#ash would be a son of athena obviously

[lesbianashlynx]

if i could write and finish fanfiction there would be some amazing bfish aus

[kitsumidori]

TW: Blood

Harley (Harry) and Tiffany (Tiff): Gaige's mom and dad

Gaige obviously got most of her traits from her dad Harley who is a retired Dahl engineer and somewhat a big kid at heart, corny dad jokes included. Tiffany is a kooky archeologist with a thrill for adventure and while Gaige is closer to her dad, she and her mom have a really good mother-daughter relationship, especially when Gaige asked her about her findings.

(I low-key like to imagine that the mom would sound like Triffany Lottablog from Bugsnax)

Kohaku (Haku) and Astrid (Ash): Maya's (deceased) mom and dad

Not much is known about the two, other than Ash is a thrill seeking free spirit and Kohaku is soft spoken and well reserved.

The two lived on the outskirts of Athenas, far from any towns nor cities waiting for the birth of their daughter. But when the baby was born a siren, things changed. Both Kohaku and Ash were ecstatic that their daughter is a siren and Ash suggested they move to Pandora after learning about their connections.

Sadly their plans and lives were cut short, as Brother Steven Sophis barged in and demanded they hand over their child.

Along with being the head monk, Sophis is a siren hunter who would stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it involves killing those who get in the way.

It wasn't until many years later (during bl3) that Maya learned the truth about her parents and when she did.........she shut down.........and now just wants to go home....her real home on Pandora.....

Year after Maya did honor them by naming her second daughter after her mom and her youngest son after her dad.

[bravelonewarrior]

Ares, the warrior god

"Bold heart, shield-bearer, savior of cities, crowned with brass,

With sturdy hands, tireless, strong by the lance, rampart of Olympus,

Father of Victory, happy conclusion of wars, auxiliary of Themis;

Absolute master of the adversary, guide of the most just men".

Ares, unloved by the gods and men. In the contemporary media, and even in ancient times, he was little appreciated, portrayed as a cruel being who indulged in the violence of wars and the slaughter of mortals.

This is why only the Thracians and Scythians, as well as some other warrior tribes worshipped him. The Romans and the Greeks preferred Athena who was the goddess of war, wisdom and craftsmanship, because she was considered to be the goddess of the so-called "civilized" war, far superior to the brutal war of Ares.

So, here I am, delivering you this post hoping to raise your esteem towards this warrior god and to restore his reputation.

 Let's start by distinguishing him from Athena : Ares is mainly the god of war, and has two minor and often misunderstood functions, those of courage and revenge. If most of the gods see themselves sharing their domain with minor deities, and, most of the time, forgotten, or from another generation: rare are the gods who see themselves sharing their domain with another important god. We can therefore assume that they must have many more differences than a simple aspect, which, let's admit it, does not exist: whether the war is "civilized" with strategies or "barbaric": it remains war, with its share of carnage, of cities plundered and reduced to ashes, of raped women and orphaned children.

We can therefore suppose that this difference is much more marked, which we can become aware of if we pay attention to the myths:

In the Iliad, Ares and Athena are on two different sides. Ares helps the Trojans while Athena supports the Greeks. Obviously, through these gods are two civilizations that are opposed: Ares was mainly venerated by the Thracians, a warlike civilization considered as "barbaric" in the eyes of the Greeks because they had different morals from theirs. Athena, on the contrary, was the goddess of Athens, a city known for its philosophers, its democracy and to be described as the cradle of an evolved civilization compared to the others. We can continue this opposition by the weakness of Ares, who, each time he faces Athena, is defeated.

Beyond this conflict between two civilizations, we can also see, through the behavior of the gods, the representation of two different groups: The soldiers and the generals.

Athena would represent the generals, the General Staff. In these war stories, we see her advising the Greek chiefs during their decisions and sometimes helping these favorite generals during the fights by guiding their gestures: never we see her taking part in the fight or coming to the help of soldiers. Conversely, Ares does not advise the Trojan generals nor does he guide them: he fights among the soldiers, he goes to the front of the troops and encourages them during the fights, does not make any preference.  We can also add that Ares fights alongside his sisters (or wives), Eris and Enyo, as well as his sons, Phobos and Deimos, which may remind one of a combat battalion.

  As for the rest of the myths, we can notice that Ares always plays a defensive role: he fights for Ilion which is besieged, he intervenes to protect his son, Cycnos, when the latter attacks Hercules. In another, it is his daughter, Alcippe, that he protects from Halirrhotios, the son of Poseidon, when he tries to rape her. The only myth where Ares attacks someone for a purpose other than protection is when he kills Adonis, jealous of the affections he received from Aphrodite.

Moreover, it should be noted that among his animals (the woodpecker, the vulture, the dog and the boar), we can wonder about the presence of some. For if the vulture is indeed an animal associated with war, coming to devour the corpses of those fallen in battle, we can wonder about the presence of the other three animals. The boar, the most obvious, can be associated with it because it is an animal that often represents strength and represented in Greek myths as a fierce animal and is often considered a guardian of the forests. The dog is a psychopomp animal, which leads the souls of the dead to the Underworld, which can also be linked to the warrior role of Ares. Only the presence of the woodpecker remains mysterious because it has no symbolism in Greek mythology and does not appear. The woodpecker appears only in Roman mythology, when Remus and Romulus are taken in by the she-wolf, and is sent by Mars to watch over the children. Thus, the woodpecker is perhaps a later addition to the animals of Ares, but it reinforces the role of protector that it already indirectly assumed in Greek mythology.

 Finally, I can also add that Ares is far from being the misogynistic character that some Western media draw him to be, which might make sense to us: how could he not be when the army has always been assimilated to a world exclusive to men and when military men call each other "women" as an insult?

However, again, the myths tend to prove the contrary. Already, Ares is the father of the Amazons: he is venerated by them and is considered their protector. How could a misogynistic god be the leader of an army of women?

Moreover, he is probably the only god in mythology whose relationships are always consensual: No myth puts him forward as the kidnapper of a young girl or as a rapist. On the contrary, he is even the only god to defend a young woman, here his daughter Alcippo, from such a crime, which will make him the protector of victims of sexual abuse.

The only crimes which accuse him are the murder of Adonis and, according to the versions, the transformation of Cadmus into a snake. And can we really blame him for sleeping with Aphrodite when we know that she was just given in marriage to Hephaestus to appease the god?

Finally, I'll add that the only hymn we have of Ares, which is at the top of this post, describes him in a rather positive way, and the Greeks saw him as the ideal that a hero should reach. Can he then be so bad? Don't we see it that way because it has a function in a field we dislike?

So, I hope you will rethink the way you see Ares: remember that he is the one who galvanizes the troops and gives them the courage to face the ruthless enemy. Remember that he is the protector of hostages and sexually abused people. Remember that, even if his children were known to be criminals or madmen, he is undoubtedly the most present father in mythology, and remember that he is probably the most respectful god towards women, and the one most able to recognize them as equal to men.

[folieacutie]

Permission (Percabeth fic)

A/N: It’s the year 2020 and I wrote a percabeth fic?? Look at us, who would have thought. Not me!

A03 

For Percy Jackson, asking Frederick Chase for his daughter’s hand in marriage was nothing compared to the complicated mess that was trying to contact a Goddess. A Goddess who was very vocal about her disapproval of him. Did he mention she could incinerate him on the spot? You can see why he wasn’t exactly in a rush to have the conversation.

When he asked Annabeth’s dad it went well. Frederick was awkward but sincere in his permission, and they both joked about how Annabeth didn’t need anyone’s permission anyway. It’s not as if she went, hey dad, can I run away from home for a few years? Thanks! when she was seven years old. She definitely didn’t need any allowance in this decision. Yet, it still felt necessary for Percy in a way, or at least rude to go on without it. And, if Frederick’s misty expression was anything to go by, Percy thought he felt pretty honored to be included.

Once he and Annabeth got back to New York, Percy was itching to buy the freaking ring already.

The longer he waited (at 26 he had been waiting a long time), the longer he feared Annabeth would know. Well, know the specifics, anyway. They had discussed marriage before, obviously. It’s not like he could hide his thoughts about it for too long; he was imagining their kids since they were sixteen. A part of him still worried what if what if what if, but that was mostly his self-loathing talking. Deep down he knew they were permanent. They still felt comforted by each other, and could make each other laugh, which was no easy feat after surviving the things they had and the people they had lost. There was no one else he would rather argue with about what color to paint the living room, or hold him after a nightmare.

So, in the week following his talk with Annabeth’s dad, Percy headed into a jewelry store. Athena refused to acknowledge his dinner-time offerings, and Percy was annoyed. There’s only so many times he could quietly give up his food to Athena without Annabeth noticing. Also, he hated wasting food he paid for. Especially those s’mores from the other night, Gods damn it.

Plus, he didn’t really feel like he needed Athena’s permission. Since when did he ask permission from the Gods for anything? He would still marry Annabeth if her mother denied him. Unless she, you know, killed him. Then things might get a little harder.

He drummed his fingers on the glass display and grimaced. The image of Athena turning into an owl and eating him alive flashed in his mind. He shook the thought from his head and scanned the sparkly rings.

“Do you need help with anything, sir?” An older man approached him from behind the counter. The little hair he did have was white, and the rest of his head shone just like the diamonds behind the glass. Percy opened his mouth to respond when a terse voice answered for him.

“We’re good, thank you.”

Percy tensed and turned. Not good, thank you. The woman next to him was in a simple crème colored blouse and jeans but had blazing grey eyes that he would know anywhere. Athena radiated power and, annoyingly, was an inch or two taller than him even in mortal form.

“Shopping for rings without a mother’s approval, I see?”

Percy gripped the edge of the display case, “Well, ma’am, I don’t exactly have your phone number.”

She leveled him with a look that said If I could turn you into ashes right here and get away with it, I would.

Percy fidgeted, his finger pressing on the glass. “I did offer dinner the past few nights.”

“I noticed.”

When she didn’t continue, he powered on. “Though, ma’am, If I may…” He took a deep breath, “I’ll still marry Annabeth without your approval if you don’t grant it.”

Athena arched a brow. This was it, the moment he would die. He survived two wars and Tartarus, yet he was about to be taken out by his girlfriend’s mother. Great. His funeral would be the best family reunion ever. “Is that supposed to make me say yes? You are not making a good impression, son of Poseidon.”

“I never had the chance to make a good impression.” Percy’s hands clenched at his sides. “I get that you and my father have had a rivalry for a billion years or whatever, but that shouldn’t matter here.”

“And, what exactly do you think should matter?” Her tone implied whatever he had to say would be stupid.

Percy’s voice cracked on his delivery: “How much I love her.”

For a second he thought the Goddess would actually laugh in his face.

Instead, her eyes flashed in warning, which was worse. “Have you mistaken me for the foolish Aphrodite?”

