#but is simply the true deity at his best

[kinoshi]

Basically, I bet you'll see

At first, I'm not quite what I seem

Every day is just the same

(Picking names, repeating faces)

Everything is show and tell

And things are played off somewhat well

Holding hands, we're rather bored

Nothing lines up anymore

The Chattering Lack of Common Sense

Это сигнатурка Недотеп в масках, я уверена

Just... accept the mask

Пыталась написать небольшую предысторию, но так как я не писатель то,что вышло мне не понравилось. Как к этому все пришло-история умалчивает.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: ~10.4K

paring: God!Sero x f!Nymph!Reader

warning(s):  dubcon, drugging, use of aphrodisiacs, loss of innocence, first time, marking, oral (f!recieveing), creampie, sero being manipulative in general.

authors note: hello again! Figured i would repost this lovely Sero piece once again as I have its sequel coming out very shortly, and its best to have everything in one place. This was part of a Mythology collab, and I loosely based it on the Apollo and Daphne myth; though I twisted it a little. So please, enjoy Sero using sweet words to convince you into his conniving plan~ 🔮

Nymphs, nature deities that are not fully gods yet not mortal as well. The only true creature that lives for themselves and yet the only one invariably bound to the land of mortals. And what more can a nymph do than to plenish their lands, give lone travelers a peek of god-like beauty, and to tempt the gods?

A long time ago, Gods ruled the world.

Before mortals became too abundant, their faith lost, and took over everything; the gods controlled all that was seen, heard, and felt. They gifted the mortals things like the wheat in their fields, the water in their cups, the hearth and warmth in their homes, and even the beautiful visions they would see when they slept.

The gods were kind enough to bless them with the sun, the moon, the tide,  the rain that filled the clouds, the mountains that provided shelter from the harsh winds, the peacefulness of being guided to safety in death, and even love; in the many beautiful shapes and forms they came in.

And beings.

Ones that were not fully mortal, yet not fully gods. Creatures created by the gods to simply be enjoyed by the mortals; those that were lucky enough to find them. Maidens of rare beauty, and melodic laughter, that could be found in all parts of the mortal realm. 

Some say they were a gift from Aphrodite herself, as a way to give her thanks to those that were ever devoted to her. Some say they were a gift from Apollo, another form of his muses to gift them with beautiful singing and subjects to paint. And some say it was Zeus, having to give away all of his lovely daughters to the mortals to appease his queen.

Either way, they existed too.

Nymphs, they were called. Nature deities that were beyond that of mortals, but not powerful enough to be labeled gods, or even demi-gods. They lived hidden away from all. Not wanting to be seen or disturbed by many, if any at all. But, if a lone traveler was lucky enough, they may spot a few bathing by waterfalls, or dancing amongst the forest's trees, or soaking the sun rays in a beautiful meadow.

They were everywhere. The oceans, the rivers, the mountains, the forests, the meadows, anywhere the gods had touched and blessed there were to be nymphs to plenish and restore. To keep alive what the gods had left behind; to love what had been forgotten.

You were what the mortals called an Anthousai, a flower nymph. The luckiest of all spirits that were contained to forests and fields; even your fellow wood and plant nymphs were jealous of what you were. A beautiful flower to be admired.

Though the tree stands tall, and grass gives plenty, they could not compare to the beauty that came from anthousai, not even if they were to give up their lives and transform; for a tree could not compare to the beauty of an everlasting flower.

Though you never knew what flower you truly were, whether it be a rose, bluebells, or peonies, your beauty was beyond compare. Even your sisters, fellow flower nymphs like you, over time grew to be spiteful at just how radiant you had become; overshining even them, and they were to be just as beautiful.

They were resentful of you, the one that was most blessed by the gods.

You never were to be invariably bound to one place, for no place wanted to keep you. You constantly were searching, trying to find a home to be secure within, to find sisters that loved you and would dance and sing and care for you as you cared for all that crossed your path. But over time it was made clear that those of forest and field would not want to keep you and call you their own.

So you fled towards the mountains, where the springs and rock would be; hoping they would provide you with what you needed to live.

And, as luck and fortune would bless you once more, you came upon a fellow nymph that was like you. An Oceanid, one that was to be associated with water, as the personification of the springs that dwelled within the land you stumbled upon. And much like you, she was blessed more than anyone else and cast out for it.

She took you to where she lived. A place hidden by rock and trees and held within it a large pond of water that was so blue and clear one could get mesmerized by the simplest ripples on its surface. Not far from it was a tiny home, cozy and sweet that made your heart fill with warmth when you stepped inside it for the first time. And right below it, a passageway that led to a path, that if a traveler was lucky enough to stumble across, could cut his journey through the mountains in half.

Not ideal, truly, for a nymph that wishes to hide away from any mortal; and though this path and place were hard to reach, it had a higher probability to have a mortal stumble upon it, and you, than where any other nymph resided.

But, where one saw misfortune, you both saw the opposite. 

If travelers wished to use your sacred path, to hopefully gaze upon beauty that they will never see again in their life, to trespass and invade your home, then they must leave a gift upon your altar. Failure to do so meant traveling back to where they once came, and conquering the mountain with even fewer supplies. So it only made sense to give up a small token, or bits of coin and gold to you both to be able to pass through.

And oh how blessed with gifts you were. Piles of gold and silver coins filled tiny satchels that hung upon your walls; and made beautiful jingling sounds whenever the wind would shift them. Jewels that would glisten in the sun whenever you held them up to gaze at their beautiful colours. And trinkets, both old and new, that decorated any part of your dwelling with their unique beauty; with some you would wear or attach to your clothing with how much you adored their charm.

It was not long that the news of this passageway, and the creatures that were being treated better than the gods, reached the heavenly realm. 

~~~

“It’s becoming ridiculous!” Ashido cried out, bringing a golden fan up to cool her heated face “They’re getting more offerings than me now! Me!”

Ashido threw herself down on a nearby chaise lounge, the pillows making a soft landing on her otherwise dramatic display, as she brought an arm up to cover her eyes. The fellow gods around her just rolled their eyes, more than used to the over-dramatics their friend and fellow deity was currently putting on display. They knew that, in due time, this would all blow over and she would be acting as if nothing ever happened.

“So, it’s all well and fine if we lose out on offerings. But the moment the Goddess of Love and Beauty starts to lose just a few, then it’s an issue?”

Denki smirked from his spot, chin in palm, as he retorted back to the fellow god that was throwing a fit, more than amused by it all - unlike his fellow brethren. His smile only became wider when he saw Ashido’s eyebrows furrow and a scowl form on her face.

“Oh don’t make such a face!” He laughed, throwing his head back so far he too was lying comfortably on his chaise “It’s very unbecoming of you!”

“Will you two knock it off?” Katsuki grumbled, hands working a stone over the blade of his sword with practiced ease “Who cares about what offerings two stupid nymphs get?”

“I do!” Ashido sat back up again, her glare now pointed towards the man sitting on the floor “They lesser beings! Lesser creatures than I am! And yet their beauty is being more devoted than mine! It’s not right!”

And while those words only received an eye roll from the War God, another god’s interest was now piqued. Sure he knew of the situation, it was all anyone could talk about up in the heavens, but to now know that these creatures were deemed more lovely and fair than his friend? Well, it was certainly interesting news, to say the least.

“Fascinating…”

“Oh come now Hanta!” Ashido cried once more, knocking the arrow he was absentmindedly twirling in his hands “Really? As a fellow love god, I figured you would take my plight more seriously!”

“It is your plight, not mine” He hummed in response, before scoffing in mirth “Come on, how can you not find this interesting? When in our lives has any nymph really claimed the hearts of so many mortals? To the point where they are mistaking them for Gods?”

“Well….”

“Never! We have only ever seen them as nuisances at best, or in Denki’s case a quick romp to let off some steam. Nothing more than a means to an end. Now they are controlling mortals, and even us to a degree! Surely you should find that quite amazing of creatures you half-heartedly help make, turning into something almost as beautiful and powerful as you.”

Ashido rolled her eyes at the last statement, not liking having her greatness compared to that of two lowly nymphs; but Hanta did have a point. Though she would never admit it, her scoff and abrupt standing proof she no longer wished to be in the same room as him for simply being right.

“If you find them so fascinating, then why don’t you meet them?”

Hanta, or any of her fellow friends, did not have a chance to reply before she stormed out of the room. It caused Katsuki to scoff once more before resuming his task, this time with more vigor. And for Hanta to roll his eyes, fingers deftly twirling his silver arrow once again as his mind began to wander.

Just how beautiful was the pair of you?

Before he could ponder the question any further, he stood abruptly too. Not wanting to waste another moment wondering about those thoughts, instead, he wanted to see for himself. He was a god after all, so why shouldn’t he know more about these beings that were creating quite a stir in his realm? 

“Maybe I will…” He mumbled to himself, feet starting to take him to where he wanted to go before his mind could fully comprehend where.

“Like hell you are!” Denki stood in his way, effectively blocking the taller god from taking another step “Not without me!”

This caused Hanta to smirk down at him “Nymphs are cautious creatures, and due to their nature one must be careful how they interact with them. And if I actually want to interact with them at some point, my best bet isn’t to bring the one god known for sleeping with, and breaking the hearts of, almost everyone single one.”

“W-well! So what?” Denki’s skin became flushed as blood rushed to his face in embarrassment over his friend's truth, “You’re a god too, and it's clear they don’t like any! So what makes you think you can succeed with them, huh?”

“Because, my simple friend,” Hanta smiled, side-stepping the flustered god to continue on his way “I am the God of Flattery and Sweet Words, hard to lose the trust of such lovely creatures with that.”

~~~

Though it took a lot of effort, and even more flattery, to get just where in the mountains (and which mountain) you and your friend were calling home from Ashido, he still managed to get it. And with gleeful steps, strong winds to help his wings glide him swiftly through the air, and the gracefulness of his very being, he managed to find you both with no issue at all.

He perched himself upon a nearby tree, high enough that one would not notice he was there if they were to walk by, and just observed the pair of you. 

Your friend (or sister, as you kept calling her), he would admit, was beautiful. She was the one that caught his eye first. The way her skin seemed to always glow under the sun's rays as she gracefully danced upon the meadow you were residing in was hard to ignore. He chuckled to himself at the thought of some mortal stumbling across her, just knowing they would mistake her for his dear friend Ochako mid-hunt with how ethereal she looked.

But then his eyes finally glanced over to you, unable to help himself from sparing you a glance when your sister had called out to you, and it was then he felt his heart stop in his chest and for the world around him to stop moving. 

It was your smile, or so he thinks when he thought back at that moment again and again, that caused such a powerful reaction within him. How radiant it was, how it lit up the world around you brighter than a thousand suns. How warm it made him feel when it unknowingly was sent in his direction. And how it made him finally look at your beautiful face.

After he saw that smile he wondered why your sister had ever caught his attention in the first place. The way the flowers around you sat upon your head and fell into your hair, the way your eyes looked so bright as they gazed up at your companion, and how soft and small your hands look when they reached out to her, to allow her to pull you up into a dance, were all so captivating.

He may have been fascinated before as to why mortals were throwing themselves into danger just for a glimpse of you, but now he understood fully. You were the most breathtaking creature he had ever witnessed in his long immortal life, and he could not lie when he thought to himself that day that your beauty could rival that of Ashido’s. In fact, he could not lie and say that he wouldn’t choose you over his old friend if he had to judge who the most beautiful in all the realms was.

He wanted you.

He wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life, and he wanted for very little. But he knew that you would deny him from plucking you from where you called home; it was in your nature. And in a perfect world, he can simply walk up to you and say a few pretty words and you would be his.

But thanks to his friend Denki, you would not trust him in the slightest; nor his intentions, for you could sense that they would not be pure. For how could they, as nymphs really only existed to be temptresses to the gods and then have their hearts broken once they gave their flowers to them. And you knew you were a rare flower, one that would not choose so willingly to be plucked up and away from your life, home, and companion. 

No. If Hanta wished to have you, all of you all to himself, he would have to be patient. And well, it was a virtue and he knew he was virtuous enough to conquer the lust that raged within him when he looked at you to see himself succeeding. To see you run into his arms and ask him to take you away and be his forever.

And what better way can he think to court you, to earn your favour and trust, than to leave you gifts at your altar?

