Starting My Mocks Tomorrow And I Am Halfway Through A CARDIAC ARREST So We're Reblogging This Shit And

Blood, the Blood of Grapes

Fandom: Percy Jackson Rating: Teen Characters: Pollux; Caz (Castor); OC daughter of Dionysus; Lee Fletcher; Will Solace

Summary: The maenads, the raving-ones, the noise-makers. They had always loved the Children of Dionysus. Sometimes his children loved them back. (The youngest member of Cabin 12 is called like a fey to the revels in the wood)

CW: minor threat of cannibalism; blood imagery

A/N: Agatha is 11 here. Caz and Pollux are Scottish

Theo had been at camp three months before she dared to ask about the music. 

It was faint at first, lone notes snatched on the winds gone the moment she stood still to listen. 

She went to bed with it in her ears, rose with it on her tongue. It papered her skin with gooseflesh.

Then came cymbals. In the rustle of leaves, the salt-brine waves, the knives and forks at dinner. 

At night she heard laughter. The other cabins perhaps. But when she pressed her nose against the cold glass of her window it was only dark. The stars above swilled wine-drunk and gold. 

It grew louder. Like feet under the hills, like the thud of swords against leather, like the thump-beat-thump of her own heart.  

She rose early, one morning, mouth metallic, jaw aching for the taste of strawberries and found the satyr cross-hoofed cradling Pan’s reeds to his lips. He winked, a wild eye, and she swallowed his tune down her gullet.  

After that it never left her; sweet and strange, it poured through camp thick like syrup. She found it on her plate curled round her cup, felt it in the soil and the worm-dark dirt, heard it in the amphitheatre in the argument of voices, saw it in the long twigged hands of the tree-people as they waved to her, the pipes the cymbals the drums. 

The question fell like baby teeth as she climbed into bed. 

Pollux grinned lopsidedly as he tucked Bunny into her blankets. ‘What music?’ 

‘The pipes. The drums.’ She shook her head, ‘They chant, why do they always chant?’ 

The twins exchanged a look, one of their silent conversations she cannot read. 

‘Faun-song,’ said Caz softly, ‘Da’s followers. Don’t worry’ 

They double checked the latches on the windows that night, tested the lock on the door.

She didn’t tell them that she wasn’t afraid. 

The chanting swelled louder, the pipes never stopped. It was not enough. The pipes were not enough, the drums were not enough. The cymbals of the sea and the bearded bleats of goats were not enough. She started humming it, needed to feel it inside her, in her mouth, in the glut of her stomach, greedy, greedy, she hummed. 

It was not enough. Her fingers hurt, her chest hurt, her ears hurt. Like it was a noise that could not be contained, condemned, to be still. She wanted to dance. Wanted to stomp her feet like the music halls of her childhood when she was young enough to twirl her skirts and spin. 

At the firepit she grew restless. The flames were high, Phoebus’ children bright, summer was coming and everyone crowed and still it was not enough. Sedate. Quiet. 

She wanted to dance. Wanted to move, wanted to tear her hair and shout MORE MORE MORE. 

May’s nights were long and warm. She dreamt of bull horns and absinthe and grinning green masks. She woke with the smell of fennel. 

It surprised her, in the end, how long it took her to go to the Forest. But Caz and Pollux had said it was out-of-bounds, told of monsters. She had promised never to go in. 

But that was before the music. 

Theo was supposed to be doing chores. A Saturday, no classes. Just polishing her leather breast-plate before Greek with Caz. She was not even supposed to be there but she’d tried for a half-remembered shortcut, misremembered, twice-remembered. She did not remember. Because here at the greenwood edge, the music came. 

Her head tilted, as if she might see into the leafgloom better. Her armour trailed on the ground. There was laughter, spilling like a drink, frothed and loud and merry. It reminded her of the after-show parties back home. Sequined girls still in their costumes, men handsome and moustached. 

It took her a while to see the woman. Greenskinned and tall, taller than Pollux even. Ivy trailed from her hair, her wrists, her dress was fawn skin. 

‘My child.’ Her voice is the best of honey. It stuck Theo’s tongue to her mouth. She swallowed, drily. 

‘The music...’

‘Ah.’ The lady smiled, a heady thing, ‘You like to dance?’ 

Theo nodded. 

She held out her hands, a coy tilt of the chin. ‘Come. Join us.’

