#aphrodites bloody rose

[terresdebrume]

what happened with the magicians?

This got really long so we're using a cut. TW for references to depression, suicide, queerbating an possession under that.

Okay so. The (original) protagonist of The Magicians is Quentin Coldwater. Quentin is established from his very first shots to be depressed enough to warrant a stay in a mental health facility (can't remember if we actually see him for the first time as he leaves it, but I think that might be the case). He is also very quickly established to have been depressed for a long time and using his favorite books, the Fillory series (an expy of Narnia) as a way to cope through escapism.

In the first episode, Quentin and his best friend Julia are both invited to take the entrance exam to Brakebills University (of magic). Julia fails, Quentin succeeds, cue a lot of magical adventures that reveal Fillory to be a) real and b) a lot darker than the books make it seem.

Throughout the first four seasons, two things are regularly touched on:

Quentin's ongoing struggle with depression and anxiety

Quentin's romantically charged relationship with his friend Eliot Waugh, who is also a mess but in a different way (this is relevant later).

Quentin's mental health is more or less prominent during the show, depending on periods, but one defining moment is when Quentin and his friends are looking for magical keys for Quest reasons, and one of them causes its bearer to suffer from acute depression and commit suicide, often withing 48 hours. During this subplot, Quentin volunteers to hold the key because he's familiar with how not to kill himself, and gets to deliver a powerful speech about the fact that he's been beating his natural depression for years, which means the key doesn't stand a chance against him... which is later proved right since Quentin doesn't kill himself and the quest succeeds.

The Quentin/Eliot relationship also has its more or less romantically charged moments. However, a key subplot is that during the quest for keys, Quentin and Eliot end up trapped together in a different time, where they eventually get together, adopt a son, and grow old together until Eliot dies of old age, allowing Quentin to find the Life Key and further their current quest. When they go back to their own time, young again, Quentin asks Eliot out, citing their lifetime together as a solid "proof of concept" but Eliot, for many reasons, gets scared and turns Quentin down. (If memory serves, he pretends to have forgotten the parallel life, but don't quote me on that.)

Anyway, the next season, as a result of the keys quest, Eliot is possessed and trapped in his own body/mind. Quentin is hellbent on getting him back and pretty much the only one who believes there's anything to get back after a while. Meanwhile, Eliot is trapped in his own mind and discovers that the key to getting back in control of his body (however briefly) is to go into his worst memory, which turns out to be...the day he turned Quentin down instead of getting together with him. Cue a self-hating monologue, Eliot showing Quentin he's alive by referencing the asking out conversation, and resolving to ask Quentin out if they survive their current arch-villain.

Eliot is freed, the quest is not over, so the conversation is postponed, although as I remember it there's an understanding of sorts between Eliot and Quentin (might be misremembering there). At a minimum, the strong implication is that something is going to happen there...except in the very last episode, Quentin sacrifices himself to save everyone in a way that makes him actually ask if he committed suicide, to which the answer was 'you were loved so of course it's not a suicide'

Which not only was strong queerbait* but also the way it was done left me with the distinct feeling that Quentin giving his life up was like. The only 'valid' ending (there was someone else with him who could have been in his place) and to make matter worse, Quentin immediately decides to move on from the afterlife, getting a definite perma-death instead of remaining a character for a while.

It's like... when I try to explain it it feels a bit like I'm reaching because it's a lot of cumulating little things that made it eminently frustrating and just... hurtful. As in, this character who was depressed but managed to carve himself a relatively happy life despite multiple world-ending dangers thrown in his face, who was inches away from getting some more joy in his life from a queer relationship, was unceremoniously killed in a way that implied he'd chosen that for like, "the greater good"!

And to make matter worse, the showrunners afterwards (from what little I saw, someone correct me if they have more accurate info) essentially were like 'well he's depressed anyway so it's only fair'. Which is fucking bullshit.

Eta: At least we got vindicated in some way because after that Season 5 tanked so hard the show got cancelled (COVID probably didn't help either)

*Also reinforced by the fact that Sera Gamble, the showrunner of The Magicians was also the showrunner who brought the Destiel queerbait scandal to Supernatural season 7, with such "subtle" and "accidental" hints as a giant fucking bi flag in the background while Castiel is being admonished for loving Dean too much... anyway, this is getting away from the point of this ask, but it did show Sera Gamble already had some questionable showrunning decisions under her belt.

[thatonetimetraveller]

3, 17, and 18 for the Fanfic Writer Ask please?

Thank you for the ask! 💜

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I gotta say Sol even tho I haven't worked on it in a while. It just fufills all my favorite tropes that being timetravel with a non linear narrative and slowburn romance and qprs. It's also the longest fic I've written so far like around 60k soo that has to say something lol

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Wing anatomy and how birds clean their wings and stuff also that apperently star wars doesn't have a reliable in universe calendar

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Ooo this a hard one but after reading through some of my writing I settled on this in the end:

Lighting flashed across Thranduil’s face the shadows of his scars illuminated just for a moment then the thunder roared with its might and Thranduil flinched hating that minute display of weakness.

[hoseoksluna]

ICHOR | jjk

pairing: idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: after a bad day at work, you lose a sense of yourself and jungkook leads you right back to her.

warnings: crying, capitalism, death metaphors, sadness, jungkook is sweaty and is wearing that nike shirt he wore in his working out live, has fluffy hair!

note: hiii, bubbas, so this is fluff fic is partly for @frmisnow bc she inspired me to write this & i also want to make her feel better with this sacchariny-sweet jungkook, partly for me bc i genuinely wrote in detail about what i went through at work these past two days. and, also, for all you guys because i made you go through reading about such evil jungkook in my last berries fic. i hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think. here's to a bit of happiness in our lives *cheers with an imaginary glass of imaginary pink, glittery, strong, fairy alcohol*. <3

You used to be a goddess, the ichor in your veins carried the color of roses, glinted with flecks of gold that would radiate your skin from beneath, make any heads turn, especially the one you loved the most. Customers at work smiled upon seeing your cordial aura, close-knit even though they were mere strangers, preferred to go to you amidst the flock of your other colleagues around. They would become radiated just the same, joy so terribly evident on their faces as their smile would grow. They would frown upon seeing the state of you at this current moment—curled up on your bed while the heat of the beginning of the summer clings to your near bareness, coming through your wide opened windows, the white, translucent curtains billowing up and down in their strange, but magnolious dance. 

You’re not Aphrodite. You’re not Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy and mirth, either. 

You’re the slain fawn at their feet—for their very own feast and for the feast of those aforementioned customers, who stand behind the dryly bloodied cause of your death. 

Work was hell, to say the least. 

You always thought death was a kind embrace, not a tight clasp of doom around the nape of your neck, your mental strain and disquietude the half moon marks that ever so slowly deepen. You mimic the movement on the hem of the linen shirt you wore for the day, one that you were too drowsy to take off when you arrived at home, having only a slight wisp of an energy to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tightness of your jeans and crawl onto your bed, knees to chest, on your side. You bunch up the fabric in your fist, wrinkling it, but you hardly vanquish the cuts that your anxiety slashes on your skin. You thought it would alleviate you of your tenseness, but as it seems—it only worsened it. 

You don’t even have tears to shed. Wept them all out in your manager’s office while she harshly, yet calmly reprimanded you for your mistake and the gravity of the fact that you almost lost your precious job, that you can’t imagine living without, washed over you and pained you like a splash of salty water in your eyes. Wept them all out when you breathed in the crooked, paralyzed expression of disappointment in her face—and that’s the sole thing that emptied out your system of that ichor, wiped out your reputation of being a good, reliable employee that everybody liked. 