Not just any gifts though. No, he would not waste your time with the meaningless trinkets and coins that those travelers gifted you, he would give you things only the gods could. To give you all the spoils known to them as a way of proving his devotion to you; for why else would a god willingly give up all his riches if not for love?

~~~

It was strange to you at first, the small gifts that were left at your door. Usually when there was a gift there was a traveler nearby, waiting for you or your sister to allow them to pass. But these gifts would just appear as if they came into existence by the wind.

And what gifts they were! 

Robes made with the brightest and finest silks, always adorned with beautiful gold and silver embellishments, with a few jewels within the intricate carvings. Rings that were so heavy your hands always felt like lead when you wore them. Bracelets that could wrap and entangle all the way up your arms and legs, adorning your whole limb in its beauty. And necklaces that always perfectly sat upon your chest, with their large gemstones settling flawlessly in between your bosom. 

You always shared these splendid and grand gifts with your sister, not wanting to be cruel and hoard all the splendor to yourself. But over time you started to grow nervous about where these gifts were coming from, about who was sending them to you. For who could afford to give you these things if not a god? And if it truly was a god, how did you catch his eye? And why would he only want to give you these things, never your sister? 

Soon there were gifts being given to you every day. As every morning they would sit at your doorstep, waiting for you to collect them. There was little space for you to place them in your home over time, with many of the gifts being left unopened; them sitting upon shelves in the bindings they came to you in. 

And one day, upon a pile of other treasures that awaited you that morning, a golden apple sat glistening in the sunrise. That was the day all your doubts and nerves got the better of you as you shut the door and hid yourself away. 

That was the day you knew for certain a god was trying to court you, for no other being other than god could get ahold of golden apples. The heavenly fruit that they all ate upon as if it was nothing more than a common fruit; but to you and all other mortals it was more than that. It was the only thing that could grant any being immortal life.

Therefore the reason it was given to you, sat upon piles of other treasures, was a sign that a god had wanted to take you away; to call you their own. And the thought terrified you. For where would you end up? What would they want from you? And would they cast you aside as if you were nothing, like all nymphs were treated by them? And what would happen to your sister? Would you never see her again?

That was the thought that terrified you the most.

Heartache, terror, abuse, you could bear if it meant she was by your side. You had waited long enough to finally get the companionship you had always craved; the one you searched for in many lands, and you did not want to give it up any time soon.

So the gifts, and that apple, stayed outside for days as you stayed hidden behind your walls in hopes that the sender would take that as a sign of your rejection. A sign you did not want, or need, the lavish gifts anymore and for him to move onto a more wanting and deserving creature.

When Hanta saw that his gifts were left untouched, the apple still perched precariously upon the other lavish items he had wanted you to wear and adore, it made his entire being slouch in despair. 

How could you not like them? Why would you not take them?

He knew they were no different from all the other gifts he had given you, and he knew you loved those. He watched as you glided through the forests, and that wonderful meadow where he first saw you, twirling in those gowns. Giggling with your sister when you were jangling those bracelets as you danced, holding those rings up to the light. Unable to let his eyes wander whenever his necklaces would sit between your breasts. 

And though he was never a fan of whenever you shared those gifts with your sister, he only ever wanted you to wear what he gave, he knew that you did so out of excitement. Excitement that you would show with every new gown and jewelry you placed on your body you would always pair it with a new crown made of the very flowers you tended to.

He watched you, from his favorite spot in the trees, as you gleefully would make them. Hands always hurried as you tried to finish them as quickly as possible as if you could not bear to wait another moment without it upon your head. And though they always looked so beautiful upon your brow, he always promised he would give you a real one someday.

One made of gold, if you were to say yes to him; to be his. But there it sat, collecting dust upon your altar. A rejection of him and all other splendors he wishes to give you. 

It made him furious, just as it did fill his being with sorrow. Not furious at you, no, he could never hate you. Furious that he overturned his hand and made you skittish. Made you untrusting of him and his intentions. Made it seem like you did not want him.

But of course, you did. Of course, you wanted him.

He just had to make sure you understood why you wanted him. How no one else could compare to him. How no one else would treat you with such warmth and comfort and give you any spoil your little heart could ever desire for the rest of your life.

And well, it seemed only fitting that you should finally meet him as he told you all these things.

~~~

It was in your springs where he found you that night. Though it was not Hanta’s intention to spy on you while you both bathed in the cool waters, he couldn’t help it. How could one resist that temptation? To hear the sweet laughter mixed with the splashing of water to lure one in, and then to see the sight of two beautiful maidens while they bathed. It was simply not fair.

If he were a lesser man he would have jumped out to try and take one of you then.

But he was not and found great pleasure simply watching the pair of you. How the moon illuminated your skin to make it that much more supple; that much more tempting for him to touch. How he could not stop his eyes from roaming your figure as you brought oils to your skin, to lavish and clean it before they disappeared into the water around you.

Hanta was almost envious of the suds, the small bubbles, that had a chance to touch your perfect body and soft skin. Of the water that elicited such sweet squeals of excitement when it was splashed onto you, to the soft sighs it cast from your lips when you would lounge back into it. And of your sister, the only one who was able to witness all of these things about you; and so selfishly kept it all to herself.

Though it was only when a twig snapped under his foot, an oversight he normally wouldn’t let happen, that he realized his mistake. Realized that his first meeting with you would be tarnished over impure thoughts and actions, which would only lead to you not trusting him even more.

For what nymph could trust a god they caught spying on them while they bathed?

But he had to try. And he leaped from his spot once he saw the pair of you scurrying for your clothing and out of the spring. He cared not for your sister, and allowed her to run towards your home, though he followed you closely; making it impossible for you to return to the place you felt the safest.

He managed to corner you once again, back to where it all started. The waterfall from the springs could be heard faintly behind you as you watched him approach the tree you had hidden behind. Your breathing labored as you held your clothing up to your body as best you could to conserve what was left of your modesty.

“I won’t hurt you.” Hanta called out to you, his voice soft to not further spook you “And I won’t cause you any harm, I promise. I just think you are the most beautiful maiden I have ever seen; so won’t you please come out and talk to me? For just but a moment?”

You glare at him, eyes holding suspicion over his claims. Though you finally relented when you watched as he stepped closer and closer to you, in your ever-vulnerable state.

“S-stop! Please stay where you are…” You called out, voice losing strength as you continue to cower away from him “I will speak with you, only if you promise to turn your head away and allow me to get dressed.”

Hanta gave a small smile, hands clasping behind his back as he turned his body away from you; making sure to keep his head and gaze straight ahead of him, to not make you suspicious that he was trying to catch another glimpse.

“Did you not like them?” 

His question startled you, a small gasp slipping out as you stumbled with your garment; almost tripping over your own feet. You took a deep breath to regain some level of composure as you shakily slipped your legs through the gathering.

“I am not sure what you mean…” You pulled the fabric upwards, placing the final strap over your one shoulder; your eyes never straying from the back of his head.

“The gifts.” He replied, “I have given you plenty, but it seems that lately, you have not accepted any. I am wondering if you did not like them.”

“Oh, it was you…” You made your way from out behind the tree, the movements being heard by the man before you as he finally turned back around to face you.

He was taller than you by a far margin, one that kept growing as he made his way towards you; his steps were careful to show he was not to harm you. When he finally reached you, he crouched down as close to your level as he could and clasped your hands in his, gently squeezing them in his hold.

“I am.” His voice was but a whisper as he pulled you closer, trying in vain to get you to look up at him, wanting nothing more than to gaze into your beautiful eyes.

“Then you should know why I did not accept them” You voice soft but strong, as you turned your head away from him “You are a god, the gifts you have given proof of that. And from all the tales I have heard and seen, all a god does is take the chastity of nymphs before casting them aside.”

“How could I ever do that to you? I would never do that to you. In my eyes, you are far too lovely and beautiful to ever just be cast aside.” 

He heard you scoff, head moving away from his deft fingers as they tried to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, clearly not believing him. His actions just displayed proof of why you were untrusting, and so he would have to use his sweet words in a different manner.

“In all truth, had I not come down this very night to see you, I am sure my brethren would try and take you away.”

You stiffened in his hold, fear gripping your being at his words. Frozen in place you finally allowed him to move your head up to look at him, into his dark eyes that told you what he said was true.

“W-what…?” Your voice was shaky, as was your body when you continued to scan his face for any semblance of trickery; only to still find none.

“My fellow gods, the ones I call friends from time to time, they heard the stories of nymphs in the mountains that had caught all sorts of mortals' attention.” Hanta began, “They were curious, and wanted to see for themselves just how beautiful you were. But my friends are more beast than gentleman; I fear of what might have become of you had I not scared them off.”

You collapsed into him, the shock of his words controlling your body more than your mind as you clung to his tunic. Though you could not see it, Hanta had an impish smile on his face as he comforted you; his hands running soothing patterns up your arms.

“But you needn't worry!” He pulled back to look at your face once more, squeezing your arms in comfort “I will protect you from them. All I ask is that you accept me, take my gifts, and allow me your company.”

“How… how will I know?” You looked back up at him, hands lowering from his chest “How will I know you are being truthful with me?”

“I am a God of Love, my dear,” Hanta fluttered the wings on his back to make light of that truth. “And as one, I never appreciated or cared for those that would take advantage of it; to abuse it and harm others with their lust. I can tell my friend's intentions are not pure, as I can with any being, and I cannot bear it if they were to harm a precious flower like you.”

Hanta watched you carefully. Watched how your eyes glanced at his wings, back to his face, and turned downcast once again as you took in his words. He has hoped the sweet words he was known for would work on you, to break down your walls to allow him in.  He had to hide the victorious smile from gracing his features when you gazed up at him and accepted his protection and his terms.

“Tell me your name” You mumbled, taking a step away from him. “If I have to agree to all of this, then please allow me to know the name of my protector.”

“Hanta, you may call me Hanta.”

Your head shot back up to look at him, eyes once again glaring at him as you took another step away from him “There is no god named Hanta.”

“None named for the mortals.” Hanta smiled, closing the gap between you once more “None of us gods are ever named what mortals claim we are, even in their stories. Our true names are only spoken and used amongst each other, in the heavens. Only you, in this mortal realm, shall have the knowledge and privilege to call me it.”

“Hanta.” You whispered out, nodding your head in agreement with his words.

“Good, now be off.” 

It took all of his strength to step away from you; not wanting to be away from your warmth now that he finally had it. But he did. Only if it were to prove to you he was on your side, that he wanted to protect you.

He watched with bated breath as you scurried away, back to your home. Only allowing himself a breath, and a mirthful smirk to appear, once he knew you were too far away to see it. His wings stretched out behind him as he took flight back home.

His meeting with you went far better than he ever planned it. And now he had plenty to dream of that night.

~~~

It was rare for the God of War to come to the mortal realm.

Especially seeing as there was no war to be had. No fight to participate in, no blood for him to shed, and no victory to be won for him once all the dust and debris settled. And it was even more rare that the God of Strength would follow alongside him into this plane when there was no battle to be had.

But there were never ones to turn down a mission.

Their pride and honor to strong within them to let a challenge go to the wayside simply because they thought it was stupid, pitiful, or a waste of their time. And though Katsuki thought what he was doing here, what he was about to do, fit into all three categories he simply could not tell his friend no.

Hanta never asked for much, especially from him. And Katsuki had to admit that his fellow friends served him very well in battles of past; always fighting on his side to help him claim his victories. So, he could swallow his pride for a moment or two so he can fulfill a small favour in return to the larger ones he was in debt to.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice either.

“Why are we doing this again?” Ejirou asked, scooting himself closer to his friend while still staying crouched behind some foliage.

“Because Hanta asked us to.” Katsuki mumbled, huffing out his answer as it wasn’t the first time he was asked.

“But it doesn’t seem right, doing any of this. And you normally don’t waste your time on such trivial things, especially when it comes to beings like nymphs, so why are you here? And why did you drag me into this?”

“Because!” Katsuki hissed, baring his teeth in warning “Hanta asked for us to do this! And the last time I refused that bastard made it impossible for me to be intimate with anyone for over 200 years!”

Katsuki huffed, watching his friend eye him warily before shifting slightly away, the action making him slump his shoulders in slight defeat. 

“Listen. I don’t want to do this either. If I had it my way, we would all just leave these two idiots alone for the rest of their lives. But Hanta seems to like one of them, and we all know there is nothing we can do to stop him.”

“You’re right….”

Ejirou mumbles that last part, knowing that his friend was right. There was no way to change Hanta’s mind once it was set on something, much like it was impossible to change any of their minds. They were gods, and they were selfish. They took what they wanted and when they wanted it.

It was just that both of them were unnerved at the taking of a nymph away from the place they were bound to. Something that was never meant to be done. When they were created they were made to be invariably bound to the mortal realm, to avoid any chaos that may happen if they were to come to the heavens.

Hanta was playing a risky game, and though they trusted he would play his cards right, and well. They could not be sure that his actions would not cause a ripple effect that would turn into a grand-scale fight amongst them; like the choosing of the fairest once again.

Though they had no time to further delve into their thoughts on the matter, not when you and your sister had approached where they were hiding. Your giggles filled the air as you came into the springs once more; wanting a dip in their cool waters to help quench your thirst and cool you from the warm summer rays.

Both men tensed, breath hitching in their throats as you both started to slowly undress; taking off your charms and jewels, and placing them into neat little piles by the water's edge. Katsuki hated that you were lovely, hated that the stories of you both were true; for if they weren’t he would be able to justify what he was about to do as some sort of favor - to save those travelers all that time from trying to seek out a creature that turned out to be hideous.

Eijirou hated what he was about to do because you were so beautiful. Hated the fact that he would have to scar and torment such enchanting creatures for the sake of his friend; for if it were up to him, he would just bask in your glow until he was satisfied, and leave this place with a beautiful memory to last him eternity.

But it was not up to him, nor his companion next to him; and with deep, quiet breaths they both solidified their resolve and stood from where they once were hiding. 

The startled gasps, the scrambling, and the screaming were all something they loathed to hear from you both as they made their way over to where you were. They hated how they had to play the part and chase you both down, to separate the both of you to further petrify you both. How they had to watch you stumble and fall, to scratch your perfect skin on tree branches and rock as you tried to get away from them; all of it.

They hated all of it. 

But once they watched the pair of you rush into your home is when they stopped their chase. Made it seem like they had lost you somewhere within the trees; mumbling to each other how they would just come back another day before walking off, back to where they once were.

Sickness, that was all they felt at the bottom of their stomachs as they returned home. This victory was not like the one found in battle. Not one filled with glory and blood and sweat. This one was hollow, shallow as its waves crashed down upon them in a way that made them feel uneasy.

It was not the first time they chased a maiden down in hopes to garner their sweet bodies as their rewards. But somehow it felt like it was, and they could not look upon their friend when they told him of what had just transpired; couldn’t bear to see the glee in his eyes when he heard it all.

~~~

You both had not slept that night, for how could you when the one thing you were most afraid of happening to you, happened.

So, when Hanta visited you the next morning you couldn’t help but run out to him. Sprinting through the field of tall grass and throwing yourself onto him; clinging to him like he was the other tether keeping you to the ground.

“You cannot leave us again!” You cried out, tears flowing freely from your eyes and soaking into the cloth of his tunic “You cannot leave me again! Please! You cannot, not again!”

