#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?"

[thhouseofblack]

round 2 of odysseus commentating during the events of the iliad sports commentator-esque because I can't stop myself~

part 1

"Menelaus grabs him by the helmet, DRAGS him across the battlefield like he's an unpaid intern - but OH! Aphrodite steps in with the divine clutch! She swipes Paris out of the fight faster than you can say ‘coward with abs’ and poofs him back to Helen’s boudoir. And listen - I know what you’re thinking, but no, Helen and Paris are NOT relationship goals. That’s not love, that’s god-sponsored codependency!"

"Naturally we press him for info - standard interrogation tactics, nothing too extreme of course. And what’s this? Dolon spills EVERYTHING. No hesitation. No bluffing. He’s giving away Hector’s strategy, spicy details on the Trojan camp, and even directions to the Thracian allies. Folks, this is what we call a game-changing turnover! Just an absolute FAILURE on defense from the Trojans!"

"This just in - Achilles is still on the bench, deep in his ‘no war, no friends, no bitches, only sulk’ era, burrito-ing - no don't ask me what a burrito is. But Patroclus has entered the chat! He’s asking to wear his armour, folks. That’s right - man just pulled a full ‘Can I wear your hoodie?’ except the hoodie is a legendary set of god made armour - NO DON'T ASK ME WHAT A HOODIE IS. Anyway, Achilles unsurprisingly agrees - but says, quote, ‘Don’t go too hard, babe.’ I mean, ‘dear friend.’ Very normal. Totally heterosexual battlefield banter. Diomedes and I do it all the time trust!"

"We’re live back on the Achaean Airtime, folks, and it’s the showdown we’ve all been waiting for - Menelaus vs. Paris, husband vs. homewrecker, Softboy with a sweet smile vs Slut of the decade- OKAY FINE I'll focus Agamemnon. Menelaus comes in HOT, swinging like a man who just walked in on his wife with the guy who was on a stripping pole two minutes ago. Paris, meanwhile, shows up in a leopard print cloak. Bold move, my guy. Bold move."

"Achilles? Crying. Priam? Crying. The gods? Crying. Me? Probably crying too - but that's cause I miss my wife. This is the most emotionally-mature move Achilles has made in the ENTIRE war!"

"And folks, let’s address the very unfounded rumours going around in the Achaean camp. Some of you out there seem to think that just because Diomedes and I work in perfect synchronization, communicate with a single glance, and trust each other with our lives, that there’s something... EXTRA going on here. But let me be VERY clear - this is PURELY professional chemistry! Just two warriors, out on a mission, under the stars, bodies moving in tandem, breathing as one - WAIT, I MEAN - Forget that last part! POINT IS: No romance here! Absolutely none! Not even a little bit! LET'S MOVE ON."

[lionofchaeronea]

The ancient Greek festival of the Adonia. This festival was celebrated in honor of Adonis, Aphrodite's beloved, who was slain by a wild boar sent by a wrathful Artemis. After a dispute between Aphrodite and Persephone, Zeus ruled that Adonis would spend four months of the year by himself, four months with Aphrodite, and four months in Hades.

The Adonia marked Adonis's annual return from Hades. It was celebrated exclusively by women, who would ascend to the flat roofs of their houses carrying vessels with celery seeds, as pictured here. We are told by Aristophanes (Lysistrata) and Plutarch (Nicias and Alcibiades) that in 415 BCE, when the Athenian assembly was voting to send an expedition to attack Sicily, the vote was interrupted by the ritual cries of women beating their breasts for Adonis; after the expedition's dismal failure, this was understood as a bad omen.

Fragment of an Attic red-figure lebes gamikos (wedding vase), attributed to the Painter of Athens 1454; ca. 430-420 BCE (Classical period). 19 cm (7.3 in.) high x 15.5 cm (6 in.) wide. Now in the Louvre.

[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.

[ladyoftheflowers-witch]

Pick a pile : How can I change my World/Reality? 🌌

Pile 1: 2 of wands, The Empress.

All you need to change your world is to work backwards pile 1, it seems like you have been putting your energy into something but now you doubt yourself, it is something which binds all forms of nature together, it is also something that could lead to light or darkness. The cards are showing that you need to reconcile your contradictions, you know that light can't exist without darkness and viceversa, maybe this involves working through your shadows, fears and wishes for the future, but I feel stronger that you are stuck in something and the solution is the first idea that you had but you need to put all your imagination and productivity to it and not abondon it.

You need to start again or destroy something to create something better, try to concentrate in the whole picture insted of each and every part. Take a close look to your goals and activities, make sure you are using your energy in a wise manner. You will dominate your circunstances dispite your fears pile 1. Take the initiative, follow your heart, where does it leads you? Love it's always the answer, so if you fear failure, try to mitigate it by having more faith and confidence in yourself, don't seek for inmediate results, find useful and just causes to fight for and everything else will fall together later on.

