#maybe one of them is a fallen demigod

[urgentkettle]

All I know is he’s trying to go west but doesn’t have any travel companions yet. Hopefully the narrative will provide.

.❤️

[elikajinnie]

The Last Breath - S.J

P: Demigod!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Death, Violence, Confessions, basically right person, not enough time.

Synopsis: On the battleground, you lie on the edge of death, knowing there’s nothing left to do but let go. But then you see Jake, the one you’ve loved for so long, fighting. With a final surge of adrenaline, you muster the strength to confess your feelings, hoping to hear him say it back. But by the time he does, it’s too late. Two people in love cannot survive when one of them is gone, and as you slip away, so does the light of the world for Jake.

a/n: this is kinda short, but angsty :) so enjoy!

now playing: i love you by billie eilish

percy jackson au!masterlist

--

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be in this battle—not today, not like this. But the gods, your so-called parents, had once again decided to throw you and the other half-bloods into the fray, using you like pawns on a celestial chessboard. It wasn’t fair, and some of you had dared to say so, but really, who could stand up to Zeus? Who would risk it, knowing the cost?

The fight had started off manageable—a few monsters, nothing you and your friends couldn’t handle. You’d thought maybe, just maybe, this would be one of the easier ones. But that hope shattered when the Minotaurs appeared, chaos erupted, and before you knew it, the battlefield had turned into a gruesome field of broken bodies and spilled blood. Friends, strangers, creatures—dead or dying everywhere you turned.

You should’ve been stronger. As the daughter of one of the more prominent Greek gods, you were supposed to rise above, to lead, to fight. But even godly lineage has its limits. You were cornered before you could react, outnumbered and outmatched. Their strikes were brutal, unrelenting, and though you fought back with everything you had, it wasn’t enough.

Now, here you are, crumpled on the ground, blood soaking through your torn armor and pooling around you. Every breath burns, every movement feels like a thousand daggers stabbing into your flesh. You can hear the shouts of your friends somewhere in the distance, but their voices are drowned out by the pounding in your ears.

You can’t die here. You won’t die here. But as the darkness creeps in, swallowing the edges of your sight, you can’t help but wonder if this time, the gods have pushed you too far.

You looked down at your wounds, at the crimson streaks running down your arms and hands. Your fingers were stained red, trembling as you struggled to make sense of the pain. It was everywhere—your chest, your legs, your ribs. Every breath you took felt like fire, every movement sent waves of agony through your body. You’d never been to Tartarus, but you swore this was what it must feel like. This was suffering, pure and unrelenting, and you didn’t know how much more you could take.

For a moment, the thought crossed your mind: you could just close your eyes. Let the pain take over. Give up and let the darkness swallow you whole. But before you could give in, something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. Him.

Sim Jake.

Son of Ares.

Even now, bruised and bloodied, barely holding himself upright, he kept fighting. He refused to back down, even when it looked like his body might give out at any second.

And he was your crush.

From the moment you arrived at Camp Half-Blood, clueless and scared, he had been there. You’d met him on your first day, wandering aimlessly, overwhelmed by the realization that you were a demigod. He had found you and, without hesitation, taken you under his wing. He’d taught you the ropes—how to hold a sword, how to defend yourself, how to survive. He showed you kindness when you needed it most, and slowly, over time, you’d fallen for him.

How could you not? There was so much to love about Jake. His soft curls that always seemed to fall perfectly into place. His warm, puppy-like eyes that somehow made you feel safe. His confidence, his humor, the way he smiled like he had the entire world in his hands. He was fierce and brave, yet gentle in a way you hadn’t expected from someone like him, someone whose father was the God of war.

Jake was... Jake.

And to you, he was everything.

But what were you to him? A friend? A sister figure? A pupil he’d taken under his wing out of pity? You didn’t know, but the idea of confessing your feelings only to be rejected kept you silent. Why would someone like him ever like someone like you? Jake deserved someone strong, someone who could stand by his side in battle without faltering. Not you, bleeding out on the ground, helpless and weak.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered. You didn’t deserve him. That much, you were sure of. And yet, even as you tried to convince yourself to let go of the hopeless dream, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You loved him. So, so much. Even when you didn’t want to. Even when you tried to tell yourself it was foolish, that it would never work. But no matter how hard you fought it, your heart always betrayed you. And somehow, that hurt so much more than any of the physical pain you were feeling. The ache in your chest burned hotter than the cuts on your skin, sharper than the bruises blooming across your body.

You told yourself you’d had enough—enough fighting, enough struggling, enough everything. So, you stayed where you were, content to just watch him in your final moment.

But then you saw it.

A creature.

It was creeping toward Jake’s blind spot, its movements silent. He was too busy fighting off another monster to notice.

He didn’t see it.

He didn’t see it.

Your body moved before your mind could process what was happening. You didn’t know where the sudden rush of adrenaline came from, but it didn’t matter. Pain surged through you as you forced yourself to your feet, the wounds screaming in protest, but you ignored it. Your hand found your sword, then your shield, both slick with blood as you grabbed them from the ground.

You staggered forward, limping and breathless, but your focus never left him. The creature was getting closer. Too close. Panic clawed at your chest as you tried to move faster, your battered legs trembling beneath you. Every step felt impossible, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Jake!” you screamed, your voice hoarse but desperate enough to make him turn. His wide eyes found you, shock flashing across his face as you barreled toward him, pushing yourself past the limits of what you thought you could endure.

Before he could say a word, before he could ask what you were doing, you threw yourself against his back. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through your body, but you bit down the cry threatening to escape. You raised your shield just as the creature lunged, its attack colliding with the metal in a sickening crash.

The force of the blow rattled your bones, nearly knocking you over, but it didn’t hit Jake. It didn’t hurt him. You held firm, your shield braced as you stood between him and the creature, refusing to let it lay a single claw on him.

For a moment, everything else faded—the chaos, the deaths, the battlefield, the blood. All that mattered was that Jake was safe.

And you wanted to make sure he stayed safe. That was all that mattered. With a shout that burned your throat, you pushed the creature back with all the strength you had left, raising your sword and slashing it across the neck. The monster let out a guttural cry before falling, its body crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

You stood there for a moment, panting, trembling, and turned to Jake. He had just bested the last of his opponents, his blade still in hand, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The relief that flooded you was overwhelming. He was okay. Jake was okay. That was all you needed to know.

But your body had reached its limit. The adrenaline that had kept you standing drained away in an instant, leaving only the crushing weight of your injuries behind. Your legs buckled beneath you, and you fell. Your sword and shield slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground with a dull metallic crash.

You barely registered the sting of the impact as your body hit the ground, too numb, too tired to care. The edges of your vision blurred, darkened, but you could still see Jake turning toward you, his eyes wide with alarm.

“No!” His voice was panicked, cutting through the haze that threatened to pull you under. You wanted to respond, to tell him you were fine—or at least lie and say you were—but the words wouldn’t come. Your body felt heavy, your limbs like lead.

You tried to lift your head, but the effort was too much. All you could do was watch as Jake dropped his weapon, and rushed toward you. You wanted to smile at him, to reassure him, but the darkness was too strong.

You felt so numb, so cold… like the warmth was slowly draining from your body. The pain that had consumed you earlier was gone now, replaced by an eerie emptiness. But then, you felt it—Jake’s arms around you, pulling you close. His warmth pressed against your chilled skin, his frantic movements jolting your mind just enough to keep the darkness at bay. His voice was desperate, trembling as he spoke, though his words were distant, muffled by the haze clouding your mind.

You blinked sluggishly, trying to focus, trying to understand, and that’s when you felt something wet against your face. It wasn’t blood—it was warm, and it fell in soft drops that rolled down your cheeks. It took you longer than it should have to realize they weren’t your tears.

Jake was crying.

Your Jake. The brave, unshakable son of Ares. The boy who faced monsters and gods without flinching, who always smiled even when the odds were stacked against him. His face was twisted in anguish, his tears falling freely as he cradled you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. His voice broke as he spoke your name over and over, his hands shaking as he tried to keep pressure on your wounds.

Why was he crying?

Your mind felt too foggy, too far gone to make sense of it. You wanted to ask him, to tell him you were fine—even if it was a lie—but your lips wouldn’t move. Instead, you stared up at him, your heavy eyelids threatening to close, wondering why he looked so heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. Please… please stay with me. I can’t—” His words choked off into a sob, and his grip on you tightened, as if holding you closer could somehow keep you here.

Sorry? What was he sorry for? You didn’t understand. Your chest ached, not from pain, but from the look on his face—the fear and desperation in his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before, and it hurt more than any wound ever could.

“Jake…” you finally managed to whisper, though your voice was barely audible. It took every ounce of strength you had left, and even then, it felt like the effort might break you. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his tear-streaked face hovering above yours.

“Yes! Yes,” he said quickly, his tone a mix of relief and panic. “I’m here. I’m right here. Don’t—don’t you dare close your eyes. Stay with me. Please.”

You wanted to obey, to stay awake like he begged, but the numbness was spreading, the world around you blurring again. Still, you fought to keep your gaze locked on him, his familiar face the only anchor you had left. You wanted to tell him everything—to tell him you loved him, that he was the reason you kept fighting, that he was your everything. But all that came out was a weak, trembling whisper.

“Why… are you crying?”

Jake’s face crumpled again, and a fresh wave of tears spilled from his eyes. He shook his head, brushing your hair back gently as if trying to soothe you. “Because I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking with every word. “I can’t. I—” He swallowed hard, his chest heaving as he forced the words out. “Because I can’t lose you,” he choked out, his voice trembling like it was on the verge of shattering. He looked so lost, so helpless, his usual confidence stripped away.

“I can’t lose you, not you,” he rambled, his words tumbling out like a dam had broken. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you. You’re—you’re everything, and I should’ve told you that. I should’ve stayed with you during the battle, I should’ve protected you better—” His voice broke again, a sob catching in his throat. “But I wasn’t strong enough, and now… now you’re—” He cut himself off, shaking his head furiously, as though refusing to even acknowledge the possibility.

His hands trembled as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away blood and dirt like he could somehow make everything better by sheer force of will. “You can’t leave me. You can’t,” he said, his voice rising in desperation. “I can’t live without you. I don’t want to. Do you hear me? I need you. I need you.”

Tears streaked down his face, landing on your cheeks and mingling with the blood there. You stared up at him, your body too weak to move, too drained to respond. But your mind… your mind raced. His words, his confession—it didn’t feel real. Jake, your Jake, was falling apart in front of you, his heart laid bare, and you didn’t know how to process it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw with guilt. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. If I had just stayed with you, if I’d just—” He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as though trying to hold back the anger at himself. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been by your side, protecting you. That’s all I ever wanted—to keep you safe. And I failed.”

You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d done more for you than anyone ever had. But the words wouldn’t come, your body too weak to obey. All you could do was stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart pounding despite your exhaustion.

Jake’s gaze searched yours, his desperation deepening when he noticed your silence. “Please, say something,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Yell at me, tell me I’m an idiot, anything. Just… don’t leave me. Please..” His forehead pressed against yours again, his warm breath mixing with your shallow, ragged gasps.

The world around you felt distant, muted, but Jake… Jake was so close, his presence so overwhelming that it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. And even through the haze, you could feel your heart breaking at the sight of him. You’d never seen him like this—never seen him so completely shattered.

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, that you weren’t giving up. But all you could do was keep staring, stunned by his confession. The boy you thought could never love you the way you loved him was here, holding you like you were his entire world, begging you to stay, telling you he needed you.

You didn’t know how this would end, whether you’d survive the injuries tearing you apart, but in that moment, you found the strength to part your lips, even if only slightly.

“Jake…” you whispered, barely audible, but it was enough to make his head snap up, his tear-streaked face inches from yours. You saw the hope flicker in his eyes, the way he clung to the sound of your voice like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I…” Your voice faltered, the effort too much, but you managed a small, trembling smile. You needed him to know, no matter what happened next. “You’re wrong. You… you didn’t fail me.”

“No,” Jake said sharply, his voice trembling with barely-contained emotion. “I did fail you.” His hands pressed harder against your wounds, though you both knew it wasn’t helping. He looked at you like he was trying to will you back to life with sheer determination, his tears falling faster now. “If I was just a little stronger, just a little faster… you’d be standing with me right now. Victorious. Unharmed. Unscathed.”

His voice cracked, and he shook his head, his lips pulling into a thin, anguished line. “You wouldn’t be here, bleeding out in my arms. You wouldn’t—” His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders trembling. “You wouldn’t be dying.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that none of this was his fault. But you couldn’t. Not because you agreed with him, but because you already knew the truth. He wasn’t wrong about one thing—you were dying. The warmth in your body was all but gone, replaced by a chilling numbness that crept deeper with every passing second. You could feel it now, the faint pull. You wouldn’t survive this. No godly intervention, no miracle could save you.

