#The concept of poseidon feeling pain for the first time and being like

[sallufix]

POST 600-STRIKE

Okay. So. In my pursuit of making the sapphirebell comic. I have become very normal about Epic the Musical. AS YOU CAN SEE IN MY SHERBET HERMES COSTUME PFP. I said well fuck it and now I'm trapped here for god knows how long. Crk art will continue though 💖

[the-newlymadeweeb]

Sacrifice [part 2]

Pairing: Luke castellan x female!reader

Description: a prequel to Sacrifice pt. 1, you held up the sky for long and Luke could see the toll it was taking so he goes ahead luring Annabeth to take your place, after all he's just trying to take care of you.

A/N: when I wrote Sacrifice, I did it in fifteen minutes nto thinking much of it. But I like the concept of it ngl. In all fairness, angst is like my thing and writing angsty toxic Luke is my fav rn.

Sacrifice pt 1:

Luke's shoulders ached, his back felt almost crooked from the weight of the sky. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Annabeth but right now she was the lesser of his concerns.

The woman at the forefront of his mind being you.

You who swung from consciousness to unconsciousness for the last three days; the strength from your body sapped out and a constant pain ripping through you. Your wrists were wrapped up in bandages to support them and the large expanse of bruises on your shoulders were being iced.

The nectar and ambrosia he was taking to you felt like a meagre offering, a minimal solution.

This whole ploy was a sheer debacle. He could've lost you.

Everything was taking too much time. Anyway, it didn't matter now.

You were out of immediate danger, he could take care of you. Just like he always swore to. He'd show you how much he cared, that you still mattered and ha had it all under control and all the doubts he knew you were beginning to have weren't necessary.

Your hair had greyed significantly, more than his had; though that was to be expected with how much more time you had spent in Atlas' position.

He sidled up to your sleeping figure, sheltered away from the eyes of titans and soldiers– protected; and reached out to caress your face, over the course of these days, he had developed a small routine now.

First, he picked up the washcloth and basin that a son of Asclepius who was in charge of handling injuries had dutifully kept. He could tend to your wounds and the other demigods, but you were still under Luke's care. Always.

Cleaning up your face first, before gently wiping down your arms, mindful of the supporting bandages and then wiping your knees, down your shins and the arch of your feet.

It felt good, being able to do something for you. After which he'd try to rouse you in a partial wakefulness as he helped you sip the divine nectar, watching the magic liquid give you some strength.

For a little while, Luke had been worried. For all your amazing traits, he believed you to be more simple-minded; in your mind, you were the first that should be sacrificed because of your dedication and devotion towards your loved ones. Now, he never thought of your loyalty to be mindless like a dog's but he always believed that it would be his.

But then after the whole Golden Fleece interaction with Percy and company, you had gotten quiet, secretive almost. Like you were deliberating helping the son of Poseidon. And he had had a sinking feeling that Kronos might order him to get rid of you, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to do that.

"Are you hiding something from me?" He'd asked one evening, quiet and sudden.

Your gaze remained unwavered as you stepped closer to him.

"No."

"You having doubts?"

"About survival?" You laughed, "I've known about the extreme likelihood of dying for a very long time." A thrilling shiver ran down his spine as you grabbed his chin.

"And still Luke, I'm here, by your side. I'm not having any doubts."

And a few days later you went and held up the sky and now he wondered if it was some unrequired act of fielty.

He brushed your grey hair back, untangling a few knots and wished your face didn't look so disturbed and in agony in sleep as it did while you were awake.

"Luke?" You mumbled.

"Yes love."

"What– how am I here?" A sudden fit of discomfort and confusion setting upon you as you forced your eyes open and tried to sit up, still half asleep but nevertheless trying to stay alert– a default demigod setting, "who's– Atlas–"

"Shh," He whispered, attempting to be soothing. Take care of you. His job. "Annabeth's got it in control."

"Anna– no!" You shoot up, weak and disoriented, "not– Luke, Luke you promised– No!"

"Shh, calm down, please," He catches your shoulder and nudges you to lie back but you remain restless and oh gods he loves you and can't lie to you but you need to remain still or you'll get hurt more.

"You promised–"

Their medic is swift in appearing with an anaesthetic type medication and they put you out succinctly, without the chance of waking for a long while.

"I know you didn't want it to go like this, my love. But I will sacrifice hundreds to keep you safe."

His heart feels heavy and he kisses your brow and cheek.

If Annabeth, Thalia or Percy or anyone is the option opposite you, he'll kill them all. You, his devoted darling, his own nectar. The repercussions always seem so inconsequential when up against you, taking care of you.

His beloved.

************

[seeminglyseph]

There’s…. Something. In the fact that like in Polyphemus;

A trade, you see? A gift from you and a gift from me

where Odysseus sort of. in one case he is being extremely presumptuous of Polyphemus' intelligence and generosity by sort of... hoping he can set either set the value of the sheep and barter it down from blood to wine, without taking the actual truth of the barter into consideration "trespassing and murder, a violation of hospitality of a powerful being who is childlike, but not stupid. Who is monstrous but prideful as the son of a god."

Odysseus views Polyphemus as someone he can look down on because Odysseus has been a King At War for the past decade, and Polyphemus is a non-citizen monstrosity. like. he's a physical threat at the moment but politically Odysseus has been providing for his men by raiding and pillaging for 10 years. In his head he's a raiding king and this shepherd should be grateful for having his life spared. The original Odyssey is being told about and to people in the act of colonial expansion and war and it asked its audience simply to consider the concept of. like. When your armies go to war and raid villages and stuff for food, killing and enslaving the people. Whose children are they? What will their children become? (And hey, it's still a valid story worth telling today, who knew, that's why they call 'em the classics!)

it's kind of present in the whole treatment of Polyphemus and the Cyclops Saga as a whole. He goes on a raiding party, shoots first and asks questions later, presumes to set a value on what he damaged, presumes that the agreement is settled based on his own statement of it, then presumes his own act of mercy will be enough to undo the acts of hostility he's already taken, and the breaches of hospitality he has committed that need to be answered for. Like he might have maybe almost declared war with the "I am the reigning king of Ithaca... ...Odysseus!" thing. like. you're lucky the price was named at 600, honestly? I don't. Remember how the Odyssey ends. But like. you literally could have declared Ithaca at war with Poseidon and like. Girliepop you live on an island.

It presents again kind of and is like... kind of directly called out in Ruthlessness multiple times because like Jorge fully knows what's up and that's a blast, and Ruthlessness is like. so much theme packed into one song that like. Truly. The most Villain Song to Ever Villain Song. Because it draws on every weakness and insecurity of our protagonist and pulls them up to the surface for everyone to see. And then we get that last Evil of Pandora's Jar and Poseidon offers to let it go with a full apology for the trespasses against his son. And

Poseidon, we meant no harm We only hurt him to disarm him We took no pleasure in his pain We only wanted to escape

Odysseus lies, technically. In Odysseus' memory the crime they committed was attacking and blinding Polyphemus, so it makes sense, probably Poseidon is upset about Polyphemus being injured, Odysseus is constantly thinking about his son and going home, and Poseidon asked for an apology for his pain and cries so in his head, the first offense is when Polyphemus attacked them and they had to defend themselves to save their lives. He has fully failed to factor in the concept that he has trespassed on Poseidon's son's home and killed his sheep and caused him to grieve, then given him a poisoned wine and attempted to kill him when a price has been demanded in return for the violation of hospitality committed against him.

Odysseus has not reached a point where he considers Polyphemus something on a level of respect high enough that he could have some kind of hospitality to be respected. Odysseus is still a conqueror who breached the impenetrable walls of Troy. He'd seen sons of gods die horrible deaths in the last ten years. I feel like life feels wrong a million times over??? But he's entirely wrong in the scope of Poseidon's rage and sense of justice. Because some things are obligations as much as they are about compassion.

like. You trespassed against Polyphemus and left a calling card, Polyphemus went to his father to request a price be paid in blood for the trespasses that were done to him, Poseidon must honour this request made by his son or he will be known not to punish those who trespass against him and those who are his family or followers. If he cannot punish those who trespass against his own, then he cannot defend himself and is weak and unworthy of respect. He cannot allow the possibility of this disrespect to foster, for if he ask something great of his followers he needs them to give without question, knowing that he will defend them from others who would trespass upon them. Like the mob I guess? They are swimming with the shark now. oh no

so I feel like Odysseus' trait as a Trickster Hero is honestly what bites him, if he had been like. a traditionally noble King he might have been able to talk his way out of this, theoretically. If he had stopped escalating. because further trespasses require further payment.

Also this last bit is wild speculation but if Odysseus trespasses upon Poseidon's son and declares himself and his kingdom and Athena did not cut ties with him, would it create like. the god equivalent of like. fucking international incident? Poseidon and Athena go to war because her Warrior of the Mind doxxed himself in Sicily.

Anyway I need to stop typing now.

[kindred-spirit-93]

Sup it's me Astron

I wanted to talk a bit about my ideas for Persephone and Hades - everyone's favourite couple. I haven't really thought a lot about them

I imagine that Hades is constantly anxious (inspired by the myth where Poseidon's massive earthquake nearly exposed the underworld). Zeus assigned him the underworld domain, where only the dead reside.

However, Hades' true passion lies in material aspects of his domain - ore, jewels, fossil fuels, and treasures. This aspect of him is based on his Plutus/Dis Pater aspect. A god of material wealth, his power stems from ownership, not his role as God of the Dead. He also manages the gods' treasury, handling currency and money - all human concepts introduced by Zeus.

Persephone, SEEMS to historically be an underworld deity before Hades IRL. So in this story Hades obsesses over treasures, Persephone tends to the underworld's deceased and all their matters. She's more of a god of the dead than him.

She feels deeply embarrassed to be a deity that has "died" (Like OMG she's never going to let that down) and seems to hold a resentment towards Hades for that.

The kidnapping topic comes up in arguments from time to time but more in the same vein as a partner would use the fact that you forgot their birthday or something.

Demeter and Persephone share a strong bond compared to the other gods. After Persephones "death" Demeter was never really the same. Demeter relives the painful cycle annually, and carries a deep rooted bitterness toward the other gods for it.

Persephone seems to not really care about the situation (we think) and doesn't talk about her mother or anything for that matter

They're the least developed figures in my mind

honestly cant tell you just how long ive been waiting to get to this gem (pun absolutely intended). the mental image u planted (pun also intended) has been clawing and biting at my brain for eons

i already have a doodle or two planned, ill get to it as soon as i can :D

--

in the meantime i really love the splitting of duties and dual domains of the underworld down the middle, hades being treasurer and geology g(r)eek is eveything ive ever wanted and needed in life. and don’t get me started on a cthonic persephone. dread persephone all the way baby! need to experiment with her design more :3

ive mentioned it before i believe but ill say it here again, i really adore and appreciate the way you choose to depict seph and demeter. you know more than anyone lol that im not well versed in the mythology, but seeing retellings new and old comepletely butchering or otherwise doing great disservice to the original text and context of the time really bothers me.

pitting mother and daughter against each other should be a federal crime. anyways so thank you for doing them justice in my eyes. yes the pantheon is messy but theres room for so much and healing and growth. ok ill see myself out now hehe

--

art probably during the week or this weekend, depends on how messy the first week back is lol. ill edit this post so for anyone interested stay tuned :]

[the-pjo-analyst]

The Lightning Thief Summary

Here I was thinking I'd finish editing this today and still have plenty of time before the show airs and then they release the episodes early sjkdfhsdkfh

Anyway over a year later and it's done! Thank you for everyone who's been patient with my posts despite taking so long to finish. I'll put a pause on my book analyses so I can focus on reading the Trials of Apollo (I never finished the series,,,,,) so I can finally read all the new content we got this year! Maybe I'll make live posts as I read 👀 I kinda want to make posts about the tv show when it airs too.... we'll see :D

Until then, here's a summary of the first book:

Themes

The concept of home In terms of a physical place, Camp Half-Blood is the biggest example of this, as a sanctuary for demigods who struggle to survive and fit in in the regular world. I find it interesting how in every book something threatens the existence of CHB as a safe place. In this case it's something small, the hellhound that Luke brought in. Luke even says he did it so Chiron would believe camp wasn't safe and send Percy off on a quest. Each threat progressively gets worse, which forces the demigods to go on quests to either directly or indirectly save/help their home. There's also people as a place to call home, like how Sally is to Percy. Funny enough the motif of demigods going on quests to protect their home also applies to here because Percy doesn't accept his quest to save CHB, he does it to save his mom, the only person at that point he felt at home with. Because brain is hardwired to think about percabeth all the time I'll put this out in the open: Percy and Annabeth stand on opposite ends of the "what is home" spectrum at the beginning, Percy's being a person and Annabeth's being a place, and then they kinda switch with Percy finding a home at CHB and Annabeth learning to call her mortal family home. But haha psyche it's actually them growing to call each other home. Like when Percy is on the fence whether to stay at camp for the year or not, a major reason he decides against it is bc Annabeth won't be there. And then Annabeth would never have considered living with her dad again is Percy didn't encourage her.

Supporting others and having support from loved ones This pops up a lot in the book and it's an important driving force for a lot of the characters: Percy having a loving mother, the trio having each other's backs throughout their quest, the trio supporting each other's goals, even Poseidon watching over Percy. When they're at their lowest, when they think about giving up, they all had someone who picked them back up, someone who eased the pain a little, and that helped them keep going and lift them up. On the topic of Percy vs Luke, this is a major point that distinguishes the two as heroes. Percy has a support system that he can fall back to when he makes mistakes or bad things happen to him while Luke doesn't, not really. Although it's hard to tell from Percy's pov whether Luke had any close friends or not, it doesn't seem like he had anyone to confide in (at least after Thalia). He's left to stew in his negative emotions, another reason why he was so easy to be manipulated.

Identity Maybe too early to really talk about this, but the first book introduces this idea of how characters identify themselves, and especially who they identify with. Demigods being categorized demigods by their godly parent and also them choosing whether to identify by that or not. On the flip side, demigods feeling lost or not seen when they either aren't claimed or don't have a cabin to truly call theirs. There's also Annabeth who practically grew up in this system and internalized it, and came to find there's more to the world than just who your godly parent is. And Percy on the opposite side again lmao, who considers himself Sally Jackson's son first and foremost, and then learns to accept Poseidon in his life in whatever form it entails.