Hanta had to hide his smile, one that was filled with so much joy and satisfaction, from you as he further buried your head into his chest—allowing himself this moment to hold you close and shush you, to try and calm his body down and act the part of a confused and concerned friend.

“What has you so upset, my beloved?” He asked, pulling you from him to gaze upon your face, to allow you to see his concern for you. “What has gone wrong?”

“Y-you were right!” You wailed, unable to hide your sniffles and sobs as you spoke “T-they came! Y-y-your friends! They tried to take us!”

“Shhhh…” He cooed softly, pulling you back into him to try and calm you down “I know you must be terrified right now, but I’m here now. Nothing to worry about.”

“But you’re not always here!” Your voice was muffled due to your position, as you brought your arms up to dig into his side “You weren’t here yesterday! And that‘s when they came! You promised you would protect me!”

Hanta would admit, he hated seeing you cry. Hated hearing the way your voice, one usually filled with cheer, sounded so broken; so miserable. And he hated knowing he was the cause that set in motion the event that shook you to your core.

But it needed to be done, you needed to see how important he was to you. Needed you to see that your place was to be by him, that was where you were meant to be. 

“I am trying to protect you, my honeysuckle…” Hanta brought a hand up to pet your hair, “But it is difficult for me to be in two places at once. My home is in the heavens, it is where I am to fulfill my duties to the mortals; it is rather difficult for me to make these trips to you as it means neglecting what I am meant to do. Unless....”

He let it hang in the air, a pregnant pause for you to become curious about what he might say. He knew he had you when you lifted your head up to look at him once again, repeating his last word back to him.

“Unless…” Hanta sighed, “Unless you leave with me, and come to live with me in my domain. Only then can I assure your protection.”

He knew you would not like his answer, especially as he saw new fresh tears starting to fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks with their hot streams. He cupped your face in his palm, wiping them away as he tried to comfort you once again, playing the part of a torn man in a tough situation perfectly, as he tried to reason with you.

“B-but my sister!” You babbled, head shaking at every word he was saying “I cannot leave my sister behind! I won’t do it!”

“Your sister can find solace in the mountains if needed! An anthousai is bound to meadows and fields! You cannot find that there, cannot find safety anywhere but where I can protect you!”

“B-but...”

“I know that it is a difficult thing to accept, a difficult choice you must make. But if you want the protection I can provide you must leave with me. I can promise you that nothing will harm you; not a finger to be laid on your skin while you are within my domain.”

You sniffle, looking into his eyes once more; to see if there was any trace of dishonesty within them. And, like always, there was none. With a shaky breath, and a nod of your head, you stepped away from his hold to walk back to your home to say your goodbyes.

Your feet felt like lead with every step. Your heart ached at every flower, leaf, and blade of grass that you passed for you knew it would be the last time you saw it. And as you made it closer and closer to where your sister was, to the home that made your heart feel warm. 

Now it filled you with sorrow and dread, as you wondered if you would ever again feel the kind of happiness you felt when you first stepped within these walls. Wondered what would become of your sisters once you left this place for good. You hoped for nicer and better things, better companions, but your heart could not promise you such things, your mind could not ease its worries. 

You couldn’t speak when she opened the door, asking you what was going on. All you could do was pull her into you, hold her in your tight grasp as you whispered how much you loved her. How brighter sunrises were upon her horizon, and how you would miss her so.

She watched you walk back down to him, your body shaking with the violent sobs coming forth. Watched as this man, this god, took you back into his arms and shushed you; claiming you down and whispering what she could only assume was sweet nothings to you. 

She watched as you turned back to her once more. A broken smile, one that looked more like a pained grimace, appeared upon your lips as you brought a weak hand up to wave your last goodbye to her. A goodbye she never envisioned ever happening.

