#Hemera personals | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

apiswitchcraft · 3 months ago

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altars for titans and protogenoi

This post more than any of the others is going to be mostly upg or spg. Hardly anyone in antiquity spent a lot of effort worshipping most of these deities, especially the protogenoi, so resources are limited. If you have suggestions or personal addendums, feel free to leave them in the comments. I made a lot of decisions based on what the herbs/crystals are usually associated with: for example, black tourmaline is associated with Nyx (the night) therefore Chaos (the embodiment of the primordial soup and basically the universe) has black tourmaline too.

Also, all the deities on this list can be honored with libation of wine, milk, honey, and oil; offerings of meat or desserts; and burning frankincense/myrrh.

Disclaimer: this is not all of the protogenoi or titans that exist, these are just the most recognizable ones that have the most lore attached. I used theoi.com to research all of these deities.

CHAOS: the first to emerge at creation, the protogenos of the space between heaven and earth, and the air

Colors: black, grey, purple for the concept of chaos Offerings: feathers, burning incense, cinnamon, anise, cardamom, clove, black pepper, representations of the four elements Crystals: obsidian, tourmaline, labradorite, lava rock, angelite, amethyst Animals: birds

PHANES/EROS (the elder): protogenos of procreation

Colors: red, pink for love/procreation. blue, green for nature and creation Offerings: heart shaped objects, eucalyptus, flowers, egg shells Crystals: rose quartz, rhodonite, rhodochrosite, malachite, azurite, garnet, desert rose selenite Animals: birds

NYX: protogenos of the night

Colors: black, dark blue, purple for association with the night, anything galaxy patterned Offerings: blackberries, blueberries, plum, dew (morning is fine but after sunset is best), dark feathers, dark chocolate, night-blooming flowers (like moonflower or wisteria), black tea/coffee, mugwort Crystals: obsidian, black tourmaline, labradorite, moonstone (especially black moonstone), selenite, lapis lazuli, amethyst, smokey quartz Animals: owl

also, she is associated with symbols of keys and veils/cloaks

EREBOS: protogenos of darkness

Colors: black for darkness Offerings: dark chocolate, black pepper, black salt, charcoal, asphodel Crystals: black tourmaline, obsidian, smokey quartz, lapis lazuli, azurite, red jasper Animals: moths

AETHER: protogenos of light and the heavens

Colors: yellow, orange, white for sunlight. blue for the sky Offerings: sunflowers, bee pollen, morning dew, fruit, feathers Crystals: honey/blue calcite, yellow/bumblebee jasper, angelite, celestite, milky quartz

HEMERA: protogenos of the day

Colors: blue for the sky, white for the heavens Offerings: chamomile, sage, lavender, basil Crystals: angelite, blue calcite, selenite, celestite, milky quartz, sapphire

GAEA: protogenos of the earth

Colors: blue, green, brown for the earth Offerings: flowers, wood, dirt, anything from nature, really. doing good deeds for the environment Crystals: unakite, jaspers (various), agates (various), lava rock, tiger's eye, bumblebee jasper, jade, nephrite, serpentine, amber Animals: serpents, bull, pig, bees

OURANOS: protogenos of the sky

Colors: blue, white, grey for the sky Offerings: rosemary, sage, mint, leaving your windows/curtains open Crystals: angelite, celestite, selenite, blue calcite, moonstone, sunstone, star jasper, blue lace agate Animals: birds

OCEANUS: protogenos of the ocean

Colors: blue and white for the ocean Offerings: shells, gull feathers, fish scales/bones, sea water, pearls, sand from the ocean Crystals: larimar, aquamarine, turquoise, lapis lazuli, azurite Animals: gulls, pelicans, fish

TETHYS: protogenos of fresh water

Colors: blue and green for fresh water Offerings: lake/pond/river water, fish scales/bones, cattails, sand from a fresh water beach Crystals: larimar, aquamarine, fluorite, amazonite, petoskey stone Animals: fresh water fish, dragonflies

THEMIS: protogenos of divine law and order

Colors: white, silver, gold for law Offerings: thyme, rosemary, anything resembling scales Crystals: pyrite, bloodstone, smokey quartz, obsidian, alexandrite, lapis lazuli Animals: owls

TARTARUS: protogenos of the depths

Colors: red and black for the underworld Offerings: sulfur, saltpeter, black salt, charcoal, deadly nightshade Crystals: jaspers (various), obsidian, black tourmaline, bloodstone, garnet/ruby, pyrite (contains a lot of sulfur) Animals: bats, black dogs

KRONOS: titan of time, harvest, and abundance

Colors: yellow, gold for his scythe. white, grey for the concept of time. green, brown for fertility Offerings: grain, bread, clocks/watches, vervain, poppy, nightshade, clove, allspice Crystals: jaspers (various), agates (various), labradorite, quartz (various), amethyst, honey calcite, serpentine, amber Animals: snakes

RHEA: titaness of motherhood, fertility, and generations (like of family)

Colors: red, pink for motherhood. green, brown for fertility Offerings: menstrual blood, milk, red clover, raspberry, allspice, clove, cinnamon Crystals: rose quartz, rhodonite, rhodochrosite, amethyst, pink opal, jade, nephrite, tiger's eye, cat's eye, amber Animals: lion

PHOEBE: titaness of bright intellect and prophecy

Colors: blue, white, and grey for intellect. purple for prophecy Offerings: sage, bay leaves, lavender, tests/quizzes/homework, yarrow Crystals: lapis lazuli, amethyst, labradorite, howlite, celestite, moonstone, selenite, celestite

LETO: titaness of motherhood, modesty, and womanly demure, protector of children

Colors: pink, red for motherhood. white for modesty Offerings: raspberry, allspice, clove, cinnamon, lavender, flowers, Crystals: moonstone, sunstone, selenite, rose quartz, carnelian, lepidolite, howlite Animals: wolf, rooster

also, she is associated with veiling

ASTERIA: titaness of falling stars, night time divination, and astrology

Colors: blue, black for the night. white/galaxy pattern for stars. purple for magic Offerings: star charts, feathers (especially quail), lavender Crystals: celestite, selenite, star jasper, amethyst, azurite, obsidian, black tourmaline, labradorite, jade Animals: quail

