#cryptid demigods

[audreyscribes]

CRYPTIDS DEMIGODS [PART 3]

Alright you guys. The polls have answered. You won. It’ll include everyone except the Primordial demigods because they themselves are already cryptids in a sense. Also, I have to split the Cryptids Demigods into more parts because I hit the max tumblr post load TWICE; which I think happened with the first Cryptid Demigods one. I think that’s all of them, so here we go final run of all the cryptids! Anyways, here you go (╯‵□′)╯︵ “Enjoy”  CRYTPIDS PARTS: {PART 1}  \\  {PART 2}  \\ {PART 3}

HESTIA:  They are the most unsuspecting of them all. You see them tend to the fire that has never gone out; burning all the offerings and seemingly never dying down. You see the fire simply graze their fingers and face as they pondered over the fire as you seen them everywhere. You look at them and can’t help see a visage of home. They’re one of the most, least harmful cryptids; a reminder of old wives tales. You take their offering of food and shelter, paying your respects when it's due. However, when you get attacked, you see their placid nature crack as the fire bursts higher. Their hands calloused by maintaining the home is just as strong as a warrior’s grip as they tear into the intruder of the home, before tossing their remains into the fire, feeding it higher. The fire consumes the bone into ash that is fed into the garden, and their flesh is fed to the dogs who guard the home before they burn away the blood and evil from their skin as they step into the fire, rejuvenating them before they step out and offer you milk and honey to chase away the nightmares. 

HERA: The children of Hera are children who have survived. As children of the Queen of the Gods, there is an expectation to be perfect but everyone knows the darkest secrets behind that visage of the Queen of the Gods, the affairs and secrets that are aired out like dirty laundry. The crown that sits on their head sparkles and signals to people they are a child of royalty, but it clings to their head, heavy and tight of the weight it brings; to carry on and keep calm even if they have to walk on the bones and ashes made by Hera towards her husband dared to betray with in her realm. If a king is burdened by the weight of the crown, a Queen is burdened by both the weight of her king’s and her own’s crown digging into her mind and soul. 

PERSEPHONE:  A child of Persephone itself is a cryptid on premise already. A child of Springtime and life whilst also a child of Winter and the dead. Stuck either on the cusp of life & death, or stuck in perpetual cycle of life and death due to the nature that is Persephone, her child bound to the same rules as she is. Their hands easily bring life as they bring death at the slightest death; hands that hold life that are also covered in blood. Neither belonging to one realm or the other.

AMPHITRITE:  Another child of the sea but different then a child of Poseidon. Alluring and beautiful that draws people to them. When you look at them, you know something is wrong but at the same time, you think that they are the physical depictions of the tales of sailors recounting their tales about Mermaids and Sirens. However, beware their wide eyes and voice. Their forms are not always what they seem. The sounds of the waves are better heard far away then up close, for one missteps leads to your death. Not only can they be alluring as a mermaid with the faces of a human, they can also shift into either seals or dolphins as their mother is responsible for them. They shed their seal skin when necessary but can turn back into them easily, their big wide eyes focusing on you as they grip your arms and legs with their sharp teeth, or allure you with their elegant chirpy dolphin form to lower your guard before showing you the unsuspecting brutal side of a dolphin. Once they have you in their grasp, they’ll bring you down to the waters and there you’ll be seen the darkness of the water, it’s beauty gone far in the dark depths where the light cannot reach you and the water no longer sparkles. Then you realise, the tales of Mermaids are told not out of love, but out of fear.

 ERIS:  a child of strife and discord. They can only bring chaos, disorder, cause people to fester. They never know peace in themselves for that goes against them, so they cause and cause, never stopping cause they don’t know peace. They bring and cause force to move things forward, chasing at the heels of people. They bring things out of nothingness, dancing carefully on broken glass. The slightest touch of their actions being the beat of a butterfly, both aware and unaware of that they bring change and they know that is how the world works, and in that they find some semblance of peace. 

HARMONIA: A child of Harmony and Concord. People believe they have a perfect life but oh, they don’t know what is behind that smile that is both forced and natural that says everything is fine and they are happy. They don’t know that that their life is the opposite as they faced twists and turns with their life, paid in full because of the dues of their grandmother’s affair with her husband’s brother who can do nothing to hurt them so he turns to her children to suffer with a pretty necklace that represents as a collar of their doom and debts. Pitied that even Harmonia herself, wedded to a husband, both turns into snake-like dragons before dying and put into Elysium, yet the tragedy lives on; afterall the audience doesn’t know what happens behind the curtains when the actors smiled on the perfect stage for them to see. 

[arggghhhsstuff]

forever obsessed with percy being weird. off-putting. strange even. a cryptid maybe. an urban legend if I may. my boy is the son of one of the oldest, most powerful gods, has been in FBI's records since the age of twelve, fought and won two wars against immortal beings, went to hell and back. I think he's allowed to be a little odd.

[churchydragon]

thinking about Golden Bat again. what if he was sad.

[void-thegod]

There is only one me.

I AM special.

There is only one you.

YOU are special.

We are both individuals. We are special for that.

In what other ways? What minute ways?

Is there something we each have?

