of answering, Lee launches the first pebble at the window.

It pings off harmlessly.

Waiting a breath for the harpies to come running, he continues, firing off pebble after pebble with increasing strength. Finally, after pebble #7, a face appears behind the clear glass, bleary eyes widening when they take in the sight in front of them. Quickly, the latches are undone, and the window is yanked open.

“Lee?!”

Lee grins. “Hey, Carter.”

“What’re you — you’re — it’s December! What’s going —”

“I need a favour,” Lee whispers. “Can you — cover for us?”

For the first time, Carter looks away, brows raising as he notices Micheal, who taps his (watchless) wrist obnoxiously, and Will, who waves brightly. Carter waves back, small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cover for you?”

“Just, like, infirmary stuff. I don’t think anything will happen, and if it does we’re an IM away, but —”

“Lee,” Carter says exasperatedly, “cover you guys for what?”

“Oh.” Lee clears his throat. “I, um. I need to do something for my family.”

Smiling, Carter rests his elbows on the windowsill, chin in his hands. “Mysterious.”

“We’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” Lee assures.

“And then you’ll stay for a bit?”

Lee’s mouth goes dry. “You want me to stay?”

Carter ducks his head, fingers tracing a mindless path on the windowsill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you for a while.”

A thousand gods of prophecy could not predict the sound that comes out of Lee’s throat.

Something between a whimper and an awkward laugh, his voice cracks four seperate times. Carter giggles. Lee prays, genuinely, that a crater opens up beneath him and drops him right at Lord Hades’ feet.

“Everything okay, Lee?”

“Peachy,” he croaks.

Carter giggles again. Lee flushes. Michael gags exaggeratedly behind him, pausing mid-heave to whisper something to Will, and then there’s a giggle, and then two people fake-retching. Carter peeks through his dark eyelashes, pleased expression softening his heart-shaped face, and Lee counts twelve of his own capillaries straight-up explode.

“Well,” he says, too loudly. “I’m — well.”

“I think you have harpies to run from,” Carter suggests gently.

“Indeed.” Lee clears his throat, nodding. “As you have so astutely observed, we do —”

Michael, recognising the strained tone to his voice, groans. “Fucksake, Lee —”

“— and so I bid you adieu —”

“Dude, oh my gods, snap out of it —”

Lee can’t. He barely has control over his own mouth.

“— and vow to see you again in the eve.”

Feeling his soul exit his body, settle in front of him, and then crumple up and die, Lee fucking bows. There is the very distinctive sound of a hand slapping over a mouth, muffling an eruption of giggles, and then the hand of mercy, also known as Michael Yew, clamping on the back of his lava-hot neck.

“Please excuse him,” he says grandly. “He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s normal, usually.”

“Except when you wear your glasses,” Will pipes up. Lee makes a mental note to find Clarisse’s spear and shove it through his own eye. “He gets real weird when you wear your glasses. Once he walked into a wall and broke his nose.”

“…Did he.”

“Yep. And last time he —”

“God, this hurts me to say,” whispers Michael, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. We’re on a time limit. C’mon, Will. Bye, Carter. Sorry for — well, you know. Apollonian dramatics, not always easy to control.”

He turns, dragging Lee, still hunched over, out of the Cabin Six shadow.

Lee does not un-hunch until they are well over the crest of Half-Blood Hill, harpy screeches beginning to echo behind them.

“I have never been more embarrassed to be related to you in my life,” Michael informs him, the second he’s upright. “Like, genuinely, I’m considering disowning you. That was atrocious, Fletcher. You need to get ahold of yourself. Where is your game? Your dignity?”

“I think he lost it when he was born,” Will says thoughtfully. “Or maybe when Carter smiled at him the first time.”

“I hate both of you,” Lee croaks.

Neither of them seem too incredibly bothered, snickering to each other as they duck into the car.

Willing his flush to go down, Lee herds them into his car. He takes a moment in the cool air to chill the hell out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, then slips behind the wheel. He checks that Will is belted in properly, slips the car into neutral, and coasts down the road, waiting until Thalia’s tree slips out of sight before turning it on and hitting the gas.

“Where’re we goin’?

“You,” Michael says, flipping down the vanity mirror to glare sternly at Will, “are going to dreamland. It’s three in the morning. Time for bratty children to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m not tired!”

“Fine, fine,” Lee says, exchanging a grin with Michael. “Stay awake, then. As long as you like.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“No trick?”

Lee crosses his fingers. “‘Course not.”

“Fine,” he relents. He settles into the booster seat Lee dragged out of the trunk for him (which he hates), arms crossed over his chest, and stares out the window.

Counting off on his fingers — one, two, three, four — Lee and Michael begin to hum.

At first, nothing happens. Will taps absentmindedly on his knees, humming along to the parts he knows, but soon his fingers slow. Lee and Michael keep it low and quiet, cycling through quiet folk songs Michael’s dad taught him, matching with the rumbling of the car, the slight breeze of Lee’s cracked open window. Michael kicks softly at the base of his seat, one, two, three, four; and matches the rhythm of the radio static, the click of the blinkers on every turn.

Will’s out in twenty minutes.

———

The drive is long.

Michael curls up sometime around four, fogging up the windows with every snore. Lee keeps the radio on a low hum, letting the background noise keep him focused as he navigates. The Atlantic Ocean is ink-black in the early morning, and the waves crash loud enough that he can hear them over the sounds of the engine, and for a while they’re still far enough from the city that the air smells fresh. Even when it starts to sour, and the noise gets a lot more urban, it’s early enough and he’s east enough that the traffic is minimal. Never non-existent — he actually cannot imagine what a traffic-less New York would look like; he doubts he’ll ever live to see it — but enough that he keeps at a steady 35.

The drive through Jersey is uneventful. Farmland and suburbs, nothing he hasn’t seen every day of his life, nothing he didn’t see the last time he made the drive. He entertains himself by counting every brown car he sees, randomly wagering the number by the time he gets there. He’s relieved when he finally crosses the memorial bridge, driving down the exit ramp and pulling into the first big parking lot he sees. Michael wakes up as he puts the car in gear, killing the engine.

“We here?” he asks, popping the joints along his spine.

Lee yawns. “Pretty much, yeah. Pulled off the highway.”

“‘Kay.” He glances in the backseat, where Will is starting to stir. “You nap. I’m gonna find a place for him to change and brush his teeth, maybe get breakfast for all of us.”

“Sounds good”

He crawls in the backseat as Michael guides Will out of it, accepting the blanket tossed his way. He slides his hoodie over his face, lies back, and conks out in minutes.

———

“Yo, Lee. Get up. I got food.”

“Timizzit?” he asks, shaking the grogginess from his limbs.