So what was the point in denying it? If this was the end, you knew there was something you had to do. You’d carried the weight of your feelings for too long, burying them out of fear of rejection, of heartbreak. But now… now you didn’t have to be afraid. If he rejected you, it wouldn’t matter. You’d be gone, and there’d be no heartbreak to endure.

What better time to confess than when you had nothing left to lose?

Your lips trembled as you summoned the last of your strength, your voice a mere whisper. “Jake…”

His eyes snapped back to yours, the desperation in them piercing through the haze clouding your mind. “What is it? Don’t try to talk—just hold on, okay? You’ll be fine. I’ll get you out of here, I swear.”

You wanted to smile at his stubborn hope, but your body was too weak. Instead, you forced out the words you’d never had the courage to say before. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Jake’s brow furrowed, his panic deepening. “No, you don’t. You can tell me later, okay? When you’re better—”

“Jake,” you interrupted, your tone firmer this time despite the weakness in your voice. He froze, his lips parting slightly as he stared at you. You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down as you looked into his eyes, memorizing every detail of his face.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips so softly they almost got lost in the chaos around you. But Jake heard them. You saw the way his expression shifted, the way his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “I’ve loved you for so long. And I… I’m sorry I never told you before, but I couldn’t. I was scared.”

His mouth opened as if to say something, but no sound came out. You pushed forward, desperate to get it all out. “I didn’t think you’d feel the same. But I—I needed to tell you. Just once.” A weak, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Even if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. I just… I needed you to know.”

Jake’s face crumpled again, his tears falling faster now as he shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to say that and then—” He stopped himself, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I feel the same... I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

Your heart ached at his words, both with joy and sorrow. You wanted to hold onto that moment forever, but you could feel yourself slipping away, your vision blurring at the edges. “Jake…” you whispered, his name a soft breath on your lips.

“No, don’t you dare,” he said, his voice rising in panic as he shook you gently. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. You’re staying with me, do you hear me? I love you, and you’re staying with me. Please.”

But his voice was growing fainter, the world around you dimming as the darkness closed in. All you could see was him, his tear-streaked face and trembling hands, his love for you written in every broken word he spoke.

And as the last of your strength faded, you managed one final smile, your fingers brushing weakly against his hand. “I love you too,” you whispered, and then everything went still.

You wouldn’t know that Jake’s screams echoed across the battlefield, piercing through the chaos like a dagger to the heart of everyone who heard it. His cries were filled with so much anguish that even the monsters seemed to hesitate, their bloodlust momentarily stalled by the sheer force of his grief.

He clutched your lifeless body to his chest, his arms trembling as he held you as tightly as he could, as though refusing to let you slip away completely. His tears soaked into your bloodied clothes, his face buried in your hair as he sobbed. “No, no, no,” he chanted over and over, his voice cracking with every word. “Please… not you. Anyone but you.”

Jake felt like his entire world had collapsed. His heart was shattered, broken beyond repair, leaving nothing but a hollow void in its place.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible now. “I can’t… I can’t do this without you. You promised me. You said you’d stay.” His fingers brushed against your cheek, smearing the blood there as if trying to bring color back to your pale skin. But it was futile. He knew that. Deep down, he knew.

Yet he couldn’t let go.

His body shook as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his tears falling like rain onto your face. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking again. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve protected you.”

But no matter how many times he apologized, no matter how many tears he shed, it wouldn’t bring you back. And that thought… that reality… was unbearable.

Jake felt his breathing grow ragged, his chest tightening painfully as the weight of your absence threatened to crush him completely. He couldn’t imagine a world without you. A world where your laughter didn’t fill the air, where your smile didn’t light up his days. A world where he didn’t get to tell you how much he loved you every single day.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Not without you. I can’t.” His hands shook as they clung to you, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. He didn’t care about the battle raging around him. He didn’t care about the blood still staining his hands. All he cared about was you. And you were gone.

He pressed a soft, trembling kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as his tears continued to fall. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the wind. “I always have. I always will.”

But the pain didn’t go away. It only grew, consuming him like fire, burning through his resolve and leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. He didn’t know how to go on. He didn’t know if he could.

Because a world without you wasn’t a world worth living in.

Jake’s trembling hands slowly reached for the pendant around your neck—the one he’d given you months ago, after you’d bested him in a sparring match. It was simple, unassuming, but it had meant the world to him when you’d accepted it. Now, it was all he had left of you. He unclasped it with shaking fingers, clutching it tightly in his palm as if it were the only thing tethering him to what little sanity he had left.

“I’ll see you again,” he whispered, his voice so broken it was barely audible. “I promise. I’ll come to you. Just… wait for me.”

As the battle raged on, Jake didn’t care about the outcome anymore. He didn’t care about the gods or their games, or the war that had taken everything from him. All he cared about was the promise he’d just made. To you. To the only person who had ever truly mattered.

a/n: oooooooooookay! so this marks the last fic of 2024 :) wooow... what a year. Thanks for all the birthday wishes <33 Love all of youu! Now time to get drunk, ugh i need it after this year. Reblogs and commentary are welcomed <3

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[graysondarling]

Luke Castellan. Wounds

Luke Castellan X Apollo!Daughter!reader

Summary: In which Luke got small wounds and he's being stubborn as hell

"I don't need your healing magic power ugh" "yes yes you do <333"

A/n: "I can change him" "remember who the real enemy is!" I might join him instead and I'm trying aaaah 😭

Luke Castellan lay in his makeshift infirmary, his usually vibrant eyes dulled by sickness.

Annabeth, had insisted on a medical check-up, much to his stubborn resistance.

The camp's medic, not daring to face Luke, had reluctantly agreed to let (Name), the daughter of Apollo, tend to him.

"(Name)," Luke rasped, his voice a mere whisper. "I don't need your healing powers. I'm perfectly fine."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his defiance. "Sure, Luke. That's why you're lying here looking like you went a few rounds with a cyclops."

He managed a grin. "Maybe I did. It's just a scratch."

She shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "You're impossible, Luke."

As she examined him, he couldn't help but notice the warmth in her hands and the calming aura that enveloped her.

It was a stark contrast to the cold atmosphere of the infirmary.

"You're lucky Annabeth forced you into this check-up," she remarked, her fingers over his forehead. "You wouldn't last another day without proper care."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," he mumbled, though his resistance was losing its edge.

"Oh, I can see that," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's why you're practically glowing with health."

He rolled his eyes but didn't protest.

There was something about her presence that eased his discomfort. Maybe it was the gentle way she treated him or the fact that she was the only one he tolerated when he was at his weakest.

"You know," he began, his voice a bit less strained, "I might consider getting sick more often if you're the one taking care of me."

She chuckled, a melodic sound that filled the infirmary. "Nice try, Luke. But I think once is more than enough for everyone involved."

Their banter continued, the atmosphere lightening with each exchanged word.

As she administered a healing concoction, their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

"You're not so bad when you're not plotting world domination," she teased, a soft smile gracing her features.

He grinned, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "World domination is overrated anyway. I think I'd rather have someone take care of me like you do."

She chuckled again, the flirtatious undertone not lost on either of them. "Well, don't get too comfortable. This is a one-time offer."

"Shame," he replied with a mock pout. "I was starting to enjoy being pampered by the favorite daughter of Apollo."

As the day turned into evening, (Name) continued to stay by Luke's side. The infirmary, once a place of discomfort, became a home of shared laughter and a connection that went beyond the demigod duties.

In the quiet moments, as Luke drifted into a restful sleep, (Name) couldn't help but admire the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior.

And so, in the warm glow of the infirmary's lamps, the daughter of Apollo watched over the fallen hero, silently acknowledging that sometimes, even the strongest warriors needed a healer's touch to mend both body and soul.

[mediumgayitalian]

Found this on YouTube and thought I send it to you :)

see this is interesting. ive heard this take before and im honestly not sure how i feel.

part of it is like.....i love percy. i have a very hard time criticizing him for much of PJO (although there are few choice things -- his treatment of annabeth and rachel in the later books, for one) because of the sheer amount of good he did, intentionally, while enduring so much active and hostile sabotage. like, nobody told percy SHIT. he was confused all the time in a way no one else was because no one told him anything ever. and when he asked he was ignored or, worse, mocked. percy is at the core of him a deeply kind and caring person who was given the worst possible hand in every possible way.

every time percy is framed as the villain i really just think of sea of monsters tbh. frequently the least favourite book in the series, somehow, but that whole novel was percy desperately trying to work with the information he had to keep the people he loved safe, while his peers and friends were actively turning against him. i think people forget that, for the vast majority of his time at camp, percy was NOT beloved. he had friends, and he liked it there. but people turned on him pretty easily! they blamed him for thalia's tree poisoning, they scapegoated him for the gods' bullshit, they made his quests harder and belittled his accomplishments. percy was and always has been expected to save everyone's ass and then expected to sit there and take it when people list all the ways he could have done a better fucking job. i don't buy it.

percy was friends with michael. he was hurt when he died. he was hurt when ALL his friends at camp half-blood died; he considered the deaths of even those he didn't like as personal failures. percy always TRIED to help, even people he couldn't fuckin' stand. think of how often he has saved clarisse's ass, even though she actively tries -- and, over time, he learned to like the challenge -- to make his life miserable. like, percy didn't personally kill michael yew. he didn't disregard his life. he watched his friend die, too. all while the closest person in his life was bleeding from a poisoned dagger she took to protect him. and while the living embodiment of the end of times was destroying his home and every person he loved in it.

maybe im missing something. was michael not the one to know his own death coming? did he not die laughing, having asked percy to put the events in motion, knowing the sacrifice he was making?

i went back and checked. before michael even died, there was this, from percy:

A hellhound lunged and I sidestepped. I could have stabbed it, but I hesitated. This is not Mrs O’Leary, I reminded myself. This is an untamed monster. It will kill me and all my friends.

and then, a few paragraphs later:

I tried to wound his men, not kill. That slowed me down, but these weren’t monsters. They were demigods who’d fallen under Kronos’s spell. I couldn’t see faces under their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been my friends.

and for michael's death -- i was right. he sacrificed HIMSELF. he was friends with percy, too, and he knew the goddamn cost of letting percy -- their forced savior -- die. michael made a CHOICE. read it for yourself, i'll emphasize some of the more important parts:

I got unsteadily to my feet. The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge – except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few metres away from me. His last arrow was notched in his bow. ‘Michael, go!’ I screamed. ‘Percy, the bridge!’ he called. ‘It’s already weak!’ At first I didn’t understand. Then I looked down and saw fissures in the pavement. Patches of the road were half melted from Greek fire. The bridge had taken a beating from Kronos’s blast and the exploding arrows. ‘Break it!’ Michael yelled. ‘Use your powers!’ It was a desperate thought – no way it would work – but I stabbed Riptide into the bridge. The magic blade sank to its hilt in tarmac. Salt water shot from the crack like I’d hit a geyser. I pulled out my blade and the fissure grew. The bridge shook and began to crumble. Chunks the size of houses fell into the East River. Kronos’s demigods cried out in alarm and scrambled backwards. Some were knocked off their feet. Within a few seconds, a twenty-metre chasm opened in the Williamsburg Bridge between Kronos and me. The vibrations died. Kronos’s men crept to the edge and looked at the forty metre drop into the river. I didn’t feel safe, though. The suspension cables were still attached. The men could get across that way if they were brave enough. Or maybe Kronos had a magic way to span the gap. The Titan lord studied the problem. He looked behind him at the rising sun, then smiled across the chasm. He raised his scythe in a mock salute. ‘Until this evening, Jackson.’ He mounted his horse, whirled around and galloped back to Brooklyn followed by his warriors. I turned to thank Michael Yew, but the words died in my throat. Five metres away, a bow lay in the street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen. ‘No!’ I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge. I stared down at the river. Nothing. I yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness.

like...i want to know every little detail about will solace as much as the next person. but this post is genuinely in direct ignorance of canon 😭😭 not only did percy stay to search for michael -- he was the FIRST to search. percy cared about him. and he recognised the depth of michael's sacrifice, the risk he undertook. he tried to stop him.

this is no one particular person's fault. i think as the percy jackson universe has gone on, percy, as a character, as been (ironically) kind of watered down. it has been easy for people to forget who he is, how kind he is. but i see it a lot. i see percy as this kind of apathetic, uncaring villain too often and it drives me insane. im BEGGING people to love the side characters and the barely-mentioned as much as i do, but to remember whose voice drew us in the first place.

[not-a-li]

A Memorial to Fallen Loyalty, Goddess of Demigods

Do you think Luke has a shrine in the back of Hermes cabin for the Athenide?

