#mortal hero: patron of the gods

[the-modern-typewriter]

Determined heroes and the villains obsessed with them are my absolute weakness, esp when the hero is absolutely at their mercy. You write protagonist/antagonist so well, thank you for sharing!! Once life stuff settles I want to be a patron again!

"You simply don't give up, do you?"

The hero panted for breath, but still couldn't seem to draw enough air into their heaving chest to reply. They doubled over, bracing one hand against the wall. At least, currently, it looked like a wall. They mustered a glare for the villain.

"You're in my domain, sweetness," the villain said, unbothered. "The only exit you have is the one I give you. You could run five marathons and still not find the way out."

"Then give me an exit!"

"When I get bored, of course."

Abruptly, the wall beneath the hero's hand shimmered and shifted, reality bending nauseatingly to something else. Instead of the endless fancy hotel corridors that the hero had started with, they were suddenly stumbling off-balance into a big squashy armchair. Its softness enveloped the hero on every side, whispering reprieve, a relief for their aching muscles.

They were in an old-fashioned library, filled with dark winding bookcases and honeyed light flowing still and golden through enormous windows. A roaring fireplace sprung to life, filling the room with a welcoming crackle.

"Or would you prefer outside?" The villain raised a hand to snap their fingers, in offer. "Are we feeling more brisk, fresh autumn air or sunny beach vibes?"

"I'd prefer you let me go."

"Well, we both know that, but in the absence of me granting that particular wish, you may wish to play along. Unless you'd prefer I get cross about you trying to run? Maybe create something to actually chase you while you're all tuckered out? All labyrinths have their minotaurs, my dear. Would you like to meet mine?"

No. No, absolutely not.

The hero swallowed. They considered their options for a moment, trying to decide if any particular setting would give them an advantage when reality itself seemed so smittenly under the villain's control.

"...outside would be nice," they said. "What's the best view you've got?"

The villain smiled and snapped their fingers.

The armchair stayed, as did the library shelves, but the walls around them fell flat like an unpacked box and crumbled, transforming into a sweeping bio-luminescent ocean. It was unlike anything the hero had ever seen. It barely seemed like something that could be seen on earth! They glanced up to find an expansive swirl of aurora shading a perfectly clear starry night with bright pinks and greens. The stars, themselves, were nonsense. Nothing like the formations of the world the hero knew.

The hero's breath caught, eyes going wide.

A steaming cup-and-saucer of hot cocoa popped into existence by their left elbow. They could smell the chocolate, sweet as it mixed with the salt of the water around them. A dizzying display of casual power.

"Okay, that's good," the hero allowed. "I'll give you that."

"Only the best for my honoured guest."

The villain sat themselves down opposite, though instead of a squashy armchair they had an elaborate but comfortable looking throne.

"How long does it usually take you to get bored?" the hero asked. "Because, you know, I've learned my lesson."

"Oh?"

"It's ridiculous to try and fight you."

"You're fighting me right now, in your way. Trying to convince a god to give you what you want. Trying your luck."

"You're not a god."

"No, gods are a cute mortal inventions. But I thought the comparison might make sense to you."

The hero's stomach squeezed. Another glance at the sky, at the calm waters of an eternally stretching sea, had them gathering more details. Namely that if this entire universe had an orbit, a centre of gravity, it was the hero's unassuming armchair. Or, worse, the hero themselves.

They turned their attention back to the villain, as if everything around them wasn't in some way the villain.

"Okay," the hero said. "Then surely gods, for want of a better word, have better things to do than sitting with me. Isn't this a bit like having hot chocolate with an ant?"

"But a very charming ant."

"We're more charming outside of captivity. Could do dinner."

"See," the villain cooed. "You just don't give up! This is why I knew I simply had to meet you. And I know you wanted to meet me. You've been trying so hard to find me, out in your little world."

"Is that a no to dinner?"

An elaborate banquet table replaced the library shelves.

"That's not real food," the hero said, with as much surety as they could muster. "You know I can't live on air and fairytales, yeah? If you keep me here forever, or until you get bored, I'll starve."

"Which do you think will happen first?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forever. Or me getting bored of you. Which will come first?"

"Forever, probably, is the vibe I'm currently getting."

The villain laughed, so the hero assumed they'd given the correct answer. It was...it was terrifying. More terrifying was the fact that a small part of the hero wanted to be flattered. They'd never had a universe literally revolve around them before.

The hero took a sip of the cocoa, out of some dangerous, dubious curiosity. It tasted like a childhood memory. Safety as the nights drew in. There was no safety from the abyss they were talking to, though, was there? Not really.

"If this is your domain, then this is...you," the hero said. "Which means if I were to find a way to beat you, it would be here. Seems risky to let me so close."

The villain's smile grew, like they knew something that the hero didn't.

"And you're probably not going to let me die," the hero reasoned, "no matter what I do. Even if you set a minotaur on me, or whatever."

The villain shrugged. "Why kill you when I could stretch your entrails like strawberry laces and hang you up in my study like Christmas lights?"

"Wouldn't that kill me?"

"Not here. Not if I don't want it to. It would hurt, though."

"Most people stomp ants. Especially the biting kind."

"Do you want me to kill you?"

"No. I'm just trying to understand what this...is."

"I believe humans call it 'seduction.'"

The hero nearly choked on the cocoa. They carefully set their drink aside, noting the little clink it made despite themselves. Real. Disturbingly real.

"Seduction is trapping me in your domain?" the hero asked.

"Many of the great love stories start with forced proximity."

"Less start with Stockholm Syndrome."

"And less still involve the two of us," the villain said cheerily. "But isn't the novelty exciting? You like what I can do. You said it was good."

"I meant that it was impressive."

"I am. As are you. A perfect fit."

"Are ants impressive?"

"You made the ant comparison, not me."

The hero studied them.

"Drink your cocoa," the villain said, rolling their eyes, oh so indulgent. "I'll let you go eventually. Unharmed."

"When you get bored."

"Before you starve to death. That would be far too mundane an end to our game."

That was...something. Even if it seemed too easy. Even if it seemed like no promise whatsoever that the villain wouldn't end up drawing them into their domain again. In the real world, surely, the hero could win. They could fight cultists. But that still left this. Them.

"Do you promise? That you'll let me go?"

"Promises," the villain mused. "That's almost as cute an invocation as gods. Very well." They leaned in, eyes bright, smile turning to a grin revealing dozens upon dozens of sharp teeth. "I promise."

Surrounded by sea and stars on every side, with no conceivable way to run, the hero could only hope they meant it.

[anotheroceanid]

Triton “I’m not particularly interested in my half-blood brother’s life, I just think…” ‘s opinions on some of Percy’s relationship outside the seafam:

Chiron: Should’ve been more careful with Percy, but overall okay given Chiron being an obviously underpaid and overworked old man

Grover: He likes him. It’s pity he didn’t marry Polyphemus, it’d be nice to have him in the family and maybe he would convince good old Polyphemus to start a healthier diet

Luke: Bad thing he betrayed Olympus, blah blah blah, but in a positive light he left camp before Percy’s hero worship turned into something more 👍

Annabeth: She… oh… okay… I guess I can’t write that, Triton. I’ll leave it here that you are strongly against her near your brother. What? No, I won’t say that either. What does Athena and Pallas have to do with this… Okay, enough. Next!

Apollo: Again, I can’t write that. I cannot call the god of sun a [redacted]!!! Okay, I’ll leave the message. Directly quoting Triton (not my words, Triton’s) “I know things about you, cradle robber. Don’t make me come for you!”

Hermes: Not bad. He’s happy that at least one god has restraining. Keep distance, either way. In fact, STOP visiting Percy with presents you were NOT allowed to gift him with.

Thalia: Surprisingly alright about their friendship, laments that she is the daughter of who she is, but she’s got points since she doesn’t like her father much, too.

Hazel: Best half-blood around (after Percy, ofc), says he’d like to have her and Frank over to dinner any day at the palace.

Frank: Basically family, he totally approves of Percy’s friendship with him. Pity he’s Roman and child of Mars, “no one is perfect, I guess”

Nico: In the name of Lady Amphritite, Lord Triton is asking you to eat more healthily. Mostly okay and “Don't crush on Percy again, if you know what's good for you.”

Jason: Roman. Jupiter. Multiple hisses… I don’t know what he meant with it, but whatever.

Beckendorf: He’s ranting for three hours about how great Beckendorf was. Terms such as “Honorary Percy’s Big Brother” were used.

Rachel: Very nice mortal. Poor taste in patrons, though.

[tylermileslockett]

ATHENA

“I begin to sing of Pallas Athena, the glorious goddess, bright-eyed, inventive, unbending of heart, pure virgin, saviour of cities, courageous, Tritogeneia. Wise Zeus himself bare her from his awful head, arrayed in warlike arms of flashing gold, and awe seized all the gods as they gazed. But Athena sprang quickly from the immortal head and stood before Zeus who holds the aegis, shaking a sharp spear: great Olympus began to reel horribly at the might of the bright-eyed goddess…” (-Homeric Hymn, translated by H.G. Evelyn white)

ATHENA (uh-THEE-na) , the virgin goddess of wisdom, war, strategy, defense, city state building and crafts like pottery, and patron goddess of Athens. In my Illustration she towers above Athens, as the city's patron and eternal defender. 