“Eleven. You slept for four hours. We gotta be at the theatre in an hour.”

“When’s she on?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Diana said noon, I’m gonna be there at noon. You wanna piss off Diana?”

“No.” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, reaching blindly in the direction of Michael’s voice. “Food, please.”

A bag of grease is deposited into his waiting hand. He is pleased to find three cheeseburgers within it, and immediately tears into them with a fervour that can only be described as ‘ravenous’, or perhaps ‘revolting’. Esurient, perhaps, if one was feeling poetic.

Finally awake enough to function, Lee looks critically at the scene in front of him. Michael is dressed in the same button-up and slacks he wears to his dad’s performances, on the years he’s in the U.S., and Will is in jeans without grass stains, real shoes, hair mostly brushed. Michael has even managed to find a shirt that’s not half-unraveled from Will picking at the seams.

“Nice,” he says, nodding in approval.

Michael picks at his nails, visibly preening. “Oh, it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dweeb.”

He polishes off his last burger, then ducks inside the nearest store to find somewhere to get changed. Diana told them it didn’t matter, really, what they wore, but Lee knows better. He knows what this means for Cass, and while yeah, sure, it wouldn’t really matter if he showed up in sweatpants, he wants to show her that he put in the effort. That even if her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, they will. All of them. He wants her to see them and know that they did this for her. He wants her to see them and know that they tried, that they care.

Hair perfectly placed and clothes as unwrinkled as he can get them, he hurries back to the car. The theatre isn’t far, and they have a little under an hour, but he doesn’t want to push it. Finding parking will be hard enough.

“Are we on a quest?” Will asks, five minutes out on the road.

“Eight year olds don’t go on quests.”

“Diomedes was ten when he fought the Trojan war.”

“Are you Diomedes?”

“No.”

“Are you ten?”

“No.”

“Then no quests for you.”

“Aw.”

“Your quest can be being quiet for twenty minutes,” Michael grumbles, making a face when Will sticks his tongue out at him.

———

part two

#writint michael was SO FUN and also a bit of a challenge bc he is a bitch #god i love him #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #lee fletcher #michael yew #will solace #cabin seven #cabin seven kids #lee fletcher & will solace #michael yew & will solace #lee fletcher & michael yew #my writing #fic #longpost

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maristocratie · 1 year

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Some of my PJO/HOO + Magnus Chase headcanons

I apologize in advance for the spelling mistakes, English is not my mother tongue, I will try to do my best !

Enjoy the reading :)

Camp :

There is a winter version of the camp t-shirts for the kids who stay all year long which is an orange fleece, it is not possible that these kids are all year long in t-shirt + this fleece is a big oversized grandpa fleece

Percy :

Percy has a collection of ugly T-shirts from the gift shops of the small towns they passed through during all their quests

Annabeth :

Annabeth has a completely collapsible mug that she can slip into her bag when she goes to work for hours at the University Library in New Rome on her architectural projects. She has several of them in different colors for different drinks and she never puts tea in the coffee cup etc... because the cup takes on the taste and smell of a drink and when you drink another drink in that cup it tastes like the usual drink (it’s so specific sorry)

same when she makes a tea or coffee in their uni apartment she has a cup for each drink

Nico :

Nico has NO accent when he speaks English

Luke :

When Luke was younger he was certainly one of the oldest at camp and was like a big brother to many campers in addition to Annabeth

It happened very often that he read/tell stories to the little ones, put bandages during the trainings if the injuries did not require going to the infirmary and that he animated a lot of workshops as the one of the beads painting

He also animated the campfire in the evening and the singalongs but that was before he became a big jerk (to stay polite)

In Chiron's office there is still a box with the things Luke didn't take with him when he betrayed the camp that should have been returned to May but it was never done

Thalia :

Thalia has big feet I can’t explain why

She told Luke about Jason and he promised her that they would find him one day

She was extremely blonde when she was little

Jason :

Jason somehow knows how to play the piano.

He´s well versed in history and art history and knows a lot of random facts

At some point he has discovered contact lenses and wears them regularly when he’s doing physical activities

When he and his sister are side by side they look much more alike physically than one might think at first glance, they have the same facial expressions

Jason has small freckles on his face and shoulders that stand out in the summer even though you can see them in the winter when you are close to his face

Leo:

Leo can for sure play the drums

Frank :

Frank didn't become super thin or anything when he grew up, he stayed sturdy from the shoulders, which goes with his morphology

Will :

Will wears crocs or similar in the infirmary because he has to stand all day and can't afford to have sore feet + when he's not in the infirmary I think he wears Birkenstocks because they are more comfortable than the flip flops he wears in the books. Will = comfort shoes king

Very often during his night shift will wears the famous fleece because he’s rather cold and he wants to feel comfortable after a long day

He knows a lot about botany thanks to the medicinal plants but also because he has many plants in his bungalow and he has even placed some in a corner of the infirmary

He even has several books on plants that he reads during his breaks, big books that are a bit old and with lots of diagrams and illustrations

He has a helix piercing on his right ear and it's a gold ring

Piper :

Piper has a lot of ear piercings and she has a lot of cool jewelry. She is often asked where she found them. A big part of them are made partly by herself

Travis & Connor :

The stoll brothers are tall and skinny like not muscular just extra skinny legends. Connor is taller than Travis even though Travis is older

Connor has really curly hair while Travis' is more wavy

Magnus :

Magnus is so left-handed that he barely uses his right hand

It's canon that he's tall but I consider him taller than Jason and therefore Percy. He must be a good 6'1" minimum

He smells like head&shoulders and neutrogena intense hydration comfort balm Norwegian formula (very precise almost too precise)

not really an headcanon but I think we forget too quickly and too often that Magnus is extremely intelligent because of his looks and his natural embarrassment. And it infuriates me that he is taken for a fool.

Also, we often forget that he is an excellent pickpocket and that he and the Stoll brothers would literally be a molotov cocktail if they joined forces...

Hope you liked it !

#headcanon #percy jackson #annabeth chase #luke castellan #thalia grace #jason grace #leo valdez #piper mclean #magnus chase #travis stoll #connor stoll #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo headcanon #hoo headcanon #frank zhang

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goblinwithartsupplies · 3 months

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A month after the Battle of Manhattan, a special demigodess arrives at Camp half-blood.

Georgia Aurora Castella - daughter of Zeus and she is 9 years old.

it's worth mentioning that she got along well with the children of Hermes.

And... she looks like someone has mockingly mixed the features of Luke Castellan and Thalia Grace.

Light golden hair like Luke's, ultramarine eyes of Thalia, her freckles, her chin, his cheekbones, his lip shape and the smile that belonged to Mae Castellan in her heyday.