“Listen,” Percy choked out, he felt his entire body heat up in anger and embarrassment. “After the first war ended you said you were giving me the benefit of the doubt, and for me to not mess it up. I know I haven’t done everything right-”

For once they agreed upon something, her glare seemed to say.

“But I don’t think I’ve messed up. Not with her. I know love means nothing to you, but she means everything to me. Even logically, look, look at my actions. Your daughter is my mortal tether to this world, that’s how much she means to me. It killed me to let her go on her quest alone, but I knew it had to happen, and that she could do it. We dropped into Tartarus together because I couldn’t let her go through the pain by herself, especially not after all the time we were separated. Annabeth deserves to know that people will not desert her. I haven’t. And I never will.” He met her stare with his own. Somehow, he sensed they were both remembering her shit behavior towards Annabeth during the second war. Percy didn’t break eye contact. “I’m not immortal. I only have one shot at a happy life, and excuse me O’ Goddess Athena, but I’m sick of the God’s constant disruption of it. I want to marry your daughter and she wants to marry me, and while I might be a stupid son of the Sea God, we can both agree that Annabeth doesn’t usually make foolish decisions. Trust her on this one, because we made up our minds a long time ago.”

Percy could feel himself shaking.

Athena leaned back, her look piercing. She stared at him for what felt like an hour. Percy braced himself. “Let’s hope your passion does not cause my daughter’s downfall, Percy Jackson.”

He blinked. Did that mean…

“I grant my permission, Percy. I do not do so lightly, even if you do not care for it.”

Percy shook his head, “No, I do care for it, a lot.” He left out ‘but, honestly, I care about your daughter’s happiness more, and so I would have married her anyways’. He took in how much she looked like Annabeth. “It will mean a lot to her, to us.”

She nodded, her gaze still appraising. Then she glanced at the rings and pointed, "That one is a wise choice." And with a flash of light she was gone.

Percy looked back at the display case, shoulders finally dropping. His eyes panned over to the man who was behind the counter. He was staring, wide-eyed, slack-jawed.

Percy gave him a tired grin and a roll of his eyes, “Mothers-in-law, amirite?”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ash/Athena AU: The Branding

Continuing my Daniel Michaelson / Honor Bound AU collab with @whump-tr0pes - Corrine brings Isaac, newly claimed by Danny, back to the Michaelson family’s compound to be prepared for Danny’s birthday party. Can be read on AO3 here.

CW: Threats of torture and a frank discussion of noncon and torture. Branding. Nonconsensual touching (not sexual). Dehumanization.

By the time they arrived at the vast, palatial mansion set on a hill that comprised the Michaelson family's main estate, Corrine was relieved to see that Isaac had stopped being a bawling little limp noodle and walked on his own between a pair of armed escorts.

Those pretty eyes were still terrified, but she could sense as his heart finally began to slow and understood it for what it was - he was slipping into numbness.

For now.

It wouldn't last.

"Welcome to my home," Corrine said, somewhat carelessly, gesturing ahead as Isaac was led towards the huge wooden front door.

Corrine and Patrick had built the house piece by piece long before they were Syndicate, back before the takeover. They had different names, then. It wasn’t overly designed like so many of the younger Syndicate homes, and was instead a sprawling series of new floors or wings added as Corrine decided she needed or wanted them.

“Wh-where-... uh, will I…" Daniel’s gorgeous new plaything licked his lips, clearing his throat. The tears were still in his voice, but the car ride from the summer home to here seemed to have given him time to cry them all out while he was locked in the trunk.

Now, he looked beautifully resigned, more than anything. Which suited Corrine Michaelson’s purposes just fine.

“Yes? You may speak.”

Isaac flushed and his eyes jerked back to the ground, wincing.

Ah, so that hit on a sore spot, did it?

Corrine wondered if this little broken toy had been forced to ask permission to speak before. She'd had one like that, once. Learned to press the side of his face against her with big, pretty doe eyes…

Corrine paused. She rather missed that man, now that she remembered him.

"Where w-will I… is this…." His voice seemed to fail him and Isaac was silent again as they stepped into the grand foyer. A spiral double staircase wound up to the second floor, and the first floor was obviously designed for entertaining. Large rooms full of ample seating, fireplaces for winter, and hooks littered throughout the house in ceilings and walls - unobtrusive. Daniel's little toy  probably wouldn't notice.

He would learn about those later.

"Will you be living here?" Corrine suggested, and the toy nodded, crossing his arms in front of himself uncertainly. "No. As much as my husband and myself could make lovely use of your body-"

The man shuddered, unable to stop a sound like a whine as he exhaled all at once.

"-you do not belong to me. My son chooses to live elsewhere. You will stay with him."

There might have been a hint of relief, in the man’s face - replaced just as quickly with a whole new flush of shame as he realized he was relieved by such small mercies. She crooked her fingers and the escorts on either side of Isaac pushed him forward. He stumbled at first, nearly falling onto his hands and knees, and Corrine fought back a laugh.

Lovely.

They dragged him back to his feet, towards the staircase, Corrine walking ahead of them with a slight click of her heels.

His breathing began to change again as they headed up the stairs and he was further and further from the door. "You need to understand," Corrine said flatly. "I have no use for tears. I have no use for you. You live because you have precisely one use for Daniel and none for those who left you behind."

A broken sob, behind her. Corrine did not look back - but she smiled, nonetheless.

"You will live with my son. You will attend his needs, however he chooses to use you. You will keep yourself in good physical condition for him - physically fit, hair cut to his liking. You will dress in what you are provided and if you are provided nothing, that is what you will wear."

"Oh, fuck," Isaac whispered. "I… I won't."

Corrine, generous to a fault, decided to ignore that. It hardly counted as defiance.

“My son has… quirks, after what he has survived. You will no doubt find him the best option available to you. You should strive to please him in every way, if you want to stay out of my basement."

"Y-your-"

One of the guards shoved Isaac again, and Corrine listened to him fall and catch himself hard on his elbows halfway up the stairs. She paused - minutely - and then continued walking as the guards picked him up by his arms to keep him moving.

"My basement. I trust Nate's assessment but - as they say - trust and verify. I believe him, that you have no useful Intel. I will verify that, if my son finds you inadequate. You have been in basements before, I imagine. Or rooms that served the same purpose my basement serves for me."

A long silence. The sound of another thump. Then, shaking, the man's voice again, the sounds of his attempts to move faster, to stay ahead of the guards shoving him. "Y-yes," Isaac said hoarsely.

"Good. If you please my son-" She honestly only said it that way just to hear the little despairing noise he made, that time. "-then you have nothing to fear. So I suggest you put your only value to good use."

She walked back across the landing, knowing he would follow - he had no choice and there was nowhere to run. He walked like a man on his way to a gallows - a heavy step, only as fast as he was forced to go.

"My son's twenty-eighth birthday is tomorrow. We are throwing a rather… massive party, in which members of my Syndicate will be introduced to you. You will be polite. You will be courteous."

He was silent, now, as they walked down a hallway. Dark wood floors and deep, warmly painted red walls. Frames hung at regular intervals, a mix of artwork and photos.

"This is my family home," Corrine said, her voice softening slightly. "My boys both grew up here. Well, Daniel was five when we brought him home - his mother was…" Her voice trailed away. "Well. Not, perhaps, as protected from harm as she should have been. I should have noticed sooner. Here." She stopped before a spot on the wall that held a gallery of smaller photographs, carefully arranged. "Guards. My son's property will look."

Isaac was shoved up next to her, his face red, but he made no argument. His eyes ran, anguished and half-empty, over the photos as Corrine gestured and narrated each one.

"This is Danny's first day-" She pointed to a photo of a redheaded little boy with a backpack nearly as large as he was. Wide blue eyes were immediately recognizable, as were the freckles that seemed to cover every inch of skin.

"Here, you have them when they were tutored - we brought in the best private teachers." Danny and Ryan, arms around each other, sitting at a table with books and papers strewn in front. They both had the awkward, gangly, elbows-and-knees look of very young men.

"Here, Daniel on his first assignment with Patrick-" Daniel, clearly an adult but a younger one, rolling his eyes in the picture. He wore the gun at his hip naturally, and held another in his left hand. "This was shortly before he was taken."

Then, she paused. "And here is a few months ago."

The final photo was of Danny sitting at a table, talking to someone out of frame. The scars seem redder, deeper than they look now. There was a yawning emptiness, a darkness in his eyes, all too plainly visible. Nate sat beside him, a hand on his back. Nate's face was cold.

Isaac made a soft sound, next to her, and Corrine turned to look at him. He was staring at the final photo - Daniel recounting some details from one of the parties he had been forced to attend, so that Nate and the others could locate the hosts and deal with them directly.

Isaac's eyes were locked on the vulnerability - the hint of old fear and the deep wounds - so freely written across her eldest son's face. She felt Isaac's heart rate change, a shift through the blood that rushed under the surface.

A man being shown a funhouse mirror and seeing his own face covered in blood.

"My boy has made great strides in recovery. You are one of those strides. He should have wanted someone like you for himself long ago."

Isaac's head dropped and his shoulders shook, hands curling into fists. Rush of adrenaline, no doubt a small one as he'd been cycling through fight or freeze responses since he walked in through the door with Daniel.

She watched with curiosity, wondering if he really would do something that stupid.

He didn't.

He only nodded, tense as a bowstring about to snap, and kept his eyes on the floor. Corrine had expected more fight, but it was more clear than ever that this pretty toy had already been played with before, and broken by careless hands. That he was so… docile… suggested he not only knew the odds were against him, but had once been held long enough to be grateful simply to walk unrestrained.

Escorted, but unrestrained.

"You will sleep here, tonight," Corrine said, opening a door to show a spacious bedroom with a lovely queen-sized bed, side tables, tasteful decor… and barred windows.

Isaac swallowed, staring inside. "Why do you-"

"You are not the first plaything to belong to a Michaelson. You won't be the last. Go."

He was shoved and stumbled forwards into the room, and she watched him take in details he had missed, at first.

The four-poster bed had hooks installed at the top and rings around each wooden corner. There were other hooks in different places, at varying heights, along the wall. The chaise lounge that nestled against the footboard of the bed was set slightly low and was built to be wide enough to lay comfortably on one's back.

Corrine watched the blood rush to his face, as he took it all in, and felt her mouth begin to water. She rather wanted a steak, suddenly. Rare, bloody enough that it was one step from mooing.

"My husband normally makes use of this room," She said, letting that sink in, as well. "But it's only for one night, hm? You'll be fine."

"I-I… is, will D-Danny-" The plaything's voice was shaking, and she saw fresh tears welling up in his pretty eyes. "B-be here-"

"No, you'll be alone tonight. You’re not quite ready, I don’t think, to show appropriate gratitude." Corrine smiled.

