#dionysus missing spawn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ma1dita · 3 months ago

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asking for trouble

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader words: 7.8k prev -> when the curtains close | next -> as above so below summary: (post-TLT, compliant to TLO) The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all) a/n: non-descriptive mentions of blood and war, main character death. angst. a boyfriend that yall may or may not agree with. one chapter left after this!! i imagined the last scene to play out with luke in a room where they have the immersive exhibits at a museum

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[august 15th; camp half-blood kitchens, long island, new york — 9:49 pm]

Everything begins and ends with love if we are fortunate enough.

There’s a stillness that fills the air the night before what historians and future demigods alike will deem the Battle of Manhattan. It’s stifling—suffocating in the silence of the camp kitchens as you cover a sheet cake with blue frosting, piping the edges with a steady hand as you check the clock, time always ticking over your shoulder.

Almost lights out.

The circumstances are different now though, and surely no one will be able to sleep soundly tonight. Fate is hard at work unraveling the future, the gods and their spawn alike are preparing for war, yet you’re here putting sprinkles on Percy Jackson’s birthday cake.

It’s the most nonsensical thing you��ve done all week amidst the war preparations, taming the whirlwind of mixed emotions that shook camp in the days before. Perhaps it comes with the knowing that everything will change, and the only way out is through. Only the lucky ones get to go home after this.

“Are you really not coming with us tomorrow?”

Clarisse chuckles at your question from her position against the doorway, crossing her arms and watching you stick candles on the top of the sweet dessert. Her hands flex over her sleeves, tugging at the fabric like she needs to hide away from the rest of the world, “You make it sound like it’s a walk in the park instead of what it really is.”

“Is that why then?” You look up from your piping bag raising an eyebrow at her, “We need all the help we can get, Risse.”

“It’s a death wish. I don’t know how you do it grandma, but the world will keep spinning no matter if 5 shows up or not,” Clarisse mutters, rolling the words around in her mouth, “How do you do it? Knowing that he’ll be there…I-I don’t want Chris to put himself through that again. We’re going to lose anyway—something, if not everything.”

You know that too.

There’s something ironic about how the children of war won’t be joining the fight of their lives, but Clarisse La Rue is as stubborn as a mule when she doesn’t get her way. Only something truly special would send her running to the battlefield at this point.

“A part of me feels obligated to be there and help fix it, Risse. This is the path I chose.”

She scoffs, her sneakers knocking against the side of the kitchen island. The daughter of Ares is wistful, hesitant… and nothing like herself tonight. You suppose conflict shapes someone like her like how insanity lines the essence of your being. Intangible, but the base of every choice—the driving reason connecting you to your godrents.

“Yeah, I know that, but I still don’t get it. You don’t have to be here anymore,” she says thoughtfully, moving the cylinders of sprinkles around on the counter by height order, then by colors of the rainbow, “you could’ve chosen the easy life without all of this…I mean, if I ever got out of here alive, I wouldn’t look back.” The statement is sharp in the silence as if she’d attacked you with Maimer. Your eyes meet hers as if there’s a big secret she’s missing out on. You always look at them like that now, with a faraway gaze of a place none of them can reach.

“Who’s to say? Getting old and aging out of here is harder than you think, you know… College, rent, taxes…” you list off with every squeeze of the piping bag, spelling out Percy’s name with white frosting. Clarisse bites her lip, resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she watches you.

When she closes her eyes at night, she often dreams of being home in Arizona, dry heat prickling at her cheeks and dust swirling at her ankles. That’s what her future will look like, she thinks—and she’ll let herself be selfish if it means she gets what she wants. What do you dream of? Do you think about a future for yourself if you’re so worried about saving everyone else’s?

“But you still came back. Is this easier than that?”

Not easier, but familiar. Nothing you ever want comes easy after all. There is a comfort in walking the grounds of a camp counselor job you used to dread instead of filling out job applications; easier to you means fighting with the gods and slaying creatures of old instead of paying student loans and making rent.

“I think you’ll find out that you do stupid things for love, Clarisse La Rue.”

She’ll never tell you this, but you’re the strongest person she knows. You’ve shown her that strength doesn’t always mean brain or brawn. Sometimes strength is loving someone without expecting anything in return, and the gnawing feeling in her stomach eats at her in an unsatisfying way—like Tantalus reaching for the grapevine, fingertips grazing the leaves for eternity.

Instead, Clarisse wipes down the counter with a Clorox wipe as you make your way towards the door, cake in hand. Tonight, she and her siblings will sleep with the knowledge that they’ll get to see another day. Call her selfish, sure—but that’s how she loves them. Alive.

“I still stand ten toes behind the fact that Michael Yew can be knocked down a fucking peg,” she mutters. There’s a small smile on her face and when she looks up at you, she sees your face is illuminated by moonlight. Clarisse hopes this won’t be the last time—silently praying to her father to extend his hand onto you.

“I’ll see you when I see you, La Rue.”

Whenever that is, she thinks. This is easier than a goodbye. What matters is showing up. What matters is that they try. That’s what she reminds herself as she turns off the big light and heads toward Cabin 5.

Does any of that still matter in the end if they aren’t alive?

Her siblings are already asleep when she tucks herself into bed despite the music and laughter coming from 12. Light from across the way filters through her window, a warm glow cast across her face leaking through even when she shuts her eyes. It warms her, reminds her of the orange of the stupid shirts they wear, sunsets on Fireworks Beach, and the molten lava that drips down the climbing wall.

Home might not be what she remembered it to be after all these years. Clarisse decides to sleep on it, hoping that when they wake, there’ll be something worth fighting for.

[august 15th; cabin 12, long island, new york — 10:08pm]

Camp Half-Blood is quiet as you walk through the dark forest, minding your step over the brambles and checking off your mental list of responsibilities before day breaks. The air is especially cool for a summer night, melancholy being your only jacket as you move on auto-pilot. Your fingers tighten around the tray you hold, pushing the door open to Cabin 12 which currently houses most of your campers. It’s lively and bright in here—you would think they’re all celebrating a Capture the Flag win instead of being sent off to their deaths for the greater good.

Tomorrow, they’ll wake up soldiers.

The wood creaks beneath your boots and it’s drowned out by the sound of soft chattering and laughter, a few of them still scuffling over sleep spots, and then—”HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY!”

There are only enough people in here to comfortably fit in a few of the strawberry trucks tomorrow—some went home to their parents to avoid the chaos and some chose not to fight at all. And the ones that remain— all 40 of them, that is, are spread out on the floor in sleeping bags writhing like worms. All the whooping and cheering is accompanied by Michael leading his siblings in song (and Connor and Travis ruining it by chanting CHA CHA CHA!).

Percy is just shy of sixteen now, but the sheen in his blue eyes still reflects the tranquility of open water and something tender that you saw in him when he came to camp at twelve years old. Later, through mouthfuls of cake and smears of blue buttercream on his cheek, the son of Poseidon looks up at you thoughtfully, “Is this a pity cake?” He tries to make light of the situation by acting like the fate of the world doesn’t depend on his life or death, and you take a deep breath.

Even demigods fall victim to fate, and the gods still push on. But what of their children that fight for change in the world they set the rules for; their children that fight their battles for them and lose their lives for immortal beings that live forever?

“This is a birthday party, not a pity party, Percy Jackson. There's no pity for the damned,” you chuckle. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. All of the world’s problems seem so permanent when you’re 15 years old. It’s just fucked up that his will actually alter the course of humanity.

“And if this is the end of the world, I just wanted to make sure we’ve told you happy birthday first.”

“Well thanks,” Percy mumbles over a spoonful of buttercream, face reddening when Annie throws a paper towel roll at his face, “Hey!” It reminds you a lot of when you and Luke would fight in the dining pavilion, chicken tenders and mac n’ cheese flying through the air, and apples cut just the way you like.

You blink.

It all boils down to him or Luke.

“Wipe your face, Seaweed Brain!”

Percy rolls his eyes, smiling down at his plate regardless of the weight he carries upon his shoulders. The more you want to live the more you have to lose, you think as you brush your knuckles against a spot of frosting he missed. You don’t look at the blonde boy and see a hero of the Great Prophecy—still, you see him as the little boy who was mesmerized by you conjuring strawberries on his plate on his first day at camp, innocent and honest.

Looking around the room wistfully at that thought, you start to see the memories of their childhood blanket all of themlike ill-fitting clothes; it’s all you can notice. The feeling is so big it swallows you whole. Annabeth is still the little girl who’d rattle off obscure facts from Snapple bottle caps from her time on the road, drawing pictures of buildings with your eyeliner after sneaking into your room. Silena still makes blush out of berry juice and would call you about boy problems as if she’s not a child of the goddess of love herself. Will is still the boy who sings as he lights up fireflies and draws smiley faces on bandages. Katie, the girl who makes flower crowns for your birthday and eats strawberries with you soaked in morning dew. You look around and see scraped knees that you’ve kissed better, sleepy eyes you’ve sung to, and hearts you’ve kept warm—this is your glory, your greatest achievement being the family you’ve found in the woods of the Long Island Sound.

“You see it too?” Grover mumbles, nudging you and you sigh, squeezing his shoulder. Sometimes you forget the satyr is older than you; he stands tall as your pillar of support, unwavering in his promise to protect these kids.

“We’re getting old, man.”

“You’re only 23. There’s so much left of you,” he deadpans. Laughter comes out of you in waves as you shake your head smiling.

“And what a pleasure it’s been to grow up with you.”

Grover bids you a good night as you walk up the stairs to your old room, phone in hand while you dial a familiar number. Your boyfriend answers before the end of the first ring.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d still be up!”

Settling against the windowpane near your bed, a soft smile graces your features and you realize he’s not there to see it. It’s always been easy with him—Dex was unbelievably kind, and he had a heart that he’d share without you having to ask. He was unlike any man you’d ever encountered before, and over the past year and a half you found it easy to love him.

Worst of all, he’s utterly devoted to you. At least every part of you that you were willing to give him, even if it wasn’t all of you per se. Plus, you saw the ring in his desk drawer last week.

It was too…good to be true.

You recognize that this was your way out like Clarisse said, your escape from the turbulence that was your life as a demigod. But it was hard to believe that you were deserving of it. He’d never know of the ichor that runs through your veins, and the life you’d have to leave behind to truly be with him. You suppose every love you’ve ever had was sacrificial. You just wonder if because of that, easy makes it hard to feel real.

Maybe if you survive this one you’d tell him the truth. But for now, he’s rambling in your ear about his sudden work trip upstate. Morpheus and Hypnos are already at work then, redirecting the city dwellers out of Manhattan. It must be later than you thought already and in a few short hours, Apollo will be shining his rays across the Island for what you hope won’t be the last time.

“I wish I was with you right now,” you mutter in a hushed tone, and you hear him laugh breathily through the static sound of the phone. It’s easy to imagine him twirling the telephone cord between his fingers, flopped over the tiny loveseat you went halfsies on with your first big paychecks. The apartment you both moved into after graduation is more accurately a shoebox—but it’s yours, and the love you have for it is immeasurable in comparison to the square footage. You hum, listening to the sound of his voice, “Maybe I can catch you before I go—stop by and say hi before I drive up.”

He won’t. By morning, you’re not even sure if he’ll remember you—all traces of Greek gods and their counterparts wiped clean from memory until it’s all over, whenever that is. You’re mindlessly walking in circles around your room, bare feet padding against the floorboards. He repeats your name and you realize you haven’t been paying attention, the tail end catching your ear, “Hmm?”

“Or you could come to me. I’m sure your dad won’t mind. It’s time I meet him, don’t you think?”

And out of anything happening tomorrow, that especially sounds like a nightmare so you make a noise of disagreement, “I can’t. You know I can’t, honey. I’ve got…” your voice trails off as your lilac eyes land on a faded photo strip thumbtacked to your wall, “unfinished business to deal with.” There’s nothing left but inky silhouettes on the sun-damaged paper, two past lovers huddled together. But you know what it’s a picture of. Rye Playland, you and Luke at fifteen, cheek to cheek and covered in wisps of cotton candy.

“Mm. Sounds important. Does your unfinished business have a name?”

Dex sounds playful now, teasing despite the silence on your end of the line. A beat passes, and then another, and he can hear the sound of your hands rifling through the things in your desk drawer. The dragon scale necklace is cold in your palm.

For good luck, you think.

It’s been a while since you’ve worn it—keeping it safe in the only home you and Luke shared, and as soon as it touches your neck, you feel a little less empty inside. It feels like a safety blanket, protecting you from whatever might come next. You almost feel guilty to be relieved.

Thumbing the cord absentmindedly, you mutter, “You don’t even know the half of it, Dex.”

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me.” Sometimes, it’s like he knows— Dex must be the ivy that grows over the walls you’ve built up around yourself, and he can see glimpses of who you try to hide behind your stone-cold resolve. He wonders if you’ll ever tell him about the names you call out at night— an indistinguishable language he’ll never fully understand. He wonders where you’ve gotten your constellation of scars and where your mind goes when you sit next to the window and stare at the skyline.

Oh, he wonders.

The glow-in-the-dark stars are faded now on the ceiling when you look up at them, fighting to give their last bits of light. You wonder too, if there’s any fight left in you; a bit of Luke always remains—he’s everywhere you look. You can feel him as night falls upon New York, bidding you goodnight before it crumbles tomorrow.

“Maybe. Good night, honey.”

Dex yawns into the receiver. You know his feet are kicked up onto the coffee table even though you always tell him he shouldn’t, and that his glasses are already off for the night. You really think he could be a nice guy to end up with, all things considered. Dex was the epitome of normal, and after almost two and a half decades of existence, it’s quite evident that you are anything but.

Normal might be quite nice.

He yawns again. Hypnos must have reached his window, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do. Me too. Good night.”

It’s the truth.

You love this man and the spaces he’s filled within the chaos of your life. You love all of him, from the perfectly normal way he makes breakfast for you every morning (and laughs when he burns the toast), and takes the train to work at a middle school in Harlem (“6th grade ELA takes a lot out of a man,” he jokes). He picks you up from your job at the therapist’s office downtown if you get out too late, as a gentleman would (though you’ve fought monsters that he’d scream at the sight of). Once upon a time, normal was exactly what you used to wish for.