If you follow this mindset, new ideas and opportunities are going to show to you. You will feel more eager to start your abandoned projects and actually feel happy to complete them. I feel like you are working in something that implies to reveal against the power abuse in some way, to have a strong will, and at the same time it involves art and beauty. But anything that you are working on it has the approval of Aphrodite and it assures you success as long you have the courage to initiate it.

Pile 2: 8 of pentacles, Ace of spades.

This pile it's centered in business and carrers, I think that in order for you to change your world, you need to let others help you, a collaboration or commission will benefit you, possibly with a young man that has relation with you in some way, maybe you have similar interests but you complement each other. I don't think this collaboration will be forever, but it will help you in the correct and perfect moment for you.

You have a skill that you are improving, it requires patience, deeply care and attention to the details. It has more chances to have success if you can learn everything that you can about it, so maybe you are assisting courses or studing the subject in depth. It's a hand made skill that will receive good recognition when you can finally exhibit it. With time you will gain new customers and contacts, trust in yourself because you have very good ideas and you have the discipline to achieve your desired outcomes from this.

The cards are giving two advices, one it's that you should catch up on new technologies and technologic divices and the other is that you need to concentrate in one activity, maybe you are dividing your energy in too many tasks or you have many interests and this doesn't allow you to commit to anything in depth, be carefull with that, you might loose time in vain if you don't know what you want.

This is specific, but some of you want to learn sewing and others already are fortune tellers.

Pile 3: 2 of swords, 9 of wands.

In order to change your world you must change your point of view pile 3, you are paralized, hesitating between following the dictates of your head and the impulses of your heart. You are mantaining a passive posture, but you can't avoid making a decision forever. Because of this your manifestations are not succeding, your ideas are disordered because you don't want to face reality.

Make yourself this questions: what am I feeling? Am I avoiding accepting my feelings for fear of the suffering that this may cause me? You feel like an enemy is awaiting you in every corner, but you fail to realize that you are strong, you have strenght in opposition. If you were to be attacked as you fear , the person that dares to do that will meet an onslaught boldly from your side, you are a formidable antagonist.

Don't let appearances fool you, with courage you can win and victory will surely be yours. Don't let discouragement or circumstances make you lose your inner strength. I'm wondering why you feel this way tho, maybe your worst enemy it's yourself and your fears and this is creating unnecessary delays in your manifestations. Try to see reality as a child might see it, you will find new experiences and events but only when you understand reality beyond what the senses offer you would be able to enjoy them.

Pile 4: 8 of wands, 10 of pentacles.

Before I can tell you how to change your world, tarot wants me to let you know that you are blessed by the faery realm pile 4, either literally by faerys or by an ancient ancestor, but they were watching over you since the day that you were born. I'm telling you this, because all your problems derive from not realizing how much support you have. Maybe you know by now that despite every hardship you have endured, things always seems to work in your favor; but you didn't realized why.

Maybe that is the way to change your world and reality pile 4, by realizing you have the support you need even if you don't see it with your fisical senses. This realization will encourage you to dare to take on the most unusual projects. You already have a few ideas in your head of what you want to do with your life, start acting on those, don't let negativity and confusion to take over you.

If you put all your energy, effort and constance into your goals, the cards are showing that you have all the chances to succed and you will feel at peace and happy with your results. Just make sure to take time to celebrate with your loved ones. Make that phone call, visit your family, show your love to your friends, they also love you very much, they believe in you, they also support you and feel happiness when they see you happy.

I hope you enjoyed this reading as I enjoyed writing it for you, sending love and light, yan 💫

[sorcave]

Let me start plainly: Hades is one of the most successful modern engagements with Greek mythology in recent memory. It is not perfect, but it is a rare case of adaptation that respects the source material enough not to strip it of its teeth, while still translating it into something emotionally rich, narratively satisfying, and artistically alive.

At its core, Hades is a roguelike video game centered on Zagreus, a relatively obscure figure in the ancient Greek canon—son of Hades in Orphic tradition, though even that is debated. The game follows his repeated attempts to escape the Underworld and reach the surface, all while uncovering layers of family history and divine politics. It’s a bold narrative move, not least because Zagreus barely appears in classical myth. That Supergiant chose him at all is telling: it freed them from the burden of expectations while allowing them to root their story in less mainstream corners of myth.

But where Hades excels is in how it understands the structure and tone of Greek mythology. The game is cyclical, repetitive, and ever-unfolding, just like the myths. You die, and die again, and die again, but every time you return, the story continues. The Underworld is not merely a backdrop; it’s a mechanism. You’re meant to fail, because failure in myth is often how knowledge is gained. Orpheus fails. Sisyphus fails. Theseus fails. The tragedy is baked into the form. Hades gets this. It plays with it.