She was born from Zues' head fully armed, and wears upon her chest plate armor the infamous Aegis, with medusa's head, (sometimes depicted as a shield) which is used as a protective amulet and was said to let out a terrible roar in battle. Upon her shield is a horse and rider wearing a bridle, which Athena invented for mortals to ride and control horses (along with chariots and wagons). 

Upon her arm is her sacred animal, the owl, with its night vision, having the ability to see things that others cannot, hence it being a symbol of wisdom. The snake at her feet represents the early Athenian ruler, Erichthonius, whose symbol was the snake. He is represented below the statue of Athena in the Parthenon as the snake hidden behind her shield. The most sacred building on the Acropolis of Athens, the Erechtheum, is dedicated to Erichthonius.

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

Linktree:https://tr.ee/DcjSQDSEv3

[jetlag102]

Apollo’s version of the hunters

Please note that I am no writer and have never tried expressing an au in words like this before. It might suck a little.

Apollo has a temple for young boys on Delos. They swear themselves to Apollo (like Artemis’s hunters do for her), pray for him, sacrifice food for him. They are basically his modern priests. Inside of their lord’s temple do art, music, medecine etc. all in Apollo’s name. They also take care of Apollo’s holy cows which he has moved to Delos since ancient Greece. In exchange for what they do for him Apollo gives them immortality (like the hunters), makes them stronger and more apt at the things in his domain (they are great healers, musicians , etc.). He loves them (platonically) and acts as something between their dad and their patron god (like how he acts with Rachel). While they don’t advise him, he does care for their pinion as humans both very old and very young. They are kept a secret for their protection. Only a few other people know about this place: the Olympians, other more minor gods who’s sons have joined and Rachel (because she is his oracle and they are in similar situations). Apollo’s priests are mostly abused children, either demigods who prayed to him before or after joining camp or (clearsighted) mortals who prayed as a “joke” or in desperation for anything to save them. Most if not all didn’t think it was going to work since they either didn’t believe in the gods or didn’t believe in their goodness, but he saved them anyways. There are some demigods that weren’t aware of their parentage, but felt drawn towards greek/roman mythology and there are others that knew but never made it to camp or left camp because they didn’t like how violent it was. There is a five year old child that had just heard stories of greek myths from a book that said gods protect mortals (He heard mellowed out versions for children lol) which caused him to pray to Apollo, his favorite god (He’s shiny) when his mother hit him again. Apollo then took him away and got him to join his priests. Because they have been hurt so much and most aren’t fighters, the temple has a magical barrier that keeps them hidden from mortal eyes and masks their smell from monsters. (Other option is doing a thing about how sirens are part of his domain because of the singing and are therefore protecting the island). If they ask to leave that life they are allowed but they will lose their immortality and other added skills (If they learned to play the guitar they won’t suddenly lose that, but their playing won’t be able to magically affect people’s emotions anymore). After TOA Apollo reveals the temple to the other gods and demigods. It then becomes a resting spot for demigods and a sort of hospital. The island moves around (like in the myths) and can sometimes be found by heroes in need.

Here you go @apollosgiftofprophecy

[magnoliasandarson]

gods of gotham- athena

In myths and legends, Athena is an imposing figure. She is the patron of heroes, the guardian of Athens, and the goddess of war. She is beyond the judgment of mortals, beyond the hedonism of her fellows. But there is an other quality to the goddess, beyond her goodness and mercy. For Pallas Athena earned her name not through civility- but through artistic brutality.

The epics tell the tale of a goddess donned in gleaming golden armor, her voice echoing from on high, leading the worthy through their times of turmoil. Her shield was leant to those who proved themselves pure of heart and wise, for only those of Athena could wield the power of Athena. She was adored amongst heroes, for how could she not be? The leader of leaders, the beacon of morality and strategy. Let the stories remember her this way.

But Pallas Athena did not gain her name by allowing heroes to carry out her will. No, the war goddess hefted her spear and fought with the other gods, bloodying her chiton and dulling her blade in combat. She claimed her name with the lifeblood of a Giant, turned his image into her aegis. What can be said of such an act? She destroyed legions of men with strategy and spear; she shielded her own armies behind her aegis. The vengeance of Athena was strategic, but the justice of Pallas Athena was brutal. Let the stories leave her cruelty out.

In Gotham, the name Oracle was unknown to all but a select few. But those that knew of her, spoke in hushed reverence of the omniscient eyes guiding their weapons and fists. Her vision gifted to those in turmoil- leading the worthy to protect those in need and to exact her vengeance on those who earned it. Her commands were sharp and concise, ordering superhumans with the authority of a goddess. She was adored amongst heroes, for how could she not be? The leader of leaders, the guiding voice directing each act of warranted violence. Let the stories remember her this way.

But Batgirl did not gain her name by sitting back and allowing others to carry out her violence. No, the vigilante carried her own blades and fought with the other heroes, staining her suit in blood and bruising her fists in combat. She claimed her name from Batman, turned his symbol into her own, and created a name feared in its own right. She destroyed organized crime with a cutting smile and even sharper blades; she shielded the needy behind her cloak. The work of Oracle was strategic, but the justice of Batgirl was brutal. Let the stories leave her cruelty out.

Welcome back, Athena- your people have missed you.

In Greece and Gotham, when screams echoed through the air and warriors and wounded alike prayed for salvation, a voice of power echoed from on high. After the battle was won and night gave way to day, heroes would whisper of their savior. For strength must always bow to wisdom.

[cynthiav06]

I am obsessed with Epic, the musical as all people are and should be.

One of my absolute favorite parts (I love everything about it, the lyrical genius, the phenomenal melodies, the best cast) about the Saga itself is Athena and Odysseus's relation.

There are lots of opinions on how Athena doesn't treat Odysseus as a person but as a property, which I think is slightly misinterpreted. Odysseus is the only one in the whole Greek mythology to be so favored by Athena. She sees her very self reflected in him and hence sees him as an extension of herself given that she takes time and effort to teach Odysseus everything she can.

Yes, Odysseus gets ahead of himself and gets sentimental of sorts, but in the end, the mistake that causes his initial falling out with her is also something that mirrors Athena. Hubris is Athena's fatal flaw, and it's the same for Odysseus.

Athena's greatest ability is critical thinking in the heat of the moment, something Odysseus himself lives by and represents.

Gods are not flawless. No, they are every bit flawed, and deep deep down, they know it.

To Athena Odysseus giving into his flaws is a slap to the face because despite knowing her own and knowing how Odysseus reflects hers, she fails to make him overcome it.

He is also perhaps the only person to have insulted Athena to her face and lived to tell the tale without any repercussions because she knows he tells the truth but most of all because she accepts that if anyone has the right to reprimand her its Odysseus someone who has lived by her principles.

Even after their falling out, Athena defends him against the Olympians, and despite everything, Odysseus does his best to stick to Athena's teachings and doesn't hate her.

Athena does her best to advice Telemacus and even calls him her friend.

Throughout the Greeks myths, it is cemented that Athena and Odysseus had a strong relationship and were equals more so than a hero and his patron

The most ironically beautiful thing was that I was rereading Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus books to find Odysseus references through Mark of Athena and the part where Annabeth finds Athena at the subway, lost and frazzled,turned into Minerva due to the Roman and Greek demigods being together.

Minerva is nothing like Athena, she is Athena who is bitter and enraged and consumed with vengeance against the Romans who attacked her city and turned her into a just a Goddess of Wisdom and Crafts taking from her the domain of war and strategy. And in this emotionally heightened, unstable state that goes against her very nature, Annabeth hears her mumbling, "If Odysseus were here, he would know the way, he would know how best to help.."

And that to me is so raw and beautiful that in this terrible state that's basically a mental breakdown, The Goddes of Wisdom and Strategy thinks that Odysseus would be able to help. A mortal, yes, a great hero but still a mortal, and help in what? In guiding Athena herself as she tries to find her way back to her place of power, in guiding the lost goddess of wisdom.

Through the whole Percy Jackson series, it is repeatedly iterated how Odysseus is Athena's most and all-time favorite.

I also like how those books portray Odysseus as he was, a great hero and the most loyal husband.

I just had to rant on this. It's kept me awake for so long.

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #86: Percy Jackson, but make it Time Travel

I was minding my own business at work this morning when a terrible, awful, wonderful idea for a PJO time travel fix-it hit me out of the blue.

Or: What if a deified Percy was sent back to the start of canon?

Just imagine it:

Percy wakes screaming, which is immediately disconcerting as he's not slept in nearly 100 years. He summons a storm practically out of reflex, still caught up in the horrors of everything he just left behind, and promptly passes out, his 12 year old body not used to the strain.

-because he is twelve again - mortal again, - in his bed at Yancy Academy again, a week out from the field trip that will change his life.

Not that Percy realizes this straight off, what with the panic and the passing out, though he does pick it up fairly quickly once he wakes up again in the school infirmary. This nearly sends him into another tailspin of panic - (he is small, he is weak, he is alone in his head, one hundred years in the past, and can barely feel any of his domains) - before Percy manages to get himself under control enough to come up with the basics of a plan: get somewhere safe so he can start figuring out what the Hades is going on.

Percy manages to sneak out of the infirmary while everyone else is at dinner, hails the Chariot of Damnation even though he's way out of their normal service area ("We'll put it on your tab, dearie," the seeresses say, "we know you're good for it."), and arrives at Camp Half-Blood just after midnight.