Worship of the gods and broken systems Probably the most important theme to the plot line of the series. I talked a lot about this in terms of Percy vs Luke for my ch 21 and 22 posts, essentially how demigods' over-reliance on the gods breeds a flawed and defective system. A subtheme for this is the gods and responsibility: who gets blamed for the actions of the gods? are the gods obligated to claim and acknowledge their children? I think what makes Percy the perfect Child of the Prophecy is that he has never relied on the gods as omniscient and almighty beings to give him what he needs, he instead relies on his own power, and that allows him to work with the gods to create change in future books. He never had a moment where he worshiped the gods and also never had a moment of disillusionment bc he was immediately thrust into a situation that revealed out broken the system was as soon as he was brought into the world of immortals. He sees the gods and their world as they are, both the good and the bad.

Characters

Percy: I'll just summarize his core qualities since I talk too much about this kid 😂: Percy is strong-minded and doesn’t back down easily, he has high integrity, he’s incredibly loyal to his friends and stands up for them, he heavily relies on his instincts and is impulsive, he's also very street-smart! he's impertinent lol and doesn't take well to authority if he feels it isn’t deserving or fair, he loves loves loves his mom, he always fights to protect, he has an incredibly low self-esteem and desires others to see beyond the trouble that follows him, he doesn't like "bothering" people with his problems. His sass and spite probably formed as a defense mechanism against his low self-esteem and the abusive environment he grew up in. It's interesting reading the book while fully looking at Percy's characteristics in terms of how growing up with Gabe affected him. For example, if he had a stable home, would his self esteem be as low as it is?

This pops up at the end and becomes hugely important in the later books, but Percy tends to take on responsibilities way too personally and they tend to become fixations. After Luke's betrayal, Percy is like I have to go find him and I can't just sit around while Luke is planning to destroy the world. He's like,,,, proactive to a fault.

Traits he probably gets as a child of Poseidon bc I love discussions that try to pinpoint this: the inability regulate strong emotions, like his temper; his brooding expression that gives him the air of a troublemaker and loose canon; his difficultly in following the rules; obv his love of beaches too.

Annabeth: As I've said before, Annabeth makes a good foil for Percy as the logical and book-smart person to Percy's heavy emotions and instincts. She's introduced as someone who's opposing to Percy in almost every way: someone who's entire world is her godly parent and the immortal world, who relies on her brain first before anything else, who's a bit manipulative, who's very confident in her abilities. But they also have some similarities: where Annabeth has faced lots of abandonment and Percy has faced a lot of rejection, and from these experiences they both have come to desire acknowledgement of their worth and the good in them. And they come to find these things in each other. It's also important to note how they learn from one another on their quest, like Percy starting to form strategies in his battles and Annabeth finding that the immortal world isn't everything.

Annabeth's aspirations and fatal flaw are very much tied together, since she's learned growing up that she can only rely on herself to do things right, plus having incredible pride as a child of Athena, led to her developing hubris. And it goes hand-in-hand with her desire for something permanent since she's never had something stable prior to arriving at camp. Her dream to be an architect allows her to both create something that will last eternity and make her stamp on the world.

Grover: The growth for Grover is a little less prominent compared to Percy and Annabeth. He's introduced as being meek with low-confidence but he has Big Dreams for that Tiny Body. It's really because he has Percy and Annabeth that he's able to grow and gain more confidence in himself, without them his aspirations would just be a pipe dream (I'm sorry I made an accidental pun lol). Grover rises to the occasion because he has people who believe in him and frequently tell him so and he also wants to meet those expectations. And that support takes physical form at the end of the book, both with Grover gaining his searcher license and him getting a growth spurt. You can see with your eyes how much he's matured, filling into the shoes of the person he wants to be in a literal sense.

Luke: Whereas Annabeth is different from Percy in every way but the ones that really matter, Luke is similar to Percy in every aspect except ones that really matter. He's a very caring and supportive person, so much so that he takes Percy under his wing when no one else does when Percy arrives at camp. He sees a broken system in the immortal world and wants something better for demigods. And yet he's also incredibly selfish, he leans more into putting himself and his desires first before anything else. He had relied too much on the gods to fix and provide everything and becomes bitter when that doesn't happen. Despite being a source of support for others, he doesn't have that for himself. And because of these differences, Luke is way more susceptible to Kronos' influence than Percy is. Kronos can offer glory and power and self gratification, and where Percy would refuse because it goes against his morals and who he is (someone who thinks about others before himself), Luke is more likely to be swayed.

Honestly Luke seems like a "what if" in comparison to Percy. What if Percy lost his mom? What if he was left at camp when he was younger? What if Percy never found a support system? All the examples I'm thinking of boil down to Percy having a parental figure that guides him and teaches him important lessons, while Luke doesn't lmao.

There's two sides in Luke, love vs anger, kindness vs selfishness, gods vs titans, celestial bronze vs steel, and this conflict appears frequently throughout the series. I want to see what moments this conflict shows itself in the later books!

Other things to keep in mind for the series when I continue reading and other notes:

Does Percy have claustrophobia? Or does it only show up at St Louis lol

The parallels between Percy and Luke

Ways Percy and Annabeth get closer and learn from one another

[B2 Summary]

[sm-baby]

Choo-Choo!!! Pain Train Is Coming Through!!!! XD

So this has been brewing in my head for a bit and I gotta spill this! But first, I gotta say that the whole Vengeful Zeus art had me by the throat. I know it noncanon, but my brain went off!

This is a pain train because I know Emerald's dear old uncle Stephan would have NO qualms on hunting down the Elder Dragon. Multiple times. Afterall, how's he gonna make his lingering potions without dragon breath. Even though he is not brave or reckless, Stephan is the sort of dude who would have the fight broken down to a science while being armored to the teeth. You know, efficiency and all that. I've looked it up; there are dragon breath farms!!

So, it got me wondering on how that would reflect on his world's Zeus. This cycle of pain, death, silence, and rebirth caused by Stephan and his wants. There's a good chance that he doesn't need it, but he wants it just in case. It would ruin Zeus as a person and Zeus as the coven. Maybe it would flip the world with Hades being the safest coven and Zeus being the most dangerous. Maybe Poseidon would be dragged down with it all. It spirals on.

It'd definitely a worst case scenario, but it is there!

Jahaira... Im so sawry.. im so sawry to do this to you but like... There is no coven system in other worlds.... The coven system is special to the Player's world.... Buddy...

Hero, Alex, and Steve's world? None.

Hillender, Atemis, and Stephen's? Zilch.

Am so sawry-

Sharky HAS, however, proposed that there are OTHER worlds with the same coven system but different...

With like differences with Zeus being the only consistent being... And even her being slightly different with each iteration. Like she could be shorter, she could lose her albinoism, etc. Etc.

I however did not go for it cuz i feel that is could have a lot of potential plot holes so i need to think it out.

HOWEVER... I DO LOVE THE IDEA ... OMG...

I don't quite THINK Stephen would have thee coven system in his world, because I do very much wanna keep the vibes of classic Minecraft with him, though I do admit that t he concept of an entirely different system would be fascinating especially considering the redstone update was in 2013. YEARS ago, where illagers didn't even exist yet and villager didn't have as many jobs. So things just feel DIFFERENT. And... OH LORD...

I HAVEN'T POSTED THE NOOB YEARS FIC

YALL DON'T KNOW HOW THE OLD VILLAGERS ACTED-

OH BOY THATS A WHOLE NEW CAN OF WORMS.

ANYWAY

I LOVE THINKING THIS THROUGH, JAHAIRA YOU ARE A TREASURE AND IM RIGHT HERE WITH YOU WITH THE WHITE BOARD WITH STRINGS HHH UR SO FUCKING CREATIVE MAN

[liopleurodean]

Okay here it is

Rick Riordan, The Last Olympian

There's also a quote in the Lightning Thief about your existence depending on others' belief in you which is pretty cool. And I'm pretty sure there are multiple other instances where the main character is offered a similar deal (something involving living forever without the pain of mortal life) but he always turns it down because love and joy are worth the heartache.

But also the way the immortal beings are conceptualized in this universe is intriguing. It's established early on that a god's domain is determined by their worshippers, and this fact becomes even more evident when the Roman alternates are introduced (Athena loses her battle prowess, Ares is less raging and more tactical, Poseidon is more unpredictable and feared).

Not only that, but we can see that even gods who were once mortal themselves (like Dionysus and Hercules) eventually forget what it means to be mortal. Dionysus has an outright grudge against all heroes for the act of one, even though he grew up as a regular mortal and still retained all of those memories. Multiple times gods would be stripped of their immortality to "teach them a lesson" and, as soon as they returned to Olympus, it was as if they had never left in the first place. Those with true immortality seemed to forget the mortal experience, even as they recalled their times on the earth.

In the most recent book, Chalice of the Gods (I'll try to keep spoilers to a minimum) Percy has to wrestle with the idea of growing old and becoming frail and gray. The whole book is littered with lessons about youth and growing up and accepting that your world will change, and our main character accepts it adroitly. Even throughout the series, he and others have their eyes on what the future would look like (especially in a YA novel with copious amounts of war crimes).

Not only that, but two characters take an oath of service that grants them partial immortality. Not only do the characters themselves have strange feelings about it, but their friends go through an adjustment period while they realize that they will eventually live out their lives while their peers stay young forever. It's a strange sensation for everyone involved and causes a lot of anxiety in certain relationships.

Anyway I just love this concept and the way that this series handles it and the description of "losing yourself" from this post applies so well to the immortal beings from this series.

more stuff about becoming a god being inherently dehumanizing pls

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

[theepitomeofamess]

hey y'all, i'm working on this project i'm really excited about and i wanted to share some of it.

it's basically just a retelling of Ares mythology (i know that this probably sounds a lot like knock off madeline miller, but just hear me out) focusing on the parts that don't paint him like an angry meathead -- the version of his myth where he's raised by Priapus and taught to dance long before fighting, how he is one of the few male gods to care for his children and respect women, the story of his daughter Alcippe (which, if you don't know it, trigger warning for sexual assault and murder if you look it up), and the idea that his anger stems from depression caused by being hated by his supposed father and ostracized by any god who wanted to stay on Zeus' good side (hello projecting :^D).

Anyway, i wanna share some ideas i have about Ares as a character (in no way trying to be disrespectful to the deity, my apologies if it comes off that way). I've got a long list of ideas under the cut, I'd love to get some feedback (@witch19, you know I'd love your opinion on all this)

so a big concept i want to work with is tattoos. from what i understand, tattoos were a sign of punishment in ancient greece, used to mark slaves and criminals so they could be identified or continually punished. there's a story (link here) of athenians tattooing athena's owl on ancient samians after a defeat, ares decided to take on the same punishment as the men he had helped in the battle. as he grows into himself and his confidence, the tattoo grows with him from athena's pygmy owl to an eagle owl, which became one of his sacred animals in some versions of his mythology. he started getting even more as he started viewing them as a sign of strength rather than punishment, and especially when he learned of emperors tattooing gladiators, who he often helped and identified with

the owl is his first tattoo, but his favorite is a honeycomb over his heart. there are a lot of bees on the comb, with aphrodite being the queen directly over his heart. there's a bee for each of his children, and a drone with a broken wing for Hephaestus (Aphrodite actually gets a matching queen bee on the back of her hand so when she puts her hand over his heart, the bee is still there)

maybe another tattoo is a peacock feather for his mother? maybe it's covering a Lichtenberg figure he got from one of zeus' fits of rage?? maybe idk???

speaking of scars, he gains a scar for every one that's gained by a soldier. it doesn't matter what side the soldier is on, it doesn't matter how minor the wound is, he bleeds with every soldier in every fight he's involved in, feels their pain. armor does nothing to stop it -- it never even gets scuffed.

because it never gets hit and therefore looks brand new, ares doesn't actually like wearing his armor. it gives the impression that he's never been in a fight. he'd rather just wear his tunic.

he's actually much more of a romantic person than a sexual one. he's not asexual (bisexual, actually), he's just a big softy and craves a softer, more genuine connection. that's why he doesn't take as many lovers, why he doesn't have casual sex, and why he takes his time romancing aphrodite. he really enjoys the soft, quiet intimacy.

the first time he met aphrodite, he asked her to dance. no one was dancing except servant girls/nymphs, and they were not on the same page at first. aphrodite thought "dancing" was an innuendo (like what zeus and poseidon have done before), and ares wasn't catching on to the fact that she thought he meant sex. poor boy just wanted to dance, and it took some talking in circles, but he did get his dance. aphrodite loved how fun and innocent it was.

dancing is an outlet for him. he loves it. he spent his whole childhood with priapus dancing, and still enjoys it to no end. this influences his build (where a lot of the gods -- zeus, poseidon, etc. -- are more bulky and lumbering, ares is very lean, limber, and light on his feet)

he keeps a garden. it was part of being raised by priapus in the mortal world -- they grew their own food, and it's a hobby that followed ares into adulthood. besides, growing his own food means that, while he doesn't get as many offerings, he still gets the good stuff. the garden has a beehive that aphrodite loves helping with. all of his children are spoiled with mortal food before they are ever old enough or well known enough to get an offering from the mortal world

he refuses the idea that zeus is his father. he believes the version of the story that he was conceived by hera alone through pure spite and rage -- this is the version that athena tells him, and he tends to believe athena before anyone else.

speaking of, he actually gets along with a lot of the gods. he and athena, though constantly pitted against each other, have a pretty good relationship and she is often a comfort for him. they will often sit together in no man's land after a battle, and she will often comfort him if it was a particularly bloody one. at the end of the day, in her mind, she's his big sister. she actually used to (against zeus' wishes) go visit ares at priapus' home and read him stories.

apollo actually really enjoys hanging out with him -- ares dances to apollo's music and apollo is the one that gives ares his tattoos, a form of art that apollo doesn't get to practice otherwise.

he sees hades a lot more than a lot of people, as he often helps thanatos in escorting killed battalions to the underworld, spending the entire time ensuring them that even if they did not achieve victory, they brought honor to their homes and families. hades doesn't have favorite nephews/neices, but given how ares has been ostracized in a way that hades can find familiar, he empathizes with him quite a bit.

he and hephaestus actually would have been very close if they were allowed to have a childhood together and didn't have mutual jealousy, and actually have some really sweet moments. ares trusts hephaestus wholly with the wellbeing of aphrodite and his children, knowing that he will take care of them in his stead if he needs to.

still working out the kinks on this idea, but the dryad Harmonia is born from the tree that grows from ares' tears for Alcippe. she offers to help him create an entire society of daughters for him, ones that live away from the threat of men. daughters that know well how to protect themselves from those who threaten and attack them. (like i said, i'm still working on this idea, i'm not even sure if the amazons will be included, but i like thinking about the different ways that this could be interpreted/used)

maybe in that same vein of harmonia and the tree, ares crafts eros' bow himself (maybe with some help from hephaestus and his experienced craftsmanship?) from a branch of harmonia's tree? maybe he strings it with his own heartstring, left dangling loose, irreparable after the heartbreak of Alcippe?

okay so clearly i have a lot of ideas regarding this project. any and all writers, mythology lovers, narrative flippers, please let me know of any further interest or ideas about this!

