I Know This Cracking Marble Floor I’ve Heard This Sighing Wind I Knew This Husk When It Was Vibrant

“If I can’t find a path, I will carve one out from stone to get where I want to go.”- PoeticInjustice

Older Rayllum ✨

don’t let this joke die

Percy Jackson Died

Percy Jackson died.

He was old enough, he supposed, older than so many of his friends he’d watched die, but not really old. Old enough he was tired, and suddenly finding himself in the lobby he recognized from when he was twelve years old was disconcerting but not particularly surprising.

After all, he was a half-blood, and being a half-blood often got you killed in very nasty ways.

But still.

Percy Jackson died.

Charon remembered him.

“Drown in any bathtubs recently?” he asked dryly, but he waved Percy’s apologies for not having a coin to offer him. “You paid me for passage once and it clearly didn’t stick.”

So Percy Jackson died, and he crossed the River Styx on the ferry, and this time, when he arrived in the Underworld, Cerberus was completely visible.

Last time he came to the Underworld to see Hades, he’d entered the fast-moving line and stepped into the fields of Asphodel. This time, he waited in line to see the judges.

He’d saved the world more than once, they’d better give him something better than eternal stasis.

“Percy Jackson.” Daedalus greeted him warmly, arms full of blueprints and a full toolbelt wrapped around his waist. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Before Percy could respond, he was pushed to the front of the line and was standing in front of three men he had a feeling he should recognize but he didn’t. He didn’t have to speak at all, the three judges talked to each other while flipping through papers Percy couldn’t read, and without actually acknowledging him at all, the one in the middle hit a green button and Percy found himself on the inside of the gated community he’d only seen from the outside.

Percy Jackson died and was sent to Elysium. For a little while, it held his attention. Pretty much anything he wanted, he could have. Blue Coke, straight out of the bottle, better than the blue Coke at Camp Half-Blood. Pizza just like the pizza from his favorite place to go with his mom. Infinite activities, everything he’d ever wanted to do but hadn’t been able to when he was alive. Skydiving, cliff jumping, he got to pilot a plane.

He got to see old friends. Beckendorf and Selena Beauregard, who’d found each other and were happy again. Demigods who’d died in the second Titan war who wanted to hear from him how it had ended, to know what really happened. Heroes who died in the second giant war who wanted to know everything about Camp Jupiter and all of their friends who’d outlived them. Hunters who’d died in battles he hadn’t even known about while he was still alive.

But Percy Jackson was the son of Poseidon, lord of the sea. He didn’t like being contained in one place, and even if Elysium was a paradise for heroes, it wasn’t the same as being alive.

So Percy Jackson died, and Percy Jackson was sent to Elysium, and Percy Jackson chose to be reborn.

Zak Mason was born to a single mom.

He was an ordinary baby, almost. He was born with blue eyes, but they turned brown. He laughed and cried and pooped and spat up. He started preschool with a choppy haircut he gave to himself, and loved sitting on his mom’s lap to listen to Dr. Seuss books and watching anything fast-moving and colorful on TV.

When he was six, Zak’s basketball team won against all of the other first grade teams in their town, and a big picture of his gap-toothed smile holding the trophy he’d helped win with his first three-point shot held the place of honor on the fridge for almost a year.

Sometimes, Zak Mason had nightmares he didn’t understand. Of burning pain covering his entire body, of monsters and shifting Earth and bottomless pits, of faces he didn’t recognize twisted in pain or looking down at him as he fell, of flashing swords and screams and bursts of arrows whistling towards an enemy he couldn’t quite make out. He woke up and forgot the nightmares quickly, but they always left him almost wistful for something he couldn’t quite remember, even with how terrifying they were.

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Honestly I just wanted to draw a fake dramatic anime screenshot, but it turned into Jason and Piper angst :’)

Nero: I have an army!