The game’s cast of characters is also remarkable. The Olympians are charming, vain, powerful, and inconsistent. Their dialogue is often contradictory, their favors fickle, their personalities theatrical but pointed. Dionysus is both kind and careless. Aphrodite is sultry but casually cruel. Zeus is authoritative and aloof, charming until the moment he isn't. These are not modern humans in togas. They feel like gods—larger than life, emotionally opaque, and delightfully unreliable. Even Hades himself is written with a gravitas that mirrors his mythic portrayal: stern, cold, not unkind, but certainly not approachable.

Hades does not fall into the trap of moralizing every story beat. It doesn't feel the need to make its gods into metaphors for trauma or bad parenting, though it edges close. Hades and Persephone’s relationship, for instance, is reimagined in a way that moves away from the abduction narrative, presenting them instead as estranged lovers separated by mutual regret. It’s a softened interpretation, but not an unreasonable one. It doesn’t erase the violence of the myth; it reframes it into a question of agency, which is a welcome nuance in a landscape where most retellings sanitize entirely or vilify without care.

There is real strength in how Hades handles its characters' dignity. Achilles is allowed to be a mentor and not a tragic object. Patroclus is written with reserve and quiet depth. Their story is not The Song of Achilles, and it’s better for it. It’s less about grief, more about the slow work of healing over eternity. Even characters like Thanatos, often miscast in modern media as a villain or shadowy death-dealer, are given room to exist with complexity and restraint. The game doesn’t try to flatten mythic figures into tropes. It lets them be, and that, in itself, is a form of respect.

However, it is not without flaws. The game's tone can sometimes slide into quippy modernity. Zagreus’ voice acting often leans into a sarcastic, overly casual register that undercuts the weight of the world he's in. His interactions with characters like Megaera or Theseus occasionally veer into the territory of sitcom banter, which feels out of place in an otherwise richly atmospheric narrative.

And though Hades draws on deep cuts of myth, it rarely engages directly with the ritual or religious dimensions of those stories. The gods are characters, not forces. There's very little engagement with fate, miasma, or the sacred. For a game that deals with death and the afterlife, it is surprisingly secular. This is understandable—it is, after all, a game designed to be played and replayed—but it limits the scope of what Greek myth can be. What we are left with is a pantheon of personalities, but not quite a pantheon of powers.

Still, what Hades accomplishes is significant. It is a modern myth that feels alive, not in the sense of being relatable, but in the sense of being dynamic. It understands that mythology is not about neat arcs or moral lessons. It is about repetition, inheritance, contradiction, and resistance. It is about descent, and what it costs to ascend.

For that alone, Hades deserves its place among the rare few retellings that do not diminish their source material in the name of accessibility. It offers myth as a world to inhabit, not a story to consume.

[zippyskyfalls]

Hear me out: God Games Mentors AU

Telemachus somehow manages to catch the attention of Athena, obviously. But also Apollo, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Ares, and Hera

Athena's his main mentor, the one with the deepest connection to him. She trains him to have the precision of a warrior, someone who fights when he knows he has a chance of winning, someone who thinks with his mind and not his impulses

He next catches the attention of Apollo. He sees him in Ithaca staring at an old Lyre and recognizes the eyes Telemachus carries. That specific shade of blue, he had to be from Hyacinthus' family tree. Apollo teaches him the art of Archery, hearing the surrounding movements to aim well enough. He also teaches him a bit of music on the side, but whatever

Hephaestus is still a pretty tricky one, but I figured it out. Telemachus likes making his own weapons. One time, he made a wooden sword in the spam of like ten minutes. Hephaeatus catches wind of this and he's like "bitch you need some WAY better materials than this if you wanna forge your own weapons. Have this!" And then he hands him like a bunch of iron and shit

Mentor number 3 is Miss Aphrodite. She noticed the love for his mother, as well as the fact the young prince somehow remained single at the age of 20. She still teaches him combat every once and a while (ex war goddess yk), but she's mostly just there to help his more personal life (she was the one who went "yk I heard Peisistratus is single and ready to mingle" and shit)

ARESSSS. He was only really interested in Telemachus because everyone else was. He contrasted Athena when it came to fighting styles, teaching Telemachus how to fight off of instinct and brute force. He can't let Telemachus be a failure when it comes to fighting. He wished the boy wasn't so Pathetic. So weak.

Hera comes along for a similar reason that Aphrodite did. She was the goddess of marriage, so she came down to Ithaca disguised as a mortal begger to find out more about Greece's only loyal couple. Only to find this boy who will do anything he can to keep his mother safe. She may not be a fighter, but she can help make sure he's a good kid.

I mostly just came up with this whole idea because of this concept

Ares: Pathetic and weak like his SON

Athena: what.

Apollo: Dude I love that silly little guy!

Heph: yeah man what the fuck

Aphrodite: Babe how could you :(

Hera: SIR.

