“I Will Rain Down Every Agony..every Violation Imaginable Upon You. I Will Parade Your Cold Body From

<3

Leo Valdez day. Most important day of the year.

"Did they have to hit so hard?" Leo asked as Will put the burn creams over his wounds.

"You scared us." Will replied and Leo rolled his eyes.

"And that explains it because?"

"It hurt when you died Leo. You hurt us." He said and Leo snatched his arm away.

"Oh fuck you!" He spat and glared at him.

"What did you want me to do? Let her destroy everything?"

"No, but... you could've done something else."

"Thanks, Solace!" He said sarcastically. "Such a huge help!"

"You don't get to be mad. None of you do. Especially not at me."

"Why? Because you sacraficed yourself for us? So you want the princess treatment?"

"Because I don't even know any of you! Especially not some Glow Stick I talked to once! I barely had any time when I first got to Camp because I went on a quest the day after I got here! And when I got back I have to build a war machine??? I didn't have time to get to know anyone else besides my siblings and Jason and Piper! None of you have any right to be mad at some strangers sacrafice!!" He yelled breathing heavily.

pjo prompt: percy and jason have to go on a quest together, so they both decide to bring their respective partners (annabeth and leo). during the quest, they get kidnapped by monsters and percy and jason wake up in an arena. the monsters explain that they have their partners and in order to save them, they have to fight to the death, with the winner getting to leave alive with their partner, while the other is killed. however, the monsters are very shocked when percy and jason sit down and start calmly playing cards with each other. they’re not worried about their partners. instead, they’re worried for the monsters. they trapped annabeth and leo together, two of the smartest demigods. the girl who redesigned olympus and the boy who built a warship in six months. they were toast.

Garroth’s Betrayal

Garroth was in a depressive episode but even then I can’t see him betraying Aphmau and Laurance (the two people he trusts most in this world.) Like clearly Garroth can be a jealous person but he also bottles his emotions till he absolutely can’t anymore (usually till outside forces make him tell the truth.) I feel like his jealousy would have more likely led him to close himself off again and his extreme self hatred would grow rather than him just deciding to betray them. Especially because Phoenix Drop itself is one of the most important things to Garroth. But, if Zane or Lillian did something to cause Garroth to spiral and back him in corner it would make way more sense for him to rely on the only person that can understand everything he’s facing, his little brother.

Lillian says she’s a herb specialist it would have been interesting if she had given Garroth a potion or item that worsened his mental state. Something that made him more paranoid and anxious. Like Garroth has an overwhelming feeling of doom. Zane’s plan could’ve had begun as soon as they got back from the Malachi arc. Possibly, Zane found in an item that causes Garroth intense nightmares or Lillian is able to control dreams sort of similar to Malachi’s magicks . So Garroth stops getting sleep because of his nightmares. The dreams could just be a million different scenarios but they all lead to Phoenix Drop’s destruction. So he doesn’t know what’s going to happen and the cause changes in every dream. One of the worst dreams involves Laurance giving into his shadow knight form. He kills the entire village including Aphmau and her sons. Once Laurance is himself again he begs Garroth for forgiveness and death. He pleads with Garroth to make him pay for what he’s done.

All these dreams cause Garroth to begin to isolate himself. Then from his lack of sleep he begins to impair his judgement and this is when Zane really begins his manipulation. Zane reaches out to Garroth, Garte is becoming dangerous to everyone (some kind of lie that makes it seem like Zane has no where to go) he somehow creates a lie that opens up communication again. Garroth can’t differentiate between his scared kid brother and the high priest Zane, after all he still is a protector through and through.

Garroth is barely keeping it together and he’s wearing his helmet again. Everyone is noticing this change but Garroth says he’s fine and he’s still managing to keep up his duties as head guard. Garroth feels like he’s going crazy but he can’t falter everyone is relying on him. Garroth is also talking to the enemy (Zane) and he can’t tell anyone because they wouldn’t understand. The final nail in the coffin is when he sees the illusion of Laurance and Aphmau.