Go-Go is being raised in foster care and was found on the doorstep of a church in Greenport with a tiny note with her full name, date of birth and a request to take care of her.

She always carries an old stuffed hello kitty, very similar to the one Luke stole for Annabeth, but she won't be able to get attached to the toy and one day she just disappeared. This toy was lying next to her when she was found on the doorstep of the church.

And her date of birth miraculously coincides with the time when fifteen-year-old Luke Castellan disappeared from the camp for several months and returned angrier and more broken than ever.

[Hermes, - god of fertility. inspired by they take until you givewiththekeyisking. and I have hyperfixation on mpreg again.]

Sweet Jesus.

At first most figures that Luke had such a strong infatuation with Thalia that when she “died” Luke’s grief manifested as a baby via pure magical brute force emotion. The majority of camp disliked her on principle of her being both Luke’s daughter and her mother being a sworn maiden.

Percy knows better immediately. Luke had warned him about catching Zeus’s eye. He thought Luke just meant in general that Zeus being aware of him would be bad because he’s a forbidden child. The second he sees Georgia’s electric blue eyes, soft golden hair and her smile that is painfully reminiscent of May Castellan’s it clicks what Luke meant.

Percy is the first to tell Georgia about her dad. He holds her hand and explains that he was a good person who was hurt and someone evil used that hurt to manipulate him.

Percy lets Georgia cry in his arms as he tells her about her father and how proud Luke would have been of her and his death was a selfless act and Luke is probably watching her from Elysium.

When she is finally claimed everyone is confused except for Percy who already knew and Annabeth who figures out what happened the moment the lighting bolt appeared over Georgia’s head.

Percy and Annabeth watch as Georgia runs off to the woods to cry after she’s claimed. Then they divide and conquer. Percy goes after her to make sure she is safe and comfort her. Annabeth goes to call Thalia to tell her about the new sibling she have. Annabeth gags as she tells Thalia that Georgia isn’t the child Luke created from grief they originally thought but the result of Luke being assaulted by Zeus. Annabeth then gets a spot in the Zeus cabin more habitable. She also calls Sally to have a bed ready and some comforting cookies.

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #annabeth chase #Luke pjo #thalia grace #pjo thalia #pjo ask #pjo angst

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awooruegard · 2 years

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Reyna: Are you wearing makeup? Where did your freckles go?

Thalia: Huh? Oh no, winter just make my freckles fade

Reyna: Oh ok

-later-

Reyna: *beating the snow with a shovel while angrily mumbling* Give. Her. Freckles. Back. You. Fucking. Bitch

#saw this meme and immedetly thought abt theyna #percy jackson #thalia grace #thalia x reyna #reyna avila ramirez arellano #theyna #pjo memes #incorrect pjo quotes #rioroverse #riordan universe #percy jackson show #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #the hunters of artemis

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nirikeehan · 11 months

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HAAAAAAPPPY FRIDAY NIRI!!!!!! can i please see Thalia/blackwall + (Which of us will survive the other?) from the Margaret Atwood prompts? 💌

HI THANK YOU have some Blackwall being a dirty old man. No regrets

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 260

CW: Mildly spicy ruminating

---

Can’t a man fantasize about a beautiful girl? Maybe in a tent, her soft body trembling beneath him, gasping hot in his ear?

The way she looks at him. Red hair, freckles, the tattoo, the impish grin.

Maybe it’s not all in his head.

“My lady,” he says, but he thinks all manner of things. It’s been ages since he’s allowed himself to even imagine. Places he’d like to do it come to him, unbidden: the clean hay in the stables, somewhere in her fancy quarters. He’s never been up there, but he imagines the soft featherbed and velvety pillows all the same. The old Grey Warden outpost, wet and raw and cold. He’d warm her right up. He’d…

Horseback. Never tried it, but heard it could be done. Bloody Orlesians will think of everything.

“Warden Blackwall,” she calls him, with a bright, adoring smile. She believes it all, unquestioningly. She thinks he’s a great man.

He swallows his desire, his pride, his dirty mental pictures. He cannot inflict himself upon her. It would be too cruel.

And yet, he wants.

She beams at him across the campfire as he whittles away a branch with a paring knife. The others have retired to their tents. He could open his mouth, whisper some sweet nonsense and have her on his knee in minutes. He knows. It was so easy, once, and he can feel her loneliness, her need. It radiates through his clothes like the sun.

He stares down at his hands and wonders: which of us will survive the other?

#thalia trevelyan #blackwall #blackwall x trevelyan #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

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bluerazberrysoda · 5 months

Text

I Will Go To You Like The First Snow

pairing : annabeth chase x percy jackson

word count : 765

tags : angst, dead percy jackson, grief/mourning, no dialogue, post-tartarus, post-house of hades annabeth chase-centric

cross posted from ao3

Before she had him, she didn’t realize the world she was in was this bright. Now he was gone.

She stared out the window, cheek resting against the icy glass, her breath turning to fog and clouding the transparency of the pane. It had been such a long time—years—since she stayed at Camp Half-Blood year-round. With her being the only occupant of Cabin #6, and with the absence of Percy, everything was so, so quiet. Deafeningly quiet.

She studied shrubs that patterned the forest outside of the Athena cabin. The pretty flowers had withered, though she knew that they would soon flourish beneath the gentle touch of the spring’s sun, blooming once more. The season of him would never come again.

Annabeth recalled everybody’s pitiful gaze, unwilling to look her in the eye as if she were an active grenade, ready to explode and wreak havoc at any given moment. She remembered the way Grover clung to her like she was going to disappear next, the way he sobbed into her shoulder and left stains of his tears on her sleeve. She missed being able to cry into Percy’s shirt like that.

She remembered the way Piper had pulled her into the tightest, most loving hug and told her that she was there for her. Annabeth remembered how warm she felt. It warmed every part of her but her hollowed chest. She appreciated the gesture when Piper told her that she knew how loving Percy was, but she didn’t know. Not like Annabeth did, never like Annabeth did.

She remembered the way Thalia kissed her cheek and told her how strong she was. Annabeth didn’t want to feel strong, though. She wanted to come home after a long, exhausting day and be able to fall limp into Percy’s arms like a ragdoll, melting into his touch knowing that he would never take advantage of her vulnerability. Thalia embraced her tightly and called her strong. Annabeth wasn’t strong. She was a husk of the woman she once was.

She remembered the way she saw Nico cry for the first time. It was like watching him slowly regress back into his 10-year-old self, sobbing into the sleeve of his sweater, saying it was his own fault. She held his hands and told him it would be okay, but she knew it wouldn’t and he knew it wouldn’t. Later that day, she watched Will cradle Nico in his arms gingerly. Annabeth bitterly wondered if they would be able to get the happy ending that she was promised.