[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

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Oh boy I turned my boyfriend into a cat||Carlso sainz x daughter of Hecate

Summary—Y/N is a daughter of Hecate who is just learning how to use her magic. However, she accidentally turned her boyfriend into a cat.

Word count — 1319

Warnings — mentions of smut but no actual smut (it’s one little comment Carlos makes)

A/n — this is an old repost from my old blog

A/n — @ladymarvel27 here’s one of my Carlos x Demi god child fics. Still looking for that other one.

@darleneslane it’s not ares disciple Carlos x Aphrodite disciple reader but it’s still a good one.

Your whole life has felt… off. You couldn’t explain it, but something was always missing, just out of reach. Unlike most demigod children, who discovered their godly heritage as kids, you were what they called a late bloomer. You didn’t find out the truth until your early twenties—right around the time you met your boyfriend, Carlos.

That night, you weren’t expecting anything life-changing. You were just out celebrating your friend’s engagement to her high school sweetheart, enjoying the music, the drinks, and the buzzing energy of the club. But the flashing lights and pounding bass soon turned into a headache that made your skull feel like it was being split open. You stepped outside for air, pressing your fingers to your temples in an attempt to ward off the growing migraine.

Carlos had just arrived with his friends when he spotted you. You barely registered him telling the others to go ahead inside—your vision blurred as the pain intensified. Then, suddenly, it felt like something inside you snapped.

A violent force exploded outward from your body. You heard a thud—a body hitting the pavement. Gasping, you turned your head and saw a man sprawled out on the ground a few feet away. Did I just do that?

“Oh my god, oh my god! Are you okay?” You dropped to your knees, hands hovering over him as you frantically checked for injuries.

Carlos groaned but, to your utter disbelief, he grinned. “Wow, that’s one way to knock a man off his feet.”

“You were just thrown by an invisible force, and you’re flirting with me?”

“What can I say? I know a beautiful woman when I see one.” His dark eyes gleamed with mischief.

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head, still stunned. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? I swear I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, Hermosa, I’m fine. But you could make it up to me…” He propped himself up on one elbow. “By going out with me sometime?”

And that was that. From that night on, Carlos never left your side. There was no getting rid of him—not that you wanted to. He was fascinated by you, by the strange, untamed power that sometimes surged when you were upset, angry, or overwhelmed. And no matter how unpredictable it was, he was always there to calm you down.

Carlos had a way of grounding you, of making you feel safe when you didn’t even know you needed it. He’d bring you crystals and books on witchcraft from his travels, fueling your curiosity about your newfound abilities. The first spell you ever attempted—a simple candle-lighting spell—had you near tears from frustration after hours of failure.

Carlos had walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You felt the tension in your body dissolve instantly.

“Take a deep breath in and out, mi pequeña bruja,” he murmured. “These things take time. Remember? You said that yourself.”

And, just like that, the candle flickered to life.

So much has changed since then. Your powers had grown. You have grown.

One Year Later

Carlos came home from his workout, towel slung around his neck as he made his way to the room you had both converted into your personal spell space. Leaning against the doorway, he crossed his arms, watching you with a small smile.

“I can feel you staring at me,” you said without looking up.

“Can you blame me, Hermosa?”

“No, I suppose I can’t.” You smirked, finally glancing at him.

“So…” He stepped inside, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “What are you working on?”

“A transformation spell, but it’s not going so well.”

Carlos hummed. “Ah, I see. Just remember, mi pequeña bruja, these things take time.”

“I know,” you sighed. “That’s why I’m done for the day.”

“Good, because Charles is on his way for dinner.”

“Oh, right. I may have forgotten about that.”

“And that is why I’m reminding you now, while I help you clean up.” He started stacking some of your books but paused. “If I could transform into an animal, what do you think I’d be? I was thinking something powerful. A wolf, maybe?”

You burst out laughing, looking up at him with amusement. “No. You’d be one of those big, fluffy, cuddly cats that instantly start purring when someone touches them.”

Carlos gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if you had mortally wounded him. “Amor, I would not be a cat. And I do not purr.”

“You don’t purr,” you admitted, grinning, “but you do hum like you’re in heaven when I scratch your head.”

“Impossible,” Carlos scoffed. Then he smirked. “The only time I’ve felt like I was in heaven was when I was inside you.”

Your face went up in flames. “Carlos!”

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “But, Hermosa, if you want a cat, you could just ask.”

You blinked. “Wait. Really?”

Carlos tilted his head. “Why not? If it’ll make you happy, I’ll find the perfect cat for you.”

Your heart swelled. “Thank you, Carlos. For everything.”

His expression softened. He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin. “I’ll always be there for you, amor. Now, you finish up here. I’ll start dinner.”

As Carlos turned to leave, you suddenly felt the urge to sneeze. You barely had time to register it before—

ACHOO!