She snapped her fingers and one of the guards stepped forward, taking Isaac by the arm to lead him over to the chaise lounge. He stumbled over there, flinching away from the guard's touch. When the guard pointed down, Isaac sat - less like sitting and more like simply collapsing backwards until he hit the soft fabric, clenching his fingers into it, digging fingernails into the soft red cushion.

"Wait. If, if I'm-" He swallowed down revulsion - written plain as day across his face, as the tears began once more to fall. "If, I'm D-Danny's p-... his, if I'm…" He gasped in breath, curling over himself.

“Take your time,” Corrine said, impatient voice giving the lie to her words. She slipped the heavy ring off her finger and handed it to one of the guards, who nodded and stepped aside, pulling his cigarette lighter out. Isaac was still staring at the rug under his feet.

“W-Will I be… will he… will he put-”

“A collar on you?”

Isaac nodded, closing his eyes, miserably. Corrine sighed, flicking her eyes over at the guard, currently holding the heavy relief of her family’s crest over his lit lighter, heating it up. Unwilling to wait the amount of time it would actually take, Corrine concentrated, pulling the threads of the world around her a bit closer. Bouncing molecules off of each other, creating friction and increasing the heat around the flame. The guard hissed, softly, as the gentle warmth he had been able to feel on his fingers was suddenly uncomfortably hot.

“No, plaything. He won’t. Daniel wore a collar for a very long time - and before they gave him the collar, they cut his neck again and again with barbed wire until he might as well. Understand that people like you are who hurt my son.”

Isaac gasped, raising his eyes to look at her again. “What? I, I would never-”

“Anti-Syndicate fools,” Corrine said evenly. “Who piss off the people who hold rightful power and then turn on our children. People like you abducted my son. People like your merry band tied him down and cut him apart. They beat him. They kept him starving and scared. They held him in dark rooms and they sold him to the highest bidder. Because he was Syndicate.”

“We would never do that,” Isaac insisted, some flicker of defiance again. “We would never-”

“Did you ever hear rumors, Isaac Moore?” Corrine asked softly, too softly. A snake’s hiss before a strike, slithering through the grass. “Did you ever hear about the parties, where you could take it out on some Syndicate son who met a bad end? Couple hundred dollars for an hour alone, and the only rule is that he has to survive it?”

“No!” Isaac all but yelled, and then went quiet. “I, I mean… no, I don’t think…” His voice trailed, uncertain. He slowly looked back down at the floor. “If I had, had heard about something like that, I wouldn’t have-”

“You wouldn’t have attended, maybe. You’re soft. Sweet. Inherently good, and it’s goddamn sickening. But you’d have ignored it, set yourself to forget you ever heard, and left my son to suffer. Nothing you can do, after all. No way out for the poor little bastard, huh? Might as well resign himself to being the party favor, passed around like a whore, like-... well. Like you.”

She felt her eyes burn, and closed them, taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

“You would have done nothing, just like everyone else.”

“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t leave anyone to suffer like that,” Isaac said, but she could see him wracking his brain, trying desperately to remember if maybe he had heard rumors about parties, and had simply dismissed them out of hand. She had met enough anti-Syndicate groups, since, who had. Who hadn’t believed anyone would hold someone like that, for that purpose, on their side.

As though there weren’t enough viciousness, in mortal men, to wrap around the world a hundred times.

“No,” Isaac said softly. “I never… I never heard anything like that. I know I didn’t… I wouldn’t have just, just…”

“Hm. Maybe not. My son was a pinata, he was burned and cut and whipped and raped in effigy. Again and again and again. Until he burst open, until he broke, until nothing was left. Until we brought him home a man who answered to a dog’s name. Until we brought home a man with their initials carved on the back of his neck, who can’t hold a gun or even touch one.”

“H-He touched the gun you h-had, in the house-”

“To stop me from killing you.” The plaything had a point, though. Corrine hadn’t considered that. Daniel had not hesitated when he put his hand on the barrel of the gun and pushed it away from Isaac’s head. “I suppose he must truly like you.”

Isaac let out a sound somewhere between a cynical laugh and a broken sob.

“Oh, don’t be so put out. You won’t do any better in life than this. Did you enjoy it, Isaac, fucking my son and his partner?”

Isaac turned bright red, closing his eyes so tightly she could see every muscle in his face tense. He swallowed, hard, and slowly nodded.

At least he didn’t bother trying to ignore the questions, and didn’t seem inclined to lie. That at least was something.

“Good. Daniel will no doubt be careful and kind to you. More than you deserve. Although… you are not responsible for what happened to my son. I understand that, I do.” The guard was ready, and nodded at her as the color of her ring began to change, the metal shifting to a deep reddish color that Corrine had always loved to see. She signaled to the other guard, who stepped forwards with half a smile already on his face. He grabbed Isaac off the chaise and shoved him to his knees on the floor, crouching behind him to wrap an arm across his shoulders, forcing his arms down by his sides.

“W-wait, wait! Wait, wh-what’s-...” Isaac struggled, but weakly - Corrine could still see that he was fighting some deep internal conditioning that told him to simply give up and let it, whatever it was, happen to him. “Wait! I never hurt him! I w-wouldn’t, I wouldn’t-”

“No, you won’t. Ever.” The guard wrenched Isaac’s head to the side, exposing his lovely neck, the veins standing out as he began to pant in fear, his hands going up to grip at the man’s arm and try to pull himself free. “Because you will live the rest of your life as docile domestic property. Don’t fight, Isaac.”

“Pl-please,” Isaac said, his voice cracking, thrashing with panic in the arms of a man who held him almost entirely still, fingers twisted hard into his hair to keep his head forced to the side, the whites showing around his eyes. “Please no, please, wh-whatever, whatever you’re going to d-d-do, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be-... I’ll be good for Danny, I’ll be-”

“I know you will.” Corrine didn’t bother to pitch her voice soothing. She simply took the ring from the guard with the lighter, leaned down, and forced the red-hot metal with her family crest on it against Isaac’s neck, just below his ear.

The sound he made, and the picture he painted with every muscle taut, back arched, eyes wide and bulging, was one of excruciating beauty.

A wild shriek of pain and panic, fear and agony, that came not so much from his lungs as from the core of him, and Corrine pressed harder and harder while the guard held him so perfectly still she didn’t worry about the lines being blurred at all.

His screaming was wordless, and it rang on and on and on through the room, seemingly endless, stretched out in time.

Finally Corrine pulled back and away, and Isaac went limp, hands dropping to his sides, only still on his knees because of the guard holding him up. She tilted her head, looking - M, surrounded by vines, perfectly legible. Essentially permanent.

“There we go,” She said softly. “Can you hear me, Isaac?”

Tears rolled down his face and he managed a nod, then winced and groaned as even that much hurt the brand she had seared into him.

“Good. If you try to leave, that brand will mark you. Anyone in our territory who sees you will bring you home to Daniel, to me. Please trust that you do not want to run and be brought back to me.” She reached up to run a hand back through his sweaty hair, and Isaac shuddered and whined in his throat, like an animal. Like a dog.

People like Isaac - or not like him, but who acted against the interests of the Syndicate and were therefore close enough - had once forced her son to sound like that, with a muzzle whose markings still remained on him.

“You are Michaelson property now. You live as long as my son wishes for you to live. You will fuck him until he is done with you, and you had best be very good at it. That is your life, it has narrowed to this. The sooner you accept that, the more content you will be in your new existence.” She stood back up. “There is a toothbrush in the attached bath for you, and toothpaste. There is a cup to drink water from.” She flicked her eyes up at the guards. “Strip him.”

“N-no-... please, let me keep, at least, let me-” But he was too weak from pain, and she watched as the guards manhandled him like a sick child, yanking his shirt off over his head and his pants off of him, shoes and socks, until he was curled up on the floor with his back to the chaise, shuddering, trying to guard his vulnerability, his nakedness.

“Your clothing will be destroyed, you don’t need it any longer. I will come for you when it’s time to prepare for the party. You will be fed, before then. You will not leave this room until it’s time to dress.” The guards stepped away, but her son’s new toy did not uncurl from his spot, didn’t even try. He just cried, and Corrine sighed at the beauty of the tears.

Daniel would not appreciate them, but that was fine. This wasn’t about teaching him appreciation, only to take the first few steps into who he had been meant to be.

“I love my son, Isaac,” Corrine said, almost gently. “I love him very much. He suffered immensely because we adopted him. He suffered for his name, the name we gave him when he was so young… he couldn’t have known this would happen. None of us knew. And I… I will never let it happen again, not to my child, to my-... I love Daniel, he is as much my baby as Ryan, even if he didn’t begin that way… and he wants you. So spend the night considering how you can best show your gratitude when he unwraps you tomorrow.”

Corrine turned and walked away, the guards falling into step behind her. She stepped outside, and swallowed against the core of warmth that suffused her, her deep love for both her children. The door closed and locked, the crying man still on the floor, curled up and naked, one hand up as though he would cover the brand but not daring to so much as brush the angry red skin.

“I failed my son once,” Corrine said softly, to herself. The guards pretended they could not hear her. “I will not fail him again.” She stood there, stilled for a moment, lost in her memories of the shy, nervous five year old she’d brought into her home as a way to distract the anti-Syndicate fools from sweet Ryan… and the grown man who had fulfilled that role all too well.

Broken and beaten, raped and destroyed, brainwashed and bashed in and held in dark room after dark room. Only dragged out into the light so they could call him by other Syndicate names as they hurt him.

She closed one hand slowly into a fist, and just as slowly - consciously - relaxed it.

Daniel, used by the kind of people who fought the Syndicates, their pretty effigy to burn. She had failed to value him until it was too late, failed to keep him safe. She would not make that mistake ever again. Isaac had of course not been one of those who hurt him. But Daniel taking him as a plaything, using him the way Daniel had been used, might be a way to turn that effigy around, and make someone else stand in for those who had hurt him.

She couldn’t imagine any other reason, really, that Daniel would want the pretty thing so badly.

“What Daniel wants, he will have. Have a tux altered to the exact specifications I will give you. My baby is going to receive a perfectly obedient gift at his party tomorrow night, and I know exactly what to do to ensure Isaac is sufficiently appreciative of my son’s attention.”

The guards nodded.

God, she needed that steak. The smell of burning skin had lit a fire in her veins that could not be put out without blood.

Corrine headed for the kitchen.

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 06

Chapter six: Grief and reconciliation

.

The Olympians had now got a new member: Dionysos, the new god of wine, madness, theatre, parties, vegetation and the afterlife.

But it wasn't celebrated as much as it would have normally. The young god didn't mind; he knew why and he understood, that this was no time for a party.

They would have been thirteen now, but Hestia had given up her place in favour of him, thus they stayed twelve. Athena found, that the round looked kind of … incomplete without Hestia.

But her chair wasn't the only empty one.

Two other deities, who were still here, but hardly showed their faces these days, were leaving their places at the table vacant. Yet, when they did show up, they often killed the mood in the room, just by looking like the Algea¹ themselves. Zeus tolerated it, as he could relate to their grief.

