#his name is zeus and he’s one apple tall

[radiojamming]

I need all of you to look at my new foster kitten

Thank you for your time.

[casskeeps]

the wedding of peleus and thetis - dinos by sophilos

basic facts

date - c580-570 bce

style - early black figure

original location - ever so sorry but i have no clue we just know it was made in attica

function - dinos - mixing water and wine

size - 28.8cm tall, 42cm wide/deep

context

similar to perseus and the gorgons ! we're in attica, moving away from the corinthian tradition of decorating using rows of animal processions and floral patterns, and starting to prioritise the attic preferences of narratives - this pot shows the wedding of peleus and thetis! if these guys seem familiar, they should - thetis was a goddess of the sea and the mother of achilles ! it's also good to remember that this wedding is where eris brought the golden apple to start some divine infighting (and also the trojan war).

we know that this pot was painted by sophilos, because he signed the pot - this is the earliest attic potter that we can actually name! he signed "sophilos painted me" between the columns of peleus' house (not in english though !! ancient greeks did not speak modern english).

content

friezes of processing animals - again, we have some corinthian influence with the filling of space done by repeating figures of processing animals. these are less carefully done - the shapes are not quite as regular

floral pattern and animals - he's just not serving as much cunt as the gorgon painter - his floral pattern is less intricate than the one on the perseus+gorgons dinos

narrative frieze - LONG ASS PROCESSION - this shit is SO LONG it goes on forever and ever and ages. lots of gods and godly figures, some chariots.

then we have a cute lil repeating band at the top ! just to finish off the pot - this is also done a little bit haphazardly and there are a few inconsistencies with the incision

list of names to try to remember (as per the british museum):

peleus

dionysos, hebe, cheiron

zeus + hera

poseidon + amphitrite

hermes + apollo

ares + aphrodite

fates + graces + muses

athene + artemis

oceanus + tethys

eileithyia

hephaistos

stylistic features

the procession of gods

there are so many labels - this guy could write and wanted EVERYONE to know

as well as the labels, there is some use of item symbolism to demonstrate which person is which - peleus has a kantharos in his hand, dionysos is carrying a vine rod, etc. however, i'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that the easiest to recognise is cheiron because he has four whole legs (i HATE THEM why does he have two human legs and two horse legs)

hebe is SERVING. she's got the cutest dress ever which is a microcosm of the whole pot with its bands

we do have a little bit of attempt to show 3d concepts - some of the figures overlap, whereas others are in isolation. this adds a bit of variation to the very long line created by the procession

black-figure technique/era - specific points

incision has been used to create patterns and details, like the items that various characters are holding. but, as per early black figure, the lines are jerky and it makes telling what people are holding very difficult.

we have some painting ! there is purple paint on the robes of cheiron and dionysos, white paint on the flesh of hebe (it is important to note that white paint flakes off due to a chemical reaction with the clay !)

again, these guys have no clue what people look like under their clothes - hebe's stripy dress looks like it's still on the hanger because there is absolutely no indication that she is not flat as a board underneath it. similarly, cheiron's robe also looks very very flat. archaic artists just don't really understand how people look under their clothes (see: the sounion kouros - if i had three ribs per side and shoulderblades that were just concave lines i think i would be dead)

it's black-figure, we're going to be complaining about the anatomy. we still have the profile head with the full frontal eye, but we also have very long digits - those fingers and toes are LONG and i don't want them anywhere near me.

composition

decorative friezes

there is some symmetry here - if we take the floral design in the middle as our centre point, there is symmetry in that band, but again, we have a weird disjointed feeling looking down the pot. two rows below this design, the animals have a similar line of symmetry, but the frieze between breaks this vertical line

lots of emphasis on the horizontals - there are a few straight horizonal lines painted, maybe as a guide for the designs, maybe as a conscious decision - the one below the narrative frieze does act as a floor, so that one gets a pass from me

narrative frieze

the use of a procession is so good for a dinos bc it's a long ass space to fill, so what better to fill it in with than a long ass line ?

another time to remind you of hebe's dress - a mini version of the whole pot

lots of repeating shapes due to the monotony of the procession - you might be able to argue that the inverted "v" shape of the legs acts as a jagged-tooth pattern to draw the eye to the labels and heads.

scholarly references

"for the first time we see a long multifigure frieze ... devoted to a single major theme" - boardman

sophilos "liked the written word and made abundant use of it" - woodford

"conventionally and rather carelessly" - woodford

"ambitious, lively, but rarely precise" - boardman

final thoughts !!

i do not love this pot - i think it's clear that his intention was to portray the scene instead of decorating the pot for the sake of aesthetics. i would make a snarky comment about how he had to label the gods because he wasn't good enough at depicting them to make them identifiable but that is not the point of this - instead i will place more emphasis on the fact that it's cool we have written words on this pot.

[evilminji]

The best part? Is all this would take to resolve? Is one REALLY stubborn Amazon just... tanking the pranks. Because you KNOW, given it's Danny, they are all gross or uncomfortable but ultimately unharmful?

Like Mysterious Goo or cold slush. Spiders. Mud. Just a series of "ha ha! Got your spears! Now they're up this Tall Tree! You can't fly like I can and are inconvenienced by this Tall Tree!" Sort of things.

You know... until some hard ass, bamf of an Amazon goes "THATS IT! I don't care WHICH God he is! Let him TRY and smite me! This ends today!" And just stomps off to go stand, arms crossed, to tank his "jokes" and not react until he comes out.

Like?

?????

And she's just >:( "Are you done? Amused now?"

Aaaaand now he feels like he's Made Jazz Mad(tm). It's... not as funny when they don't curse and fight back. She's just standing there... dripping slush and mud... and he feels like a JERK.

Hunched shoulders, he uses a single respectful finger to make her intangible to get all the mess off. Then backs up and lands. Yeah. Yeah, he's done. Sorry, Miss.

And she? If fuckin TIRED if this shit. Runs the list. Are you Zeus? No. Are you-*continues by route* *runs out of names* *throws up her hands* Then who ARE you, child!?

....Danny?

She....might be connecting some dots. Tell her, Danny. What significance does gifting an apple hold? *blank, suprise test I'm probably gonna fail face* That... you... *clearing looking around for clues like that will help him* uuuuuuuh.... he knows this! Give him a second! W-which culture? Cause, you know, lots of different-! *the Amazon fold her arms again and raises an eyebrow* *Danny folds like a wet napkin*

I FORGET okay!? It's something to do with dating? Right? Or inviting people to meals? And which culture was it supposed to be?! He keeps getting his lessons mixed up! Look, all he knows is *proceeds to info dump about his situation, how he would LOVE to get the fuck off their island, as they wish him too, if he could figure out HOW*

Huh. And you say you're already dead? Well then. You should be fine. We kill men that come to this island, not souls. We're Amazons not barbarians. We won't kill you AGAIN. We just thought you were one of the gods trying to *sees innocent confusion on his wittle feral racoon face*...cause problems. Now, come along. You're still in trouble. *scruff the soul child*

You WILL be apologizing and fixing the messes you caused.

@hdgnj

Stuck on themyscria

Danny after finishing a gruelling mission for clockwork, gets stranded in the dc universe on themyscria, somehow unable to leave... he thinks its OK at first, he can treat it like a small vacation! there's a nice beach, fruit trees, he can go fishing and strangely he doesn't feel weak from the lack of ectoplasm in this worlds air.

However after a few brief encounters Danny decides to be extremly petty towards the Amazon's and pull pranks on them.

The Amazon's who have decided to kill him for being a man on the island (it doesn't help his case that he forgot aunty Pandora's teachings and what offering apples to women meant)

The Amazonians meanwhile can sense Danny's power and think if he's not mortal then he's probably Zeus or one of the other 'horny' gods in disguise.

(No turning into a goose here Zeus!)

Meanwhile Clockwork is confused, danny should have been back days ago but he can't find him anywhere... why is Pandora in his tower? Why is she grinning?

[faewitchsdeities]

𝕺𝖉𝖎𝖓

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊(𝖘): Oddin, Othin, Woden, Wodan, Woten, Alfodr, Valfadr, Sigfadr, Yggr, All father, King of the gods

𝕲𝖔𝖉 𝖔𝖋: War, veterans, death, wisdom, knowledge, and poetry.

𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖆𝖞(𝖘): Wednesday (Names after him [Woden's day]), as well as Yule and other holidays

𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘: Son of Bestla and Burr, father of Thor, Hodr, Bragi, Baldlr, and Ullr

𝕰𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖊𝖘: Fenrir 𝕾𝖞𝖒𝖇𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖒-

𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖑(𝖘): Crow/Raver (usually in pairs), wolves (usually in pairs), eagle, and the eight legged horse Sleipnir

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗: Lightning bolts, poetry, Gungir (his mighty spear), Valknut (the knot of those who've died in battle, the triple horn symbol, all seeing eye, prophecy, self-sacrifice, storms, logic, fate, healing, and justice.

𝕮𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖗(𝖘): Blue, Cobalt Blue, Red, Black, Grey, Purple, and Orange

𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙: Air

𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖙: Mercury

𝖅𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈𝖘: Sagittarius

𝕾𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖗 𝕲𝖔𝖉𝖘: Zeus 𝕺𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘- Honoring soldiers, donating to vets, paying respect to warrior/vet graves.

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖘/𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘: Apple (crab) Ash leaves and wood Black pepper corn Beech Cedar Dragon's blood Elm leaves Fennel Ferns Horehound Maiden hair Mandrake Margoram Mugwort Nettle Oak Parsley Periwinkle Pine Plantain Polypody Thyme Tobacco Valerian White daisies White Sandalwood Woad Wormwood 9 sacred herbs

𝕱𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖘: Asparagus Beer and meads (good booze) Eggs Garlic Leeks Meat (pork, bird, game especially red meat like beef) Smoked salmon

𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘/𝖈𝖗𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘/𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘: Agate Amber Amethyst Carnilian Citrine Gold Hawk's eye Jet Onyx Smokey quartz Tin/metal

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗: Lightnight bolt imagery, fortune telling tools (runes, pendulum, tarot, ect.), crow/raven feathers, black silk, wooden bowls, cosmic tree imagery, crow/raven ×2, wolves ×2, eight legged horse and ofc Odin statues/imagery, 𝕴𝖓𝖛𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐: Aids in spells for curing the sick, calming storms, turning weapons against their attacker/dulling any blade, making women fall in love, knowledge, wisdom, strength, reincarnation, creation, poetry, storms and lightning, victory 𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊: Tall and strong older man, usually seen with a wide brimmed hat, a cloak, and an eye patch. Has a long beard and is almost always depicted with his 2 ravens and his 2 wolves 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖊/𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘:

~From the earliest times he was a war god, protector of heroes; fallen warriors joined him in Valhalla. But he was also the great magician among the gods and is associated with runes, knowledge, wisdom, and veterans. He is concidered king of the gods/Aesir, the "All Father", and both trickster and protector of Asgard and Midgard. Though he is the son of two giants, he is Aesir, probably because his grandfather (esentially) was one of the first gods. With his mother decending from Ymir and his his Giant father was decended from Audumbla. -The Nornes carved runes into the wood of the tree Yggdrasil's trunk, to influence the fate of destiny. Odin became envious of their ability -but the runes don't show themselves easily- To prove himself, Odin was pierced to the wood of the great ash tree, where he hung for 9 windy days and nights, refusing any who offered aid. Finally, Odin fell off the tree and into the well below, screaming as he clutched the runes to his chest, and at the end of the 9th night -after teetering on the edge of life and death- he understood the runes.

With this knowledge, he was able to heal, quell grief, make blunt even the sharpest blade, break any felters that may bind him, hold/catch arrows mid-flight, turn poison onto another, protect others from naked flame, quench fury, quiet winds, storms, waves, and the seas, to drive witches and the Nornes mad, too keep friends from harm in battle, to walk and talk with those who have hung, to make a warrior invisible, to know all Aesir and Elves, to make a woman lust and ensure a maiden stays, and finally an ability he would not tell. -At the bottom of the well Odin was told by Mimir that he could drink from its knowledge-giving water, but only with the sacrifice of one of his eyes. His eyes were pale blue and were the color of the sky on a winter's day, when the frost is still on the ground. His eyes could pick out the tiniest bird miles and miles away, across the frozen tundra, if a human or god looked him in the eyes, they could not but feel a kind of awe. But, in the end, he did have two of them. So, he plucked out his eye and the head of his uncle allowed him to drink the water.

Odin instantly saw everything that had and will happen, and though there was good and bad news, he simply laughed with happiness when he saw the joy that would come to him. -He has two ravens; Huginn (thought) and Muninn (memory). He sends them out at dawn and they fly all over the world, before returning home at dinner to report back what they had seen -Odin was lonely during his travels and battles so he created Geri (greedy one) and Freki (ravenous one), and they stand by his side and ensure the Aesir king's safety and its said they populated the earth with their offspring -making wolves and dogs- -Loki's eight legged flying horse child -Sleipnir- was given to the king as a gift. It's teeth are inscribed with runes, and it has the ability to gallop through all skies and seas with its many legs, super-strength, speed, durability and endurance.