There’s a moment where your breath hitches and you sink against your pillow and you wonder if he would love all of you—demigod and all. Could he get used to this— summers at Camp Half-Blood with chariot races and gladiator-style fighting, pegasi and harpies roaming the grounds, and watersports with woodland nymphs? Dex never even questions your green thumb or how Pollux made him hallucinate your dead brother when he came to visit (“It’s what Castor would’ve wanted! The full twin-terrogation!” he insists. You convinced your boyfriend he got food poisoning that night). Could you come clean about knowing how to slay a chimera, or why you never get drunk, and have the stamina of an Olympian (the athletic kind, but not too far off from the truth)?

But it shouldn’t be called coming clean. That makes it sound like you’re ashamed of who you are—which you’re not. You’ve just been hiding this part of you from a normal human that you love very much.

Gods, is this how your dad felt when he was seeing your mom?

Somehow insanity has always felt bearable—love, however, has always been such an ordeal.

The phone bounces onto your bedspread once you hang up the call. There is no more time to worry about playing a part. Tomorrow, everyone comes as they are—whatever happens after will be a problem if you reach another day. Fate has its way of making itself known, you know that by now. Blinking, you take a deep breath, and very intentionally, with your feet criss-cross applesauce, you pray—for what, you still try to figure out as the minutes tick by.

Better late than never.

Here at camp, you were always the last one up after lights out, anyway. Tonight of all nights shouldn't be any different.

[august 16th; 34th street and herald square, manhattan, new york — 9:17 am]

“Where do you think you’re going, mister!”

Your little brother flinches, immediately turning tail and walking across the deserted street to meet you in the middle. He’s taller than you now, craning his neck down to look at your angry glower as you thrust a finger into his face, “You’re sticking with me.”

“Jake said he’s taking 9 and 12 to the Holland Tunnel,” Pollux calls out, shuffling his feet and you punch his arm hard, “OW! —It’s what Percy wants.” He swats your hand away for good measure, his arm guards clanking against yours when he dodges another swing at his head.

“We are Cabin 12, you shithead. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.” Your staff is heavy against his shoulder and Pollux can’t help but let his gaze wander to where Jake Mason and the other children of Hephaestus are waiting for him a block over. Manhattan is a warzone, and the difference between fighting empousai and fighting his older sister right now is very similar in theory—hard to do alone. The tunnel is halfway across the city from the Empire State Building—if something were to happen to either of you…

"M’not here to fight,” he sighs, “with you at least. I need to do my part, sissy.” The old nickname is an arrow through your heart and you grab Pollux’s hand, “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“HEY 12! You coming, or what?”

The two of you look towards the small army down the block, both of your hands intertwined like grapes from the same vine. You’re not sure if you can let go; you’re not sure if your father could lose another child. But Pollux’s face is almost set in stone—he’s never been more sure of himself. Your lip wavers, forcing itself into a stiff smile and he softens at the sight, “I’ll be okay.”

“And if you’re not? Then what?”

He shrugs, “Then… then I’ll get to see Castor.”

You nod, breathing shakily, and flinching when Jake calls for Pollux again, “Well. If you are okay…You come find me. After this is over, you come straight back home to me. You got it?”

Pollux hugs you, hard—the force of all of him sending you sprawling into his arms and it knocks the wind out of you. As the twins have grown, it’s been rare for them to show you any affection. They’d usually recoil or whine about how mushy their older sister is, and each time it makes you laugh. But right now, you stand there gripping onto his t-shirt, breathless; the ringing in your ears gives way to words he mumbles into your hair, “I love you,” he says, in case you didn’t already know.

Just in case this is goodbye. You take it in for a moment longer, running a hand through his blond hair and cupping his cheeks as you finally step away, “I love you. I’m so proud of you, P. We all are.”

“Haven’t done anything yet,” he grins, backing away slowly, a skip in his step as he nears the small troop of Hephaestus kids. You wave them off, blowing a kiss as they band together and turn in the other direction.

Why is it that you can only be proud of someone if there’s something to prove it?

You think about all 40 of your campers fighting for their lives in the greatest city in the world. The sound of hellfire, roaring monsters, and screams that could only come from your kids. Fatigue wears you down with each swipe of magic towards enemy forces, monsters writhing in pain at your feet, demigods reduced to insanity and blood-curdling screams. It disgusts you even more so that no one can witness the weapon you've been forced to become.

After all, no one knows any of you were there. Life continues on outside of the bubble containing the Battle of Manhattan. And only the ones fighting will be able to remember this. Only you will remember the blood you spilled to wrestle for your destiny.

The rest of the city continues to sleep, safe from the people who swore to protect it.

[august 17th; empire state building, manhattan, new york mount olympus, in the sky above new york??? — 11:22 pm]

Running up 492 flights of stairs was another type of hell you didn’t expect to put yourself through, but it was faster than waiting for the elevator to Olympus. It’s quiet besides the steady rush of blood pumping in your ears, your boots slapping against the tile to reach your friends who might be in danger at the hands of someone you know well. But it’s too late to give up when you’re so close—you realize you’re praying to anyone who’ll listen as you push through the pain of always being a little too late.

“Ugh!”

Air pierces through your lungs painfully as you trip up a landing, hands clawing against the banister. Have you been running in place this whole time, quick to start but hard to follow? Your lip quivers, eyes trailing up the stairwell faster than your legs can take you.

Whatever the outcome, you’ll be better for it, you hope.

It’d be easier to give up. To stay away and not watch Percy fight for his life against him. You dry heave as you press your head against the wall, wondering if it’s worth not seeing what will become of this wretched prophecy. It’s hard to survive loving the villain when the rest of the world is dying because of it. Your legs feel like jelly underneath you, and not a single soul in Manhattan knows you’re here—until you feel the strength of an old traveler lift you up and revitalize your soul. Looking down to see your boots retie themselves tightly, the feeling in your chest reminds you of him. Everything leads back to Luke, and you think wherever he is now—Hermes knows that too.

“Thank you,” you mutter. He’s handpicked your prayer through the tempest that hangs over Manhattan so that maybe your hands will be gentler in smiting his lost son. You find yourself with the nerve to run up the last dozen flights of stairs, pushing past the entryway to see Thalia Grace under a statue of her stepmother, “THALIA!” You barely make it to her fallen form before her free arm tries to push you away from the rubble.

“Get out of here! I mean it—” Thalia spits out your name through gnarled teeth and bones crunching under the heavy hands of Hera. The statue lays over the bottom half of her body, holding her legs down like how one forms a fist, and the daughter of Zeus pushes through pain and millennia worth of her dad’s karmic debt in giving her life—the essence of being a forbidden child still has a hold on her, even now.

“I’m not gonna…leave you…”

With everything in you, both demigod strength and sheer desperation, you push at the unmoving stone and your fingernails begin to splinter from the pressure.

But you know what it feels like to get left behind.

Desolation slowly sets in your bones, a hollow feeling that spreads through your core as sweat rolls down your cheeks, and when you sniff to wipe it away, Thalia’s lip quivers. She’s writhing in pain and everything is coming to an end down the hall from where you stand.

“We’re so close, Grace. I’m not giving up on you when we’re this close. I need you in there with me so you just hold on, okay?”

The marble is cool to the touch under your moist hands, and her face is fixed in a grimace as she looks up at you and sees you for who you are—another demigod who was never given a fair chance at fate but with a spirit of a hero waiting for the right chance. Thalia coughs before slapping your hand away, “LISTEN TO ME! I’ll be okay. He needs you to be there. We’re almost out of time!”

You barely register your body moving as you get up and start to run, looking back at Thalia by the time you’re at the top of the landing. There are no words that you could imagine to string together when your eyes meet hers in the distance that separates you two—the feeling of grief bearing down as you both know the end is near and inside those doors.

As you turn back around, you take a moment to wonder if you might’ve had different people in mind for who’s up there waiting for you.

[august 17th; the hall of gods, mount olympus, the sky above new york— 11:48 pm]

Finally pushing through the heavy doors of the Hall of Gods, your eyes burn like salt in a wound as you travel toward the center to see three figures laid out on the marble mezzanine. There’s a cramp in your calf by the time you reach them, your legs giving way as you skid to a stop in front of Luke’s corroded body. The pain doesn’t register for you, split skin going numb as you stare into the eyes of a storm you fell in love with almost ten years ago.

A stranger is no longer wearing your love’s skin. Percy and Annie’s eyes feel heavy against your back as they watch you sigh in relief, a landslide of emotion rolling off of you when you see he’s still breathing, even faintly, as if he waited for you to make it back to him.

“It’s Luke,” Annabeth chokes out, “the scythe transformed into Backbiter and I knew it was him. He was fighting for us.” Her voice makes you flinch, makes this more real—it echoes as the wind carries it through the hall. Without a doubt in your mind, you know it’s him by the way he looks at you with tired eyes, soft and amber—the light pushing away the shadows and he reaches out for you. His skin is paled by the River Styx, face weathered by the Titan as you gently guide his head onto your lap. A pathetic cry slips from your mouth when you realize there’s more pressure in the fingers he brushes against your cheekbone versus the one holding the blade embedded in his chest.

Fuck, what do you even say?

He’s dying right in front of you and you can’t think of a single word to say.

The clock is ticking and every breath of his comes out weaker––he speaks before you can find the words, breathing out, “I missed you,” like it was a relief to say it. And it all comes spilling out like a secret you’ve been safeguarding since the day he left— a mix of your tears and his blood smearing across your cheek as he reaches out to wipe them ever so gently. You find yourself smiling in the face of death itself—smile even if the both of you can feel death’s hand on him saying that time is finally up because the act of meeting each other here in the middle makes the years you’ve gone without him worthwhile.

The reunion is also the loss; a nasty habit you’ve both fallen into over the years. But this time, Luke’s finally able to give you the world he wanted to see just before he leaves it.

You clutch him close without intending to let go, purple eyes scavenging for confirmation that this is your Luke, the one who pushed you through the brambles of the North Woods, wind in his hair and mischief in his smile. He’s citrus and musk, cunning smiles, something sacred kept within cabin 11, calloused fingers pulling at your t-shirt, and the voice out of tune at nightly sing-a-longs—and he loves you still.

Loving you was the only thing that never changed.

“Shhhh, don’t waste your energy. The gods will…” you swallow a sob despite yourself, “I…my dad’s going to be here soon. He’ll help us.” There’s a lump in your throat that carries the weight of everything unsaid. Who would help you now that everyone else is getting what they wanted—a brighter tomorrow without the villain? But the prophecy unveils itself so cruelly, and the one who hurt you is the hero in this story, just as he’s always dreamed. It so happens to be at the cost of loving you.

Luke’s eyelids flutter like butterfly wings descending softly. You press a kiss onto his forehead like you used to while waiting for him to fall asleep. The chuckle that rumbles his ribcage is faint against the hand of yours that’s holding him together and the war is finally over and no one even knows that besides the four of you in this room.

“I'm running on borrowed time,” Luke wheezes, “I think my life ended the day I left you.” His thumb weakly traces the tear tracks cascading down your face, and he’s reacquainting himself with every feature of yours while he can touch it—to hold and be held by you after so long feels like drinking up ambrosia, his last bits of strength telling you what you’ve always known.

Is there a word stronger than love?

One that would explain how close and how far you feel to him at this moment and you don’t want to say the wrong thing but there are no wrong words when it comes to the right person. Hoarsely, through wavering lips, you chuckle, “Then it's time to stop running, baby. I’m here now.”

It’s exhausting to carry the weight of tomorrow in your arms and to know it’ll be made possible only by letting him go. You’re holding him too tightly, claws sinking in to feel—to ground yourself and keep him tethered to this reality, just in case a different answer falls out of the sky.

But falling with Luke Castellan, falling for him, has been nothing like you wanted. You've said your goodbyes more often than you can count.

This part is just about letting him go.

“I think I’m doomed,” he laughs, coughing harshly. Blood soaks his airways, retribution for the lives he took. It drips out of his mouth and you still look at Luke like he’s asked you to marry him. What a soft, funny thought.

Love must be more violent than war, to feel like this—to know he’s wrecked your world and still come out the other side smiling at him like he put the stars in the sky. His fingers are slipping out of yours as you hold onto the knife that keeps him here and Luke mutters, “I’m so s-sorry. You deserved better in this life.” You hear Annabeth sob from somewhere behind you but you can’t look at anything else but his eyes, not daring to miss another moment of him.

“Can’t be all that bad,” you say with a watery chuckle, wiping his mouth with your thumb. There’s more of a mess now with your feeble efforts but the action comforts you more than him; caring for Luke is something you cannot unlearn.

“This life gave me you. I don’t want to know anything else. Do you hear me?”

You want Luke to know this—to understand that even if this is how fate has handled the both of you, there is no other hand you would hold but his.

“You’re my whole life, Trouble.”

“I know, angel. I know. It’s always been me and you.”

You and me, he mouths, an echo of himself left to relay the message as his eyes lose their warmth, empty now and unseeing. And then he's home in your arms again as you hold every broken and bloodied piece of him together until he's no more. The parts of him he leaves behind blur into you, rivulets of his lifeforce weaving through your fingertips even when you put pressure against the knife you both hold, hands cradling the spot under his armpit, and to Percy and Annabeth it looks like you're holding his heart, clutching it between your fingers.

Protecting it until his last beat—when he finally gives it over to you.

It was always yours, anyway.

Before, in the in-between, and now after, his heart is yours.

Time stops for Luke Castellan, the man born to die, in the Hall of Gods that day— in the arms of his partner and in the presence of his little sister and truest friend.

Lips against his ear, no one tries to pull you away, even when the gods of Olympus march in expecting a battle to only find a dead hero and a story that needs to be told.

You’ve never seen him so still before.

