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#bamf will solace
mrkeatingsblazer · 1 year
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The sun and the star NEEDS to be a tragedy. I’m sorry but I have to be one to say it. This is a story about a child of APOLLO and a child of HADES going to TARTARUS. I want Achilles and Patroclus references, Orpheus and Eurydice references, I WANT APOLLO AND HYACINTH REFERENCES. I WANT WILL SOLACE CRYING OVER NICOS DEAD BODY BC CHILDREN OF APOLLO NEVER HAVE LUCK WITH LOVE AND CHILDREN OF HADES DONT HAVE A LOT OF LUCK OVER ALL. I WANT WILL SMILING AT CAMP HALF BLOOD SAYING”I WONT LEAVE YOU TO GO ALONE” ONLY FOR HIM TO BE SOBBING AND WATCHING NICO TRY AND OPEN HIS EYES REPEATING IT ONCE AGAIN. I WANT WILL BEING BADASS, UNLOCKING PLAGUE POWERS, HURTING GODS AND DEMON. I WANT EVERYONE AT CAMP BLOOD EXPECTING HEALER WILL SOLACE TO NOT MAKE IT BACK ONLY FOR HIM TO COME BACK AND STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DINING HALL BY HIM SELF TO JUST DROP TO HIS KNEES AND CRY I WANT APOLLO TO COME TO HIM HUGGNG HIM TELLING HIM “IT WAS IF YOU TOOK ALL THE GOOD FROM ME I NEVER IMAGE YOUD TAKE ON MY CURSES.”
I WANT THIS BOOK TO HURT
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yonemurishiroku · 1 year
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I’m not sure if it’s canon or not that Will rarely goes on quests due to his healer-based abilities.
But if it IS, though, then just think about it. He’s featured in two battles and all of which are literal wars (Kronos and Gaea alike). And when he technically goes questing, it’s straight-up Tartarus. Like. The worst thing ever.
So what? So that means Will rarely quests, but when he does, shit just hits the fan. That’s what.
(Actually I’m kinda convinced he has poor battlefield experiences bc. well. if you can just recall how Nico roasted him when they met in BoO…)
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willsolaceloml · 2 years
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Will Solace kicks asses accept it or perish!
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mediumgayitalian · 9 days
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———
Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.
And jeans.
Nico gapes at him.
“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”
“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”
“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.
“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”
“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”
This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.
“In here!”
Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.
“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”
“Shhh!”
“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”
“Go, go, go!”
Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.
Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.
“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”
“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”
“One two three go!”
Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.
“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!
“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”
“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”
“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”
“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”
“Oh, shut up.”
Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.
“Just a few more yards, then we can —”
“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.
“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”
“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”
“Please?”
“One.”
He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”
“Two.”
“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”
“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”
Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.
“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.
“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”
He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.
Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”
“…Ah.”
Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”
There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.
He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.
“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”
“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”
“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”
Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.
Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.
A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.
“The hell is that?”
“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.
“What do you know about Michael?”
“Uh, not too much.”
“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”
Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.
He tries to find a delicate way to say this.
“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.
Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”
He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.
“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”
He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —
He gapes. Will grins.
Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.
“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”
Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.
There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —
“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.
“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”
Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.
“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”
Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.
“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”
Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.
“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”
“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”
“Do you need help?”
“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”
Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it��s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.
“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.
“Let’s ride, baby!”
With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.
———
next
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helpmeimblorboing · 7 months
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Fandom : Percy Jackson
Title : The Shadow and the Sun
Summary : "Nico di Angelo has always been.. off-putting. Death-bringer. Cursed child.
Feared and respected in equal measure. Cursed with the dying breaths of every mortal. Eldest of the gods. First son of Kronos. Lord of death, of decay, and devastation. An unnatural presence at the Councils that took place at the Winter Solstice on Olympus, a shadow looming in the corner of everyone's mind. Quiet, and contemplative, and yet so, so intimidating. Keeping to himself, and still his aura managed to shake even the most battle-hardened of his peers
Aidoneus, the mortals called him, Unseen One. Lord of the Damned. The Rotting Prince. The Ghost King. Cursed to forever be lonely, to never have a companion
Until of course, he met a certain golden-haired god of the sun, and his world grew much brighter than it had ever seemed before
(AU where Nico is Hades and Will is Apollo)
Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/49903090
Rating : General
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mxr1e · 1 year
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I’m going to have to physically and mentally restrain myself from social media for spoilers when the sun and the star comes out cause I have to wait for a online copy to drop smh.