[bailey-reaper]

Hhhhh could you write a sequel to the hades fic???? it was SOO good!!!!!!

For Dear Life (Hades & Persephone AU)

Notes: (continued from here) Hello anon, I'm very happy to hear you enjoyed the Hades/Persephone fic! As I've said before, I love mythologies!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: abducted / hostage situation; power imbalance; intense emotions; Tia seriously screws around with Greek mythology. Like really REALLY screws around...; I'm sorry historians (again!) and mythologists

It was impossible to say whether or not the underworld met their expectations, because such things were normally so abstract and not a subject they really thought of; so, to be suddenly confronted by the literal domain of the dead, was utterly mind-boggling.

All they really remembered, as the chariot dove deep into the bowels of the earth was the feeling of the God of the Underworld holding them close and partly shielding them with his long cloak of darkness. It had surprised them to hear a heart beating in the deity's chest – surely that was something of an oxymoron?

With a firm shake of their head, they quietly wondered why they were dwelling upon that precise detail; it seemed like such a trivial thing...

They had been escorted to a garden within the deity's palace: the plants were unusual colours and shapes, no doubt thanks to the lack of sunlight they enjoyed, but it was a soothing space nonetheless and one that helped their racing thoughts to calm. As they looked around and overhead, it struck them how easy it was to forget this was a subterranean domain given how high the vaulted cavernous ceilings were.

"It is a pleasant garden, is it not?" a familiar, but terrifying, voice remarked as the tall and imposing Lord of the Dead entered the space.

Instantly the feeling of calm abandoned them and they stood with a small yelp of shock, "........" even if they'd wanted to speak, it was as if their voice was stuck in their throat.

"...." the God's expression was momentarily odd, they might have taken it as him being wounded or even disappointed, before he cleared his throat and sat on a bench fashioned from black marble, ".... I have no intentions to harm you. It may be difficult to believe that, but it is the truth... won't you come here?" he held out a hand, "I have shown you a great deal of discourtesy thus far in failing to properly introduce myself... My rashness can only be attributed to the passion you make me feel. It is... very out of my usual character."

And it was, for the Lord of the Underworld was known among his brethren as a level-headed judge who maintained utmost composure at all times. In fact, they often described him as being 'cold as a corpse' and brutal when it came to matters of logic or strategy. Impulsiveness was an unknown concept in his mind, until now...

"...I... am fine here," they replied, settling back down in grass that appeared to be more peacock blue than green.

"... Very well," once more he wore that wounded expression, but the God seemed willing to respect their reluctance, "I am the God of the Underworld, I believe your kind call me 'Hades'."

"... Hades," yes -- that was what humans called the stern God beneath the earth, but it sounded to them as if that might not be his real name, "Is... that not your name, then?"

A smile graced and lifted his features for a moment, brightening them in an unexpected way, "You are as astute as I thought... that is correct: my 'true' name is not Hades, though, mortals may call me whatever they wish."

"Then... what is your real name?" this topic of conversation made them curious: where had the names of the Gods actually come from? Were they brought to the minds of men in a dream? Or did the Gods themselves provide false identities, if so then why?

"Mmm," he looked momentarily pensive, "That is a secret, for now... a God's true name holds great power. To entrust it to another is akin to making a vow."

Their eyes widened, "Oh... I... I see."

"You will forgive me if I do not offer up something so personal at this delicate juncture, I am aware that your presence here is entirely of my doing and that you are... unhappy about it. I will not keep it a secret any longer than I must."

"...." it made sense that a God would not trust a relative stranger with something that seemed to hold a great deal of power. They wanted to ask more about it: what did it mean to know a God's true name? What kind of 'vow' did it create? But, it seemed more prudent to leave the topic for now, "... Please won't you let me go home?" they asked, eyes pleading, "I am... flattered to have caught the eye of a God, but I am a mere mortal. I cannot see what lasting intrigue I would have to a divine being such as yourself."

The Lord of the Underworld tilted his head, "Do you think me a shallow man who saw your beautiful face and thought only of that?" he shook his head, "I appreciate that we Gods have a less than glowing image among mortals, and that we have a reputation for treating humans in a superficial manner, but, that is not why I have brought you here. I do not see you as some pretty trophy to keep until I tire of you. Though you are beautiful, yes, it is not simply your appearance that has captivated me so."

"What...?" for some reason his impassioned words made their heart thud in their chest; did he really meant to say that he, a God, had fallen in love with them?

"You possess a quality of character and strength of spirit that has quite simply dazzled me... I have watched you from afar, seen how you have helped your fellows and maintained your grace and resolve even in the face of adversity. I was blinded by more than just your looks."

They blinked a few times, going over his words again and again in muted silence. How could they respond to such a heartfelt answer? It was clear that the God of the Underworld was sincere, if nothing else-- but, this was too much to take in.

"... I'm sure it must come as a surprise to hear a God's confession, but I cannot yearn from afar any longer... that is why I have brought you here. So that I might marry you and take you for my spouse."

"This... it's... this is far more than a surprise... it's shocking. I'm a simple human, surely there are other Gods and Goddesses that are better suited to wed one such as you?"

The God chuckled, "Gods and Humans aren't so different you know... We're possessed of the same diversity of thought and feelings, the same irrational sensibilities and yearnings... it is not as if for every God there is a comparable divine partner. In fact, I find a number of my divine brethren to be a noisy, irksome lot and ill-suited to my temperament. I gladly opted to rule the Underworld for it lessens the time I have to spend with them."

".... huh?" suddenly, they couldn't help but giggle, "... Are you... saying that you view the Gods as annoying relatives?"

"...." he pursed his lips, "Well... they are."

"Oh... I had no idea... So, you came here willingly?" he nodded, "That's not what our books say: apparently you drew lots with your brothers and received the underworld having drawn the shortest straw."

"...?" he looked genuinely bemused by that account, "... I've... never heard something so ridiculous in all my life... drew lots? By the Gods, no. The last thing I would want is to rule the Gods and endure the constant politics of Mount Olympus. Truth be told, I have no idea how my brother manages it..."

Once more they were laughing, for the God of the Underworld --Hades himself-- looked utterly aghast, "Oh! But what about the sea then? Wouldn't you have preferred your brother Poseidon's domain?"

"First, Poseidon is not my brother, he was a 'brother-in-arms' who assisted me and my brother... second, the sea is not much better than Olympus given its relative proximity. I find that my brethren are far slower to make the trek down into the bowels of the earth than any other place."

"I... had no idea the Lord of the Underworld was so anti-social," they mused, smiling to themself having almost entirely lost their nervousness, "But... I suppose it makes some sense, given that your domain is that of the dead. Have you... always been like this?"

"Like what?" he cocked his head.

"... Disagreeable to spending time with other Gods."

"I suppose so," he folded his arms, as if trying to recall some divine equivalent of childhood, "There are so many irksome and tedious Gods in the world, I discovered that during the wars with the Titans."

"Oh... so those wars actually happened then? Our human books are right about that much at least?" he nodded, "So... are the myths about your brother, Zeus, true?"

"What myths about Zeus?"

"That he's the most terrible womaniser who forces himself upon anything that catches his eye?"

"What?!" he stood up, clearly flustered, "Who dares to tarnish my brother's name so?! He's not some philandering hedonist! He's a man of the utmost integrity and happily married! Not to mention his wife would punish him severely were he to hold such callous disregard for the mortals..." suddenly, he stopped his ranting and looked apologetic as he sat down, "... Forgive me, that outburst was uncalled for..."

"I'm... surprised," they said, "Because our myths suggest that you and Zeus do not get along... but you seem incredibly fond of him... oh... and what did you mean that Poseidon is not your brother? Aren't all the Gods related?"

"Of course I'm fond of him," the God said, "He's my brother... and as for your other questions.... what kind of inbred bedlam do you think the Gods live in? We are not begat as generations of mortals, we all issued forth from the black waters of Chaos..."

"But how are you and Zeus related if all Gods are not born?"

"I... was a weak little God when I emerged from the primordial darkness, in fact it was questionable whether or not I would survive. Zeus took pity on me, and shared with me his ichor.... that sustained me and breathed life into me. We are brothers who share the same blood, literally."

"Oh... wow... I had no idea..."

"Why would you? It is not as if we Gods are at pains to correct the fantasies that mortals dream up to explain the world around them," he folded his arms, "I'm... glad you seem a little less nervous in my presence."

"Ah..." they blinked, "Now that you mention it, I do feel a lot calmer."

"That's good... I hope, with time, that perhaps you will... take a liking to me."

"...." funnily enough, seeing more of the God's character had endeared him to them, "I... can't make any promises," they said, while looking down and smiling.

He seemed to pick up on that coyness, "Hmmm... that's better than an outright no. Now, I should like to show you my domain. Do you feel up to a chariot ride? I won't burst up from the earth this time and grab you..."

"In that case, yes."

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 16

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. Graphic violence parts 15 and 16.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Edit AGAIN 9/16: Changed and added some text at the end, particularly with Poseidon. Didn’t save first time.

Violence and body horror throughout this chapter, largely unavoidable. It's too relevant to the plot. Not terribly graphic - more PG-13 than R - but it is disturbing, so be warned.

—

The prongs had completely passed through her body to the other end. Dynamene staggered backwards, her legs giving out. She opened her mouth to scream, to gasp, to make any sound, but was unable to. She brought her shaking hands up to her chest and stared as her lifewater began to drip from the punctures.

Poseidon's face turned to one of disbelief, then horror. The magic that had transformed her appearance melted away as her body began to weaken, revealing the petite girl's real form. He swallowed, pale hand clenching the trident, as he watched her stare at her chest in disoriented confusion. The silvery water that flowed was the blood of a Nereid, magic water in essence; something that could not be replicated.

"Dynamene," he whispered. "Dynamene." No. This can't be.

She looked up at him in a daze, eyes glazing over. The look of horror on his face seemed to register in her mind, and for a moment, she lifted one arm in his direction. Then her legs buckled and her eyes closed.

He removed the trident slowly, his knuckles white from the death grip. He dropped to one knee to catch her with his free arm as the prongs came loose. One hand went to her injuries, feeling the lifewater that seeped between his fingers. "Dynamene," he repeated hoarsely, commanding her to awaken. Her eyelids didn't even flutter.

It was then that the situation hit him entirely, and he grit his teeth. He tore part of the fabric off of his waist wrap and wrapped it about her chest deftly. She was still breathing, although each breathe was shallow and ragged. Time was of the essence, and he had to think fast.

Humans would not have survived such a blow, but Nereids were effectively shapeshifting ocean spirits that took a human form. Their bodies were made up of living water instead of flesh and organs, which rendered them impervious to most injuries. However, Poseidon's trident was able to harm any being regardless of body material, and Dynamene's body would begin to disintegrate from the trauma.

Lifting her up into his arms, he turned towards the doorway. There was no time to waste.

With improbable timing, he heard dozens of footsteps clamoring up the stairs, followed by worried shouts. "What's happened? What was that clamor? Lord Poseidon, are you okay?"

The other Nereids came bursting in with Actaea at the head. There was a moment of terrible silence as they took in the scene before them, then cries of disbelief.

"What... What have you DONE?!" Actaea screamed, lunging at Poseidon. Three other sisters quickly grabbed her by the arms, struggling to hold her back. "What did you do to her?!"

"There's no time to explain," Poseidon said coldly. "Don't give me a reason to hurt any of the rest of you."

"You monster! I'll kill you myself!" Actaea shrieked, yanking to get out of her sisters' grasp. Her pupils were full-blown in her rage, her steaming hair swirling angrily about her face. "How dare you hurt her! How could you?!"

Poseidon didn't let her words' effect on him show through in his expression as he looked coolly at the others. "Dynamene had magic used on her. It wasn't any power of the gods. Where might she have had access to this magic?"

The other Nereids backed away from him reproachfully, looking less and less human as their fury consumed them. One finally spoke up in a trembling voice. "Is... Is there not a witch that took up residence a few centuries ago not far from here?"

"How do you know that?" Another sister snapped back.

"A mermaid acquaintance of mine went to see her some time ago for help... She made a deal with her to solve a relationship matter. The deal wasn't much in her favor, unfortunately."

Poseidon's face darkened further. Would Dynamene really have made a deal with a witch?

Of course she would've... If it had meant being by my side. Foolish, silly, stupid-

He couldn't allow his thoughts to go any further, not when the subject of his berating was curled up limp in his arms. "Where is this witch?"

"Um... She lives in one of the deepest trenches, but I know little else..."

"Useless," Poseidon huffed. "Get out of my way." He stepped in front of the Nereids that continued to block the doorway.

There was a tense moment of defiance as the Nereids continued to stand in his way, unwilling to let him depart with their wounded youngest sister. His lip curled in outrage, and he began to raise his hand towards his discarded trident. Actaea, her expression now somber, spoke again in a defeated voice. "Let him pass... There's nothing we can do for Dynamene in this state. I don't want anyone else getting harmed." Her sisters listened, and reluctantly parted to allow him through. As he strode past, they got a closer look at their mortally wounded sister. Several of them broke out into wails and sobs.

Poseidon clenched his jaw and held the still Nereid closer to his chest. Save your mourning. She's not dead. Not yet.

Dynamene's body was beginning to dissolve. Drops of shimmering water began to fall from her fingertips and toes. She'd be dead before dawn if Poseidon didn't find a solution soon. But he was inexperienced with the concept of healing anything other than sea life; he pressed his hand against her torso, willing the bleeding to stop in vain. The liquid continued to flow.

It really had been her that sat across from him and confessed her love for him in tears. And what was his response? Gutting her like the monster everyone had warned her he was. He had messed up. It wasn't my fault, he told himself. She has no pulse. Her appearance was different. I could feel foreign magic about her. But then that led to the conclusion that he was able to be tricked by the power of lesser beings, and he found himself back at square one.