Luke’s always been the one with something to say, hands fidgeting to hold yours. Still, you hold his hand even if he can't feel it, still smile even if he can't see you, still whisper words of devotion even if he can't hear it. By the time you feel your father’s hands on your back and hear Percy say, “We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes,” you imagine that he’s miles away from where he lays motionless, dead weight in your grasp. Nothing can pull you away from the mantra you set to remind him that he’s yours even when he leaves again. Luke’s soul will soon journey where you cannot follow, and you whisper to him in the stillness amidst the noise, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

When the Fates come to collect the body, their ancient hands spin around the two of you as they unweave your hold on him. You weren’t given a choice—his material body dissipates in front of your eyes and you swear you feel the tug from deep within your core as you watch them float Luke away. It’s so much different now from when he used to fly around your room with his stupid winged Converse—even the gods avert their eyes when you let out a sob that shakes the ornate hall. Hopelessly you watch, sat down on the marble and unable to move or follow—as if maybe he’d still answer to your sweet nothings, and not leave you hanging once more. You slump against your father’s side, catatonic and at a loss for words—they leave with him, floating away into the distance.

Humanity’s biggest problem and resolution has always been love—this was never a story about the lack thereof.

[august 18th; 12:00 am, death, pre-judgement? — the seven minutes after]

The path that Luke Castellan takes after he dies is most peculiar and unlike any path he’s traveled before. And yes, there have been several times that he’s come close to death—under Ladon’s claws in the Garden of Hesperides, and when he relinquished his physical self by bathing in the River Styx, but neither of those times where he’s cheated his way out can compare to the real thing.

He once read in one of Annabeth’s textbooks that there are seven minutes of brain activity that wanes in your consciousness before you die. There’s a distinct thrumming in his ears when he comes to, and Luke discovers he’s completely in the dark with no sense of direction and most importantly, no visible way out. The old him, were he still alive—would be panicking by now, short terse breaths and sweat upon his brow. Old Luke would have fidgeting hands and eyes that rocket around for an exit. But this Luke, whoever he is—whatever he is now, finds himself eerily calm. Everything glows in a vignette, and familiar scenes materialize before his vision, a kaleidoscope of color and your shrieking laughter surrounding him in the familiarity of your happiness with him—it feels like lifetimes ago. He realizes he’s smiling.

Versions of you swirl in the space he stands in, taking up space wherever he can look, wherever he turns—you’re there.

And he remembers.

Memory is a choice after all, much like love is. And no one can take that away from Luke Castellan except death itself.

The scene flickers for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against morning light peeking through the windows of Cabin 11.

It’s Luke’s first morning at Camp Half-Blood after the storm that brought him and Annabeth there. You’re standing over him with a half-beaten pillow and a menacing grin that grows as he spits out feathers. It’s his first impression of you, Kool-aid tipped hair and hands shaking with a crushed Redbull can in your other fist.

“Good. You’re still breathing. Wasn’t sure for a sec.”

A voice yells out your name and you make a run for it, barefoot and giggling and looking back at him every few steps—his breath catches in his throat again like how it did on the first day you both met.

The scenery changes and he’s sitting next to you on the dock of Canoe Lake.

“I dare you.”

“No way,” he hears himself say, and then he sees you fling algae at him in ropes, cold and slimy that it makes his voice crack, “He—ey! You’re gonna get us fired and it hasn’t even been a full day since we got the job,” he says, clearing his throat as you bite your lip.

“What’s one last hurrah?”

“You’re always gonna be Trouble, aren’t you?” he says, getting annoyed by the orange fabric that temporarily blinds him. Chuckling, you pull your shorts off and look back at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight and he can’t help but ogle at the rest of you, gulping hard. You catch him staring and he averts his eyes, looking back at the treeline to see if anyone’s come to find you both. A resounding splash echoes in the silence between you and Luke turns back to find your head bobbing visible above the water and not much else.

“I double-dog dare you, Castellan.”

He jumps in.

The dark blue of the water turns into light reflecting the pinks and purples of the sky above Montauk Point at sunset.

“We’re alive! Told you we’d be fine,” you yell, clicking your seatbelt off and jumping out of the car before Luke can even put the hatchback in park. It was his first drive anywhere—you’ve finally graduated from looping around Farm Road.

“Hey wait up!”

He calls out your name, but you’re already kicking up sand as the distance between you grows until he locks up the car and chases after you. You didn’t stand a chance, slipping and sliding in the sand as the son of Hermes quickly grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder as you scream bloody murder. When he sets you down, your arms are looped around his neck and you’re smiling against the pink and tender scar on his cheek.

“Think we can break into the lighthouse before the guards come, angelface?”

The sound of crashing waves turns into chattering cabin counselors and when Luke looks around again, he’s at the Big House, with everyone else pushing their chairs in and walking towards the door. He holds his hand out and you grab it with no words or instruction—like a key nestled within its lock, exactly where it’s meant to be.

“Last order of business, kind of…” Your dad drones from his spot near the windows. Luke tries to let go of your hand but you don’t let him, “Don’t panic,” you mutter.

“This… fraternization won't become an issue for all of us, will it?”

Everyone’s frozen near the doorway, staring at your intertwined hands. Luke clears his throat and turns toward Mr. D, “I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. Sir.”

You could almost hear a pin drop, and no one knows what to say next—not even Mr. D.

“Yeah, I’ll keep Castellan in line.”

That’s the confirmation everyone was waiting for; a mixture of groans and the clinking of drachma fill the air as Chris holds his hands out and takes his spoils of victory with a charming smirk on his face. Clarisse throws the coins at his head.

“I feel like I should take a bow or something,” Luke snickers into your ear, before placing a kiss against your temple.

You’re still in his arms and still look good in orange, but when he pulls back to look at you again, you’re both hovering above the ground near the dining pavilion. His knees are shaking when his winged Converse flap madly underneath you—a flurry of uncoordinated movement that makes you want to piss yourself.

“You’re lucky I have a strong core, babe,” he grins—and he’s thrilled at the fear on your face as you clutch onto him for dear life, one arm around his abdomen and the other around his neck, both legs latched around his waist.

“I swear to the fucking gods if you drop me, Castellan…”

His right foot jerks in a slightly different direction, making him laugh as you squeak.

“Castellan, huh? That scared, Trouble? Not gonna drop my baby.”

The wind around you whirls like a tornado as Luke tries to show off, getting higher and higher until, “LUKE!”

He catches you by the fingertips again and now there’s sand beneath your feet. You’re still spinning in his arms and his mom is singing along to a song playing on the radio you brought to Westport Beach. May claps lightly and you tug her up with a soft smile, “Come on Miss May! Take your son out for a spin.” Tugging at the damp white t-shirt you wear over your underwear, you take a seat on the picnic blanket and watch them with a smile you haven’t given Luke in years.

“Mother-son dance,” May whispers in his ear, humming a few notes of the wedding march.

He closes his eyes and soaks it all in, slightly swaying.

That thrumming is in his ears again, a steady beat against his chest and he feels it everywhere—a pounding rhythm that cannot be ignored. He opens his eyes and you’re snuggled against each other, tangled beneath the sheets. You’re still asleep and Luke just…watches you before the morning starts (whenever this is) and it all has to end. You’re breathing against his neck, lips slightly agape as warm air brushes his pulse. He moves hair out of your face and you pull him in unconsciously, skin to skin with no atom of space left between you.

Luke blinks.

You’re in your college apartment.

He blinks again.

His childhood bedroom.

Again, please.

In Cabin 12.

Please, just one last time.

You’re drooling against his neck in his tiny bunk in Cabin 11 and the noise is getting louder now—a static sound that morphs into the sound of your voice throbbing like a heartbeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It’s the last thing he can hear before he has to go.

“I wanna see your eyes / Is it a crime to say I still need you?” - Adrienne Lenker

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #pjo x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader

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meggannn · 6 months ago

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list of nicknames for Mel so far

(Olympic Update)

Hecate: Melinoë/Witch

Dora: Mel

Odysseus: Goddess

Nemesis: Princess (sarcastic)

Moros: Princess (sincere)

Skelly: Young one

Charon: Arrrrrggghhhhhhh

Artemis: Sister (sincere)

Zeus: Young lady

Hera: My dear

Poseidon: Little Niece

Apollo: Cousin (initially)/Sunshine (later)

Hermes: M

Hephaestus: Witchie

Aphrodite: Gorgeous/Love (rarely)

Demeter: Flower

Chaos: Spawn of Hades

Selene: Little Star

Arachne: My friend

Narcissus: Laurel

Scylla: Lady

Echo: N/A

Hades: Daughter

Chronos: My girl/Granddaughter

Heracles: Sister (derogatory)

Medea: Sorceress

Polyphemus: Meat (among other things)

Circe: Little Miss

Icarus: Meli

Eris: Trouble/Babe

Athena: Cousin

Dionysus: Mel baby

Prometheus: Agent of Change

Personal predictions:

Ares: Soldier(?)

Zagreus: Kiddo when he’s messing around, Sis otherwise (it would be funny if there was acknowledgment that everyone else has taken the obvious nicknames and he’s stuck with “Sis” because even “Sister” is taken, twice)

Persephone: Sweetheart

Nyx: My child (I just think she’d call all her kids and “young” family some variant of this). ALTERNATIVELY “my sword,” based on how Selene calls Mel “Night’s sword”

Achilles: Lass

Meg: Kid

Thanatos: ????

Dusa: Miss/Ma’am

#hades 2 #hades 2 spoilers

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hoorayiread · 10 months ago

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Percy Jackson Summer: The Titan's Curse

You know, the whole reason I decided to read these books in the summer is because they're supposed to take place at a summer camp. But this book decided it wanted to be set in December. Way to screw up my theming, Riordan! So welcome to Percy Jackson Winter, I guess.

The story continues, and Anabeth has been kidnapped! Also, some goddess has gone missing, I dunno, probably not important. But Percy has to go out and save her with the help of the Hunters of Artemis, a bunch of immortal little girls. This time, however, they are loosely adapting the 12 Labors of Heracles, or Hercules, as this book insists on calling him. Sadly, they don't use a river to clean out a stable in this adaptation of the myth, but they do fight a dragon, which is almost as good.

The books continue to be ridiculous, fun, and ridiculously fun. I'm having a great time; there's always something new. Looking forward to seeing more of Hades' spawn. I am a little sad that I'm over halfway done with Percy Jackson Summer, as I am only reading the first 5 books, but I plan to revisit it next summer with the Heroes of Olympus, and however many books that has.

Kinda wanna see some of Dionysus' brats sometime. That would be neat.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #read a book #bookblr #book review #rick riordan #pjo #the titans curse

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my-gf-timothy-jackson-drake · 1 year ago

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no one asked but I wanna talk about the design process of my Dionysus!Bernard Design.

so it started when I was thinking about bernard getting a little bit ghengis knah about tim, and then I wanted to redraw a still from the music video. Up until then I've just been drawing bernysus in his first date shirt, but I wanted to make him a little snazzier, give him some of the swag that CoO! Bernard usually gets, so we get the first rough sketch. i don't have that sketch because it was spawned on the genghis khan wip.

so i wanted to add some bits from Dionysus as he appears in the comics. I knew about scene kid dionysus but this other design from Wonder Woman Historia kept on popping up and I found a sexy rundown with details shots,

i love you scene kid dionysus, but. i mean look at Historia Dionysus. so i drew mostly from one, but kept some details from the other

and then i thought he was so sexy that i wanted show him off seperately so i stuck him in a jojo pose and then added the black strappy things when his legs looked too bare

and then I got him all lined up and then I needed colors so i made this little fella

and a lot of screaming later we get to the finished product

and that's what you missed on glee

#bernysus

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star-of-the-gods · 5 months ago

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So many littles, so many questions.

I have already clung to Merlot and I will not be letting go. She is my baby sister and I will not hesitate to wipe out a whole ass country for her safety.

@maenadicfox

keke see someone wuvs meeeee

Thought you were lying for a sec

#dionysus missing spawn #apollo light spawn

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maia-mother-of-the-messenger · 4 months ago

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~Maia brings messages from the other stars~

[ooc: links are so i don't have to explain who these guys are mythologically]

The stars say hello!

🪽Ampelos blesses Dionysus and his children since 'they could of been my step kids in another life'🪽(Can he do that?)

🪽Astrea makes those blessings official as a goddess🪽 (No he can't—Astrea)

🪽Euippe says hello to Chiron and Annabeth Chase! Since 'Annabeth is more or less another sister in my eyes'🪽

🪽Alcyone and Kelainô say hello to the spawn of Poseidon🪽

and that is all—oh, we have one more message!

🪽Zoe Nightshade says to tell Artemis she misses her and that she will always be watching over her fellow hunters!🪽 (Kallisto and my fellow former sisters of the hunt second this)

And me, Maia bid happy new year to all! Especially my son and my many, many, many grandbabies!

#🪽Messenger Maia🪽#pjo rp #pjo rp blog #pjo roleplay #ooc: it's like 9pm for me rn so premature happy new year but being a star Maia doesnt have concept of timezones

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star-of-the-gods · 3 months ago

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Hi papa! and bio dad-

dad i dont wanna eattttt

pwease make Anya eat :(

Dad your dumb kids are at it again-

(in the distance)

YOU’RE PRYING MY MANGO OBSESSION OUT OF MY COLD DEAD HANDS!!

ANYA I SWEAR TO MY BIO DAD EAT SOMETHING OTHER THAN MANGOS AND POMEGRANATE-

4 Mangos. In one sitting. Anya you need protein- AND WATER NOT MANGO OR POMEGRANATE JUICE-

dis is y i eat awmos evewyting i get

You eat cardboard if you’re not sitting in boxes Merlot-

…i can see y mawielle an eva don get in twouble

-Again its Jorges dumb kids @star-of-the-gods

“Oh. Gods..”

He gets dragged by Hermes and just appears in front of them.

#hermes crow spawn #dionysus missing spawn #hades shattered spawn

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lycheesmods · 4 years ago

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Welcome to the start of a new series of mods I will call: Deity Holiday Traditions! This is the 1st of 2 I have for you today, and more will come in the future.