[baejax-the-great]

Void

Thanatos x Zagreus | M | Complete | 25k words | AO3

Achilles is both guard and guest, to the side of the royal family, though what he could possibly do in the event of an all-out brawl between Olympus and the Underworld is a question better not thought about. And while not thinking about it, he decides that in such an event, his spear would find Hera first.

Patroclus, having no role at all other than attending at the prince’s pleasure, stands by Cerberus, charming each of its three heads at once with his back very rudely toward the guests.

“Why don’t we have any of these in Elysium?” he whispers to Achilles, who ignores him save the small smiles he wears.

Should Cerberus ever have puppies, he’ll have to ask Persephone for one of them.

Zagreus is tense as his aunt and uncle approach, but that all leaves when their first gift makes themselves known with belligerent squawking. Peacocks are a ridiculous gift for the Underworld, but Zagreus’s face immediately lights up at them. He seems to forget his relatives entirely, stretching around to get a better look. Persephone stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

There are three peacocks and three peahens, each enormous for their kind, and Hera is making no attempt to control them whatsoever. Once off the boat, they scatter through the hall, pecking at flower petals and generally being birds, here, in the Underworld where they absolutely should not be.

Introductions are made, with Zeus, looking absolutely thrilled to be here, and Hera, clutching his arm but standing tall as she faces down the Hades’ family.

“I present a gift of peacocks to Lord Hades and Lady Persephone,” Hera says. “Mine have served me well, and I thought my Underworld relatives might appreciate a touch color down here.”

If there were not birds squawking in the hall, there would be utter silence at that. If it were Achilles, he would take this gift as an insult if not an act of aggression.

“Thank you, Lady Hera,” Persephone eventually says.

Cerberus growls at one of the birds, and they all go scattering toward the Pool of Styx. None of the gods react to this, but Achilles hears Patroclus whisper, “Good boy.”

“And the other gift, dear,” Zeus prompts her. Hera grows even tighter in expression, but she lifts a basket and holds it out to Zagreus, who shrinks away a little.  

“To Prince Zagreus, I present a branch from my tree of golden apples.”

This at least plucks his interest if not his trust. “Golden apples? Like from the story of Heracles?” Zagreus asks. The branch trembles in her hand as her lips tighten, but Zeus places a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, exactly so, my nephew. Golden apples, like from the story of my son Heracles.”

Whatever Hera is feeling with her flashing eyes and Zeus’s rigid smile aimed at her, she says nothing. When Zagreus doesn’t move, Hades reaches out and plucks the branch from the basket and thrusts it into the prince’s hands, and Zagreus says a respectful, “Thank you, Lady Hera.”

Not in a thousand years would Achilles have guessed what Hades would say next. Achilles wasn’t around when Heracles came to the Underworld for his labors—he does not know what Heracles did that still offends Lord Hades to this day—but he has seen the way his eyes flash in anger whenever Zagreus brings the name up, how his fist clenches and almost always meets his desk in a thunderous thud that echoes through the hall. Nothing could be more different to how mildly—for him—Lord Hades now clears his throat and says, “I don’t recall the story of Heracles all that well.” Everyone in the room freezes. Even a bird or two calms itself under the massiveness of that lie. “Bard—Orpheus—do you know of any songs of Heracles? Perhaps you can refresh my memory this evening. I should like to hear his tale in as much detail as you can muster.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Persephone says, beaming. “Our court musician is so talented. We are in for a treat.”

Zeus, whose beard cannot adequately hide his smile, leads his wife away.

He does not lead the peacocks away, and they are now hopping on tables and generally being birds, which Achilles cannot stress enough are a ridiculous thing to have running about the Underworld.

Read the rest here | Or start from the beginning on AO3

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all!              Kaitlynn ❤️😍

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 10: The Wheels On The Bus Goes Skrt Skrt Skrt

It didn't take me long to pack. I didn't have anything at all, which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me and Percy. Both having nothing to carry we decided to share a bag. The camp store loaned us one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions—whatever that meant. He gave Annabeth, Percy and I each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally. Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told us had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first time we went through a metal detector. Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes. We waved good-bye to the other campees, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood a surfer looking dude. According to Grover, the guy was the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands, face and neck. "This is Argus," Chiron told us. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things." I heard footsteps behind us. Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you." Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around. I looked at him with a frown. "Don't look at me like that. I had to find out from the others you're going on a quest." he glared. "So much for the option you won't die at." "I would've told you if you were at the cabin when I got back. Now what's with the shoes?" "Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy. "And I thought... um, maybe you could use these." He handed him the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal. Luke said, "Maia!" White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, Percy dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared. "Awesome!" Grover said. Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turned sad. I didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. But here he was giving Percy a magic gift.... It made me a bit jealous. "Hey, man," Percy said. "Thanks." "Listen, Percy..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just... kill some monsters for me, okay?" They shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, then gave a good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out. The three went to Chiron about stuffs while Luke and I had a staring contest. "So Percy got a present and I only get an I don't know... a hug? Here I thought I was your favorite." "What made you think you are?" He laughed and ruffled my hair. "And no you don't get a hug." "Suddenly I'm not coming back." He smiled and from his back he pulled out a sheathed knife. "I meant to say you won't get only a hug. I noticed you're not a fan of swords. So, I made this my self. I am no Hephaestus child but hey..." He handed me the knife. The sheath was plain colored with a metal chap and locket, it had chains attached to the locket where I could probably put it on something to make sure I bring it with me. Pulling the knife out of the sheath, its knife was around 15 inches. On the blade, Ancient Greek was engraved on it. I think it's my name and the other side is his. "What is this?" I grinned. "I don't know. I ran out of good ideas! I swear I looked up some of Plato and Socrates for that." "And you settled for that?" I laughed. "I am going to take that back now." "Hey, that doesn't mean I don't like it. Thanks." "It's celestial bronze... Half of it at least." "Half?" "I'm sure Chiron won't appreciate it. It will harm both us and humans." "So... It'll hurt both side?" "Yup. And I'm not sure but according to a Hephaestus kid but it's supposed to glow when its near something." "Its not glowing now." "We never said no backsies. I'd like it back now." "I'll take good care of..." I stopped to think of a name and almost immediately remembered a perfect one, "Sting." "I would ask but I already know." Luke shook his head. "Be careful with Sting. It---" "He. Sting is a he, thank you very much." "HE, is lethal. He it can kill us, others close to our kind and normal humans." "Oops I accidentally stabbed myself." With a worried look he pulled me in a hug, "And whatever happens. Put your safety above all. No need to be the hero. If you die in this quest I will get the lord of the dead revive you or kill me." "Ew how sentimental." "Be careful... okay? All of you. Promise me that." "Fine, I promise. On the knife, I'll come back not dead, with everyone." After Luke was gone, I placed the knife on my waist. I went back to Percy. "Okay, that's extremely cool," I heard him say. "What's cool?" I grinned standing behind Percy overlooking his shoulder. "My new pen." He showed me his pen and uncapped it only to show a sword. "I can't loose it no matter what! Its called Riptide." "But what if a mortal sees you pulling out a sword?" Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Y/N." "Mist?" "I just keep hearing that over and over can someone finally explain?" "Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their version of reality." Percy put Riptide back in his pocket. For the first time, the quest felt real. We was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill. We was heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone. (Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be worse than sending up a flare.) I had no weapon stronger than a knife to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead. "Chiron..." I said. "When you say the gods are immortal... I mean, there was a time before them, right?" "Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age." "So what was it like... before the gods?" Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born." "But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So... even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" Chiron gave us a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny." "Our destiny... assuming we know what that is." "Relax," Chiron told me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history." "Relax," Percy said. "I'm very relaxed." When we got to the bottom of the hill, I looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur. I took Percy's hand and we gave each other a reassuring nod. I wish us luck. Talking whilst at camp drained me. I apologize if I won't be much help. You have stamina? So you aren't a bigshot all powerful god? Without you and I as one. I am nothing. I have given you my everything.

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Percy was sitting next to me as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall. "So far so good," Percy said. "Ten miles and not a single monster." She gave him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain." "Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?" "I don't hate you." "Could've fooled me." She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals." "Why?" She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her." "They must really like olives." I interjected. "Not you too! You know what? Forget it." "Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand." "I said, forget it!" In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at me. Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain. Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, Percy and I didn't let go. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with Percy's picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? He ripped it down before Annabeth and Grover could notice. "They could've at least gotten a better picture." I smirked which caused him to roll his eyes. Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot. Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction Percy was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?" I stared at Percy then at Grover. "Were you reading my mind or something?" "Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?" Percy nodded. I missed my parents of course, but I had Luke and Grover to talk to which made me less lonely. Percy became an outcast when we got to camp and had no one to talk to. I squeezed his hand and gave him a smile. "Your mom married Gabe for you," Grover told him. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura.... Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week." "Thanks," Percy said. "Where's the nearest shower?" "You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better." I knew what Percy was thinking. He was thinking of the fact we'll get his mom and my parents. How we'll save them all. We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. I wasn't too bad myself. The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all. Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but we were too busy cracking up. Percy pulled me to a corner, after excusing ourselves for a bathroom break. "You finally going to tell me about this quest?" "The truth is," He started. "I don't care about retrieving Zeus's lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping my father out of trouble." I gave him a look that reassured him to continue. "The more I thought about it, I resented my father for never visiting me, never helping my mom, never even sending a lousy child-support check. He'd only claimed me because he needed a job done. All I cared about was you and my mom. The underworld god had taken her unfairly, and he is going to give her back." "Percy, we don't even know what's going on. Yeah, he might have her. But what is there's another reason? We don't exactly know anything. I don't even think my parents are with him." "Well, no matter where they are. We will get them back. The least I could do is get them back." He rested his head on my shoulder. "Don't "You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend," "What?" I froze. "Percy... I would never---" "You will fail to save what matters most in the end." "What are you talking about?" The rain kept coming down. "The rest of the prophecy. Y/N, I don't want you to betray me. Please... don't." I could hear his voice breaking. "Of course I won't. We'll get this quest done. We won't loose anyone and we'll get our parents. Don't worry." I hugged him. "I will stay with you. I won't leave and I won't betray you." "Hey Bonnie and Clyde, we need to go." Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air. "What is it?" I asked. "I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing." But I could tell it wasn't nothing. I took Percy's hand and started looking over my shoulder, too. I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. We stowed our backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh. As the last passengers got on, I immediately clamped my hand onto Percy's knee. "Percy." It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face. I scrunched down in my seat. Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers. And I was now sure, Mrs. Rudolph was one of them. They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves. The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime." "I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not." "All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!" "Who knows maybe they just want to play?" I said nervously. Annabeth gave me a look of irritation, "Not now," she said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows." "They don't open," Grover moaned. "A back exit?" she suggested. There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel. "Maybe a nice chat would help?" "They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?" "Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist." "They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" She thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof... ?" We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain. Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room." "So do I," said the second sister. "So do I," said the third sister. They all started coming down the aisle. "I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat." "What?" "You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away." "But you guys—" "There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering." "I can't just leave Y-- you guys!" "Don't worry about us," I assured him. "Go!" His hands were trembling. But I took the Yankees cap and put it on. And he simply vanished. Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at a spot. My heart was pounding. Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going. "Maybe if they approach us, I could try talking? I really was Mrs. Rudolph's favorite..." I stammered. "Yeah stage is yours." Annabeth answered. The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips. The Furies surrounded us, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?" The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right. "He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!" The Furies raised their whips. "Don't!" I stepped in front of them shaking. "H-Hi Mrs. Rudolph. W-What could you need?" Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it. To our surprise the bus jerked to the right. Everybody howled as we were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows. "Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!" The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, throwing sparks a mile behind us. We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins. Somehow the driver found an exit. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river. The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans. It was as if I didn't exist which was kinda offensive. "Hey! I'm also here!" I yelled pulling out my now glowing knife and helped Grover. "Hey!" A voice from the door way echoed. "Percy you idiot! Run!" I yelled. The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at him. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather. Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward him like huge nasty lizards. I don't know how but I managed to parkour my way to avoid them and get to Percy in no trouble. I raised my knife and stood in between of them. "Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die. I suggest you step away from him Y/N L/N." "I liked you better as a math teacher," he told her. She growled. Annabeth and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening. Percy took the ballpoint pen out of his pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword. The Furies hesitated. Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again. "Submit now," she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment." "Nice try," I told her. "Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried. Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at him. I managed to keep one of them and parried with her using my knife., which turned out to be Mrs. Rudolph. "I hate to admit it but you were my favorite teacher. Why go mean now?!" I struck with the hilt of my knife against her, sending her toppling backward into a seat. I turned to see Percy had sliced the Fury on his right. As soon as the blade connected with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust. Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands. "Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!" Mrs. Rudolph came at me again, talons ready, but I dove in and got in range to swing Sting at her and she broke open like a piñata. Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down. "Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!" "Braccas meas vescimini!" Percy yelled. I wasn't sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant "Eat my pants!" Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck. "Get out!" Annabeth yelled at us. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement. Taking Percy's hand, we rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before I could recap my sword. "Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—" BOOOOOM! The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead. "Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!" We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.

