#ichor and nectar

[harleymaguire]

[askthe-littlepoet]

Sooo- how is the Ichor genitalia?

"This is not what I meant by getting that 'godly dick.'"

[dirusflor]

Doodles from awhile back that I don’t know whether if I’ve posted yet featuring AU versions of Ichor

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words related to Mythology

to include in your next story/poem

Ambrosia - the food eaten by Greek and Roman gods; a very pleasant food

Chthonic - relating to or living in the underworld (i.e., the place in ancient stories where the spirits of the dead go)

Chimera - in Greek mythology, a creature with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a snake's tail

Delphi - an ancient Greek sanctuary (i.e., a holy place) on Mount Parnassus, where an oracle (i.e., a female priest) was believed to be able to answer questions with advice from the god Apollo

Fate - what happens to a particular person or thing, especially something final or negative, such as death or defeat

Gorgon - one of three sisters in ancient Greek stories who had snakes on their heads instead of hair, and who turned anyone who looked at them into stone

Harpy - in Greek mythology, a creature with the head of a woman and the body of a bird

Hydra - in ancient Greek stories, a creature with many heads that grew again when cut off; also, a difficult problem that keeps returning

Ichor - in Greek mythology, the liquid that flows in the bodies of the gods instead of blood

Muse - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, one of the nine goddesses who were believed to give encouragement in different areas of literature, art, and music

Nectar - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, the drink of the gods; also, a sweet liquid produced by flowers and collected by bees and other insects

Satyr - a god in Greek literature who is half man and half goat

Siren - in ancient Greek literature, one of the creatures who were half woman and half bird, whose beautiful singing encouraged sailors to sail into dangerous waters where they died

Sphinx - an imaginary creature with a lion's body and a person's or animal's head, usually with wings; in ancient Greek stories, a creature at Thebes with the body of a lion, the head and breasts of a woman, and wings. She asked people who passed by a riddle (i.e., a difficult question) and if they could not answer correctly, she killed them

Underworld - in mythology, a place under the earth where the spirits of the dead go

If any of these words make it into your next poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I’d love to read them!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[forsworned]

SWEET NECTAR ft. PUSSYDRUNK!PRICE

𓈒༑•̩̩͙ 𝗌𝗒𝗉𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗌: 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎

𓈒༑•̩̩͙ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗌, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾

𓈒༑•̩̩͙ 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝗃𝗎𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 (´꒳`)♡

⤷ links: masterlist rules buy me a coffee!!

Fatigue was submerging into his muscles as he unlocked the door to the shared flat, not bothering to kick off his boots but instead placing his fishing hat on the console before heading to the bedroom. The door slightly ajar and his eyes softened at your sleeping form, so pretty, so...

He sighed at his listless, perverse thoughts, but he couldn't help it when you were wearing that soft pink night slip that clung to you like a second skin. He found himself palming at his hardened member as he leaned against the doorway taking in the sight of you. Honestly, he felt a little drunk from the sleep deprivation, buzzy light headedness that his mission consigned his now weary body as his half lidded gaze set itself upon the peaks of your breasts that rose and fell.

Your body stirring awake, squinting at the familiar form in front of you. "John?" You murmured softly and oh your voice.

Your voice had sent him over the edge, sinking him down to his knees at the end of the bed. His stubble tickling at your inner thigh, lips dotting against the surface of your skin that sent a pleasant shudder up your spine.

Fingers immediately carding into his soft, chestnut hair as you sit up a bit to gaze down at his exhausted form splayed out over your lower half. You couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that he was still fully dressed in uniform.

"Missed you, ducky." He hummed against your inner thigh, millimeters away from your now throbbing core. You licked your lips and flashed him a sweet smile that made his insides go gooey; his eyes might as well have had hearts in them from the way he was gawking up at you adoringly.

A small sigh escaped you. "Yeah?"

He alternated from side to side, showering you with heated kisses, making it unbearably achy between your legs. "Yeah." He breathed out, fanning over your clothed pussy.

"How bad?" You wanted to challenge, but your voice breaks as easily as your resolve in a failed attempted at provocation.

He chuckled as he flickered his sapphire gaze up at you and a sly smile graced his lips. "S'bad, ducky."

And honestly he wasted no time removing your frilly knickers and carelessly tossed them to the side before he dove into your sopping, wet cunt. The way he spat on it before lasciviously devouring you, as his calloused hands caressed your sides and rested at your belly. Lewd noises echoed in your shared bedroom walls both from the squelching of his tongue and mouth against your pussy to the moans and whines that salaciously curled out of your lips.

The way your back arched against the sheets to the way your fingers grasped at his mussed hair and shamelessly grinded against this tongue, Price was fighting the urge to absolutely pound you into the mattress. But he'd settle for the way you obscenely inundated his name while you pathetically writhed beneath his grasp.

Incoherence spluttering from your lips as your chest heaved from the euphoria his tongue was bringing you while he eagerly lapped you up, not quite rough but hungrily. The undivided attention your dripping core was receiving had you whining out for him as your fingers scrambled.

"Missed this sweet pussy." He exhaled as he withdrew from you, admiring the ichorous, dewy sight of your folds reflecting in the dim light from the living room. He gave your cunt a long lick, "So good." Another gluttonous lick. "Fuck, angel." He whispered, before gathering his saliva on your pussy once more and he watched as it sank down your swollen and puffy petals. You involuntarily clenched and he shot you an impish grin. Azure hues fixated on you as he eagerly shunted his flattened tongue from your opening to suckling on your billowy clit, sending your back arching once more as he nestled himself between your legs.

At this point you're begging for release in the form of disjointed pleas and half crescents forming into his scalp. "John...john, please! Need...to cu..."

By way of acknowledging your request, he hummed against your pussy and gently prodded his fingers past your needy folds. He moaned again at the feeling of your tight, wet walls soliciting another whine from you.