Enough. She will not die. She belongs to me. Her love for me is unconditional.

And when she wakes again, I will put an end to this chaos.

The wet sand crunched under his heavy boots. The dim starlight illuminated the surface of the ocean faintly before them. He would be able to seek the witch out with his abilities, but that would take time. He wasn't even sure what to look for, asides from a power with the same characteristics as the enchantment that Dynamene had. Time was fighting against him; a precious resource dripping through his grip like her blood onto the sand.

Without prelude, a sudden burst of light the size of a woman appeared in the shallow waves before Poseidon. The light dispersed gently in twinkles and stars, revealing the form of a woman. A faint heavenly glow emanated from her pale skin.

Aphrodite stared at him, her flawless face unusually somber. "Poseidon."

He narrowed his eyes. This was an unexpected development, and not a welcome one. "What the hell do you want? I'm short on time, if you haven't noticed."

She tilted her head, gaze flickering towards the still girl in his hold. "I know where you may find the witch you seek. If I have your guarantee that you won't harm me, I'll tell you."

Poseidon hissed, his clasp on Dynamene tightening. "Of course you would've had a hand in this. Meddling shrew. I should have known. Can  none of you Olympian cretins keep to your own business?" So you were the one to guide Dynamene to that witch. Selfish, narcissistic bitch. How else would you know where to find her?

"Your guarantee, Poseidon," Aphrodite pressed.

He grit his teeth. As much as he longed to rip her head from her body and watch her golden locks stream through the air, he needed her knowledge. "Fine."

Aphrodite stepped closer.

---

Miles away, deep in her underground lair, the witch sat at her table alone. She was aware of her impending fate. Her actions could only lead to this outcome. But she'd accomplished what she'd set out to do, so she was content.

Before her, pulsing gently with a sea-blue light, was a floating orb of liquid. The Nereid's heart. She was the only person to ever see one; perhaps it would remain that way even long after her death. It was a fascinating sight. The mass continued to live in its own way, even apart from its owner. Nereids truly were interesting creatures. She might've studied it, but there was no point now. Her journey was coming to an end.

She had no regrets. Her revenge was now sealed. Hera or Poseidon, it hadn't really mattered which. Fate had truly smiled on her the day before when that little nymph had appeared at her doorstep. So unexpected, but so welcome. She had waited centuries, honing her gifts in the dark, practicing them on others, so that she would be ready for this moment. The witch was not foolish enough to think she would be able to pull one over on both of the gods. Hera would've been best, but Poseidon would do just as well. He was partially to blame for her misfortune too. Now he would suffer, and she could die content.

It was a shame about the Nereid, though. Just a silly child chasing an impossible dream. The witch clicked her tongue sympathetically. Weren't we all, once?

A shudder echoed through the cave, and she heard the water at the entrance slosh with an unseen force. He was nearly here, and she stood patiently next to the table, awaiting his arrival.

Without any further warning, the water erupted upwards like a geyser. The sound was deafening, but the witch didn't even blink. Poseidon emerged from the upsurge, water dripping from his bangs before his enraged eyes. In his arms was the nymph; poor young Dynamene. She was deathly pale and had a ragged bandage wrapped about her chest. The witch tutted.

"Witch. You have something that belongs to me." Poseidon's eyes gleamed like a laser in the dim cavern, his chest heaving with barely-restrained wrath.

"It's here, Poseidon." The witch set her hand next to the shimmering orb. "The Nereid's heart. You won't have much use for it, though. I see she's already on death's door. Returning her heart will do no good. Replacing an organ is no help when the body is already shutting down."

"You will return it immediately. I will not repeat myself." Poseidon's trident materialized in his free hand as he shifted Dynamene into the opposite arm.

"Oh? Is there finally something the mighty sea tyrant cannot do?" The witch asked, feigning surprise. "Pathetic." Her tone flattened.

"Your enchantment," Poseidon stormed on. "What did you do to her?"

"I gave her what she desired. A chance to be with you. Oh, she just adores you. I'm sure that will have changed, though. Those wounds bleeding through the wrap look an awful lot like trident punctures to me. Weren't able to tell she was the real thing without that heartbeat to listen to, were you?"

Poseidon's eyes grew even wider as he realized the witch's plot. "You planned this."

"I did." The witch shuffled back around the table, gently taking Dynamene's heart into her hands. "Do you remember when we met, Poseidon? It was at some gathering of the gods, say, three or four hundred years ago."

Poseidon's face clenched further with anger at her idling, losing his patience rapidly. "I've never met a hag like you in my life."

"I wasn't like this when we met." The witch brought her hand to her white cheek with a wistful look. "I was beautiful. I came from a wealthy and powerful family with demigod blood. Hera made a deal with me, you see. If I successfully seduced you, she would shower me with blessings and gifts on our wedding day. She told me everything about you to give me a leg up. Even about your ability to hear certain heartbeats." Her hand dropped away. "But I failed, as I was guaranteed to, and she was thoroughly upset. I was turned into this. So here I've lived, all these years, cast away from society into these deep trenches, waiting.... for her." The witch smiled at Dynamene. "The perfect opportunity. Heaven sent, even." She sighed. "It's a shame. She's still so young, but..." The witch shrugged. "Cracking an egg, omelets, all that. Just someone caught in the peripheral."

"Enough with your monologuing, you insolent bitch!" The muscles on Poseidon's arm grew more defined and taut as he aimed his trident at her. His face was contorted with murderous intent. "Heal Dynamene, now!"

"I can't. What reason did I ever have to learn healing magic?" There was no regret in her milky eyes as she shrugged once more. "And even if I was knowledgeable in medicine, it would be no use. Nereids are so rare. Only fifty, as you know. Their anatomy is a mystery."

Poseidon's gaze sank down to Dynamene. Her breathes were many seconds apart now. There was no more time to waste. He held her more firmly against him and lowered his stance to steady his aim at the witch. "Then die now."

"Gladly. I knew this would be the price to pay for my revenge. For breaking the sea god's nonexistent heart. And to think that it was as easy as this." The witch broke into a laugh that grew until it boomed off the cavern's walls.

Without further ado, Poseidon rushed her.

And with a single swing, the witch's head left her body. The pale thing rolled until it hit up against the wall, still laughing. Her eyes rotated to look back at him with their blank gaze. "Don't worry, my lord. There's still forty-nine left, after all."

Without another word, the witch's voice died off and her face stilled.

Poseidon strode over to it and brought his boot down violently. The witch's skull shattered under his heel. He resisted the urge to continue stomping until nothing solid remained. Dynamene needed his focus now; he could vent his rage later. He wiped the sole of his boot off on the rug and carried her back to the entrance of the cavern.

Lying her next to the rippling pool, he retrieved her heart from where it continued to glow, unbothered, upon the table. It felt like cool gel in his hands with a definite pulse, one that was all too familiar to him. He returned to kneel beside her and, propping her back up with one arm, he undid the makeshift bandage.

Her body was nearly hollow where he had gored her. His lips parted in disbelief. Before his eyes, her flesh was turning to liquid that ran onto the cavern's rocky floor. Poseidon quickly pressed her heart into the hollow. It shimmered for a moment, the liquid solidifying and connecting with the open edges of her body, before its light sputtered out and the pulse stopped. Just like the rest of her, it started to melt away.

Poseidon swallowed hard now, his face stiff. It was time to face the gravity of the situation. Dynamene would not be waking up.

He turned his face away for a moment, unable to look at the wounds he had made on her slight body. She had trusted him. She had clung to his side despite the warnings of everyone else. And like a sick joke, their predictions had come true. Gutted just like Adamas, a voice whispered in the back of his head. He bit his lower lip until it bled. How was it that the mighty sea god, capable of stopping tsunamis and commanding schools of fish, was unable to save one girl?

This shouldn't be happening, his mind spun. This isn't happening. She can't die. I can save her.

No, I can't. I'm the one who killed her.

His throat was growing tight, an alien sensation. She can't die. She belongs with me. A thousand years spent living in the same palace flickered through his mind. From a shy little girl to a headstrong, passionate young woman, he had watched her life; he had watched as her world began to revolve around him without his meaning for it to. And without his permission, his world began to be colored by her as well. Perhaps it had been inevitable. She belongs with me. I don't want her to leave.

He held her closer to him, caressing her damp cheek with careful fingers. The silence that rung from her body made the stillness around them all the heavier. Her face was growing sunken, her cheeks almost gaunt. He wanted to see her eyes just one more time; wide pools of steel gray that reflected him amongst the stars in their depths, as if he was the only thing that mattered. Stay with me.

And as her body released its final breath, he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

---

Author’s Notes: Sergei Prokofiev's Romeo Bids Juliet Farewell piece is so beautifully done. The first half sounds so remorseful.

I realized that, writing this chapter in particular, Poseidon seems less like canon RoR Poseidon. I was irritated about that at first, but then I realized that he's different because this story requires him to go through character development. That's important for a love interest. I'm not as frustrated anymore lol

[supercasey]

So I've been playing The Hades Game like fucking mad for the last few weeks, and although I'm not very far in it (at least, I don’t think I am; I’ve only beat Hades once!), I'm absolutely in love with it! Anyways, a certain idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile now, so I thought I'd share it with y'all; feel free to tell me what you think of it! (Warning: spoilers for when you beat Hades the first time!)

Anyways, I've already seen a really cool AU post for if Demeter raised Zagreus on the surface by herself (which you can find HERE; please check it out, the outfit for Zag alone is an amazing concept, and I love the artwork!!!) but I keep thinking about an AU where, after Zagreus dies at birth, Persephone runs away and takes his wrapped up body with her.

On the surface, she reconnects/reunites with her mother Demeter, and with her aid, the two of them manage to resurrect the newborn baby, though now he has more white in his hair than anything else. After that, Persephone sends Hades a letter to tell him that Zagreus is alive and well (because she actually has some fucking class), before proceeding to raise Zagreus on the surface with her mother, far away from the entrance to hell. The Olympians also help her out a bit, but mostly they just help by hiding Zagreus when it’s necessary.

(The rest is under a cut ‘cus this got a bit long, sorry!)

Years pass in relative peace, until Zagreus is about as old as he is in-game (I think he’s around 20-25ish???) and is living well, working with his mom and grandma to take care of their gardens and live peacefully away from mankind; he especially loves tending to the animals and guiding lost mortals to safety. However, one day while foraging for fruit in the deepest corners of his mother’s signature garden, Zagreus happens across a strange man in long robes, who introduces himself as Thanatos.

The two men get along swimmingly from minute one, and after agreeing to meet with each other again soon, they leave and tell their families/friends all about the experience, having no clue who they are to each other. After all, Thanatos was told growing up that his lord’s first wife died giving birth to their first and only child, who was a stillborn, and Zagreus thinks his father died of disease (his mom didn’t have to heart to tell him anything bad about his dad). Needless to say, they’re gonna be in for quite the shock soon.

Cue Hades losing his shit and calling on Thanatos, Megaera, and Achilles to go find his progeny and bring him home; he gives them special permission to leave the Underworld without any resistance, trusting Than to lead the way back to Zagreus. Achilles is less than thrilled to be performing such a morally grey task for his master, but Meg and Than are eager to prove themselves, so he begrudgingly agrees to help, even if it hurts his conscience to do so.

Persephone and Demeter also freak the hell out on their end, scared shitless by the fact that Death incarnate has just met their son/grandson, and they’re worried that he plans on coming back again soon. Demeter suggests sending Zagreus to live with the Olympians until this all blows over, but Persephone disagrees, wanting her son to stay nearby in case he grows ill (it’s implied that she’s a bit overprotective of him, mostly because she’s afraid of him dying again; this also means she refuses to let him know that he’s in any danger, believing it would only make things worse for him in the long-run). Frustrated but understanding her daughter’s pain all too well, Demeter at least convinces her to call on the Olympians for aid, which Persephone agrees to do.

The gods promise to help of course, but... well, they're low-key lying; they wanna see how this plays out first.

After several days of traveling through hell (literally), the “let’s kidnap Zagreus” gang makes it to the surface, and they immediately head to Persephone’s garden. All this time, Zagreus has no idea that he’s being targeted, so he goes about his chores as usual, only to run into Than again, and hey, he brought some more friends for him to meet! Zagreus is friendly with all of them, being raised to be very polite by his guardians, and while he’s busy chatting with Than and Achilles, he doesn’t notice Meg sneaking behind him. Just as Zagreus is rattling on about how the animals have been faring this summer, Meg stabs Zagreus in the back with a blade coated in Hades’s blood, cursing him to belong to the Underworld again.

With Zagreus now unconscious from a sedative that was mixed with the blood, the trio hurry off with him back to the Underworld, but not without Persephone seeing what they’ve done to her son. Horrified, she begins to sob, and winter arrives in the mortal world without so much as a fall season in-between this and the summertime.

When Zagreus comes to, he finds himself in a bedroom similar to the one he has in the game, but it’s much cleaner and has less objects of personal value to him. Hades is standing at the foot of his bed when he wakes up, and very calmly, Hades tells Zagreus that he’s his father, and that from now on, Zagreus will be living in the Underworld with him and his people, where he so obviously belongs. It’s a shame his mother can’t be here, of course, but they just need to wait awhile, that’s all; surely she’ll come to her senses and return home soon, now that her husband and son are here.

Zagreus jumps out of bed and faces his father as soon as he’s done monologuing, ready to tell him off for what he’s done, but to his shock, Hades hugs him as soon as he’s on his feet, and admits that he’s waited for this day for a long, long time. He asks his son to please just accept that this is his home now, and despite still being a bit surprised (and subtly hugging Hades back because Longing), Zagreus tells him straight up that he can’t, that he has to get home, especially with winter coming in a few months!

Dejected but not overly surprised, Hades simply nods in acceptance, but he still warns Zagreus that it’s no use trying to fight it; he’s stuck here, now and forever, so he may as well get comfortable and try getting along with him, because no one’s going anywhere anytime soon. Zagreus is horrified, but he nods nonetheless, unsure of what to say or do just yet.

Later that night, as Zagreus is struggling to sleep in this new, unfamiliar place, Achilles comes to him and apologizes about what’s happened, and although he can’t magically fix everything for him, he tells Zagreus that it actually is supposedly possible to escape; it’s just that no one’s ever done it before. Driven by his desire for freedom and the thought of reuniting with his mother, Zagreus tells Achilles that he’s going to find a way out, no matter the cost. Achilles congratulates him on his tenacity, but warns him that it won’t be easy. Still, he’s willing to help Zagreus as much as he can.