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UwU Haha this is what the knife looks like since I'm not sure if I describe it that well... Omg I just realized my brother changed the chapter title lmao -kookie-doughs

Just imagine it has your name on the blade.

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[ayearinfaith]

𝗔 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗙𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟳𝟰: 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗼-𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗼-𝗘𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗼𝗻 The Proto-Indo-European (PIE) religion is the proposed reconstruction of the beliefs held by the ancestral Proto-Indo-Europeans. Though we lack direct evidence for it, the echoes found across the historical record and in modern Indo-European peoples enable us to make strong conjectures about this ancient faith. Names and words in PIE are generally prefixed with a “*-“ to represent their theoretical status. 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗪𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗪𝗲 𝗞𝗻𝗼𝘄 The Proto-Indo-Europeans lived as a (more-or-less) single people roughly 6-7 thousand years ago in what is now Southwestern Russia and Eastern Ukraine. They were some of the first humans to domesticate the horse and spread across Eurasia from Europe’s Iberian Peninsula to the South Asian Ganges Delta. Modern Indo-European peoples include but are not limited to: Non-Dravidian people of the Indian sub-continent (Bengalis, Nepalis, Hindustanis, Punjabis, etc.), Persians (aka. Iranians), Kurds, Greeks, Balts (Lithuanians and Latvians), Armenians, Albanians, Slavs, Germans (Scandinavians, Netherlanders, Englishmen, etc.), Celts, and Western Europeans (French, Spaniards, Italians, etc.). The study of these ancient ancestors is the result of a great marriage of physical and linguistic anthropology. On their own, each source of evidence has major blind spots; physical anthropology can only trace what artifacts have survived, especially tricky with an ancient nomadic people who used stone and other long lasting materials sparingly, and linguistic reconstruction is a completely theoretical activity in the absence of any recorded language. By pairing common word origins, we can tell what technology and concepts were common (ex. Almost all branches share the etymology for “wheel” but not for “sword��) which can inform the minimal archaeological finds, which can in turn inform linguists which proposed reconstructions are more likely than others. Just as we can use these tools to determine their technology and migrations, we can guess at more immaterial things like culture and beliefs. Major pillars of this are the 𝘝𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘴 and to a lesser extent the 𝘈𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢, the oldest written texts in Indic and Aryan culture, respectively, both of which were written in a language quite similar to Proto-Indo-Aryan (Sanskrit and Avestan), which was spoken some 3-4 thousand years ago. Germanic mythology is another strong pillar, valuable due to being well attested and written about, as Germanic peoples were one of the last of Europe to Christianize. Though Greek mythology has been popular across Europe since the Roman Empire, it is a weak pillar for reconstruction as many of its elements are traceable to non-Indo-European sources (mostly Semitic). Baltic mythology is also prized, as the Baltic languages are the most conservative, i.e. most similar to PIE, but recorded pre-Christian myths are sparse. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗠𝘆𝘁𝗵𝘀 The following is a general overview of some of the most widely agreed upon aspects of PIE religion. There was, before the creation of the universe, a state of non-existence or void (Greek “Chaos”, Norse “Ginnungagap”). After that come three figures: the primordial cow, the progenitor of humankind, *Manu, and a third being *Yemo. The word *Yemo means “twin” (compare to Norse “Ymir”, Hindu “Yama”, and Latin “Remus”). This is generally taken as his relationship to *Manu, but also quite probably is an allusion to *Yemo’s hermaphroditic nature. Likely *Yemo was some form of giant or supernatural being, a cosmic man as opposed to the literal man *Manu. *Yemo is sacrificed along with the cow by *Manu, and from his body the world is formed. It is likely that *Yemo’s myth continues with him as the lord of the land of the dead. The world of the Proto-Indo-Europeans was a flat disk surrounded by water, with the realm of the gods above and that of the dead either below or beyond the world surrounding ocean. Notably, there was likely not a central world tree or mountain, like the Norse Yggdrasil, Greek Olympus, or Hindu Meru; that is most likely a Uralic (Finnish, Hungarian, Udmurt, etc.) loan. The land of the dead was guarded by a supernatural dog (Greek “Cerberus”, Hindu “Sharvara”, Norse “Gamr”). PIE gods have two defining features; their association with the sky and their immortality, which likely was originally credited to a special diet (Hindu “Amrita”, Greek “Ambrosia”, the Norse Idunn’s apples or Odin’s wine). The central gods were *Dyḗus, god of the daylit sky, *Dhéǵhōm, the earth goddess, and their three children, twin sons, who likely represent the sun and moon, and their daughter *Héusōs, goddess of the dawn. The number three is also of special significance and there was likely a triple-fate goddess (Norse “Norns”, Greek “Klothes”), though this is notably absent in the Indo-Aryan branch. The two best reconstructed narratives are the “Chaoskampf”, in which *Dyḗus or his chosen hero slays a serpent, and the cattle raid myth, in which the primordial cow is stolen and must be retrieved through combat by a hero. 𝗢𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 As mentioned above, the number three was likely an auspicious number to the Proto-Indo-Europeans. A somewhat less well attested, but still popular reconstruction, is the character of *Trito (“Third”) who would have been the hero who rescues the primordial cow and slays the serpent. This idea of threes was expanded by a French mythographer and linguist, Georges Dumézil in 1929 into what is now referred to as the trifunctional hypothesis. The idea was that PIE society had three classes, which was reflected in their myths; a priestly/scholarly class, a military class, and a herding/farming class. While the theory overall has largely fallen out of favor, aspects of it persist. Many of the mythical battles, like the Norse Æsir-Vanir war or the Greek Titanomachy, have been proposed as mythologized accounts of conflicts or integrations of these three parts. Another tripart proposition is that the PIE cosmos was divided into three skies; the daylit sky, the night sky, and the liminal sky of dawn/twilight.  In this model, each sky has its own deities who may not trespass on each other, with *Dyḗus the god of the daylit sky representing the warrior class, *Werunos (compare to Greek Ouranos and Hindu Varuna) god of the night representing the priestly, and a liminal god associated with agriculture (ex. The Greek Kronus, a harvest god who falls between Ouranos and Zeus). Distinctive from *Dyḗus, a hammer wielding storm god has been proposed, though evidence is limited to just a few of the European branches, implying he was likely a later development. His name is reconstructed as *Perkwunos, the “lord of oaks”, likely referencing the way lightning strikes tall trees. Image credit: The Seven Gods, Maxim Sukharev, 2010’s

[of-faunsandyellowflowers]

Pan (Pæn, Faunus)

note: this is my personal experience with Pan! I still have a lot to learn when it comes to this god, but this is an informational post about what I have learned explicitly from talking with him. This post is not intended to bash anyone or their beliefs regarding Pan, nor is it intended to say that you are wrong. It is purely my own experiences that I share here. If you have a different experience with Pan, that is completely fine! He is always going to be a bit different with everyone. 

History: *Pan is a Greek god, but from what he has told me, he is also an aspect of the God Cernunnos. I have another post regarding Cernunnos. This post will primarily talk about Pan.* Pan is a Greek and Roman god of nature, shepherds, sometimes fertility, parties, etc. To the Romans, he was named Faunus. In the myths, he is said to be the son of Hermes, and is half goat half man, also known as a satyr. The name Pan was given to him, because it means all. The word panic is also said to come from Pan due to the chaotic energy that he presents. Following other stories, it is said that Pan had assaulted women (mostly nymphs) who have entered his forest due to them not finding him “attractive”, or loving him back, but this isn’t true. Though Pan does give off a sexual energy, he has explicitly told me that he does not promote violence, or assault against anyone. It is however, true the amount of panic he was able to spread due to his roar when angered. The Greeks were known to tells vivid tales about their gods, and the majority of them are just a translation about human nature, or how they see the world. There is truth to myths, but take for example how much Zeus was said to be a womanizer and abuser. In reality, Zeus is actually quite sweet and caring. It is always best to get information from the god themselves, instead of just myth! Pan does always carry a pan flute (named  Syrinx), it is quite possibly his favorite thing. He has told me that during his free time, he likes to play his flute and watch the nymphs dance and laugh

Rules over: Forests, all things wild and wilderness related, sometimes fertility, shepherds, goats Colors: green, brown, gold, earthy tones Sign: earth, capricorn

How He Presents Himself: Pan likes to present himself as a very tall humanoid bull for me. He is upright, wears a loincloth (though not always, he primarily wears this out of respect for my comfort and how our relationship is.) with a belt and a buckle that is gold. He has large horns, mostly shaped like a bulls, including a bulls nose ring, gold bracelets and always seems to be smiling. He is always carrying his pan flute, and likes to play it often. For others it is said he likes to present himself as half goat half man. 

Personality: Pan has a very chaotic energy. He can be quite sexual, but will tone this down depending on your relationship. He is very caring and loves to make his devotees laugh. Even though chaotic, he is quite charming and loving. When angered, he becomes to epitome of panic, and can become irrational. This only happens when respect is not given, including respecting animals, forests, and yourself.  He absolutely adores music, primarily his flute or other flute music, and loves to dance quite often. Overall, Pan is the life of the party and such a freeing deity. Hes wonderful to work with when I do and is quite literally the epitome of wild child.

What he helps with/Working with him: Pan and Cernunnos have been with me throughout all of my lives. He is what I like to call my soul father and I care for both aspects very much. Pan is all about freeing and embracing your wild side. To work with him you must be ready for some intense energy, and sometimes tough love. He likes to be outside, and will encourage you to get out and be outside. However, he is understanding if you are unable to do so. He is about self care, becoming one with nature, animals, and earth. It is best to note that he will quickly anger if you disrespect yourself, nature, animals and other spirits. I have learned he can sometimes give you the silent treatment depending on the severity of the incident. This doesn’t happen often, and he is very forgiving. You should always ask before picking plants, or working with fae/nymphs. Give offerings in replacement of what you use. Respect animals, and give thanks if you eat meat. That being said, Pan can help you tremendously with confidence, creativity, comfort, and and feeling free. 

How to talk with him: Pan will often show up to help those who have been physically or mentally damaged, and try to help boost their confidence. He quite likes working with people who love nature, and aren’t afraid to get dirty. But he also likes to help people with confidence as well! Signs that i was meant to possibly work with him this life were interests in pan flute/flute, my love for ancient Greece, myth, and magic, forests, an increased amount of dreams involving goats and satyrs, etc. To talk to him, you can do so by meditating and asking for him telepathically. It is best if you do this outside, as he is fond of the outdoors. If you are unable to do so, that is completely fine, he will understand. If you want to speak verbally, it is important to ward your room entirely, with the intention of only letting him through. There are so many nasty entities out there who would love to impersonate a god, manipulate you, and cause you to be sick. Always protect yourself! 

Offerings: Pan flute music, flute music, music that make you want to dance, wood carvings (ethically sourced wood), wood, horns (ethically sourced), goat milk, grapes, figs, apples, grains, baked bread with herbs, baked goods made with honey (not too sweet), berry wine, red wine, spiced rum or other liquors, honey, pan flutes, herbs, asparagus, olive oil, cheese (he loves goat cheese the most!) cooked meats (ethically sourced only), art, poetry, embracing your wild side, standing up for yourself, respecting nature. 

[astriefer]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸𝕌!

Just about a girl conquering the former Preator and the daughter of Zeus' hearts. And of all hunters, in fact.

It's not Theyna for anyone who might think. Just let those girls be cool parent's figures together!

They did not meet in the regular way.

In short, The girl was captured and Reyna happened to be in the next cell... some events happen and they become closer. Some running, fights, and angst lead to the small girl being very connected to Reyna.

Reyna takes care of the girl since the girl seems to be afraid of anyone else.

The hunters agree that she'll stay until they find her a new home. Maybe half-blood or Camp Jupiter.

Reyna grows more and more attached to this kid. And because no other person actually wants to get involved with the girl, and the girl's fear as well, it's mostly up to her to make her comfortable and comfort her in times of need.

Singing a lullaby to calm the girl at night. She has frequent nightmares and it breaks Reyna's heart. So she sings to her, Specifically the song they sang as they were held captive together.

They arrive in CJ and after some discussion, Hazel and Frank start searching for a new home and family for the small girl.

Reyna gets it hard. That night she understand how much she cares for the child.

She is being very protective and goes everywhere with her. She works hard to make her open up to more people (hell knows it's no good to be with one person ALL the time)

Yet it's not hard to tell Reyna like spending time with the girl. The little lady can sure warp Reyna around her little finger.