Now the next unfolding of your days spent at work shall be filled with silent judgements and secretive gossip, the big talk of the entire building—something that will hang by the strands of your hair for every head to turn to until something else comes along. Another topic, another fuck-up. That’s the face of modern capitalism, the absurdity of day-to-day normalcy its features, and you’re so sick, so repulsed to be staring at it every single day of your life that you yearn to not be anymore. 

Death has flattened over you, but has not finished its job. It was Dante who described the process of hell in his Divine Comedy and you hate him for the rotten pulchritude of his mind because you find yourself to be standing in the middle of inferno with no guide—no Virgil, no Beatrice—to hold your hand and lead you through this scalding maze. You’re all alone, your mistake carving the branches of the trees burning down in your hell over your burdened, heavy heart that has been longing for the company of another ever since you walked out of your manager’s office. 

Your face screws as another agonized emotion rises in you. You can’t stand your aloneness, can’t stand your burden—and before you realize what you’re doing, your fingers have already tapped on your boyfriend’s name in your history of calls. The screen of your phone is cool against the fever of your cheek and you rub your face harder against your duvet, staining the strawberry pattern with the particular tinge of your makeup, which must have been the color of your ichor. 

You wince, the rings prolonging in your ear, your impatience running thin. 

Then, your heart drops once you hear the broken whisper of your Beatrice, faintly, barely, which causes your heart to spread its longing. Damn iPhones and their bad service. 

“Jungkook?” you call out, nonsense coming through the other end—and you repeat his name until his voice smooths out, relief sinking in like a stone in a pond. 

It turns out you were exchanging each other’s names and the intimacy of it curls the smallest of smiles on your mouth. You miss him; you need him. 

“When are you coming home?” you ask, wishing to descend into the emitting waves of the call, slide through them until you spring to wherever he is, no matter how tired you are—you’re willing to cross the distance. 

You hear him turn on his blinker and your heart almost does it for you. 

“I’m driving home right now. I’ll be there in ten,” he says and your relief expands in your chest, taking a small weight off of your heart. You place your palm against it. 

“Okay.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Why do you sound so sad?” 

Your mouth curls downwards. “Something happened at work.” 

An inhale of breath. “Screw that, baby. I’ll be there in five, okay?” 

A whimper. “Okay, drive safe.” 

And your Beatrice didn’t lie to you. Soon, you hear the banging of the front door closing, the tossing of his keys and the prodding open of your shared bedroom door. The hastened footsteps, hefty on the floating floor, the squeak of the mattress as his knee dips on it and the glide of his hand up your thigh. All before you use the last of your strength to focus your swimming vision on him. 

Hearing him alone helped you take a step further in your inferno. 

And then you can smell him. The scent of sweat clinging to his favorite ivory Nike shirt, interlaced with his natural, poetic scent, creating something divine that blesses you with the strength to place your palm on top of his hand. Your coworkers hugged you earlier, clasped your hands in theirs in reassurement and more than welcome it, you absolutely despised it. Lingered in their affection only because you thought you should let yourself be consoled, for you know they care about you. But his touch… that’s not something you sense your body to want to run away from. On the contrary, it seems to be something that it’s missing. 

You can’t part the stream of your new tears with your other hand. 

You spill, completely. 

Jungkook coos, squeezing the bare flesh of your thigh as turns you onto your back and nudges himself between them, plopping his body on top of yours. And then, he’s kissing the place your undone shirt made for him, trailing his lips up your neck, where he stays, where he conjures a garden of fluttering gardenias, their tender petals tickling you. 

“What did they do to my princess?” he murmurs against your skin, his words muffled but heard clearly by your ears. You sob, your chest shuddering in violent staccatos against his, unable to settle, unable to speak. Jungkook lifts his small head and frowns, his thumb swiping your tears away while the rest of his four fingers cradle your cheek. You lean into the balmy safety of the realm of his palm, gaze fixed on the wrinkle between his brows, mouth letting out puffs of soft, gentle exhales. He kisses your chin, the corner of your mouth, the wetness of your other cheek—buries his nose into it, right beside yours, inhaling you, giving you fresh air to breathe in. “Don’t cry. I’m gonna decapitate them.” 

The whisper, the hand that parted the stream. You whimper and he steals the traces of your despondency, pecking the new, smooth surface, planting roses to bloom, its roots bestowing you with the ability of speech. 

Two sentences, two miles further in the inferno. Your burnt down trees are lost in the far distance, swallowed by the fire, yet the forest shows every sign of growing anew the longer Jungkook’s heart beats against your breast. 

He’s so benevolently patient with you, not rushing you with your explanation. It all the more drives you to disclose it to him—and you open your mouth to speak, your fingers following suit, helping you with your words as you drag them through the soft mop of his fluffy hair. 

“I made a mistake yesterday while closing up,” you croak out, licking your lips. Jungkook lifts himself onto his elbows, clutching your shoulders, keeping the close proximity intact. His warm grip is a stability you lean on, one you appreciate with every broken shard in you. “I did it five minutes earlier and somebody came in. I sent them away and they filed a complaint against me. They wrote an email to my manager and I… I almost lost my job.”

The wrinkle between his brows deepens and you thumb it, wishing it away. You don’t want to mar his beautiful face because of your foolishness; you want it to remain that soft ball of light that he always is, but then you realize you’re asking for the impossible. His mouth flattens, pity flashes across his round eyes, which helps you perceive that if he didn’t react like this, he wouldn’t love you—and his love is the air you breathe; his love is the ointment you need for your sadness. 

As if he heard you, he kisses you delicately and you sail—skip the purgatory and land in paradiso, a meadow of wildflowers overlooking a cliff that opens the restfulness of the sea, scattered with windswept petals of those lost blossoms, coloring the surface with pinks, whites and the greens of their leaves. 

“Did your manager yell at you?” Jungkook questions, his lips lifted a millimeter above yours, his thumbs fondling the fabric of your shirt upon your shoulders. 

“No, but she was very strict with me. Told me not to cry—”

His breath wafts over your face when he looks into your eyes, displeased. “She made you cry?” 

You cried because through her words you comprehended the gravity of your mistake and its repercussions, not because she deliberately used them to open the dam of your emotions. It’s precisely why she told you not to cry, giving you a hint of her perpetually nonexistent compassion. And you tell him. 

“No, she didn’t. She was very professional with me and made me realize what I did after I apologized. I cried because I was so scared of losing my job, of disappointing her and shit like that.” 

Jungkook purses his lips, shaking his head, curly strands rippling like the tremor of leaves. “She should’ve dropped it after you apologized. Five minutes is nothing, baby. You did nothing to deserve to be treated like that.” 

Your chest heaves, his love and reassurement sifting sand into your bloodstream, the color of ichor. “I know but… you know,” you trail off, indicating the realm of respect all peers must have for the management that you don’t really want to venture into, not when Jungkook had to deal with it as well in his music company. But unlike you, he broke out of its clutches. It cost him tears, frustration and weight loss, but now he’s a free bird of paradise. You don’t wish to make him remember his cage. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah, baby, I know, which is why I’m telling you that you didn’t deserve that.” 

Your chin quivers, the negative thoughts that wore you down in his absence returning at full speed. “It affects my mental health when I’m bad at my job.” 

