#aphrodite failure

[manslaught]

mikayla looks back at her with disbelief, daring jackie to argue with her— when her sister's defense is cut off, never continued, she smirks victoriously, satisfied with herself. she doesn't get the appeal, but shauna's just not her type, as simple as that, so she doesn't comment any more on the subject. she can't get into what her type actually is anyway, terrified to admit the truth, even now, to someone who's clearly not much different than her— into girls, in denial about it. “ thinking about how cute she is, ” she snorts, like that's as much of an argument as she needs. she's in absolutely no place to call her out, but @down1979 must be saying all of this to her for a reason, right? because she wants to talk about it.

she stops completely, deciding to give the conversation the attention it likely deserves, to be a good older sister for what might be the first time in her life. ( that's not true— she tries to be comforting, welcoming, to the younger aphrodite kids, showing them the kindness she was never given as a child, but the same can't be said for those closer to her age. ) “ look, if you want actual good advice, you chose the wrong sibling. mom forgot to give me that power. ” some days, it feels intentional, aphrodite's way of proving to her that mikayla desousa and love don't mix, that she's destined to be angry and alone forever. “ but it doesn't look like nothing, for what it's worth. ” there's something there, she thinks, but she could easily be wrong, easily leading her sister astray.

“ but you haven't gotten the rite of passage yet, ” she points out, like it makes a difference, like it means anything beyond just their cabin's excuse to break hearts. it has to mean something, because otherwise, mikayla's dated so many boys for absolutely nothing. “ i don't believe in curses or anything, but— the past one of us who didn't fulfill it is dead. her boyfriend, too. ” she feels a pang of guilt, just talking about silena, but there could be some merit in it. “ so maybe... date someone else first. just in case. ”

She doesn't mind sitting and watching,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's almost therapeutic to be alone with her sister:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the violent and aggressive nature of her knife digging into the bodily figure with ease keeps others away.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The two of them,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Jackie and Mikayla,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎away from prying eyes,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she feels more comfortable speaking with little bit of truth she knows she has.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Becoming herself is an uneasy feat,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎one she's been fighting for so long,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but one dare turned into a self revelation...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a revelation she kept from everyone due to fear.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Yet she knows:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she knows that Mikayla won't say anything,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎won't spread her little girlish crush,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎if it could be called that.

"She's not!‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She doesn't look like..."‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Jackie scoffs,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and she wants to finish her sentence,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but she knows that Mikayla is,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎despite the insulting tone,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎right.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Maybe that's why Jackie's...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎thinking,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎maybe that's what's drawn her to Shauna.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Who fucking knows.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm not pining,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I'm just...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎thinking."‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Knees pull up to her chest and she tucks her chin down.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Although her gaze is turned towards her sister's lonely sparring session,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she's not focused,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎vision blurred.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Maybe we're just really good friends!‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Maybe it's nothing?"‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And now she's almost pleading for her sister to give her some reassurance‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(and oh if she were to pick a sister why would she pick this one?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ because she knows that unlike the rest,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Mikayla will tell the truth).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Right?"

[calliopeslyrics]

i won't say (im in love)

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of Aphrodite!reader, wc: 5.1k

no warnings, just some kissing and miscommunication. this is my first fic ever :)

_

You didn’t believe in love at first sight. 

It was so cliche, always the same story whenever you asked a couple how they met. In fact, you thought that anyone who said they fell in love at the first sight of their significant other was lying through their teeth. You were pretty sure most of the couples at camp were forcing it, there was no way everyone had a crush on someone else from another cabin except you.

It was no secret that you were a hater, as some of your half siblings would say, always making a comment about every couple that passed your way. It seemed ironic - the daughter of Aphrodite detesting love. But it wasn’t like you had many choices to begin with. The dating pool within Camp Half Blood was lacking, to say the least.

There was Chris Rodriguiz, always hanging around his half-siblings in the Hermes cabin or strolling beside Clarisse. He was a decent fighter, strong willed and determined, and his smile never seemed coy like his half-siblings. But with the daughter of Ares always around, you doubted Clarisse would appreciate your sudden interest in her buddy, especially after the Ghost King incident.

Then there was Charles Beckendorf, a son of Hephestus who was sweeter than he seemed. He was nice to talk to, more of an attentive listener than talker, though you didn’t mind his silent company. Although you found Charles nice to look at, there was nothing else that interested you in him. He seemed more interested in his machinery and staying within the forgery, especially since you’ve caught him eyeing your half sister Silena a couple of times during dinner.

And finally, there’s Luke Castellan, head of the Hermes cabin and your number one hater. You’re not sure when he first started to hate you, though you could only count the number of decent interactions you shared on one hand. He used to be close with you, always guiding you through the countless camp activities and even teaching you his sword fighting tricks.

He was your first friend at Camp Half Blood, the first one to greet you with a welcoming smile and treat you like you’re normal. Luke didn’t mind that you were unclaimed and shared a cabin with his half siblings, always reminding you that his father Hermes protected the travelers and roads.

Luke never seemed to realize the effect he had on you. You weren’t sure what it was, if you were clinging onto the first person that showed you basic human decency or if you really were warming up to him.

You remembered how quickly things changed between you two, how you became friends to strangers within an instant. It always haunts your mind, the same situation happening over and over again in your dreams and nightmares as if the gods wanted to punish you with the failure of your only friendship.

Luke was fixing your armor during your sword lessons, his hands expertly tucking in the straps and buckles that you had awkwardly put on. It was the same routine - he’d fix your armor and playfully tug at your chest armor, asking if it felt comfortable. You’d tug at Luke’s armor in return with a teasing smile and nod, both of you 

You remember glancing up at him, noting how gently he was with you as he guided your hands along the hilt of your sword. His hands were rough and calloused, most likely from the years of training he had at camp. But when his fingers gently traced along yours, fixing your grip and adjusting your position, you could’ve sworn he was being softer on purpose.

You knew of his reputation at camp, word spread about the best swordsman at camp as soon as you arrived. And you’ve seen how Luke trained with the more advanced campers, directing orders sternly as if he were commanding an army of men rather than abandoned half-bloods. But with you, Luke was always kind and gentle, never raising his voice or handling you with roughness like his with the other demigods.

It felt nice, normal almost, to have someone to help you when you first arrived at camp. Still unclaimed and unsure, you were able to find solace and comfort in Luke’s presence. He was smart and kind, so willing to help the new campers find their way amongst Camp Half Blood’s many opportunities for glory.

Luke always spoke to you in a soft voice, kind and patient, as he instructed you. Raise your arms, grip the hilt tighter, and slash the dummy. When you followed his lead, Luke gave you a small smile of approval and helped you get back into position. The summer sun burned brighter and you could’ve sworn you felt yourself grow hotter as well.

And then it happened. 

A thick, red haze enveloped all around you, fogging your vision as the sound of a woman’s sweet laughter filled your head. The smell of roses surrounded you, so strong and intense, and yet you couldn’t do anything but wave away the thick haze that blocked your surroundings.

You felt different within the haze, your regular training armor felt silky and lighter and your hair no longer felt damp with sweat. It was as if you were changed into a different body completely, no longer awkward but confident and sure.

“What’s happening?” you asked, coughing as the haze began to fade. A crowd of campers had entered the sword fighting area at some point, watching you as if you were the designated entertainment for the night. Maybe you were, if the gods felt vicious enough to make you pay for your right to earn a heritage.

Luke’s eyes never left your face, his mouth parted slightly in shock as he just looked at you. A shocked gasp from the crowd of campers had you glancing over at them in confusion. And then you saw it - your reflection in one of the camper’s sunglasses.

A pink hue surrounded your body, following your every movement. Your hair was braided with gold strands woven between your strands of hair. Your armor was replaced with a white sleeveless gown that stopped at your ankles, showing off golden sandals that wrapped along your ankles and up your shins like delicate vines. Your makeup was done flawlessly, not a single smudge on your new winged eyeliner or glossy lips despite the training you had done just moments ago.

“You’ve been claimed,” Luke said, his voice still soft and filled with disbelief. You flushed under Luke’s intense stare and you glanced away, meeting the stares of the other campers around you. “By Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, the laughter loving goddess.”

Ever since that day, Luke had avoided you as if you had the plague. He avoided you during your shared archery and pegasus riding lessons, hardly sparing you a glance when you struggled with your gear over and over again. During dinner, he sits with his back turned towards you, never moving from his seat until you finally leave. Even during the nightly campfire visits feel awkward when the son of Hermes is looking everywhere but your direction while the children of Apollo are leading the singalong.

Even after your blessing had worn off and your makeup eventually smudged again and you stopped smelling like fresh roses, Luke still made the effort to avoid you entirely. You tried approaching him during sword fighting lessons and walking by the Hermes cabin when you were ready for the day to no avail. It was as if he were never there anymore, disappearing when you entered a room and reappearing right when you left.

It took every bit of courage you had within yourself to go to your half siblings one night, bitterly ranting about Luke’s sudden change in demeanor. In true fashion, all of your siblings gathered around your bunk bed, the love experts of Cabin 10  listening intently to your ramblings even as curfew was set into place and Silena was supposed to call for lights out a while ago. 

“He’s definitely avoiding you,” Silena commented with confidence after hearing your complaints. You let out an annoyed huff as you picked out a nail polish from one of the hanging racks along the walls, distracting yourself with the bottle as your half-siblings murmured in agreement. “Guys do that when they don’t know what to do with themselves,”

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” you huffed, shaking the nail polish a few times before opening the bottle. Silena stayed silent as you started on your left hand, carefully painting your nails a sparkling pink color. You stared at the sparkles now adorning your nails, shining brightly against the pink of your freshly painted nails, and thought of how your mother’s blessing ruined everything. 

A comfortable silence fell amongst your siblings, all of them watching you with intensity. It was as if they were waiting for you to say something else, to add more to your story. You glanced up from your nails and raised an eyebrow at your siblings, waiting for more input about your lack of action.

“Maybe it's not you, maybe he’s just intimidated because of the blessing.” one of your sisters offered, her voice full of hope as if she were also trying to convince herself. You hummed in agreement, blowing at the nail polish as you stayed lost in thought.

There had to be a better reason, it didn’t seem like Luke to just stop talking to you because of a pink glow that followed you for a couple of days. He was smart, attentive, he had to have seen one of your other siblings get claimed in a similar way. It didn’t make sense that he would only avoid you.

What if he hated the way you looked after you received your blessing, what if the perfectly done makeup was too much? Doubt began to cloud your mind as small insecure thoughts filled your mind again. For the first time in weeks, you felt small and insignificant again, as if you were still the same unclaimed demigod that just entered camp.

“At the end of the day, he’s just a guy,” one of your brothers, Mitchell, added with a roll of his eyes. Your shared siblings hummed in agreement and began to conspire amongst themselves, sharing theories and stories about Luke’s sudden change. He always kept more to himself, hardly opening up to anyone but Annabeth Chase of the Athena cabin it seemed.

You let out a sigh of defeat and laid on your bed, staring at the pink ceiling above you. There wasn’t much for you to do, not when you had so many questions and hardly any answers. You hated this feeling, this uneasy feeling in your stomach like you did something bad. 

“So what am I supposed to do? Just be ignored by my only friend at camp?” you asked, almost annoyed. Your nail polish had dried on your left hand and you began to paint your other hand. Even distracted with anxious thoughts, your hand never shook as you expertly coated your nails with the nail polish - one of the many talents you had as a child of Aphrodite.

“You can pray to Mother,” one of your siblings suggested, glancing up at you through a skin care mask. You made a face but didn’t say anything else, not when your Mother could hear within your own cabin. It was your only hope, your only way to figure out why Luke was avoiding you all of a sudden and how you could fix this.

That night you put your favorite pair of shoes on your mother’s altar, an expensive pair of heels you had gotten for your birthday a couple years ago. You weren’t sure how to feel about asking for help when you had gone out of your way to detest the very thing your mother represented, though you were half hopeful that she’d at least hear your pleas for help. You never prayed to Aphrodite before, never really knew how to speak to the goddess that called herself your mother.

Sleep didn’t come easy to you. You tossed and turned all night, huffing in annoyance when you just couldn’t get comfortable in your own bed. You tried sleeping at an angle and on your side and on your back, but nothing seemed to lead to you exhaustion. It wasn’t until you finally looked out the window, gazing out at the Hermes cabin with a wistful sigh, that you felt your eyes grow heavy and heavy until you finally gave in to the lulling comfort of slumber.

The sound of soft waves crashing upon the shore filled your ears, the familiar scent of roses prominent once again. When you opened your eyes, you knew you were dreaming. You weren’t in your cabin anymore, now standing in ankle deep waves that never seemed to truly reach the beach.

You knew where you were, yet you didn't. Something within you longed to stay at this beach, to stay home. But this wasn’t your home, no. It was your mother’s, you were sure. Somehow you were in Cyprus.

Before you could open your mouth and call out for your mother, sea foam began to crash faster and faster upon the waves. The foam gathered along the sand and rocks, growing larger and larger until the foam blanketed along your feet and legs. From the horizon, you could see the same pink aura that had surrounded you when you first got claimed - Aphrodite’s blessing. 

Rising from the sea foam, your mother appeared before you, radiating nothing but pure loveliness and beauty. You glanced up at her in awe, you could see why gods and mortals alike fawned after the goddess for centuries.

Her appearance was infinite, constantly changing when every blink you took. One second she had honey brown eyes, another she had sea green eyes, then she had sky blue. Her hair flowed perfectly with an invisible breeze behind her. Curly blonde hair turned to straight black hair turned to coily hair, but you recognized her all the same. 

Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, your mother.

Your mother glanced down at you at last, a gentle smile on her red painted lips. Gods, she was so intimidatingly perfect, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to bow or kneel in her presence. “Child, you have rejected your heritage for so long,” she said, her voice soft and lovely. But you could hear the slight annoyance in her tone, as if she were waiting for you to finally come to your senses.