And then she watched him take you away; forever.

~~~

Hanta’s home was beautiful.

It was filled with golden pillars and furniture. Marbled rock adorned many surfaces, with plush pillows and linen upon beds, lounges, and chairs. You knew they would feel like clouds, be the softest things you could ever lie on. 

But at this moment you couldn’t care for how soft anything felt, how plush and inviting the comfort was as it sank perfectly when your body had collapsed on top of it. Or how inviting it was to allow your body to enjoy it all, to allow it to lure you into a wondrous sleep.

No, for at this moment you were mourning the greatest loss you could possibly think of.

Hanta was kind enough to sit next to you through it. A hand running soothing patterns up your arms, your back, and even your hair as you cried out in anguish; never saying a word. Only murmuring out to you, after what felt like days of sobbing, to rest your head; to let yourself enter the land of dreams, and for Hitoshi to guide you to a sweet one.  And you could not stop your body from finally agreeing. 

For you would need your rest. 

Hanta had waited long enough to finally have you here with him. He adored that you always believed him, that your naivete allowed you to trust him and his sweet words. To allow him to take you here, to the one place where you will never be able to escape him; for once a nymph was the enter the realm of the gods, she would lose her ability to transform - for how could a nymph become a tree, or a flower, while in the heavens?

They couldn’t. And now you were forever at his mercy. Forever to spend your days with him, indulging him in whatever splendor he wanted from you; for he was kind enough to indulge you for the months it took to woo you, it was only fair to pay him back in kind.

You, the sweet little anthousai. One too blinded by the God, whose sweet words and flattery made you melt, to notice that he had other titles too; that treachery and deception and craftiness came hand in hand with sweet nothings and empty compliments.

And oh, what a crafty web he had spun for you. The one who laid so sweetly upon his bed.

The one who called to him like a lost and sad child when you finally awoke. Your big eyes stared up at him, as you asked him for some food for your hungry tummy and something to quench your dry throat.

And who was he to deny someone so precious? A sweet little thing that asked him so nicely? He couldn’t and wouldn’t, and so he went to fetch you some of the finest fruits and ambrosia to nibble on as you tried to awaken your tired body. And wine, his special and most favourite wine for you to sip on.

When he held out the goblet to you, you hesitated; your arm halting before it could reach the drink. “I-it’s pink…”

“Yes, yes it is!” Hanta couldn’t help but laugh at your obvious statement, enjoying the way you eyed the pink liquid that seemed to swirl within its confinement with a mind of its own “A special kind of wine, the only kind reserved and enjoyed by the gods.”

The way you looked at him, eyes still showing trepidation over what he was offering. He couldn’t blame you for it, someone like you would not know the type of splendors the gods enjoyed from day to day; you were but a humble and simple thing.

Hanta shrugged his shoulders, bringing the goblet to his lips and taking a gulp of its contents. “Look see? Nothing wrong with it at all! Just a sweet wine, one that tastes like wild strawberries.”

He smiled when you finally relented, a sheepish smile gracing your own face when you finally accepted his offer; almost like you felt silly for doubting him in the first place. But again, you were just a sweet simple thing. How could you have known that gods are immune to the effects of aphrodisiacs?

How could you have known what they would feel like once they had taken hold of your body?

You couldn’t. And when you felt your breathing become labored, your body started to sweat as your heartbeat quickened, and for a strange heat to enter your belly; you grew scared. Wanting whatever heat that had entered you to subside and allow you to breathe; to allow the aching you felt to stop.

Hanta watched with mirth from the corner of his eye at you. Watching how your body squirmed and shifted, trying to get comfortable but never succeeding. Trying to ease your discomfort but failing to do so, not knowing how.

“Honeysuckle, are you alright?” He asked you, moving aside the platter of fruit to shift closer to you.

“I-I feel funny…!” You mumbled out, hand grasping around the wrist trying to check your temperature; unable to help yourself as you pulled him closer to you “I don’t know what’s wrong!”

You wished you could stop yourself, and show some form of modesty and restraint. But your body was on fire, and your mind had no way of stopping it from acting on its own. You clung to him, yet again. Though this time you had climbed into his lap, your hips stuttering as you inadvertently ground your lower half onto his leg.

“Funny how?” Hanta asked, eyes turning dark with lust as he watched you try to relieve yourself upon him so shamelessly, it made blood rush to his cock as he had to hold your hips in place; to help ground himself.

“I don’t know!” You whined, nails digging into the muscles on his shoulders - wishing he would allow you to move your hips again “I feel warm and funny, and it hurts!”

“It hurts?”

“Mhm!” You nodded, head ducking down to rest against his chest as you panted heavily, trying to get a level head once more, but failing miserably “I don’t know what to do!”

“I can help you” Hanta murmured, taking some of your hair and pushing it aside so he may be able to kiss along your neck, smirking when he heard you whine at the contact “Will you let me help you?”

You frantically nodded your head, but he tuts at that response; teasingly squeezing your hips in his gasp “Ah, ah, ah, I need you to say it love.”

You moved your head back up to look at him, and he relished the frustrated tears that were now forming in your eyes. The way your lips formed a pout, made them look more plush and delectable to try and bite and suckle on.

“Please help me Hanta” You whimpered out, unable to resist pushing yourself closer to him.

“Say that you’re mine, and I will give you everything you could ever need.” He baited, wanting to hear even more of your sweet voice.

“I’m all yours…”

You were going to say more; going to beg him further to finally help you; to ask him to stop prolonging your suffering. But you were silenced when you felt his lips press into yours. Felt the way they moved against yours, trying to get you to follow suit; which you do after a moment with fever.

You could help the moan that was muffled between you when you felt his tongue peak out, running along the bottom of your lip. You wished you knew what he wanted, you would be more than willing to give it to him. But Hanta seemed to understand this, and he moved your hips against him, allowing you to feel the hardness underneath. The gasp you let out was short-lived, as his tongue plunged into your mouth, exploring it slowly and expertly.

All you could do was melt into him; melt into his touch and the way he was kissing you. He left you breathless, panting hotly into the air when he finally parted from you; unable to keep the smirk off his face when he saw the blissed-out look you had acquired.

Hanta loved hearing the small gasps and whines you would let spill forth from your mouth, almost like you were unable to keep them hidden, when he started to kiss down your jaw. Moving slowly down your neck, leaving little nips to see your jump in surprise; your sweet little mewls going straight to his length that he was slowly rocking you onto

He was taking his time with you; he had waited so long just to have you at this moment and he wasn’t going to rush it; even if it was tempting with the way you kept pulling him closer and calling his name so sweetly. But he knew he needed to do everything right, everything perfectly, so you would crave him. Want him like this all the time.

He slowly pushed your shift down your arms, lips following closely behind his hands; to slowly caress and kiss every inch of skin you had allowed him to see and look upon. And what a sight you were to see; to him every inch of you was perfectly crafted and made him that more elated that you were all his.

“I know…” Hanta cooed, lips lavishing the skin of your breasts, fingers gently tugging on your hardened nipples “I know… it is uncomfortable. But let me take my time, love. I promise you it will be worth it. Let me worship you like you were meant to be.”

You jumped, unable to help yourself from placing a hand in his hair, tugging it harshly, when Hanta’s fingers brushed against your folds. He groaned, both at your harsh tugging and at how soaked you had become; just over some heavy petting.

Though, the feeling was foreign to you; one that kicked your senses into overdrive. You couldn’t help but clamp your legs shut, effectively stopping his hand from continuing, at the sudden and unfamiliar feeling.

“My love,” Hanta cooed, gently pulling your legs apart, “You asked for relief, and I shall give it to you. Put your trust in me, I can assure you it will feel good.” 

He placed reassuring kisses along your chest, slowly petting his free hand up and down your thigh to help calm you; to help relax you and allow him access once again to your dripping cunt.

You sigh out after a moment, trembling legs finally parting for him, freeing his hand once again. Unable to help yourself from keening at his long fingers as they slowly started to up and down your folds. Being careful at where to touch, looking at your face to see which spots you reacted most to; centering in on them to hear you cry out for him. 

Your little bundle of nerves is where he narrows in after he accidentally brushed against it; the way you moaned his name made his whole being shudder - wanting to hear you say it again and again and again. Wanting to watch you writhe and whine atop of him as you finally come undone by him.

You gasped, legs trying to close once more but unable to do so by a hand holding a thigh in place, when you felt his fingers start to circle your entrance, the one place that has never been touched or breached.

“Just breathe, I need to properly prepare you, my love.” Hanta groaned when he felt your quivering hole clench around nothing at his words “I promise you this will be just as good, if not better, than what I have already done.”

He truly had the hands of a god, the way they so delicately entered you; stretched you in such a way that you had no choice but to moan out for more. You never could have imagined this feeling, even in your sweetest dreams. 

And it was accompanied by his words. Oh, how you could listen to him forever with the way he was groaning and purring our praises. Telling you how good you were doing, taking his fingers so well. How beautiful you looked like this, how he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight. And for you to come undone, allowing yourself to feel euphoria and grant him the chance to see it.

Who were you to deny such a tempting offer?

You were such a sight to behold. The way your body trembled, legs buckling as they struggled to hold your weight, hips unable to stop jerking away from his touch by still trying to keep the beautiful friction all the same. The way you cried out his name, unable to stop chanting it as you tried to breathe at the same time.

Hanta couldn’t help but push you down on your back, to hover over you as you tried to gain some semblance of thought once more. Hastily unrobbing himself, hissing when his cock was freed; having to take a deep breath and he stroked himself a few times before placing the blunt head at your leaking entrance.

“W-wait!” Your mind snapped you back into reality so quickly, you almost felt lightheaded “Hanta please wait!”

“For what?” He panted, hands gripping under your knees to lift your legs higher, “You are ready for me, my sweetest, and this will finally make all the unpleasant feelings disappear.”

“M’afraid!” You whimpered out, feeling the entirety of his length move between your folds as if to try and entice you once more; and the heat within you was proof it was working “Afraid it will hurt”

“You need not worry,” He purred, thumb rubbing little circles by your knees as he drank in the sight of you almost folded in half; how complacent you were. “For a moment it will, but only a moment. Then it will start to feel heavenly. Trust me, for I have not lied to you yet, have I?”

You shook your head, the action saying what you wanted to say - as words were failing you. He was right, he had always been honest with you, and even now he had shown you patience and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. So why doubt him now?

He started to sink into you, after you had asked him to do so. Hanta let out a long groan as he felt your tight walls clamp down on him, both in trying to prevent him further but also milking him for everything he had to offer, and inch by inch he carved his way into your heat.

The burn was as he claimed, painful. But once he was fully sheathed, that burn began to change from that of pain, to that of wanting pleasure. The agonizing heat that had come from nowhere was coming forth once again to consume you in its agonizing flames. 

“Hanta, please!” You cry out, hands reaching out to grip where his sat on your legs “Please move! Make this feeling go away!”

He was never one to say no to you. He nodded his head, taking a shaky breath, before slowly moving his hips; taking his length almost completely out of your weeping cunt, before pressing it back into you. Watching your face carefully to see if any discomfort could be found.

When your pinched brows started to relax, your breathing changing from pained chirps into those sweet breathy moans, and when you start to cling to him once more - nails finding purchase into the skin on his arms - does he pick up the pace.

Though, Hanta knows he will not last much longer, not when your warm heat clings to him so tightly, begging him to claim what is rightfully his and paint your pretty cunt white with his seed; he knows he must first have you cum around him. To selfishly feel your messy cunt spasm around him like it has never done before.

He brings one of his hands from where it was placed on your knee downwards to your bundle of nerves, moaning when he feels you instantly tighten around him. 

“Come on, my sweet love” He pants, hand rubbing messy, uncoordinated, circles upon it “Let go for me, please? Trust in your god, and let that coil within you snap. Make a mess of the both of us.”

You keen and whine, the pressure building to an almost painful level within you. Though the dam finally breaks when you felt his length hit a particularly sweet spot within you, one that had you seeing stars. Your back arched, as you felt your breath hitch in your throat; unable to make any noise as your mind and body ascended to that plane of euphoria once more.

Hanta could not help but follow suit. Only a few messy thrusts and he stills inside you, his grinding up against the swell of your thighs as he moans; painting your insides with his seed - finally claiming you, completely, as his own. After regaining his breathing, though not fully, and placing your legs back down; he starts to pull out of you. 

“No please!” You cry out, eyes turning glassy as you wrap your arms and legs around him once more “Stay with me please! I don’t want you to go!”

“I am not going anywhere, I promise” He smiled gently down at you, tucking your head under his chin as he pulled you to lay atop of him.

Hanta watched your breathing, watching you try and calm down. He cannot blame you for being so emotional, after all the highs the aphrodisiac gives are much stronger than anything you have ever been used to. 

He smirks to himself when he sees your breathing finally began to even out, sleep over-taking you in its grasp. For now, he finally has you right where he wants you. And now, thanks to that wonderful potion, you will never, or want to, leave him.

Much like a rose and its petals, once one is swept away by the wind it is gone; forever. You were his rose petal and he was the wind that snatched you away.

[specialagentlokitty]

Peter Hale x reader - as long as I’m not alone

Bolting up in bed, sweat poured down your forehead, your heart raced in your chest, and your breathing was ragged and you frantically searched the room for anything.

You found nothing out of place, and you slowly drew a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you tossed the cover from off you.

Setting your feet on the cold floor, you slowly stood up and shaky legs and left your bedroom, making your way down the stairs of the loft and over to the couch where Derek was sat reading.

“Again?”

You simply nodded and he sighed, reaching out he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you sat down, pulling you into his side.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I really am. But we had no other choice, you know that.”

You simply nodded, because it was true and you knew that.

Derek had no choice when he killed Peter in front of you, for years you visited Peter, watching him just a shell of himself, then to find out he was the alpha killed people?

It hurt like hell, and then you lost him for the second time, this time for good, right in front of you.

“I can’t… I can’t stay here…” you whispered.

“I know, it’s why I packed your bags in your car when you went to bed…”

You nodded and he sighed heavily.

“Will you at least stay here tonight?”

You nodded, and Derek stayed up the whole night with you, watching crappy TV, and comforting you the best he could but he couldn’t do much.

Derek knew you understood why he did what he did, but he also knew that somewhere deep down part of you resented him for what he did, and he understood why.

When morning came, the gentle rays of sunshine hitting the window, you went upstairs to change and came back downstairs ti find Derek holding your keys.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Thank you Derek, honestly. I’ve put the loft in your name, it’s yours now, okay?”

“Thank you.”

He walked out to you car, and you paused, turning back around to face his sad smile.

“I know you blame me (Y/N), and I understand.”

Reaching out, you gently hugged Derek, letting him rest his chin on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, your closed your eyes for a second.

“I don’t blame you Derek, okay? You did what you had to do… it’s just.. I can’t… my whole life I’ve known you both…”

“I know… I know…”

You pulled away, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you took a deep breath, smiling at him.

“You’ll come back, right?”

“I’m time, yes.” You nodded.

He nodded and watched sadly as you climbed into your car, he stood there, giving a small wave as you drive away.

He knew instantly where you were going first, you wouldn’t leave town without saying a proper goodbye to him.

You drove to the hale house, and slowly walked in, placing some white roses your brought along the way down on the floorboards.

Sitting on the dusty floor, you, placed your hand against the wood boards, fighting back the emotions that were trying to break free.