Pinned up sketches and poems from the Apollo cabin members that pass through, little carved weapons from the Ares Campers, Sailors knots from the Naiads.🪢

Do you think Travis and Conner sneak olives from dinner and lay then on the tiny shrine's alter?🫒

Maybe Luke and Annabeth figure out together how to make olive oil candles to lay on the shrine. Their first big project together since Thalia died.

Demigods still pray to her at the little shrine, even knowing no one is there to hear their cries. Just knowing there was someone who cared, even in the past tense, is enough to get some demigods through the day.

New campers who sleep near the shrine sleep better. Offering a pearl you found on the beach allows your questmate who didn't make it to enter the underworld. Campers who create Athenide works feel lighter and kinder after they leave the shrine.

Simple little things that aren't much. The Athenide is still dead, but the campers remember her.

And they remember that she loved them.

(I'm making myself cry. 😭)

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Have an AU! Just for you!

Forced Sainthood AU

Technoblade is a demi-god. He doesn't know one of his parents was a god because he never knew either of his parents. He is raised in an orphanage run by the Blood God's church. He is well taken care of but not pampered. They don't abuse the children, but the children don't have much.

Technoblade's childhood is mostly normal. He is a little smarter than his peers, a little more physically gifted, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Just a gifted little kid.

Helping out in relgious rites is mandatory for the orphans and one day, during the ceremony, Technoblade gets the sudden feeling of dread and without thinking pushes a nun out of the way.

Just as a light fixture falls from the ceiling. It would have killed her. He is lauded for his quick thinking.

But he starts to stand out.

He predicts more misfortune, stepping in to stop it when possible. He lifts a fallen tree off a farmer after a terrible storm, all by himself and only ten. The sermons he helps with seem a little MORE. The plants in the gardens he helps with grow more fruitful.

It causes quite a stir. The congregation and town are excited to have such a spiritual young man. He is such a help. People start visiting the little church just to speak with him. He's shy and introverted, but he tries to be kind before running away from the social interaction.

The priests are...not too happy about this. Like, sure, the extra money given is great, but THEY are the religious leaders, not some orphan brat.

When Technoblade gets injured during a festival and everyone sees him heal instantly, the priests decide they have to act.

Technoblade never suspected they would poison him.

Usually, he probably would have noticed it before it happened. The voices in his head are so helpful. But he was tired. He had been given SOO many extra tasks for a fortnight. He was wrung out. He didn't notice the voices warning. He didn't notice the strange taste. He only noticed when he tried to stand and collapsed, his whole body going numb and his vision tunneling.

A person only becomes a saint after they die.

People flock to places where a saint's body lay.

Technoblade is immortal. He cannot die. He heals almost as fast as he is injured. The priest and his conspirators discover that when he keeps trying to wake up.

So, they lay him in a glass case, mouth stuffed with poison to keep him unmoving. The fancy clothes hide the way he is bound in the case. The loudly mourn the young man, only sixteen. So devoted. So kind. The priests preen under the attention. That it was their guidance that led to such a wonder as Saint Techno.

Years pass. Technoblade is not asleep. He can hear. He can listen. He just can't do anything about it. And he is partly divine. The prayers offered his way DO have power. And that just makes more and more people flock to his prison. He can't move. He can't speak. The tears he sheds are just attributed to miracles.

Philza wasn't born a demigod. He was made into one when he got married. He jokes that while most couples just take a last name, he got to take godhood. He loves his wife, Lady Death, dearly and he loves to travel to her temples across the continent.

Occasionally, he stops in other gods temples out of curiosity (and to shit talk them to his wife. Her temples are FAAAR better than PRIMES). So, when he hears of the famous little temple, he visits.

And is horrified when he immediately realizes what has happened.

In the middle of the night, he breaks in. He breaks the glass coffin and carefully lifts the now adult Technoblade and spirits him away into the night. Removes the poison. Removes the chains. Hunkers down in the wood, ignoring his paid for hotel room.

It takes two days for Technoblade to fully regain consciousness, and in that time, a manhunt happens to try and find the person who stole the saint's body.

Cue hijinks of Philza and Technoblade trying to escape the country while being hunted. Maybe, Priest starts to think that two saints will be better than one.

Anyway, time to go back to my boring job so I can't say anymore. Have a good one, Sharada my beloved!

I definitely made this joke before, but since this is a Lenn AU I was waiting for a Dark SBI twist kekw /lh

Jokes aside, a wonderful premise as usual. A great amount of Techno whump potential hehehehe. But also some comedy! Because I can't stop thinking about Techno going about trying to tell people he was held captive but they're all like "He came back to life, it's a miracle!!!" poor guy.

[prinzrupprecht]

When Someone Else Tries to Impress You

It’s been forever since I did a Valhalla scenario one shot. Might turn this into a series with other characters.

Pairings: Okita Souji x fem!reader

Synposis: Valhalla was another wonder of mysteries and vastly beautiful. Everyone and everything co exists in one place. All the humans that died were summoned to Valhalla in their prime. You were died young anyway but you were reunited with your friends and of course, Souji once again. Yet, things go south when you befriend the demigod Cu Chulainn that happened to be training one day nearby.

No warnings.

WC: 1585

You loved everything about Valhalla. There were no wars and death. You and Souji were always next to each other when you both lived and promised each other to be with one another in the next life. Well, instead of being reborn, you all were summoned to Valhalla. Everyone that you had known was summoned in their prime years. Nagakura used to brag about how he died as an old man but was brought to Valhalla in his late twenties. You died not long after Souji so you never had the experience of aging like he did. It seemed that mostly everyone was still young and alive but in Valhalla.

“Oh cool, everyone is still practicing.” You chuckled as you sat down by Kondo. It was amazing to you how Kondo’s group still stuck by one another and had their own lodges set up near a forest.

There was no more fighting, at least no one to betray each other. Even Abiru, Yamanami and Heisuke were still with you all in the afterlife despite their bad choices when you guys were alive. You don’t loathe anyone… except maybe Serizawa for being a complete jack ass and he was elsewhere with his own group. At least he didn’t stick around with you guys.

Souji was happy and better, unlike his sick self. At least you can’t catch diseases and illnesses in heaven. He was able to spar with the others and see him laugh again. You could resonate with him how he wanted to see them once more before he died. He wanted to fight alongside them in the war. Most of all, he wanted to be with you and Kondo forever. It sucked how that turned out but in the end, everyone ended up together again. You had your family again… your Souji… the boy you swore your loyalty to. Valhalla was too unreal to be true.

After everyone was done with their practices and had eaten Kondo’s homemade meal, you quickly dismissed yourself and wanted to check the river nearby alongside the cliffs. You were going to ask your Souji to accompany you but he looked busy with everyone.

Maybe they won’t even notice you leaving for a bit. It didn’t cross your mind as you wandered around the forest down to where the river was. It didn’t look safe to cross from the looks of it. You heard someone counting like as if they were training nearby. You didn’t want to spy or anything. You haven’t met many new people in Valhalla either.

You slowly walked away but accidentally tripped over your feet falling backwards. Clumsy… like usual. You remember how Souji has caught you a few times when you’ve tripped or fallen from heights. He was normally there for you… suddenly guilt formed in your stomach. You wanted to return but someone was towering over you.

“Spying on me now?” A man with long silver hair gathered in a braid stared down at you. His blue combat uniform looked odd and he wore a red cape supported by a golden medallion attached to his right shoulder.

“N-No… I was just wondering around. Who the hell are you?” You sat up and moved away a bit to be cautious. You were mad that you didn’t bring your weapon with you in case he tried to attack you. You were internally scowling at yourself for being stupid.

“The name’s Cu Chulainn and you didn’t answer my first question.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“What? Spying? I already said I wasn’t! Besides I’m leaving,” you tried to get up but your foot was stuck under a fallen log. You cursed and panicked but the man was baffled how terrified you were around him.

“Here, let me.” He pulled the log up so you could move your leg freely. You jumped up and still stumbled but didn’t fall this time. Was he showing off? How was he able to lift a fallen tree like that?!

“What? I was trying to help. Besides you still haven’t given your name?” He raised one hand to his face as he observed you. Was he really acting nice towards you? You were hesitant but gave your name to him.

“I— I need to head back.” You finally stood up and the man Cu Chulainn leaned against a tree with his arms crossed.

“So soon? You barely got here,” he laughed and you heard a dog. A dog barking.

“There he is,” a fluffy white dog walked up to Cu making your left eye twitch.

“You know, my dog Geiss normally doesn’t like humans, but he seems okay around you.” Doesn’t like humans? What the f— is he then? Was he trying to impress you with that statement?

You reached your hand down to pet the dog and he was nice enough to let you touch him. “He’s soft…” you were surprised by the dog’s reaction to you petting him.

“See, Geiss likes the pretty lady, huh?” Cu cooed that last part as he patted his dog. Pretty lady? You kept telling yourself to not get flustered. You can’t be flustered. You belonged to someone already. Oh god, oh god.

Cu was trying to impress you with his dog? You mentally laughed and you overstayed in the same spot. “I should head back but I must ask why are you here?” You have been wondering this for some time. He wasn’t Japanese. You have no idea what he was? He said his dog wasn’t particularly fond with humans.

“I train in all sorts of places, this happened to be a random spot I sometimes come to.” He responded as he went to pick up something huge like a tree but not quite. His weapon?

“My mentor gave me this and told me to train every day to master its technique. Maybe I can show you someday,” you were feeling guilty all of a sudden. Cu Chulainn or whoever he was must’ve been a warrior somewhere. He was strong for sure, but you didn’t have time to play questionnaire.

You heard leaves crunching behind you. “I found you. Why did you leave—" Souji stopped mid-sentence as he saw you with someone else. Geiss started to growl making Souji step back a bit. He was contemplating on pulling his sword out of his sheath. He was confused while he stayed a few feet away from you. You seemed too relaxed around the man as well.

Were you secretly seeing someone else? Souji wouldn’t know how to handle that, but he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. Souji fell silent and didn’t know why you were here with someone else.

“Wait—! It’s not what it looks like.” You stepped in front of him.

“Who’s this?” Cu asked while he placed his weapon down. Geiss was lying next to him while you felt more guilty than ever.

“It doesn’t matter, we’re heading back.” Souji grabbed your arm to leave with him. Cu didn’t stop you from leaving. Well, he thought you were cute but that was it. It would be unfortunate, if he was your boyfriend. He seemed to dislike him but it didn't matter to Cu Chulainn anyway. He didn't even care if he sees you again.

“Hey wait! Why are you mad?” You haven’t seen Souji lose his temper but he was itching to kill the man you were with.

“Were you and him…" he didn’t want to finish while he was turned away clenching his hands tightly.

“No, I just met him and well, he talks a lot and has a cute dog.” You tried to make the situation better but Souji frowned still. Cute dog? That thing wanted to kill him.

He had calmed himself a bit and apologized. “Sorry, I almost lost my temper back there.”

“Aw, are you jealous that someone else was talking to me? Souji…” you were surprised but this wasn’t the first time. He even got mad at Hijikata and Nagakura a few times for trying to date you numerous times when you all lived.

Souji ignored what you had said. “Let’s head back. Venturing off is still dangerous without telling anyone. You were just lucky,” Souji grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him. He wasn’t wrong with the lucky part. Cu Chulainn could’ve harmed you but he didn’t.

“Fine, maybe we can see him again and he can show me what his weapon does.” You felt his hand tighten when you mentioned seeing him again. You noticed the tension in the air changed. Souji glanced at you with murderous intent in his eyes. Not to kill you, but he would for sure kill him.

“I said we, you and me! He didn’t seem—"

“No, just leave it.” When you two got back to the main area where you all were staying at. Souji had let go of you but something made you nervous around him from his behaviour earlier. He gets overprotective but this time he was different. He actually looked hurt but played it off when you explained that you had just met him and nothing happened. Now he’s back to acting normal around his friends, but when you two were alone, he wanted to mark you. Everyone knew who you belonged to. Souji always says the sweetest things to you alone which made your heart beat differently. How could you leave him? You wouldn't. Ever.

Something only he can do to you as his woman and no one else.

[sausage-rolll]

My take on the promised consort.

I believe that Radahn held the stars in place when Ranni began fearing her fate. She never wanted to become a puppet to the two fingers, and Radahn knowing this attempted to hold off her destiny for as long as possible. Though he likely knew that it would be an inevitability. The only other two living empyreans were cursed afterall. 

There was no way that Miquella or Malenia would be able to take Marika’s place, the two fingers weren’t even the slightest bit interested in either of them. Malenia was already claimed by the God of Rot and Miquella was perpetually in a state of adolescence. Ranni seems to be the only one who was ever actively bothered by her fingers and I believe this is because they had an intense desire for her to be the next god, assuming Miquella and Malenia as lost causes due to their curse.