"H-hah...John...!" You squeaked out as he curled his fingers barely brushing against your sweet spot that threw you in a fervent daze, causing you to sit up as your jaw went aslack and no words could find a place on your tongue. Just the syrupy sweet, impassioned whines that escaped you as your toes curled, reaching your peak.

He was so lost in you, drinking up all your enraptured gasps and divine honey, feeding his carnal desires. "Cum for me, ducky."

And your orgasm ripped through you, completely coming undone as you cried out in pure pleasure. Though he was still having his fill of you even after, sending you wriggling away from him to which he smiled against you and placed a sweet kiss against your mound before he clambered ontop of you. Giggles filled the room as he held you tight against him and peered down at you lovingly with your sweet nectar coating his pinkened lips.

"Missed you." He beamed. Such an infectious smile he had. It made you grin ear to ear as he leaned forward to tenderly kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips and withdrew a bit too quickly for your liking as he sucked on your bottom lip. The corners of his mouth turned up as he tugged on it ever so gently, bringing it between his teeth before unlatching.

You snickered at the naughty grin on his face. "Missed you too."

His lids were beginning to droop as he gazed down at you and he burrowed himself into the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your saccharine scent. Your digits gently looped into his hair once more, as he left a little wake of kisses from your jaw to your collarbone.

Sleep began to envelop this unwavering soldier, and soon the sound of his snores were heard and you inwardly chuckled at his incredible timing. All that work just to end up nodding off, though you'd never complain when he was that good.

𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 ࣪ೀ ࣪ 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 © 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[11queensupreme11]

From the breastmilk titty ask, i’m just curious which yandere who tries to latch on to that titty the most? 😩

idk if this is including the incest kids so i included them too 😅

unhinged, desperately craves the titty milk (in no order whatsoever):

eudorios, to no one's surprise. he needs his mother's milk. he CRAVES IT. it is literally his favorite beverage. it's what he tastes whenever he drinks ichor and nectar. HE NEEDS HIS MOMMY'S MILKY TITTIES SO BAD 😛 the only one on this list that forces himself to hold back cuz he doesn't wanna freak him mom out, but hooooooly shit it's getting harder and harder (literally and figuratively LMAO)

loki. down bad horny and feral for his wifey's titty milk. will literally try to drink it even in public, he has NO SHAME at all and percy's fed up with his ass 😭

anubis. another shameless god when it comes to his wifey's titty milk. he's constantly pawing at her in public, whining and begging and whimpering with little tears even beading in his eyes as he pleads with her: "pls pls pls pls pls, i'm on my knees for you, PLEASE let me drink your sweet sweet milk, honey buns pls pls pls 😭💖💖💖💖"

apollo's another shameless beggar LMAO. he'd drop to his knees and beg for a taste and goes absolutely ballistic once he gets it. he once asked percy if he could make a whole new fountain with her as the centerpiece where the water pours out of her titties and she gave him the silent treatment for a whole month LMAOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

horny, desperate, and lecherous, but with some restraint:

cú chulainn. come on, can you blame him?? he's married to THEEE percilla who literally puts the MOTHER in MOTHERhood, of fucking course he'd be thirsty for the titty milk. while the ones above are shameless, he'd at least have some decency to be private..... and by that, i mean he'd drag her to some dark corner and just drink from her there and try to be quiet

beelzebub! he's the devil, but he has the decency to have some restraint.... keyword being some. whenever he gets a sudden craving, all he could focus on are her tits and he tries not to shamelessly ogle her too, but sometimes it just gets too much that he needs to grab her and teleport her back home so they could have some fun 💖

poseidon. another shameless pervert. he'd just stare percy's boobs down with the blankest face ever before deciding, without a word, to just up and teleport themselves back to the palace so he can drink from her. though in the palace, he doesn't care who sees. he expects his servants to leave once horny times come, so the second they see their emperor and empress/princess return and he just... rips her dress open, they quickly leave the area 😭

thalassandros would literally DROOL at the thought of his mother's titty milk 💀 he fantasizes about it, daydreams about it, etc etc. he cannot escape the titties. they haunt him in a good way. he's literally gnawing at his own lip every time he sees his mother's boobs accidentally leak a bit and has to leave for some... privacy.

axiandros craves his mother's titty milk. he needs it so desperately, surely it can cure his daddy issues! he savors the childhood memories when he was still a babe and his mother freely let him drink from her... constantly has to do the horny grip meme every time he's around her. he's struggling so bad 🥺💔

luke, the sly little devil, definitely wants a taste of his mother's milk and is SUPER sneaky in trying to acquire it. whenever his mother has a little oopsies (a leak), he's always there to lend a hand and wipe her dress clean! it's totally unnecessary since she can just use her powers to dry off, but he's just trying to be a helpful son 💖 as he's wiping her down, he definitely "accidentally" tweaks a nipple to get her to leak more. oh no!

horny, but gentlemanly!:

hades! yes he wants the titty milk sooo bad, but he's at least respectful and suave about asking! he'd ease her into the idea by seducing her and that's how he gets the goods 😋 no need for shameless begging and exhibitionism with him, he's a true ✨gentleman✨

theromedes! ah yes, like father like son, except... he's holding himself back solely out of guilt and fear of his secret affections for his taken mother being discovered 💀 he tries soooooo hard. every time his mother's titties start to leak, he immediately looks away and hands her a napkin because he's just THAT sweet 🥺 (may or may not lick the used napkin when she's not looking though.....)

pontoleon's a little shy and embarrassed to be thinking about it. he's not a kid anymore, why's he so obsessed with his mother's milk all of a sudden? (he's horny, that's why). the idea of drinking from her titties gets him so flustered and hard that he has to flee the vicinity pronto

sirenios thinks everything about his mother is beautiful, including her titties and titty milk! 💖💖💖 daydreams of drinking it straight from the source (her beautiful titties!) or carrying it around a gleaming goblet so he can drink it on the go! 💖

not that interested in the titty milk:

kymon! he likes the taste from when he was a baby, but he's not that horny for it. sure he thinks about it from time to time, but he's not down bad as the losers above LMAO