Does one person's uniqueness somehow negate another one's?

Is it true? "if everyone is special, no one is?"

I don't think so, based on that.

There will never be the same exact sunset.

Aren't they all special?

But. Does unique = special?

Is that what we really mean?

Or .. do we mean special = outlier (one that is beyond simple individuality)

How many people are born with the werewolf mutation?

Or albinism? Both? (Or something comparable)

What if someone was a mutant or demi-god?

Things are getting interesting.

[nexus-nebulae]

we introject a chaotic bird and the first two things he does is steal a car and refuse to die. powermove

[foolishaetherguardian]

Mr. D from the porch: “Technically it was domestic terrorism and you are number four on the list.”

Chiron, rolling past while swapping the wine for DC: “And all of that is resolved. You are not wanted for any outstanding crimes.”

Percy would try and explain it and would be just hazy enough on the details due to manticore poisoning at the time that no one really fully believes it wasn’t his fault except for Grover and Annabeth. And neither of them are going to explain it because Percy realizing that people might be scared of him is a good thing.

Percy: so let me just get this clear, Leo speaks three languages, he's super tech savvy, and he's in AP math classes.

Leo: pretty much, yeah.

Percy: and Solace over here is like number one professional doctor with years of training and actual practice.

Will: I'm kinda cheating with the magic, but I read the books to make sure.

Percy: meanwhile Reyna, Jason, Hazel and Frank were/are a teenage war general. That must had required something.

Reyna, jason, Hazel and Frank: way too much leadership skills.

Percy: Calipso can make clothes from scratch, and how to grow her own food.

Calipso: I do.

Percy: Nico knows like six languages. And had years of playing video games.

Nico: I know Italian, Latin, Greek, English, and a little bit of French, so like, four and a half.

Percy: Annabeth gained architectural experience when she designed the fucking Olympus.

Annabeth: that was awesome.

Percy: Piper have a famous father, and she speaks French.

Piper: I don't like to talk about it.

Percy: all of you people are actually useful in the mortal world. I am wanted for arson.

[westanovencleaner]

so: imagine percy being a regular at a diner, right?

and he goes there enough times that they even put a "blue" option on the menu, right?

and then, slowly but surely, more demigods start going there separately, right?

so the diner employees just collectively calls them, "the regulars," because they all this weird, cryptid-like aura to them, right?

but then, one day, they all show up at once with varying amounts of injuries, and the diner employees are just like what the f—

[under-your-floorboards]

Will is actually really into morbid curiosities and vulture culture. He likes bones, alright? And he already canonically listens to true crime podcasts. I bet when he originally saw Nico he was just excited for the possibility of someone he could talk with about bones and myths and murder cause there’s certainly no place for that in the Apollo Cabin. That’s also how he and Lou Ellen became good friends, because Hekate is also a big symbol in death (triple goddess of life, death and rebirth) but her fixation is on mushrooms and moss, so they spend hours talking about natural decomposers. He’s able to name any bone, human or animal, and she can name most non-flower plants, ESPECIALLY fungi, so they have a mutual respect bond. Both of them know random facts about really niche beetles and other insects, especially if they are also decomposers. This slowly transitions to include Cryptids and folklore legends, it’s their favourite. They have plans to go to the mothman festival together sometime and they’re both dragging Cecil along (and eventually Nico when Will and him get together). They’re definitely the kinds of best friends to road trip and go camping or ghost/cryptid hunting in the woods. (They’re kind of sad once they realise some of those myths might actually just be greek monsters considering their demigod heritage and how much has already proven to be real.)

[kosmicsound]

things i’m excited for in my drs:

youtuber dr

- creating music!

- living in a cute ass house

- being a polyglot

- my bf

- school being super easy

- generally having a laid back life

- going to harvard

- being well known in the music community

- hanging out w my bf's viewers on stream

pjo dr

- seeing my childhood in real life

- MEETING CARTER KANE THE LOML

- powers!!

- having present siblings

- my dad living IN chb (hes forced to be there but STILL)

- seeing all the different mythologies around the world

- going on adventures

- fucking with percy (we’re frenemies)

- taking care of the apollo children bc they are overworked and underpaid (not paid at all)

- visiting valhalla

fame dr

- not being socially awkward

- acting

- making music (again)

- the fame (duhh)

- chilling with my brother

- the compilations of "k being fucking stupid for 10 mins straight"

- having a platform for change

marauders dr

- seeing the hogwarts castle IRL (universal is just not the same)

- buying shit at hogsmeade (again, universal is just not the same)

- meeting my friends

- having house parties

- the dinners!!

- PLAYING QUIDDITCH.

- living the old money dream (the riddle fam is part of the sacred 28😜😜)

- raising adopted children (it’s literally just my brother matteo + anyone he brings home)

- i have an adoption problem

- teaching potions FUCK YOU SNAPE

batfam/mcu dr

- fucking with the justice league

- being famous (bruce wayne is the 3rd richest man alive)

- being rich

- PETER PARKER 😜❤️💕🫃

- having a big ass family that just keeps growing

- galas

- actually helping gotham

- fucking with the avengers

- remembering peter parker because BITCH im a biblically accurate angel i have too many eyes to just forget

- also the entire batfam is made up of cryptids, eldritch horrors, semi-demigods, and bruce wayne who is surprisingly the scariest of the family

- not recognizing any other famous ppl/heroes bc im busy with SAVING GOTHAM??