A flash of energy bursts from you, rattling the shelves. You blinked, disoriented, before noticing something odd—Carlos’s clothes were in a pile on the floor.

And they were moving.

Dread pooled in your stomach as you carefully approached, nudging the fabric aside.

A large, very fluffy black cat stared up at you. Its golden-brown eyes, filled with love and admiration, were unmistakable.

“…Carlos?” you whispered, picking up the cat.

Carlos—now a cat—responded by rubbing his head against your chest, purring.

“Oh, gods, I am so sorry,” you groaned, cradling him like a baby.

Two Hours Later

Books were scattered across the floor, pages flipped frantically as you searched for a solution. But nothing. No counter-spell. No reversal. Nothing.

Carlos, perched on the coffee table, watched you with an almost amused expression. If he could talk, you knew exactly what he’d say.

“Amor, it’s not your fault. Accidents happen.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what to do.”

Carlos meowed and suddenly darted toward your bedroom. A minute later, he came trotting back, swatting a gold drachma toward you.

Your eyes widened. Of course! Hecate!

As you picked up the coin from the ground, you walked over to the kitchen sink. Turning on the water, you muttered a quick light spell that created a rainbow.

Iris appeared and asked, “Hello, child. Who may I direct you to?”

“Hecate, please,” you replied.

“One moment, please,” Iris responded. The rainbow shifted, and Hecate emerged from the mist.

“Hello, my dear. What can I do for you?”

You cleared your throat. “Uh… I accidentally turned my boyfriend into a cat.”

Hecate arched a brow. “Oh dear. Well, as a beginner, your spell won’t last long. It should wear off in a few hours.”

And with that, she vanished.

Relief flooded you. “Did you hear that, Carlos? You’ll be back to normal soon!”

Just as you reached for him, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in, Charles, it’s open!”

Charles strolled in, immediately spotting Carlos. “Oh! Bonjour, chaton! You are adorable!” He picked him up, scratching behind his ears.

Carlos purred. Loudly.

Without any shame.

Charles grinned. “What’s his name?”

“…It’s Carlos.”

“Ah. Then where is human Carlos?”

You deadpanned. “Charles. You’re holding him.”

Charles blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh.” A pause. “How?”

“I sneezed.”

Charles nodded slowly. “Must’ve been one hell of a sneeze.”

You sighed. “Yeah. Good news—it’ll wear off soon.”

Charles smirked. “Good. Because I don’t think Ferrari allows cats on the team.”

[sexydreamgirl]

I love reading your blog, aphrodite apprentice's old blog post just the girlies with the understanding of nevilles work but often times after or almost immediately after getting that surfe of hope/motivation I find myself feeling resentful and angry cause of how much time I've known about the law yet there's no internal change to account for this knowledge I have ....I've experienced so much unsuccessfulness I don't even know where to get the courage to imagine again without being afraid of failing again after so many years of trying and feeling so discouragedand incompetent.How would you go about this

You’re doing precisely what our posts are meant to steer you from. You’re punishing yourself and feeling things you do not want to feel. Stop imagining condemnation and start imagining praise. Abandon failure and seek success. Practice what we write about. Let yourself feel as grand and wonderful as you want to be and you won’t want to go back to resentment.

[superscrub323]

Top 10 5 Ares in Fiction

Alright as everyone who's blinked in the general direction of my profile for the past 2-3 months can gather that I'm a huge fan of Ares the God of War (even though I've been a fan for roughly that long). And then I'd figured that since Ares is such an amazing character surely they're mountains of portrayals that don't need to rely on Mars to make him the complex War God we know...right?

...

Yeah it turns out it was a lot harder than I thought and I only got 5 Ares that I consider compelling and faithful (if not in text then in spirit) renditions of Ares and number 5 was a stretch and number 1 will kind of be obvious if you've read this blog post (which will also be my guide for how I judge them)...alright let's see what we got.

5) Destripando La Historia: Yeah when I said I had to search for a number 5 I mean that this was a tie between Class of the Titans, the Ares from the God of War franchise, Hercules the Animated Series Ares, and Xenia Warrior Princess Ares. But while I haven't seen the latter two, the first one was a bit before my time, and the second one does do the whole 'Ares is the Lord of Evil shtick' we're all tired of but happens to do it the best.

Destripando La Historia (or Unraveling History to those who don't speak Spanish) has the number 5 Ares on this list by virtue of a channel thankfully translating his video into English Subs (but I do recommend watching the original anyway to support the original creators).

This Ares, in this awesome music video, gives us a brief history (a mildly jaundiced history but still very entertaining) about him and his various tales and he looks really cool when he's allowed to and...THEY actually make him the most handsome Greek God which is NICE! What isn't nice is how his failures mentioned in the Iliad of losing to Diomedes and the Aloadae get mentioned (the former without context) but those two things happened but fortunately it does bring up the Alcippe myth which is actually nice.