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luna-writes-stuff · 1 year
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The type my favourite Arcane characters would fall for:
With Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Vi, Caitlin, Ekko, Jinx, Silco, and Vander
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Viktor:
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Viktor is very much a person who prefers solitude over social interactions. He focuses on his job more than anything, and can not quite find the time nor energy to do anything after that. Though he loves to find solace in lonesome rooms, he needs a little sunlight occasionally; metaphorically and literally. Someone who drops in once every two hours to get him a drink, a note or simply sit next to him to distract him from his project momentarily. You could sit on an empty chair at his side, observing his work from a safe distance, careful to not shove your nose in there. Tiny questions would escape you, such as “what is that?” Or “why are you using that?”, and he would be delighted to answer them. Sometimes, he’d pull off his goggles to look at you shortly, a tiny smile gracing his face, before he returns to his work. You’d get along with Jayce quite easily - maybe too easy, but it’s all in good manners. Viktor tries to make time for you and take short breaks, but more often than not, he gets so caught up, he cannot afford the distraction. Jayce is more than happy to entertain you for the time being; he rather enjoys your presence as well.
——
Jayce:
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Jayce oozes charisma. Now usually, fire and fire don’t go well, but match his energy, and this is man is smitten. Absolutely at loss for words. Desperately in love, if you will. You tease him; the words disappear on his tongue. Now come the heart-eyes. You’d walk down the halls, and you could simply feel his eyes on you. He’d halt any conversation he held and stare at you in silence. Respectfully. Would you work in the same lab as him, this man cannot focus to save his life. Your jokes, your smile, your witty remarks….He’s gone. The worst is when you radiate serotonin. A job gone right, a good song, a funny joke? Anything that makes you smile, makes his heart skip a step. You know that hollow feeling in your stomach, but the good one? That’s him. He’s quick to pick up on little things you do once you get excited: Clap your hands, squeal, jump up and down, squeezing your hands in fists? He sees it. And there is that pit again.
——
Mel:
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Listen, this woman is so busy and booked, she tends to miss out on the little things. She needs someone who will take little times a day where they will take a short walk, or do some painting together. Anything to get her mind off of work or business for a short second. A spontaneous decision often takes her aback, as she likes to plan things out, but once she trusts you, it’s all in, baby. During council meetings, you’ll sit on the side, silently calming her down when things get hectic or chaotic. You help her plan things out, but leave room for the fun things. She treasures this so much, she cannot even begin to explain it to you. Small touches on your arm or hand constantly to remind her you’re still there. Ironically enough, it keeps her from overworking. You’re simply so soothing to her.
——
Caitlin:
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Bamf. Do I need to elaborate? Caitlin is the type of person to see the good in everyone, no matter how tiny it will be. ‘How bad can they be?’ is a regular question from her. She can be attracted to anyone, really. But if there was one type to capture her heart, it’s the bamf. The person who says things as they are, does as they please, witty remarks, teasing winks etc. The impression you leave on her is large, and she is in awe immediately. Even if she claims to not be amused. She is. Her heart is almost beating out of her chest. Someone get her some help, please. If you start flirting with her, this poor woman does not know what to do. Her cheeks turn red, her ears heat up, she freezes on the spot. But she loves it so much, though she would never admit it. And it’s great to get her flustered.
——
Vi:
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Sure, Vi would love a badass and independent partner. But when that partner has a soft spot for children? Always sees the good in everything? Smiles when someone says hi? Don’t get me started. The way your voice changes when you speak to someone in a friendly manner: gone. Bye-bye, Vi. She is a bit rough around the edges, and can come of as cold at times. You contradict that in the best ways possible. Your kind waves to everyone you pass, the ‘how are you?’ when trying to pay for something, your loving hugs…All the things she’d 100% fall for. No question about it. She insists on holding your hand at all times. She says it is because you like it, but let’s be honest. She is not planning on letting you go and likes to let everyone know, you are indeed taken. 10/10 the type to make-out in public when someone takes your friendliness a bit too extreme. Her hand tugging on your waist, the glare shot towards the one flirting with you? Oof.
——
Jinx:
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Jinx has a teasing tone, as everyone might know. Though she could use someone to work against that, she would not necessarily find herself attracted to it. If you decide to throw a confetti bomb her way though? You just got yourself a new girlfriend. She is the type to cause mayhem anywhere and everywhere. If she finds someone to do that with, her heart is taken. There are times her emotions tend to get the best of her. You’ll have to calm her down gradually before she does anything stupid. Offer a listening ear, a supportive arm, and she’ll eventually calm down. She loves to do stupid things with you, but she needs breaks. Sit with her and help her tinker with new ideas. Your voice can truly be enough to simply soothe her.