- being one of the only known gotham vigilantes bc duke and i r daylighters and everyone else are cryptids to ppl outside of gotham

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Question!! Are there any Percy Jackson fics where it’s told from the perspective of absolutely normal people who are friends with Percy at school and know absolutely nothing about his demigod life but think he’s some weird cryptid?

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Are there any champions from Piltover/Zaun or beyond, who didn't show up in s1 of Arcane, who you'd like to see in s2? Both from a “this character would work really well with the story” perspective, and a “I just really like this champion” perspective.

Mm... I'm really wary about introducing more characters, honestly. Arcane's first season was already absolutely crammed to the gills with characters and one of my criticisms of Season 1 is that while everything that was in it was very very good, it was also so incredibly dense that the audience barely has time to breathe.

It's the kind of delicate balance where it feels like they just barely had the time and space to tell the stories of the main ensemble, and introducing more champions into that mix might make it all tip over.

That said, they do have the advantage that all the introductions and worldbuilding have basically been done now, and there's probably room to introduce one or two more characters to shake things up.

Instinctively I want to say Camille, except it makes no bloody sense why she'd only turn up in Season 2 and have been a complete non-presence in Season 1. Like, there was some shit happening that she should have been involved with in the first season.

Renata Glasc is an option. Zaun is going to have a big power vacuum and she would slot in very nicely as the new major power in the undercity. On the other hand, she's also perhaps a little bit too much like Silco 2.0, being partly based on him in the first place, and I think there's a solid argument for bringing the chembarons from season 1 back to fight with each other instead. Especially since one of them has a literal death vendetta against Jayce now.

Then there's Orianna, who in this canon seems to be Singed's... daughter? Some kind of family member? If all of Singed's research in the first season was about trying to find a way to save her life or bring her back to life, then she'd be a natural character to use to expand on Singed as a character in season 2. I think she'd have to be substantially redesigned, though - "music box ballerina" would be a weird thing for Singed to want to build her into.

Seraphine and Zeri are non-starters, I think, primarily because they are both mages, which would make absolutely no sense in the Arcane universe. Like, it is kind of important to the plot of Arcane that mages are essentially as rare as cryptids in this world. Same reason I don't think they'd introduce something like Janna either. She's a literal demigod, it would raise too many unanswerable questions.

There's no reason to bring in Ezreal, Zac, or Dr. Mundo, but Urgot is... not out of the question. He's the kind of relentlessly dogmatic, bloodthirsty cult leader that would make sense as a figure in the chaos and violence of the war that's likely to erupt. Twitch could also cameo, I suppose, but only as a cameo, I don't think it makes sense to make him a central character.

Outside of Piltover and Zaun, I'd say the main champions we are likely to encounter would be Swain or Darius (Darius specifically was most likely teased by Ambessa), and if Darius shows up there's a greater than average chance he'll have Draven with him. It's not impossible that Samira could show up for a bit of a cameo, as some kind of Noxian bounty hunter getting in the way of things. Katarina and Talon are... not impossible, I suppose, Noxus is probably going to want to assassinate someone, but I also doubt they'd introduce a champion character to fill that role in the narrative. It'd be wasteful.

If Noxus is making moves, of course, there's a non-zero chance that there'll be like a Demacian diplomat at some meeting, which... makes it possible that Xin Zhao or Garen might cameo, and if Noxus wants Piltover's technology to prosecute their war in Ionia, hey, maybe there will be Ionian diplomat characters showing up to plead their case, which opens the distant possibility of someone like Irelia or Shen showing up.

I very, very much doubt it though.

tl;dr in my opinion:

Most likely new champions: Darius, Swain, Orianna, and Warwick (Warwick being Vander)

Not impossible: Twitch, Urgot, Renata Glasc, Draven, Camille

Extremely small Easter Egg cameos at best: Xin Zhao/Garen/Jarvan, Irelia/Shen/Karma, Azir (Shurima is Piltover's southern neighbor), Miss Fortune/Gangplank (Piltover controls the sea gate and trade between two oceans), Ziggs (Heimerdinger's best friend), Ryze (the science boys are starting to fuck with World Rune-level magic hazards), Vel'koz (might show up in a Void vision inside the Hexcore or something).

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Heaven Sent You to Me

Pairing: Apollo (who happens to look exactly like Orestes in Agora) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3.8k

TW/CW: umm we all know Greek Mythology is like screwed up right? So there’s mean patriarchal men in this, a bit of power play between Apollo and reader, innocence!kink, oral (f!receiving), PinV sex, loss of virginity, talk of pregnancy

A/N: YES I AM AWARE THAT I SHOULD BE WRITING THE MORE THE MERRIER OR ANSWERING THE OTHER 87 ASKS IN MY INBOX BUT MY MUSE IS FICKLE OKAY? She said “Oscar as Apollo or no words at all” so here we are 🤷‍♀️ I watched The Two Faces of January last week and kept thinking that Oscar looks like a Greek god and @lovely-cryptid ‘s greek mythology AU lives rent free in my head and I couldn’t help myself…

Also the title is a lyric from an Ariana Grande because I have fully reverted ten years writing a Greek Mythology AU for my fandom du jour with a song lyric title bc I'm ~artsy~

You should have known he was a god. The way his fingers seemed to fly over the strings of his lyre. That enchanting, mellifluous voice. The smile that shone brighter than the sun itself. You’d encountered him in the woods behind the temple consecrated to him for Zeus’s sake.