I think this is when Miquella came to Radahn with a proposition. He will be seeking godhood. Even if the two fingers had no interest in him, even if the world thought him too small and frail to ascend, he was going to find a way, no matter the consequences. He was determined to become the next God and lead the world into an era of abundance and peace. To fix the mistakes of the past.

He only had one simple request.

“Promise me, you’ll be my consort.”

If Miquella were to ascend then Ranni would be free of her duty. She’d be able to live in peace knowing that she’d never have to be controlled by another's will. She wouldn’t have to become a god, she wouldn’t have to succeed queen Marika. And to top it all off, Radahn would get to play the role of his hero Godfrey. Ushering in a new era alongside a new god.

It was perfect.

That was, until the night of the black knives. The night the world was thrown into chaos. The night that the first demigods fell. And the night that he lost his sister.

Radahn likely wouldn’t have known about Ranni’s plot and would have thought her dead alongside the other victims of the night. Ranni was gone, and with her, so too was Radahns need for Miquella’s age.

I believe Radahn, fueled by grief, rage and the mad taint of his greatrune, denounced Miquella and struck out on his own as a warrior of the shattering. He didn’t need peace, he didn’t need Miquella. All he wanted was to fight. All he wanted now was endless war.

Maybe that would be enough to dull the pain of his loss? Not only the loss of his sibling and father, but also the loss of his purpose.

-

Now picture Miquella. Making the final preparations to begin his ascension. Only there’s one problem. His consort has abandoned him at the very last moment. As it turns out, it seems Radahn never really cared for Miquella or his visions for a new age, he was only really in it for his own gain. 

Imagine how devastated Miquella would be. Knowing that yet another one of his plans had fallen apart at the finish line. That the person he trusted to rule alongside him didn’t even hesitate to abandon him when it was no longer convenient for him.

His ascension to godhood would never happen. He would never be able to heal his sister. He would never be able to bring forth an age of compassion. He would never be able to right the wrongs of the past.

He had failed again.

Now imagine how furious this would make his people. How angry his followers and his sister would be to see Miquella rejected at such a pivotal moment. To see him mourning a consortship and an age that would never come to pass.

Is there really any wonder that they chose to march towards Caelid and deliver the promised consort by force?

[coirinthyurilo]

I love and hate the thought of Will becoming the Camp's actual caretaker.

As time passes on, less healers are on board and Will takes the responsibility.

He cares for each individual camper, give them gentleness or roughness when necessary. And he knows he can't abandon his position.

People need him, camp would fall apart without him. Like.. Seriously?? This BOY. A SIXTEEN YEAR OLD CHILD FUCKING DOCTOR. Is handling atleast 75+ campers all on his own?!

An actual doctor who's probably 30 to 40 or above can't handle more than twenty. And a sixteen year old is handling more than 75 CAMPERS.

WTF RICK. (And Chiron. I'll get to that later.)

I hate how he has to care a range of children to almost adults everyday in his infirmary. Capture The Flag that takes place every two weeks must be HELL.

But I love thinking about he's genuinely become a safe place for children below fifteen atleast. Like they come to him when they feel overwhelmed at some point. Or they see him as a parental figure.

But it's just sad actually. How he has to become a parental figure, and for almost the majority of his life— (Pre-TOA.) Not one parental figure showed up for him.

Sure, Chiron! He's the oldest and the most experienced and is ALSO a HEALER. If Chiron is capable of running a camp filled with so many demigods for years. He should have known to not allow such a huge responsibility. Burden. And load on a CHILD.

Why did Will have to care every single camper on his own? Why did he have to become an unlicensed doctor at the ripe age of sixteen?

Maybe even twelve the moment he lost his siblings. Just why? It's an actual surprise he hasn't crashed out, maybe even COLLAPSE from the sheer— fucking exhaustion that slaps him in the face when the sun rises.

Imagine waking up at the crack of dawn. Never get enough time to actually rest up, and relax because everyday when you wake up you have to take care a shit ton of people at the infirmary.

It's like fucking torture.

It's actually amazing that he's so comitted to this job, because if I was him I would have left. Got the hell out of there. Never come back.

But he can't. The lives of people are on his shoulder. Responsibility that had been stacked on for years by previous healers all coming dropped on his shoulders.

Shoulders. Of a child.

Can we just appreciate that without Will camp would have FALLEN. He's the literal BACKBONE of camp. The foundation that kept them alive?? (Nico as well, which makes them such a good power couple. Because without them camp would have fallen too.)

It's so sad how much responsibility Will shoulders. At his teenage years. :(

[sevencruxestorulethemall]

нαℓƒ αη∂ нαℓƒ мαкєѕ..?

pairing - Oliver Wood x F!Reader

summary - you are a demigod-witch, the first of your kind, and you quite literally fall out of the sky in full Hogwarts uniform, house Gryffindor. fortunately, you do fall on someone's lap, the very boy you'd soon fall in love with

warnings - it's a long one...

Maybe you'd taken a wrong turn in the Labyrinth.

But then why did it feel like you were falling?

Your eyes flew open, and you saw blue sky above you. You were falling! You tried to angle yourself in a way that would let you see what was below, and your eyes widened.

Grass.

Stands.

People.

Flying objects? No, flying people. On broomsticks.

You thought you might have a concussion. Then again, you had seen weirder things and been to weirder places. This must be a trick of one of the gods.

You tried to call on one of the gods, but either they were too busy laughing at your predicament or they were ignoring you. Even your father, Apollo, was silent.

The ground was getting close. Uncomfortably close. You could now see properly, and you were hurtling towards what looked like a sporting field, but a very weird one. A semi-circle of grass with three varying lengths of hoops on either side, surrounded by stands filled with people.

You landed right on someone's lap.

"Oliver Wood makes another catch!" Someone cried through a megaphone. "Is that...a girl?"

You looked up into stunned brown eyes, the boy staring at you like you had just, well, fallen out of the sky. You stared back, unsure of what to say since your arms were also wrapped around his neck.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, the boy lowered you both onto the ground, allowing you to get off. It seemed whatever sport they'd been playing had been stopped, all eyes on you now. You assumed that even in a world of people flying on broomsticks, falling out of the sky was not normal.

"Who are you?" The boy whose lap you'd landed on asked. I've seen all the Gryffindors and I've never seen you before."

Gryffindors..?

You looked down at yourself, only now realising what you were wearing. Long, black robes, a skirt, a jersey with a shirt and red-and-gold tie underneath. The robe was emblazoned with the symbol of a lion.

"I'm sorry, what are Gryffindors?" You frowned, confused.

A group of adults came rushing over just then, their eyes wide with shock. They gathered around the boy with the pretty brown eyes, each looking you up and down in shock.

"Where am I?" You asked. "This doesn't look like Camp Half-Blood." This seemed to offend them, which confused you even more. "The camp for demigods?" Their faced turned sheet-white, which alarmed you.

"So they exist then?" An older lady turned to the wise-looking man with the white hair and beard.

"Wait, are you not demigods?" You frowned.

"Perhaps this is not the best place to discuss this," the old man spoke, "Come with us. Madam Hooch, I think that should be enough for today's game."

As he turned to leave, you followed. Everyone was staring at you, and you tried your best to ignore it. Your eyes landed on the boy who'd caught you - Oliver Wood, was it? But you quickly looked away, still a bit dazed from the fall and the fact that no one here knew what was going on.

You were taken to a castle, high up in one of the towers. The castle itself was majestic, and took your breath away. You were left in awe of it's halls and staircases - which apparently moved at random.

"What's your name?"

"(Name) (Last Name), sir," you answered, hesitantly.

"And where did you say you came from?" He asked, patiently and kindly. His eyes twinkled with a gentleness that mirrored Chiron's.

"Um, technically I think I fell out of Daedalus's Labyrinth, but I come from Camp Half-Blood." You shifted your weight nervously, tense and slightly afraid.

You expected your words to make no sense to them, but to your surprise they exchanged worried looks like they knew what this meant.

"Who is your parent?" The old, kindly man asked.

As a habit, you answered, "Apollo."

This seemed to make them relax a bit. You'd had enough experience with unwanted, powerful demigod children to know that they had feared you were a child of the big three, namely Zeus, Hades and Poseidon. Like your friend Percy, children of those three were extremely powerful and unpredictable, so you understood why they had been so worried.

"I'm sorry, sir," you spoke up, "Who are you and where am I?"

"I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

That explained it. The flying brooms, the robes, the weird sport...they were sorcerers.

"Might I ask..." Dumbledore started, "Who is your mortal parent?"

When you told them your mother's name, they gasped and once again, exchanged looks.

"Ah," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, "It would seem that you are also a witch, Miss (Last Name)."

Learning that you were not only a demigod but a witch too was staggering - and you'd been through a lot, and seen a lot. You'd never expected your mother to be a witch, since she hid it quite well. Or maybe she had thought that since being a demigod was hard enough, she'd never tell you about your witch blood.

The professors were quite understanding, and very helpful. They explained everything to you, and enrolled you right then and there for the current school year. They assured you they'd assist you in getting everything you needed, and all you'd have to worry about was getting to classes.

Which they had a certain boy show you to.

"We've never had a demigod here before," he glanced at you, "Are you really half god?"

"Unfortunately," you sighed. "My father is the Greek god Apollo. God of archery, music, healing, plagues, et cetera, et cetera. It's not as great as it sounds, trust me."

"Why not?" Oliver asked curiously.

"Well, since the age of twelve we're basically hunted down by monsters. The bigger your godly parent, the worse the monsters. I was tormented by dracanae, snake ladies, because my father's worst enemy is a giant python. Gives us Apollo kids a deathly fear of snakes."

"You might not like Slytherin house then," he replied, confused but also fascinated. Though, he didn't sound too unhappy about you not liking Slytherin house.

"Slytherin house?" You repeated. "The green one, right? With the snake emblem?"

"That's the one. Full of the worst of wizards and witches."

"We have a cabin like that at camp," you tensed at the mere mention of them, "The Ares cabin, children of the war god."

As Oliver continued to show you around, explaining what he could about classes and the castle and your domitory, you both exchanged stories about the wizarding world and the demigod one. It was interesting to hear something new, something different from what you were accustomed to.

By the time night fell, you felt as though you were a little bit more prepared for the year. You had, by now, figured out that this was either Zeus or Hera's doing, given that Hera hated your father and Zeus was just s grumpy old man who liked to meddle in demigod lives.

Children of Apollo were generally extroverted, outgoing people, but the other girls in the dorm were the nervous ones.

The next couple of days were hard. You had been on a lot of quests, but none of them compared to the frightening reality of being stuck in a school where you knew no one, in a world you didn't know much about.

You would have rather fought more dracanae.

"Having trouble?"

You turned around to see Oliver, who had seemingly left his friends to come speak to you, "Unfortunately, people are not as welcoming here as they are at camp."

He chuckled, "Well, you are part Greek god. They're just intimidated."

"And you're not?" You raised an eyebrow, but smiled.

He smiled back, "I think you're nice enough. And you haven't blown any of us up, so..."

"I can't do that!" You laughed. "The worst I can do is-"

"Got yourself a girlfriend there, Wood?" A voice behind you sneered. "And it's the freak, too."

"Back off, Flint," Oliver's expression hardened.

You turned around, to see a boy in desperate need of a dentist. Or an orthodontist. Either way, that jaw and those teeth needed fixing. Your disgust must have shown on your face, because he glared at you.

"What are you looking at, freak?"

You muttered something in response, a little incantation. They just laughed at you, because nothing happened, until Crooked Teeth actually spoke.

"What was that, freak? Are your spells too weak?" He frowned, then spoke again, but whatever he said continued to rhyme.

Next to you, Oliver laughed, "What did you do to him?"

"A little trick some Apollo kids can do," you grinned at him. "I cursed him to only speak in rhymes for a week. That doesn't seem too harsh, does it?"

"Not at all," he continued to laugh. "I think it's brilliant."

The Slytherin students quickly learned that you were not to be trifled with, and avoided you at all costs. They didn't even know the full extent of what you could do, which you found hilarious. After that, the other houses warmed up to you and you quickly made friends.

But by far your favourite was Oliver.

And, even though you'd only known him for a little while, you were beginning to develop a crush on the Quidditch captain.

But you didn't think he would like you back.

That's why you didn't think much of it when he invited you into the Quidditch changing rooms to see the robes and the brooms and the equipment.

That's why you didn't think much of it when he started finding you at the Gryffindor table, eating his meals with you.

You didn't think much of him hanging around you more than anyone, offering to help you with your work, showing you around when you got lost.

"I think he fancies you," one of your friends giggled as Oliver smiled at you from where he was hovering on the Quidditch pitch.

"No, he doesn't," your cheeks burned. "He's just friendly."

The game kicked off, Slytherin house starting off as dirty as ever. You hardly heard what your friend said after that, too engrossed in trying to see how the game worked. That, and watching Oliver at his post.