Promise.

Annabeth remembered when she was dangling at the mouth of Tartarus, darkness dragging her down into the hollow. The way she clung onto his hand, trembling and weak, but clinging. “We’re staying together,” he said, with such sincerity that she wondered if he had ascended from Elysium, pure love wrapped in blue ribbon for her. “You’re not getting away from me. Never again.”

Percy promised her. He swore to her. And it had been shattered into trillions of pieces, enamorment reduced to nothingness. Utter, complete, nothingness.

Annabeth remembered all the anger she felt towards Percy. Every dumb, life-risking stunt he pulled in favor of saving her life, every time a girl tried to flirt with him, every little thing that irked her. She took all the better moments for granted, never savoring how lucky she was, how perfect her situation was before it was torn from her hands no matter how hard she tried to hold on.

Before she let go of him, she didn’t realize that the world she was in was this lonely.

The snow descended from the sky still. Annabeth fluttered her eyes shut and tried to envision where she would go once she would die. All she saw behind shut eyelids was him. The tousled sable hair, the sun-kissed freckles that flit across his blushed cheeks, the tanned skin patterned with scars that silently spoke of his strength and devotion, the hypnotizing smile with those dimples that poked into the sides of his face, the sparkling sea-green eyes that spoke of a million years' worth of love. Annabeth wondered when she would be able to cup his cheeks in her hands like she did before and brush the hair out of his face and admire how much she absolutely adored him, when she would be able to wrap her arms around his warm body and feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating against her chest.

Some day, they’ll meet again.

And she will go to him like the first snow.

She will go to him.

notes : hope you enjoyed ^_^ i love ailee's music sm and her voice always makes me tear up </33 im gonna be real honest i wrote this for a hot minute thinking i was cooking and then i put it through a word counter and was like ಠ_ಠ... but im still proud of it and i hope u like reading this as much as i liked writing it !!! :P

#pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percyjacksonandtheolympians #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson #trials of apollo #hoo #rick riordan #riordanverse #percabeth #percy and annabeth #percy x annabeth #dead percy #depressing shit #angst #angst fic

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dehydratedpercy · 22 days

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Sabina Lesbia Grace.

[Jason's blond hair, Percy's green eyes, and Aunt's freckles Thalia. tell you a secret: she's a copy of Thalia, not Jason with Percy's eyes. blood is a subtle hint that she inherited Percy's "dark" powers].

Aelius Augustus Grace.

[Он маленькая копия Джейсона, но Перси и его сестра следят за тем, чтобы он не пытался съесть степлер. самый сладкий ребенок на свете. Папин сынок Перси, Джейсон на это обижен. он никогда не проявлял никаких божественных способностей, в отличие от своей сестры, Джейсон и Перси смеют полагать, что, возможно, он более смертен, чем наследие].

Ooohhh.... I am always intrigued by the idea of kids inheriting their parents' scary powers. Also omg a child of two Big Three Demigods? Rip in the chat. Terrifying.

Reyna would love them.

#preserve or raze #kid fic

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theluckywizard · 7 months

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OC SITUATION PROMPT, for Rose and Thalia (cousinverse Trevelyan interaction?): "A relative passes away, and you inherit their creepy, isolated mansion." from the spooky prompts + "A basket full of embrium and blood lotus" from the Artifacts of Thedas?

A double prompt OC/ OC prompt for @nirikeehan and @melisusthewee for @dadrunkwriting! Please enjoy Chapter 1 of my yet to be named Spooky Castle fic featuring Rose Trevelyan, Thalia Trevelyan and Quinn Trevelyan, the oddball cousins chosen by their oddball Aunt Lucille to inherit her sprawling estate in Highever. Set in Niri's Temperance and Templars AU! WC: 2615 Rating: Mature CW: Some spooky body horror Characters: Rose Trevelyan, Thalia Trevelyan, Quinn Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford

They stare at each other curiously across the dim span of the carriage, two practical strangers bumping and jostling toward a peculiar shared destination. Velvet curtains in Trevelyan colors buffet against the grasping clutches of a Fereldan Harvestmere. And though the carriage is opulent enough to be afforded sizable windows, the sun is oppressed under a layer of gloom and the pair sit in a darkness that defies the hour. A cumbersome silence lurches between them, their glances doing the bulk of their conversation.

The two women had been the unwitting beneficiaries of a dreadful mishap involving a flower arrangement, a step ladder and a pair of pruning shears. The victim in question was their mutual relative Lucille Trevelyan, an eccentric, abrasive woman who had retreated from the Free Marches to Ferelden on the remains of the substantial fortune her dead husband had left her. There she reveled in a brazen sort of freedom and isolation that made her the subject of savage speculation. Mysterious parties with unsavory guests. A predilection for non-human companions. Morsels of truth that grew into bombastic, indulgent tales on the lips of horrified relatives.

Through some miraculous oversight of property law, Lucille’s sprawling estate in Highever tumbled into the hands of her two unmarried nieces who, having only seen each other as children, now appraise each other with wary glances.

Nobody could doubt the relation. Though Lady Rose’s face is long and angular while Lady Thalia’s cheeks are nigh cherubic, they both bear striking red hair, eyes as blue as the bottom of the Waking Sea and a spray of freckles that betrays their shared appreciation for the outdoors.

Thalia rankles that her cousin appears to have dodged the infamous Trevelyan nose, a pronounced little bend in the bridge that marks most in the family while Rose envies the perfect oval of Thalia’s face. Thalia’s hair is pinned in carefully organized plaits, the kind of elaborate arrangement that requires a second set of hands while Rose’s streaks in a long braid over her shoulder, strands of her hair wildly mismanaged. Indeed, the whole effect of Rose’s look and countenance is one of having given up, an impetuous disregard for all the expectations carefully bred into Thalia in her tidy capelet and proper frock.

“Did you know Aunt Lucille well?” asks Thalia after lightly clearing her throat.

“Mostly in the abstract. Speaking in hushed tones about her was one of my mother’s favorite past times,” replies Rose, stretching her leather-clad legs across the carriage. Thalia regard’s her cousin’s rather dashing hunting outfit with a twinge of jealousy. If only she had the nerve to exist with such forcible disregard.

“I assume our mothers could have entertained each other for hours,” Thalia answers, a smile emerging tentatively. “Though never around our fathers, I suspect.”

“It’s true, Father had a soft spot for his renegade sister,” Rose says, laughing softly into her lap. “And from what it looks like, Lucille had a soft spot for renegade nieces.”

Thalia’s head jerks up at that, trying to assess what Rose could mean, what she might be able to detect. Rose tilts her head slightly, amused by the strength of the reaction.