His entrance is much less spectacular than it was originally, but no less startling for all Mr D is the only one awake to see it, for the moment Percy crosses the ward lines the magic begins to recognize him as the future Camp Director - which in turn startles Dionysus just enough that he doesn't immediately smite Percy when he practically throws himself at the god and starts going on about how pleased he is to see him.

The truth comes out in fits and starts, with Percy's exhaustion (and Dionysus' gifts) being the only thing keeping him from another panic attack. His story boils down to this:

Percy has always been a powerful demigod, perhaps the most powerful child of his father ever to be born to a mortal. His actions from his first quest onward only pushed him closer to the brink of immortality. Divinity did not come until several months after the events of ToA, when a camper had jokingly raised a glass to Perseus Jackson, Trainer of Heroes, which was all that was needed to push him over that final precipice.

As Lord Perseus, he was from the onset more powerful than most minor gods, his domains being the eclectic mix of Heroes, Natural Disasters, and Misery - the first earning him the permanent position of Director of Camp Half-Blood and Patron of Camp Jupiter, the second keeping him quite busy in an era of climate change, and the last having been unwittingly stolen years before from Akhlys in Tartarus. It is this power that causes Zeus to become even more paranoid.

-which is saying something, as his paranoia had already skyrocketed to new and greater heights after Apollo returned improved from the events of ToA.

It grows worse over the better part of the next century, with the Titan War, Giant War, Triumvirate, and all that follows eventually disabusing the majority of the gods that Zeus will never be an effective ruler. Apollo leads a rebellion against his father - and would have succeeded, had not Zeus not managed to somehow push Apollo directly into Chaos as Apollo was preparing for his final blow, which has the unfortunate effect of the universe trying to unwrite one of the most important gods from the history of Western Civilization and undoes the fabric of reality in the process. Percy was watching it unravel before his eyes (desperately, desperately trying to weave it back together but it won't hold) when he suddenly found himself screaming 100 years in the past.

It is a fantastical story, but Dionysus has no choice to believe it.

("But why did you come to me? Why not your father?" Percy looks down, running a finger along the grain of of the wooden table, "We became friends in the future. Misery and alcohol, you know? One of the oldest pairings in the book." There's more, Dionysus can tell, but the boy is already flagging, unused to the weaknesses of his childish mortal body. It can wait.)

The events of canon proceed apace - or at least as much as they can when Percy shows up at camp almost two months early knowing more about the Greek and Roman pantheon than anyone who hasn't lived through it, with the attitude of a hero who's been through Tartarus and the power levels of a minor god burning him up from the inside. All while sneaking off in his spare time to 1) plot to stop the end of the world with Dionysus and 2) hang out with Dionysus, because he is one hundred twelve, thank you very much, and needs adult company every now and then, for all he’s missed his long dead friends.

I actually have no idea how the events of the books themselves would play out - Percy has neither the patience or the ability to let everything play out exactly as before, but the major beats of PJO still take place, with Percy doing his best to undermine the arguments that drew so many to Kronos as he can while still mortal. (Advocating for cabins for minor gods and/or undetermined, or combined housing with temples. Gods being forced to claim their children when they arrive at camp, etc.)

Perhaps Kronos tries harder to sway Percy to his side once he sees how strong a demigod he is, showing his hand too soon and causing the Titan War to be an all out war from the start of TTC until the Battle of Manhattan? Percy is more than just a child solider - he is a seasoned teenage general, directing battles, saving many with is experience but still loosing too many; a one-man army who eventually ascends on his sixteenth birthday, Luke's misery as he kills himself being the last push Percy needs to reclaim his divinity and his domains.

Gaining his godhood early allows Percy to temper the events of HOO and TOA (the Giant War still happens, but a generation later with a different set of demigods, and allows Zeus to redeem himself somewhat by being an effective war leader; Apollo never becomes mortal but the Triumvirate is destroyed a generation after that), if not prevent them. Though a part of him will always long for his mortality, it was never in the cards. It was either godhood or an early death, and Percy would rather spend an eternity protecting demigods and giving them the training they need to protect themselves than the alternative.

And so that's what Percy Jackson does, because that's what he's always done: accept as much misery for himself to make the lives of those he loves as misery-free as possible.

Bonuses include:

No hint of Percy/Annabeth in the new timeline, with the pair in the original having broken up shortly before Percy's ascension, having realize their codependency was not healthy, nor was it actually romantic love. From 100 years on, Percy is critical of his first relationship, but still counts Annabeth as one of his best friends, even if they're not as close in this timeline.

Although never widely disseminated, several individuals come to learn of Percy's trip through time and the circumstances that lead to it. (Poseidon, Sally, Thalia). A few others suspect Percy has some level of prophetic gift to go along with his other powers. But for the most part no one has any idea Percy is anything other than a powerful demigod with some really bad luck; and

It eventually coming out that Percy and Dionysus had a thing in the future, with Percy over the course of 100 years coming to like, respect, and eventually love the God of Wine. Percy is absolutely convinced it was entirely one-sided, their thing only adding up to a few drunken fucks between friends (because that's what Dionysus does with his friends), but Dionysus after he learns of it not being so sure (because it's really not what he does with friends and hasn't been for millennia). Whatever the case, it is exceptionally awkward when it comes out, especially as Percy's only physically 14 at the time, and attempting to resolve this awkwardness is how Thalia ends up learning about the time travel.

Extra bonus points if Percy and Ariadne were decent friends in the original timeline, become decent friends again in the new one, and settle into a polyamorous relationship with Dionysus (after Percy is deified and comes of age) that has Hera spitting teeth for decades.

And that is far, far more than I'd ever thought I'd have, but I think this plot bun somehow merged with a thread of an idea for a Dionysus-positive fic that's been tickling at me for years now. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[darkurgetrash]

Gods' Damned Gale Dekarios!

Hi all! After reading this amazing post by @gale-dekarios, I couldn't help but write this silly, goofy one-shot. Please enjoy!|[Read on AO3]

Rating: General Audiences Wordcount: 4,576 Summary:

Opulentus is Waterdeep's most renowned wizard—a charming, handsome prodigy whose charisma commands respect. But when his long-time nemesis, Gale of Waterdeep, returns after years of disgrace, everything Opulentus holds dear is threatened. Gale, once stripped of his magic for defying Mystra, has somehow become the hero of Baldur's Gate, returning with a beautiful fiancée, newfound fame, and an air of humility that leaves Opulentus seething. Now, there is only one question on Opulentus' highly intellectual mind... What is Gods' Damned 'Gale Dekarios' up to?!

Requested Tags: @onlyfangz @kwrite1776 @dont-try-pesticide

Opulentus had always considered himself quite the ladies' man. It was hard not to, after all, when you were the most renowned, most wealthy, and most handsome wizard in all of Waterdeep. From child prodigy to a fellow at Blackstaff Academy, the very same institution where he'd studied since he was just a bright-eyed boy, there was no greater catch in the city. He was a legend in his own right, with a knack for charm and a wit that could melt even the hardest of hearts.

Tonight would be no different, he decided, as he twizzled his luscious, dapper moustache between his fingers, his gaze roaming across the rambunctious regulars of The Quaffing Quaggoth before landing on what might have been the most beautiful woman he'd ever layed eyes on. She stood out even in the crowded tavern, her presence like a breath of fresh air amid the rowdy patrons.

She was a half-elf by the looks of things, with soulful, winged eyes and long, dark waves that cascaded down her back in a flawless display of beauty. Her warm tawny skin was radiant, her cheeks kissed by rouge and her lips a gentle shade of berry pink. Her features seemed as if sculpted by Sune herself, crafted to be the perfect match for Opulentus' own magnificence.

Opulentus couldn't help but smile. Here was a challenge worth his considerable talents. He adjusted his shirt collar and straightened his posture, making sure his charms were in full effect.

Then, with an air of unrivalled confidence, he took a step forward, ready to make an impression. The wizard's reputation preceded him, but he knew that his charm would have to do the rest. After all, beauty like hers deserved nothing less than the best Waterdeep had to offer. And that, of course, was Opulentus himself!

“Oh, barkeep!” he called, suave and cool, as he stood beside her at the bar. As expected, she turned her head at his magnanimous presence. “A glass of your finest wine, please. For myself and…” He glanced at her with a wry, flirtatious smile. “This goddess among mere mortals.”

The woman raised her eyebrow at him, an amused smile curving her lips. She was probably thanking the gods for her good fortune, Opulentus thought, to be noticed by him—the most successful man this side of the Sword Coast.

“That’s quite alright,” she replied, her lilted voice sending shivers down his spine. “I have plenty of coin for my own drink.”

“Ah, but m’lady,” he said, mirroring her expression, “one so beautiful should not have to spend her own coin, no matter how much of it she may have.” 

He let his gaze sweep down her frame, noting her graceful yet slightly athletic build and the freckles dotting her collarbones. Could this be the woman he'd finally settle down with?

“I’m afraid to tell you that I’m quite taken,” she said, holding up a hand to stop the bartender as he moved to pass her the glass of wine.

“‘Taken’ is but a small obstacle, my dear,” he scoffed, running his fingers through his hair, making sure to flex his biceps as he did so. “I assume you know who I am?”

“Not at all,” she replied, her unimpressed tone making it clear how devoutly she was playing hard-to-get. By the gods, this woman was practically throwing herself at his feet!

“Ah, but then you must have travelled far! For I am the greatest wizard on the Sword Coast, a celebrity in my own right. My name is—”

“Elminster’s Beard – Gary? Gary Johnson?”