They kiss in the clearing and break apart to have a quiet conversation seemingly to themselves. Garroth intently listens despite his heart aching. Aphmau confesses she’s been having terrible nightmares and she falls apart in Laurance’s arms. She sees Phoenix Drop burning to the ground and Garroth realizes she’s having the same nightmares as him. Then she finally says she can’t trust anyone but Laurance and she suspects Garroth is betraying them. He’s been pulling away from them and Aph can’t even recognize him anymore and Laurance agrees with her. Garroth sneaks away after this and decides that he’ll make sure everything is okay. He’ll fix everything at Phoenix Drop and leave for O’kasis so he won’t cause them anymore pain. So, he tells Zane of his dreams, the amulet, and he agrees to go to O’kasis as long as Zane never harms the Phoenix Drop and its people. He’s convinced himself that what he’s doing is for the greater good. He can handle it. He’ll make sure everything is alright, after all he’s a protector and he never deserved Aphmau and Laurance anyway.

You ever think that… maybe the reason that Leo is the only Hephaestus kid that isn’t big and burly is because of his fire. And that it might be. Eating him.

Jason is so villain coded and that's why richard had to kill him off. Because if I had been used as a pawn by the gods not once but twice, when I was two years old and when I was 15 against my will, and my mom abandoned me with that express purpose giving me abandonment issues for years to come, and my older sister thought I was dead so she's moved on to better things before she found me again, and my gf broke up with me because she was questioning if our relationship was ever worth it based on fake memories she had that I didn't, and my first ever best friend died (but is actually alive), and the camp that I called my home that expected me to be their leader since I showed up as a toddler threw a brick at me the moment they suspected I was a traitor, and I was stuck at a boarding school alone miles away from the other camp I called a home etc etc all the while being THE honorable dutiful soldier I was expected to be. I would totally like. Become a bad guy. Literally there would be no other direction for my character to go. OH AND BY THE WAY i didn't even know my own birthday until I turned 16 <3 Jason would have deserved it

todoiida u have enamored me, have a fic abt it 🔥🧊🏃🏻‍♂️

Iida touches Shoto a lot. 

It’s scary, at first, because his hands are broad and callused and vaguely familiar in a way that sends a spike of panic down Shoto’s back. But he never uses them in the way Shoto expects him to. 

He’s gentle, so, so careful, even when it’s a high-speed scoop up in the midst of battle. It’s odd to be considered in those kinds of situations. Nice. And maybe Iida isn’t giving him any special consideration, maybe he’s like this with every person he rescues because he’s just that kind of man. It’s still nice, though.

He noticed it, first, when they fought class B, and Iida had rushed to fish him out from where he’d nearly drowned in liquid concrete, trapping himself under literal tons of it to do so. It was a frantic situation, Shoto was only half-conscious, he could’ve gotten away with being a little rough. With putting comfort to the side in the name of saving a life. But he didn’t. He’d cradled Shoto close, holding him lightly against his warm, humming armor and tossed him to safety. 

Then there was everything after his grueling fight with Dabi. Bleeding, and feeling more cavern than boy, Shoto had crumpled. It was over, but at what cost? Everyone was cheering. He’d done what he was supposed to. The mission was a success.

Then why did he feel so sad?

Iida caught him, with hovering, sturdy arms. Hugged him to his side when he needed it and let him cry, without judgement. Because he understood what it felt like to lose a brother, even if that brother didn’t stay lost. 

Defeating Toya was just the first step, they had been in the middle of a war. There was more to do, always more that needed doing. Iida could’ve urged him to stand. Tried bolstering his courage to get back into the fray. He should have. But he didn’t.

Not until Shoto had been allowed to feel everything he needed to. 

Shoto thinks back on that day, often. And not just to torture himself with images of Toya’s last stand. Of the memories of his sizzling fists against his skin. Sometimes it’s just to remember how Iida’s fingers felt against his face, as he fitted him with his mask. Brushing hair away from his eyes—careful, but not pitying against his scar—and asking if it was too tight. 

If he lets himself, he starts thinking about how it might feel without the mask, without their hero gear in the way. He imagines leaning into it. 

He wonders if that’s okay. If he should be recriminating himself for his thoughts. He’s never had time or mind to fall into these kinds of fantasies before and he’s not sure what to make of them. All he knows is that he likes Iida’s touches, and that he wishes there were more of them.

Not all of them occur in the battlefield, of course, but that’s where they’re most abundant. Shoto’s in the line of fire often, given his quirk and years-long training for it, while Iida excels at rescue. They make a good team. 

It’s nice in the dorms, though, because then it’s really Iida’s hands. Without gloves. 

