#; satyr musing

[brainrotroulette]

Telemachus and Pan brothers au being the perfect little allegory for growing up neurodivergent with a neurotypical sibling

But WAIT GB ✋🏽 Don't you have a neurotypical sibling to your neurodivergent self for this dynamic at home?

YES BUT I DON'T CARE. SIT DOWN AND PICTURE

Pan's ears making the sounds around him all the more louder b/c goat ears are IMMENSELY more sensitive to sounds than humans (they are prey animals) and Tele always handing him a little cotton or beeswax (like father, like son) to stick in there before they enter any crowded spaces

Pan wondering why his excitement manifests so largely that only he has to be gently reminded to use "quiet feet" and an "indoor voice" lest tiles go cracking beneath his hooves, wondering HOW Telemachus never manages to so frequently break things or rules.

Telemachus, tho, being the one thing standing between his little brother and big trouble 9/10 times

Pan always feeling more comfortable and at peace around animals than people, very many cuddles with argos away from the visiting diplomats so long as he's being quiet (god of the wilds stuff, sure, but iykyk)

Pan being unable to stand the feeling of the princely clothes his big brother wears with such ease on his skin. more god of the wild stuff, his body rejects the normal conventions of civilization BUT AGIN IYKYK

Struggling with manners at the dinner table or around officials, struggling to be anything but himself and looking to Telemachus to absorb as much as he can. Tele catching on and making sure to go slowly and clearly with whatever he is doing whenever Pan is watching

(sighs in obsessed) Expect more doodles and musings.

[tee-hee-heidi]

Currently brainstorming with a friend a way for satyrs and nymphs to reproduce through magic bc while they are compatible they're not the same species

[yangcherie]

🌷 ᝰ yanyu. 20s. self-indulgent, slow writer. ea-sea native. female.

♡₊˚ ・₊✧ askbox status: always open to requests! whether i’m able to fulfill it is the problem.

⋆𐙚₊˚ latest hit: play chase | bg3, 18+

⊹₊ꕤ works in progress: look here ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎

๋࣭ ⭑ HEAVY NSFW & DARK CONTENT BEWARE. the content consumed and created do not define my moral stances in real life! for requests or just overall content, i write literally about nearly everything to the deepest corners of fuckall.

please remember fiction is fiction, and so are its characters. acknowledge there is a boundary between reality and fiction.

© yangcherie ₊˚⊹ ᰔ do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my works without explicit permission. i do not allow my works to be shared on any other site, especially tiktok.

[green5quirrel]

There is actually a female ziegevolk in a webisode apart from the series, and as far as i know she was a friend of Juliette

Now, based on her appeareance, i'm guessing their wesen form wouldn't really change that much compared to the human form? Idk, wanna hear what you think.

So, that's heckin' cool! I had assumed, because the only minisode/webisode I've seen or know about is the Bad Hair Day one, that Ziegevolk must be a primarily male species.

I've just read the synopsis of the story and now can only figure there aren't any main differences between male gender or female gendered Ziegevolk except for, perhaps, secondary sexual characteristics like the growth of or lack of a beard, the having of differently presenting genitalia, and mammary gland tissue growth, which is the same for people who aren't wesen.

So I assume that transitioning via hormones would act similarly to them in their human form as in their wesen form. Before reading this episode summary I also thought perhaps born male gendered Ziegevolk would be the only ones who could control others and that HRT might affect those abilities, but it seems moot with the new knowledge.

What is interesting is that their hormones work equally on male gendered and female gendered individuals (and presumably nonbinary and intersex folks). Additionally, it doesn't matter what gender they identify as or their presumed sexuality, their hormones work on everyone with the potential to be romantic.

And, really, if we're basing them on the satyr myth that tracks pretty well.

[the-solar-panel]

@shika-the-satyr asked: "Sorry!" for Welt

Send “Oof!” for my muse to literally run into your muse. Send “Sorry!” for your muse to run into mine.

"It's alright, Shika." He lightly pats at her shoulder in reassurance before he moves to go past her, his other hand gripping tightly at his cane. "I realize these hallways aboard the Express are a bit limited in their space sometimes. No harm done."

[breitzbachbea]

Taking the teensiest tiniest break from all the bleak Terrorposting and the equally terrific 19th century Naturalist AU ... to think about Golden Age AU SicIre and Harry saying that one of the things humans do that he finds well is love poetry. That's a courtship thing he unironically endorses.

[fatespins]

idk if this link works but this is diocore

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words related to Mythology

to include in your next story/poem

Ambrosia - the food eaten by Greek and Roman gods; a very pleasant food

Chthonic - relating to or living in the underworld (i.e., the place in ancient stories where the spirits of the dead go)

Chimera - in Greek mythology, a creature with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a snake's tail

Delphi - an ancient Greek sanctuary (i.e., a holy place) on Mount Parnassus, where an oracle (i.e., a female priest) was believed to be able to answer questions with advice from the god Apollo

Fate - what happens to a particular person or thing, especially something final or negative, such as death or defeat

Gorgon - one of three sisters in ancient Greek stories who had snakes on their heads instead of hair, and who turned anyone who looked at them into stone

Harpy - in Greek mythology, a creature with the head of a woman and the body of a bird

Hydra - in ancient Greek stories, a creature with many heads that grew again when cut off; also, a difficult problem that keeps returning

Ichor - in Greek mythology, the liquid that flows in the bodies of the gods instead of blood