“Come, you didn’t think I couldn’t figure out what that that strapping bodyguard was all about, did you?” asks Rose. “I won’t tell.”

Thalia isn’t sure if Rose is picking up on the truth or suspects her of something far more salacious. And to some degree of surprise, the latter doesn’t bother her in the least.

“I— he’s— father thought we could use some protection,” fumbles Thalia, but her cheeks betray her. Rose smiles out the window, peeking at Thalia’s guardian who rides dutifully alongside the carriage, her knowing smile landing on Thalia with such force that she finds herself staring at her lap.

“Suit yourself. I’m just happy there’s something pleasant to look at other than this dreary, blighted countryside. Your father did us a favor,” she says with a smirk. Thalia can’t help but match it as her eyes fall upon him with a flutter of affection. Ser Cullen bobs along at a trot, his handsome features tied up in an expression that is somehow both resigned and exasperated. The soggy weather could do that all on its own though the task itself, an unanticipated jaunt across the Waking Sea to a strange estate might be a contributor as well.

“What if we don’t want any part of this estate?” Rose asks.

“From what I understand we’re stuck with it.”

“We can’t sell it?”

“I don’t believe so. But the lawyer is meeting us there and we can ask him.”

“Well. Let’s hope it’s interesting at least. If it’s nice enough maybe we can leave our dreadful families behind and live like a pair of queens,” Rose says. “I’m nearly thirty and my mother is still trying to marry me off to the highest bidder.”

It’s a fairly novel thought to Thalia, deviating from her prescribed path, though her own circumstances have forced her to consider what manner of prosperous marriage she could possibly secure. Perhaps Lucille was onto something, living her best life as an independently wealthy woman away from the suffocating scrutiny of her own family. Maker knows Thalia would like to break from hers.

oOo

Rose snorts as they rumble into view of the estate, the kind of ancient country refuge with hollow little windows that watch them from its soulless depths. How Aunt Lucille spent so many years in darkness is bloody beyond her. She watches her younger cousin marvel at it, her blue eyes wide and searching, following the crenelated edge of the parapets and up the little towers that punctuate the line of the roof.

“Maker, it looks several ages old. Have you seen any documentation on it? I’d like to know the history behind it,” Thalia says, puzzling it out like studying it could make it less hostile in its impression.

“I’m sure there will be a steward to enlighten you on such matters,” says Rose, her lips turning softly at Thalia’s genuine curiosity. “Maker knows they can ramble on.”

“Oh I’d be delighted if they did,” Thalia answers, her continued enthusiasm defying Rose’s cynicism. “And with any luck, Aunt Lucille kept up with her library!”

“Let that be our first incursion then. I suspect she had more interesting tastes than our own parents.”

The carriage rumbles and crackles to a stop on the gravel drive and Thalia and Rose are both startled to see a man clad in deep red and gold stretched long across a garden wall, his feathered cap pulled low over his eyes as if sunning himself pointlessly beneath the heavy stratus of the sky. If it weren’t for a pipe bouncing slightly in his teeth, they might believe him dead. The carriage seems to have barely stirred his interest.

“What do you think? Is that our lawyer?” asks Rose, tossing a secret smirk to Thalia. Thalia wonders if this is what it’s like to have a normal sister.

“You there, Ser,” calls Ser Cullen in his honeyed tenor. “Are you expecting the Ladies Thalia and Rose Trevelyan?” Rose’s knowing smile finds Thalia again.

“Nice voice,” she remarks. Thalia bites her bottom lip and then lets a tiny laugh pop through her nose at last.

“It really is,” she says, the admission spilling from her like a dam breaking.

They watch as the lounging man’s leg falls from the wall, swinging gently and he lifts himself languidly, emerging from under his cap, squinting at the carriage. He laughs, shaking his head as Cullen rides closer. Their discussion is muffled but the women can still see him.

“Oh no,” says Thalia, almost reflexively. “It’s cousin Quinn.”

“Quinn? The Quinn? No. It can’t be. I thought he was in Markham living off the dregs of the tourney.”

“Not anymore. From what understand he is a tourney knight now. Look— the rosettes at his waist. Those are the sort won in the archery tournaments. And the feathers in his cap are those of some manner of exotic bird from Seheron. An Ostrich I believe? They’re only given to those with enough points in the Grand Tourney.”

“You gathered that from all those bits and bobs he’s wearing?” asks Rose, her brow high. “Well if he’s wearing them all at once the rumors about him being a shameless showboat are true.”

They emerge from the oppressive darkness of the carriage, their maladapted eyes wincing at the light diffusing through the gloom. Thalia shakes out the rumples in her skirts and reorganizes her capeand then glances around appraisingly. Rose takes a few brash steps out behind her and draws her shoulders high around her ears, pulling her wool cowl up over her chin.

“I think Ferelden is trying to burrow its way inside me,” she mutters with a little shudder.

Ser Cullen dismounts from his handsome black Forder and makes his way back to the women with the third Trevelyan. Cousin Quinn makes a foppish bow before them, removing his soft cap from a head of golden locks with a flutter of Ostrich plume. His smile is thrust to one side in such a way that both women are sure he must be at least some measure the impish layabout they’d heard he was.

“I can think of several things worse than sharing an estate with my two beautiful young cousins,” he declares as if it’s a great compliment. Rose raises her brow at his cheek. Thalia gapes. They each catch a whiff of brandy on his breath. He winks at them both. “Quinn Trevelyan, at your service.”

“Do you always wink at your relations?” asks Rose tartly, folding her arms.

“If you’re afraid I’m singling you out, I do it to everyone,” Quinn says, his smirk outstripping Rose’s own in its utter brazenness. His blue eyes shine like the only bit of open sky in this cursed place and he turns to Thalia’s scowling bodyguard and pitches him another cheeky little wink. Rose’s eyebrow raises high again. Ser Cullen’s handsome features vanish under a cranky glare, the set of his mouth a rebuke all its own. He reaches for the back of his neck and paces anxiously back and forth beside the three Trevelyans.

“So you’ve inherited as well,” remarks Thalia, impatient to get down to business.

Quinn flashes an inscrutable grin and reaches into the breast pocket of his velvet doublet withdrawing a haphazardly folded bit of paper of the same expensive heft as the ones that each Thalia and Rose received. The women look it over together, exchange a glance and then shrug. Little has changed for them. What’s one more stranger to quibble over a castle with?

“Splendid. I wonder who else we can expect. Aside from all the grasping imps who will soon hear of our fortune,” quips Rose, her eyes sweeping up a stretch of mossy masonry, eerily verdant, seemingly the only pop of color in the whole of the estate save the new arrivals.

Ser Cullen, whose pacing has grown only more frenetic stills himself long enough to inform the three of his intention.

