icarus, show me the moon.

bimafe, any pronounce.

[bimafe]

I've been watching him for my entire life

I hate the air he breathes

His foolish decrees, his words so contrived

And I hate the way the townspeople gather outside

They hang on every breath

Cling to his chest, home to his heart full of pride

[bimafe]

swear to god i hate them!

[bimafe]

bruce: who broke the batmobile?

tim: technically, it's not broken.

bruce: of course, technically it's on fire.

jason: it's a new trend, old man.

[bimafe]

okay but penelope and emily going on platonic dates to musicals and theater in general after every case.

[bimafe]

the night was starless, as it had been every night lately. the sky seemed to have turned away from him. just like everyone else to be honest.

octavian stood at the altar in the temple of jupiter, his robe stained with the ashes of burnt omens. his blue eyes darted among the shadows like a cornered beast, yet confident that he was still the hunter.

he muttered to himself.

“they don't understand... it's all for them, for rome.”

another plush toy lay on the altar — a symbol of his “prophetic sacrifices.” he trembled, holding a silver knife in his hand. inside, everything was burning: anger, fear, rejection. blood rang in his ears. the camp was becoming unfamiliar.

“reyna... always questions my decisions. they are all against me. but i know better. i am an augur. i am the last voice of rome,” he said, addressing the void.

his words turned into a scream.

he had dreams: burning ships, the voices of the gods, which he seemed to hear less and less often. or more and more often? he didn't know. everything was confused. he didn't understand where a dream ended and a new prophecy began.

“they laugh at me... they think i'm a jester,” his face contorted into a smile too wide to be normal. “but jesters don't build armies. jesters don't command ballistas.”

he turned sharply, as if someone had touched his shoulder, but there was no one there. only the wind swaying the red and gold banners.

“i will stop them. i will purify them. i will burn these greeks, burn these demigods who have forgotten who we are. i... i will exalt rome!”

he raised his hands to the sky like a priest at a sacrificial ritual, but the sky was silent. no thunder or lightning, no other sign. even the gods had turned away.

“look at me!” he shouted at the sky. “i am faithful! i stand on the bones of my ancestors! you dare not turn away!”

his voice broke and he fell to his knees, clutching his head with his hands.

the whispering sounded in his head again. he didn't know whose it was. sometimes he was sure it was apollo. sometimes he thought it was his own voice. perhaps it was the voice of his own rage, which had become a separate entity.

and in that silence, a moment before he got up and began preparing for his last attempt to prove himself right, he whispered:

“i'm not insane. i'm simply the only one who still sees.”

[bimafe]

octavian and dakota cuz i can.

cr: onixiage.

[bimafe]

cr: jaemongus.

[bimafe]

percy lost his mom in the rain. in the element that has always been comfortable for him.

leo lost his mom in the fire. in the element that belongs to him.

[bimafe]

liam writes theo (he will be at the meeting like a good boy).

[plutosrights]

going back to my roots zukka band au in the big year 2025

[yoshukowashere]

That one pic but valzhang cuz i see them like this in post-toa times (kind of)

Alt ver with bear cookie bc i think its funny

[bimafe]

i believe in valzhang supremacy.

[bimafe]

apollo: i've written a haiku in your honor!

percy: [panicked] no.

annabeth: [chokes on coffee] not again.

leo: come on, sing it!

apollo: [takes lyre and begins to sing]

nico: [retreats into the shadows] i'd rather sit in the underworld.

[bimafe]

athena: your son is a walking catastrophe.

poseidon: [drinking a mojito] he's a creative person.

annabeth: [whispering] a creative person who accidentally summoned a tsunami in the pool yesterday.

percy: [smiling] it was an experiment.

athena: your experiment flooded my temple!

percy: well... at least it's clean now.

