#furysburn

[bringthunder]

𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐍𝐀 ( @furysburn ) said, " You were supposed to protect him ! "

𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑   been   good   at   protecting   people.   for   a   little   while,   he   can   almost   pass   as   though   he’s   decent   at   it.   for   a   little   while,   he   can   keep   people   safe.   the   longer   they   are   within   his   care,   however,   the   more   damned   they   are   in   the   long   haul.   a   monster   will   appear   from   nowhere,   a   great   threat   will   breach   their   defenses   &&   whisk   them   away   while   his   back   is   turned,   a   titan   may   very   well   claw   their   way   out   from   tartarus   (   much   like   he   himself   did   )   &&   bring   themselves   back   for   the   sole   purpose   of   ripping   his   heart   out   again.    those   who   stay   close   to   him   are   not   long   for   the   world;   they   will   die,   oft   times   by   his   own   hands   or   by   way   of   his   mistakes.   verso   knows   this.   he   knew   this   when   he   decided   to   aid   camp   jupiter   in   some   quest   or   other   involving   another   demigod.   maybe   his   half-brother.   maybe   one   of   her   siblings.   the   details   of   it   are   blissfully   murky   now,   obscured   by   the   red   ‘round   his   hands   &&   the   fog   of   rage   over   his   better   judgment.    some   slim   part   of   him   whispers   that   kronos   was   right.   ( always   was.  )more   hurt   demigods.   the   hell   am   i   even   good   for   if   i   cant   keep   a   few   kids   safe on   a   road-trip?   he   wishes   mount   othrys   would   have   collapsed   a   little   bit   faster.    ❝   &&   i   did,   ❞   snaps   zeus’   son   to   the   daughter   of   bellona.   ❝   he’s   alive,   isn’t   he   ??   ❞   he   jerks   his   chin   to   the   door   of   her   office,   gestures   to   the   camp   beyond   it.   the   dogtags   ‘round   his   neck   clink   against   one   another   like   angry   wind-chimes.   ❝   maybe   not   in   the   best   shape,   sure,   &&   i   take   fault   for   that,   but   he   was   protected.   he’s   still   breathing.   he’ll   keep   breathing.   ❞    there’s   an   ache   as   he   lowers   his   arm,   shoving   his   hand   back   into   his   pockets.   the   patchwork   first-aid   he   applied   to   himself,   beyond   the   gates   of   camp   jupiter   &&   hidden   ‘neath   his   undershirt,   is   starting   to   give.   everything   went   to   making   sure   the   younger   demigod   got   back   in   one   piece;   damn   his   own   heart,   damn   his   own   body,   it   will   work   for   as   long   as   he   needs   it   to.   a   little   bit   of   bloodloss   &&   potential   infection   means   nothing.   there   are   still   monsters   to   kill.   still   things   in   the   dark   that   need   to   go   back   down   to   his   almost-grave   almost-home.    ❝   respectfully,   the   next   time   you   want   someone   to   come   back   completely   untouched,   maybe   you   should   consider   doing   it   yourself,   praetor, or asking mother dearest to handle it.   ❞     

[madefate]

[ Jeremy @ his BABYYYYYYYYY ; pro years, ldr :( ] [TXT] :i'm thinking about you. [TXT] :i hate nights like this without you. / @furysburn

【 SENT. | Mon Soleil 】 I will always be here when you call for me. 【 SENT. | Mon Soleil 】 But the bed is less comfortable without you.

California is still certainly warmer and brighter and more preferable than the East Coast, but Jean cannot deny that so much of its light comes not from the sun, but from his sun. It must be late there — if it's 9:00 here, then Jeremy is truly burning the midnight oil. Jean shushes the instinct to gently chastise him and peck at him to go to sleep; these moments are the only ones that he feels even halfway back to human.

Pêche snuffles and adjusts herself where she's curled up as close to Jean as possible, and he reaches down to stroke her fur with a gentle hand and a wistful smile at his lips. Then he scoops her up and she only wiggles to get to his face and lick it, unbothered by the change in position.

【 SENT. | Mon Soleil 】 attached.jpg 【 SENT. | Mon Soleil 】 We are thinking of you.