At the mention of his given name, one he'd long repressed, a chill ran through him. Not only because of the rude interruption but because it was a voice he knew all too well. His long-time nemesis, a rival to end all rivals.

“Gale of Waterdeep.” He snarled, turning to see the man standing behind him. The sight was enough to make his skin crawl—Gale, with his quickly greying long hair tied back in a bun, and his annoyingly perfect face wearing that insufferably charming smile. How could it be genuine after the embarrassment he'd suffered two years ago?

Indeed, when Gale of Waterdeep—the one man who had always outshone him, ever since their days as juniors at Blackstaff Academy—had proven himself a foolish, arrogant wizard, when he'd dared to betray Mystra, and was subsequently stripped of his magic, Opulentus had rejoiced. It was the happiest day of his life! Finally, he was the best! 

Yet here was Gale again, voice bright, skin radiant, with that same smile that made Opulentus grind his teeth. How could he be so joyful, so confident, after everything that happened? It was inconceivable – nay, impossible!

But he wouldn’t let such a disruption ruin his game. The man was a cad, a poor excuse of a wizard, and he would not let him take this chance from him.

He forced a charismatic smile to return to his face, as if the mere sight of Gale didn’t have him already quaking with envy, and patted the man firmly on his tall shoulder.

“Ah, my old friend!” He cheered through gritted teeth, “How have you been? Though you are quite mistaken, my name is Opulentus. Gary Johnson was my…” He paused, trying to conjure up an excuse. “...my brother! Ah, but that little fallout with Mystra must have rattled your brains some, hmm chum?”

“You always were so very humorous!” Gale replied, his laughter sounding so genuine that Opulentus could do nothing but blink in response. “And ‘rattle my brains’ it did, I’m afraid. Though, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, I am quite returned to my old self – though certainly with many improvements!” 

Gale skirted around him so that his hand lay on the beautiful woman’s shoulder – so bold! So brazen! However, as he did, she looked up at him with the largest, most adoring eyes that Opulentus couldn’t help but blush… Ah, but in rage! Was this some twisted nightmare?!

“Opulentus, this is my betrothed, Tav. Does she not put the stars to shame?” Gale said oh so sweet and softly that Opulentus’ skin prickled. “Tav, this is… Opulentus. He and I trained at Blackstaff together as young men.”

“Nice to meet you, Opulentus.” She said, her tone equally as amused as before, though there was something softer in it, touched by tenderness. By gods, she was smitten with Gale of Waterdeep of all people! What lies must this man have wrought to have captured such a goddess’ heart so fully? For the second time no less?!

“Charmed,” he replied, sharply, but with as much false delight as could possibly be mustered, given the circumstances. 

But ah…! Was this not the perfect opportunity to make this poor girl aware of the man’s true nature? It would be cruel to keep her in the dark, surely this is why fate brought her to him! He’d rescue her, a beauty from a beast, and in the process, woo her. But that was his destiny. He was sure of it. 

“Tav, you say? And how did you meet?” He snarled. “Last I heard, Gale, you had secluded yourself to your tower in disgrace! Nought but a tressum to keep you company.”

“You are right, old friend,” The man nodded, seemingly… unbothered. “It is much too long a story, but the short of it is that — in a world of infinite possibilities — fate somehow brought the two of us together… Under the threat of ceremorphosis, no less!” He chuckled. “I’d have never thought I’d be thanking a mind flayer for my good fortune, but I suppose stranger things have happened.”

To say Opulentus was confused would be beyond obvious. Who was this man in front of him, so non-combatively taking such blows? Completely humbled yet talking of strange and potentially grave matters as if they were nothing? Something was surely amiss.

“Ah — then Tav, you must have saved this poor soul, I assume? My old friend, you see, had been stripped of his magic after defying his ex-lover, the goddess Mystra herself! I’m sure he must have been quite the burden to you.”

“Oh no, we saved each other in more ways than can be imagined.” She said lovingly, as giddy as could be as she lay a slender hand on Gale’s chest, he beaming at her, the heat between them unavoidable. Opulentus was beginning to feel angry. But no — he shouldn’t lose his cool. After all, he was the successful one! The powerful one! The one with… credentials! He’d finally beaten Gale of Waterdeep!

“You’re too modest, my love,” Gale said. “But, ah, we should be heading off. Wouldn’t want to keep mother waiting.” He wrapped his arm around Tav’s waist as she stood, floating to her feet like some ethereal being. “Let us meet again, soon, Opulentus. I’m sure my love would be most regaled by our schoolboy days – how competitive we both were!”

Opulentus’ smile fell flat. How dare this man pretend that the competition didn’t remain? Wasn’t he now flaunting his beautiful betrothed right in his face?!

"A pleasure, Gale of Waterdeep," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Likewise, and please, it’s Gale Dekarios now. So long!”

And with that, the wizard and the beauty disappeared from the bar, leaving Opulentus scowling, a stem of wine in hand that he didn’t even bloody like. Ah - blows to it all! This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Gale might think he had won some grand prize with his new love, but what did he know? After all, this Tav clearly had poor taste in men, seeing as she had chosen the most disgraced wizard in Waterdeep. Quite, she would not have been worth his time – a firebolt dodged, if ever Opulentus saw one.

Gale ‘Dekarios’, hmm. A plain name quite befitting a fallen rival.

Opulentus took a swig of his wine, grimacing at the taste. Who needed love and relationships? He had success, prestige, and all the respect that came with being the best wizard on the Sword Coast, a fellow of Blackstaff Academy. Let Gale keep his pretty bride-to-be; it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What truly mattered was respect. And Opulentus had plenty of it.

With a self-affirming nod, Opulentus downed his wine and stormed out of The Quaffing Quaggoth – nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so.

“Quiet down, class, quiet down!” Opulentus urged as he entered the lecture hall, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Normally, his students were quick to settle when he gave the command – his reputation as a strict yet brilliant professor preceded him – but today was different. The usual murmurs and whispers had escalated into a cacophony of excited chatter, much to his irritation.

"Class, quiet down!" he called again, this time with more authority. He banged his staff on the podium, which usually silenced the rowdy students, but today it had little effect. His patience was thinning, and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. What could possibly be so interesting that it overshadowed his entrance?

He focused on some of the students seated near the front, leaning in slightly to catch snippets of their conversation. It didn’t take long for him to piece together the cause of the commotion.

“Did you hear? The new Professor of Illusions is one of the saviours of Baldur’s Gate!!”

“YES! And oh my gods, and he’s sooo handsome!”

“-- And his partner! My bisexual awakening for real for real.”

“Seriously, such babygirl energy.”

“The biggest, I’m literally rattling the bars on my enclosure right now—”

Opulentus’ eyebrow twitched. So that was it—some new hotshot had taken the role of "celebrity professor," drawing all the attention away from him! Well, he certainly wasn't about to let some flashy hero usurp his position as the academy’s most respected instructor, even if they did have an impressive title.

Of course, he too had heard of the situation over in Baldur’s Gate – it had become international news at this point, the talk of every tavern. A Netherbrain had threatened the city only to be destroyed by a group of adventurers, and in several of the higher Wizarding circles, it had even been rumoured to have ties to Karsus, though that seemed preposterous, nothing more than illicit tales.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice authoritatively.

"I'm sure you're all quite excited to meet your new instructor, but in the meantime, you're in my class! Let's show a little respect, shall we?" The students quieted a bit, though he could still see their eyes darting back and forth with whispered gossip, like they couldn't wait to get out of his lecture and hear more about the new professor.

This would require a more forceful approach. He banged his staff once more, harder this time, and then leaned forward with a stern look that he reserved for such occasions. 

“You’re here to learn the advanced arts of Transmutation, not to gossip about other professors. Now, open your texts to page seventy-three, and let's begin–”

“ – Sorry to interrupt, old friend!”

Opulentus’ blood turned cold. Gods. Not him… anyone but him.

The lecture hall erupted once more in excited chatter as Gods’ Damned Gale of Waterdeep – ah, Gale Dekarios, suddenly waltzed into the room, his genial hand raised in greeting as he moved with effortless grace. The wizard wore immaculate scholarly robes, each step radiating an air of self-assured charisma that made Opulentus seethe. The students were captivated, and his annoyance grew with every whisper.

He had been the one to save Baldur’s Gate?! Infeasible! Absurd! The man must have shared some resemblance to one of the heroes and caused rumours to spiral, as they so often did in academic institutions. It could not be!

He clenched his jaw, trying to regain his composure as Gale approached closer, his smile as wide as ever, his demeanour exuding easy charm. Opulentus straightened, preparing to speak with the man quietly, without drawing more attention.

“I hope I’m not inconveniencing you at all, my astute colleague,” Gale said, “but I wondered if I may be so bold as to join your lecture? I believe it would be most beneficial to observe your teaching style with these particular students before taking them on myself, next period.”

Opulentus could feel rage boiling like a frog in a pot deep within his chest, so intensely that he was certain it was affecting his cholesterol levels. But what choice did he have? It was, as the saying goes: ‘Keep your enemies close, and your… friends closer?’ Wait, was that right? It didn’t seem right. Bah, alas. It didn’t matter.

"Of course," Opulentus said, forcing his tone to stay light and welcoming. "I’d be delighted to have you sit in. I'm sure you'll find my teaching style quite... instructive." He added a slight edge to his last word, just enough to hint that he was in control here, not the intruding, fraudulent Gale Dekarios.

Gale grinned broadly. 

"Thank you, Opulentus! I look forward to learning from your vast experience."

Opulentus gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, a clear signal that this was as far as Gale would be allowed to intrude. 

"Feel free to take a seat over there. I was just about to begin our discussion on advanced transmutation techniques. I'm sure you'll find it enlightening."

Gale nodded with a smile and made his way to the designated spot, his presence drawing the attention of several students who whispered and pointed in his direction. Opulentus took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the one in charge here. Gale could observe, but he would not disrupt the lecture. Not if he had anything to say about it.

He turned back to the class, raising his voice to regain their focus. 

"Alright, everyone, let's get back to our discussion. Please open your texts to page seventy-three, and let's dive into the finer points of matter fabrication…" 

Throughout the lecture, he couldn't help but glance at Gale out of the corner of his eye, watching for any signs of further interference. But Gale just sat there, smiling and nodding, as if he were the most obedient student in the room.

Oh, how he hated him. Stupid, handsome, charming Gale Dekarios! This had to be another ploy, some underhanded scheme. The Gale he knew would have been all interruptions, eager to be the centre of attention. Yet, the man in his classroom was playing the role of humble observer—graceful, courteous, infuriatingly well-mannered.

Opulentus clenched his fists beneath the podium, his knuckles white with frustration. What had happened to the brash, reckless Gale he knew? This new version was even more unbearable. And the students! They were enchanted by him, their eyes constantly flicking over to where he sat, hoping to catch his eye.

But Opulentus refused to let Gale's presence diminish him. He'd worked too hard, earned too much respect to let one exiled wizard, no matter how charming, take that from him. So Gale had a pretty wife and the adoration of students. Big deal! Opulentus still had the accolades, the titles, the power that came with his position. He was still the respected professor, the one with connections to the most powerful wizards in Waterdeep.

He was the Opulentus! He'd won their rivalry!

Yet, as his eyes kept darting toward his new colleague, an unsettling feeling began to creep in. Was it… admiration? No, it couldn't be. Respect? Even more absurd. Gale was a has-been, a disgraced wizard who had defied Mystra herself, the goddess of magic. To admire him would be laughable.

And yet... there was something about Gale's unshakable confidence, his genuine warmth with the students, that gnawed at Opulentus's sense of superiority. It was as if Gale had found a different kind of power, one that didn't rely on accolades or titles. 

And it was maddening.

“Please, I thank you all for your kind welcomes, but I can hardly take so much credit!”

“Mr Dekarios, no need to be so modest! What you did was quite spectacular – if you don’t mind me saying so! From disgraced wizard to the chosen of Mystra, and with power even more potent than before!”

“You flatter me, but please, call me Gale.”

Gods! Even in the staff room, there was no relief from this man! Opulentus sat in the corner, sulking over a mug of black coffee, glaring at Gale over the rim of his glasses. The wizard was surrounded by colleagues who fawned over him, eager to hear his tales and bask in the glow of his newfound glory. Turns out – as inconceivable as it was – Gale Dekarios had been a saviour of Baldur’s Gate. Along with his betrothed, Tav, who was apparently a scholar in her own right, a sorcerer local to that city.

Opulentus took a long, bitter sip of his coffee, feeling the heat scorch his tongue but doing little to warm his mood. Why was everyone so taken with Gale all of a sudden? The man had been a pariah not long ago, a laughing stock among wizards. Yet now, here he was, the hero of Baldur's Gate, Mystra's chosen, and the most popular professor at the academy.

Gods. He couldn't stand the way everyone treated Gale like a celebrity, as if his past failures had never happened. It was as if Opulentus' years of hard work, his dedication to his craft, meant nothing compared to Gale's apparent underdog comeback. It wasn't fair!

But as he sat there, scowling into his coffee, a realisation struck him. It wasn't just the attention that bothered him—it was the fact that Gale didn't seem to care about any of it. He wasn't seeking adoration or approval; he was just... there, enjoying the company of others, sharing stories, and spreading good cheer.

And looking ever-so dashing as he did so…

…Bah! But it was all for show! It must be! Yet, try as he might, Opulentus could not make sense of it. He closed his eyes and pictured a grand conspiracy board with strings and thumbtacks, connecting all the dots of Gale's previous manipulations and betrayals. Surely there was a pattern here, some thread that would explain how Gale had orchestrated his miraculous comeback, how he had once again stolen the spotlight from under Opulentus' nose.

But no matter how hard he tried, the lines remained tangled, the connections fuzzy, and the dots... incongruent. It just didn’t make sense.

Well, fine!  If Gale wanted to play the role of the humble hero, so be it. Opulentus would play the role of the brilliant, stoic professor—the one with real power and authority. 

He loudly cleared his throat.

"Ah, Gale, quite the story! I'm surprised you're not writing books by now with all these tales. Although, I suppose it's easier to entertain people with fancy retellings than to actually do any real work, isn't it?"

The other staff members turned to Opulentus, a few of them raising their eyebrows at the unexpected jab. Gale, however, didn't seem fazed. He… chuckled!

"Well, storytelling is an art, after all.” He smiled. “But you're right, Opulentus—nothing beats the hard work and dedication that would go into writing novels, as I’m aware you have done time and time again. I guess that's why I have so much respect for you and your teachings! You’ve always been one to work tirelessly, never settling for less, be it in your writings or in the classroom."

Opulentus blinked, thoroughly surprised at the unexpected compliment. It surged something warm inside him, a friendly caress to his ego, and he found himself… blushing.

The other staff members nodded in agreement with Gale's words, a few of them even smiling at Opulentus with a newfound appreciation. It only made him more flustered—this wasn’t the reaction he'd intended at all!

He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure, but the warmth spread across his face and down his neck betrayed him. He’d tried to undermine Gale, only to end up complimented himself. Gods, it was baffling! But he couldn't backpedal now, not in front of the other professors.

"Yes, well," he managed to stammer, "dedication is key, as you well know. But let’s get back to work, shall we? We've got students to inspire and knowledge to impart." He tried to sound authoritative, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him even further.

“Absolutely!” Gale nodded with a grin that seemed annoyingly sincere, as if he were truly delighted by Opulentus’s words. “And thank you, as ever, for such riveting conversation, old friend. Let us catch up later, hm?” Gale said, giving Opulentus a friendly pat on the shoulder before leaving the staff room with a confident stride.

Opulentus watched him go, feeling the sting of defeat as his colleagues exchanged bemused glances and hushed whispers. He sat in the ensuing silence for a few minutes, gripping his mug, trying to push thoughts of Gale from his mind, but his introspection stirred, unrelenting and unquenchable.

No! No, he would not be defeated!

Resolutely, he slammed his mug down with a loud clatter and stormed out of the staff room, his mind racing with indignation. Damn it all, enough was enough! In just two days, Gale had swooped in, stealing the spotlight and proving himself to be Opulentus’ better once again. He wouldn't stand for it—not this time.

Turning the corner at the end of the long hall, his eyes fell on his rival across the hallway, the wizard speaking to a couple of students with his usual charm, the perfect picture of humility and enthusiasm. Opulentus cleared his throat loudly, causing Gale to turn toward him with that infuriatingly warm smile. The students glanced at Opulentus, then quickly scurried away, clearly sensing the tension.

"Alright, Gale," Opulentus said, his voice dripping with forced civility. "What's your plan? What are you after? Don't think I don't know what you're up to!"

Gale raised an eyebrow, his smile fading slightly. 

"Plan? What do you mean?" he asked, genuine-seeming confusion in his tone.

"Don't play innocent!” Opulentus replied, crossing his arms. “You return to Waterdeep and your first call of action is to show me up! Bah – waltzing around and acting all friendly and humble, like a changed man, but I know you. You just want to steal the spotlight, steal my thunder as you always have done! But for what? What is your reasoning, old ‘friend’?”

Gale paused for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at Opulentus. There almost seemed to be a look of pity behind his eyes and such a sympathetic gaze turned his stomach to knots. He almost couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact.

"No, Opulentus, that's not it at all," Gale said at last, calmly. "Though… You are right, in a sense. I was once an arrogant man, the perfect picture of a wizard full of hubris, and it only led me to ruin… as you well know.”

Opulentus shifted on his feet awkwardly, annoyed at himself for losing his composure. Yet, this was good. This meant that this ‘new Gale Dekarios’ would finally reveal himself.

“But I have changed. The journey I went on, the people I met, it showed me a different path – one I could have scarcely foreseen. I used to be obsessed with power and recognition, and I made a lot of mistakes because of it. I hurt a lot of people, including you.”

The man’s big brown eyes turned softer still, cute like a calf, guilty as could be. It struck a chord in Opulentus’ stone heart – but no… no, this… Was this true? Was Gale… apologising?

“...I would not be so careless again. I hope you can accept my most sincere apologies, and that we can perhaps forge a comradery going forward, perhaps even a friendship. You know… I’ve always respected you, Opulentus. I think we could learn a lot from each other.”

Gale offered his hand, palm open, inviting Opulentus to grasp it. Opulentus found himself gulping.

“What do you say? Shall we start over?”

Opulentus was taken aback. He’d expected denial, excuses, maybe even a fight, but an apology? And such a sincere one? It threw him off balance. He searched Gale's eyes, expecting to find some hint of deception, but there was none. Just honesty and remorse. He felt his anger waver – but no, could it be true?! Could Gale of Waterdeep really have changed? It was difficult to accept, but the warmth in his voice, the genuine regret in his eyes, seemed too real to ignore.

