The pagan tag thought the battle was over when the anons vanished.
Little did they know, the Percy Jackson fans were merely biding their time, building their power, readying themselves for unleashing the Tumblr Witches’ most dangerous foe yet…
Conceived in the darkest hours of the internet in the most dangerous bout of nightblogging to date, the Pagan community brings you Percy Jackson and the Olympians’ heavily anticipated sequel (no, the other sequel), PERCY JACKSON AND THE WITCHES OF TUMBLR, now on a blog near you!
If you loved The Lightning Thief…well, then you’ll probably really hate this, tough luck, chum.
Uh-oh. It looks like there might be trouble. But I’m not worried. I pull out my trust smacking-stick, Adelaide. Yes, this’ll do. It’s time to smoke some bitches.
I walk forward, wading, knee deep in muck, through the swampland of the PJ tag. To my left, I see a demigod roleplayer, refusing to even halfheartedly pretend to listen to our desperate demands. But no matter. Now is not the time for me to fall. I smack him on the head with Adelaide. “No!” he cries as he withers into the muck. “Riordan—cannot—be stopped!” But I am distracted by the voices of the sinister swamp. I can hear them, like will-o’-the-wisps: “Your religion is scary… I don’t see how anyone in their right mind could think the Greek gods were real…”
But no. I will not yield. It is time for myself and Adelaide to make our way to the deepest cesspit of the eldritch terrors: the loudmouths, many in number…
I sat there, reclined in my chair on the porch, until it flashed by my eyes ‘The war has begun’. This was it, I shot up and ran indoors, frantically scanning the living room for it.
I found it byside the hat rack, Pamela, my violin bow of social justice. I grabbed it, feeling the firm bow between my hands, feeling the power coursing through it. It was time to join the war effort.
We were surrounded, many allies lie fallen, taken by the screams of the fandoms ignorance “You worship the Greek gods? LOL YOUR FUCKING STUPID” I heard one wretched harpy behind me screech. I turned and slapped my bow across it’s face, it’s screams replaced by dying gurgles as the power of social justice coursed over it’s skin and throw every orifice available.
Across the battlefield I saw him, the one that had started this feud, Riordan. I saw Bone running towards him, and ran by side them, using my bow to clear a path to Riordan and bat away the vicious fandom bloggers.
A blogger struck me across the chest with it’s ignorance, I fought my hardest and screamed for Bone to go on. I knew tonight would be the night I’d die, but I would die with honour.
As I ran past the fallen bodies of my kindred spirits, I knew in my heart what I had to do. I got out my deadly axe, Andraste, in preparation for the coming fight.
It was then that I heard a growl from deep within the battlefield, and I beheld the most gruesome of sights. Bones and Cunning facing Riordan alone. His rumbling laugh echoed across the field, bringing forth a feeling of revolt within me.
Suddenly, from behind me!
I didn’t have time for this battle. I spun on my heel and went straight for the blogger’s most common weak spot: the head. It fell with a great thud, but I knew that the fight was far from over as I made my way over to where Bones and Cunning were making their final assault.
As Improv ran towards Bone’s and Cunning’s final assault, I with my beloved staff Ceana hunted down the leader of the Role Players, the one they called Nerdy. Lo and behold their vile leader stood before in all his nerdy glory..
Sweat dripping from its nerdy folds as its pimply skin glistened with the blood of my fallen brothers and sisters; it charged me screaming “IM A WRITER, I HAVE BEEN OBSSESED WITH GREEK MYTHOLOGY SINCE I WAS 10”, and battle was joined. It swung its mighty sword at my head as I gagged on its odor. So putrid it was that the smell of the swamp was a welcome scent. I went for its weakness, and swung my mighty staff at its weak legs, Weakened from living in its mother’s basement.
And with a mighty thump it landed in the mire slowly chanting “Riordan, avenge me”.
“YOURE GODS ARENT EVEN REAL” I hear one of the lemmings say, leaping toward me with its sharpened claws. “U DONT SEE PAGANS WORSHIPPING GREEK DEITIES NOW DO YOU” screeches another as I smack it with Adelaide. But Adelaide, and I, grow ever wearier. Yet, beside me on the battlefield as we advanced toward the final boss, that king of bad writing, that all-hailed despot Riordan, I watch Cunning take a serious hit. No! I think. This simply will not do!
“Greek gods who don’t exist!” I call out into the fiery skies of war. “Hear my plea now, and send aid!” The lemmings scoff at my feeble attempt at what they perceive to be a joke, but lo—over the horizon, I see it: it is Improv, with his axe, drawing ever nearer. The nonexistent Greek gods I don’t worship have heard my call inexplicably!
I parried and blocked as much as I could, but I knew that the two of us couldn’t hold him for much longer, let alone injure him. I saw out of the corner of my eye Improv running to us with axe in hand.