I used father winter and the flower bunny as references to make custom holiday traditions that will create sims with their own custom job (in this case “Baphomet” instead of “father winter” or “flower bunny) and that will spawn to your lot on your holiday!

These sims have premade personalities, but will randomly spawn in appearance. What you need to do is for the first time they spawn in game (during a holiday), use MCCC (download HERE) by @deaderpoolmc cas to paste a tray sim, and yes, it can be ANY tray sim you want! So that means you can either use the one I made or make your own, but you can’t change their name/title, this is why I will make multiple of those mods with different deity names.

If you don’t know how to paste a tray sim I made a small tutorial for this: HERE.

There are 4 versions to choose from: a, b, 2a and 2b.

The 1st two versions Baphomet acts as Father Winter, spawns at 8pm, and the tradition is complete after asking him for a present or trying to fight him for one, the versions “2″ act more like the flower bunny, spawns at noon, where you need to do friendly interactions with Baphomet to complete the tradition.

Sims that are Spellcasters, Child of The Island, or Traditional Witches (mod by Zero: patreon (free)) (NOT NEEDED) love this tradition. On top of that children, toddlers and childish sims will love the tradition in the versions where Baphomet give gifts.

The versions “a” will say “loves this tradition. (From being Child of The Islands)”, the versions that say “b” will instead say “loves this tradition. (From being a Shaman)”. This is done to go with Zero’s Traditional Witchcraft mod where Child of The Islands is renamed Shaman.

ONLY take either “a” or “b” but NOT BOTH. You can however have 2 versions (like a and 2a, b and 2b, or even a and 2b), but just don’t take both “a” and “b” or “2a” and “2b” together.

Seasons EP needed of course

Download SFS (folder) | Download A (gifts) | Download B (gift, shaman) | Download 2A (friendly) | Download 2B (friendly, shaman)

CC needed for tray sim:

My Baphomet Head & Wings

@c-cerberus-sims-s wings of fallen one are needed for my wings

@pyxiidis Dionysus Set

@remussirion Demon Claws

*note: all my eyes are CC because of default replacements so if you ever load this sim in CAS and it tells you you’re missing CC that’s why, don’t worry.

Download Tray sim (extract and copy all files to your tray folder NOT the mods folder)

I have also uploaded this sim to the gallery for download (no tray file needed if you do that) (ID: lolnyny) with the hashtag #lolnynydeity, If you make your own sims I encourage you to share them with this hashtag!

~I also take requests if there is any deity you would like to see as a tradition!

Happy Holidays

~lolnyny

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diagrapher · 4 years ago

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Recently I’ve been playing the game Hades.

Some thoughts:

***

There’s sure a recurring theme of Zagreus getting couples back together.

***

Why is there a Codex entry on Infernal Troves when Zagreus didn’t commission them until after he received the Codex?

Come to think of it, the work order that makes Infernal Troves spawn is called “Plunder”, whereas every other work order that creates an object is named after what it creates.

***

The regions in Hades are, in order:

The palace of the final boss and chief antagonist (”home base” area with no dangers)

Hell

The lava level

Idyllic magic gardens

Decrepit rat-infested temple

Mostly-mundane somewhat-idyllic countryside where the player character’s mom lives (arena for the final boss fight, plus some post-victory stuff.

Apparently Heat was a resource in the open beta. I guess it was intended to be the rare counterpart to Darkness like blood is to Cthonic Keys, Diamonds to Gems, and so on.

***

Wait, the fish I’m catching with a hook are ending up in an aquarium? Shouldn’t the be dead?

Oh, right, being dead doesn’t mean much here.

Also a search suggests that being caught with a hook is only sometimes fatal if the fish is returned to the water quickly, with some sorts of hook being much more likely to cause lethal injuries than others.

***

Notably absent mythological figures include:

Hera, Hephasteus, and Apollo.

Apollo’s obvious mechanical space is already used by Dionysus and Artemis and I don’t immediately see an interesting story place for him.

I don’t immediately see a story space for Hephasteus but mechanically he could of course tie into magma and Daedalus’ enhancements.

Story wise, it seems like Hera’s role as goddess of marriage and families, and as a matchmaker, should have her pretty invested in the events of the game. Mechanically it seems like she could focus on boons-about-boons like Exclusive Access and Rare Crop (since the Olympians are part of Zagreus’ family) and perhaps also on boons that boost Keepsakes or Cthonic Companions.

Tantalus.

There are lots of dead people in Greek Mythology but Tantalus is the obvious person missing despite being famous for stuff that happened to him once he was dead.

Even worse father than Hades.

His story kind of highlights how the game’s a bit anachronistic compared to Greek myths, given Demeter was distracted from Tantalus’ misdeeds by Persephone being missing but then Orpheus met him while Orpheus was alive and Tantalus long dead.

Hecate.

Saw someone else say Hecate would be an interesting addition, and now they mention it, yes she would.

Story-wise, of course, her role as goddess of ghosts is pretty relevant. Mechanically it seems like something could also be done with her role as goddess of doorways and crossroads.

Would the version of her origin where she’s the daughter of two random titans or the one where she’s Iphigenia be better? On the one hand, being Iphigenia gives her a connection to Achilles and a history with Olympian tyranny. On the other hand, I’m not sure the myth of Iphigenia fits with Hades‘s version of Artemis; she isn’t above disproportionate retribution but she does seem like she’d probably rather not punish children for their parents’ mistakes.

#hades-game

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zagisbi · 5 years ago

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I played a run with the new update last night, here are some impressions (in the order I remember them happening):

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

ACHILLES IS SUPER HANDSOME AND NOW HE JUST EXISTS ALWAYS

New cosmetics in the house 😭😭😭 I'm too poor for this

THE WEAPONS... THE DARKNESS BOOST ANIMATION GOT A GLOW. UP.

New Daedalus Hammer options? 👀 Count me IN

The hand... Chain... Things? Awful. (But excellent)

The new miniboss? Suck my dick that fight sucked and was very scary 😭😭 (8/10)

Chaos still out here lookin like a SNACC and I can't wait to get all of their new boons

New rooms? GORGEOUS

CHARON REALLY BE OUT HERE GIVING LOOKS! MONSTERFUCKERS WON!

THE RAINBOWS WHEN YOU GET BOONS NOW???? HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

No seriously mfers said "give the gays everything they want" AND MEANT IT!!!

The new burrowing mfs and circle spread witches can honestly eat a brick Asphodel is truly a punishment now (9/10 tho)

LERNIE OUT HERE GETTING NEW HORNS 😭😭 KILL IT QUEEN (but that increased range almost killed me so 😶)

Okay but deadass the heads that spit out the things that make enemies spawn? Those suck. Hated that. (6/10)

WAIT THAT DIONYSUS BOON THAT MAKES THE FOUNTAINS HEAL YOU TO FULL? BITCH THAT CAME IN MF CLUTCH

I would Die for Hermes (this has not changed since he was introduced)

I've always hated Elysium. The new rooms are way worse (especially bc I was using the bow which isn't my best weapon) and I got my ass beat but the FOUNTAIN SAVED ME DIONYSUS IS 👌WE STAN LIKE 6 MEN

Okay also the fact that the shops don't give you death defiance until you need it? 😳 THAT IS SO SEXY OF THEM

NEW ITEMS INCLUDING THE CENTAUR SOULS YES PLEASE

Charon is still sexy

SUPERGIANT CALL ME I THINK YOU SHOULD ADD ISIS AS YOUR NEXT GODDESS AND I WILL GIVE YOU AN ESSAY EXPLAINING WHY AND ALSO WHAT ABILITIES SHE COULD HAVE

I found that shield guys were easier to fight and that's probably just me BUT I'll give it to them anyway

THANATOS IS STILL MY BOY(FRIEND) AND I LOVE HIM VERY DEARLY AND NOW KILLING ENEMIES WITH HIM IS ACTUALLY A COMPETITION

I love that they made Theseus such an ass because my drive to beat him goes up like 700% every time I talk to him so thanks for that and the new dialogue

ATHENA CAME FOR MY WIG DURING THAT FIGHT THO I'M SORRY I WENT TO CHAOS INSTEAD OF YOU

(Not really tho bc Chaos is 😳 if you know what I mean)

OKAY THOSE TUNNELS MURDERED ME I LOST 2 DEATH DEFIANCES AND I DIDN'T EVEN DO THE BOSS ONES LIKE- WAS I OUT OF PRACTICE OR WAS THAT SO MUCH HARDER?

ALSO HADES FUCKING ATE ME LIKE NO SHIT. I BROKE MY 6 WIN STREAK AND IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GREEDY AND USED THE BOW AT THE HIGHEST HEAT I COULD BUT STILL... HE'S SO MUCH HARDER TO FIGHT THAN HE WAS BEFORE AND HIS BLOODSTONE (SKULLSTONE?) REGEN IS HELLA UNFAIR IMHO

Anyway after I got crucified and sent home, I bought the Dionysus poster because I love him and his new boons

That new bed is killer

I've been playing this game since before Asphodel even existed and before they added most of the weapons and I'm very late game but I have to say, this is probably my favorite update even if I miss some aesthetic things like the old god(ess) icons and stuff like that. This is one of my top 5 videogames ever so keep killing it Supergiant. There is so much I haven't seen and this was after just one run, so I can't wait to see more!

Anyway sorry I tried to make this funny and hope some people like it. 😘✌

#hades #zagreus hades #thanatos hades #hades game #hades supergiant #supergiant games #my post #the blood price update #reaction post #long post #sorry for all the caps btw #hades spoilers #spoilers blood price update #let me know if I should tag it differently

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years ago

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Winner’s Curse Ch. 19

Well this came as surprise to me. Literally, the whole idea came to me before I was going to bed so I wrote it the next morning, and here we are. Features some Aladdin quotes, see if you can spot them. Enjoy!

“And then Icarus, what a guy, he is so convincing as Hades, Pain and Panic start following him!” Calix hooted.

“No way, man that didn’t actually happen.” Jay challenged Calix’s story.

“No, no I’ve heard Icarus’ Hades impression, he’s good.” Aziz confirmed, “Hey, remember Icarus’ Hades impression after three drinks at Dionysus’ bacchanal?”

Calix gulped back the drink Circe had left in their shared room and where he, Aziz, and Jay were passing the time sharing stories while waiting around for Uma and Jordan’s arrival.

It had been a pretty placid three days since Jordan reversed Jay’s hypnosis for Malik’s last wish. At first there was a panic when they realized how suspicious it would be if Jay was no longer under Jafar’s thrall but they fixed that with Jordan giving him glowing red contacts. Allowing them to have another infiltrator at the Coven meetings besides Jade, Calix and Uma.

The door opened and Jordan slipped into the room, gingerly cradling her lamp in her hands. But no Uma behind her.

These three placid days had driven Uma to distraction since they were laying around on their asses and not doing anything so she arranged for this new meeting so they’d find something else to do besides eavesdrop for news of what was happening at next week’s Summer Solstice.

But even though this meeting was so important that she felt the need to threaten them with slow, graphic strangulation with her tentacles while Harry used his hook to disembowel him, apparently their leader was late.

“Where’s Jade?” Calix asked, throwing back another shot. It was a fair question since Jordan’s lamp was still technically under Jade’s possession. Or so the Coven thought.

“Showing makeup techniques to Lala and Malik.” Jordan answered.

“Oh right, Lala mentioned that to me this morning.” Aziz warily eyed the fifth shot Calix gulped down.

“Oh, she did? You talk about things other than the plan?” Jordan smoothly slid between him and Calix, her voice was suspiciously too nonchalant.

“Yeah, conversations spawn into different topics. That’s what happens when two people hang out with each other.” Aziz said a little testily with how Jordan was scanning his face like she was searching for some secret that he’d be careless enough to slip.

“Oh you and Lala hanging out together.” Jordan pursed her lips lightly, sounding way too similar to a disapproving aunt, “Can we have a private conversation in my lamp.”

Before Aziz could suss out whatever she was trying to pull and where this was coming from, Jordan had transported them into her lamp.

“Do you have a crush on Lala?” She blurted out accusingly.

Aziz decided to go for a joke, “I-I don’t know about me crushing her, bu-but I can’t blame her if the reverse is true. I mean, look at me.”

Jordan stared with an unamused raised eyebrow.

“Aziz, I know you.” She started, as if that explained why she was so sure she found the romance of the century after two innocent sentences, “I've seen you go through this before. You’re just hanging out with a girl but then you start talking about every topic under the sun. And then you get a crush and you’re all like “She's smart and fun, she’s got these eyes that just...and her hair wow! And her smile!”

“Then you go on a date that doesn’t really go anywhere for whatever reason and get pushed aside. Remember, Lonnie, and Ruby, and Alexandria and Alfonsa, and Arabella, and her twin sisters, woah! Now that I list them out, you date a lot of Triton’s granddaughters.”

“What is your point? What does that have to do with me and Lala? Not that there is anything happening.” Aziz felt himself gulping back the nervousness that he knew exactly what she was talking about even as he denied it.

“Oh please, you’re half smiling while you say her name!”

“I’m not!” Aziz unmanly squawked and cleared his throat into a deeper contralto, “I do not.”

“My point is it’s one thing to date an Ak. You get your heart broken. But a Vk? She’ll try to steal your throne and break your heart.” Jordan said.

“Steals your throne and breaks your heart. Sounds the title of a sex tape. Do you want dibs or can I have it?” Aziz took a shot in the dark to try joking his way out of this again. “Now is not the time to joke about the title of our sex tapes. This is serious!” “You’re still hung up on, “Can your friend do this?” It’s a bit obvious.” Aziz pointed out.

“Oh, you wanted to call your first sex tape, “A whole new world,” like that’s original.” Jordan shot back. “And the “Welcome to the Cave of Wonders” piece you did with Calix was a unique one?” Aziz retorted.

“For your information, I couldn’t choose any title but that because.. wait wait wait? Now is not the time.”