The red ball - the quaffle - flew at him as a Slytherin chaser passed, but he easily caught it and tossed it to one of the Gryffindor chasers. Then he turned to look directly at you.

"See?" Your friend nudged you, "He's even looking to see if you're impressed! He's trying to impress you!"

"That's a bit of a stretch," you tried to keep your composure, but the butterflies bloomed in your stomach anyway. "I think he's just checking to see if I'm following the game."

"You're hopeless," she sighed. "Isn't your dad good at flirting? Shouldn't you know when a boy likes you?"

You sighed, "I don't know, I guess I was too busy when I was at camp to notice if anyone liked me. So I don't think I could tell, even if I had my father's charm which I definitely do not."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he likes you."

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the game and not on the way your heartbeat picked up at the thought of him liking you too.

Oliver made a few more good saves before Flint - or Crooked Teeth, as you liked to call him - and his other chasers overwhelmed the Gryffindor keeper and sent him spiralling down to the ground. You gasped and got up, rushing to go and see if he was okay.

"I'm alright," he told you, sitting up, groaning. He looked okay, but only because he hadn't fallen directly, just spun out of control.

"Let me see."

You gently examined him, checking for any outward injuries before you you felt around for any inner ones. Both of your faces burned at the contact, and the closeness.

"Yeah, you should be okay," you hummed, pulling away. "You're not going back out there, are you?"

"If I can play, I will," he answered determinedly.

You figured there was no stopping him. You had enough stubborn friends at camp to know that, so you sighed and let him go. Watching as he flew back up to the giant hoops.

After the game, which ended when his newest player - the apparently famous Harry Potter - caught the little golden ball, known as the golden snitch. You assumed Harry must be just like Percy - a hero chosen by fate, forced into fame and unfortunately the target of the worst creatures imagineable.

"Well done," you smiled at Oliver as he came out of the change rooms.

He returned your smile, "Thanks. What did you think?"

"Well, it's definitely confusing," you laughed. "But I may just get the hang of it soon enough."

"You will. What kind of sports do demigods play, anyway?"

You laughed nervously, "The dangerous sort. Capture-the-flag, obstacle courses that are designed to kill, climbing lava walls...not really sports, but similiar."

His eyes widened, "Right..."

You laughed at the look on his face, "It's easy when you've got the ADHD and the reflexes for it. Quidditch looks scary too, actually."

"Can't argue with that," he chuckled.

You walked with him back to the castle, butterflies fluttering around your stomach again. You couldn't help it, being around him was both intoxicating and nerve-wracking. Your stomach always churned when he looked at you, though in a good way.

"Thanks for coming to check on me, by the way," he glanced at you. "On the pitch. Not many people would do that."

You tried to lie, brushing it off as, "Well, my dad is the god of healing. When anyone's injured at camp, we're always the first to be called." Instead of telling him the real reason why you did.

"Our own on-site doctor," he chuckled.

You laughed, and continued to make your way back to the common room.

And, with a sinking feeling, you realised you were in love.

[moociaoafterdark]

Okay, I think I have fallen in love with Fulgrim again, but it's not canon Fulgrim, but rather the image/version of him I have conjured up in my mind.

Ehem.

Unhinged Yandere Stalker Fulgrim!! (feat. Ferrus)

Fulgrim being hyper attentive around Ferrus and noting every single little thing about him. Compiles it into a list and notes.

Fulgrim having a detailed plan of Ferrus' schedule, that he learned from spending time with him, stalking him, sending someone else to stalk Ferrus after he was caught. To know exactly what Ferrus is doing at any given moment. Knowing what kind of person Ferrus is - Fulgrim is almost always right.

Stealing things from the Gorgon. A clip, a piece of cloth, a hair strand, an eyelash, other things Ferrus would leave behind, wouldn't notice and wouldn't miss. Things do escalate, when Fulgrim began to bribe the serfs so that they could deliver Ferrus' used clothes to him that were supposed to be sent to the laundry. Instead, the Phoenician presses them against his face, burying his nose into them and inhaling the scent of his brother. It gets to the point Fulgrim, like some kind of beast or a dog, can track down the Gorgon just by scent alone. The clothes are returned after some time. But not handed directly to the Gorgon. Theyhave to be washed first, to get rid of the... suspicious white stains.

Fulgrim growing jealous and demented when Ferrus has the audacity to get close to anyone but him. Stop looking at Sanguinius, Fulgrim is prettier. Stop talking to Guilliman, Fulgrim is smarter. Stop talking to Vulkan, Fulgrim is a better blacksmith. Fulgrim attempts to spread rumors and lies about the other brothers, but just damages his reputation instead.

Fulgrim anticipating his reunions with Ferrus, making sure he, his Legion, his ship, even his serfs are perfect, exactly you would expect a demigod to have. Not that Fulgrim really needs anyone to... outshine him, but if Ferrus compliments the state of his Legion and his ship, the Phoenician would be drunk on praise for the rest of the day.

Fulgrim ordering (or maybe making himself??) a small doll in Ferrus' likeness. To hug something when the nights get cold and lonely, because Ferrus' clothes lose their scent eventually.

The Phoenician having pictures taken of the Gorgon. Some where the propaganda posters, some portraits that Fulgrim had commissioned and that Ferrus just wasn't interested in keeping, some photos that were taken by the Iron Hands' serfs ("encouraged" with either bribes or intimidation). Some of those pictures are... dirty. Fulgrim has to get new ones to replace those that were soiled to the point he can't see anything anymore.

Finally, Fulgrim absolutely loosing it when Ferrus doesn't want to follow him into the debauchery. Maybe, this version of Fulgrim lets the daemon possess him much sooner, because all that effort, all that attention, all that love that Fulgrim offered to his brother was just... rejected? Or maybe, in desperation Fulgrim throws away the blade and does the unthinkable - completely dismisses the daemon inside the sword. The despair outweighed the influence of Slaanesh. Anything, Fulgrim will do anything so long as it means Ferrus won't leave him, please, please, please.

[child-from-olympus]

「 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 」

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Pairing: Dionysus  x Fem!Reader !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SFW ! [4.0k words]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Lil' thing I thought of. Based on "The Bacchae".

To know when someone was close to territory one should not enter was fairly easy to understand. The screams of ecstasy, uncontrollable laughter and singing of the bacchantes, ruled by the God of wine himself, they were sounds that told people to back away unless they weren't approaching to join the celebration of the demigod’s birth and his Godhood.

Still, you walked towards the wildfire neatly controlled in the middle of the forest; bare feet ceased of footwear by your generous and ever so beneficent King carefully stepping forward towards the cult, gingerly looking down at the dirt padded floor so you wouldn't trip on any surfacing roots of the trees that hid away the large gathering. You didn't even bother stepping on nuisance twigs or scaring off birds with your approaching form, the screams of the Dionysian people were enough sounds to cover your own.

In a way maybe only the Gods above could understand, you didn't have an idea of what you were doing as you only got roped further and further into the task King Ischenous had placed over your head.

“Or?” you had asked him then as his guards held you down, your neck bent even if your eyes stayed high up to look upon him sitting at his throne.

“I’ll send my men down to take care of their foreign rebellion instead.” Ischenous had spat his response right back. “Or you give them a tranquil death, or I will have their decapitated bodies paraded through these streets. Yours included.”

You either complied and had your head ripped from your shoulders for the ecstacy of the maenads, or you'd rebel and deny him and have your head slashed off your shoulders.

You'd rather have your fate, ripped apart like the former ruler of Thebes, Pentheus, first cousin to the God of wine, than die at the feet of your miserly King.

The burning fire you got closer to got clearer to your view, the hues of red, orange and yellow bright in your vision as it got consecutively warmer. Nymphs, pipe-playing satyrs and mere mortals alike all danced around the growing flames, singing praise and screaming of euphoria out for their Lord. You tugged at the makeshift hood of your deep mauve coloured chlamys, hiding away your face behind the fabric as you began making your way around the party behind the wider trees that covered the hidden souls that amused themselves with the company of a fun-bringing deity.

You let out a slow breath to calm your rising nerves, and the small of your fingertips brushed over the waterskin bottle slung over your shoulder, resting over your hip. You felt the hemlock mixture shake gently inside with each movement. Drops of this in their wine and the party would go silent, the fire extinguishing slowly throughout the night. You could turn unsuccessful, in the best case scenario for the poor souls, and your fate would end before you did what you had to do.

And while they were all drunken out of their stupor, you were cautious enough to emerge from between the greenery that hid you away from their inebriated visage, shedding of your chlamys as you pinned the long fabric around your hips instead, hiding away the goatskin bottle of poison behind the mauve fabric.

Stepping into the circle of dancing nymphs, you bent down amidst your little run to pick up a chalice, tossed to the ground next to a fallen satyr, passed out cold. Straightening back up, you kept walking through the exhilarated crowd, high on ecstasy they didn't even notice the new face slipping past their dancing forms. A laughing nymph even did as much as refill the cup you held that wasn't yours with fresh wine with a lightweight jug; immediately going back to dancing around her companions.

You looked into the chalice you had grasped in your first — in the rich maroon colour of the sweet liquid, moving gently around in your shaking hold — you saw your reflection. Your face was serene, relaxed. But your eyes told it all: you were tired.

Nothing but a coward you were seeing.

You tipped the glass back away from your self-judging gaze, instead tilting your head back up to look around in between the passing figures of each and every one in that small Dionysian paradise.

Until your watchful eye finally caught on the wine being distributed mainly from the wide amphoras placed down on the ground, standing near a large table filled with various fruits and delicacies. That was your chance.

Walking closed with your cup raised close, you dodged every single intoxicated person that stumbled in front of you, eyes set on your one goal. You carefully grabbed the waterskin from under the bunched up fabric at your hip, taking out the cork with a hand as your feet dragged you close to the various ceramic pottery.

But you faltered, it not only for a second… This wasn't the right thing to do. Far from it. Even if you were left to live and Ischenous banished you from the city, breathing but forgone of your crimes, it would not help you sleep at night you killed all these people. Even if it was a considerably much preferable death than having them being hunted down like animals; corpses paraded like a show worth seeing.

Were you truly doing this because you were being altruistic? Or were you worried about your own wellbeing?

Your face grimaced. Footsteps stalling when you were close enough to the large, wine-filled ceramic.

This choice would weigh heavy on your shoulders. You could throw the goatskin bottle with the bitter liquid down on the ground and turn around… Run away from Ischenous’ domain and leave behind the henousities you dared commit. But what the King's men would do to these people was going to weigh even heavier as well. You left them to die.

You looked at the wine cup in you right hand, the maroon wine swirling inside looking so deliciously good. But your eyes drifted back to the waterskin bottle… You couldn't see the contents, but you knew the poison it held.

You were indeed stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Is it water that you carry?” A gruff male voice spoke from behind you, his voice wobbled sousedly. Your body didn't turn, but you did glance black to see a short satyr, his body laxed, stinking a strong stench of wine as he stared at the waterskin in your hand. “Gods, my throat has been dry the whole night. Be ever so kind to offer me some.” He reached out an arm towards the bottle in your hand, which you immediately pulled away.

“Pardon? Step back-” You turned your body around to face the satyr male, the wine in your chalice almost tipping as a few droplets fell from the edges. You took several steps back as the satyr took his own steps forward.

“Deities curse your greed, child! Hand some over!” The satyr insisted, getting even more impatient as you dodged his stubborn hands, balancing both the chalice and the goatskin bottle out of his grasp.

“No-!” You twisted back around to run to escape the male’s obstinate clutch, feeling your body immediately jerking forward to make a run for it. But instead, you violently slammed against another person. Your wine spilled completely, emptying the divine contents onto the person you had stumbled upon. Though not a single droplet of the hemlock had escaped from the bottle of goatskin you held.

You felt a tight grip settle on your hand, holding the hand you had the bottle in your clutch tightly, the tight grip steadying you so you wouldn't stumble back and fall behind.

Your stare opened once more, casting upon none other than the person you had spattered your wine across. Garnet tinted liquid trickled down from his velvet skin and the gold he sported, staining the purple chiton he wore loose around his body and dripping down the leopard skins he had draped over the purple fabric.

The entire party had gone silent, watching the rolling scene dumbstruck. Wide eyes watching you, and your own eyes travelled up the towering man. Your gaze finally settling on the stranger's face… And terror immediately settled when realisation of who it was dawned upon you.

Dionysus.

You knew it from first glance. The golden goblet he held high in one hand as he lifted his other hand has your wrist clasped in his harsh grip; serene eyes looking down at his now ruined outfit with pressed lips. His expression was unreadable. You saw various nymphs who were trailing behind him now standing quietly with their hands up to their mouths in shock. Everyone was silent. You couldn't hear a single thing, not from anything with a frenzied psyche just as yourself.