HELIOS: titan of the sun

Colors: yellow, orange, white for the sun Offerings: anything that refracts sunlight, sunflower, st john's wort, sage, cow pelt, chicken feathers Crystals: sunstone, yellow jasper, honey calcite, carnelian, citrine, milky quartz, celestite, angelite, amber Animals: cattle, sheep, white horses, rooster

SELENE: titaness of the moon

Colors: white, grey for the moon Offerings: yarrow, moon shaped objects/food, lavender, night-blooming flowers (like morning glories), nighttime dew Crystals: selenite, celestite, angelite, moonstone, labradorite, smokey quartz, howlite Animals: horses, oxen, mules

EOS: titaness of dawn

Colors: blue for the sky. white, yellow, orange, pink for colors of dawn Offerings: morning dew, morning glories, lavender, yarrow, sage Crystals: rose quartz, citrine, honey calcite, yellow jasper, milky quartz, moonstone, sunstone, selenite, celestite Animals: horses, cicadas

MNEMOSYNE: titaness of memory

Colors: red, yellow for memory Offerings: forget-me-nots, myrtle, rosemary, jasmine, Crystals: jade, amber, turquoise, fluorite, red/yellow jasper Animals: animals with good memory, like an elephant or raven

PROMETHEUS: titan of forethought, creator of mankind

Colors: red, orange for the fire of creation Offerings: fennel, burning things, charcoal Crystals: bloodstone, carnelian, citrine, amber, jaspers (various) Animals: eagle

divider by @vibeswithrenai

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bones4thecats · 10 months ago

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Can I request Nikola, Qin Shi Huang, Buddha and Leonidas with a s/o that's like Nyx?

How Past! Them Met Their Nyx! S/O

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Nikola Tesla, Qin Shi Huang, Buddha, and Leonidas Name: How Past! Them Met Their Nyx! S/O Requester: Anonymous

A/N: I only have four of Nyx’s kids mentioned (Aether, Hemera, Thanatos, and Hypnos), so just roll with it. By the way, the reader here is considered (in thought) to be a female, but it is left ambiguous so that you male and other readers feel accepted.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

I am downright in love with this man

🧪 When you first met Nikola Tesla, you were just relaxing at night, taking a stroll underneath your sky as your long dark cloak faded into stars at the ends flowed in the air

🧪 You had just spoke to your old friend Hades during a meeting in the Underworld about your second-youngest son’s, Thanatos’, efforts of bringing souls down to the Underworld for Hades to handle

🧪 At the moment, you just wanted some peace, and knowing that your two youngest were busy with work, one being on guard for dying souls and the other watching over many different people in order to help them sleep

🧪 Though, hearing the sound of soft feathered wings moving, you looked up and noticed a bright white pigeon flying around while carrying moonflowers, chrysanthemums, lotuses, and sunflowers in its beak. These all reminded you of the cute flower crowns that the youngest Valkyrie sister, Göll, would make you and your children

🧪 You smiled gently as the bird landed on your outstretched hand and dropped a moonflower into your palm before flying off

🧪 The bird began to fly farther from your gaze as you heard the patter of small feet coming from behind you, making you turn around expecting to see a young child, and a young child you saw

🧪 He looked no older than 4 years in humans, and you noticed that he nearly had fallen older, making you lean down and catch him so he wouldn't crash and hurt himself, it reminded you of helping Aether walk all those centuries ago

" I am so sorry, ma'am/sir! " " It's alright, young man. If I may ask, why are you in such a rush? " " Oh, my pigeon flew that direction carrying some flowers I grabbed for my mother. It's so hard to catch up to, troublesome bird. "

🧪 You chuckled at his expression, he really was quite the interesting mortal, now wasn't he? You could see great potential in his soul, making you look back to where you once stood where the dropped flower laid on the ground

🧪 Picking it up, you opened the boy's palm, dropping the flower once again, not onto the ground, but into the soft hand of the young boy

" I may not be able to retrieve the rest of your flowers, but, here is one that the creature left. I also have something that may help you out! "

🧪 Reaching into your pocket lacing your cape, you summoned some flowers from one vase in your home that you shared in Valhalla with your sibling, Gaia

" Here are some flowers freshly picked from my sister's garden, they, by what she tells me, symbolize things such as motherly love and whatnot. I hope your mother enjoys them. " " Thank you so much! What's your name, if I may ask? " " I am... (Y/N). What is your name, young man? " " Nikola Tesla! " " Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Nikola Tesla. " " Nikola! Where are you, lil' brother? "

🧪 Looking up in shock as the boy turned around, you stiffened, being discovered by a mortal child was nothing, but a possible adult was something truly bad. A child could pass it off like nothing, an adult could not

" I'm over here, Dane! " " Oh thank God. Who were you talking too? " " The lady/man- where did they go...? "

🧪 Nikola looked around for the sight of the person who gifted him the glorious flowers, only for his older brother to pick him up and begin bringing him home in a rush

🧪 As the elder boy ran home with his brother in arms, the younger's mind wandered, where did that nice woman/man go? And will he ever see them again?

👑 Taking a nightly stroll was something the Emperor of China was familiar with, it was a time that he could have to himself, no guards right behind him and no duties clawing at his door for him to deal with

👑 Just himself and the night sky that he admired

👑 Meanwhile, a cloaked being was walking through the woods, passing through the trees with ease, as they had been on the same path multiple times throughout their limitless lifespan

👑 Due to being in an argument with the Head of the Gods, a headache was pounding through the head of the person as they rubbed their temples with their fingers

👑 As they traveled through the shady lands, they stumbled across a large temple, one they recognized as the very one the Emperor of China resided in

" What a sight, I never realized just how dazzling these building looked from such a high point. "

👑 The star-covered eyes of the mystery person burst with light as the sound of another's voice came from behind them, causing them to turn around, gripping a blade underneath their cloak

" Whoa there! There's no need for that. I apologize if I startled you, uhm, whoever you are. I just saw you walking alone and decided to go with you. " " It's- it's alright, I suppose. "

👑 A stern silence cracked between the two individuals, allowing the pitchy sound of a blade being laid back in a case to echo across their ear-shots

👑 Looking at the stars, Qin Shi Huang sighed deeply and back at the cloaked person who decided to stay alongside him, and he had to ask himself; did this person not know who he was? Could they be a traveler of some kind?

👑 A traveler of some kind you were...