“Aziz Ali iban Aladdin, explain yourself right now.” Jordan crossed her arms. “Jordan, we’ve been over this. You’re not my mom.” Aziz huffed at the use of his full name. “You’re right, I’m not. Your mom doesn’t know about what happened in Odiferous during spring break. Now I have a phone and I have video. So tell me about your feelings for Lala.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” Aziz said exasperatedly which was no use since she was ignoring anything that came out of his mouth.

“When did you first feel something more?” Jordan demanded.

“Rarw. Rrrawr. Meow? Are you understanding me at all?” Aziz asked the stony faced leopard man.

Aziz had to admit some of his attempts to talk to the leopard-men was out of boredom. He was starting to get a bit stir crazy being stuck in the castle all day pretending to be Jade or Lala’s slave boy. He could understand why Uncle Genie hated being in the lamp. It was so boring, having to wait for permission to do things and the things you were allowed to do was stuck inside. No running around the corridors and flipping off roofs with wind rushing through your hair or the pit in your stomach when you almost break your neck.

He missed it.

And although Lala was pretty focused in studying the Atlantean texts her mother laid out for her, even she seemed to be getting bored because at random moments, she would angrily shut her book and demand to hear Aziz talk about Agrabah.

He had to admit that if he had a choice, he’d rather be with Jordan and the others trying to make a plan to escape or at least go outside. Talking about Agrabah was getting to be the highlight of his day.

He had started with daring adventure stories about the things his parents used to get into before the Great Uniting like when they had to fight a landshark or the time his dad literally lost his head to the decapitated wizard, Caliph Kapok, and they had to get body and head back together again. He had lots of those stories, Genie often said they could create their own tv series, possibly an animated one for kids to enjoy.

And then, upon Lala’s numerous aside questions, he started describing Agrabah with its alluring spices, chests of gold and diverse and eccentric cast of merchants and travelers that lived in the Seven Deserts. He described the bad like the previous-rampant poverty that seemed similar to the Isle albeit with more head chopping from fellow humans than from a bitter decapitated wizard. It was embarrassing but one time he looked at the ornate diamond-encrusted sand-dial and saw that he had passed over an hour talking about his home. He hadn’t meant to but it just came out. He loved his home so much and describing it felt like he was back there on the dunes for a little while.

He had never talked to anyone about his home before. Jordan already knew what it was like obviously, and no one at Auradon Prep cared beyond the merchandise they could buy at the kazbah. It was so much more than that to him. Living there was an experience, an adventure. You never knew where the smell of spices could lead you or what the secret nooks and crannies would reveal.

The thing was Lala seemed just as enthralled with the place as he was. Usually when he discussed his home, people would shudder in horror at the thought of being accidentally turned into a rat due magic gone wrong and seeing the world from down below or cringed at the thought of getting sand in uncomfortable places after intense competitions of sand surfing.

But Lala looked at him with a sparkle of excitement in her eye and would occasionally point out fun variations to try like horse racing only instead of across the desert, race under the desert, jumping to the few dry spots that were present in the muddy underbelly.

He hoped that if they succeeded in defeating the Coven, Lala would visit Agrabah one day. He had a feeling that the adventures they’d get into together would be amazing. Potentially life threatening. But fun nonetheless. He’d love to watch her go against Fashoom. Or better yet, back to back against the giant scorpions guarding kanz quadim. With his wits and knowledge and her skill and cunning, they’d be an unbeatable team. It’d be fun to go with someone who wanted to be there.

Normally, he went with Jordan but she said it was only because it was her obligation to keep him from breaking his neck and/or all the bones in his body. Her words. And his few Agrabah friends who would be game to go, were commoners who had to work during the day and it would be unfair for him to ask them to ditch just because he wanted some fun.

Yeah, it’d be fun to explore the hidden valleys of the Seven Deserts with her. He looked back to the white-haired girl where she was still bent over a book of indecipherable Atlantean words and figures, so he turned back to Kaj II, Usulan II and Muviro II. Lala’s leopard men she had named after people she knew would annoy her mother.

Aziz growled with two purrs spaced between like he had heard Raj do but the leopard men looked at him like he was an idiot. He wasn’t sure he was even speaking cat-language but it was better than accidentally challenging him to a fight so he’d take it.

“Will you stop with the ridiculous sounds, you’re not speaking leopard. Better stick to monkeys.” Lala cut through his attempts at conversing.

“How would you know? You said you don’t speak leopard.” Aziz shot back, happy that there was some element of human conversation. How the hell she lived in a jungle for days on end without human interaction was beyond his capabilities. “True. However, I know what a leopard sounds like and you don’t sound like a leopard. More like a sick alley cat.”

“Excuse me, priestess” Aziz rolled his eyes, and made another purr-growly sound at the leopards just to be contrary.

When could he go outside? When? When? When?

No, it was stupid. He couldn’t go outside and risk looking like he was escaping and ruin the whole damn mission requiring the others to get his ass out of the dungeon again.

He shuddered, gingerly touching the cheek where Staqauit had struck him numerous times, the malicious laughter of the cat twins taunting him about his impending death.

He needed to do something. Being stuck here with just his thoughts was going to drive him insane.

“Hello?”

“Huh what?”

“I said,'' Lala cleared her throat, “If you want to sound more leopard-like, start with a growl in your throat while meowing and add like you’re going to scream.” She demonstrated her leopard yowl which did get the leopard men’s attention as they looked around for sign of attack or danger.

Aziz tried to mimic what Lala did with her instructions but failed part way through as a tickle caught in his nose before his attempted scream and he fell into a coughing fit, painfully hacking his throat.

Aziz panted, catching his breath while Lala had the grace to look back at her book and pretend not to be amused, “Okay maybe talking to cats is not my thing. But you got a leg up me with your feline self.”

“Feline self?” Lala cocked her head curiously, bringing once again to Aziz’s mind, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“You know, your eyes, the leopards, the-”

“You think I was born with these eyes? You think I’m part cat?” Lala questioned. “Nooo,” Aziz hedged, already seeing he was going to be wrong, “Not anymore. It’s just your mom has the same eyes so I-”

“It’s spell.” Lala explained, “My mom did it when she got her staff. She did it to me when magic got through to the Isle. It helps me understand the leopards and for them to understand my orders, and it helps my reflexes. There is always a way to improve. Not that I needed improving, but I’ll admit some leopard senses are better than human’s. Like smell. Now I can smell everyone’s scent a mile away.” .

“Scent?” “Yes, your natural scent. You smell like all that baklav Jordan’s been giving you.” She sniffed the air around him again, “Sand. Jasmine. Musk.”

“What does Jordan smell like?” Aziz asked curiously, and a little relieved that he didn’t smell worse like blood and sweat and general stink from not showering for two weeks.

“Hmm I can’t get a clear smell. You know, not objects per say. But she smells like pheromones, sometimes like fire, sand and wind. Mainly reeks of desperation.”

“Well we’re all in desperate straits here.” Aziz chuckled even though it wasn’t really that funny. Well sort of. Jordan absolutely hated not being in control. Or at least looking like she wasn’t in control. She’d freak if she knew that she quote unquote “reeked of desperation.”

“What about Jay?”

“Sweat, oil, grease, brass, musk, dirt. Something else I can’t tell which usually means someone’s hiding something or lying. Not a surprise there. He’s lucky no one else can smell him, the stench of oil and deceit is unbearable on him.”

“Yeah, good thing. I doubt he’d have a lot of admirers around him if he did.” Aziz said, feeling his mind wander off to too familiar but inevitable train of envious thought.

“Admirers? He has admirers in Auradon? I thought you people didn’t like thieves and bad guys. Why is he popular?”

“He’s good now.” Aziz reminded her, but couldn’t stop the bitterness creeping into his voice as he thought of the crowds praising Jay as he scored yet another goal. All the girls and some guys ooing at him and being utterly charmed as he showed off that he stole their wallets. Or if he executed a pretty decent backflip. The guy looked so cool and attractive no matter what he did. And that bad boy act made him even cooler in everyone’s eyes.

“He’s a good thief like Aladdin,” he remembered hearing someone say and Aziz had burned. Good thief?! Jay wasn’t a good thief! Jay wasn’t stealing things in Auradon because he was hungry or wanted to give to the poor. He stole because he was greedy. Aziz could steal too, Dad taught him the tricks, but when he showed off, he got no applause. They thought he was being inappropriate for a prince of his station.

Or now that Jay was here, it was a second-rate kind of steal. He could steal a watch from someone, but Jay could steal a person’s computer and lunch bag. He got the bigger score.

“People love him and his parkor and stupid tourney goals.” Aziz genuinely growled. He felt his blood pump at how everyone were magnets drawn to his presence while he waited in the wings of the tourney field. They did all the same activities, but Jay was better. People were saying he was equal to Aladdin.

If he was forgettable before Jay came around, now he was just invisible.

And honestly useless compared to Jay. He knew Jordan invited him on this mission because she trusted him and it would be breaking unofficial rule that if one of them went on a life changing save the world adventure, the other had to come too, that was just how things were done. But had he really done anything useful?

No, he had gotten captured. They all had gotten captured but he was the only one who had almost died. Because he was mortal, untrained and weak.

The thoughts came again. Had really been less than a week since he had been in the dungeon? Less than a week but at times he still could feel it as if it had been hours ago.

He could remember it all, some of it was blurred darkness. The only thing registering was that he was in pain. But he remembered the beginning.

Staqauit wasted no time grabbing his throat with one hand and choking him, Chimera and Illusion wrapped their arms around him almost as if they were giving a comforting hug. The thought was quickly diminished as their claws tore through his shirt and dug into his skin, he could feel it, feel the slight curve of their sharpness like a hook that wouldn’t be able to get out. And they didn’t no matter how he fruitlessly thrashed.

But it was only the beginning…

Just as he saw the world fuzz around the edges Staqauit threw him to the ground with Chimera and Illusion still stuck to him.

“Squish” Aziz wanted to scream at the pain that entered his torso and at the sickening sound of his blood squirting out. It felt his insides were dipped into boiling water.

But he didn’t, he stubbornly refused to cry out. He was supposed to be a hero, he would not admit weakness like this. He would use his wits to get out of it.

But he had barely time to think up a clever escape as he vainly scrambled to stop the blood from gushing out more. He didn’t recall any of the princes or his father ever being stabbed mid-battle.

Chimera and Illusion extricated themselves from him, their low voices purring contentedly at the pain wrought.

Aziz tried to get up but he couldn’t. He felt the stabbing pain even though he wasn’t being hit anymore. He couldn’t concentrate. He just felt the agony. He struggled to his feet but the muscles in his legs gave out as he slipped on the puddle of his own blood that was seeping the floor.

“Ah ah ah, you think I’m done with you?” Staqauit’s accented voice sneered, “That was only a minor surface wound.”

Aziz didn’t look at the man. He was too concerned with trying to stand up straight again, but that was for naught when he felt the scraping cement of what seemed to be a boulder dropped on his back.

“Carry this to the other side of the room. Double time.” Staqauit ordered, his rapier scraping the ground in front of Aziz’s face.

Aziz didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea. Perhaps because he truly couldn’t think of what else to do. He rationalized to himself in some irrational way that if he did this, maybe Staqauit would get bored. Maybe he’d survive. So he did as Staqauit ordered. He tried to lift the boulder.

He felt his hands bleed as they scraped and tensed to keep the boulder steady on his back. Bent down so low that his knees touched his chest. Pressing hard on the wound.

“At least it’s stopped bleeding,” was the sole hysterical thought in his mind. His lungs felt they were burning and just pounding his chest as if to get out of his body. Blood rushed in his ears and the slow smack of Staqauit’s whip on the floor, keeping time, sounded like gunshots to his ears.

He wasn’t breathing right. He knew that. Aziz felt like he had been running for miles. His throat felt the need for oxygen and his eyes watered. But he managed to get one foot forward, his thoughts running wild.

Where were the others? When was Jordan going to come back? For he knew Jordan would come to him the moment she could as she had since he was 4. What if that ruined the mission? That she failed because he was too weak to save himself?

Then his mind took a turn to what he had been suppressing the moment Staqauit got hold of this throat. What if this was it? What if this was how he was going to die?

His knees buckled at the thought and he fell to the ground, allowing the boulder to drop from his back to feel the sting of the whip. This time he didn’t hold back the scream.

That scream was like a whistle for them as Chimera and Illusion pounced, their punches, scratches and kicks indistinguishable from one another.

And there was more…. he remembered the water boarding vaguely but he was glad he mostly blacked out of that, the boulder and the choking was enough for him.

But when he woke up and saw Lala, all he felt was shame that he had to be rescued.

Like every fight, he thought of what he should have done after the confrontation was over. When Staqauit was choking him, he should have kicked him back in the stomach. The stomach area was always a quick disable to an opponent. Staqauit would have let him go and then he could have parkored and fought his way out with the weapons that were stationed around the dungeon.

But he hadn’t done that. He had thrashed and took the assault and hadn’t been able to think up anything on the sly like he knew Jay was infamous for.

With that thought, some defeated admittance slithered into his voice. Not that it was much of a defeat. It was barely a competition when Jay was naturally better and Aziz could never match no matter how hard he tried. “People love him, he’s strong and fast.. everyone wants him or to be like him…..I wish I could be like him too.”

He hated how much it was true.

“Why?” Lala scrunched her nose in confusion.

Aziz sighed, wishing his explanation didn’t sound so pathetic, “I’m forgettable in Auradon. I’m the third in line for the throne so I’m not inheriting the kingdom like all the other guys in my class. And I’m not that talkative. Believe me, in Auradon that is not a good thing if you want people to notice you. Or at least not be forgettable, and Jay can...” he trailed off. He didn’t want to get into the time in the dungeon. She had been there, she knew he was weak.

“And how does Jay fit into this?”

“He’s like me, I guess. Only better in everything. Better thief, better at tourney, more witty, better at flirting. I just blend in...I don’t want that anymore it sucks.”

“Blending in is a good thing. It allows you to skulk and learn your enemies’ tactics so you can ambush them.” Lala said.

“Great. But that’s in the wild. I’m not willing to move to the jungle just so my introvertedness can be an asset.”