——
Ekko:
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Ekko has a soft spot for nerds, no one can convince me otherwise. And I’m not talking technology nerd. I’m talking info-dumping nerd. Someone who knows a little bit about everything. With anything he encounters, you are able to tell a fun story behind that. “Is that a raven?” “Actually, it’s a crow. Did you know crows actually remember people and voices and can even hold a grudge against you? Even worse, crows gossip. What? They do.” Man has fallen head over heels. Your little ranting and rambling makes him feel all giddy inside. He actually used to hate it, but as he grew to realize it was love, he began to accept it. Now, the feeling is welcomed. He can listen to you talk for ages, as cheesy as it might sound. And he remembers everything you tell him. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t, so you could tell him again. You know you ramble, and you have often been told to shut up. So, when you notice you’re ranting again, you always stop suddenly, offering a meek ‘sorry’. He will not hesitate to shake his head wildly, grabbing your hands in reassurance, claiming he wants to hear more. And it’s not to make you feel better, he genuinely enjoys your little talks. It’s one of the things that makes you so special to him. He treasures every single word spoken to him.
——
Silco:
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Now, Silco is not an easy one to fall. Not at all. Even with you, it might not have been love at first sight. You had to grow on him. But your mind, and your strategies? They were phenomenal since day one. And though he simply shrugged at it at first, he found himself being attracted to you for that exact reason. You had a solution to every problem, and you had a way of thinking that he simply adored. And from there, he started noticing other things about you. Had your eyes always held that sparkle in them? Were your hands always that delicate? Had your voice always sounded that soothing? It wasn’t until you once laid a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of dreamland, that he realized that he had indeed fallen. Because that touch seemed to linger on his shoulder even as you walked back to your seat at the table. And your eyes silently asking him if he was okay, suddenly looked so different. And then it all clicks. From that day on, his behavior towards you completely changes. Now he wants you in the room with him. Now he wants your opinion on everything. Now you have to follow him wherever he goes. He needs you closer to him now than ever before.
——
Vander:
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Listen. Dad friend meets mom friend. It’s meant to be, what else can I say? Your warm-hearted personality, the way you kneel down when talking to children, your reasonable words always interrupting fights. That’s just a short list of things he adores about you. Being the voice of reason, but with that compassionate tone is something he greatly admires. Perhaps more than people usually would. But of course, carrying the day on your shoulder and trying to remain kind to others can take quite a toll on a person. At night, when you’re sure others will no longer come look for you, you tire yourself with thoughts of the day. He often comes to visit you around this time so you will not be alone. You share your worries with each other, but also try to encourage each other to keep it up. Those talks are something so precious and intimate to him. And he keeps on doing these even after being your partner through the years.
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johnwickb1tsch · 4 months
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you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) PART 2
a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1
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PART 2.
You tell him that you’ll meet him there. After your little crying jag, you have to go home and clean up. Maybe with some painkillers and a nap with an ice pack on your eyes you won’t look like death warmed over. He offers to pick you up, but you decline, knowing it would make the drive twice as long for him.
For a moment he seems like he wants to argue, but in the end he lets it go.
The restaurant is in Manhattan. It’s the sort of place you could never afford, and maybe even if you could, it wouldn’t exactly be your scene. You smooth your dress over your hips as you get out of your cab, hoping you won’t embarrass John. It was the nicest thing you own for a respectable rendezvous, a dark green paisley Etro dress with long sleeves that you’d scored at a thrift shop. It bared your shoulders with a wide neckline, but not much cleavage. You were behaving yourself tonight, despite the little suggestions the devils on your shoulders were whispering into your ear.  
Despite the fact that you arrive early, John is waiting for you outside, looking utterly edible in another black on black three-piece suit. Does he buy them in bulk? The thought makes you smile a little, a thing he returns in small measure. There is a sadness that cloaks this man like a mantle, and for a moment you wonder if that is what people see, when they look at you. You’re not sure you’re qualified to help him at all, but maybe, just maybe, there could be some solace in your shared grief for the same woman who left you both behind.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Nervously, you look through the window at the glittering lights and swanky diners laughing over their expensive glasses of wine. You feel unbearably self-conscious. “Am I dressed ok for this place?”
“You look beautiful.” He says it so matter of fact, his tone completely platonic. And yet…
And yet.
He looks at you with a haunting intensity that grips you to the bone. He isn't even looking at your body. He's looking at your face, almost as though he's seen a ghost. 
You know you remind him of her, and you wonder if maybe this is a bad idea. 
But he shakes himself out of it, offering his arm, and even though you have an inkling that maybe you shouldn't, another part of you that is usually kept locked up in the dungeon with the rest of your worst impulses pushes you to take it, because you want to. Bolstered by his approval and your own special brand of foolhardiness, you slip your arm through his with your head held high.  