Brows rounding upwards, his eyes flick to your chin, a glossy wetness coating them. He pecks it before he gazes into your irises. “But you’re not bad at your job. You just closed a few minutes earlier. You’re amazing at your job. You make people happy. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” he says, meaning every word with the way he presses each one into your pupils. You feel its magnetism and you take it. “And I’m proud of you. Every day. You work so hard. Come home tired every day. Deal with people who aren’t always nice to you with kindness that I envy. I’m proud of you, you hear me? You didn’t make a mistake. You did good.”

And there it is, the stampede of your bloodstream—Jungkook has seeped the entirety of the sand until he emptied out his hand and your ichor charges forward, its light like a bud flaring open beneath your skin. And you're floating on that sea in paradiso, your braid adorned with the wet petals that swims back and forth to his arm that holds your body steady upon the surface, the names of the Greek goddesses lining every perimeter, sinking within. 

You’ve become them, all over again. 

“Thank you, Ggukie,” you whisper, running your hand through the front bangs of his hair, gripping them. It’s as if you’re holding the petals. “I needed to hear that.” 

He pouts, touched by the love name. “I know. You need to rest now after such an emotionally exhausting day. No more tears, okay?” 

You nod, feeling whole, feeling like you can face tomorrow with more courage. “Okay.” 

You pout, mimicking him, asking for a kiss and he gives it to you in that same delicate manner, plunging the entirety of the summer’s heat, molded by his hands, into you, making it bearable for you. 

Looks at you for a long time, after. Smiling. 

“You know, I didn’t take a shower after the gym for you,” he says, quirking a smile on your face.

You’re intimately acknowledged with the reason why, yet still you ask: “Why’s that?” 

He reciprocates the smile. “I thought you’d help me wash up. My muscles are sore and all. I lifted the double amount of your body weight.” 

You bite your lip. You’re willing to wash every inch of him with your utmost care. You deem he deserves it for enlivening you, but you’d much rather stay here, inhaling that dizzying scent of him. 

“I’ll do that, but let’s stay here for a little while.” 

Jungkook nods, kissing your jaw before he finds a comfortable place on your bosom, listening to the rush of your ichor, the sun rays upon the sea of that paradiso, inching you closer and closer to God. Augments the ending of that Divine Comedy. 

Doesn’t lead you to the final installment of death, but pushes you to life full of that brisk wind, the humming of the sea and the song of swaying wildflowers. 

Holds your hand. 

Doesn’t let go. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[raphael-angele]

Nico's Big Sisters

I have this headcanon that while Bianca is away, the cabins take turns looking after Nico and he gets to stay with them.

Nico, crying: Thaliaaa!!!

Thalia: Nico? What's wrong?

Nico: *incomprehensible babble*

Thalia: Okay, okay, calm down. Tell me what happened

Nico, pointing to some Hermes kids: Tho- Those boys stole Three.

Thalia: *looks over at the Hermes kids tossing around a dog stuffie with three heads*

Nico: I told them to give it back but they wont. And they kept making fun of it

Thalia, rolling up her sleeves: Just a sec

Later:

Thalia with dirt all over her and slightly bloodied fists: Here you go, Nico. *hands over Three*

Nico: YAAAAY! THANK YOU, THALIA!

---

Nico: Reyna...

Reyna: Yes, Nico?

Nico: I fell down the track and I scraped my knee and hands *shows his hands*

Reyna, sees his injuries: Aww, c'mon let's go get them treated.

Dakota: OW! FUCK! REYNA! ONE OF THE HUNTERS JUST SHOT ME ON THE SHOULDER WITH AN ARROW

Reyna: WALK IT OFF!

---

If Zoë lived:

Bianca: Zoë

Zoë: Bianca, hello.

Bianca: You remember my little brother, Nico.

Zoë: Oh, yes, of course. Nice to see you again, little one

Nico, standing next to Bianca: *shyly waves*

Bianca: Nico made something for you. *whispers to Nico* come on, you can give it to her.

Nico, slowly approaches her: *hands over a jar of paper stars*

Zoë: *takes jar of paper stars*

Nico: Thank you for looking after my sister

Zoë: Well, you're very welcome, Nico. This is a very beautiful gift.

---

Nico, entering the Aphrodite Cabin: Piper...

Piper: Hm? Oh, hey, Nico. What's up?

Nico, shyly whispers to her: Can you make me look pretty?

Piper: Why do you want me to make you look pretty?

Nico, fidgeting with his fingers: Will asked me out on a date

Piper and almost all of the Aphrodite Cabin: *gasp*

Piper: Alright girls, we got a code Apollo! Let's move! Move! Move! Let's get this baby ready for his first date!

---

Annabeth: Alright. C'mon, Nico. Time for bed

Nico: Aw, okay. *climbs into bed*

Annabeth, sitting beside him: What story do you want me to read to you today?

Nico: We haven't finished the one about the big cat, the mean old lady, and the box yet.

Annabeth: ...you mean The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe?

Nico: Mhm. We stopped when Edmund went to the mean old lady's castle.

Annabeth: Ah! Then The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe it is!

---

Nico: Rachel!

Rachel: Oh, hey, Nico. Did you need something?

Nico: No, not really. I was making something and Percy said that you might like it. *hands over a box*

Rachel: *takes box and opens it* What is it?

Nico: It's paint! The Demeter kids let me plant sometimes in their garden and I get the flowers and I made them into paint!

Rachel:

Nico: See? The blue one is from Morning Glory flowers, the red one is made from Roses, the yellow one is made out of Marigolds, the orange one is made from Poppies, the purple one is made from the Lilacs, and the green one I made from Leaves!

Rachel:

Nico: :D Do you like it?

Rachel: This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me ༼☯﹏☯༽

---

Mark, training Nico: Alright. Here's what's gonna happen. You want a candy bar?

Nico: *nods*

Mark: It's on that table over there. *points to table behind him* To get it, you need to get past me first.

Nico:

Mark: Now, I'm bigger than you. So you need to be smart and think of how-

Nico: *punches Mark in the groin, and pushes him to the side, then goes over to the candy bar*

Mark, on the floor, clutching his groin: Oh, good gods!

Nico, can't open the candy bar: *goes over to Clarisse and shows her the candy bar* Open, please

Clarisse:

Nico: (´｡• ◡ •｡`)

Later during Capture the Flag:

Clarisse: Alright, listen up! If anyone wants to mess with this kid, know that he is under my protection. You wanna mess with him, you go through me first!

Nico: *holding Clarisse's hand, eating a candy bar*

[hypnos333]

War and Love

clarrise la rue x Aphrodite daughter reader

Synopsis: You were always flirting and if everyone in camp encourages it she’ll beat them to death

“Hello I’m ___ from aphrodite cabin I will be your tour guide” You said cheerfully to percy. He was speechless you were a beautiful blonde with a pink rose crown on your head. Some might’ve mistaken you as your mother.

“U-Uhm I-I’m percy-“Percy Jackson hmm Poseidon kid right?” You finished for him making him nod in embarrassment.

“I can feel like you’re gonna be like me, just being chosen fast enough” You said honestly making him confused before you started walking making him walk beside you.

everyone made eye contact with both of the two nervously making you roll your eyes.

“What do you mean by that ___?” He asked hesitantly but before you answer, you noticed Clarisse storming towards you making you stand in front of the kid making him even more nervous.

“Babe” You sigh out putting your hands in Your hers Hoodie. “Why is he near you?” She asked letting her anger get the best of her.

Clarisse is very territorial of you and with your flirting nature she usually with you 24/7 .

“I was told to show him around my warrior” You answered softly having lots of patience with her. You held her hand comfortly, trying to calm her a little.

She still was full of anger so you called Luke to show Percy around. Which was easy with a little bit of an innocent smile and a wink. After that Clarisse immediately dragged you to her cabin.