Heartbeat was quick to begin to thump loudly enough it reached your ears; blood pumping violently and hot. If the God of ecstacy didn't have your hand clenched in his own by the fist, you'd surely be losing your balance again.

Dionysus' stare soon flickered up from his soiled robes and up the the immense crow now watching him cautiously. Brief seconds passed like tremendous hours as the silence stretched on, and the pit in your stomach only recoiled further as your fear worsened.

But then. The divine God smiled. A wide grin that stretched up to his eyes, sweet, but not looking quite right. Not that the plastered people before him were on their right mind enough to notice.

“A waste of wine is always such a sad thing, my people!” The God shouted to his followers with a bright tone. Despite his gleeful mask, his grip on your wrist tightened the slightest. “Drink up! Drink more! Night is young, and there is still so much to yet enjoy to the fullest!” His divinity passed the golden goblet he held to a nearby nymph, who immediately took it gratefully with both hands.

Dionysus' attention turned to you, and you could feel the lies you had planned to immediately start spilling falter at the end of your throat. He stared at you with an intensity in his eyes… you weren't sure of what it was. Hate? Resentment? Silent disgust? Whatever it was, he didn't let his wide grin falter as he looked down at your trembling body.

“And you, little nymph, blemishing a God's robes! I should throw you to the leopards!” He let out a loud, boisterous laugh that made you jump, though the other nymphs and satyrs didn't even do as much as glance back at you two as they returned back to their loud chattering and dancing. You felt him pulling at your hand, dragging you along with him as he took you somewhere further behind the forest. “Come, little nymph! Let us change out of these splattered cloths.” You heard his voice, unexpectedly, immediately drop an octave. And you felt like you were swallowing a rock as you were hauled beyond.

Dionysus didn't say anything else as you two kept walking. And frankly, you weren't sure if you wanted to say something too. You'd keep your mouth shut, for now. This was a God you were in front of — not a pompous leader you could rebel against — a God. Son of Zeus, on top of that.

He stayed silent as he dragged you towards a tent. A large one, resembling those used in war. Though this one, interestingly enough, held various different tapestries on top of it… There was a warm, yellow light coming from the open entrance, the only thing that served the similar purpose of a door was a sheer, mesh red fabric.

The God pulled the fabric aside, entering the tent without even sparing a glance back to make sure you'd join him as well. He didn't need to. He knew you would.

And when you followed him into the abode, your wide eyes settled on several leopards lying on the fabric covered floor. All of them were sleeping, with only their swinging tails showing that they weren't just carcasses. Most of the large cats rested against pillows thrown around to make the place a little more comfortable. Several warm lights resting on small tables set around, a large table pushed against one of the fabric walls of the tent, filled to the brim with various fruits and golden pitchers, undoubtedly filled with the God's divine wine.

Though, you didn't bother admiring the sheer clothes hanging on the ceiling, the several armchairs the neatly made semi-circle bed pushed against the end of the tent with a large veil supporting as a roof… You were standing so still by the tent’s doorway, not daring to even breathe as you stared at the leopards.

“You do know I was joking when I said I was thinking of feeding you to the leopards. They're all friendly, that I can assure you.” His silvery voice suddenly spoke up. His voice was quiet; more poised than back then, when he shouted boisterously in joy.

You looked ahead of you, afar to the other side of the tent. Dionysus stood in front of his bed, his back facing you when all of a sudden, he reached out to the pins of the fabric that held it all together, letting his clothes fall loose on the floor.

You immediately pulled away your gaze before you could see any inch of forbidden skin of the God — staring politely to the floor as if it was the most interesting thing you've ever seen — what was he trying to achieve with that?

“I do blame myself for not stopping you the second you stepped in here…” The wine God spoke again. “I have to thank that satyr that stopped you. Tartarus knows how close you were to pouring that hemlock mixture into my wine.”

Your head immediately perked up, but snapped right down once again. That's why he had pulled you aside. He knew of the poison on the bottle. He knew what you were there for.

“Oh, yes. I know about you, _____. And I know about what King Ischenous sent you to do.” The God's voice held it's measurement, deliberate. But you could hear that hint of amusement in his voice even as your heart tightened with anticipation. You never told him your name- You never dared tell anyone of your name.

“H-How do you…” And pathetically you stuttered out, but before you could even finish it, he began speaking again in that same low and controlled voice.

“I know everything, _____.” Dionysus kept getting closer with small steps towards where you stood, you could hear it in his matter-of-factly timbre. And you tried to keep your composure… Not to have your knees buckle weakly before the God of wild frenzy. Though, it became harder when suddenly your chin was grasped between his thumb and pointer, a choked gasp immediately jerked away from your throat, snapping up your gaze as it immediately fell onto his own.

That. That was hate. Although it held neutrality with a half-lidded look that looked down upon you without his usual carefree smile, you knew it. He was resenting your actions. Hating what you could've become.

Your mind spiralled the further you looked into his eyes… So beautiful. The Gods were all so ethereal, their wondering eyes as well, but in that moment it was all that you could see as Dionysus held your face in his hand in a tight grip. Everything around him was getting blurry. Dark. You barely could hear anything that was happening, the screams and music outside falling into deafening ears aside from his smooth and controlled voice. You couldn't focus on anything else.

“Do not underestimate me because I choose peace. While part of you ignorant mortals acknowledge I'm the great God of wine and ritual ecstacy, I am also the God of madness. Deity patronising the wild frenzy.” Your vision was spiralling. You were no longer in control of your own mind as you turmoiled into delirium. Dionysus was doing this. His voice kept getting tighter, as if barely holding his growing rage while his face kept getting so derangedly close to yours- He wanted to be clear with what he could do. With what he was doing. “I've plunged whole armies into lunacy with a snap of a single of my wrists; drove them all into hysteria until their only escape was to dive into the ocean and stay there until they could no longer breathe. Guided women that judged my Godhood into great mania, controlling them to rip their own king apart.”

As if he had pulled on a lever, everything went back to its ordinary state. Your vision wasn't dark anymore, you could hear the voices of nymphs laughing and chattering outside of the God’s tent. Though, Dionysus did not release you from his hold.

“Do not mistake my choice of harmony for weakness. I am anything but. And your king Ischenous shall see that very soon.”

You nodded. What else could you do or say? Words were few on your tongue when the God had just briefly sent you into a trip of insanity.

Much to your relief, Dionysus smiled. Not a smile that quite reached his eyes, but a grin that clearly reflected his satisfaction.

“Now… Could you ever be so kind as to let me borrow your chlamys, love? Nymphs keep stealing away all of what I have to wear.” The wine God chuckled, finally letting go of your chin and you took absolutely no time to immediately step back from him; luckily, he didn't seem bothered by it. It was only then that you noticed that he was, in fact, still bare and nude save for the shining gold he wore. You averted your gaze again, hands reaching around to unpin the mauve chlamys you sported around your hip. The deity thanked you dearly, taking the fabric from your shaky hands before wrapping it loosely around his body.

You could finally look at him without needing to keep your eyes polite, and noticed how he had made the long fabric into a simple chiton, adjusting some of the edges.

“Oh, do sit down, love! So rude of me to keep you standing there while I rambled!” He laughed again, but this time placing a gentle hand on your lower back, guiding you towards his semi-circle bed at the end of the tent, the beautiful thing that was covered with a veil near the ceiling. Of course, you didn't want to anger the God further by declining his offers of comfort, or whatever he was trying to give you after giving you the most threatening words you've ever heard in your short lifespan of a life. You sat down at the edge, body tense, hands resting on your lap as anticipation clawed around your head waiting for him to do something. Anything.

Dionysus didn't do anything, though. He turned back away from you, walking towards the table filled with his wine and fresh picked fruit.

For a second, you wondered. He wasn't trying to kill you, despite figuring out what you were ordered to do. Despite attempting to harm his followers, he didn't seem that mad anymore. You always heart priests preaching: “Gods are multifaced! You never know what to expect from them.” And you couldn't help but think they were right. You didn't know what to expect as you sat down on that velvet cushioned bed staring at the God pouring himself some wine.

You went back to staring at the leopards instead. They were still all sleeping. You didn't know what to think of them, you never really saw any of them in a really long time… But these were under the God's control, right? He wouldn't just let them attack you.

You stared at a specific one… One that lied down on it's side near the bed. It's tail was faintly swishing around on the floor, the leopard’s eyes closed as it rested peacefully. 

“Call me a prick, but… he's actually my favourite one.” Dionysus spoke up suddenly once again, making you snap your head towards him. He was still standing near the table. “His name is Arham. He's been with me since my first journey to India.”

You looked down at the leopard again.

“He's magnificent.” You complimented the big feline, since you weren't sure what else to say. Dionysus sent you an amused hum.

“Arham… Is a name that means ‘compassionate’. Or even ‘merciful’. Would you know?” 

“No, I didn't know that.”

“It's quite ironic actually. You see, the nobleman that ‘owned’-” He put two fingers up, closing them and opening as if mocking the title. “-him was a cruel man, mistreating his people, his servants… Even the animals. I had gone to his palace to talk it out to him, but the old man wouldn't listen. Thought he had the authority to treat others like that, and my words fell on deaf ears.”

He turned back around, finally, and leaned his body against the table now behind him. The glass he had taken for a fill was now full of fine maroon wine, but the God had it resting on the table at his hand.

“He threw me into a cage with the leopards.”

You glanced around at the tent filled with the sleeping animals, eyebrows furrowing. Were these the same ones?

“Well, admittedly, I was still getting used to the whole ‘God’ thing. I wasn't that prepared.” A sly smile stretched across his perfectly molded face. Without divine intervention to help him throughout life as he grew up, of course he wouldn't be able to control what he domained as well as the other Gods did when they were little. Dionysus went on that voyage to India for self-discovery, returning to his homeland as a king of his own. “Arham, over there, gave me a pretty bad slash across my back.”

You stayed quiet for some time, staring at the God's carefree poise. A question at the tip of your tongue as you let it roll out:

“He hurt you… And you did not hurt him back? Why would he be your favourite if he tried to kill you?” Dionysus could only chuckle as you stated your confusion.

“Because, my dear,” The deity paused. “he did not mean it.”

“But he's a leopard. How could that be if it's in his nature to be violent?” You kept questioning him further, pushing to understand.

Dionysus pushed away from the table, making his way over to the large cat that slept beside you, and kneeled.

“Something happened, that moment. And from a moment to another, I had that King kneeling before me as to beg for mercy. I freed them right away, and they ran. Of course they ran, they were afraid.”

Another pause. Then a hand reached out, softly running his palm down the fur of the leopard he so cherished.

“But this one stayed. He was crouched next to me, fur barely brushing against my legs. He was sorry for what he had done.”

“Truth is, love, Arham felt guilty. He was following orders from someone who had power over his existence, I do not blame him for that… I never will, with anyone at all. I feel like you can relate to him in a way, can't you?”

You didn't say anything else. You stared at the leopard, avoiding meeting eyes with the one that could read you so well. You truly had underestimated him, in a way… And so had Ischenous. Maybe Dionysus was offering you mercy, a second chance… But he certainly wasn't going to offer the same to the King.

Arham had began to purr under the God's soft touch. And the tent, aside from the soft sounds of the feline, fell silent.

“But now it's up to you, my dear.” He stood up again, but this time, he moved to stand right in front of you.

His goblet rose down, just for you. And quizzically, you looked up into his own eyes as to just wonder why, but he was someone hard to read; looking down at you with a smile that held mischief.

“Will you be joining them? Or join us instead?”

Actually, not much romance happens in this fic. It wasn't really supposed to be an x reader, it was more like an idea that came to mind and I just wrote it with a reader MC instead of an OC. So, in short, NOTHING about Dionysus and MC in this one shot is truly supposed to be romantic. Interpret as whatever you want it, though!

This was heavily based on "The Bacchae" and many beautiful pieces of art I've seen of Dionysus in Tumblr!

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO MISCELLANEOUS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 💤 MORPHEUS: GOD OF DREAMS 💤

A/N: I see you Morpheus demigods out there, this is for you. Also because in the books, there was a reference that there are demigods of Morpheus, but we don't really see any but they exist sort of? So, we all know the drill! Thanks for reading and have a nice day!! MISCELLANEOUS DEMIGOD H/CS MASTERLIST LINK: [TUMBLR] || [AO3]

When you get claimed, you have a very similar experience to the children of Hypnos; where it involves sleep. However, instead of falling asleep as soon as you get a claim like a Hynos demigod, you have a dream where Morpheus used his realm to meet you and basically say, “You are my child” while everyone is forcibly evicted from their sleep and dreams to see the claim hanging above your dead-asleep body.