“I’d like to sweep the perimeter. Lord Trevelyan informs me—“

“—there’s no one home,” finishes Quinn, replacing his cap and glancing up at the castle.

“No steward? No lawyer?” asks Thalia, a tic of consternation marring her brow. “No staff? No housekeeper? Who is maintaining the grounds?”

“Do they look maintained?” asks Quinn, sipping placidly from a small flask he’d withdrawn from his interior pocket.

“Perhaps Aunt Lucille liked things a little wild,” Rose remarks, making her way toward the entry with leisurely, tentative steps, waiting for the others to follow.

“Her reputation is a sterling testament to that,” remarks Quinn. “I heard her Qunari lover was a Ben Hassreth spy.”

“Really, Quinn,” huffs Thalia.

“Certainly no more shocking than absconding with one’s fetching Templar guardian, I should think,” he says, his eyes brimming with delight. Rose’s eyes dart to Thalia’s so quickly that the youngest Trevelyan fumbles for an answer. She tugs her gloves onto her hands more firmly. “Don’t worry,” Quinn says, turning a sly glance from Thalia to Cullen who is striding away at a forceful clip. “I won’t tell.” Thalia rolls her eyes and grumbles softly to herself, applying herself to the situation at hand to stuff down the fluster inside her.

They approach the great oaken door that’s broader than all three of them abreast, all amused by the comically small keyhole that secures it. Quinn braces both hands against the door and jostles it but the lock holds fast. Shocking neither Thalia nor Rose, he breaks out a tidy little set of lockpicking tools and sets to work feeling for the pins.

“You’re a mage?” hisses Rose, pulling Thalia aside pointlessly. The secret is out.

“Don’t worry, my keeper is here. You’re in no danger,” Thalia answers and there’s an edge of bitterness to her tone that most might miss, but Rose nods slightly, her expression soft. Not the sympathy Thalia expected, but then neither cousin seemed to be cut from the same stiff cloth as the rest of the family.

“I’m just— surprised is all,” she says quietly, memories of her older brother drifting in wraith-like. Rose wonders passingly if Thalia knew anything of their dark secret.

“Bastard of a lock, this one, but I think—“ Quinn eases his hand gently in a rotating motion. “—that should do it. Rusted probably.”

“Rust? She can’t have been dead that long,” says Rose.

“Perhaps there’s a side entrance she used,” suggests Thalia.

“At any rate,” Quinn says, standing to give the door a stiff shove. It swings inward on a deep and contrary groan, the laden air of Highever rushing in as if the dwelling yawns. “Shall we?”

They step in tentatively, simultaneously, surveying their inheritance side by side. A pair of staircases curl and cling along the back wall of the grand foyer, a space so suffocated by dust and cobwebs that it’s no wonder the castle inhaled. The center of the space is marked by an unusual table made from the twisted trunk of a great tree. Spread over it are dried leaves and stems. At first glance it appears haphazard, as if someone had left their herbalism workbench in the midst of a project. But a closer inspection reveals patterns, intentionally arranged. The three stand over it, shaking their heads, marveling at it even as their skin prickles. Even as their breath freezes in their lungs.

“Perhaps Lucille is playing a prank,” says Rose, apprehension nibbling at the edges of her mood. The whole atmosphere of the place feels hungry, having drawn them in. The door finally shuts again, the long moan of the hinges silencing with a thunk, closed in behind teeth.

“Blood lotus. Embrium,” mutters Thalia, hovering her fingers, tracing the shapes in the air. “These symbols— I’ve seen things like this before. In my books— the ones I had Father secure for me.”

“Maker’s breath!” cries Ser Cullen, his boots scuffling as he hurries into the gaping foyer behind them from some manner of side room. “Lady Thalia, come back with me. All of you— step back.” They stumble back, submitting automatically to the authority that steels the Templar’s voice and they follow his gaze up. Cullen loops an arm around Thalia protectively, his sword singing as it unsheathes.

They all stare, transfixed. Swinging gently on the residual breath of Ferelden air, hangs a man in the sort of staid finery one might expect of a professional. His bloated face gray, his eyes unblinking.

“Well then,” says Quinn swallowing. “This must be the lawyer.”

#Trevelyan cousinverse #Dragon Age Fan Fiction #Cullen Rutherford #Temperance and Templars #cullen x trevelyan #Thalia Trevelyan #Quinn Trevelyan #Rose Trevelyan #Spooky Fic #Gothic Mystery #cullenmance

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starwarsrecrimination · 1 month

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Canon Character Design: Thalias

Mitth'ali'astov first appeared in Chaos Rising, the first of the Thrawn: Ascendancy novels, as the Caretaker for the navigator Che'ri noted for having been a navigator (or sky-walker) herself. In Recrimination, Thalias is now a highly respected and influential Syndic of the Mitth Family, also holding strong ties with the Ufsa and Irizi Families due to her husband and daughter's connections to those clans. The illustration below was created using @/stuffjademade's Picrew, which can be found here.

[Image ID: An illustration made using Picrew. The subject is a Chiss woman of middle-age, with azure skin dotted with freckles and moles and piercing solid red eyes that shine with a white starbust effect. Black lipstick and red eyeshadow and liner emphasizes her features, and intricate swirling scarlet patterns frame her cheekbones. Her black curly hair is pinned up elegantly, and she is wearing a gold diadem and matching earrings. She also wears a red coat with black fur trim and a black scarf tied in a neat bow. The expression on her face is bemused. The background is a white square with a blur effect in the middle, containing stylized eyes which all look to the woman at the center. End ID.]

#character art #id in alt #slot 6 for reference

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alloarocharactershowdown · 11 months

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While these characters are not continuing on to the next round, they have done a good job making it this far! News about Round 4 below as well

Lord Dominator

[ID: Lord Dominator from Wander Over Yonder. She is a humanoid pale-green skinned alien with white hair, bright pink eyes (sclera), red freckles/spots, thick black eyeliner that is drawn to resemble running teardrops, and black lipstick. She wears a black helmet topped with giant serrated yellow horns and black spiked shoulder pads. She smiles in excitement. End ID]

L Lawliet

[ID: L from Death Note. He is a very slim, pale, young Japanese man with messy neck-length black hair and black eyes. He looks toward the viewer. End ID]

Ashton Greymoore

[ID: Ashton from Critical Role. He has green stone skin and short, dark-purple crystal hair. They have a prominent hole in the left side of their head filled with slag glass, through which an opalescent brain can be seen, and the eye on the cracked side of Ashton's head is milky white. There are cracks across Ashton's left side, patched together with what looks like slag melted gold (like kintsugi). He has a smirk. End ID]