[dandysworldhcs]

sprout and cosmo individually prepare food for everyone in gardenview (after the ichor incident, the way I think it went, toon handlers kinda had to abandon them all) by working in two separate groups.

first group, which sprout cooks for, consists of rodger, toodles, scraps, goob, poppy, looey, razdaz and boxten.

second group, which cosmo cooks for, consists of glisten, astro, shelly, finn, gigi, connie, brightney and shrimpo.

pebble gets a food bowl near group 1, since cosine kept giving pebble pet treats

vee can't eat (duh)

flutter can only eat nectar, so she gets to sit at whichever table she wishes with either a bowl or cup full of nectar

dandy refuses to take part in dining there but he usually gets sprout to give him 'leftovers' (he makes more specifically for him)

if one of the two is unable to cook, the other takes over by cooking for both tables around an hour apart

also, more depressing note with this: due to having to cook so much for so many people, sprout and cosmo usually don't get to eat that much themselves, and they have actually had to not eat anything for the night or make something else which 9 times out of 10 is not that nourishing or filling many times. they'd never admit it's painful but it's equally painfully obvious

- fireworks anon :3

Codependent Cosmo and Sprout !! I love this idea ... they care too much about everyone else and that means they don't have the time to care about themselves!!! Damn... they need a self care day.... goodness..

[monowritestoomuch]

Riptide

Art belongs to @saixria

Notes: I said bet motherfuckers. Never doubt me. I always deliver, even if I end up taking a year (I’ve done that before, we all have) Count how many times I write divine, lmao. Regardless, enjoy this as I’m still locked out of my main writing account. Yes, my Hamilton fic is being worked on, don’t worry. They’re all being worked on. 

Another thing, I’m no doctor of medicine, so I apologize for any medical inaccuracies.

Foretime = yesterday (in context of the story)

Word Count: 2460

Athena sat in one of the many plush beds in Apollo’s infirmary upon Olympus, staring down at the scars on her hands. They resembled lightning, a strike in the night. 

Athena knew how many mortals had received similar scars upon being struck by lightning, but none had it as harsh as herself. The scars, gold in color, stretched out over her body, up her arms and around her neck, the phantom pain of the injury still residing in her memories. 

A shriek sounded down the corridor outside the room, followed by shouting in one voice. Apollo’s voice. He seemed to be scolding whoever it was that had appeared at the infirmary. Sure, Apollo was easy to startle, but to make him shriek like a child, which hadn’t happened in many centuries.

Athena listened as she heard something, likely a body drop on Apollo, likely driven to unconsciousness. She listened to Apollo struggle and drag the body down the corridor and into the main room of the infirmary, where Athena herself lay recovering. 

Apollo practically dragged the body in, his hair a dastard mess and stygian shadows creasing his under-eyes. He placed the body down on the bed beside Athena, allowing her to gaze on whatever poor minor god who had somehow incurred a wrath so great that they could not heal themselves in their domains. 

Athena’s eyes widened, her body freezing. The god in the bed beside her was no minor god. No, it was her uncle. Poseidon, God of the Seas. Golden ichor dripped from the numerous wounds that had graced his immortal body. The main injury, that dripped golden ichor ceaselessly, was several, repeated stab wounds to the stomach. Three different wounds all dripped in tandem, equal in their intensity and violent nature. The markings of a trident. 

With the profuse intensity the ichor-bleeding wounds held, Athena could only guess that it was Poseidon’s own trident that had injured him. But the question still remained prominent in her mind, who would be able to take Poseidon’s trident and injure him profusely so? Athena didn’t know, not yet, at least, and not while Apollo fervently fretted over their uncle’s unconscious body.

Golden ichor covered practically every inch of her uncle’s injured body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest the only small indication of life still relaying it’s gift onto him. 

Apollo’s hands glowed a soft white over their uncle’s body, the smaller wounds on his body closing, leaving the larger trident-stab-wounds still dripping golden ichor onto the infirmary bed. This, in itself, caused Apollo panic. Athena knew how powerful Apollo was, she knew how capable he was, and yet the stab wounds in his stomach wouldn’t heal, no matter how much Apollo tried, over and over again.

Eventually, Apollo realized he couldn’t heal the wound, for the injury was given by the divine weapon of another god, a god more powerful than Apollo himself. The injury would not heal divinely, so as it was caused by the divine weapon of a god, the god of the seas himself. 

With that being the case, he stitched the wound, spreading a nectar balm over the injuries, before wrapping them up and finishing the wrap around his stomach, going over his shoulder and past his long, dark hair. Another bandage wrapped his left bicep. His head lay heavy on the pale ivory infirmary pillows, his body tucked under the tawny sheets. 

Apollo heaved a heavy sigh, short-term relief echoing in it. He pushed back the long, wavy, golden locks of his hair, a sheer layer of sweat on his forehead, shining in the soft glow of sunshine that graced itself through the windows of the room. He turned to Athena, his shoulders adjusting accordingly. 

“How are you, Athena?” he asked, eyes fleeting between each of his injuries, covered in bandage wraps and nectar balm. “The’ pain any more fleeting than foretime?” he inquired. 

Athena met his golden-eyed gaze. “The pain is–manageable, Apollo,” she answered. Her shoulders evened out as she spoke. “I can return to my duties–” she started arguing once more, being interrupted again by her divine physician half-brother. 

“No, Athena. We’ve had this argument every single day since you’ve awoken from Father’s. . .punishment,” he paused, pursing his lips and crossing his toned arms. “I have told you many times over, it will be another few weeks until you will be able to regain your strength and return to your duties, and until then, you will rest,” he scolded. “I don’t want you trying to sneak out one of the windows like you have tried prior, you are not strong enough.”

Athena shuffled back into the pillows of the infirmary bed, her head pounding and nerves tensing. Apollo’s shoulders sagged as he walked over to the side of Athena’s bed, conjuring up a glass of golden brown liquid. He placed it on the bedside, a wooden straw sticking out of the drink. He sat himself on the oak wood stool beside the bed, elbows on his knees. 

