#but his father (apollo) requested he be turned into a star. and he was!

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

what do you MEAN Ophiuchus has an emoji that I haven’t been using this whole time?!!? ⛎⛎⛎

[throughparisallthroughrome]

The Sun and His Star

The Result of This Poll

Pairing: greek god!anakin x female reader

Description: Unable to resist a friendly wager, Anakin finds himself in a world of trouble as he seeks out a Naiad he has fallen deeply in love with.

Warnings: f!reader, swearing, angst, unrequited love, mentions of death, mentions of worship, alcohol, SMUT, fingering, oral sex (f recieving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, degradation, literal pussy worship, loss of virginity, corruption kink, crying, size kink, soft dom!anakin, praise kink, orgasm denial, MDNI 18+++

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: I have been SO excited to post this. This is also my first time writing actual smut and i'm pretty nervous about posting this! This is very loosely based of the myth of Apollo and Daphne, except that myth is pretty creepy and Daphne turns into a tree at the end of it so I wanted something a little more happy. Thank you guys for participating in my poll! I really hope you enjoy. As always, my requests and inbox are open!

masterlist.

Thwap!

Almost.

As Anakin's fingers trace the intricate details of his golden bow, his focused eyes never leave the target, anticipating a shot that he thinks to be perfect. Squinting his eyes, he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. His mind ran through different calculations at a million miles a minute. Perks of being a God, I suppose.

He shook his head in frustration, allowing the bow to slip from his hand and rest beside his belongings as he sought reassurance from the comforting embrace of the ancient fig tree. Although he had the entirety of Olympus to practice, Anakin always chose the hills and forests of Macedonia, knowing the only thing he could possibly run into was a bear. And running into bears was fun for the Sun God, as archery usually is. How is the God of archery missing his shots? Anakin was lost, although he’d never admit it.

His slender fingers traced the grass, memorizing each blade's touch as he became increasingly fascinated with the Greek world. He brushed back his chestnut locks with his free hand, letting his eyes close as he breathed in the mortal air surrounding him. Greece was better than Olympus; it was his missing piece.

Things hadn’t been the same lately. Worshippers had died down at Delphi, and his typical “appear in their dreams nightmare route” wasn’t going so smoothly either. And now he’s struggling to make a shot? Could he even call himself a God, much less his father’s favorite?

Annoyed with his thoughts, Anakin summoned a fig to his hand, biting deeply into it- just for the taste. He chewed slowly, letting the juices run from his lips, down his chin, and onto his golden armor. And that was another amazing thing the Greek world had- fucking figs.

“Why so down, my friend?” Anakin’s eyes shot open out of his trance to meet his favorite rival, Obi-Wan Kenobi, God of Passion. Anakin’s fingers swiftly moved the arrow off the target behind him, not wanting Kenobi to catch his failure.

“How did you find me?” He stood up abruptly, dropping the fig onto the grass he was tracing before. His fists balled at his sides. Typically, they got along pretty okay, but with Anakin’s meandering mind, he was the last God he needed to see.

“Oh, you know, I just followed the foul stench of arrogance and failure into the Greek world. By the way, how would Zeus react if you were practicing down here, hm? Letting your talents go to waste, and possibly seen by mortals, not to mention-”

“Alright, Obi-Wan, I get it. You’ve made your point. What do you want?” Anakin watches as Obi-Wan’s smile grows before him, and a sinking feeling fills his chest.

“You don’t need to hide your failure from me, Anakin.” Obi-Wan lips turn into a smirk, watching as Anakin’s temper began to get the best of him once again.

“Obi-Wan, I’d be careful. I am Anakin, God of the sun, The All-father’s first-born son, and I will kick your ass all the way back to Olympus any fucking day. Try me. If I were you, I’d choose your next words carefully.” Anakin towers over Obi-Wan, his remarks laced with venom as he observes the smile grow on the God before him.

“I heard your worshippers are waning at Delphi. And now you’re missing your shots… Gods, Anakin, are you no longer Zeus’s favorite? What is going on with you?”

With Obi-Wan suggesting Anakin’s worst nightmare, Anakin had him up against the fig tree in seconds, his hands pulling up at his toga as rage coursed through his golden blood. His eyes searched Kenobi’s, watching the amusement dance within them. What was his game? What could he possibly want?

“Watch your fucking mouth, Kenobi. I’ll send your ass right down to Hades, and Zeus will not come to your aid again. There’s a reason I’m more powerful than you. What the fuck do you need love for when you can be God of the Sun? Zeus’s favored son? Huh? There’s a fucking reason I am celebrated more than you are. I don’t see your temples taking over the Greek world. I don’t see you massively worshipped-”

“Oh please, Anakin, they worship Ahsoka as much as they worship you. She’s your twin sister and equally on par with you despite being a goddess.” Anakin pulls a fist back and sends it flying into Kenobi’s jaw, watching as his golden blood pours from his nose and down his chin. Anakin grinned.

“Fucking watch it. That was the last comment you’re going to be making in a long, long time.” As Anakin pulls back his fist, Obi-Wan’s hands go up in defeat, signaling the white flag Anakin is looking for.

“How do you feel about a little wager?” He whispers, a hint of fear present in his voice as he watches Anakin’s golden eyes narrow at his proposition.

“And why the fuck would I do that, Kenobi, when sending you to Hades is just as easy?”

“Because I know you can’t resist a chance to prove yourself to be better than me.”

“Okay,” Anakin loosens his grip on Kenobi, letting him fall against the fig tree as he backs up and crosses his arms, “And what would this wager consist of? And make it quick- before I change my mind and punish you regardless.”

“Best of 3 shots. If you win, you can punish me as you deem necessary. If I win, well, how about we keep your punishment a surprise?” Obi-Wan pushes himself off the tree, summoning his bow and arrow in his hands as Anakin bites his lip skeptically.

“That’s too- No- what’s the catch?”

“If I win, you have to fall in love- no exceptions.”

“That’s it? Deal. This is too fucking easy.” Anakin shakes his head, picking up his golden bow and tracing the olive branch details on the upper limb.

“May Zeus be on your side, Anakin.” Kenobi holds out his hand for Anakin to shake, sealing their wager.

Anakin takes his hand, his grip firm, letting the eyes of his father, high up in Olympus, confirm the bet.

“You first, Obi-Wan.” Anakin chuckles, picking up an arrow and sharpening the end of it while Obi-Wan takes his stance in front of the tree, his shoulders relaxed, and eyes focused on the target in front of him.

Instant bullseye. Lucky shot.

Anakin says nothing, instead taking his place and shooting without hesitation.

Another instant bullseye. This was going to be closer than he thought.

Anakin’s eyes squint as he watches Kenobi make another bullseye. It’s now 2-1. Since when did Kenobi get so good at archery? Anakin shoots another bullseye, but it’s close, too close. He watches as Kenobi’s brows furrow slightly, his frustration growing alongside Anakin’s arrogance. Did he really think the God of archery would lose a challenge as simple as this?

Obi-Wan shoots his final shot.

Instant Bullseye. Fuck.

He turns around, placing his bow on his back and grinning at the angry God before him.

“May Zeus be on your side, old friend.” He repeats that phrase, eager to remind Anakin what was at stake. As he approaches Anakin to shake his hand, he grins as Anakin dodges it and steps up to the mark.

“Save it, Kenobi. I’m too excited to hear what Hades will do with you after this.”

As Anakin grips his bow, his hands are filled with sudden apprehension. He missed the shot just before Kenobi got here, and his last two were practically just luck, and- Actually, what the fuck is he even on about? He’s the God of archery, for fucks sake. Some measly love God wasn’t going to take this easy victory from him. No way. Anakin pulled an arrow from the sling on his back, letting it sit comfortably between his fingers as he lined up his shot. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his fingers do the work.

And with one swift motion of Obi-Wan’s wrist from behind him, Anakin tripped over a rock.

Miss.

“Wha- I- How? What the fuck did you do?” Anakin turned around, storming over to Kenobi who had his hands innocently raised in the air as he backed away from the angry God once again.

“I did nothing, Anakin. You lost, plain and simple.” Before Anakin had time to react, Obi-Wan’s bow was out again, this time with a red-tipped arrow.

The arrow slipped between Kenobi’s fingers, flying across the grass and into Anakin’s shoulder. He gasped, not in pain, but at the audacity of the God before him.

“Kenobi, this better not be one of your special arrows, or I swear to Zeus-” He grips the arrows, pulling it out of his skin, letting his golden blood drip onto his armor.

“Her name is Y/N. You can find her along the River Lamos. Good luck, old friend.”

And with that, he was gone.

—------------------------------

“Padme! These fucking mortals are pissing in the water again! I mean, how do they even find us out here? This is the furthest north they’ve gone in quite some time.” You let your knees hit the grass, running your fingers through the stream to purify the waters.

Sometimes, you quite hated being a Naiad. It had the perks of a goddess, but not quite the status. And Zeus forbid you ever tried to compare yourselves to a Goddess…

“Y/N, honey, have you ever tried to talk to a mortal? They aren’t the brightest. It’s not their fault Zeus made them that way.” Padme emerges from the waterfall behind you, offering her condolences as she places her hand on your shoulder.

“Maybe we should pray to Ahsoka and have her punish them.”

“Y/N! Don’t be harsh.” Padme’s jaw drops in fake shock, rolling her eyes as she joins you along the riverbed. “Besides, I heard Dionysis is throwing another rager tonight. Let’s focus on that.”

“Yeah, sure,” you mumble, picking up a rock and skipping across the water, avoiding the lilies that littered the surrounding stream.

Padme had always grounded you. You’d probably be lost without her. When you escaped your father as a child, Padme stuck by you in your request for freedom. Your new life, though promising, never quite managed to fill the void that had been there all along. As a Naiad, you felt the weight of responsibility for the ancient world, but the path laid before you was far from what you imagined. Your life was filled with adoration from cult leaders, lavish ceremonies, and the occasional taste of royalty on Mount Olympus - but an emptiness lingered within you. Something that trivial worship and sacrifice wouldn’t fulfill.

“Padme,” you pulled your hand from the water, picking a dandelion next to you and observing it. “Do you ever think about what our life would have been like if we never left Father?” She sighs.

“Y/N, if you’re questioning our decision, let me assure you, we made the right choice. To disobey the calling of such passion… well, I’d rather not debate it. Have honor in what we do, Y/N. We are irreplaceable.” Padme smiles gently at you, the sun bouncing off her chocolate eyes in a particularly irresistible way.

A forced grin stretched across your face, a desperate attempt to conceal your disdain for her reply. Padme had a knack for finding the silver lining - always seeing the good in people and situations, even when things seemed bleak. But it didn’t make the feeling disappear from within you. Every day was the same. The same taking care of the rivers and the forests. The same cults and sacrifices and worships and prayers and celebrations. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but the truth was undeniable: you felt utterly lonely. You had Padme, but she was your sister, and she was supposed to be there. But as much as it ached you to say… You wanted a lover.

As a devotee of Ahsoka, the Goddess of the Hunt, you pledged your loyalty to her with a sacred vow. To remain pure. Sure, it was silly and not very feminist-positive of Ahsoka, but she was an Olympian. The Olympians were traditional in their ways. And that was something you had to deal with. Or workaround. Ahsoka was stubborn, much like her younger twin brother Anakin, but even though she was a woman, she was treated with the utmost respect and equality. You found yourself constantly drawn to her, admiring her strength and resilience. Every opportunity you had, you would go to her temples, offering your devotion and respect with each visit.

Snap.

Your heads snapped around in unison, your hearts pounding, as you braced for the appearance of an unfortunate mortal who had unknowingly interrupted you. However, standing behind you, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun, was none other than the Sun God himself, Anakin.

“Anakin! Your majesty, to what honor do we have to be graced with your presence?” Padme’s words were honey to your ears, and she quickly pulled you down into a curtesy next to you.

“I came for a Naiad by the name of Y/N.” Your heart dropped. Fuck. “I wish to seek her hand.” Padme turned to you, her eyes wide along with your slacked jaw. What the fuck was happening?

The first thing you noticed was his smile. A self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face, the kind that made his whole body seem to radiate arrogance. Sure, he was attractive; he was an Olympian, after all, but there was something about him you couldn’t stand. There was no mistaking the pretentiousness. You had pictured him with golden hair, but his hair was a surprising chestnut brown, the curls soft and unruly, framing his face like a halo of warm sunlight. The intricate details of his armor were impressive, reminding you of his sister’s. And when your eyes met his, you saw that same hollow emptiness in his gaze, reflecting the void you carried within. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ruin it by opening his mouth.

“Go!” Padme whisper-shouted next to you, pushing you forward.

“Your majesty,” You cringed at your words.

“Anakin.” He mused, his smirk growing as his eyes lingered on your form. Your wet dress suddenly felt a lot wetter tighter.

“Anakin,” You faked a smile, purely out of fear of what you’d do next. “As much as I am flattered by your offer, I made a sacred vow to your sister that I plan to uphold. I do apologize. I am honored to be considered by you.” He nodded slowly, his smile widening and his eyes holding something mischievous within them.

“You know, Nymph,”

“Naiad- I mean, Y/N.” You stuttered. Padme’s eyes widen as she stomps your foot to shut you up.