You bowed your head and fiddled with your hands, playing with the golden rings that adorned your fingers. Your appearance had changed too, now dressed in the very outfit your mother had given you when she claimed you. “I know, I’m sorry….mom…” you said softly, almost embarrassed. You really didn’t want your first interaction with your mother to be a lecture.

Aphrodite said nothing, still staring down at you with her ever changing eyes. Centuries worth of knowledge swirled within her irises, knowledge of ancient lovers and broken hearts beckoning you closer. You wondered what appearance she took when she met your father, if she even took a mortal appearance. “Your heart is not happy,” she said at last, confident and all knowing.

“How do you know?” you asked, almost defensively. You were plenty happy. You enjoyed strawberry picking with the children of Demeter, you enjoyed teaching the younger campers how to make friendship bracelets before dinner, you enjoyed the karaoke competitions with the children of Apollo when it was one of their birthdays. 

You were plenty happy at camp, you told yourself, you just needed help. Platonic help with a friend. 

Your mother tilted her head at you slightly, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. She looked like one of those rich moms that stayed at home, silently judging your question like the answer was obvious.“Your heart is not happy,” she repeated in the same tone, as if it were enough to answer your question. 

“I didn’t come to ask about my love life, I just need some advice.” You said, your cheeks heating up at her statement. Maybe your mother was confused, maybe you should’ve prayed to one of her children instead. Romance and friendship were often confused, you told yourself, maybe she thought you wanted relationship advice. “My….friend, Luke, won’t talk to me anymore. Ever since I got claimed it’s like he wants nothing to do with me.”

Aphrodite stayed quiet for a moment, her body still changing and glowing as she stayed lost in thought. You didn’t know where to look, at her perfect face or perfect body, still adorned in a similar gown to yours. She radiated pure confidence, casually posed as the sea foam still gathered around your feet.

“Have you heard of Pygmalion and Galatea?” she asked, looking out into the distance of the sea. A distant look clouded her face, as if she were remembering how long ago she met the couple. You didn’t bother wondering how long ago those people lived.

You racked your brain for those familiar names, you knew them from somewhere. Lovers, they had to be lovers. But from where, you didn’t remember. Memories of ancient myths filled your mind. Eros and Psyche, Orpheus and Eurydice, Pyramus and Thisbe, but no recollection of a Pygmalion and Galatea. 

The image of a statue of a woman so perfectly made that she was almost human came to your mind. Beside the statue was a man, tenderly tracing along her arms, her waist, her neck, as if she were his lover. “He fell in love with his statue, right?” you asked suddenly, the myth coming to mind. You had remembered now, a man painfully in love with something that couldn’t love him back, a tragic tale.

“After detesting marriage for so long, yes.” Aphrodite answered fondly, as if she were amused by the story. Perhaps she was, you knew of her resentment for those who openly despised love itself. “But his heart was not happy alone, and he wanted the perfect woman to be beside him - his own creation.”

You stayed silent for a while, unsure of how to respond. What did this have to do with Luke? Was he the sculptor and you the statue? That didn’t seem motivating, though you doubted your mother knew what it felt to be on the other side of unrequited feelings. “You turned his statue into a real woman after he prayed to you, when he finally fell in love though.”

Aphrodite turned to you, a small smirk on her lips. She looked at you as if waiting for you to say something, to realize the point of this story. You blinked up at her, confusion still evident on your face. Maybe there was something wrong with you, maybe she accidentally claimed the wrong child. There was no way she was implying that this story reassembled your own problems.

“What does any of this have to do with me?” You asked finally. This was a mistake, you shouldn’t have listened to your half-siblings. Of course they would suggest you talk to your mother, they all were in relationships. They probably got a better blessing, getting a gift of successful love lifes while all you got were steady hands when you did your nails and makeup.

“A hardened heart does not open for opportunity,” she said, flashing eyes turning to yours. Her eyes were gray now, resembling some of the children of Athena with that knowing look in her eyes. Was she trying to tell you that Luke’s heart was rejecting you?

As if she could read your mind, Aphrodite shook her head. She gave you a pointed look, now dark brown eyes staring directly at you. Your heart skipped a beat at the intense gaze of your mother, it was exactly how Luke looked at you when your first got claimed. Gods, were you really getting flustered over a single glance?

“Not Luke’s heart,” she said, her voice fading as the waves stopped moving. The sea foam slowly melted into the waves, taking your mother with them. She gave you a sympathetic look, as if she didn’t want to leave so soon. But she was a busy goddess, you understood, love waits for no one. “Your brother has done his part, it is up to you to do yours.”

You woke up with a start, your shirt sticking to your back as you sat up from your bed. Below you, one of your siblings groaned in their sleep before their soft breathing resumed. Soft, classical music played from someone’s side of the cabin, though you didn’t mind this particular song.

Your brother has done his part, what was that supposed to mean? You sighed as you wiped your brow, sweat sliding along your forehead. Gods above, how long were you sweating in your sleep?

Carefully, you got off of your bunk bed, your feet softly padding along the cabin floor as you grabbed your slippers from the shoe rack. No one stirred from their slumber, and you silently celebrated as you double checked you were the only one awake in the cabin. The moon was still overhead, the moonlight pouring into the pink stained glass of your cabin and dancing along the countless crystal chandeliers. 

A walk wouldn’t hurt, you told yourself as you quietly tiptoed out of your cabin. You just needed to clear your head, dreams were often filled with messages that were difficult to understand.

You kept to the trails that were long walked upon before you first arrived to camp. The moonlight illuminated the camp, no need for any lanterns or fire as you made your way past the other cabins. Neatly made paths guided you from the common area to the sword fighting arena, an old habit. You hadn't realized you were standing at the entrance until soft footsteps followed behind you then stopped.

With a quick glance, you turned to face whoever was behind you, ready to make up an excuse for your late night stroll. You weren’t even properly dressed, still in your pajamas and fluffy slippers. Instead of facing Mr. D or even Chiron, you met a familiar face. Curly brown hair, now unruly and tussled, and soft brown eyes met yours. 

You didn’t believe in love at first sight. 

Until you met Luke Castellan. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and raspy. You nodded, suddenly shy. Maybe if you didn’t speak, Luke wouldn’t recognize your voice and avoid you again. He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a soft yawn as he rubbed at his face and slowly woke up.

You stood still, unwilling to ruin this moment. You didn’t even know what to say to him, how nice of you to talk to me again sounded snarky and why haven’t you approached me sounded clingy. Gods, what did your mother tell you again? Something about you needing to do your part? You didn’t even know what brother she was talking about either, though you were sure Mitchell didn’t have any part of her plan.

“I just needed some air,” you said softly, daring a glance up at him. He was a couple feet away from you, the moon shining upon him as if Artimes herself gave him a spotlight. His beaded necklace was half tucked into his shirt, almost as if he were in a hurry to get changed, though you paid it no mind. You weren’t the best dressed at the moment either.

It was quiet again, neither of you saying a word. Somewhere in the distance, a hellhound howled. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you glanced away from Luke. If he didn’t want to say anything else, you wouldn’t either. 

A hardened heart does not open for opportunity, your mother’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you with a mockingly sweet voice. You scowled at the reminder and made a mental note to grab your shoes from her altar when you returned to your cabin.

“How have you been?” you asked, looking back at Luke. You let out a small breath, your heart pounding wildly as he looked back at you. Did he always look at you like that? As if you had given him the moon and stars and everything in between? “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Luke flushed at your question, rubbing a hand behind his neck. For once, Luke looked unsure. Gone was the confident camper that always had an answer for everything, ready to comfort the newbies and unclaimed demigods alike. “I’ve been alright. Nothing interesting has happened, you know.”

You nodded in understanding. The days leading up to Spring were often dull, with most activities halting to a stop until the Sun could shine again and give comfort to the campers of the earth gods and goddesses. Even some of the Apollo kids were complaining of the lack of warmth in the camp lately, though Mr. D chalked it up to them being dramatic as usual.

“I heard you were training that Jackson kid,” you said softly, raising an eyebrow at Luke. He smiled at the mention of the newest camper, a blond haired kid barely the age of 12 that had apparently killed the minotaur right before he arrived. “I heard he gave Clarisse a nasty drench in the bathroom.”

Luke huffed out a laugh, covering his hand as the sound echoed around the arena. You smiled at the sound, you forgot how nice the feeling was to make him laugh like this. “How did you know about that?” he asked when his laughter had subsided. 

You gave him a small shrug, though a playful smile tugged at your lips. It felt so easy to fall back into normalcy with Luke, as if there were never any problems between you at all. “Gossip spreads. People talk when they're getting facials, you know.” you said with a smile.

Another laugh came from Luke and you prided yourself in making him laugh twice in a row. You were sure you’d be caught by now, the noise echoing around the arena. The ears of the monsters on patrol were always precise, though you hadn’t heard the hellhound from earlier since you arrived at the arena.

“Can I ask you something?” Luke took a small step toward you. You nodded, taking in a small breath as he slowly stepped closer and closer to you. He stopped right in front of you, where you could faintly make out the scar along his cheek. It took all of your effort to not reach out and trace it, just to hold his cheek in your own hands. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

You nodded again, “I do, actually.” Tilting your head up to get a better view of Luke, you noted all the small details of his face. His dimples never left as he smiled at you, light freckles dusted his cheeks from grueling days in the sun. A soft pink blush spread along his face, and his eyes looked at you and only you. “Do you?”

“I do.”

A comfortable silence fell between you again, and you took in a shuddering breath. He was close, so close to your face, almost inches away from sharing the same breath as you. “Can I ask you a question?” you asked, glancing up at him through your lashes. “Do you feel like-”

“You’ve been shot by Eros’s arrow?” Luke gave you a small smile, leaning in ever so slightly until his lips met yours. He tasted like sweet ambrosia, addicting and inviting, and you leaned closer to get another taste before he could pull away. You wanted more, more, more until there was nothing left for Luke to give you, and he seemed willing to give you everything you wanted.

A small huff left your lips when Luke eventually pulled away, panting slightly and blushing profusely. “Took you long enough,” you said softly, your own cheeks burning. You couldn’t believe your own mother, much less your godly half sibling. You made a mental note to offer some of your favorite chocolates to them both as a thanks for helping you out.

Luke let out a chuckle, brushing some hair away from your face with a fond smile. He looked good like this, happy and relaxed without the weight of his burdens filling his mind. You wished you could make him happy like this forever.

“Sorry for avoiding you,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers gently traced along your cheeks, your jaw, your lips. He gently wiped his thumb along the corner of your mouth, and your heart fluttered at the slight touch. “I thought…you wouldn’t want to be seen with me after getting claimed.” “Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. You grabbed his hand, gently interlacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He returned the gesture, squeezing your hand back as he stared at your hands. 

“I didn’t think you wanted to have me when you looked so…” Luke blushed slightly, and you covered your mouth to hide your smile. Perhaps your siblings were right, perhaps he truly was intimidated by your mother’s blessing. “You just looked so beautiful, and I didn’t know if you wanted someone better, someone fit for a daughter of Aphrodite.”

“Luke,” you said softly, giggling slightly at his reluctance to meet your gaze. You gently cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb tracing the scar along his face. Luke leaned into your touch slightly, and you gently kissed his scarred cheek once, twice, three times. “Shut up.”

Luke smiled at your response, moving his face to meet your lips instead. His hands found their place at your hips, pulling you closer to him. Beneath the milky twilight of the moon’s shine, you wrapped your arms around Luke's neck, tiptoeing to reach his height as your lips molded against his once more.

You didn’t care about getting caught, you didn’t care about the footsteps that seemed to lead towards the arena when Luke chased your lips like he needed salvation. You’d worry about your punishment tomorrow, whether it was an extra month of kitchen duty or losing desert privileges, you didn't care. Not when Luke was holding you so tenderly, kissing you like it was the only thing he was made for on this Earth.

You used to say you didn’t believe in love at first sight, but that was before you met Luke Castellan.

[blackmoonoracle]

PICK A CARD - MASCULINE WOUNDS

You can find my brief breakdown of masculine energy in the natal chart here. Tip Jar

PILE 1

tw: sexual trauma

Anger and sex drive, the people in this particular collective may have experienced sexual trauma at any point in time that has developed into an issue with emotional security. In order to heal you need to learn how to develop trust in your perception, self expression, decision making, and any chronic pain or issues need to be given more thought and care. Not accepting the bare minimum, not pushing yourself for the sake of others, not letting others take your power.

Taking your power back for the sake of yourself.

This is an energy of being conscious of chronic issues, extreme trauma, healing from extreme abuse and allowing yourself to let go of the cycle of releasing your power in order to survive. You are not helpless, you are not incapable, you are not weak, you are not bad, you are not a waste of space, energy, words, time, effort, or love. You are a worthy being, you have earned your place, your reputation, your successes, and your desired future. You have suffered a lot, in some way shape or form.

This could've been mental or sexual anguish in pre teen years.

Feeling almost disgusting or gross for existing as a sexual being. Disdain for sex, astonishment I heard as well? I feel like there is potential religious trauma regarding sex in this pile.

There may also be a sense of pain or confusion about life in general, perhaps you are someone who struggles with feeling destined for failure. Like part of you still doesn't believe that you're not destined to suffer, you've learned so much and I feel like a lot of you are like older gen z or late teens.

It feels like you've always felt very judged, and very misinterpreted. Like others could've been offended by your mere presence. Something about the way you thought, or spoke, or expressed yourself was or is very upsetting for people. You're not afraid to talk about the truth? Is the exact way I'm hearing it be described.

You have very powerful voice, and your words pack a punch in more than one way.