Apollo: [blurts out defensively] We have Percy Jackson!

don’t mess with a chase

i can’t stop thinking about what happened right after the pevensies were crowned, knowing literally nothing about narnia or how to be kings and queens, so here are a bunch of headcanons

THE FIRST YEAR

After Aslan departs, the merriment at Cair Paravel goes on for three days. There is dancing and feasting, and the new kings and queens sleep wherever they fall, then awake and join in again. When they rise at noon on the third day, the castle is emptier and quieter than before, and there is work to be done.

The first thing they realise is that there is no furniture in Cair Paravel. There’s the odd stone bench, and all the glorious carvings and statues, and the thrones of course, but not a single scrap of wood. Every last splinter was stripped out during the Great Winter and burnt for fuel. They sleep in the simple beds from Aslan’s camp and eat sitting on the floor with their subjects, and it feels rather like camping in their own castle, like another adventure.

These early days are not like the coronation with all its pomp and splendour. Susan folds all their wine-stained finery into a pile and they do not wear clothes so rich as that again for a long time. Instead they wear practical leather and linen and their lessons are not in statecraft, but in combat, butchery, agriculture. Food is the thought in everyone’s minds after the Winter scarcity, with the land now so green and giving. And Peter’s shoulders grow broad and strong at the plough, and Susan finds the oldest of the wood-people and coaxes them out to the fields to teach those born in the Winter how to sow, and Edmund proves himself something of a genius with mechanical solutions, and Lucy delights in learning all the types of seeds and nurturing them under the sun. And before long they all four are lean and tanned and calloused at the palm with field work. 

Summer brings news that a knot of remaining Fell Beasts has grown in the West, gathering their strength through the spring. Peter and Edmund, both pale and determined, don their armour again and ride out with a band of soldiers. In the weeks they are gone the first foreign delegation arrives: a group of Archenlandish nobles who approach the castle to present themselves before the thrones of Aslan’s chosen sovereigns, only to be led out into the fields away from the castle to a girl of eight with two simple braids, wearing leggings and boots, carrying out water. She drops her buckets with a gappy grin and sticks out her dirty hand as she is proudly announced as ‘Queen Lucy the Valiant’, and it is the start of a long and prosperous friendship.

The boys return from their bloody sweep through the west as the leaves start to fall, both taller and harder-faced. The harvest brings a bustle of trade, but after that the land goes hushed and fearful. With the cold comes the first of the mutterings that the summer may only have been a brief respite brought by Aslan; without him, what certainty is there that winter will lift again? And the cold starts to sink its teeth in.

It has been so long since the Narnians have seen a natural winter that they have forgotten that even without enchantment it is hard and cold. Edmund grows quiet and sleepless when the snow comes, and between this and Lucy’s night-time chills, Peter and Susan move all four of them into Peter’s room, which is small and easily warmed by its cavernous fireplace. It’s better to burn one fire than four and they abandon their individual wooden beds for a large heap of furs and blankets, taking heat from each other as the Animals do.

Edmund and Lucy hardly leave the castle all that winter. Lucy is too small to be trudging through the deep snows and Peter and Susan are keen to keep Edmund out of the cold, so when their people need aid, Peter straps his sword to his back and Susan straps her quiver to hers, and they venture out together into the merciless winter, leaving Edmund in charge of the castle and of Lucy for days and occasionally weeks at a time. It’s a clear and complete signal of trust which quiets some unfriendly whispers, and such important duties help keep him from darker thoughts of the previous winter.      

No one is keen to waste precious food in feasting at Christmas in case the Winter truly has returned, but Father Christmas comes by the castle with plenty, so the gates of Cair Paravel are opened and there is a little cheer. And then all Narnia waits with bated breath to see if the snow will melt.

But eventually dawn starts to come a little earlier and the earth starts to thaw, and when the coming of the spring cannot be denied, the Narnians whisk their young sovereigns out into the meadows and crown them all over again with fresh flowers, and the second spring feels almost as much a victory as the first.

We most definitely need this.

So anyway when is Estelle Blofis having her own saga?

kidnapper: we have your son

edmund: i don’t have a son

kidnapper: then who just asked for warm chocolate milk and made us cut the crusts off his sandwich?

edmund: oh my god you have eustace