And so, Opulentus thrust his hand forward, grasping Gale's with a firm grip and giving it a hearty shake. Was it peculiar to say that it made his heart… flutter?!

“Alright, Gale,” he said slowly, keeping his expression neutral, though he was sure his confusion and fluster was evident. “We can start over. But don't think this makes us friends. Not yet. I’m still watching you.”

Gale nodded, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Understood. Though, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that I’m hopeful!”

Opulentus smiled back at him, releasing his hand with annoying reluctance. He cleared his throat.

“Depends,” He said, swallowing down that strange and unfamiliar feeling entangling inside of him. “...Does your wife-to-be have a sister?”

[thequeer07puss]

Hera as a goddess of legitimacy and a force of legitimisation

A lot of stories featuring Hera (not that many, to be honest, but the most famous ones) portray her as relentlessly attacking both gods and demigods sired by Zeus, which has partially inspired people to think of her as a “jealous wife” archetype, but most of these people ignore the main thing that Hera represents: legitimacy.

Hera as the goddess of marriage rules over legitimate unions, and as a result, may choose to pursue those who betray these kinds of unions in some kind of way. An example would be the speed with which she withdrew her sponsorship of the hero Jason why he broke his oath of love and loyalty to his wife Medea in favour of a crown which he was no longer eligible for.

Speaking of Jason, Hera was pretty much his only patron deity during his quest for the Golden Fleece, which was started as a way for him to claim his rightful place on his father’s throne, and this sponsorship started as soon as Jason’s quest started. No prayer was prayed, no offering was offered. Hera just showed up as soon as Jason’s quest for legitimacy started, and helped him as soon as he proved himself to her by carrying her (in the form of an old woman) across a river.

Also, Hera is a goddess who is known for testing the worth of both gods and heroes, especially when they are destined to enter Olympus (her home and domain), and especially when they were born out of an illegitimate union on either her or Zeus’s part. The torments endured by the various children of Zeus at her hand, and even her own (for the purposes of this essay I will take Dionysus, Apollo and Hephaestus)

Apollo

Apollo’s ordeal started even before he was born, as his mother Leto has been denied the right to give birth on any island attached to the land, and was relentlessly chased by a giant snake. Here Hera imposes herself and shows her might as the definitive and legitimate wife of Zeus (Leto was Zeus’s previous wife), and brands any child born from Leto as being under her in terms of status. When Apollo is born and slays the serpent Python, Hera is then forced to recognise that his trial is complete and that he has a claim to the Olympian seat.

Hephaestus and Dionysus

Hephaestus was conceived as a kind of revenge plot against Zeus for conceiving Athena on his own, from the sacred bed which he shares with Hera, but without her input or approval, which prompted the goddess to do the same in order to restore the balance of power within their marriage, and to show Zeus that if he could make a child on his own, then she could too.

However, when the infant Hephaestus was born, it was either Zeus or Hera herself that hurls him down from Olympus, however godly he may be, crippling him in the process and forcing him to EARN the right to re-enter Olympus (kind of like how Hercules in the Disney movie was debuffed so that he would earn his way back into Olympus), which he ultimately achieved by capturing Hera in a golden throne (literally trapping her with one of her most sacred attributes).

Dionysus’s trial begins where Hephaestus’s comes to an end. Having met Hera in his childhood and been rendered mad by her which led to him being rescued by Rhea (whom I assume here to be Rhea-Cybele, whose cult has some of the mad and wild attributes of Dionysus’s), he must have already taken notice of the tests given to him by the goddess, and was waiting for an opportunity to finally take a seat among the Olympians after having established a very respected and feared mystery cult among mortals, so when he heard that Hera was captured by an angry Hephaestus, he jumped on the occasion and coaxed him into following him back to Olympus, where both would finally get recognised as legitimate both in the eyes of the gods and of Hera.

Hera and the sons of Zeus

Hera’s tests mostly seem to affect her husband’s illegitimate Olympian sons, as can be evidenced by the lack of trial for goddesses such as Artemis or Athena. Why is that so?

Personally, I think it’s because sons in Ancient Greece were more valued in society: they could inherit their father’s property, they had claims to the throne and could be seen as heirs to it in case their father somehow resigned. So Hera branding these sons as reformed illegitimate sons could be a way for her to negate their claims to their father’s power and nerf their chances of growing too powerful at the expense of her legitimate children (Orphic Dionysus was literally said to be Zeus’s heir, and would have been had Hera not told the Titans to dismember and eat him), while checking if they are still fit to set foot on Olympus after that serious debuff.

But that’s just my thoughts, I don’t have any source or academic paper that confirms this.

A rule of thumb when analysing Greek myths is that they don’t exist in a vacuum and that as entertaining as they may seem, there is something more to them most of the time, and that is especially the case with a goddess who has a history as long, rich and complex as Hera. It’s really a shame that people only see her as a mean shrew when she has so much more stuff going on, but I guess that with pop culture this complexity has to be diluted and thus misinterpreted by people who don’t have the religious and cultural context of these stories.

Thank you for reading if you made it this far, and may Hera bless you.

[my-pjo-stuff]

gen question, what are your opinions on each of the Olympians (you don't have to but plz separate for each god cause I'm really interested

Lmao dw, although I should warn you many of my opinions are the same or very similar on them, so I shortened parts and left others out (elaboration at the end) ZEUS - Tyrannt king who's no better than Kronos in terms of personality who deserves to be overthrown. HERA - Cruel woman who yes, is hurt and props mistreated by Zeus and his actions, but still takes her anger out on innocent people. Also deserves to be overthrown

HADES - Upholding and unjust system who may somewhat be okay to Nico, but still is a shitty parent. He litteraly wanted to force Nico to become the Hero of the Great Prophecy for his own gain despite believing the hero would die. Deserves to be overthrown, and have CPS called on him. POSEIDON - A "nice" dictator is still a dictator y'all. Uses and treats mortal life just as carelessly as everyone else. Him being a good father to Percy does not make him a good guy or someone who is a good ruler. I mean just look at his r*pe bodycount plz DEMETER - Negelctful parent who uses her children as much as canon fodder as everyone else. Helps to uphold an unjust system that uses and abuses literal children and their mortal parents while activley benefiting from it.

APHRODITE - Negelctful parent who also uses and abuses her children. Just because she talked to Piper and helped her dad doesn't make her a good person or mother. The main reason for that is that she does not give that same level of attention and care to the rest of her children- picking favorites is not suddenly "okay" or "cool" just because your favorite character happens to be the favorite child.

ATHENA - Negelectful parent who uses her kids as cannon fodder. And not only that but she's also exceptionally irresponsible considering how she just dumps kids on completely unprepared parents and leaves not helping any further. Ontop of that she's also incredibly prideful and assumes she has some right to meddle with her kids' lives. 90% of the gods deserve to be overthrown but she also deserves a kick in the balls from Annabeth ontop. ARTEMIS - I made multiple posts about how creepy she is already. Borderline creep in her way of specifically going after younger girls. Also not yet sure she ain't leading a borderline cult with the Hunters of Artemis. Also the way she is about men violates so many human rights. Joining her Hunters would be a living nightmare for me, knowing she'd be my patron goddess if I lived in PJO makes me glad she's fictional. Helps to uphold and profits from a system literally killing kids. APOLLO - Helps to uphold a system that's literally killing kids and benefits from it. He uses demigod lives as cannon fodder too. Him "loving" his partners and children does not change the fact that he just leaves/abandons both of them if the kid doesn't happen to be a favorite of his. Jury's still out on him post-TOA and redemtion. If he actively does something against the system to help the demigods or atleast attempts to do we're god. If he doesn't he's even worse than the rest bc now he doesn't even have the "he didn't know any better" excuse. ARES - OG reason I wish Luke won unironically. Tyrant, jerk, probably abusive and misogynistic????? Also the typical case of using his kids as cannon fodder. Neglectful parent 101. HEPHAESTUS - IDK if he talked and helped Leo and said he "watches all his children". He did not help any other of his kids like that, no good father EVER employs even a SMIGE of favoritism. You can watch your kids all you want, if you continue to ignore them, use them as cannon fodder, and actively benefit from the system killing them that makes you a weird stalker at best. But most certainly not a good father OR person. HERMES - I have never seen someone fumble the bag so hard like??? Honestly he deserve a TROPHY for being able to mess up so incredibily much with Luke and May 💀 At this point you can really only describe the guy as inept. He for real just left his innocent newborn son with a woman he KNEW was insane completely alone for no reason??? AND THEN BLAMED LUKE FOR LEAVING HIS MOM/NOT LIKING HER????? Listen idk if he "couldn't have interfered without making it worse" and if it was against some ancient law. Poseidon interferes with Percy a BUNCH even when he was under a prophecy for multiple of his quests and everything turned out fine. Hermes loved Luke, unfortunately he just had a room-temperature IQ. He is also a neglectful parent who uses his kids as cannon fodder- he couldn't care less about any other child of his not named "Luke Castellan". Favoritism still ain't cool my man DIONYSUS - May genuinly care about his kids and all, but he still basically trains up a demigod child army and uses them as cannon fodder. Helps to uphold the system. Litteraly shoves his job at camp off to the kids while being a straight up asshole- no wonder did so many kids turn when HE was their one and only example for a god. EXTRA INFO

I think that "helps to uphold an unjust system" and "actively benifits from a system that uses kids as cannon fodder with no regards for them" honestly applies to EVERY god with exception of Hestia and the minor gods who joined the TA. They are also all dictators to some degree- remember everybody: A NICE DICTATOR IS STILL A DICTATOR. IF THEY WERE A GOOD PERSON THEY WOULDN'T BE A DICTATOR! I hate the gods for real. Although personally in terms of hate everyone get's an equal amount, but Artemis creeps me out the MOST. (Can I get a restraining order against a goddess?)