Your words project veryyy quickly into your reality, and I heard "reaffirming reality" as well, treating your brain like a science project I heard? LMAO it's giving aquarius 😭

So do mirror affirmations, some of you could have an affinity towards mirror magick. That being said handle that carefully, and know to be careful in approaching that. Make sure you're researching and covering your bases. I heard Aphrodite, so Aphrodite could be trying to work with someone. I also heard keep your peace, so chill out, don't engage with anyone. You're in the process of taking back your power so sometimes people act up. LITERALLY not a you problem, and if they make it a you problem stand your goddamn ground and show that person, no matter who they are, what role they play in your life, that you are under no circumstances going to continue to take their shit. The universe is testing you, lock tf in and don't worry about anyone else. Worry about YOU and YOUR DREAMS, and YOUR DESIRES. Plant the seeds that truly matter to YOU, you won't know if it works until you try it. Don't be afraid to do what you're passionate about. Don't be afraid to be yourself, your authenticity really resonates with others in some way shape or form. It's how you connect with people, you show them that being yourself is a lot less painful that you'd think.

This could be black Moon Lilith in cancer and Scorpio or 4th and 8th house Chiron energy. you could be a cancer rising, some of you could have a leo descendant? I heard polish and German as well for some others, someone could be polish another person could be German. If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

PILE 2

Self Worth, and Value/Honorary Systems This collective has very powerful values. This could be Taurean, or Aquarian energy, possibly also Aries. You could be mars dominant or have a prominent mars in your natal chart. Your mars may also be in the 11th, or 2nd house! Or you could have Uranus in the 2nd house or Venus in the 11th house. Suffice to say this could also be mars in Taurus, or Aquarius as well. 2nd house Venus, or 11th house aquarius. There's something with individualism in this pile as well. A lot of deeply practical energy, possibly very venusian as well. Could have Venus in pisces, or Venus-neptune interactions in the natal chart. You could have Venus in Taurus, or you could have Venus in aries I'm hearing. You are going on a deep journey of transforming your masculine will. Understanding you are worthy of making your creations, that what you create is valuable and is of quality. You are worthy of abundance, you are worthy of success. I feel like there could've been a sense of detachment since a very young age for this pile. It feels like affection could've always been a touchy subject. I'm also seeing a connection to religion here, especially with Venus being in Virgo. Virgo Venus has always reminded me of catholicism due to the very intricate and detail oriented nature of Catholic symbolism. As well as the emphasis on purity, which is an aspect of Virgo. Seeing as it is the virgin. This can also look like your love always coming with deep criticism. Perhaps you could've felt like the ways in which you expressed love were not respected. Or you could've felt like there was a feminine presence that seemed to bring you a great sense of regret. It feels like a self criticism wound. It feels like a disconnection from the mind in order to attain purity. Like, this pile could feel that they need to fully embody some aspect of a pure, or virginesque energy in order to be worthy of recognition?

Soooo specific, but hey! if it resonates it resonates. There's a deep wound here in regard to knowing how to accept help. It's like accepting help in your mind makes you feel like you're worthless, or as if you are not contributing enough. It's like you feel the need to contribute the most, so that others know you are serious and worth taking serious. Being undermined, minimized, having your values be overlooked, or being seen as unremarkable could've been something you struggled deeply with. I see a lot of pain dealing with women here. Significant Mother wounds that could've led to these wounds in your masculinity. Perhaps experiencing silencing, being forced to not do, say, act, or be in some way shape or form because it is "unsightly" or "shameful" Being disregarded, possibly some bullying here, feeling like an outsider. Like no one could grasp your values, your morals, who you TRULY are.

Almost feeling like you lack an identity.

finding balance in yourself, learning how to accept that you are worthy of being helped. That being helped does not make you unworthy, that being helped is something that is okay, that accepting care, and nurturing, and love is a good thing. starving yourself of intimacy in hopes that by taking the lashings of yourself, and others, while remaining in this "pure" state of being will finally make you worthy of being seen. vision is a general thing here. You may feel like your vision doesn't come to light, or that others don't understand your vision. It's unique, it's you, it's not what everyone else might expect of you. You're groundbreaking, no one could ever be you, learning how to be in love with your individuality. Accepting what makes you weird, and accepting yourself in spite of the way others feel. Knowing that accepting yourself is the deepest form of self connection and that you deserve to feel loved and supported.

Accepting that the embodiment of authenticity may cause issues in connections with people who cannot accept themselves or live in their own truth.

Understanding that you can find purity in your search for your authentic self, authentic truth, and your life purpose. Through embodying yourself in your truth.

If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

PILE 3

You may feel stuck in what you were once defined as, as if other people's perceptions of you cut extremely deeply. Your honor is important to you, you like for things to run smoothly. It's important to you to feel secure in who you are and how you express yourself.

I think that, it would be significantly healthy for this pile to learn what makes them feel passionate.

Maybe you feel that you are judged harshly, or in response to a harsh judgmental world you disconnect from yourself. Extreme self consciousness, fear of being "naked" or "vulnerable". Fear of connecting with yourself and others. Fear of relying on or connecting with your community. Feeling like an outcast, impostor syndrome. Lack of self awareness, TOO much self awareness. Untraceable, or difficult to uncover pain. Not understanding the root of things. Beauty that feels skin deep, unrealized depth, and unfulfilled potential. Learning who you are, finding the drive to connect with yourself. Understanding what it means to be you, and that you have to choose yourself at some point in order to lessen suffering. Fear of risk, and Fear of reward, a very loud self critic.

Accepting and acknowledging the mother wound in order to integrate and heal it. Connecting with earth, trusting nature, allowing yourself to think about the things you fear most. Understanding that you cannot hide from certain truths, and that looking the other way doesn't make it go away. There's a song that went viral on TikTok by MGMT called Little Dark Age. I specifically channeled the part that's like "Forgiving who you are, for what you stand to gain, just know that if you hide- it doesn't go away."

Having to understand that you are not responsible for other people, you are not Jesus, why do you bare the cross. Why do you punish yourself for not meeting the "standards" that others are projecting onto you. Are they standards, or are they control tactics, is it manipulation? Are you in alignment with YOUR thoughts, feelings, and desires? Or are you taking on the thoughts, feelings, desires, and expectations of others who want to strip you of your individuality?

Transforming your self concept, looking at what traits, qualities, and authentic self expressions are ACTUALLY in alignment with your highest good & will call in passion, success, happiness, and stability into your life?

Being proud of your intelligence, your ability to perceive, to be know how to think outside of the box.

Having a lot of eccentric natured personality traits and understanding that those are attractive to others. That what makes you different is what makes you likeable, because it's what's uniquely you. Embodying your truest self form, writing affirmations. Creating lists and notes of the hard to integrate topics and realizations in order to make them more tangible.

Excessive mental energy, very deeply tapped into divine creative expressions. Having blessed thoughts, words, and ways. Knowing that you deserve your blessings, and that you are a generator of luck and karma. That you have to ability to move mountains.

Taking it less personal when people throw rocks from glass homes, knowing that you are worthy of better, worthy of more, worthy of success. Feeding your hunger to succeed, knowing that you have the skill, knowledge, creative drive, and capability to connect with others through your art and creativity.

Uncovering what beauty means to you?

I heard Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo, PIsces, cancer, Gemini, mercury, Sagittarius, 9th house, 6th and 5th house.

Sun in aquarius, Moon in Taurus/Capricorn, Moon in gemini, Moon in Aries, Moon-mars aspects.

Mother Gaia

Disconnected from ancestors and spirit team, but willing to learn and receive.

Looking for a new outlook, looking for a way out, remaining steadfast and faithful in what you believe.

Not allowing others to dictate your thoughts, feelings, or reality.

Co-Creating with divine consciousness.

If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

[wlntrsldler]

how to disappear | luke castellan

warnings: betrayal, fluff, mean!luke for like five lines, extremely long, not canon, drug use and language, probably got some things wrong but it's for the plot; i sobbed writing this. (this might be my favorite piece i've ever written)

part 2: shades of cool

pairing: aphrodite!reader x luke

description: based on how to disappear by lana del rey

i. all of the guys tell me lies, but you don't. just crack another beer and pretend that you're still here.

"hey, angel," a voice startled you out of your thoughts. your feet were dangling over the pier as you stared out into the lake. you twisted your head to see luke approaching. a soft smile was on his face. "been looking for you everywhere."

"needed a breather," you said, scooting over so he could join you. "sometimes i forget how overwhelming being back here is."

he rolled his cargo pants up to his knees, letting the cool water touch his bare skin. "i get it. sometimes i wish i could take a break."

"you can, you know," you nudged his shoulder, "you're old enough to leave camp during the year. nobody would fault you for wanting to go away for a while."

he dug into his front pocket, pulling out a messily rolled joint and the pink lighter you gave him last summer. the heart you drew on the plastic with sharpie was starting to fade. he placed the joint between your eager lips and lit the end. he tried to ignore the sparks that shot up his arm when your fingertips brushed against his.

luke shrugged, "i know, but then who would take care of the kids? mr. d isn't really the model citizen."

you quirked an eyebrow, passing him the joint, "and you are?"

"better than mr. d," he let out a chuckle before taking a drag. luke closed his eyes as the smoke escaped his lips. he could taste your lipgloss. "maybe when you get your own place, i'll take some time off and visit you."

"i'm off to college soon," you said. "going to california. i got a scholarship."

"of course you did," he grinned. the weed didn't take effect yet. usually, when you smoked with luke, his brown eyes are hazed over by the effects, but while he was speaking, his eyes twinkled in pride. "didn't doubt it for a second."

"you'd leave camp and visit california for me?"

luke had a knowing smile on his face now, as if you were ridiculous for even asking that question. "'course. only problem would be that i'm broke as shit right now. being camp counselor doesn't really pay the big bucks, y'know."

you hummed. it was weird really, how camp was just a fraction of your life. your dad made sure that you could have a semi-normal life, or at least as normal as a half-blood's life could be, but not all demi-gods had the luxury, luke included. his dad made sure of it.

at first, luke despised you for it. why was it fair that you were your mom's favorite child while his dad barely cared enough to make sure he survived his failed quest? if aphrodite was his godly parent, he was sure that he wouldn't have this ugly scar on his face to remind him that he was nothing but a failure. she would stitch him up and make sure that he was okay.

this is not to say that luke liked any of the gods; he just preferred aphrodite above all of them. she gave you to the world, after all.

"what else is new?" he prodded, passing you the joint again after his third drag. "anything else exciting happen in your life since last summer?"

"nothing much," you coughed slightly. you didn't smoke unless you were at camp with luke. "just the usual senior year things, i guess. graduation, prom, you know."

"no, i don't know, actually," he laughed, "well, i know the idea of it. did you decorate your graduation cap? did your senior year live up to your expectations? did you have a date to prom?"

"yes, yes, and no." you pretended not to notice how luke's shoulders relaxed at your answer. "i did decorate my grad cap. my dad has it framed with my diploma. the design was my college's logo. i didn't have a date to prom because i didn't really like anyone at school. i would rather take a date i actually enjoyed the company of."

"that's fair," luke said. he took another hit from the joint. you watched the smoke evaporate into the air, the smell of weed surely sticking to your clothes. "tell me about your senior year."

"it was fun," you said, longing on your face. "it's weird to think that i'm kind of on my own now. after camp, i'll be shipped off across the country to take classes for some bullshit degree that i probably won't need because i won't make it long enough to see the workforce."

luke chuckled at that. it was morbid, sure, but he would be lying if he said that that reality wouldn't be a possibility. he didn't like to think about it much, the idea of you dying, but the life of a demi-god was unpredictable. he's surprised he even made it to eighteen.

you continued, "but i got to be a kid and i'm thankful for that. i just can't stop thinking about how this is my last summer here. i'm eighteen now. i've aged out."

"you can come back, you know," luke said. these summers with you were the only thing he looked forward to each year ever since you first arrived. "i'm still here."

"that's because if you step a toe out of this camp, they'll find you," you said, although you knew luke knew this already. he was powerful. he would attract monsters left and right and he'd be putting himself in jeopardy if he left. your suggestions for him to visit you were more wishful thinking than anything. in those moments, you let yourself pretend that you and luke were normal, that nobody would be trying to kill you if you tried to watch a movie at a theater or something.

"fair," he offered you the last hit, but you shook your head. you already felt your head spinning. "beth wants to go to college, too."

"does she?"

"yeah," he put out the joint on the wooden pier. neither of you spoke as the flame was extinguished with a sizzling sound. "told her to talk to you. you know more about it than i do."

"i'd love to talk to her. i think she'd do great in college."

"she would," he smiled, sadly. his eyebrows furrowed in thought. his mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to find the right way to frame his words. you sat in silence patiently. he gulped, "i feel like everyone is moving on without me."

luke propped his elbows on his knees. he looked across the lake, watching the sunset turn into a pink horizon. he couldn't look at you while he spoke. "don't get me wrong, i'm so proud of you for leaving this place. and i'll be proud of annabeth when her time comes, but i think i just hate the fact that at the end of it all, i'll be alone. everyone in my life has a life outside of this, but i don't. this is it for me. i don't know what it is about this place, about this life, that keeps me stuck here, but i am."

you weren't stupid enough to correct him. you both knew the gods had a plan for luke. it was something bigger than the both of you, though neither of you truly knew what it was; but it was always this looming dark cloud above him, a second shoe waiting to drop. luke tried to ignore the feeling most days, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel himself get pulled into the darkness; like in these moments, when reality hits him a little harder. you probably won't be back after this summer.

"well," you placed a hand over his own. he flipped his hand over to hold yours properly. he still wasn't looking at you. "let's just make the most out of this summer, yeah? think about everything else when we get there."

he squeezed your hand, "yeah."

ii. met me down at the training yard, cuts on his face cause he fought too hard.

"castellan."

luke winced, not because of the pain of the open cuts on his face, but because of the tone of your voice. that voice meant that he was in trouble.

he mustered up the courage to smile weakly at you, trying to ignore the droplets of blood that spilled from his open wound. "hey, angel."