Ares and Aphrodite looked strange in mourning attire.

Crushed, far less alive, mere shadows of their former selves.

Clad in black from head to toe, no jewellery or armour, they even were wearing ashes.

Aphrodite's lovely hair had been shorn, the way mortal women did, when mourning. It was odd to see the bright love goddess wear nothing but black. Her duties no longer delighted her, nor did the other Olympians ever hear her bell-like laughter these days.

Ares was neglecting his job entirely and never looked anything but weary, broken and defeated. He had dark rims under his eyes and always seemed close to either tears or a fit of anger. And he had taken to wearing a brooch with Harmonia's face engraved on it.

Dear, blameless Harmonia, Ares' and Aphrodite's beloved daughter and sunshine, who was gone, gone forever, who would never come back, who had forsaken divinity … who was dead.

It was still so hard to believe for everyone.

Goddesses didn't die.

Only once had Athena seen a goddess die: her first friend, whose name she had adopted to honour her. Except that Pallas had simply become one with Pontos² again.

She was, in a way, still there.

Not so Harmonia; she was really, truly dead and nothing would ever bring her back.

.

Ares knew, that the rest of the family had trouble stomaching this too.

Even for him and Aphrodite it was hard to believe, and even harder, if not impossible, to bear.

My lovely daughter, my little sunshine, my joy and pride, my sweet child, she is gone, gone, she will never come back, she is dead, dead, dead-

Both parents had fallen silent.

They rarely spoke anymore and if they did, it was always about Harmonia. They didn't know how else to cope with their grief.

For their divine children it was the same.

Once they'd had a fight with their youngest sons Phobos and Deimos, who had confronted them and doubted, that if one of them would die, their parents would be remotely as affected. The fight had escalated into screaming, shattered earthenware and broken furniture, but had ended in tears and a group hug.

Ares could understand and relate to this, his children's worry, still he didn't want to hear such an accusation ever again.

There were moments, when the pain got too overwhelming, that Aphrodite would randomly burst into tears or wails and Ares would clench every muscle in his body, trying to suppress his emotions.

They both knew why things had come to this.

Ares had known before Aphrodite had.

The necklace … the necklace Hephaistos had once given Aphrodite (after their divorce, after the incident had happened), who in turn had given it to her daughter as a wedding gift.

That cursed piece of jewellery that, as Ares soon had found out, had been made with malicious intent.

Dionysos (this boy, who was both his half-brother, his nephew and his daughter's grandson, this god of madness, who had caused part of the trouble) had been the one to point it out.

And once Ares had actually taken a look at the necklace of Harmonia, it had dawned on him.

The necklace had been made by Hephaistos, obviously, but he had also recognised the handiwork of Eris, the baleful essence of her and her children. Whatever way the blacksmith had persuaded her and the Kakodaimones to help him was beyond Ares, but that wasn't the point. It was oozing with misfortune and woe.

And then he remembered overhearing a conversation between the smith and his new wife, Aglaia.

The thing was fucking cursed.

The maker had wanted her to suffer for her parents' crime.

My Harmonia, my child, he wanted her to suffer for something that was mine and Aphrodite's fault, he wanted to hurt her, because she reminded him of the incident.

The realisation had made Ares burst into dreadful laughter, terrifying every living being within a hundred mile radius.

Of course.

How could he ever have assumed, that his brother would possibly gift something to the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, to the girl who had been conceived on that disgraceful day.

How could he ever have hoped that Hephaistos would forgive them?

.

Of course Hephaistos hadn't forgiven them.

He hadn't forgiven Ares and Aphrodite for betraying him, so how could he have forgiven their daughter to come from it?

At first he had wanted to take his wrath out on them directly, but had quickly noticed, that they themselves left no opening for the curse to work (then again, Ares was friends with Eris and her brood of evil, so he was probably completely immune to their vibes).

Aphrodite giving the accursed necklace to her daughter had just been a stroke of luck; Harmonia, a third generation goddess with a mortal husband and children, had been a lot more vulnerable to the baleful curse of her wedding gift.

Deep down, the smith had felt sorry for his niece, even though under his friendly facade he had always loathed her for being spawned under such circumstances. Still there had been no denying, that she had been sweet and innocent and hadn't deserved to suffer.

Yet, his pity had been drowned out by the grim satisfaction of seeing her parents heartbroken over their daughter's misfortune and subsequent death.

Maybe one day he would regret, what he had done, but that day was yet to come. For now his heart was flint.

.

As Athena followed Aglaia through the smithery, the Kharis seemed to be far more sober than usual.

“Approach him with care”, she warned the wisdom goddess, “He's in a really bad mood today.”

“I can imagine”, the taller woman muttered. “Don't worry. I can handle this, I know what to do.”

Aglaia nodded in acknowledgement, but whispered: “Alright. Just don't say their names. And don't mention the incident.”

She bowed courteously and saw herself out.

Athena took a deep breath, before going deeper into the workshop.

Don't say their names … that would be impossible, because she was here on their behalf.

“Hey, Athena. I know you and I hate each other, but can you do me a favour …?”

Once Ares had told her, she hadn't been able to refuse.

The blue-eyed goddess needed to look for a while, until she spied Hephaistos hunched over a desk, doing precision work. His face was stone and he was currently burning brightly, not bothering to keep his flames inside his body.

In a really bad mood, Aglaia had said – what an understatement! If the normally composed smith was on fire, that could only mean that he was on the verge of exploding!

It was only when his hands were free, that Athena knocked on the door frame to make herself known.

He turned his head.

Holy Khaos, if looks could kill even gods, she would have dropped dead on the spot!

“Your shield isn't done yet!”, he snapped at her and sparks fell out of his hair.

She swallowed her agitation and replied: “I'm not here because of that. I'm here, because someone asked me to give you a letter and didn't trust Hermes to do it.”

Hephaistos stared at her and his flames died down.

After muttering an apology for his rudeness, he pushed his wheelchair around the desk and offered her a stool.

“Do you want some nectar?”

“No, thank you. As I said, I'm only here because of the letter.”

The smith was obviously still extremely pissed off, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before speaking.

“Athena, if this is a letter from Ares, give it back to him and tell him to shove it up his-”

“Listen to me!”, she interrupted him. “I didn't read this, but he came to me, even though he hates me, and asked me for help. So this has to be important!”

“… Fine.”

“When he gave me this, he mentioned another letter he sent you before.”

Hephaistos scowled and confirmed, that he had indeed received a letter – more than a millennium after the incident.

Athena lifted an eyebrow. “You didn't read it, did you? He suspected it too. Said, that this time he wants you to read it in my presence. I hate to admit it, but sometimes he does use the single-digit number of braincells he has.”

The smith snorted at the jab, but told her to wait here, rolled out of the room and came back with another, seemingly far older scroll of papyrus.

“You are both right, I didn't read it”, he admitted. “But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to burn it either.” A sigh. “After all, no one has ever gone through remotely as much trouble as to write me a letter.”

“Maybe you want to read that one first”, she proposed.

Hephaistos scowled down at the scroll in his lap. But after unrolling it, he blinked.

“Huh. The prick sure has clean handwriting.”

Oh. That really was unexpected. However, it didn't matter right now.

“What are you waiting for?”, Athena urged.

He puffed his cheeks. “I still don't see a point in reading it. It's probably something really offensive about me stealing his girl or some shit.”

She chuckled. Yes, that sounded like something Ares would have written after the incident.

“Well, can he make you any angrier than you already are at him?”

“I guess not.”

“Then read it anyway. And if it pisses you off, burn it. But at least you'll have read it.”

The blacksmith rolled his eyes, but gave in. “Alright.”

Clearing his throat, he began to read:

“Dear little brother,

since that golden net incident, you have never given me the chance to tell you, how I feel. And because you won't listen to me, I'm sending you this letter. I beg you, read all of it. When you've finished, you can burn it, if you want, just … hear me out …”

Athena looked over his shoulders, as he read it to her.

She was actually impressed.

Never ever would she have pinned Ares to write something even remotely as deep.

If she hadn't known better, she would have thought it was Aphrodite's hand – but it obviously wasn't; her writing was cursive and ornate, as opposed to Ares' clean, but plain hand.

Except that what he had written was so genuine and candid … alright, it was definitely Ares.

Hephaistos read everything, but his voice grew shakier with every paragraph.

By the end, he was full-on crying.

“Fucking arsehole!”, he choked and burned the letter in his hands, “First he gives me a lesson about love, rubs his relationship with Aphrodite in my face and then he tells me, that he loves me?! Of all the things he could have written, this …”

Gently Athena stroked his back, as he sobbed into his hands.

It took him a while to compose himself.

.

The goddess of wisdom had left, after reading the second letter to him, as he had asked.

Hephaistos just needed some time alone.

He … he didn't know how to deal with this.

Everything was way too much and too confusing and he needed distance.

The other gods could wait for their stuff. Or they could just ask his assistants to finish the crap.

He would go on a holiday trip.

Far away from Olympos.

Preferably even away from Hellas.

Sicilia?

That was the place.

He hadn't seen Vulcanus in a while.

.

“… And that's basically, what happened.”

“Hm …”

Vulcanus peeked at his Greek colleague from behind his cup.

“Let me check, if I got this right”, he spoke, “You avenged yourself on the adulterers by placing a curse on their innocent daughter. A girl, who never did anything to you aside from that one flaw she can't help – that she was conceived through adultery – which, as I just said, really isn't her fault, who was pretty much as pure as the rays of the sun above”, the Italian god commented. “Well, I'm not going to question your motives. But do tell me: are you proud of yourself and of what you have done to Harmonia?”

Hephaistos didn't answer immediately. He was just stubbornly staring into the fire.

Alone, Vulcanus already knew the answer, long before the older god spoke.

They didn't meet often, but knew each other oddly well – as if they were brothers.

Perhaps in a sense they were.

Finally Hephaistos admitted: “No, I'm not.”

The Italian god cleared his throat: “Y'know, I have found, that time can fix that kind of shit. Revenge isn't always needed. Besides, you already exposed and publicly embarrassed them and divorced Aphrodite, it was not necessary to get back at her. Why make a cruel and complicated revenge plan, when you can just … let it go? I know it's easy to say and hard to do, but it's true. Think about it; is she that important to you, that you cannot forgive their betrayal, even after thousands of years? Trust me. Revenge isn't always the right thing. It doesn't make you a good person in any way.”

The Greek god sighed in obvious frustration.

But his facial features gradually softened into a pensive expression.

Eventually his face became determined, he muttered a begrudging “Ugh, fine”, rolled his wheelchair around and bid his colleague goodbye.

“What will you do now?”, Vulcanus wanted to know, as he stepped aside to let his colleague out.

Hephaistos turned around and was (surprisingly) smiling.

“Travel to Illyria. I'm going to meet with an old friend.”

.

“Thank you for the ride, Helios”, Hephaistos thanked his driver.