👑 Qin looked down at your feet and noticed that your skin was dipping into a very pale looking shade as your cloak became very faded, as if it was turning into dust

" So... to make this far less awkward and save us a few moments of boring silence, may I ask what your name is, possible traveler? " " It is Y/N, and yours? " " Emperor Qin Shi Huang, but you may call me Qin Shi if you wish. " " Alright then, Qin Shi. "

👑 Qin Shi Huang sat down on the grassy plain, his masked face still looking up at the star-littered sky with such happiness obvious, despite his eyes being hidden

👑 You smiled gently and sat beside him, crossing your legs as you manipulated a star to sway across the sky in what humans seemingly began to call a 'shooting star'

" Ah, it seems that a shooting star has crossed the sky. What shall I wish for? I know! "

👑 Looking at the Emperor, you were shocked at how normal he seemed. Normally the high-ranking humans that you came across were tyrannical and fairly crude in their words and actions

" There! What did you wish for, Y/N-san? "

👑 When Qin looking back over at you, he was shocked to see that instead of you sitting there, a moonflower stood bravely, its petals pristine without any scuffs, as if it bloomed just second before

👑 Where in China had you gone?

🍭 Ever since Buddha first became a God, many weren't fond of him, though most of the Deities littered across Valhalla have only heard about the God of Buddhism through word of mouth from the few Gods that had met him so far

🍭 You, the Deity of the Night in the Greek Pantheon, had only hear about the man through your children's words, mainly Aether and Hemera, who were by-far your most patient children

🍭 And even during present time, you loved to stare at the stars and remember the first time you met your soon-to-be husband

🍭 It was a lovely night in one of the many fields in Valhalla, and normally you would watch over your domain of the starry sky as Humanity was being dealt with by your youngest boys, Thanatos and Hypnos

🍭 You had dressed yourself in your long star-covered cloak, hiding yourself from any prying eyes, since many feared you just by hearing your name. Even the strongest of all Gods, Zeus, feared the mention of your name

🍭 Holding yourself high while hidden, you walked through the grassy plain, brushing past tree by tree as the wind pulled the cloth covering you back lightly

🍭 To describe it in a few words; you were in Paradise

🍭 As you walked carefully around many plant-life and sleeping creatures, Buddha was laying in his hammock, starring at the same sky you controlled, admiring the stars as they flickered delicately in the vast land known as space

🍭 Sucking on a lollipop from his stash hidden away, Buddha sighed and stretched his back, allowing it to pop as he caught onto the sound of grass being pushed down and let back up in the form of footsteps

🍭 Grabbing his Six Realms Staff, the God held it up for whoever was around to see as he let out an annoyed groan. After all, having your peaceful silence interrupted would be annoying

" Alright, whoever ya' are, come on out. I don't wanna waste anymore time than necessary. " " I apologize, Lord Buddha. I was just taking a walk around to admire the stars and must have awoken you. "

🍭 Cocking an eyebrow at the light-and-honey-coated voice, Buddha looked up and noticed your form walk up from behind the one tree holding up the front of his hammock and once he saw your face, his eyes widened

" Holy shit! You're Y/N, the Deity of the Night! I never thought I'd be seeing you walk around in Paradise so late at night. "

🍭 Chuckling lightly, you nodded as you pulled down your hood, allowing your hair that faded into the dust of space to run out freely, making Buddha laugh at your smile

" I knew you were powerful and all from the stories told, but they never said how dazzling you looked~ "

🍭 Rolling your eyes at his attempt of flustering you, you just looked up at the sky as Buddha stood up and planted himself right beside you to look at the stars and moon with you

🍭 It was nice sharing such a moment with a lovely person like you, maybe you guys could do it again some other time?

🚬 As one of the classic Greek Gods, you were held at a fairly high standard once your myth became the talk of the land

🚬 But, ever since Zeus and the rest of the Olympians came along and destroyed your whole time with your siblings and rest of your allies, you became more of a side-god when it came to standards of worshiping

🚬 Leonidas wasn't fond of the Gods ever since his demise, blaming the demise of him and his 300 (though really 299) soldiers on the Greek God Apollo, whom your oldest children, Aether and Hemera, served alongside

🚬 You, on the other hand, had no-one to place a blame onto, though you weren't fond when someone were to try offending Apollo, as you had treated the male like a son since he was a young God making his way in the Pantheon

🚬 Holding his title far from the grasp of the Gods, Leonidas despised being told what to do, so, when your second youngest, Thanatos, began to hold himself to a standard against Leonidas, you were called in by Hypnos to help out

🚬 Watching as parts of the sky began to fall down and form a humanoid shape was something far new to Leonidas, and because of that he stepped back and readied his weapon to protect himself in case something happened

" There is no need for that King Leonidas I, I am merely here to retrieve my pain in the ass son. " " Pain in the ass? But Mom/Dad, he- " " Enough! I will listen to your side of the story when you take a break in the next few millennia, Thanatos. "

🚬 The King of Sparta watched as you grabbed Thanatos' ear and tugged on it like a parent would when scolding a child for doing something badly, like hitting a kid for example

🚬 Watching a Deity of your stature just treat your son like a human parent would made Leonidas' guard come down slightly, sensing you weren't going to attack him out of nowhere, you had a sense of understanding radiating off you

" Hypnos, please bring your brother back home and also let Aether and Hemera know that he is grounded for the next few months. No using his scythe during that time, only his old training stick. " " What?! "

🚬 Sighing as Hypnos dragged his brother through a portal he summoned, you turned to look back at the human and you smiled nervously, holding your hands out in defense

" I apologize for my son's actions, he sometimes gets in his own head and begins to believe himself to be more powerful than he really is. I think he's spending to much time with the Olympian Brothers... " " It's... alright, I suppose. "

🚬 Smiling gently, you held your hand out for the mortal to shake, making his raise his eyebrows slightly, he was surprised that a Deity of your ranking would actually try touching a human

🚬 Allowing his weapon to lean back up against the building's wall, Leonidas shook your hand, making you mentally sigh, thanking your creators for allowing him to forgive you and shake your hand as a sign of that forgiveness, since every other human just tried disrespecting you for your parenting skills

🚬 Letting go of his hand, you pulled your cloak's hood down and allowed your markings of stars and the moon to shimmer out against the sunlight, making Leonidas mentally swoon; you were quite the looker, how could Zeus fear you and not admire you?