“Okay maybe the ambush thing isn’t important but it is still applicable. It’s good that you’re not as outgoing like the others. Look at those people bragging and flirting and trying to garner attention onto themselves, they’re annoying. It’s always them, them, flash and boasts. They would never survive in life because they are always thinking of themselves. They don’t observe their surroundings, they miss the details that could help in the future. Like- like? I know-A fool who does not observe will fail. They will fail and try again and fail and try again. But a person who does take in their surroundings will learn the lesson once and remember it.”

“You don’t dominate the conversation but when you do, it is sensible and important. You don’t waste words. Same with your actions. You don’t talk the talk, you let your actions show how you get things done. I wouldn’t trust those extroverted people with my life. They’re too bold and impulsive and think with their fists. I ca-People can respect you. Trust you. You are genuine, and witty because you think so much, you will be successful later on.”

“I guess so.” Aziz smudged the dirt-packed floor with his foot, watching the sight of a small mealworm that had been habitating there, crawl out, “But it sucks. I get being successful later in life but what about now? In Auradon, no one takes a second look at me. You have to be a really sociable or talented person like Jay to get noticed. I can’t do that. I try but I- And, and what about in the dungeon, my observation skills gave me nothing! If I act a little more like Jay maybe I wouldn’t be the weak link needing to be rescued.” Aziz blurted out.

Lala didn’t speak and Aziz cringed, staring at the ground. But the silence was growing so long he had to look back to gauge her reaction and saw Lala was waiting for him to look at her.

Then she spoke, “You didn’t escape but you did survive. That takes a special inner strength especially when your enemies wish to demoralize and destroy you. And it is useless to ponder what others would have done when they weren’t been in the situation. You did what you could, and if you are so concerned about your aptitude, I’ll teach you. You have the strength, you need to practice better technique. Stop the self pity it’s a disgusting habit.”

Aziz tried to protest, but felt himself only mouthing the words as a damn nervous blush starting crawling up his neck. He still felt like he should have done better but he appreciated Lala’s words. He knew she held herself and almost everyone else on the standard of their physical skill and made it known when she thought someone was weak. For her to claim that he was strong even after she healed him, rescued him and saw him beaten bloody and battered, it meant something.

And what she was about to say earlier? That little slip-up. She respected him. He hadn’t thought earning her respect was something he had wanted, but as she said it.. he felt so good that he did.

“As for the others, fuck them.” Lala interrupted, “Isn’t Auradon a place where you’re not supposed to be shallow? See beyond first impressions and get to know them? If they don’t do that, fuck them. You shouldn’t even be complaining that people don’t notice you because it means to ones who do, actually care. You’re less outgoing than others. It’s not your fault that they don’t try to see beyond.”

Lala was still talking but Aziz stopped listening. What she said, “It’s not your fault” hit him like a sandstorm. The images of his attempts to try to be better. More funny. More entertaining. More talented. More outgoing. Things that people would want to talk to him like they gathered around his father or around Chad and the other royals.

Yet he was outshone by someone better. His constant overthinking working against him as he talked, praying that he didn’t look like he was trying too hard as he was. Praying that he wasn’t going to be forgettable to people. He failed. He wondered what was so wrong with him that made him invisible. He wondered how people like Lonnie and Jordan could insist he was so fun to be around when he couldn’t make his presence known when he was in the room with the likes of Jay.

But it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was born to be more of a listener than a doer. He preferred being one on one with people. He couldn’t change that. But he could accept it. He could accept that he was never going to be the star of the room and that people may not give him a second glance.

If so, then fuck them. Because it was true. If they could write him off as just forgettable, then he didn’t need their attention anyway.

His shoulder moved and he snapped back to realize he had zoned out in front of Lala. He felt a blush crawl up his neck, making him flush more. He hated how obviously red it was against his olive skin. “Sorry I- I was listening. You really.. I realized..I mean. You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Lala. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.” He leaned forward to hug her but held back. Touchy-feely was not the norm on the Isle, but he felt so grateful for her words that it felt wrong just to say thanks. So he settled for leaning close and smiling. He was pretty sure it was the smile of an idiot but he did it anyway. The nice thing was Lala gave a small-closed lip smile in return and roughly booped his nose.

“I know you needed it. Anyone who is considering to act more like Jay needs to be talked off the deep end.”

Feeling a bit more generous now that he was coming around to accepting he didn’t need to be as cool as Jay to be noticed, Aziz snapped back into psychologist mode, trying to see his observances of Jay through a more objective, less jealous lens.

Not that he had much time to observe Jay since he got hypnotized which was surely a traumatic betrayal on its own since it came from his father’s snake staff. Which spoke to how uncaring and domineering Jafar must be as a father if he felt the need to control his son.

“I don’t know. I think Jay is more than the impulsive idiot you take him for. I believe it's just a facade he puts up.” Aziz mused “To annoy people? It works.” Lala rolled her eyes.

“What went down between you that you hate him so much?” Aziz asked.

“I don’t hate him, I dislike him. He’s annoying. He stole my spears for himself, he thinks he’s so great he tries to fight Mabaya on his own and almost gets both of us killed because again, he took my weapons and then broke them! What idiot tries to chuck a spear out a charging elephant? It does nothing. If he had to throw the spear, he should have aimed at a vital joint or his eye at least. I can’t respect such idiocy.” Lala huffed.

“I understand but he was a bit out of his element in the jungle and it is his fall-back to try to boast and impress. Usually people who do that are trying to hide something.” Aziz said. Then he thought of a saying of his mother. It was a bit of what Vks called, sentimental Auradon crap, but he felt it should be said, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

“Whatever.” Lala yawned.

“What happened to not judging people? Look beyond the surface.” Aziz teased.

“That was for you. I’m a bad person, I don’t need to follow that rule.” Lala sniffed haughtily.

It would have been so easy to take that as another little joke in their back and forth, but his observing skills struck again. She sounded haughty but her eyes were downcast, and considering what she said that she was too like her mother… she felt it was true.

“You’re not exactly like your mother, you know. I don’t think so at least” Aziz said softly in case Lala didn’t want to broach the subject and could pretend to ignore him.

“I know I’m not exactly like her. I’m only as close to her as she allows me to be. She’s always one step ahead.” Lala muttered, not looking at him. “If I was like her she’d have me be the princess of Opar. But I’m not good enough for that. Not like Tarzan’s children.” “I don’t know Tarzan’s children that well but I don’t think Queen La would find them worthy heirs. I never saw Kerchak swing from a tree or pick up a sharp object in my life. And Victoria-”

“No. Not Tarzan and Jane’s children. Tarzan and my mom’s. The ones she’s planning to have in the future. They don’t even exist and I’m not as good as them according to her because I got one stupid scar and I’m claustrophobic.” Lala scowled, smacking the ground in anger of her own weaknesses.

“You seem to be handling your claustrophobia.” Aziz encouraged.

“As long as I don’t think about it. That’s why I study so hard. It’s because it takes my mind off where I am, not because it requires my intense study. Trust me. But at night…” Lala inhaled deeply and tensed, “I hate this place. I miss the fresh air and space. Every time someone closes the door, I feel like it's going to be lock with this air that-” She inhaled deeply again.

“Let’s go to a window,” Aziz suggested motioning to leave the room. Lala took the offer eagerly and they bounded up the stairs to Lala’s room, the leopard men obediently behind them.

Lala threw open the windows to the balcony and breathed deeply. A blissful smile enveloped her features as her body relaxed. The wind was out today, and unlike Auradon, this wasn’t a refreshing light breeze. On the Isle, when the wind blew, it blew like a gust and Aziz was impressed that Lala stood straight without bending to its battering assult. But it fit her. Lala was the person who could stand strong against natural forces. Her face perfectly serene as the wind whipped her white braid about and ruffled her long sleeves.

Aziz stood next to her, keeping a hand to the side of his face as the gusts constantly pushed his bangs into his eyes and mouth and became a general nuisance. “I don’t think you’re exactly like your mom. Not just because you can’t live to her caliber. You’re not shallow considering you speak to a guy who hasn’t rung any animal by his neck. Despite your wish for a kingdom, I don’t think, at least I’m guessing, you don’t have a real desire to lord over others like a tyrant.”

“From what I’ve observed, and I’m a pretty good observer if I say so myself. You’re reserved because you know that’s the way to survive. But I also think it speaks to how genuine you are. You don’t deal with bullshit, if you respect a person you show it, if you don’t, you don’t. A little blunt but honesty is better than fakery. You seem to actually like learning and challenging yourself with the Atlantean magic. You laughed at my jokes which shows you have a brilliant sense of humor... And despite what you say, you did care about your siblings. You can’t live up to her mom and her imaginary children? Then fuck her. You’re pretty formidable by yourself. You’d be successful as a warrior or a priestess or whatever. You’d have awesome adventures no matter what you do because you’re a badass warrior princess.``

Although she wasn’t looking at him, he could tell she was listening. He could see the corner of her mouth twitching up and down, fighting a smile. So he decided to return the favor and nose boop her to get her attention.

She batted his hand away but a small laugh escaped her lips. “Badass warrior princess. Hmm you observed me very well.”

“Eh little observations here and there, some is just gut instinct. Some people may think a person’s reserve is them being stuck up but I get your’s is more than that.” Aziz coughed as a piece of his hair blew into his mouth.

“People may think you’re forgettable, but I understand you’re more of an observer.” Lala pursed her lips, catching her braid as it flew to hit Aziz’s cheek.

Aziz rubbed his cheek, his mother’s saying popping into his head again. He shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious and nervous about repeating the quote. Which was weird because he said it about Jay just a few minutes before. But saying it, to Lala, seemed more..more meaningful somehow.

No, he was overthinking all of this again so Aziz ignored it, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

Lala smiled at him and there was something.. a something in the air. Energy, a vibe, he wasn’t sure but it made the fact that even though they were in the blustery air, he felt as if he were enclosed in a small world between the two of them. Time to change the subject then! “So speaking of observing, I haven’t really had the chance to do it around here much, but isn’t it fascinating to watch the people here?” Aziz asked. People watching was his go to subject for most conversations. Not that many people had much to contribute. People watching was not a thing most people engaged in which he thought was a shame. It was the most fun ever! People had such weird idiosyncrasies even when they did a normal thing like walking past whether it was an odd head bop or having feet pointed in first position or the like. Lala shrugged and Aziz nodded understandingly. He knew the topic wouldn’t probably go anywhere but then...“What's people watching?” “Oh it’s this thing where you just sit and watch random people. You know observe their habits, stuff that they do.” Aziz sighed. It was a lot more interesting action than in explanation. “Oooh!” Lala nodded understandingly, “Like observing your prey and enemies. I’ve done that lots of times. It’s entertaining.” Aziz’s eyes widened, “You think it’s fun too!”

Lala looked at him as if he was crazy for suggesting otherwise, “Yes. It’s a useful skill and people do such weird stuff.”

“Such weird stuff!” Aziz said at the same time, and then he tried to dial down the enthusiasm in his voice when Lala made the “calm down” sign, snorting at his excitement. “Remember when we were at Gaston’s bar and that Hun guy was fighting Stanley? I noticed in other fights that he does this thing with his head.. ugh I can’t describe it. But like he’d almost twist his...” ———————————————————————————————

That had been three days ago and they almost talked for an hour when Kaj II growled his warning that Queen La was arriving and Aziz had to swing off the balcony and climb against the wall to the correct balcony that would lead to Jade’s room.

Not that he had realized it but in hindsight, that might have been the moment he developed a crush on the warrior princess. Ever since then, he just… he just wanted to be around her a little more compared to the others. He wanted to hear more about her opinions or stories or anything she had to say.

And whenever she smiled at his jokes even if she rolled her eyes because it was corny, he felt like he won a tourney victory or something. And she was so..so graceful. Not cat-like graceful but beautiful, every move she makes was stunning.

Not that he allowed himself to think about it too much. There were more important things at stake like saving the world, and if he thought about how he had a crush on Lala then he’d get self-conscious and nervous and he didn’t want that. Their friendship was just fine for him. He was even teaching her monkey.

Not that it was any of Jordan’s business.

“It’s not important.” Aziz said.

“It better not be. You can try to deny it but I can see that “Can you feel the love tonight” nonsense from a mile away. Why don’t you just forget crushing on mermaids and.. and maybe a nice girl from Agrabah. Or a nice boy. You had such a good time with Mena, remember.”

“Mena was...Honestly Mena was the only guy I.. I can’t. I keep comparing other men to him which is— Can we not talk about him?” Aziz growled, partly from the memory of his sole boyfriend who had used him for the status of dating a prince and had been cheated on him the whole time, and partly because Jordan was bringing him up even though she knew it was a touchy subject.

“I know he didn’t work out but it’s like you told me, you can’t give up on the whole male population because of one cheating boyfriend. Cheating would be nothing compared to this. This crush is a mistake.” Jordan huffed.

“Why is it a mistake exactly?” Aziz raised an eyebrow at Jordan’s judgemental attitude. Usually she was all for Aziz meeting someone and start planning their dates even though her tastes were a bit extravagant like setting off fireworks when he leaned in for a kiss.

“I get the appeal, really. She was a mysterious stranger swinging on a vine. But she’s the same stranger who broke Calix’s arm! He’s lucky that he has magic on his side and could heal the arm that she broke. If he was mortal, he’d be doomed. There’s no hospitals here, we’d have to cut it off.”

“That’s not how unattended broken arms work, Jordan.” Aziz rubbed his temples at her wildly dramatic reasons why having a crush on Lala would be bad, “It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to do anything when there are more important things at stake.”

“I know. I’m just saying you shouldn’t even pursue this when we get back to Auradon. Think about, Aziz. Really think about it. Imagine what would happen if you even got together? She’s the daughter of Queen La. Allah knows that if she got jealous, she’d murder the other person and kill you for looking a for wandering eyes.” Jordan said.

“Then I guess you both have something in common.” Aziz said sarcastically, “Like when you sent your ex a box of scorpions when you found him cheating on you.”