Muse - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, one of the nine goddesses who were believed to give encouragement in different areas of literature, art, and music

Nectar - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, the drink of the gods; also, a sweet liquid produced by flowers and collected by bees and other insects

Satyr - a god in Greek literature who is half man and half goat

Siren - in ancient Greek literature, one of the creatures who were half woman and half bird, whose beautiful singing encouraged sailors to sail into dangerous waters where they died

Sphinx - an imaginary creature with a lion's body and a person's or animal's head, usually with wings; in ancient Greek stories, a creature at Thebes with the body of a lion, the head and breasts of a woman, and wings. She asked people who passed by a riddle (i.e., a difficult question) and if they could not answer correctly, she killed them

Underworld - in mythology, a place under the earth where the spirits of the dead go

If any of these words make it into your next poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I’d love to read them!

More: Word Lists

[ma1dita]

now that we're older

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.5k

summary: (established relationship) The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: its really something about me always posting at 4am.... listened to three songs on a loop while writing and they were all called ‘older’. 5sos-> gracie abrams-> lizzy mcalpine—this works for the trajectory of trouble & luke if you give it a listen; anyways you guys deserve the fluff. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS HAPPY (ignore the...tinge of angst) BUT THIS IS HAPPY RIGHT? RIGHT? scream at me in the comments & enjoy <3

(posted 3/26/24, semi-edited)

—

Luke lets you love him in the nighttime. 

It’s not to say that you don’t love him every second of the day and then some, but he’s much softer at night, weathered down and stripped of the many roles he carries. Maybe it’s the weight from the responsibility of being an all-star cabin counselor or the bone-deep ache of being camp’s best swordsman, perhaps even the ailment of being Hermes’ favorite forgotten son—but he endures until the night where he can lay it all down and be nothing but yours. 

And you let him. 

The mask usually starts to fall apart during dinner when he comes to sit at your table— besides the extra space, Luke likes intentionally knocking his knees against yours, the hand not holding his fork squeezing the inside of your thigh. He’s more open and receptive to your doting by the time the sun sets, fiddling with the hem of your camp shirt on the walks to the bonfire, letting you hang off his arm as you sidestep each other’s feet, hip to hip in hushed giggles. Whether it be chatty campers running through attempts at kisses, Chiron and Mr. D accidentally interrupting your loving glances, or occasional interference from the gods above, there’s only so many ways to be together in the in-between.

Tonight he’s yawning as he places his head on yours from behind, the both of you watching all your campers file out towards the amphitheater. A gentle smile graces your face and he’s warm all over, arms caging around your chest as you lightly sway against the summer breeze.

“You okay, angelface?”

Humming in response, he lowers his cheek to yours and whispers a proposition.

“Wanna skip the bonfire? Like how we used to…”

Turning to face him, your nose bumps against the scar on his cheek, and he feels the teeth of your smile on his skin as you mumble, “That was before cabin 7 needed an understudy for special requests, babe.”

“You could still sing for me. I’ll even clap if you want,” he muses before warbling out a few off-key notes to your favorite song until you’re a mess of giggles under him, fingers reaching up to cover his lips.

“That’s terrible,” you say between fits of laughter, until your eyes meet Percy and Grover’s wandering ones, “Hey! You two ready for your quest tomorrow?” Luke’s hold on you falters into an afterthought, fingers playing with your belt loops as the boys walk to the center of the clearing to meet you two.

He thinks about his little sister going on a quest to prove herself to her mother, even if it’s not her own cross to bear. He thinks about the satyr risking his life to protect another demigod who follows in his footsteps, and finally his dark eyes land on the sandy-haired boy destined to get caught in the crossfire. Luke’s feet feel heavy as if they’re cemented to the ground, and when you step away to greet the boys, he stays where he is. You misinterpret it for his fatigue, which is only part of what’s weighing on his mind.

“Luke? Go on ahead, I’ll cover for you. Get some rest.” But he can’t sleep without you; the times he’s tried are met with a touch of darkness only you can will away. He wants to hold on to you for as long as he can— Luke’s always been more vulnerable in the nighttime, with or without you.

Later he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his cabin, thrashing in the twin bed against the back wall as he rests his eyes and tries to get comfortable. There are reminders of you wherever he looks, gauzy white curtains strung up around his bed like swirling clouds, pictures of the both of you pinned to the worn walls of Hermes’ refuge for the unclaimed, and though he’s always known his heritage—the way he can pick out your voice through the sound of all the others that file in reminds him who his heart belongs to. Luke shuts his eyes until he feels your lips on his forehead, balmy from your berry chapstick with a hint of your smile. He murmurs your name sleepily, but your hands tickle his torso as you lift the hem of his shirt up.

“Woah there, keep it PG. There are children here!” Travis says mockingly, and the sound of giggles and shuffling sheets fills the room as everyone gets ready for bed. There’s a resounding thud that follows and that makes him open his eyes.

“Mind out of the gutter, Stoll! You know your brother overheats at night,” you mutter, and his hands are already ghosting your hip in silent confirmation. Tearing your lavender gaze from Travis who’s spitting out feathers from across the way, you look down at him and mumble, “Sleepy, angelface? They’ll do cabin checks soon and then it’s lights out.” 

“Don’t wanna sleep without you. I can wait,” he slurs, saying your name slowly like he’s spelling it out. Luke looks at you blearily when he sits up, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes as he pulls his shirt off from the nape of his neck. When the orange fibers lift from his vision, he sees you in sleepwear (all stolen from his closet, just the way he likes it) and your face shiny with skincare. 