The sun Titan laughed merrily: “Hey, anything for my best buddy! Besides, I understand what you're up to, man. You sort things out and if you need a ride back to Olympos, just call me up, 'kay?”

The blacksmith god smiled: “Sure.”

“Alright!”, the Titan exclaimed and jumped back onto his chariot, “I'll continue my trip across the sky, before your king gets the vapours.”

The younger deity could only giggle.

The Titan grinned, before spurring his horses and riding off.

With a fond smile Hephaistos looked after Helios. The gods could say about that guy what they wanted, but he was a really good and reliable friend.

But his smile faded immediately, as he turned to the temple that contained the petrified remains of his niece and her husband.

This would be incredibly hard and he wasn't sure, if he actually knew what to say.

But he wasn't a coward and he definitely was no quitter.

He wasn't sure, if Harmonia could hear him, but he definitely owed her an apology – even, if he had to give it to a rock, since her and Kadmos' remains had turned to stone through Zeus' will.

That's my fault … it's all my fault …  

“Alright”, he murmured to himself. “Time to finally man up and face the shit I've done.”

He entered the building and to his relief found, that it was empty.

Good.

It would be Tartaros to explain to a mortal priest or visitor, what a tan, young-looking man with long black hair and a wheelchair (it wasn't like the mortals knew those yet) was doing inside a funerary temple with an offering of incense, cinnamon, holy water and a bouquet of white roses. Bringing flowers was silly; the goddess turned mortal was now dwelling in Elysion, where the flowers grew fairest, but she would have been happy either way, he knew.

She was a real sweetheart … I have to give it to her parents, they raised her well.

He looked around the interior.

It was a plain, almost minimalistic temple and behind a simplistic altar, on an elevated pedestal stood a statue of two medium-sized Drakones³, entwined in eternal embrace. Thus the couple had passed on and thenceforth their petrified bodies had remained this way. It was both romantic and tragic.

He sighed: “Hello, Harmonia. It's been a while. The last time we saw each other was at your wedding, I believe?”

He set his offerings on the altar with some effort.

“I'm sorry I took so long. Well, for that and a lot of other things. This is kind of stupid, because I'm here talking to a rock, when I should be saying this to your face. But I can't, so this will have to do. I don't know, how much you knew. Or if you can hear me, for that matter. Still I owe you an explanation … and an apology.”

Suddenly he was startled by a gust of wind, but when he looked around, no one was there.

After looking around cautiously, he just assumed, that it had been the draft and turned back to the stone.

“Well, there really are no words to make up for what I have done to you to get back at your parents, but I will try anyway.”

He began with an explanation, then a confession, before attempting to apologise.

Eventually he said: “So … that's it. That's kinda how I ruined your entire family out of petty revenge. I know that a sorry won't cut it. But I'll try anyway. I'm sorry. I had no right to do what I did. Because of my grudge against your parents, I destroyed your every chance at happiness. Because of the circumstances you were conceived in, I hated you, even though you never did anything to warrant it. Back then I did it to make them suffer and didn't care about how you would handle all of this.  Today I know, that I was in the wrong. I should have just let it go and instead I made an innocent woman suffer out of selfish spite. What I have done is unforgivable and I do not ask for your forgiveness, that I don't deserve. Still I want you to know, that I regret what I did. So I hope that you can hear this. If you hate me now, that's fine (you have all reason to), but if you can find it in your heart to believe me, that would be more than I could already ask for. Please believe me, when I say … I'm sorry. I deeply, truly am.”

Finishing his apology, he took a deep breath.

There. It had been done.

Suddenly he felt a lot lighter, even though he had been talking to a rock.

For a moment the temple was quiet.

Then a voice made him almost yelp.

“That was a beautiful apology. Would've been better, if you had said it to her face, though.”

Hephaistos turned his wheelchair around as quickly as he could.

“How long have you been here?”, he gasped.

Ares shrugged: “I saw Helios drop you off here, when I came, so I think it's safe to say: the entire time.”

The smith frowned; so that had been the gust of wind from earlier!

The war god shook his head and approached.

He too was carrying offerings in his hands and arms; a giant, quite colourful bouquet of exquisite flowers, a bottle of perfume, a peplos, incense and a bowl with fruit.

Ares set his rich offerings down on the altar, next to the one Hephaistos had put there earlier.

Then he crouched down next to the younger god's wheelchair with a sigh.

For a few minutes, they sat in awkward silence, before Hephaistos cleared his throat.

“Ares, maybe you should fold your wings away, before-”

“May they see 'em”, the older cut him off. “They already have before. They know the father of their late queen.”

Hephaistos could see the other's wings tense up and the fingers claw at the stone floor, before Ares composed himself.

“You have some nerve, showing your face here.”

“I know.”

“Was about fucking time though.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I've read your letters.”

“Have you?”, Ares muttered.

“Yes. In Athena's presence, like you wanted.”

“Good.”

“I've burned them thereupon.”

The war god's mouth quirked upward. “Figured you would.”

“Those letters were crap.”

“Sure, whatever you say. And still you cried, before you burned them. Daddy's Owl told me. If you really had thought they were crap, you wouldn't have shed a tear.”

Hephaistos couldn't help but be surprised, that the red-eyed god knew him so well, but he didn't voice it.

Apprehensively he watched his older brother.

Ares was grinning lopsidedly, but his red wings rustled and twitched in irritation, giving away that he wasn't remotely as casual or amused as he was pretending to be.

To be fair, neither was the younger.

“I still think that you're a prick, Ares.”

“I know. And you're right. But I'm gonna level with you, brother – you've been an arse too.”

Hephaistos smiled bitterly: “Yes, there's no denying I was.”

“Ya know, when Aphrodite and I first realised it … that thing with the necklace … we were really mad at you, both of us.”

“I don't blame you.”

“Good.”

Ares craned his neck to look his brother directly in the eyes.

“Why did you do this to Harmonia? How could you? Why to her? She … she …”

His toneless voice wavered and he quickly looked away again.

“It wasn't my intention at first”, the smith whispered. “The necklace was meant for her mother.”

Ares didn't respond. He didn't have to.

Hephaistos knew, what he would have said, if he'd had the words to say it. He also knew why he still wouldn't have said anything, even if he could have.

“I'm sorry”, he finally whispered.

Ironic, really; never would he have imagined, that he would apologise to Ares of all gods.

The red-eyed god didn't answer beyond a heavy sigh.

The blacksmith god didn't know how long they sat in silence hereafter.

But at some point Ares placed his left hand onto the armrest of his brother's wheelchair – cautiously, as if to give the other the option to just slap it away, if he didn't want it there.

Hephaistos' brown eyes widened.

That was a rather tentative and gentle gesture from the abrasive, warlike madman that was Ares.

Then again, who was he to complain?

With a tiny smile he took the hesitant hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

.

---

.

1) Algea: the Greek Daimones (spirits) of pain, suffering and grief, bringers of weeping and tears, daughters of Eris, the goddess of strife. 2) Pontos: the primordial personification of the sea, a son of Gaia. 3) Drakones: serpentine dragons (mostly just enormous snakes)

[timecall]

ok i wasn’t kidding when i said people who lms would get it so i’m compiling them here

@imitori not to hit the nail on the head but i’m leaning towards nemesis for dimitri not just because of the obvious reason of revenge but because nemesis is also the goddess of balance which i think is sort of what he wants/needs in terms of [3h lore] ... obviously he could probably pass as a son of zeus with the natural leadership and charismatic nature and whatnot but like yknow

@leicestheir hi gina ik everyone’s already thinking about apollo as claude’s godly parent but i can also really easily see athena or hermes; hermes is my weakest option of the three because it’s primarily the trickster nature + ability to sort of ... charm??? converse? while athena is because he has a knack for strategy. i’m kinda leaning towards athena because she’s a war goddess by all means and claude knows how to play his cards

@gasbardian hi maddy i don’t think it’s super surprising for me to say ashe might be hermes or mercury (roman form)? he’s not quite the like warlike, militaristic stiffness of the other roman kids so maybe just hermes and that’s definitely because i’m thinking about his past life having to resort to thieving, and he’s good at haggling prices ... and hermes is one of the most common godly parents in pjo which kinda makes me think about he he regards himself as lonato’s adopted kid instead of like being born as a noble into a noble house

@knighbility tbh i was wondering if ingrid might not be a demigod child at all but a follower/huntress of artemis because it gives me a sort of parallel to the idea that she wants to be a knight even though that’s not technically what’s expected/”meant” for her, but she chooses this path anyways because that’s who she is at heart ... otherwise i think athena would be a pretty good fit like you already said. maybe minerva/roman form even 

@gautres the obvious answer is aphrodite for obvious reasons but i’m wondering with the way sylvain acts in his more serious moments/supports if he might be someone else like ... i considered hecate for a minute because of his budding talent in magic and the fact that she’s the goddess of crossroads which is sort of where he is in life in terms of his issues with heading his house, crests, etc. but it leans too hard on the witchcraft angle to suit him .... aphrodite is still a perfect fit though because he IS a charming talker and a good looking guy, and there’s definitely a reason why girls still say yes to him 

@mauricrests i am trying so goddamn hard but when i think of marianne i think of animals which would be artemis’s domain but i don’t think she’s fit for the hunters of artemis ... tbh i don’t know marianne particularly well but i might be able to imagine ....... hecate???? urgh. i can’t do it because i only saw a couple of her supports so far but i love her so much :( 

@thunderbranded ares... most likely ares. she’s not as short tempered as children of ares tend to be but she has the same will to fight and slightly blood knight-y tendencies + confidence and ability to back it, not necessarily for the sake of anything other than for the fight + for lady rhea  

nobody asked for edelgard but i think she’d be bellona’s daughter 

[stephtastrophe]

I watched the season 4 finale of The Affair the other week and it was really awesome! I adore this show so much!

I even made those gifs!!! <3 I haven’t made any in ages but now found you can make them quick in The KM Player itself so had to try it, instead of screencapping with and using PhotoShop to make them like I used to but I stopped as every time I tried to take continuous screenshots after a few years it just always crashed so I gave up but now that works again too. 

But I wish they hadn’t killed off Alison off though! I really liked her but she wanted to leave the show. But I knew she hadn’t killed herself and I was right, I really can’t believe that it turned out to be Ben though! D:

He threw her and she hit her head and died and he just dumped her body in the ocean! That’s cold! He clearly never loved her if he could just do that to her. That’s like the worst thing you could ever do and the worst way to treat someone and I don’t see how the two viewpoints could be so different! Maybe his version to forget it? 

That’s just terrible though! Although I didn’t think she would of killed herself and I honestly couldn’t believe that either Cole who still loved her and wanted her back or Noah who may have also still loved her would have done it. So, logically I suppose I should’ve seen it coming that it was him and he was always a little shifty but I didn’t think he’d go so far to just act like nothing happened and be like, oh well, time to dump her in the ocean and pretend she commited suicide. I hope someone finds out.