From then on, I imagine the game playing out very differently from the original, with a rather frazzled and scared Zagreus trying to get home to his mom and grandma, but with none of his training from Achilles in this AU, he has to rely on something his mother taught him; his connection with earth and all it’s inhabitants. Or, in his case, his connection with the spirits of animals (a cross of his dad and mom’s powers). That’s right, I’m making The Hades Game into a fucking Pokemon-ripoff, but still with some rouge-like elements mixed in (mostly with Zagreus not keeping his animals after runs).

Having royally fucked up in not stepping in sooner to protect Zagreus, the gods end up helping him out by sending down animals associated with them for the young god to tame for a run (I’ll come up with them later). They usually offer a selection to choose from, and from there Zagreus can build up a team and use it to try and escape the Underworld.

To replace weapons, I like to think he’d have “signature” animals that can help him out for any of his runs, specifically ones from Achilles, Poseidon, Zeus, Demeter (once he reaches the surface at least once), and eventually even Hades gives him one if they bond together enough ((yes, it’s Cerberus... kinda; it’s a puppy version of him, otherwise he’d be OP as fuck)). Zagreus’s signature animals can all be given names, and they keep certain skills that they pick up through enough experience battling in the Underworld for Zagreus.

As for story-line stuff, Zagreus ends up in a very fish out of water situation as he tries to get to know everyone in Hades’s house (he’s still our kindhearted Zag, after all, and he knows most of them aren’t to blame, not even really Than!) while also focusing on his goal to get home to his mom. Hades ends up being a lot nicer to him in this AU, perhaps overly so, as he’s trying to make his son like him more in order to make up for lost time (and fill the hole in his heart that Zag’s initial death as an infant and Persephone leaving with him created). It’s part of the reason he’s even letting Zagreus try to escape; he wants him to learn that it won’t work on his own terms (and maybe also scare the kid so bad that he comes running to him for comfort afterwards).

Also, I should really note that Zagreus is 100% a sweet country farm boy in this AU, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on with pretty much anything in the Underworld, much to everyone’s astonishment. For example:

Meg: Gods, it must be weird getting used to everything down here, huh? Sick of stepping in bat shit yet? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, and Dusa’s pretty good about cleaning it up to begin with. Zagreus: I mean, I guess? It’s not that different from chicken shit tbh. Meg: What the fuck is a chicken???

After that... yeah, I dunno. I’ll try playing Hades some more, see if I think up anything else that could be interesting, but for now, I hope at least someone ends up liking this dumb AU (if not, I’ll still like it... might even try my hand at drawing for it a bit tbh). Again, please check out the person who’s post/art I linked earlier in the post, ‘cus their art is really awesome and inspired me to include Demeter more in this AU!

[writing-in-april]

A Greek Tragedy

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Masc. Coded Reader- Read A/N)

Gif made for me by the amazing @zhuzhubii

Summary: Spencer and Reader’s lives now resemble a Greek tragedy after Spencer returns from his kidnapping.

A/N: So- this wasn’t originally supposed to hurt this much. But- I kinda ran with it and now it’s way more angst then fluff. I’m not really a big angst person myself but I still think this is one of my best pieces by far.This is day 4 of 7 of my 500 follower celebration- Thanks for all the love!Thank you @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff who requested that I write something with the dialogue prompt and also thanks to @zhuzhubii who’s angst pieces also fuel my own (they also might have possessed me to write this lmao) The Reader is written with no pronouns BUT Phylades and Orestes were two male characters so it is masc. coded.

⚠️ Warnings: Drug use, Drug withdrawals, Mild Allusions to Suicide, Throw up, Wishing Death on Others, Hurt Comfort with Heavy Angst, Sorta a happy ending (there’s a light at the end of the tunnel)

Masterlist Word count: 1.2k

Greek plays were often marred with tragedy- they did happen to have a whole genre of plays based solely on that fact. I felt like my life had become one recently, as it was only filled with sadness, regret and anger. After Spencer had come back from being kidnapped from Hankel everyone knew he had come back a changed man. He was more snippy and aggressive to the point that he was sometimes hostile with the team. I got the brunt of the repercussions from the kidnapping, with living and working together l saw almost every swing in Spencer’s mood. I never minded being there when he was low, taking care of my partner in his time of strife was a job that I took seriously. It still pained me every time I saw him sneak off to go to the bathroom, trying to avoid any prying eyes of his concerned team. I knew exactly what he was doing, I had had my suspicions during the month when he was forced to stay home right after the tragedy, though I had not wanted to push him to reveal it until he was ready. My suspicions were confirmed the night when I had enough of his 1 hour long stint in the bathroom, kicking in the door to make sure my poor boy hadn’t gone too far. After that he had been more open with me seeing as there was no hiding from his problem from me. Even though I told him I would sit through every moment of him getting clean, he still looked at me in disbelief almost like he thought I was going to leave him. It hurt me to see my boy so broken down to the point that he no longer believed in my love for him. He need not worry I would never leave him, I loved him too much. A tragedy indeed. In the back of my head I resented the team for not offering help, for not being here through the worst  moments or even through the easiest of times. As soon as they saw a floundering fish they swam to the bottom with the rest, if only to protect themselves. Even JJ and Derek who he considered his brother and sister even though they were not related by blood had swam to the bottom. I selfishly wished to myself in the moments I was helping Spencer that they slept with instead of swam with them, I didn’t really care if that made me a bad person. Maybe they left to find their Atlantis down there, after all it was Plato’s concept of an ‘ideal state’. It didn’t matter how perfect it was if it was without my Spencer I did not want to swim with them, I would flounder with him . I would stay. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. It did not matter that we were not married yet, I had already taken that vow. There had been no witnesses when I had made it in front of our bathroom mirror, but it was as important to me as any legal document. Maybe even more important. I stayed through everything.

Even as he hurled insults at me, tried to escape my grasp to rummage through my drawers to find his fix, and kicked and screamed loud enough that he was no doubt bothering our neighbors. I still stayed

That wasn’t the part that broke my heart the most. The worst tragedy I went through was after he had lost all of his energy, was all out of fight and wanted it all to end. It usually hit after he had gotten ill again, throwing up whatever was left in his stomach until it was only painful dry heaving. I helped all that I could, though the only thing I really could do in those moments was whisper soothing words and hold his hair back to prevent it from getting messy. It was easy to feel hopeless when awash with tragedy, to feel like there was no light at the end of the tunnel. But, the thought of abandoning the one that I loved so much seemed far worse. So I stayed.

I stayed no matter how tragic it got. The symptoms were particularly bad today, this was his first day completely without his drug of choice after helping wean off. He had fought me harder than I expected today, all in an attempt to find drugs that the two of us had already dumped down the sink together. And, when he had remembered where they had gone his fight had renewed to a strength not unlike the vengeful Poseidon, an angry force of water whipped up into a violent storm. Though, in Spencer’s case the water had been tears falling down his cheeks while pleading for me to let him get in contact with his dealer.

After the worst of it had passed, the tears had mostly dried with only the shakes remaining; I sat next to my darling boy trying to comfort him. I was holding his hand as tight as I could as some reassurance to him that I was real, not some hallucination cooked up by his brain. “I’ll take care of you.” It felt as if I had said those words too many times to count, it always seemed like he forgot them as soon as they fell past my lips or he chose to ignore them believing I was a figment of his imagination. I pulled him onto my lap so his head rested in the perfect spot for me to run my fingers through his hair, wanting to hold him close. Even though it was slightly drenched in sweat and his skin was clammy I still continued my actions in an attempt to alleviate the withdrawal shaking through his body. However, my minimal discomfort far outweighed Spencer’s, I would take on every single one of his burdens if only to see him smile. “It’s rotten work.” I wasn’t sure if Spencer’s mumbled quote of the Greek tragedy Orestes was intentional or something he had pulled from his genius brain on accident while still slightly out of it. I hadn’t read the play by Euripides before like he had, but I did know the rest of the quote. Though, I also did know that the two characters who said it were murderers, but the appeal of vengeance on another was now becoming a normal thought for me so perhaps I understood them. Regardless of my thoughts I still finished the quote to him if only to bring him a small form of comfort would soothe my soul and hopefully his. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” I meant my words with all my heart, mind, and soul. It may be a tragedy, but it was ours to bear together. I was his Pylades and he was my Orestes- lovers but most importantly best friends.

[bb8sworld]

— litoreus, part i

pairing: god of the sea!obi-wan kenobi x reader

word count: 7k (*sweats nervously*)

a/n: greetings, and welcome to the first part of my new series! i don’t know how better to summarize this story than by saying that kara (@karasong) said “neptune is a dilf” then val (@milleniumvalcon) said a statue of poseidon looked like obi-wan, and it spiraled from there. so many thanks to the discord for the idea of this poseidon!obi au.

-- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ -- 

Destiny. Fate. Will. Luck. Fortune. Chance. Predestination.

Words Obi-Wan Kenobi was intimately familiar with in a multitude of different tongues, languages, dialects, and scripts. Words that have altered in connotation throughout history but have remained steadfast in their use. Words that he didn’t believe in but knew nonetheless. As someone who has been around as long as he has, and as someone who knows the inner workings of the universe and was created shortly after it’s conception, he’s aware that the ideas of Fate and Destiny were innately… human. Something clung onto by ordinary people who dwelled on the Earth and needed reassurance for an occurrence in their lives or ideas blamed for any wrongdoing that came their way.

No, Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t believe in Fate, Destiny, Fortune, or whatever other terms may be used to describe these phenomena. Everything had an order, everything had a purpose, and things didn’t happen “by chance” or “just because.” They happened because they were supposed to, not because some outside force separate from the godly beings decided to intervene. As a godly being himself, he thinks he would know if there were outside forces beyond him and his fellow gods having any say in the universe.

One of the many perks of being a god, he supposed.

Being a god was tricky business, and it was a job that often didn’t pay in kind. From his very creation, Obi-Wan had struggled with this role of his, from who he was, who he was meant to be, and how he was supposed to act.

Despite being named Obi-Wan Kenobi upon “birth,” he has gone by a plethora of different names throughout his immortal life thus far—such as Olokun, Lir, Hapi, Poseidon, Neptune, Enbilulu, and Njord, just to name a few. So many names to describe one being who ruled, guarded, and protected the seas and oceans. Each one attuned to the civilization in which the name originated from, but all converging together to describe the same god. And from it came an outpouring of love and awe. It was flattering, to say the least, that humans at one point cared so much about him that they would craft pieces of artwork dedicated to him. Or how they would construct temples of worship for him so that they might have a place to pray for safe voyages, either for themselves or loved ones. It made him feel good and loved and appreciated and a whole litany of positive affirmations that humans use to describe this gooey feeling nestled within him.

Obi-Wan loved to help humanity and had always been infatuated with them—their cultures, lifestyles, relationships, emotions, everything. And any time he helped, he got to learn a little bit more about what made humans so human. Sometimes when he did intervene in their matters and was praised for it, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it felt like to be human. To be loved, appreciated, adored, wanted.

But being a god wasn’t always so pleasant and flattering.

Sometimes, if a storm churned in the ocean and caused a shipwreck, his name would be cursed at in such hatred and despair as grief overtook the humans. It stung and was incredibly painful to hear, but unfortunately, he didn’t always have control over those situations. Whenever this happened, he would wonder if the feelings he felt were the same ones humans did in response to these occurrences—unloved, hated, disgusted, guilty, remorseful.

Obi-Wan really, truly wanted to take suffering away from the very humans who had fascinated him for centuries, but that’s not the way the universe works. Matters of life and death were not his jurisdiction, even if either of these happened in the blue waves below. It fell to the god of the underworld who was the overseer of death, so therefore Obi-Wan’s hands were tied. He only had control over the voyage's journey, not the destination of the passengers, meaning he was often forced to watch as lives were taken at sea and his name was sworn against in wrath.

But like with all things brought to the attention of humanity, people move on. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, as times changed and new beliefs gained traction, that meant humans moved on from their old ways and religions—from the other gods and from him.

Despite his presence once being well-known and called upon in times of need and worship and gratitude, his importance dwindled in the eyes of the humans until he was all but nonexistent. His very being and all his life’s work were boiled down to a name that was somehow both him yet not him, written offhandedly in a history textbook for children to be aware of for a test but to forget immediately afterward. His life became a story sometimes told in a mythology book or two, often censored and abridged for audiences to “understand better.” He became a name people were familiar with but knew little about.

And so humanity had moved on from him, but he hadn’t moved on from humanity.

He was still endlessly intrigued by everything they were about and everything they had to offer, but because of his godly status, he never dared to go down and explore for himself, despite other gods having done so for one reason or another. And every day he was a little more tempted to go down and see what was new and exciting. Every time he saw another god leave to head down, he got a little bit closer to asking if he could join.

That being said, he did stay connected where he could. Throughout all of human history, art had been made in his name, and sometimes he would clear his mind and connect to those works as he did back in the ancient days and listen in on what was being said. Sometimes he caught snippets of stories from those who stood nearby. Sometimes he heard tales of his own life being taught to a younger generation in museums. But it had been a long time since he heard anyone talk to him. And despite his lack of belief in Fate or Destiny or whatever you wanted to call it, he couldn’t help but wish for the times to change and for one person to talk to him instead of about him. He wished that someone would answer his pathetic call and just talk to him.

So imagine his surprise when one day someone picked up.

At first, he thought it to be an accident. No way had someone genuinely believed he was real and manifested the powers to protect them when they traveled at sea, nor had someone directly contacted him in years for any reason. With all the new methods of transportation and exploration in the seas and oceans, most people went on those devices willingly without saying a quick prayer to him for the waters to be safe. Which was fine, really. He knew his place. Doesn’t mean he didn’t feel a little pang of hurt every time he saw a cruise ship head out or people go boating or children learn how to canoe.

But no… this call was different. It wasn’t a history lesson, or someone singing to themselves near a statue of him, or just some background clutter. No, this one felt different. And so, Obi-Wan sat on the floor of his room, closed his eyes, and began to slip into a meditative state in order to hear the call better.

“—maybe… we hang the light a foot more to the right? And tilt it just a tiny bit backward… there. Perfect! Look at you, Poseidon—or do you prefer Neptune—whatever, it doesn’t matter. But look at you, all cleaned up, restored, illuminated, and ready to go on display when the exhibit opens tomorrow. Let’s hope the visitors appreciate you in your polished state. Are you ready?”