“Was gonna get you ready for bed, babe. Got Lee to cover for me tonight and Beck and Katie are on morning shift. Wanna go to mine?”

He knows he should. The both of you never play hooky, not since taking up your counselor positions 3 years ago. Luke doesn’t remember the last time either of you were in bed before midnight and up before 6 the next morning. Never on purpose at least—the surprise jolts him awake a little as he cocks his head at you curiously. 

“Got off the hook, Trouble?”

The question makes you bite your lip, “You’re acting surprised. Something told me you needed it.” He flops back down on the worn mattress, far too soft with age that his back tweaks a little when he moves over for you and pats the space you’ll take up. It’s his though—even if it doesn’t have his name on it, and for once he just wants to sleep in here with his girl like everything is right in the world (and ignore that he’s about to tear it all up). He thinks he might actually miss this cabin, the sound of his scuffling siblings, the way things quickly disappear and reappear at the change of hands in this community of outcasts, but most of all, he’s going to miss you and how you can settle them down with a single hush.

“Can we stay here tonight? Too comfy. Never get to admire the little setup you made for me here since we’re in 12 so often.”

“M’not going anywhere, my love,” you whisper as you push back the curtains, climbing into his bed to cuddle against him, but he shifts so that his head is on your chest. Luke’s hugging you like he’s a weighted blanket, and he strings a garland of kisses along your collarbone leading up to the space over your heart. Running your hands through his hair, you sing to him quietly until lights out, not even noticing the change while you’re looking at each other eye to eye. No one laughs at your lullaby, the sound of your voice tucking the rest of the cabin to sleep.

Almost losing consciousness again, his cheek shakes with the giggle that rises from your chest as you whisper, “Didn’t know you put our camp prom photo up on your wall. We look like we hate each other.”

“You were so mad because I kept stepping on the bottom of your dress. Had to get your attention somehow,” he chuckles, before tightening his hold on you, “I knew I liked you already by then, too. Wasted too much time trying to get Chiron in a prom dress with the boys that I didn’t get the chance to ask you to dance.”

“Ended up on a bead though. Is that what that memory tells you, angelface?”

“You’re my favorite memory, Trouble,” he sighs, muscles relaxing at the feeling of your fingertips tracing stars into the planes of his back. Then hearts. A squiggle of something you tell him is obviously a centaur, which makes his brows furrow, before he kisses your chin when you spell out your name. Slowly, like you want him to remember it. He does.

“I’m still here, silly—pretty sure to be a memory, time has to take me away first. Not letting that happen. Me and you forever if I can help it,” you say breathily, voice tinged with sleep and so much love for him that feels like it chokes you, but that might just be the angle of your neck as you try to look down at him again. Dopamine lines your system at his words, and you let out a strained sigh—lovesick and heady with the feeling.

“I know but you’re in all my favorite ones too. When I think of you, everything’s better. Like I didn’t eternally fuck up my fate before I even turned 20,” he jokes, and like a lot of them, they fall flat. You hope that by wrapping your legs around him Luke will know how much you want to crawl into his skin and hold his heart to protect it. That with you, he won’t ever have to be alone. Words are never enough, after all. Even if you have nothing you need to prove, it won’t stop you from trying to show him.

“Still a few weeks off, so don’t try your luck. There are worse fates than falling in love with you, Luke Castellan.”

He turns from the wall at the sound of that, wanting to disagree, but you kiss him before he can protest.

“I’m the lucky one. Sometimes I think loving you was the only thing I did right,” he murmurs, before drifting off. You’re the last thing he looks at before he goes to sleep, the way he likes it—like a longstanding memory he gets to keep before he’s vulnerable again in his dreamstate. He’s the strongest when you’re with him, and his brain goes quiet. No one dares to break him when he’s with you like this. 

Not a dream, nor a titan.

You can't imagine sleeping another night without this crick in your neck with his name on it, the shape of him pressed into your body. With only the moon as your witness, you whisper words of devotion, sneak featherlight kisses wherever you can reach, and hope that they get to your love, wherever his mind is right now.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

—

You let him love you in the mornings.

Even unknowingly, it seems. On a normal day, your alarm would ring and you’d sleepily pat Luke (his face, chest, whatever part of him you could reach with your eyes closed) so he could shut it off. He’d let you sleep in a couple extra minutes (somewhere between 5-10) before pulling you from unconsciousness with a hug. 

This morning, with no alarms ringing in his ears Luke finds that he wakes up a little before you anyway. Down to his circadian rhythm, you’ve affected him, and he takes it with an upwards quirk of his lip as he squints at the sunlight through the sheer curtains that brush against your arms. He watches you delicately, even with the sounds of a lively morning filling the cabin—everyone up and ready for the day while you two are wrapped in your little bubble. It’s a stupid thought that crosses his mind, but a coherent one nonetheless; jealousy fills his chest at the sight of sunlight kissing every inch of your skin that he can only try to reach. He runs his hands from where they’re tucked underneath your waistband to the expanse of your back, and over your shoulders until you’re humming under your breath, midway out of a dream. 