Though who could blame you for assuming he was a mortal man? What would a god, an Olympian, want with you – an unimportant peasant in a small, unimportant village? He’d appeared to you as a mortal, a beautiful, alluring one, but a mortal. In fact, he’d been rather short in stature. Apollo’s affairs and exploits were famous, nay infamous, and even now it seemed impossible to reconcile the man who had spoken to you with such sweetness, who had wrung ebullient laughter, as well as previously unimaginable pleasure, from you was the mighty god you and your family had worshiped since time immemorial.

The revelation that you had lain with the god of light, music, medicine, the averter of evil, had been one that raced your head endlessly over the past few days, but it never failed to send a shiver down your spine. You instantly conjured the broad, chiseled planes of his body, so starkly contrasted with the gentle way he’d made love to you. When you revealed that you were a virgin, he was tender with you. Fragments of memories flashed in your mind’s eye but the one that oddly lingered the longest, and the most vividly, was the sweep of his thick, dark lashes across his high cheekbone when his eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy as he met his release. He had been the portrait of pleasure and beauty. You were truly a naive fool for not realizing the divinity in front of you in that moment.

“We must pray that you conceive,” your mother had declared. “You have already secured our family great status, but a demigod? Dmitri, can you imagine?”

Despite her praise, your cheeks burned in shame when she turned to your father for his reaction. You detested how openly and calculated this very intimate, typically private event in your life was being discussed. No one was supposed to know. Yet your sister had found the blood stains on your chiton while laundering it, and she’d coaxed the details out of you.

“Did it hurt?” she whispered.

“No.”

Her brows furrowed, “But you bled. It always hurts. It hurt my first time.”

“I…I don’t know. It didn’t. There was a–,” you blushed bright red and lowered your voice even further, “–a stretch, but it was pleasurable. I didn’t notice the blood until you did.”

Your sister was not willing to let it go. A trait among the women in your family that you’d failed to inherit.

“Well, how large was he?”

“Caris,” you urged her to stop. Yet, you knew your plea was useless, so you quickly approximated your lover’s size with your hands.

“Oh that definitely should have hurt!” Caris squawked in disbelief.

“I’m not talking about this anymore!” you proclaimed.

And that really should have been the end of it. Yet when you, Caris, and your parents made your weekly tribute at Apollo’s temple the following day the priests and acolytes were all abuzz. The god had appeared yesterday.

Initially, you had been as exhilarated as the rest of them, yet your stomach dropped and face blanched as the priest who had seen Apollo described him. Inky curls, olive skin, dark eyes with a strong brow and prominent nose. The god possessed an undoubtedly commanding presence, but there was a playfulness, an exuberance to him.

You and Caris traded bewildered glances. The priest’s depiction of Apollo matched up rather perfectly with Phoebus, the young man you’d stumbled across when you’d decided to take a walk through the forest rather than immediately returning home after your visit to the temple.

“It’s him,” she asserted lowly as you all headed back home.

“Shhhh,” you tried to speed up and away from her, a stupid idea because Caris had longer legs than you. When she inevitably caught up with you two seconds later, you insisted, “Don’t be silly.”

“Apollo is the god of healing and diseases. Is it really so far-fetched to believe that he could minimize any pain for his lovers? Especially the virgins?”

“Caris! Enough!”

The vehemence of your demand had caught your mother’s attention. While in the moment you were able to extinguish any suspicions she had, eventually Caris’s big mouth betrayed you. You had expected her to rage. To punish you. You, an unmarried, unbetrothed woman, had engaged in an activity that was the most important gift in your dowry to your future husband. You readied yourself for the insults and reproaches your mother would hurl at you for becoming damaged goods as a marriage prospect.

Yet, she all but kissed your feet when she found out. She rejoiced, then immediately marched you back to the temple to meet with the clerics. That was when the humiliation began. You were examined to ensure that you had in fact been deflowered. As if that hadn’t been degrading enough, you then were stripped and prayed over for hours, leering men begging Apollo for a sign to confirm that you were indeed the one the god had chosen to ravish. The manner in which the priests brusquely groped and prodded at you couldn’t have been more different than the way the deity himself had treated you, the god they claimed to serve.

When a sign didn’t immediately appear, doubt had set in. A mortal woman winning the attention of their patron god was the most momentous thing to happen in your village in generations, so if you were lying? Eternal shame. For you and your family.

You were kept overnight in the temple in a nicely appointed room, but forbidden to see anyone. You cried yourself to sleep, yet much to your relief, at dawn, Apollo provided the confirmation the priests needed and you were allowed to go. Of course, by the time you returned home, everyone knew.