Ah, so a new exhibit was going up featuring, presumably, a statue of him made by one of the ancient Greeks or Romans he oversaw so many centuries ago. He was about to tune out the voice and slip out of his meditative state when the voice picked up again.

“—god I must sound crazy. Just look at me, talking to a statue of a god who doesn’t even exist.” A beat. “I wish you did though, you seem like you’d be better company than some of the other people around here. Wishful thinking, eh, Neptune? Or… Poseidon… ugh, this is what happens when it’s an ancient Greek and Roman exhibit, there are too many double names—”

And off the voice went on a tangent about finishing up illuminating each of the iconic pieces of artwork and organizing pamphlets about the new exhibit in the information stands. From the sounds of it, the person behind the voice presumably worked at some museum where a new exhibit of him and the other gods in his life was being put together.

Maybe… maybe he could go down and visit it sometime. At least to see the art he hadn’t seen in many years. And if he happened to stumble across the worker with the voice he just tuned into, then he’d consider that a happy accident despite that very claim going against his beliefs about Fate. But how could he head down from his home in the clouds without raising suspicion among the other gods? He was notorious for keeping his distance once humanity forgot him, instead preferring to observe from afar and rejecting any offers to head down to the land.

The answer came in the form of Anakin Skywalker—also known as Camulus, Svetovid, Teutates, Ares, Mars, Odin, and Montu, to name a few—the god of war and the manifestation of the spirit of battle. He was a frequent visitor of the land and was undoubtedly Obi-Wan’s best friend. Not to mention, he regularly asked Obi-Wan to join him in hopes of getting him “out of his hermit lifestyle and back to the land of the living,” to quote Anakin, but Obi-Wan had either made excuses or flat out rejected his offer. But maybe it was high time he said yes.

With his plan in mind, now all he had to do was wait for Anakin to approach him and ask. And sure enough, just a few earth days later, Anakin showed up outside of Obi-Wan’s room with a cheeky smile on his face and a “ready to be done with being a recluse?” comment as expected. And though Anakin wouldn’t ever admit it to Obi-Wan’s face, Obi-Wan could see the true concern reflecting in his eyes alongside the expectation of getting rejected. Typically, there would be a pain in his eyes following each rejection, likely stemming from the wedge that sat between them because, for all that they were best friends—brothers even—they didn’t always see eye-to-eye on godly matters. From this came the worry that always sat at the corner of every conversation because Obi-Wan (admittedly so) had been self-isolating from humanity and became a stickler for following the rules of the gods. Contrast that to Anakin who was laxer in his ways and open to embracing his feelings and attachments.

But that concern and pain would end today. Obi-Wan was tired of feeling sorry for himself and hiding away up here and being lonely despite never actually being alone.

He was ready for adventure again.

And so, it was with a resounding sigh and faked exasperation that he said, “Oh, alright.”

If he took a little pleasure in being able to cause such a shocked facial expression on Anakin’s face, then that was for him to know. Though, it was a moment later when Anakin’s face split into a wide grin that he felt any lingering doubts about going down to earth dissipate. Yes, this was the right choice. If not for himself, then for his relationship with Anakin.

The act of getting down to earth was a rather easy task consisting of exiting through a golden archway that teleported them to a location of their choosing. Obi-Wan hopped on Anakin’s coordinates and the two reappeared in a forest Obi-Wan was unfamiliar with, the lights and sounds of a nearby town being their guide on the trek.

Before stepping into the hustle and bustle of the town, Anakin and Obi-Wan had “normalized” themselves from their usual glowing, almost angelic appearance into something more humane and easily looked over, particularly nondescript and unassuming, using the powers they possessed. The less attention they brought to themselves, the better. It was safer not to risk the chance of revealing themselves. Back in historic and ancient times, it was more common for them to fall into crowds of people undercover and interact, getting to know and understand the circumstances humanity faced up close and personal instead of from a distance. But that had all changed once Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the fellow gods above all became characters in a history book.

Nonetheless, Obi-Wan treasured this one act of using his powers for fun instead of remaining dormant and simply controlling the seas in the same patterns and cycles. He looked over at Anakin, wanting to see if he was ready to head into the streets, when he was surprised to see Anakin’s eyes already looking his way, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, exasperation smothering the very word, “What is it?”

“Finally decided on getting a haircut?” Anakin replied, laughter playing on the edge of the question. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the question. Yes, usually when he came down to earth he sported a longer hairstyle—a godly mullet, as Anakin oh so lovingly called it, business in the front and the only fun you know how to have in the back—but times had changed, and Obi-Wan had figured it was time for him to as well, at least a little bit. So he did. It was less of a haircut and more of the decision to manifest with shorter hair, unlike a certain someone standing next to him who had apparently decided the opposite.

“Strong words coming from someone who’s sporting a mullet themselves,” he quipped back, turning his attention forward and beginning the trek to the town. Affronted was the only word to describe how Anakin reacted, cemented in his shock, before he shook out of his state and rushed to catch up with his friend, secretly happy to see Obi-Wan engaging in their familiar back-and-forth.

“It is not a mullet, Obi-Wan,” Anakin refuted. “It’s stylish and helps me blend in.”

Obi-Wan gives a quiet hmm in acknowledgment before replying, “Whatever you say, Anakin.”

And so the trek continued until they found themselves in a bustling town with car horns honking, people shoving themselves through crowds, and bright lights illuminating around them. It was both entirely overwhelming yet hauntingly intriguing. For as much as he wanted to look away from the circus before him, Obi-Wan couldn’t stop admiring and absorbing all the information thrown at him. Of course he was aware of how the earth and humanity had progressed from his perch in the clouds, but while it’s one thing to hear and know of something, it’s another thing to witness and experience that which you had heard so much about.

Through his daze, he’s just barely able to keep up with Anakin as they take to the sidewalks, Anakin walking in an apparent familiar cadence as if he already knows where he’s heading and knows the trek well. Perhaps there’s a destination Anakin frequents on his jaunts down to earth? Maybe Obi-Wan should’ve asked what Anakin had in mind before he agreed to this excursion, but it’s too little too late for that now. But still, asking the destination of their slightly fast walking couldn’t hurt, right?

“You know, Anakin,” he starts, “You never told me where you were intending for us to go today.”

“Oh,” Anakin flounders for a moment, as if not expecting the question. Curious. “I, uh, well I figured we’d go to the local art museum.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan is unconvinced, but plays along anyway, only the slightest bit of suspicion seeping into his tone.

“Well… I know you love learning and appreciating the more—how do you phrase it?—refined and civilized things in life,” Anakin jokes, “So I figured we could go to an art museum together.”

Well wasn’t that just the shock of the century. Art museums were far from Anakin’s usual environment. Why? Anakin was loud, brash, and impulsive, constantly itching to go out and meet action head-on, act now think later, a complete contrast to the usually quiet, serene, and contemplative nature that art museums held dear. And for all that Obi-Wan loved Anakin, there were certain environments he would never dare to be with him, art museums being one of them. But, considering Obi-Wan had agreed to join and Anakin actually seemed somewhat eager to go, he figured he could indulge Anakin just this once.

Besides, Obi-Wan figured there must’ve been some ulterior motive at play here, and if he played his cards right, he could figure it out.

“An art museum?” he asks casually, hoping maybe he’ll get a hint of this mysterious motive.

But Anakin immediately picks up on the slight curiosity in his words. “Yeah, why? You don’t want to go?”

“No, I wouldn’t mind going, I just didn’t know you’d be interested in that.”

“Well, people change, Obi-Wan. Maybe I’ve taken a page from your book and learned how to be stuffy and grandfatherly.”

Rude, Obi-Wan muses, but an unlikely story. He leaves it at that and instead asks Anakin what else he had on the itinerary for the day as they walk toward the museum. Apparently, the art museum is the highlight of the day, though Anakin does promise that if Obi-Wan would be open to indulging in human food—something that honestly means nothing to them because they can’t be satisfied on non-godly food—there’s a cafe not too far from the museum that they can hang out and people watch at. All-in-all, not a bad day. Could’ve been way worse given how differently he and Anakin define “a fun day out.”

Eventually, they do make it to the art museum in one piece, and Obi-Wan immediately takes note of how quaint it looks against the glamour of the surrounding town. Less bright colors and flashes of light on the exterior but still a commanding presence with its masonry that almost demands you to look at it and compels you to go inside.

They stand in the queue to get tickets and go inside, but once they do, Anakin starts walking off before Obi-Wan can even grab a map of the museum. He manages to snag one and just barely finds Anakin in the crowd of the entry foyer, leaving Obi-Wan to trail behind a couple of feet once he catches up as Anakin guides him to the Medieval and Renaissance art exhibit. They’re only a few feet inside the exhibit when someone calls out “Ani!” and the two whip their heads around in-sync to the sound of the voice, a chorus of shushing surrounding them.

It’s a short woman who approaches the pair, a charming smile on her lips and a glint in her eyes. She immediately goes to embrace Anakin and Obi-Wan thinks: ah, ulterior motive discovered. He looks at her professional attire, the low but elegant bun her brown hair is in, and the name tag he just barely caught a glimpse of and easily deduces that she must be a staff member here. Maybe once the two finally release each other Obi-Wan can say his greetings and find out more.

Luckily, she seems to be the sensible one between the two and releases Anakin after making eye contact with Obi-Wan, as if just now realizing that Anakin came with company. She tries to be blasé about the overly friendly interaction with Anakin by plowing forward in her introduction, holding her hand out for a handshake. Very interesting, indeed.

“I’m Padmé Amidala, one of the curators for this exhibit in the museum. You must be one of Anakin’s friends,” she greets. Obi-Wan takes her hand and gives it a slight shake. Her grip is firm but not tight, giving just enough of her away for him to understand that she is a person to be respected and in awe of but not feared. It’s easy to begin understanding how her dynamic with Anakin works.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Oh, so you’re the famous Obi-Wan. Anakin has told me so much about you.” Obi-Wan gives a side-eyed glance to Anakin, noting the innocent expression he wears and wondering just how much he’s revealed to Padmé.

“Interesting, he hasn’t mentioned you at all,” Obi-Wan responds, giving them both a teasing smile in some semblance of reassurance that he isn’t offended by this fact.

However, Obi-Wan can feel the lingering hesitation and slight nerves radiating off of Anakin, which is an unsurprising development. Gods aren’t meant to have deep bonds with humans. Loose friendships are typically accepted with only slight frowns, but once it strays into a tight-knit bond and attachments form, especially romantic ones, they’re frowned upon greatly. And between the two of them, Anakin is less of a stickler for the rules, instead preferring to live by his own interpretations and caveats to the rules—which means Obi-Wan knows that Anakin fears this friendship of his with Padmé will be scrutinized and berated.

Which… okay, is a valid concern considering Obi-Wan’s devotion to the rules, but Obi-Wan hates to be a snitch on his best friend. And as long as he doesn’t witness any actions that would confirm a more serious relationship, particularly romantic, Obi-Wan is willing to turn his eye to the obvious heart eyes and lingering touches the two share. Can’t tattle if there’s room for doubt and question.

He just hopes Anakin knows this himself. And he especially hopes that Anakin hasn’t told Padmé that he’s a god.

He decides to shake off these thoughts and turn the conversation to safer territory to try and ease Anakin some. “So, Padmé, I take it you work here. What is it that you do?”

Immense relief hits him like a tidal wave from Anakin with happiness trailing behind like seafoam as the wave recedes. Not wanting to make any open comments about Anakin’s feelings and potentially clue Padmé into their more than human nature, he settles for a quick moment of eye contact before focusing back on Padmé.

“I’m one of the museum curators here,” she confirms, “I mainly specialize with art in the Medieval and Renaissance exhibit as well as our Impressionist pieces.” She pauses to size him up, silently scrutinizing him and his reactions. Whatever it is she finds must satisfy her, because she continues as if nothing happened, “Have you been here before, Obi-Wan? We recently got some new pieces on loan from some collectors and other museums that are worth checking out.”

“This is my first time, actually,” Obi-Wan starts before Anakin jumps in, quick on his verbal heels, “Right! And I was going to show him around. Make sure he visits the highlights at least.”

Instantly Padmé’s face drops ever so slightly at the idea of this conversation ending and her parting from Anakin, but she composes herself well. But Obi-Wan would be blind not to notice Anakin’s disappointment too, so he decides to take matters into his own hands and says, “Though I’m more than capable of wandering on my own if you’d rather stay and chat with Padmé, Anakin.”

“Are you sure, Obi-Wan? I was the one who invited you out after all—”

“Nonsense, I’ll be more than fine on my own. Maybe then I’ll actually get to appreciate the art and read the descriptions like the grandfather you think I am,” he jokes. “I’ll meet you back by the entrance in a couple hours. Pleasure meeting you, Padmé, I hope we meet again soon.”

And just like that, Obi-Wan is off and he no longer has to be surrounded by the obvious desire for something more between the two that was only stifled from being acted on by his presence. When he’s a good distance away, he decides to stop for a moment and actually look at the map in his hand, and he’s pleasantly surprised by just how many exhibits, art movements, and cultural regions are housed in this art museum. With the knowledge that he may not be able to knock out every exhibit in one visit, he decides to make his rounds to the ones that intrigue him the most. 

He starts in the African Art section, admiring the ceramics and textiles created in various regions of Africa, before moving onto the Chinese bronzes, ceramics, and jades exhibition and it’s next-door Japanese screens and paintings exhibit. He’s thinking of swinging to modern and contemporary works when he looks at the map in his hands and eyes the Ancient Greek and Roman Art exhibit, reluctance setting in. Obi-Wan always feels a bit of hesitancy whenever admiring ancient creations because he remembers who the artists were and that fact makes him feel old and worn down in ways he never expected gods to feel like. Besides, wouldn’t it be narcissistic of himself to go and admire the times of old and perhaps even stumble upon a work of him?

Caution thrown to the wind, Obi-Wan decides to make his way to the Ancient Greek and Roman Art exhibit. With his head held high, he spots the tall glass doors to the exhibit and opens them slowly before stepping inside and almost immediately being hit by a whirlpool of nostalgia. Just seeing the vases, plates, coins, cups, relics, and statues on display make him nearly stumble on his feet. The faces staring back at him on the head busts by the entrance are so eerily similar to those of his friends that he feels his breathing stutter for a moment. It’s true that back in those times the gods were more… open to visiting earth. Back then they were more willing and able to interact with humanity and be treated kindly in return. Though, the stories of their escapades and interactions always seemed to be skewed and embellished among all civilizations.