Luke takes an extra moment to admire the way you latch onto him and he finds it almost frustrating how everyone from the gods above to the demigods at Camp Half-Blood down to the powers that damn him to Tartarus know you’re his biggest weakness. It’s almost unfair how you’re his strength too— the sheath that reminds him not to cut, the control behind his unbridled rage that heats up the back of his neck like a brand but instead of feeling fire, he feels sunlight.

You search for him in every sunrise, light refracting through your irises until a smile settles on your cheeks like you want to say, “Yes, I’m here with you. ” 

“Good morning, pretty girl.”

The both of you shifted during the night, almost as if in a dance of limbs and dreams, and somehow you’re nestled against his side and using his bicep as a pillow. It flexes as Luke raises his arm to brush the hair away from your face, when you kiss his scar and mumble, “Did we miss breakfast?”

“Almost over, but we can just grab something from the kitchens. Surprised everyone left us alone, actually,” he says thoughtfully, “the kids might’ve already left for their quest.” He likes watching you reorient yourself into the land of the living, before you step into your boots of being head counselor, before you put on the facade of being the perfect demigod—the protector and glue of Camp Half-Blood.

“Mmhm… was gonna offer my lighter to Percy and them last night for protection, but he was wearing your shoes. You gave them to him?”

Luke wipes drool from the side of your lip, watching you kiss his thumb in thanks with no thought as it was as easy as breathing. A half smile splits through the scar on his face as he says, “He’s gonna need them. For luck.” You lift your upper body up and look at him, hair forming a halo around your face and you sniff, “But you loved those shoes. Gift from your dad aside, I know they’re one of your prized possessions.”

He coaxes you back into his arms as he shifts up and leans against the wall. Prying eyes would think you’re hugging, sitting heart to heart on the small mattress.

“Annie didn’t take your lighter?”

He knows you’re rolling your eyes against his shoulder, feeling your fingers clutch at his curls to pull him away to look at you. You look at him knowingly and say, “Stop trying to change the subject. Anyways, Annie said if we help them anymore she’ll think we don’t trust them enough to come back alive.”  

“I mean it when I say you’re all I care about. Shoes… None of it matters.”

“What I care about is how you used to love flying around in those things. Even if you pissed me off a lot with them too,” you say, and the both of you laugh. They were a consolation from his dad after his quest, probably the closest thing to an apology (or even a “hello, glad you’re alive!”) he’d ever gotten from Hermes. Though the scar on his cheek was more than enough of a reminder of that—he didn’t touch the shoes until a few months after, when you taught him how to drive. Luke propositioned you promising to take you out on a spin once, and you thought he meant the car…

“You loved them more than I did,” he grins, and you recoil and slap his chest.

“You flung me onto the roof of the dining pavilion, Luke.”

“It was an accident! Plus it did make cabin checks go faster…Once I got the hang of them,” he snorts, deciding to pull you to stand. Batting away the curtain, he’s sliding into his slippers and Luke helps you step onto his feet and you groan into his chest, “What are you doing? M’gonna break your toes, Lu—”

“Shhh…I’m the strongest guy you know. Can handle anything for ya.”

He backs the both of you up to the center of the cabin, spinning you in slow circles to an imaginary beat. One hand around your waist and the other interlaced with yours as your smile feels like sun beaming through a window as you ask, “How did I ever get so lucky to fall in love with you, Luke Castellan?” 

You’ll never tell him, but that’s the only thing you’ll be ever grateful to Hermes for.

He shakes his head in astonishment as he whispers, “I love you, you know that?” It hurts his head if he thinks too hard—how does a love so intoxicating manifest as something so gentle? How can he be powered by your love but still fueled by hate? How can he be both damned and saved by you? Luke wonders if his thoughts even break the surface of how busy the mind of a daughter of Dionysus is—to know insanity in love, and still be able to welcome it with open arms.

“Beats prom, huh? Am I a good dance partner?” 

You tilt your head, tongue in cheek as you gaze at your boy like he’s said something stupid, and though it’s been a year and change, you hope the fluttery feeling Luke gives you will never go away. With him, you never have to pretend—never needing to mince your words or soften the blow. You’ve never felt more yourself than how you feel hand in hand with him.

“We’ve always been good partners, me and you.”

He sways you in the momentary quiet of cabin 11 as you step away and hold the bottom of your (his) shirt out like the frills of a skirt, and Luke raises your arm overhead and then you’re spinning, spinning, spinning…

The front door swivels open, and Chris peeks his head in.

“Hey lovebirds, sorry to interrupt but Sword and Shield is starting soon, and Clarisse still has your names on the roster…”

You both sigh.

“You signed up for offense?”

“And you signed up for defense, so don’t look at me like that, Trouble…”

Instantly the two of you harden your stances, parrying at each other’s torsos with hands as your swords until you try to make a run for it and drag Chris behind you to use him as a human shield.

“Hey! Oof—”

Moving as quick as a bullet, Luke accidentally knocks the wind out of his brother who’s now hunched over as you laugh at him like a madwoman.

“You two are going to have weirdly violent children one day,” Chris huffs, before stepping back towards the door, “See ya in 30!”

Cheeks reddening at his brother’s comment, Luke crosses his arms and takes a good look at you, bathing in the light of the open doorway and looking like the rest of his life.

“Well, back to work. Bit too good to be true, huh babe?”

“For now,” he says thoughtfully, “Summer will be over soon though. Gonna get quieter around here for sure…”

You’re already stepping off the front porch walking backwards as you grin, throwing your arms up in the air as you make your way across the path to your cabin to get ready for the day. You’d hate to leave camp—it's as true as your love for performing, caring for others, and most especially, him. He knows it because he knows you, and unlike most things, that’s never going to change.