"don't angel me," you hissed, marching to him. you grabbed his face gently, inspecting the damage. "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking the kid was a bitch."

"castellan."

he cringed, "sorry."

"what happened?"

"i haven't been getting much sleep," luke whispered, "nightmares are back."

you sighed, picking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. the apollo kid who was tending to luke earlier was smart enough to leave the room when you walked in. you muttered half-hearted apologies as he hissed in pain. "i'm sorry to hear that, but that's not the answer i was looking for."

"he was just talking shit," luke said through gritted teeth. whatever the ares kid was saying must've been really bad because you could feel luke's anger rising again. you rubbed his back slowly until he calmed down. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay," you resigned, finally wiping away the final remnants of blood off his face. you stared at him; even with an open lip, red bruises, and flecks of blood on his face, luke was still beautiful. he plopped his forehead against your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer.

this was common with luke. he acted all big and bad around all the other campers, but in your presence, he turned into this; always looking for comfort, always touching you somehow, like he was finally allowed to breathe. you cradled the back of his neck as he let out shallow breaths, leaving feather-light kisses on his crown when you thought he wouldn't notice them. he always felt them, but he never let you know that he did. he was afraid you'd stop doing it if you found out.

"how bad are they?"

"bad," he sighed, eyes closing. he tugged on you to bring you even closer, though you didn't know how that was possible at this point. "haven't slept in days."

"why didn't you come find me?"

"your sisters don't like it when i interrupt their beauty sleep."

"why didn't you tell me sooner? i could've stayed in the hermes cabin."

"it's gross in there," he laughed. "you deserve to sleep on your soft bed in a cabin that smells like fucking roses, not on my cardboard thin cot in a room that smells like sweaty socks."

you lifted his head up to look at you, "yeah, it's pretty bad in there."

luke snorted, finally letting you go, but a hand stayed connected to your hip. he played with the loose thread on the hem of your shirt. "i still won, by the way."

you cocked your head, "huh?"

"the fight," luke's cocky smirk was back on his face. "you should see the other kid. if i'd been well-rested, he wouldn't have been able to land a blow."

you smacked his shoulder, laughing as you fell onto the bed beside him, "shut up, castellan."

"there it is," he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he was so close to you.

"what?"

"castellan," he mimicked your voice, but there was no mockery there. he said it like he treasured it, like he was trying to memorize the way you spoke. "you're not mad at me anymore."

it was hard to stay mad at luke. the longest you'd gotten mad at him was when he didn't choose you for his quest. he stood outside the aphrodite cabin the entire day before he was set to leave, begging for you to let him explain. you were too stubborn, too hard-headed, to listen to him. when you were sure that he was gone, you finally left the aphrodite cabin to find a letter from him tucked away under the welcome mat.

you kept the letter, but you never opened it. it wasn't until he returned from his quest, on the brink of death, that you opened it. you were sitting beside his bed, eyebags darker than ever that even your mother couldn't salvage you. your eyes were stained red from crying so much.

in his letter, he explained how he didn't want to put you in danger, how he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him. your insecurities just got the better of you. you always feared that people saw you as shallow, like you didn't actually have the skills to fend for yourself. many people had misconceptions about the aphrodite kids, but not luke. luke knew that you were incredible. you just didn't resort to violence as quickly as he did.

you felt stupid then, even now, you regret how you treated him before his quest. you hated yourself for how you acted. he never gave you a reason to doubt him, to not trust him; you should've known that he had his reasons. you hated yourself for even questioning him for a second.

luke pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle into his neck. the beads of his camp necklace rested beside your temple. you reached over to play with them, letting the beads thump against his collarbone when you let go. you felt luke twirling strands of your hair around his finger, gently undoing the knots that formed at the ends of your hair because of his antics. you lay there in silence, just enjoying the presence of one another. you felt luke's breathing even out, a sign that he was drifting off.

luke's words from the pier bounced in your head then. did he think that you'd forget about him after you left camp? as if you'd forget about this, about him. a life without luke castellan became unimaginable when you met him when you were fifteen. there was no version of your life that didn't have luke in it.

it was foolish to think that way, you knew that. it was stupid to let someone have a hold on you like this, demi-god or not. even your friends from home warned you about being so attached to luke, though in the version of events you told them, the stakes were much lower. to them, he was just a boy you see at summer camp a few months out of the year; he was just another hometown boy that they urged you to forget when you moved away to college so you could live your life unrestricted.

but luke wasn't just that to you and you knew you weren't just that to him either. there was something between the two of you that was hard to explain, but didn't need an explanation at the same time. even your mom noticed it. she let you know once to tell luke to stop praying to her to give you a sign whenever he missed you.

"i can't keep making flowers bloom whenever he misses you," she wrote, "it wouldn't make much sense for flowers to bloom in the winter, my child, or for flowers to bloom every second of the day."

sometimes, though, on particularly hard days when you'd miss luke, your mom made exceptions. you'd find bunches of hibiscus growing within the cracks of the sidewalk of new york city on your way home from school.

you knew luke was thinking about you then. just the thought of it made your day better.

iii. i know he's in over his head, but i love that man, like nobody can. he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again.

luke didn't know what you'd say if you found out. well, he did know, but he deluded himself into thinking that you'd listen to his reasons, that you'd actually understand why he did what he had to do. maybe you'd even join him.

percy had left camp with annabeth and grover for his quest yesterday. the air at camp felt different since percy was revealed to be a forbidden child. luke, as much as he tried to keep his resentment for the gods at bay because percy was hard to dislike, the poor kid just wanted to save his mom, felt his blood boil when poseidon claimed percy.

he hated the gods, this wasn't new, but luke struggled to understand how he was supposed to feel. he saw so much of himself in percy. he thought of his mother; her hugs that he hadn't felt since he was nine, the taste of her burnt cookies that he hated at the time, but now he just wished he could taste the burnt crisps on his tongue one last time. he even missed her frantic mumbling in the middle of the night.

luke saw a version of himself in percy, the version that had a chance at happiness. luke hated it.

it was too late, anyway. the plan was already in motion. his allegiance to kronos was set. kronos visited him in his dreams often. luke stopped calling them nightmares because nightmares are only nightmares if they happen once in a while. what made them bad dreams was when they were compared to good ones. he didn't have those anymore.

luke hadn't slept much since he stole the bolt. it was easier to think about you, about the happy times, when he was awake. he smoked more now. it helped sometimes. he would pretend your lipgloss was still on the tip of the joint and that you were beside him on the pier, trying to get away from all the noise of camp.

as he walked toward the hermes cabin, smiling cordially at the younger campers who beamed at him, he saw the corner of a pink bag against his bed. his face dropped. luke stopped in his tracks, clutching the beads of his necklace.

you weren't facing the door. your back was turned while you folded the sheets on his bed. he saw you spray perfume on his blankets. he could almost smell the sweet fragrance from where he stood. it took all his might not to run to you and hold you in his arms. it's been months since he last saw you, since last summer. luke's hands fell to his sides before he twisted his body to turn the other way.

he went to the one place that gave him comfort. with his cargo pants rolled up to his knees, he watched the sun fade into the dark sky. there was no pretty sunset tonight. luke didn't think too much of omens, but he figured that was a bad sign. and when your soft footsteps thumped against the boards of the pier, he was certain that it was.

"you damn near running away from me when you saw me was not the reaction i was hoping for."

luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. out of habit, he moved a bit to let you take your usual spot beside him. when he opened his eyes, he was met with the face he'd thought about for months. a kind smile adorned your lips. you looked different. your skin was a deeper shade, no doubt due to the california sun; your lips were pink and torn apart, like you'd been chewing on them; but your smile was the same.

"what are you doing here?"

"sorry i was late," you said, sheepishly. you played with the small braid in your hair, "i had to move out of my dorm so i had to take a later flight."

"i thought you weren't coming back," luke replied.

"heard there's a war coming," your voice sounded small. luke knew why. he'd listened to you talk about the dreams you had for yourself for hours over the past summers. the idea of an impending war meant that those dreams would take the backseat and you'd have to fight before any of them could come true. "is it true?"

"percy, a forbidden kid, poseidon's, is trying to make sure it doesn't happen."

"do you trust him?"

luke felt his heart crumble in his chest. how cruel is he to keep you in the dark like this? when the only thing you needed to feel okay was to hear that he trusted the kid meant to stop the war?

luke's voice was hoarse, "yeah, i do. beth does too."

"okay," you placed a hand on his thigh. luke stiffened at your touch. you pulled away, embarrassed. "sorry."

"don't apologize," he placed his hand next to yours. he could feel the warmth of your skin. "i've just been on edge."

"it's just me, luke."

he didn't know how to tell you that that's exactly why he was on edge. it was you. the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. the girl he told everything to. the girl who knew him so well that if you were to touch him for longer than a second, you'd know everything.

this summer, for the first time since he met you, he was glad you didn't show up to camp. he knew that the minute you were in front of him, he'd tell you everything and there was a chance you'd want nothing to do with him after it. that was something luke couldn't handle. but now you're here, looking at him like this like his actions just hurt you.

"'m sorry, angel."

"you're acting different, luke."

"'m sorry."

"i don't need an apology," you said. "i want to know why."

luke rubbed his face with his hands, "i don't know, okay?"

"you're lying to me," you were frowning now. luke was angry. he wasn't angry at you, he was angry at the whole situation, but it didn't matter. he was taking it out on you.

"gods, angel, can you just-- not right now," he groaned. you got a good look at him. his eyes were tired, shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders with no reprieve. "i don't really feel like talking."

"you don't have to be mean about it."

he didn't feel like himself anymore. he would never talk to you like this, but there was something in him that made him snap. luke scoffed, "i'm not being mean, you're just being so pushy right now."

you blinked, pulling your hand away from his. shivers ran down your spine, "luke, what the fuck?"

"what?" he stood up. you followed suit. under the moonlight, you saw how dull his brown eyes were. they no longer carried the same glow when he looked at you. luke's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, "i just can't handle this right now, okay? can you just drop it?"

"i'm just trying to talk to you!" you raised your voice, disbelief on your features. you walked towards him. holding his face in your hands. he was crying. you wiped away his tears. "i just missed you, okay? i just wanna talk to you because i haven't gotten to in months and i'm miserable."

he let out a shaky breath, your touch grounding him. he felt himself coming back to him. he nuzzled his cheek in your palm, kissing the flesh there as he mumbled apologies into the night.

"i missed you so much," a sob escaped your lips. luke didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, continuing his train of apologies into your ear. you continued, "i-i thought that you'd be happy to see me because i've been counting down the days until i saw you again and i just thought that even though the world was falling apart, we'd be the same. it's always been us, you know?"

"i know."

"and then you avoid me and run away from me and i just needed to see you, luke. i needed to talk to you."

"i missed you, too," he confessed. "so much, you have no idea."

"you have a funny way of showing it," you joked through your tears.

luke laughed. it shocked him. it was like he had forgotten how to. he hiccuped, removing one hand from around you to rub the tears away from his eyes, "come on."

selfishly, he ignored the pit in his stomach. he allowed himself just one more day to have you like this. as he lay on his bed, he held you close to him. he was overwhelmed with how much you filled his senses; the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your lips ghosting on his chest as you told him nonsense stories from college, the sound of your quiet giggles when he made some stupid joke, the look on your face in the dark, staring at him.

an unfamiliar feeling took over his body, rest, he realized it was, a while into lying in the darkness with you.

"i love you, you know that, right?"

luke didn't trust his voice anymore. he pulled you closer, hoping that that was enough for now.

iv. think about those years as i whisper in your ear. i'm always going to be right here.

"i love you."

you turned your head at the sound of luke's voice. camp was in disarray. percy was badly hurt and annabeth was frantic, sobbing about how luke was behind it all. you ran away after hearing it.

you didn't want to believe it, but it was annabeth. she wouldn't say that about luke unless it was true. you knew it killed her just the same to accept it.

"what are you doing here, castellan?"

it felt like a dagger was plunged into luke's heart. he'd heard his name leave your lips in different ways over the years; jokingly, angrily, but never like this. disappointment.

"i couldn't leave without telling you," luke licked his lips, keeping his distance. he was pressing his shirt on the spot percy broke skin. he looked down at his feet, "couldn't leave without letting you know that i love you."

"why did you do it?"

"i don't know."

"okay," you walked towards him. "when did you get so comfortable with lying to me?"

"angel," he sounded broken. "please, don't do this."

"you were wrong, by the way," you said. "you're not stuck here anymore, but i don't think the place you'll end up in is any better than this."

luke was silent.

"go, luke," you whispered. "don't make it any worse than it already is."

he nodded. this was it. you watched as he disappeared into the dark.

you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice it then; your mind was plagued with worry, but in the gaps of the wooden pier, a single hibiscus flower bloomed under your feet.

[star-girl69]

Apocalypse

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: a day of capture the flag, and clarisse finds out you’re ashamed of your scars.

a/n: love love love love love also from this ask

Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

warnings: shitty ending but IDC!!!!!!!, hurt/comfort, more hurt/comfort, god i need to be put down, insecure y/n, scars and all that stuff, possessive clarisse, protective clarisse, soft clarisse, probs ooc clarisse, yeah, swearing, mentions of food, mac n’ cheese is y/n’s fav but you can just pretend if you’re a weirdo and don’t like mac n’ cheese, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“I don’t get it,” he laughs. “How can you be a daughter of Aphrodite and still have those ugly scars all over you?”

You pretend like you don’t hear him, leaning your head back against the tree, staring up at the blue sky through the gaps.

Him and his two friends have been teasing you the entire 20 minutes you’ve been tied up to this tree, captured by the blue team.

That was horribly embarrassing, but you were doing your best to ignore it- instead doing your best to pray to whatever God would listen that Clarisse would win for the red team.

It’s just plain stupid. He’s been saying the same thing over and over again for 20 minutes- can he at least come up with something original?