But one thing that transpires over almost every civilization who ever believed in the gods and goddess that Obi-Wan is connected to is that they managed to nail one key feature of the gods in their stories: their extremities. Because at the end of the day, that’s what the gods all were—the best and worst of humanity, but maximized.

Obi-Wan prefers not to think about that fact and how, subsequently, he feels more than humans do and also has an awareness for the feelings of the other gods.

No, best not to dwell on that.

He decides that perhaps it’s best to move beyond the entryway and stop clogging up the doorway with his presence, so he begins to move through the exhibit, stopping every now and then to admire a certain work of art. By the time he’s gone through about half the exhibit, the sting of seeing those he knows etched onto bronze or marble is hurting less; he’s thinking he can finally start to appreciate the art more when he hears a voice.

But it’s not just any voice, it’s a voice he recognizes. And it’s not Anakin, nor is it Padmé. It’s a voice he’s heard before but he doesn’t know the person it belongs to. It’s familiar enough that he clings to it, scrambling through past and recent memories until finally it clicks:

The voice he’s hearing is the voice that recently talked to him via one of the statues commemorated in his honor.

And just like that, he turns his head around and begins to look around for the source. It’s like he’s a ship lost at sea and this voice is his guiding light home, if only he could find it. It takes a couple more seconds before finally his gaze settles on you, and it’s as if sunlight just burst into the room. He notices your eyes first and the way they shimmer with happiness as you wander through the exhibit, admiring the artworks yourself. But then he catches your smile as you turn to talk to one of the nearby patrons and the very sight of it makes him feel as if the world has just opened wide, opportunities he’s never considered laying out on many paths before him.

He takes a moment to shake himself out of his daze to properly take in your appearance. Judging on your outfit and the name tag that he just barely can’t make out and read, you are obviously a worker here, perhaps a curator like Padmé. You’re wandering the exhibit with an air of pride surrounding you, as if you’re happy that so many people are taking the time to come and appreciate the art before them. Everything about you is intriguing and he wants to introduce himself to you before this high feeling surrounding him comes crashing down and he goes back up to the clouds to spend out his immortal days alone and separated again from humanity.

Just as he’s about to take a few steps in your direction, he feels a harsh force of another body hit him in the side, nearly sending him toppling over onto a head bust next to him. He’s bracing for impact, praying that this piece of art somehow is a counterfeit and doesn’t cost more than he can even fathom (seriously, exactly how bad is inflation right now?) when he feels hands on his shoulders that push him back onto his feet. His hands immediately latch onto the ones grabbing him as he steadies himself. One he’s back on solid ground, he looks up to go thank whoever caught him when his heart leaps to his throat and he momentarily stops breathing because who else would be his savior than his guiding light?

He barely has time to even admire your speed and strength before you’re talking to him.

“Are you okay?” you ask and oh how he wants to hear more and more and more of your angelic voice. It’s as if you’re a siren, tempting him closer and closer to you until finally he is caught in your eyes and dancing among the many stars that twinkle in them. But suddenly he flushes with the realization that he’s been staring way too long and oh dear this is quite a messy first impression he really needs to redeem himself with something coherent and get this boat sailing back on course—

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah. Fine. I’m fine. Never better, truly.” Shipwreck. What an utter shipwreck this is for him. Maker, he’s making a fool of himself. Amid his internal despair, he hears you giggle at his fumbling and his heart starts beating faster.

“Poseidon right?”

And suddenly his heart stops, his mouth drops every so slightly, and his face whitens. How have you possibly figured him out so quickly?

“What?” Is about all he can muster in response.

“Or Neptune, I guess, depending on which you prefer.” He’s silent. Awestruck. But you must pick up on the confusion and awe on his face because you elaborate, “You know… the sculpture right over there? The big marble one with a man holding a trident? The one you were staring at before you nearly crashed into this poor head bust of Zeus and broke this priceless piece of historic artwork? Really, what did the poor guy ever do to you? Surely he doesn’t deserve his head getting cracked open a second time.”

Oh thank the Maker, you were just referring to the art in the room. Which perhaps he should’ve accounted for instead of internally freaking out because he did willingly enter the Ancient Greek and Roman Art exhibit of the museum.

But you take his silent relief as continued confusion because you are suddenly rambling, “You know, because Zeus already had his head cracked open once by Hephaestus after Zeus swallowed a pregnant Metis and gave birth to Athena through his forehead?” You laugh awkwardly before plowing on, “Maybe I should stop talking now, sorry, sometimes I just go off about all these old myths, I just think they’re fascinating and—sorry, I’m doing it again aren’t I?”

He laughs in response to your weak joke and hearty explanation, and he starts to feel a little less wound up and nervous when he notices that you’re feeling the same way.

“No, no, it’s alright! It was very clever. Funny too,” he comments. The two of you share a smile and simply stare into each others’ eyes for a couple moments. But then he begins to worry that he’s making you uncomfortable by maintaining eye contact for longer than normal—except what is “normal”? How much has human etiquette changed since he’d last been on earth? Is this conversation already doomed? He decides to take the gamble anyway and clears his throat as his eyes flicker around the exhibit, trying to think of what else to say to you, before he lands on your name tag (what a pretty name you have) and he says the first thought that comes to mind.

“So, you work here then?” Not the best conversation starter, but it’s something, he supposes. Maker, what is wrong with him? He’s never been so nervous in his entire immortal life, but one conversation with you and suddenly he’s falling victim to all the nerves and anxieties of humans, but dialed up beyond a 10. Gods really are the maximization of humanity’s best and worst. What an awful time to be living this fact. Thankfully, you respond and break him out of his spiraling worries.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been working here for the past couple of years as one of the curators. I actually worked on this exhibit. I helped organize and select all the pieces in the exhibit, arrange restorations and displays, and record all the art you see here. I’ll admit it’s rather hard selecting which art pieces would fit best with the message we’re trying to convey, not to mention the availability of many pieces of art also plays a difficult role, but I like to think it paid off in the end. There’s something special about all the pieces of art here,” you suddenly pause in your speech before walking over to the very Poseidon statue you thought Obi-Wan had been looking at earlier, and he follows, quick on your heels.

You continue, “Like, this statue of Poseidon, for example. It traveled through an ocean of time, across several continents, through several restorations, all to be right here, right now, in this very moment for you and I to admire.” You let out a sigh that Obi-Wan can only describe as wistful. “I can only wonder how it looked when the artist was creating it and when it was first unveiled.”

He wishes how he could tell you about when he first laid eyes on this statue of himself he had nearly burst into tears, sending a light rain over the agora from the intensity of his emotions. But he suppresses the urge. He wasn’t supposed to reveal himself to humanity, and even if he did let something slip, what are the odds that you’d ever believe him? The two of you are not close, and you never will be. His livelihood as a god forbids it.

Still…

There’s something about the sparkle in your eye as you wistfully look at the art, as if looking at it for the first time despite having seen it countless times before, and your passion for the ancient classics that he finds compelling. Initial literal-sweeping-off-his-feet encounter aside, there’s something about you that draws him to you.

You’re entirely intriguing to him, and he can’t quite pinpoint why. Not entirely, at least. It doesn’t hurt that he finds your ramblings of history and art to be adorable. Not that he’s admitting to anything more than simple infatuation at first sight. He wishes he had the chance to get to know you better beyond the confines of this Ancient Greek and Roman exhibit. But the two of you lead entirely different lives and he has to let this go.

But, he can allow himself this one instance of normal human interaction.

“I’m sure it must have been a sight to behold given how important the gods were to the Ancient Greeks and Romans,” he comments.

“Exactly!” Despite being a curator here and knowing the rules of the exhibits like the back of your hand, you are shushed by a nearby patron at your happy exclamation. Obi-Wan laughs softly at the embarrassed look on your face.

“Guess that’s my cue to switch topics,” you joke. Obi-Wan smiles kindly at you before you continue, “Basics then. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it,” he winks at your unimpressed look. Luckily for him though, it cracks and transforms into a brilliant smile as the two of you share a laugh. No harm done.

“Okay, smartass, I’ll rephrase: what’s your name?” you ask. “Not all of us are lucky enough to talk with people who wear name tags.”

“Alright then, since you asked so nicely, I’m Obi-Wan. And it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand for you, which you easily take and give a shake. A slight zing runs through his body at the slight contact, his hand still buzzing even after you two let go.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. Is this your first time here?” you inquire.

“Ah, yes, my friend decided to take me,” Obi-Wan starts, but he can’t help but grumble out, “I think he’s a frequent visitor.”

You let out a giggle at his grumpy tone. “You make it seem as if that’s a bad thing. Surely it’s not that god-awful here?”

“The company sure makes it better,” slips out before he can catch the words, but he’s not blind to the pleased look on your face. Huh. Interesting. “I never thought he was interested in art museums but—”

“Obi-Wan!” Cuts through the air, loud and brash and diluted with the slightest hint of concern, immediately followed by shushing by other patrons. Obi-Wan sighs as he recognizes the voice of Anakin.

“—it would appear that he still hasn’t picked up on museum etiquette despite all those visits.”

You rub his arm gently, a look of playful sympathy on your face as you tell him, “How awful it must be to have a friend that cares about your whereabouts.”

But he’s suddenly finding it very hard to even pretend to be annoyed when you’re touching him with such care. All too soon, your hand is off his arm as Anakin makes himself known, sidling up right to Obi-Wan and immediately grasping his elbow.

“Where on earth were you? We were supposed to meet half an hour ago. I waited for you! And here I was thinking you were the responsible one—” Anakin is cut off by you attempting to diffuse the situation.

“I believe that’s my fault. I kept him here talking to me and I held him up,” you turn back to Obi-Wan, a bright smile on your lips and the stars twinkling once more in your eyes. Maker, if he didn’t know any better he really would think he was looking at the sun, his beacon of light. “It was lovely talking to you, Obi-Wan. Maybe you could come again soon and we can continue this conversation?”

“Of course.” It’s his automatic response, no thoughts, questions, or worries in mind. You just look so hopeful and he’s once again a ship in the night, setting out to sail the high seas but hoping to return to again safely, guided by your light. He can only hope Anakin doesn’t pick up on his infatuation with you.

“Great! I’ll let you two go then. Nice meeting you!” And just like the wind, you’re gone, moving on to other patrons and other works of art, sharing your knowledge and stories and passion with other lucky souls. Maybe he will come back.

“They seemed nice,” Anakin remarks with absolutely no subtly.

“I’m not sure what you think happened between us, but whatever it is, you’re wrong,” and with that Obi-Wan turns and begins walking out of the exhibit before Anakin can refute or comment on Obi-Wan’s building anxiety, giving him no choice but to follow.

The walk out of the museum, their time sitting and people watching at a nearby cafe, and the walk back to the forested area follow a similar pattern: Anakin trying to do some digging with heavy insinuations, Obi-Wan denying vehemently any theories and offering scant details, and neither one willing to back down from their stance. It’s an old familiar rhythm, and despite it being grating at times, it’s nice to feel a sense of normalcy with Anakin once more.

Eventually, they make it back up to their hidden sanctuary in the sky and part ways for the day. Once back in his dwelling, Obi-Wan sits down on a cushioned chair and mulls over his day. While going to the museum was fun and enlightening, his mind wanders back to a certain museum curator. The dark horse of the day. The unexpected detail. His beacon of light.

There’s something more to you, something he wants so desperately to know. He practically itches to go back to the museum and keep talking with you. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and humorous. You’re the sun, moon, and stars. He knows he can’t pursue a romantic relationship with you, and he knows friendships with humans are frowned upon if they get too close, but he reasons to himself that one more visit down to earth to speak with you wouldn’t hurt anyone. With this in mind, he closes his eyes and begins to reach out to see if he can hear you once again, but as he’s doing so, a realization dawns on him.

Meeting you is the closest he’s come to believing in Fate, and despite this going against his beliefs, he’s ready to set sail on this unknown voyage and see where your next meeting takes him.

[hermeticimp]

Witchy Then Vs. Now #WakingWitchblr

Hey guys! So, I’ve seen a bunch of posts on witchy things we’ve done as children. I really love the idea and have been meaning to do a post on it for the longest, but I wanted to add a bit of a twist. Instead of just making a list, I want to compare and contrast my childhood witchy things to my practice now. This is definitely something I want to see other people’s takes on as well, so feel free to tag this under the #WakingWitchblr or #WitchyThenVsNow. Without further ado, I’m going to do mine! 

Elemental Work

Then: I was super into shows like Shaolin Showdown and Pokemon, which had plenty of abilities that were linked to particular elements. Back then, I found myself very attracted to fire, wishing that I could have the ability to manipulate it. Kimiko was my favorite because of that (besides the fact that she was the only female member of the group). I was also into water pokemon like Squirtle and Staryu. I found it funny when I found out I was a Fire Rat under the Chinese zodiac. Despite knowing that Libra was an air sign, I identified more with the passion and intensity of fire. 

Now: I work with all the elements! XD Nah, but seriously, now I see the strengths and weaknesses of each element, then use whichever one or ones work best for the situation. I do a lot of work with fire through candle and sun magic. I work with water via cleansing, water magic, and lunar magic. I use earth when grounding, relaxing, and using crystals and my wooden wand. I use air when I work with the wind, humidifiers/diffusers, and incense. I still love fire, but not so much for the cool factor. I find myself much more aligned to air now, actually. Of course, I now know I’m an air sun, fire moon, and water rising, so that’s entertaining. 

Astrology

Then: Speaking of signs, when I first picked up an astrology book in the 3rd grade, I was only aware of sun signs, as most people do when first stepping into the subject. I was fascinated by the different signs and figuring out who was which based on birthday. I would read off sections from books or apps I had and found it hilarious when people freaked out about how accurate things were. In middle school, I started learning about moon and risings signs. It was an interesting experience, but I still focused more on sun signs. 

Now: Goodness gracious, I’ve come so far. XD Not to say I’m an expert at all - far from it - but I now understand more about astrology as a whole. I can read a birthchart, I have an astrology mentor, I understand that there are placements for each of the 10 planets. Astrology has become a major aspect of of my craft. I (try to) follow the moon cycles and other transits. I utilize astrology in my divination readings. I’m fascinated by seeing the different ways people express each of their placements and their charts as a whole. I’m a student of astrology (primarily modern and evolutionary) who is always eager to learn more. Soon, I’ll share some of my notes, but not quite yet. 