Not if he can help it.

“Summer doesn’t last forever. But we’ll still have the fall, the winter, and whatever’s next…me and you.”

You’re yelling to him over the railing of your porch and he nods his head at you, turning away before you speak again, “Maybe one day when we’re older!”

“What was that baby?”

Looking at Luke like you already have it all planned out in your head, you say softer, “Kids. If that’s what’s in the cards for us. Though I do like practicing…”

Instantly he cracks up but nods, because there’s no future he can conceive without you being in it. There’s a serious turn in his response and it makes your heart beat out of your chest.

“Anything you want. You know I don’t leave anything up to fate. Not glory, not you.”

Everything you touch turns into gold, and he hopes somehow he would too. Two sides of the same coin, striving for a good ending, one worth remembering—one to last forever.

You get to love each other in the in-between, when time can’t get in the way. The clock is always ticking though, rattling against his brain as a reminder. 

Luke just wants to make sure there’ll come a day where there’ll be no more interruptions.

—

“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.” Caitlyn Siehl

 ½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01@poppysrin@ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[kupidachillea]

I really liked you're yanderr Olympians x Reader :3 is it okay to ask for some hcs on yan! Hermes and reader? Only if its okay either you!!

Yandere Hermes x Reader Hcs! (Or imagines)

Author note: This will be kind of connected to the original Olympians x Reader hcs, hope you don’t mind. But also thank you for the request hope you enjoy.

TW (trigger warning): The writing ahead contains mentions of emotional manipulation, gaslighting, general yandere and toxic behaviour, manipulation, slight abuse(bondage). Please note that I don’t condone any of these things and everything here is fiction. With that said, please read at your own discretion.

✉️- You’re lonely..of course you are. How could you not be when yourself stuck on this mountain?

🪶- Most would consider it an honour, a blessing even, but you knew better. It was a curse, and there was no way to convince you otherwise.

✉️-You had tried multiple times to try and escape. Try to flee only to end up right back where you didn’t want to be. Usually this would end in you being bound in chains of gold, infused with magic or worse things that left scars to tell what happened. The gods found it amusing. Watching you struggle and act all defiant.

🪶- It was their form of entertainment. “How cute..” Poseidon would muse since your latest attempt to escape. “I don’t know why the mortal keeps trying to…they’re not going to make it off this mountain. Alive that is..” Hera would sigh. She didn’t really care much, though she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t pity you in the slightest.

✉️- You just couldn’t take it anymore. You were sick of being up here, you’ve been in the mountain long enough to memorise where all the rooms and paths were.. it was downright ridiculous.

🪶- You didn’t care if you escaped anymore..all you wanted to do was touch the grass again..to listen to the birds in the trees and to feel the running water of the streams and rivers.

✉️- you wished that someone, anyone would hear you wishes and at least grant you 30 minutes of freedom..if you could even call it that. However fortunately (or unfortunately) for you..there was one such person that heard your cry. A certain someone that wasn’t afraid to bend the rules or stir up trouble. Whether it be for the benefit of others, himself or even to deliver a simple message.

🪶- Hermes was that god. He had been listening in to your little cries of despair and felt your home sickness from a mile away. How could he not take this opportunity given to him to care for his favourite lover? He was the god of travelling after all, among other things so he just had to step in.

✉️- And so the feathered friend (or rather fiend) approached you as somewhat of an angel of light. Opening a door for you that you had assumed was shut forever.

🪶- “Wouldn’t you like to get off of this old rock, hm~?” He would ask, a slight hum in his voice as he floated in front of you. You were sat on the marble floor, probably sulking a bit to yourself until the messenger had showed up. Without a second thought to his words you nodded. Wasting no time in taking his hand, so excited that you missed the devious little grin that had started to appear on his lips.

✉️-And that..was the beginning of what you thought would be a great companionship.

. 🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.

🪶- Over the course of those few days to a week, you and Hermes spent time away from the mountain and down on earth in the forest near mount Olympus.

✉️- And you had to admit; they were great. For once you felt like you were actually enjoying yourself. While you would enjoy the greenery and flora, Hermes would make up excuses for why you couldn’t spend time with the other Olympians.

🪶- He of course being a trickster did what he did best. Of course the others weren’t happy, especially Apollo who had demanded to see you but Hermes wouldn’t let him.

✉️- He even threatened majority of the surrounding nymphs and satyrs to not say a word about what he was doing. Obviously they listened though one particular satyr needed a little reminder on why snitches get stitches…let’s just say that Hermes acquired a new horn after that incident…

🪶- When Hermes wasn’t threatening the lowkey forest creatures he was with you. Sweet talking you..trying to get you to relax more around him. And you did to some extent. Just enough to let him touch and hold your hand..

✉️- But that wasn’t enough for Hermes. He thought he deserved more. Of course he did.. so he pushed. Being a little more greedy than he should’ve.

🪶- “Y’know..We’ve been spending a lot of time with each other and not once have you offered me a kiss..” He spoke one day while you were sitting near a stream next to him. You hummed in response, not really sure how to respond. “I guess..I’m not all too ready for that yet..” you would reply.

