Dylan McCombs

“Sounds like the start of a joke, right? Two scientists, an engineer, a detective, a lawyer, and an artist walk into a bar to help me become God.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

“So Alecto, wearied of talking, kneeled upon the rock and offered up the sword to her, and placed the child’s hand upon the blade, so that it received also the red blood of the child. This made the child exceeding faint, but it did not swoon of weariness.

Which strength pleased Alecto, who said: Notwithstanding, I offer you my service.

To which a voice on the opposite side of the shore was raised, exceeding wroth, and Alecto heard it shout in a very great shout: Get in line, thou big slut.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

“She raised an eyebrow. "You got something to say to me, Seaweed Brain?"

You'd probably kick my butt."

You know I'd kick your butt."

I brushed the cake off my hands. "When I was at the River Styx, turning invulnerable . . . Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."

Annabeth kept her eyes on the horizon. "Yeah?"

Then up on Olympus," I said, "when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking-"

Oh, you so wanted to."

Well, maybe a little. But I didn't, because I thought-I didn't want things to stay the same for eternity, because things could always get better. And I was thinking . . ." My throat felt really dry.

Anyone in particular?" Annabeth asked, her voice soft.

I looked over and saw that she was trying not to smile.

You're laughing at me," I complained.

I am not!"

You are so not making this easy."

Then she laughed for real, and she put her hands
around my neck. "I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”
― Rick Riordan, The Last Olympian

“You told me, Sleep, I’ll wake you in the morning.
I asked, What is morning? and you said,
When everyone who fucked with me I’d dead.

When everyone we loved has gone or fled,
That’s morning. Empty’s just another word for clean.
Let’s put this first draft dream of mine to bed.

I the appointed hour
I’ll pull up your sheets. I’ll kill the light,
Lie down beside you; die; and sleep the night.

This time will be the time we get it right;
Forgiveness not so hard, nor anger long;
Our graves will be less deep, our lies less true

You held aloft the sword.
I still love y”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth