#athena army of the dead

[picspammer]

Army of the Dead (2021) Directed by Zack Snyder

[skeletonfumes]

Army of the Dead (2021) Zack Snyder

[romcomeon]

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

✒ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋: life and fate are scary; and it takes immense sacrifice for one to be legendary.

✒ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓: reader as calypso, solomon as odysseus, barbatos as athena, luke as telemachus, mammon as hermes, + a few special guests!

✒ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: solomon x gn! reader, epic the musical au, odyssey au, greek myths reimagined, unreciprocated love, signs of manipulation, angst, angst, angst, mentions of grief and death, character death [lightning strike], solomon has a breakdown at the end, "penelope" is gender neutral

✒ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒: wc: 7k+ | read on AO3 .ᐟ

✒ 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒: @mammonsrockstargf ﾉ @satangcrush ﾉ @eraofkalki ﾉ @sadpancakeface ﾉ @torchvic

He whose fate was swallowed by the high seas was no less of a love-driven fool.

For years he never returned, yet for centuries, his legacy strives within legends. Epic poems crafted by the most renowned of writers, curated to accurately depict his outstanding feats whilst making them a tad more magical. All these stories were sung in praise by orators as crowds gathered around—eyes, ears, and minds working wonders. 

They themselves create their own interpretation of fantasized play for their greatest hero. The crowd’s silent roars, begging for a glimpse of a life once treasured. 

A valley without its savior. A court without a martyr. An army without a leader. 

Ballads and tragedies dedicate themselves to the fallen. With scholars utilizing this artistic medium as a bloodless graveyard for the ghosts of those who never returned. Their souls rest in peace among the wrathful flames of the underworld, dancing to the chants of the oracles. When the songs are as beautiful as the late Michael’s melodies reeking to the echoes of a meadow suffering drought to the god’s ear, perhaps, the scholars prophesied, Olympus would be merciful.

Of course, that would be if the world were as harmonious as the plays of the great Mephistopheles, with his cult's undying joy of wine and lust. Gaia was born from the depths of Chaos; Chaos had never been one for mercy.

By Satan’s decree and Barbatos’ valor, ruthlessness prevails in war. War was a testament to humanity’s own morals and beliefs. To relieve the growing surge of bloodlust when conflicts arise, bathing Troy in deep, luminous crimson. Screams of the deceased haunt these barren lands, filling the ruins of a grotesque landscape. Resembling the numb trauma soldiers possess murdering women and children, the hubris of the rulers sought to persuade them to do more.

Ruthlessness was mercy upon themselves.

Amidst hamartia, these idols were worshiped by their men. Allowing their flaws to be redeemed, gifting them with celestial grace to guide them away from danger. The scholars call this peripeteia, the reversal of one’s fate. With bad turning good or divine turning corrupt, the choice was given to Chaos’ more prominent writers: the mortals. 

Peripeteia never guaranteed a positive turn, even as most stories seem to suggest. The loud guttural roar bounced off stone walls, spreading across the vast lands. From the skies to beneath the sea, his name repeats itself.

“Praise him, oh great Solomon of Ithaca.” 

Whispers of that name make the masses perk their heads up and gauge the source. The majority shake their heads in a low huff, mourning the disappearance of Greece’s greatest warrior and his crew of men. Tales depict him as one who matches Achilles in glory, Alexander in rule, and the gods in intellect.

Ask a cowardly soul about their view of the king, and they’d bashfully avert their gaze. Sealing their mouths shut lest they’d be able to speak for another day. The braver minority ridiculed the king’s rule, even as to boast about the castle remnants. With no hero, there was no order. Hundreds of suitors flock to the palace, offering sexuality for power. To them, this legend was no less of a dead man.

A kingdom without a king. A queen without a lover. A prince without a father. 

Being the God of Wisdom, Barbatos made sure his greatest warrior survived the most gruesome of trials that rivaled Hercules’ challenges. Molding the king to fit his ideals; triumph basking in newfound glory with every ferocious beast his hands slay. Well trained to become a warrior of the mind; cunning and wit, quick to produce a plan for his own benefit. 

The making of a warrior comes with many pitfalls. Intelligence carries a heavy burden of excessive knowledge, and with owning knowledge comes humanity’s impuissance—kindness. For knowledge is a gift of victors, but why supply ruthless killers with a force opposing their ideals? That was considered torture. A strong, well-respected legend was merciless. Never was it that there’d be justice, that was part of the reason, yes, though being just was clemency.

That marked the beginning of Solomon’s peripeteia. His virtue to spare one of  Leviathan’s cyclops turned the narrative against him.

It’s what turned his own god against him.

Albeit, those were years ago, and the said old god knew that. Barbatos lets out a sigh, trailing his gloved hands along the cold tread of marble stairs. He took off the old rusted helmet, dark and vibrant green locks swaying along to the warm breeze. The headpiece was set aside, carefully gracing the dark turquoise cloth adorned with embroidery of owl feathers and slippery snakes.

He never pictured that in all these years he’d be reminiscing of those fond moments with that lily-livered soul. Each faint ‘tap’ ticks for every second, recalling a memory as if it only happened yesterday. The time before the great fall, watching the familiar tufts of white hair, black robe with an ombre of white and night-sky blue, and stars; stars that marked a better time. 

He stood tall at the forecastle deck of his ship, raising the sword up high in his hand. Gray eyes fall upon the cyclops’ wounded figure, his face ridden with specks of blood. For he was no man nor mythical, his form casting a large shadow looming over the terrain. No man, but the reigning king of Ithaca. Leading with peace, working to save his comrades while the titan feeds. Hundreds of men’s deaths shan’t go in vain.

Remember him for if the beast chooses not to spare another weary soul, so be it. Perish. Solomon raised his chin up, pointing his sword to whoever sees. “I am your darkest moment,” he says.

“I am the infamous Solomon.” 

Stupid. Foolish. Mortals were always foolish. Barbatos shakes his head in disapproval upon the memory. Perhaps, maybe, things would’ve been much different had he himself…

What could he have done? He was a god, a divine force of nature, either a friend or foe to a benevolent protagonist. Yet perhaps if he had done something. Perhaps if he hadn’t simply lashed out at Solomon’s blatant naivety of showing mercy, then he’d be fine. They’d be fine. Barbatos already knew that mortals were susceptible to demons lurking in their minds, waiting to coerce an unintelligent soul’s light to go dark. Maybe, if he had just been a bit wiser, they’d be fine.

"Your friend?”

"Hm?" Barbatos lifts his gaze up, hearing the curious sound of a bright young boy, There he stood balancing on the stone balustrade. The boy, well, man, fixed his balance before walking towards the god. He swept the fabric beneath him before sitting beside the other, slowly inching closer.

"I do not know who your friend is, or the mistakes, and..." he trailed off, averting his golden blue eyes to the side whilst his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his chiton. He cleared his throat, possibly to not be any more awkward. "Well, my time with you has been splendid!"

Barbatos glanced at him, cocking his head. "How come?"

Stars glint within the boy’s eyes. Clenching one of his fists as if to grab an imaginary sword, before eventually exclaiming filled with excitement. "'Cause I got in a fight and I didn't die!"

He catches himself for a moment, blushing bashfully before scratching the back of his neck. "I've never felt strong before,” he admitted. Sure it was surprising, but the young prince wasn’t necessarily like his father. Though it’d made sense, had the young lad last seen the king when he was an infant. 

Barbatos could remember earlier events. Antinous and the other suitors, flocking the palace and picking fights with an unarmed little wolf. Barbatos knew that he can be stronger with the right guidance, so he did what he could; go into the warrior’s mind to quicken his thoughts, and make him effortlessly lunge attacks towards the bullies.

The prince had the motivation, the dream, and the intellect. Much like when Solomon was younger, he too had a good heart.

Then again, Barbatos knew this was different. This was no longer the same man who he grew apart with all those years prior. Rather of a hair as white as the brightest clouds, he was greeted with a soft, gentle blonde. And his eyes, not a harsh, stone cold gray, but a bright blue with golden ombre. That detail made Barbatos perk a smile, as in his thoughts, both of them looked like parts and recombinations of a certain godly messenger.

Those similarities turn to not be as glaring when he sees the fresh sparks of pure adoration on the prince’s face. Barbatos watches as the other composes himself, careful to choose his words but not holding back from ever portraying the swell of giddiness of his demeanor.

What shocked the god was instead was the words that escaped him. He spoke gently, invitingly even, but still nervous. He seems to not be so sure if these were acceptable to say, but he did.  “You're my friend, I couldn't ask for more," he said. “Maybe if life wasn't spent as planned. Though, I think it's time that you lend a hand— and I don't think he'll mind.”

He reaches out, raising his hand. “If not his friend, then mine.”

Barbatos stared at the boy’s palm, confused. For as many long years as he had lived, he had never seen this generous act of… celebration? Nevertheless, understand the traditions and gestures mortals made with other mortals. Although, he understood that the divine weren’t necessarily mingling with these mortals in the first place. 

Nevertheless, it was a new start. And the bridge between gods and mortals have slowly become invisible in the time of war.

So Barbatos also raised his hand, slapping his palm against the boy’s—if that’s how you do it. He thinks he did it correctly, seeing the prince’s smile widen. "You're a good kid, Luke," Barbatos sighs, smiling more in ten minutes than he ever had in ten years.

Luke only nodded his head. "Thanks!" 

A billow of clouds seize themselves over the mortal realm. Hidden within the trenches of the sea of indefinite wonder lies the peak of mount Olympus. At the foot of the temple, a black owl swiftly glides through the air. Once it reaches the foot of the temple, it shapeshifts back into Barbatos’ figure, dusting off any dirt that got on his clothes.

“So… Barbi,” a voice lurks within these halls. It didn’t take long for Barbatos to recognize that diction: zany and all reminds me of tricksters. “Still missing yer mortal?”

“Not now, Mammon.” the god of Wisdom sighed. “I’m busy.”

Mammon, the messenger of the gods, groaned. “This ‘bout the ‘moni guy again?” he complains, crossing his arms as his winged sandals lift him up in the air, allowing him to lie down on almost nothing. “C’mon, it’s been years.”

The god almost circles around Barbatos, with how his gold and silvers clang with his every movement. “Haven’t moved on, hm?” Mammon flipped himself over, resting his face on his palms while kicking his feet in the air. “Say it, Barbatos, you miss the guy as much as the last one.”

Barbatos only walked away. “Keep yourself out of this. This is simply urgent,” he said.

Mammon scowled, standing upright while clearing his throat. “Well I supposed the time he went hookin’ up with Thirteen wasn’t as urgent—”

“Thirteen?”

Barbatos stopped in his tracks, turning back to look at the messenger. “What about Thirteen?”

“Ah,” golden boy realized his mistake. He gave a faint whistle, tugging a few strands of dusty beige behind winged ears, averting his gaze so as to not directly anger the literal god of wisdom and war. Thirteen, daughter of Helios. Protector of nymphs, and known for turning men into swine. 

Mammon cleared his throat. “So ya didn’t know.”

Barbatos’ eyes narrowed, the shadows in the temple deepening around him. Suddenly his spear was pointed at Mammon, inches away from scarring the other’s throat. “What happened?” he pressed, his voice a low growl.

Mammon shrieked, hands in the air. “‘was that for!?”

“Say something,” Barbatos smiled, patience growing thinner.

Mammon groaned, shrugging. He leaned casually against a column, twirling a golden coin between his fingers. “It’s best if ya see it for y’self,” he said, sapphire eyes subtly hinting at mischief. “Sol’ gone be damned to do a billion more fuck ups than fraternalizing the old man.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he paced restlessly.

Barbatos raised an eyebrow, retreating back his spear. “I beg your pardon?” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge of concern in his tone.

“‘s speakin’ the truth ‘ere.” Mammon stopped, casting a piercing gaze back at Barbatos. It was rare to see the troublesome messenger of the gods be so serious. Though moments like this don’t last long, before a smirk breaks itself on his face. “Don’t thank me,” Mammon waves off, fanning his hand. 

“He might as well may die.”  

The sirens’ songs scream through ocean waves—no longer in an alluring tone that stops seafarers in their way, but an eerie melody whom irks many sailors to change their trajectory. “Spare us, oh spare us please.” 

Wailing cries die out with the thunderous waves reaching alarming heights, a yard longer with every second the sea god’s fury boils. The storms guard Sparta from any unwanted pests, for a simple step was met with a bolstering beam of light as the gods’ roar echoes through the mortal’s ears. Although  what tickled his ears, or the contrary, was how quiet it got. Immensely calm;  the sounds of despair long gone with every wave hitting the shore. In a matter of life and death, it was odd that it suddenly got so peaceful.

Specks of sand reach his eyelids. Solomon begrudgingly opens his eyes, greeted by the harsh golden rays of the sun. Lifting himself up off the shore, he lets out a low groan as his hand dusts off the rest of the sand. Long strands of hair fall on his face, his fingers scratching the bit of fuzz on his chin. The last time he recalled, he only had bits of stubble that he planned to shave off with the remaining beeswax they still had on the great ship.

The ship. Curse godblessed cattle.

He stays sitting there, eyes cautiously observing the surroundings. Unlike in the past years of his voyage where it was filled with dull, brooding shades of life and the underworld, this place almost hurts the eyes. Instead it is filled with light, soft yet vibrant hues of lush trees and serene waters: even the sand, finer than Spartan shores, colored in a beautiful light peach brown. Cupping a handful, the sand only smoothly glides through his fingertips; not a particle on his palm.

The sea greets him with little seafoam meeting the outline of his body, but not once wetting the worn out fabrics of his clothes. And at that moment, he realized, this was no ordinary island. 

“Where am I?” Solomon whispers out, feeling the well of dread picking up from the deepest swells of his stomach. This place looked lively; and by his induction, too lively. No land on Gaia would be this swell when there was that god’s ongoing rampage.

As Solomon was about to go and try to scavenge the shore for more clues on this mystery island, a loud, sing-song voice booms in the air. Your voice, waving your dominant hand while the other holds the woven basket filled with sweet fruits. You had a feeling he’d wake up sometime soon, though you underestimated the speed of time. “Good morning sleepyhead!” you cheered, walking towards him in rhythmic skips and hops on the sand.

You slowed down as you got closer, seeing the other flinch and take a step back, with his arm at his front and his brows furrowing. On the contrary, you softly smiled, humming. You extend your hands toward him, though not touching his skin quite yet. “You’ve been resting for a while,” you said, almost with a small bit of laughter. “I swore you were dead.”

Solomon clicked his tongue. “Who are—”

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” you asked, your hand now resting on his scarred check. Carefully running your finger to the trace of his jaw while you gush about how adorable it was, hearing his gentle murmurs even when most of his words were incoherent. Pristine snow-colored hair, marvelous earthy gray eyes, delicate and commanding diction. 

Though you do wonder of a word that you could understand. Or well, not a word to, but a name. A name you heard through every gasp while his body twitched on the sand. They seem to grow more desperate with each repetition, a poor soul calling for someone in an endless void. Naturally, this had you curious, questioning him while your hand began to trail down his neck. “You keep mentioning their name quite lot. Who’re they?”

You didn’t expect him to grab your wrist, clenching his fists around it. You winced at the pain, though you observe how his actions may be harsh, yet his eyes, expression, looked happier. He wasn’t looking at you, no, far from it; he looked zoned out, catching imaginary glimpses, a loving smirk ghosts his face.

Solomon spoke gently, fondly even. Similar to his restless whispers of the night. “They’re my spouse.”

Suddenly that smile you had faltered, replaced by a confused expression. Your lips formed a small “oh,” your hand retreating back to the basket’s handle.  

You weren’t exactly terrified. Very much on the relative opposite; disappointed. It’s common in the legends for great to be utterly devoted to their lovers. A waste, your eyes falling back and inspecting his figure head to toe. The man looked ragged. Hurt. Malnourished. Dirty. Your thumb wipes itself on your index finger, remembering the rough, but smooth sensation of his imperfect flesh.

“Well they aren’t here now, no?” you tilt your head.

Solomon looked appalled, his eyes widening in offense. Was it something that you said? You weren’t lying— his spouse wasn’t here. You’re far from his homeland; whisked away to the safest, luxurious cove that you kept hidden away. That’s what there was with you, you’re rather secretive. You keep what’s yours hidden from peering eyes, where no mortal won’t get the privilege of seeing.

It took you a second to note your slip of the tongue. Noting that honesty may come off as rude. “Ah, forgive me,” you said. You bashfully averted your gaze, small hues of pink flushed on your cheeks. Being lonely on this land has made you too excited to see someone who even survived getting here. You worried that once his pulse came to a halt, you had to send his corpse away from the creatures to wholeheartedly devour. “It’s been a while since I’ve met someone.”

You were honestly starting to love this change of pace. It’s no fun if he leaves so soon. Perhaps the fates could care less if you allow yourself to adore him—even with his conflicting feelings

So you shake your head, giving him the basket as you take his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Anyways, come my love!” You chime, small stars sparkling in your irises. ”The island awaits us!”

His face grimaces, pulling back his hand yet your grip was just too strong. Solomon spouted bitterly, raising a brow in offense. “Your love?”

You paid no attention to his words, instead touring him of this wonderful landscape. Open arms, twirling around taking in the bright greens and luscious blues of wild flowers and old trees. So giddy, even come to admire this lonesome place even more. “We have everything we could ever ask for!” you jolly along, taking a brief glance at Solomon.

The other still looked to be so perplexed. His hands gripping the basket’s handles, his feet dragging themselves as if they were leashed to your arms. His eyes seem to wander, but not once purposely in your direction.

Still, he must still be processing being in such a wonderful place, isn’t he? You giggle. You stroll around, slowing down as to not yet lose your now forever lover. A small crab scuttles near your feet, pinching at the air with its tiny claws.

It’s a vivid shade of red, almost glowing in the sunlight. You crouched down, opening your hand as you waited for the little one to climb on it. Sadly, it didn’t seem to reciprocate your friendly actions. Instead it waddled away, strutting as quickly as it could with its little crab feet. You pouted as you watched, inching closer to instead grab it by the shell, before placing it on your shoulder. 

“Much better,” you laugh. Now that it’s there you twirled around, eager to prove to Solomon how wonderful heaven feels. How wonderful it’d be if he sees the joy soon. “Oh, we thank Queen Rose,” you giggled again. Ogygia was just as bountiful as the maiden you used to serve’s magical prowess.

You noticed that Solomon had  placed the basket on top of a moss-covered rock, feeling his hand along the bark in a calculated expression, mumbling something.

You spoke aloud in a melodic symphony. “The place is beautiful,” you coaxed, stepping closer with your hands behind your back. Closer and closer, you watch him stiffen up and he faces you, right hand quick to grab the handle of his sword.

“It is.”

There was no denying that he was supporting your sentiment. For the first time. 

You thought about how to get more from him, with each slow footstep you took forward. It couldn’t be helped that you felt cheeky, seeing the brave, powerful warrior back up against the tree; defensive, but oh so helpless. Tattered robes with rusted pieces of armor, worn out sandals and puffed up bruises. Stunning, you thought.

“Perhaps,” you cheekily say, the back of your hand running along his chest. “Soon into bed we’ll climb and spend our time.” 

Solomon swats your wrist away. “I’m not your man.” 

‘Not yet,’ you thought. Again, you ignore all possible signs of rejection, clinging towards him. 

“I’m what you want. What you need, dear,” you murmur, your fingers tracing the outline of his armor. “It’s just you and me, my love in paradise.” You step closer, your breath warm against his skin.

“Now until the end of time, from here and out, you’re mine.” You smile, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his. “All mine.”

Solomon pushes you away, causing you you tumble back. As you were about to recompose yourself, you see a dull, rusted blade pointed at your neck

“I could kill you where you stand,” Solomon spouted bitterly, lifting your chin with the tip of his sword. “I’m no pet. I’m a married man.” 

Oh. He’s feisty, and can wield a weapon well. You left out a soft chuckle, holding the blade with two fingers as you moved it aside. “Oh handsome, you may try, ” you tease, even as you trace the sharper end of the sword, “pricking” your finger at its tip.

“But last I check, gods can’t die.” You kiss your own fingertip, one eye open to gauge at his reaction.

Solomon furrowed his brows, lowering his sword. “God…?”

You smile, resting on one of the larger rocks. You spoke not a word, but your cheeky smile and prominent glow at the ends of yours hair settled your case. You weren’t just some creepy owner of a secluded island that doesn't seem to appear in any of the olden maps. No. Of course you had to be a god.

This was bad. Very very bad. Solomon wished not to mingle with the gods. 

Solomon wished that you weren't a god. 

“But fear not, I bring no pain!”  you reassure. “We’re stuck in paradise. Where no one can come and go, as my island stays unknown—”

“This is no paradise.”

You raised a brow. Had you heard it correctly? It was a plethora of beautiful flora and fauna. “What are you talking about?”

Solomon only shook his head, giving a coy, but per say partly polite smile. “I won’t be drawn to ‘love in paradise’. Get me out this instant.”

“Oh! You really are such a fool.” You pout. Your eyes scan over him, lifting your hand to your chin. Humming, you spot a small, beautiful hyacinth blooming beneath the rock. You crouched to pick it, examining the wondrous petals.

“We could fix that starting with this bit of hair,” you said. As Solomon was about to interject, you had placed the flower up at his ear, making sure to lightly touch his skin. “Aww, poor you. I’m here now.” 

“Not ‘till the end of time.” Solomon takes a step back. “There is NO way—”

“But you’re mine,” you take a step closer once more. The man felt trapped, as every step he moved away only got you to inch closer. For gods, he expected a bit of decency. As far as he was concerned, mortals were more like puppets, only keen to serve every whim. Gods weren’t particularly opposed to mortal relationships, so why not?

Had he a choice? 

You give him a sudden, tight hug. “All mine.” 

“They’ve kept you out of your control,” Barbatos muttered, watching Solomon all the way from Olympus. 

The god pinches his temples, processing what he just saw.

Not only was Solomon truly making a barrage of avoidable mistakes, but now he's stranded in an island with a homewrecker and no crew.

"Time can take a heavy toll," the god sighed once more. He's quickly to splash along the waters, hopeful to catch small glimpses of progress. What kind? anything that can safely get him back.

'Seven years...'

It was the break of night, calm bright festive colors all reduced to the dark, lonesome blues and grays. You woke up to the cold gust of wind hitting your skin, feeling the warmth retreat back. You flutter your eyes open, only to be met with emptiness; the only indication that he was there was the subtle dent on the white silk.

You sighed, running your hand along your hair as you set up, blanket on your lap, staring at the cold bedside. You loathe the routine of getting up and fetching your lover, muttering silent prayers that he hadn’t whisked himself away and droned in hellscape. The only sign of warmth was only the moonlight peeking through the window of the wooden hut, and even that sent a chilling sensation down your spine. It was a matter of time before his thoughts would begin to unravel, and for his nightly cries to spiral.

You turned to your side, legs on the ground as you stood up from the kline.

“Solomon?” you yawned out, stretching your arms in the air before grabbing another silken sheet to cover yourself. It was during night where there were the harshest of colds, after all. Deafening silence, only exposed to the loud dining of crickets and other critters that lurk in these darkness. 

At day time, you would catch Solomon often sulking along the shoreline. His head hung low as he sat on the sand, arms crossed over his knees, pulling them closer to his body. In rare instances, he’d trace his fingers along the grains of sand, marking it with countless words, names, and symbols. 

One that stood out to you one time was his repeated scribbling of a certain phrase. You swore to have heard of it before, but watching as the perfect bed of sand and seashells instead was carved with constant repetition, seeing him grip whatever his hand got a hold on tightly as he goes to recall memories of a past he once lost.

Of how it was to be kind. “Greet the world with open arms. Relax, my friend.” 

It felt psychotic. You had to lull him out of his wicked trance before he went to hurt himself physically. Wiping off the dirt that stuck to his face, trimming his long hair to a more manageable length, and having to watch so he doesn't starve to death. He was a lot, going for hours without uttering a word or making eye-contact. Every time you nudge his arms and join you, whether it be in an act of passion or whimsy, the sparks in his eyes only continue to fade. Void of any speck of hope. 

“Solomon?” 

You call out once more. Walking out the safe confines of the hut, you went into the now quieter, eerier, more maniacal-driven call of the night. Every night, you’d wake up to sniffling whispers and faint sobs coming from the other side. You’d attempt a soft hum, hopefully soothing him to a calmer state of mind, caressing his sides and watch him twitch his body away from your touch. On more restless nights, he’d swat your wrist away before you’re able to touch him, huddled in a fecal position and shivering with the hour growing colder. 

It’s at night where you feel helpless. Every attempt proven futile, every act of service ignored or unsupported. Every word working to console him only worsens his cries. Long periods of solitude have rendered Solomon uncomfortable in the company of others. Within your shared hut he laments, and there was nothing you could do.

You find yourself at the foot of a steep cliff, all from following smudged footprints on the grass. You squint your eyes, making out a figure on top of the cliff, only illuminated by the bright moonlight as this figure stares down into the mellow waters. Slowly, as to not hopefully startle the figure, you inch closer, carefully tracing your eyes along his form.

Subtle white glow basking in the moonlight, the freshly woven chiton you made for him reflecting the rays through golden crewels of birds, waves and stars. When you made that, the symbols were supposed to represent hope and longing, a fortunate outcome if he gave you more time. Though when he adorns the garment, signs of hope turn into withering longing. Only engraved memories of the past that forever haunts him.

He stood as still as an oakwood tree, mildly resisting the harsh waft of air. As you inch closer you reach out to him once more. So that please, he’d turn around and see you eye-to-eye.

You desperately called out for him, worrying exuding through syllables when you took a momentary pause to utter his name. It was familiar, but foreign. “Solomon?” you pleaded, fingers clenching your palm when you still see him stand there. Still. A man who can’t be moved or accept the present; always stranded in the labyrinth of the past.

“I hear them,” he uttered. Catching his breath with every word, stifling a sob with every annunciation. “All I hear are screams.” 

Solomon takes a step forward. Tiny pebbles drop themselves towards the water. Ripples that marked tiny specks of heaven sunken beneath the surface. You flinch, rushing towards him yet still shy of a few steps. Small comets that guide the sky fall down and crash as a meteor, falling into seas where ripples turn into tides when they reach the shore.

“‘Moni, get away from the ledge.”

“Quiet,” Solomon snarked. “You don’t know what I’ve gone through. You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed.” 

The scholars would call this anagnorisis. How a tragic hero discovers the cruel reality of his circumstance. How despite any attempt for kindness—for mercy—all is worthless in his peripeteia. Loss was something you couldn’t understand. Being alien for a majority of your life had you numb to the thought of loss just yet.

Yet.

Perhaps you were instead afraid of experiencing that loss.

“Every comrade I long knew,” you hear Solomon say. Drowning in anagnorisis. Panting. He lifts his hand up to grab tuffs of snow locks, tugging on the strands. “ Every friend. I saw them die, and… all I hear are—”

“It will be fine, dear.”

Solomon turns his to the side, as if catching even a small glimpse. You held your ground, staying firm. Comforting him with gentle melodies, singing a small ballad to soothe his nerves once more.

“ Come back inside, dear,” you said. You hesitate, inching closer but make sure to keep your pace quiet. Your voice cracks, feeling the burning drops of tears trailing down your cheek. “Love of my life, please.”

“Come back to paradise.” “Just let me close my eyes.” 

You hear him resisting the melody, dueting your ballad with hoarse dissonance. Still, you continued, all until you were able to palace your hand on his shoulder. Squeezing it to give a blink of reassurance, pulling yourself closer to coddle him in your embrace. Though you don’t plan to hurt him. Never did, and never shall. You lean near his ears, whispering, “I know your life’s been hard. I’ll stay inside your heart.”

“If you could just see…” “All I hear are screams.” 

“I love our time here,” you pause, gulping. “I love your company, It’s just..” 

“Life would be so much worse if you had died.” “JUST LET ME CLOSE MY EYES!” 

Solomon snaps, pushing your hand away as he strides forwards, turning around and finally facing you. Finally seeing you. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? There you were, gray eyes with bits and the tiniest stars dying out in lonesome nebulae. Tears stream down the corners of his eyes as he takes erratic, shaky breaths. His hand still grabbing tufts of his own hair, running itself along it and pulling at the string begging for an ounce of control.

He noticed you, and you can vividly see the absolute madness swirling in his eyes.

“‘Moni,” you call out, grabbing both his wrists and gently grabbing him off the end of the cliff. He follows you, eyes now trailing downward, brows furrowed. His lips quivering, his lungs gasping, his hands warm from cold sweat; from all the stress of these memories.

“Please stay away from harm,” you lull him further, wrapping his arms around your waist. They’re dead, but you’re here. He wasn’t alone, you had a splendid time together. Flowers, petals, birds and bees—this was all you thought a man could ever want. There he stood, the only time ever acknowledging you since his first arrival was one of terror. One urging you to leave him. You run your thumb gently on his cheek, wiping those streams of regret.

“Stay in my open arms,” you cooed. You carefully caress his hair, your hand gliding through each silken strand. You were here, and you welcomed him to a palace where he’d otherwise may die.

You hear Solomon’s breath hitch, staring at you in shock. Irises turn into pinpricks, flinching as he grows appalled by your words. Suddenly, all in his view twisted off into blurs and blobs of a series of different hues and arrays of various colors. Shades of blue, yellow, browns and pinks littered his vision, and your form melted away into nothing but just a color of shapes.

“Moni?” Solomon could hear a voice. A voice not like yours: it wasn’t melodic, in a sing-song tone that’s as soft as the flutter of butterflies. This was more kind, more earthy, more human. And lastly, more familiar. Your voices swallowed by the whispers of a distant past, silken velvety words in a calming diction. It wasn’t yours. It was no longer you who clouded his mind.

The image of your gentle smile was gone; turned to instead to be more genuine. One of excitement. Suddenly, Solomon saw  the day at night. Sun kissed skin and curly, dark brown hair, with the figure’s bright cerulean eyes becoming clearer with the second. The hand was no longer on his cheek and the base of his neck, but tightly grabbing both his shoulders while lightly shaking him in glee.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms!” the figure cheered, taking a step back and he did just as he said: he opened his arms wide open. As if welcoming Solomon in a tight embrace.

Solomon gasped, reaching his hands out. A small, hopeful smile ghosts his face. “Simeon?”

Simeon chuckled, moving his hands around before slowly, blobs and blues start to resurface along the base of his arms. Colors of light, periwinkle blue contrasted with specks of black and wave strands. 

The king’s smile fades, squinting his eyes to focus more on the mysterious figure that his friend was holding. 

These blobs and sharp shapes of diamonds and triangles instead morphed into the innocent figure of a young baby boy peacefully asleep in his blanket. Solomon’s eyes widened, even shaking his head while closing his eyes. To do a double take as to make sure the child he saw wasn’t who he thought he was.

The child from the wooden crib back at Troy. The child whom the gods had ordered him to… to…

Simeon hummed, rocking the baby in his arms. Solomon’s ears perked up from the soft, childish giggles exuding from the blanket. Simeon chuckled, letting the young prince play with his finger. “He’s wonderful,” the lad crooned, chuckling before slowly going back to a playful tune. “To think a man like Hector was able to have a child. Tell me, Moni, why didn’t we get to keep him?”

He raises a brow as he pouts to confront Solomon. Though it doesn’t last long, a simple sneer quickly puts him back in his playful act. Simeon gave Solomon one final look, nodding his head. He said: “Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart.”

After that, Simeon’s figure soon faded away, carrying the down sleeping child. ‘Right,’ Solomon thought. He’s dead. He’s forever damned in the underworld; taking care of that Trojan. Although the man couldn’t help it. The image of a boy who once resembled his son before he left for war was too much for the king to bear.

And Simeon was too kind to be a father that he couldn’t be, unlike someone who would match Solomon’s lack of mercy.

“Captain?” 

There it was another voice. From Simeon’s warmth it shifted to coldness. Bitter. Solomon took a brief glance—not that you were able to perceive any coherent shape—and was only met with blurred circles and squares of gray and muted browns. And unlike Simeon, he didn’t need clarity to focus on who it was, nor was he really willing to face the obscured face. Hair and body perfectly matching a memory, yet face scribbled away as to not recall his mate’s dismay.

Solomon held his stance, tilting his head up whilst staring back at the figure. “Raphael,” he said.

Akin to the lack of facial features, Raphael never focused on his captain. Instead, as a mouth starts to clearly come into view, he seems to be talking to someone far in the distance. He’s quick to grab the handle of his sword, his grip tightening. And Raphael repeats it once more, “Captain?” 

“I have to see them.”

Solomon turned around again, as he heard a more uncanny resemblance. Instead of the ghost of the past haunting him, it was instead a clear image of himself. The only difference would be how ragged and scarred he used to look before being under Ogygia’s care. This wasn’t a blurry spectacle spawning itself to hurt it, this was just torture.

Not bearing to look at himself, he goes back to staring at Raphael. His mate’s eyes came into a clear view, and he wasn't mad. No. Instead he looked to be that he respects Solomon’s decision, but that wasn’t enough to ignore the stifling of his nose watching. “But we’ll die,” Raphael tried to reason out.

Raphael tried even as he knew that what Solomon said was final. Even with the regret lingering on right after, he was a man of his word. Even with his back facing his double, he could imagine himself hesitantly raising his hand, pointing towards his crew. Hearing the phrase he told the thunder bringer. 

“I know.” “I can’t.” 

Solomon watches Raphael’s shoulders relax. He sighs, clicking his tongue before bowing his head, only giving a cold, bitter gaze in dark, lapis irises. “How much longer till your luck runs out?” Raphael shots his gaze to the real Solomon. The flashing lights of lightning reflect at the of his shoulders and hair, illuminating a bright white light from behind. 

The roaring sounds of thunder fill the air, as the flashing grew more erratic. “Wait, no! Raphael!” Solomon exclaimed. He tries to take a step forward, but knees betray him, instead falling down to the ground. “You can’t do this to me!”

The lightning’s flickering worsens, and with ragged deep breaths, he looks up. Raphael looks down at him, shaking his head in disappointment. “How much longer till we all fall down?” he asked one last time, before closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath.

“RAPHAEL!” 

The sky rips open. A jagged bolt of lightning arcs down, striking Raphael with a blinding flash. Time seems to stretch as Solomon watches. Horrified. The air crackles with energy, and the sound is deafening, a roar that drowns out everything else. The light envelops his mate’s body, and for a heartbeat, he was only a mere silhouette against the storm. All suspended in the surging flames of chaos. 

And all Solomon can see is the silhouette of Raphael collapsing. “No…” Solomon cries, scrambling to his feet, adrenaline surging through him as he races toward the fallen figure. “No. No. No. No..”

Each step feels heavy, every step conspires to hold him back. “Raphael!” he shouts again, desperation clawing at his throat. Once he reached where the lightning struck, it was over. Raphael’s body was no more. 

Solomon falls to his knees, grasping at coarse sand. His other hand reaches out to scramble along finely combed locks, ruffling it up in a tangled mess. “Please don’t make me do this,” Solomon wept. “Don’t make me do this.”

The voices of sirens fill the air, trapping him in an endless echo of screams, terror and revenge. Melodies of “waiting..” bounces through imaginary walls, each note striking his ears to bleed. He covers them lowers, lowering his head down to deafen the silence.

“Waiting…” Make it stop. 

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Make it stop. 

“And it’s no longer you.” Make it all stop. 

The loudest of the voices resemble yours. A loud, brash symphony that’s louder than any of his other demons. Your figure walks towards him, pulling his hands away from his and placing them on your cheek, whispering to him to open his eyes.

Your figure meshed with the colors of someone else from a distant past. As if your forms blended into one, where one can no longer be separated from the other. Washed out imagery of the bed made of trees that lies in their shared bedroom could be seen behind you, as leaves carefully drift down in a steady pace.

You smile, making him open his eyes. In a sing-song voice, you cooed. “Let me take the suffering from you.” 

Solomon was quick to hug you back, sobbing into the fabric. You playfully scoffed, caressing your hands along his hair, murmuring sweet nothings. For judgment was blurry in watery eyes. 

You also weren’t real. Not this mashed, stitched together doll that only took to keep half of your figure.

And Solomon realized that too soon, when you come tumbling down as nothing but sand along the shore. Grains clinging on to his clothes, specks reaching his eyes as they grow even more red. He can’t bear to understand. He fought to save lives, but not killing ended up leading all his men to perish. 

Had he avoided it all if he hadn’t shown mercy.

And how foolish he looked begging for it. The gods were right; he was a Greek who reeked of false righteousness. The worst kind of good for he cannot be great.

The cauldron had overflowed, as the voices grew louder once again. Taunting him as their endless comedy, in his peripeteia, suffering in anagnorisis. In a final, desperate moment, Solomon went back to the safe confines of closing his eyes. To shut himself off from the truth. To move on, and hopefully get back on track to returning to Ithaca.

His queen. His child. That was who he fought for.

Hands clenching his chest, Solomon screamed.

“BARBATOS!” 

.

.

.

Call him a fool. He’ll never allow himself to indulge in hubris once more.

a/n: this was honestly too much for the heart. so uhh, i hope you enjoy! also if anyone is able to spot all of the references then you'll be getting a small little bonus

thank you all for your support for this event, and for your patience as this was published a day late. Never fret, we still have more stories to come! and i hope you're there to follow me along through this journey.

and also, don't forget to greet the world with open arms! <3

event materlist | main masterlist | divider by cafekitsune

[rin-solo]

Finally, I am happy to present to you my ...

EPIC: THE MUSICAL | ACT I [Character Design project]

I have been working on these for a long time and I am very happy with how these turned out. I am a huge fan of visual character design and I simply needed to do a full lineup.

Act II will follow shortly (it is all done except for Ithaca Saga, which I will add as soon as it drops.) Please enjoy, and read below for some thoughts and background on some of my design choices!

TROY | CYCLOPS ft. Odysseus, Athena, Eurylochus, and Polites

With Odysseus, I really wanted to emphasize his free spirit in this era and mark him as Athena's warrior, so I gave him a special belt and some armbands that represent her (this was inspired by some of @mircsy's work). He also has heterochromia; his left eye is green, representing his cunning, wisdom, and spirit; his right eye is gray, representing his ruthlessness and warrior side.

I simply love Athena in purple/gold. Her mask is a symbol of her invulnerability and comes off only during "My Goodbye" when Odysseus tells her that she's alone. Her cape can also transform into wings, and her eyes are actually golden without the mask.

I had to give Eurylochus his large anime sword (it's just as heavy as it looks but he likes it that way because that means no one besides him is strong enough to wield it ... I imagine Eurylochus can bench press at least Odysseus' and Polites' weights combined. He and Polites are also wearing variants of Odysseus' armor, indicating that they belong to the same army.

Listen, I can vibe with Eurylochus' giant sword but I draw the line at Polites with glasses, sorry. He still gets the hairband, of course. He's also dressed more casually, and without a weapon, because of his pacifistic outlook. He's the physically weakest among the trio by far but also still an inch taller than Odysseus (it's fine, Odysseus is still like 5'10, his friends are just all so freaking tall...)

OCEAN ft. Aeolus, Poseidon, and Odysseus

Not gonna lie, I LOVED designing Aeolus' outfit. She's playful and mischievous and loves to hang out in the clouds all day; her outfit is probably made out of clouds let's be real. Also yes, her image on the windbag moves to make cheeky faces.

Poseidon I cannot imagine without tentacles anymore thanks to @gigizetz's "Ruthlessness", idk it just fits him so well. He definitely got all dressed up to go and sink Odysseus' fleet that day, he has a reputation, you know? And he just likes the shiny gold and accessories; the ocean is full of them so why wouldn't he?

Since breaking up with Athena, Odysseus lost her belt and armbands. He's still wearing her brooch because he couldn't bring himself to fully throw that away as well yet. Polites' hairband around his wrist reminds him of what he's fighting for and what to live by ... for now (Poseidon is about to ruin this man's whole career...)

CIRCE | UNDERWORLD ft. Circe, Hermes, and Tiresias

I wanted to give Circe the "witch" vibe while putting a Greek spin on it and I actually adore her design. She seems both immortally youthful (something I aim for with all my god designs) and motherly. There she was, gathering some herbs when a bunch of strangers crash onto her island ... Oh well, at least this man was a good man this time.

Hermes is kind of just Hermes. I wanted to keep him shaded, a bit impish, and definitely up to no good. He's wearing the contrasting colors on purpose, by the way. And yes, his hat can fly on its own ... But for it to do that he'd have to actually be willing to show his face which he seldom does unless he really trusts you.

Tiresias is a soul, so he has the same kind of ageless youth as all my gods (something that goes for souls of dead people too, since I like to think they get to appear at whatever age they want after death.) He's looking a bit regal since he's a prophet, so I imagine regarded highly, even in the Underworld. Instead of the blindfold, his hood covers his face, adorned with a symbolic eye to identify him and his skill.

***

Well, that's it for ACT I, friends, I hope you liked these! I will upload ACT II asap. Please comment and/or tell me your thoughts about my designs! And feel free to ask any questions you may have! I would love to talk more about these.

[yonemurishiroku]

Yeah I was having too much free time and the realization has descended upon me about how much unbelievable sense it makes if Luke were to replace Nico in HOO.

Knowing about Camp Jupiter? - Yeah Idk ab you but like. Alabaster Torrington, former Lieutenant of the Titan Army, is literally out there wielding an Imperial Gold sword. Also Saturn's throne was attacked by the legionnaire. Surely there are many pieces missing but I mean the picture is there.

But how come Luke can become the Ambassador like Nico did? - You guys call Luke a manipulator all the time. He has the tongue he has the skills he has the charm. He'd be fineeeee

Also I reckon Luke vs Octavian might bring a fun dynamic to the stage idk. Former villain vs New Villain. Both with a diplomatic tongue and blonde hair and blue eyes--- Percy's gonna have an aneurysm.

Treading the Tartarus looking for the Doors of Death? - Luke's basically a (godly) federal criminal. He could have been banished to Tartarus. And who knows maybe he could have found his old shoes floating across the hell site that somehow helped him survive for all that time---

Nemesis helped Nico? Well, Nemesis is Ethan's mother and Ethan once sided with Luke back in the day, I wonder how she'd have reacted----

"The Twins wouldn't want Luke" - Well well welll. What if they did intend to take Nico but Luke somehow switched their places/ replaced him bc he refused to let the kid be a prisoner? What then?

Percy making Nico promise to lead them to the House of Hades? - Double angst bc now it's Luke - who led many demigods astray once. Would Percy have the heart to trust him? Would a promise be enough against all those times they had stood on two sides of the war?

Leading the way to the House of Hades? - Think about it. Luke's basically dead. He's a ghost. His father is also the god of traveling. Surely he can have some kind of instincts that guide him through the halls of the dead.

Transporting the Athena Parthenos? - Again. Son of Hermes, god of travel. Look me in the eye and tell me there's no plausible way Luke Castellan could have some sort of teleportation spell that magically blips them a thousand miles away.

And the best thing in all of this, is that Luke actually has the personal motive to fight Gaea.

For Nico, it's more like kindness, the "If I don't do this, those I love will die" - which is sweet, alright, but also quite universal. Luke has more than that. Luke has actually a personal reason which is he has committed the same mistake once. He brought Kronos upon them and only managed to kill him by killing himself. He sacrificed so much for the demigods' sake and now Octavian wants to raise Gaea to doom all of them? He was the one who allied himself with the monsters only to receive the bitter ending, and now Octavian intends to repeat the same mistake?

Try telling me Luke wouldn't want to rip the guy to shreds and blast Geae into pieces. I dare you.

Also obviously the hype of getting a friend-turned-foe turn ally again. How would Percy and Annabeth react? How's Thalia gonna react when Luke comes across the Amazons + Hunters when on his way transporting the Pathernos? Dammit I'd eat that shit up as if I've been starving since the day I was born.

[honestlyboringperson]

Persona 5 AU anyone? No? Just me? That’s fine.

Anyways, welcome to an AU that’s been bouncing around my head for nearly a year now! It was inspired by @/chrisrin’s take on the MCYT x Persona series as well as @/scruffyturtle’s ACAU! Go check ‘em out!

Team B.E.S.T.

The Scottage + Gem

Fairy Fort

Magical Mountain + Cub

More Information is under the cut!

Grian - “Ace” - The Sun Arcana - Lafayette/Eris

Grian is a college student working for a degree in architecture. He lives with in roommate Mumbo and does journalling and photography as a hobby. For some odd reason however, he can’t seem to remember anything about his past beyond simply going to college, doing a part time job, and spending time with his cousin and friends. This is because Grian isn’t really human. In this AU, the Watchers take the role of Yaldaboath, and created Grian to begin the mental shutdown cases to scare people into looking for someone to look towards. In this case, The Watcher Cult (Called the Pupils) for the Watchers to take control. During his creation, false memories were implanted in certain people in the Pupils for Grian to more seamlessly appear. But unbeknownst to them, the Velvet Room interfered and erased Grian’s memories of his purpose.

Anyways, onto the personas, Grian’s persona is Lafayette, a key figure in the American Revolutionary War and the French Revolution. In both wars, he was known to lead his armies in decisive battles of the war to secure their victory. Even today, he’s celebrated as a hero in both France and in the US. This fits in with canon Grian’s habit of rebelling against any governmental entity that’s in the Hermitcraft server (although he is currently the government) l

His Ultimate persona is Eris, the Greek goddess of chaos and strife. She was the instigator of the Trojan war, where she threw at apple at Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena. She stated that it was for the “fairest goddess” and one thing led to another, and several kingdoms are now at war with each other. Wow, starting a war for shits and giggles? That sounds like Grian!

Jimmy - “Sheriff” - The Fool Arcana - Black Bart/Baldr

Grian’s cousin and charmingly unlucky, Jimmy is often the target of teasing. He’s the one to egg Grian on to actually go to class instead of just doing the online assignments. He’s personally seeking a degree in education, and is a stickler for the rules he agrees with. Unbeknownst to him, he was a victim of the Pupils and one of the people that had false memories implanted in him. He’s extremely excited about being a phantom thief, but his joyous excitement will be tested through the story.

His Persona is Black Bart, an American Outlaw who is known for the poetic messages he left behind after two of his stagecoach robberies. He is considered a gentleman bandit with a flair for style and sophistication. He brandished a shotgun, but was noted to never fire it during his robberies. He was famed to the point there is an annual parade in Redwood Valley, California where there is a Black Bart Parade where he is played and portrayed as a stereotypical Old West Villain.

Anyways, Baldr is Jimmy’s Ultimate Persona. Baldr is a Norse god, and was well loved by everyone in the Aesir. He had a prophetic dream where everything is destroyed and gets terrified. His mother then makes everything in existence to personally promise her they won’t hurt him, rendering him near indestructible. But there was one thing that didn’t promise his mother; mistletoe. Loki kills Baldr when the other gods made a game where they throw countless weapons at the newly indestructible Baldr where he throws a spear made of mistletoe at him. He was the metaphorical “canary in the mine” due to his death being the first domino that trigger Ragnarok. Baldr only returns from the dead after Ragnarok throughly destroys everything.

Impulse - “Rook” - The Hierophant Arcana - Wayland/Hephaestus

Impulse owns a small prop weapons company where he forges and creates prop weapons in his own garage. He is coined the “dad” of the group, but would let a stupid scheme play out if he thinks it’s going to be funny. Unknown to anyone but his close friends (Skizz, Gem, and Pearl), but Impulse has a criminal record. He once worked under the one of the biggest mafia families in the country, and he was caught by the police after his teammates from the mafia abandoned him and used him to distract the cops. Ever since then, Impulse has been secretly trying to locate his former teammates to enact revenge on them.

Wayland is Impulse’s persona. Wayland was a blacksmith who was enslaved under a king. He had revenge on the king by killing both his sons and built wings to escape the king. Afterwards, he supplied weapons to several other people in myths and stories such as Charlemagne and his paladin as well as Beowulf as their weapons maker. Impulse is an advocate for burying the hatchet after using the hatchet to brutally destroy those who wronged him.

Impulse’s Ultimate Persona is Hephaestus, the Greek god of the forge and blacksmiths. After being thrown off Mount Olympus, he swore revenge on Hera. He enacted said revenge by trapping her on top of a golden throne that made her unable to get up. Not only in this story, but also in tales such as Aphrodite’s affair, he is noted to be very vengeful and will not yield unless his demands are reached.

Martyn - “Knave” - The Judgement Arcana - Atlantis/Judas

Martyn is a stagehand in the local theatre known for his friendly and amiable demeanour. However, under that cheery demeanour is a burning desire for revenge. Martyn’s parents were devout worshippers of the Watchers and worked under the Pupils. He was subjected to several grievances due to his parents volunteering him for the Pupil’s experiments and abuses. Ever since he’s escaped, he has focused on destroying the cult. He’s been working as a grey hat hacker to clients with varying levels of morality to get money and further his research on the cult.

Martyn is the navigator of the team with his persona Atlantis. Atlantis was a city that was sunk beneath the sea for being too greedy. It was noted to possess technology that surpassed the technology of times and even to this day, it’s still being searched for. The people were of divine descent, and lost their humility as they became more human after each generation.

Martyn’s ultimate persona is Judas. Judas was one of the original disciples for the Big J, and sold out him out for 30 pieces of silver. Martyn’s story in this AU revolves around his grudge against the Pupils and the Watchers, so his persona is someone who betrayed a religious figurehead.

Mumbo - “Vamp” - The Hermit Arcana - Galileo/Thoth

Mumbo is Grian’s roommate and a self proclaimed “spoon”. He is working towards a degree in Computer Science and is often found tinkering with old technology in his room, often to the point him and Grian step on loose screws and pieces of plastic on a weekly basis. Much like Jimmy, he had false memories of Grian implanted in him, which would come into conflict when the origins of Grian is revealed. This was because the main reason he joined the Phantom Thieves was out of concern for Grian. According to him, the day he turned 18 is when his signature moustache just grew spontaneously.

Mumbo’s persona is Galileo, the father of modern science and the scientific method. His studies were considered blasphemous against the church and he was sentenced to house arrest. Even though he was imprisoned, he still had faith in his discoveries and continued his studies within the confines of his house,

His Ultimate Persona is Thoth, the Egyptian God of the moon, wisdom, knowledge, writing, hieroglyphs, and judgement. He’s associated with Hermes and due to the connection, created the epithet Trismegestus. He is someone who solves his issues with diplomacy and reason instead of pure power and strength.

[a-french-coconut]

Protector of youth

Chapter 2: Astyanax (Zeus)

Troy falls.

The Greek plunder the city, kill the soldiers and rape the women, enslaving the children.

Such is the victor's right to do so.

It doesn't mean Apollo has to like it. No, the sun's heat is burning, scorching the flesh of the greek army every time they step under his vengeful eyes.

Only when his sister is up in the sky does their torment stop. He cannot interfere more, his hands tied by fate and doom, no matter how much he wishes to pierce Agamemnon's throat for enslaving Cassandra.

He idly follows Odysseus' fight, hear him command his troops about where to attack or where to find Helen.

Hermes's descendant is good fighter, strategic and yet brutal. He can see why Athena favours him.

But why is he leaving the battlefield ?

He's headed toward the palace, who does he hope to find there ?

The royal family is either dead and in shackles, there is no one left.

Except...

Scamandrius

Hector's child, still a mere babe.

And yet, he is fated to do great things, to avenge his whole city should he survive this terrible night.

Thunder rumbles in the sky, the clouds taking the form of an eagle, the royal bird guiding Odysseus to Scamandrius' bedroom.

He barges into his father's room, Zeus looking in a pond Odysseus.

"Father, please stop this !" He begs, half way on his knees when the King of Olympus stops him.

"The son of Hector must die, Apollo, his fate is settled."

"Father," he grits, "with all due respect, that is not true. Scamandrius' life does not necessarily end tonight."

"It will and that is my final decision."

Zeus' voice leaves no place to argumentation, the King has chosen and Apollo can only bow.

It's all he seems to do.

"I shall leave you then," he says, his voice clear from any bitterness and resentment, "I do not wish to see yet another child die."

"You will stay," his father orders, "You have grown too attached to mortals, let this be the last one."

When Apollo doesn't get closer, Zeus grabs his shoulder and forces him toward, his other hand gripping firmly his neck, to prevent him from turning his head.

When Odysseus hesitates, try to find other solutions, Apollo feels hope.

Take him with you, raise him as your child, King of Ithaca. He will not harm you or your family.

A sizzling pain on his neck interrupts his telepathy, black dots obscure his vision, thousands of volt jumping on his skin.

"Don't temper with fate," Zeus snaps, "I don't want you hurt son but you must understand this is for your own good."

His father's voice in gentle even though he still has an iron grip on him.

"Mortals are not worthy of such devotion from your part, it is they who adore us, not the contrary."

"I'm the protector of youth, it is my duty to-"

"And I'm your King. Tell me Apollo, who do you serve first ?" His father's voice takes a dangerous edge, "Me or yourself ?"

"You, father," he gulps, shame churning his stomach as Odysseus takes Scamandrius and goes stand on the wall surrounding the burning city, "you are the King."

Andromache screams, her cries piercing Apollo's heart.

I'm sorry Andromache, I'm sorry.

When Odysseus drops the child, eyes teary and full of remorse, Andromache's cries of sorrow echoes in Apollo's ears, the sight of Scamandrius' body making his heart clench.

He hopes Hades have mercy and bring the child to his father, in Elysium.

Finally, the grip on his neck loosens and he can get away from the horrible vision of the blood-splattered earth and the shattered body laying on it.

"Look at me, son."

Zeus grabs his face, a tender but yet firm hold.

"You are one of my favourite children, and I only want the best for you." he says with a soft voice, "and sometimes, you need to be taught things with a certain... brutality. But remember that I only do it for your good."

"Thank you, father."

He nods and let go of him.

"You may go now, you'll have work to do with all the epic songs this war will create."

He bows and quickly leaves the chambers, finding solace in Olympus' gardens.

He cries the whole night, mind haunted by Scamandrius' laugh turning into screams as he falls, until it is time for the sun to return once more.

[mdscarlett]

INTRODUCING 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓. . .

‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ WANTED ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ DEAD OR ALIVE

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ $500.000.000

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ author’s note at the end+picrew

★ NAME: Monkey D. Scarlett (Scar)

— also known as: Scarlett the Witch, Scar-Scar, the Wicked Witch of the Sea, War Goddess Athena, the Ancient Weapon Mars

★ BIRTHDAY: October 31st (Scorpio | current age: 22)

— “The incarnation of Mars will be born on a dark, cold, eerie night in the Grand Line. It will be a full moon then, and the sea will be stilled as the Earth welcomes her spirit back; The World is not prepared her return.”

★ FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIPS: KNOWN (6)

— Monkey D. Alia (mother/status: deceased), Monkey D. Garp (grandfather/status: alive ), Monkey D. Dragon (uncle/status: alive), Monkey D. Luffy (cousin/status: alive), Portgas D. Ace (sworn sibling/status: deceased), Sabo (sworn sibling/status: alive)

★ AFFILIATIONS: PAST & PRESENT

— Revolutionary Army Cabin Girl/Apprentice (former), Loguetown Marine Base Commodore (former), Straw Hat Quartermaster (current)

★ MENTORS:

SASAKI MEI — having been a trained kunoichi serving the Kozuki clan on the island of Wano, Mei found herself escaping right before the death of Sukiyaki and joining hands with Dragon. thanks to this, she also gained the cutest apprentice and so much more in regards of exploring. She’d write to her friends back home, telling them how fun her travels are, not minding the fact they’d never reply. A master of Ryou, she’d teach scar as much as possible, in a way a child should learn — as something she’d look forward to.

mentored scar when she was between the ages five and eight, and again between ages twenty and twenty-two.

during the time that the straw hat pirates were separated, Scar had randomly felt her presence on an island in the Grand Line, after sailing with Akagami for a while. she tells shanks that she will be leaving him and gives him and the crew her thanks, not without mentioning that they might see each other in the future. with a smile and many hugs, they see the girl off with a bright, hopeful gleam in their eye.

she meets her former teacher in a bar, a nostalgic feeling clawing at her chest alongside excitement. Mei matches these feelings, catching up with Scar with a big grin on her face. her cute apprentice has really grown into an incredible and dangerous woman.

Scar explains her situation — marineford, Kuma, her crew — and although Mei is a wanted criminal on a personal quest of hers, she immediately offers to mentor her. it’ll actually be beneficial to the both of them, the lonely feeling was slowly getting to her, so this was an act of fate. she’s sure Dragon wouldn’t mind, and neither would the ghost of the samurai that’s recently reached out to her.

MONKEY D. GARP — after Dragon had contacted him about custody of Scar, he immediately agreed: this was his deceased daughter’s child. he respected his daughter’s dying wish for Scar to be under Dragon’s watch, knowing that his son would eventually cause trouble and ask for his help. he was determined that she’d stay on Foosha Village forever for her safety, and so he taught her the basics to surviving.

“mentored” Scar when she was between the ages eight and seventeen.

when Dragon had told Scar that she would be under her grandpa’s care, she didn’t ask questions. if her uncle was sending her away from these people she trusted — family, at that — he must be sending her to someone else trustworthy and loving as them, right?

wrong. as Garp dragged Luffy into the wilderness to train him, she stayed home and studied. she respected her elders too much to ignore his strict rules, and decided to play him at his own game.

while he was under the impression that she was at home reading books World-Government approved, she was really snooping through his work desk and reading things that weren’t meant for the public, especially for a child who had been raised by revolutionaries.

on a regular occurrence — whether Garp was aware or not — she would follow the two and watch Luffy from afar. she learned Garp’s fighting skills and engraved his moves in her brain, and snuck away at night while the others were sleeping to practice: she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to be stronger, but after a few years with the Revolutionary Army and finding out what the World Government is really like, she thought it’d help her anyway.

through Garp’s harsh love, laziness and naïvety, he did teach her how to survive. but in the end, she had learned way more than what he had to offer.

AKAGAMI NO SHANKS — during his trip to marineford, he senses a strong presence in the middle of the ocean. utterly confused by this sudden presence, he peaks over the ship’s edge and is met with a familiar face he’s only seen in the World’s Economic Journal. her presence isn’t threatening at all. instead, it’s too vulnerable for a girl who’s currently swimming in the middle of a dangerous sea, during a dangerous time; the tears streaming down her face alerting him instead.

he’s read many articles of Scarlett the Witch, but to have finally met her in person makes him question who she really is. he’s amazed with not only her physical fighting abilities, but also her strong aura that seems to follow her around. he notices that she’s unaware of it, and is also confused, considering she was known for her amazing haki control.

after ten long minutes of soothing Scar’s sobs down, she allows herself to spill everything: what was happening on Marineford in the current moment, Luffy’s arrival, and how she was able to sneak away unharmed. he noticed she didn’t mention why and how she was there in the first place, but he didn’t want to pry. instead, he reassured her that the war would end soon, and allowed her to take cover and rest under deck in the meantime.

he feels his heart clench as he realizes just how much Scar resembled her.

Scar would wake up to heartbreaking news and some from her baby cousin — begging shanks to atleast allow her to voyage with him until she feels comfortable on her own again, promising a temporary alliance, knowing that eventually she’ll have an opportunity to become stronger.

Akagami was suddenly breathless as a familiar face flashed through his mind.

it took a lot of courage for her to ask Shanks how to master her newfound conqueror’s haki, and he gladly took her under his wing. although it was a temporary mentorship, he was glad to be helping the new gen of pirates that would run the world — even if it meant he was one step closer to being too late.

★ STRENGTHS:

OBSERVATION HAKI — unlocked at age five, mastered at age eight.

— allowed scar to gain speed, a developed a deep and powerful intuition, and emotional intelligence/strength. she’s grateful for this, as it helped her understand and learn more about the world she lives in; allowing her to survive.

ARMAMENT HAKI — unlocked at age seven, mastered at age thirteen.

— was a bit harder for her to grasp since dragon wouldn’t let her engage in physical combat, but over the years she’d watch other users and take note. she gained physical stamina and strength pushing herself to learn more. (against Ace, she had won 45/50 of their “battles”).

CONQUEROR’S HAKI — unlocked at age twenty, mastered a few months after.

— the quickest of her to master, simply because she had already held a strong sense of will. shanks demonstrated how he’s able to use it to his advantage and manage it, and it was a shock to them both how bright scarlett’s aura was. she only uses this type of haki as a last resort or as an instinct (ex. when luffy tries stealing her food).

PHYSICAL COMBAT — a somewhat trained kunoichi, marine and definitely a pirate.

— although the two men in her early life told her no when it came to any sort of physical altercation, she still had eyes and haki to help her learn. Mei could never say no to her precious junior, secretly showing Scar “basic” kunoichi skills — claiming that everyone knew how to do those exact moves (which they didn’t, but the others never snitched because they were terrified of her). Scar vividly remembers Mei promising to take her to Wano and properly teach her, but sadly, the time hasn’t came yet.

— while in the Marines, she remembered all the information she had obtained thanks to Garp’s negligence. It allowed the transition to be easier on her, and unfortunately, that came with the consequence of becoming a commodore on Loguetown Marine Base. she knew she was strong — both physically and intellectually — but she never imagined her gaining a position of power she didn’t want. despite the mask she put on every morning, she let her grandfather take pride in her name during her time as an officer, because soon he would absolutely despise her (but she’s still family).

— before finding herself in Loguetown, Scar had nothing; only a boat filled with basic necessities (thanks Makino!) and her will to live, yet she was confident enough to know she’ll be alright wherever the currents lead her. she often found herself befriending villagers of the islands she visited; they offered her money, food, clothes, and a place to stay until her next move. though, it happened only after she’d scare away pirates who were terrorizing them. it was easy to defeat pirates in the East Blue, her proficiency in haki made her nearly ten times stronger than them, yet she lacked in combat. she’d learn from her opponents, always thanking them with a wink and smile, strutting away as they passed out in the grassy fields she found them in.

author’s note: hiiii everyone! this is my lovely scar-scar :3 i’ve spent the last few months trying to find myself again and something i really liked about myself is how creative i can get. i read one piece (i thought back to a time where i was really into jjk & aot, and how it was such a happy time and keypoint in my life) & with every chapter i always just had fun little scenarios.

i’m in a healing period right now, but i feel so good. i love being able to have the free will to create and it brings me so much joy. i’m not sure if this is weird but after getting to the Water Seven/Enie’s Lobby arcs, i couldn’t help but see myself in miss Nico Robin. don’t wanna get deep but yeah <33 i figured i’d get back into reading/writing fan-fiction as a hobby, because it allows me to feed my creative side.

but what’s a world without sharing fun little bits and pieces of myself? Scar is very self inspired, and to me it’s like writing my own story in my own way. and i’m having so much fun! allowing myself to be a main character :3

the next post i’ll make about scarlett will be about her weaknesses, her relationships, and probably fun little random facts about her. if you guys ever want to ask about her, please send them through!! i love being inspired <3

if you’re coming from a drabble from my main sideblog (@luffysinterlude) this is inspired with bits and pieces of my earlier oc Cupid, but Athena and Scarlett, in my head are the same person. i might switch up sometimes and write in a reader’s perspective (especially for fluff and comfort scenes) because i feel like we all need a lil light in our lives :p

[bidisasterevankinard]

But with even how painful it is I love the change in Buckley-Diaz dynamic. Chris is growing and now he learns to have new relationship with both Eddie and Buck. He doesn't trust every word they say as the only truth as kids does. he shows them his emotions, how hurt he is and that he doesn't want to do what they are asking. Not Eddie, not Buck can't change his mind for now and it's interesting. Make me think about May and Athena's relationship in some way. Chris is growing into his own person who sees his dad's mistakes now, but he doesn't have even if Buck tells him it's fine to forgive because adults make mistakes to actually forgive it now. He deserves time and he deserves asking about it. He deserves to find the balance inside himself to trust Eddie again

Because let's understand what exactly happened. Eddie is Chris' hero. The army dad who was fighting "bad guys" and that's why he lost some early events, but hey then he's back and everyone calls him THE HERO. Then mommy is not here and dad is all Chris has, the dad who teaches him to be good person, who treats him better than other people. Then mommy is back but then she's dead and Chris' hero firefighter dad who fights for him every day is mostly all he has. Then Chris has awful abandonment issue situation when he tries to navigate dating that is connected to his believe that his good hero dad was the victim like him. But then he sees his dad hugging the woman who looks like his dead mom and he is big enough to understand what Eddie were seeing her behind his and Marisol's backs, killing their trust. And suddenly Eddie is not a hero. He's just a man like other people

It's hard to get through such a big worldwide change in such young age so suddenly when your worst traumas are involved

[chevelleneech]

Tim..?

I have never seen Vertigo nor read up on what it’s about, so I can’t form a full opinion on what the storyline will end up being. I can’t even say if I think Tim plans to pull from it in full or put his own spin on it.

What I will say— based on how people are explaining the plot of the movie and how Eddie, Shannon, Kim, and Buck fit each character— I hope Tim is ready for whatever blowback he gets if it goes south. Death threats and things like that are a hard no, but fan complaints should be expected if he is using a movie in which best friends fall in love after an, “I’m seeing me dead flame in another woman” storyline, yet doesn’t equal Buddie being canon.

And I say this, because at some point he’s got to let Buddie go if he doesn’t want to make them canon. At some point, even with Buck being canonically bisexual now, he has to end the anticipation. This storyline might be how he plans to do that, so I’m interested to see how it plays out, but I am nervous for Buddie shippers who are more invested in them going canon than I am. Because if the plot of this movie is what people are saying, why choose it unless the plan is to at the very least, address the age old elephant in the room?

I worry that Tim loves Buck and Eddie’s bond and even ships them, but is also likely to take the approach of keeping Eddie straight because it will ruffle less feathers overall. It’s unfortunately a big risk to have two macho, previously presumed straight characters who have dated and slept with multiple women in canon, discover themselves to be queer and in love. Yes, the backlash for Buck was mild in comparison to what it could have been, but it was still there. So part of me can see why they’d not do it again. Especially with a character from the army.

At the same time, I am also curious about what will happen if Tim does choose to have Buck realize he’s in love with Eddie. It doesn’t have to mean he’ll break up with Tommy, and he’ll have four months (I heard they’re back in the Fall, but idk) to write 8a and hammer out details, but idk. We’ll have to wait and see.

Either way, I sincerely hope this is more or less the end of the “Will They, Won’t They.” regarding Buddie. It’s been five seasons, four of which was on a network that shutdown any altering of lead character sexualities (at least of Buck’s), and now on a new network that green lit Buck being bi, but may not green light Eddie. So I’m sorry, but I think by s8 an answer needs to be clearly stated. No matter what the final answer is.

There are so many other characters who can be getting screen time if we put a nail in the coffin that is Buck and Eddie having romantic based scenes without the romance, lol. Hen and Karen for example, could be getting quite a few, but maybe that’s just me?

And I’m not saying Buck and Eddie shouldn’t have scenes together anymore, but Tim and co. seem to know how to write platonically for Chim and Hen, Maddie and Josh, Buck and Chim, Chim and Bobby, and Athena and Hen, yet somehow they can’t do it for Buck and Eddie? I don’t buy it. It’s been intentionally written in since the start, but never green lit. Now is the time to draw the line, is all I’m saying.

[annabeth-w1se-g1rl]

Hello there

"Hi, I'm Annabeth Chase. I am the daughter of Athena and the head counselor of the Athena cabin. I have ADHD and dyslexia. I'm also a member of the Seven and known as the brains of the group."

@challenging-lord-frank "Son of MarsOne of the Praetors of New Rome, Hazel's boyfriend; he's lactose intolerant. His mom was killed in the army, and he's a shapeshifter."

@hazel-the-jewel "daughter of Pluto, Another Praetor of New Rome, and Nico's sister; she died in the 1930s. She has the ability to manipulate gems and other precious metals."

@p1per-mclean "Daughter of Aphrodite and one of my best friends, she is dating a mortal named Shel. She has the ability of charm speak."

@fireboy-supreme “ Son of Hephaestus, mechanic he commanded the Argo II. He’s very smart; he can light himself on fire at will."

@grover-the-can-eater "My best friend, a Satyr and lord of the wild, who is also a seeker, first brought me to camp. He can play the panpipes."

@lightning-boi-is-here "Son of Jupiter, brother of Thalia, former praetor of Rome, very calm and collected; he has the ability to manipulate wind and summon lightning."

@forbiddensonoftheseagod "My seaweed brain of a boyfriend, smarter than he acts, son of Poseidon. He controls water and can communicate with sea animals."

@pinecone-face-thalia "She's basically my sister; we were on the run together. She's Artemis's lieutenant and Jason's sister. She can summon lightning and control the winds."

@will-shoelaces "Son of Apollo and a very skilled medic, he is Nico’s boyfriend. Very smart, he usually deals with any camp injuries. He can glow and heal very well."

@gh0st-king-nico “Son of Hades. He is brother to Hazel and Bianca. saved us during the battle of Manhatten. He is dating Will Solace. He controls the dead though it zaps his energy.”

(Ooc: Hi :3)

Moodboard by me :)

Borders by @/saradika-graphics

[eddiediazismyhusband]

I got bored and have now decided how Episode 2 of Season 8 should go. (This is on the hopeful assumption that Gerrard will only last about 3 episodes).

So we obviously need at least one episode of dickhead Gerrard (who I guess no one can report since he’s working with the evil councilwomen). So maybe Eddies on a leave to deal with his son, so he hasn’t met Gerrard as captain yet until episode two. 

So, Eddie is obviously going to be quite reckless and self-loathing this season. 

Hen, having almost lost Mara, will be sympathetic towards him (especially since Chim has the sarcastic side in the bag, what can’t you say about a man’s dead wife’s doppelgänger, he’s def gonna make a Vertigo movie reference). 

But Eddie and Hen worked together and know each other well, they’re basically siblings. She knows when he needs space. So, after a reckless “Buck style” save from Eddie, he’ll come up the stairs where most people are, and when Hen comes over to talk to him he’ll give her a “I can’t right now” look and carry on past.

But to everyone else he looks like he dismissed her (except they know Eddie doesn’t mean to be rude).

However… Gerrard doesn’t. Gerrard who only really knows Eddie as “that guy who did the crazy save earlier” and hasn’t really talked to anyone so far (cause he’s mad at himself and distancing himself).

So he’ll go over to Eddie and say “Well it’s nice to have a traditional guy around. Not listening to the useless comments.“ with a pointed look at Hen. And then he’ll clap Eddie on the back.

Eddie who’s heard all the stories of what Hen went through. Eddie who saw women get discriminated against in the army. Eddie who’s pissed off and lost everything.

And he’ll deck Gerrard in the face. 

The chief comes in starts interviewing everyone about it. 

(They could even do this episode from the end. With everyone talking to the Chief, trying to cover for Eddie at the start of the episode- we as the viewers not necessarily knowing it was Eddie who punched him- and then have his identity revealed to the viewers but not the Chief through the episode, with interview style scenes).

And just when the Chief goes downstairs and Gerrard comes out says he’s found the security footage of the punch… Ravi comes up the stairs.

So turns out a few years ago Gerrard was sued (or maybe he was married and got a divorce idk). And so he moved out of his house into a nice, big apartment since he could afford that better. 

And guess what? Ravi OWNS the apartment building.

So “unless you want horrific credit and nowhere to live Captain I strongly suggest you drop this right now.”

(A nice comparison to Ravi who wanted nothing to do with the 118 gang when he first met them). 

So together they all (totally not suspiciously) tell the Chief everything’s okay and Gerrard got hurt on a call. 

Yay, Ravi saves the day. And then we get a cute look between Ravi and Eddie because I really want them as friends. 

(Also side note, Athena and Harry are similar to Eddie and Chris, I really hope Athena and Eddie get a conversation about how to deal when your child doesn’t trust you as much and blames you for things, especially since I hope Athena regrets hitting Harry). 

STOP I LOVE THIS ravi saving the day not only as a poc character but as a character who, like you said, originally started out not wanting to be a part of the 118 would be such a great way to usher him in as a main cast member to solidify his place (keep manifesting for ravi main yall 🙏🙏) AND we get more landlord ravi shenanigans (ik it’s one of the more crack elements of the show but ravi being a landlord kills me)

and i agree athena and hen both know what eddie’s going through having to watch a child leave and (athena w harry and hen w both nia and mara) so him having that support would create such interesting dynamics… (even karen too bc i need more eddie & karen friendship moments pls and thank you) i also think athena being able to have a conversation with him about letting go of a romantic partner after losing them suddenly would be so beneficial to eddie too, AND the complexity of her relationship with michael as well could provide some context to eddie’s feelings that he may not have realized before (*cough cough* queer eddie *cough cough*👀👀👀)

[2much4me-4ever]

I can't get over how (intentionally) brilliant the lines from God Games are.

Apollo [I]

Athena apeals both to his reason ("they tried to do him worse") and his personal priorities ("the'yll thread with caution first", "sing another verse") as the god of arts, giving him both a solid argument and a scapegoat so he doesn't seem to shallow

Hephaistos [II]

Hephaistos is bothered by Odysseus betrail, and one of the most popular story's he is involved in is the betrail through Aphrodite's infidelity (she's his wife, in some versions), and being thrown from the Olymp becourse he was too 'ugly', only regaining respect for his craftsmanship.

Plus the wordgames!! ('trust is forged' and 'build a future')

(((Also, his voicing(?) just perfect. He seems to heave, and the voice sound a little mechanic? which could be playing into the disabillity he is sometimes portrayed to have)))

Aphrodite [III]

She hold a grudge against Odysseus for breaking his mothers heart, showing both her petty side and portraying her as a godess of all love. Additionally, we can't forget that this was shortly after the Trojan war, which she technically started by winnig a competition against Athena and Hera, so there is definitly bad blood between the two. (Still, a little dissapointing)

Ares [IV]

Brilliant! Part!