“Y/N,” he winks and leans closer, his breath hot on your cold, wet cheek as his mouth is centimeters from your ear. “Normally, I would take what is mine. But you are lucky to be in favor with my sister, and that I love a good challenge. We will see just how much longer you will remain pure, my muse. You are the most beautiful creature I’ve had the privilege of laying my immortal eyes on, and I plan to have you.”

You freeze. A challenge? Who the hell did he think he was?

But before you had time to say anything else stupid, he was gone.

“Are you fucking CRAZY?” Padme grabs you, shaking your body, “You just rejected THE Anakin. Ahsoka’s brother. That’s, like, probably, the only pass you’d ever get not to remain pure. You should have taken it! And Y/N, you cannot speak to him like that! You’re lucky he didn’t just take you with him as prisoner or send you to Hades-”

“Padme! Come on, you heard him. He likes a challenge. It’s obvious that this is far from over.” You trailed off, your mind uneasy at the thought.

Realistically, you had to weigh the pros and cons.

Pros: He was hot. It would give you a higher status. You could have a family. You could be closer with Ahsoka. It would fill the void within you. He could possibly be a good person, maybe even a good lover. He could be the best sex you’d ever had.

Cons: It was Anakin. He’s arrogant and everything you could dislike in a lover. He could potentially ruin your relationship with Ahsoka and create an eternal enemy that would end your life as you know it. He could ruin your life. He could be the best sex you’d ever had.

Fuckkkkkkkkk.

Week after week, Anakin shows unwavering resolve in his pursuits.

The first week, he’d occasionally drop by, leaving nothing but wine and flowers and his sweet, sweet words.

“I’d do anything to make you mine, Y/N. Just one chance.”

“Please, you’re the love of my immortal life. I want nothing but to spend the rest of eternity with you.”

“I can’t get enough of watching you. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Let me be yours, please. I’m so in love with you. It’s killing me.”

Eventually, you began to play along. You loved how his eyes would light up when you gave him hope, but the return of his arrogant smile when you turned him down again made you roll your eyes.

The admission, though loathsome, was undeniable: you were falling for him. You gotta give it to him- consistency was key. But did the cons outweigh the pros? The situation was tricky, and not ideal. If only he were a dumb mortal and not Zeus’s favorite son. And not the brother of a God you’ve spent your entire life worshipping and having a precious oath, too. If only.

The second week saw the gifts become more intense, each one a thrilling surprise. He brought you a beautiful cat, along with some flowers from Olympus to plant near the river. The gesture was sweet, the cat was cute, and the flowers were divine, literally. Although you were tempted, you held your ground, and your answer was a firm, unwavering no.

Anakin's patience was wearing thin by week three, his annoyance growing with each passing day. He thought he had given you everything you could have desired as a river nymph, showering you with gifts that would make any naiad happy. As someone he hoped to share his life with, he offered his heart and devotion. Even though he tried, you were still refusing his advances. He didn’t take you as one for material goods, but who was he to judge? So, he began leaving you jewelry that was unlike anything you'd ever seen, intricate pieces that captured the essence of nature and water in every detail. And, of course, they were all gold. The necklace he had given you was his favorite, a simple gold sun pendant suspended on a chain, worn close to your heart.

“Do you like it, my love?” Anakin held the necklace in your hands, watching your smile grow beneath him.

“Anakin- I- It’s beautiful. I love it. I’ve never owned anything quite like this before.” You smiled up at him, the sunlight reflecting in your eyes in such a way that he’d drown if he looked for too long.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” He whispered, his eyes trailing from your own down to your lips.

“Yes,” You whispered back, allowing him to turn you around and move your hair.

His fingers moved slowly across the back of your neck, their light touch sending shivers down your arms. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, and much to your own surprise, you let out a soft moan against his touch. His presence behind you was heavy with insolence, and even though you couldn't see him, you could practically feel his smug grin on the back of your head. He laid the necklace against your chest, and you instinctively reached your hand up to touch it, only to be met with his own as he pulled you closer.

“Y/N,” He groaned softly, resting his forehead upon your shoulder, “Please. I’m in agony.” You hummed against him, leaning back onto his chest as the sunlight washed over your wet skin.

“Ani, I can’t. You know this, baby.” You turned around to face him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for the necklace- I really love it. You’ve been so kind to me.”

He smiled back at you and was gone once again.

During week four, his presence dwindled. He came only a couple of days, mostly just to bring you offerings. This time, he started leaving little love notes instead of his usual visits you had become accustomed to.

My muse,

Every day I do not spend with you is tortuous. You are everything to me. You are the air I breathe, the Sun I worship, the light bringer of my life. I did not know love could be so powerful, so intoxicating, just like you. To me, you are love. You are the physical representation of everything I have ever wanted from this life. I’d give it all up for you. Olympus doesn’t matter if it means I could have you. And if it’s my sister you are worried about, I would have it handled. I would keep you safe and spend the rest of eternity loving you, worshipping you, and making you happy and fulfilled. Please just give me a chance, darling; that is all I ask. I feel ashamed for not coming to see you in person, but I couldn’t bear to look at you. It has only brought me pain and suffering as of late. I know it is not your fault, but you are all I want. I’m not giving up on you yet, but I feel as if maybe some distance would help you. Perhaps I’ve come on too strongly. Too confident. And if it means changing who I am to have you, consider it done.

With love for eternity,

Your Anakin.

As you held the letter in your hands, you barely noticed how your hands shook, and your body trembled. You didn’t see how you instinctively brought the letter to your heart, holding it close as stray tears cascaded down your face. And you certainly didn’t notice Padme’s presence; her soft touch was comforting on your arm as she appeared behind you.

“Honey, you should give him a chance. He’s really trying. I don’t know what that letter says, but for it to evoke that reaction from you, it must be genuine. Unless he plans to kill me or our father, then maybe not so-”

The hug you gave her was warm and tight, a genuine embrace she hadn't felt from you in years. She held you close, the heat from the sun radiating off of the both of you and sending you into more of a frenzy than ever. Even though you couldn't see him, you knew Anakin was watching, and the feeling of his intensity was a constant presence. You felt a strange indifference, a lack of concern that surprised even you. But you just wanted to feel.

By week five, Anakin had stopped appearing altogether, but his presence was still there. Maybe it was when you healed the water, or took care of the plants, or gave an offering to Ahsoka, but it always felt like he was standing right there next to you, offering a helpful hand in your tasks. It seemed that he was beginning to fill that void inside of you. And as much as you desperately wanted that, now that you were so close to having it, the idea terrified you.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” You quietly asked as Padme lit a candle, preparing for another ritual.

“Would you grab the wine and pour the libation, Y/N? I’m afraid we must move on with this for right now.” She smiled gently, attempting to lighten your mood. It didn’t work. The last thing you wanted to do was worship his sister.

As much as you hated it, you did as you were told. You headed further into the cave you and Padme made into the oasis you called home. As you turned the corner into your private quarters, you noticed the wine stacked by your “bed.”

As you and Padme ventured out and stumbled upon your own Oasis, you both set out to personalize it, infusing it with your own unique touch, making it a place you could truly call your own. The cave behind the waterfall was a breathtaking sight - lush green plants carpeted the floor around the river, colorful creatures flitted through the air, and the soft glow of candles danced off the shimmering crystals. The river ran through the cave, a constant source of fresh water, offering a home for you and your sister amidst the silent stone. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. But, as sisters, you both still needed your privacy, so it was made sure that you both had your own private sectors of the cave. Your quarters were filled with treasures you collected from the forest - musical instruments, shiny jewelry, beautiful dresses, furniture in both perfect and broken states, and writing tools. You even brought back random knick-knacks that you saw potential in. One mortal's trash is another Naiad’s treasure.

The sight of the wine on the stool made your stomach churn, as you thought about the God who had given it to you. Would it be weird to worship Ahsoka with the wine her brother declared his love to you over? Probably. You weren’t willing to risk it. Your fingers danced across the cool glass of the bottle, remembering the warmth of his hands as he placed it in yours. Honestly, what was wrong with you? This was wrong. You knew that. You couldn’t possibly love Anakin. And he couldn’t possibly love you. Anakin could have any woman, goddess, nymph, and mortal alike, so why would he choose you out of everyone?

Against all odds, he did. And he kept doing it. His absence had sparked a flicker of doubt within you. And as hard as it was to admit, you missed him.

—----------------------

“Obi-Wan, I cannot do this any longer. She doesn’t love me. Please, take my misery away from me.”

Anakin wasn’t himself. Obi-Wan could see that. Even though it seemed impossible for an immortal being to have bags under his eyes, Anakin somehow managed it. He looked rough. He looked sad. And Obi-Wan genuinely felt for him.

“Tell me more,” Obi-Wan leans back against his chair, stroking his beard as he watched the God fall apart in front of him.

“It seems that nothing has worked. I’ve tried to win her over with lavish gifts, these grand gestures of love. I’ve written her letters, given her space, and told her how I felt- how much I loved her. It-It’s not enough. She doesn’t want me. In all of my years as a God, I have finally found a worthy opponent. And this is a battle I will not win. It is a battle I will never win. I have finally been defeated. Y/N has taken my heart, and I will let her do it a thousand times more for the eternity that we live. My heart belongs to her and her only. She has filled a void within me that I never thought would disappear.” Anakin sits down in the chair beside Obi-Wan, throwing his head into his hands. He lifts his head up to look at the man beside him, and Obi-Wan instantly freezes.

Anakin was crying. The Anakin. Was. Crying. He had never been so deeply affected by anyone before, and the weight of his newfound emotions pressed down on him heavily. Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt, realizing that his attempt to teach Anakin a lesson had inadvertently caused him immense pain.

But Anakin passed Obi-Wan’s test with flying colors. The deal was that you couldn’t truly fall for Anakin until he finally let go of his pride and broke down the defenses he'd spent years erecting. Only once you have allowed him to be vulnerable and show his authentic self, could you begin to love him back. To see him for what he truly was, yes, he was a god, but he was still a man. A man who had fallen deeply in love with you. A man who was heartbroken, and finally admitted defeat. He had met his match.

“I think you should visit her one last time, Anakin. Maybe say your goodbyes. I’m very sorry I put you through this, old friend.” Obi-Wan flashed him a small smile, earning a nod in response.

“Actually, no need to apologize. You’ve taught me a valuable lesson. For years, I thought that I could never be beaten, and that I was better than anyone, and now I see that even I have challenges I cannot overcome. I have been arrogant. Selfish. And I am truly sorry. Now that I have felt true pain, I cannot imagine the suffering I have caused. I will visit her one last time. She needs to know how she has changed me.”

—-------------------------

The pre-dawn darkness had settled in when Padme left for the meeting on Mount Olympus, the air heavy with anticipation and the rustle of the wind through the trees. What it concerned, you had no idea. But she was always into politics like that, and you respected her for it. She was driven, and despite only being a Naiad, she made sure that her voice was heard and that she spoke for those around her.

You sat along the riverbed, the gentle sound of the water rippling over stones a constant companion, watching as the morning sun rising reflected off of the water and the lilies that lined your stream. The Greek world was so beautiful, and you were so glad that you were able to experience it. You watched the frogs, green and plump, hop from pad to pad, their croaks blending with the splash of the fish swimming in synchronized schools, their scales glinting like silver coins. It was peaceful, and you were thankful for it.

Before you could think about him, you felt him.

“Anakin,” You whispered, feeling his presence behind you. Your eyes began to feel heavy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I am here to say goodbye, my love.” He mumbled from behind you, not daring to move an inch.

“Would you sit with me?” you mumbled, keeping your gaze on the lilies, scared to show your solemn face. He slowly sat next to you, with more space between you than you would have liked.

‘I’m sor-”

“Anakin, I have fallen for you. You have won me over. But, I must admit, I am apprehensive because my loyalty lies with your sister, and I do not want my life to be ruined. I’ve heard too many stories of nymphs falling for a God and being destroyed in the process. I cannot give up my life up like that, and I will not. So, if you truly love me as you say, I need to to swear to me and your father that you will love me and only me for eternity, that you will never abandon me, and that you will give me the family and life that I deserve.” You finally turn your head to face him, your eyes welled with tears as he gazed upon your face, memorizing your features.

“Y/N, I swear upon every God, Goddess, Nymph, Demi-God, and whatever else out there that I will love you for eternity. That you will always have me. And I will continue to show my love, be there for you, and treat you as you deserve. You are priceless and my life as a God means nothing without you.”

You didn’t give him a response, no, he finally deserved a kiss. The one he had been waiting so patiently for.

You pressed your lips fervently against his, eagerly exploring his mouth with your tongue, while your hands became entwined in his hair. Letting out a gentle moan, he deepened the kiss, reveling in the sensation that he never wanted to end. He tasted like figs, sweet and savory, a flavor you could taste for eternity. His tongue eagerly explored yours, a silent struggle for control as he sought to please you. His hand grazed your cheek, holding you against him as if you were a second away from disappearing.

His touch traveled down your neck, finally arriving at your damp, clothed chest, where he tenderly held your breasts, his thumb moving in circular motions on your nipple. Now, it was your turn to moan.

“Baby,” He broke the kiss, holding your forehead against his as you both attempted to catch your breath. You were apprehensive. You had never done this before, and Anakin was intimidating. “Hey, look at me. It’s just me. Let me take care of you- make you feel good. Does that sound okay?”

You looked up to meet his blue eyes, his blown pupils staring into your soul, overflowing with adoration. You nodded slowly in response, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Can I hear you say it, darling?” He whispered against your lips as he peppered small kisses on your cheek and down your chin, reaching your neck. His kisses seared your skin like the sun, feeling warm and holy.

“Anakin, I need you to make me feel good. Please.” You whimpered under his touch, the warmth in between your legs growing wetter by the second. The desperation gnawed at you, a constant hunger that wouldn't be satisfied. You needed Anakin to take what was his- immediately.

He falls on top of you, his weight a welcome force as you pull him down. His kisses rain down on your neck, hot and needy, while his fingers trace the curves of your body, each touch a possessive claim. He presses himself into you ever so slightly, and you moan at the sensation between your legs.

His hand finds its way down your hips, inching closer and closer towards where you really needed it. With a mischievous grin, he carefully pulls up your wet lace dress before planting another sloppy, wet kiss on your lips. Your hands tighten on his shoulders, your breath hitching in your throat as his fingers slowly dance up your legs. His hand snakes up your thighs, rubbing them and pinching them as he continues to control your kiss, his tongue deliberate and delicate against yours. His hand slips under your top and then under the neckline of your dress, teasingly massaging your breasts and nipples. It was an overwhelming feeling, and his bulge growing between your legs didn’t help at all.

Anakin pauses, and you sense a shift in the air, a prickling sensation that raises goosebumps on your arms. You’d never been this close to anyone before. You’ve never let someone touch you in a spot so sacred, so holy. Letting Anakin feel this part of you, touch every inch of your body, it was a new ritual on its own. One you weren’t familiar with. But as a Naiad, you had a duty to uphold. You needed to worship.

‘Do you trust me?” He whispers against your lips, pulling you out of your moment of ecstasy.

“Yes.”

“I will take such good care of you. I’m going to make you feel so good, my love. It may hurt at first, but I need you to trust me. Do you want me to touch you, angel?” You nodded in response, letting out a giggle and soft smile at his sweet words.

“Of course, Ani. Please.” You practically whimpered, watching as his smile grew into the familiar, arrogant one you had met all those weeks ago.

Anakin's hand slowly moves up to your throbbing clit, his fingers gently exploring your wetness, teasing a response from you. He had you completely under his control. It was a foreign feeling, the way he touched you, and yet all you could do was subconsciously push yourself against his fingers, begging for more. Anakin was eager to memorize you. The things that made you feel good, made you squirm, made you moan, and most importantly- made you cum.

“Such a needy thing, aren’t you? Just needed me to take care of you so bad. Needed me to take away that innocence and purity you held above my head for weeks.”

Before you could respond, his thumb aggressively pressed into your clit, rubbing soft circles that evoked noises from you that you didn’t know were possible. You push yourself into him further, laying your head upon his shoulder as you sit upright, suddenly overwhelmed by the pleasure he is giving you. A new fluttering sensation found itself below your stomach, feeling hotter and hotter by the second. The pressure keeps building, as Anakin picks up the pace, watching you with determined, golden eyes. You clutch his arm tighter, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Ani- I-” You barely gasped out, the knot in your stomach tightening as you were getting closer and closer to coming undone. As he worked his thumb against your clit faster, he felt the way you grew wetter underneath his touch, the way your hips bucked against him, and the way your legs shook underneath him. He let it go straight to his ego and dick.

“Yeah, angel? You like that? You gonna cum for me now?” He smirks.

“Anakin, I-” Before you knew it, he pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them up against that sweet spot where you didn’t know you needed it most, sending you over the edge. You feel every inch of his fingers against your walls, feeling so stuffed to the brim you burst. Your body convulses beneath him, and his moans mix with yours, both overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm.

“That’s perfect, just like that baby. You’re doing so good, can’t wait until it’s my cock inside you, making you cum and moan like that. Look at how perfect you are. So fucking beautiful.” He mumbles into your ear as he continues to work his fingers faster through your orgasm, practically torturing you with his touch.

You called his name like a prayer, worshiping him as you would any other God. He gave you more than they ever could, and you couldn’t help but moan his name into a new hymn you’d gladly sing over and over again. When you finally come down, he removes his fingers and licks them slowly in front of you, showing how much he truly worships you.

“Fuck, I need to get a taste.” He aggressively pushes your body down against the grass, lifting your dress and pulling your hips against his face.

He licks a long stripe up the side of your thigh, relishing in how loud it’s already making you moan. You feel him smirk against you once again as he places a sloppy, wet kiss against your folds. He licks a stripe down your center, and you instantly get goosebumps as you whimper and whine underneath him. Anakin doesn’t care, no, Anakin wants to make sure you savor every touch, lick, and kiss he has to offer. He flicks his tongue against your clit, slow and deliberately, wanting to feel your reaction against his tongue. Once again, you only grew wetter and he only grew more famished. He finally starts at an increasingly slow pace as he laps against your folds, not giving it to you where you really need it.

To Anakin, licking your clit was the nourishment he didn’t realize he missed. He had never truly been satisfied until his tongue was in between your legs, slowly savoring every fold and taste, never wanting to leave.

“A-Ani, please, I-I need it!” He pauses.

“You don’t know what you need, Angel.” He finally picks up the pace, lapping at your clit at an unrelentless pace, feeling you squirm underneath him. It was overwhelming, and you were bound to cum again any second with the way he was abusing your poor, poor pussy. Finally, the warmth returned, increasing the tension that had been building, and the knot felt like it might unravel any minute. You feel yourself on the edge; just a couple more flicks of his tongue and-

Anakin pulls away, coming over from under you with a wet mouth and nose, a sweet smile spread across his face as he pulls you against his lips.

“You taste so good, yeah? You taste that? Fucking incredible. I could drink you all fucking day.” He mumbles as he continues to hungrily kiss you, his hands holding you down as if you’d escape from him at any second.

As he lifts you upright, his arms effortlessly strip off your dress, leaving you completely exposed. His eyes danced across your skin, tracing every curve and line, drawn to the intoxicating glow your body had in his sunlight. He unconsciously started taking his own clothes off, his eyes never leaving your panting, wet figure beneath him.

As soon as his cock sprung out, you felt your breath catch in your throat. He was fucking huge. His cock was long, thick, and veiny, a beautiful pink color that would fill you up so good. He stroked it in his hands slowly, and your eyes finally made their way back to his, your mouth slightly agape in shock. He smiled at you sweetly, his hand never leaving his cock as he started to stroke a little faster, letting out a small moan as his eyes gazed upon your beautiful naked body on the riverbed.

“Come here beautiful, no need to be afraid. I’ll take such good care of you.” Anakin pulls you closer to him, positioning himself between your legs. He slaps the tip of his cock against your folds a couple of times, and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “This part is going to hurt a little bit, okay? I promise I will never ever hurt you, but this will sting. If you need me to stop, tell me. We can take this as slow as you want. Ready, Angel?”

You divert your attention from his cock outlining you to his eyes and his soft, sweet smile. It’s no wonder that you fell in love with him, truly. He was the better of the Gods, but it was so, so easy to fit him in with the rest. Were you worried he was going to taint you and then leave? Absolutely. Did you want to change anything about the moment?

“Yes, I’m ready. I’m nervous, but-“ You take a second to cup his cheek, letting yourself smile underneath him, “I trust you, Anakin.”

With your approval, Anakin slowly pushed his thick tip into your small, virgin pussy. He groaned at the contact, watching as you let out a painful, pleasurable moan from the feeling. He filled you so entirely, so completely, that the emptiness inside you vanished, replaced by a sense of wholeness you never thought possible. He grinned at the way his cock bulged from inside you, knowing that he was going to split you in half and make you scream his name again. He could never get enough of the way his name rolled off your tongue, the way you lingered on each syllable, your back arched in pleasure as you called out for him.

“H-How are we doing down there?” He barely groans out, tracing your cheek with his finger, “Fuck, I can barely contain myself right now.”

“I-I’m okay. It stings, but I want you to keep going- I need you to keep going.” You pull yourself up slightly, putting your hands around his shoulders and pulling him further into you. He was so deep, so intoxicating as he filled you up. You kiss him, burying your tongue down his throat to silence your painful moans. It hurt so bad, but you couldn’t get enough of him. You needed more.

“Fuck, Y/N, that was so fucking hot. Can I fuck you? Please? You feel too good.”

You could barely manage a whispered "yes" before Anakin thrust himself into you with full force, slamming his cock into your cervix. You let out a loud scream, never feeling so full and overwhelmed at the same time. With his free hand, he brought his thumb back down and massaged your clit in small, rhythmic circles, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

He made sure to keep checking on you as he fucked you relentlessly, watching how your head bobbed and your eyes rolled as you took him so good. You had heard stories about how “God sex” was another level, but you didn’t think it’d be this fucking good.

As he felt you grip around him tighter, he slowed down, suddenly wanting to take his time more than he had before. His eyes softened at the sight of you. Your cheeks flushed and tear-stained, your entire body wet and glistening under his sun, his own saliva dripping down your chin as you let out soft moans from his slow thrusts. You were mesmerizing, you deserved to be worshipped. And that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“I want us to cum at the exact same time, okay? Solidify our bond together. I want us to reach that point together. You let me know exactly when you are going to cum.” He whispered against your lips, pumping his thick cock and holding back a groan.

The slowness of his movement was torturous, his brows furrowing as he watched you below him, each agonizing inch he pushed into you taking what felt like an eternity. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but he had a way of making you feel like the most incredible fucking thing in all of the Greek world. You look down and watch as his thick cock slowly pushes himself into you, memorizing his every vein and freckle. He continues to impale you over and over again, groaning and moaning your name like his own prayer. The squelching of your wetness and the way he moved his hips was making that pressure return from before, except it was seeking a vengeance this time.

Anakin picks up the pace as your cries grow louder, watching your body language and responding the best way he could. He played with your tits as they bounced from the forcefulness of his cock against your cervix. The knot in your stomach returned, the pressure building more and more- eager to explode.

And as you felt your orgasm coming on, your hips bucking up against his, your cries and moans increasing, you finally opened your eyes and looked at the God above you. The sun highlighted his face like it was made for him, his hair and eyes golden under the light. His collarbone and abs shimmered, a mixture of sweat and juices making him glisten above you. He really was a god, a beautiful and misunderstood creature who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved. And in that moment, you’d give it to him.

“A-Anakin, I’m gonna- I-“

“That’s right, baby, I’m close too, push me over the edge, yeah? Make me fill you up so good and full with my Godly cum. You can do this, baby, please-“ He cut himself off with a groan, feeling your walls squeezing tighter against him, your body, golden from his sun, trembling underneath him.

“Ani- I- Fuck- I-I love you!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the band snapped and your walls were pulsating around him. Your moans were loud, your back arched into him as you heard him curse and groan from atop you, his cock cumming deep inside you, making you his, and making him yours. He memorized the tears as they streamed down your cheek from your orgasm, your eyes squeezed shut as you were filled to the brim with pure ecstasy.

Anakin pulled out, collapsing on the grass next to you as you both attempted to catch your breath.

“Y/N, y-your- that- that was the most fucking incredible experience I have ever had.” He barely breathed out, still coming down from the orgasm you gave him.

As you caught your breath, you rolled onto your side to look at him once again, the beauty of the sun god as he lay by your river.

“You aren’t leaving now, are you?” You whisper, your eyes solemn as you trace your initials on his chest.

“Never, baby. You’re stuck with me for eternity.” Anakin beamed at you, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he pulled you on top of him into another deep kiss.

“Wait, Ani-“ You pulled away, noticing eyes were etched with concern and you let out a little giggle, “I have something I wanted to give you. Since you’ve given me all of those gifts before and- well- I meant to give it to you earlier but we got so caught up in things.” You blush under his gaze, your nerves catching up to you as you thought about your gift.

“Angel, you didn’t have to do that. But I promise I will cherish whatever you give me for the rest of time. Lemme see.”

You stand up from beside him, watching as he lay naked against your riverbed as if he had always belonged there. Except now he did. Your cheeks flushed as you turned away from him to walk to the laurel tree, feeling his eyes on you.

Your hand reached up to a branch, pulling it from the tree and snapping it off, your heart aching at your actions. As you walked towards Anakin, the laurel branch transformed into a crown under your skilled hands, its leaves shimmering with the soft light of your Naiad magic.

“I wanted to give you a piece of me, because I know that you have other responsibilities and I won’t always get to see you.” You placed the crown upon his head, before taking his hands within yours, “That laurel tree made me pick this spot. It’s always been my favorite. This crown will never die, and the leaves will never fall, it is eternal- just like our love.”

A radiant smile spread across Anakin’s face as happy tears welled up in his eyes. He enveloped you in a tight hug, and you could feel the warmth of his affection. His fingers traced the contours of your back, a lingering touch, as he whispered his thanks, each word laced with a desperation that made your heart ache. It was strange how you got here, but yet you had found that missing piece. You didn’t expect him to be the God of the Sun, Zeus’s favorite, or anything like that. To you, he was just your Anakin. Your sweet, sweet Anakin.

“I thought I’d be searching for eternity throughout the Greek world for a love like this. And yet, you were brought to me.” Anakin pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as the weight of his words came down on the both of you, “Our love is eternal.”