You were still dead-asleep in the dream realm and after Morpheus left, cause this was a major gray zone he was doing, a chosen child of Hypnos would appear in your dream and give you the down-low, while the rest of them had to trudge up the Hermes cabin where you were in, and basically carry you to the Morpheus cabin. Why you may ask? Well Morpheus’ claim was dreams and touching your vicinity would make anyone else fall asleep and have either a russian roulette of forced dreams; whether they were good or bad dreams, no one knew but anyone who had fallen under the spell would not wake up easily. The only exceptions to this case were the children of Hypnos and a few children of Hecate. 

So your first morning as a child of Morpheus would be greeted by the children of Hypnos looking down on you as you stared up at their eyes and a new roof of the Morpheus cabin. What a way to wake up.

Being a child of Morpheus obviously deals with dreams and sleep, but your powers are more in the former than latter… and no, it’s not Morbin time. Yes you have the power to make someone fall asleep but you can’t hypnotise someone like a child of Hypnos.

 At the minimum, you can give someone a nice daydream or daymare (day-nightmare) and making someone fall asleep and manipulate their dreams. To the max, if you’re a powerful Morpheus demigod, you know and can see people’s dreams, peering into their psyche as if to even bring it into the reality. You can also bring their nightmare to life and truly make it a living nightmare.

With Morpheus being also referred to as the Sand-man, you also inherited this aspect. You can manipulate sand or dream-sand to be exact, and you can use that as your advantage. Think of Sandy from the movie “Rise of the Guardians”.

While the children of Hypnos have this duty as well, they’re basically chronically asleep so you’re the next person to go for deciphering dreams. You make good business in helping people decipher their dreams, to see what the future is talking about and the occasional love drama you get from the children of Aphrodite. On a serious note, the children of Morpheus act as consultations on dreams; especially if they are Prophetic dreams. While prophecies are not your realm, you learn a thing or two from the children of Apollo and Hecate (maybe sometimes even from the gods themselves), deciphering dreams based on symbols, places, and etc.

On the flipside, Morpheus is also considered the messenger of the gods who appeared in the dream of kings in human guise, so you’re also relegated as messengers of the messengers of the gods.  Depending on how you feel, it is either awkward, terrible, fun, or an honour in delivering messages to certain recipients that you get from your dreams. How you feel depends on the context of the message and who you have to deliver it to. You did not enjoy delivering a message to Clarisse la Rue from her godly half-brothers Phobos and Deimos, nor did not absolutely enjoy almost feeling the wrath of her spear and rage. This is why people keep saying, “don’t shoot the messenger”

You’re also chronically tired ™ like your Hypnos cousins, but just 40% of the time. Instead of falling asleep like your cousins, people often find you daydreaming and being in your own little world

Your godly father’s reputation precedes you in more ways, with him being responsible putting all of Manhattan to sleep during the Titan War, and in the Roman’s eyes, they stiffen around you and act very tense on the job, as Morpheus’ Roman side, Somnia, alongside his father Hypnos, Somnus (r.), killed those who weren’t alert at their jobs.

Despite being the child of Morpheus, the god of Dreams, there’s a good chance that you don’t have many dreams yourself. It could be because you are perfectly able to lucid dream or are like the children of Hypnos who enter people’s dreams and float through the astral realms, or your dreams are hijacked being a messenger of the gods, dealing and talking to gods, or having to oversee people’s dreams; no matter how you feel on it. You’re also busy taking people’s bad dreams away and making them good dreams (or vise-versa), taking that energy to yourself as a sort of substance. However, just like the children of Hypnos, don’t spend your time too much in the other realm or you won’t find yourself coming back to the land of the living.

You felt like you were having a headache but you weren’t really sure if you could have a headache when you were technically passed out and asleep and be lucid dreaming all at the same time. 

Especially when you’re face to face with the man you’ve seen in your dream occasionally, only to be revealed that this entire time he was Morpheus, your godly father who revealed to you just now. 

“Wait, so all this time I thought you were some boogey man that’s been haunting my dreams for years, was you? Morpheus? The god of dreams who is also my father?” you asked, trying to wrap your mind around it. 

“Boogey man, sandman, however the mortals like to call me, they’re all me” said Morpheus as he leaned against his seat. 

“Wait, should you be even talking to me? All the other demigods say that the gods don’t really talk to their own children cause of some law?” you said, panicking. The setting of your dream world shook in response to your emotions. The dreamland you were in was created by Morpheus was modelled after a place you felt more comfortable to you; as he said, it allowed him to see more about you. 

Morpheus waved his hand flippantly, switching and stabilising the dreamland to something else that you were familiar with. 

“Bah, as if they don’t do the same here in the world of the wake and the world of dreams,” said Morpheus with slight distaste, “Besides, the dream world is a different reality that is made and managed between me and my father, Hypnos. I would like them to see them have any thoughts and be barred from seeing their own children in their dreams.” 

“Do gods dream?” you blurted out. 

Morpheus gave you a look that started to make the world around you distort. Your ears were ringing while also sounding like it was being put into a vacuum chamber and it kept building and building until-

Everything was back to normal. 

“Of course we dream” Morpheus stated before he cocked his head to the side. “Now my time has come and by now everyone in that camp knows who you are.”

“Wait what-” 

Morpheus waved his hand and the world distorted for a moment before another kid like you came stumbling in, as Morpheus scoffed. “One of my mortal half-siblings will fill you in the rest. Have a good time and learn well from Chiron, [first name]. Until we meet again.” 

Before you could even process what he said, Morpheus disappeared as he came all of a sudden. 

“I’ll never get used to him doing that” said the mysterious kid. 

“Wait, who are you? What did he mean that everyone in camp knows?” you stammered out.

“Hi, I’m Clovis, son of and cabin leader of the Hypnos cabin” he introduced as he yawned. “That’s why Morpheus referred to me, and the rest of my siblings as mortal half-siblings.” 

“Okay…can we get back to what did Morpheus said that everyone in camp knows? What do they know?”

“Oh, right” said Clovis as he seemed more awake. “Well…apparently, while you were talking with Morpheus, he basically ejected everyone in camp from their sleep to see you being claimed…while you’re still sleeping in the real world.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah…even us the children of Hypnos were ejected out too. I’m here to explain everything to you while the rest of us are currently carrying your actual body to your cabin.” 

“Wait, why are you carrying my body?” you asked, your mind reeling from everything.

Clovis waved his hand and showed you what was basically you being carried by a bunch of kids who all shared the baby face appearance. There were also some holding people back and some further ahead to clear a path while you were still dead-asleep like a pile of rocks. All in the dead of the night. The rest of the campers were either looking very sleepy and dead on their feet, or were lighting the path in front of you. 

You felt your face burning as Clovis patted your shoulder. “Yeah…basically Morpheus’ claim is so strong that anyone who is close to you or tries to wake you up puts them to sleep…and while that may not be a problem right now, since it’s night, everyone who touches you gets thrown into a nightmare. So it falls onto us, the children of Hypnos and the few children of Morpheus, to carry you to the Morpheus cabin.”

You had your face in your hands to try and hide but because this was a dream, you could see yourself putting your face in your hands and still witness the scene in front of you. Clovis finally releasing you from your embarrassment waved his hands away to clear the image before he spoke to you. 

“Well…you’re the first child of Morpheus that we’ve had in a while, and the last one isn’t used to this procedure yet so it falls onto me to give you the rundown of everything. Welcome to the Morpheus cabin Cousin” introduced Clovis as you groaned. This dream was actually a nightmare in disguise.

[thg-rcg-simps]

You never had a chance against fate – Mydei’s loathed ascend to godhood

Sooo, as the 3.2 patch is approaching, obviously I had waited so long till writing about our beloved Lion King. It was totally not procrastination, executive disfunction or the fact we played the patch rather late, no no it was planned like this from the get go.

And I will surely not get lost in the trauma or similarities to our boy Jing Yuan, hehe

Lean back, take some snaks, this shall be long ^^

[SPOILERS for the Mydei storyline and the 3.1 patch as a whole]

(Art doesn't belong to me)

Where do I begin? Where it went wrong? Where it began? When it ended? Or when the story throws us in since last patch?

I decide for the latter, as it’s more dramatic for a start. Or so the game devs thought for sure while making this warrior's entire life journey.

So, we are at the most secret place Amphoreus possesses and we conveniently can access from our bath-chamber, before the Titans. Which are still busy with our isekai protagonist, which wants to obtain the coreflame of Strife. Nikador has fallen, therefore a new demigod had to be born.

For a short moment in 3.0 we really thought that Phainon would get the coreflame and become Strife, tilting the whole theory of which (known) character would presumably get which of the Titans coreflames. But he’s ✨special✨, not just in the way that he has a husband with a white lion, no no he’s the Hero. But…I drift away, this is not about the white-blue haired slightly dumb Phainon, but his edgy depressed traumatized counterpart.

And because Aglaea is who she is and Trinnon lost connection to Phainon, it was clear, something had to happen. Obviously, we choose the most dangerous path, or at least this is what it was described at in the end of 3.0 but apparently it’s fine. I mean, they don’t know it but we are far from being truly alive and Mydei can’t truly die, so I suppose it makes sense to send us to fetch him.

In Nikador’s trial a person faces their worst fears, having to fight against them. And in all Mydei-Phainon fashion, his worst fear is connected to Phainon, his loss and his people.

Anyways, we get Phainon, drag him back to safety, or well out of a very possible death, and get a black screen, only to find out we have forced Phainon into resting and bugging Mydei about the coreflame. They haven’t done that for awhile and I’m glad it’s not a big occurrence in this patch but this one was very…hard and random ^^’’

While Dan Heng is having deep thoughts about the black tide and corruption like problems could be a problem of a Stellaron (or a simulation) because, alas we are still in Star Rail and this is kinda the theme, Tribbie is speaking with Mydei since she worries about his worrying for Phainon. He brushes her off and tells her yet again there is no word for “fear” in the Kremnoan language and telling her he knows about the planned idea for him to become Strife, but asked if he could first talk with his people.

I want to dwelve on the fact how incredibly worried Tribbie is and even going so far to say she will be there for him regardless of his decision, especially regarding his crown. But this will be part of a later post about Lady Tribios herself.

Anyways, our prince who does not want to be one, goes around Okhema questioning multiple Kremnoans, from children to elders the answers were all alike, they want to return “home”, hoping for a King and new battlefields. This does not sit right with Mydei, who is only more determined to not become King. Or the idealization of Strife. Or the successor of his late father.

You see, his father was not a nice man. First there was the whole ordeal of splitting Nikador, driving him basically insane as they tried to drag them in a human vessel or simply lock them away, making a god their marionette. Then he got the amazing idea of murdering his one and only child. He does say it’s to end the bloodshed, but he also says it’s because of Nikador. So maybe he wanted to do good…but he wanted to end bloodshed with more bloodshed and by murdering his wife, so I don’t really think that worked out. His son did end it however somehow, so…plan successfully failed?

Mydei was thrown in the River of Souls in which he got his blessing and curse by the gods, immortality. A gift he would often wish he did not possess. Especially because there was no one worth living for.

Here comes a problem tho, it’s a time one. Amphoreus in itself is a fine world, it has the chance to be even amazing, some characters being written just sooo well. But it does remind us a lot of Belabog, and with that time problems are apparently also a thing again. Not as big as Servals, but how old is Mydei?? And how old was he when he was thrown in the River of Souls? Because at first it seemed like he was a baby, but that couldn’t add up since he remembered his mother. We also don’t really know how long he was in the River or where he got out and how he then found his loyal comrades or was taught by Krateros or Verax Leo. HoYo, I plead with you, make sense!

What we do know, however, is that he had 5 very loyal and close friends named Hephaestion, Perdikkas, Leonnius, Ptolemy, Peucesta, which stayed, lived and fought together till the very end.

(Art doesn't belong to me)

We also know that this group of soldiers were relatively rebellious towards the Kremnoan standards and were trying to change what Kremnoan even are. Because they are not just senseless beast attacking and fighting, dying in honor of being a warrior, no they are loyal strong friends who fight for their comrades and live for the fallen. They are so much more but bloodshed crazy fighters, as painted by both many Kremnoans and other natives to Amphoreus.

This is a theme and is quite interesting, since some of the mentioned comrades of our dear crown prince, are not even active fighters, and through the Verax Leo (I terribly want to know if they are all the same or is each one a separate lion, which is a big possibility since the one Lion that was Mydei’s greatest teacher, is insinuated to die) we know this is not a one time occurrence. Kremnoan people were not just fighters, they were as varied as any other people we meet on the planet. They all just were Nikadors followers and inhered Strife in one way or another. And not everything has to be about the brutality. In fact, when we go with Trianne to see the past of Castrum Kremnos many of the people even in the central area at the time of this big spectacle made by the King, not all were fighters.