“That’s completely different! He deserved it! You don’t deserve to feel pain. I’m telling you it’s not good to act on love at first sight.”

“Love at first sight?” Aziz scoffed. Did she not even know him? They always joked about people who thought they fell in love at first sight.

Sure, for some it was true. Auradon was practically built on it but more often than not it could lead to a very difficult marriage. That’s why Snow White took that job as a reporter so she wouldn’t be around King Florian so much.

Jordan should know him better, he may get a crush at first glance, but he wouldn’t act on it unless he was sure there was more.

“I’m not in love with her. I’m not doing anything with her.”

“You’re hanging out with her!” Jordan cried.

“I’m also hanging out with Jade. With your logic, I could be crushing on her. She’s clever, she’s daring, we have things in common, we can do parkour together. Plus she’s the daughter of one of our families’ enemies. Star crossed lovers and all that. It’s a perfect fairytale romance.” Aziz breathlessly mocked.

“Jade is not… she wouldn’t use you like Lala.”

“She’s a Vk, who says Jade wouldn’t.” Aziz pointed out.

“Jade’s like you and me.” Jordan defended lamely.

“How? What? Because she’s descended from Agrabahians?” Aziz cried. He knew she could be judgemental and superficial but really? This?

“No. I mean technically yeah but no. She and Jay. She cares about him. They’re like us.” Jordan said meaningfully, grasping his hands and looking lovingly in his eyes in a way that made Aziz feel small and childish.

He hated it when she got like this. Acting like she was so much more worldly and knowing because she was a genie. She had a duty to protect him, the poor sheltered mortal prince who didn’t know any better or understand the morally grey areas of life. He survived torture in the damn dungeon!

Which now that he thought about it, beyond the hug Jordan hadn’t asked him a single thing about the incident. It seemed to have completely slipped her mind. Yeah, she cared about his safety. But for all the wrong reasons.

“So? If that was true then why don’t you trust Jay if his bond with Jade is so much like our bond.” Aziz asked, pointing out the hole in her little argument.

“Well um I, Jay’s Jay’s complicated and I mean I don’t distrust him, it’s just after he said that thing about me giving..”

The epiphany dawned on Aziz before Jordan finished her sentence. How could he not have realized it before? It was all Jordan ever worried about.

“It’s because Jade hasn’t asked you for wishes and Lala has. That’s it.”

“She probably figured out that I’d back out of my promise so she’s trying to use you so you could convince me to give her wishes!” Jordan cried like a detective solving a case with her convoluted logic.

“And you think she’s going to seduce me to do that? Do you have so little trust in me?” Aziz used the calm steely tone that he knew would annoy her most. Not only did she act like he was a sheltered, naive mortal but a weak willed one too.

“NO no I do trust you! I know you would never intentionally do that to me. But I don’t want you to get hurt just because she’s manipulating you to get to me!” Jordan screamed, stamping her foot childishly that he was not giving into her.

“How self-absorbed can you get? Jordan, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your powers. Is it such a crazy thought that she might actually fall for me?” Aziz matched his volume to hers.

“Why wouldn’t she want me? I have phenomenal cosmic power and convenience for everyone. A lamp that forces me to obey their desires. You can’t offer her that. You’re just..you.”

Aziz stared at her, the sentence hitting him like a gut punch. He couldn’t believe Jordan of all people was saying this to him. She was the one who always helped him out on dates and assured him that anyone would fall in love with him after

….Maybe all that helping out wasn’t just from the goodness of her heart? It was because she secretly thought he couldn't get a girl on his own. Why would he with his so few talents? He wasn’t debenoir or charming enough like Jay. He wasn’t going to inherit the throne like other princes. What did he have to offer that the other boys at Auradon Prep couldn’t offer or even top? All he had was a genie friend who’d make “a whole new world” dates.

Moreover, it hurt. His best friend in the world also thought that he wasn’t good enough on his own. She thought he needed her to survive through life and love and all those trials.

Now he was glad he told Lala how he felt ignored. Clearly his so-called “best friend/wingwoman/sister” was too oblivious and selfish to comfort him. Not even that. She secretly shared everyone else’s opinion that he was forgettable!

“Me? What does that-“ Aziz snarled.

“I-I just don’t want you to spend so much time with her.” Jordan seemed to sense his anger and began backtracking, “You know I don’t have a lot of people to hang out with. So many people just want me for my wishes. You-you don’t want to use me. You’re my best friend. That’s why I need you. After everything I’ve done for you, all I’m asking is for you to be my friend.” Aziz heard her but didn't listen, her hurtful words still ringing in his ears. Besides that was completely unbelievable. She was afraid of losing him? That was a ridiculous idea and she knew that. If she was going to lie to his face, she could try to make it believable!

And what? It wasn’t like he owed her for everything she had done for him. That wasn’t how friendship worked! He didn’t ask her to do things and join adventures. She did it herself because she was his friend.

Or he had thought it was because they were sibling/friends. Apparently it was because she believed he needed her.

“You need me around forever to sooth your constant paranoid insecurity. I get it.” Aziz rolled his eyes sarcastically.

“It’s not a paranoid insecurity. It’s a fact.” Jordan claimed.

“Jordan, have you ever thought, maybe the reason people will only look at you for your wishes is because your general personality is unbearable to deal with. That’s why no one wants to be your friend. There’s nothing likable to be friends with but thank Allah, at least if they hang around long enough they’ll get wishes out of you.” Aziz snapped.

Jordan froze, clearly hurt by the sound of the crack in her voice, “Do you feel that way too?”

Aziz didn’t give himself time to think. She didn’t deserve any amount of comfort from him after what she just said. She didn’t need to act like she knew everything about life and treat him like an incapable, forgettable mortal. That was what he was to her, a mortal. And he knew from all their talks together just how little she respected mortals. And apparently he was no exception.

“Yes, sometimes I do.”

For a brief eerie moment, the wind was sucked out of the room and silence reigned. Oppressive, weighty silence that he could literally feel pressing against his chest and head and the rest of his body. He began to wonder if he should try to escape, that Jordan was about to do something they’d both regret.

“GET OUT!!” Jordan screamed.

“I can’t get out. You control your lamp.” Aziz hissed through his teeth to keep from yelling again.

“Fuck you.” The sight of Jordan giving him the finger was his last vision before pink smoke and sand fogged up his view and he rudely fell to the floor.

He glared at the lamp, imagining its arrogant, selfish, all knowing, cosmic occupant pacing the floor, creating a mini sand storm in her anger. Fine.

“Fuck you too.”

#jordan #aziz #jay #lala #my fanfic #my fanfiction #winner’s curse #calix #ocs #disney descendants #chapter nineteen

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algolrasalghul · 7 years ago

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A Summary of the Centaurs by P. Sedgwick

Centaurs by definition originate in the Kuiper belt whose orbits come inside the outer planets. More specifically a Centaur possesses a perihelion distance greater than the mean orbital distance of Jupiter from the Sun (5.2026 AU) and a semi-major less than that of Neptune. (NOTE: Several Centaurs exceed the semi-major axis of Neptune. Recent astrological consensus implies that if the semi-major axis is less than or about that of Pluto - 39.537 AU - then the object could still considered a Centaur). The Kuiper Belt consists of a yet undetermined number of objects made up of frozen gas and dust that orbit in the general vicinity of Pluto and Neptune. The Kuiper Belt initially was the speculation of astronomer Gerald Kuiper, who in the 1950's speculated about its existence.

Loosely known also as the Oort Cloud, a collection of gas and dust known to spawn comets and named for astronomer, Jan Oort, the Kuiper Belt may contain thousands of objects. When the objects gain enough mass and become gravitationally perturbed by larger influences such as Neptune and Jupiter, they may be pulled inside the orbital realm of the outer planets. Technically Pluto and Neptune's moon Triton are Kuiper Belt Objects (KBO's) or Trans-Neptunians (TNO's, not to be confused with the theoretical planets used in Cosmobiology). Chiron, now known to be a comet, is a Centaur having its roots in the Kuiper Belt.

To date, the following Centaurs exist: Chiron, Pholus, Nessus, Asbolus, Chariklo, Hylonome, 31824, 32532, 33128, 44594, 1994 TA, 1995 SN55, 1996 AR20, 1996 RX33, 1998 QM107, 1998 SG35, 1998 TF35, 1999 HD12 ,1999J V127 , 1999 XX143, 2000 CO104, 2000 EC98, 2000 FZ53, 2000 GM137, 2000 QC243, 2000 SN331, 2001 BL41, 2001 KF77, 2001 SQ73, 2001 XZ255, 2002 CA249, 2002 CB249, 2002 DH5, 2002 FY36, 2002 GO9, 2002 GB10, 2002 GZ32, 2002 KY14, 2002 PN34, and 2002 PQ152,

Ultimately these unnumbered objects will receive minor planet numbers followed by a names, but only after astronomers are relatively sure of their orbital parameters.

The KBO names refer to the year of discovery, followed by a letter to designate a two week interval of the year, then another letter indicating order of discovery and if necessary a number to add final order clarification. For instance, 1995DW2 appeared before astronomical observers in the 4th interval (D = letter 4) of the year 1995, the twenty-third object in that interval.

Astrologer Melanie Reinhart speculated that Centaur 1993HA2 deserved the name Nessus only to find out that a short time before it had been so named by the discovering astronomer(s). More astrological research will set the stage for appropriate name considerations or we just have to wait until the astronomers figure it out - their traditional right. Recently 1995DW2 upgraded to minor planet number 10370, and was finally named Hylonome, largely at the suggestion of astrologer Zane Stein and others in communication with Dr. Brian Mardsen of the Minor Planet Center. What a breakthrough!

Centaur loosely translates to "those who round up Bulls." These half-human, half horse creatures bore a well deserved reputation for wildness, lechery, lewdness, wanton ways and an uncontrollable fondness for wine. Mavericks and sexual profligates in behavior, two notable exceptions to the debased tendencies existed.

The more evolved Centaurs were Chiron, of whom astrologers have become appreciative, and Pholus (Pholis means scale like as in snake). Pholus maintained a reputation for being more skilled in augury than any of the other Centaurs. Versed in divination and noted for his wisdom, Pholus also kept the sacred wine left in his possession by Dionysus. One day Hercules came to visit. Hercules, after a feast of cooked meat (though Pholus ate his raw), persuaded Pholus to uncork the good wine in honor of his visit. The aroma of the wine filled the air and attracted all the Centaurs. They came armed with trees and objects of destruction demanding wine. Hercules drove them off with his arrows, killing many, though a good number fled. During this incident, according to some accounts, one arrow in this battle passed through the arm of Elatus and struck Chiron in the knee (thigh/hip). Pholus emerged from his cave to witness the aftermath. Fascinated by the power of the Herculean arrows he picked one up to examine. Excited, he dropped the arrow on his foot and died immediately. Like Chiron, also wounded from an arrow of Hercules. Unlike Chiron, Pholus experienced immediate death and endured no long term suffering. Symbolically, this Centaur refers to relinquishing the need for penance concerning an act of wrong doing. Though, the opening of the wine was not a well thought act, no long term punishment was required. The concept of euthanasia fits with this Centaur. The act of ending pain and suffering, no matter how it occurs, stands as a Pholus metaphor. This image could suggest the consultation of an oracle for mental and emotional relief. The process of medical intervention for physical relief or even the ending of life fall under the auspice of Pholus. Regardless, the concept of maintaining an attachment to sin and wrong doing must fall by the wayside.

Silenius, father of Pholus, tutor of Dionysis, a part horse figure that rode an ass, often told drunken stories of far away Utopian cities. Though he generally did not tell the truth, he spoke of two streams meeting near a whirlpool. On one side trees withered and died. On the other everything flourished and people reversed in age until they achieved non-existence.

Combined with the snake derivation of his name and the metaphorical maelstrom, Pholus represents a timelessness. This reversal of time suggests the ability to, within consciousness - altered or otherwise, to return to a primal sense of self and restore purity of soul and reclaim innocence. Given that Centaurs at large contain bulls, they herd the beast (within), control negative urges and bear a responsibility to the symbolic bulls-eye. This marksmanship returns to the concept of original sin - missing the mark, also denoting distance from God. Pholus implies the restoration of innocence, self forgiveness of sin, release of infatuation with power and destruction and pure, primal activation of the coiled serpent (Kundalini). Pholus, incidently, along with Asbolus remain two of the reddest colored objects in the solar system.

Noteworthy in the Pholus myth is the fact that the Centaurs' sense of smell detected the intoxicating aroma of the wine. Those things that travel through the air with strong influence come to mind. Presently the world wonders if Saddam Hussein possesses the weapons of chemical warfare and if he will put Anthrax in the water (the Centaur Pylenor washed himself of a Herculean wound in the river Anigrus and left a peculiar odor behind) or Nerve gas in the air. Perhaps this bears out the sayings that, "electricity is in the air", or "emotion is contagious" and leads to possibilities of mass hysteria and emotional intoxication. Consider the vast amounts of people presently sedated by the benefic (?) pharmacology of antidepressants.

Pholus maintains an intrinsic implication of the shedding of skin, a transformation metaphor. The exfoliation stands to signify important points of demarcation within the awareness of one's personal power. This awareness seeks a higher, well intended use, lest it be self-damaging through unwitting self-destruction. In its worst case, ego posturing, over embellishment of personal attributes and strength prevail. In optimum, Pholus notes ones need to help others through similar growth intervals. Given the serpent reference of scales, the methods of homeopathy remain particularly strong as Pholus healing tools. Those the nature of Pholus possesses the capacity for attack of adversaries, Pholus, seeks at all cost to avoid personal conflict of a negative/nature. Pholus would rather retreat, than confront. However, if cornered, Pholus will attack and attack swiftly and potently. Here it is best not to provoke the transformation of another prior to their willingness to accept the evolutionary process.

Pholus, in client studies, strongly indicates the effort to reduce or altogether stop consuming alcohol (or caffeine). In many cases involving Neptune transits to Pholus and another personal object, especially the Moon, individuals made marked progress in recovering from alcohol misuse or abuse.