Besides, you don’t see where he gets off from this. It’s not like you give any reaction, or even look at him. The most you give him is the occasional squeeze of your hands- imagining his neck under them.

“Maybe she’s forsaken you,” he hums, kicking at your limp leg.

You finally look up at him. You’re sitting on the ground, arms at your sides, back pressed to the tree and rope digging tightly into your chest.

“Maybe your mother gave up on you after the second scar,” he says, staring straight into your eyes. “And then you’ve just gotten uglier and uglier ever since.”

You have scars all over your body. Clarisse has them too, and she shows them off proudly, a dramatic story for each one. You have a horrible memory, so you don’t remember all of them- but the tiny one on your jawline is from you accidentally tripping with scissors in your hand as a kid.

Clarisse had laughed hysterically when you told her about that one, pulling you closer when you pouted, saying something about how she was going to carry all scissors for you in the future.

The one on your collarbone is from sparring gone awry. Clarisse likes to kiss that one- it’s silvery smooth, she says some bullshit about how it feels like your lips.

The big one on your arm is from some clawed monster getting a bit too close to you- slashing at your arm and leaving a permanent tattoo of your failure to kill the monster. Or at least successfully run away.

Then, there’s all the tiny ones you can’t remember.

The boy, you seriously don’t even know his name, looks at you. There’s fire in his eyes, he wants a fight, but you won’t give him one. Especially not when your stomach squeezes inside of you in a way that makes you feel like you might throw up.

The conch mercifully blows, even as you feel sick- you don’t want to let his words effect you. But you just can’t help it.

He gives you an odd look, like he’s contemplating just leaving you out there- but eventually releases you. You stand up, dusting yourself off, grabbing your sword from where it was discarded on the ground.

“Good game!” you say, smiling brightly, but you can’t even pretend to be nice to him, so it tapers off into a laugh. He glares at you, but you’re already jogging through the woods, eager to see Clarisse again.

—-

The blue flag waves proudly above a sea of orange camp t-shirts and red helmets, so you smile widely and skip down to the beach. Your team has formed this huge pit of people, everyone congratulating each other, shouting and celebrating. You stick your sword in the sand as you head into it- one person on your mind.

“Clarisse!” you shout, heading straight towards the middle. “Clarisse!”

She actually rips apart two people hugging to meet you.

“Baby!” she says, even when the two people give her dirty looks, pushing past them and into your arms. “We won!” she giggles, kissing your cheek.

“I know,” you smile, digging your face into her neck. She holds you there for just a moment, hand on the back of your head, relishing in the feeling of her girlfriend running to her after a long day.

“Are you tired?” she fusses, squeezing your waist. “What happened? Did you get hurt? I knew I should have made you stay with me-”

“No, Clar,” you laugh, taking your face out of the hiding spot that is her neck and pressing your noses together. “I got captured,” you sigh.

Her fingers wind through your hair.

She scans the crowd, like she might just beat up any random member of the blue team.

“If they don’t learn to not fucking touch you I am going to make them learn.”

“Guard dog,” you tease her.

“And?” she says, leaning down to kiss the scar she loves kissing, right at the beginning of your collarbone. It makes you freeze. “You love it,” she mumbles against your skin.

You can’t think of an answer.

When you stay silent, she looks up at you, confusion in her face.

“What? You look… sad. Did something happen? What aren’t you telling me?”

“N-nothing,” you breathe, because it’s just embarrassing to know you let his words get to you like this.

“You can tell me anything,” she says, searching your eyes.

“I know.”

The conch blows, making you jump at the sudden loud noise. “Lunch!” someone shouts, and Clarisse settles for just grabbing your hand, walking with you back to camp.

—-

You stop by your cabins first, taking off your armor and switching into clean camp shirts. You hesitate for a second, but eventually put on a thin long-sleeved shirt under the orange.

You take extra care in reapplying your makeup, making sure to cover the scar on your collarbone and your jaw, and once everything is as covered as it’s gonna get you set out.

Clarisse is waiting for you outside the Aphrodite cabin, smiling as you open the door, applying lipstick with one hand. She grabs your hand and helps you down the steps, admiring the way you’re so intensely focused on getting the perfect lip, even without a mirror.

It’s not like you have to try very hard, but still.

“I don’t mind waiting a second longer,” she says, bringing you closer by the waist as you tube the lipstick and stick it in your pocket.

“You’re a hungry demon after capture the flag.”

“Yeah,” she says, not really trying to deny it.

You smile and lean against her, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

“Oh, do I look pretty now?” she asks, rubbing in the lipstick that came off onto her lips.

“Always,” you smile.

Her eyes focus in on the green sleeves pulled up to your wrists.

“It’s, like, 100 degrees, baby. You’re gonna boil.”

You frown and shake your head. “No, it’s not that bad. I’m cold.”

She looks at you oddly, but seems to begrudgingly accept it, hand against your forehead as she brushes your hair back. You make it into the buffet style line for lunch, grabbing plates, Clarisse quickly piling hers with a cheeseburger and a hot dog, making you laugh.

“You’re so hungry, all the time,” you mutter when she gives you a dirty look.

“I work out all the time,” she glares. She flexes her arm. “All of this takes a lot of work.”

You stare at her muscles peeking out from just under her sleeves, biting your lip as you quickly look away. She smiles brightly.

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought. You love these muscles, don’t judge me.”

You make your way down the line, scanning the trays of food.

“Ooh,” Clarisse coos, “They have your fave, pretty thing.”

She scoops probably the biggest portion of mac n’ cheese you’ve ever seen in your life, slapping it onto your plate with a smile.

You gape at the now almost empty tray, remembering the still long line behind you. Hopefully there’s another one somewhere.

“Clarisse, we should save some for everyone else.”

She seems actually confused by that statement.

“Uh, yeah, no. My girl gets the best.”

“Clarisse-” but you’ve reached the end of the line and she heads off to a table. You follow her, begrudgingly, because you really do covet this mac n’ cheese like it’s ambrosia.

—-

By the time the night rolls around, you’ve retreated into the blankets of your bed, feeling much safer completely covered up. You’re supposed to be going to the bonfire- all of your siblings have come over and bugged you at least once about going, but you’ve refused them all.

Finally, all of your siblings leave in their pretty but revealing outfits- after today, you don’t think you could ever wear something like that again.

The door to your cabin creaks open.

“Y/N?”

You make a mumbled sound in the back of your throat that’s supposed to resemble “I’m here” but Clarisse is already walking over to you and pulling the blanket off of you.

“Silena told me you were staying back. Why?”

You pull the blanket back up over yourself.

“I’m jus’ tired.”

“Okay…” she says, sitting down on the bed. She puts her warm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a headache?”

“No, Clar, I’m fine.”

“I’m confused,” she huffs. “You love the bonfires. Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m just tired, Clarisse, that’s all.”

“Fine,” she says. “I can be tired too.”

She kicks off her shoes and climbs into bed with you, under the blankets, chest pressed against your back.

“I’m not good at this. You know that,” she sighs after a second. “And I wish I was. But I do know something’s wrong. And I really don’t know for the life of me what it is, but I really want to know. I really want to help you.”

She traces her fingertips up and down your arms, tracing over the silvery scar from the monster- and you involuntarily jerk away.

“Oh,” she says. She’s painfully observant. She notices everything. She notices you pulling away when she touches your scars. “Your scars.”

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them.

“W-when I got captured, this boy kept teasing me. And I tried not to let it bother me, I tried not to give him a reaction… but I just- what if I’m not worthy of my mother anymore? It’s embarrassing. I know. But I…”

“Who the fuck said that to you?”

She sits up, eyes blazing, like she can just imagine it and whoever hurt you will suddenly feel her wrath.

You turn around so you’re facing her, laughing.

“I don’t even know his stupid name,” you mutter.

She looks down at you, at the tears spilling from your pretty eyes.

“I’ll kill him later,” she mumbles, settling back down and kissing the corner of your cheek. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, baby. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’ve never met your mother, of course, so I can say that without getting us both struck down by doves, or something.”

You swat her chest.

“I’ll kill you with doves, watch me.”

She hums. “Probably. Okay, stop. You’re getting me off topic.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not good with my words,” she whispers. “But I hope I show you everyday that you are the only woman I have eyes for. This is, like, really embarrassing… but I’ve planned out our entire lives together. We’re gonna go to to college in Arizona by my mom, we’ll have an apartment off-campus, and after we graduate we’ll get married. I really wanna be married to you. And I don’t care if that’s cheesy, I just really want you to look at the ring I’ll give you and be able to feel all my love. Besides, if you ever want to get away from me, it’ll be a hell of a lot harder.”

“I would never wanna get away from you, Clar,” you smile. “It’s not embarrassing. I wanna go to college in Arizona. I wanna marry you.”

“Good, because you didn’t really have a choice,” she smiles.

“And you’re plenty good with your words.”

“Yeah… okay, I guess. But let me show you, too.”

“What does that even-”

She shuts you up by kissing your lips.

“I love your lips. I love how soft they are, and how they feel so perfect against me.”

She kisses your cheek.

“I like your cheeks for the same reasons.”

Your temple, your forehead, your nose.

“Same reasons,” she smiles.

Finally she ends up at your jawline. She rubs over the scar, taking concealer and foundation with the pad of her thumb.

“And I love this scar. It looks kind of like a C, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Freak,” you huff, and she doesn’t have to say it. You both know you love it.

She kisses your neck and talks about how she loves the way you get mad at her for leaving hickeys, the dedication you pour into covering them up before you eventually decide it’s too much effort and let them show.

She kisses the scar on your collarbone.

“I like putting my head here, right under your chin. I can feel your pulse. I can hear you swallow, too, which is weird but also soothing.”

She kisses from your shoulder and down to your arm, skimming past the scar. She kisses the back of your hand and your fingertips.

“I love it when you braid my hair, or just put your hands in my hair for… other reasons.”

“Freak,” you mumble again. “You’re just obsessed with kissing me.”

“True,” she hums, kissing back up to your scar. “I don’t have anything poetic to say about this one. It’s just fucking badass. I mean, you got it when you were 12- you survived what most have been something truly monstrous to leave a scar like this, and that’s all you get? Most of the kids here would have died. Even the ones our age. And you escaped when you were only 12.”

You smile like a lovesick fool. The apocalypse could be going on outside, and you would just be here with Clarisse.

“In conclusion, your beauty is actually life changing. I mean, have you seen me? I become a total softie, just for you. And it’s all because I like seeing that pretty smile on your gorgeous face. But you frown pretty, too, which I didn’t even know was possible- so I win either way.”

You smile and put your hand on her face, kissing her softly.

“Thank you, Clar. For always taking care of me, and reassuring me…”

“It’s quite literally my job,” she smiles. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“You don’t even trust me, Little Miss Makes-My-Plate-For-Me.”

She laughs and presses her head under your chin, her hair tickling your skin, pressing a kiss to your scar.

“It’s my job,” she smiles. “As your girlfriend and future wife.”

“I love you, Clarisse,” you whisper, a secret just for the two of you. Nothing can have you here. No pain, no suffering.

“I love you too,” she says. “I love you so much, my beautiful, beautiful girl.”

—-

the kid who bullied you walking around with a big ass scar on his cheek the next day 😍😍😍😍😍 no….. no clarisse did not cut him with her spear….. ofc not….

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

[seafoamaphrodite]

shoutout to Aphrodite devotees who struggle with self love

shoutout to Aphrodite devotees with mental illness

shoutout to Aphrodite devotees with eating disorders

shoutout to Aphrodite devotees with body image issues

shoutout to Aphrodite devotees who struggle with SH

shoutout to any Aphrodite devotee who feels they are not enough

it’s okay not to love yourself all the time. you’re not a failure, you’re trying.

🌹Aphrodite loves you anyway,

and so do i 🕊️

[mer-acle]

The Greek Gods, described by me:

(pls take this as hc I just have vibes)

Zeus:

That uncle that thinks they're fun at parties, but actually everybody just wants them to shut up and stop talking about the shape of the earth. Knows the truth and what's best for you (hmmm)

Poseidon:

That uncle that is perpetually absent, but very loud when he does show. Teases everyone and never notices that some of it hurts. Has slightly less unhinged ideas about the world than Zeus but is just as annoying about them.

Hades:

The uncle that at least gets how unhinged everything is. Usually has the reasonable arguments but nobody listens. Has no idea what you are up to, but at least he feels bad that he's distant. Hates family gatherings even more than the second generation.

Hera:

True professional. Made bad choices (marrying Zeus) but now guess we'll deal with it. Olympus runs because of her. Being a bastard child does not serve you well, unless what you want actively annoys Zeus, or if you know not to expect a mother figure but approach her as queen.

Demeter:

Tries to fix Olympus sometimes, but it never goes well. Perfectly agreeable until you go after the environment (honestly you go girl). Is a genuinely sweet Mom who probably cries if you get her a gift because she loves you so much. Probably will get a dog to compensate for you growing up and moving out (even if you didn't get kidnapped first)

Hestia:

The best. Always has hot chocolate and a place to unwind. Honestly everyone would be happier if they spent more time with her. Possibly the only God who genuinely knows peace.

Athena:

Oh look, the oldest and gifted too. No coincidence that there was nothing about being happy in that prophecy about her. Is naturally good at pretty much anything she tries, except feelings. Will join in with the first gen's arguments even though there's nothing to be gained, it's just hard to sit by all the bullshit when you know better.

Hephaestus:

Honestly a pretty chill dude. Just wants to make things. Every few hundred years he'll make something evil-scientist-y so Olympus remembers he's not a doormat. Would have coined the word introvert if Hades hadn't beaten him to it.

Aphrodite:

Smarter than you think. Torn between being exactly what everyone sees her as and being anything but. Don't mistake love for harmony, this girl holds her ground and just bc she has emotional intelligence does not mean she won't punch where it really stings.