“Our love is eternal.”

[amoreva]

ROMEO AND FAIR JULIET

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pairing: biker!luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: luke loves his bike, a present from his father. it allows him to get out of camp fast as well as take him on late night rides. luke loves his bike, but he loves you a lot more.

warnings: ooc luke, rushed ending, no specific parent for reader, chris shows up!

a/n: the creative juices are not flowing right now, i’ll try to revise it. and I’ll hopefully revise the ending later 😭

requested: yes!! (don’t have og request)

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“Look who showed up.” Your friend grinned widely. Her head sticking out the window of your dorm room. You get off your bed and joined her.

A couple floors down was Luke in gray sweatpants, black compression shirt and a black jacket. His mischievous smile brightened when you popped your head out the window.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He called out. Your boyfriend snuck onto your college campus. You knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Late night rides on his motorcycle.

The motorcycle was a gift for Hermes, an apology. It could take Luke anywhere he wanted. He just had to go 88 mph, like the DeLorean from Back to the Future.

“Stay there, Romeo!” Your essay could be done later. It’s been a bit since you hung out with Luke. He just got back from a quest recently. Thankfully—he didn’t fail this time, nor get any scars.

“Please cover me.” You begged your friend, tugging on your jacket and sliding some pajama pants over your shorts.

Before she could answer, you’re out the door and racing down the stairs. You completely disregard the need to be sneaky and secretive.

“My fair, Juliet.” Luke smiled as you ram into him. A tight embrace. He quickly broke the hug he and looked around, excited to be reunited.

The Romeo and Juliet nicknames started since you started to go to college. He would always show up and stand under your balcony at night. It was quite cute really.

Luke grabbed your hand as you both ran out of your college campus, fleeing away in the cover of night. His trusty steed parked a little away from your dorm building.

“Up and at it.” He held your hips as your mounted the motorcycle like a horse. Your ears turned red (luckily hidden by your hair).

“Where are we going?” You asked, flipping the visor up and down on his extra helmet.

“Just you wait, my sun.” Luke smirked and put on his helmet, prompting you to do the same.

(You swear he’s been learning all about Romeo and Juliet from the Apollo Campers. He firmly denies it, but you know he has since you started college.)

Soon enough the stars were moving besides you as the vehicle raced down the streets of New York. Luke sped through red light and speed limit cameras without a care for human lives. “Supposedly,” the Mist was covering you two.

“Where are we going?!” You shouted and held onto his waist tighter. Your arms pressing against his abs.

Luke reached behind you and held your thigh. The motorcycle reached to 88 mph. Suddenly, a white flash surrounded the tow of you, transported you to an entirely different scene.

You and Luke parked on top of a mountain. A campsite to be specific. There was a table on top of a blanket. Flowers and your favorite snack by candles.

“You did keep complaining about your school work so…” Luke trailed off and removed his helmet. “I also know you miss camp since you started college—surprise!”

“Luke…” You mumbled and looked back at the camp counselor. “You didn’t have too. I would’ve been fine with just a ride out in the city.”

“Oh, but I wanted too.” Luke wrapped his arms around your hips. You tilted your head up at him. “Can’t have you burning out before you come back to camp.”

You kiss his lips appreciatively, tangling your hands in his curls. Luke paused but kissed you back. He spun you so you were pressed up against his motorcycle (he loved doing this). “Thank you…” You breathed out.

“Anytime—anything for you.” Luke trailed kisses down your jaw and neck, whispering it into your skin.

“You really are a Romeo.” You giggled.

“Then you at my Juliet.” Luke smiled into your neck

When summer break started and exams were finished, Luke was the first one to see you. Well—pick you up. You just moved out of your college dorm room and now packing up to stay at Camp Half-Blood. It was a quick hi and goodbye to your parent before you’re rushing down to meet your knight in orange armor.

“My fair, Juliet.” He greeted with a playfully bow.

“Romeo.” You curtsies with your imaginary dress. You were giddy, finally being able to leave college life to escape to Camp Half-Blood.

Soon enough you were running up Half Blood-Hill, greeted by your cabin mates and friends you haven’t seen for so long.

“Oh shit, College is back!” Chris shouted, leaving the new Hermes kid he was with to greet you. The nostalgic smell of Camp hits you and suddenly you yearn to never leave camp again.

“Missed you too, Mercutio.” You embraced Luke’s half-brother.

“Still? With that Romeo and Juliet shit?” Chris rolled his eyes.

“Hey, it’s cute.” Luke defended.

“Yeah cause you’re Romeo!”

“What do you and Clarisse want to be Romeo and Juliet?”

“What—no! She is no damsel in distress.”

“Neither is my girlfriend!”

“Yet you still call her Juliet.”

“Shut up.”

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[bones4thecats]

Hey, I was wondering if you could use your writing skills on a scenario with Apollo, Hades, and Buddha, where they meet the reader (a goddess of the cosmos), who hasn't interacted with other deities(and humans)?I hope you will consider it.

A/N: Hello there, Anon!! I always consider the requests that are sent into my inbox! I really did like your request, as the Goddess of Cosmos thing is really cute. Uranus is used as the Reader's father here! I do hope you enjoy this!!

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☀️ He had heard about you from both his nymphs and fellow Gods

☀️ You were known as the Greek Goddess of the Cosmos, and the daughter of Uranus, the previous God of Cosmos

☀️ Unlike many Greek Gods, you were very introverted, straying far away from Gods, only seen speaking to the sky, supposedly to your father, who personified the sky

☀️ All Gods were pretty much required to go to Gods’ Council meetings, but nobody had ever seen you join the meetings, with the excuse from Hades that you were resting in one of your father’s temples

☀️ And it surprised everyone when stars started falling from the ceiling and you popped up, sitting on a cloud, bundled up by a cute comet blanket

☀️ He stared at you with hearts in his eyes, you were the most beautiful Goddess he had ever seen before, and in his opinion, you surpassed Aphrodite

☀️ Your eyes shimmered with stars and your cheeks were littered with small sparkles

“ Ah, Y/N! It’s a pleasure to see you decided to join us for once! “

☀️ Apollo ignored Zeus’ comment and watched as you waved lightly to other Gods before Aphrodite sat beside you and began to caress your hair, with permission of course!

☀️ The God of the Sun then decided, you were going to be the one he would marry and have children with, after all, opposites attract, he just hopes maybe you’d return the feelings

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💀 Hades knew of you because he had seen you around as he grew up

💀 As the God of the Dead, he knew of your history, as your mother was mortal and your father was the original God of the Cosmos, how that worked? No clue

💀 You were known around the Greek Pantheon as a kind and quiet individual, never really showing up to meet anyone, including Zeus when he beat Cronos and took over the head

💀 The only person you had ever really spoken to that he knew of was Aphrodite, and that was because she had come across you inside of one of Uranus’ temples one night while she walked around

💀 Hades was just taking a stroll throughout Helheim when he heard a small voice singing by the river STYX

💀 He cocked an eyebrow and immediately turned and walked towards the noise, expecting to find a possible nymph of a visiting God or Goddess, but, he found you

💀 You had a blackhole-themed outfit on, it fanning out by your feet as the cloud of stars underneath you slowly were sucked in and exported out of the middle of it over and over again

💀 He froze in place and caught your attention with how he stood by you after finally gaining the confidence to move towards you

💀 After speaking for a while, you both realized you liked one another, and you swore to visit him more often. And during one of those visits, he discovered his feelings, now, all he hopes is that you like him back

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🍭 Buddha knew of you, but he didn’t actually know you

🍭 He had heard about you mainly through Gods’ Council meetings, as some Gods would complain about having to be there while you weren’t obligated like them

🍭 He had decided to head out for a walk before the 4th round of Ragnarok ensued, and that was when he had met you

🍭 You were sitting on a star-formed cloud that was letting stars fall into the ground, leaving slight burn marks, then flowers grew

🍭 To say he was curious was an understatement, he was getting nosy

🍭 Buddha looked at you from behind and tapped your shoulder before swiftly moving to the front saying ‘boo’

🍭 The way you jumped and looked behind you in surprise amused him, and seeing you then turn around once again in shock before getting flustered and backing away

🍭 The way your cheeks flushed and the sparkles that littered your cheeks began to brighten made him chuckle

🍭 Ever since that day, he had a habit of meeting up to speak with you, and you seemed to enjoy his presence

🍭 He loved to mess with your hair which was littered with many different kinds of things, from clips symbolizing planets to small stars

🍭 During his match of Ragnarok, he smirked, looked at you and laughed as stars enveloped Zerofuku’s head as you leapt in front of him, declaring your alliance with Humanity, and ever since then, you guys have been inseparable

🍭 It was that form of honor and determination that made him realize his feelings for you ran deeper than friendship, so, now, he plans to ask, if you felt the same. Oh how he hopes you do!

[simp2537]

Hey there, I saw your requests were open and just wanted to ask if you’d be willing to do a yandere Percy Jackson x a male or gender neutral reader who happens to be an actor— I myself am male, but I also think it’s annoying to look for a fic about your favorite character, only to find out it’s written for the opposite gender. The reader can either be a demigod (probably a child of Apollo or Dionysus since those two are closely related to acting & whatnot) or just some mortal that can see through the mist like Rachel or something. Either way, would you mind writing about Percy seeing the reader & a co-Star share a stage/film kiss? It could even be Percy & Annabeth since both are pretty cool and I like them both as a couple; plus, poly yandere situations are fun. You can also decide whether or not the reader and Percy/Percy and Annabeth are dating or not; thanks for taking the time to read this, and have a great day :)

-🪑 (I am now chair anon)

Stage Lovers

A/n sorry if this isn’t what you wanted, I took a small guess in a few things. Not sure if everything I wrote was canon but whatever. I wasn’t sure if you meant the show of book so if the books image their older and the same goes for the show. Also I used the Little Shop of Horrors play in this. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, possessive behaviors, slightly(a bit more then slightly) himbo reader, mention of killing someone later.

Anon - 🪑

All Characters are aged up to 18 plus

Percabeth x Male! Reader

Camp half-blood was a buzz with people. Apollo’s cabin was preparing the annul musical/play to celebrate their father’s birthday. Percy and Annabeth hovered around the scene as they watched their boyfriend practice his lines with some daughter of Aphrodite. The girl was too close, too touchy, to smiley for the pairs taste. Their sweet and kind boyfriend Y/n just helped her with a smile in his face. Percy kept an arm around the visibly seething Annabeth as they watched. Everyone at camp knew that Y/n was there. They all got the message but this stupid girl.

Open distain was on Annabeth face as Y/n walked over to them. His script loosely in his hands and a bright smile. He’d been working for weeks on this play, but he wouldn’t say a word about it. Y/n being the sweet boyfriend he is, wanted his lovers to be surprised when they watched him.

Y/n kissed Annabeth’s forehead first, hoping to soothe the anger visible on her face, then he moved to Percy. When he pulled away Percy held his hand.

“Who was that?”

Y/n turned his head at Annabeth’s tone. It’s irritated and annoyed.

“Who?” Y/n questioned unsure. Percy traced the back of Y/n’s hand.

“The girl over there, you were reading with her a moment ago Sunni.” Y/n blushed at Percy’s nickname for him. Looking back quickly Y/n missed the look of hatred his partners gave the girl.

“Oh, Vanessa, she’s my stage partner for the play.” The pair stilted. His partner?

“What play are you doing again?” Annabeth pondered twisting a lock of her hair. Y/n’s face lit up and he chuckled softly. The pair basked in awe of his voice. They could listen to him all day.

“Little Shop of Horror… Wait! No! I’ve spoiled it now! It was meant to be a surprise!” Y/n groaned softly. Percy laughed at his silly little Sunni. Annabeth raised a brow intrigued.

“Who do you play?”

“I’m Seymour!”

“And she is?” A moment of silence filled the air after Annabeth’s words. Percy brought Y/n closer and sent him a look.

“Who is she?” Percy demanded not liking that Y/n wouldn’t answer.

“You can’t get mad.” They pair furrowed there brows.

“Why would we be mad lovely?” Annabeth muttered softly moving some of Y/n hair. Y/n didn’t meet either of his partners gazes.

“She’s Audrey.”

Silence echoes through there conversation. Y/n had shown his partners the movie of Little Shop of Horrors once. In that one time they knew who Audrey was. Y/n took a nervous gulp and his partners shared a look.

“Are you mad?”

“No, lovely we’re not mad.”

Y/n breathed out a sigh of relief. One of his other siblings motioned for him to go back. Y/n kissed his partner goodbye quickly and dashed back to the stage.

“I’ll grab her after the show.” Annabeth voiced softly.

“Why can’t we grab her now?” Percy snapped. No one other than them was going to touch Y/n. They could allow that.

“We’re nothing going to mess up Y/n’s play, he’s been working so hard. We’ll throw her in the lake afterwards, then celebrate with Y/n.”

With Annabeth’s words said the pair returned there gaze to Y/n who was singing with one of his siblings who was playing Audrey two.

[dani-says-stuff]

I NEED TO COMMIT TO A STORY TO WRITE BC NOW THE FIC IDEA OF A PJO/HADESTOWN REINCARNATION IS BACK TO PLAGUE ME

scatterbrained thoughts so i don’t forget and to see if anyone else out there cares below the cut

like its the hadestown version of the myth bc 1. LOVE and 2. there’s something just so funny about like hermes moonlighting on broadway for a bit w a whole musical ab one of his favorite and heart felt tragedies

also the lyrics “maybe it will turn out this time” and all other ones along the lines of retelling it hoping it ends differently AND THEN IT ALL COMES BACK— LIKE THEY REALLY DO REINCARNATE and it (maybe) works out this time on the road to hell, on the rail road line

the banter between hermes and apollo about how maybe hermes is better at his job and they should switch (he basically wrote a whole award winning musical and starred in it for years and then in a weird way prophesied that the tragic lovers would return)

apollo is not pleased

aphrodite squealing in the corner bc it’s just such an outlandish time-transcending love story, heart break, and reunion

percy just over this bs bc why is this his life

eurydice hermes kid ? like hermes feels bad “she was a hungry young girl” and all that, he does his best to be a good father this time to heal the ancient trauma she has AS WELL as his own for failing luke all those years

orpheus apollo kid? he was a muses’ son after all, and that poor boy’s workin on a soooong

also more hermes/apollo banter

idk godly parent subject to change (does eurydice even need one? what if she’s just a clear-sighted mortal that hermes took under his wing this time)

eurydice is at yancy w percy not a rich kid tho, she’s literally in like the same underdog position he’s in there

the monsters are after her too… but not bc she’s a powerful demigod, she’s supposed to be in hell… how the fck did she get out???

orpheus is at camp ?

eurydice gets beamed up to the underworld with sally

hades is just ??? like hmm… this one seems familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on why

then orpheus shows up later with percy and the gang and bros just like “oh no… fuck me, not this shit again…”

idk all this is subject to change (or it might not happen at all) bc as entertaining as it would be, a lot doesn’t make sense… like why would orpheus care and want to go on the quest bc he doesn’t even know eurydice yet AND where would the story go after the first book??

also the fact this would be oc x oc, i mean i love those stories, but idk how others feel about them

i also thought about au-ing in percy as a orpheus so the would already be friends and stuff… but then that doesn’t make sense bc of how blatant he is about being horrible at singing except when played by chris mccarell in the musical… mans can SING

all that and i also have a list of requests, a tumblr masterlist to fix the links on, the regulus book and the hunger games book to do (and a possible OTHER pjo book that i only really told to wifey @iknowyoureabigfan )

idk lemme know ig if this seems interesting, this thought has been rolling around in my head for years and all the bullet points just randomly came to me today

that’s all ~ byeeee

[mahvaladara]

She had expected him to be different. When they told her about the necromancer in the docks, she had expected to find a haggared old man who carried death on his mantle. Instead she found herself staring a face that shocked her. The face of a hero, of a holy father, distorted and scarred, like a mockery of the Holy General of her Church.

“You look like the Saint General.”

“So I have been told....”

“Does it amuse you, to be colluding with dark magic while wearing the Holy Father’s face?”

“No, it does not amuse me,” and he pointed towards the many broken mirrors that surrounded them, those that were uncovered. “Though I was born with it first. I was born under the light of the Black Sun and he was born when the Eclipse passed, by the first rays of hope granting light. How fitting...”

And he crossed his arms. 

“For you to know his face, means you are close to Father Apollo. But having in count he has promised to personally finish his work,” and he pointed towards the eye-patch, “tell me, Knight Commander Dala of Temple City, are you here by his request, or is it personal?”

“Personal. I was told I could find a great necromancer here, a man capable of defying death, one who defiled the gift of Saint Pheles and brought back the dead to great darkness and chaos.”

“I just understand we are all Eyes of the Stars, and I pull on the lines of the stars, and the stars give life and take life. So, tell me, Lady Dala, who died?”

“My daughter... she was murdered. I need her back, and I need to know who did it...”

“Spirits return to the stars they came from once you die, into the astral lines for cleansing, so their Eyes can become clear. To rip your daughter’s Eyes from the stars comes with a great price, one which must be paid in equal.”

“I plan to pay with the life of the one responsible for her dea-”

“No, no, Lady Dala,” and he shook his head. “It does not work that way. You are asking I bring back your daughter and pay with my own Eyes while you solve her murder? No. Uncleansed Starlight casts shadowed light, her Eyes will bare myst. To fool convince the stars to give her, you must share your starlight with her. Three years of your remaining life, be it one year, two years or meere seconds, it does not matter, by the stars claim all of their Eyes. Non of the Watchers let stars fall without their watch.”

“Then I’ll pay with my life! Can you bring back my daughter?”

“Of course. But understand that once a spirit reaches the Stars, it shall never return the same. There’s a certain... understanding. She will be more, all her good will be divine, all her evil, will be... Well, you get the idea.”

“I don’t care!”

“Very well, than pray she returns your daughter, and not a monster. But I need a few things.”

“I need an object of great affection of her, and her remains to pull upon her starlight of her Eyes.”

Dala turned around and placed a bag on the table, she poured the contents over it, burnt up bones scattering over the table.

“As for the object, here,” and she placed her necklace alongside the bones.

The man walked side to side, his fingers running through the remains on the table. His expression, veiled. Then he looked to stare at her.

“What do you know of human anatomy?”

“Excuse me?”

“This,” and he tapped a bone with a boney finger, “this isn’t a human’s hip bone.”

“What?”

“Unless your daughter wasn’t born a daughter, these aren’t her bones, their size and density is too big to be a woman’s. Even if she was a Cleric.”

“What? That’s nonsense! Are you also going to say she’s missing a rib, like the creation mythos?”

“Oh, this person is missing a lot more than just a rib. Humans have around 206 bones, I know, I have counted. You have brought me a rib-cage, a skull, two femurs, a spine, a hip bone and I pretty sure that spine is not a spine, it’s a tail.”

“Bring her back!”

“I don’t think this is even a human,” and he tapped the skull. “These here, on the top of the skull? These are horn roots, someone very carefully dehorned this person than filed the skull until it looked like a human’s. This isn’t a human female. These are the bones of a dragon in human form.”

“BRING. HER. BACK!” 

[t-h-i-n-g]

hii i hope you’re well! could i request a percy jackson x daughter of apollo reader where they’re long time best friends who both fell in love somewhere along the way, but neither has wanted to confess for fear of ruining the relationship or getting rejected?

Give It A Chance

a/n: percy jackson is 100% a swifty thats all im saying. does that have anything to do with the fic? no it doesn't i just have to put it out there lol. thanks for requesting!! i hope its okay that i made the not want to ruin what they have thing more one sided towards the reader. i hope you like it!!

word count: 1.2k

summary: he shouldn’t be staring at you like this. you shouldn’t even be in this position, literally. you both had so much to lose, he had to understand that.

warnings: light swearing, ?pining?, let me know if i missed any!

PJO/HOO - masterlist m.masterlist

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

How did you even get here? Well if you wanted to be literal and go back to the beginning you could. So let's do that.

You and Percy were friends even before you knew that gods existed. Before the never ending terror of being attacked outside of camp became known. Before either of you knew who Grover was.

Having been forced to be friends since your parents were. Both of your moms would have wine nights weekly. Every Saturday from 5:00-9:00 to be exact. While they were giggling to each other about Brad Pitt, you and Percy would sit in each other's rooms doing anything that kept you entertained. One time you both filled up a room with bubbles. Well, that was in your bathroom not your bedroom. Both of your parent’s cooing at the soap in your hair and the bubble beards on your chin.

Once wine night was over he would walk with his mother back to their home. Having lived a block away. Hand in hand with his mom he would look over his shoulder to you. Hair still wet as he gave you a wave goodbye. Which you returned, sad he had to go but excited for the next weekend already.

Once a couple of years have passed, you grew old enough to go to Percy’s place without your mom's supervision. Her only request to ignore any one who talked to you. Including the man you looked like Santa except shirt-less. 

She did not like hearing that knock off Santa was talking to you when you did inform her…. Yeah, she didn’t let you out of the house that week. Once she did give you the permission, your walks to Percy’s never included seeing or talking to shirtless Santa again.

You met Grover when the both of you were in school. That’s when you found out the reason your father wasn’t present because he was a god….

Now you tell someone that and see how they react. You called bs denying, denying, turning your head in the other direction. It wasn’t until your mother told you it was true that you started to believe. What really was the icing on the cake was a fuLL ON BULL/DEVIL TRYING TO KILL YOU-

It was an emotional departure from your mother and Percy’s. But, it was for the best. They were more in danger with both of you around and you being in a monster free zone that they couldn’t enter….the answer was pretty clear.

From there on the two of you met other, as you know now, demigods. As well as Chiron. You fainted when you saw him in his centar form for the first time.

Over the course of the following years yours and Percy’s bond was pretty much the same if not it grew. However, you came to wish to see him more than a friend. But you couldn’t ruin what you already had. The two of you were inseparable. Always asking where the other was when not together. Checking up on each other. Of course there were arguments, but you learned to look past then. Always coming to a compromise. Making sure to never bring up the known tension between the two of you.

And all those actions still somehow lead you here. Percy pinning you down, sand from the beach making its way into your hair. Him staring at you with stars in his eyes, a smile adorning his face. A breathy laugh passed through his lips as he leaned in closer. Millimeters away from you. A little play fight being the influence for how you ended up.

You turned your head to the side, looking out to the open water. You heard Percy sigh, placing his forehead in the sand above your shoulder.

“Gods, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbled next to your ear. You turned back to look at him, however he plopped down onto the ground beside you. Accidentally pulling up some sand and getting it in your eye. You turned onto your side to face him. Taking a finger you wiped away the pesky rocks from your vision.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” you stated, peering down at him. He chuckled sarcastically.

“Yeah, sure.” Silence passed over the both of you. Before Percy decided to prop himself up onto his elbows. “I’m gonna talk about it-” he was cut off by your groan. It was your turn to lay onto your back.

“Please don’t,” you murmured to him.

“You can’t keep doing me like this, Y/n,” Percy stated, looking at you. Your hands covered your face. “I know you think it’ll ruin everything-”

“I know it’s going to ruin everything, Percy,” your voice muffled. “We have such a good thing going now. What if it doesn’t go the way you think it will and we want to not be together. Things won’t be the same after that.” “Y/n, you and I both know I want you,” Percy's voice was soft but stern. He sat up fully, taking your hands away from your face. “You wanna know when I realized?” You waited for him to continue. Fidgeting with his fingers that still held yours, looking away. “When your dad’s sign showed up above your head. Your smile was so bright; you were so excited that Apollo was your dad. Honestly I’m pretty sure you were actually more excited to get out of the Hermes cabin than anything.” You let out a laugh, looking up at him.

“It frickin stunk in there,” you defended. It was his turn to chuckle. He pulled on your hands signaling you to sit up. You did, staring into his eyes, pondering your next move. 

“That was when I just knew,” Percy continued, “You were the one I want. We’ve been through hell and back, Y/n. Doesn’t that at least tell you something? I know you feel the same way so why can’t you just give in? What’s the worst that can happen?” you opened your mouth, he cut you off, answering for you, “It doesn’t work out. Okay, sure maybe that’s a possibility but we’ve been through worse. If it doesn’t work out we’ll just continue what we’re doing now, have a laugh about it, whatever. Just give it a shot, Y/n. After everything we've been through, you can at least give me that.”

You gazed into his eyes. Showing the wanting and eagerness in them. You bit your lip, fighting a mental battle in your head.

“If this doesn’t work out you owe me a hundred bucks.” His face lit up.

“And what happens if it does?” he asked. You pondered the question.

“We’ll see, Jackson,” you remarked. The smile on his face continued to grow as he came closer.

“This means I can kiss you now and you won’t dodge me, right?” he questioned.

 As his lips grew closer to yours , you smiled lightly.

“We’ll see, Jackson,” you stated again in a whisper. Without a second to lose his mouth flew to yours. You cupped his face as he once again took his place above you. A hand on your waist while the other held him up.

He was right, you would just have to see where the road ahead takes you. In the end he would be next to you every step of the way.

---------

likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

[littlefreya]

Dirty Henry

Summary: A picnic in the rural forest turns into a steamy game of profanities as Henry decides to demonstrate how he would persuade you to be his.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (2nd person POV)

Word count: 2K

Warning: 18+, smutty smut, oral sex - female receiving, lewd, descriptive profanities that will make your ears burn,praising, outdoor sex, gentle rough sex, creampie. 

A/N: This was requested ages ago: messing around with Henry duri picnic. The dirty talk was inspired by a chat with Wendy. Beta’d by the one and only queen @agniavateira. The Mythology quotes of Apollo and Dapne are based on Wikipedia. *No permission is given of reposting, copying my work or ideas and parts from it and claiming it as your own* 

Feedback is welcome, comment and reblog if you enjoyed. 

Title: Dirty Henry

Honey-coloured leaves floated in the air, flapping tenderly like frail butterflies that danced frivolously in the wind. Lying on your back over a blanket, you watched them as you listened to the rustle of leaves and the water flowing down the small stream nearby.  

Henry’s head rested on your thigh; his smooth baritone stroked your ears in the most satisfying melody you’ve ever heard as he read to from his book.

“...Offended by Apollo’s remarks, Eros has decided to take vengeance on the god. He shot him with a golden arrow, causing him to fall intensely in love with Daphne, the fair river nymph, which he then shot with a lead arrow, imbuing her with pure hatred toward Apollo.”