Benrey

[ID: Benrey from Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware. Benrey is a security guard shown wearing a blue button-up shirt and black tie with a bulletproof vest over top. On top of his head, he wears a helmet. He has pale skin and no visible hair. End ID]

Thalia Grace

[ID: Thalia Grace from Percy Jackson and the Olympians. She is pale teenage girl with shoulder-length, spiky black hair and dark blue eyes. She wears a black leather jacket with spiked shoulder pads, skull earrings, and a silver circlet on her head. She has freckles across her face. She holds a spear and shield with the face of Medusa on it. End ID]

Willow Park

[ID: Willow Park from the Owl House. She is a chubby teenage girl who has light skin, pointed ears, olive green eyes and dark navy-blue hair which is tied into twin pigtails and has a pale green streak dyed into it. She wears a pair of round gold-framed glasses. She sports a sleeveless yellowish-tan vest over a mid-length sleeved pale green shirt with a gold button, white collar and cuffs. She has her blue tie with a gold gem on it. End ID]

Rita

[ID: Rita from the Penumbra Podcast. She is a middle-aged woman who wears glasses and has her hair tied up in a ponytail. She excitedly steers a vehicle. End ID]

Yor Forger

[ID: Yor Forger from Spy X Family. She is graceful young woman who has long, straight, black hair reaching her mid-back with short bangs framing her forehead and upturned red eyes. She splits her hair into two parts and crosses it over her head, securing it with a headband and forming two thick locks of hair that reach below her chest. She wears a form-fitting halter-style black dress that shows off her shoulders and cleavage. She also wears black fingerless gloves. The headband she wears is gold colored with a rose and two spikes on each side. Her weapons are of the same color as well. End ID]

Congratulations to them for making it as far as they did! Round 4 will begin this week.

#round 3 #alloarocharactershowdown2023 #alloarocharactershowdown #described

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leasdoodles · 8 months

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More dnd characters in dumb shirts!!

This one is from an inside joke from our dnd discord server haha

[image description: a digital drawing of Thalia, a young muscular woman with light tan skin, curly golden blonde hair in a ponytail, lion ears and a lion tail, amber eyes with slitted pupils, freckles on her face, and scars on her face and arms. They are wearing a tight dark red tank top that says "built like an owlbear" in large capital black letters on it, and the "o" in "owlbear" has an owl's face in it. They have their hands on their hips and are looking to the right with a smirk. END ID]

#college campaign #willowtide academy #thalia lionheart #dnd oc #art #my art #digital art #image described

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porta-decumana · 1 year

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The Great Revampening!

Hi, it’s been a minute since a huge major big post regarding my characters. I want to start this off by saying that most fics are gonna remain unchanged because a lot of these revamps are not things that will require much in the way of retconning! There will be minor tweaks to And Love You Shall Find and MAYBE to Alea Iacta Est. Everything else will remain the same.

The big two things are that Kaida and Lillian are being reworked slightly. Unfortunately when I upgraded my PC, some things were lost and certain files got corrupted. I had to rebuild Kaida and Lillian’s looks from scratch and due to certain things, some changes were made to their appearances. And then I realized... I kind of like those changes.

I also am in process of making a new probably secondary OC but I’ll post about that later when her design is finished. I think much like Ifra and Y’aana, she may not necessarily have full fics dedicated to her but she’ll be a character that shows up in fics. But that’ll go in a later post, time to talk about Kaida and Lillian!

Appearance Changes

Kaida has a new set of scales. Lillian has been given wavy hair and freckles. Both have new hairstyles for 6.3 onward.

Additionally, Kaida’s appearance in previous expansions will be getting slightly revised moving forward (mostly hairstyle changes and I’m going to come up with official “looks” for her for each expansion).

Further changes are under the cut because long.

Backstory Changes

The only characters receiving backstory changes at this time are Kaida and her Unsundered form, Euphrosyne. I’ve been doing a lot of deep diving into Kaida’s character lately and I’m ready to reveal these new changes.

Euphrosyne (Euphie)

Formerly, Euphie was adopted into Hades’s family. However, I’ve decided to switch the scenario so that Hades was adopted into Euphie’s family. Euphrosyne also had two sisters (Aglaia and, tentatively, Thalia).

Kaida Asagiri

I have bumped back the time that Kaida was exiled from the Ruby Sea. Rather than being exiled at age 16, she was exiled at age 19. I chose to do this to give more time to explore her life in the Ruby Sea prior to her adventures as a Warrior of Light.

Kaida had a pet syldra during her time in the Ruby Sea. These were not uncommon for richer clans to own. The pet syldra was named Gin. After her exile, Kousuke and Aika-- Kaida’s siblings-- took care of Gin.

While Kaida lived in the Ruby Sea, she had a long-distance relationship with Yugiri. This relationship was kept mostly secret as Kaida knew that her parents would not approve of her dating someone outside the village. At the time, Ao-no-Sato and Sui-no-Sato were still repairing their relationship after generations of political conflict.

Yugiri was Kaida’s first kiss.

Kaida’s curiosity of the outside world was influenced by Yugiri’s stories, especially the tale of her encounter with a young boy name Shun.

Yugiri broke things off with Kaida when she departed the Ruby Sea to become a shinobi in Doma. Yugiri explained to Kaida that she was doing this because she could not see a future in which the Garleans did not invade the Ruby Sea. Although Yugiri tried to convince Kaida to come with her, Kaida felt, at the time, Yugiri was too obsessed with this paranoia of the Garleans invading (a paranoia Kaida was too familiar with as it had caused her village to become even more reclusive than normal-- something she did not like). Kaida refused and lost contact with Yugiri soon after, which broke her heart.

Rather than being part of a free company prior to the Calamity, Kaida worked in Gridania as part of the Conjurer’s Guild. She trained under E-Sumi-Yan, who took an interest in her geomancy. Because Kaida’s form of geomancy had more to do with water than the earth (given that she learned everything in an underwater village), she was tasked frequently with seeing to aetherial imbalances in the Shroud’s waters. She helped tend to the wounded during the Calamity and afterwards, she was recruited by the Order of the Twin Adders. She attained the rank of Serpeant Sergeant Third Class and mostly did Grand Company work for spare gil to cover living expenses.

During the events of rescuing Minfilia, Tataru, Urianger, etc from Castrum Centri in ARR, Kaida was captured by the XIVth Legion’s Livia sas Junius. This is going to be a fic so please look forward to it, I guess.

When Kaida and Yugiri reunited in 2.2, they tried to make things work out. However, they quickly discovered that they had simply become different people and after a month of trying, they decided to split things off permanently. They remain friends, however.