After having a bit of time to contemplate it, you realized that it wasn't so much the fact that every single person in your life began treating you differently that unmoored and overwhelmed you, it was how swiftly it had all happened. It hadn’t been your choice.

You were required at the temple daily now for rituals. Thankfully, the fact you’d lain with a god disqualified you from becoming an acolyte, you were still needed for “veneration” purposes. You soon deduced this meant that the priests simply wanted to keep you around to curry favor with Apollo.

You hated it. You were the only one present in the chamber currently who had ever meaningfully interacted with the deity, yet you were reduced to a glorified altar ornament for their rites.

The only way to weather these hours-long sessions was to recall what brought you here in the first place. You retreated into your memory of that fateful afternoon when you met Apollo.

It’d been a beautiful day, and you were more at ease in nature. The hustle and bustle of the village and the imposing columns of the temple felt suffocating to you.

You’d heard him first before you saw him. The most beautiful music wafted toward you. You couldn’t have turned away if you’d wanted to. It was as if the mixture of the melody he played and the tune he sang had entranced your feet to carry you to the source of the sound. You hadn’t heard the song before, but inexplicably, it had an odd air of familiarity within your ears.

The sight of him initially seemed to be a joke. He had to be a mirage of some sort. A song so gorgeous coming from a man who was even more dazzling? Had you tripped and hit your head on your stroll from the temple? Surely you were dreaming.

His song ceased when he sensed your presence.

“I’m sorry,” your apology tumbled from your lips at once. “Please don’t stop on my account, I didn’t mean to–I’ll leave. I apologize for intruding.”

Before you could tuck and run, he called to you.

“Don’t! There’s no need.”

You froze, and slowly pivoted back to face him. He’d gotten closer to you, which was terrible for your clarity of mind. In addition to his good looks, he radiated an irresistible air of power, and his proximity only compelled you to submit to it more.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, the man before you turned boyish and shy before he queried, “Would you like to hear more?”

“Please.”

It was the first time you were treated to his smile. It reduced you to a blushing fool with a startling amount of efficiency.

He motioned to a nearby boulder for you to take a seat on. You obeyed instantly. He took his place on a nearby log and resumed plucking at his lyre.

His song was haunting, beguiling, and hopeful all at once. His voice lilted over the lyre’s strings. He sang in a language you didn’t understand, and couldn’t begin to identify, but you were captivated all the same.

You were slightly embarrassed, though not at all surprised, that there were tears staining your cheeks when he concluded.

He grinned dopily when he saw you dabbing at your eyes, “That bad, huh?’

“Stop,” You chuckled through your tears. “You have a gift.”

He shrugged off your compliment with a frustrating amount of nonchalance.

You needed to know more about this mysterious man. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m merely passing through.”

“Are you a minstrel then?”

He smirked as if you’d said something inadvertently humorous to him. “I suppose you could call me that.”

“Well, what should I call you then?”

“Phoebus.”

“Have you traveled much, Phoebus?” you inquired.

“I have.”

“Could you tell me about the places you’ve been? I’ve never left this utterly boring village.”

“I will, if you tell me what keeps you here. Is it your village’s association with the deity?”

You cocked your head in confusion. It was an odd question to you. You strove to answer diplomatically, “While I wouldn’t say that Apollo is driving me away, I wouldn't say he’s keeping me here either.”

Again, that secretive little smirk tugged at the corners of Phoebus’s quite luscious mouth. “I see. He’s vastly overrated isn’t he?”

“Oh I wouldn’t go so far to say that!” you attempt to course-correct. “We’re blessed with his patronage.”

A mischievous glint danced behind Phoebus’s dark, magnetic eyes. “Say no more. Now, where do you want to hear about first?”

He proceeded to regale you with tales of the most wondrous places. Of seas and mountains and monsters and the divine. You got lost within his stories. You wished you could live within them.

It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to accompany him on a stroll when he suggested it. Typically warnings would blare in your head - you must not stray any further with this handsome stranger, he could sully you, or worse, harm you, but you felt entirely safe with Phoebus. At the time, it had been impossible to put your finger on why you’d felt so. Now, it was abundantly clear: you’d been in the presence of one of the most powerful creatures in all of existence. Still, he chatted and wandered with you in a remarkably similar manner to mortal men your age.

When you two came across a river and Phoebus proposed a swim, your cheeks had burned with sheepishness. He hadn’t mocked or derided you, he simply offered to turn away while you undressed and submerged yourself into the water to afford you some modesty. However, Phoebus hadn’t been quite as bashful as you had been when disrobing. In fact, the flourish with which he all but flung off his chiton led you to believe he wanted you to watch him, rather than avert your eyes like you immediately did once you realized what he was doing. You hadn’t been quick enough however, and had caught a delectable glimpse of his toned chest, thick thighs, and what you deduced was a well-endowed groin.

You only dared look back up when you heard the splash signaling his entrance into the river. He resurfaced with his black curls matted and slicked back against his skull, an impish grin on his lips. He reached for you and you floated to him without hesitation. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured, even though you two were the only people around for at least a mile.

“You may,” you granted him permission in a similarly hushed tone.