A small grin peeked at the corners of your lips, your hand reaching to find the dark bundle of curls on his head and began coaxing them around your slender fingers. 

The forest smelled of evergreen mist, mushy lichen, and tranquil tree stumps that had new lifeforms growing on them. On the tip of your nose, you caught Henry’s distinguished scent. His earthy musk called you by your name.  

Henry wiggled slightly on your thigh and cleared his throat before he continued reading.

“Apollo chased the virginal nymph through the thicket, all the while declaring his undying love. When all seemed lost, Daphne cried out and begged her father, Peneus, to save her from Apollo’s unwanted courtship.”

“When a guy is so annoying that you have to turn into a tree in order to get rid of him for good,” you teased while inhaling the alluring scent of the forest.

Henry chuckled lightly, his head bobbing on your leg. He turned on his side and looked at you, his cut cheeks rose to a playful smile. “Well, perhaps all Apollo needed was a chance to show her his true affection to persuade her.”

“Oh, is that so?” you tilted your head to gaze at Henry with amusement, noticing the spark of mischief that shone in his cobalt eyes. He placed the book down on its belly and flipped onto his haunches, planting a kiss on your exposed ankle.   

“Perhaps…” he uttered, the soft pads of his fingers running up the path of your leg like tongues of silk. Your leg jolted at his touch, breaking down to the ground feebly. Henry leaned down, nudging your other leg aside, his mouth was hot and wet around your inner thigh. “...all she needed was for him to show her.”

You nibbled your lip, watching Henry’s dark curls shine between your knees in the scattered daylight. His broad back flexed, taut muscles moved in synergy as he worked through the path to your hidden garden.

“Sometimes, you just need to eat her pussy properly, and she’s yours.” he said huskily. You flushed at his profanities, your cheeks tingling as blood rushed to your head. He had a way with words; they didn’t just sound dirty; they were sin itself, and his rich British accent made even the most sacrilegious statement deeply romantic. 

Henry was well aware of your embarrassment, teasing you for your false chastity. He used his mouth in many talented ways, whispering lust against your enticing flesh to make your ears burn. 

You stared coyly, hugging your breasts like a shy lover, watching him explore you as if you were uncharted territory. 

His tongue embarked through the vale of your body, leaving a wet trail that chilled your skin in the October breeze. You threw your head back and hissed to the canopy of leaves that hid the two of you from the sky. Every touch of his fingers against your flesh set feverish ripples through your skin. Possessive hands grasped at soft the hills of your breasts and squeezed tightly while his lips marked their way below your navel.

He enjoyed this, making you feel so powerless. His deep blue eyes pierced sharply as your head went from side to side like a scared virgin, biting your knuckle as excitement blazed between your sweaty inner thighs. His greedy fingers gripped at the meat of your hips, folding your legs up and splitting them while his head dived in-between.

The soft curls of his hair tickled the naked skin of your apex. Lush and tender kisses dotted the line that led to your core. 

“Henry, please,” you begged, out of breath. His fingers stroked the shape of your womanhood, rimming the gates of your garden with the soft pads of his finger. He laid a kiss on the silk shawl of your clit and an amorous hum spilt from him, appeased at the lusciousness of your skin. 

“I love your cunt, so much.” his words slurred with sultry haze, emphasising the one word that made your muscles sear with embarrassment. You threaded your fingers through your hair and tugged at it as frustration and tension grew across your nerves. 

It was astonishing how vocal he was whilst roping simple words with sinful actions. 

He kissed your cherry, tongue lapping around it slowly before his lips suckled longingly. A deep moan vibrated through the pit of his mouth, making you mewl with blissful little jolts of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Henry murmured as he broke from your clit and moved his lips against the sweet petals of your cunt, his hot breath caressing your succulent fruit. “I’m going to lick every inch of this marvellous pussy, and then fuck you with my tongue.” 

The air vaporised in your lungs; moans didn’t even meet their end, becoming hoarse wheezes, shuddering through the threads of your sinew. Violent tremors made your legs jitter in his grip, had he not held you forcefully they would have fallen aside. 

A low chuckle escaped him as he hooked one of your knees over his shoulder and moved a hand to manipulate your folds. His fingers unwrapped you, pulling your valley open to allow his tongue taste the nectar of your arousal.

Your entire body arched as if possessed, your spine levitating over the surface, desperate howls sent to the sky above. His tongue lingered through your seams, collecting every drop attentively. 

“Be a good girl, and I’ll shove my cock inside you.”

Speech was another one of his powers, enchanting you entirely. You whimpered as his hips bucked against yours in a desperate demand. He would never just fuck you, no, Henry loved to take his time. Foreplay would go for hours if he felt like it, playing with your body until your throat went dry and ached and your bones melted away. 

“You like it, don’t you?” he asked as he ran the snake in his mouth all the way through your swollen crease. “Me going deep inside your sweet little cunny, splitting you open, shooting my load inside you.” 

He expected no answer as you couldn’t form any, but you cried out and ripped turfs of grass in your hands instead. His large tongue sank inside your cunt, invading as deep as possible between the velvet walls. He curled it skillfully, savouring on the taste with a delightful moan. 

Pleasing you gave him just as much bliss. You were made to believe you were ambrosia which he feasted on. 

His mouth mapped your insides, knowing every spot, lavishing it on repeat while your moans increased, turning into hopeless cries. This man has read the language of your body. He knew when you were close and he knew how to prolong his torture- to make it last, to make you scream. 

And scream you did, with tears rolling down your temples, eyes squeezed shut as the stimulation became too much. He sucked on your cunt and plunged his tongue, getting you close and then far again. 

The pleasure bundled at the edge of your core, knotting your muscles from your orgasm. In despair, you squirmed, frustration making you seek for any means to breach through heaven which was just a kiss away. Waving from side to side, you pleaded, but Henry’s large hand slid onto your lower torso, pressing you down to be grounded with nothing but slight force. He limited your movement as he ate you out profoundly, his tongue singing hymns in your depth.

“Henry!” you wailed, unable to withstand his torture. His chin chafed you, his tongue squirmed between your lush lips and just when you thought you were to blackout, he thrust the tip of his into the spot that made you see stars. Your dam broke, your head lifted from the ground as ecstasy spasmed through every nerve, lighting it with an electric charge.

Untethered gasps fell from your mouth, chest heaving up and down as euphoria lingered by. Henry was impatient, his wide waist was already pushed between your spread-open thighs to fulfil his promise. The metallic clanging of his belt was sharp enough to pull you back down, followed by the giant hovering over your small frame and driving into your still-convulsing cavern, sliding in veins and ridges. 

And you felt it all.

A duet of moans played into the forest as your bodies collided. Henry ran deep, bottoming inside and clutching your jaw to the side, praising your neck and cheeks with earnest kisses and grunts that reverberated in your ears.   

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked above you back and forth, his thick shaft pulsated blazing-hot amidst the fight your walls put against his invasion. They never stood a chance, he was iron in velvet expanding them with every shove.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he breathed as he slipped in and out in a steady rhythm, “I’m going to come inside you, paint you with my seed.”

His hands seized your face again, his bulging biceps caging your head while he uttered words of praise entangled with obscenities. The threats of what he planned to do with your body, of how good it felt inside you made you wail in an embarrassing pleasure.

“Yes, take it. Take my cock,” he snarled breathlessly. He was heavy above and inside your body, every slam forcing your legs to jerk helplessly in the air and your behind to ache as it mashed beneath the weight of his body. You cried in ecstasy, feeling his entire length pumping in and out. Long, rasping plunges spiralled inside with tingling little tremors that danced in your essence and continued to spread further the tighter he got you. 

Feeling the tightness grow around his shaft he snapped his arms beneath your knees, spreading you wider so he could fuck you vigorously into oblivion. You screamed his name in despair, his grip making you no more than a fucktoy to which he jostled his cock into, back and forth, wet and quick.

And you loved it, you loved feeling like you’re nothing but a slit for him; your entire essence shattered, destroyed by his body, consumed by your love for him. The new position made his sac thud lewdly beneath your slit, and your clit repeatedly ground into his pubic bone. 

The merciless ordeal was too much, seeing Henry above you and herding his moans was too much.

“Henry!!! Fuck! I...”  You were broken in, sobs of pure bliss cracked through your throat as you came undone, bursting with love. Your head rolled back on the ground, and your body locked him in with zeal. Henry groaned, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he felt the suction in you, pulling him deeper like a siren drowning a lost sailor. Your convulsing walls begged for the rich milk of his loins as he fought to delay his pleasure, but lost to the turbulence that overwhelmed him.

Shouting your name, he released himself, gasping hot against the corner of your mouth. You were stuffed full of his cum as he pulled out; he held your legs up and slid your panties back on. 

“I want it to stay,” he explained, “I want you to carry me in your panties all day long.”

He crawled to lie by your side and reached his hand to the book. His finger went into his mouth to dampen it as he turned the page over as if nothing happened.

“Next chapter, Hades and Persephone.” 

[psalm22-6]

1925 Interview with Sandra Milovanov on playing both Fantine and Cosette

Translated by me. Super interesting read, love to see her perspective on the characters she played, love that she takes out her copy of les mis and makes the interviewer read it and reading all these old articles about the 1925 adaptation really makes you think about the evolution of movies as an art form, all these dancers and actors who were becoming movie stars, and then the change that was going to come with the introduction of sound films  

Source: Apollo-Journal, January 1st 1926 

On the wall hung a beautiful, large blue and pink painting with a circle of white wings, representing Sandra Milowanoff in The Death of the Swan because the great artist who was speaking to me about Cosette had belonged to the Russian ballet of Serge Diaghilev. One day, without a doubt, a director will profit from her double talent for dance and expression before the camera and we will applaud this magnificent artist in the role of a dancer where she will have spun the choreography herself.

While I continue to look at the framed Death of the Swan painting, Sandra Milowanoff takes a volume of Misérables and tells me: “Re-read it yourself…look…Cosette owes it all to Jean Valjean, doesn’t she? He saves her from the Thenardiers, from the forest, from the misery of abandonment, he made for her a life of happiness, she owes him Marius and her marriage, and well, when Marius asks Jean Valjean to step aside from the young couple, she  puts up with it, my God…read it…”

And I read: “Cosette did not ask questions, was not shocked, she avoided saying “father” or “Monsieur Jean.” She let herself be addressed as “vous”, she let herself be called “madame,” only her joy was somewhat diminished.”

“A diminution in joy,” interrupts Sandra, “before the sorrow of this man who raised her, who loves her, and who will soon die because of the distance that they hold him at…”

Further still, the poet adds: “She would have been sad, if sadness had been possible for her.”

“Look again at the happy child’s selfishness:

‘No longer using ‘tu,’ using ‘vous’ and ‘madame’ and ‘monsieur Jean,’ all this did something else to Cosette. The care he had taken to detach himself from her had succeeded. She was more and more happy and less and less tender. One day the word “father” escaped from Cosette. A flash of happiness illuminated the old somber face of Jean Valjean. He reprimanded her: ‘Say Jean!’ ‘Oh! It’s true,’ she responded with a laugh, ‘Monsieur Jean.’ ‘That’s good, he said.’ And he turned away so that she would not see him dry his eyes.’

You see how Cosette easily observes with respect to Jean Valjean, who was so good to her in being reserved as her husband Marius requested. Cosette is a little selfish, because she is too innocent. As they say, she doesn’t know what life is, incidentally it’s because of the care of Jean Valjean. She runs after butterflies... the problems that menace all beings? Jean Valjean threw them behind her with his powerful hand. Cosette? She’s a flower without a worry, who loves Marius because he is handsome and she believes that he is good. But can she really know what goodness is? It is enough, in our eyes, to simply have the charm of young happy girls. Her mother, Fantine, is more sorrowful.”

You know, and, in a few weeks, movie-goers the world over will know that Sandra Milowanoff acted in Les Misérables in the dual role of Fantine and Cosette. Fantine, a young mother, and then Cosette, young girl. And I had come to ask the great artist, who was acclaimed during the presentation of the film, how she left the role of Fantine to enter into the role of Cosette, how she transformed himself, from one to the other…

That is how Sandra came to speak to me about Cosette. Now she evoked Fantine. It seemed that the role of Fantine holds more passion for Sandra. But you must read the phrases that I am trying to transcribe for you with her Russian accent that accompanies each word from the great artist:

“Fantine is vulgar but she has a good soul…Fantine! It’s a soul that had its light…She is all suffering…She does not fall. The more her life becomes hard, the more, in the eyes of others, she wanes, the more her soul is purified…She’s a saint. She gives it all so that she can dress her daughter, her hair, her teeth, her body…Despite her social decline, Fantine is a sun that shows itself behind the clouds.

So do you understand how I transformed from Fantine to Cosette? Because, from a moral point of view these are two totally different souls, not once does a single gesture from Cosette resemble a gesture from Fantine. They are two opposite types. Why did I play two roles? But if life developed in these two beings, these two souls so different, if the suffering, which one of them hardly saw, and which the other nothing was spared, they had to have, all the same, some of the same traits. Cosette resembles her mother; they have the same traits with two different expressions.

But yes, we can be different, believe me, each true artist can transform themselves into an angle and a devil.”