‘I - I can’t.’  Theo had made a promise to the twins. The forest was dangerous. (But the music, how could it be with the music?) The pipes the cymbals the drums were loud.

She had taken a step before she realised it. 

‘Come,’ the lady lulled, ‘come ye child. Taste and see. We will not harm you.’ Her voice was the voice of many. The voice of pipes.

Theo took her hand. They ran. 

A whoop. A holler. A cheer. The woods raised up, loud and braying, the sound of a crowd. 

‘Evohé. Evohé’

It was a prayer, a hymn. The clap of hands, the stomp of feet. A hundred figures ran, a hundred figures writhed. Tree-men and women of holly and fir, satyrs with rolling eyes and naked legs, red berry creatures with horns and tails, leopard folk and boys with the heads of panthers that lapped the milk from the wet dew grass. 

The trees poured wine, the flowers dripped with honey. The air smelled of tanned hide and incense, sounded of cymbals and drums and flutes.

They kicked their heels, they keened their throats. And when they saw her, when a hundred eyes looked and saw, they cheered. 

A garland was summoned, ivy and vine leaves, wound in a crown, pressed to her head. her hands were taken, pulled into the crowd, she span, she twirled. She danced like she had not danced for years, back when her mother was alive, when the brass bands played what she asked, when life was smoke and powder and brandy.

‘Sister.’ They cried. ‘Priestess.’ 

Theo’s grin was wicked. ‘We dance.’ She said. She compelled. And they did.

The pipes the cymbals the drums the feet the cheer of a crowd that loved her. They laid flowers at her feet, tossed ivy to the ground, and when she threw back her head and howled they howled with her. 

She wanted more. Needed more.

‘Evohé,’ they cried, ‘daughter of Ours, where do we go?’ 

To the mountains, the mountains. Called the chorus. To the woods. 

Theo pointed, there was a staff in her hand, pinecone tipped and sharp. Onwards, deeper, deeper. They followed, the crowd of frenzy, the men and women who raved.

Their song was the rage of animals, the tears of sap, the blood of grapes.

Blessed are the dancers of the dance of god

A goblet was pushed to her lips, blazed gold and gleaming, and she drank deep and long. Rubbed a hand from her mouth, speared liquid across her cheeks. They cheered. Theo flushed, hot and thirsty and threw the cup to the ground. Where it struck, the earth bled wine.

‘Sister. Daughter of the god of joy.’ 

Daughter of the god of noise

She howled, they howled, the woods howled. They were hers now. Tree and stone and root. 

That was why she noticed the fault. The crack, the break, the wrong-quiet note in the good-loud noise.

A spy upon god’s possessed

‘Stranger! Spy! Watcher in the Woods!’

For doom for deed. Smite til the throat shall bleed

‘Feast’ Someone called. ‘Beast. Lion. Spy.’  

Their lips foamed, their eyes leapt like fire. Their hands tore at roots, at flesh.

‘Bring them. Find them. Rip them. Lionspy.’

Theo’s head spun, her stomach ached.

‘Eat it drink it suck the marrow dry. Yes. Yes. Feast until they die.’ A shout. A whoop. A holler.

A Scream.

Part two --

(Part of a larger story universe)

Reblog if you honestly have NEVER sent anon hate.

It pains me that only 14,000 people can honestly reblog this

I think it's funny to imagine that despite how obviously in love Jake and Michael seem to their siblings. No one else in the camp clues in that they're secretly dating.

At most they think it's a one sided crush on Jake's end.

Michael just does most of his simping internally , he can keep a straight face why mentally he's freaking out over Jake using him as an arm rest cause he's close.

Pretty much just-

When they do find out the two are dating they're shocked.

"Why you chose Michael of all people??"

"Cause he's smart,funny,kind, and can kick my ass. What more do you need?

"Kind???"

"Why Jake?"

"He's smart,adaptable,amusing, and can tolerate me."

"He's a walking disaster."

"Yeah. But he's my walking disaster."

what if

will lou and cecil came to camp together.

anyways, they're so smol.

Oh my gosh, I didn't realize that I wasn't following you on this account. I used to have a Frank Zhang rp blog with a separate account. Anyway all good now that I followed you from this acc.

ahh, I remember seeing your rp name in my inbox!

thanks for following! gonna follow you right back! :D

Idk if that post you made about being bored and wanting asks still applies today, but if it does…

A drawing of ur fave sun forge au at the moment?