And he makes a few appearances in various other music videos (usually as comedic relief but while usually at his expense I can't say it didn't make me laugh). Like I said had to start somewhere and this somewhere has...the least 'Good' Ares (and I pray everyday that changes soon.)

4) Eros and Psyche by Allison Shaw (+18): Another surprise hit that I semi found accidentally but while this Ares doesn't play a major part (which is understandable as it's a retelling of the Eros and Psyche story), @allidrawscomics's Ares is a pretty good Ares all things considered (and as an added bonus tickles the part of my brain that itches for a version of the story where Ares is involved).

Her Ares, a musclebound semi bloodthirsty charming sexual freak, is in a happy committed relationship with Aphrodite who, in this version, is scheming to hook their son up with Psyche and proves to be supportive of her wife's desire to help their son find love and willing to help in ways that...are morbidly hilarious (in fact morbidly hilarious is a running theme in his few appearances.).

The comic itself is also great (if you're over 18) and worth checking out and is a nice reimagining of the Eros and Psyche myth that doesn't go 'Lore Olympus' (oh yeah...I went there!)

3) Evoe by @mcsiggy: Another Ares in another webcomic that's a charming sexual freak that loves to fight? I think I might be noticing a pattern...anyway Evoe's Ares by mcsiggy is, in their words not mine, a wartistic hothead eager for a fight who constantly battles with Athena over silly shit for no reason (and in a nice change of pace doesn't always lose) while in a cute, but very open, relationship with Aphrodite.

His sense of style is borderline immaculate, his general style brings a smile to my face, his character interactions with the other characters are charming, and he just works as his part in the webcomic. And, while we don't get much of him in the webcomic proper, he's also proves to be a loving father when he put his boot down on Aphrodite to save Eros and Psyche's relationship from Aphrodite (who is also a cutie who I also love and love seeing) being a giant thunder bitch.

Hope we get a storyline where he's a proper character but I'm subscribed to Evoe on Tapas (which is an awesome webcomic with equally charming characters and is making Dionysus a favorite God of mine) so I can wait until then.

2) Epic the Musical (with this animatic by @sixofclovers): Alright I've already went into why I like Ares in Epic the musical here and why this specific animatic does the Lovers section the best here here so I won't go too into it.

But I will say that while Ares didn't have a minute of sound time it did make me excited and hope Jorge does the Iliad...which in turn makes me remember that Epic's penultimate fight ended with Odysseus using a wind jetpack to torture Poseidon which in turn makes me imagine Diomedes reenacting the Redneck Scene from Deliverance with Ares and I shudder at the thought of having to deal with more people thinking Diomedes is ancient Greece Kratos and Ares is a bitch...

No! No gotta have hope in Jorge and Earle to do Ares right once again! (and even if they don't rage and spite on people is a precious commodity I can't afford to waste)

1)Iliad by Ho...I'm sorry I couldn't finish that with a straight face (plus the previous entry gave it away)

1)Hades by SuperGiant Games: You saw it coming from a mile away yet here we are! Ares from Supergiant Games is the best depiction of Ares so far! First off he looks gorgeous in a game where everything has to be gorgeous, handsome, cute, or cool and exceeds at looking better than Apollo (my inbox is ready for any and all Apollo fans) and roughly as good as Hermes. The white and gold vulture armor makes his darkened skin and white warpaint pop in the best of ways. His devilish smile never fails to disarm when he starts talking about bloodshed in ways that disturb but never cease to amuse. Best of all...once you get past his bloodshed...he's actually charming and perceptive in ways even Athena misses.

It turns out he was able to figure out Zag's and Mel's domains super easily and he does it so casually. Also while he is charming, you can see how he can be unnerving and disliked by other Gods even though he's not very spiteful or vindictive as they are (and trust me beyond the smiles the Gods are vindictive and spiteful).

But while he might seem to enjoy war for wars sake, he truly does have the interest of the children of Hades and their welfare in mind even if he enjoys war a wee bit too much...actually he's the God of War so it's appropriate!

Anyway that's the list! Hopefully we get better and better depictions of Ares but in the meantime check all of them out. Plus I hope you all recommend better candidates for Ares in the comments and reblogs.

[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 🕊️

[alexanderwales]

Aphrodite hated dick pics.

The first reason wasn't one she shared with other people, because it felt very petty to her, even if it was how she felt: "dick" was a word and "pic" was an abbreviation, and "dickture picture" was a thought that always came to mind, unbidden, or sometimes "Richard picture".

But the other reasons were more cultural, social, and aesthetic.

"There is an art to capturing the erotic," said Aphrodite. "And the vast majority of men are nothing more than preschoolers showing off their scribbles."

Her girlfriend was curled up next to her. Julie was an awkward, somewhat androgynous lesbian who had moved to Seattle from somewhere in the Midwest. She had eyes that the Minoans would have gone crazy for. Aphrodite had picked her up off the street because she'd had trouble understanding what the woman would even look like in the throes of passion, and that was something that Aphrodite, God of Love, was normally incredibly good knowing about people.