But that wasn’t even in the finale, that was the previous one although I feel it would have been a good ending point for the season tbh.

The last episode was good too though. I liked the Noah and Anton road trip, and he bumped into someone he knew which I didn’t expect. 

Then Noah went to Alison’s funeral whilst Anton stayed behind because Anton said to go and he would’ve seriously regretted it tbh with how much he loved her in the past. 

It was a bit of a hippy funeral on the beach thanks to her mother Athena, not that it is that surprising with her. Although, a bit disrespectful to cremate her instead of burying her her and Cole’s son Gabriel. 

I’m not surprised Cole was annoyed Ben was there when he knew he was married, but it’d be worse if he knew he killed him. He would definitely kill Ben if he found out, I have absolutely no doubt about that.

I kinda liked that when they passed around the ashes to say something about her that Cole ran off with her and then went to Gabriel’s grave with it and stayed overnight in the cold and sad. It was really sad but quite beautiful he did that and he did reunite them again, if only briefly. It was a sweet and heartfelt gesture, he’s always so sweet! It’s so cute <3

Then he and Luisa mutually decided to end their relationship, because she knew she’d never live up to Alison which in Cole’s eyes she won’t. He obviously thought Alison was the embodiment of perfection and his soul mate which again is sweet. I personally don’t think he’ll ever love anyone as much as he loved her. It’s kind of crushing to think that. He met his soul mate and then lost her and now she’s gone forever. It’s so sad.

But Cole did agree to stay married to Luisa just so she could remain a US citizen and Joanie’s guardian which is also quite sweet and nice. 

Then Cole took Joanie on a road trip to mourn Alison. Awww bless.

We fast forward two weeks and Vik is in hospital with an infection which isn’t good for him in his condition. Whitney is back with her bf at home and not realising what has gone on and kinda made some inappropriate comments. So Helen told her about Vik, who then falls into septic shock! D: Oh no! 

She sees Noah outside and he is kind enough to comfort her which was a really nice scene. Helen starts to wonder if she ever loved Vik and that is a good question. Or was it they just both wanted a relationship or something?

Vik recovers and Helen comforts him and he now admits that he wishes he got treatment because he’s scared to die. I’m not too surprised and he really should have gotten it before but I don’t think he really thought it through enough when he should have. He should have wanted to live before. 

Helen told Sierra to tell him she was pregnant so he would know he had a kid before he died like he wanted which was also sweet because that’s all he really wanted.

Then Helen wandered to the roof to contemplate life and all that it and the future held or so I like to think anyway.

I can’t wait to see next season which is also the last ever season! But this is my favourite show! I just love it so much <3

I wonder how it will end! D:

Dominic West <3

[vincess-princess]

(And here finally goes my hogwarts au. The description below is for the whole fic, in the future I’ll be posting charters without it)

Title: Magic of insanity

Author: arnold-layne

Fandom: Harry Potter universe, Motley Crue, occasionally Guns N’ Roses, W.A.S.P., Led Zeppelin and some other bands

Characters: Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars, Blackie Lawless, Jimmy Page, etc.

Genre: slash

Rating: Adult content (specifically for some episodes which I’ll mark)

Warning: contains ust, angst, descriptions of violence, underage, obscene language

Description: Nikki Sixx is a sixth-year Hogwarts student with unhealthy high interest in Dark Arts, sex and weed and unhealthy low interest in studying. At first the new school year seems to him just as usual as all previous years had been, but oh, how mistaken he is...

Charter 1.

Word count: 1548

Putting on heels was a mistake, realised Nikki, standing in front of a subway entrance and looking hopelessly at the endless stairs leading under the ground. Not that he hadn’t faced this obstacle before - when you are a London lower-class misfit, subway is usually the only mean of transportation you can afford, - but he definitely didn’t have to carry a huge and hella heavy trunk with him then. The opportunity of calling a taxi was still tempting, but he remembered that if he wasted his money now, he would have nothing left for the trip to Hogsmeade, and shrugged the thought off. Then Nikki tightened his grip on a trunk’s handle and started his long journey down.

There were a few free seats in the train, but after Nikki noticed that not a single one of them was near some pretty girl or guy, he preferred to remain on his feet. As always, he’s got his share of sidelong glances and scowls, but now he wasn’t sure if it was because of his appearance or an enormously huge trunk with something obviously moving inside… oh shit, his igneous lizards must have found their way out of the jar, he realised. He gotta put them back, or his clothes will turn into ashes by the time he arrives to Hogwarts, thought Nikki with horror. Or at least start smelling like smoke, which was no good either.

Once a woman’s voice announced his station, Nikki hurried out of the train only to realise that the stairs down wasn’t even an problem comparing to what he had to face now – the way up.

Ten minutes later, sweaty and out of breath, he finally reached King’s Cross and slipped through the barrier after some family with a visibly shaking first-year whom his parents had almost to carry through the wall because he refused to walk with his own feet. When you were his age you were no better, reminded Nikki himself, but still couldn’t help chuckling. He wasn’t that confused and scared first-year anymore; he was surrounded by wizards, young and old, weirdly dressed or almost indistinguishable from Muggles, and that – that finally was what he really belonged to. Almost nobody stared at him now, assuming, maybe, that he just mistook men’s clothing shop with women’s. It can happen with anybody, though, these Muggles have such weird fashion!

He noticed Tommy almost instantly, for he was towering over the crowd, having almost reached 6’ at his incomplete fifteen years. The boy’s gonna be taller then Nikki in the future, thought he with slight annoyance, but when Tommy noticed him and waved enthusiastically, all his annoyance disappeared. Nikki pushed his way through the crowd, using his trunk as a ram, and only when he approached him, he realised that Tommy was not alone here – of course, his family had come to see him off, just like all normal families do.

Even though they’ve been friends for about four years by now, it was the first time he met Tommy’s family. His mother, as he expected, was thin and beautiful, even after having two kids and god-knows-how-many miscarriages, and Nikki caught himself on not a very friendly thought that he would fuck her if he had a chance. Well, it was no wonder, she was Miss Greece once, remembered he. His sister Athena, a shy fourth-year girl, took after her mother and in the future was going to become just as beautiful. But now she was just a clumsy teenager with acne problems, and only her long wavy hair, just a little longer than Tommy’s, gave that away.

And there was his father. He looked strangely small near his son, and Nikki had to remind himself that 5’9’’ for a man is not that bad, but that didn’t give Tommy any advantage. They wore almost identical suits, but Tommy looked in it so awkwardly that it was obvious he’s been forced to wear it, whereas his father wore it with dignity, even loftiness; Tommy’s hair, even in ponytail, looked like a mop, whereas his father’s haircut looked so neat you couldn’t find a hair sticking out even if you tried; Tommy, always being the tallest, used to slouch a lot, and his father’s proud posture could belong to a member of a royal family. Nikki disliked him immediately.

“Mum, father, - said Tommy with tense, his eyes fixed on him, looking both anxious and hopeful, - meet Nikki”

The moment of shocked silence followed. Tommy’s mother raised her eyebrows in astonishment, and it was noticeable that only her manners prevented her from openly staring at him; however, she nodded gracefully and said amazingly polite, not giving away her emotions even at slightest, “Nice to meet you, Nikki”. He smiled warmly to her as an answer.

“So that’s the young gentleman who Thomas calls his best friend” said his father, squinting his eyes contemptuously and somehow managing to look down upon Nikki, even being a few inches shorter. But even his icy, disdainful tone didn’t manage to make Nikki feel diminished – in fact, it did otherwise, because now he was going to act as ill-behaved as he could, throwing away all that was left from his almost non-existent manners. He caught Tommy’s eye and winked almost unnoticeably – don’t worry, it’ll be alright. “Or should I say «young lady»?” his father continued sarcastically, obviously referring to Nikki’s four inches high heels. Putting them on definitely weren’t a mistake.

“I’m sorry that me wearing heels makes you question my sex” said Nikki, on purpose distorting his slight American accent to an almost unrecognizable level. “But nobody before you had a problem with that” he wasn’t even trying to hide mocking intonations in his voice, “mr. Lee”. Tommy glanced at him with both admiration and fear written on his face.

Mr. Lee’s face whitened with rage. “Well, all these people must have been not of a smart kind” he managed to keep his voice calm when he answered. “I’m quite surprised that you were placed in such honorable house as Slytherin. It seems the Sorting Hat does make mistakes sometimes”.

“Oh, I don’t think so”, Nikki pretended not to notice the hint. “I’m sure it suits me just right”.

“Then, sadly, Slytherin is not what it used to be back in my days” said mr. Lee, pursing his lips. “Anyway, I shall get to the point now, as the train leaves in ten minutes. Thomas is on his fifth year now, which means he’s going to pass his Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations this year. I do hope his results will live up to his family’s standards, but, considering how poor they were before, he’ll have to work hard. I’ve already arranged with some of the teachers, who I happen to know personally, that they’ll take care of him, so there’s only one problem remained: your so-called friendship”

Tommy winced behind mr. Lee’s back. This definitely wasn’t the first time he had to listen to all this - and if mr. Lee decided to talk to Nikki personally, then all these attempts obviously were in vain.

“I’m not going to mention how destructive, scandalous and disreputable I consider it to be…” mr. Lee went on, but Nikki interrupted him.

“You just did that”

“Did what?” mr. Lee was slightly confused, maybe more because he didn’t expect that someone would actually dare to interrupt him than because he forgot what he just said.

“Mentioned that. About our terrible, destructive… how’d you say? – disreputable - friendship. Very nice description indeed, I’ve heard worse”

“How dare you…” started mr. Lee indignantly, but at that moment Hogwarts Express whistled, signaling that there were only five minutes left before departure, and he had to put off the rant about Nikki’s bad manners. “Alright, we don’t have much time left. Thomas, Athena, get on the train now, and I shall have a quick word with mr. Feranna”

Tommy gave him a supporting look and took both his and Nikki’s trunks to get on the train which seemed to irritate his father a lot, though he had to hold back his opinion on that.

“It’s not Feranna anymore” said Nikki “it’s Sixx”

“Nevermind. Well, I’ve heard you’re quite good in certain school subjects so I hope you’re smart enough to understand the importance of my words. I ask you kindly and politely to leave my son alone once and for all. Your friendship does only bad for him, he doesn’t study, doesn’t think of his future, of his family’s honour, even of his inheritance, which is unacceptable. If you back off him, I’ll be quite grateful and maybe even drop a hint to some high-ranking wizards in the Ministry about one gifted student from Slytherin… if not, I shall warn you that I’ll have to take certain actions”

The train whistled one more time. Somebody shouted “Hurry up!”, but Nikki took his time to answer.

“I shall say” answered he finally, “that it’s only Tommy’s business who to be friends with, not mine and definitely not yours. And it’s only up to Tommy to decide, what’s more important to him: friendship or your O.W.L.s and your shitty inheritance. See ya, mr. Lee” and he jumped into the train that already started to move.