“I’m loosing my mind, this pain in my chest.. it.. it won’t go away Peter… it won’t leave…”

You let out a few tears, fiddling with the stems of one of the roses you had placed down.

“I can’t shake the nightmares… you were the only one who could calm me down… I need you here by my side…”

You sighed to yourself.

“Tell that you’re here now… tell me you have one more trick up your sleeve… just tell… just tell me fucking anything so I’m not alone!” You sobbed.

You waited, looking around, praying to every single deity you could think off that you were going to get some sort of reply.

That Peter was just going to jump out of the shadows and show that it was all just a plan he had.

But you got no reply and you buried your face in your knees as you sat crying for what you assumed was at least an hour.

When you were finally all cried out you looked down at the floor and leant down, resting your head against it.

“I need you Peter…”

With that, you got up and made your way out over to your car and drove away without bothering to look back.

You felt numb, even as you drove to your rental apartment in a whole new city, everything just felt so numb.

Empty.

You didn’t know what you were going to do, but you had enough money that Derek had given you. He said it belonged to Peter, and he wanted you to have it so you could get away from everything.

You kept in contact with Derek, calling him when he had the time to call, FaceTiming him when you couldn’t sleep and he came to visit a few times.

The months slowly slipped by, and you were finally processing everything that had happened back at Beacon Hills.

Sitting by a small lake, you were watching as the sunrise gently bounced along the small ripples of waves.

“Seriously (Y/N), you’ve been sat there all night, you must be freezing, go back to your apartment.”

Looking down at your phone, you shook your head a little bit.

“I’m fine, it’s pretty safe here actually, it’s just outside the city, practically had to fight my way through bushes to get here.”

Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head as he sat up from the couch and grabbed his phone as he started to walk around.

“I’ve got to go, pack meeting in five minutes, can I call you after?”

“Sure, but my phone might die. Tell everyone I said hi and that I’m okay.”

“I will, talk to you soon. And go home.”

You hung up and sighed, resting your chin on your knees as you carried on staring out at the water.

“He’s right you know, it’s cold.”

You screamed, jumping up you grabbed the gun from your boot and pointed it at the man approaching.

Your hands were shaking wildly, but even so, you knew you could land a solid shot, and so did he, which is way he stopped walking and raised his hands, giving you a small grin.

“You wouldn’t really shoot me, would you?” He teased a little bit.

You trembled, shaking your head a little bit.

“You.. you’re not… you’re not real… I just.. I just haven’t slept for so long I’m hallucinating…”

“Oh darling, I can assure you I am very much real. I can prove it if you’d really like. Just lower the gun, wolfsbane bullets have quite a nasty sting to them.”

You shook your head, keeping the gun aimed at him.

“You’re not him… you’re not Peter…”

“I am Peter, just lower the gun sweetheart.”

Peter slowly crept forward, and when you made no attempt to shoot him he took it as a good sign and carried on walking until he was right in front of you.

The barrel of your gun was pressed to his heart, but he stayed right there.

You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath.

“You’re not real… go away…”

“Look at me…” he whispered.

You didn’t reply, and he sighed, reaching up he placed his hand over the hand that was holding your gun.

His touch felt so real, so warm.

“I’m here…”

You shook your head, refusing to open your eyes.

“(Y/N), look at me. Just open your eyes okay? Open them and you’ll see I’m real, I’m here right in front of you, okay?”

You refused ti say anything back to him.

Peter slowly lowered your hand, taking the gun from your fingers he slowly lowered it to the floor and set it down before he stood back up.

Peter raised his hands to gently cradle your cheeks between them, running his thumbs along your skin.

“Say something…”

“I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Tell me that you love me, tell me that you hate me, scream, yell, cry, swear, curse, threat, anything. Just tell me anything so I know I’m not alone.”

You still hadn’t opened your eyes, and Peter sighed, kissing your forehead.

“I made a promise to you the day we got married (Y/N), I was never going to leave you, and I would always find my way back to you. And I did, it took a while but I found you.”

You slowly opened your eyes, gazing into Peter’s sad, soft eyes and you reached up, slowly pulling his hands away from his face.

You held his hands for a few seconds before you finally raised your hand, slapping him harshly across the face.

He yelped, jumping back as he cradled his cheek.

“Okay, I deserved that, I know I did. I swear I was going to find you darling, I looked everywhere for you, and Derek wouldn’t tell me anything. I found you because I realised he transferred you my money, and I followed your transactions all the way to the city. You live water, and this is the only lake nearby. I waited day after day for you.”

You shook your head at him, letting the tears fall free as you stared up at the werewolf.

“Peter I watched you die… I watched Derek slash your throat, and I held you as you took your dying breath…”

“I know… I’m sorry, truly. I never wished for you to witness anything like that. I wasn’t me, I wasn’t in the right state of mind.”

“Are you now…?”

You watched as Peter looked away, and you sighed heavily.

“Maybe not, maybe I never will be, but I don’t care about all that. I need you to know that I’m never going to leave you, even if you hate me, even if you want me gone, I’m not going.”

You turned away from him, going back to staring at the water.

You heard Peter walk closer, and he dropped his jacket over your shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood watching the water with you.

He watched to reach out, just hold you and never let go, but he knew better.

He had to wait for you to approach him, for you to process everything and finally tell him whatever it is you wanted.

If you wanted him to walk over flaming hot coals barefoot, if you wanted him to walk through hell, to eat mistletoe, sit in a field of wolfsbane, he would do it if you asked him to.

He needed you.

He needed you by his side, you were his sanity.

He couldn’t loose you, he couldn’t leave you, you were everything to him

[mossy123302]

I am not exactly entirely good with character or relationship analysis (A reason why my dumb fox head is aroace because I am not good w/ navigating romantic relationships)

So this is just my best effort writing the dynamic Q! Philza and Q! Missa have.

I do like to headcanon, like others, that Philza is indeed aroace, but not in a way, that like he doesn't understand what platonic or romantic means. Sure, it's funny to tease Philza about it, but it's also true that close friends could very much do so. I think Philza is quite aware of what is romantic and platonic, he knows the boundaries of it. I mean Philza is literally married to the Goddess of Death (implied) Kristin. It's more or less that Philza doesn't simply care for such labels. (I very much hc that Philza could probably be genderfluid, like me- Peeposmile)

It's something Philza even mentioned in the live stream when talking about the deities in hardcore world. It's something they don't care about and just vibe with whatever they're vibing with. They don't care and I think Philza is the same in that mindset. He just doesn't care, and will be blunt about it, if he needs to actually talk about it.

Philza seems to deeply cherish those that are ... similar to himself from what I can tell. I don't fully watch Fit or other POV to get a clear understanding of Phil's relationship w/ others so I'm sorry if I don't include them, same with Technoblade. I've recently started watching mcyt again and I don't want to talk about something I don't have a full understanding of.

Anyways, Phil deeply connects with those that share similar traits to him in some regard. Techno whose the Blood God, who clearly has an understanding of death, war and loyalty and this clearly shows via Missa too. Missa, while not a fighter, does understand death and how important it is... He literally is a gentle grim reaper. He understands death much clearly, because his mother is also a Goddess tied to Death as well. Missa is also fiercely loyal to Phil and his children, because honestly, he was so busy! He didn't have to return to Quesadilla Island but he did because he cares about Phil and his children, quickly adopted Tallulah and he hadn't even seen her yet.

Whoever Phil trusted and guards with his life, Missa will guard that person with his life as well. Of course, unless, we talk about BadboyHalo then that's another discussion LOL. Such a mess between the demon (?) and grim reaper.

Anyways, we know how much Phil values such loyalty that, I cannot remember what Tubbo said, but he immediately locked Tubbo out of his own home because of what he said about someone and while despite implied flings with others. Philza never spoke about others the way he speaks about Missa.

Their relationship definitely...crosses the line of platonic and romantic. I can see why it would be considered queer platonic relationship, but also at the same time, it's like there is some line being breached which makes everyone raise an eyebrow cause sir, what do you mean platonic-

Philza is clearly...possessive over Missa, because the way he got so defensive when Bagi mentions Antoine (right?) and Missa should date. Philza didn't have to get so defensive, because Missa already immediately denied. Philza could have kissed anyone else, like Fit, but chose Missa instead. He even demanded Tall Missa to the admins, got jealous over any shipping fanart and acts like he's fine and doesn't miss Missa at all. *Coughs in* "I'm going to f*cking off myself. Did Missa log on again?!" (Side eye Philza)

Like he's done lots of things that makes everyone just raise an eyebrow- Philza is fooling no one but himself (& Missa)

I also enjoy the lore Missa has going on with accepting that he is indeed a part of the family and isn't alone. Missa had just lost Spreen, and suddenly, he had no one but the Angel of Death as his assigned partner. Missa must have felt so unmatched compared to Philza because what could he even offer to the family? He had nothing but his music and kind words, which is everyone that Death Family wanted. Missa brought a different change to the family that makes them be vulnerable, to not be so serious all the time and to actually just relax and be like a family that's just on vacation.

I mean, and just talking about loyalty and kindness. Missa never gave up... He fought his way back, despite getting taken away by wolves and suddenly Badboyhalo being so cruel. He always made sure his family was safe and always brought something for them.

Didn't Missa say he got lost because he tried to find a gift for Philza?! Like...the commitment to find a perfect gift for Philza, and still returning (sure, without the gift). While it's hilarious, Missa doesn't run away because of his wet cat behavior. He runs away because he doesn't want to put his family in danger, he cannot fight as well as others can. He relies on others to fight for him and then he jumps in to help, but because the time zone doesn't allow such things. Missa is forced to run.

And Missa is good at it. He will run as far as he can, if it means his family will be safe. He isn't running away from his family, but the danger because at the end of it all, he will return back to his family, no matter how long it takes.

And Missa casually admitted to Chayanne that he needs Philza more than he realized, the same way Philza realizes he needed Missa but didn't dare admit, whether it is out of fear or something else that he couldn't voice it. But Philza clearly showed it through his actions, that he brought/dragged Missa to Rose's Sanctuary before they went to sleep forever. He didn't have to do so, but he did... indicating their bond is much deeper because Rose's Sanctuary is literally a pocket dimension that no one cannot access.

Missa has access. Now he sleeps eternally with his family...

Also their whole dynamic just being Sun/Moon. Fated to never see each other at times, until an eclipse and yet...they still leave signs to let the other know that they're still remembered. This also brought to my attention how Missa is afraid of the sky, while Philza yearns for the sky/to fly.

You think The Sun (Philza) misses the Moon (Missa) so much, because of how far they are, instead of just not seeing each other. The Moon clings to Earth, because they're afraid to go beyond...to something unknown while the Sun cannot stay still, and yearns to burn and be free.

Deathduo/Pissa has me on chokehold.

I do hope this was an interesting analysis, I'm not very good at this..honestly it's probably just me rambling if anything.

[ornii]

—They will be Loved—

So after finishing the Multiverse of Madness film, I had an idea of a story where the reader is the Widow of Black Widow (see what I did there?) and is also the spirit of Vengeance because Ghost Rider needs an R-Rated MCU Film, and shares his grief with an also grieving Wanda.

Strange Had requested help with a “little” issue as he called it, little being an absolute lie since it’s dealing with the god damn multiverse, but you relented and agreed. It’s been, lonely since Nat left and the avengers are gone, it’ll be nice to at least get out of the house.

You rode down the countryside, the hum of your chopper in your ears and the wind on your face, you went to the orchad of Mrs Maximoff. it was often you did the dirty work of others. This one, was personal though. Wanda did some things many would consider simply evil, but it’s not always so cut and dry with things like this. The white petal orchard trees lined the side of the road and nearing her home, a voice of pure evil calls from the back of your head like a speaker.

“I sense immense magic here..” the Spirit of Vengeance, my others self you could say, was speaking to you

“Yeah, I felt it too..” You replied, I saw from the corner of my eye a woman grafting the orchard. You slowly came to a halt and halted your bike and kicked up the stand. Stepping off, you approached her, the warm scent of apple and grass felt so, human. And you haven’t felt human in a long time.

You get behind her, and she obviously senses your presence.

“Apples, right?” You ask, trying to break the ice with your old friend. “Nat would have loved it..” you start.

“Eventually.” Wanda replies in Jest, she turns to face you and you can see that her beauty hasn’t changed at all. Those beautiful eyes hold so much grief behind them. You nod, “It’s almost to good to be true, you know?” You say, trying to hint at Wanda.

“It's all very real. Thanks. I put the magic behind me.” She said to you, she walks off to continue pruning limbs and you casually follow her, “Well, I knew sooner or later you'd... show up, wanting to discuss what happened at WestView. I made mistakes, and people were hurt.” She said, the pain in her eyes, her power was neatly unmatched, and that lead to catastrophic consequences.

“I'm not here to talk about WestView Wanda.” You say.

“Then what are you here for?”

“Strange, needs your help.” You start.

“With what?” She inquired, you rubbed your chin trying to think of a way to explain. “You, ever come across the concept of, the Multiverse?” You said, Wanda didn’t look as confused as you thought she would.

“The Multiverse. Vis had his theories. He believed it was real. And, dangerous.” She drops the limbs into a crate and then gives her full attention to you.

“Well, he was right about that. From what he told me, he found a girl who can somehow travel across it but she's being pursued.” You say.

“Pursued by who?”

“Some kind of demon. From what strange told me, I’d go with Underworld Deity, a Trickster wouldn’t try to take her by force but trick her into giving her soul or powers away. Strange is ready to defend her, and we could use another Avenger.” You offer, trying to get a smile out of Wanda, she gives you a sad one.

“There are other Avengers, (Y/n).”

“Yeah but, it’s not really the same, besides between Clint, A Teenager webslinger, and …Whatever I am. We’re the best line of defense for her.” You explain, and Wanda poses a question.

“What if you brought America here?” She asks.

“Here?” You reply? And the spirit in your head also picks it up.

“She knows the name of America Chavez…”

“Yeah, she’s been stalking her..” you think, and Wanda goes on.

“Yeah. I know what it's like. To be on your own, hunted for abilities you never wanted. I can protect her.” She explains, you continue to look at Wanda, not saying anything as she realizes her slip up.

“..You never told me her name, did you?” She asks, now realizing she’s been had.

“No. No, I didn't.” You reply, Wanda sighs, and looks around. “You know, the Hex was the easy part. The lying, not so much.”

Wanda calmly moves her hand, which dispels the illusion and reveals the truly hellish world she’s been on, it’s blood red, mixed with such evil darkenss, no life, no trees, no happy little farm. And what stood there for you, was a Book. The, Book.

“The Darkhold.” You felt its eternal power reach out to you, ready to swallow you whole. You fight its call of power and hear Wanda.

“You've heard of the Darkhold?” She asks you, turning your eyes to her, you see her dawned not in regular civilian clothes, but that of the Scarlet Witch.

“it's the Book of the Damned. And that it corrupts everything and everyone that it touches. The Way Chthon intended it, it shows you falsehoods and a sense of power you will never control.”

“The Darkhold only showed me the truth. Everything I lost... can be mine again.” She said, somehow believing her own lies, you shook your head in disbelief, that Wanda would go so, far.

“What do you want with America? And What do you want with the Multiverse?” You demand, and she gives up her plan.

“I'm going to leave this reality, and go to one where I can be with my children.” She said, but you calmly countered.

“Wanda, your children aren't real. They were made from magic.”

“That's what every mother does. If you knew... there was a universe, where you were happy, happy with Natasha, with a family, wouldn't you wanna go there?” She asks you, and admittedly, she’s right. A simple life on the countryside, away from the Spy games and Occult evil, a world where you’re happy. Your anger slowly transformed into melancholic empathy, you frowned softly to Wanda.

“You know… Nat couldn’t have kids, so we considered adopting. It was the last thing we talked about. She really would have loved any child we had. I know it can’t compare to you and Viz though. It’s not enough that, In Many other universes, they’ll be loved?” You ask, Wanda’s walls come down for a moment and you saw the real Her. A grieving mother and widow. A tear comes down her eye, and she couldn’t reply.