" I hope I see you once again, King Leonidas I of Sparta. " " Just call me Leonidas. And I agree, I hope we meet once again. "

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audreyscribes · 5 months ago

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Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🌌 NYX: PERSONIFICATION OF NIGHT 🌌

Author’s note: *put head into hands* Alright, so I may or may not have went off from the usual formula (Do I even have a formula for writing these at this point?) and I think I may have made the primordial demigods here more cryptid cause they’re the literal by-product of primordial beings that are also half-mortal? I won’t be including the usual blurbs at the ending cause all of them are probably pushing the word limit Tumblr has but worry not, I made up for it by putting more storylines into the whole thing. PRIMORDIAL DEMIGODS MASTERLIST: [LINK]

You were born as a denizen of the night; a literal night-owl. You were born out of curiosity for why the gods, or more specifically why her children, especially Hypnos, being the God of Sleep, still produce demigod children. Although you were born out of curiosity, Nyx does have some affection for you but only because you are a part of herself, and it's clear she upholds her immortal children more affectionately. Yet you stared up at your mother with sparking star eyes. She is afterall, the maternal being and mother of Shadows.

Despite Nyx’s clear treatment, you listen to your godly mother’s words like she hung the stars herself and do what you can to make her proud of you. So when Nyx told you to go a mission for her to join forces with the child of Gaea and the child of Tartarus in their cause, you immediately jumped up and told Nyx you would do it.

You caught the look that the child of Erebus was giving you, one of concern but you didn’t think much of it; they were just probably overprotective, as they’ve been when you two were first introduced, and didn’t think you could handle the outside world. The child of Erebus was also told to join and they simply nodded and bowed to Erebus and Nyx, before helping you prepare.

When you joined the child of Gaea and Tartarus, you introduced yourself to them first and eagerly followed them, in awe that there were more children of primordials and that they were the children of Gaea and Tartarus! You had heard of the child of Tartarus before, catching glimpses of them from afar, before they were picked up by Gaea.

The child of Tartarus recognized you and welcomed you, introducing you personally to the child of Gaea who smiled like a flower but as you held their hands with them, you could feel the power trembling within them.

You followed them on their cause to search for other primordial children, but as you did, you were excited in the child of Hemera who was basically your parallel. However, you were all interrupted by the child of Chaos and Eros then you started to feel unsure about your cause; you were all children of Primordials, shouldn’t you all have the same cause?

Being the daughter of Night itself, you can imagine what kind of powers you have: darkness, shadows, the night itself is at your beckon. When it is night, your power rises exponentially and you can hide yourself and others under the guise of night. You can shadow travel as well while also manipulate the shadows as well. You can also induce nightmares onto others and peer into their minds and souls when required, learning about their weakness which you can bring forth with bits of magic and the power of shadows and darkness. You can also technically make the night seem longer but you have no control over the moon or the stars. Be careful how much you use your powers though. While you are more powerful in the night, your power is limited in the day. You can’t push yourself too much in the day as your powers will be drained and you will need to rest during the night.

A key feature about you is that your shadows are also dark like the child of Erebus, and your eyes seem darker than others; however yours do have some light in them, in fact they seem to sparkle like stars. When it's night, your form changes to match it, and sometimes if you’re not too careful, your form will dissolve and blend with the night. Which is useful in terms of espionage, you have a time limit to literally pull yourself together before dawn peeks over the horizon and you float in the night cycle otherwise.

#pjo #pjo imagine #demigod h/cs #demigod headcanons #pjo imagines #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #demigod imagines #pjo reader insert #pjo fanfic #pjo headcanons #primordial gods #primordials #nyx #tartarus #gaea #erebus #child of nyx #nyx demigod

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dingodad · 3 months ago

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you're like the sisyphus of eridan discourse, no matter how much you push that rock up it'll always gonna roll back down.

anyway how does hemera and bronzeblood guy's relationship work? how did they meet?

being nyx' pilot means hemera basically meets people in person when they're on the ship and that's it. so she knows iaoweh mostly through nix, who has a complex sort of hag-fag/empress-eunuch type frenemy relationship with him and invites him on board to play strategy games every so often. except iaoweh is only gay in redrom so he can totally spades around with nyx' moirail in the background while still playing the eunuch. troll relationships sure are complicated!

i think hemmy and iao's relationship is largely physical, and based off a truly heated dislike for each other. being linked up to the psychic internet almost all of the time, hemera isn't exactly starved for intellectual stimulation, so it's mainly that physical release that she's after - only fanned by long stretches spent with solely nix for company. meanwhile iaoweh doesn't have a lot of respect for hemera's intelligence, or like, the intelligence of most women, broadly speaking - but hemera gets it the hardest with her ditzy blonde routine - so there's not exactly a lot of stimulating conversation going on between them. but that suits both of them just fine. maybe they talk shit about nix a little bit when they get the time, but like in her other relationships hemera is mostly happy to play the character that gets her what she wants out of the kismesissitude.

#fantrolls #hemera otlicu #iaoweh bahuth

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spiderrcakezzz · 5 months ago

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I present: My Sparklecare self-insert Nea! <3 🧁♡

(Me rambling abt pup utc <33)

Okay firstly: Nea is alright to kin as of now, but please respect my wishes if I choose to change this later on! ♡ I can't make any promises that I'll still feel like this in the future :P

————

🧁 • Nea's likes: stuffed animals, Twyla (their girlfriend), drawing, making OCs, Tiniest Ferry Shop, cute things, receiving attention & praise, physical affection, making others happy, kandi, video games, laughing off negative/hard emotions.

Dislikes: feeling second best/inferior to others, loud noises, being yelled at, seeing those they care about getting hurt, taking care of themself (Nea sometimes considers it a waste of time), stumbling over their words & feeling like they're talking too much, being unable to help.

🌈 • Nea is ⅓ cat, ⅓ cake anthry, and ⅓ dog! :3 (hence why they have 1 dog ear & 1 cat ear, and only half of their body has cat/cake or dog features).

They worked as a nurse at Sparklecare for ~1 year before being demoted to a patient, due to Nea unfortunately getting diagnosed w/ glows-a-lot. Nea wanted to help others when they first applied for the job, and they already had an interest in things like medicine, so becoming a nurse at The Best hospital in CountryTownCountry seemed like a good idea to them.