“Understand me, Athena,” Apollo pleaded. “Father’s wrath is hard to incur, and when one does, it never ends well. Father is not one for mercy or peace, and he gets insulted very easily, sister. He was not kind when giving you those scars, scars that I myself cannot heal,” he paused, his chin resting on his tanned hands. “All I ask, all I plead, is that you rest and heal. You cannot heal if you’re dead, sister.”

The word brought a heavy chill over the room. Dead. Death, a mercy for mortals and pitiful minor gods. But Athena dying? It was unlikely and unheard of. The frigid word brought a shiver up her frayed-nerve spine. 

Apollo stood up, walking to the arched doorway and turning to face Athena. “Rest up, sister,” he spoke, the sun emblem on his chiton clasp shining in the sunlight. “-and drink the nectar, you need it,” he finished, walking out of the room and down the infirmary corridor, leaving Athena alone, privy to her own thoughts.

She picked up the glass, placing the smooth wooden straw to her lips as she gulped down the sweet nectar, for it tasted like nothing else ever divinely made, dare most say, more addictive and divine than Dionysus’s own godly wine. 

It had been a few hours since her uncle had arrived gravely injured to the infirmary, the rays of sunlight through the window becoming dimmer, indicating sunset. Athena read a book, her eyes patiently focused on the words, although it caused her mental strain. Headaches, a new feature of her Father’s divine punishment.

Her divine ears perked up as she heard groaning from beside her. The dark-haired figure beside her opened their deep blue eyes, pushing themselves up with a hiss of pain to sit back-facing the infirmary pillows of the bed. Her uncle was alive, and clearly awake, and pained. 

He clutched his stomach, the bandages over them wrapping tightly around his torso. He hissed as his own hand wrapped around his stomach, the bandages unmoving on his body. 

He blinked, taking in his surroundings as his eyes scanned the unfamiliar infirmary room, until they landed on Athena herself. 

“Uncle,” she greeted, closing her book and placing it on the side table. 

“Athena–where-?” he responded, clearly confused, if not surprised at the appearance of his niece, of whom had her right arm in a large wrap of bandages, scars covering every inch of visible skin, bandages over the others. A hand flew up to his lower chest, hissing at the pain moving brought him. “Right, that.”

“That?” Athena questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“I was. . .injured,” Poseidon stated,, avoiding facing Athena, looking her in the eyes as shame echoed in his body language. 

“No doubt,” Athena responded effortlessly. “But to whom caused your injury remains a mystery to be solved.”

“It is none of your concern, niece,” Poseidon admonished.

“On the contrary,” Athena stated blankly. “Considering whoever managed to bring you to your knees and stab you with your own weapon, it could be a threat to all of Olympus.”

Poseidon seemed surprised at first at how Athena knew what had stabbed him, but it quickly faded away to but a feeling of irking. But Poseidon knew better not to question his niece, the goddess of wisdom itself, further than he already had.

“I got into a fight, and I began with the upper hand in my own domain,” Poseidon started, his voice without waver. “Until my. . .opponent used one of Aeolus’s wind bags, releasing a storm of my own creation to be able to battle me, tying the bag to the back of his chiton.”

Now this surprised Athena. Why in Gaia’s name would Aeolus give out one of their precious wind bags to someone to beat Poseidon? And even if they didn’t know it was Poseidon, shouldn’t they have been wiser than to give one of their wind bags to someone? 

But alas, wisdom itself was Athena’s domain, not the wind god’s. 

“My opponent. . .he fought me with a simple sword, but somehow wielded the power of a god, able to defeat me using whoever’s power he had taken, sending the full force of power through. . .five-hundred vengeful spirits, knocking me down onto a small cluster of uneven rocks,” he continued, causing Athena’s eyes to widen. 

Of course a minor god couldn’t have beaten her uncle, that would be both improbable and impossible. But someone wielding the power of a god, a seemingly powerful god, from her uncle’s description, could surely stand a chance. 

“Then how did they get a grasp on your own trident, Uncle?” Athena questioned, noticing a gaping hole in the story her uncle was telling her. 

“Once I had been knocked down, it occurred to my. . .opponent that my storm had been released, leaving them unable to depart,” he continued, a lump rising in his throat as his voice filled with more and more rage. “So he told me to call off the storm, and when I refused, what did he do, you ask? He picked up my trident from where it had dropped. . .and proceeded to repeatedly stab me with it, while shouting.”

This, to Athena, meant many things. One, her uncle wasn’t as strong as she had previously believed him to be. Two, that whoever had the gall to fight him, had beaten him with his own weapon. And three, that her uncle was still withholding information from her on the matter.

“And how did you survive then? How did he stop?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

Poseidon stayed silent for but a moment before speaking. “I told him I’d stop the storm and allow him to go where he needed as he pleased,” he answered. 

Athena could tell he was still hiding something. Lying by omission. 

“And who exactly fought you–and won?” Athena importuned, face as emotionless as she could manage it. She cut him off before he spoke again. “-and if you dare say that ‘it does not concern me,’ it concerns the safety of Olympus, ergo, in turn, concerning me, Uncle.”

Her uncle was silent for many minutes before interrupting the tense silence. “A mortal man.”

“A mortal man?” The words blurted out of Athena’s mouth before she could think properly. 

“A mortal king, who caught me off guard,” Poseidon attempted to justify, but to no avail. 

Athena could perhaps imagine a monster or a god of equal caliber challenging her uncle, but a mortal man? Even if it was a mortal king, his opponent had still been mortal, and he had lost to a mortal.

“Who, precisely, of the mortal kings beat you, Uncle?” she asked, using a tone that left no room for argument.

Poseidon gritted his teeth, aware that he had been checkmated by his own blood. “You might know him as your own student, Athena,” Poseidon answered, disgust clear in his expression.”

Athena’s eyes widened once more. “Odysseus of Ithaca,” she murmured. How long it has been, old friend? Her thoughts asked traitorously.