✉️- This caused the messenger god to furrow his brows. Lifting his helmet up a bit to get a better look at you. “And why not..?” He asked..his voice taking on a slightly aggressive tone. This would cause you to tense and shiver. “I just…can’t..I’m not ready..I-”

🪶- He didn’t let you finish, he grasped your wrist tightly and scowled. “You can’t ? After everything I’ve done for you? You can’t give me a simple kiss?” he hissed. His tone obviously took you by surprise considering how gentle he had been all this time. But you somehow started to feel..guilty? Why? Why did you feel guilty?

✉️- Hermes continued. “I saw you upset and wallowing in despair, I brought you out from the mountain to be happy. I’ve lied to my own family, my king! Just for you and this is how you repay me?!” Hermes was obviously lying again. He had no issue in lying to his family. He’s done it more times than anyone..he just wants you to feel bad..and it seemed to be working with how your eyes shrunk in fear and darted away with a hint of guilt. ‘Perfect’ he’d think to himself.

🪶- “Maybe I should’ve just left you alone. I doubt the others would’ve done what I did for you…in fact, maybe I should’ve bring you back up to the mountain and chain you down so that they can have their way with you- does that sound better, Dear ?” Hermes crooned..his voice was taunting yet threatening and your eyes widened when he threatened to leave you in the hands of the other Olympians. You frantically shook your head no, you didn’t want that..not at all.

✉️-A kiss truly wasn’t as bad as what the others would do to you. A kiss won’t hurt..right? You sheepishly took his hands in yours, your eyes pleading as you spoke. “Wait- no…please don’t do that.. I’m grateful, I truly am, Hermes. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I wasn’t..I was just..nervous..” You admitted and Hermes cooed..his eyes softening as he moved his hand to your cheek..stoking it gently with his thumb.

🪶- “Oh Darling..it’s okay, you have nothing to be nervous about..it’s just a kiss, right? You can do that for me, can’t you my little mortal?” He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. The action causing your heart to leap and your breath to catch in your throat.,you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or excitement.

✉️-However, you eventually gave in..kissing the messenger go back which caused him to smirk against your lips. He pulled you into his body. His arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed you more passionately. A soft moan leaving the god and the wings on the sides of his head fluttering with joy. Though you’re not sure if you share such a feeling. You felt something but you weren’t sure of it.

🪶- Soon enough Hermes pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath as he chuckled and stroked your hair. He rested your head in his chest and cooed while you stared at the grass with a conflicted expression on your face.

✉️- “There, there, my sweet mortal…You have nothing to fear. I’ll always be here for you..remember that.” Hermes would utter softly and you gulped subtly..wondering if you had just made a mistake in trusting the messenger god in the first place.

Author note: Oof, I wrote this at like 3am. I’m starting to realise my ‘HCs’ aren’t really like Hcs at all, but I still hope you all enjoy. Also forgive me. That kissing scene wasn’t really the best.. I was flip flopping between descriptive or not that descriptive 😭. But anyway hope you enjoy Anon!

[tee-hee-heidi]

Aaaaand my post got flagged. Again. I am very sad

[yangcherie]

tav!harem is my new favorite thing. maybe the idea of multiple people loving me so fiercely is appealing because of some sort of constant yearning for love that consumes me

or im just an attention whore :shrug:

i feel you. the desire for a harem has been a constant in every fandom i’ve been in. truly, the biggest flaw in bg3 is that we can’t date everyone all at once.

[bg3storage]

Everyone meet my child, Tav! A sorcerer/bard multiclass with a dark and mysterious past. Check out Tavcore for more personality tidbits.

I realized I never gave a full introduction to Tavie except her booty in the Astarion gifsets so here she is! I based the design of this gifset on the amazing template by @eeldritchblast which helped guide the way.

⋆☁︎｡⋆｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆ FUN FACTS ABOUT TAV ⋆☁︎｡⋆｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆

She was a bard in Baldur's Gate under the tutelage of a satyr whom she considered her brother.

Said brother also had ties to the Zhentarim so Nine Fingers Keene and Tav grew up around each other. 

It was because of this satyr that Tav carries the Bard class along with her inherent abilities as a sorcerer. 

Tav always assumed she was given the gift of Wild Magic due to her own unpredictable emotions so her spellcraft must reflect this. 

Tav was haunted by nightmares and vile urges her entire life but gave herself fully to Bhaal after the death of her brother. 

Her favorite instrument is the lute. After the murder of Alfira, Tav carries Lihala's Lute with her for the rest of the game to honor the fallen bards. 

Loves dresses, bows, and all things fashion which is possibly what influenced the Temple of Bhaal’s fashion glow up between games.

Her eyes used to be a light brown almost hazel but her service to Bhaal gave her this new eye color 

As the game progresses and she resists the urge further her eyes revert back to their original color. 

Similar to her eyes, Tav’s hair grew gray and incredibly long during her time ruling the Temple of Bhaal → Due to her resistance the original brown her hair once was is returning. 

Has a journal full of songs, drawings, and musings (similar to Arthur Morgan’s journal from RDR2)

When the urge grows closer to taking over the writings and drawings can become manic and indecipherable 

Tries almost too hard to be good, it is obvious she is compensating for something. 

Attempts the “fake it till you make it” attitude when it comes to life after the Nautiloid crash. Since she is haunted by terrifying thoughts, Tav keeps this part of herself incredibly secret and puts up a mask of positivity and kindness. She is sure that once her companions find out who she really is they will turn on her. 

As the story goes on, Tav realizes that this “mask” is actually closer to who she is on the inside.