They’re fleeting, little touches. A brush against his side as Iida sidles past, apologizing for encroaching on his space. A gentle shake to his shoulder when he falls asleep on the couch, waking him and directing him to his room so that he doesn’t wake with a crick in his neck. 

Small things. But Shoto cherishes them the same as he does every other touch Iida deigns to give him. It’s addicting, almost, now that he’s got a taste for them he’s ravenous for more. 

Iida’s hands are so warm. Shoto thinks this extends to the rest of his body because of his engines but he can’t be sure. He wonders how his right side would fare against it. If Iida were to touch him there long enough, with enough pressure to really feel.

He feels a little wild with it. The longing he has for these touches. Shoto doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something like this before; badly enough to consider asking, even if the answer will probably be no.

Standing at the door of Iida’s room at one in the morning, shivering with the memory of a cold so intense that it froze the tears in his eyes, Shoto considers his options. He could knock. Iida’s probably asleep right now so that would either wake him from sleep (which he would feel immensely guilty about) or go unanswered. 

Shoto doesn’t wonder why he’s come to Iida’s door, in the haze of gloom that had descended upon him immediately after waking. He knows why he’s here. 

Iida feels safe. Is safe. But it’s also one in the morning. And just because he touches him nicely when touching Shoto is necessary, doesn’t mean that he’ll want to touch Shoto otherwise.

He bites his lip, pulling some chapped dead skin from it with his fingers and wincing at the sting. His other arm clutches his pillow to his side. 

Before he can make up his mind, the door to Iida’s room slides open with a near-silent whoosh. Suddenly, standing in front of him is a yawning Iida Tenya, sans glasses. 

After rubbing his eyes, Iida squints at him.

“Todoroki?” 

Shoto swallows around something large clogging his throat. Coughs once, twice.

“Uh. Hi. Iida.” He says, wincing at himself. Even he knows that isn’t the way to greet someone whose door you were lurking outside of at one in the morning. Iida steps closer, still squinting.

“Are you- alright? Todoroki?” He cuts himself off and the sentence comes out choppy, but unlike his usual confident staccato.

“Yeah- yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry.” Faced with the reality of having to ask Iida to touch him, Shoto shrinks. He can’t do this. Not with Iida’s hair all mussed up, cheek slightly imprinted with the wrinkles of his sheets. 

Iida squints at him for another moment before holding a finger up and retreating into his room. He leaves the door open, though, and that is the only reason Shoto doesn’t turn tail and leave. 

Perhaps he’d disturbed him. Maybe, somehow, he heard Shoto’s engrossed shuffling outside the door and decided to investigate. He was owed an explanation, at the very least, and another ten apologies.

Just under a minute later, Iida returns, now sporting his usual square glasses and a small smile. 

“Ah. That’s much better.” His brows furrow as he looks at Shoto. “You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question and Shoto doesn’t argue. He has. Or, had been about a half-hour ago, when he woke from the nightmare. He hadn’t bothered cleaning himself up before marching over here; mirrors are a little difficult when he’s like this. 

“Yes. I’m- I’m very sorry if I woke you…” Shoto can’t bring himself to finish the thought. To explain why he’d come here. What if he’s disgusted? What if he never touches him again?

The thoughts are irrational— Iida has always proven himself to be kind to a fault, he’d never judge Shoto for this— but that doesn’t stop them from occurring.

Iida’s gaze slides down to where his hands are clenched around his pillow, trembling slightly.

“Please, don’t apologize. You didn’t wake me, I was going to get some water.” He says.

Shoto nods without saying anything and angles himself so that he’s no longer standing in his way to the elevators. 

“Right. Well, you should go. Do that.” He’s looking resolutely at the ground unwilling— and perhaps unable— to meet Iida’s eyes.

Iida hums. 

“Why don’t we go together? I think I’d rather have some tea, now, and it’d be nice to have someone to share it with.” He smiles at Shoto, who just barely catches it when his eyes dart up and then back down to his feet. That sounds nice. And Iida is being so kind. 

He jerks his head into a stiff nod, following slightly behind Iida as he makes his way to the elevators.

Iida presses the button and they wait in silence, side by side, for the doors to open. When they finally do—after what feels like an eternity but can’t have been longer than thirty seconds—Iida brushes a hand, flat, at the small of Shoto’s back to usher him inside. The unexpected (but much yearned for) touch causes a jolt of electricity to flow through him. Unfortunately, it manifests as a flinch, and Iida steps back into the far corner of the elevator, apologizing. 