[strikehare]

— 🐾 && 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑭𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑬𝑻𝑰𝑻𝑶𝑹 ( @furysburn ) said,

A failure. Useless. Good for nothing. A broken bent thing. Barely worth the air in his lungs and the life he has. They send him back in something besides a casket and call it mercy but all he feels is failure. In their eyes, in his parent's, and even in Chase's cautious steps to his door. He cannot recognize them the same way he is a stranger to them. He never asked for their pity or concern and it feels like hell on his skin. An injury. A hazing accident. Money and NDAs and threats with a thumb dug into his shattered collarbone. You. Will. Not. Talk. The beach air was supposed to be good for him. [ The priest had held his hand and asked the right questions and Jakob had answered with the truth lodged in his throat. They call it an affliction, just rest, take the summer off. Next year he will go somewhere local and he will live. He squeezes until the father's hand creaks. He no longer believes in God. ] The pier is a lonely dock one bad hurricane away from never rising again. He smokes far enough out that Mom won't smell it while she cooks dinner and pretends it's alright. The water laps at his sneakers and he does not move as the tide pushes in. Breaches around the rotting stilts. He could jump. No one would find him until dinner was done. He could be gone━━━ Footsteps on the pier. The smoke is a cherry flame in the air before the sea swallows it up. He doesn't need to turn around, "What do you fucking want?"

YOU’RE  NOT  SURE  WHAT  HAPPENED.  you  should  be  happy  that  he’s  back,  because  you  know,  that’s  your  brother  and  all.  he  might  be  a  little  fucked  up,  sure,  but…  that’s  still  your  brother.  you  still  have  a  competition  to  win.  rumors  to  dispel.  things  to  do  with  yourself.  you  can’t  just  sit  back  and  wait  until  he’s  off  either  at  his  next  team  or  somewhere  else.  you  haven’t  seen  him  in  what  feels  like  a  fucking  eternity,  outside  of  shots  of  his  number  on  the  television.  no  media  interviews.  no  press.  you  swore  one  of  the  first things  he  talked  about  -  one  of  the  last  things  you  overheard  -  was  him  prepping  different  ways  to  roast  you  on  national  television before he left.

you  took  it  as  seriously  as  a  death  threat.  jakob  knew  a  lot  about  you.  some  of  it  was  incorrect,  but  most  of  it  was  true,  and  you  hated  it.  you  hated  ever  trusting  him  with  any  kind  of  secret  or  thing  to  hide.  mary  was  always  going  to  be  the  one  to  have  your  back,  so  you  started  telling  her  things  instead,  but  even  that  bond  was  quick  to  be  sheltered  away  from  you.  nobody  wanted  to  catch  what  jakob  said  you  had  caught  from  a  'friend'  some  time  ago.

caught.  it  makes  you  want  to  vomit.  you  didn’t  do  anything  wrong.  you  did  nothing.  nothing  happened.  your  face  was  never  pressed down against  the  mattress,  held so tight that breathing became a war in and of itself and  you  have  never  recoiled  hard  from  anyone  wearing  a  specific  type  of  cologne,  and  you  certainly  have  never  thought  about  the  fact  that  -  beyond  everyone  else  -  god  saw  what  happened.  

you  swallow  your  pride  and  trudge  towards  the  dock.  mom  is  cooking,  dad  is  in  his  office,  and  you’re  trying  to  see  what’s  become  of  your  brother.  

something  is  wrong  because  mom  won’t  stop  praying.  you’ve  heard  her  through  the  walls,  low  and  fierce  like  a  lioness  growling.  you’ve  tred  carefully  around  your  brother’s  door  for  no  good  reason  beyond  your  own  instincts.  now  here  you  are,  walking  towards  him  on  a  pier  that’s  a  single  good  storm  away  from  getting  lost  in  the  lake.  you  think  it’d  probably  be  for  the  best.  you  used  to  play  here  with  jakob  when  you  were  both  kids,  spoiled  and  stupid.  it’s  long  outlived  its  usefulness.  

the  question  makes  you  pause.  the  hair  on  the  back  of  your  neck  starts  to  stand  up,  but  you  ignore  it  and  push  on.  you’re  halfway  to  him  when  you  decide  that  it’s  as  good  a  point  to  stop  as  ever,  minding  the  second-hand  smoke  pushed  inland  by  the  breeze.  

❝    i want to  talk.   ❞ 

you  thumb  your  rosary  ‘round  your  neck.  the  black  and  purple  beads  feel  wrong  now.  something  happened  at  evermore,  but  the  new  one  you  ordered  isn’t  in  yet, and you refuse to be without it.

you  push  your  glasses  up  on  the  bridge  of  your  nose  and  muster  all  your  father’s  courage. 