You haven't technically done anything wrong yet. Lusting after your sister's husband in an abstract way you never had any intention of acting on isn't exactly new. But the rest...is edging into a murky gray area.
What would Helen think? She'd probably be amused, truth be told, at least by your own inner turmoil. You remember that she told you once that she never got jealous when women went all googly eyed over her model-handsome husband, because she trusted him so completely. He doesn't even look at them, she said. 
Well. He'd looked at you, like he was a wolf and you were a tasty little bunny. Just the thought made you flush all over again, your fingers involuntarily flexing on John's bicep.
Dear lord, it was like granite. 
He looks down at you, curious, and you know you look as embarrassed as you feel. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize, looking anywhere but at his burning anthracite eyes. He pats your hand, but says nothing, sparing you the embarrassment of making up some lame excuse. 
You go inside, and the maître d’ is exceptionally solicitous. Welcome back, Mr. Wick. This way please, Mr. Wick. He and Helen must have been quite the regulars.
Once you are at your table John waves off the maître d’, opting to push in your chair for you. His fingers brush your shoulder afterwards. It was probably a mistake, but you cannot suppress a small shudder. He does not look at you as he seats himself, opting to pick up the menu.
You follow suit, your skin on fire. 
It was an accidental touch, you tell yourself.
He didn't mean anything by it.
You glance up from your menu, to find he is looking at you out the corner of his eye.
You tell your treacherous heart that attempts to pound out of your chest to settle the fuck down.
“So...what was Helen’s favorite dish here?”
He doesn't look up, and for some reason you are relieved.
“Guess.”
“Hmm.” You scan the offerings. It is mostly French leaning nouvelle cuisine. It all looks delicious, and very expensive. You know the moment your eyes find the line, and you smile. “The magret de canard.”
This time he does smile with you. It is tinged with nostalgia, and your heart aches. For him. For you. For the woman you are remembering together.
“She took me to Europe when I graduated from high school. She ordered that dish in every restaurant in France we went to. She said it was so delicious there was no point in trying anything else.” You cackle with another memory. “Then when we got home she was determined to learn how to make it. It went ok until the sauce. Holy shit, the black smoke in that kitchen was like a tire fire!” You wipe away a tear that is borne of mirth and memory. 
When you look across the table again John is smiling gently, as though he can see it perfectly in his own mind’s eye.
“She was a terrible cook.” He says it fondly, like it amused the hell out of him.
“I know. I am too, I’m not throwing shade here. Do you like to cook?”
The side of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Yes. I find it relaxing.”
Figures. He would be so perfect. One of many reasons Helen undoubtedly fell in love with him.
When the waiter comes John orders a filet, and you, the duck. “For Helen,” you say with a wistful curl of lips. He stares at you silently for a long beat before nodding, returning your smile perfunctorily. You marvel that you can already tell when his expressions are genuine, and when he’s playing the part he needs to for the sake of social nicety. Your heart aches for him. It must be so painful to be here, where he'd dined with Helen so many times. Maybe more like sticking a finger in a wound, than a brave act for the sake of nostalgia. What were the two of you thinking? 
It occurs to you, from things Helen had said, that maybe this is more than just her favorite restaurant.
“This is where you met, isn't it?” 
His eyes are fixed on a particular spot at the bar. “Right over there. She was meeting a client, but he canceled. So we had dinner together.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You didn't happen to have anything to do with that?” All Helen had ever told you about John's occupation was that he worked in security, but she had implied multiple times that he was resourceful, smart, and not someone to be fucked with.
The corner of his mouth ticks, his eyebrow rising slightly. You congratulate yourself for lifting him at least a little out of his funk. “I'm afraid it was just luck on my part.” 
“Fate,” you correct, toasting with your water glass, because you haven’t been brought drinks yet.
“It's nice to think so.”
“So then you had dinner.” You know the story. “Where did you sit?”
“Right here.” 
You feel a chill, knowing that once, your sister had sat in this very place, across from this very man, and changed the course of her life forever. You marvel at what that must have been like. You never fall for men quickly, usually keeping them at arm’s length for as long as you can manage. You’ve never experienced love at first sight, or first night, but looking at this handsome man across from you, it's not so hard to imagine.
“Did you fall in love that night?” you ask quietly.
“I did. I think for Helen...it took a little longer.”
Immediately you shake your head. “No,” you contradict, wanting him to know this. “She called me, the next day. She told me she'd just met the most amazing man and that she wanted to spend her life with him. I thought she was crazy.” You look around at the intimate setting, the low soft lighting and the swanky surroundings, a little misty eyed. Then, you look at him. This handsome devil with the soft eyes of a poet.