“No!” Shoto bursts out, going to follow him before staying himself. No one likes getting cornered in an elevator. 

Iida raises his brows, likely not expecting to see Shoto so fired up about something so trivial.

“I-“ He wars with himself over the correct words, now committed to being honest. The want is too much, especially after getting a taste of that warm, addicting touch. Iida waits patiently.

“I like it. When you- when you touch me.” He flounders. “It’s…” Shoto squeezes his fingers further into the soft down of the pillow, searching for a way to adequately express how Iida makes him feel. Nothing is big enough.

“Safe.” He decides on, and it’s still woefully lacking. “Warm.”

The elevator doors slide open and Iida steps closer, hovering his hand above the same place he’d placed it before. 

“Alright.” He says. “Is this okay?”

Shoto nods fervently and allows himself to be steered towards the kitchen. Iida’s hand is a nice, solid weight against his back. Something to focus on. He breathes deep and relaxes slightly.

“Thank you.” It’s more whisper than words but Iida hears it. They come to a stop just in front of the island, where Iida retracts his hand.

Shoro mourns the loss of it, but tries not to let it show. Iida has already given him so much tonight. His time, his touch, his understanding. Who is Shoto to ask more of him?

But Iida doesn’t move away. Instead, he shifts on his feet and asks, a little shyly, “Would you like a hug?” 

Shoto would love a hug. Hadn’t even let himself imagine a real one (and not a side hug or a piggyback in the midst of desperate fighting) lest he become too enamored with the idea. Before he started wanting too much.

He nods, a little frantically, and looks up to find Iida already staring at him, something inscrutable in his eyes as he holds his arms open. Shoto sets his pillow on the island and steps forward, wrapping his own arms around Iida’s middle, tense, at first, but melting to push his face into his neck with each passing second. The tears return, but Iida doesn’t mention them. Doesn’t do anything but rub at Shoto’s back in rhythmic, circular motions, muttering variations of “It’s okay.”, and “You’re okay.” As he cries. 

Iida is warm. Shoto was right. Enough that the right side of his face fits blissfully against his skin. 

Before long, though, Shoto becomes acutely aware of how much of Iida’s time he’s wasted. How long has it been? Minutes? An hour? He should pull back. Should let him get back to his night and content himself with what he’s been given. At this point, he’s just being greedy.

With effort, Shoto pulls himself away from Iida, swiping viciously at his eyes as he does. 

“Thank you.” He chokes, again. “I’m sorry.”

Iida’s expression cracks, a little bit, before righting itself. “You don’t have to apologize, Shoto. In fact, I must insist that you don’t. It is natural to want to be touched, it’s ingrained into us as human beings.” 

He coughs, averting his eyes to the side. “And… and, well, I liked it, too.” 

Shoto stalls, processing the words.

“You did?” He asks, voice small. Iida smiles at him. “Of course I did. It’s you.”

It’s like a bomb has detonated deep within Shoto’s chest, blasting open a whole slew of possibilities he used to keep under lock and key. 

“Then- then can you hold me again? Would you? Your hands are so kind.” It’s an odd way to say it, and Shoto knows that, but it’s also the only way that he can. Iida understands, anyway, or seems to, if the complicated twist to his mouth is any indication. 

“I will. And you deserve to be touched kindly. You don’t have to beg.”

Iida draws back into Shoto’s space—who had sat himself in one of the stools at the island, ready to spend the rest of the night just watching—and settles himself between his legs. 

With tickling, tender pressure, he cups Shoto’s cheek, then slides his hand back to cradle the back of his head and hold him to his chest. Iida’s heart beats slow and steady, a deep thrumming beacon of warmth inside an already warm man. 

Shoto uncurls his fingers from his pajama pants to pull himself closer, breathing deep as Iida’s fingers toy with some of the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“This is nice.” He breathes, because he knows Iida doesn’t want to be thanked again. Something light presses against his hair for a lingering moment before retreating.

“It is.”

frank and leo fucked up their quest BAD guys

hey bro are u okay. it's just that ur classical guitar motif turned into an electric guitar for a second there. yeah like how the gods are all represented by electric instruments... i just got a little bit worried that you might be abandoning your humanity haha