🐕 • Personality traits (ones not listed in the card) :

Apathetic: due to Nea primarily using apathy as one of their defense mechanisms, they can sometimes not care about what happens around them, including about the people around them.

Nea is sometimes distant or partially emotionally disconnected from others, and unsympathetic to others problems (<- That doesn't mean Nea won't try to help, though. They're still empathetic). This occasional lack of concern for basically everything can also cause them to act self-destructive in one way or another. They'll always feel bad/guilty about it afterwards, though.

Simple-minded: Nea can be naive at times and not really immediately understand things (atleast not as deeply) that others do, causing them to not help but feel sorta out of place. They think pretty literally most of the time, and though this trait has been kinda helpful in solving some of Nea's problems over the years, it can also make Nea seem childish/silly in a way.

🍨• They're on good terms w/ most patients in the hospital! <3 Some patients they're on the best terms w/ is their girlfriend Twyla Light (my partners self-insert :3), Mel N. Colly, Uni, Hemera (for the most part), Jay, Carrie, and Raye N. Bowe (one of my friends self-insert)! ♡♡ (Oh and Nea is also in a qpr w/ nurse Doom atm, but Shh you didn't hear it from me)

The least best terms is Barry. That's It . Nea respects him for his intelligence and such, but Nea would be lying if they said they didn't find Barry kinda annoying. (Pup does sorta(???) like him bcuz Uni likes him, and Nea trusts Uni, but Nea doesn't entirely like Barry on pups own accord :P)

#sparklecare #sparklecare hospital #my art #eyestrain #digital art #Nea Pollie Tann #sparklecare oc #self insert #‼️#★ my art

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happyk44 · 1 year ago

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My take has always been Nyx births them in Tartarus but sends them away to the upper world when they're old enough because she has seen the world below from the night sky and thinks it is beautiful and lovable, compared to the dark monstrous and screaming expanse of Tartarus, a chamber, a prison, a place of torture. She loves her children as much as the night sky, a boundless entity can. She would like them to experience the world the way she sees the mortals do, how other gods and spirits do. Running across cool grass as the sun dips and day fades into midnight blue and wine-dark purple. Laughing around a warm fire. Comfortable and safe from the monsters that lurk.

The eldest two are as boundless as she is, as boundless as their father. They take to mortal form more frequently than their parents but were not truly born of it. She remembers the strange sensation of creating a sunrise. Heat and daybreak rising over the murky ocean. The world was dark in the beginning. Then the sun came, Helios and his silly chariot, and so followed the bright of day to truly illuminate the world. The twins had been born hand in hand so entwined in one another she had not realized right away there were two of them. Even in their choice of differentiation, they were so similar - day and the bright upper sky. Hemera and Aether. Glowing light blue air and soft clouds with the sun shimmering nearby.

Then long after Charon came - the oldest of her personified children. Born with skin and bones and a quiet sullen demeanour. Like Hades who lives above. But Hades is reclusive and seems picky about who joins him. He is followed only by the dead. He is far too busy, nonetheless, to handle a child by his side - establishing his kingdom and building his home from the scraps left behind.

Yes, the Underworld is beautiful, cooler than Tartarus, more comforting to those with flesh, but less so than the upper world. That was created for those who breathe with lungs and have beating hearts, so when Charon is spry enough that he walks and runs and snaps at monsters that encroach upon his space, she guides him up and out into the wake of the night.

Shadows lick at his feet. His ever present father will keep watch when the sunrises and Nyx must set. Erebus agrees with her. Charon seems brighter, better up on top than far down below where only the most reviled of persons are chained and burned. The only screams he hears are from the birds chattering. He was born of night and darkness, so he says good night to his sister and his brother, and greets his mother with a cool good morning. He hunts sleeping animals with his father to guide his way. He prefers to fish from the nearby river, sit in the shallow, slower end of the rushing stream. He speaks aloud, knowing his family listens. He expects little response in return.

After him, Moros arrives. Dark and brooding. Where Charon is sullen and withdrawn, Moros is brash and engaging. He dips away from his older brother to bother nearby towns. He tips the scales, adjusts the poles. The way of the world swells and shifts around him. Knives miss the meat to be butchered and sever fingers. Bows slip free of knots and spill collected materials to the ground. The sickly sob. Children recoil in fear.

He is unbothered. He enjoys their detachment, their worries. As he grows, Charon finds him work with the elderly. It's important, he says, that you understand mortals. It is cruel to befit fear upon them all because you have no empathy. Nyx listens closely, Erebus at her side as their son speaks quiet. His monotone voice echoes across the open air. I have no empathy, but I have lived long enough to know that mortals desire compassion. And I have lived long enough to know that being feared becomes tiring in the end.

Moros adjusts. Still he brings doom, but the old are unworried. They know what is to come. The finality of breath. The stop of their hearts. The ceasing of their brains. They know that they will close their eyes and reawaken with Hades' hand outstretched for theirs. Without terror, they tell him stories of their lives. They spill their secrets as he cleans their laundry and cuts their food. He holds their arms as they take feeble steps around the home they wish to die in.

Sometimes he knows they will not and through him they know they will not, but he promises to carry them back and lay them to rest in the ground they own, the earth they cultivated. He is not capable of empathy. He barely understands sympathy. But compassion is there, in faintest amounts, and it is enough.

Thanatos and Hypnos bear witness to the night skies in the months that follow. It is almost amusing the difference between her boundless children and their fleshed out siblings. Daylight and bright skies versus the boy child who digs graves and the boy who bears doom, the boy who finds the dead as easily as he breathes and the boy who sleeps like a cat. the girl who watches battles with hunger and feasts upon the death the daughter who knows only misery and the boy who can only assign blame. She loves them all the same. She sees how mortals exile those who do not fit, who are dark but not cruel, and does not understand. Perhaps it is because she was not born into the world with a beating heart.

Only glittering stars and a spot for the bright moon.

It is quiet with the twins. Instead of bothering mortals, Hypnos spends most of his time attached to his twin's back, dozing off onto strong shoulders. Thanatos carries him like it is his job. Lifts him off from the ground without a word. He follows Charon into the woods each day. The dead come easy to him. More frequently that he had before, Charon carries bodies home to their new graves.

I can feel them, Thanatos says. When they're gone.