[bimafe]

octavian: [threateningly pulls out a teddy bear] i will sacrifice it!

leo: ...you're threatening to kill a teddy bear?

octavian: it's part of the ritual!

dakota: [with kool-aid in hand] let me guess - predicting percy's death again?

octavian: [staring angrily] yes.

percy: [eating a burger] good luck, i already have three deaths on my schedule for today

[bimafe]

it started raining in the morning, and by noon the city was submerged in a cold, damp haze. leo didn't like rain. water and mechanics never got along — drops got into the most inconvenient places, joints creaked, and his curls turned into a messy chaos. but today, for some reason, he felt compelled to leave his workshop and go to a small flower shop on the corner.

he pushed the door, and a bell tinkled above his head. he was immediately struck by the scent — fresh, like a spring morning after a thunderstorm, with sweeter notes. rows of shelves with flowers: jasmine, peonies, daisies, lilies — it all looked too... neat. too different from his usual world of the workshop with its smell of motor oil.

“valdez,” came a calm, low voice from somewhere deep inside the shop.

leo blinked, peering into the shadows. and, of course, there stood frank zhang — a burly man in an apron, carefully holding a rose stem. leo grimaced inwardly. frank, of all people. why did fate insist on bringing him face to face with this walking embodiment of calm and reliability every time?

“um, hello, mr. flower master yoda,” leo smiled, leaning on the counter. “i need help. urgently. it's a matter of life and death. and flowers.”

frank slowly looked up. his dark eyes flashed, but his face remained impassive.

“for someone special?”

“what's it to you?” leo sighed dramatically. “imagine i'm a lonely hero who needs to win the heart of a beautiful lady.”

frank raised his eyebrow slightly.

“you?”

“oh, that hurt,” leo put his hand on his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. “you think i can't be romantic?”

“i think it's hard for you to be serious for more than three seconds,” frank replied dryly, turning away and picking up a basket of white asters.

leo watched his movements. frank's hands were large, but he handled the flowers as if he were holding crystal in his fingers. he cut each stem carefully and tied the ribbons with almost jeweler's precision. it was strangely mesmerizing.

“hey,” leo broke the silence, jumping up and down on the spot, “how did a big guy like you end up... here? i don't know... you look more like a samurai club bouncer, if such a thing exists, than a florist.”

frank froze for a second, but replied calmly:

“flowers are easier than people. they don't make noise, they don't argue, they don't meddle where they're not wanted. they're... just easier.”

leo wanted to joke, but instead found himself staring at frank too intently. in the light of the shop, his face seemed softer than usual — less like a formidable veteran, more like a guy who simply loves what he does.

“you're strange,” leo finally said.

“i know,” frank nodded, handing him the finished bouquet. “here. for your ‘beautiful lady.’”

leo took the bouquet. white asters, a couple of pale blue hydrangeas, and a thin branch of jasmine. the scent was light, almost transparent. he was about to blurt something out, as usual, but for some reason the words stuck in his throat.

he nodded and headed for the door. when the bell rang again, leo realized that he was leaving with a slight feeling of annoyance... and, for some reason, a desire to return.

later that evening, he sat in his workshop, surrounded by the smell of machine oil, with the bouquet on the table next to his wrenches. leo looked at the flowers and frowned.

“for a beautiful lady,” yeah right. in fact, he hadn't bought them for anyone. he just... needed a reason to go in.

he remembered frank's hands. his calm gaze. the warmth with which he treated each stem.

and suddenly it became clear to him that tomorrow morning he would be back in that shop. not because he needed flowers, but because he wanted to hear frank's quiet voice and smell the jasmine again.

[bimafe]

jason: nico, are you okay?

nico: [in black hoodie] no.

jason: ...do you want to talk?

nico: no.

leo: [whispering to piper] he's as grim as the wi-fi at camp.

nico: [stares coldly] i heard that.

[bimafe]

peter: okay, one condition: no chaos.

wade: i promise.

[five minutes later]

peter: why are we in mexico?!

wade: i promised “no chaos,” not “no adventures.”

peter: ...i'm going home.

wade: [hugs him] no, you're mine forever now.