She manages to get the girl to be less strict around Thalia. She also recruits Frank and Hazel to help. She believes their nice and open nature will help.

She's there all the time to offer comfort. Yet the girl seems to like the Preators, even though she's acting very shy and careful.

When she want to take the girl for dinner Hazel pulls her aside to ask if she really want to find the girl home in New Rome.

At first, Reyna doesn't know how to respond. She wants the girl to have a family... and she wants to be part of it as well.

That realization makes her come to Thalia and ask just that. She doesn't want to leave the hunters, and she doesn't want to leave the girl in New Rome. So the simplest solution is to bring the girl with them. Permanently.

At the start, all the other hunters (and Artemis) firmly disagree.

Because well, their journeys can be dangerous. And their training area is not a place for straying children.

And of course, someone will have to watch over the girl.

And if there's an attack or they'll have to camouflage or hide? The girl will only slow them down.

And the hunters is a place for YOUNG MEDIANS. Not small children.

Reyna is desperate to get the girl to stay. She tries to convince Artemis but fails. She tries enough to wear out Artemis makes her threat to turn her into a doe.

The girl is worried about Reyna's tiredness and worry and she dares to ask Thalia what she can do to make Reyna feel better.

Thalia is half amazed by the consideration of the child. She has her own reservations, but she truly sees how deep the bond between Reyna and the girl is.

She dismisses the kid with something like "She's just worried for you, to be well." Or some cheesy thing.

She makes her own conversion with Artemis, pointing out what a teaching lesson adopting the girl could be.

I mean, the hunters are their own family, not interrupted by the human world and less affected by what happens in the camps. As they live longer, you can imagine they're starting to be more strict and pay less importance to tenderness and to be responsible for someone. They're mostly care-free apart from their duty to Artemis and to their sisters.

So basically that's half lame so imagine she makes some good explanations of how the girl could benefit them.

When Thalia comes tells Reyna the girl could stay, they find out the kid ran away.

Reyna is shocked and runs to the woods to search for her. If course Thalia is running right after her with the thought, 'we can't lose the girl a moment after we agreed to take her in.'

Reyna is worried as heck and calls for the girl. Damn it monsters, you are not the important thing right now.

They're in the forest for what feels like hours. Reyna and Thalia are still searching. Reyna lashes out on Thalia because she's so tired of fighting against the world to give the little girl the family she deserves.

Thalia breaking the news to Reyna

Reyna just jumps on Thalia from happiness and gratitude. She catches herself quick enough but her heart is still pounding.

Then they hear the little girl soft singing and They run to her.

Some monsters coming in their way, making bad puns and demand the kid to be their rightful finding.

Thalia smacks them off while Reyna and the girl have a heartfelt conversation.

Reyna and Thalia both didn't get to grow in a normal, loving family. Or at least, their parents never actually been there for them. So Reyna promises to the girl she WILL be there for her.

She promises that the girl does not cause any pain for her, but the opposite. They even makes a pinky promise. (She clarify this beacuse the kid run away because she thought she's making Reyna feel bad).

They return to the hunter's camp where Artemis announces the kid would stay. The kid is so excited to stay with Reyna, she almost tear off Reyna's hand.

Yeah. Parent a child traumatized bby with immortal dudes. A piece of cake.

At start they all like "ugh get it away we need to concentrate." Beacuse again, the other hunters aren't mean, they just thinks it's not the society or the place to raise a child.

They dosn't feel comfortable around the girl in the start. You can say it's mutual.

The girl stays close to Reyna (and Thalia at times). She has a habit of hiding behind their legs and peek at the others when she's afraid or nervous.

She still very careful. Encouraged by Reyna and Thalia she tries to come on the better side of the hunters. They also convince some hunters to give the girl a shot.

Many of them still very well reserved, but... they feel a little jealous by the shiny, huge smiles the little girl gives Reyna and Thalia.

They all just starting to be more friendly. Play in lyre for her, give her a fresh apple from a tall tree (She just gasps and looks admiringly at them)...you name it.

The hunters fighting over who will teach her archery. That's fun.

"You trained Sophia 100 years ago! Now it's my turn!"

"Stop acting like a baby! You--" "You're the baby! I'm 97 and you're just 56.I'm way more skilled!"

Eventually they agree to divide the responsibility of educating her between whomever want to teach her. So Reyna gets face to face combat, Thalia is responsible for the knowledge of tracking and self-defense (and the introduction to Rock music) .some other hunter teaches Math, antoher teaches her about nature and animals, etc.

The girl is latina. She also has pointy ears (not human? And the hunters have no idea whether she is a demigod or not.)

Reyna being Protective Mami™

Thalia joins.

Probably all the hunters ends up beings protective aunts who will secretly coo at her when she doesn't notice.

Awkward stories time!

Reyna telling her about the journeys of the the seven and also some inside-information about them.

When she first met Percy she asked if after he became a guinea pig he liked lettuce better, then pouted when he agreed (only because Thalia gave him the look). She made a deal with Thalia that if he did, she'll have to eat lettuce at dinner.

Her favorite of the seven is Frank. She loves his hugs after she grew familiar with him (it... takes time).

Both Thalia and Reyna tell her the stories of Jason, Thalia's brother, and Reyna's closest friend. The gratitude all he has done by passing on his life story to their beloved one, and to anyone willing to listen.

She also fascinated by Annabeth, but who isn't actually?

She heard so many stories of Camp half-blood from Thalia. About Camp Jupiter from Reyna. She also likes to call Percy "seaweed brain" but it's just the cutest and without any repulsion.

Her being friends with Estelle Blofis

They're building snowmen in winter, sand castles in summer, eating blue pancakes and cookies made by Sally Blofis together.

Estelle Is the first friend she makes who is in her age.

Piper and the little girl singing together is just the best?

All the hunters having heart attack from the cuteness.

The girl telling Reyna that even though Piper is a great singer she likes singing with Reyna the best. She wants to kill Reyna doesn't she

Leo showing her his gadgets (after Reyna make sure they're unexplosive)

She doesn't get to see Centaurus in her journeys with the hunters so she's so thrilled to meet Chiron. She asks for a ride and Chiron awkwardly agrees. It's offensive for Centaurus to "give a ride" to someone, but she's so polite and looks at him like all her dreams come true.

She says it's the best thing she's done in her life and all the hunters are very offended.

The hunters crushed CHB in Capture the Flag that visits. Revenge accomplished.

The best thing for Reyna and Thalia is to see how shiny and nice their kid is. She was so afraid and alone. Now she has the hunters and both camps. She's opening up, and it's more than they could have wished for her.

Yup. The hunters love their new "recruit".

A.N.

Yeah, I like this au. A lot. If you guys will like it I'd be glad to make more headcanons about this! All you need to do is let me know!

Wish you enjoyed this!

[leaveharmony]

The Rate My Villagers post absolutely no one asked for: post-Rocket edition (...there is no Rocket edition)

Leopold: 

10/10 The best boy.  Leopold was my first camper, which I have now learned means he could not have been rejected even if I had intended to, but I did actually not mean to say COME LIVE HERE right away!  I was just excited to have a visitor, and also it was a Cool Lion, and he immediately reminded me of Tana.  Also he was eating a doughnut, which made him even more endearing.  I love his entire design, from the green Tana hair that sometimes from behind makes me think he’s just part of a tree and sometimes has resulted in me running up to say hello to an unrelated tree that is not in fact him, to his sleepy eyes, to his big broad nose, to his little wee Lennon glasses, to the fuzzy lil ears that MATCH his toe beans in a dazzling display of coordination that is the envy of people who merely match their bags to their shoes.  No other lions, nor smugs, will ever be required on Kentanna because the positions are 100% filled.  He has never asked to leave but if he slid the dodos seven million bells in the dead of night to fly him away they would know I’d double the fee to keep him, circle the island a few times and land back at the dock, where I’d be waiting to give him a new hat.

(Everyone else under the cut)

Big Top:

10/10 Oh my god.  The first villager I chose, if I remember correctly; when the first three plots opened up after Cobb and Rocket were assigned.  I don’t remember if he was the first one I found, but I do distinctly recall saying “Oh my god, it’s an elephant,” and being instantly delighted.  It’s funny because almost everything that irritated me about Rocket’s design is wonderful on Big Top; wearing hats over his helmets, the little green suit never coming off...I think it’s just because elephants are inherently funny.  Like the other ones on the superhero team...the cat, the squirrel, Rocket, they just look silly, but it works on Big Top because elephants can get away with anything.  Love his laid back eyes and his mouth being off to one side, excellent tail, points for traditional elephant colouring.  He is never leaving.

Cobb: 

10/10 ok listen.  Listen.  I was dealt two starters by the gods, and Rocket was a disaster, but Cobb amused me as soon as I saw him.  He’s a green pig.  That’s fantastic!  I lost my entire mind the first time I saw him sitting under a tree reading and realized that it isn’t his glasses/goggles making him look like he has blank yellow eyes...his eyes are just blank and yellow.  His snout is so enormous that when he looks down I can’t see his mouth and I cannot tell you how cute it is, but I also love how wide his mouth actually is under normal circumstances.  When he does his exercises, his left ear flops...but only the left one.  The first thing Cobb did was give me a hat; my first hat, and he has had my sword ever since.

Miranda:

10/10.  Do you even know how badly I wanted a duck, though?  It was my number one wishlist item, and one day I just crawled through that tent flap and there was a fucking pink duck in there, casual as anything about being representative of all my hopes and dreams.  She has apple cheeks!!  She’s wearing eyeshadow!  LOOK AT HER LITTLE DUCK PATOOT!  It sticks out just like that no matter what she wears 😭 When she walks on stone there are little pap pap pap noises and she prefers elegant little dresses.  I’d die for her.

T-Bone:

10/10. I forget in which order T-Bone came to us, but I do recall I’d just set up the plot and intended to go looking for someone to fill it when I realized it was Sold already.  ‘Sold already!??’  I said.  ‘How can this be, I did not authorize this!  Who the hell is T-Bone!  I shall have a stern word with that loose cannon tanuki!’  And then it was just like.  Oh he’s a bull!  And the first thing he did was compliment my dress.  His place was classy, he sounds like Tenzan which is twice as funny because he’s a bull, I like the blue/grey, his minimalist eyes are very good...I just...loved him instantly?  And I know there are several other valid crankies but tbh I look at T-Bone and it’s...my friend T-Bone, not some strange wolf or anteater or bear.  His head is peanut-shaped and I love him more than I love my own father.

Flurry:

10/10.  My first Normal villager was, and it’s kind of telling that I can never remember how to spell her name, Rhoda or Rhonda, the rhino.  I picked her!  She seemed cool I guess, kinda neat.  She was also the first to ask to leave, and since I hadn’t yet formed an emotional attachment I decided I’d let her, so it was time to go hunting.

It was raining.  Little ears appeared on the horizon, flanking a small rain hat.  She had her back to me.  “Yes, good,” I said.  “Continue.”

Flurry emerged in the gloomy light like Athena springing from the head of Zeus. I had no idea what the fuck she was.  A cub?  A really short bear?  Back then I wasn’t sure I could talk to them without inviting them and I wanted a Normal type, but I did not know her name.  A little googling later, realization dawned.

“Hamster!  HAAAAMMMMSSSTTTEEERRRRRRRR” I desperately pm’d to @breadclubrising​, who justly laughed at me.

Look at her.  She is so fucking smol.  She has no nose!  Her mouth is an inverted child’s drawing of a distant seagull.  In certain moods her eyes turn white, and one time she got mad at Big Top for spoiling her book and she was just...stomping around with steam shooting out her ears in the world’s tiniest tantrum.  Do you know how much effort it must take to stomp with legs that short??  That is my Flurry, full of determination.

Cheri:

10/10.  Cheri preceded Flurry, which was why I thought she might be a weird cub at first.  One of the initial 3 after the starters, so her house is, like Big Top and Cobb’s, all wrong on the inside.  Again, I chose her on the hunt ‘cos she met the criteria of smol and adorable and a type I did not yet have.  I am tremendously fond of her but I think I can let her move on to delight someone else who will also be totally unprepared for a small pink bear with anime eyes to stroll out from behind a tree and declare that they are a Friend.

Clay:

10/10.  I was tired, my arm was sore, I was so, so tired of taking mystery tours.  The types were all accounted for, so whoever I found would end up a secondary.  Oddly, it was raining again.   “Oh NO!” I said, when Clay turned around.

Another hamster.  Oh my god, another hamster.

Listen I want to give Roald a shot to penguin the place up, I really do.  But...the thing is...look at Clay.  Look at him!  That is his default poncho, actually, I think the only default outfit I have apart from Bree’s.  This...hippie lookin’ golem hamster, I love him.  The design is so good??  He’s a little piece of caveman pottery, only a hamster.  I love his dots, and I love that the ears are such a vivid aqua to contrast with all the neutrals.  The slit eyes are very good.  There’s no reaction that makes him do it so I cannot demonstrate but when he sings sometimes his mouth makes a perfect round ‘o’

I have lost him 84 times because he’s short and blends in with trees and cliffsides.