[thestuffedalligator]

Olive skin, black hair, skinny, dirty face with pale lines where tears had sliced through the ash and dust. A white chiton dress and a threadbare shawl draped over her shoulders.

A pair of wings - huge, black vulture wings, far too large on her tiny body - were the only things that suggested she was divine.

The general shifted his weight from foot to foot. Obviously respect had to be given to gods, but... “Er - I’m sorry, I was invoking Ares? The god of war?”

The child god shrunk in on herself, and pulled the shawl over her shoulders. She muttered something. “Sorry?” the general asked.

“Ares is the god of slaughter,” the child god said in a slightly louder voice. “Not war.”

The general looked at the priest. The priest shrugged, clearly lost at sea. “Well,” the general said, “then maybe Athena? Goddess of tactics in war?”

“Tactics,” the child god repeated. “Not war.”

There was a long, ugly silence, as the huge vulture wings shifted with the whisper of brushing feathers. "My name is - was - Iphigenia. Daughter of Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, commander of the Greeks who stormed the walls of Troy. When my father disgraced Artemis, and the winds of Greece would not blow her battleships to Troy, I was brought to Aulis. For my wedding, I was told. I was-”

She sobbed. Teardrops dribbled off her chin and fell to the temple floor. “I was fourteen. And then I was brought to the highest altar in Aulis, and - and then - and-”

Another sob. “I was fourteen,” she said.

The vulture wings draped over her, and she disappeared under the cloak of black feathers. When they parted, and when the child god looked up at the general, he fell backwards. Those eyes. Eyes he’d seen a thousand times in battle -

“I am the true spirit of war, general,” the child god said. “I am the goddess of bloodshed, of sacrifice, of the slaughter of innocents. I am invoked when men ravage, burn and pillage. I am invoked when mothers cry out, when sons die, when daughters are stolen. I hear it all, general. I have heard it all since the fall of Troy.”

The terrible wings opened up. The child god loomed over the fallen man, twenty, thirty feet tall. Somewhere, the priest was screaming. “How dare you call upon my name.”

When you learned of the god of war, you thought he’d be tall and muscular and angry. When you were about to meet him, you braced yourself for the worst.

You weren’t quite expecting the short, scrawny, shy kid you ended up getting instead.

[miskick]

CURRENTLY PLAYING:

Karin Igarashi / Persona 3 OC / this blog. ( active ) Katie-Lynn Ash / Fandomless OC / @mutemade ( semi-active ) Angela Sherry / Fandomless OC / @psychmetry ( semi-active ) Yui Sayo / Saiyuki OC / @urasayo ( active on request/motivation ) Ada Lovell / Fandomless? OC / @peonypetaled ( under construction?? ) Kharis Daemos / Professor Layton OC / @puzzlingspunk ( active on request/motivation ) Summer Star / Ace Attorney OC / @starattorney ( ??? we just don’t know ) Vanil Freyn / RWBY OC / @chillnskill ( ??? we just don’t know ) Carlene Rodgers / Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler OC / @ianthinusa ( active on request/motivation ) Kona / Self-Insert / @onacoffeerun ( active whenever I wanna be active on it ) Elena Roth / FMA OC / @rothkappchen ( never did anything with; will probably convert into someone else eventually ) Ahiru Arima, Mayu Suzumoto, Kanako Miyamae, Viola, Athena Cykes, Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, etc. / Multi-Muse / @auradays ( active on request/motivation )

HAVE PLAYED: 

Mami Tomoe / Puella Magi Madoka Magica / @tea-ro-finale-blog ( wow I didn’t even know that still existed-- but obviously archived ) Shiro / Deadman Wonderland / @gantasbestfriend-blog ( technically archived; I can’t access this blog anymore anyway ) Yukari Takeba / Persona 3 / oftheloversarcana ( deleted ) Fuuka Yamagishi / Persona 3 / junomoneta ( deleted ) Hamuko Arisato / Persona 3 Portable / vermilion-sunshine ( deleted ) Athena Cykes / Ace Attorney / getcykedd ( deleted/moved ) Mayu Suzumoto / Corpse Party / @splatteredremains ( technically archived??/moved ) Chara / Undertale / @mercycide ( will probably convert to someone else eventually ) Ruby Rose / RWBY / redrosedreams ( deleted/moved ) Maeve Iman / RWBY OC / maevenn ( deleted/archived? ) Pearl / Steven Universe / wellroundded ( deleted ) Nakoumi Fubayashi / Soul Eater OC / various urls I can’t remember ( deleted/maybe not? i can’t remember her urls for the life of me-- ) Maka Albarn / Soul Eater / @earnestxtwintails ( archived ) Mary [IB], Sachiko Shinozaki, Makoto Naegi, Son Goku [Saiyuki], various / Multi-Muse / auramuse ( deleted ) Charlotte Monroe / Nightmare Assassins [personal project] / goddessfree ( deleted/archived )

WOULD LIKE TO PLAY:

Hajime Hinata / Dangan Ronpa 2  Ikumi Yuuki / Dangan Ronpa 2 OC ( would be insanely private, tho ) Honoka Kousaka / Love Live! Jennette Davis / Ace in the Game [personal project] ( the urge for this has been strong for so long, ) Meredith Mayes / Project L&M [personal project] Lauralee / Unnamed Personal Project ( ??? it’d be cute as heck but I don’t know )

TAGGED BY:  @frcidyne ; thank you so much! TAGGING: why would I want someone to go through the hell of remembering all this

[castrophreni-a]

Without You

PJO/HOO - Percabeth - Canonish AU

Rated: Teen

Hook: Percy is missing. Again. Maybe. Except not at all. Either way it's all Poseidon's fault and Annabeth has had it up to here with the gods.(What happens when our Percy is replaced with Darkest-Timeline!Percy overnight? And just what makes his timeline so damn dark?)

Title: Without You

ao3/ffnet

Annabeth woke in a cold sweat, her whole body tight and agitated. Her hand was on her sword and she was on her feet milliseconds later. Something was wrong. Her first thought, unsurprisingly, Percy.  

She ran to his cabin, only to find the door already open and him face down and unconscious next to his bunk.

It took less than ten minutes to rouse Jason, who helped her carry her unnecessarily heavy boyfriend to the Big House, as well as Chiron and Will Solace. In the rush and faint light of dawn Annabeth hadn't noticed at first, but in the full flush of the house she saw clearly a thick strip of pure white hair amongst Percy's windswept hair, similar to the one that had grown out years ago, but uncomfortably different as well.

After that she noticed a few other subtle differences. He had a thin scar marring his right eyebrow, another very faint one under his chin. Annabeth couldn't be sure but she would have sworn he was...paler than he had been the day before. And not in a 'supernatural coma/potential sickness' sort of way, but a 'I missed the sun this summer' kind of way.

Will was looking him over, taking his vitals, pronouncing them normal, when Percy gasped awake. In blinding speed, even to her, he rolled off of the couch onto his feet and had a dagger in his hand she thought maybe had been on a bookcase behind him.

His eyes were...they were all wrong. There was a hardness there that shook Annabeth to her core. She'd never actually seen him level such a cold gaze at her before, only glimpsed it in battle when he faced enemies. It was another thing altogether to face it herself. It made her blood run cold.

Percy's attention flicked from her to Will and Chiron and he marginally relaxed. "What happened?" He demanded of the pair. "Why am I up here?"

"You were passed out on the floor of your cabin." Will said slowly. "Annabeth found you and she and Jason brought you up here."

Percy looked to Chiron and then back to Will, he let the weapon fall to his side but his grip on it remained firm. "Who?"

"Hilarious Percy," Will said with a scoff. "But I'm not falling for your amnesia 'relapse' again."

Percy studied Will for a long moment. "Who the hell is Annabeth?" He pointed to dagger at the blonde across the room. “And who is she?”

---

Needless to say there was a mild amount of chaos after that question was posed. At first Will and Chiron assumed another case of supernatural amnesia, but Annabeth was quick to counter that with her observations.

This Percy had scars she didn't recognize, he still had a chunk of bright white hair, and he didn't move or look or sound quite like her boyfriend. He was... wrong, a knock-off or a weird substitution, or something. But definitely not her boyfriend. This wasn’t a Percy whose memory had been tampered with again, this was a different Percy altogether.

After a few tense moments of speculation they all took seats and the other Percy kept his pilfered weapon on his right thigh, still distrusting.

“I don’t understand.” Will reiterated. “You know who I am,” Percy nodded. “Who Chiron is,” Again he gave a swift affirmation. “Even Jason?” Percy confirmed this to be true. Will scratched his brow. “Uh, Nico?” Another yes. “Okay, Piper?” And yes, Leo and Hazel and Frank. He knew Rachel Dare, he knew Grover, though he flinched almost imperceptibly to anyone that wasn’t Annabeth Chase at the mention of his best friend’s name. The list went on and he confirmed camper after Roman.

“So the only person you don’t know is...Annabeth.” Will concluded, sharing a thoughtful look with Chiron.

Annabeth felt his steady green gaze settle on her and she met it, searching for someone she knew she wouldn’t find. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition in his eyes. “No,” He answered softly. This had been her nightmare once. Well, one of them. When he was missing, those dark months of searching, after Jason’s memories started to come back so slowly. A part of her had been worried they’d find him and he wouldn’t remember her, remember them. She knew, in her very soul, that this was not her Percy, but it still hurt to see him look at her without the love, the awe and wonder, she’d grown used to over the years. It was all wrong.

“I think she’s right though.” He broke their staring contest to return his attention to Will and Chiron. “I don’t think I’m, uh,” He gestured vaguely to the trio opposite him. “Your Percy or whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My Will Solace just cut his hair short for the summer.” He pointed to Chiron's left arm. “My Chiron has a scar from the Battle of Manhattan.” He ran a thumbnail across his bicep. "And obviously we don't have an...Annabeth." He finished, shifting in his seat.

“How do we know you’re Percy Jackson at all?” Annabeth tried to keep her voice even, a lot about the kid said ‘danger’ in bright neon lights she didn't want to provoke him, but there was still an edge to her tone.

“Huh,” The interloper shrugged. “I guess you don’t.” He tapped the fingers of his left hand on his left knee. A nervous habit her boyfriend had too when forced to sit still. “I mean, anything you ask me we won’t know if it’s just different where I’m from, or if I’m lying.” He said it matter-of-factly, almost with disinterest.

“So why should we trust you?” Annabeth pressed.

“You shouldn’t.” He replied quickly. That wasn’t exactly the answer she was expecting. “I wouldn’t.”

Will turned to Chiron. “Could we like test him?” He rolled his hand. “Like prove he’s the son of Poseidon, or think of something only Percy Jackson could do or...something?”

“What did you have in mind Will?” Chiron raised an eyebrow.