Your lips drifted together, and then it was as if you had become a feral animal let out of its cage. You couldn’t get enough. Your lips moved against his ravenously, your legs wrapping around his torso on instinct when he moved toward the river’s bank. While the press of his arousal against your hip was certainly a foreign sensation, you weren’t afraid. He deposited you on the warm silt for a moment before retrieving your tunic and laying it under you, a makeshift bed for what was about to come.

It was then that you confessed. You didn’t know what to expect once the words left your mouth - judgment, indifference, a perverse excitement - but Phoebus smiled softly, and nodded his head, as if he’d expected it.

“Then I shall show you how beautiful pleasure can be,” he vowed.

He took his time, dipping his head between your breasts to mouth at your pert nipples, then lower to between your legs. When the tip of his nose drew a featherlight line along the seam of your sex, you gasped. You may have been a virgin, but you weren't totally naive. Caris had been betrothed recently and regaled you constantly about her rendezvous with her soon-to-be husband, but she had never mentioned this. It was as if Phoebus was sending you flying through the clouds, straight to Olympus, with only his tongue. Your fingers had wound into his damp curls to hold on for dear life as you fell apart for him.

It wasn’t until your pleasure crested that he slid a thick, suspiciously uncalloused finger through your folds and pressed it inside. He cooed comforts to you when you tightened around him, your body’s first reaction to try and expel the intrusion. One digit became two, and after a while, he guided your hand to manhood, showing you how to grip him, coaxing and coaching you on how to bring him back to hardness.

Caris had always advised you to shut your eyes and not to look at a man’s member for too long, since it wasn’t the most pleasant of sights. She was wrong in this instance. Every bit of Phoebus was mesmerizing, and his erect cock was no different from the rest of him. His encouragements echoed in your ears as if he was speaking them to you in the present.

“Yes, that’s it sunshine,” he’d panted, “You can grip me tighter, oh, that is lovely. You are a fast learner, aren’t you? I’m going to make you feel so very good.”

Becoming one had been the most intense sensation you had ever endured. It was all too much, yet you wanted more. You keened when Phoebus had draped your legs over his broad shoulders to penetrate you deeper, your skin suddenly feeling too tight. It was too much, it was too much, you’d chanted to yourself. Phoebus’s girth was unrelenting, but at the same time you never wanted it to end.

Your lover was an attuned one, so when he observed that the position was perhaps too vigorous for his little virgin, he’d rolled you over so you were straddling his ample hips and speared on his desire.

“Here, grasp onto my shoulders,” he instructed you, “so you can control the depth and the pace, yes?”

Phoebus had long fucked the words out of you, so your reply came as a breathless, frantic nod. You wished to thank him, truly, you couldn’t have asked for a more considerate man to share this with for the first time. Instead, you did as he said and found a tempo and pattern of undulating your hips against his that suited you.

Phoebus couldn’t help himself, he began meeting your pelvis, thrusting up into you. You howled in pleasure, and his gaze instantly searched out yours to confirm those were good sounds instead of pained ones. He didn’t look away once he had found the answer he was hoping for in your eyes. Those deep brown irises had bore into yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more convinced you were they held galaxies.

You were so caught up in Phoebus’s gaze that you didn’t notice he’d snuck a hand in between your bodies until the pad of his finger connected with your sensitive bud.

“There you go sunshine, let go for me, you can let go.”

You felt as if you were going to explode out of your body as Phoebus continued to repeat those sweet-nothings as if they were a prayer.

“Let go for me darling, I know you can, let go–”

“You may go.”

The high priest's imperious tone snapped you out of your reverie. No longer were you in the forest with Phoe–Apollo, but rather the towering temple consecrated to him. Your relief that you could leave superseded your annoyance at being interrupted. You desperately needed to return to the privacy of your bedroom for a bit of self-relief.

Perhaps it was because you were in such a rush that you didn’t initially notice him as you flew out of the side entrance of the temple. It was his voice that stopped you.

“You’re not with child.”

“Holy Hera! You frightened me!” You put a hand to your chest to calm your beating heart.

“So you can stop fretting." Clearly, Apollo wasn’t particularly remorseful about the scare he'd given you. "Though to be honest, I’m surprised you’re relieved. Most women, beings far more divine than yourself, are usually thrilled to carry my offspring. They clamber for the chance and flaunt their bellies if they conceive.”

“I…I could not withstand the attention, I do not think. Nor the pomp and the responsibility.”

“The priests would help with the burden.”

“Yes but the child’s father wouldn’t,” you pointed out. ��As great an honor to mother a demigod would be, I would prefer a…someone to experience it all with.”

Apollo nodded. “That I could not give you.”

“I know,” There was no resentment or disappointment in your voice. “I would never expect you to.”

“That must be why I yearn for you still,” Apollo mused, “why I cannot stay away.”

“I...my family is expecting me.”

Apollo was not accustomed to being refused. He fixed you with a look of amused incredulity after you spoke.

“I do not want them to know. Or anyone for that matter.” You realized how ungrateful you sounded. To spurn a god was to write your own death sentence. “Not that I don’t desire you, or that I wish to disregard your desires–”

“You want me all to yourself.” When you opened your mouth to amend his statement, he stopped you. “It’s alright. I want you all to myself too.”