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

[clears throat] Uh yes hi, I was wondering. Hypothetically. For totally not fic related reasons. If Tim had his own acronym like Shazam, what word do you think it would be? What deities?

Well the word can be anything you want to give significance to if you go the CM Jr. route Freddy was on before reboot hell happened by having him say “Captain Marvel” or any significant word or phrase for the moment in this entirety hypothetical fic of yours.

If I were to give him any specific gods I would focus on giving him ones that allow for useful powers or strengths, since he’s already an expert combatant, detective, and acrobatic to name a few things. I’d do just one Wisdom blessing to allow for the eidetic memory buff to help him out. It doesn’t have to be Wisdom, Stamina, Strength, Power, Courage, and Speed blessings like Cap, Freddy and Adam have. Mary’s agility and even grace blessings make her strong all the same with some additional powers that appear once in while that are affiliated with her goddesses.

I think if there were to be specific deities Tim’s would, appropriately, be mostly or entirely of the mortal kind when it came to patrons. I’d take folk heroes or heroes of the past to be his benefactors the same way Solomon and Achilles benefit Billy, some I could think of are Beowulf for his sheer protagonisty gumption to survive what should have drowned him or being able to fight off giants with his impressive strength or the insight/charm of Orpheus to stay Greek.

If I were to use any specific words for him I’d go the CM Jr. route again and have his word be “Batman” or the very possible Tim route of him having a whole transformation phrase that’s situationally impossible to accidentally say or be guessed by a random person (like how Adams was changed to “Chocolate Egg Cream” after WW3 event)

[tylermileslockett]

Theseus #3 (Medea and the Poisoned Cup)

After undergoing the customary rites to be cleansed from bloodshed, Theseus arrives in Athens. With a high reputation of his heroic deeds he receives an invitation to the King’s banquet. But only the Queen Medea recognizes Theseus to be the son and heir. Afraid for the legitimacy of her son Medus, she schemes, convincing an elderly King Aegeus that this new guest comes with ill intent. But when Theseus holds aloft his sword to cut his meat, the King recognizes his son, and knocks the poisoned cup from his hand.   Medea, knowing her deception will not go unpunished, flees the banquet, and kingdom with her son.

Here is an opportune time to give a brief overview of the fascinating and complex Medea. Her grandfather was the sun god Helios, and her father was king Aeetes (son of Helios and Perseis, an Oceanid). Despite her divine parentage, Medea is most commonly portrayed as mortal with magical abilities. Medea was a devout follower of Hecate, goddess of magic and necromancy.

Her first introduction is as the princess of Colchis assisting Jason to acquire the golden fleece. The lovers flee Colchis, and with the king’s army in pursuit, Medea and Jason sacrifice her brother Absyrtus. They throw his dismembered body parts into the water, forcing the king to slow and collect his dead son, allowing the argonauts to escape. Many years later having settled in Corinth, the love between the two sours, shown in the play “Medea” by Euripides. When Jason abandons her to marry the princess Glauce, Medea creates a poisoned dress for the new bride which takes the brides life. Most shockingly of all, Medea murders her own two sons in a bloody act of revenge.

Although in Euripides’ play we can empathize with her as a betrayed and lonely outcast, in Theseus’ tale she is shown in a more villainous light, when she breaks the sacred social contract in ancient Greek culture of Xenia (hospitality and protection of the guest by a host). Zeus was the patron god of Xenia, and this cultural value is a major theme in Homer’s Odyssey.

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[dailyadventureprompts]

Hello Mr. Dapper! Love this blog and your many reimaginings of classic dnd deities and creatures. I was curious about something: Considering your dislike of purely evil gods and DnDs future focusing on the guy, what are your thoughts on Vecna?

Deity: Vecna, the Whispered One

My task of overhauling d&d’s villanous pantheon was started by a simple critique:  that if god was evil, there still needed to be a reason for people to worship it. To go with one example,  So many of the death gods in d&d want to kill everything that lives, yet they’re still presented as having legions of followers who are happy to die for them in opposition to the party.   You can say “Oh they’re just brainwashed, crazy cultists” but that’s just bad writing and thematically empty, neither of which I want for the sort of games I run. 

Vecna is actually an interesting case study in that he’s an outwardly wicked deity that has a theme which people would actively want to follow:   As a god of secrets, Vecna is the patron of any who will sacrifice anything to learn the answer to their problems, or conversely, the ones desperate to ensure their own secrets will never be known.  The story of Vecna as a mortal mage who attained first lichdom, then godhood is an aspirational one for all those power mad occultists out there, a common enough demographic in the d&d world both as villains and as player characters. 

Cults of Vecna worshippers likewise make sense as the whole point behind the historical practice of mystery cults was that those at the upper levels maintained their power through control of information and access to secret learnings.  You want to learn how to do magic? To speak to the dead? To protect your secrets from being known? Put on this ominous robe, learn the secret handshake, and don’t forget to drop your tithe intto the altar’s collection skull. Think of it like a forbidden knowledge based MLM. 

 Here’s some adventure hooks: 

While many of the whispered one’s acolytes dedicate themselves to discovering to the delving of arcane mysteries, others focus their attention on more worldly secrets. A powerful noblewoman is being blackmailed by a worshipper of Vecna not only for personal enrichment but also as an act of devotion, after he uncovered proof of indiscretions that would ruin her reputation.  While she’s too afraid to go for help herself and risk exposure, a devoted servant has seen her hidden suffering and has contacted the party for aid. 

Barely disguising its fiendish nature, a devil in service to Vecna approaches the party with an offer to reveal the secret intents or weaknesses of their enemies, if only they will deign to meet its terrible price.  While this information could do great good, or even save lives, just how low are the heroes willing to stoop? 

Seeking out the aid of a powerful mage, the party discover the old man on the brink of nervous collapse, having looked to deeply into the void and filled his mind with visions best left unmentioned.  Haunted by nightmares both real and imagined, he needs their help in quieting his mind through the gathering of rare ingredients and the distillation of a potent elixir. The process is not without risk however, are the party willing to help if it means erasing the information they need from his head, to say nothing of potentially lobotomizing the poor wizard? 

Art

[blindmagdalena]

Hii, how are you? I hope you're doing well! If you haven't done it yet can I request Homelander losing his powers (forever or just temporarily, it's up to you) and y/n helping him learn to do normal human things? And if possible could you add the angst of Homie being confused as to why she's still with him now that he isn't a god/hero anymore?

They're gone. Flight, strength, lasers, invulnerability. Everything that made him who he is... is gone. Homelander—can he even call himself that anymore?—feels his own mortality like a crushing weight. He's become hyperaware of the limitations of his own body, which feels more and more like a cage every day he spends in it. He's too tired, too frail, too fucking weak to do anything.

His powers weren't the only thing to disappear. No longer of use to Vought, and without the power to hold them under his thumb, he's lost that, too. The Seven. Even Ashley laughed in his fucking face. The man in the mirror, the real Homelander, perhaps, won't speak to him anymore. Everyone has left him. Except you.

He stands now in your home, dressed down in civilian clothing. He feels stripped down in them, exposed, itchy all over, but he can't bring himself to wear the suit. It feels like a costume now, a cruel mockery of what he has lost. You're showing him how to fold the laundry you taught him how to run. Your voice is a distant hum over the ringing in his ears, his gaze distant. He watches you fold the shirt, understanding, but when he moves to replicate your action, his hands feel numb and clumsy. He can't get the seams to meet the way you do. "Good job," he hears you say. John scoffs. "Don't fucking patronize me," he says, frustration laced through both his tone and his body language, drawn as tight as a stressed elastic, and just as likely to snap. From the corner of his eye, he sees you flinch, taken aback by his words. It makes him sick, but he can't stop himself. You're the only one. The only one who has stood by his side, and yet he feels a burning fury churning his gut. He looks at you properly, jaw tight, before he wads up the shirt and whips it to the floor. "Why are you even here?" He demands, closing in on you. You stand your ground, a shirt held up between your hands like some flimsy shield. "This make you feel good? Seeing me down on my fucking knees, stumbling through life like a fucking nobody? I was a hero, goddamn it! I gave this country my fucking life, and what do I have to show for it? Huh? You tell me! You tell me what any of it was fucking for!" "John, no. No. It's because I love you," you say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. He hates the look in your wide eyes. It isn't fear, it's worse; it's pity. He can't hear your heart anymore. He can't comfort himself with the hard evidence that you aren't lying to him. Fuck, he misses the sound of your heart so much.

"Don't," he whispers, expression twisting, wounded. "I love you, John," you say again, as if you can feel he doesn't believe it. "I'm here because I love you."