❝  i’m  going  to  tell  mom  that  you’re  smoking,  first  of  all.  ❞  you  say  it  like  it’s  a  command  to  stop,  like  your  tattle-tail  threat  holds  any  real  weight.  ❝  and  also,  i  wanted  to  tell  you  a  few  things.  but  if  you’re  busy  being  a  jerk,  i  can  just  staple  a  copy  of  my  acceptance  letter  to  your  door  and  you  can  read  it  then.  ❞    

[lituusapollinis]

cont. II @furysburn

“Oh, me neither.” The augur chuckled quietly. “Although, there is writing about it in some of our old texts… Personally, I don’t think the gods or Fate, or whomever it was that did, stitched us together that specifically, but some of our ancestors evidently thought so.” 

He traced a slender finger down her life line, at the base of her thumb. “Well, it won’t be a week. Give it a month?” He joked. 

The pad of his forefinger slid back up. “Actually, your life line is rather long. Longer than mine, anyhow. Looks like you’ll outlive me. Thank goodness for that; I wouldn’t love to see Camp Jupiter adjust to a new praetor until I have well and served my ten years.” So stay alive, okay? 

“Unless it were me. That would be just fine.” He grinned, intentionally trying to get a rise out of her. 

Privately, from the edges of his vision, he checked to see if she was still nervously bouncing her leg. It wouldn’t do for her to be overwhelmed with anxiety right now, and besides, the sight made Octavian’s chest feel tight.

“That’s too much talk of death, though. It’s risky to bring that up right now. Let’s check…” His expression went mischievous, conspiratorial. “How about that heart line? Where does it begin?” He tap-tap-tapped along it. “Mmm. Yes. I see. You’re going to be an excellent cat lady.”

[gloryseized]

@furysburn is getting a plotted starter!

Akira stared unseeingly at the letter in front of him. He'd already known what the message inside was going to be before he opened it, he dreaded the message. So it was with slow hands, haltingly, that he ran his finger under the seal of the envelope, finally unfolding it to see his college entrance exam scores.

He failed.

He'd taken the whole year off to study, spend hours on the test itself. And yet even during the studying, even while sitting in the room to take the exam, he felt his conviction waning. He'd had the vague notion of going to college for as long as he could remember. It just seemed like the thing you were supposed to do, but after the events of his year in Tokyo, after seeing the fantastical and the horribly real, that conviction started to waver.

Now staring at the failed test, he had to finally face the question. What next?

Pulling out his phone, he quickly sent off a text before pitching the letter into garbage.

>>Where are you?

Maybe Akechi would answer, Akira wasn't sure. Either way, he needed to move, lurching himself up from the bench he sat at to go for a walk.

[folkorae]

❧ ⸻ muse roulette starter for @furysburn / Gaea & Luke !

“ 𝗦𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗲. ” 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗼𝗱'𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱 ; a voice belonging to a primordial entity believed to be dormant. Gaea may be without a physical form now, but Mother Earth still lives — the Earth never sleeps and never truly dies, it just grows and regenerates itself again and again. “ So you are my son’s champion and vessel. ” She continues to whisper. “ He doesn’t see that in the end, you will ruin everything. ”

[2birds1song]

@furysburn sent: 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . (Peeta @ Katniss)

from 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 / always accepting.

a soft happiness filled her chest and curled the girl with the braid's lips in a smile as she was perched on their blanket with the picnic basket they'd made. munching on one of the pieces of bread they had stored in it. taking in the sound of the birds and how blue the sky was, the way the world around them was vibrant on the late hot spring day. it was pretty close to the spot her father had taught her to swim at, the swarm of katniss plant also reminded her of another fond memory. ' as long as you can find yourself, you'll never starve. ' he'd say. wasn't until seam grey hues trailed over on peeta, taking in his side profile, when that smile discreetly widened. the water next to them was a clear green, sparkling and looking so inviting against the heat. ❝ we could go swimming... but i worry you'll sink. ❞ katniss suggested then punctuated it with a small joke, towards his lack of swimming skills she was well aware of.

[stygicniron]

furys-burn asked:

"are you expecting me to beg for my life now?" (YOU KNOW THE AU)

Lost Meme -- @furys-burn

Emotionless golden eyes studied the son of Hermes for a moment, somehow looking down at the taller demigod. Although the golden eyes looked out of Nico’s face, much of what made the demigod himself was gone. He stood with a different bearing than the Nico of before, the small, scared child of the Underworld. A faint glow radiated off of his body, casting a sterile light around them.

“Beg? No, I simply provide you the chance to say a final few words, Luke.” Stepping forward, a pale hand reached out to still the blade in the other’s hand, stopping it with a touch without the sharp edge even cutting his skin. Intent eyes study the other’s face, a full range of emotions and yet none at all dance across the still face. “Your life is already forfeit.”