“You have me,” you averred. “However, when the priests and my mother get involved…”

“I understand. I do not wish for fanfare either.” He pulled you close to him. Your breath hitched at the press of his hardness into your hip through both of your chitons.

Your mouths were millimeters apart. Instead of closing the distance, you asked, “Why did you tell me a false name when we first met?”

He smiled that bright, beatific grin that warmed you from the inside out. “I suppose for the same reason that you want to keep this a secret. If you believe your family is meddling, then mine is…”

Apollo didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand. You giggled, a sound he much enjoyed. At last, he captured your lips with his. Kissing Apollo melted you, you became a molten, liquid being when he pressed his lips to yours.

As transcendent as the kiss was, the god could feel that you were holding back. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

You were not proud of the flip your stomach did at the pet name. Once you regained control of yourself, you replied, “Nothing, nothing at all. Forgive me.”

“Don’t apologize, simply tell me what is bothering you,” he countered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

When you hesitated, his fingers tilted your head up so your eyes met. “I won’t be angry.”

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your complaint. It was funny, you’d spent your entire life beseeching Apollo for this or that in the temple, yet when he was standing right in front of you, eager to know what troubled you, you couldn’t find the words.

“Why me?” It was a deflection from Apollo’s question, but still a valid inquiry.

He chuckled. “You’re asking me to apply logic to attraction, something inherently instinctual,” Apollo pointed out. “Though if I had to try to put reasoning to it, I would say it was because you are kind, beautiful, you have a tight, juicy little cunt…” he cupped your mound to demonstrate his point. You gasped at the contact. “...and when I’m with you, I feel the most like a mortal that I've felt in decades.”

Mortal? Was that a bad thing? Were you unintentionally insulting the deity?

Apollo was quick to assuage you, “I enjoy it, sunshine. The immediacy, the urgency. It’s refreshing. You’re refreshing.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. You sought to return his kind words but what was there to say? It was obvious why a mortal such as yourself would fall for a god.

“Now, I won’t ask again. What vexes you?’

“I…after we…our first meeting,” you struggled to select the right words, “the priests wanted to corroborate that we’d lain together, and their methods were…they were not very gentle.”

Your lover’s eyes turned stormy. No sooner had you told him did a crack sound from what you guessed was inside the temple.

“No, please! Don’t hurt anyone!” you begged him just as swiftly.

Apollo’s face softened slightly. “Even after they violated you, you show them compassion. I swear to you I won’t, however, I must ensure that you, and by extension, myself are treated with respect.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. Gods were not known for their mercy, so the fact he was willing to compromise with you at all was a victory.

Apollo pulled you into another kiss that stole your breath. “If I cannot have you now…then tonight. When the moon peaks in the sky.”

“How will I find you?”

A smirk played across his lips. “Don’t fret, sunshine. I shall ensure it.”

A/N: Sooooo…what do we think?! 🫣 A little more flowery than my usual but I just had too much fun with this and now I have ideas for a few installments 🤦‍♀️

READ PART TWO

Tagging a few folks who might be interested:

@bitch4marvel @luciannadraven33 @oof-its-roobi @twwcs, @ninebluehearts @damnzelsoul @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction , @romanarose @dameronscopilot

[phoenixcatch7]

GENIUSSSSSSSSSSS

Meat Marionette Thoughts

Y’know what villian I am rotating for this who isn’t technically one of Gotham’s rogues but the Justice League’s and other team’s? Vandal Savage. For those not in the know or are unfamiliar with him, Vandal is a 50,000+ year old caveman who has been several different people throughout history including Black Beard, Vlad the Impaler, and Genghis Khan among so many others. And in canon he’s been defeated and plans thwarted several different times by Bruce while he was trapped outside of his own time.  Now I am just saying that from Vandal’s point of view, every once in a while this creature- similar to him in the sense it’s intelligent, very much so, but also animalistically violent, almost instinctively so- emerges from somewhere in the world. Where it comes from, he doesn’t know, or even if it’s just one being or multiple. Sometimes the bat appears months later, sometimes centuries. But then there’s nothing for a few thousand years. No sign of it. But then, but then, this happens:

Now this isn’t Bruce’s father (See screenshot below) but an ancestor all the same. But that’s not important at the moment. 

No what I want to focus on is the fact that suddenly, in Vandal’s point of view, the bat is far more active in the following years. It’s suddenly awake and out all the time in Gotham, almost nightly. And suddenly, the bat isn’t alone and has something. Suddenly there’s several little bats running around, all focused on the surroundings of this single city. Suddenly, he has a good idea of where the beast disappeared to.

This Au is a combo of mine & @phoenixcatch7's and you need to check her out, she's amazing <3

[yujateaandpi]

This concept has been microwaving in my brain for so long— Sharkboy and Lavagirl but what if they were anticapitalist Polynesian demigods fighting big resort corps. Character bios below for anyone who’s interested!