"There's nothing fucking left of me," he hisses, grabbing hold of your shoulders. You used to feel like ceramic in his hands, delicate, as if he were always at risk of shattering you. Now, he can only feel your strength. You drop the shirt and lift your hands to cup his elbows, supporting the way he leans into you. "That's not true," you tell him ardently, the conviction in your voice unraveling him. "My god, John, you're... You're so much more than you realize," you say, voice catching with the sheer swell of earnest emotion flooding it. It twists like a knife in his chest. "I love you more than you'll ever know." "You fell in love with a hero," he says like a counterpoint, voice fracturing. "A fucking god." "I fell in love with you," you refute, impassioned. You shake him lightly by his arms, desperately willing him to hear you. "It was never the powers that made you my hero. It was always the man behind them." John makes a noise like you've gutted him, sinking to his knees. You go down too easily, ever eager to follow where he leads, and pull his head into the crook of your neck, cradling him. He wastes no time pulling you bodily into his lap, arms wrapping around you with urgency, holding so tightly that super strength or not, he may crush you. Despite his best efforts, a sob wrenches free from his throat. Like a domino, it knocks out another, and then another, until he's weeping openly in your arms, rocking back and forth. You cradle the back of his head, hushing him softly. You stroke his back, making him feel small in your arms. "I feel so fucking empty," he manages to grit out, breath catching on a broken breath in. "They couldn't wait. They couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper. He can hear the tears you're fighting back. "I'm so, so sorry, John." You stay like that for as long as he needs you, carding your fingers through his hair as his shoulders shake through raw, unfiltered sobs. There are moments that he feels close to death, unable to breathe, lightheaded. Things he's never had to feel before. The weight of the world is bearing down on him, and for the first time in his life, he hasn't the strength to withstand it. But he has you. Eventually, exhaustion begins to set in, robbing him of the energy to weep. You hold him through every second of it, soothing whispers of love, devotion, adoration. Your words sink into him like something tangible, and if only briefly, the vest void inside him feels lesser. In this moment, pressed against your chest, John hears a familiar comfort. Your heart beats steadily in his ear. He grimaces, flexing his hold on you, and exhales a shaky, relieved breath. "Don't ever leave me," he murmurs, eyes closed. "I won't," you swear. "Not ever." He's sure that your heart doesn't waiver. He prays that it never does.

[paeliae-occasionally]

Placeholder Ask - Naveena Qs Part 2

Hello, @thecomfywriter I told you I would circle back to these questions so here we are maybe a month later…

i read your post on the runes system briefly (gorgeous by the way. great distraction from pathology. i’m always doing pathology 😔) BUTTTTT can you pls ramble more about it? i wanna know what makes someone of magic. sponsorship from ike? is there drama between the gods? how has it affected history? how does it affect believers and their contrasting dynamics? how does it affect politics?

I always have more magic rambles!

How is magic acquired?

Ok so it depends what type of magic.

Ahinti (Arcane) magic - this is the type that the mages use. This is taught as it manipulates the naturally occurring Ike in the world.

Druidic magic - This can also be taught as it also draws from the magic naturally around you

Sorcerers - To be a sorcerer you have to be born magic as you cast from a personal store of magic that you have since birth.

Runics - You can learn the runes under certain conditions.

So essentially the runes are weird because they cast using the natural Ike but using the runes like a catalyst to break individual simple components out of strands.

The runes themselves are cursed by the god of magic Ezemhaziel so that the weirder has to have suffered as he and Rin suffered at the hands of mortals. This essentially means they have to go through extreme loss and pain to the point of emptiness to be able to channel through the runes.

But after the condition is met they can be taught and train like other magic users.

Is there drama between the gods? How has this effected history?

The answer is yes and the relevant posts are here and here.

How does it affect believers and their contrasting dynamics? How does it effect politics?

Now this is an interesting one.

So in this world there is not a distinction between believers and non-believers in the gods, as they were quite obviously real and present in the past.

But, there are different religions that hold things higher than the gods, and think if the gods differently because of it. (I am not explaining the whole church of the eternal lore here but feel free to ask)

There is however conflict over what they believe about the gods.

Before the dissolution, many cities had patron gods and rituals and festivals surrounding a variety of gods. Notably some were treated more like folk heroes than how you would expect a god to be treated as many people has higher beliefs than the gods they could see before them.

These alignments with certain gods still effect culture in the modern day, whether through a societies values, their art, or their industry. Their favour with a god also likely acted as a shield in the pre-dissolution massacres, especially if they were protected by one of the older, more powerful gods.

The various churches have dramatically impacted politics especially surrounding the support or animosity towards magical research. (This parallels the supposed ‘religion/science divide in our world) They also have impacted laws in the will of the eternal, or control the daily schedule of entire nations as giant ethno-religions.

I might need to make another post about the various religions in the world. Not all of them are as fully fleshed out as I would like but there are a couple strong ones.

Anyway tagging the tag list:

@thelovelymachinery, @an-indecisive-nerd, @the-letterbox-archives, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @winvyre

@happypup-kitcat24, @wyked-ao3, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @alnaperera, @dearunreliablenarrator

@rumeysawrites, @urnumber1star, @seastarblue, @thecomfywriter

[m1d-45]

stella fortuna

summary: ventis entry for my previous (formal) post, aka a minor character study. this was meant to be up 3 days ago :)

word count: 1k

-> warnings: massive spoilers for mondstat archon quest

-> gn reader (no pronouns)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24

< original post || < masterlist >

if you asked venti how he felt, seeing everybody in mondstat be chosen as a vessel but him, you’d get the same answer every time, no matter where or when. even drunk, flopped over the bar with an empty glass in hand, he recites the exact same response as if it’s been committed to memory.

“what need does a bard have for divine strength? i’m glad my friends get to go on adventures, but my place has always been to tell stories, not to write them.”

if you were to listen closely, past the sheen of charisma that coated all of his words, past the mask of a bard and into the heart of the wind, you’d hear the lie.

the memorized words, a paper-thin front over his true feelings, only hide the truth from those who don’t care to find it. the drip of wine only makes this clearer; put a bottle in his hand and watch how quickly his eyes turn blank, how the smile pulling at his features feels forced. the same words, the same lie, the same turmoil that surrounds his every action. confusion is hidden in the downturn of his eyes and something akin to desperation hides in the tilt of the bottle, yet his words come out as sugar-sweet as his drink.

“it doesn’t bother me. why should it?”

it shouldn’t.

he shouldn’t be jealous. he shouldn’t be surprised that mortals were blessed first over a god, he shouldn’t be examining his own skill set for faults. he’s an archon. one without his gnosis, sure, one with the least power from his people, sure, but an archon nonetheless. he still wields anemo with more strength than anybody in mondstat could dream of, the winds still bend to his will, he still challenges amber to an archery contest if the day is slow and he still wins, even with her extra star on her side.

venti doesn’t need acknowledgment from his god, not when there are so many mortals that deserve it. not when hilichurls still fall before his bow, not when his windcurrents still carry pets and children and kites from trees, when the whisper of a breeze alerts knights to a threat at his bidding.

(but he wants it)

none of the other archons have received divine blessings, he’s not even an outlier in that sense. he’s not an exception to the rule, he is the rule, and yet he finds himself wishing it would bend anyway. he should count himself lucky, in truth, that a vessel of his element is always at his gods side. he should be happy that the creator found joy in his domain, that some of the highest favored bore his winged seal. he should take pride in the fact that the head of mondstat’s church was given 6 stars, share diluc’s joy in having his vision burn brighter. he should put a bottle on his step for the darknight hero to enjoy, in celebration of his crimson flames searing hotter than ever.

so why can’t he?

venti couldn’t hide the way his fingers faltered at the wash of divine power coming from the door to the angel’s share, nor the haste with which he looked over. his hand still strummed his lyre, but he let the reprise go on for a bit longer than it should have, letting himself take in the uncharacteristic nod diluc sent his brother before moving to the back room.

kaeya’s eye caught his the moment before he looked away, something knowing in the ice. with a slight lift of his hand, he downed the rest of the wine in his glass.

venti looked away, the finale of his tale finally falling from his lips.

it was late, most of the patrons far past sober, their minds too soaked in alcohol to register the flatness to his voice. when he ended his story with a flourish, skipping the last few bars of the melody, all but one cheered.

the exception joined the outlier, tucking his lyre into his inventory. venti flagged the bartender, kaeya kindly waiting until he had wine in his hand to speak.

“why the long face?”

he looked over, glass half-raised to his lips. the captain seemed… genuine, almost, something knowing in his eyes. whether it was his usual charisma or not didn’t matter, not really—gods saw easily through mortal lies—but he knew it wasn’t anyway.

venti set down his cup. “what do you mean? after a long night of playing, i’m reaping my rewards. what reason do i have to be sad?”

kaeya tipped out his glass for charles to refill, sending him a nod of thanks before turning back to him. his eye skipped over his features, never landing on one for too long: the flower in his cap, the dimness of his eyes, the grip on his glass, all picked up and turned over and assessed.

he drew a conclusion, taking a soft sip of wine. “i don’t know, venti. you tell me.”

what reason did he have to be sad?

by all accounts, tonight was a good night. he’d made quite a bit of mora, he was having a nice drink, he’d turn in a bit earlier than usual and wake up with the sun, feeling the air warm around him as he roamed the city’s dawn. nothing large, or awful, or tragic. nothing… nothing.

ventis eyes slipped, falling to the ice on the captain’s hip, to the peacock he couldn’t see, but the glitter he could feel. the sheen of heaven that dusted the calvary captain’s presence, lending him that much more credibility.

he found kaeya’s eye again, catching himself, but it didn’t matter. the humor had already dulled, understanding flashing back at him.

in the city of wine and song, mondstat’s archon indulged in both.