Do you hurt? Charon asks. Mangled bodies are not unfamiliar to them. Torn animals picked apart and rotting are commonplace. The state of their corpses indicate pain though. Charon worries.

But Thanatos simply lowers his sleeping brother to the soft grass below and says, No. It's strange. I don't notice them until they're gone. It’s like a call in my head. They could be near me and I would not notice until their end. He turns to his older brother digging another grave. Their souls. Their ghost. Do you see them?

Sometimes, Charon says. But not usually.

Thanatos is comforted by that. Sometimes is better than never. Hypnos never sees ghosts. But he sees other things in the moments he's awake. When they enter mortal towns, he'll gaze with half-lidded eyes upon the mortals that pass by and murmur into Thanatos' ear about their secrets. Their fears. Their days.

Their dreams.

Within the wisps of sleep, Hypnos descends. He coaxes the tired to rest, coaxes babies to calm, settle the elderly and sick down for their final night. Sometimes Oizys reaches out and so he settles inside the soft world of a mortal mind, slipping through their cloud-like subconscious and drawing out what they hold back.

Processing fears is important to living life, he realizes. In waking moments, he speaks with his brother about nightmares. In sleeping dreams, he slips them along. Most dreams are simple days. He likes to watch from the side, a hidden audience. Even the most mundane is entertaining.

Then Ker comes along soon after. She is sharp-toothed and mean. Violent death and bitter disease. There is nothing mundane with her. Only seeking the vicious and cruel. She feasts on the flesh of the dead, hovering near Thanatos as he counts down the seconds to the last beat of a heart.

But she does not join them at meals. Her bloodied mouth is hidden away. The bits of skin dug under her nails are scrubbed after every meal. She knows her nature is unlike the others. That she is worse. She crowds around battles with a hunger for the flesh that will be slain. She brings plague with a single touch.

Maybe she would feel better if she was not looking at her counterpart in all things dying. Thanatos is calm and unbothered. He does not itch for blood. He does not split at the seams and feast on the dead. He is calm and collected, almost a mimicry of Charon's sturdiness. She is only a girl hungering for anguish and devastation. She cannot end a life with her own hands. But she can encourage it, and so thoroughly she does.

Charon settles beside her. Water spills over their feet. Why do you split?

Feels better, she says. There is so much inside me. I need to be more to let it out. Her reflection in the river flickers in twain. Mortals think that there are more of her than there are. The Keres, they call her. But she is just Ker. She separates into many, sloughing off her other selves like old skin, and encircles the bloodied crowd. Is it bad?

No, Charon says. Just new.

I like myself, she says. But others don't. It's annoying. She grimaces. I wish I could be better.

You are what you are. With his nail, he scrapes away a fried bloodied mark across her cheek. Do not be disappointed that others cannot handle you. The ones who can are the ones who matter. We all like you. Why do you think we don’t?

Their bodies do not sever in two, in fourths, in tens, in thousands. They do not drag corpses back home to devour because the food on the table is barely edible to them. They do not force disease on those trying to recover from painful wounds, encouraging them to fail, to suffer, to die. Mortals do not recoil with a terrified immediacy they do not understand when her siblings walk by. Even Moros has more to him than the doom he spreads.

She does not.

Maybe I don’t like myself, she considers. It’s hard being this way. There is no one else.

Charon’s arm is comfortable around her shoulders. Affection always feels so fleeting. Though she recognizes that she pulls away. It feels foreign to her as it is given. Out of step with who she is. But she does not pull away. Instead she leans into him and feels the water rush around her feet. It is cool and forgiving. She is hot and merciless.

It’s true. We will not understand you or the viciousness in your heart, Charon tells her. But we are not unsettled by you. You are why battles end. Without pain, without struggle, there would be no need to speak for peace. If all deaths were as calm as falling asleep, then people would keep fighting. But blood spilled, mortals hacked apart, watching your friends suffer beside you, delivering the dead in pieces back to their homes - that is what forces peace.

She tilts her head up and considers his words. I didn’t think of that.

Nobody does, he says. But it is true. Without death, fighting would never end. And without violence, peace would never be wrung. Whether by compromise or submission. He splashes her ankles with water. Eat with us, Ker. We miss you at the table.

The twins and Ker grow and venture far and wide. They sit beside battles and watch quietly. They walk through towns and villages. Hypnos murmurs sleepy words about dreams of freedom in the beaten and belittled. Ker manufactures suffering and bloody ends, horrible spouses and egregious people falling down stairs. Thanatos brings calm to the old and sick.

Charon disappears in the days they are gone. Months go by in search. Eventually, they find him, guided by their mother and father. He is beneath the earth, beneath their feet. They fly over raging waters and approach the god who has employed him.

He is working, Hades says. So, no, he cannot go free right now. But you are welcome to stay.

Oizys and Momus are born next. Erebus coddles them more than she does. But he is in every nook and cranny. He sees distress trapped in locked closets, follows bare feet as they run from screams and swords. The two fight with bitter words. When they come of age, Charon returns to the upper world. The family home welcomes him with a familiar coolness and wisping darkness.

He is a sharp-tongued mediator for the fighting twins and forces them apart with calloused hands and snarling eyes. They always silence themselves when he snaps. They become accommodating to their brother who drags fallen bodies out from the trees and buries them in plots around the home. When he appears, Momus holds back his bitter blaming screams and Oizys keeps tight her welling eyes and breaking heart.

It is under him that they learn to shift. It is not perfect. Momus is reviled by god and mortals alike for his sharp-tongue. He complains about poorly chosen words, critiques every appearance, laughs at sloppy form. It is helpful to some - those who wish to change. Who are unbothered by his mocking tone. But people are more emotional than he cares for. There are several lives lost to his cruel words. Like the two before him, he has no capacity for empathy. He is unable to learn sympathy and compassion is out of reach.

Who cares, is his most common phrase, spoken every time his sister asks him to become softer, gentler.

Oizys is still pain, she is still distress. Her heart still breaks easy and she cries more often than most. But she becomes kinder to herself for her limited emotional range. It is not her fault that this is how she must be. It is not her fault that this is what she has been chosen to represent in the world. Her tears do not make her weak.

Pain is necessary, she says as she wraps the broken bone of a sobbing child. It teaches us not to jump from trees, and where to draw the line with others.