Sandra Milowanoff sees that my eyes are resting on a doll that is there, a doll with a head of porcelain, with a cracked cheek and dressed in a little Russian blouse, with red leather boots.

“That is my doll. I took it when I was able to flee from my country…the broken cheek? That was my daughter who, while playing, broke this doll. I keep it with me now.”  

Fantine, Cosette, Jean Valjean, this doll, miraculously saved from revolutionary violence only to be broken by a child, all this agitated around me and I was bathed in the voice of the great Russian actress. It seems to me now that it was simply a transformation and that Sandra Milowanoff had in her enough sensibility and imagination, of sadness, of happy memories, to be, on the one hand, the distraught mother of Cosette, and also Cosette herself. The conversation rebounds: her interpretation of Fantine underlines the moral resemblance between Fantine and certain Russian heroines from the great Dostoevsky and here we are talking about Henri Fescourt.

“It’s the first time that I shot with Fescourt and as you were able to see in the realization of Misérables, he’s a great, a very great director…but yes, the artist must follow the indications of the director. There are movements that seem to us to be beautiful and correct and that are not anymore when put in front of the camera and as a proverb in my country says: ‘A pair of eyes is good but two pairs of eyes is better.’

Certainly, the inner movements, the deep feelings of a character, if you aren’t able to do that, no one in the world can make you do that.”

And we left Sandra Milwanoff, great performer of Fantine and Cosette, after she declared with fervor: “You see, what we all must do: learn, learn without ceasing, learn…to arrive at simplicity, at the greatest simplicity into which you must put as much of your soul as possible, all of your soul.”

[mari-writes]

☀️🏹🖤

Note: This is a drabble I wrote for a Haikyuu + Percy Jackson event on Twitter. Thought I’d share it on here, too. Of course I made it BokuAka, haha. Enjoy! ;)

//

Akaashi was anxious. 

This wasn’t too unusual—Akaashi was often in some state of worry. It was just part of his nature. 

His father, a salaryman from Tokyo, had passed down his tendency to overthink things, and even his mother’s godly gifts of wisdom and courage hadn’t been enough to cancel out those particular traits.

So yes, anxiety wasn’t uncommon for Akaashi, Son of Athena. 

But this was different.

Bokuto had disappeared from Camp Half-Blood earlier that afternoon. He had even missed dinner—and it had been barbecue, his favorite.

“Bokuto-san, where are you?” Akaashi cupped his hands around his mouth, amplifying his voice through the dense forest. His heart pounded hard in his chest, worry coursing through his veins.

Bokuto wouldn’t run off like this without telling him. They were best friends. Whenever Bokuto did anything, Akaashi was always at his side, at Bokuto’s request. That was just how it was.

Finally, as Akaashi approached the river on the edge of camp, he spotted him.

His friend was sitting on a large boulder half-submerged in the shallows. He was looking up at the sky, arms pulled close around his legs, which were pressed up to his chest. His feet were bare, shoes tossed aside on the shore, along with his signature orange camp shirt— 

Oh, he’s shirtless. Akaashi tried not to react to as he made his way over. But his eyes couldn’t help but soak in the boy’s rippling back muscles, sculpted from long hours of fight training.

Ordering himself to calm down, Akaashi tried to scramble up to join his friend. Bokuto offered his hand, which Akaashi gratefully took, allowing Bokuto to hoist him the rest of the way. 

He sat down, legs crossed, ignoring the thrill that shot through him as his knee touched Bokuto’s thigh. “What are you doing out here, Bokuto-san?” He asked, locking his gaze to the rushing water. “Are you okay?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi saw Bokuto shrug. “Not really. But it’s okay. I’m just… having one of my moods, you know.”

Yes, Akaashi did know. Bokuto’s erratic moods were known by everyone at camp. But he usually wouldn’t run off to be alone if he was feeling sad, or nervous, or grumpy. He’d let anyone in his immediate vicinity know, right away.

“Did something happen?” Akaashi kept his voice low and steady. “Please, talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, Bokuto unfolded himself, stretching his legs over the boulder and leaning back on his palms. Akaashi’s eyes widened. The sun was dipping low in the sky, and through the trees its rays hit Bokuto’s skin, illuminating every dip and curve.

Akaashi gulped. It was unfair, how attractive his friend was. He seemed to shine—like a shooting star, or the sun itself.

Appropriate, Akaashi mused, for a Son of Apollo…  

“Do you think I deserve to be here, Akaashi?”

Akaashi blinked, tearing his gaze from Bokuto’s chiseled form. The boy’s brow was furrowed deep. “What do you mean?” Akaashi felt his face slip into a frown. “You’re a half-blood. Of course you belong here…”

Bokuto hummed, shoulders tensing. He shrugged again. “But… Do you think I’m good enough to be in that cabin?”

Akaashi was confused. “I’m not sure what you mean. You’re a son of Apollo. So you’re in the Apollo cabin.”

“Yeah, but…” Bokuto interrupted, voice raising in pitch. “Maybe I’m just a third-blood, or something? Maybe I don’t have as much of his lineage in me than I thought…”

Akaashi leaned in, trying to catch his friend’s eye. “You’re an incredible archer, Bokuto-san, and your sword fighting is unrivaled…”

“Those are just physical things.” Bokuto’s lip juts out into a pout. “Anyone could be good at those with practice.”

Akaashi pondered his words. “You’re a natural at healing…”

“But there are so many other things I’m just not good at!” He threw a hand up in frustration. “I can’t understand music theory at all! And I’m just not smart, in general. I hate reading and philosophy is so boring. I can’t concentrate, I get anxious all the time when we have to memorize things…”

Akaashi couldn’t stand to see his friend like this. What had brought this on? Had he failed a task? Had someone said—

“They said I’m too stupid to be Apollo’s.”  

The words sank into Akaashi slowly. When they finally solidified, he felt his fingers, which he’d been fiddling with absently, curl into fists.  

“What?! Who said that?!”

“A couple of my cabin mates. I heard them.” Bokuto continued. “They said I’m not well-rounded enough. That I’m a ‘meathead,’ whatever that means. One of them said I wasn’t worthy of my dad’s lineage…”

Fire burned inside Akaashi, anger welling up from his belly to his throat. Involuntary thoughts began circulating, detailed battle strategies of how he was going to annihilate Bokuto’s cabin mates in the next Capture the Flag.

No, the chariot races! They would team up and leave them all in the dust! He would show those assholes not to mess with his friend…

“Akaashi?” Bokuto was looking at him with one eyebrow lifted. “What’s wrong?” Akaashi realized his face was probably betraying his emotions; he didn’t usually allow that to happen.

But gods, Bokuto’s own cabin mates—his siblings, had said such awful things about him! Who gave them the right? How dare they?

Huffing, Akaashi shook his head. “I’m fine.” He turned to face his friend, reached out and grabbed Bokuto’s forearm. “Bokuto-san.” He swallowed. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he absolutely adored about Bokuto, loved about him… But he had to focus.

Now was not the time for romantic confessions. 

“Listen to me. Yes, you are a son of Apollo. You do have some of his traits, and those make you a strong, capable demigod.” 

Bokuto opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Akaashi continued. “But Apollo is not all of who you are.” 

Bokuto cocked his head. “Huh?”

Akaashi smiled. “Your mother. The person who raised you and your half-sisters. The one who you told me was the most important person in your life, and maybe the whole world. What about her?”

Bokuto bit his lip. A small, crooked grin creeped onto his face, and his eyes seemed to glow. “Oh. Yeah. My mom’s pretty great.”

Akaashi nodded. “She’s caring, and always knows what to say when someone is feeling down or scared. She uplifts everyone around her.” 

Bokuto chuckled. “She does.”

“And so do you.” Akaashi squeezed his arm softly. “You’re all of those things, and more. You make us all want to be better people. I’m a better person for meeting you, Bokuto-san.”

The smile grew. “Yeah?” He turned towards Akaashi so that they were face-to-face. The sunset cut a shadow over half of Bokuto’s features. His eyes were wide; he seemed eager to hear more.

Akaashi leaned in. “Yeah. Those traits, not your godly ones, are my favorite things about you. They’re… why I like you so much.”

He watched in delight as his friend’s face bloomed red. “Really?”

Again, Akaashi nodded.

Bokuto was silent for a moment. He just sat there, eyes scanning Akaashi’s face rapidly, like he was figuring out some challenging equation. There was energy flowing between them, something Akaashi had never felt before. It probably had nothing to do with the fact they were half-bloods.

If Bokuto wasn’t in such a fragile state, Akaashi might’ve thrown caution to the wind and kissed him, right then and there. He was just so beautiful, so precious, brave, and good…

“We should head back,” Akaashi said, desperately trying to reign himself in. “The others will probably wonder where we’ve gone.”

He didn’t think it was his imagination that Bokuto’s face fell as Akaashi pulled back. But the older boy nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.”

//

I had so much more planned for this fic, but I totally burned out this past month because of my jobs. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! If so, please comment and share! <3

[pjo-whore]

Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

*

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

*

[breitzbachbea]

Ask game time! When you get this post 5 songs and then send it to 10 other people <3

But also can they be like a 5 song playlist for Michelle or Charlie 👉👈

Oh, I didn't see the second addition! Who am I to turn down a request like this! <3 Michele has his own playlist on spotify as well!

Michele:

Blame It On The Girls by Mika - To combine your requests, I love the idea of Charlie taking Mika's role here as he sings to & about Michele 😆 It's really the "Your life could be perfect, but there's this little voice in your head that always ruins it for you" that makes it a Michele song. That, the dead father line and the pansexuality.

La ballata del Michè by Fabrizio de André - TW Suicide mention for this one. I love how it's a wonderful song to waltz to on a late summer day, but the song is about a man named Michè who killed himself in prison, because he couldn't bear to be parted from his love for so long - at least that is what the narrator tells us. No need to explain why this song fits.

The Man by The Killers - I know it's an ironic song about toxic masculinity and it's 50% that for Michele as well, a bit tongue in cheek about his role as a big fish in the pond. It's also 50% genuine though, albeit that it suits him genuinely better before his fall from grace.

I'm Still Standing by Elton John (cover by Taron Egerton) - Something for my recovering Michele, celebrating that he survived his childhood and all the damage it caused. "Looking like a true survivor! Feeling like a little kid!"

Vietato Morire by Ermal Meta - I imagine this song to be something that Michele teaches the twins, based on his own childhood experiences, but it's also a reminder to himself. The chorus goes as follows: "Change your stars, if you try it you will succeed // And remember that love never hits in the face // My son, remember // The man that you will become // Can never be greater than the love you give"

Michele's playlist has a lot of rather bleak songs, due to how central his issues and character development are to the mainstory. I tried to aim for a mix that showcases both. Honorary mentions to other stuff on the playlist: The In-Between by In This Moment, Requiem from Dear Evan Hansen and Eros and Apollo by The Studio Killers.

Charlie:

Grace Kelly by Mika - I don't know how far you've made it into Italian Affairs by now, but it's the Charco subplot. It's just the Charco subplot - and Charlie in general! It's as if someone had turned his feelings & train of thoughts into a song! He's so proud of his individuality, but he also craves validation from the people he likes so badly. "Do I attract you, do I repulse you with my queasy smile? Am I too dirty, am I too flirty, do I like what you like? Yeah, I could be wholesome, I could be loathsome, guess I'm a little bit shy. Why don't you like me, why don't you like me without making me try?"

I Like Boys by Todrick Hall - No explanation needed. It's His Gayesty.

Zielscheibe by OOMPH! - This song is about teasing and provoking people who try to bully or ostracize one. It's also in the Charlie & Robert playlist on spotify, for the obvious reason that the person Charlie likes to tease with his pure existence the most is Robert. "Shoot finally, pull the trigger at last // Come and use me as a target for your prejudices! // I like it when you take a shot at me!"

Who I Am by The Score - Charlie is by far not the only character who takes pride in who they are as a person, but it was an integral part of his character from the beginning. This song is a good example of it.

Open Wounds by Skillet - I haven't listened to this song in a long time, but it still deserves its spot on my LFLS Playlist as an example of the relationship Charlie had with his father Connor. Charlie really loved his father and hoped until his last breath that Connor would accept him after his coming out instead of making him feel like he had failed him as a son.

[lost-in-the-80s]

Heaven in Hell

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 1,060k

Requested by: Anon. I mixed your request with an idea of mine, hope you don’t mind <3

Summary: Lafayette can be hell to many people, but you and Axl managed to become each other’s heaven. 

A/N: Axl is going by the name of Bill. I kinda want to make a part two, with them going out or something...

You sat in the back of the classroom, your literature teacher going on and on about something you just couldn’t care less about. Your notebook was empty, just like it had been the whole year, except for some small drawings that you’d make when bored.

Winter had arrived in the small Lafayette, sprawling shades of gray and dark green everywhere. You gazed through the window as the cold wind attempted again to enter the room, making the glass shake slightly beside you.

Everything seemed so slow, so lifeless, especially during the winter, the sun would shine less and less and so would you. 

The only constant source of light you had in your life was him. His orange hair brightening everything around him, like Apollo, the Greek god of the sun, who’d ride a chariot bringing light to the world around him. 

If only he could see himself as I do. You thought to yourself.