Nessus, on the other hand, did not exemplify the state of evolved consciousness of Chiron or Pholus. After the Pholus/Hercules debacle Nessus fled to the river Evenus and became its ferryman. Nessus was approached by Hercules and his wife, Deianira, seeking safe passage. Hercules went on his own way while assigning Nessus to carry Deianira across the river. Overcome with lust, Nessus violated Deianira. Hercules turned about to witness the deed and struck Nessus with one of his arrows, poisoned with a concoction created by Chiron. Nessus, mortally wounded, gave his blood and semen to Deianira, assuring her it would guarantee Hercules' faithfulness to her. One day as Hercules departed for a tournament, Deianira gave him a cloak anointed with Nessus' fluids. When Hercules donned the article, he experienced excruciating pain and suffering, agonizing to his death.. He raged through the land destroying everything in his path. He begged to die in dignity on a pyre of oak and olive branches. Elevated to Olympus, he was cared for by Hera, who had at his birth, sought to kill him with serpents. What goes around comes around.

Melanie Reinhart in her wonderful book, To the Edge and Beyond (CPA Press, London), notes a Saturn-Pluto relationship with Nessus. Hercules died at the hand of Chiron and his own action of retaliation in defense of the honor of his wife - a Saturn to Pluto image. In the Nessus myth clearly emerges Sexually Transmitted Disease (STD), AIDS and those diseases transmitted by blood, like hepatitis in all its grades. Importantly, the dignity of an AIDS death must be preserved under the influence of Nessus' demise.

A study of AIDS patients and their Centaurs as well as those patients of Jack Kevorkian, aka Dr. Death, who receive a death of dignity, is warranted by Nessus.

Asbolus became the next named Centaur. A seer, he foretold of the massacre of the Centaurs in the battle against the Lapiths during the wedding of Pirithous. Asbolus attempted in vain to dissuade his colleagues not to engage in the battle.

Like Pholus, a peaceful effort extends into the implications of Asbolus. His attempts to prevent conflict and save lives reflects a somewhat noble concern for fellow Centaurs (humans). Possibly a Centaur of negotiation, arbitration and conflict resolution, Asbolus deserves initial recognition as a peacemaker.

The North Node and Perihelion points of Asbolus render the following possibilities: Need for self realization because of deeds done. Desire for reputation and acclaim. Negative: Reckless regard for reputation, lack of integrity, impulse driven without sense of consequence. Inability to take compliments. Positive: Impeccability in action. Known as solid and consistent. Accepting of praise with humility.

Chariklo, the next named Centaur, was not a Centaur at all but the mermaid wife of Chiron. Together they had a son, Karystos, of whom little is written. Also they had two daughters, Melanippe (black mare, also called Euippe - good mare) and Endeis or Thetis depending upon whose mythological family tree you follow. Melanippe had an illegal love affair with Poseidon (see Caeneus myth below) and elected to no longer live among mortals as a consequence. Like her father she appealed to the gods and was set into the night sky as a star.

Chariklo shows up in very few references of note. Once she attended Athene (Pallas Athena) with her bath when Teiresias, who hunted with his dogs happened upon them. Teiresias saw the breasts and legs of Athene. The goddess placed her hands over the young man's eyes and blinded him. Chariklo, full of remorse appealed to Athene to show mercy. Athene declared Teiresias a prophet and cleansed his ears so he could hear and understand the voices of the birds. She also gave him a staff of cornel wood so he could walk as if he had sight.

Chariklo, like Pholus and Asbolus, demonstrated compassion and a love of fairness and peacefulness. She appealed to her goddess with goodness, mercy and fairness as tools. The justness or equality of punishment to transgression seeks balance in her delineation.

The orbital contacts (Node and Perihelion) for Chariklo offer the following: Need for definition between intimacy and personal space. Seeking definition of human interaction and boundaries. Desire to help without co-dependent interference. Negative: invasive, manipulative, solicitous without intent to respond, aloof. Positive: an shoulder to cry upon, well defined relating agenda, counselor of independence vs. intimacy.

Hylonome - One of the rare female centaurs, Hylonome was wife of the Centaur Cyllarus. Cyllarus was killed by a javelin thrown by an unknown warrior at the debacle of the wedding of Pirithous. Distraught with her loss, Hylonome thrust herself onto the javelin that killed her husband, thus ending her grief and pain.

Intrinsic in this Centaur comes the distinction of ego and self separate from relationship. Value of self as a function of love, relating or interaction becomes confused in the interest of regaining a clear perception of the value of self.

The processes of ending pain and grief - a consistent Centaur theme - clearly reside here. Zane Stein and colleagues suggest that their research implies Hylonome to be significant in charts of suicide. This does not imply that transits to or from Hylonome increase the danger of self destruction. Actually such patterns seek resolution of what ever causes pain in life because of loss of self esteem, or loss of love. Healing of previous loves no longer present also come to the table of resolution.

Following are key point delineations for the yet unnamed Centaurs.

1999 UG5 (31824) - Expression of self and ego through word and writing. Positive: Excellent communication, articulate, precise. Negative: Verbose, boastful, shallow in conversation.

2001 PT13 (32532) - Relational and professional attitudes based upon one another. I am what I am because of my career status or relationship ornament. Positive: Balance between relationship and work, money and sexuality. Negative: Object oriented, status seeking, mercenary in work ethics, stunned by glamour and beauty of partner.

1998 BU48 (33128) - Conflict between ego and material possession, identity as a function of resources. Positive: confidence in inner resourcefulness, which allows for use of all talent. Negative: materialistic, avaricious, beliefs possessions equal identity.

1999 OX3 (44594) - The power of knowledge comes to light. Those who know rule the world. Positive: sharing of wisdom, ideas and concepts to increase the greater good. Negative: secretive, hoarding ideas, arrogant flaunting of knowledge never revealed, intentional misinformation.

1994 TA - The need to assert one's accomplishments (generally professional) in the interest of recognition. Positive: sense of self accomplishment, legacy oriented, a mentor. Negative: solicitousness, bragging, indiscriminate flirting.

1995 SN55 - Urge to establish self value regardless of relationship status. Positive: Warm, supportive, nurturing in one to one relationship. Negative: Needy, self centered to a fault, showcase relationships.

1996 AR20 - The urge to understand unresolved questions and mysteries through discussion. Positive: Highly insightful ability to ask questions. Negative: Incessant questioning and banal fixations.

1996 RX33 - A balance of individuality for the purpose of soul fulfillment, regardless of ego. Positive: Confident and self assured in expressing uniqueness and ingenuity. Negative: Cranky weird, contentious, highly rebellious.

1998 QM107 - Balancing emotions and ego as a function of professional status. Positive: Giving, nurturing and sharing to and with coworkers with extraordinary capacities. Negative: Demanding, infantile in work relationships, flaunts social status as a result of accomplishments, showcases with past laurels .

1998 SG35 - Need and ability to heal the ego by overcoming criticisms, both self imposed and external. Positive: Clarity, impeccability and loyalty to personal and emotional needs, praising, complimentary. Negative: Critical, judgment, condemning both of others and self, defaming, blasphemous, solicitous.

1998 TF35 - Sense of value, self worth, economic freedom with spiritual emphasis. Positive: Wealthy eccentric, affluent, humanistic, generous, spiritual involved. Negative: Selfish, demanding, greedy. Manipulates with karma or projected spiritual status.

1999 HD12 - Acceptance of whole and pure nurturing. Positive: Acceptance of support and responsive to praise. Negative: Rejecting of those attempting to help. Constant complaining about the lack of fundamental care in life.

1999 JV127 - Primal sense of self. Developing a healthy self referential attitude. Positive: Confidence in raw talents. Self assured nurturing instincts. Negative: Overly subconscious in motivations. Subjective and projective. Extremely protective.

1999 XX143 - Maintaining a balance of individuality and others within the domestic environment. Positive: Feeling accepted by family and close friends. Negative: Portraying black sheep image. Isolated and sullen at home. Doing it for family to the extreme.

2000 CO104 - Emotional intensity, passionate creativity, inspirational capacity. Positive: Uplifting, stimulating, infinitely artistic and creative. Negative: Addicted to emotional drama, emotionally controlling and manipulative.

2000 EC98 - Cosmic picture vs. detail orientation. Abstract logic vs linear logic. Positive: Balanced perspective of overviews combined with essential detail. Negative: Picky, judgmental, cantankerously weird, ungrounded.

2000 FZ53 - Acute relationship awareness. Ability to negotiate relationship conflicts. Positive: Clarity in relationship communication. Honest, direct, self assured in interactions. Negative: Clingy, dependent, holds back on communication based upon perceived reactions.

2000 GM137 - Extreme inquisitiveness and cat-like curiosity. Relationship communication clarity. Positive: Questioning and open minded. Negative: Overly scrutinizing specializing in Pandora's box scenarios.

2000 QC243 - Use of complete compassion and forgiveness toward others. Positive: Understanding, compassionate, forgiving, tolerant. Negative: Full of guilt and shame - projected onto others.

2000 SN331 - Highly questioning nature. Asks surface level questions seeking the greatest depth in the answer. Positive: Seeking, questioning unafraid of shadows. Negative: Diverting, avoiding, asks questions to answer a question.

2001 BL41 - Perceptions of an abundant Universe. Positive: Generous, available and sharing. Negative: Greedy, hostile regarding work position and money earned. Desperately competitive.

2001 KF77 - Claiming of soul urge. Development of pure confidence and self assuredness. Positive: Strong, inspired, non-competitive, motivated. Negative: Possessive, insecure, ego proclaiming, pouting, fearful.

2001 SQ73 - Quest for ultimate individuality. Confident in all aspects of self. Positive: Iron will and certainty of healthy eccentricity and imaginative ability. Negative: Weird just to be contentious. Overbearing ego. Sense of intellectual superiority.

2001 XZ255 -The quest for pure self expression. Positive: Clear, articulate, assertive, confident. Negative: Accusatory, meddlesome, laborious in conversation.

2002 CA249 - Complete, uninhibited self-expression. Positive: Innovative, confident, inspired, pleasantly odd. Negative: Narcissistic, self-absorbed, strange for shock value.

2002 CB249 - Integrated spirituality within worldly awareness. Positive: Comprehends parts/wholes theory, uses crisis/chaos to the good. Finds upside in all things. Negative: Victim consciousness, resentful, critical.

2002 DH5 - Perfection seeking, looking for Divine Order. Positive: Accepting, tolerant and compassionate. Negative: Scrutinizing to a fault, viciously critical, intolerant, mean spirited practical jokes.

2002 FY36 - Seeking understanding of sacred and profane in balance. Positive: Unique blend of linear and abstract minds. Negative: Mentally biased and opinionated with no tractability.

2002 GO9 - Need for relational support without reservation. Positive: Renders and receives in relationship in healthy balance. Negative: Co-dependent, turns intimate relationships into parent- child scenarios.

2002 GB10 - Balance of emotional/nurturing give and take. Positive: Encouraging, nurturing, responsive. Negative: Whining, needy, clinging. Emotionally manipulates closeness, then withdraws from it.

2002 GZ32 - Seeking kinship with those of great self reliance. Positive: Confident, giving and supportive. Strong sense of bond with those of similar spirit. Negative: Sullen, withdrawn but emotionally aggressive.

2002 KY14 - Definition of absolute truth. Conviction to principle without zeal. Tolerance of all beliefs. Positive: open-minded and sharing especially in religious, philosophical matters, knows the ecstacy of knowing. Negative: zeal, fanaticism, religious intolerance, bigotry, social stupidity through biases.

2002 PN34 - Quintessential grounding. Practicality without being buried by life's demands. Positive: willing to shoulder responsibility, effective in time/work management, grounded and with lofty visions and aims. Negative: materialistic, greedy, wasteful, resentful, inefficient in use of time, prone to laziness motivated by belief "the world owes me."

2002 PQ152 - Creative weirdness at its best. Contemplative and deliberate in spiritual exercises. Positive: clear self-understanding through retreat and silence, willingness to share positive eccentricities. Negative: off the wall, contentious, arrogant and bitter.

Many stories about clouds prevail in Centaur mythology. The air again gains significance with these creatures. The scent of wine traveling through the air caused one the major Centaur incidents, as did words traversing the air. Similarly, myths involving the contamination of water exist. Overall, an environmental impact begins to form in Centaurian symbolism. Can the emphasis of the bull - money - real estate - greed be tamed? Or will developments, population and over-building polish off what's left of the purity of earth? Our air and water falls to industry and toxins. The ozone, depending upon which side of science you choose, collapses exposing Earth to more dangerous radiations from space. The Centaurs declare the need to care for the Earth and reverse the effects of toxic contamination.

What about all this concern with sexuality, drinking, drugs and morality? Since 1992 with the discovery of the Centaurs, and an issue in the 1992 elections in the United States, the restoration of value was called to return. A philosophical bent to Centaurs originates in the knowledge of Chiron and Pholus. The Centaurian evolution implies re-establishing clear thinking as a criteria for deciding about personal or moral situations.

Many difficult questions now face humanity. The Centaurs scratch the iceberg of the these considerations. Can the animal instincts alive in human nature be controlled? Or should we go capture our own bear? Are we obsessed with the power of weaponry? Can we overcome alcoholism and drug addiction as the Centaurs demand? What about the issue of sexual harassment? Is it out of control or is balance being achieved? And these bodies contribute to our healing of relationship conflicts, physical healing and offer sanction for the difficult process of grieving.

Yes. Yes! YES!! The Centaurs hold the keys of knowledge required to transcend the human struggles. Each individual's Centaur placement work with Jupiter and Neptune (those planets bracketing Centaur orbits) to establish a clear sense of personal morality and choice independent of collective pressures. The prevailing Centaur positions relate the focus of people at large and cause re-assessment of beliefs and convictions, whether original beliefs are restored or new ones chosen.

Many questions come at us from the depths of space near the origins of the illusive Neptune and probing Pluto. The Centaurs point out the areas of difficulty. And as we know from augury, within the question lies the answer.

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