Pinky:

10/10 damnit lol.  Pinky was another “Ok, close enough” hunt gone terribly right.  I love that she is ENORMOUS, like I think she’s even taller than T-Bone.  She’s such a great vivid pink, her toe beans contrast so well with it...she’s a panda, what more do I even need to say?  If I was going to keep an additional Peppy after ordering Ketchup I think it’d be Pinky rather than Cheri, which is wild considering you’d think it’d be the other way around.  But I really dig how tall she is vs how tiny all the other girls are...

Bree:

9/10.  I’m not gonna lie, Bree is a stopgap measure.  It could have as easily been Norma or Judy or any of the other randoms I happened across before I got sick of looking for Muffy.

But as stopgaps go, she is a fucking stellar one, eh?  Look at that tiny little body, I could leapfrog her if I wanted to!  The size!  Of the fucking ears!  Just amazing.  She cannot face the direction of the wind lest it blow her into the sea.  Love the hair, love the big green eyes, the blush, the tail.  She is just...very pleasing overall.  The score is 9/10 only because her head is so candy corn shaped that hats just kinda sit on the top and it looks ridiculous; Rocket had the same problem but had none of the cute that makes up for it.  If I could have like,15 villagers, I may even consider keeping her, but alas she is here only until I get my mitts on some amiibos.  I will enjoy her company until then. 🥰 

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

After All This Time (2/2)

twelve x rose - reunion!

~1.6k

“It took a bit of time to get used to the other London. At first it seemed like things were mostly the same, except for the airships, of course. But then I’d see a photo of Westminster Abbey, and all the glass would be blue. Or Shakespeare’s theatre wasn’t named the Globe, it was called the Rose. Which I quite liked, of course, but how weird is that?”

The Doctor and Rose walk under the glowing streetlamps, together but with a deliberate space between them. The Doctor can feel the emptiness in his hand where hers should be, and it sends a near constant ping of feedback to his hearts. Wrong, it buzzes. Wrong.

But he’s determined to let her have her way, at least to start, so he thrusts his hands into his pockets and lets her chatter wash over him. She’s filling the space between them with her words--not to mention her arms, the gestures just shy of frantic--as she fills up more and more time.

And isn’t time what this is all about?

“...notice the stars when we were there together? The constellations are different! There’s one called Zeus, it looks a bit like a bolt of lightning, and one called the Cat, although no matter how much I squint it just looks like squiggles to me. I never learned ‘em when I--well, it hurt to much too look at the stars back then, you know? And then they were going out anyway, so it didn’t matter. But after you--well, John and I learned together, something new for both of us. And we visited so many of the planets orbiting those stars…” She gazes upward, starlight from a billion miles away caressing her tear stained cheeks. She hugs her arms across her chest--not protection from cold, just a bit of comfort.

“Still, there was snow every Christmas, and I learned how to ski. Although that wasn’t on Earth, that was on Pixus 4. Where the snow is--”

“Pink” interrupts the Doctor. They both laugh and the tension lifts, if only a little.

“We even revisited some of the places you and I went together. We went to New New York and had a picnic in the apple grass, and we went to…”

He can hear the shift in her voice, so he finishes for her. “Woman Wept,” he says.

“Yeah.”

She takes his hand and pulls him to a bench under a tree. “I just want to be able to look at you properly,” she says. He doesn’t argue.

“It’s very confusing, loving the same man twice. It’s not like twins, who are genetically identical but fundamentally two very different people. You two, up to a point, were exactly the same. So when you left us on that beach--yes, I loved him, honestly I knew right away that I loved him, but I still had to mourn you. I knew you weren’t dead, but you were lost, and there was a hole in my heart John could never fill.” Something inside him leaps at this, knowing she’d held a place for him. He’d always held onto her, even knowing he’d never see her or touch her again. At this thought he brushes an errant hair back from her forehead and tucks it over her ear, just because he can. Because she’s here and he can touch her again.

“I had to mourn him too, Doctor.” Her voice is pleading. “He was you but not you; he was himself and I loved him and then I lost him, just like I lost you.”

“How long have you been back in this universe?” he asks. His voice is gentle; he doesn’t need to forgive her because there’s nothing to forgive.

She won’t meet his eyes. “About a hundred and ten years. Give or take. My TARDIS will know exactly.”

He holds himself in perfect stillness, doesn’t let any outward reaction show.

Inside, he lets himself cry out. All that time he could have been with her. He understands, but he can’t help but ache.

Rose takes his hands in hers. “At first my excuse was that I just couldn’t bear to find you wearing the same face. It would have hurt too much. And then I told myself I could ease into things, wander around a bit and then go back to right after you left me. I had a time machine, after all. I knew you had to take Donna home--John explained to me what was going to happen to her--and I could meet you on the street outside her house right after that. Because you’d probably need me then, and we could heal each other. But I kept on wanderin’, and helpin’ people, and I even invited a few to travel with me from time to time.”

A stab of jealousy goes through him, and he must not keep it from his face because Rose giggles. “Short trips only, Doctor. No one could ever take your place. Besides, I’m sure you had others with you.”

His grin is sheepish. “A few.”

“And I still look the same. Just like I did all those years ago, when you first grabbed my hand…” Another tear slips down her cheek. “I look the same, but I’m so different now, Doctor. And I wasn’t sure...I just wasn’t sure if you’d want me.”

“Oh, Rose,” he says, squeezing her hands. “Oh, my Rose. I’ve been wanting you since that very first day. And I wouldn’t want you to be the same. I’m certainly not the same man I was back then. I’m still your Doctor--I’ll always be your Doctor--but I’ve been through joys and pains, too. Our lives are what make us who we are. Our experiences. How we grow and change and adapt. We’ve spent some time apart, but I think--if it’s what you want--that we could learn to grow together again.”

She leans forward, ever slowly, as if she’s giving him every opportunity to back away. But he doesn’t, he couldn’t, he belongs to her and she is getting closer and closer…

And then her lips are on his, soft as rose petals, at first barely touching him but then trying to tell him everything she can’t say with words. And he may not understand every bit, but he’s going to spend the rest of his lives trying, if she’ll let him.

*

“RUN!”

He grabs Rose’s grasping hand and they run, and first they’re just running but soon they’re laughing. “I think we lost ‘em,” Rose says.

“You know that’s my line, don’t you?” says the Doctor once they’ve slowed to a walk. He squeezes her hand, pulling her close.

“Haven’t you figured out that you’re not in charge anymore?”

He huffs. “As if I was ever in charge.”

Rising on her toes, she kisses his cheek. “Now you’re getting’ it.”

He can’t help but smile. Having Rose with him again has been a whirlwind--a happy, endorphin- and kiss-filled whirlwind. Today they’re on past Earth, running away from the January 1, 1601 premier of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Globe Theatre in London. Everything had been fine until the he’d started complaining that Puck got his final monologue wrong. People wanted to know how he knew, then others got involved...Rose had been right, better to get out of there. And there had been the added bonus of running with Rose, yellow-gold hair streaming out behind her, laughter echoing off the buildings.

They’d run for blocks and she’s barely even winded. It worries him sometimes, how much she’s been changed, how much she continues to change, but it means she gets to stay with him so he tries not to think about it too much. She says they’ve got ages to figure things out, and he always agrees with her. Out loud, at least.

But still he worries.

And every time she’s in any kind of danger his hearts still clench. He knows she’s not exactly in the “fragile human” category anymore, but she doesn’t have Time Lord physiology either. Although the latest scan she’d consented to (after much cajoling on his part) showed some anomalies in her blood that had raised his eyebrows a bit. Her blood type no longer conforms to the general human types--it showed that she’s shifting over time, becoming something entirely new. Entirely herself.

Which is, of course, as it should be.

“Do you have to make a disturbance wherever you go?” Rose asks, breaking into his thoughts.

“Well, if he’d only remembered his lines I wouldn’t have disturbed anything.” But he’s laughing, not being all that contrary.

“What are the chances you remembered it wrong?”

He stands up tall, straightening his jacket. “Less than zero. I know my Shakespeare.”

“Maybe you just heard the original ending for the very first time. Maybe Shakespeare changed it later. Maybe even because he heard some bloke in the audience ranting about how Puck got the ending wrong.”

“I...never thought of that.”

Rose laughs, and his heart sings. All those years without her...sometimes he thinks it was her laugh he missed the most. Her laugh and her smile. And her hand in his.

He’s turning into a sentimental idiot. (She tells him he’s been that way all along. He rolls his eyes, but she’s probably right. She usually is.)

“Back to the TARDIS, love?” he asks, squeezing her hand.

“Not yet,” she says, smiling up at him through her lashes. “It’s New Year’s Day, at least it is right now. Let’s enjoy London for a bit longer. Walk with me, Doctor?”

And how can he say no?

Later he’ll play for her, and kiss her, and lift her into their bed. But for this moment, right now, they walk through the past and into their shared future.

***

Doctor Who taglist:

@doctorroseprompts @btab66 @magicaltimelady44 @nakiju13 @sunniebelle

[loki-fanfic-whore]

Falling From Olympus ch.1

Warnings: none so far

@drakesfiance

Chapter 1 Absence

Your eyes opened slowly as terror struck you. This wasnt your room. This wasnt even your realm. The air smelled different here.

"Oh gods...mother will kill me..." you whimper out as you try to stand. A shackle clacking loudly on your ankle. Staring down it took you a full minute to process what was happening. You gently shifted into the form of a leopard and slid from the cuff. Your clothes laying in a pile at your feet. Your door burst open and a strange man walked in to stare at you. He was followed by two men you assumed to be guards.

"So the woman can morph." He spoke keeping eye contact with you. You paced about the room panting angrily. This foolish being must have been who imprisoned you.

"And where did she come from?" He turned and looked to a guard.

"She fell quite literally from the bifrost sir." The guard reported. You didnt understand what he said but you knew they were watching you pace with intrigue.

"So this is a mortal that had fallen into Asgard?" The tall man with slicked back black hair and green eyes stared you down. You calmly shifted back to your "human" form as your hair grew long behind you and your skin looked pristine and soft. You bore yourself fully exposed to him as you stood tall with your chest out.

"I am no mortal. I am a god." You found yourself saying angrily. Your voice soft but dripping venom.

"That makes two of us. Pray tell me, what are you the God of?" The man snarled as he smirked down at you. His eyes drinking in your naked form.

"I am the Goddess of Spring and of Vitality in women. I have been called many names...Kore... Persephone." You found yourself weary of this man. He put his hands on his hips and bit his lip.

"I am Loki, King of Hel and God of mischief and tricks." He grinned and offered a hand. You shook it gently.

"Now how about some clothes?" He spoke jovially.

"No need, where I come from gods can do as they please and wear what they please. I seem to have fallen into your realm is all...what is 'hel' even?"

"Yes well, here even gods must cover themselves. Lest you would like to be sullied by any man who lays eyes on you." His guards look away at that point. You sigh angrily and pick up your white and red robe, wrapping it around your bosom then letting it fall in the front while the other end of the cloth drapes over your shoulder to fall behind you. You fasten your golden chain around your waist and stand still mostly naked infront of him.

"Better? Now will you explain your 'hel'to me?"

Loki smiled and offered a hand to you.

"Walk with me in the gardens. I think you will be pleasantly surprised at the fact we aren't all savages and beasts." You took Loki's arm and walked barefooted next to him. The gardens were spectacular and rivaled your garden back home. Loki smiled as you ogled the flowers and chuckled when the grass and flowers grew around you with each step you took. You reached out and touched a small baby sapling of a tree. It grew large and luxurious at your touch. Fresh green apples growing from it's branches. You smiled as one fell into Loki's hand.

"Green is my favorite color." You spoke up causing him to smirk.

"Green is my royal color madame." He motioned to his robes. A smile played your lips as you bit into an apple you plucked from the branch. The sour juices dripped from your pink lips and you watched as Loki lost his composure for just a moment.

"Hel is our resting place for lost or damned souls. I am the king of the realm, but I must admit, I never go to the realm." Loki avoided your gaze for a moment as he shifted on his feet. You didnt realize it, but the sight of anything dripping from your beautiful pink lips went straight to his loins.

"So tell me, what is it like in your realm?" He asked trying to redirect you and himself.

"Well it's...superfluous... to be honest everyone is too nosey and opinionated...momma doesnt like me to be anywhere without her-" you clapped a hand over your mouth as Loki grinned a Cheshire grin.

"Momma? Pray tell, pet, what is your momma's name?" Loki smiled showing dimples in both cheeks.

"Her name is Demeter...she is goddess of life and death and of fertility. She expects her daughters to be virtuous and chaste. She- she forbid me from being near men for the first several years of my life." You spoke this quietly staring down at your feet. Your queenly demeanor slipping causing Loki to straighten. The name was ringing a far off bell, but he couldn't quite put it in perspective.