She finds broken men with battles still screaming in their minds. Their bodies are automated. Every movement is meant to survive, to carry on, but their minds hold memories that keep them from being alive. She finds broken women, broken mothers, broken children. She finds those who hold back the tears and smile as though nothing is wrong. Those who need to let go and breathe. Those who need to cry. Who need to admit to the pain they are in, the anguish they have witnessed, the distress coming from the things they have experienced.

When the emotions release, when the pain flows, she crafts suggestions from the wisp of shadows. Run. Confront. Kill. Talk. Change.

Live.

I believe we are trapped in our natures, Charon had said in the bright of day as he dug a deep hole and she held a shattered girl's hand.

Her body was bloodied, slowly creeping towards utter cold. Her eyes had been glassy, unfocused. The world slowly slid from her view. Oizys held her hand to take the pain because certain things should never have been experienced. Not in anyone, but especially not in children this young.

But that doesn't mean we cannot change what our nature means, her wise older brother had said. I take the dead. I don't know why. I just always have. But I chose to do different than just steal them away from their homes. There are dead out there that will never be claimed. I will claim them. I do not need to claim that which dies at home or in a lover's arms. I will claim the left behind, the slaughtered hunter, the forgotten traveler, and I will give them a grave to rest.

Momus had scowled back rude words but Oizys held tighter the young girl's hand and listened hard.

You both can be better. You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to be nice. Moros certainly is not. Ker as well. But you can be and do more than you think of yourselves right now. He laid his shovel to rest on the ground and reached for the slackened girl. There was no life left in her. It had bled all over Oizys lap. There is more to the world than your base instincts, little ones. Yelling that others are at fault and crying from the distress of being screamed at isn't all you have to do. Look inwards. Think. He laid the girl to rest in the grave he dug. I believe in you.

Charon speaks these words to all his siblings. When Nemesis arrives in a flurry of wild black hair, she tracks across the plains of Tartarus, even in her pudgy youth, and declares pain of those she discovers in chains. She leaves the wasteland far later than any of her other siblings, both older and younger. She is endlessly embittered by the faults of mortals. Reluctance to leave their home cloaks her.

Find your order, Charon says. He has lived long, seen and met many. Dike could help. She loves justice, as much as you crave punishment.

Dike is a beauty on earth. Like her father, the crowned king of sky, she embodies order and justice. Humanity is as far as her range extends. But Nemesis can work with that. Social norms become her focus. Convention and custom are her loves. Remaining steady in tradition is gripped tight in her hand. She offers suggestions with a ruthlessness that Dike sighs through each time. Some are accepted easily. Many mortals need to be struck down by their own hubris. But others are argued about between the two.

Humanity and what it entails holds closer to Dike's heart than Nemesis'. She is capable of seeing what her father, her mother, and what Nemesis cannot. A mortal who kills to be free from pain defies convention, but does not deserve the ruthless retribution Nemesis would befit upon a mortal who kills for enjoyment.

Nemesis is always befuddled by her love's explanations. The logic is sound, she understands the point. But it never quite clicks the way it should. But she remembers Charon holding her hands and telling her that she is bound to what the world had decreed upon her, as are the others.

Hemera and Aether do not understand why their siblings prefer the dark. Moros cannot perceive how it is cruel to tell people of the vicious way they will one day die, nor does he understand why it is not appropriate to bury them in so much doom they drown themselves to escape. Ker does not comprehend that others do not feel overwhelming rage. How calm for mortals in the rest of death and sleep is unwanted by their siblings befuddles Thanatos and Hypnos. Why people repress their pain is something Oizys will never comprehend. And Momus will never understand why Olympus banished him from their golden floors for his various criticisms.

None of them ever understood why Charon chose to bury strangers either. They followed when he ventured out and helped him carry back bodies he found. Animals too rotten to eat, people no one came for. They watched as he dug holes. As he wrapped them in clean cloth and buried them. They did not understand why. But they understood that he had to, and so he did.

You punish because you must. People fear punishment because they fear our sister. If she can continue on despite the pain that being feared brings her, I know that you can. They will never understand why you choose the retribution you choose. And you will never understand why they beg for something smaller. But you do not have to. You just assess their point of view. He laughed quietly and squeezed her hands. Or ask Dike to explain it to you.

In the years that follow Nemesis's final departure from the family home, Apate and Dolos spring out from the shadows with mischievous grins. They spread lies and tall tales in their youth. They find villages and scam, decrying potions and balms in replace of medicine. Death abounds. So Charon settles them into the dirt and tells them they can do more than harm.

There is no demand to stop being cruel. After all, Nemesis still jumps to ruthless violence in her ideas for retribution. Momus does not know how to be kind with his words. By nature, Oizys is cruel to mortals. Moros still approaches strangers with a bitter grin and watches them cry in grief and terror from their ensuing fates. But cruel is not all they must be.

The twins sidle alongside Ares, who knows Charon well. Apate guides spies into enemy lines. Acting becomes a passion of hers. After all, what are elaborate performances if not deceit of the audience? Dolos sits on friendly territory and pushes whispered suggestions from the shadows. Make it seem like you are retreating, he sighs into a general's ears. Draw them out into the open with a subtle trap. Surround them. Destroy them.

It is more enjoyable to them than scamming the masses, than telling them silly lies with elaborate words that make them believe in things that don't exist. There is a sense of accomplishment when their side wins the battle, wins the war. There is a sense of pride when Ares pats their heads with his heavy warm hand. They do not follow him everywhere. They want more than war. So they dabble in politics, in petty family squabbles. They still sell scams and spread rumors. But often they draw back to Ares' side with mischievous grins and help his chosen heroes win wars.

Geras is born with wrinkles and frail bones. His skin sags off the muscles that never truly grow. Youth annoys him. Hebe is his sworn enemy long before they ever meet. But Charon holds him as he breathes hard and reminds him of the genius in age.

I was stupid when I was young. I'm older now. Wiser. More mature. He holds his little brother's wizened frame gently. Listen to the stories of the people. Sit with your brother when he visits his dying friends. There is no permanence or perfection in being young. You are a reminder of change, of inevitability, of maturity. I would not be able to tell you this without having lived and grown through so much before me.

Immortals don't age, Geras huffs bitterly. His voice is cracked and gruff, like an older blacksmith who has breathed in too much acrid smoke.