During the events of the Naadam in Stormblood, Kaida did not fight for the Mol. Instead, she fought for the Malaguld-- the tribe that her father hailed from. Kaida met some of her extended family during this time including her grandfather Sükhbaatar, the khan of the tribe and an experienced warrior, and her cousin, Erhi. Upon winning the Naadam, she gave her title of khagan to her grandfather as she felt it was not her place to hold that title.

Character Changes

Kaida’s Echo is now slightly altered. Rather than simply seeing the past through another’s eyes, Kaida experiences them in a more vivid and emotional way. The emotions sometimes cloud her mind post-vision to the point where she can fall into a state of delirium. The delirium is born from a blend of lingering emotions from the vision (usually the emotions of another) and her own feelings, giving her a cooldown period where she’s more emotionally volatile.

Not entirely a change but more or less something I’ve been developing over time. Kaida is pretty anti-piracy, specifically due to a bad past with the Confederacy, who has long harassed people from her village. Because of this, certain scenes in Stormblood are a bit different, with Kaida likely being forbidden from dealing with Rasho due to her immense hatred towards him. I will probably write about these scenes later. Kaida also has a civil but colder relationship with Merlwyb and does not particularly find Limsa to be a comfortable place. Characters such as Sicard, who lean into piracy a tad too comfortable, make Kaida wary and she is not comfortable around them. There is a bit more to this but I will also save that for fics.

I think that about covers the major changes! I plan to replay Stormblood when Trust support is added because I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to play through it as Kaida before! So when that happens, I foresee many more headcanon posts.

I will be revising banners and profiles gradually over the next week!

Thank you for reading.

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arthaliathebronze · 1 year

Text

The End of Q

Arthalia took a steadying breath. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. She wiped her sweaty hands on a mottled brown cloth she was sure had once been white. Once dry, she held her hands up to eye level to check for shakiness and didn’t like what she found. She balled her hands into fists.

A whimper called her attention back to the man chained to the dungeon wall behind her.

She turned sharply, eyes as grey as the steel daggers on the table beside her and just as sharp.

She forced herself to smile. A vicious, sharp toothed smile.

“Ah, Quincy. You’re awake.”

Thr man stirred, rattling his chains. He was older than she remembered, his dark hair now flecked with streaks of silver. The lines around his eyes deeper. Still handsome, still charismatic, but her stomach turned at the sight of him. A chill seized her that had nothing to do with the short silk dress she wore, nor the drafty dungeon they were in.

“A-amanda? Amelia? A…Artemis?” The bastard didn’t even remember her name. Years she spent devoted to him, years under his spell, under his sweaty lean body—

Arthalia felt sick. She shoved it down. Too deep now.

“Arthalia. My name is Arthalia, you maggot.”

He looked at her wide eyed, as though just now realizing this was not a mistake and she was not here to help.

“I— i don’t understand?” He put on his best sympathetic face. It had the opposite effect. “I thought we were friends, Arte-thalia.”

Arthalia laughed hollowly. A hysterical sound that strangled with sobs. “You don’t understand, no. You hurt me. Over and over and over. You took advantage of me, mind and body. You raped me, and then when you tired of using me, you cast me out. You isolated me and manipulated me and Light knows how many others before and after me, but you’re done. You are done hurting people, Quincy Adams.”

At first, the man called Quincy looked confused; in denial. But when her tone only hardened…he crumpled.

“Arthalia, you have to believe me. I didn’t know you didn’t like it. I thought you were into it! You always came for me.”

Arthalia’s eyes flashed gold. “NO. No, I didn’t, and even if I did, that didn’t make it okay. I couldn’t— fuck you. I’m wasting my breath.” she turned.

Evidently he thought she was leaving him there, as if this were a real prison. As if he were to serve his time and leave.

“No, no, no— Arthalia, please, let me go. I have a wife, a son now, they need me —“

When the dragon turned back around, she held a dagger in her hand. Her heart beat so loud she thought he must hear it.

Q looked momentarily relieved, as though that dagger might pick his locks— but the expression on her freckled face changed his mind. He began to beg.

An old book, bound with skin, sat upon that table. Arthalia flipped it open— she had bookmarks. Several.

Arthalia clicked her tongue, looking up from the foul tome.

“Still clothed. Mm.” She strode over to Q, doing her best to hide her shaking hands by clutching that dagger. The dragon sliced her captive’s shirt open, nicking the flesh beneath, and yanked his pants down. They were soiled— at some point, he had pissed himself. The pants fell around his ankles, which were chained to the ground. He shivered, exposed to the chill air of the dungeon.

“Arthalia, please, let me go, you’re not like this…”

Her eyes snapped up to his. She just pressed her dagger to his throat. “Shut up.”

This elicited another whimper from the man.

Arthalia hardened her heart.

She withdrew the dagger from his throat, leaving a line of blood in its stead.

The flesh tome told her where to cut. How deep, how long, to prolong his suffering. The first few cuts were sloppy, they varied in depth— it was difficult, cutting an unarmed man. More difficult than she anticipated. Especially when he screamed and jerked around. Arthalia hid her winces from him as best as she could, trying to replace them with a scowl, but she knew she couldn’t take much more of this. Ironic, that torture was painful for the torturer too. Or maybe Archelaos was right and she simply wasn’t built for this.

She abandoned the methods of the book and resolved to finish what she’d started. She wasn’t trying to get information out of him, so keeping him alive for a long time wasn’t a concern to her. Surely by now the dinner guests had heard his desperate cries, anyway. Not that any of them would save him, she knew, but she’d rather not be observed anyway.

She seized Q’s cock in her fist — too hard for pleasure — and extended her talons into his soft flesh. His scream was lost under her own as she brought the dagger down on that hateful part, severing the organ from his body.

Arthalia held it up for the rapist to see, his blood pouring down her arm, giving the appearance of a red evening glove to match her dress.

She mashed his severed penis in his tear-streaked face, then threw it on the ground at his chained feet.

“I’ve had enough.”

She turned from him, shaking drops of blood from her talons. Exchanging her dagger for a sword, she gave him the mercy she’d often wished for herself, if it could be called mercy at this point.

The blood sprayed across her new dress, creating bloody freckles overtop of her normal ones. A parody of her beauty.

She didn’t make it to the bucket before she retched, but her night wasn’t over. She waved a hand crackling with arcane over her body and cleared away the mess. A glass of water waited for her beside the torturer’s guide. She drank the water and tucked the evil book under her arm and rearranged her face into that mask of confidence.

She was almost to the door of the chamber before she paused. How could she forget!

Quincy’s head lay bloody on the stone floor. She seized it by the hair, matted with blood and gore.

“Goodbye, Q,” she sighed.

When it was all said and done…she thought she’d have more to say.

#cw gore #cw genitalia #cw rape #cw torture #cw blood #horror #my writing #wow oc

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