I repelled a blow that would have taken my head clear off with stupidity and jabbed my bow down into Rirordan’s foot. He howled in pain and hit me ‘Who ever worships the Greek are not in their right mind.’ I was sent stumbling back, losing my grip on my bow and watching it skid across the ground.
Bone came charging forward at Riordan and swiped for his head with their trusty stick. Riordan ducked and turned, I used the opportunity to jump on his back and hit him as hard as I could with logic.
We had to keep him occupied until Improv could help us take him down.
I come across my fellow pagans fighting against the ignorant, sitting aside and drinking from my fresh cup of tea. This is much too fun to watch, I say to myself, glancing over to an ally who had been struck hard with idiotic phrases. Our eyes lock instantly and they ask for help. I shrug, feeling a bit too passive to join in on the aggressive side. “Please, anything to teach these kids not to invalidate something as easy to understand as religion?” I ponder the thought before giving a nod and flashing three coins, each one inscribed with a different character from the greek alphabet. “I’d love to help,” I begin.
“But it’ll cost ya.”
I ran as fast as I could manage to the aid of my companions, dodging demigod roleplayers and shippers on the way. I gave a quick nod to both Bones and Cunning as I finally arrived on the scene to face the monstrosity of Riordan.
I nearly fell back as he grumbled, “Magic isn’t real and anyone who thinks it is is clearly a very frightening person.”
Magic? Not real? I knew that there could only be one way to weaken Riordan enough that my companions could take him down once and for all. I dropped my axe and sat on the ground, lighting a stick of incense and chanting as fast as my breath capacity would allow.
I’d certainly show him that magic wasn’t real.
A quick snap of my bow into Riordan’s stomach gave us enough time to get closer to Improv, now joining in the chanting. I bat away more roleplayers and shippers as they came swooping for us, going for their most vulnerable point, their feels.
One came shrieking and charging at me ‘WHY DON’T YOU CHANGE YOUR TAGS.’ clearly this last stretch was going to be a long one. I brought my bow up to meet the fans chin, then watched as they tumbled back, the shock of justice driving them away.
More and more flocked at us as we tried our best to keep them at bay. Our chanting grew more fervent and we knew the time was coming, the time to end this.
One hundred times now, what was going on? I looked anxiously at my companions. The shared the same look. We all took a seat, trying to get more comfortable. I focused, no longer concerned of vicious fans making attempts on my life. I visualized what i wanted to happen. Riordan’s wounds healing. I almost hoped the bastard would bleed out, almost. two hundred. we stopped chanting. i opened my eyes and turned to look at riordan. he was gone.
But I have had it. Riordan needs to fall from his dark throne, once and for all. I lift my smacking-stick and twirl it, baton-like, toward his face.
“You have grumbled your last grumble,” I declare loudly. “For little did you know… this smacking-stick… is also my blasting wand!”
Ignoring his slightly taken-aback but otherwise apathetic expression, I rise briefly into the air. Rays of pink light wrap around me like ribbons. Inside the cage of light, I perform a full costume change. I have entered Magical Girl Mode.
“By the light of the moon, I’m gonna have to ask you to take a seat, motherfucker,” I say, brandishing Adelaide like a royal scepter.
This is it, the final moment that I’ve waited so long for. I rise slowly to my feet and point directly at Sailor Bones. Suddenly I stop chanting, letting the silence linger in the air for a few long seconds before finally stepping toward my now magical girl companion.
I raise my axe toward Riordan as, little did he know, that it ALSO functions as my magic wand, and I’ve now raised enough power to blast him for one good, final shot. I nod toward Sailor Bones to show that I’m ready.
I stood at the ready, holding my bow towards Riordan, it didn’t really function to well as a wand but desparate times, call for desperate measures. I nodded to my companions and awaited the final order from Sailor Bones.
This is it. The magic is ready. We raise our hands, weapons, and sticks into the air, some beseeching the Greek gods we don’t worship, others petitioning all of the fucks they do not give. From afar, Lense focuses with all her power. Cunning stands at the ready. Others, our faithful companions, have fallen in this long struggle. Mod S has given her services. Skychild has finally taken down the elusive Nerdy. Our power is unlimited.
And, as if he never existed, Dark Lord Riordan is scrubbed clean from this earth, like a loofah cleansing the zitty face of a teenager, like a cosmic handmaid streaking a broom across the desert sands.
It is over, it is done, and now… now, we can celebrate, and rejoice for all eternity.
As Riordan is vanquished, I return to my conveniently placed lawnchair and pick up my tea, dropping the pennies back into place. I took a quiet sip and looked over my comrades. “Unless you’re all in Britain too, it’s definitely late. Here, I’ll keep watch and you guys can get to sleep.” With a few soft “shoosh“‘s, and a wave of my hands, I stay firmly stationed over the battered terrain.
Today, I will make sure that our fight was not in vain. I will protect those who fought hard to protect me.
Later that night we spent hours upon hours feasting, crying tears over our lost allies, but cheering and saluting those that lived on. But we couldn’t shake that feeling perhaps eternity wasn’t really ours.