Ares:

They really screwed this guy over, he's just doing his job. Yes, he will kill you, but not if you're unarmed. Honest, strong, straightforward, and can be gentle as long as not on the battlefield. Give this big man some appreciation and self-esteem, by Styx!

Artemis:

A mythic bitch. Possibly the first ever activist, making a point of breaking gender norms. Smart, capable, and independent. Her views can be a little extreme at times, but you can't deny that running around the woods with a bunch of wild nymphs lesbians imo is massive lifegoals

Apollo:

Fabulous. Cannot pick a hobby to save his life. Is the most competent and put-together medic ever but outside of the tent, he cries about puppy videos. Always torn between "I am the best there ever was" and "I am a failure of a man, a god, a being!"

Hermes:

God of ADHD and we love him for it. Also a little menace who is simultaneously an amazing liar and can't keep his mouth shut when he really should (thankfully he's quick on his feet). Physically unable to take anything seriously.

Dionysus:

Does all the drugs (which is especially crazy given he can actually die) Being the youngest does actually do nothing for him. God of side quests and mayhem. Seriously mess with him and your mental health is gone forever (that explains a lot about me actually)

[lyculuscaelus]

So, for all who’re interested in Teiresias’s prophecy concerning Odysseus’s death, here’re some interpretations based on the meanings of certain words:

(Odyssey, book 11, line 134–137) … θάνατος δέ τοι ἐξ ἁλὸς αὐτῷ ἀβληχρὸς μάλα τοῖος ἐλεύσεται, ὅς κέ σε πέφνῃ γήραι ὕπο λιπαρῷ ἀρημένον: ἀμφὶ δὲ λαοὶ ὄλβιοι ἔσσονται …

First, let’s talk about “ἐξ ἁλός”.

The most direct meaning of the phrase is the physical motion to come “out of/from the sea”. It’s also logical to assume that the ἐξ ἁλός” here is the same as the one in “ἔνδιος δ᾽ ὁ γέρων ἦλθ᾽ ἐξ ἁλός” (from the Odyssey, book 4, line 450: “at midday that old man came out from the sea”, which is describing how Proteus emerged from the sea) so we’d have “θάνατος δέ τοι ἐξ ἁλὸς αὐτῷ … ἐλεύσεται” translated as “death will come to you out from the sea”. As for how it can be depicted—man, we’re now in AU territory.

Sometimes ἐκ (ἐξ) means “far from” as in distance. In this case the line could be translated as “death will come to you, far from the sea”. Maybe this indicates that Odysseus would die in a land far from Ithaca—or, hear me out: he died where the people he should seek on his oar quest lived (although unlikely during the first time he got there). If they knew nothing of the sea and salt, it’s only natural to suspect that they were themselves far from it. Which could be poetic to think abt—“you have found yourself a place to die, and when you’ve finished your life’s journey, when old age devours your health and your family, you shall head for that land again, to find your peace at last”.

ἅλς (ἁλός being its genitive singular) does not only mean “sea”—as a feminine noun, sure; but as a masculine noun it means “salt”. Meanwhile, there is another meaning of ἐκ (ἐξ), “because of” as in reason. Combining these two, we shall have: “death will come to you because of salt”, which is pretty funny to think about: what if he ate too much salt in a banquet and died of overconsumption? OR it could be…✨hypernatremia✨, since there’s a high chance that all these shipwrecks of his might result in the high concentration of salt in his blood. And this is quite angsty to think abt

Now, for “ἀβληχρός”.

People tend to separate the meaning of this word into two sets: “gentle, easy” (in contrast with a violent death) and then “feeble, weak” (as in description of Aphrodite’s hand). Personally, I’d use “tender” to translate the word since it sorta combined both meanings, being as vague as Homer himself cuz why not.

Specifically, “gentle”? What death could be so gentle, non-violent? Well, diseases, or organ failure, for one (bringing back the hypernatremia), which rather fits his old age as well.

As for “feeble”—I do believe this is a word too strong for this meaning as you’ll see why. “Weak, vulnerable” is fine imo, as long as it’s describing the potential of getting wounded, instead of the condition of being puny. But what’s a “weak death” anyway? I do think it makes more sense if the text goes like “a death will come to you when you’re weak/vulnerable” instead (say, using ἀβληχρῷ…but that doesn’t fit in the hexameter).

Now, here’s an idea I just think of, which is not necessarily the case, but the connection is still interesting. First of all let’s look at the description of Aphrodite’s hand: “ἔνθ᾽ ἐπορεξάμενος μεγαθύμου Τυδέος υἱὸς/ἄκρην οὔτασε χεῖρα μετάλμενος ὀξέϊ δουρὶ/ἀβληχρήν: …”, from the Iliad, book 5, line 337: “thereupon the great-hearted son of Tydeus, reaching forward and leaping upon her, wounded her tender hand on the surface with his sharp spear…”). Now connect this feature of Aphrodite’s hand to the nature of the death Teiresias was prophesying—“the tenderness of your death, just like the palm of love, shall touch you when your heart is old”. But furthermore—could it be that this is how it ends? Could it be that the hand which wrought his death was actually from Aphrodite herself? I’m getting a bit derailed but anyways

The translation of “ὅς κέ ��ε πέφνῃ/γήραι ὕπο λιπαρῷ ἀρημένον” is quite commonly agreed—“which shall strike you in your old age, ripe and worn out”. Although I’d like to point out that the word “ἀρημένον” (distressed, worn out) here is actually modifying the pronoun σε (you) since they’re both in accusative form, meaning “when you’re worn out”.

The word “ἀμφί” without case here is just an adverb, “around”. The case of λαοί here is interesting, since it’s not followed by any pronoun, which means it doesn’t necessarily refer to “your people”.

What kind of people then? Well, with “ὄλβιος” it often comes with material happiness, and divine blessings on good fortune. “Happy, blest, fortunate, prosperous” might be the closest meaning to the word. Could they be those people in Elysium though…🤔

So there’re three possibilities:

λαοί refers to “your people” indeed: in this case it’s talking about the Ithacans being prosperous and rich for all time.

λαοί refers to “a people”, a random one: this is for those who interpret Odysseus to be “not in Ithaca when he died”, say, when he went “far from the sea”.

It’s just “people will be around you and they’re happy”: he wasn’t alone when he died. Good to know :,)

So…yeah. I suppose this entire prophecy thing is for you to decide which version you like best? There isn’t really a fixed translation of this and you can either 1) ask Odysseus himself; 2) wait till Homer updates his fanfic which is pretty unlikely at this point :(

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Aphrodisiacs

The Greek Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, lends her name to an extensive list of foods and other weird and wonderful items that are supposed to increase the libido and enhance the chances of seduction and therefore fecundity.

The issue of fertility has always been an overriding concern for humankind, and any substance that either enhances sexual prowess or increases the chance of conception has always been highly sought after.

Ancient man had a limited seasonal diet, and a bad hunt or the failure of a crop could literally be a life-or-death matter. Getting enough food to eat was an overriding concern.

Chances of fertility are restricted if nourishment is poor, and so certain foods were given magical powers in the hopes that they might increase both male and female potency despite the limited diet.

There is a marked differentiation between the foods that increase fertility versus the ones that enhance sex drive, and given that early man did not know about the chemical constituents of food, many aphrodisiacs were chosen as such primarily because of their symbolic significance.

The Doctrine of Signatures—the notion that a plant or a feature of an animal that is similar in appearance or quality to a body part could be beneficial to the organ it resembles—had an important part to play in deciding which foods had aphrodisiac qualities.

Example: The Rhinoceros Horn still carries a frisson as a stimulant to sexual appetites, as does Spanish Fly. Both these ingredients, sort of mystical precursors to Viagra, were ingested by men in eager anticipation of increased virility.

Pliny the Elder and Dioscordes documented many of these aphrodisiacs as far back as the 1st century, and it is likely that they would have been regarded as such for some time prior to this.

The behavior and lifestyle of certain animals made them fertility symbols, too:

Example: The sparrow, a prolific breeder, was sacred to Aphrodite and its blood was a popular ingredient in love potions.

Steak was thought to contain all the virility of the animal it came from, the bloodier the better.

Ground rhinoceros horn is symbolic of the libido but the power of the rhino is also perceived as the ultimate in male sexual energy.

This ancient, visceral belief in the power of appearances has meant that many of the original foods that were considered to have aphrodisiac powers by ancient man still carry the same meanings today, despite their actual chemical constituents.

It is true to say that certain foods actually do have aphrodisiac powers purely because of these old beliefs, and generally owe more to folklore and symbolism than to fact; however, a symbol is a potent force and often the association alone is enough to bring about the desired effect.

Example: A dinner date where oysters and strawberries are on the menu will leave no doubt about the intended conclusion to the evening.

To our ancestors, any kind of food that resembled the penis, the vagina, or constituent parts thereof, carried powerful suggestive meanings, although latterly our ability to analyze certain minerals and trace elements has proven that some supposedly aphrodisiac foods may actually deserve their reputation.

Example: The fifty oysters that Casanova reputedly managed to swallow every day for breakfast not only resemble the female sexual parts in scent, texture, and form, but it has also been discovered that their high zinc content may indeed help enhance the libido; a large proportion of zinc is spent when men ejaculate.

For ancient man it was not always necessary for the foods to be eaten for them to have the desired effect. Some of the weird and wonderful things considered to have aphrodisiac qualities were toxic, but could work their magic simply by close proximity.

Example: The berries of mistletoe were a reminder of the semen of the Gods and the little crosses on the undersides were kisses, but it would be unwise to eat them.

Seeds, nuts, bulbs, and eggs, because they are full of potential new life, were considered as aids to fertility; snails, too, were considered to enhance sexual appetites because of the viscous fluid of the trails they leave behind, although slugs are not considered to have any aphrodisiac qualities whatsoever.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ List of Aphrodisiacs

[dootznbootz]

Me: Almost done listening to the Iliad on audiobook, and planning to listen to the Odyssey next

Me: Goes on youtube to find a quick summary to listen to before hand

Me: Clicks on a promising video

Video, in the first 30 seconds: Haha he cheats on his wife!

Me, in a bad mood now, even though I should have seen that coming: Never-fucking-mind, then

Yep. ;~;

Quick tip for ya: Honestly don't trust really ANY "Youtube" summary of it. Especially the ones where they are mostly trying to be "entertaining" and/or "funny" instead of educational. Also they mostly likely won't be "respectful".

I'm not saying this as a "don't trust any academic source! Historians are evil!!!" I'm saying this as a "there are very biased and very opinionated folks out there and I recommend going over multiple sources just for you to get your own opinion formed on it as well!".

I mean...Madeline Miller?

And you know what? I'll vent about how much I hate Robert Graves' takes on Greek Myth. >:(

I once got an old used book about mythology by Robert Graves and I was excited to read it! But it was genuinely just...so fucking MEAN. Insulting to stories, calling them stupid, flip-flopping on "Goodhearted" to "malicious". It seems like he was a bit more of a critic and/or thought his "headcanons" as "fact". (I say this as someone who has many headcanons and gets real silly with it. At a certain point though, YOU GOTTA STATE THE FACTSSS)

An example from it: (talking about Menelaus and Helen's marriage) "Yet their marriage was doomed to failure: years before, while sacrificing to the gods, Tyndareus had stupidly overlooked Aphrodite, who took her revenge by swearing to make all three of his daughters--Clytemnestra, Timandra, and Helen--notorious for their adultries"

Very much dislikes Odysseus, (like holy crap, even his good deeds are said mockingly) while he seems to "like" Menelaus, still calls him stupid. Seems to really like Paris?? like "Oh yeah, he needed Aphrodite to help him steal a woman who didn't love him but he's just a guyyy~"

"Athen now inspired Prylis, son of Hermes, to suggest that entry should be gained into Troy by means of a wooden horse; Epeius, son of Panopeus, a Phocian from Parnassus, volunteered to build one under Athene's supervision. Afterwards, of course, Odysseus claimed all the credit for the Stratagem"

He implies Helen and Odysseus possibly having romantics when he sneaks into Troy to steal the Palladium. Implies Odysseus made up Cassandra's rape by Lesser Ajax, as "Cassandra did not support the charge".

"Little Ajax's alleged violation of Cassandra was dismissed by reputable mythographers as an Odyssean lie"

Implies that Odysseus was only angry about Pallamedes embarrassing him, NOT BECAUSE HE NEARLY KILLED HIS BABY AND MADE HIM GO TO WAR. He implies "Icarius' daughter (Penelope)" to be another "victim" (???) of Odysseus? He also kissed poor Calypso goodbye and seems determined to never talk about how much Odysseus cares about his family. only that he wants to go home, Penelope being an afterthought.

This is a "Greek Mythology book"...and yet it's biased as fuck. :/

And ofc, people deny Odysseus being a victim.. Obviously there is sexism at play here, with the "Oh Odysseus loved it! He was getting laid!" despite being held at PigPoint and literally getting fucking raped and crying everyday. ;~; it's very disheartening and honestly disturbing.

Honestly I recommend reading/listening to at least 2 (or more) to try and get a "full picture" as just like Madeline Miller and Robert Graves, there are biases in each one. (Emily Wilson is very biased for example) Some of them while favorable toward Odysseus, also favor Circe and Calypso. Some mock Menelaus and Helen. It depends.

Like I've read 8 translations of the Odyssey (I like it :3 you don't have to be insane like me though. <3 ) and all basically say the same thing with the Goddesses as "It was not a good time. He adores Penelope."

Two or three is probably enough, and that's also if you just wanna know if there's any differences between events based on the translator. so sometimes if you wanna know the differences in wording (as some translations have very cute wording) you can just find that part in the Odyssey that you are curious to see if there are differences. :)

I hope you have fun!

[xoxochb]

I don’t really have a specific request but, literally anything with Will Solacle!!?