“___ I-I found your pink ribbon you lost from capture the flag” A boy from the Hephaestus cabin said handing her the ribbon.

You instantly smile “Thank you, Thank you, Thank you” You repeated hugging the shy boy tightly. He hugged back but when he saw Clarisse glare he pulls away and bid you goodbye before rushing off.

You put the ribbon in your pocket before dragging Clarisse towards her cabin.

“My Love I need to get something from the cafeteria I left behind wait for me?” Clarisse asked making you hum in agreement going through her stuff to find something entertaining.

Clarisse wonder around to see if she could find the boy and she did by the archery and arrows.

So instantly she punched starting a crowd around them, he couldn’t even get a punch in as she constantly punching his face making it all bruised and bloody.

Everyone knows about the love triangle between Ares,Aphrodite and Hephaestus. Aphrodite being married to Hephaestus but having an affair with Ares.

That alone made Clarisse even more mad to have one of Hephaestus half breed flirt with her girl.

Making her punch’s become harder but it came to a hault when Luke and the leader of hephaestus pulled her off.

She shrugged them off before rolling her eyes at the bloody and bruised up boy as she left to go hang out with you.

Everyone including the newbie’s now knows what she capable of when it comes to you and it makes everyone frightened to even speak to you except your half siblings.

[aphroditelovesu]

kinktober 2023 masterlist || disclaimer: will obviously contain nsfw content. be aware of this.

🎃˚˖੭ I love when you're submissive, love it when I break skin, you feel pain without flinchin', so say it...🎃˚˖੭

❝day one: vampire/bloody sex with Klaus Mikaelson❞

❝day two: praise kink with Apollo❞

❝day three: breeding kink with Alexander the Great❞

❝day four: daddy kink with Elijah Mikaelson❞

❝day five: degradation with Ares❞

❝day six: bondage with Aphrodite❞

❝day seven: somnophilia with Hypnos❞

❝day eight: threesome with Apollo and Eros❞

❝day nine: overstimulation with Damon Salvatore❞

❝day ten: voyeurism with Taehyung❞

❝day eleven: shadow play with Azriel❞

❝day twelve: exhibitionism with Dionysus❞

❝day thirteen: rough sex with Tom Riddle❞

❝day fourteen: romantic sex/making love with Eros❞

❝day fifteen: first time with Jungkook❞

❝day sixteen: wax play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day seventeen: roleplay with Achilles❞

❝day eighteen: public sex with Hades❞

❝day nineteen: thigh riding with Sirius Black❞

❝day twenty: lactation kink with Robb Stark❞

❝day twenty-one: edging with Ares❞

❝day twenty-two: threesome with Achilles and Patroclus❞

❝day twenty-three: wing play with Lucifer Morningstar❞

❝day twenty-four: temperature play with Daenerys Targaryen❞

❝day twenty-five: dacryphilia with Jin❞

❝day twenty-six: wedding night with Apollo❞

❝day twenty-seven: size kink with Achilles❞

❝day twenty-eight: shower sex with Poseidon❞

❝day twenty-nine: cockwarming with Anakin Skywalker❞

❝day thirty: spanking with Eros❞

❝day thirty-one: non-con/dub-con elements with Apollo❞

🎃˚˖੭ Give me tough love, leave me with nothin' when I come down, my kinda love; push me and choke me till I pass out... 🎃˚˖੭

⤷ cited song: One Of The Girls - The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp and Jennie.❝

❝ 🎃 — 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒍: if you want to be tagged for future updates, comment or send a DM.

⤷ tagging: @krismikaelson, @compulsiivedreamer, @legendarydefendorkitty

[anotheroceanid]

I love the version of Rhodes as Aphrodite’s daughter because I love the idea of Silena and Percy sharing a sister.

Also, Rhodes was married to Helios, with whom Aphrodite had a bit of a feud, and that still being a sore topic between them, so she doesn’t interact much with Olympus or her maternal side of the family.

She with her father’s kids be like…

Percy: I thought you were Amphritite’s daughter

Rhodes, laughing gracefully: It’s called PR, my love. Can I put corals in your hair? Triton let me put corals in his 🥰

Then her with her mother’s kids…

*Eros and Rhodes glaring at each other for ten minutes*

Percy: They don't speak to each other?

Triton: They were prohibited by the council. Unless they agree not to start any more blood feuds between their favourite mortals to retaliate whatever is said.

Percy: What?

Triton: It was fun with the Medici and the Borgias, the War of the Roses not so much but hey, those were bloody times, but by the time we got to the Hatfield and the McCoy it had become a bit taxing to everyone…

Percy: uhh…

Triton: And in the era of internet fandoms, we definitely don't need that energy, do we?

[celaenaeiln]

Hi, do you have any recommendations for Dick and Slade fics where their relationship is explored? It doesn't matter if it's a pairing or not. P.S.: I really love your posts

Thank you!!

And boy do I have them! All of these are my favorites. They're fics I specifically saved separately because I loved them. I hope you do too!

FAVORITE!! The thrill I get when I read this. The high. It's almost incomparable. Sladick in cyberspace. I don't even like cyber punk but I loved this fic - Gray Area

FAVORITE!! I talked about this one before but it's the perfect fic for apprentice Sladick. Read it so many times, I can't get enough of it. - Nightwing Protocol

FAVORITE!! This is one of my comfort fics, I love the whole collections so much. Slade and Dick get married and run off to the Maldives - I Guess Time Will Tell What the Come Down is Like

Slade comes for his Talon. That's his Dick Grayson dammit - Reclaiming an Owl

Favorite! I hope you don't mind but I'm sneaking in this Tiger/Dick fic forgive mee. Tiger's infuriatingly attracted to Dick's lips - Soft lips

FAVORITE!! Jedi Dick meets Sith Slade. And their relationship is always the same - Breathe With Confidence

Slade and Dick are soulmates much to the displeasure of Joey and the happiness of Rose - family in any form

Slade is a god of war and Dick is the demigod of shadows. They meet on the battlefield - Echoes of the Battlefield

Dick is a bartender. And Slade doesn't have identification - The Barkeeper

FAVORITE!! Dick is Aphrodite and Slade is Ares but Dick is a terrifying figure when spurned - Contradiction

FAVORITE!! Dick is Persephone and Slade is Hades and the story fits perfectly - When September Ends

FAVORITE!! Dick and Slade are both Alphas but that's not going to stop Slade in the force of his attraction for Dick - Ready or Knot

Favorite! Dick comes back with bruises, Jason thinks he lost a fight, Tim knows better, and the truth accidentally comes out - B is for Bruises

Series of prompts for Omega Dick and Sladick - Omega!Dick Week

Sladick if Dick had become Slade's apprentice from the start. He's coming back home - Home for the Holidays

FAVORITE!! Slade and Dick take care of each other - Follow Me (Don't Be Such a Fool)

Favorite! Slade takes Dick along South to a bar and Dick has some new discoveries - As Sweet As Strawberry Wine

Favorite! The whole collection! I really love the one with Deadshot but here's the first one with Slade! Remember when Dick paid of Deathstroke not to take a hit on Amy? Here's what happened after - Sell Your Soul

Slade's straight. So is Tiger. And so is most of the harem. They just like him - Attack of the Exes

FAVORITE!! The whole freaking collection?! Star Wars AU of Sladick. Taken to the dark side - Want is a Full Contract

Actually victoriousscarf's stuff is just too good - victoriousscarf

Dick basically goes fuck it. I'm tired of being good. and butts off to be slade's apprentice - Subverting Expectation

