#michaelwrites

[whumptober]

while looking over the prompts again today, i noticed day 31’s prompt and WOW. couldn’t imagine a more succinct and fitting way to end the event 😌

[chroiagusanam]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary:

Matthias waited for the shock of pain, the heat of the bullet. But there was nothing. No pain, or heat. Not even an impact. He looked down, in awe of the adrenaline coursing through him, numbing it and where he had expected to see blood, he saw nothing. Not even a tear in his clothing. 

No impact and no blood? Had Djel spared him?

When Matthias is late to a rendezvous, Nina goes to find him

A short CK angsty helnik rewrite for @sixofcrowsbb

[chroiagusanam]

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. You spend your entire life worrying about you son, about what will happen to him if he acknowledges the other part of his life. You do everything you can to keep him away from it. You fail.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. You watch your son go away each summer. He comes back with friends, and stories of fun. You see his eyes, watch the tired look in his eyes. You see the streak in his hair, though he won't tell you where its from. You know no child should mature that fast.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. You watch your son as he asks your permission to bear a curse. You watch as he leads an army of other children - his friends - at not even 16. You watch him as he grapples with the fact that he lived, and many did not.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. You watch your son deal with the fact that he's now just like any other kid. He struggles with tests, he goes on awkward dates with his girlfriend. You let out a breath you forgot you were holding, as life begins to settle into winter. Annabeth and Chiron can't look you in the eyes when they tell you he's gone.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. Annabeth has been visiting weekly. You try to grapple with the fact that your son has been dragged into two Great Prophecies in less than a year, that he's likely surrounded by enemies without any knowledge of who he is. Despite Paul smoothing things over with the school, CPS arrives. They shouldn't believe your lies. You suppose you should thank the gods that they do.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. Annabeth's visit dwindle over the months, and even when she's with you, you can tell her mind is back at camp. She doesn't really have anything new to say anyway. You play the message on your answering machine, and Paul rushes in to find you sitting among the shards and dregs of your coffee cup, Percy's voice echoing through the hallway.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. In the past 8 months, you've only heard 34 words from your son. Annabeth visted you before she left, gave you an overview of where she thought they'd travel. You know she held most of the danger back. You see news of a freak hurricane in Charleston, a sinkhole in Rome. Somehow knowing more is worse.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. It's the 2nd of August, and he returns home. He isnt saying much, and he is burned and scarred. You don't bring up the fact that those should be impossible. You see the pain in his eyes, but when he hugs you all you can focus on is the fact he's now taller than you.

Imagine you're Sally Jackson. It's the day after your son returned home, and life was slowly returning to normal (not that it had ever been normal before.) You just found out you're pregnant. You thank all the gods you can think of that they will be mortal.

[chroiagusanam]

FIRST LINES

tagged by : @malinaa

rules : list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all), see if there are any patterns. choose your favorite opening line. then tag 10 authors!!! 

going from newest to oldest:

alone in the frigid air:  "I had a dream about you last night Matthias," she whispers into the frigid air.

and the bells are ringin out:  I'm despondent, Beth, despondent!" Percy sighs on the other side of the phone and Annabeth hears a quiet whumpf as he falls back onto his bed.

set my soul alight:  ‘Annabeth I told you, leave me the fuck alone!' Percy shouts, yanking the front door open. 

Imagine:  Imagine you're Sally Jackson.

a nefarious trap:  Jason was late. Jason was never late.

the spice and times of percy jackson:  Sometimes, Percy likes to categorise himself the way a historian attempting to personalise the two-time hero of Olympus would: with fun and seemingly meaningless facts.

Just Add Water:  Percy knew that he should probably wake Annabeth. He’d promised to wake her in case of emergencies, and this definitely felt like it could be construed as an emergency.

Horse Dates and Matching Shirts: Percy looked down at the package in front of front of him, shaking slightly as he considered it. “I don’t… how did you… you don’t even have hands!”

She Shines:  Annabeth had nearly strangled David when he had called her into his office at 4:57pm on a Friday.

2000 days too many:  She can hear his shouts through the wall. The sobs too.