It was clear Poseidon was embarrassed, both his ego and his pride wounded from the loss to the mortal king of Ithaca, to Athena’s own student. 

Although Athena hadn’t spoken with her student since their argument over a decade prior, but she couldn’t have been more proud of him.

“Pussy,” she thought aloud, the person in question being her own uncle. 

“What did you just call me?” Poseidon demanded, hands curling into fists. He scowled, the pain in his ribs increasing as his anger increased. Deep down, he knew Athena was right, and that there was no way to fight her at this stage. “I am no pu–”

Instead of cowering, Athena chose to stand her ground. To fight in favor of her old friend. “You lost to a mortal king, Uncle. A mortal. You have lost your touch.” She dared to utter the final words, well aware of her uncle’s bitter wrath. 

Poseidon’s expression changed to one of anger. “Why you little–!” 

“That is enough, Uncle,” a newer voice interrupted. 

Apollo. 

“You are not to strain your injury, so until your injuries are fully healed, an argument turned fight is not in your best interest,” Apollo stated threateningly. “Am I clear?”

“Of course,” Poseidon responded, not wishing to irk his own nephew, the one who had chosen to heal him with his divine gift. To anger Apollo in a part of his own domain would not be wise of him, Athena was sure of it. 

“Rest, both of you,” Apollo demanded tiredly, massaging his temples. “And don’t let me hear arguing from either of you or so help me–” His voice raised at the words, before cutting off abruptly, meeting eye contact with each of his patients before exiting the room.

Poseidon grumbled, laying down achingly back in the infirmary bed, facing away from his niece. He mumbled something so quiet, Athena herself couldn’t hear it, as he adjusted the blanket over his body. 

Athena faced away from him, smiling to herself. For she could not have been prouder of her student–no, her friend. 

Before Athena succumbed to the gift of Hypnos, she remembered how she had been visited by Ares the prior day. He had promised her that he had kept an eye on her favorite little mortal. 

“Don’t worry sis, I’ll take good care of your favorite little mortal. Don’t you worry!”

She should’ve been wary of her brother’s enthusiasm.

Athena never expected Ares to help her, because of their due past. But despite their well established rivalry, he cared enough to help her friend. That alone, made her smile warmly, something she had not done for anyone in mere centuries, as she drifted off to Hypnos’s divine rest. 

Tag list: (none yet, but let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[tylermileslockett]

Mount Olympus: Home of the Olympians

       The real-world Mount Olympus is the highest peak in Greece and is located between the borders of Thessaly and Macedonia. The kingdom of the gods sits high upon the mountain as a majestic, bronze Acropolis (fortified hill top citadel). In Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey we get our earliest references, where the peaks of Olympus are described as “rugged’ or “cloud-dark” and the acropolis described as “bronze-founded”  and “under golden clouds.” (Lattimore). The fortress sits below the great sky dome, within in a specific position upon the mountain, in the light, blue upper air of Aether. Below that was the middle air Khaos which enveloped mortals, and finally the lower, dark subterranean mists of Erebos.

Guarding the gates were the goddesses of Seasons, constellations, and time; the Horai. Within the fortress complex was Zeus’ grand palace, along with the lesser palaces of other Olympians, and a divine stable for many of the different gods’ immortal chariot horses. In the golden court, the Olympians held councils to decide mortals’ fates, and feast-hall style banquets; drinking sweet, magical Nectar from golden goblets and eating restorative Ambrosia to maintain immortality by sustaining the fluid within the gods veins; Ichor. Twenty golden tripod Automotons (programmed machines), ingeniously invented by the smith god Hephaestus, autonomously wheeled food and drink amongst the deities. 

Did I miss any fascinating info about Olympus? Please let me know below! And if you can share this image with your followers I'll be happy to send you over an automaton with a goblet of ambrosia to keep your ichor running clear!😁🤟❤️

Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept:

The Battle of Mount Othrys must’ve seriously messed Jason up.

Not only is it a fight for our lives kind of deal it’s not like anyone in Camp Jupiter would’ve known what was happening.

They wouldn’t have been prepared for any of this and whether he was Praetor at the time or not, Jason was their only hope.

The battle of Manhattan was brutal yes but the Olympians still ended up helping the demigods. And there were 3 big 3 kids in attendance, Percy, Thalia and later Nico.

As far as we know there was no additional aid to Camp Jupiter. And well if there was it definitely didn’t come from the Olympians.

Not to mention most of Camp Jupiter is made up of legacies who are mortals and can’t heal from ambrosia or nectar.

And this battle took place before Hazel ever showed to so all Camp Jupiter had was Jason. Everything was riding on his shoulders.

Jason was literally all they had and I can’t imagine what that kind of pressure must’ve felt like.

And you just know that even with him beibg the son of Jupiter and their only damn chance at victory that people wanted him nowhere near the fight.

Soley because he was part of the 5th cohort and we can’t be saved by some low ranked solder. Lives are on the line but go off I guess.

So Jason is not only wrestling with everyone’s expectations, he’s had no time to prepare. And I frankly refuse to believe anyone thought Jason would survive Krios.

Including Jason himself.

Which is a whole other layer of fucked up because oh so you literally sent him to his maybe death just to save yourselves.

Hell knowing Jason he probably volunteered knowing all of that.

Whenever I picture Jason beating Krios it’s this impossible feat that he somehow accomplished. It takes everything he has in him.

That by the end he’s barely able to stand from this fight and the many he fought getting here.

Jason raises his sword, stained in a titans golden ichor and his own red blood, as a symbol of strength for Rome.

That he doesn’t go down until it’s over and when he falls no one’s even around to catch him.

And you just know that among the celebrations and praises that someone will be out there critiquing his form.

And how he fought in a less then Roman way because nothing Jason does is ever enough for these people.

[harleymaguire]

[astraioskosmos]

The Ascendent is stronger than I ever could be, they resisted the urge to crawl on all fours in the Wood and remembered they walk upright by day and know fire and steel and words- but I was never good with words.