🦈

Akamu is the son of Filipino marine biologist Joseph Ambong and Ka'ahupahau, the shark goddess of Pu’uloa. Raised by his grandmother after his father’s disappearance, Akamu is a PhD student working to protect marine macroecosystems. He’s professional and aloof at first glance, but only those closest to him know how reckless he truly is. He tries to act cool but he’s a bit childish and has a soft side for puns. He also has a cringe obsession with Jason Momoa.

His mana was inherited from his mother and gives him supernatural strength, speed, senses, and the ability to talk to animals. His demigod form is more natural so he takes time at night to let loose in secluded coves. After some slip ups, he’s accidentally started rumors about a horror cryptid named the Sharkman. He’s very proud of it, though Keahi scolds him to keep a low profile.

🌋

Keahi is the 140 year old reincarnation of the volcano goddess Pele. When she was ten, her village was raided during the overthrow of Queen Liliʻuokalani in 1893. She was tossed into the ocean and lay buried in her demigod form until Akamu found her in 2010. She awoke with amnesia. She stayed with the Ambongs for a couple years and became close friends with Akamu. After Joseph Ambong disappeared, she bounced around the foster care system both on and off the islands. Her powers manifested uncontrollably during this time, resulting in several arson charges.

After a tough few years, she returned to the islands to work, regain her memories, and reunite with her childhood friend. She still doesn’t remember everything, but she’s trying to enjoy her life a little at a time. Keahi is a peacemaker with a strong appreciation for the natural world. She has a cheerful disposition and comes off as naive sometimes, but deep down she carries the kind of wisdom that’s built from pain. She doesn’t like talking about her past.

Unlike Akamu, her mana was transferred directly from the soul of a goddess, making her essentially immortal. In a thousand years she will become the living embodiment of young underwater volcanoes and new islands. For now, she’s just trying to appreciate living a mortal life (and taking down some greedy tourist economies in the meantime).

I���m open to asks about these characters! I think about them. Every day.

[moorishflower]

Apropos of the Addams family post from a few weeks back: Hob meeting Gomez and them immediately vibing. Freak4freak friendship. Taking one look at the horrific sublime and wanting to kiss it with tongue

GOD yes like I have trouble imagining writing Hob meeting Gomez Addams actually because the IPs are so different but if he ever did it would be IMMEDIATE recognition. Same hat vibes. Have you beheld my big beautiful spouse? Behold them and despair (the despair is lovely this time of year)

Like can you imagine Hob attending ANY function in the Dreaming, either as the Dreamlord's husband or his consort? Normal McNormalman wandering around amongst gods and fey and nightmares and angels and being so painfully ordinary and HUMAN that he loops back around to being just. The cryptid in the room. Everyone whispering to each other, "Does anyone know that guy? Who is that? Did he sneak in?"

Hob just happily chatting away eating canapes and mingling and discussing footie with satyrs and shit, and finally some asshole god or demigod strolls on up to him and clears their throat, and demands to know "Who are you? Why are you here? You're just some human."

And Hob blinks his big beautiful brown cow eyes and he says "Oh! I'm here with my husband! Here he is now!" And just simp mode activates IMMEDIATELY. Dream standing there in full nightmare regalia glowering daggers at whoever has dared to impugn the honor of HIS husband, visibly bleeding shadows while the unfortunate guest contemplates how swiftly their mortality is about to be ripped from their still-conscious body, and Hob tucks his arm through Dream's, "How's your night been so far, baby? Good party, the brownies seemed very interested in the latest scores for Manchester, think they might be close to setting up a league of their own, dunno who they'd play against though. Christ, you look fantastic tonight. Doesn't he look fantastic? We should definitely dance later, imagine how you'd look on the floor with all these shadows around you. Phwoar. Are you thirsty, darling?"

"Wine will suffice."

"Sure, love, be right back. Nice talking with you, mate!" And off he trots to the refreshments table, and meanwhile Dream has expanded to roughly 1.5 times his normal height and living darkness wreathes him in an aura of cold sweat and midnight shivers, and he has to lean down almost at the waist to address whoever this unfortunate SOB is. Blinking slow and deliberate, like a lizard eyeing a mouse.

"You are lucky. My husband is in a charitable mood. If you ever speak ill of him again. It will not be his mercy you must seek."

And Hob comes back with two glasses of wine right as Dream is straightening up, and the unfortunate god or demigod looks like they're about to simultaneously weep and piss themselves, and he gives Dream his drink and then in a smooth and seamless motion gets his arm around Dream's waist and dips the 8ft tall nightmare man. Logically, and based on their respective heights, it should not be that easy, but Dream is visibly enjoying it.

"My sweet," Hob is murmuring into Dream's clavicle, "my darling, my Dream. Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?"

"Yes. But tell me again."

And at this point Hob's would-be detractor takes the opportunity to flee, just as Hob is planting a line of smacking kisses up the Dreamlord's neck. "Beautiful," he's saying, "ravishing, stunning, awe-inspiring."

And after that there's a sort of flyer or pamphlet that gets circulated through a bunch of supernatural circles, with Hob Gadling's name and description and picture, THIS IS THE PRINCE-CONSORT OF THE NIGHTMARE KING, HE IS ALLOWED AND ENCOURAGED TO BE HERE.