"So- you are able to do and wear what you want, except for what your mother deems inappropriate? That doesnt sound as free as you made it seem in the beginning...Am I the first Male to see your flesh?" He decided he would try to push you out of your snobby facade. You looked up at him with doe eyes and half hooded eyelids.

"I-I have bathed with other gods, but never carnally...you are the first Male to look upon me with-"

"Desire?" Loki tried to finish

"Without disdain." You finished. Your hair blew gently in the breeze as you sighed deeply. A crack of Thunder sounded near by and you jumped placing a hand to your chest. Loki rolled his eyes as Thor burst into the gardens screaming.

"Where are you brother mine?!" He roared as he summoned Mjölnir and caused another crack of thunder. Loki gently grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you behind him. You thought he was protecting you, but in his reality he was hiding you from Thor. The damned Oaf would never understand and would try to summon you to the dungeons.

"What do you want Thor?" Loki snarled and stood tall to hide you.

"Father...." you whispered breathlessly. As Thor held up Mjölnir and a sudden flash of lightening electrocuted him. Loki winced from your words for just a moment before glaring at Thor again.

"You dyed Sifs hair, you beast!" Thor held Mjölnir up against loki's face and glowered.

"She looks better with black hair! It's not my fault she fell for it!" Loki's words dripped in pride for the trick he played. Thor lifted Mjölnir above his head threatening to strike Loki, only for you to cower and inadvertently show yourself.

"Brother who is this? I have never seen her here in the palace, is she a new concubine?" Thor asked while lowering Mjölnir. He wasnt meaning to be malicious, but you immediately felt your honor and title besmirched. You puffed up and opened your mouth to retort.

"I am a g-" Loki clamped a hand over your mouth to shush you.

"She is new, but not my concubine. She will be my governess. Helping me with my day to day royal duties. Please be civil with her. She is...scared of lightening." Loki made up the lies effortlessly and Thor drank in every one. He bellowed a great laugh and then held out a large hand.

"My apologies, my lady, I am called Thor. God of lightening!" He chuckled as you clutched his massive hand, with your tiny-by-comparison hand, to shake.

"Charmed" you purred. Thor having forgotten the original dilemma turned and left the gardens leaving you to turn and make eye contact with a curious Loki.

"Curiosity killed the cat." You spoke curtly. He cupped his own chin and stared quizzically.

"But satisfaction brought it back, my dear." He retorted smiling. You bit your lip and he had to stifle a groan. You were obviously a chaste and albeit very attractive goddess.

"Tell me...why did you whimper out 'father' when Thor approached?" He stepped towards you and removed a piece of debris from your hair.

"My father is the only God I know who can command lightening. He is the God of lightening and war. He is also the king of gods." You spoke softly but Loki looked even more puzzled.

"Is his name Odin?"

"No...its Zeus....Loki I must go home...Momma- mother will be worried sick." You answered sharply before turning on your heel to leave him. Your mother would truely be worried sick and your father would be angry you had left, even if it was by accident.

You needed to find a way home and quickly.

[fairyshuuu]

Pomegranates

mythology!au genre. fluff length. 3.5k pairing. hades!sehun x persephone!reader

As long as he’s been floating around the voidness of timeless space, Sehun has struggled with light. There was Aether, who was just too bright and emotionless for his liking, and Herema, much like her brother. You had the sky, that was full over waviness and gods and goddesses milling about with loud screams and thunder and lightning sparking from their skin like they had everything to prove. Sehun never liked light, everyone in it seemed full of themselves in one way or another, his brothers and sisters nothing less.

But that was then, and now, now he’s not sure how he could ever have hated light so much to ignore the beauty that cast his shadows so clearly. You. Daughter of Demeter, child of harvest and in his eyes, the prettiest creature he’s ever seen. You’re known by the name Persephone, though he doesn’t know what name you choose to go by, much like his is Sehun instead of Hades. It’s strange, he thinks, hiding in the shadows of the pillars that surround the garden, that something so in contrast with himself, can bring him so much joy.

You’re bent over the plants you’re tending to, a gentle smile on your face and a small sparkle in your eyes as you hum a song. It’s one Sehun doesn’t know, but therefore it sounds twice as sweet. He was on his way back down to his Kingdom, when he tripped over a vine and stumbled into this concealed dome full of life. Of course, first disgust and agitation filled him, stupid plants keeping him from his descent. But then you entered the clearing with a giggle and it stopped him in his tracks.

Your hair falls delicately around your face, framing it painterly as you reach for one of the brightly colored flowers that make his stomach twist. Out of your colorful flowy dress, you take a little pair of shears and go to work, removing the dead leaves one by one. Every time you do though, you apologize softly to the plant, and by the end of it Sehun is so in love with your gentle heart and grace, that he might sink through the ground all together.

Sehun swallows this thick feeling away though, knowing full well that someone like you could never like someone as cold and ruthless as him, and with slow steps he makes his way back out of the dome. Well, that’s the plan, but his foot hooks in one of the roots that crawl over the path and he lands in a clumsy pile of shame. He scrambles up with a blush brighter than the sun, making his way out but you’re standing with big eyes in the doorway, blinking in surprise.

“Oh,” you smile, cocking your head to one side as you brush some hair out of the way, and pull your extended hand back towards you now the man has found his footing on his own, “hello there.” You stare at the dark stranger for a second, before giggling softly and brushing some dirt off his gown, which only seems to make his cheeks go from a soft pink to a bright red. “You’re not hurt, are you? I’m sorry for my plants, they are a little unruly from time to time.”

“I don’t get hurt.” The young man responds quickly, tongue sharp. You just pout and weave your hands together, scanning him up and down once. It was quite the tumble though. The person in front of you is tall, a whole lot taller than you, with sharp and dark features that line his face and give it a strong structured look. His raven hair is messy, barely tucked behind his ears, that peek out a little cutely. You’ve never seen a God with both eyes and hair as dark as the night, but you decide it looks good on him.

His high cheekbones move when he clenches his jaw, looking slightly upset, or uncomfortable maybe. You blink your big eyes at him a few more times, but the young man doesn’t say anything else, and so you look past him to your garden. “Do you like my garden?” You prompt, voice soft and filled with your natural childlike curiosity.

The man, whose eyes haven’t left your face once, finally move, instead glancing over his shoulder to take in the colorful place once more. Lotuses and sunflowers make up majority of the color, along with daisies, freesias, lavender and orchids. All flowers that stand for happiness and purity and innocence. Sehun takes a deep breath, before turning back to you and shrugging, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t care for flowers.” He dusts his hands on his robe once, before looking past you. “Now move, child, I need to go back home.”

His words, though a little shocking, only make you more curious. You thought all Gods lived on Olympus. With a small nod, you move aside, though not without taking the man’s arm softly and blinking up at him. “Yes, Sir. Though let me-” you look around quickly, and rush away.

Sehun watches quietly as your tiny shape moves around some of the lilacs and you reach up to pick something, his mouth trembling to not curl into a smile. You come back just as quickly as you left, and push whatever it is into his free hands, a proud smile on your face. “For a safe trip back home.” You nod, tucking your hair behind your ears cutely. Sehun’s arms are filled with corn and apples, fresh from your garden. He fucking hates corn, but you look so happy with yourself that he doesn’t even care.

You bow your head politely and watch as the young man thanks you shyly, before backing out of the doorway and disappearing from view. Thought of the stranger send butterflies to your stomach.

When night falls, your mother returns home, tired of work and collapsing into her lounge chair with a sigh. You rush over and take her heavy crown off her head, immediately wanting to help. With a smile, you talk about your small garden, the one you’ve been tending to proudly for weeks now, learning the craft like your mother, and how the plants caught a stranger.

“He was tall and dark, like … the night, or a crow. He didn’t introduce himself, but I think I liked him.” You smile, massaging your mother’s shoulders softly while she sits with closed eyes. “Mother, I thought all Gods resided on Mount Olympus.”

At that, your mother looks up at you, a frown on her pretty face, one of worry. “Most Gods do. There is only one that doesn’t, that would match the description you gave me. Hades, God of the Underworld.” She looks out over the crops, and then at her hands when you still in concern. “What does that sneaky, lowlife think he is looking for around these parts? He brings nothing but problems.”

You pout, big eyes flicking from your wise mother to your garden, and then to your feet. “But Mother, he seemed like a nice enough person-”

“And still the God of death brings nothing good, Persephone. You’re still young, you don’t know him the way I do.” She sighs, and rubs her heavy eyes. “We shall figure out a solution, my dear Y/N. Do not worry. Zeus will know what to do with him, if he shows up again. I don’t trust him one bit.”

With that she goes to bed, leaving you with more questions than one.

The next day, your mother leaves soon to fulfill her duty, and you to yours. Tending the garden is what you love more than anything, but it is also a lot of work. You water and care for the plants, making them grow and flower and sway in joy, picking apples and corn and sing to the flowers until the sun sits high in the sky. It’s then that you hear a loud noise from behind, almost scaring you to bits. Though a giant smile peeks through not long after.

In the middle of your garden, next to the lavender and sunflowers, stands the man of yesterday. He is encaged by the trap your mother crafted, looking less than happy but your smile doesn’t fade as you rush over. You come to a halt just in front of the cage, looking up at the God of the Underworld with big eyes. Even with a fiery rage in his gaze, he looks soft and clear to you, like the warm darkness of nightfall.

“I’m sorry for the cage, Hades.” You mumble, catching his attention. You pout and wrap your hands around the steel bars, feeling the warm zing of the magic that encases the man. “My mother doesn’t like that you came here, and she wants to call Zeus to work this out. I argued against it, but you know how it is.”

The man almost catches flame, that’s how mad he is. His voice is deep as he stares at you. “You- get me out of this, you little devil. Don’t you know who I am?! I am the God of the Underworld. Let me out of this or I’ll…” He hisses, only to fall quiet. He takes a deep breath, anger ebbing away slightly, and glares at you. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.” He adds, tone slightly sarcastic.

You just drop to your butt in front of the cage, reaching to pick a flower as you sigh. “I’m sorry, Hades. I know who you are, but I can’t help. It’s a magic spell and I can’t do anything about it.” You pout and let yourself rest into the grass entirely, cocking your head a little to look up at the man. “I know who you are, but do you know who I am, Sir?”

He huffs with a roll of his eyes, and looks away, stubbornly biting his lip. You wait for a few more seconds, but he doesn’t even look at you, so you get up and walk away from the cage, bare feet trutting carefully between the daisies. “Hey!” He suddenly calls behind, and you hum without pausing. “Where are you going?!”

“I,” you smile as you brush your fingers past your sunflowers, “am going to tend to my flowers, Sir.”

You don’t look behind you but the pout is audible when Hades responds. “What am I supposed to do?”

You shrug, turning in a pirouette, foot brushing past the lilacs that pull a giggle from you. “I don’t know. Wait, I suppose, until Zeus comes.”

***

“Can you please stop singing? It is hurting both my head and my pride.” A deep voice sounds across the garden, right when you finish picking the oranges and putting them in baskets neatly. Your giggle rings through the dome, making the man groan out. “And when is my brother coming then, I am tired of standing around here.”

Your lips automatically curl into a smile. The God of the Underworld is a tall, mopey child. You walk between the flowers to look between the sunflowers at him, out of view. He stands resting with his forehead against the cold metal of the cage, picking at some threads of his gown. You humm softly, as he looks up, before giggling and poking your head out of the flowers.

“If your pride is so weak that a song can hurt it, that might be your problem and not mine, Hades.” You pick the brightest sunflower and walk over to the cage, where you can feel the dark man’s cold gaze on your skin. Your cheeks almost hurt from how wide your smile feels. With a quick brush of your hand, you poke the sunflower through the bars and wrap it around, the stem bending with love and melding with the steel.

“Wh- WHat are you doing?!” Hades protests, but you softly tap his fingers before he can touch the flower.

“Magic is a beautiful thing.” You grin, a little proud at putting the man in his place as he stares with open mouth. “Things can go in, but they can’t go out. I brought you the brightest sunflower from my garden, to keep you company.”

Hades huffs loudly again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate sunflowers.”

You giggle, already turning away from him again with sparkling eyes. “You seem to hate pretty much everything, Hades.”

“And stop calling me Hades! It’s Sehun, please.” He’s practically stomping his feet now.

You turn, blinking your big eyes softly. What a child. An adorable, mopey God of Darkness with a big heart. “My name is Per-”

“-sephone,” he finishes, sitting down on the soft grass with a pout, “I know.”

You nod, biting your lip to hold in a giggle. “I prefer Y/N though. Only my friends can call me that.” Sehun doesn’t say anything, but you can tell that his face softens. “Want me to sing a song?”