They may not be parents:  He keeps the promise he made to her all those decades ago.

a fox in a trap (a zoyalai WIP that is literally my only wip rn):  "You know, most girls would at least have the good sense to blush upon seeing their king in such a… compromising position"

I think we can see that first lines are. not my strong point. #6 is definitely my fave and is tied for my fave fic with #7. cannot believe i only wrote one fic this year feels bad

tagging @andygarfy @nerdylizj @thegraystreaks @bluepinstripes @bipercabeth @byima and like, all of my writer mutuals

[chroiagusanam]

37 & 68 for helnik xx

"I had a dream about you last night Matthias," she whispers into the frigid air. At least, she thinks it was night. This far north the sun doesn't set during the height of summer. Ever since she had arrived in Fjerda it had simply been hanging in the sky, glaring at her balefully like the eye of Djel.

continue on ao3

[chroiagusanam]

The party ponies had a discussion about Annabeth having head babies like Athena. Wrote this in response

The first head baby arrives when Percy is away for a week. Annabeth has a nightmare about being Tartarus, wakes up and calls him. When she falls asleep, it starts again but this time he's there with her. He'll always be there for her. The sounds of the baby's breaths wake her in the morning.

The second head baby comes after a massive knock down drag out argument. They're shouting, and marching about, and god does Annabeth wish he could just read her mind and get this over with. so they can stop this argument she's too proud to back down from and he's stuck on. It stops when they realise they're not alone in the room anymore.

When the second one comes along, percy is worried. She doesn't cry for the first full day. Annabeth tells him, I yearn for the soft times. The quiet times. They reflect that, at least for a bit.

The third (and final) head baby comes one night, ordinary and uneventful. He tells a dumb joke and she's giggling despite herself and she thinks gods I love him so much, and she knows he loves her. The emergency crib next to their bed is no longer empty.

The first child, born of her yearning for him, looks just like him.

The second, from her need to be understood, looks just like her.

The third, born truly of them, has one grey eye and one green, dark hair streaked with blond as theirs is with grey.

[chroiagusanam]

hi there king may i humbly request the driving 385835 miles to get you on christmas prompt ❤️ maybe with a scarf kiss if ur feelin it 💚

@robertpatz @thegraystreaks @autumnmuses you all shared the brain cell that night huh?

"I'm despondent, Beth, despondent!" Percy sighs on the other side of the phone and Annabeth hears a quiet whumpf as he falls back onto his bed.

"Despondent, huh? That's a new one — cabin fever have you reading the dictionary?"

"Actually, Wise Girl, I have been provided with a word of the day calendar in my complimentary 'sorry all the trains and planes are cancelled' hotel room. I've made it all the way through March 15th." The sense of pride in his voice almost overpowers the despondency. "Why did you let me come to D.C. for Christmas?"

continue on Ao3

[chroiagusanam]

Idea for pretty much any PJO ship: person a gets their hand stuck in a vending machine and person b can barely stop laughing enough to help a.

Jason was late. Jason was never late. Leo started to pace anxiously, fingers tapping a rhythm to a song he barely knew. In a split second, he decided to leave their agreed meeting point behind, power walking to Jason's building. He ran through the potential causes in his head: He'd forgotten? No, Jason always set like, 40 alarms for all of their dates. Leo had always found that cute even though he always ribbed the blond for it. Monster attack? Maybe, but he would have called. Whatever was delaying him, it had to be both urgent and totally focus consuming.

At this point, Leo had arrived to the front door of Jason's dorm. Still no sign ... but was that swearing? Leo pushed open the door and was treated to perhaps the most absurd scene of his life. Jason was crouched on the floor, in front of a vending machine. Actually, no: Jason was crouched on the floor up to his shoulder inside of a vending machine. Jason Grace, golden child of New Rome, Pontifex Maximus and saviour of the world was stuck in a vending machine, swearing like a sailor.

Leo tried to hold it in. Really, he did. But the mirth rising in his chest was too much and before long he was on the ground, tears rolling down both cheeks. Jason, aware he had been caught, turned to glare.

"Are you going to help, or will I be stuck carting this thing around forever?"

"Sor-sorry," wheezed Leo "its just - what did it ever do to you?"

Jason frowned, crinkling his scar. "The stupid thing stole my skittles"

Leo had been so, so close to regaining control and saving his poor bachelor in distress. But that? That broke him, and he collapsed back down, laughing so hard he sobbed. Poor Sparky would have to wait a few minutes more for rescue.