And so he entered the room, late as always. His brown flannel shirt contrasting with his light blue jeans as he slowly walked in, his gaze fixed on the floor as he approached the teacher, a small paper in his hand, probably justifying his delay.

The teacher scanned the paper quickly before taking a look at him.

“Sunglasses aren’t allowed in this class, Mr. Bailey.” 

He stopped for a second, before silently removing the black sunglasses from his face. 

“You have been fighting again, I see.” The teacher said in disapproval as he saw Bill’s purple eye, while the ginger’s eyes crossed the room, meeting yours.

Pain. Sadness. Anger. 

You could read all of that behind those green orbs.

The class finally came to an end, and you quickly threw all your material inside your backpack, crossing the classroom towards his desk in record time. 

“It was him, wasn’t it?” You leaned down, delicately touching his face and analyzing the damage his father had caused.

He didn’t say anything, just grabbed his things and got up. 

“I’m sicking tired of it.” He finally spoke up as you walked down the corridors, his sunglasses now back at his face.

“I know, baby.” You said quietly, taking his hand. 

He stopped abruptly. “Fuck, I’m not in the mood for this bullshit, I don’t wanna take another fucking class and pretend everything’s perfect, pretend that everything’s ok.” 

His voice was filled with so many emotions and tiredness that concernment washed over you.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… want to go away… from all of this”

You thought for a second, before looking around you, noticing no-one was around.

“Let’s go then.”

“What?” His eyebrows lifted a little in surprise.

“Come on, ginger.” 

Leading the way, you ran through some corridors before reaching the parking lot, a wave of relief sprawling over your body as the two of you didn’t get caught. You quickly unlocked your car and soon enough the two of you were far away from that goddamn school. 

The road had always been a friend of the two of you, leading you away from all of your problems and slowly, mile after mile, bringing you closer to your dreams, closer to your freedom. 

There was a place about 20 minutes out of town, a large field, now empty due to the weather. The two of you would go there every time things became too much to handle. You’d lay on the back of your truck, and spend hours talking. Just like you did this time. 

You were silently watching the grey clouds that covered the sky when he spoke up.

“I- I found something.”

You didn’t say anything, waiting for him to go on.

“Some papers….” He made a pause. “Fuck, I don’t even know how to explain.”

Laying on your side, watching his face as he frowned, trying to form words inside his head.

“He-he's not my father.”

“Who?”

“Stephen…” He took a long breath. “I found these papers last night, and, fuck…”

He took a picture out of jeans’ pockets and handed it to you.

There was a man in a car, he had short blonde hair and looked just like Bill. 

“Bill-”

“That’s not even my name.” He interrupted you. “This- this is William Bruce Rose,” He pointed at the picture. “I- I think he’s my dad.”

Your eyes went wide as you couldn’t think of what to say. 

“My name is William Bruce Rose Jr, Y/N.” He turned on his side, facing you.

“What- why would they hide this from you?” You were starting to grow angry. 

“Wish I had the answer for that.”

“Is- is that why Stephen did this?” You asked in a calmer tone, slowly touching his purple eye.

“We got into a huge discussion, I wanted answers, they didn’t want to give ‘em.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” Moving closer to him, you touched your forehead against his, sensing as his body relaxed with the contact.

He circled your waist with his arm, pulling you closer, and the two of you just laid there for a while, your eyes closed as you silently shared unspoken words.

“Fuck, how I hate my life.” He moved a bit away from you. “Some days I don’t even know why I was born in the first place.”

“Hey, don’t you dare say that again!” You pointed a finger at his face.

“You’ll do great things, you’ll get where no-one has ever gone to. I know it, I can feel it. You’re special, Bill.” 

He scoffed. “I’m not good at anything, Y/N.”

“That’s bullshit. You sing like a goddamn angel, Bill! You give me the chills every time you sing at church.”

“You think so?” His eyes shone with happiness and love as he listened to the words that left your mouth. 

“Yes. God, how I wish you could see yourself as I do. You’re magnetic, Bill, you were born for much more than this.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you passionately. 

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips. “You’re the only good thing about this place.” 

You smiled. “I love you too, baby.”

“So you liked it when I sing, huh?” He asked after some seconds, smirking, to which you simply nodded while smiling. 

He laid on his back, your head finding comfort on his chest as his arms brought you closer.

“Well, choose a song then.”

Thanks for reading <3

Tag list: @born-to-lose​ @slashscowboyboots​ @ginny-rose-sixx​ @givemefuel​ @dynamitebabe​ @tuffduff​ @almosthonest​ @gamsbeans​ @stars-kiss-the-sky​ @ladieswttda​ @teasid​ @hooloovooblue​ @littlemisscare-all​ @rumoured-whispers​ @1800endmeplease​ @izzys-nose-ring​ @motley-cruer​ @angxlxc​ @oihanasstuff​ @apovanity87​ @julessworldd​ @normatural​ @axysbbygurl​ @cherry--rose​ @thesecondlastjedi​ @annaavibes @anfoxtale

Add yourself to my tag list :)

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Show and Tell

Summary: Thor meets Reader, who is a Child of Zeus. There’s a bit of tension and showing off but in the end, they bond over a certain thing in common.

TW/CW: Spoilers for Trials of Apollo: The Burning Maze after the gif towards the end, Thor Odinson x Child of Zeus!Reader, a couple swear words.

Requested?: Nope

Word Count: 1,100

A/N: For the purposes of this imagine, Nat came back when Steve returned the Soul Stone. Also, there’s spoilers for Trials of Apollo: The Burning Maze towards the end so proceed with caution. If you don’t want to read the spoiler then don’t read past the gif towards the end. Anyways, writing this made me want to go reread all the PJO, HOO, and TOA books lol. As always, love to all, and the Requests are Open!

[You can read past this gif lol just not the next one also this is beautiful artwork!]

Your POV

     As I followed Nat out to the middle of the yard, I wondered yet again why Fury thought this the best place for me. When I asked him to put me somewhere useful, I expected something bigger and more bustling than a quiet compound in upstate New York. Although, at least this way I’m not too far from camp. Sure, it’s still an hour away but it’s closer than I had expected. The sunlight glints off the windows of the compound and the cloudless blue sky stretches forever in all directions as we finally reach the small group of heroes awaiting our arrival.

     Introductions are made and then Nat opens the floor for any questions, comments, or concerns. Sam is the only one with something to say, “You don’t look like the child of Zeus. You look like the emo kid that sits at the back of Peter’s science class.” I look down at my black oversized hoodie, ripped skinny jeans, and combat boots and realize he’s right but I’m too comfy in this outfit to change right now so instead, I prove my power by stretching out my hand and making a motion like I’m yanking something out of the sky which summons a lightning bolt.  

     With a satisfied grin on my face and a shocked expression on his I respond, “You should see how my cousin Nico dresses if you think this is emo.”

     A loud blast comes from behind me and I hear Nat swear, “Shit, he isn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.” We both turn to find the Norse god of lightning, Thor, walking our way. Interested I wait as he approaches, “Ah you must be a friend of the man of spiders. How are you today?”

     Raising an eyebrow, I give Nat a look. She gives me an apologetic look, “Sorry, I didn’t exactly tell him you were coming yet. It’s not easy to figure out how to mesh two cultures.”

     I laugh softly, “Don’t worry. I understand how tough it can be. We had to figure out how to get along with the roman kids. I’m sure this will be no different.”

     “I’m sorry. I’m missing something here,” Thor interrupts.

     “Thor, this is (Y/N) child of Zeus. (Y/N), I’m sure you’ve already figured out that this is Thor, Norse god of lightning,” Nat introduces.

     I look up at Thor as he glares down at me, “Surely, a young child like you does not possess the power of Zeus.”  

     I roll my eyes and go to summon another lightning blast but Nat stops me, “Easy on the frying. Between the two of you, Tony is already rolling in his grave about the state of the lawn.”

     I sigh, “Fine, but why do people keep doubting me? If it were Jason instead of me, they wouldn’t doubt him for a second,” I say the last part more to myself than anyone else. Thor shifts on his feet and drops the hilt of his battle axe to the ground and props himself up on it with an amused grin plastered across his face. I raise an eyebrow, “I have one of those too you know.” With his look of doubt, I reach into the pocket of my jeans and take out a black drachma. I show it to Thor before tossing it into the air and catching the hilt of my sword as it comes down. Frustrated, I throw it back into the air, “Why do you always come up heads first?” Once the coin falls back into my hand, I toss it back up and this time I catch the hilt of my battle axe, and swing it around to rest it on my shoulders.

     “Mine was forged in the heart of a dying star and made of Uru. What about yours?” he asks with a hint of pride in his voice.

     “This was mined and forged in the Underworld and cooled in the River Styx. It’s Stygian Iron. You can say I’m Uncle Hades’ favorite niece,” I answer with my own bit of pride showing through. At this, Thor tosses his axe off to the side and it instantly returns to his hand. I do the same with mine and it returns just as quickly. Thor gives me an impressed look before summoning just enough of the Bifrost for me to see it. I shrug, “Unfortunately, mine doesn’t do that. I need to talk to Hermes and Iris about getting one though. It would make traveling so much easier.”

     Our little show and tell session is interrupted as Nat’s phone chimes. She looks at it and then at me, “You ready for a fight or do you want to sit this one out?”

     I look up at the sky and then at the ground and shrug. I summon another lightning blast but this one hits me and transforms my relaxed attire into battle armor. I look back at Nat, “I’m always ready for a fight.”

     The show and tell didn’t stop there. It seemed Thor was constantly showing off during the battle and I’ll admit, I was too. I was eager to show off my abilities and prove myself worthy of fighting amongst these heroes. I’d never gotten the chance to before like my younger brother and so many of his friends. With this new team, I was hoping to make my father proud but that’s a tough job to do.

[SPOILERS FOR TRIALS OF APOLLO: THE BURNING MAZE ARE AFTER THIS GIF, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. Also, this gif is so freaking cute!]

     The battle has been won now and we are heading back to the compound on the quinjet. Thor takes a seat beside me, “You mentioned a Jason earlier. I was just wondering who that is.”

     I sigh, “Technically, he was my younger brother, except he’s Roman and I’m Greek. He and a bunch of his friends battled all kinds of monsters and because of it, my father expects more of me. He died in battle.”

     “I had a younger brother too. He was a lot like you. He was always trying to prove himself to our father,” Thor says.

     “What happened to him?” I ask.

     “He died in an attempt to kill the mad titan Thanos. It is a very long story,” he says, looking down at the floor.

     “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up any terrible memories.”

     “It is alright. We will meet again one day in Valhalla.”

     I nod, “I hope to see Jason in Elysium one day but I have to earn it first.”

     “You’re not so bad child of Zeus,” he says nudging my shoulder.

     “Neither are you son of Odin,” I respond with a laugh.

Masterlist

Everything Taglist:

Thor Odinson Taglist:

[maskingthaleia]

— DAY THREE: SYMBOLS AND ICONS OF APOLLO

Apollo is most notably depicted with a lyre, bow and arrows, and a laurel wreath. When we learn more about him, we can ascribe others from the stories. By no means is this list absolute.

BOW AND ARROW — like his twin Artemis, Apollo is an expert archer. His arrows have the ability to protect as well as bring about destruction. The same way he avenged his mother Leto by shooting down Python with his arrows, he uses them to send plague to mankind. 

LAUREL — the laurel tree was claimed by Apollo as his sacred plant after his pursuit of the nymph Daphne. There is more to the tale, but in short, as Daphne fled from Apollo, she called out to her father (or Gaia by other accounts) for help and was then transformed into a laurel tree. 

LIGHT — often depicted as (but not to be confused with) the sun. Apollo is often described as “bright” or a “light bringer”, but is otherwise not directly associated with the sun god Helios. It can be assumed that as the god of healing, Apollo was attributed to the healing power of sunlight.

LYRE — perhaps his most common symbol as the god of music, Apollo is often depicted playing or holding a lyre. In some cases Apollo is said to have requested a lyre soon after his birth, although the invention of the lyre is attributed to Hermes who was born later.  PYTHON — as previously mentioned,  Apollo slew the beast to avenge Leto after Python’s tormentous pursuit of her during pregnancy with the twins Apollo and Artemis. By other accounts, he slew Python to claim the shrine at Delphi. 

RAVEN — or similarly, a crow, visited Apollo and informed the god of his lover Coronis’s infidelity. As the story goes, Apollo commanded Artemis to kill Coronis and in his anger, turned the raven’s once white feathers to black. Later on, Coronis was set among the stars as the constellation of Corvus, meaning crow. 

SWAN — to summarize part of a hymn to Delos: while Leto labored with Apollo swans circled around the island seven times, singing over her cries. Apollo has been depicted riding on the back of a swan in early artwork.

Other symbols of Apollo worth mentioning but are not listed include deer, dolphin, mouse, and wolf, most of which are involved in known epithets or survived artwork of Apollo. 

30 Days of Deity Devotion was a blog challenge created by Arrin Deuognatos. The original post has since been removed, but has been reposted here (mobile).

Sources Atsma, A. (n.d.). APOLLO (Apollon) - Greek God of Music, Prophecy, & Healing. Theoi Project. Retrieved from theoi.com Sherwood, W. (1916, June). The Mythology of All Races. Vol. 1: Greek and Roman. Marshall Jones Company. Retrieved from archive.org