Rarely gets a full night sleep due to nightmares and head buzzing with plans for battle. 

Often goes on walks, sits by the fire, or goes for a swim to clear her head. 

A huge fan of reading, especially studying history to not make the same mistakes as her ancestors. 

This often informs her strategy and plans especially when creating the plan to take the Crown of Karsus. 

Reading is also what facilitated her initial bond with Gortash when part of the Dead Three. 

Was terrible at wielding any kind of weapon until Wyll graciously helped her train to use a sword and shield. 

However, if she has to she’ll whack you over the head with her lute. 

[genericpuff]

Rachel Smythe has opened up on numerous occasions about her struggling through her entire adolescence, undoubtedly due to the public schooling system's lack of support for children with ADHD. She's also admitted to feeling insecure due to her looks and not being "pretty enough", as well as requiring special visual aids and medication, all of which made her a target for bullying. She saw Persephone as her "muse", whom she projected herself onto as a coping mechanism for her struggles through school. She ultimately flunked out of high school and entered the workforce post-college into a massive recession.

Despite all this, she became a #1 NYT bestselling author and three time Eisner winner through a Greek myth "retelling" webtoon in which her fundamentally misunderstood idealization of Persephone is the most beautiful, most talented, smartest goddess in all the realms, so beautiful and sought after that gods like Apollo and Ares would make fools out of themselves and even resort to violence and betrayal of their own family and loved ones to get their hands on her, and so smart that she not only hustled the King of the Underworld in a chess match to get her job, but is also - according to the characters around her in the narrative, many of whom struggle with their grades and attention spans much like she would have when she was a child - biologically smarter than the people around her. Throughout the series, we see Persephone regularly bully and abuse both nymphs and satyrs alike who are canonically lower class, but it's justified through the narrative by the fact that the people she's bullied and abused were "mean to her first", even when such actions are years in the past. By the end of the story, Persephone has ascended to the role of Queen of the Underworld with next to no effort, has gotten her law degree off-screen - an accomplishment that is incredibly difficult to achieve over the course of years of study - and has settled down with her incredibly rich and powerful husband who coveted her purely for her looks and youthfulness, whose infertility she has apparently cured, no doubt in part due to her core power centering around fertility.

I shouldn't even have to explain any further how sad that is. And I'm not saying that with any amount of cruelty or condescension... it's genuinely just sad. It's sad to see someone who was a victim of bullying and lack of care for her disabilities as a child grow up into a 38 year old woman who claims she wants to use her platform for good all while writing herself into the "perfect woman" who's endlessly beautiful, endlessly smart, endlessly fertile, and endlessly forgiven for doing all of the things her own bullies did to her.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Paris, 1890

steddie, omegaverse, artist and muse, mpreg

After five years of struggling and starving, scrimping and saving, choosing to buy paints instead of food, Édouard Munson has become an overnight success. All the wealthy families of Paris want one of his paintings, enchanted by the way he has captured the beauty of his new favored model.

The first to gain notice, “Eos,” features Stéfan from behind, asleep in their shared bed, the rosy light of dawn illuminating his skin, making his hair glow bronze-gold. He covered to the waist with a thin sheet, but he is not cold—unseen to the viewer, the room is well-heated by the stove. Behind him, the indent left by his lover promises he will not be lonely long.As do the tiny indents at his neck.

“Eos” sold the day it was first exhibited.

Next comes “Dionysos,” an outdoor scene, lush with flowers, the young man crowned with laurels and draped with rich, purple silks. He holds a goblet to his lips, eyes closed in gentle ecstasy. Nymphs and satyrs dance in the background, and a rivulet of wine runs down his chin.

The gallery had a buyer lined up before “Dionysus” was put on exhibit.

After came “Apollo,” “Eros,” “Hedone,” and “Helios,” each of them selling for enough that Eddie could easily keep himself and Stéfan comfortable for a few years without selling another. But his heart still cries out to create, so Eddie keeps painting.

“Aphrodite” features a naked Stéfan in the bath, standing, facing away, his plush bottom on display and glistening with water as he reaches for a towel. The gallery owner buys it for himself.

Then, Eddie takes greater risks with his art style, painting Stéfan in rich, dark blues, his body becoming the night sky in “Selene,” each of his beauty marks a golden star, his navel now the moon, his small belly cradled with his hands. He is the whole of the cosmos, caring and sensual.

A collector snaps it up as quickly as possible, proclaiming, “Now he is finding his vision!”

“The Marriage of Hymen” is a further departure, showing a small garden plot. A circle of seeds indent the dirt, next to a flower, its petals pink and red, wet with morning dew. It earns Eddie questions, and Stef blushes at his side. Even so different, it finds a buyer.

He returns to a more realistic style with “Pan.” It features two right hands, fingers slotted together, caressing a small breast. A rosy nipple peaks through a gap in the fingers. The tips of the fingers curl into a thatch of hair at the chest. It goes to the alpha who owns “Eos.”

That is followed by ���Psyche,” a closeup of Stéfan in profile, lips parted, the fluttering of his eyelids created by the energetic strokes of Eddie’s paintbrush, the lashes dark with tears. He exhibits it, but refuses to sell, explaining that it was a gift for his omega.

Stef is on his arm and at his side at the gallery then, smiling when the prospective buyers turn to him, begging him to consider their offers. “I am sorry, monsieur, it is too precious a gift. I have been working on my own masterpiece for my husband, and I think this gift almost makes up for it.” His hand rests on his rounded stomach, and he rubs against the kicking of their pup as he gives a teasing wink.