My tongue is not sharp, my teeth are blunt and my words desaturated in their meaning like a failed batch of paint. I would've dropped to crawl amongst the roots, to feel the moss against my fingertips and hide in the dirt. I would've fed on the nectar and ichor oozing out the trees, would've drank from the Painted River in the nights where it is most calm, would've cut myself and written the tiniest secret in blood against an upturned stone.

I would be a better dog than I am man. The Cross should not have Sheared, for what purpose does ascending the House gives you aside from the burden of Knowledge? Would life not have been better lived back in the days where the Sun knew us, protected us, was kinder in its light only in exchange for blood?

The Wheel still turns in the House of the Moon and mercy is only found in shadows and now the Wood is dark. It was not, before, but now it is. And so I will drop to all fours and crawl in its dirt and rest in its roots and seek mercy because I am a better dog than man, a worm of a scale.

I will watch as the Ascendent goes through the White Door from afar and think "they are stronger than I ever could have been, but here where the branches are low and Moth hunts, and the Velvet hides and the Ring-Yew renews, I am content."

[sanctuaryofspirits]

Ready for Campuseidon?

Gods… Ok- So- I have posted these pictures on my Bluesky, but not here yet! Cloudysseus belongs to @kdpartworks with the original designs for them is by @/neal-illustrator!

I forgot ‘Campuseidon’s gills in the original post of my Bluesky. I will be detailing this illustration without Poseidon to actually show the harness he often wears. I will also be adding his jewelry and wild celery wreath as well. I just didn’t want to add the additions after painting the background, which will be edited once I get to editing the sketch.

But yeah! So fun little fact about the dangling jewel: It’s a Cat’s Eye Aquamarine. I didn’t want to add explicit eye imagery since Poseidon is known to have the most children in Greek mythology, so I decided to just adding explicit Polyphemus imagery wasn’t what I wanted to go for. Though, my Poseidon is also very protective of his immediate family. So, I decided the Cat’s Eyes Aquamarine as a nod to Polyphemus was a decent compromise.

Also, as a note: My Poseidon has 3 forms he takes- Monstrous (40 ft tall), Humanoid (16 ft tall), and Human (6’3” tall). My Ody is around 5’5”-5’8”. I just leaned into him being 5’5” when comparing sizes.

Once I have the monstrous forms for the first six Olympians (Hestia, Hades, Demeter, Poseidon, Hera, and Zeus) done, I will be going into a lore dump for each character and how they fit into my canon.

Only big things are that blood is different between Primordials, Titans, Gods, and Demigods.

Primordials: Red blood- They’re from which humanity came from, clay (with help from Prometheus and Athena, but the bodies were created from the mud and clay that was a part of Gaia). Their blood, though, glimmers like rubies instead of a more crimson color like our own.

Titans: This is something only in my canon! In my canon, the Titans were the first to taste nectar and ambrosia. So, their blood was stained orange. This is when their eyes began to glow as well. Though, for them, it was a dim glow. They didn’t get anymore nectar or ambrosia, so it stayed stained after the overthrowing of the titans.

Gods: Just like in mythology, it’s an Ichor gold! Their eyes glow brightly from the constant tastes of ambrosia and nectar.

Demigods: They have flecks of Ichor amongst the crimson in their blood, which sometimes can reflect in their eyes. Especially when individuals are born with albinism. Their eyes, unlike a titan or god, do not glow, much like the Primordials.

Note: None of the deities are related by blood. Each of them contains the essence of who created them and a little bit of Chaos. Their relationships are typically misconstrued by the mortal mind. Some do see each other as siblings, especially those born to human parents, but none are blood related.

Anyway! More lore is to come. When I get the ‘Campuseidon illustration done, I’ll go more in depth with him specifically. I just wanted to give an overview to my canon. There’s still more to come. Let’s see if I can slowly get into drawing humans so I can group everything together neatly

[literaryvein-reblogs]

I’m not sure if you do nsfw words or phrases. But is there something you can post for the writers who need words for sex scenes? Ones that won’t make reader cringe or throw up? And ones that won’t sound repetitive?

110 "Beautiful" Words for Your Sex Scenes

A-E

Agitate - to move with an irregular, rapid, or violent action

Amatory - of, relating to, or expressing sexual love

Ardor - sexual excitement; extreme vigor or energy

Assail - to encounter energetically; to afflict in a manner that threatens to overwhelm

Austere - harsh and threatening in manner

Bemoan - to feel sorry or dissatisfied about

Bestrew - to lie scattered over

Carnal - given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

Cavernous - suggesting a cavern; composed largely of vascular sinuses and capable of dilating with blood to bring about the erection of a body part

Coax - to gently urge by caressing or flattering

Compulsion - an irresistible persistent impulse to perform an act

Concrete - to become physically firm or solid

Constriction - the act or process of reducing the size or volume of something by pressing

Curvature - a curved surface of an organ

Delectation - delight, enjoyment

Deluge - a great flow of water or of something that overwhelms

Devoir - something one must do because of prior agreement

Dew - moisture especially when appearing in minute droplets

Douse - a heavy drenching

Ecstasy - rapturous delight; a state of being beyond reason and self-control

Enraptured - to fill with delight

Entreat - to make an earnest request; plead

Entwine - to become twisted or twined

Erogenous - of, relating to, or arousing sexual feelings; sexually sensitive

Exult - to be extremely joyful; rejoice

F-O

Fervid - marked by often extreme fervor (i.e., intensity of feeling or expression; intense heat)

Feverish - marked by intense emotion, activity, or instability

Flushed - tinged with red especially in the face (e.g., from physical exertion)

Flutter - to vibrate in irregular spasms

Foment - to promote the growth or development of; rouse, incite

Fragmentize - fragment (i.e., to fall to pieces)

Frisson - a brief moment of emotional excitement; shudder, thrill

Fuse - to come together to form a single unit

Gasp - to catch the breath convulsively and audibly (as with shock)