Helen hadn’t been frivolous. She hadn’t even been particularly romantic. Meeting John Wick changed all that.
“Maybe I understand a little better now.”
You look at each other from across the table. There is a longing in his eyes that you know you do not have the power to heal, and yet you would if you could. You would give a great deal to see this man made whole again—you’re not really sure why.
He looks away first, and you feel…raw. 
“Thank you. I…was the best version of myself, for her.” His long fingers trace a circle in the white table cloth, a hairline of a frown appearing on his brow. “I've slid backwards a bit, since.”
Hoo boy, did you get that.
“That’s ok,” you say softly. “We do what we have to, to survive.”
He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes through his long hair. Your fingers itch to brush it out of his face. To touch him, and you absolutely know you shouldn't. Shouldn’t even think it. But there is something in the way he's been looking at you today. Something almost like…hunger, and your belly flutters with a thousand butterflies made of bad ideas and midnight longings.
“So…what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
You shake your head with your heart in your throat. Is he asking out of politeness, making chit chat, or does he want to know if you’re unattached?
The truth is you’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than six months, and a nervous little laugh escapes you.
“I’ve…never met anyone who it was worth the sacrifice. Things are always nice at first, but then he starts to try to mold you into the person he really wants you to be, and you realize all along he just wanted someone to cook his meals and wash his socks.” 
John lifts an eyebrow at this, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.
“Maybe you should try dating someone who can afford a housekeeper.” He looks up at you then, his dark eyes soft yet penetrating, and you swear he can see straight through to the depths of you. The look almost feels like a challenge, somehow. You try to meet him head on, but in the end the unbearable heat of it makes you squirm, and you look away.
The waiter saves you from what you might say next, bringing the bottle of wine John ordered. 
Thank god, because you need a drink.
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sixpennydame · 9 months
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Still I Wait
Levi x gn!reader
Content: Romantic angst, S4 Levi fighting his way back to you
A/N: This one shot is meant to read like a poem and was inspired by a one shot @humanitys-strongest-bamf wrote for me and the song below:
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You and Levi both knew the rules: no falling in love..
Love was a liability. A privilege he couldn’t allow. You understood this and had agreed that your relationship merely filled the loneliness you both felt. It was a physical yearning, that was all.
You’d once fought alongside each other, but a severe injury before the Shiganshina expedition caused you to quit the Survey Corps in your prime; in the end, it saved you from dying with your comrades, but the remorse of being left behind was almost too much to bear.
Levi, your last surviving friend and comrade, understood your pain. You both found solace in each other’s company and eventually, in each other’s arms, with one stipulation:
We can’t fall in love.
He saw you when he could, bodies entwined as his lips and hands explored each gouge and scar on your skin. You learned the meaning of every deep breath and moan he took. Sometimes gentle, other times rough, but always passionate, as if you both were the key to each other’s lock. A year turned into two and by now the short afternoon trysts were one or two day encounters.
The world around you changed, shaking the very foundations you thought you both knew. You attempted to change with the times as well; the expansion of knowledge and innovation intrigued you, but Levi stayed the same: ever focused on avenging his comrades and taking down the Beast Titan.
The following year took Levi to Marley. He was gone for months, and you worried he might never return. You couldn’t stand to think of living in a world without Levi, and that’s when you knew: you’d broken the one rule you’d made.
You’d fallen in love.
While the Corps prepared for the raid on Liberio, you prepared your heart. You hadn’t told him how you felt, for fear that it would drive him away. You’d rather keep your feelings a secret than live without him. Days before his departure, he came to your door. These times, you craved them; as if he was the light illuminating your dark world. His body on top of yours, your head caged in by his arms, you couldn’t escape his gaze. Did he see the love in your eyes? Would he tell you if he did?
Levi, do you think of a life beyond this?
In the morning, he prepares to leave. “I’ll see you when I return.”
Strong arms around you, head in the crook of his neck, you whisper, “And I’ll be waiting.”
A promise, sealed with a final kiss.
You waited, as he returned from Marley with Zeke in tow, heading directly for the forest of tall trees.
You watched in horror, as the walls crumbled and Titans marched across the land into the ocean. You ran for your life, but your faith in Levi never waivered.
You cling to hope when you hear of fighting across the sea. If anyone would still be fighting, it would be Levi.
The world upended and in chaos, you know deep in your heart he’s still alive.
And so you wait.
——
In the forest, Levi dreams of the last time he saw you. There was something lingering in the air that day, words left unsaid. He wonders if you’d felt that too.
He wishes you’d asked him to stay a little longer, had held the embrace a few moments more. But if you had, would he have complied?