Sehun smiles at that, looking up at you for a second, before his face goes cold again. He sighs. “Sure. But something about Death this time, maybe.”

You shake your head, smiling as you walk away. “Not a chance.”

***

When night comes, you return to the cage, where Sehun sits with his back pressed against the side. He blinks at you when you come to sit down in front of him, and nods. You smile, and glide a little basket full of fruit inside, along with a lotus. Then you lay down, looking at him through the sparks of the magic field. “You know,” you start, as his eyes come to rest on you, “I think I’ve figured out why people don’t like you.”

Sehun raises a brow. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

You brush a hand through your hair. “You act so scary and angry and strong, but really you’re just like all of us. In need of care, and love.”

Sehun looks away at that, frowning as he looks at the moon. “I don’t need care, Y/N. The God of Death doesn’t need anything, except for sacrifices.” He looks over at you for a second, where you breathe softly. “You want to know why people don’t like me? Because I am scary, and angry, and strong. You wouldn’t understand.”

“My garden likes you,” you yawn, closing your eyes softly as you curl your legs closer to you, “life likes you. And I don’t think you’re scary and angry, if it helps.” Your face rests comfortably on your arm, listening to the soft rustle of the plants and Sehun’s soft breathing.

Sehun stays quiet for a long while, before taking a deep breath, and scooting a little closer. “When in Zeus coming?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, already falling asleep after all your hard work, “Zeus is a busy man.” The dome falls quiet, listening to your soft voice. “But I hope he doesn’t come soon at all.”

“Wh- Why not?”

You yawn again, eyelids fluttering tiredly. “So that I can keep you close to me.” Your lips move but barely a sound comes out, and you’re not sure if Sehun hears. It stays quiet, and soon you’re drifting to sleep.

The next morning you awake next to the cage first, rays of light tickling your face. Sehun has fallen asleep against the cold metal, slumped into himself in a cute ball of limbs. You brush a hand through your hair, before getting up from the floor, rolling your shoulders. You’re, surprisingly, not sore at all. When you stand up though, something tickles your foot. You drop your chin to your chest.

Where you slept, and where Sehun still sits, have grown thousands of little flowers, forming a bed of white against the green grass. You smile softly, taking a step back. And though you soon have to get working again, the smile stays plastered on your face, unable to fade the entire morning.

***

“Okay, how about this?” Sehun prompts, making you look over from where you’re pushing a new flower into the ground, it’s roots finding the wet soil. “I know you said no dead plants, fair enough. But how about deathbell or nightshade? I’ll even take some Asphodel. But if I have to look at that stupid corn one more second, I’ll have to burn it all once I get released.”

“Mhmh,” you shake your head stubbornly, “it’s my garden. And I don’t want any plants here that resemble death, I’m sorry, Hun. Everything here makes me happy, and I want to keep it that way.”

Sehun groans loudly, dramatically falling back on the floor. He kicks up his feet into the air, huffing. “Okay! Okay, how about fruit? You like fruit, right?” You look over, pausing slightly. Sehun immediately grins, pointing at you. “You do, your eyes are sparkling all cutely. Here is the deal. Pomegranates.”

“Pomegranates?” You raise an eyebrow, patting the new flowers softly as they curl under your touch, blooming softly.

Sehun shrugs. “Yup. I love pomegranates.” His dark eyes glide over your face, a smile on his pretty lips.

“I don’t know, Hun,” you pout, looking around your dome at the light as it falls through, “Demeter might be unhappy if I do. This is not supposed to be fun for you.” You can’t help the giggle that follows when Sehun sends you a baffled look.

“Oh, come on. Y/N. Please. I’m begging. No more corn, please.”

You get up, and twirl around, debating quietly. “Okay, but I have one request. You can’t eat them, or else you’ll have to stay with me. You get to look at all their beauty, but you can’t taste.”

Sehun sits up too, his obsidian eyes shimmering brightly. “Deal.”

***

Planting the pomegranates was easy, right in front of the lavender patch, right in Sehun’s view. They looked beautiful and lively in no time, giving you a warm feeling inside. But the real reason was the smile that adorned the God of the Underworld’s face, giving him too a childlike expression. You’d never admit it, but you had fallen for him deeply.

You push another basket full of fruits into the cage, smiling softly when Sehun sighs in relief at the sight of you. He walks over towards you. “Where did you go, little one?”

“Had to go listen to a message from Hermes. But it’s no problem.” You smile, but something looks off, and Sehun catches it easily.

“Hey,” he pouts, reaching out to you. You look up, and hand your hand to him. Sehun brushes his thumb over your palm softly, cocking his head to the side in question. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll miss you when you go.” You pout. “It’s so empty here without you. And Zeus is sure to come soon and then I’ll never see you again.”

Sehun smiles, giggling. “And that’s a bad thing? I’m the one messing up your garden, remember?”

“Yeah,” you lean your head against the bars, “and I like my garden messed up. It looks better this way.”

He smiles as he brings up your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles. “I think so too.” He squeezes your hand softly, before letting it drop and bending down. He picks up the basket and looks into it, searching for- a pomegranate. With a smile and a deep breath, he takes a bite out of it, before you can reach into the cage fast enough to take it away.

“Sehun!” You yelp, “You can’t eat them!”

He swallows the seeds smoothly, before putting the rest down. “No, I can’t. But I did. So I guess now Zeus can’t send me back, that would be breaking a promise. Gods don’t break promises.”

You blink, unable to say anything significant. “B- But the -Underworld…”

He nods. “Yeah, that might be a little bit of a problem. But I don’t want to miss your bright little face.”

You smile at that, blinking away the wetness in your eyes. “How about this, corny? You go do your job during the cold months, and come back here when it’s time to grow the plants.”

Sehun smiles. “Once I get out of this cage, that sounds perfect.”

You giggle and reach into the cage, pulling him down to meet your lips to his, Sehun freezing up in surprise. He soon melts into you, filling your entire body with butterflies. “Now it’s perfect.” You breathe, only being met with a hum from him, and soon his lips are back on yours.

If you know the original story, it doesn’t match up because I thought I’d be fun to reverse the story! Inspired by Greek Mythology and this post x. I really hope you enjoyed reading, because I liked writing it. Thank you for reading!!!

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, HIRAYA! You’ve been accepted for the role of TITANIA. Admin Rosey: We finally have our Titania! I could scream it from the mountain tops how excited I am that you will be playing our beautiful, our wickedly intelligent, our incredibly complex Titania. They were honestly one of my absolute favorite characters to write and I had begun to lose hope that anyone would breathe life into them. But Hiraya, you have captured their voice so well, their motivation, their traits. All of it. You have captured them in a single application and I couldn’t be more pleased. You have brought us the second piece to our Fae Overlords. And now we can revel in their disaster!  Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Hiraya.

Age | 20.

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | I am generally busy with schoolwork and my thesis, but I am usually on every day, and if not for replies, I am available for plots and other discussions. I can generally write replies every two to three days, but in particularly busy weeks, usually just on the weekends. I think I could rate myself at 6-7/10, numerically.

Timezone | GMT+8.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Past: [x] [x] And of course, I have my wrathful son, Easton! [edmund]

IN CHARACTER

Character | Titania; Theodora Moreau. [I would like to use Medalion Rahimi as their faceclaim, and age them down to 28 years old, please!]

Theodora Reine Celestine Moreau.

(Theodora; God’s gift. Reine; queen. Celestine; heavenly.)

Lavinia Moreau could not decide on a name, eventually gave up, and decided to simply give them all – and the woman did not only give them all these names, along with her family’s own, Moreau, but gave them all the love, riches, and attention that anyone could have ever asked for. “You are God’s gift to me, pomme d’amour,” candy apple, she calls them, fondly, punishment for the stolen apples clearly not on her mind that day she found the little girl. “And you shall grow up to be the heavenly queen of our empire. I am sure of it.”

What drew you to this character? |

Ethereal and exalted, dignified and divine. It was not only in the way they held themself, the way their head was always held high as if a crown was placed there, or the way they spoke – with a dream-like quality and a richness of vocabulary that lets one know they are in the presence of a heavenly being, brighter than the sun. It was, more than anything, evident in the very weaves of her soul – of her beautiful, beautiful mind (for I envision that Titania considers the soul and the mind to be one and the same).

However, much like a young god, they were heavenly, and yet still had the trappings of a mortal: laced with pride, gripped by their own pain and suffering, and living out their own personal hell inside their mind.

Titania was born into cruelty and filth, young eyes tainted by the scenes of horror in the streets of Verona, learning early on to fight tooth and nail for survival. The streets give no one any choice, for it has never been kind, and those who had the misfortune of having nowhere else to turn to but its puddle of blood and sin have to live every single day with fear and survive with their own brand of bravery, much like rats. They were a rat back then, and they have not forgotten and never will forget. They have learned a great many things from their time in the streets, but they knew they would never want to go back to such a lowly life of desperate hunger and piteous violence. Yet all of the memories were ingrained deep into their bones, the knowledge locked away and kept until they prove useful. But for the eyes of those outside their inner circle, they perpetuate the legends, the tall tales of their own origin that cover the truth of their true beginnings, to bury the sad truth of a childhood remembered through phantom aches of a hungry belly, and a gut eating away at itself to remind them how the most basic of needs of their needs becomes luxury when they have nothing.

Lavinia was the beacon of hope, the bright ray of sunlight that penetrated through the darkness of their life. Salvation and love and everything right in the world, in the form of a woman who is both their savior and mother. For years, they have both been awash in happiness – each one the savior of the other. But Titania should have known it could not last. Should have known that the universe liked to play its cruel games and could grant happiness as easily as it could take. And so the bright ray of light in her life ceased to shine, and their body ran cold and numb before the pain set in, more visceral than the pain hunger could bring to their gut, more painful than blood spilling from their veins. The pain ripped apart every fiber of their heart and pressed down upon their ribcage, and the devastating pain of this loss took hold of their entire body and made its home there, never to leave again.

They knew of pain more than they knew of love, now, and their mind refused to let the universe win every single second it breathes despair down into their helpless lungs. They had to create happiness in its pure form, had to believe that they need not rely on the vast uncaring universe for it anymore.

The pain has paved the way for their creative mind to shine, has given it avenues to soar, to fly high, and achieve great things. Titania has become a queen of the empire left to them by a loving mother and her wealthy name. And Titania has become a young god in their own right, one who stands at their pedestal and looks down upon the veins of the city they have grown to love, imagining all the ways their creation would color the streets their bones knew so intimately, and imagined how happiness would soon come for all. The happiness that they would mercifully grant this city of pain and suffering, with all the benevolence of an ethereal and heavenly queen.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

FENDING OFF THE SLUAG; The Sluag are the nightmares of the fae, the horde of darkness that comes now and then, the ones the fae desperately try to fend off. To them, Nikolai Borisov is of the sluag, their nightmare made flesh, words of taunt irking them to no end. He was one of the greatest mistakes they have ever made in their life, and they regret what has happened every single moment they see the man’s smirk and their wicked smile. Titania have been pushing off all their taunts for so long, that they want to finally silence the man. And though they are not likely to kill the arsonist, they would yearn to humiliate him, to bring him down. Whether they had to do it themself, or delegate it to someone else, it did not matter to them, as long as they witness the man’s humiliation, as much humiliation and embarrassment that he has brought them.

THE QUEEN AND THEIR CONSORT; Orpheus, ruler of his own underworld. Zeus to their Hera. They did not know what kept drawing them back to the flame. Had they been fooled by their own mind? Do they not truly understand love? They have always believed in the simple chemical nature of love, in the biology of it. But perhaps it is truly an illusion to try and control that which, millennium of poetry and stories have proven too wild to tame. Perhaps they are not as autonomous of their own emotions as they believed. I want to see what depriving themself of Oprheus’ touch will do to them, how far they could it take it before they eventually give in, and truly realize that there are some mysteries of the universe that even their own powerful mind could not even presume to control, give in once again to their heart and let it take control.

BLOOD OF THE FAERIES; The creation of the sangue is a highlight of their life – it is their life’s work and they will take every single step towards its success. I envision them using their own practice as a psychiatrist as a cover for their true purpose among the Capulets, by taking in clients in the guise of “patients” and have their dealings in their own clinic, which would have just been eastablished. I also see them testing the sangue on their test subjects here and recording their responses before they are absolutely certain it is ready for the streets of Verona.

SOARING HIGH/ DEVASTATING LOW; Once their creation hits the streets – and for it to succeed and replace the drug of the Montagues and put them out of business. I would like to see if this could somehow fill this hole in the center of their soul, if it could finally make them truly, genuinely happy. Or, the other outcome – for it to fail and knock them back down even further and see if it could be what finally makes Theodora give up on everything, or if it would only push them further to achieve even greater heights. Would they succumb to the hopelessness or would they rise back up again and power through the pain? Or would they simply break?