“You’re right, I would love a world where I can be happy with Nat, love her, hold her… but in order to do that I’d have to kill a version of myself that’s happy. I can’t do that, I can’t kill a version of myself for my own happiness. If I did that, would I even deserve to be happy? Would you kill a version of yourself that’s happy because you’re not?” You reply. Just for a moment you saw Wanda’s eyes have a hint of remorse in them. “Wanda, what you plan do to will cause irreparable damage to our universe and the one you intended to murder and implant yourself inside, if you try to child's power, she won't survive.” You warn her, but it seems she unfortunately stuck in a fusion of corruption and grief.

“I don't relish hurting anyone, (Y/n). But she's not a child. She's a supernatural being. Such raw power could wreak havoc on this, and other worlds. Her sacrifice would be for the greater good.” She said, still trying to justify this absolutely diabolical behavior.

“You’re starting to sound just like Him, the same man who killed Vision and half of the universe.” You shake you Head, turning away from her to walk away.

“Strange killed half of the universe When he gave Thanos the Time Stone.” She retorts back to you. You halt in your steps and slowly turn back to her.

“He breaks the rules and becomes a hero. I do it and I become the enemy. That doesn't seem fair.” She replies, You Storm over, frustration coming to a boil, she could see it, the red burning flame in your eyes, the Ghost Rider.

“That was different, Strange gave Thanos the stone because it’s the only way in Fourteen Million outcomes that we beat Thanos. You want it to bring back children that don’t exist for you, Strange was Selfless, you’re just Selfish.” The venom in your words, they haunt Wanda, the growing disconnect between her and reality was apparent.. she shook off your threat.

“Return to Kamar-Taj, and prepare to hand over America Chavez by sundown. Peacefully. After that... You'll never see me again.” She bargains.

“And if I refuse?” You ask, and her sinister aura changes.

“Then it won’t be Wanda who comes for her, it will be the Scarlet Witch.” With those haunting words, she turns to walk away, you felt a blend of anger, sadness, grief all your own.

“Wanda..” you say, she stood still but didn’t turn to face you.

“I… I Miss the people that we used to be..” you say. Wanda gives a shaky sigh, you can hear her trying not to break down into tears.

“.. So do I Pral..” she mutters before leaving, as much as it tore you apart, as much as you hated it. This, could only end one way.

[tempestgnostic]

The Werewolf: Archetype and Identity

Someday I’ll make a list of my alterhuman and otherhearted identities, but I’m not sure when that will be. For now, I’ll just talk about the the most prominent one: The Werewolf. I capitalize the name for both its significance and the fact that it’s an archetypal identity, so to speak. (I also use he/him throughout this essay, simply because I’m speaking of The Werewolf in relation to myself, and as myself.) I’m not a specific werewolf in any sense, and I’m not drawn from just one piece of folklore, or even one broad interpretation. It’s much bigger than that. Of course, explaining all the finer details would require an essay, and time is at a premium nowadays. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. Pay no attention to the appropriately-timed readmore.

Let’s look at an example of what I mean: the eponymous baron in Bisclavret is a specific werewolf, but he’s also one of many depictions of The Werewolf as a somewhat noble being who is wronged by others—in this case, his wife—as a consequence of his true nature. This “noble beast” interpretation can be contrasted with folk tales of feral werewolves who threaten villagers and fear neither torch nor blade. Werewolves aren’t solely monsters meant to inspire empathy or fear, however. They can also serve specific literary functions, often as symbols of broader concepts and experiences. The werewolf story can be used as a metaphor for a young person coming-of-age, a challenging tale of tangling with the darker aspects of human nature, or even as an exploration of queer identity and the liminal spaces we occupy. These are certainly not unique to werewolves, and the latter is especially common among other creatures embraced by the horror genre.

Each broad interpretation of The Werewolf feels to me like a part of my identity on some level. I’m the werewolf who feels guilty for the harm he’s done, who tries to resist his feral urges, but I’m also the one who embraces that side and indulges in it. I’m the werewolf who was born this way, the one who was blessed (or cursed) by some spirit or deity, but also the one who was bitten or scratched—forever changed out of cruelty, indifference, or even a dark perversion of love. The only bits of werewolf folklore I won’t engage with on some level are those from practices and cultures that are closed for me. They’re not mine to claim on any level—certainly not in any way that would be respectful.

Like so many in our community, my connection to The Werewolf is intricately intertwined with almost all other aspects of my identity. I’m genderqueer, yet I strictly use he/him pronouns. I have a beard—a thick one, at that—and a flat chest, yet I also identify myself as butch and sapphic. It’s been uniquely gender-affirming for me to have partners who identify as lesbians—to be fully seen and understood as butch. It would feel incredibly uncomfortable and even dysphoric for me to be with a straight woman. Even within queer spaces, at times I feel either gravely misunderstood or utterly invisible. I am, on some level, expected to conform, and my refusal to do so marks me at best as ‘confused,’ and at worst as a threat.

I embrace the androgyny in my voice and mannerisms, and I easily—often unintentionally—slip into different social presentations depending on who’s around me. (I’m also autistic, to no one’s surprise.) Code-switching comes naturally to me, likely as a result of having to cobble together adequate social skills over the course of a decade, but also as a matter of safety as a queer person who’s only ever lived in red states. The Werewolf is a liminal creature, existing in several different worlds at once and moving through them with varying levels of ability. I am no different—charming and quick to make friends when I know the social landscape, and terribly awkward and clumsy when I don’t.

In the interest of keeping this even remotely readable in one sitting, I’ll wrap this up here. The Werewolf can be a charismatic yet dangerous lover, a pitiful and wretched thing, a creature just beyond the veil of understanding, or even a kindred spirit. I am and have been all of these things, both in my external life and my mind’s inner world. I experience phantom and mental shifts, and I see myself in so many depictions of werewolves in media. This part of my identity plays a vital role for me in kink—though I’ll save the details for a properly 18+ post—in my relationship dynamics, in my pagan spirituality, and many other parts of my life. It fits neatly over my gender expression like a second skin and provides a backdrop for my social presence. I am The Werewolf As Archetype: a being representing liminality, transformation, and embracing authenticity—at any cost. It is a vital part of me, without which I would cease to be.

[khaire-traveler]

Hi! Sorry to bother you, you can delete this ask if it will overwhelming somehow.

How do I become a good follower? Whenever I see posts about paganism and/or polytheism on the internet, it's people talking about receiving signs, how their Deities talked to them, how they feel them, and I don't get any of that and it makes me feel really bad.

Maybe there are some kind of exercises or something else to experience what all other people do? Do you have any advice?

Thank you, if you will answer this ask.

Hey, Nonny, thank you for your patience!

Most of the time, people on the Internet are exaggerating or wording things in a very casual way (when in reality, it looked a lot different or took a lot more work to figure out). Honestly, the best thing you can do for yourself - as a follower or even as a person - is try not to compare yourself to others. Practices vary wildly from each other, and what works for one person may not actually work for you anyway. Maybe your happiness will be found through other means.

Nonny, you're not doing anything wrong by not receiving/interpreting signs or whatnot. You're not a bad follower for not catching onto such things. I'm certain your deities wouldn't dislike you over something like that. It's also likely that they do send you signs, but you aren't used to interpreting them yet. Or maybe they're waiting for you to ask for signs! You're more than welcome to simply ask directly. I promise they're not as scary as some people make them out to be.

As for things you can do to practice, I'm honestly not sure. I'll try to provide some suggestions anyway, though. You could try deity meditations where you focus on the thought of a deity for awhile, maybe listening to peaceful music that reminds you of them. You could try identifying the "energy" of offerings you've given them, as those are likely to have the deity's energy on them. You could light a candle in honor of that deity and ask for them to increase the strength of their energy/presence while closing your eyes and attempting to focus on it. I'd recommend looking at my pinned post in the Deities & Entities section. I have a lot of more useful information there, most likely.

But I'll be honest and say that sometimes people are just headblind - meaning you can't really feel anything spiritually at all. There's nothing wrong with it if you are. I'm not saying that's an issue for you, by the way, but I think it's important to acknowledge the possibility.

I do also want to say that "talking with deities" is a very common thing I see on sites like TikTok, though, and I strongly advise you to 1. not listen to a damn thing you see on TikTok and 2. be extremely skeptical of the experiences people are willing to share online. Oftentimes, and I hate to say it, people tend to post such things for the attention they get. Either that, or when they say they "talked" to a deity, they really mean that they sat down and did divination or had a meditation. I say these things to make it clear that many of the things you'll see online are not 100% true to the way it actually happened. Sometimes people just make shit up, too; I see that happening constantly, especially on PaganTok and WitchTok. I cannot stress enough that you don't go there for genuine information. In fact, I highly recommend trying to read books on such topics rather than Google them or read about them online; that's where you'll find the best information!

But yeah, this is what I have to say: deities love us for who we are, not for someone we wish we were. They love us for the person we actually are, and in my experience, they enjoy it when we are ourselves in our worship. They tend to support authenticity. Instead of trying to be someone else, focus on who you already are, and the many strengths and talents that you may not even be aware of yet. Maybe you're amazing at different types of divination! Maybe you're fantastic at dream interpretation! May you're a wiz at bird identification (something I see a lot for deity signs)! Focus on learning more about yourself and less about others. You are talented, worthy, and powerful in your own way. And it's a beautiful thing to be you, to be who you are.

I hope this helped, Nonny! Please take care, and I wish you the best on your newfound journey. Have a good day/night. 🧡

[sf-re-post-heaven]

Priscilla of Smoking Models (Florida, U.S.A.), whose content included some shots in California and North Carolina, is simply one of the "prettiest" SF models/actresses in the Greater SF World Community!

SOLO OR IN TANDEM, PRISCILLA CAN STEAL SCENES WITHOUT A TRY!

She is not the greatest smoker, though her attractiveness pushes the boundaries of gorgeousness. Priscilla might be considered a borderline SF Hall of Famer. She is one of SF's true Smoking Goddesses. SmokingModels web-master/web producer Austin has been one of the best in the biz for years, assembling possibly the most attractive stable of SF models / actresses. And he has been innovative in his approach. Few criticisms are aimed his way, and this is more than just a fine video. And yet it certainly could have been better with a darker background above Priscilla and her friend. Their exhaled smoke is hard to see with all of the light pouring through the window atop the couch!

Dual-Media 2-Post, 60-Pack Megapost!

Thank goodness the scene shifts in the second half of our Centerpiece video from the SF (Re-Post) Heaven! vault. A better view of the exhaled smoke! And if you have to struggle to follow what's coming out of their lungs, well, what's the point . . . move on to the next video in your queue. The opening few minutes of our clip, for that scene shot on an angle, the exhales essentially disappear into the sunlight coming in from the window over the sofa. This ultra-post is fodder for a Megapost! on King of SF Aficionados, scheduled for publication later in the day on July 20, 2024! Enjoy this post there as well! This Centerpiece video here of two friends having a grand old time together is from the vault belonging to SF (Re-Post) Heaven! that is shared by "Aficionados King" as well. Hope you enjoy! How can you not?

'SMOKING HOT!' PRISCILLA PICTURES!

Videoframes (Screen Captures) of Our Centerpiece Video of Priscilla and Her Friend!

Compiled by SF (Re-Post) Heaven! staff!

Megapost! on Our Network of Priscilla!

From SF (Re-Post) Heaven! on July 20, 2024 . . .

Luck of the draw! If, hypothetically, Priscilla was with In Real Life, she'd be in the Top-3 most beautiful along with Julie and Cassandra. Here, with Smoking Models, she's in an elite group of a dozen SF models/actresses just as beautiful! Agree with it, or not!

Disclaimer: “Smoking is injurious to health. We do not promote smoking as a habit for those who are non-smokers. Some women smoke cigarettes and truly know how appealing they look while doing so. We wish all women smokers would quit their habits one day soon. Let's get healthier, ladies!” ⏤ King of SF Aficionados web-master/web producer (SF Deity!)

[stygianoaths]

Luke Castellan and his team of godkillers but they don't kill with weapons stained with ichor, but with the illusive Mist that warps the mind of mortals so easily, it shakes their faith.

In eons past, these mortals revered the Olympians with offerings and prayers daily, told their stories that inspired fear and awe all the same. It was something the pantheon had gotten hooked on, something more addicting than the ambrosia and nectar the texts had waxed poetry over. And the council of twelve did their damn best to keep it around. After all, there was no other high out there that can compare to the feeling of being in control, of being powerful.

But like any high, it wears off, sooner or later.

So that's exactly what happens.

Alabaster C. Torrington, with the help of Dr. Claymore, "discovers" new texts that discuss Greek gods that have never been heard of before; gods who are kinder, wiser, more trustworthy, than the ones everyone has come to know in this era.

It's interesting, how the origins of these gods and their lives seem to have no relevance or connection to the other pantheon and its history. No Titanomachy or Gigantomachy to speak of. There are a few parallels, but they are pleasant, like the love stories of Dionysus and Ariadne or Pygmalion and Galatea. Otherwise, it's like an alternate timeline of its own, where every god present is named a god for a reason.

It's fake.

But the mortals don't need to know that. For what's false, if persisted in, would become true anyways. Furthermore, it isn't like a new pantheon will harm any of them. The lucky ones with clear sight may win the heart of a deity who would actually see them beyond their fleeting mortality, who would care for them.

It takes a while, though, for the mortals to adjust to this suddenly newfound information. They are stubborn creatures, Luke knows, who tend to fear the unknown and new. Yet the youth crave it like bears after a beehive laden with honey. With time, they'll come around, he knows. Maybe he might not be there to see if the plans work out for himself, but someone would, and that's all that matters to him. He just needed to be the one to start the movement.

Luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

The faith spreads through idealized modernized takes on the mythology, as silly as it sounds. It's very of the era, isn't it? Books are being published on these gods who endure hardships and come out irrevocably changed but for the better. Ethan flips through one by an author under the pen name S.J and devours it in three hours. It reads nicely and he wonders when he'll get a chance to meet the main character of the story, and ask her if the myth holds true. It is, obviously, but it's different hearing it from a god. The fanfictions are even better, but Lou Ellen Blackstone gets drowned out by Alabaster's "lalalalala" before she can start talking about the recent one that was updated a few hours ago. Eh, so what if it's a little spicy?

Nonetheless, the new band of believers grows, and it's like a sucker punch to the gut for the Greek pantheon.

Apollo comes to camp and drops to his knees before his own cabin, surprising the campers. He looks terrible. Dionysus had already looked miserable, but the children attributed that to his sour personality. And, as usual, no one noticed the girl by the hearth who had disappeared weeks ago. But Apollo, golden boy Apollo, well, he has eyes that are sunken and sickly yellow, matted hair, muscles shrunk, and hands that shake as if they are beyond his control.

"They're killing us," he whispers to Lee Fletcher, "all of us."

"What do you want us to do?" Lee asks. Apollo coughs into his fist and looks down to see a smear of gold staining it.

A nosebleed. Gods don't get nosebleeds.

His children, gods bless them, are trying to heal him, but to no avail. It's kind of funny, how on any other occasion, such an act would have been annoying. If the solution was to simply heal, don't you think he would have tried that? But, weak as he was, he felt touched. Loved, even.

But love wasn't always enough to save another. He, of all gods, should know that.

"Can you write?" he asks. Lee scratches his head.

"Write?"

"Stories. Poems. Songs. Anything."

"Um, no, not really. Dyslexia kicks my ass, and you know archery is more my thing. But Will does sometimes. Healing is his forte, but I always see him writing something in a notebook, though that could just be medical notes, now that I think about it-"

Apollo disregards that last part and begs Will Solace to take up the pen and fight back. It's their last hope. If nothing is done, this camp and its children will become all that is left of the Greek Pantheon, for textbooks and website links are not enough to keep the faith going, especially if left to collect dust or rot in an archive.

"Write us new myths. Stories that can happen now, that we can make happen. Redeem us, so that we can live. We'll do it. We'll do any of it," Apollo begs.

"Anything?" Will asks. Apollo nods.

"Anything."