⋆·˚ ༘ * the stars

warnings: angst with comfort pairing: will solace x daughter of oizys

you were used to failure. It was quite literally in your blood, your mother being the goddess of it. today felt different however. nothing was going your way, nothing ever went your way. you woke up to the stolls mid-prank, a bucket of ice ready to be dumped all over you, luckily you stopped them before anything could happen. this caused you to miss breakfast so you weren’t able to eat until lunch, you didn’t even get your morning coffee! a crime in your eyes

after not eating breakfast you went to arts and crafts with the younger campers, you spilled yellow paint all over your clothes so you had to cut your artwork short to shower and change. this made you late to lunch, so you got whatever was left which happened to be something you disliked. after lunch you went back to cabin eleven (since your mother had no cabin at camp) and to your surprise, you couldn’t get any peace for just a little bit. at dinner you heard snickers from the usual aphrodite kids, ‘she’s so weird!’ ‘does she even have any friends?’ ‘such a loser!!’ ‘what does the son of apollo see in her?’

after you finished you finally got a silent moment of peace by a small waterfall. the sun had set by the time you arrived so the only light illuminating the water was the moon and the stars. you pull your legs up closer to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and allowing your head to fall atop your knee. a singular tear rolls down your cheek but you wipe it before it reaches your chin

“I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere. I should’ve known I would find you here”

another tear

you wipe it away before turning around, met with will solace. he frowns when his eye catches the tear stains on your cheeks and takes a seat beside you

“are you okay?”

you look up to the sky. “the stars are beautiful tonight”

“you didn’t answer my question”

you fight back threatening tears and pull your legs up closer. “I’m okay”

“you can talk to me y’know”

“I know” you whisper. there’s silence for a moment before you speak again, “I had a bad day”

tears stream down your cheeks more than you’d like to admit, almost completing a full sob

“oh, y/n/n, why didn’t you tell me? you know you can always visit me, I love seeing you”

“I…I didn’t want to bother you. you’re always busy”

“and you don’t think I wouldn’t drop everything for you?” will sighs before continuing, “can I hold you? would that be okay?”

you don’t respond. but believe that tucking your head into his chest is enough an answer as any. his hand gently rubbing your back- you hate to admit- brought you into a complete sob. will whispers sweet nothings until your breathing steadies and you collect yourself again

“you were right” he mumbles

you lift your head up slightly, your starry eyes glossy. “about what?”

will looks down from the sky to meet your eyes. “the stars are beautiful tonight”

[littlesparklight]

I've talked about Paris' relationships with his family before, of course, but let's do it again. Mostly because I want to point out that "everybody hates Paris" isn't actually cut and dry or obvious. The relationships on display are complicated, and have more than one side or emotion to them.

(All translations are from Caroline Alexander.)

Book 3 line 40ff: "[...] would that you were never born and died unwed; so I would wish, and it would have been far better than to be as now an outrage and something to be sneered at by others."

This is in direct response to and connected with Paris jumping forward in front of the front lines and then shrinking back among the ranks when Menelaos takes the challenge as a real one/takes the opportunity to make it one. Each of the times Hektor throws out these insults it's about (actual or perceived) failure on Paris' part to act as he should, in the context of martial engagement. As harsh as his words are, this isn't actually about what he thinks or not about Paris, but specifically about his (lack of) actions. And we know Hektor is very, very tied up in expectations of what a man should be doing in regards to combat. (Connected with but also separate from his culture-typical desire for kleos.)

I think this is important, and an important distinction to make, because; line 56~ff: "The Trojans are great cowards; else before now you would have worn a shirt of flying stones for your evils, such things you have done."

This is when Hektor says anything in judgement of what it's all about. The only time. (He, like others, use the "Alexandros, for whose sake this strife arose" elsewhere, but that's more factual than expressing some sort of judgment like above). I've mentioned it before but this statement would include Hektor, too; no one has made Paris give up Helen. Paris does not have the authority or ability to keep Helen without the passive allowance of those around him, as well as the more active back-up of those who have more authority in Troy; his elder brother and the heir to the throne, as well as his father.

Hektor may say this, yet it's in the ninth year of the war and he and Priam both have tacitly allowed Paris to keep Helen.

I don't think one can disregard the fact that Aphrodite has a hand in sanctioning that relationship, but mortals have responsibility as well. And why are they letting him do this, then? Hektor might be angry, but if he truly had no affection for, or connection left to and with his brother, why would he go along with it?

Priam, too, talking to Helen, blames not Helen, and neither does he blame Paris; he very pointedly lays blame on the gods instead. Yes, Paris isn't present and isn't mentioned, but his lack of mention is conspicuous in itself, considering he's talking about blame for the war. Helen didn't exactly sail to Troy by herself; it takes two to tango, as it were, and Priam prefers to put the blame elsewhere entirely.

Line 306~ff: "Listen to me, Trojans and strong-greaved Achaeans. Now I go back again to windswept Troy, since I cannot bear to see with my own eyes my dear son locked in combat with Menelaos loved by Ares."

Priam is quite plain, so I don't think there's really much to say, except to point out that he has no reason to say this for anyone's sake. Who will care for the reason an old man who shouldn't be on the battlefield anyway goes back? But no, he says he loves Paris, and can't bear to watch him be killed. Yes, Priam includes Paris in a group of other sons he's castigating later, but - that's in a group, and he is grieving. Much like Hektor when he's angry, things are said then that, even if at least partially true, are certainly not the whole sentiment.

Let's go back a bit: Line 59ff: "Hektor, since you rebuke me fairly, and not beyond what is fair [...] If you wish for me now to go to war again and do battle[...]"

Watch that first line. It'll be relevant later. But what I want to touch on here is the way Paris phrases the second part. If you wish. Given how he doesn't seem to be very much driven by shame (or duty), I don't think the driving force to him ponying up to suggest the duel here is because he's been shamed by Hektor's words. Seems to me, it's far more about Paris wanting to please Hektor himself, do what he, specifically, wants, and not necessarily what is expected of him.

Another thing I'd like to note that is easy to miss and of course entirely relies on how one wants to interpret it, but Paris doesn't have chest armour for the duel against Menelaos. Lykaon lends him his; the narrative says it "fits him", and sure, there doesn't need to be any warm sentiment between them for someone to lend Paris chest armour to use.

Paris' own armour could just as well have been brought from Troy; every single man there, brother or not, could simply refuse to lend him any, if they so hate him. But Lykaon lets him borrow his.

Book 6 line 521ff: "Strange one, no man who is fair could slight your work in battle, since you are brave; but you hang back by choice and are not willing. And for that I grieve deep in my heart, when I hear insults about you from the Trojans[...]"

Hektor cares about Paris being insulted. Yes, his acknowledging Paris' skill is damning with faint praise because it's followed up by pointing out how unenthusiastic Paris' engagement in combat and the war is. But he goes out of his way to say that he doesn't like it when others (not him?) insult Paris(' martial abilities).

line 526ff: "We will redress these matters later, if ever Zeus grants us to dedicate in our halls a feast bowl of freedom[...]"

Does this sound like a man who has nothing but hate and disgust for his brother? Someone who, while their relationship isn't very good right now (as is the point of what he's saying here), doesn't want it to go back to being better than it now is?

Book 13 line 775ff: "Hektor, since it is your desire to blame the blameless[...]"

Right before this is when Hektor finds Paris on the battlefield, and for the second time (since he does not use the insults he did in Book 3 in Book 6 when he comes to Paris' home) uses the strings of insults he did in Book 3.

This is the only time, Book 6 included, that Paris categorically refuses Hektor rebuking him. Paris might normally let Hektor insult him - but clearly it's because he thinks Hektor, whether he's being too harsh in his phrasing or not, isn't wrong to chew him out. But he's clearly also not afraid to take a stand and just tell Hektor he's wrong, when he is in fact wrong.

Outside the Iliad

It's a bit of a pity we don't get any idea of what the Iliad might have done with Hecuba's thoughts on Paris. We get nothing. Outside of it, pre-war, we of course have the fact that neither Hecuba nor Priam wanted to actually kill Paris, and they both welcome him back despite well knowing the dream omen. (Of course they could assume it's been interpreted wrong, by this point.) Hecuba's grief over her exposed and presumably dead son gets fronted in Euripides' Alexandros, and in the Trojan Women, she fully defends him in the agon against Helen. Sure, we might assume she's putting all the blame on Helen not because she any longer cares about Paris, or to more effectively try to condemn her in front of Menelaos. But I don't think a lack of affection for Paris in the way she chooses to respond is something that can be assumed either.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiiiii I saw that you might be interested in making pjo content again if you are, can we please get something like Percy being a good big brother? Like just a lot of fluff. Have a good night/day

Ps you don’t have to if you don’t want you you can just ignore this ask lol

Percy is the best brother anyone could ask for but Christ was he extremely overprotective of you; More so if you were to ever get hurt, accident or otherwise.

And if he were to ever found whoever hurt you well…Percy is all about getting his own back…tenfold.

For no one would be smart enough think that they could ever get away with hurting his family, not while he was still breathing.

At the end of the day Percy was your brother and if you were to be developing your first crush on someone, he’s going to have a few choice words…

‘Why did I have to hear that you were found down by the lake with Luke Castellan of all people from the Aphrodite cabin. It’s all they could seem to talk about.’ Percy said as he walked into your shared cabin.

‘Why were you at the Aphrodite cabin in the first place?’ You asked from your bed, brows raised.

‘Why were you at the lake with Luke of all people?‘ Percy replied. You groaned, already done with the conversation before it even began. ‘Why do you care for who I develop feelings for anyway? I wasn’t like this when you started realising you had feelings for Annabeth.’

‘I just wanted to know when did my sibling started developing such a rubbish taste in crushes.’ Percy shrugged, dodging the pillow you threw at him for that comment with ease. ‘Luke isn’t rubbish!’ You mocked, making sure to use quotation makes on the word rubbish. ‘He’s sweet, he’s charming, he’s cute- I mean have you seen his dimples?!’ You listed off.

‘Please,’ Percy drawled, unamused before adding. ‘he’s a guy! They’ll use their best attributes to lure you in before showing you their true colours the moment they know they’ve got you hooked into their trap.’ He then plops himself beside you on your bed to look at you sincerely. ‘I just don’t want you getting hurt.’

You smiled softly at that. While Percy maybe a twat sometimes and the way he looks out for your best interest can often times be annoying but he’s your annoying, sassy, overprotective brother and you couldn’t be prouder to call him as such. ‘You never want me getting hurt anyway,’ you began. ‘but there will come a time where you won’t be there to prevent me from being hurt and that’s okay.’ You watched as Percy gone silent and his face becomes clouded with distraught and unease before reaching over and placed a hand over his shoulder in reassurance.

‘I still don’t like the idea of you getting hurt and I’m not there for you.’ Percy murmured as he looked over at you. ‘It’s my job as your big brother to protect you, if I don’t then what does that make me other than a failure.’ Your heart broke for him, truly it did because you knew that if you were ever in trouble, Percy always came running with riptide and a look that could kill. He had done so on multiple occasions and even had the scars to prove it that whenever you look at them you can’t help but be reminded of how much and how willing he was to sacrifice for you, it was downright frightening at times.

However there were times where he was too late to prevent you from getting scars of your own, scars that you would rub subconsciously when a particular memory resurfaced, causing them to burn almost with the pain you experienced during that moment…

‘You’re not a failure Percy.’ You began. ‘You’re my brother, the one person I look up to the most, my inspiration of the kind of person I hope to be one day. You took me in instantly after I was claimed and whsilt you maybe a dick at times but there’s no one else I’d proudly call my brother.’ You finished before ruffling his hair. ‘Now stop looking so sad, fish breath. It’s weird not hearing you talk about how you’re going to drown Luke if he were to get within radius of me.’

Percy playfully shoved you, smirking. ‘People don’t plan their murders aloud, shrimpy but I will fucking drown him if he pulls something I don’t like. Nobody gets to mess with my sibling but me.’

‘Oh joy.’ You said sarcastically but the smile on your face told otherwise.

[sarafangirlart]

Where did the thing about Hephaestus asking for Aphrodite if he freed Hera come from? I've seen it a lot but haven't found any references to og sources

It’s a modern theory based on the François Vase:

“Dionysos leads Hephaistos to the assembled deities on Olympos.

Zeus and Hera seated on thrones are waiting for Hephaistos. Behind them Athena, Ares, Artemis, Poseidon (?) and Hermes. Ares sits dejectedly on a block, his head bowed, his spear pointed down on the ground indicating the failure of his previous attempt to bring Hephaistos back. Athena stands looking at him and pointing with her hands in opposite directions as if to say, you failed while the barbarians succeeded.”

It makes sense to think that maybe Aphrodite was involved in the story in some shape or form, but to say that she was straight up made into a prize by Zeus is such a weird conclusion, for all we know the artists might have added her in there to fill up the empty space or added her there as a sort of foreshadowing of their future marriage. Maybe she was promised to Hephaestus but I don’t buy it bc why does every reference to this story mention the fact that Dionysus convinced Hephaestus to come to Olympus not mention Aphrodite at all? That’s a pretty key part of the story to just omit.

Then there is Ares, I sometimes read ppl claim that Aphrodite sent Ares to get Hephaestus hoping that he’d win (a claim that was so repeated I thought it was legitimate) and that’s way he’s ashamed and on his knees but there is no evidence for that either, it’s way more likely that he feels ashamed bc he failed his mother and queen, Athena bullying him over it probably didn’t help either lol tho I have to wonder why Athena supposedly didn’t try to bring Hephaestus herself, or if she did try and then failed herself, maybe this is a variant where Hephaestus attempts to assault while she was trying to talk to him so she leaves through no fault of her own.

And bc scholars are allowed to make baseless theories, I’ll make my own little headcanon, I think Athena tried to reason with Hephaestus and was about to break through to him until Ares busted in all violent and shit that Hephaestus had to shoo him away with fire and he shut himself in again lol and Athena never stopped berating Ares over it on the way home.