You had been a beautiful distraction, a way for him to leave the worries of the world behind, though they were always waiting for him when he left your embrace.
His life had never been his own and he wore the weight of it all like an old coat. But you never asked anything of him, never expected more than his presence.
He’s never looked back, always pushed forward. But when this all stops, will you still be there? He wants you to be.
“…I’ll be waiting,” you’d said.
In a flash, it all came tumbling down.
An explosion, and he feels his body flying through the air.
Then nothing.
It’s true what they say, that when you’re dying your life flashes before your eyes. Levi sees it all, scenes of his life play on a loop, but of all the moments, the ones with you stand out amongst them . All his life, Levi has known what he had to do.
But love doesn’t follow the rules.
You are it. You are everything he’s ever wanted. When he returns, he’s going to tell you.
“Wait for me.”
How many days has it been now? How many stitches did Hange sew into his skin? Even with his body in tatters, he thinks of you. But you seem so far away now, a life with you merely an eager fantasy. He’s so tired of war, of hate, of struggle. Would you even recognize him if you saw him now?
For the first time in his life he feels powerless as he watches his comrades cut down their own. He wills his body to comply as he walks down the steps of the ship, clutching the handrail. He will not be a liability. He will finish what was started.
And when it’s all over, he’ll come back to you.
“Dedicate you heart,” he tells Hange. The sorrow overwhelms him; it’s an unwelcome guest in his heart, but it’s lived with him for so long, defined most of his life. When it leaves, what will be left of him?
Happiness, peace, love. All the things he’s yet to see, are waiting for him with you.
If he can just push through a little longer, fight one day more. When the sun sets, a new day will dawn, and this will all be over.
He’ll find you. He’ll drag his broken body across this broken world until he sees you again. So he can tell you he loves you. That he always has.
“Wait for me, just a little longer.”
———
Tagging my angst-loving babes: @mrsackxrman @mrsackermannx @littlerequiem @leviismybby
Join my tag list
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THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES IS SWINGING ⸺ A PJO FANFICTION
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🏛.ೃ࿐ READ ON ▌ Wattpad 🏛 AO3 🏛 Quotev 🏛 FFN
THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES IS SWINGING ⸺ this is the first book in a pjo au that i am working on, it is based on the books AND is not really based on the tv show series as i started it months before the show came out. it starts in the titan's curse and thus contains spoilers (for those who have only watched the show) for the lightning thief and sea of monsters. it is a slow burn luke castellan fic, with a little bit of grover underwood sprinkled in although as i'm writing it, i am currently considering that luke/oc/grover be the end pairing in the series. only time will tell what the endgame pairing will be. currently the book is focusing on found family and the roll the oc plays in the pjo verse.
🏛.ೃ࿐ SYNOPSIS.▌ ❝Through out the three centuries that Sarah's been apart of the Hunters, she's come to realize that being a Demigod thoroughly sucked. Growing up as a child of Hades in the Puritan village of Salem, Sarah never once had it easy. But she had been happy, happy to be alive, happy to be apart of the Hunters. The threat of an impending war is imminent, and while Sarah is far from being at the center of it, the sword of Damocles still swings precariously over her head, for Sarah was a hero that had been happy for far too long. perhaps after three hundreds years of living a relatively joyful life for a Demigod, it was time for Sarah Willoughby to sacrifice something.❞
🏛.ೃ࿐ CHAPTERS.▌ Currently Published: 001 Prologue, 006 Chapters, 002 Misc. Chapters
🏛.ೃ࿐ CONTENT WARNINGS ▌Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Prophecy, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Families of Choice, Past Relationship(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Period Typical Attitudes, Internalized Homophobia, Historical Inaccuracy, Medical Inaccuracies, Childhood Trauma, Percy Jackson has a Twin, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Original Character Death(s), Canonical Character Death, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Enemies To Lovers, Luke Castellan Redemption, Fix-It of Sorts, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Injury, BAMF Percy Jackson, BAMF Bianca di Angelo, Protective Siblings, Sibling Love, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Monsters, Luke Castellan-centric, Original Character-centric, Complicated Relationships, Serious Injuries, Good Parent Hades (Percy Jackson), Necromancy, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
🏛.ೃ࿐ RELATIONSHIPS ▌Luke Castellan/Original Female Character(s), Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hades/Original Female Character(s), The Hunters of Artemis & Original Female Character(s), Maria di Angelo/Hades/Persephone, Nico di Angelo & Will Solace, Bianca di Angelo & Nico di Angelo & Original Female Character(s), Clarisse La Rue & Original Character(s), Grover Underwood & Original Character(s), Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson
🏛.ೃ࿐ CHARACTERS ▌Original Child(ren) of Hades (Percy Jackson), Original Child(ren) of Apollo (Percy Jackson), Grover Underwood, The Hunters of Artemis, Bianca di Angelo, Nico di Angelo, Luke Castellan, Thalia Grace, Zoë Nightshade, Original Jackson Character(s), Original Child(ren) of Aphrodite, The Olympians, Annabeth Chase, Kronos, Artemis, Hades, Persephone, Castor, Pollux, Chiron, Ethan Nakamura, Dionysus, Rachel Elizabeth Dare
🏛.ೃ࿐ AVAILABLE ON ▌ Wattpad 🏛 AO3 🏛 Quotev 🏛 FFN
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punkeropercyjackson · 1 month
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Is the Pjo fandom aware that Percy is like.......actually not a normal person.Not the demigod thing,i mean he's neurodivergent and has mental illnesses from trauma so his set of beliefs,thoughts,onward actions and tastes are completely different from society's ideals and norms.It's not like he acts the way he does as a joke or to look cool,it's kinda a big thing he can't stop acting like himself no matter what???It gives him self-eestem issues but it really is for the better for everyone involved because it makes him an actual role model for irl troubled kids who got to read him grow all the way up until adulthood alongside us and him never masking being potrayed as what made him the best and realest hero in the whole franchise
He's never been tempted to join the gods and talks shit to them because he has no interest in power and they're child abusers who run an oppressive system,not because he's a BAMF and 'sassy'.He dosen't try to cover up his 'sensitive' and 'soft' emotions because he thinks they're stupid,it's a defense mechanism from growing up with an abusive stepdad,ableist bullies and teachers and a society that expects peak masculinity from him despite his desire for femininity instead and there's a reason why almost all his friends in the og series were girls and he insults other guys based on being too manly
Related to that,her complete lack of romantic interest in Nico wasn't because she's 'a tragically straight boy' but because she's A)At least only partially a man(transfem bigender)and he's gay and B)Too old for him and has some damn decency so she loves and treats him like her little brother and pseudo-son instead and she shouldn't be expected to return his feelings,much less be called a bad person for not,when she never fucking said she likes him or flirted with him and he loves her as his older sister/brother and sees her as mom/dad back and she also proceeds to do the same with Hazel within ONE book of knowing her since she's in the same parental situation as Nico and she used to take care of Tyson before he moved in with Poseidon and of Bianca as well before she died
Her loving and dating Rachel at one point wasn't 'toxic' or 'unrealistic' or especially not 'one-sided',they were just two teenagers finding solace in eachother due to similar experiences and being happy to indulge in the other's interests to the point where it became some of their's too and y'all deserve to get smacked upside the head for having the AUDACITY to make fun of her when Percy was all over her and Jason more than he was Book!Annabeth's little femcel ass(not you Leahbeth,never you Leahbeth)and erase her to say 'Percy's type is blondes' as if any actual punk like Percy would be into someone because they live up to traditional standards and when she hates 2/5 of the blondes y'all are talking about(Luke and Apollo)and her demisexual ass barely knows 1/5 of them,them also having an actual canon bf(Magnus + Alex)
They never wanted to be normal or special,they wanted to be ACCEPTED.They're an outcast because they can't hide who they truly are even though none of what makes them different is bad but they're not this or they're so that so it can't possibly be actually good that they're the way they are and do the things they do and that's how they get treated in-universe AND by bloggers who have 'a woman's place is in the revolution' or 'Boykisser' on their theme but get squeemish at the thought of positive change or queerness that's not packaged shipping tropes.Percy Jackson's not suddenly 'the standard protagonist' instead of a staple of representation for freaks because you're a poser
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bronx-bomber87 · 11 months
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Holy hell. My heart is still racing from that finale. I thought last ep got my adrenaline pumping sweet lord. I must’ve rewound that hug like 4 times before I could move on. Lucy not breaking until she is in the comfort of their place(let’s be honest theirs at this point) and Tim being right there to pick up the pieces. It was so intimate and sweet. Her getting the solace she needs from him. Her instant comfort zone. His automatic reaction to hold her. The sweet kiss on her head while he consoled her. Beautiful. Also that song that was playing. Whoever picks the music. Give that person a raise got me in the feels hard.
Their little banter with him going with her was primo. Oh Lucy he knows you can protect yourself. He just loves you and that’s why he’s there. She recognizes this and her reply is perfection ‘ Glad it’s you that has my six’ ‘Me too’ these two ❤️ I just love them so much.