Favorite! Dick is a witch and the massive bloody wolf at his door is obviously just a wolf, right? - My Beloved Deathstroke

Slade can't just let Dick stay as Ric. He's too good for that - Madness Started the Moment We Met

FAVORITE!! Ric meets a man at the fight club. And that man is a little too interesting to let go - Like a Virus

FAVORITE!! Dick receives some interesting videos from Slade. Slade has always been good at enticing Dick - Puppet Show

FAVORITE!! Supernatural AU where Dick is Sam and Slade is Ruby. Jason's gone but Dick's gonna get his little brother back. No matter what it takes - On the Head of a Pin

FAVORITE!! Same as above! - Point of Fracture

FAVORITE!! I will sink my teeth into this collection and shake it because it's so good. YJ! Dick becomes the spy instead of Kaldur - Foundations

Favorite! Slade visits Dick in the hospital but Dick's not awake. Although Mar'i is - Give Us This Day

FAVORITE!! Midnighter/Dick/Slade. Dick's gone, right? Then who is then man with a swirling face that reminds Slade of him? - The Third Kind

Favorite! Dick is a sailor and Slade is a merman - I am a Sailor, and you are the Sea

Another Star Wars AU - Resolute in Resurrection

FAVORITE!! Slade acted so unaffected before. There's none of that now - every shadow filled up with doubt

Dick swears he's only here to rescue Damian. It's not his fault Slade was also locked up - (practice our prayers) until some hope crystallizes

FAVORITE!! Dick's mother always told him never to deal with the Fae. But some situations call for it - deal with the devil

FAVORITE!! They had a deal. But Slade's deal never was supposed to be about catching feelings - Maroon Haze

FAVORITE!! Dick has magic and Slade is cursed - i have hurt and hungered before (flesh against flesh)

FAVORITE!! I have read this fic over and over again. I love the younger Slade and Older Dick dynamic - running fever

Not a ship

FAVORITE!! When Slade took in Robin as an apprentice, he was a kid. A teenager. Get woke slade. Funny!! - Why did I think this was a good idea?

Dick is Robin and Slade's protective father instincts kick in - Made Peace

FAVORITE!! One of my all time favorites. Dick's name gets pulled out of the hogwarts cup as the Hogwarts Champion. But..he never put his in - heavy is the crown

Favorite! Bruce doesn't get to get away with Spyral. Dick leaves Bruce for Slade - deeds of men depraved

I have way more but this is a good starting point I think. Lemme know if you're interested in more!

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

The Forbidden Library by Django Wexler

Alice always thought fairy tales had happy endings. That--along with everything else--changed the day she met her first fairy

When Alice's father goes down in a shipwreck, she is sent to live with her uncle Geryon--an uncle she's never heard of and knows nothing about. He lives in an enormous manor with a massive library that is off-limits to Alice. But then she meets a talking cat. And even for a rule-follower, when a talking cat sneaks you into a forbidden library and introduces you to an arrogant boy who dares you to open a book, it's hard to resist. Especially if you're a reader to begin with. Soon Alice finds herself INSIDE the book, and the only way out is to defeat the creature imprisoned within.

It seems her uncle is more than he says he is. But then so is Alice.

Troy by Adele Geras

The Siege of Troy has lasted almost ten years. Inside the walled city food is (Malacca). and death is common. From the heights of Mount Olympus The Gods keep watch. But Aphrodite. Goddess of Love. is bored with the endless. dreary war. Aided by Eros's bow. the goddess sends two sisters down a bloody path to an awful truth: In the fury of war. love strikes the deadliest blows.

Casson Family by Hilary McKay

The four Casson children, whose mother, Eve, is a fine-arts painter, have all been given the names of paint colors. Cadmium (Caddy), is the eldest; then Saffron (Saffy); Indigo, the only boy; and Rose, the youngest. When Saffy discovers quite by accident that she has been adopted, she is deeply upset, though the others assure her that it makes no difference at all. Saffy is the daughter of Eve's twin sister, who lived in Siena, Italy, and died in a car crash. Grandad brought Saffy, as a very small child, back from Siena.

At Grandad's death he leaves something to each of the children. To Saffy, it is "her angel," although no one knows its identity. How Saffy discovers what her angel is, with the help of an energetic new friend, lies at the heart of this enchanting story.

Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth by E. L. Konigsburg

A lonely girl discovers a magical world and a new friend when she meets a young witch on Halloween.

Unicorns of Balinor by Mary Stanton

After a terrible riding accident, Ari cannot remember anything of her past and is sent to live on a farm with foster parents. What Ari doesn't know is that she is not from our world, but from Balinor, a land of sorcerers and unicorns! Her parents, the King and Queen, sent her to Earth to protect her from a raging war before they were banished from their homeland. Now Ari--Princess Arianna--has found the road back to Balinor. As she struggles to remember her heritage, she must face the challenge of restoring peace to Balinor.

The Divide by Elizabeth Kay

When Felix and his parents visit the Divide in Costa Rica, a place where the waters that run down to the Pacific and Atlantic oceans separate, he faints and wakes to discover an amazing back-to-front world where mythical creatures are real and humans and science are legend.

Phantom Stallion by Terri Farley

When 13-year-old Samantha returns home to her family′s cattle ranch in Nevada, she′s worried. She moved away two years ago to recover from a bad fall off her beloved mustang, Blackie, and she′s still not sure she can get back in the saddle. Her new colt doesn′t seem to like her, and the other ranchers treat her like the boss′s spoiled daughter, and Blackie has been missing since that fateful day. But that′s just the beginning. When Sam suddenly finds the fate of a mysterious mustang who may or may not be the missing Blackie - resting in her hands, she has to learn to be a real cowgirl, ready or not.

Miri and Molly by Annie Barrows

Miri is the only single child in the middle of a family with two sets of twins--older brothers and younger sisters. When the family moves to an old farmhouse Miri accidentally travels back in time to 1935 only to discover Molly, a girl in need of a real family to call her own.

Sixty-Eight Rooms by Marianne Malone

Almost everybody who has grown up in Chicago knows about the Thorne Rooms. Housed in the Children’s Galleries of the Chicago Art Institute, they are a collection of 68 exquisitely crafted miniature rooms made in the 1930s by Mrs. James Ward Thorne. Each of the 68 rooms is designed in the style of a different historic period, and every detail is perfect, from the knobs on the doors to the candles in the candlesticks. Some might even say, the rooms are magic.

Imagine—what if you discovered a key that allowed you to shrink so that you were small enough to sneak inside and explore the rooms’ secrets? What if you discovered that others had done so before you? And that someone had left something important behind?

Hitler's Daughter by Jackie French

Her name was Heidi, and she was Hitler's daughter.

It began on a rainy morning in Australia, as part of a game played by Mark and his friends. It was a storytelling game, and the four friends took turns weaving tales about fairies and mermaids and horses. But Anna's story was different this time: it was not a fairy tale or an adventure story. The story was about a young girl who lived during World War II. Her name was Heidi, and she was Hitler's daughter.

As Anna's story unfolds, Mark is haunted by the image of Hitler's daughter. He wonders what he would have done in her place if he had known his father was an evil man leading the world into a war that was destroying millions of lives. And if Mark had known, would he have had the power and determination to stop him?

[strawberrystepmom]

f!reader is the goddess of love (aphrodite) and kakashi is a mortal. reader is obviously very old (godcore) and kakashi is in his canon age in naruto (27). im tagging @zorosdimples bc this is also partially another birthday present for her LMFAO. love u!!!!!!! wc 1.7k

divider thanks to @/saradika 🩷

You kneel near a red rose bush, delicate petals fluttering around on one of the last warm breezes of the summer and brushing over your exposed arms. It isn’t much longer that you’ll be able to visit the realm of the mortals in your lightest robes, the ones that hang off of your shoulders in a way that makes you most comfortable. 

The unencumbered feeling of the warmest time of the year still flows through you despite the fact that the sun dips earlier and earlier every single day and verdant green slowly turns to russet and yellow, leaves swaying overhead even in the garden you’re visiting. You glance up from the bush in front of you, red petals dancing and settling across your skirt, and witness them wave to you, as if they’re saying goodbye to you themselves. 

Shaking your head, you laugh and look back down, plucking one of the petals from your skirt and rubbing it between your thumb and index finger. It’s as velvety as you pictured it would be, soft as your skin, and it makes you wonder when the purveyor of these fine roses in tribute to you will arrive to make himself known.

Kakashi Hatake, a man whose likeness lingers in your psyche. You’ve been watching him for years, his offerings growing in both size and intimacy since he was a young man and it would be a struggle to remember the last time you wished to meet a mortal as badly as you find yourself wishing to meet him. You desire to see the man who cultivated such fine roses in the flesh, petting another petal between your fingertips. It’s the least you can grace him with, despite your true intentions being wanting to see this man who has won your affection through nothing more than devotion.

Affection, you think. You are the goddess of the very emotion and this is deeper than simple affection. 

You’re infatuated with him. When you lay with your husband, captor you’re more likely to call him, you think of him. When you wander through the veil of the mortals and gods, which you are, you think of him. His scarred eye that he believes makes him unworthy of worshiping you, the way his gray hair sticks up at all angles on top of his head. 

A sigh as gentle as the breeze escapes you as you sit back and think of the first time you remember seeing him.

It started years ago at the local temple erected in your honor, Kakashi paying tribute with prayer and apples daily after his hunts had finished. He’d leave his bloodied bow and boots at the entrance, propping them against pristine gray marble to stick out like the red of the very roses he now grows in your honor, and enter the temple to kneel at your feet. 

“Goddess,” he asked, his voice carrying the deep timbre of a man.  “I’ve come to request your blessing.”

You granted it without a second thought that day and have since, enamored with the young man asking for you. The man who, over the years, would visit your shrine to read poetry and love stories. The man covered in blood whose heart has always been deceptively tender beneath a scarred and hardened outside, years of hunting beneath the blistering sun for his family, his village, his friends.

It’s time to offer him yourself as tribute to him given all that he has offered to you.

“I was beginning to worry that you’d never arrive,” you finally speak over your shoulder, turning your head enough to watch him approaching where you sit. You hear his footsteps stop, standing in the grassy clearing with his mouth agape. He tilled, planted, and pruned this garden himself - his own devotional paradise to his favorite goddess and here you sit, sundrenched skin and hair and lips. 

Did he die? Is this the afterlife he always longed for, a chance to live without burdensome responsibilities? To be the man he has always been beneath the tarnish of his life?

“Come, don’t keep me waiting.”

You pat the grass next to you, still coyly gazing from above your shoulder blade, and his footsteps pick up once again though slowly. Taking a moment before speaking, he wiggles his hands and fingers to make sure he still has feeling in them. He wonders if he shouldn’t run and hurl himself against the trunk of the trees surrounding you just to ensure he is alive and this is not a dream.

“Was I gored?” He speaks aloud and you laugh, musical and dancing on the wind. Just as he always imagined he’d heard while he spent his time in your tribute. Immediately he notices his gaffe and his face reddens, still walking toward you with his nose pointed toward the ground. He doesn’t notice when you stand, turning to face him while the petals that accumulated in the folds of your robes flutter at your feet.

Oh he has to be dead, he’s just grateful that this is the paradise he has come to live his afterlife in.

“You are alive and well, Kakashi.”

He nods, ignorant of what else to do, and you giggle. Dropping your skirts out of one of your balled fists, you produce a small parchment that you’ve been holding onto for a very long time, the edges worn and bent with the weight of your fingers tracing around the edges. You offer it in his direction and he blanches, noticing the handwriting on the paper belongs to him.

“Do you remember this?” You ask knowing that he does, given the way his eyes drift from the paper in your hand to your face and back several times. It sends a chill through you to see the color of them in person - deep like a stormcloud yet light like the marble of that temple he used to frequent years ago. He’s beautiful and who knows beauty better than you, the goddess of the very concept itself?

“I do, goddess,” he nods and reaches for the parchment, fully unrolling it and letting his eyes rove over his own words. He wrote this 8 birthdays ago, a young man full of love so thick he lived in fear it would erupt out and ruin him like that of a volcano. Hot and searing, melting all left in its path. He sighs, scanning over the poem he knows is less impressive than any you’ve probably ever had written in your honor and wonders why this is the one you’ve kept.

Have you come to punish him for his tributes and their lack in comparison to the others that love you?

“How did you come into possession of this?”

You smile at his question, approaching him with soft footsteps. He’s a hunter, after all, trained to notice the footsteps of prey and predators alike. You want to present yourself as neither as you offer no threat to him. Even if he were to decline your affections, you’d let him live. It would sear through you and you’d imagine his face in place of that of your beastly husband daily for the rest of your days, but you’d understand. A dalliance between a mortal and a Goddess often leads to trouble and this is a man who has always tried very hard to stay out of such affairs.

“I plucked it from the temple myself all those years ago,” you explain, offering your hand to him. His eyes dart nervously again and you reach down to take his hand, rubbing your soft thumb across his calloused palms. 

“Surely this is an illusion,” he whispers, heart beating so rapidly he worries you’ll be able to see it through his worn linen shirt. This man is a hunter, a warrior, a teacher of the youth in his village in the same techniques that have kept them alive for decades and he has been rendered nothing more than an uncertain mess at the sight of you. “This…this cannot be happening.”

“And why do you say that, mortal?”

He straightens his back at the reminder of your place over his own, a goddess in the flesh, holding his hand and tenderly caressing the wound he received while teaching one of the village children to care for his spear.

“Because you are you and I am myself,” he mutters. “This cannot be.”

He watches your lips curve into a smile, hair swaying as you shake your head at his mortal sensibilities to believe he knows better than the goddess he has been paying tribute to for nearly his entire life.

“If you wish it not to be then it shall not be but please consider that I’ve been waiting for you as well before you turn me away.”

Kakashi raises his brow, curious as to what you mean. He says nothing and you take his silence as permission to continue speaking, still smoothing over the creases in his palm with your thumb.

“Consorting with mortals always has a potential cost but I’m willing to pay that to even speak to you,” you purport and his jaw drops again, brows knitting together in confusion.

“To…me?”

You nod, lacing your fingers between his. You do not bristle when he doesn’t immediately grasp you back, willing to allow him his comfort.

“You, who has left me poetry that makes all others pale in comparison. Who planted this rose bush and the dozens of others dotting this garden, felling the thorns as they bloom.”

For a moment he allows himself to embrace the fantasy you’re painting for him. The Goddess of Beauty and Love, pining for him just as he’s pined for you. He has spent many lonely nights in his life dreaming of a blessing from you but never imagined this would be the one.

Your delicate fingers wrapped around his knuckles, your sun warmed cheeks upturned in a smile.

“Come, let’s talk,” you offer, keeping your grip on his hand as the two of you walk toward the rose bush. 

You’re willing to do some convincing if you need it but given the red tips of his ears, you don’t believe it’ll take much.