A SACRIFICE OF SOULS; Mikael and Celeste. They have been testing the sangue on the poor unfortunate souls which fascinate them to no end, but even though they wanted more time with their subjects to really observe the long-term effects, it was not possible. Mikael’s work and Celeste’s allegiance proves to be crutches to her plans of long-term testing. However, with recent developments, with Celeste in their clutches indefinitely, they see it as a perfect opportunity to do what they have always wanted to do.

THE PHOENIX AND THE FLAME; Companionship for information – it was the dyamic they have settled into, and Theodora revels in it. They have often wondered, however, if Halcyon, who was perceptive enough to realize that Theodora would be useful, would also be perceptive enough to notice that they were holding back. Keeping some things for themself. I would like to see what could happen if Halcyon would confront them about this, and what it would do to their relationship.

A BABE IN THE WOODS; Titania sees potential in the young saint of Verona, and surprisingly, could also see quite a bit of themself in the young woman. Perhaps they could assuage the guilt that has taken residence in their heart since their mother died, could make up for the time they had taken for granted the love that was given to them when they got too settled and comfortable in their new life. So I see Titania wanting to protect Catherine, providing her the knowledge they had, giving her reprieve from the violence that the brewing war would bring. And they would see it as a homage to their own mother, an act of following in her footsteps, doing for this Daly girl what Lavinia Moreau did for them.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes, I have already sold my soul to this tale. I will gladly accept all the pain and suffering.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Interview:

What is your favorite place in Verona?

What does your typical day look like?

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

It was understandable, of course, how anyone from outside the circle would desperately seek to find truths about them, would crave the knowledge and map out the inner workings of their mind. Who would not want to tear apart and dissect a god, to see if they bleed just like mortals do? To see if they share the visceral internal pain that is a part of life and living? And though Verona is a pantheon, if one wanted to know about pain and suffering, they would not have chosen a better god to dissect – Titania and torment are lovers bound in a marriage neither could get out of.

So the bright-eyed young girl asks her questions, every now and again, throughout the night. Lying naked, creamy white long legs splayed across their own soft sheets. They held no affection for this girl, but they have seen Oberon with a girl just like her, and they wanted to know how the warmth between her thighs were any different to their own. They study the girl’s face and decide there was nothing special about her at all, but they were feeling merciful, so they will heed the questions.

“Verona is amazing, I’m so happy I chose to place for vacation! You live here, you probably have a favorite place, don’t you? Where is it?” she blabbered, excited eyes shining. “What’s your favorite place in Verona?”

Theodora takes a sip of her tea and looks out her windows to watch the sun rising, pushing up against the darkness and making the sky bleed, so the sun could finally shine and illuminate the word again. “All of it, darling,” They answered, sharp, dark eyes meeting the stranger’s hazel. “I have a deep fondness for the entire city,” Even the parts beyond the bridge, even the streets she swore she would never go back to. “I cannot, in good conscience, tell you that I favor one part of it more than the others. I love them all, equally.” Even darkest parts. Even the people. And because they knew it did not concern the young woman, they failed to tell her that this is what drove them to create the sangue, to help the people of her city, her home, to consume happiness, to feel it dusting their lips and coating their tongue, streaming down the river of their depraved, sinful, tormented blood. In a way, they supposed it must have been this which attracted them to Orpheus in the first place – and though he is unwittingly a voice of the downtrodden, there was no changing the fact that he is considered such. And Titania – Titania desires to become the savior of the people in their own way. The God they all worship made the people of Verona suffer, but they have been kneeling at the wrong altar. Soon, they will know this. Soon, they will know that it is by Titania’s shrine that they must offer their prayers and hymns.

“Okay, I guess that’s valid. I don’t think I could name my favorite song if you ever asked me, I like all of the music I listen to,” she plowed on, “I mean, that’s like, why I listen to them.” Titania quirked an eyebrow, nodding their head slightly, holding the young woman’s gaze, eyes never leaving. It was in their nature to be suspicious, and they looked for any sign of duplicity in the woman’s face. “Is that tea? Earl grey? Green? Mint? Chamomile? Or wait, is it jasmine?” she asked, pushing herself off the bed and padding off hurriedly to where Theodora stood, small and stubby fingers closing around theirs and pulling the cup down to take a peak. “Jasmine,” they answered, a smile blooming in their bare lips, devoid of their usual dark red lipstick. “Your name. I did not forget, in case you were wondering, bella.”

Jasmine smiled and looked up to meet their eyes. They were silent for a moment, until Jasmine twirled around, finally landing on the bed. “Is this what you do every day? Wake up early, drink tea, and then, go… I don’t know? To work? What does your typical day look like?”

“You are a curious one, caro gelsomino,” they say, setting their cup down and occupying the seat by the window, facing her, still. These questions raise alarms in their head, and they watch the other, hawk-like. To tell anyone their favorite place could mean they might seek them out in there, might wait for them to be in that place alone, vulnerable. “But there is not much to know. In fact, you have already guessed half of it. Had you continued, you needn’t hear my answer at all.” Jasmine frowned slightly, but not in annoyance. Instead, it was a frown of deep thought. “So you go to work,” she said, repeating absently. “You told me you work as a psychiatrist,” she said, looking up for confirmation, which they gave her – a small patient nod. “Have you ever been, like, really scared you’ll make mistakes when treating your patients? Like, what if something goes totally wrong? I feel like you can’t make any mistakes, but everyone makes them.” She leaned back on Theodora’s bed, placing her palms behind her, her arms supporting her body. “So I just wanna know, what’s the biggest mistake you’ve done so far?” “None,” they answered, automatically. Mortals might know of the god’s transgressions at times, but they’ll be damned if they would tell anyone about their biggest mistakes, to let them hear it come out of their own mouth. “I have never made any.” They punctuate this with a carefree shrug, lips curved in an easy smile, though their eyes remained sharp and calculating. Why would they tell her that every single day, they regret not being there for their mother when she took the last few breaths of her life? Why would they ever tell her how they regret ever sharing their bed with the likes of an arsonist like Nikolai? Or tell her that they regretted every single night they spent tangled up under the sheets with Orpheus, and not ending his life? There is no good reason for her to know. No good reason for anyone to know their secrets.

“Never? Wow. That’s– amazing,” fake reverence, disappointment in her tone. Titania tilted her head and watched the slightest ticks in their features, watching the gears of their brains moving, rubbing against each other in a frantic motion. “Do you even find anything difficult at all? I feel like you could just do anything. What’s the most difficult thing you’ve ever done?”

“Once, I had been assigned a patient who was a pathological liar,” they said, pointedly meeting her eyes, and watching her squirm slightly. Spy, they thought. Trying to weasel out as much information as she could about the Capulet’s enigmatic emissary. “She simply could not stop the lies that spilled out of her tongue. I found her to be very difficult to deal with, but as you know, I never make mistakes. So she was, accordingly, dealt with.” The threat in her words were subtle, but if she was who they thought, it would ring loud and clear.

“I heard two mobs are fighting here.” They smiled slightly at her boldness, keeping up the ruse, with her pretending she did not know about who they really were, pretending not to think anything of what Titania had told her earlier, or them pretending she is an innocent tourist from California, backpacking across Europe, and sleeping with a strange Verona woman because she was doing all kinds of explorations.

“What do you think of the war between them? Doesn’t that break apart the city you love so much?” She met their eyes, and the flecks of gold in them shines, glinting. The small smile that curved in their mouth only widened and grew, blossomed into something lethal and wicked. They had no idea who this girl was, but they intended to find out. Their instinct was telling them she must be one of those who despised all of them – both Capulets and Montagues – and wished for all their deaths. One of those who despised how they all ruled in Verona like the new gods and goddesses, atop an Olympus of their own, creating their own pantheon. Titania stood up and grabbed their phone from the nightstand, pressing it to their ear, their left hand reaching over her face, index finger stroking her jaw gently. “Moth, instruct Quince and Flute to lock down the entire manor. Immediately.” They said no more, dropped their phone back on the nightstand, gentle fingers now holding her jaw in place.

“You are never getting out until you tell me who you work for, ‘Jasmine’.”

In-Character Para Sample:

A year before their graduation from medical school, Lavinia Moreau died. Asleep among the many textbooks and journals they had been perusing earlier that night, they were awoken by the call. ’It was her heart, Madame. Cardiac arrest. I am terribly sorry.‘ And so were they. They were terribly sorry they were not there, terribly sorry that the last time they had spoken to their mother was ten days ago, when she asked when they were coming home to visit her again, talked about a marvelous new painting she had acquired from an auction, about redecorating – “the loveliest shade of red, pomme d’amour, I’m telling you, you must see it!”—and little did they know it would be the last time they would ever hear her voice, the last thing they talked about was the redecoration of the library Theodora had asked for, with the color of red, like an apple, just like what their mother has always called them Pomme d’amour. Candy apple.

It started then, the tears. The sobs, the rage. They tore apart the pages of the journals they had been reading, the ones that kept them from coming home all this time to see their mother, the godforsaken latin honors they were vying for to make their mother proud. In the end, none of it mattered, because they were not even able to see their mother before they died, not able to whisper how much they loved her, how thankful they were. That she was God’s gift to them as much as she thought Theodora was to her.

“Je t’aime, Maman,” they whispered to the wind, rocking back and forth while they sobbed on the floor of their dimly-lit room, hoping that their words would reach the netherworld, would reach their mother’s soul and would latch on to the heart that had stopped working and tore her away from Theodora and the world of the living. “Je t’aime, Maman. Je t’aime.” They whispered over and over again, as they drowned in a river of their tears, hearing the sound of their heart getting ripped apart.

A week later, they held their mother’s ashes close to their body as they sobbed yet again, nostrils detecting the faint smell of fresh paint, their legs splayed on the floor of the library she had enriched for her darling, intelligent child. They remembered all the lessons they had received on etiquette, manners, all the trappings of high society, lovingly delivered by their mother in this very room.

“Forgive me, Maman. Please, forgive me,” they whispered into the wind once more, hoping their mother would hear. And from this tragedy, il sangue di faerie was born. From this tragedy, Theodora Moreau began developing happiness in its purest form, to rid everyone of pain, to take it away and replace it with an exalted kind of jubilance to brighten this dark, dark world.

Extras:

MOCK BLOG.

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HEADCANONS.

Their full name is Theodora Reine Celestine Moreau, for the late Lavinia Moreau could not decide among the three of which name to give dark-haired blessing of a girl that arrived at her hearth and home, and so she gave them all three. “God’s gift – a heavenly queen,” Lavinia told them. “It’s the perfect name for you, bambina.” And perhaps subconsciously they have tried to live up to the name they have been given, to own it and become it, down to the last atom of their being.

Theodora graduated from the University of Bologna with a degree in Chemistry (and latin honors to boot), which they turned into a pre-med, when they decided on a whim that they wanted to become a psychiatrist. The human mind has always fascinated them, and why not combine their fascination for it, with what they have learned in the four years they have studied matter and the atoms that make up the entire universe? They got into medical school immediately, and after four years, became a resident at the Hospital Villa Santa Giuliana. After completing their residency, they established their own practice in the Capulet side of Verona.

They used their psychiatric practice as a cover for their emissary work, accepting clients as “patients” and having some of their dealings with them in their clinic. In their third year of residency, they were allowed their own clinic, and no one at the hospital bat an eye, if they ever noticed anything, due to their vast connections (all forged by the Moreau name) and their incredible reputation in the field of Medicine.

They were 22 years old when their mother died, and six years later, the pain that demanded to be felt still kept grinding their bones, desperately constricting the muscles of their heart. They were thankful to know of love because of the woman, and there were moments in their life when they regretted not being able to express it more, especially in the later years of Lavinia’s life. Theodora had been far too busy with college, away from home, while their mother worked in the several companies that their small family of two owned until life was stolen back from her. They only realized the work their mother did every single day of her life for the two of them when it was too late. What did they know, back then, of love’s austere and lonely offices?

Most of their family’s money came from inheritance, and the wide array of businesses that their family owned – from shipping, to real estate and land development. Their family also owned hospitals, and only recently, a pharmaceutical company, acquired by Theodora themself. In the labs of this company, is where sangue was born, through Theodora’s own rigorous, hard work and perseverance.

Titania met Oberon at Measure by Measure, when they were initiated into the Capulet ranks. They were invited in, their creation paving the way for them to achieve emissary status right off the bat, but they still had to be initiated, else they would never have the respect of those they will work with. They were proud of their powerful mind, but they could not say the same of their nonexistent skill in fighting. They had to learn, and they had to learn fast. They sought Oberon, begged him to instruct them, and from then, the spark had turned into a flame that neither of them could ever put out.

JOURNAL WRITINGS.

“I have always been fascinated by the human mind, and often I have marveled at its capacity to contain the entire universe inside of it.”

“Perhaps the soul for the poet, and the neuron is for the scientist. And yet for me, it is one and the same.”

“I am a creator and spectator. I create for the consumption of others, and marvel at the spectacle I have catalyzed.”