Everyone ages. We simply are not bound by it. Shapeless. Formless. If we want to look young, we can do so. If we want to look strong, we can do so. It is a blessing. He strokes Geras's thin hair. And much like curses, blessings can be taken away.

Geras sighs and sinks into his brother's stable hold. I don't know how to make myself look different.

Then don't, Charon says. You know how, little brother. We all do. But you do not want to look young. It is not who you are.

Then who am I? What am I? Geras cries. I want to be a child, not an ugly old man. I do nothing for the mortals like the others. I don't bring the day, I don't let them know that the end is near and they should prepare. I do not allow them to feel their hurt. I do not enact punishment and I do not win wars. I am just old and tired.

As I said, you are change. People become different over time. They learn and change, they age and grow. And you are inevitable, even to the gods. You are the reason Moros has friends. You are the reason Oizys creates mourning. You are stories told to grandchildren, you are the head of the household, you are the matriarch, you are history. You are a reminder of the end, and you are a goal for the sickly, for the soldiers in battle, for couples so deeply in love. Charon presses his lips dryly to his brother's wrinkled temple. And you are my brother. You have purpose in that alone.

Eris is hardened to the world when she leaves Tartarus. As always, Charon takes leave of the Underworld and guides her hand-in-hand through darkness and grass to the family home. She is a bitter thing. She finds fault in all things. Constant conflict is demanded of her. When he does not fall to her huffing ways, she grows louder and rougher. But Charon has been steady and stable since birth. Her need to sow problems over nothing does not rile him.

Calm down, he says when she slaps food off the table for being too cold, or shouts that he mended her clothes incorrectly. She cannot calm. It is beyond her. Still he holds her shaking hands and guides her down to a seat on the floor. Relax your breathing. Search for what settles you and utilize that.

Like many of the others, Charon brings her to Ares’ side. War does not settle her, not fully. Still, she finds solace in Ares and in Enyo, her preferred companion. Enyo enjoys the bitter sensation of discord, the craft of competition that awakens in Eris’ presence. Eris is no stranger to being cared for despite how she is, but it is odd to see it reflected in the face of someone who is not her family.

They bicker and argue over anything. Eris is always the instigator, but Enyo happily throws the first blow. Hands beat against faces. Blood bleeds into spit on the ground. Bruises bloom against skin. When the fight is done, they grin and breathe and move along. They are often joined by Ker, bringing horror to the soldiers who spot her flying above right before the final blow.

She spreads trouble outside of battle. Apate and Dolos pull her into their lies and trickery. Arguments follow her subtle instigating words. The twins pull strings behind yelling backs. Momus brings blame and she pushes hostility. The ensuing breakdowns are always so fun to watch. Harmony and peace, a sense of calm, does not befit her. But in carefully placed antagonism she finds a settlement, what Charon spoke of with gentle words, and it is enough.

The last to find life on the outside is young Philotes. Her siblings think she is strange. Even from birth, she is unlike any of them. In Tartarus, she befriends monsters, even the cruelest of punished souls. She hugs with abandon, and smiles wider than any of them thought was possible for their faces. She is not sharp-toothed, and she is not mean. She is not relaxed with sturdy sullenness. She is bright and joyful.

Charon does not bury forgotten bodies around her, nor does he hunt creatures as they sleep. Death upsets her. Violence is rejected. Ker and Thanatos find no fault in her eschew of their nature. She does not fault them for being as they are. It is harder with Eris, but only on her side. Trouble and conflict slides off Philotes’ shoulders like rain. It does not make her angry, or have her spit bitter words. Eris finds that vastly annoying. But despite their stark differences, Philotes loves her family without question.

Darkness does not suit her, though she walks through shadows as is her birthright, and does not shy away from the depths below as her companions in the clouds of Olympus do. Making friends is easy for her. She finds her way to the mountaintop from smile to smile, and hug to hug. The Graces adore her joyful nature. Pasithea finds amusement in their traded places - her born of Olympus to descend to the depths, and Philotes born of Tartarus to ascend to the golden skies. She does not join their numbers, but attends to their needs. It is a contented life filled with love, with friends, with good sex.

Charon waits for the call of his mother to let him know that another has joined their ranks but it does not come. He does miss, sometimes, the family home when it was filled with the life of another. He will settle there in his free time. The beds are clean, the pantry clear, cobwebs nonexistent. The passage of time does not encroach upon the home he built for his siblings. It does not rot the stone, nor the cloth. The house remains steady, stable, as he is.

Sometimes he walks down to the river. He will sit in the slow and shallow end under the night sky, feeling shadows wisp at his arms. There is no preference between his old and new homes. The Underworld suits him. Macaria who took him down to the depths and gave him his boat is there, his best friend. Styx rushes by as he floats. They speak casually amongst each other. The world is forever dark in the Underworld. It is cool. It is calm.

While only a few of his siblings live with him among the poplar trees and obsidian stone, the others do visit with annoyed huffs from Hades but nothing else in complaint. They join their mother and father in the heated wasteland of Tartarus. They visit the family home. They did not live there all at once, and they never will. He raised them to be independent, decisive. To be better and do more than they thought they could. Their home was a place to grow, and they have. It is no longer necessary for them. For him.

But it is always nice to walk through familiar doors and find his siblings talking amongst themselves. Lounging on cushions they used to sit on when they were much smaller, much younger. Eating at the table, sneaking bites of each other’s food. Playing the games still left behind on shelves and tables.

He never worried about what it meant to be the oldest made of flesh and bone. When he had followed Macaria down below, he did not mean to leave the three behind. They had ventured out, as Moros did. When days pattered by with no return, he thought they had found their own place in the world. Seeing them standing strong and hard-headed in front of Hades and demanding his return was more than amusing. Warmth cut through his heart.

Ferrying souls is his purpose. Watching the entrance when the Underworld is open is his purpose. It is what he has done from the beginning, carrying corpses home and laying them to rest, finding internal settlement in river water rushing beneath him. He is the ferryman and the gatekeeper. Carrying souls across the rushing river. Keeping eye on the doorway and forcing out those who try to push in without reason.

But as he always said, there is more to them than the base instinct of their nature. Like holding hands with little siblings as he walks them to their home, and guarding them from mortals and monsters and gods who do not understand what beauty exists in the dark.

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