[lovelysakuryay]

so today i thought i was sooooo smart at the self checkout;

i paid for one bag like a good citizen!! But then i realised i needed another one and i didn’t want to pay for another bloody bag. so i started putting the milk i bought into this stolen bag. now here’s where i went wrong, i put the bag on top of the scanny bit, so when i went to move the bag when i was ready to leave it scanned and i did have to pay for the bag in the end.

straight afterwards i can smell roses (there was no one around me), so yeah Lady Aphrodite - 1 Peaches - 0

[mina-scribbles]

of gods & monsters

Summary:

Since the dawn of Olympus, Titans have become nothing more than footnotes in divine history, leaving them to roam the earth with no purpose for eternity.

You are the primordial goddess of love, and in present-day Greece, in the golden time of the Olympians, no one utters your name anymore. But occasionally, someone remembers, or the Fates suddenly decide that you have some purpose left in the threads of your immortal life.

It is one of those occasions where you find yourself called to a cave where a monster lies with his fresh kill.

Forgotten as you are, you are still the goddess of love, and to love is what duty tells you to do.

Notes:

I got the idea from references that say Eros is the primordial god of love, but then replaced him with Aphrodite. Just--y'know, creative liberties, and whatnot.

Hurt/comfort & angst & feels ahead. This is purely self-indulgent faffing as I loved the thought of having someone comfort Seraphim in a non-sexual way, you know? So, nothing spicy at all. Just--softness.

Unbeta'd btw, so yuh. Hope you enjoy !!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The sharp tang of blood greeted you the moment you stepped into the cave. 

You’d seen this before - scattered intestines, cracked and jagged parts of a skull, a femur here, an ulna there, a spine torn in two strewn across the cavern floor - yet you still couldn’t hold in a gasp. 

This of course drew seraphim’s attention, who knelt by the mangled remains of his uncle, a puddle of blood under his knees. 

Quicker than any human, he rose to his feet and whirled around, teeth bared and eyes ablaze. In one bloody hand, he clutched his bident, both tips still gleaming crimson.

This should’ve insulted you, made you bristle. Any god, titan or olympian, would have struck him where he stood for even daring to defy powers greater than himself, a puny human desperately trying his hand at godhood. it was pathetic, really. 

But at your core, you were what creation intended; you were the personification of love and all its nuances - the warmth and chaos of it all, the unconditional acceptance of the insanity that came with loving and the loved. this was your essence since you dawned alongside the universe, birthed long before the concept of humanity was even imagined; the primordial goddess of love, a titan of no equal. Even when you’ve been made obscure and obsolete, this was still your duty as divinity. 

And so, standing before seraphim now, soaked in gore with his humanity barely visible anymore, you saw. 

Somehow, he did, too. his features grew less sharp, transforming his snarl into a grimace as he leered at you. “Another god.” He spat the words like a curse. 

“Titan,” you corrected. “And I mean no harm.”

Recognition dawned on his face. But you’d seen this before - recognition for the sword but not its wielder. This time, however, you refused to let disappointment settle in your stomach. It wasn’t his fault.

Neither of you moved. Your gaze darted to his crimson-tipped bident, and he to your form. The questions were easily recognizable in his eyes - who were you? why were you here? 

With a breath, you decided and stepped forward. Seraphim watched you approach. Your dress trailed behind you, red blooming along the white, silken hem.

When you were a foot away from him, you extended a hand between you. “Come,” you said. “You need rest.”

He eyed it like it was a snake about to strike. 

So you tried again. “Take your rest before Hera finds you again.” 

At the mention of the goddess’s name, Seraphim growled, and you gasped when the cold tip of his bident pressed under your chin. This forced you to look up into his red gaze, your stomach churning at the miasma of bitterness and revenge swirling within them. 

“Gods, titans, you’re all the same,” he spat. “We’re nothing more than playthings to you. like pawns on a board that you move and summon to your liking. when have any of you answered our prayers? where are any of you when we beg for your aid, your mercy?”

With a snarl that rivaled his, you answered, “Am I not an answered prayer? Have I not come at a moment of need?”

“You all come when you please.”

“I come when I can,” you hissed, unable to quell your outrage. What do you do when you were nothing but mythos? When the best you got was a passing thought because you were merely a footnote?

When they came, the prayers came few, until eventually there were none.

People had more faith in rocks and earth. You? Your existence was too irrelevant to even question.

Your tongue was a weight of all the spite and bitterness festering within you, the antithesis of your essence.  You could’ve said more, could’ve made him see all that you had seen. But that would shatter him irreparably, and you couldn’t do that. that wouldn’t be very lovely, not when you were love itself. Not when you were supposed to love. 

And you wanted to love in spite of it. 

You were the chaos of it all, and so you understood. And with you, he would, too. In time. 

So for now, quietly, you added, “Trust me, boy, you are not the only one the fates have abandoned.”

This—this broke him. His eyes dimmed and his form slumped, as if the weight of his bident suddenly became too heavy. Then, as if just seeing for the first time, his gaze darted all over himself, at the blood smattered across his chest and over his arms. 

“I—“ he began, features rapidly shifting between grief and anger, and when he couldn’t decide, he finally, finally looked at you. “Hera will come looking for me.”

“She will.”

You read emotions as one would read letters on a page. And with his realization came the brief flash of fear -- bitter and sharp -- before emptiness took its place once more. Beneath it all, however, was the undercurrent of anger, a steady thrum while everything else ebbed and flowed.

A pause, and then, in a whisper, “He’s dead. He’s really dead.”

When you touched his cheek, images played in your mind — a mother and a boy against a world of greedy men, of gods and prayers, of swords and blood, of a yawning hopelessness and a desperation like teeth chewing through flesh.

All these just past a void, a wall of nothingness acting as a barrier between the memories and the red haze of anger facing the world. monsters hiding monsters. 

“I know,” you answered just as softly, pressing closer. seraphim leaned into your touch—not out of want but out of necessity, and oh how your skin tingled. To be wanted. To be needed. And when he stepped further into your space, a soldier laying his burdens as seraphim rested his forehead against your shoulder, your very soul thrummed. Your arms wrapped around him, one hand carding through the hairs in his nape while the other trailed down his arm, to the hand circled loosely around his bident. "you need rest."

Hot breath fanned against your collarbone. "And in exchange for rest?"

Seraphim's muscles grew taught under your touch. A man awaiting judgment.

Skin to skin, the images became clearer, the sensations stronger--of your muscles straining to keep you standing, of hard rock digging into your knees as a force pushed you down.

You grit your teeth. You wanted, yes. But not that. Once, maybe. But not today. Not for a long while.

Cupping his cheek so he gazed up at you, you said, "Nothing you would not wish to give. And I have nothing I wish to take."

With your thumb, you swiped at the blood on his cheek. His skin was warm to the touch. Maybe, maybe, he was human still.

His gaze darted over your features, your eyes, your lips, and you barely stayed the shiver creeping up your spine as you pulled your hand back, allowing him privacy to his thoughts, for here was a man frozen in awe at the face of kindness.

"I will be a better god," you swore to yourself as a fist clenched around your heart.

Seraphim seemed to gather himself as he rose to his full height. His free hand twitched at his side before slowly taking yours.

"Where do we go?" He asked.

"Wherever you wish."

Together, you walked in contemplative silence toward the mouth of the cave. High above, the sun's glare was brilliant. It warmed your skin, and glimpses of a chariot burning across the heavens flashed in your mind. Most knew the sun god by another name. You knew him as a titan. And for him, for them, you would remember.

Seraphim pulled you from your thoughts when he said, "I do not have a place to come home to."