Ares and Athena are both rivals as the god of war and the godess of (battle) strategie, and their connection is portrayed perfectly by her challenging chant of his name at the beginning of his part!

He also doesn't really cares a lot more about the 'cowordly' tactics of Odysseus (Athena), which lessen the brutality and bloodshed of war. The vocalisation of ["didn't even TRY TO KILL SKYLLA"] is just *chefs kiss* (Still, he is a god of the people, and of armies and rebellion as a whole, so it makes sense for him to rafe at Odysseus betrail rather than the groups.

[Hera] V

Hera just Rocked

The motherly vibes, the royal tone. (One person on Tumblr said Athena listed traits of Zeus ["He's kind of funny","Eh"] to make Hera think of him before delivering the last (and first) blow, which sound plausible, but idk) There is not much to say, so straight toooo

Zeus [+I]

I think it's safe to say Athena knew (or at least guessed) her father woudn't be satisfied if he won. Zeus is made to portray a King, and those are predictable and prideful. She must have known beforehand he would let her 'play a game' or challenge something of her, and that he would be able to take that hit to his pride.

I think she gambeled that, while he coudn't just balantly favour her, or let her hurt his pride, a begging, (maybe half dead) daughter would be enough for his role to allow him to take mercy on her.

(Especally when all the other important gods are present)

(Not saying that he knew what she was up to, that guy definitly shat on her when he fired that lightning.)

[stagefoureddiediaz]

@evcndiaz ‘s post about Eddie and Shannon and their relationship and being in love got me thinking about Helena and Ramon’s relationship and well anyway it ended up as this rambly mess of a meta essay that would’ve never fit in the tags! I could be totally barking up the wrong tree, but, well

I just wonder how loving their relationship actually is and if we’re maybe gonna start seeing more of the cracks I already think are there, because we often use our parents relationship as a blueprint for our own - be that what to do or not to do. And it’s all feeling a bit like parallels paralleling and threads interweaving.

Eddie joined the army to provide for his impending family - which mirrored a lot of what we know about Ramon- working away a lot, barely making it home for the birth of any of his children/ turning up after the event. Leaving Helena to fill the role of both parents and being a distant part of his children’s life. I’d love to know how old they were when they had Eddie, because while the retirement party suggests Ramon as being older when Eddie arrived, it feels like Helena is perhaps a fair bit younger (that could just be my reading of it) - perhaps Ramon was pressured into getting married and settling down and Helena was a young pretty girl he was introduced to idk!

Eddie claims his mom is fine and he only has a bad relationship with his father, but his mother is strong willed and pretty forceful - she is the driving force behind so much of what we have witnessed - she is the one who wants to keep Christopher, she is the one being dictatorial about juice boxes etc, it is her who starts telling the less than fun (read traumatic) story about Eddie and the car. Ramon is never the instigator, merely the back up for her plans. It’s almost as if he’s playing along for an easy life and isn’t actually in love with her. I’d argue their relationship is pretty toxic (he kept major heart surgery from his entire family - that is not a good thing non any level!) and that now Ramon is retired and around more - that they’re going to have to spend so much more time in each others company that we might start to really see things not going so great for them - especially if Ramon doesn’t adjust to being in one place all the time and with Helena all the time rather than sporadically. Abuela is there at the moment and perhaps her presence has been helping paper the cracks.

It’s making me think of how Athena described her divorce as being viewed as a failure within her community- that she’s the first one to get a divorce etc. And while the religions (and communities) are different, there are similar sentiments within the catholic community around divorce - especially that generation.

Viewed from the outside with the information we have, Helena and Ramon’s relationship seems much more one of tolerating and accepting the situation because there is no other option than one of genuine love, respect and friendship. Eddie had essentially gone down the same route as they had and because he knew no different was prepared to settle for what he had - for Chris - sacrificing his own happiness (because that’s what you do) and repressing who he is because of the situation he found himself in.

Shannon was the one ‘strong’ enough to step away (not saying her way of doing so was right at all - heaven knows I’m not Shannon’s biggest fan) - the outsider - the one without the pressure of religion and community (community because she is white and not a PoC so community is different. we don’t really know enough to know for sure but she always reads to me as non catholic and as a child of divorce - where is her father and the fact there is zero mention from her mother about wishing her father could meet his grandson etc suggests he’s not dead!) and the one to actually recognise her feelings for Eddie were not those deep abiding love. Had she not died we maybe could’ve seen them developing a co-parenting relationship in a similar way to Athena and Michael, but we’ll never actually know.

It all adds so much more depth to Eddie’s repression and inability to understand his feelings - this isn’t even related to buddie or being queer. There’s this sense that the tangled web of feelings he had in relation to Shannon hasn’t been fully unknotted or detangled and he’s still playing into his family expectations - Shannon was never fully accepted, just tolerated, because she wasn’t from his community and that relationship would’ve ended in divorce - making Eddie a failure once more in the eyes of his family (and community). He was spared that because Shannon died, so Eddie is now choosing to date women (Ana and Marisol) who are from his community - therefore more acceptable to his family.

It’s actually a really interesting thing that seems to be happening in Eddie unpacking himself and his trauma and repression and breaking the cycle. Ana was perfect on paper - but Eddie was ultimately dating her for Christopher rather than himself. He’s unpacked that bit of things and has dealt with that aspect of his trauma/repression.

Marisol (as very little as we know of her at this point) is interesting because she’s been presented differently to Ana - Ana we never ever heard about any of her family beyond a cousin having a baby and the christening being where Eddie (and Chris) would meet the family - which Eddie was less than enthusiastic about when it was revealed. Marisol is different - we’ve seen her brother and heard her talking on the phone to her mother. Yes she was at the Diaz house during Chris’s date but they had zero interaction with one another. The fact she is given less screen time than Shannon and even the fact she appears in the same episode as Shannon (because she didn’t actually need to be there to help ‘chaperone’ in all honesty) puts her in parallel and contrast to Shannon. There’s a couple of interesting things to point out here - Shannon is not present in the places Marisol is (I can’t be 100% sure because the scene wasn’t long enough and it was out of focus) - there are no photos of Shanon on the mantle etc the space Marisol is allowed to occupy - Shannon is completely confined to Christopher’s room. It’s an interesting choice to do this because it focuses the Shannon of it all on Christopher (which is right and important and we’ve already talked at length about the fact they’ve chosen to put Buck into the same position and space as Shannon) but it also implies the Marisol of it all is not connected to parenting. That she is solely connected to Eddie. That Eddie hs actually started dating her because of advice from Pepa plays into this, and the fact we already know more about her family than either Shannon or Anas respective families, to me at least, implies that’s the direction of growth we’re going to see from Eddie - learning that he can follow his own path rather than the path his family expects him to, that he’s going to be learning what love does and or doesn’t look like - getting to do the learning he didn’t before because Shannon died before he got the chance to do that bit of growing (brain won’t let me articulate this fully but you know what I mean)

And some of the things Ryan has said about their relationship - great job of introducing her, figuring how things fit - how and if she fits (I’m paraphrasing massively because I don’t have the mental capacity to go look for the quote right now) - is all just suggesting to me that her purpose is about him learning and understanding he doesn’t have to conform to his family’s expectations etc. Recognising and growing in the direction that’s right for him rather than what’s right for his family, and to bring it back around to Helena and Ramon - recognising that their relationship is not that great of a relationship to seek to emulate.

Shesh! I have zero idea if this makes one iota of sense but it’s been whirring round in my brain since 7x01!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

saw you mentioned Left 4 Dead and now I'm wondering about your thoughts on Back 4 Blood!

also I'm kinda into Taylor for being all scary to this guy 👀

🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️

I haven't played it yet! Should I? it got mixed reviews. I have this really nostalgic spot for Left 4 Dead. I'm not even sure if it's any good I just love it.

AND YEAH TAYLOR!

12 for 🧟‍♂️:

---

“What? So you can bomb them, too?” He asks.

“No,” Bobby shakes his head. “Unlike you, we leave well enough alone.”

“Unless you force our hand,” Athena cautions. 

“Not answering her questions might force my hand,” Taylor adds.

Buck is glad he’s not a part of this interrogation really. He doesn’t think he has it in him. 

Matthew sighs. “There were ten of us. Now there are six.”

Ten? They went around trying to raise a child army with ten adults? 

[maxarat]

@punkeropercyjackson asked for PerEthan headcanons and I will deliver

First with an AU. In BotL, Ethan goes with Percy when offered. He realizes his mom isn't great, and in canon she was his soul reason for supporting Kronos.

He doesn't fight in the battle though. Instead, he decides he'd be better served as a spy

Ethen and Percy get to know each other when Ethan sneaks off to give the information

If he knows Silena is a spy, he'd let Percy know, and she'd get the support she needs

Whether that happens or not, Ethan is found out shortly before the Princess Andromeda Incident, but it plays out mostly the same, just with Ethan going to camp full-time afterwards

Ethan is friends with Nico in this AU, so he tags along with Percy's prepping, and the two flirt without either noticing. Nico realizes, but there's no time for that

For the Battle of Olympus, either Ethan still dies but he and Percy comfess their feelings right before he's gone if you want angst cause I'm a sucker for that trope

Or for triumph, and what I think really happens, Ethan helps Percy fight Kronos, they both survive, and they get together a few weeks after the battle, once all the dead have been laid to rest

During the Lost Hero and Son of Neptune, I imagine Ethan is travelling with Nico. In this rewrite they *do* tell Percy who she is, though

Ethan would definitely go with Nico to reseal the Doors of Death. Something something balance, something something grandson of Nyx. He alao gets the trapped in a jar treatment

At the end of Mark of Athena, I want to say Ethan went to Tartarus with Percy and Annabeth in this AU, and stayed with the Argo after the rest of the Not 7 split in HoH

Now for general headcanons and not story stuff

Ethan isn't a fan of having his hair touched, but he loves doing Percy's

Percy makes Ethan custom eyepatches using her DIY skills!

Ethan would 100% go to protests with her. I'd say in a human AU that could be how they met. They were Punk4Punk from the start, but it took Ethan a second to realize that included his mom

Sally is very supportive of Ethan and helps him with the trauma he definitely got from Nemesis taking his eye

Sidenote, it's so weird Nemesis framed as cool and a good person when she's so awful to her son

Ethan helped other kids get out of the Titan's Army and Percy is very big sister to them

Ethan and Percy do each others makeup like that one meme with the girls

Ace4Ace legends

They teach each other their mother tongues (Spanish and Japanese)