Will nodded his head to Annabeth. “Well we have the foremost Percy Jackson expert right here don’t we?” His looked to Annabeth. “What would prove he was Percy, Annabeth?”

The other Percy also shifted his focus to her again, confusion coloring his eyes, his brow creasing. He clearly questioned Will’s assertion, but chose not to verbalize it. Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek and considered the issue at hand. The guy was right, any question he answered incorrectly weren’t exactly proof he was lying, just that his life had differed from the Percy she knew. They needed something fundamental, something that wouldn’t change no matter what…(timeline? Universe? Athena give her strength) he was from…

It took her sometime to think of something unlikely to be alterable. “Your mom,” She cleared her throat. “She told me once,” On one of the late nights when he was missing and Sally sat up with her as they scoured the internet for signs of him. “There was something you always did, accidentally, you didn’t even realize until a couple of years ago.” Her gaze met his again. Gray on green. It took a second but then she saw it, the flicker of understanding.

He hadn’t noticed growing up, Sally had told her that night. His mother had worried he would one day, and it’d be too soon and his powers would really begin to manifest and he would no longer be safe. It was also when she knew her son would not lead an easy life. That he was made for world changing things, and she had to prepare him as best she could. To raise a man that could be great and kind, to be powerful but not covet supremacy. It was another night Annabeth thanked all the gods and fates for Sally Jackson.

“I…” He paused, his eyes betraying him to her the way they always did.“I used to reach into the boiling water to grab the spaghetti when she made dinner.” He let his gaze drop to his lap. “I didn’t realize hot water was supposed to be so...hot.” A small crooked smile fought for purchase on his face. “But she said the first time she noticed I was maybe, like, two, and I pulled a teapot over. I should have had second degree burns, at least, but…” He trailed. “Probably should have understood before thirteen that hot water burns other people.” His slight smirk was so reminiscent of her Percy she felt an actual pain in her chest. “I thought other people were just being,” He gestured. "Dramatic."

Annabeth looked to Chiron and Will and nodded. As far ash knew Sally Jackson was the only person on the planet, besides herself, that knew Percy was resistant to extreme temperatures from infancy. He'd stumbled into scalding baths, fallen in icy puddles, turned the tap the wrong way without noticing and never borne a single sign.  

Just then a soft green light burned to life and there above this Percy’s head was the telltale trident she hadn’t seen since Tyson. The light flared to a blinding luminescence and and they all fought to keep their eyes open as a harsh sound filtered through the epicenter. Then just as suddenly the light faded, the noise receded and they were able to lift their heads.

The other Percy frowned, eyes glittering darkly. “I guess that answers that question.” He said with a sigh.  

“What did Poseidon say?” Chiron ventured. That had been him talking? Why so distorted? Why so painful? How could that be called communication?

Percy’s jaw twitched and his eyes were cast upward. “It’s hard to translate him when he does that, it’s more like...impressions.” He turned back to them. “But basically he needed to trade us?” He tilted his head as he considered this interpretation. “I guess trade works, your Percy is in my...world or dimension maybe, and I’m here until he decides this field trip from hell is over.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Thanks dad, as always.” He scrubbed his face with one hand. “Always great with the specifics that guy. Never vague at all.”

So his presence wasn’t an accident, this was the will of a god. Not just any god either, but his father. And there were other dimensions, or timelines, or something, and the gods could manipulate them. Fantastic. Only the fates knew what Aphrodite did with that kind of power. Annabeth bit back a shudder at the thought. She also sent a silent pray to the god of the sea, reminding him that if he didn't bring her boyfriend back, and in the condition she'd left him, he'd be answering to her. Divine power or not.

---

After it was decided to let this Percy stay with them until whatever purpose Poseidon had was fulfilled Annabeth left him to Will and Chiron to find her friends and fresh air. She didn’t need to go far. They were all on the porch of the Big House waiting as the sun filtered through the trees.

It took a while for them all to fully understand and accept what she was telling them. To be fair they hadn’t seen him. Only Jason had, and he was characteristically silent as Annabeth explained that their Percy was stuck in an alternate something and this alternate Percy was stuck with them until, well, until.

“So what’s different about his life?” Piper asked as they broke cabin rules* and congregated at Jason’s table for breakfast.

Annabeth sighed and shrugged one shoulder. “So far it seems to mostly be that he has no idea who I am.” The whole table stilled, forks silent in midair, mouths hanging open, all eyes swiveling in her direction.

“And he’s alive?!” Leo cried, the first the break the halting silence. Nervous laughter tumbled from a few of her friends at the outburst.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Apparently.”

Leo set down his toast. “That just doesn’t seem...likely.”

Annabeth fingered her camp necklace underneath her shirt collar. The other Percy’s had remained hidden during their interrogation. She found herself wondering if his beads were different as a result. If there was no Annabeth had he travelled to Los Angeles to confront Hades in the Underworld? Had he rescued the golden fleece? Resurrected Thalia? He bore the mark from holding up the sky. Had he traversed the labyrinth? If so who with? Who searched for him when Hera took him? Who found Athena’s missing statue? Without her had he never fallen into Tartarus? She was torn between a desire to never set eyes on the interloper again and an insatiable curiosity to delve into the what ifs.

Piper nudged her and the Athena camper dropper her necklace. “So friend or foe?” Piper asked quietly, even so the whole table’s attention was on the blonde.

Annabeth met their gazes individually. “Friend.” She said finally. “For now.”

“So, he’s still Percy?” Leo asked across from her.

She considered this for a long moment. She thought of the scars that didn’t match, the wariness in his eyes, the hyper-vigilance. However she also couldn’t help but think of his crooked troublemaker grin, his wry tone even in the face of unfathomable insanity, the expressiveness still evident in his clear sea green gaze. “I think so.” She told them softly. Her mind still back at the couch of the Big House, still in another life altogether where the person who mattered most to her had likely woken up, and in a world without her.

*those rules make no sense to me I’m not even pretending anyone should follow them

---

“Percy?” His head hurt. “Percy?” A concerned voice repeated. He groaned and sat up carefully, the heel of one hand braced on against his temple as he did.

It took a moment for the world to shift into focus and Will Solace’s face to come into view above him on one side, Nico di Angelo on the other, with matching frowns. “Will?” He looked from one to the other. “Nico?” The couple shared a glance above him. “What the hell happened?” He realized he was on a couch in the Big House. Also that Will had cut his hair since last night. Strange.

“We’re not sure.” Will sat on the edge of the couch and put his hands on either side of Percy’s head, tilting it gently from side to side and he assessed him. He flashed a light into Percy’s eyes, and the son of Poseidon did his best not to flinch at the intrusion. “You weren’t at breakfast." Will told him as he measured his pulse. "Nico and I came to find you and you were passed out next to your bed.”

Percy shifted and winced, his whole body was sore, liked he’d been run over by chariot and it’s horses. A few times. And maybe a few chariots. “I don’t know.” He said with a sigh. “I dropped Annabeth off at her cabin last night, went to bed and…” He looked up shaking his head.

Both Nico and Will were looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “Who?” They asked in unison.

[probablynotpsycho-blog]

PERSONAL:

Full Name: Ashley Cynthia Luxworth

Nickname/What they go by: Ash or Lux

Gender: Female

Age: 22

Education (do they go to school? where?): High school dropout

Career ambition: To sell poisons or toxins to whoever needs them or is willing to pay for them.

Hobbies: Baking/cooking, experimenting in her room with toxin and poisons (combinations of them, and cures obviously), and wilting flowers.

What does ambrosia taste like for them? Raspberry and mango cider

What is their fatal flaw? Impulsiveness

FAMILY:

Parents: Reginal Luxworth, mortal, Father, 49. Ahklys, immortal, Mother, ageless.

Did their mortal parent know about the Gods? Nope, still is unaware and thinks his daugher works at a secret base, even if she doesn’t have credentials. He’s a gynecologist with little common sense.

Siblings: None

Pets: Old grey tabby cat called Cinder which has a tendency to run away from her, after an incident involving its food and a fairly large dose of nutmeg (what she labels as an ‘experiment’.

Other Family:  Ashley has a mortal aunt called Regalia Luxworth, 47 years old, who was widowed before she had children. She also has an uncle called Rind Luxworth who is mortal, 51 years old and divorced with a song called Quinn Luxworth, mortal, who is 27 years old now. 

Ancestry/Heritage: Mother is the protogenoi goddess of misery and poison, keeper of the death mist.

ROMANCE:

Romantic orientation: Biromantic

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Significant other: None at the moment

If none above, do they have a crush? Nope. Has a preference for people who are slightly rough around the edges.

Are they a virgin? No, although she is largely inexperienced.

CAMP:

How did they arrive at camp the first time? She was in an argument with a boy slightly younger than her (a son of Athena) when she was 16, nearly 17. The monsters were drawn to him and attacked her too, which ended in her fleeing to camp with the boy and a stranger who was his ‘gaurdian’, sent to retrieve him. They weren’t in immense danger at the time, it was just considered the best solution and she was taken because of the monsters interest in her despite it being small.

Have they been on any quests? A few times, but fairly safe and boring ones, after all she doesn’t attract many monsters and usually manages to cloud her groups presence rather well. Generally sent to kill plant-based creatures.

Weapon of choice? Tends to avoid military combat if she can, but when prompted to she uses a bow and arrow because she’s not very fast or strong so it seemed like the best idea to her. After nearly 5 years she’s still not very good though.

Strongest ability or power? Her strongest ability is the power to conjure and bend death mist which can turn allies or herself into a mist with a corpse-like complexion to shroud them from monster detection.

Favorite activity at camp? Monsters and survival class

Favorite place in camp? Cabin 35, as its quiet from the small amount of siblings that she has, and barely any campers want to visit anyway. She always feels relaxed there and unlike normal flowers shes not as bad with the poisonous plants and vines in the cabin so looks after them sometimes. Has a habit of chipping away parts of the cabin when bored, making it look even more run down.

Relationship with their Godly parent? Not excellent but not terrible either, probably as she has never actually met her, or seen her yet. Because of this she gets a bit jealous or bitter when she hears about Gods and their children interacting, and sometimes wishes she was in another cabin, before once again appreciating the tranquility of it all.

MISC:

Theme song: Bebe Rexha - I’m Gonna Show You Crazy, Natasha Blume - Black Sea

The most important people/things in their life: Doesn’t have any super close connections, so the most important thing in her life would probably be her supplies which she has had for numerous years by now, and her notebook which contains her research on various toxins and poisons.

Significant information about their past: All throughout her childhood her father just assumed that her ‘strong stomach’ was the reason behind her never getting ill from off-date food. You could blame his lack of sense for not thinking about how strange his daughter was and that his partner left after she gave birth.

Random/fun fact: She is an INFP and was born January 3rd. Has never dated anyone before, as she struggles with forming close emotional connections with others, and had very little amount of friends growing up too.