His skin shone like obsidian in the light, the smattered blood gleaming hotly as the red marks along his skin. "There is a wooden hut not far from here. It's not much, but it can be home." If you would like.

It remained unspoken, but when he squeezed your hand, you knew he understood.

[agomeangelcat]

The madness.

Heimdall takes the mic as he leaps into the center of the arena like a dancer! 

"Ladies and gentlemen! Gods and Goddesses! on one side Logic, science and wisdom! absolute intelligence! among the Gods!!"

He points in the direction of the gods, the huge wings open in a shade of sky blue the smell of riches oils, the man with dark skin and braided hair with blue feather pins in typical Egyptian golden clothes,  his skin coverd in small blue feather's, in hands a parchment reading with the heterochromatic blue and green eyes and a expression of boredom.

"THOTH!!!"

Description: Thoth, Egyptian god of wisdom and science/logic.

"A waste of time indeed!"  the bird god crosses his arms.

Heimdall points toward the humans side.

"On the human side! the madness in your very existence! which way to go!? what is a dream? what is real!? Eat me or Drink me? the girl who inspired the most famous story among children and adults, the mystery of literature!"

Out of nowhere, grass and rose fur fill the arena like a explosiom of beauty, making Toth frown and humans and gods alike sigh, the roses crimson across the grass.

Soft steps on the grass like a bunny.

Loki sits straight with a interested look on his eyes. Aphrodite seemed ecstatic to see such beauty!  while a rose comically slaped Ares face.

The girl in the elegant embroidered red Victorian dress, boots and stockings as black as void;  in her hands a fluffy and fragile white rabbit.

The figure was fragile, but Toth's eyes widen, the bird god took a deep breath, that human, that woman had no power, just pure madness.

Looking Toth over her eyelashes the girl smiles leaving the Rabbit on the grass floor full of bloody red roses.

Holding the edges of her dress she bows!

"ALICE LIDDLEL!"

[i-did-not-mean-to]

TRSB 24 Promo

It's I again, the woman with the too-big mouth LOL

On my previous post, a lot of lovely people have replied. So, if you're on the fence about signing up, here are the people who have said that they consider participating:

Hell yeah

@aphrodites-bloody-rose

@scyllas-revenge

@fishing4stars

@arlenianchronicles

@ela-draws

@mulasawala

@the-red-butterfly

@starspray

@greyjedijaneite

@senalishia

@oopsbirdficced

@thatonetimetraveller

@maglor-my-beloved

@between-thepages

@niennawept

@jaz-the-bard

@senalishia

@awesome-bluehair-universe

Maybe (send them a bit of encouragement!)

@chrissystriped

@nighttimepatrons

@littlesweetdressmaker

@cilil

@urwendii

@tethysresort

@sortumavaara

@elentarial

As you can see, there is some amazing talent to be looked at, and I strongly recommend you sign up to see it all!

Let's hold and hype one another up!

As for me, I shall sign up as both an artist and an author, and I have some treats already booked (without even knowing what the art will be) because that's how much faith I have in my friends!

Please check out @tolkienrsb for all the updates, rules, and the FAQ! I promise, it will be worth the nerves and the stress and the anxiety!

What a delicious crop of artists!

PS: Look here! The mods have uploaded the previous galleries! Get your fill of gorgeous art and lovely fics to stoke your hunger for this year!

[und8e2ff]

Saint Seiya AU where everything's the same but...

okay, so- I was browsing Wikipedia looking for material to make more historically accurate shitposts.

As I do...

Pisces Aphrodite's symbol, much like the goddess he's named after, is the rose. A red rose specifically.

However, did you know that another symbol of the goddess Aphrodite is lettuce?

fucking

✨L E T T U C E 🌈🥬

it's okay if you don't know where this is going

so-

Saint Seiya AU where everything's the same but instead of Aphrodite's powers being based around and channeled through roses, his powers are based around and channeled through LITERAL LEAVES AND HEADS OF LETTUCE

------------------------------

Fuck a rose, mans is walking around with a whole leaf of lettuce just hangin. out. his. MOUF

You can't tell if he's late to anime school or late to the salad bar.

HE'S NOT EVEN CHEWIN IT, IT'S JUST THERE-

Imagine him standing there looking all cool and beautiful yet intimidating (as he does), but instead of holding a rose, it's a whole head of Romaine.

Walkin around the sanctuary with iceberg lettuce leaves tucked behind his ear instead of something normal like an anemone or narcissus (flowers, other symbols of Aphrodite).

Just out here looking botanically confused.

------------------------------

Shun and Seiya get to the Pisces Temple and it's just a farm...

🥬🥬 A LETTUCE farm 🥬🥬

Pisces Farmodite AU???

And he has all different kinds planted.

There's butterhead, frisee, arugula, mesclun, little gem- You Name It

Seiya runs ahead as usual.

Instead of it being a long stretch of rose-covered stairs up to the Pope, the whole way up is covered in liek, idk... Endive???

For those of you who may not have looked into the food facts of lettuce (you not missin out on anything), lettuce is basically nutritionally-bankrupt, crunchy water.

Specifically, raw lettuce is like 95% water.

Instead of Seiya being slowly poisoned to death, he's having his Flintstone gummies siphoned out of his body until he dies of malnutrition.

Shun gets hit in the chest with BLOODY RADICCHIO

Instead of a white rose sapping out his blood, Shun gets hit in the chest with a white, translucent leaf of lettuce.

Once the leaf has completely sapped out his blood, it looks like this:

------------------------------

Imagine Aphrodite being the Bubba Gump of his universe.

Instead of him obsessing over all the ways you can cook shrimp, it's over all the different kinds of lettuce and how best to prepare them.

------------------------------

Away from the whole lettuce thing...

There are many animals associated with the goddess Aphrodite. Among them are hares, bees, fish, and geese.

I can't decide which idea I like more:

Pisces Beephrodite/Bee Keeper Aphrodite AU - Aphrodite with his usual roses and flowers but he also keeps bees as pollinators and as his lil striped buzzy frens.

Pisces Bunphrodite AU - Where everything's the same but he just has a pet rabbit. It can also be combined with the Pisces Endive-phrodite (Lettuce Aphrodite) AU where the bunny/bunnies live on the lettuce farm and it's their favorite snack.

Pisces Aphrodite but with a Ranchu Goldfish AU - Where he has a ranchu goldfish that just kind of floats there... It's the center of his universe and if you even look at his fish wrong, YOU'RE DEAD.

Untitled Goose Game - In which Aphrodite has the most ornery pet goose on the face of the planet. It only likes him. And much like the Ranchu AU, this goose is the center of his whole world. Aphrodite doesn't care if his goose just stole your identity and ruined your credit score. Keep his goose's name...

OUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH

goose is probably named Rutherford or smth

[anguilliforme]

Get to know you game! Answer the questions and tag people you want to know better.

Tagged by @golden-hibiscus, thank you!

Last song listened to: One more last song by the Kaiser Chiefs

Currently reading: Tolstoy's War and Peace

Currently watching: Just finished the newsreader last night, so you could say im "between shows"

Currently obsessed with: Ok. Look. There's this theatre show that played in my town called Love Lust Lost, it closed last year and I'm still being very incredibly normal about it. The amount of fan art i've drawn and analysis/fic I've written for this thing is insane. It's me and like ten other people holding hands, and that includes the actors.

No pressure tags: hmmmm @burntblackfeathers @caelcrowe@dreamychaos @aphrodites-bloody-rose @jackspicerismyqueen @most-certainly-not-lennard @crustaceanhascoins