Can I say what a complete BAMF we have as a couple? That whole action sequence was incredible. The way they worked out a plan on the fly and trusted one another. How in sync they were as they executed it. You wanna see poetry in motion? my god that scene. How well they work together is so fun to watch. The way he scooped her up minute Nolan arrived? *chefs kiss* Also how he kept a hand on her thigh while they caught their breath. So good.
Been a hell of a season everyone. I’ve loved it from beginning to end. Truly was Chenford season. Watching how these two grew this season by leaps and bounds was amazing to behold. Both together and separately. Eric and Melissa were lightning in a bottle magic. Couldn’t be happier with this entire season and to see what the future brings for them. S6 can not come fast enough. I’m already going through withdrawals LOL
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mirzamsaiph · 7 months
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New fic! (Yes I’m still working on my other fic I assure you)
Relationships
Apollo/Percy Jackson
Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson
Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Percy Jackson & Poseidon
Eventually
Percy Jackson & Triton
Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson
Jason Grace & Percy Jackson
Percy Jackson & The Olympians
evenutally they're assholes at the start
and the middle
and practically the end
Characters
Percy Jackson
Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson)
Apollo (Percy Jackson)
Poseidon (Percy Jackson)
Triton (Percy Jackson)
Amphitrite (Percy Jackson)
Kymopoleia (Percy Jackson)
Rhodes (Percy Jackson)
Zeus (Percy Jackson)
Aphrodite (Percy Jackson)
Athena (Percy Jackson)
Hermes (Percy Jackson)
Hades (Percy Jackson)
Ares (Percy Jackson)
Hera (Percy Jackson)
Dionysus (Percy Jackson)
Achilles (Percy Jackson)
Patroclus (Percy Jackson)
Menelaus (Song of Achilles)
Eros (Percy Jackson)
Paris
Helen of Troy
Odysseus (Percy Jackson)
There's proabably more I'm forgetting
Agamemnon (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Additional Tags
I don't want to tag this as non-con but it's def a good bit dark
any mentions of SA or anything of sorts will be warned in the notes
Obsessive Behavior
References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Ancient Greece
Trojan War
Politics
Time Travel
Time Travel Fix-It
Fix-It
BAMF Percy Jackson
Sassy Percy Jackson
He's so done
Canon-Typical Violence
Protective Poseidon (Percy Jackson)
but like
way way to protective
obsessive protective
Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome
Dark Apollo (Percy Jackson)
Dark Poseidon (Percy Jackson)
Work title:
Those eyes add insult to injury ( and it hurt’s so much)
Summary:
It seemed that Kronos, essentially, was a sore loser.
This conclusion became evident to Percy as he regained consciousness in the what seemed to be Greece. There stood an elegant woman, around his mother's age, in garments that were unfamiliar to Percy. She gazed down at him with concern and care. A man stood beside her, sharing her concern but with an air of wariness. His hand rested on what Percy presumed was his wife's shoulder, and his eyes seemed fixated on Percy's sword, which laying by him.
Percy's day turned worse as soon as the woman began to speak, "Young man, are you well? It appears you might be injured. Has there been another clash with the Trojans? Shall we get you to Lord Apollo's temple and to the healer within? The woman's gaze darted from Percy to her husband, whose brows creased in response.
At that moment, Percy yearned to obliterate Kronos once more.
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willsolaceloml · 2 years
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Will and Nico are literally just
Bamf [nice]☀️ x bamf [nice]🌙
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rainbowangel110 · 6 months
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Some doodles
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Close ups
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Nova doing ballerina stuff (totally didn't give them that aspect cuz of @angelcloves dance videos and finding them cool)
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Vanessa being a BAMF as usual
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Solace and Nami! Nami is a new character who's Tier 3 (specialty being sea plants (kinda like Willow)) who's also blind and has a manta ray as a guide animal (still need a name for it-)
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Fan art! This is Michael and Eclipse from @pempempemto's AU! Do check it out it's really good I love their art-
Bonus (aka back page)
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New OC! She's a slime girl :)
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And some trio shenanigans
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helpmeimblorboing · 7 months
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Fandom : Percy Jackson
Genre : Angst/Humor
Summary : In one universe, Maria di Angelo died on Sep 24, 1939, when her children were around ten years old. We all know what happened in that universe
In another universe, she died, years earlier, as she gave birth to her children, leading to the death of one, while the other, Nico, was born when she was already dead, the spawn of a god and a ghost... a Reaper...
As such, by order of Zeus, he has been given the duty of aiding Thanatos in his work, and though Nico is hesitant at first, he soon discovers that it may not be as bad as he thinks
(aka meets a hot man)
Rating : General
Title : Nico di Angelo, Reaper-in-training
Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/49864420
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