It turned out that Julie looked cute when she orgasmed, with a kind of fetching innocence to her, and her face was plastered with love afterward, eyes wide and all-seeing. So they had started dating, in the way that Aphrodite did sometimes, which would last until she grew bored.

"So it's not that you hate dick pics," said Julie. "It's that they're not artistic enough."

"Well, no," said Aphrodite. "Even the most artistically done picture, by a master photographer, with the perfect subject, I would still dislike."

"Well ... why?" asked Julie. "You're bisexual."

Aphrodite didn't like that term, not when applied to herself. She was the embodiment of all forms of love and attraction. It didn't feel right, to distill that down in such a way. She let it pass, though it would be a conversation for another day.

"Erections are transient things," said Aphrodite. "To capture one in film is to take this moment in time and suggest that it's representative. That, I think, is the objection. A moment of passion, which fades away after the photograph is taken, is a lie, of sorts."

"So -- and just so I understand this -- you're fine with a dick pic that gets sent so long as the erection is maintained until you arrive to greet it?" asked Julie.

Aphrodite laughed, because there was something funny about that, perhaps the image of her restlessly waiting in a cab, or inspecting the erection to make sure that it was the same one as in the photograph and not a second, imposter erection. Julie laughed too, and Aphrodite found that somewhat annoying, because she couldn't imagine that they were laughing at the same thing.

"I think there's a sense in which men adore their own erections," said Aphrodite. "It's a narcissism. A failure to imagine women."

"For gay men?" asked Julie.

"Perhaps it's different," Aphrodite allowed. "But I would wager that most of the dick pics are sent by men to women, and I do think it comes from this sense of pride, and I do think it's sad how much disconnect there is, between what these men feeling, what they expect, and what the reality is."

"So in a world where women were reliably aroused by these pictures," said Julie, gently stroking Aphrodite's arm. "Perhaps that would be fine?"

"Perhaps," said Aphrodite. "I'm still not sure that I would like it though."

"There have to be women that do," said Julie. "Among all the natural human variation. A woman for whom an unexpected, unsolicited dick pic following a comment on a local neighborhood app gets her hot and bothered. Odd to think about, how different people are from one another."

And Aphrodite smiled, and held Julie closer, because it was one of the things that had remained odd to her through all her years. She kissed the woman on her collarbone, and her neck, and between her breasts, and this too was transient, an ephemeral moment, that perhaps she would one day like to have a picture of.

[red-moon-at-night]

Thinking about the idea of Helen's desire for kleos, and how she is limited in the ways in which she can achieve it as a woman, it is rather interesting to see how the most 'obvious' solution to it is avoided — through children.

The main consensus surrounding Helen's number of children is that she gives birth to one, a girl called Hermione. Some sources bring up several others, but the earliest and most consistent child mentioned (and birthed by Helen) is her:

He was bringing Alector's daughter from Sparta for his son, mighty Megapenthes, grown up, who'd been borne him by a slave. The gods no longer made a child appear for Helen after she gave birth to her first child, lovely Hermione, who had the form of golden Aphrodite. (Homer, Odyssey, OD.4.10 - ca. 700 BCE)

MENELAUS [Laurentian Scholiast on Sophocles' Electra, 539]: 'And she (Helen) bare to Menelaus, famous with the spear, Hermione and her youngest-born, Nicostratus, a scion of Ares.' (Hesiod, Fragments, CW.F70 - ca. 650 BCE )

Now Menelaus had by Helen a daughter Hermione and, according to some, a son Nicostratus; and by a female slave Pieris, an Aitolian, or, according to Acusilaus, by Tereis, he had a son Megapenthes; and by a nymph Cnossia, according to Eumelus, he had a son Xenodamus (Apollodorus, Library, 3.11.1 - ca. 100 CE)

When Orestes became king of the Lacedemonians, they themselves consented to accept him for they considered that the sons of the daughter of Tyndareus had a claim to the throne prior to that of Nicostratus and Megapenthes, who were sons of Menelaus by a slave woman. On the death of Orestes, there succeeded to the throne Tisamenus, the son of Orestes and of Hermione, the daughter of Menelaus (Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.18.6 - ca. 174 CE)

It seems the later the sources get, the more children are added (look at that Apollodrus extract! Menelaus has been around!); but even then, Hermione is always mentioned, and often mentioned as the only legitimate child of Helen and Menelaus.*

*Yes the Scholiast on Euripides, Andr. 898 Cypria fragment does mention Pleisthenes the third born child, but... we're ignoring him (lol). As far as I'm aware he's only mentioned once and also no confirmation he's legitimate. Sorry Pleisthenes.