Gluttony - greedy or excessive indulgence

Harmony - pleasing arrangement of parts

Ichorous - of a thin watery or blood-tinged discharge

Immovable - incapable of being moved

Impetus - stimulation resulting in increased activity

Imprint - to mark by pressure

Impure - lewd, unchaste

Incantation - a written or recited formula of words designed to produce a particular effect

Intensity - extreme degree of strength, force, energy, or feeling

Inundate - overwhelm; overflow

Kindle - to stir up; arouse

Lecherous - given to or suggestive of lechery (i.e., inordinate indulgence in sexual activity; lasciviousness)

Levitating - to rise or float in or as if in the air especially in seeming defiance of gravitation

Licentious - disregarding sexual restraints

Lissome - easily flexed; lithe (i.e., characterized by easy flexibility and grace)

Luscious - sexually attractive; seductive, sexy

Mantra - a statement repeated frequently

Murmur - a soft or gentle utterance

Nectar - something delicious to drink

Nimble - quick and light in motion; agile; responsive, sensitive

Oceanic - vast, great

Overflowing - a flowing over; inundation

P-S

Palpate - to examine by touch

Palpitate - to beat rapidly and strongly; throb

Partake - to take part in or experience something along with others

Pearl - something resembling a pearl; precious

Pining - to yearn intensely and persistently especially for something unattainable

Piquant - agreeably stimulating to the taste; engagingly provocative

Plaint - wail

Plunge - to cause to penetrate or enter quickly and forcibly into something

Propulsion - the action or process of propelling (i.e., to drive forward or onward by means of a force that imparts motion

Pulsate - to throb or move rhythmically; vibrate

Rapacious - ravenous (i.e., very eager or greedy for satisfaction or gratification

Rasp - a rasping sound, sensation, or effect

Relish - enjoyment of or delight in something that satisfies one's tastes, inclinations, or desires

Repine - to long for something

Rhapsody - rapture, ecstasy

Ripple - to have or produce a ripple effect; spread

Salacious - arousing or appealing to sexual desire or imagination

Silken - soft, lustrous; harmonious

Siren - resembling that of a siren; enticing

Slaver - to let saliva or some other substance flow from the mouth

Sluice - to drench with a sudden flow

Sob - to catch the breath audibly in a spasmodic contraction of the throat

Sodden - heavy with or as if with moisture or water; to be soaked

Stirring - marked by much life, movement, or activity

Sublime - to elevate or exalt

Succulent - full of juice; moist and tasty; toothsome

Succumb - to yield to superior strength or force or overpowering appeal or desire

Sumptuous - extremely costly, rich, luxurious, or magnificent

Supple - capable of being bent/folded without creases, cracks, or breaks; able to perform bending/twisting movements with ease

Supplicate - to ask for earnestly and humbly

Surge - to rise and move in waves or billows; swell

Surrender - to give oneself up into the power of another; yield

Svelte - lithe (i.e., easily bent or flexed)

Swirl - to have a twist or convolution

T-Y

Taut - tense; not relaxed; rigid, stiff

Tempestuous - marked by bursts of intense activity

Tenderness - sensitivity to touch or palpation

Throes - pangs, spasms

Thrum - to sound with a monotonous hum

Torrid - ardent, passionate; hot

Undulate - to move in waves; to rise and fall in volume

Unyielding - characterized by lack of softness or flexibility

Unyoke - to take apart; to force apart

Vehement - marked by forceful energy

Vigorous - carried out forcefully and energetically

Vitality - power of enduring

Voluptuous - conducive to or arising from sensuous or sensual gratification

Voracity - the quality or state of being voracious (i.e., ravenous; excessively eager)

Wanton - causing sexual excitement; lustful, sensual

Whet - to make keen or more acute; excite, stimulate

Winded - cause (someone) to have difficulty breathing because of exertion; panting, gasping for breath

Worship - extravagant respect or admiration for or devotion to

Writhe - to move with twists and turns; intertwine

Yearn - to long persistently; to feel tenderness or compassion

Hope you use these words in ways that won't make your readers cringe or throw up, dear Anon! But it's fine if some of them do—as long as you are satiated with your own writing :)

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ⚜ More: Word Lists

[grellsutcliffno1fan]

And There Will Be No Tenderness

Red. With Grelle, everything was red, crimson red, scarlet red. Red was the blood spilled between them, and red was the colour of her painted lips, smeared across his mouth. She liked him better like this; she had said that before, on a night much like this one. Liked him better with her kisses pressed into his skin, like red branding. He had told her what a chore those kiss-marks were to wash off in response, and she only grinned knowingly. Sebastian didn’t tell her to stop. Grelle’s hand curled around his tie, tugging, her teeth sinking into the swell of his lower lip. Sebastian wasn’t quite sure when he began to notice the little minutiae of her appearance, the little trivial things like her fresh manicure, or the floral perfume she wore. Somewhere along the line he had become so painfully aware. - Or: Sebastian being painfully smitten and completely oblivious to it, and Grelle going What The Fuck. (Plus getting her guts rearranged. She deserves it. As a special treat.)

Read on Ao3

It began as most things did, when it came to the grim reaper known as Grelle Sutcliff.

An open window, a flash of crimson, and a sinister cackle.

This was becoming far too common an occurrence, and each time Sebastian had to interrogate himself on why he allowed this to keep happening. And each time, he came up short, grasping for a logical explanation that simply wasn’t there. Each night, against his better judgment, he left that window open, unbothered by the bite of the cold evening air, anticipating a certain scarlet reaper’s appearance in his quarters.

It was irrational. Senseless. Grelle Sutcliff was a vexatious creature. Irksome, grating. Sebastian could think of a great myriad of words to describe her, none of them were likeable.

And even if she was likeable , what did that matter to him? A demon had no need for idle attachments; such things, things such as affection , they were fleeting, meaningless emotions. An impossibility for such beings, at least as anything more than a passing fancy.