(Or LeeLuke)

Ye!!

Some vampire au :3

I have another one i need to post from this as well but hdgd

Jake whined when he felt Michael try to pull away. He immediately wrapped his arms around his waist, burrowing his face in the others feathers. Michael jumped,turning his head. "Jake- what are you-" "Rest too…" He grumbled. "Res- I'm fine-" Michael huffed. Jake looked up at him. Whatever look he gave must've been something, because Michael immediately relaxed. The other sighing softly. "Okay Spikes. Move over."

I'm getting so fucking sick of the pjo fandom. It was bad before yes, but ever since the show casting came out, y'all's behavior has been down right disgusting.

The harassment Leah, a literal child, faces due to the color of her skin from you racist fucks is just outright appalling and every single one of you should be ashamed of yourselves. You pieces of shit even got her social media account banned and have told her to kill herself because she's black. And I don't wanna hear "it's just cause of the color of her hair!" Cause it's not and we all know it's not.

Two, the treatment of fan artists is just gross. Multiple fan artists are getting their art stolen and whitewashed not to mention the harassment they get whenever they don't draw a character exactly the way people want. Guess what, their art isn't for you, and you aren't fucking entitled to it.

And three, I was really hoping that y'all would be more accepting of people who just watch the show. But no, you're calling them idiots and harassing them just for not knowing the biggest fucking plot twist of the first book. (Most of y'all didn't know Luke was the traitor when you first read the books either, so shut the fuck up) I need y'all to get off of your damn high horses, you are not better than them just because you've read the books. Your opinion of the show doesn't fucking matter, let people enjoy it and stop telling them to "just read the books" especially if they've said they don't want too. The show makes the story of Percy Jackson more accessible to more people and your hatred of show watchers are driving people away from the fandom. Most of y'all have forgotten, but the book series is about kids with adhd and dyslexia, two disabilities that make it hard to read through one book let alone an entire book series. Not to mention that books are expensive and not everyone has access to them. If you don't like the show, fine, don't watch it, but leave the people who are the fuck alone.

And four, and this is less about the show and just about shipping in general. But ship discourse is the dumbest shit I have ever seen. People are literally told to go kill themselves because of what they ship. It doesn't matter how gross you think a ship is, they're fictional characters; leave people alone and learn how to use the fucking block button. If you don't like a ship you can make your own damn post and tag it as 'anti*ship*'. do not go onto someone's post about that ship and start hating on what they're talking about, it just makes you an asshole. There are ships I don't like all that much so I've blocked the damn tag, it's so easy. I've even blocked the anti tag for ships I ship because there's no point in reading something hating on something I like. Stop hurting your own feelings by reading shit you know will upset you and leave people the fuck alone. (If you're a roleplay account it still doesn't give you the right to hate on someone's ship, especially on their posts, again leave people alone).

People are leaving the fandom because of y'all's behavior and y'all need to learn some basic human decency and grow the fuck up.

Happy Halloween everyone!

I hope you've all had a great day <333

👻 🎃

oooh this looks like a fun one :D

thanks for the tag!! <33

no pressure tags! @bowsinhair @fel1ra @the1astolympian @pain-is-too-tired @iamrizaka @owls-can-read @bleep-bloop-boo @starberry-muffin @starryssunflowers and anyone else who wants to join! <333

Challenging you all!

Put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most!

Then tag Tumblr friends to keep the game going!

Actually, thought in my head now.

Au where Michael survives the fall from the bridge, but is somehow turned into a raven. And no one knows how to turn him back or who turned him in the first place.

Even Apollo is confused.

"I'm very thankful for who did, at last,was not me."

Everyone is relieved he still alive, but no one knows how to deal with raven Michael other than his siblings and Jake.

Surprisingly, he has not tried to peck out Clarisse' eyes yet.

Will still has to take over duties cause, well, hard to lead a cabin as a raven. But Michael usually chills on his shoulder during the day.

He also is bit of a typical raven menace by picking up random cool rocks and items he finds and gifting it to others.

Jake keeps a Lil box with all the stuff Michael's given him.

But yeah. Michael was already a menace at 4 ft 6. He's not any less now he's like hardly 2 ft hsgsf

He does keep trying to preen his siblings and Jake though. One time even Percy when he was blaming himself for the bridge situation.(either that or he was trying to pull on Percy's hair. Either way. Message received.)