It's very interesting to see how Mydei is so extremely wanting and wishing to prove the stereotypes painted by his father and just the general public about his home and his people, wrong. He wants to make them see there is nothing heroic of dying or of wishing for war to fight in. He wants them to see that if they do what they have done before they will eventually just die out and nothing will be even left. It’s an honor thing. But the honor is misplaced.

Mydei spends his entire life fighting for those people who are extremely ungrateful for any of his attempts to save them from their own doom. And no one is even…slightly thankful or thinks of his sacrifices made for and only for his people. His friends. His mother. The only thing he ever knew was violence and how Strife works. The only thing to his name beside a title he hated, was the fact he is Kremnoan. He’s proud of being one. He reminds us, as the Trailblaizer just like the other Crysos Heirs, that he is proud of being Kremnoan. But he is not at same time. Because of what it became.

See, no matter what he does, or what he wishes to do because he sees father than those close minded people, his efforts should be considered heroic, but are said to be foolish. Because his so called people, like the stereotypes. Like to go to war. Like to fight. Like to pretend this is a heroic thing to do even tho right now, there are much bigger problems than stupid little conflicts escalating. People want to go home, not because they miss the place, or the memories with it, no they miss the violence. And the praise they got out of it. They miss the slaughter. And they miss being encouraged for it.

The Kremnoan language is vast we learn, but fighting abilities are valued higher than knowledge. Kremnoan have such a big history outside of their so called heroic wars. There are so many words and stories. So many that one could say the Kremnoan language has no words at all.

So of course, the only possible way to safe his people, was, to kill them. Not personally, just end them. Metaphorically, and actually. Mydei takes on the crown, only to end it. He takes Strife, so he can take it away, destroy its bloody claws plastered around his folk no matter how young.

And I think this is the most fitting things he could’ve done. The only thing that actually would work. Make his people listen. Make them understand. Or at least he hopes so.

They might hate him as a King, but they hated him as the crown prince that refused the crown anyways, those who would hate him would do anyways. He does the right thing, he ends the agony being associated with his blood. In his mind it’s a fair deal, he’ll die for his people. Over and over and over till the end. Till the Black tide might consume him. Till the world would come to an end as well. He would die as a true Kremnoan. As Mydeimos, son of Gorgo.

His fate, the prophecy, as he thought he could unrun it, was always ending exactly like this

(Art doesn't belong to me, but I dig the duo/quatro)

Of course this is not the end of the story, there is actually much more to it, like the fact that Mydei was done in mere hours (max) with Nikadors trial (in comparison Phainon was there for days and couldn’t get past them), the fact that Phainon and Mydei are as official as the other very straight pairings, the fact that his former teacher, and biggest opposer to what he did, Krateros wanting to take on the coreflame himself, kidnapping Trinnon and later “repaying” them with trying to save Trianne as she feel because of the Reaper.

Or well…the last conversation he has with Castorice before parting to Castrum Kremnos about death. About her abilities probably even cutting through his immortality. I know this is all foreshadowing so we all drool over the fact we can literally pull her as this post goes up, but, I think most people still underestimate her so I thought to throw that in.

Of course, it’s absolutely heartwretching that he can’t even properly stay for the goodbye ceremony for Trianne, even though he is absolutely loving this small adorable readhead trio. It’s not mentioned with words as much but Mydei and Tribbie (as much as the others) share a bond where they would care a lot for the other. As much as Tribbie, as the teacher, is caring and very affectionate towards all, with Mydei is special and very heartwarming (but more on that in her post, also yes I know she is special with everybody).

If you ask us, I have to say that this patch is by far the better one of the two we had for this world. Of course, I extremely miss Herta, I think it’s very displeasent that the main crew is voicless as it disrupts the experience (especially for the next patch, I fear the worst when they become more relevant than just Dan Heng), but the writing and character building is amazing! I love how they handled Mydei (and Tribbie). I think they portrayed him as a person perfectly and tho we find it more than cheap to shush him to the side with having him fight for an eternity, so he disappears off the visual story line, it kinda fits his being. So, we’re still very happy with this side of the story, at least it was told properly, in a ways to make us understand too.

I mean, how could we not, it’s a beige haired man with a lion and a pretty traumatic backstory, that fights similarly to our Blady just more unpredictable and more chaotic (and less grumpy when being healed).

Anyways, thanks for reading this all, have a cookie 🍪, may beige haired hot lion husbandos be with you ^^

-TakumiHairGuy & RikkaCatGirlbut

[seraphivonne7]

Base Ideas For The Fallen Skies!SFOTH and Demigods

Listing who I need to yap about help me.

▷ Firebrand

▷ Windforce

▷ Venomshank

▷ Ghostwalker

▷ Icedagger

▷ Darkheart

▷ Illumina

---

▷ Ban Hammer

▷ Sword

▷ Valk

▷ Dom

Okay! Time to randomly yap and pretend I know what I’m talking about. Since this is me typing my thoughts out, everything I say in this is subject to change. Think of this rant as base ideas for the Fallen Skies!SFOTH and Demigods.

(Also, some parts of this will be canon information. Other parts of this will be HC’d information.)

Explodes. (obligatory exploding every post) Ahem.

So I’ve been thinking about fleshing out the SFOTH.

Obviously, all the SFOTH are base melee characters. They’re all sword wielders and cannot be separated into the three classes of melee, ranged or support. HOWEVER, their movesets will be completely unique to them (ex. Icedagger throwing icy projectiles as an ability).

Another factor! Titles are a fraction of their role (King Firebrand, for example). How I mostly weigh their worth as a SFOTH, like: what have they contributed to Inpherno, what great tales have they been a part of? Are they a god revered in joy, or a god feared?

Having thought about all of this for the past few days, I think I have a basic understanding of their general making!

Firebrand

▷ King of the SFOTH, God of Demons and Hellfire, The Benevolent King.

▷ Abilities are solely lava/fire-based. He can also manipulate the landscape around him, raise mountains and rip ravines into the world.

▷ His great sword is forged out of blackstone, lava and fire gemstones, decorated with the bones of an ancient creature. No one else can wield it because it’s too hot.

▷ He’s a grandfather and a sweetheart. Diplomacy over violence.

Windforce

▷ Goddess of the Wind, Sea and War, Queen of Chaos.

▷ Core abilities are wind-based. On a broader spectrum, she can manipulate the weather and oceans.

▷ Her double-bladed spear is forged out of wind, oceanic stone, sun gold, and lightning. It’s actually really heavy despite looking balanced ‘n light, and it can’t be lifted by anyone else (it can’t even be lifted by Ban Hammer or Firebrand).

▷ She got the title Queen of Chaos for a reason. She’s a tough-loving mother and a free spirit.

Venomshank

▷ God of Wisdom, Bringer of the Plague.

▷ Abilities are acid/poison-based. He can also reanimate dead bodies at will.

▷ His rapier is simply made out of bronze, ancient oak and green diamond. Simple and light! He’s also able to duplicate it and dual-wield two rapiers.

▷ He’s an eloquent tactician. He speaks only when necessary.

Ghostwalker

▷ God of the Afterlife, The Reaper, Soul Taker.

▷ His abilities are gravity-based, actually. And, of course, he can see one’s soul and take it.

▷ His weapon is generally a great sword most of the time. It’s forged out of lightsteel, blackstone, and most importantly, genesis essence. The genesis essence is what allows his weapon to shift into different forms, like a chained whip or throwing daggers.

▷ He’s silent. He watches from the sidelines and defers to doing his job as a cold-hearted god.

Icedagger

▷ God of Ice and Snow.

▷ Abilities are snow/ice-based, obviously! He can crystalize structures, throw icy projectiles around, even manipulate snowy weather. Other things maybe.

▷ His weapon is a balanced dagger forged out of frost opals, blue ice and sapphires---very pretty and delicate!

▷ He’s shy and cautious. He’s a bit insecure as the youngest, having no faith in his powers. However… Icedagger is actually extremely powerful.

Darkheart

▷ God of Tricks and Misfortune, Bringer of Death, Entity of Malevolence.

▷ Abilities are shadow-based. He definitely shadow walks and shadow weaves terrible monsters. Also, his curses!

▷ His great sword is forged out of blackstone, shadows, and poisoned gemstones. It’s decorated with the cursed bones of those who crossed him. Also, he can replicate and dual-wield like Venomshank!

▷ What can I say? He’s a silly little god who loves committing war crimes :).

Illumina

▷ God of Judgement.

▷ Abilities are light-based. And of course he can manipulate people in many different ways.

▷ His great sword is forged out of light, lightsteel, and amethyst. He’s able to replicate and dual-wield as well.

▷ He’s one manipulative god.

YAY. The SFOTHs now have somewhat base images. I can now die happy.

…

(Slowly turns around and sees the demigods. Proceeds to explode again.)

Time to apply my thoughts to them as well.

Ban Hammer

▷ Demigod of Strength, Warden of Banlands.

▷ His abilities are literally just brute strength. He can also summon lightning for attacks if he really needs it. Thank you to that one HC who brought this to light.

▷ His hammer is forged out of deep amethyst, blackstone and blacksteel. It can only be lifted by Firebrand and Windforce!

▷ He’s Ban Hammer. :] A chill dude until angered.

Sword

▷ Demigod of Justice, Defender of Inpherno.

▷ His abilities are light-based, uhm. Also strength-based…! He also has adapted himself into doing aerial attacks.

▷ His sword is forged out of light, lightsteel and audurite. It’s incredibly heavy and weighted specifically for Sword.

▷ Fallen Skies!Sword is quiet. He’s a serious fellow that’s never known anything else but training and duties.

Valk

▷ Demigod of Melody.

▷ His abilities are sun/solar-based! And since he’s not a SFOTH, he’s actually a support, using his voice to boost others’ abilities up to six times their strength.

▷ His microphone is purely made of sunlight. Only he can hold it.

▷ He’s very curious and outgoing. The life of the party with big dreams!

Dom

▷ Demigod of Harmony.

▷ His abilities are opposite to Valk’s: moon/moonlight-based. He’s also a support who can use his voice to physically attack others, plus he can throw up massive force fields!

▷ His megaphone is purely made of moonlight. Only he can hold it.

▷ He’s the quiet one who has dry, sassy humour. He’s also very wise and observant of everything around him.

THERE. Now I’m done! Base ideas are sometimes a pain. Help.

I actually wanted to create ancient stories regarding the SFOTH. Partly why I needed to make these ideas so I know what role they would play in these stories. I also needed a full scope of how powerful each one is so I can properly write them for Fallen Skies AU. AND ALSO, THE SCENARIOS?

▷ Icedagger freezing over an entire domain like WHAT.

▷ Can I get Darkheart casting eternal darkness over all of Inpherno.

ETCETC.

Time to go eat dinner goodbye. :>

[t1oui]

so something i've been thinking about a lot lately is how things might go if mortals found out about demigods and absolutely flipped their shit.

like, i'm talking full-on dystopia. everybody being forced to get dna tests to see if they're demigods (since gods don't have dna, anybody who appears to only have one set of genes is a demigod. or a lizard.). demigods being forced to wear armbands so everybody knows who - no, what - they are. hell, how about we go even further and color-code the bracelets so everybody can see who's a big three kid and who isn't. they're more powerful, so surely people will want to avoid them, right?

pictures of demigods are plastered on billboards and all over social media. people are told to approach them with caution or, in the case of a blue-banded big three kid, avoid them completely. in school, demigods are forced to sit apart from their peers, or they're kicked out all together - maybe annabeth's school won't let her live there anymore and she starts going to ahs with percy.

there are protests from both sides - people who want demigods completely removed from society, and people like sally who are just trying to remind everyone that these things, these creatures they're so afraid of? they're kids. they're children who were dealt a bad hand in life. they don't deserve this.

of course the gods are unhappy, but not because their kids are being targeted - no, most of them are mad because their soldiers are being taken away. who's supposed to defend them now?

in the midst of it all, demigods are getting more bold. not out where everyone can see them, mind you, but one morning, nyc residents wake up to find a shrine to fallen demigods plastered on the side of the empire state building alongside the words "fight your own wars". within the safety of camp half-blood and new rome, demigods and legacies begin posting on social media to show everyone they're just people. they're not evil, they're not trying to hurt anyone, they're just trying to get by.

after a few years, there's more people fighting for demigods rather than against them. it's the governments that are scared, and now not only do they have gods and demigods to worry about, they have a possible rebellion to fight. demigods aren't being excluded anymore. instead, their abilities are being embraced. nobody's sure how the world will react when they find out about the other pantheons, but that's not important yet.

percy films videos showing off new rome. connor stoll gathers up other year-round campers to run socials for camp half-blood. the legions of camp jupiter are doing tik tok dances in their armor. sure, they're still forced to wear the armbands, and sure, some people still hate them, but things are better than they were. people are on their side. the life of a demigod is never easy, but it doesn't have to be bad either.