The only mortal creatures Sebastian has ever felt affection for were those of a feline nature. 

And yet.

She was in his bed once more. Their meetings were never pretty. No, their intimacy was just as severe, just as ruthless as Grelle herself was. As Sebastian was, beneath the tailcoat, beneath the etiquette, beneath the facade of the butler he was playing.

Their kiss was a clash of teeth and tongue. It was bruising, it was messy, scandalous, by the standards of Victorian propriety, but Grelle only smiled against his lips. She had already sliced his lip with her teeth—that was something Sebastian quickly learnt, the first time they had wound up like this, that those teeth of her’s were every bit as razor sharp as they looked—but she lapped up his blood like it was sweet nectar, a divine ichor.

Red. With Grelle, everything was red, crimson red, scarlet red. Red was the blood spilled between them, and red was the colour of her painted lips, smeared across his mouth. She liked him better like this; she had said that before, on a night much like this one. Liked him better with her kisses pressed into his skin, like red branding. He had told her what a chore those kiss-marks were to wash off in response, and she only grinned knowingly. Sebastian didn’t tell her to stop.

Grelle’s hand curled around his tie, tugging, her teeth sinking into the swell of his lower lip. Sebastian wasn’t quite sure when he began to notice the little minutiae of her appearance, the little trivial things like her fresh manicure, or the floral perfume she wore. Somewhere along the line he had become so painfully aware.

They parted, if only for Grelle to drop her gaze to the knot of Sebastian’s tie, pulling it undone with practiced fingers. Sebastian wondered if it was odd to meditate on the elegance of one’s hands. Grelle’s hands were just that, elegant. Long, slender, delicate, even. Sebastian was a demon, he was used to singling out a person’s insecurities. It was not hard to deduce that Grelle feared being perceived as masculine. Her hands, however, were no such thing. Well maintained, though worn with evidence of use, even with her favoured leather gloves, her nails long, painted with lacquer, each cuticle pushed back. 

It was indeed probably bizarre to think so deeply on one’s hands.

Well, Sebastian was a demon, and when did they ever give thought to mortal standards of normalcy?

Grelle’s scarlet lips tugged at the corner, pulling down into a frown, her brow twitching in irritation. She tossed his tie to the side, barely restraining herself from popping the buttons of his collar. Sebastian opened his mouth, to question her on her bad attitude on such a fine evening, but she addressed it before the first syllable could exit his lips.

“William is running me ragged.” She says, voice coloured with distaste. “To berate me, berate my character and then turn around and work me like a dog. I am good at my job, he knows that, but sometimes I think he wishes to see me fail, to undermine every little thing — ” Grelle's sentence cut short, her breath catching as she remembered herself. 

These little rendezvous, they were no strings attached. No feelings. No affection. Her emotions had gotten the better of her, a weakness, a flaw. Grelle knew better than to show her underbelly to a demon, as fond as she was of Sebastian. It was uncharacteristic. His eyes narrowed on her. 

“The point is:” She drawled, regaining her posture once more, “I need to let off a little steam, and I want you to fuck me properly. You can do that, can’t you, Bassy?”

Continued on Ao3

[11queensupreme11]

Hey queen, quick question—sorry if it’s a dumb one, but I’m asking anyway🤷‍♀️. How can Percy ascend to godhood?

I understand how ascension works in both worlds, but let’s focus on the ROR world. Zeus’s blood is the main factor for ascension, but in your book, his blood (or any god’s blood) is described as divine ichor. (Or is there a difference between ichor and ambrosia?)

Percy has already drunk Poseidon’s ichor, but nothing happened except that she felt better. So, is there a specific amount needed? Like, “If you drink this much, it’s enough to ascend, but not enough to vaporize you”?

 My brains not working very well since its like 3 or 4am where I'm at rn so i’m sorry if I'm not making much sense to you as you read this.

a lot of people think that drinking zeus' blood made heracles a god, but that's not it 😭 as i have mentioned many times before, drinking zeus' blood made alcides (because he was still alcides at the time) a DEMIGOD, a human with the strength of a god. he drank it when ares came to massacre thebes, beat up ares' vanguard and almost got into a fight with him until zeus interfered and asked alcides to become a god:

theeeeeeen he left for valhalla and had to go through the 12 labors in order to be ascended into godhood!

also summarized here in his wiki:

(funny part is that he went through TWO makeovers for some reason aside from the added beefiness. he was born with black hair, then he became a demigod and his hair turned white, then he ascended into godhood and his hair became orange 🍊)

so yeah, percy is not gonna ascend to godhood at all by drinking poseidon (or any god's) blood. as i talked about briefly in the latest chapter's a/n, i'm combining ror's concept of ambrosia and pjo's concept of ambrosia. i'm gonna expand upon it more in later chapters, but i'll just explain it now:

in pjo verse, ambrosia heals demigods and also tastes like their favorite food. in ror verse, ambrosia (aka, ichor, aka blood of a god) grants humans the strength of a god. because i reeeeaaaaally wanted to make percy a feral little blood-drinker, i combined it so that it would

-- temporarily reprieves her of the pain of her soul chipping away. it does NOT heal her soul, just removes the pain so she's not in crippling agony anymore. it lasts longer compared to nectar and other methods of healing too, but just like with pjo!ambrosia, too much at once will incinerate her

-- tastes like her fav food lol. poseidon tastes like her mom's homemade blue cookies! i'm planning on making the other gods have different tastes 😂😂😂

-- grants her the strength of a god, which is what she needs if she were to hmm... i dunno fight a god without getting absolutely curbstomped to oblivion maybe 👀 but that's totally not gonna happen, no siree! 👀 if you remember, i mentioned that percy has the power of a god, but her body's lacking. she is SEVERELY weak and slow compared to ror characters who are ridiculously op even the humans. this covers that base so now she's got the (temporary) physicality of a god, the power of a god, 99.99% invulnerability, and high battle IQ. all stuff that she TOTALLY WON'T NEED IN THE FUTURE 👀