Astronomy

Then: I was super into reading books on space as a child. I often found myself nose deep, learning about galaxies, stars, black holes, meteors, comets, and so on. It wasn’t odd to find me staring up at the stars and Moon whenever I had the chance. I was fascinated by astronomical events, like meteor showers or lunar eclipses. I adored planetariums. I wanted the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on my ceiling like my cousins had. I wanted a constellation projector. I was ecstatic to work on a project regaring Haley’s Comet. Space excited and thrilled me in a way nothing else did. 

Now: It’s a shame, but I don’t really focus on space much outside of celestial magic and astrology. Don’t get me wrong, I still find space exciting and I will always have eyes for the Moon and the stars, but I’m not keeping up with the science like I used to. There’s still a sense of affection when I happen to read articles on new discoveries or technology or when I see pictures of the solar system and galaxies. However, my focus is mainly on the movements of the heavenly bodies and how that impacts us. I work with the energy of different planets through associations and timing spells for planetary hours, but that’s about it. 

Crystals

Then: Oooh, boy. So I was a major nerd as a kid (if you haven’t caught onto that by now. Honestly still AM. XD), so I adored going on science trips. At museums, it was common to find all kinds of rough crystals for cheap. I thought they were cool. I loved the colors and the feel of them against my fingers. I was drawn to rough rose quartz, amethyst, granite, and quartz back then. With tumbled stones, it was amethyst, ruby, sapphire, topaz, and tiger’s eye. I collected them as a child and was always excited to add to it. This interest kind of faded out as I went on less and less school trips to science museums. 

Now: You will pry crystals out of my cold, dead hands. XD Seriously though, I have a whole bunch of crystals. I keep them on my altars, in a metal box by my bed, and all over my room, honestly. I favor tumbled stones more than rough ones, but there’s still an affection for rough rose quartz and quartz. I adore tiger’s eye, amethyst, carnelian, moss agate, and amazonite.Crystals are a major part of my work. I use them in just about all of my spells, from the ritualistic ones to minor aches and pains-based ones. I occasionally meditate with them. I will most likely be found wearing some kind of crystal jewelry. My spells may be infrequent, but they’re a regular ingredient (which I’ll get into in another post). 

Animism

Then: As a child, I believed everything had some kind of spirit, from the stars, to the Moon, to the wind, to my stuffed animals. I remember talking in my head to the moon anytime I could. I imagined hearing her speak back to me (and a lunar deity very well could have been, who knows?). I remember when I would play games reminescent of Noah’s ark, wanting to bring everything I loved with me in the event of a disaster. I’d place all my toys under my blankets and feel at ease, knowing that everything was safe and had its place. I very well could have been influenced by media like Toy Story or Cars. Either way, I vividly remember all of that. 

Now: I now know that this is the concept of animism. It’s an ideology that I still believe in whole-heartedly. I still talk to my stuffed animals (room’s full of them), I’ve dedicated some to my deities, I’ve spoken to the spirits of plants and trees, I greet the Sun and talk to the Moon as I used to, I have a spirit in my pendulum. It’s a part of my practice and philosophy. I’m not as all over the place with it as I was a child, but it still matters deeply to me. 

Mythology

Then: I was first introduced to mythology by a friend in 5th grade, as I’ve mentioned before on this blog. Or rather, I was introduced to Greek mythology at that time. I had grown up reading Native American and African stories, such as those of Anansi. I found Greek mythology to be fascinating. Haven grown up in a Christian family (though my parents were rather lax about it and encouraged us to explore our personal beliefs), I’d read the Bible plenty of times. I didn’t really believe in those stories, particularly because God was either portrayed as an omniscient and violent being or omniscient, omnipotent being of perfection and love. Neither sat right with me. It also didn’t make sense to me for there to only be one god. So when I read myths as a child and learned what polytheism was, I jumped on that ship in a heartbeat. I didn’t worship anyone, but I loved the idea that there were gods of different things. With Greek mythology, I especially loved it because the gods were portrayed as having flaws, of being human in a sense. They were powerful, but not all-powerful. It was mindblowing to me at the time. I fell in love with the stories of heroes and tricksters, I expanded into Egyptian, Norse, and Japanese mythology. I took these stories as stories but also as accurate depictions of gods. 

Now: Mythology... doesn’t really play a part in my practice. Contray to some polytheists, I don’t take the myths seriously. To me, all they are are human made stories about higher entities. I used to get so angry when I imagined the horrific things that deities did. I balked when I saw people question why worship or work with these deities that were notorious for doing horrific things to each other and humans? I made jokes about Zeus and his supposed indescretions, which I largely regret now. The turning point, I believe, was hearing @underworldariel​ discuss how you didn’t need to follow the myths or worship if that didn’t feel right. And for me, it didn’t. Suddenly, it made sense. When I started considering the cultural aspect of mythology and began working directly with deities rather than attempting to worship them, things were easier. They slotted into my practice effortlessly. I do take some inspiration from myths, namely associations, relationships, and domains, but not much else. To me, they’re just stories - which is what myths means. There’s a part of me that cringes away from the people who use mythology in a literal manner to call Zeus or Poseidon or Hades a rapist despite that... not being the truth? And that “rape” had a waaaaaay different meaning back then. I’m not saying the gods are perfect and infalliable - I think they make mistakes and have regrets too - but I don’t think they have anything to do with the stories. Deity work is a core aspect of my craft. I adore the gods with my whole heart. The stories are still fun, but I’ve learned to dissociate them from the gods I know. I’m not saying that this is the right way to approach it - that depends on you. That’s just my take on it. 

And that concludes this post! At least for now. I may find some things to add later. I’m curious to see the comparisons you guys all come up with. Feel free to tag me if you do! 

[illegiblewords]

Recent Shadowbringers story has me speculating a bit on Convocation of the Fourteen relative to mythology and I think I got stuff.

Heads up this spoils like crazy.

IIRC it got confirmed that the Convocation members got Greek names, although I don’t remember if they were all named for the pantheon or not.

But since Hades gets referred to using abilities known as Titanomachy in particular I’m gonna lean hard toward YES.

Who is which god though? What’s even happening? I have a few ideas and in order to explore ‘em a bit will list the names and details that strike me as particularly important. A point of note though, Hades is not an Olympian within mythology. One of the original gods born of Rhea and Cronos yes, but he literally drew the short stick that said “congrats you get to live alone among the dead have fun”.

Zeus: Youngest of six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Drew lots with Poseidon and Hades, wound up getting dominion over the sky as king of the gods. Had loads and loads of sex. Strongly affiliated with lightning.

Hera: Hands down has the title of pissiest of the gods, which is fuckin’ saying something. This is like 98% because she’s the goddess of marriage, childbirth, women, family, and fidelity while being married to Zeus the fuckhead. Youngest daughter of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Associated with the peacock. Commonly transformed her husband’s lovers into animals and IIRC had some ties to storms but I might be misremembering. Also notable for having given birth to Ares with Zeus legitimately (who no one likes except Aphrodite) and Hephaestus alone. She threw Hephaestus down the side of a mountain because he came out ugly iirc.

Poseidon: God of the seas, water, storms, earthquakes, and horses. Middle son of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos, when he drew straws with Zeus and Hades he got dominion over the oceans.

Demeter: Goddess of the harvest, fertility, motherhood, agriculture, nature, and the seasons. Middle daughter of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Hades abducted and married her daughter Persephone and she got next level pissed about it, made the world cold and barren (winter) until Persephone was returned.

Athena: Born from Zeus and Metis, confirmed more powerful than Zeus. Metis had a prophecy where any child she bore would be more powerful than the father, so of course Zeus had to stick his dick in that. Later became filled with regret and fear when it turned out Metis was pregnant, turned her into a fly and ate her. Fast forward a bit and Metis gives birth to Athena inside of Zeus, and Athena explodes fully formed and adult complete with armor out of Zeus’ head. Athena has some duality with Ares as they’re both war gods and both technically born from Zeus. Athena is goddess of wisdom, handicraft (like weaving), and strategic warfare. Virgin goddess.

Apollo: God of the sun/light and the arts, also certain kinds of performance including music, poetry, philosophy. Notable in that his golden arrows were not nearly so painful as the silver ones favored by Artemis. Twins with Artemis. Also majorly known for being associated with both plague and healing as well as prophecy. Prophecy comes up in particular through the Oracle of Delphi. Notably the reason to Dionysus’ madness in some philosophy.

Artemis: Goddess of the hunt, twins with Apollo, uses silver arrows that hurt like a motherfucker compared to the golden ones her brother favors. A virgin goddess associated with the moon, wilderness, childbirth, protection, and plague. Worth noting she could be super super pissy and did in fact turn a man into a deer to be mauled to death and eaten by his own hounds because he accidentally caught her bathing.

Ares: God of war as in slaughter and bloodlust, also of violence and “manly virtues” as in his dick r big. Has weird sibling energy with Athena because they represent dramatically different aspects of war. Only loved by Aphrodite, literally no one else likes him.

Aphrodite: Goddess of love and beauty and fucking, top tier manipulator, also affiliated with pleasure, passion, fertility, and desire. Married to Hephaestus but not at all happy about it, has a pretty open affair with Ares. Sometimes she’s a daughter of Zeus but usually she was born from the universe’s castrated dick being thrown into the ocean and making a ton of sea foam which became her.

Hephaestus: Smith of the gods, master craftsman and god of the forge. Also associated with invention, fire, and volcanos. Didn’t really cheat on Aphrodite despite her cheating on him hard. Was rejected by his mother Hera for being too ugly and was literally crippled by her.

Hermes: Messenger of the gods, a trickster, god of travelers and athletes, guide to the dead, has fucking WILD cults dedicated to him to this day including fucktons of alchemists and just Hermeticism as a whole. In other words also the god of new age and magicK. Not magic, emphasis on the k because that’s what the modern magicians in their funny hats do when they’re feeling edgy.

Hestia: Eldest of six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos. Goddess of the hearth, being fire and the home. Has probably the least amount of drama out of all the gods ever, and while that isn’t necessarily saying a lot she seriously had no drama. Possibly relinquished her seat among the Olympians to Dionysus in some stories. Was notably a virgin and had a major following of priestesses in Rome consisting of the Vestal Virgins.

Dionysus: If there is a god of chaos and insanity besides Eris it is him. God of drunks and performance and opulence/excess/parties, notably has a philosophical contrast with Apollo as the madness to his reason. Top hedonist. Has a group of violently crazy women who worship him called the Bacchantes. Do not understate violently crazy bit they have torn people to shred with their bare hands.

Hades: We know this is Emet-Selch already and have more lore on how he visualizes souls/the Lifestream (interesting term given rivers of the dead in Greek myth, though not exclusive concept to Greek myth)/the Underworld. Eldest son of the six siblings born to Rhea and Cronos, though he is younger than Hestia.

Another point of note--there are, classically, TWELVE Olympian gods and then Hades. Why then one extra and how suspicious is that with our Convocation of 14?

Normally, like I mentioned Hestia is an original member who essentially gives her seat up for Dionysus. But she’s also a much quieter goddess within mythological stories, so while she could be included it’s also possible that another god or goddess is being used to reach fourteen.

First, I’m gonna go on a limb here and say I think Lahabrea is either Apollo or Ares, but leaning heavily toward Apollo. The orator thing fits, his role within being crazy good/productive in creating concepts makes some sense (I mentioned possibly Ares because he has an affinity for certain weapons too which makes me squint), and with how much the Ascians have referenced things being foretold or prophesized at least one of them is required to have ties with that ability. Additionally, Apollo being tied to plague when there the Terminus event going on and people are speculating that creation magics had something to do with the cause has me unbelievably suspicious.

I am also going to say that I think it’s possible Elidibus is Hermes. Emissary-->Messenger as well as having a pattern of being a trickster or liar makes a lot of sense. Also interesting in that one of his other functions is as psychopomp, or escort of the dead. I wouldn’t be shocked if he was the one responsible for raising new sundered Ascians.

I also think that if Lahabrea is Apollo, Igeyorhm might really be Artemis for that twin thing + their Ascian Prime misadventure. The impulsivity makes a bit of sense for her too, as does the fact that she fucked up the entire thirteenth shard while being tied to plague. If I thought Lahabrea was Hermes I’d have pitched Igeyorhm as Aphrodite purely because it’s myth canon they made a hermaphroditic child together one time, but I don’t think that makes as much sense.

I don’t think the game is putting as much emphasis on the three kings setup for Ascians with Zeus/Poseidon/Hades because Lahabrea and Elidibus don’t really fit into the roles of Zeus or Poseidon either of them. FFXIV associates lightning with judgment in a cool way but it gets stressed really hard that Elidibus is just supposed to be an Emissary and Lahabrea has other gods he fits with better. I honestly think the ones who remained unsundered just happened to be the ones who got missed rather than that particular trio.

On WoL, there are plenty of fans having fun speculating that WoL is Persephone in the name of shipping lol. It’s maaaaaaaaybe possible because she’s goddess of spring, renewal, rebirth, nature, and the underworld. And she also goes back and forth between spending time with Hades and spending time with her mother. So that whole MIA thing might work.

Halmarut being all about plants I’ll bet 100% is Demeter. No one else makes sense.

Nabriales if he does use lightning like I remember might be Zeus, which explains his attempted sleaziness a bit and his inferiority complex being one of the sundered. But I’m a bit doubtful because he seems like he has too big of an ego to have potentially been in charge of Amaurot at any point ever. His personality and eagerness to fight remind me more of Ares. Also no one likes him lol. Dionysus strikes me as most likely overall because it would explain him being pissed at being under Lahabrea as well as his whole attitude.

Mitron is Poseidon. Cannot be anyone else, he is all about oceans and fishes. Strongest case for Elidibus and Lahabrea not being tied to the other two kings--Mitron literally cannot be anyone but Poseidon.

Who is WoL though?

Currently my big guesses are Dionysus if Nabriales isn’t (as a foil to Lahabrea-Apollo), Zeus (mightiest of the gods, lightning of judgment and huge badass), Persephone (the creation and underworld thing is neat and who even knows), maaaaaaaaaaybe Hestia because of the primordial light/fire bit, being oldest, and just not being about the drama.

I know basically nothing about Altima besides her being there but would be more inclined to figure her for Athena than any other goddess purely because SE seems to be going with matching gender stuff and with a name like Altima I’m doubtful about other goddesses fitting better. Hera is the only one beside Athena who could maybe own that.

If anyone else has knowledge/notes on Ascians and can chime in on what seems fitting feel free!