The Fates looked at each other from above. How time has changed. In the past, battles were fought with swords. Now, they had to be fought with words.

[alpydk]

Just a little Chase fic, because it's been on my mind for two long. (Set during the episode Nobody's Fault - 8.11)

Dying was a part of life, or at least that’s what Chase had told himself. After his mother had passed from liver failure, after his father had succumbed to cancer, after patient after patient after patient had failed to respond to treatment, he knew this certainty. Everybody lies and everybody dies. Those were the rules, and they were the ones he knew by heart, the ones he lived by, as unspoken as his faith. But those rules did not apply to him. They were meant for everyone else that came through the sliding doors on the back of a gurney, gasping their final breaths, bleeding out and praying to whichever deity offered them the best odds, and as a doctor it was simply a case of finding the contradictions and diverting the reaper elsewhere.

He’d seen some patients die quickly and painlessly on the operating table, some went through the anguish of a true death screaming and choking as their lungs rebelled on them, but they all ended the same way: in a blissful sleep with no signs of heaven or hell in their eyes. He’d wished for those signs though, a hope that maybe he could find where his mother and father had passed on to, which circle of hell Dibala would be tortured upon, so he knew to avoid it when his own time would come. But that time would not be for a long while, Chase thought as he found another woman, as he turned down the fourth, or was it the fifth glass of whiskey? He was going to live a long and happy life… He gulped down the sixth glass.

---

There was no pain as his heart slowed, no choking or screaming out for his mother, not that he would have called for her anyhow. There was no fear in his eyes, there was only confusion. How had he not been immune to the rules? He had done his duty, taken his punishments tenfold. A mother who mistreated him, a father who abandoned him, a wife he wasn’t good enough to be loved by. Surely that was enough to satisfy God, so why was he being treated so?

As the world became dark around him, the thrum of the blood rushing in his body quieting, a fleeting thought passed by him. Maybe he had wanted to die. Maybe he wanted the rules to apply to him as well, so that he could finally let go of everything. Was that why he had confronted the patient like he had? Not to save Adams, but to at last meet his maker and submit once and for all.

---

Silence, peaceful silence, was where he found himself. There were no demands of him, no words spoken in hatred, no reminders of his failings as a child, as a husband, as a man. There was simply darkness, as if asleep in the Australia seas he had once been a part of. Quiet waves dragging him down, drifting over his body, his chest heavier with each ebb and flow. There was no heaven or hell, no Saint Peter to display the long list of sins and banish him for all eternity. Most of all, there was no God.

He floated on distant shores, a salt breeze in the surrounding air. He’d always expected a bright light to greet him, for his mother to be smiling and healthy, her hands held out in acceptance of him, just as she’d done in the dreams and stories he’d imagined. Better times, another life, maybe. Fleeting voices passed by, ones he knew well, following him to the afterlife. “Let me go.” Unspoken prayers from his lifeless mouth, the dreamless sleep finally descending, one he had followed down many a bottle in the last few months. Nothing but silence, peaceful silence.

---

“She’s not pregnant.”

“Would it make a difference…”

God was speaking. He was the one truly immune to the rules, the one who had died and come back stronger, the one for whom the reaper truly despised. And when God spoke, Chase would listen.

Salted air was replaced with the well-known antiseptic, dreamless sleep now pained reality, the bright light nothing but a florescent tube of chemicals. There was no heaven or hell for him and there never would be. There would only ever be the sterile purgatory and the demanding voice, the voice that one day, Chase hoped, he would hear telling him he was worthy enough, good enough, just as he was.  

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

So, this of course isn't the way everyone interacts with religion, but for me faith is a white knuckled grip on the ragged, bleeding edges of the gaping wounds in one's psyche. Divinity as a leverage point with which to rip your very soul inside out looking for a transformative way to transcend mundane pains. Belief is just a matter of what you think is true, but the passion to throw one's whole selfhood into that worship thrives on struggle and tension and being just absolute hot garbage at some aspect of life and totally mentally/spiritually out of wack because of it.

Someone who's good at letting themself indulge in pleasures doesn't need to devote much thought to it, ya'know? They might like Bacchus, but I have trouble imagining it developing into intensity beyond that. However, someone who is exceptionally bad at letting themself have anything good, but who knows abstaining is harming them and desperately wants to learn how to indulge - now that's a guy who could go crazy attempting to touch and embody the divine force of inebriation and indulgence!!

So when choosing a religion for Jason I focus in on what he's struggling with and for me the obvious choice is the tension between different methods of resolving his past and his grief.

I think he understands that not letting go of the past is causing him harm. I think he does/would struggling a lot between feeling like pursuing closure is the correct method of untangling his attachments/traumas and feeling like his attempts to mend bridges and reconnect are simply self sabotage. He also seems to hold a tension between his moral beliefs about what needs to be done for the good of the world versus what ought to be done as justice towards himself. Like he flatly believes it is Morally Correct to kill the Joker, but refuses to do it himself because no one being willing to do it for him is an injustice to himself.

Hinduism fits that set of struggles best I think, in my admittedly limited knowledge. I feel like he'd get a lot of really meaningful stuff out of reading commentaries on the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads, and find himself wanting guidance from deities that offer release from attachments.

It's also got guidelines and concepts about when and why it's okay to kill that I think he could jive with. Now, Hinduism is insanely diverse and complex; do not get it twisted and start thinking I'm saying there's one simple rule here - but the concept of actions for their own sake, of never being entitled to the fruits of the action but rather only to the action alone, of killing purely when it is the right choice for the health of the world, and removing the internal desires from that equation... I dunno that feels like the kind of noble, unattainable ideal Jason would want to strive for while being just extremely fucking bad at it lmao

The only thing I think he really wouldn't jive with would be the caste system, but that's not a requirement for being Hindu. Nearly every believer has some widespread belief within their religion that they don't hold to. Perfectly reasonable to say this is an aspect he'd work around or simply ditch altogether.

So yeah I think I've convinced myself to headcanon him as some variety of Hindu forever

[anemoarchonhoe]

First is does the little one have a name cause my thoughts be that either they (btw I use they/them term for the little one for now) have a name close related to winds or music? And also do venti and eos reader have them during current game timeline or back then cause honestly I do kinda imagine the little baby was there when certain nameless bard.

Please meet Satanael, Barbatos' only son.

"My name is Nemo, though...!"

This little one's true name is Satanael, but you also gave it a mortal name "Nemo", when it was born. Totally not derived from "anemo", and totally not because the orange lines on its outfit reminded you of the clown fish on a certain movie.

That's totally not the case.

The child's pronouns are he/they/it. The child doesn't particularly care much about gender norms. As far as the wisp is concerned, it is simply a "special breeze" born from the union of two deities. At least, that's what Mama told him!

Satanael... or rather, Nemo, was first created 500 years after Venti becomes the archon of freedom and marries you, ascending you to godhood in the process. Created, because you don't possess the reproductive organs that humans have due to being a former elemental monster, unlike Venti, who perfectly replicated the body of his deceased friend thanks to his gnosis. While your ascension to godhood through marriage with an archon allowed you to finally gain a human form, it's not perfect, and lacks a certain organ needed to produce a child. So you and Venti decided to experiment by combining both of your elemental powers to create a living being. If ascending anemo produces crystalflies and descending anemo creates anemo slimes, then wouldn't it be possible to make a being quite similar to both of yourselves through that logic, by create a powerful surge of anemo enough to bring a new elemental being to life?

However, all it managed to create is a powerful ball of anemo that needed to be immediately contained. This is where the story of Barbatos' breath came from. It's not inside a bottle like Diluc thought, it was contained within your body in hopes that you could one day give it an "ego"... a soul, one day.

The opportunity came during the cataclysm, hundreds of years after the initial attempt. You and Dvalin, with Venti's supporting winds, deal a devastating blow to Durin that ultimately defeated it. While Dvalin and Venti had to go to a forced hibernation in order to recuperate, you miraculously remained unscathed by Durin's poison and was able to get near enough to make contact with him as he lays dying in Vindagnyr, soon to be Dragonspine.

"I know you're not evil, dark dragon. So I wish to give you another chance." You told Durin, floating near his head and staring directly in its eyes that's slowly glossing over.

"Would you like to become my child?"

It does its best to look at you, opening its mouth, only able to draw out a pathetic gurgle. Yes, yes! Alas, its throat has been torn by Dvalin's razor sharp teeth, so it could only gurgle its answer before drawing its last breath.

But you understood, so with your divine power, took Durin's soul before it could seep through the leylines and fused it with the massive power you contained within you. And when you released it from your nexus, your Storm Eye... Out came your divine child.

You smiled, holding the newborn wisp on your cupped hands after giving your green ribbon to tie around his neck. He looks up at you.

Then begins to hover.

What a shame that Venti has to wait another 500 years to meet his child.

Thank you @/wheatcak3 for drawing Nemo aaaaaa. Please follow her uwu.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

A Feathery Encounter (Dad Squad)

The stables were by far Rusl's favorite part of Abel's world... at least the ones that were somewhat functional. It gave him a little piece of home, though it made his heart ache because oh how Link would adore these places.

Rusl found his heart heavy once more, riddled with worry for his boy. He tried to push past it as best as possible. Link was a strong young man, and though Rusl was absolutely doing everything in his power to find him, he had to remind himself that Link was a capable fighter on his own as well.

But if those Yiga hurt a hair on his head... or pelt...

"A what?"

Rusl turned as he listened to the gossip of the few travelers in the area. Most of Abel's Hyrule was fairly desolate, but this one stable was known to be the most visited in the entire country. They'd headed here in the hopes of getting some intel since it would be a haven for people from all over Hyrule, each of whom might have some different information for them.

"I'm telling you, it's true!" the other person said to her companion. "The cucco actually spoke! The rumors were true! This was so worth the journey."

Rusl furrowed his brow. A talking cucco? What?

"I need to go talk to it too!" her companion announced excitedly. "I hear its prophecies are always true!"

A prophetic talking cucco??

Rusl watched the pair rush up a hill, tracing their path towards a large tree. A distinct clucking emitted from just in front of it, though the small crowd gathered there made the cucco impossible to see.

Well. It certainly wasn't the strangest thing that Rusl had encountered. The Ordonian headed to the other side of the stable where Abel and Fierce were quietly eating some food Rusl had forced into their hands. It was already apparent that Abel was quickly slipping into an exhausted and food-driven nap, barely able to hold himself up. Rusl really wanted to let his friend sleep, but this phenomenon required investigating. It could potentially give them a lead, assuming it was true.

"Have you heard of a clairvoyant cucco?" Rusl asked.

Abel froze mid bite and stared at him, brow furrowing in a manner that quite clearly said what the actual hell did you just say.

He supposed he hadn't heard of it, then.

"Is it your golden cucco?" Fierce questioned curiously.

Rusl laughed. "Oh, no, she isn't clairvoyant, just strong as an Ordonian goat."

Abel remained motionless as if he were still trying to process Rusl's first statement.

"The folk here are talking about it," Rusl explained before his friend's mind shorted out. "They say there's a cucco that can talk and tell prophecy. Everyone's flocking here for answers."

The joke immediately went over the deity's head, as predicted, but it at least spurred Abel to unfreeze. The former knight straightened instead, lowering his food to his bowl, though the look of utter bemusement hadn't faded.

"Perhaps it can guide us in finding the yoga performers," Fierce suggested, rising.

"They're not--never mind," Abel tried to say before sighing heavily.

Rusl was going to offer to investigate the matter himself; he simply wanted them to be informed. Nevertheless, both Fierce and Abel followed him to the hill where people had gathered. The warrior god clearly didn't understand the concept of a line and walked by everyone, and though some threw him annoyed looks, no one dared speak to the massive otherworldly man. Rusl gave an apologetic smile as he followed him, while Abel had the look of a man who would prefer the sweet embrace of death over investigating a talking cucco.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Rusl offered to his friend.

"Oh no," Abel replied dully. "I have to see this."

The clucking grew ever louder until Rusl saw Fierce approach the seemingly normal-looking cucco. The bird watched him a moment before flapping its feathers excitedly.

"Thou hast come," came a strange voice from the cucco, though its beak didn't quite move in sync.

Rusl and Abel stared.

"It does talk," Rusl commented aloud in wonder. "Ha! Maybe it can help us, after all."

"This doesn't... this is..." Abel muttered, clearly trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

Rusl laughed, patting him on the back. "The world is filled with far more strange wonders than you can imagine, friend."

Fierce cocked his head to the side. "You carry a strange magic to you, feathered one."

"I am a sage of prophecy," the cucco answered. "Thou must comprehend that I can give thee what thou seekest."

This cucco kind of spoke like the light spirits. Rusl stepped forward hopefully. "Do you protect this land?"

"I do," the cucco replied.

"I'd love to see it fight a guardian," Abel grumbled.

"Thou seekest... a Hero," the cucco said slowly, immediately garnering the men's attention.

"Yes!" Rusl immediately confirmed. "Do you know where they are?"

"For thou to gain such knowledge, thou must complete trials," the cucco pronounced gravely. "Dost thou wish to continue?"

"Speak," Fierce commanded, crossing his arms.

"The first trial... is to feed all the horses in the allotted time."

The men stared. That... was a trial? What?

Rusl glanced at the stable and back at the cucco. He supposed, sage or not, the little feathered creature was just a cucco. Its priorities would likely be different than his own. Not that he didn't mind feeding horses, but... that was supposed to be a trial?

"Prepare thyself."

Rusl turned as the cucco gave them their time limit and counted down. As he quickly made his way back to the stable, he saw that Abel remained behind while Fierce accompanied the blacksmith.

"What sort of trial is this?" Fierce thought aloud. "It tests very little of our abilities."

Rusl shrugged. "I suppose its intelligence only stretches... so... far..."

Honestly, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. The light spirits were no fools, after all. Nevertheless, they completed the trial quickly enough, though Fierce's offering to 'gather all the horses together to feed them faster' was quickly shot down as Rusl did not want to watch the strange man haul horses singlehandedly into the air to pile them together.

When the pair returned to the cucco, Abel was waiting with his arms crossed, and he cut them off.

"I know what's going on," he hissed quietly. "This is a Yiga trick."

"You think everything is a Yiga trick," Rusl pointed out. "I'll admit this is odd, but it's at least worth inspecting."

"Yoga performers do not have this magic," Fierce assured him.

"They're not--" Abel cut himself off, frustrated. "You know what, just watch."

Storming over to the cucco, Abel glared at it. "Oh great sage, I have a question for you."

The cucco clucked noncommittally.

"Do you like bananas?"

"Oh! I adore bananas!" the cucco immediately answered, its voice pitching in excitement. "They are the most blessed of all food!"

Abel looked pointedly at the pair.

"That... what?" Rusl stared at Abel, confused. Sure, a cucco liking some food he'd never heard of was different, but what in the world was Abel getting at?

"What do you mean what?!" Abel snapped, gesturing irritably at the innocent bird. "Don't you understand?!"

"We have completed the task," Fierce said instead, looking at the cucco as he gently plucked Abel out of the way, making the man hiss expletives his way and flail helplessly in the air, held in place by the back of his tunic. "Give us the information we seek."

"Oh, that's it!" Abel finally yelled, pulling out a bow and arrow.

Rusl yelled at his friend, trying to stop him from slaying a harmless cucco, but he loosed the arrow just as Fierce jerked him away. The knight really was erratic, attacking people (and now animals) at random. Thankfully, the deity's quick motion prevented the arrow from hitting its mark, but the bird jumped nonetheless.

And then vanished in a puff of smoke and red paper.

Rusl finally felt his patience growing thin. "Could you not attack everyone who isn't us?!"

"It's Yiga!" Abel snapped. "Now put me down, dammit!"

A laugh rung through the air, setting Rusl on edge, and immediately four people dressed in red--