That night, lying together in bed, Eddie holds Stef and kisses his neck. “Sometimes,” he whispers, “It is hard to believe that I have found you. Then I feel your heart beating next to mine and it seems inevitable. My soul knows your soul.” His hand joins Stef’s over their pup in his belly. “I think it always has.”

“It has. That’s why you see me the way you paint me. You see all of me, even the hidden parts—the parts that are only beautiful to you.”

“All of your parts are beautiful,” Eddie insists with a pout.

“Everyone has rough edges, my love, even me.”

“And they are beautiful in their roughness.”

“Eddie…”Stef turns to kiss the pout off his alpha’s lips, struggling because of his pregnant belly, grinning as Eddie rushes to help him. “All I care is that you love me. That you love us.”

Eddie kisses him back, soft and slow and sweet. “I always, always will.”

[helenofsparta2]

Headcannon: Percy is immensely popular among nature spirits and "minor" gods

Oceanids & Nereids

It starts small.

The Nereids and Oceanids are naturally curious about him when they find out about his existence, that’s already canon:

She (a nereid) nodded. “It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest.”

Suddenly, I remembered faces in the waves of Montauk Beach when I was a little boy, reflections of smiling women. (The Lightning Thief, chapter 17)

Later, at the latest by the time Titan’s curse happens, nereids and oceanids see him save ocean creatures from fishing gear, or whales stranded on beaches, or him helping mermaids with hanging nails. (Titan’s curse, chapter 7)  We see him be considerate and respectful to nereids through his interaction in the fourth book at the ranch.

She looked like she was ready for a fight. Her fists were balled, but I thought I heard a little quaver in her voice. Suddenly, I realized that, despite her angry attitude, she was afraid of me. She probably thought I was going to fight her for control of the river , and she was worried, she would lose.

The thought made me sad. I felt like a bully, a son of Poseidon throwing his weight around.

I sat down on a tree stump. “Okay, you win.”

The naiad looked surprised. (The Battle of the Labyrinth, chapter 9)

It’s pretty good established in the books, that smaller gods and spirits don’t get treated with respect most of the time, especially not from heroes of old like Herakles and the Olympian gods. The reaction of the naiad adds to this sentiment, so we can pretty easily conclude that the way Percy treats them, is relatively rare.

In-between the books, Rick often sprinkles in some interactions between Percy and naiads, which further underlines their positive opinion of him:

I looked over the edge of the boat and found a couple of naiads staring at me. They looked like regular teenage girls, the kind you’d see in any mall, except for the fact that they were underwater.

Hey, I said. They made a bubbling sound that may have been giggling. I wasn’t sure. I had a hard time understanding naiads.

We’re heading upstream, I told them. Do you think you could-

Before I could even finish, the naiads each chose a canoe and began pushing us up the river. (Titan’s curse, Chapter 14)

Satyrs & Dryads:

The satyrs know that he, Clarisse, Annabeth, Tyson and Grover were the ones, who returned the golden fleece to camp half-blood and so, have stopped satyrs from getting killed by Polyphemus. During the battle of the labyrinth, Percy is the one who extinguished the fire and stopped the trees and dryads from getting burnt to death. Not to mention that he is best friends with the guy, who discovered Pan and has the title of Lord of the Wild.

“Minor” Gods:

The non-Olympian gods, like Hecate, Nemesis, Eros, Hebe and Morpheus were probably curious about him, even wary, but nothing more at first, until Percy managed to stop the civil war between Zeus and Poseidon at the age of twelve.  

We know that canonically, this already earned him the respect of many different beings:

As I walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. The muses paused their concert. People, and satyrs and naiads all turned towards me, their faces filled with respect and gratitude, and as I passed, they knelt, as if I were some kind of hero.” (The Lightning Thief, chapter 21)

By the time the war with Kronos further escalates and they join his side, this obviously changes again. From this moment on, Percy is their enemy, and probably nothing more for most of them.

But then, they lose, and probably expect the worst of consequences.

Gods who have crossed Zeus have suffered severe punishments before. Prometheus was bound to a rock, with an eagle eating his liver every day because he stole fire from the gods, gifted it to humanity and tricked Zeus, the titans were banished to Tartarus after the Titanomachy. After some of the gods rebelled and tried to overthrow Zeus, Hera got hung in the sky with golden chains, where she cried out all night in pain, while Apollo and Poseidon were forced to work as labourers for King Laomedon of Troy.

They probably expected to get thrown into Tartarus with the rest of the Titans, get stripped of their immortality, or worse. Instead, however, their children finally receive cabins at camp half-blood and they themselves receive full amnesty.

All because Percy Jackson, this 16-year-old teenager, decides to change the entire thousand year old status quo on Olympus.  

He could have wished for anything after their victory over Kronos and the titan army. The choice was not between the oath he made the gods swear and him becoming a god. He could have wished to be left alone, or to never have to do a quest again, or live a happy, and peaceful life away from the pain and wars until the end of his days, or literally anything else, but he didn’t. He made the active choice to make Olympus fairer, and to create equality among the demigods, without even thinking about it for too long.

No one can convince me that this, and his already mentioned other actions, didn’t earn him the respect of huge parts of the mythological world.

Not even Rick himself (no matter how much he may try in his new books)