Now, let's talk about that a little. Helen giving birth to a daughter, and proceeding to not have any more children after that raises an important point — Helen does not produce an heir for her husband. Helen, as Menelaus' wife is expected to do that but she simply... doesn't. She has one child and that's it. Sometimes that one child isn't even intentional:

And she (Helen) bare neat-ankled Hermione in the palace, a child unlooked for. (Hesiod, Fragments, CW.F68 - ca. 650 BCE)

unlooked-for = unexpected; unforeseen.

However, as Ruby Blondell mentions in 'Helen of Troy: Beauty, Myth Devastation':

"In normal circumstances such failure to bear a son would jeopardize a Greek wife's position, since it denies her a woman's primary avenue to status within her husband's household. Since she did not relocate upon marriage, however, Helen needs no sons to establish her status at Sparta. Moreover, the absence of a son helps her maintain her independence. When a son grows up, he becomes another source of male authority over his mother." (pg. 32-33)

She has different circumstances from her peers; she doesn't need children to retain her status. In fact, if she were to bear a son it might be worse for her position.

This would explain her reluctance for children, if the lack of them was indeed a choice. Nonetheless, it's worth exploring the possibility that it is unintentional. There's certainly evidence for it being so, if we look at how Hermione fares in adulthood with her own fertility:

(to Andromache) but as for thee, slave and captive, thou wouldst fain oust me and secure this palace for thyself, and thanks to thy enchantment I am hated by my husband; thou it is that hast made my womb barren and cheated my hopes (Euripides, Andromache, 117 - ca. 425 BCE)

Helen is struggling to have children, and now Hermione is struggling to have children — like mother, like daughter. Is the infertility hereditary? Or perhaps there are some godly influences afoot:

TYNDAREUS Scholiast on Euripides' Orestes 249: Stesichorus says that while sacrificing to the gods Tyndareus forgot Aphrodite and that the goddess was angry and made his daughters twice and thrice wed and deserters of their husbands (Hesiod, Fragments, CW.F67 - ca. 650 BCE )

While this extract focuses only on Tyndareus' daughters and their infidelity, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that the curse of a god could extend to multiple generations of a family (e.g. the house of Atreus) and in other ways — in this case, not being able to get pregnant/have a successful pregnancy.

However, considering the infertility as an intervention by the gods, I don't think that this is necessarily a 'curse'. This feels more like fate. That, regardless of whether it is Helen's choice to have just Hermione or not, it is destined to happen. The subtext being 'just Hermione' and no more.

Blondell mentions that in Theocritus' poem The Epithamaly of Helen, the chorus pray that Helen bears Menelaus a child that resembles herself. If we take the quote from The Odyssey earlier, of Hermione 'who had the form of golden Aphrodite', we can assume that prayer is fulfilled. Blondell also says:

"There is something a little strange, however, about the chorus's prayer. ... since there is no doubt about a woman's identity as a mother, the crucial point, for a husband, is that his wife's offspring should resemble him. It seems strange too, at a wedding, to pray in effect for a daughter as opposed to a son and heir." (pg. 32)

Helen will have a child, and it will resemble her, but that's it. No sons, no heirs.

Enter stage left: Zeus' plan to reduce the population of demigods by having a beautiful daughter, who will instigate a long and bloody war.

How do you get such a daughter to instigate a war? By leaving her husband because she desires more than the cards she has been dealt.

If Helen does desire kleos, but is essentially barred from achieving it in the ways a woman traditionally does, then she must seek it elsewhere.

In choosing to leave with (effeminate, unconventional) Paris: If she doesn't wish to have children, maybe she thinks she can escape the 'inevitable' fate of all wives to bear a son and be known only as their mother — she will seek kleos elsewhere. If she does wish to have children, maybe she has tried to bear children, many, many times after Hermione and cannot, and in that shame of failing to meet the minimum standards of being a woman — she will seek kleos elsewhere.

Whatever her feelings are on the matter, fate remains the same: Helen will have a daughter that resembles her, and Helen will go to Troy with Paris. The facts still remain the same too: Helen cannot bear a son, and this separates her from womanhood. She cannot successfully be a woman by society's standards, and cannot make her legacy her children.

She must find kleos in other ways.

[smokey07]

Another thing I have missed in book 6 the Iliad.

Diomedes and Glaucus’ exchange was in general friendly, however with the parting word Diomedes still affirmed himself and the Greeks still being the superior one in combat, even with that on the surface friendly tone.

Diomedes confirmed he would kill the Trojans “if the gods provide” and “if he could catch them”. There is no doubt in his power. He can and will kill them, if he can’t then it means the gods have intervened (side eyes Aphrodite and Apollo in book 5) or the Trojans are only cowards who book the f away when seeing him.

But when wishing for Glaucus, he said “if you can”. Not the divine intervention or failure of speed, but Glaucus’ own combat prowess would fail him in killing his enemy. Aka he is weak! *drop mic*