Dressed in red. Like the attackers from before.

Fierce immediately dropped Abel as the knight drew his sword, and Rusl followed suit quickly. They dispatched the attackers swiftly, who left behind ruppees and yellow fruit in their wake.

"Those... weren't the performers from Clock Town," Fierce finally said.

"That's because they're not yoga performers." Abel said exasperatedly as he picked up the treasure. "They're Yiga traitors, and they're the ones who took my son."

"They're on to us, then," Rusl figured. Staring at the yellow fruit, he asked hesitantly, "Are those bananas?"

Abel shot him a flat look. "Yes. They are. Glad you have your priorities straight. The good thing about this is that it means we're close. They usually travel alone if they're venturing far from their base."

Fierce glanced off into the distance. "Then we should keep moving before their leaders notice their absence."

Rusl nodded in agreement, glancing a little worriedly at where the cucco had been. He had no idea how they could disguise themselves as such an animal, so he hoped they weren't actually abusing a cucco to use it as bait. When he saw no animal in sight, he figured it did indeed have to be some sort of magic disguise, and he sighed.

This place was stranger than he thought. Perhaps Abel's paranoia was... somewhat warranted. But at least now they had a lead.

I'm coming, Link.

[luridon]

Heartrot

What's important is that you live.

♡characters: yandere!immortal x shipoftheseus!reader (Yep. I guess we're going with that desc)

♡warnings: MINORS DNI, obsession, body horror, implied murder, psychological horror, MINORS DNI

♡notes: I sure hope this one is searchable because the last one with a merman was not. Also. This is also less of a story and more of a horrible thought experiment. Go read Dear My Living Dead by Aidalro

♡w/c: 900+ | ♡masterlist♡

How terrible it is for an immortal to fall in love with a mortal. Whether the long-lived is a deity or merely someone very powerful, whether this invincibility is brought about by arcane magic or advanced sciences, it must be very lonely. For such an individual, falling in love with someone mortal has to simply be the worst thing possible.

Would it be worse to have a devoted love since the start of such a long, dreary life, or to have your world warmed and brightened after ages of cold lonesomeness only to lose that light?

Of course there would be joy. There would be true happiness and blissful comfort and affection- but only at first. There would always be dread, and as time crawls by and one's beloved simply can't be granted the accursed blessing that will stretch the immortal's lifespan misesrably, uncomprehendingly long after their dearest one's. . .creativity will be required.

Keeping you alive is paramount. That means you can't simply be put to sleep and preserved- that's a corpse, not a life, not a love.

The human body is merely a mass of moving parts. It is a machine that runs on blood and nutrients, its mechanisms formed of flesh all pumping and beating and shifting to the rhythm that is you.

If a part breaks, then replace it.

The world is full of people. It's no trouble to take their parts to fix yours. Whether with science so strange it seems like magic, or magic so complex and specific it is its own rigid discipline, such an act must be possible. Alchemy or art, research or ritual, it will be done. It must be done.

You will be soothed if it hurts. You'll be cared for until the aftermath settles down. You may disagree with the method, but all that matters is that you live beside them still. It would be best if you don't know the source of your extended life. A mortal mind can only handle so much. If the truth will trouble you so, it would be best if you know nothing at all.

Only know them as someone you love. Only know that you are loved. You can live blissfully, if ignorantly, by their side, and they will be able to live well too. If something is amiss, simply say so. If something hurts, it will be remedied at once. Whatever you need, whatever breaks, it can be fixed, and you won't have to remember that you were ever pained at all.

Still, you must think that something is wrong, sometimes. That your arms do not feel like your own, that your very skin is wrong. You'll see phantoms in the mirror somedays, and flinch at the sound of your own voice when you hear it in the quiet.

An immortal may be a wanderer. An immortal may just as well as have gained the means over the years to have a place grand enough to entertain and secluded enough to be safe. Some days, you'll need more rest. Some years, you may simply live in your home, and forget you had ever known the world beyond the building, just as you so easily forget that you do have a rooted home somewhere until you two return to the abode.

Your love would be glad either way, being within or beyond the walls secondary to your comfort, but sometimes you may indulge his worry and rest. And some days you will explore and remember all the trinkets and baubles. And some nights you may join your beloved a dance you have not done in years, or simply listen to him tell stories that have slipped from your terribly forgetful mind.

Sometimes, you will find your love looking at you, and you will wonder if there was always such a dreadful fear in them when you only stumbled a little or let a cup slip from your hands.

Sometimes, you will wake up, and be asked to move your leg, your arm, to breathe, to swallow, to do all matter of odd, simple things, and you no longer forget these strange dreams by dawn, after seeing them so much.

Sometimes, you will wander the halls, and feel even less like yourself. Your heart will ache as you traverse the corridors that seem darker, stranger, more abandoned, and you will find a room so terribly familiar.

And you will open the ancient door, and you will break.

Because within lies yourself.

Your hair, your eyes, your limbs, your body, your face- every inch of skin and hair and offal something that is undeniably yours in a way your body simply is not. You stare upon yourself in too many pieces to comprehend, and every part of you between that first vessel and the current is scattered just as dizzyingly.

Those times are always so unfortunate, but your love doesn't have the heart to lock up or throw away anything that's ever been yours. Every part is nothing but a remnant, an old ragged fragment that used to hold you, but they were you once. You are loved so dearly it would pain the soul to part with even these scraps, and so they are preserved. It's a horribly, bloody sight, such a cemetery of you, and it aches when you hear it is all out of love.

(It will ache because you still love too, and there isn't a lie in the horrible, loving words.)

You may very well fall there. You may run away. But you will break, sooner or later, and you will be found.

You will be fixed. All that troubles you will be stripped away and your form will be settled anew.

You will wake and know you are loved, and you will love as you always have, and always will, because no matter how much you are changed, your heart is the one thing that could never be replaced.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Alr i'm gonna assume the best of newer and younger Pjo fans spreading misinfo on punk!Percy and by extension irl punk history and culture by guessing you guys aren't doing it on purpose and were just lied to about us so here's a bunch of debunks and clear ups on punk and why Percy is which also works as a sort of list of tips on how to write punk characters,canon and headcanon and completely original

So the obvious one out of the way first:Percy is actually not canonically a skater boy!There have been exactly two lines of this context in the entire franchise and one was in Som when he mentioned skateboarding once and then never again and the second was in Moa when Piper said he and i quote 'looked like a skater'.Sorry to past cishet Pipes but that's not a thing and Avril Lavigne making a cisheteronormative lyric that's extremely underservingly stuck around for forever dosen't mean she was right that he is one,it means she had internalized homophobia and gender stereotypes and no actual knowledge on alt subcultures because again,'looking like a skater' isn't a thing,it's a sport and not an aesthetic

With that,here's what actually makes Percy a punk:He was a bully beater from a young age and it escalates into full blown direct action for the whole saga,hates authority figures not for the sake of it but because he knows from experience that they're almost universally awful,is anti-corruption including his own by fighting against his intrusive thoughts to turn evil,does activism by helping fix the greco-roman mythos world system whenever he gets the chance to no matter how small,advocates for the rights of less fortunate people both mythical and human,hates rich people,fits entierly out of the box conformity in all aspects simply from the way he is even disregarding his demigohood,respects all minorities and is extremely kind to kids to the point that he adopted Nico and Hazel as his younger siblings and pseudo-kids because they don't really have parents(Hades/Pluto is abusive + Maria and Marie are dead).He fills out every punk requirement to a T,including being part of a marginalized group since he's poor and mentally disabled(audhd with dyslexia,bpd and ptsd)

He was a hero and Luke was a villain because they both hated the gods for traumatizing them and had nonpretty trauma responses from it but Percy still tried his best to stay kind not for his own sake but for his mom and the innocents in the world he knew didn't deserve cruelty and he provided and still does a safe and loving space for children specifically because he was a troubled but good kid once too and wants to be the positive adult figure for them he didn't get to have except Sally.Luke choose nihilism and that grew into turning a serial child abuser with bigoted ideals(his biggest targets being women and poc and in Kelli's case both)and fascist tactics.They weren't 'two sides of the same coin' and they're not even the same currency-Percy's a punk,Luke's a pig

Romantic attraction to someone based off them being 'ideal' by society's standards goes against punk beliefs!Our whole thing is nonconformity and that changing your true self to fit in makes you a sellout so this is why Perachel was canon and honestly i'd go as far as to call the 'outcast punk dude x perfect prep girl' a myth made up by normies who don't wanna date us for our actual personalities and just think we look hot so they objectify us.Related,it's ooc for Percy to be written to use kinds of flirting and dating treatments purely because 'it's what guys are like' since it's canon they hate traditional masculinity and consider it a burden they only force on themselves as a defense mechanism from trauma of being mocked for being 'not normal'

Ascention to godhood or into a titan inherently disquilify being punk and is an insult to irl punks.You literally can't be punk AND in control of a corrupted system,it's our lifestyle to fight them,not perpetuate them.This also applies to him dating deities,being rich in any way or an abuser.Dark Percy is Bootlicker Percy

Sorry to y'all who still think Hot Topic is a funny joke in 2024 of all years but they sold out to capitalism and conformity a loooooong time ago so Percy wouldn't be caught undead near that place and couldn't afford anything anyway because they've upped everything to rich people prices.He'd be going to thrift stores,family bussiness and small shops.Knowing how much free time he has probably knows how to DIY things that don't even exist and he buys all his games/consoles and legos secondhand

No Taylor Swift for him,her music's too corny and fabricated for him to not hate it but there's also how she's a huge bigot,a major bully and a whole ass poluter so🤷🏽‍♀️His favorite band is definitely My Chemical Romance but All Time Low,The Cure and Ramones are up there too

Please draw him with an actual battle jacket and proper piercings-By which i mean give it patches and a hoard of pins and draw it like a BATTLE JACKET,not a LEATHER jacket and actually google kinds of piercings instead of just slapping metal wherever onto him

He is NOT masc or an 'i'm too cool and edgy to like cutesy and kiddy things' type.Every single trans woman i've met in the Pjo fandom have said Percy's an egg and super femme and she does too much actual punk shit instead of trying to look the part to be a poser to care about her image anymore.She loves Polly Pocket,Warrior Cats,Animal Crossing,Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends,Bluey,Blues Clues,MLP,makeup,glitter,yk2/90s/80s toys,cats,Lo-Fi Beats,Cookie Monster and her second favorite color is pink,she loves naturally acting like a momdad and her gender fuckery includes a neopronouns hoard

Would most definitely have radicalized Nico and Hazel into goth punk and pastel goth punk if Rick let them be a proper trio and speaking from experience,it's entierly possible she does it completely on accident by making them want to be like her because of how nice and protective she is to them and what cool things she does

Few last points:She's definitely a heavy energy drinks consumer,a socialist,does vandalism,did actually super heavy research to go full punk once she realized she is and would never be friends with Harry Potter and in fact would probably kill him if they met since ACAB

[bunny-rambles]

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characters; Xiao, gn reader

cw/tw; reader is a deity, spoilers for Xiao’s backstory, bittersweet hurt/comfort

word count; 900+

notes; So… I know I said I was on a break, but after the trailer I got inspired and this happened. Also, I have a feeling Aya may hunt me down and try to kill me if I don’t post this because she said this is one of my best ( thank you for being the first to read as always venven<33 @kazukissed ), so I hope you all enjoy. I don’t have a title for this yet but I might add one later.

Please reblog if you like this!!

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There’s one final stop he makes that night, one place he feels he’s being pulled towards but he can’t quite decipher why. That is, until he gets there.

Perched on top of one of the mountains he usually frequents is a being like no other. Their skin illuminated by the silvery moon and her many children, coating them in ethereal halo. A head turns, molten gold meeting piercing diamond.

He is mesmerised.

He almost forgets that - “You shouldn’t be here.” His mouth moves on autopilot, but his voice holds no malice. It makes the stranger smile, sharp teeth glinting in the dimmed night. The adeptus didn’t realise how endearing he could be sometimes.

“Last stop for tonight?” Their voice could compete with Barbatos’s fine melodies, or the sweetest wine he seldom tastes. It’s pleasant, to say the least.

He didn't say anything for a moment, moving forward until he was right beside them, seated comfortably on the soft grass. The stranger doesn’t say anything, eyes moving back up towards the sky. Peace, tranquillity - it’s rare for the yaksha. Who were you to deny your friend such precious treasury? If he didn’t have any words to speak, you would not force him. Just having him by your side is enough.

“Why aren’t you there?” After hours, or perhaps minutes, the adeptus speaks. It’s a question that’s been plaguing him ever since he got here. You blink, a little caught off guard. Then, you smile again.

“It’s a little too loud for my liking. Mortals are indeed wonderful to spectate when they’re in moments of joy, wrapped in bliss with those awestruck looks on their faces. But sometimes…” The smile softens, into something he can’t quite explain. It’s melancholic, bittersweet. It made his chest hurt for some reason, a tightness there he’s all too familiar with. “I like to be alone.”

He knows that’s not true. But for once, he doesn’t call your bluff, but simply accepts it. If tonight he rested, then he was determined to make sure you would too. Those thoughts of yours, they needed to be silenced. A hum escapes him as he lets his eyes close for a moment, weary from the endless night. Calm washes over him, yet he is still in that battle in his mind, sharpened claws meeting his polearm’s blows. It’s maddening. When will this be over? But as he’s about to strike once more, the nightmare fades into that of what he could only describe as a lost fragment of time.

The yaksha stands alone in a field of flowers, weapon nowhere to be seen. Next to him is a shadowy figure, one he finds to not be the hellspawn he so often slaughters. It stalks towards something on the ground, the view hidden behind its flickering figure. Its hands, not dripping in evil, not coated in the blood of innocents he defends, starts to position on the wooden instrument in its grasp.

It plays.

Calls of his name float around the atmosphere, jolly instead of panicked. There’s more figures now, and these are ones he does recognise. He hears his fellow yaksha, his family. He can hear Bosacius, his booming laughter and shared giggles of Bonanus and Indarias. The exasperated sigh of Menogias comes next, most likely at some sort of prank the other three were trying to pull.

His head frantically turns back and forth, trying to follow the sound of laughter, of happiness. There’s a hand on his shoulder, snapping him to the direction he desired.

“Alatus, are you okay?”

A harsh gasp escapes his throat before he even has the chance to suppress it. That’s not possible. This is not possible.

He tries to speak the name of the one who so casually addressed him, but it’s too late - another has already taken its place.

“Join us!”

“Dance with us!”

“Alatus, come play!”

He shakes his head, one of his hands coming up to rest on top of his forehead. Legs trembling, he forces himself to find the crowd that calls out his name. He’s embraced by too many to count, but the warmth is enough to make him melt into whoever is holding him. He’s not sure when he started to cry, only bothering to scrub at his wet cheeks when Indarias points it out.

“I’m fine.” He chokes, and the party laughs at their emotional yaksha, claiming he must’ve drank too much. His blurred vision lands once again on the shadowy figure, but alas, it was already walking away.

Xiao forced his eyes open just slightly, glancing at the one grasping his hand tighten, eyes closed in concentration as his head rested on their shoulder.

When he found himself back in the moment, he pushed forward to chase the figure, hand firmly wrapping around their wrist. The darkness faded, revealing the one he was missing in this crowd of precious people - you.

You expected him to be angry with the way he was holding you, hesitant to turn around to face him.

“Join me.” He spoke quietly, pulling you closer.

“Why?”

“This is my happiest moment. I want to share it with you.” Finally, your head turned, breath hitching at the show of the yaksha’s upturned lips.

You nodded, and together you joined the crowd once more.

Nothing ever lasts forever, but tonight you would make the most of your time together, such rare fleeting moments not to be wasted. With interlocked hands, you both rested that night on that lonely mountain.

At least you were lonely together.