[wlntrsldler]

very random collections of songs that remind me so deeply of luke castellan and why.

or songs that sparked plot ideas for fics i'll never write.

norman fucking rockwell by lana del rey:

set before his betrayal. situationship luke x reader. you know something is going on with luke, but is so in love with him that you refuse to acknowledge it until it's too late. luke comes to you, begging you to go with him, and you finally see luke for what he's about to become. you recoil from him (luke falls apart at this) and he leaves, defeated.

"what are you doing, luke?" you asked. the cabin was dark, the slivers of moonlight peeking in through the half-opened door where luke stood. "what happened to you?"

luke was standing in front of you, a slash across his abdomen, not deep enough to be critical but deep enough to draw blood. droplets of it stained the cabin floors. his eyes were blown wide, curls tussled in all different directions. he dropped his sword and rushed over to you, grabbing your face in his hands. he placed his forehead against yours, "come with me, y/n. let's leave. he has a plan for us."

the comfort you had with his erratic breaths flashed away in a hurry. you pulled away, eyebrows threaded together in thought, "who is he? luke, you're scaring me."

in his unstable state, he didn't notice your small steps away from him. he was looking behind him constantly as if waiting for a crowd of people to burst through the door behind him. ready and willing to take him away.

"kronos," he said, so casually you thought you'd heard him wrong. he began to explain. his words sounded so rehearsed. so pristine. it was clear that this has been in the works for far too long.

and it was too late.

"luke, no," you replied, shaking your head. you backed into a dresser, hissing at the stabbing pain in your lower back. you were cornered.

he picked up his sword again, taking up a fighting stance unconsciously. you flinch as he walks towards you. he pauses. luke looks down at his hand holding his sword. for a moment you saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he studied himself in the reflection. the light illuminated the side of his face, the scar so prominent, so glaring like a reminder of why he was pushed into becoming this.

he looks up at you again, "i would never hurt you."

"i don't think that's true anymore, luke."

his response was cut off by the sound of panic outside. his time is up. and he failed. somehow this failure, the failure of getting you to join him, to trust him, to love him to the point of betrayal, was the most bitter failure he'd experienced.

luke looked at you, trying to commit the memory of your face in his mind as if you weren't going to remain burned into his soul forever.

18 by 5sos:

luke x aphrodite!reader. you're older than luke by a year and he's so smitten by you. like head over heels! he overhears you and one of your sisters talking about celebrities that you had a crush on but he hears you say "he's too young for me," and he thinks it's about him.

he starts sulking which makes you go ????? because you've been flirting with him for YEARS but he never caught on (pushing the loser!luke agenda here) and you get so fed up when he ignores you that you just confess to him.

now it's his turn to be like ???? because what do you mean you like him??? ends in super cute fluff and endless kisses and obv teasing from the trio. duh.

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by del water gap

best friends to lovers!!!!! super touchy, feely friendship between luke and the reader. you're always so flustered after cuddling or when he'd kiss your cheek or give you hugs from behind, but he's so oblivious to your reactions.

one day some ares kid starts flirting with you and you decide it's time to move on from luke anyway because it was getting pathetic. so you start hanging out with the ares kid (who's actually so so so kind and sweet; in another life you'd be in love with him but in this one, luke has you completely) you and the ares kid become super good friends, like besties and 4lifers. (ares kid: y/n maybe you shouldn't let him be so touchy with you. you're never gonna get over him if you keep this up.) you begrudgingly agreed. you start pulling away from luke when he gets touchy and this makes luke :(!!!!!

the nail to the coffin was when he saw you in the ares kid's clothes. you were only supposed to wear HIS clothes. he decides enough is enough.

that night he knocks on your cabin door while everyone is out at the campfire (he knows you hate it bc you smell like smoke for days) and he's seeing red because he hates the ares kid (he doesn't actually, he's just super jealous) and he missed you so much (even though it's only been two weeks since this whole thing started).

he walks in and he's already ranting and he's not even looking at you because he's so ???!!!! then he finally looks at you and he sees that you're wearing his shirt and the ares kid's sweater is nowhere to be found. (you only borrowed it during dinner because you spilled ketchup on your shirt) luke smiles for the first time in days.

he tells you to dump the ares kid and you start laughing and explain the whole situation to him. luke is SUPER embarrassed for being so dramatic but it ends in a cute confession and lots of kisses.

[losergender]

masterpost of solangelo + others fic recommendations

absolutely no one asked for these but i need them all storaged in one place.

[ list goes from solangelo multi-chaptered fics to one-shots + other ships at the end ! will be updated from time to time ! ]

last edited : 17 - 09 - 2024

MULTICHAPTERED SOLANGELO FICS !

just an animal, looking for a home - ikeasharksss (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44264458)

Mortal 1987 AU. Nico is running away from his home in Washington, DC to find his sister, Bianca, at UCLA. Will is running away from his home in rural Texas to find his long-lost father, Lester Apollo Papadopoulos, in Hollywood. The two of them meet on the road and become runaway buddies, going on a journey together to survive Greyhound buses, amateur punk bands, Pizza Huts, pretentious music tastes, and their own pasts, tooth and nail.

talk your talk and go viral (i just need this love to spiral) - wrongcaitlyn (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46368430)

“Keep telling yourself that,” Will says quietly, because even though the door is closed, speaking any louder would seem wrong. “You’re too harsh on yourself. If you wrote songs or something, you’d easily get on the Billboard Hot 100. Dad would help you. I would, too.” “Promote it to your seven followers?” “Yes!” Nico laughs, and then Will is joining him, and they’re closer than before, but it’s nothing unusual. It’s been this way since before stupid feelings and stupid crushes, and Nico would be damned if he let it change just because of that. or a celebrity au ft. childhood friends to lovers, a bit of trauma, and a famous friend group (plus leo).

of crowns and claws - PawsOnTheKeyboard (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47818261)

Freshly sixteen, Nico takes off on a ceremonial quest, one meant to prove to the kingdom that he would be able to take over the throne when King Hades, his father, was gone. The issue? Nico has little desire to be king and even less motivation to do what's expected of him. Because while 'prove yourself capable of rule' was a vague task, Nico knew what his father and the kingdom expected from him. If Nico didn't return with a dead dragon, his quest would be regarded as a failure. Because his father had killed many dragons on his own quest when he was a boy, had deemed dragons and dragon shifters as the natural enemy of the Kingdom of Olympus, so it just made sense that his son would follow in his footsteps and do the same. Or, it made sense to anyone who wasn't Nico, because he shared none of the hatred his father had for dragons and dragon shifters and expected his quest to result in disappointment from his father and the rest of the kingdom. So when he left on his sixteenth birthday, he had no plan, and almost immediately injured himself. His savior is a stranger that soon becomes a dear friend. And he also might be why Nico decides to openly defy his father.

can't see you, im losing my mind this time? - rabbit_soup (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38765766)

“You’ve got micro-pieces of glass in your skin, and I can’t in my right mind let that stuff just fester in there.” “Glass…? Where—?” He racked his brain, slowly glancing up at Will. He didn’t remember breaking any glass on the quest. “Strangest thing,” Will said, pulling an orange container out of the box. On its side, it read Arm and Hammer, Baking Soda in thick white lettering. “Both Annabeth and Percy swung by a few minutes ago, talking about the exact same thing—glass in their hands! The both of ‘em! Isn’t that interesting?” The glass beaches in Tartarus... Nico thought.

The Rose of Paphos - Tundras_and_Taigas (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30327402)

During a trip up to the Big House’s attic, Will, Valentina, and Mitchell stumble across an old relic of Aphrodite’s: the Rose of Paphos. Created by Hephaestus as a courting gift, the ancient metal rose blooms whenever it's held by someone who harbours romantic love for another. When the rose reveals Will's hidden feelings for an unnamed camper, Nico isn't sure whether to hold out hope or try to move on. OR: Nico and Will need a little nudge. Aphrodite is happy to oblige.

peach tea - ghosttotheparty (https://archiveofourown.org/works/48987730)

He sits up after a moment, but Nico doesn’t let go of his fingers, so he lifts the arm that’s awkward between them and sets it behind Nico, leaning back to rest on it. Nico just looks at the tapestry. Will brushes his thumb over the side of Nico’s hand gently. His skin is soft. Nico’s fingers tighten on Will’s. It kind of feels like neither of them wants to move. Will doesn’t mind. or; Will falls in love with the new kid.

Opportunity Knocks - nikkiRa (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690698)

Two years after the war with Gaia, Nico tries to run away again, but on the way he is ambushed by Aphrodite, who has decided to take a personal interest in him - lucky him. Nico finds himself stuck in a Groundhog Day situation, reliving the same day over and over until he can figure out what the hell Aphrodite wants from him.

SOLANGELO ONE-SHOTS !

Bigger 'n Texas - notalotgoingonatthisinstant (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217360)

The accent. The accent was his problem. Well, it wasn’t his only problem. There were a lot of other things that drew Nico to the son of Apollo, to the point of him actually considering if he returned his feelings. All he knew was that he was going crazy and one of them would have to speak soon. . . . "'I’ll be back real quick with lunch,' Will told him. 'Don’t go anywhere. Unless I’m not back in twenty minutes, then you can hunt down my siblings until you find the culprit,' he winked. Nico told the skeletal butterflies in his stomach to quiet down and managed to keep a smile on his face until the door closed behind Will. Then he smacked himself in the forehead for being so stupid stupid stupid, again. First, get a crush on the live version of his childhood game hero. Then get a crush on the caring healer who was nursing him back to life. What was his problem?"

carving through the dark (to get so far) - doeheart (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51640546)

"Your soulmate wears all the bad things you believe about yourself on their skin. They hold it for you so you don't have to. When you look at the things you don’t like about yourself, you also have to face someone who loves you. It’s like feeling whole again. Apollo’s the god of truth, you know. So there are no lies between soulmates." Will got his first soulmark at night. Coiled around his bicep like a snake, the word 'cursed' hissed in jet-black letters. The marks kept coming after that. An au where all the worst things your soulmate believes about themselves show up on your skin. Will wants to know why his soulmate hates himself.

Those walls I built didn't even put up a fight - sazandorable (https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482184)

"Is it morally okay to stab a medic with their own scissors?" Nico asked Cecil. (Not that he usually cared about morally okay, as Octavian might demonstrate.) Nico's three days in the infirmary go by faster than he'd thought, and Will just won't stop flirting.

i could be your hero - sundaysabotage (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528247)

“I just don’t get it,” he huffs to Will as they put up holiday decorations in the unusually quiet infirmary, “they talk to me like I’m supposed to know stuff. Like I’m the new Percy or something.” Nico expects Will to laugh at this, shrug off his concerns as unfounded and tell him he’s being over-dramatic like usual. He is wrong. “Okay, babe, don’t take this the wrong way. But, you kind of are the new Percy.”

OTHERS !

Like a New Yorker - notalotgoingonatthisinstant (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231837)

Annabeth knew Percy was from New York City. Born and raised. She was very aware of that fact whenever she couldn’t understand what he’d said because he’d spoken so fast that there were barely any words. She had gotten used to it, having lived in New York for a while. What she hadn’t exactly gotten used to yet was… well. How many times he could let f*** slip in front of the little kids at Camp. // OR Percy curses like a true New Yorker and son of Poseidon, Annabeth's trying to keep things flowing, and Piper makes fun of him so he makes fun of her. Because, really, sometimes she sounds like a Kardashian and he sounds like he's not even speaking English.

King-sized Candy Bars - liktetolaugh (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44380360)

It takes a week or two for Percy and Grover to actually become friends, even after they're roomed together. Because Percy, twelve years old, pragmatic, and hostile, is about as easy to make friends with as Thalia was. Hopefully, Grover will pull it off in the end.

Stars on the Water - liketolaugh (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38319247) i love this one so much

"I dunno, I just think it would make a lot of things easier for a lot of people," Percy said to Thalia, when she just stared at him. His cheek rested in his hand, a rare pensive look leaving his eyes distant and unfocused. "Mom has Paul now, so it’ll be easier on her if she doesn’t have to worry about me mucking things up. Dad won’t have to keep threatening war every time Zeus gets his toga twisted. The prophecy’s done, so I won’t be bringing it down on Nico. And no one will have to worry about me blowing up another volcano."

Fathoms Below - inkncoffee (https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403855/chapters/10001051)

King Poseidon has forbidden any of his merpeople from visiting the surface and the dangerous landwalkers that dwell on it. Naturally, that made Prince Percy want to talk to the pretty blonde landwalker even more. After rescuing the princess from drowning, Percy trades his fin for legs to better understand this strange new world and the beautiful gray eyed girl he saved. Only, he has no idea what he's doing and the princess doesn't seem to either. Know what he's doing that is. "Oh, Seaweed Brain." He was pretty sure that was an insult.

forever going with the flow (but you're friction) - wrongcaitlyn (https://archiveofourown.org/works/58466251/chapters/148934692)

“Who’s the opener?” Magnus asks Blitz, signing at the same time for Hearth. He usually looks these things up beforehand, but then again, the concert had been a last-second sort of thing. Annabeth had offered some spots in the VIP section of one of her friend’s shows while he and his friends were in town, and because Magnus has gotten quite used to Annabeth throwing around random excursions, he immediately said yes. Blitz shrugs, but a moment later, the name appears across the screen, and he helpfully reads out: “Alex Fierro.” Magnus would scoff and say, “Thanks,” sarcastically if his attention wasn’t caught once again by the figure on the stage. Alex Fierro, apparently, grabs the mic just as the music starts. It’s hard to see her—or him? Them?— before Alex appears on the screen, her full frame in view. Magnus can’t help but stare. or a celebrity au ft. a world tour, no sexuality crises, and some threats of decapitation.