#naiad ears

[aaronofithaca05]

WATER WIFE SPOTTED!

@dootznbootz

"Deep down I would trade the world to see my son and wife."

[doctorsiren]

Day 13 of Sirentober / Doctober

Epic / Love

They make me ill

Available as a print on my Etsy Shop

[wingedcat13]

Hiiii back again with these two! I like my tweaked design for Minerva 💖

[artisticaperture]

me when i fight that art or whatever (GO SEAFOAM)

(my profile)

[undercoverangell]

i think that part of the reason i love the penelopiad so much is it gives me so much to work w for penelope in terms of nonhuman/odd features. like. mother is a water nymph so she can have pointier ears, and on top of that her mom is also described as having sharp pointy teeth so she can have little fangs if i want !!! like !!! its great !!! waiter!! more naiad penelope please!!!

[notsolonedesert]

HhhhhbYour Penelope design is so so cool, and we love little Iphthime

Hc that Icarius is strict w his daughters

Bonus:

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors :)

Just Desserts: Jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. However one hot summer day there's a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door with brownies, and other delights. https://www.tumblr.com/aseaofyoongi/707881728948273152/just-desserts-jjk

Wonderland: You’ve known Jeongguk for at least 7 years now and it took you forever to realize that you were truly, madly and deeply in love with your best friend. https://aureumjeon.tumblr.com/post/177411231495/wonderland-m-jjk-oneshot

What's Mine Is Mine: You caught his eye from day one. As far as Jungkook was concerned, you were always meant to be his. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13554723

The Accountant: You were hired for one reason and one reason only: Help relieve Jungkook's stress. You personally think it's a great job. https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120500

Be Mine, Princess: Jeon Jungkook transfers into the most prestigious university in the country, riding in on his sports scholarship and ready to take the place by storm. Till he sees you in his class and then at the party of the frat he's joining. Now the only thing he wants to take is you on a date, but who are all these guys you seem to be around all the time? https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799757/chapters/70628661

The One Who Wept Pearls: The first time you met, Jungkook was a human on the brink of adulthood and you were a naiad who had never known sorrow. Parting ways once you realized your species were never meant to be, you cannot seem to forget about him despite your best efforts. Now reunited years later as Gods, can you both have a chance at love? Or are the Fates too unkind? https://archiveofourown.org/works/32371525/chapters/80254996

Rough Hands: How is he meant to confess that he’d tear off his left arm for you if you asked when he can see the way you look at him in disgust when his nervous rambling leads to retelling the raunchy stories of girls past? https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/616528929129447424/rough-hands-m-jjk

I Don't Mind: What do you do when a cute boy barges into your car and demands you floor it because he’s being chased by security? Well, you floor it of course, and somehow manage to fall for him because of it. https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/623839319011065856/i-dont-mind-jjk-m-part-one

Quiet Baby: “That’s it, slow and steady baby.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, husky and teasing, edges of his lips ghosting around your ear as he sighs when you do exactly as he asks.  https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/633255429018894336/quiet-baby-m-jjk

Another Taste: The soft skin of your thighs rubs against Jungkook’s cheeks as he peppers kisses onto them, warm to the touch, slightly trembling from the earlier orgasm he had drawn out of you. He isn’t satisfied though, he never was until you were left in tears, writhing on the bed. https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/643711765441593344/another-taste-m-jjk

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

I keep going to the river to pray

Written for the March pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: spring

Rated: M

Tags: Italian Steve Harrington; naiad Eddie Munson; past lives

CW: child molestation (not from MC); nudity; fade to black sex

Notes: Moooom, hype is turning the blorbos into water creatures again!

Steve is five years old and the water whispers to him. 

“Steven, come back inside,” Mom scolds and yanks sharply on his hand. “Nonna told you the woods are off limits. The water is too dangerous. Heavens, I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?” 

Steve wants to cry. To thrash and kick and scream at the injustice of it all.

Because she is leaving him alone. All alone in this strange country where there's nothing fun to do and where nobody speaks his language, for an entire summer. How's he even supposed to listen to Nonna when he doesn’t understand her half the time? 

The only place where he finds comfort is the spring. The little pond with its crystal waters surrounded by crumpled pillars. He doesn’t know why, just knows there's something here that calls to him. 

Mom doesn't understand, and Steve is too small to fight as she drags him away. Something splashes behind them, like a large stone sinking underwater, but by the time he turns, all he can see is ripples on the surface. 

He doesn’t know why he says it, because there's nobody here. Nobody he can see. It feels like the right thing to do, though. 

“Don't worry,” he whispers to the water. “I'll be back, promise.” 

The water whispers back. 

*

Steve is thirteen and a man follows him into the woods. He's been lurking in corners and doorways in the village all day, smiling, staring, speaking saccharine words in broken English. 

Pretty boy, sweet boy, come here. 

By the time Steve notices he's trailing behind him on the lonely road in the fading daylight, it's too late to cry for help. He ducks into the shelter of the trees without thinking, not looking back when he hears the man give chase. Darkness is falling around him, but he doesn’t need to see. 

All he needs to do is follow the pull. 

The spring reflects the moon and stars, silver waves bouncing off the trees and pillars. 

“Help me,” Steve whispers, just as a hand grabs his wrist and spins him around. 

The man's face is a mask of primal hunger. His eyes glint, dark and unblinking- 

-and then they catch on something behind Steve's back and bulge. All the color drains from his face. He stumbles back, releasing Steve’s wrist, muttering a word in Italian that he doesn’t understand. Then, he turns and runs. 

Steve stares after him, heartbeat roaring in his ears. By the time he remembers to look behind him, there's nobody there. The spring lies silent in the starlight, but the water isn't smooth anymore. A circle of ripples is spreading, not far from where he's standing, waves lapping against the shore. Steve imagines he sees something slipping out of sight in the water, like dark tendrils of seaweed. Then he blinks and it's gone. 

Steve smiles.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. 

*

The water murmurs back. 

Steve is eighteen and everything is bullshit. He perches on a fallen pillar, toes dangling in the water, watching the sunset behind the trees, and feels sorry for himself. 

He can't protect his heart from being broken, can't get into college, can't even get his parents to love him. They probably believe they're punishing him by sending him back here, he thinks with a laugh. Idiots. They know nothing about him, nothing about the pull he feels towards this place. He's been feeling it more and more lately, even with an entire ocean between them. 

“Have you finally come to stay, sweetling?” 

Steve doesn’t startle. Simply blinks back from his thoughts and lowers his gaze, like it's always been the two of them out here. Maybe that’s true. 

“You're not scared,” the boy from the spring observes. His head is poking out of the water between Steve’s legs, long dark hair brushing his ankles. He's naked under the water, skin pale and smooth as marble. “Do you not fear me?” 

“Why would I? You've never given me reason to.” 

The language that slips from his lips is strange. Not English. Something closer to the butchered Italian he's picked up over the years. He frowns, briefly, but the boy's lips - pink and full and glistening with tiny droplets - curl into a smile and he forgets to wonder about it.

“Clever child.” Long fingers curl around Steve's calves, sliding up his legs. “I'd never harm what's mine.” 

The fingers slip under the hem of Steve's shorts, gracing his inner thigh, and he gasps. 

“Yours?” 

The boy hums, pulling himself from the water a little, so that his shoulders emerge. His hair is a dark, tangled halo around his pretty face. It tickles Steve’s skin as the boy noses along the inside of his knee.

“Yes, mine. You feel it, do you not? The pull.” 

Steve nods breathlessly and the boy smiles against the soft flesh of his thigh. 

“Of course you do, sweetling. It has been forever since I met someone as responsive, but you? You remember, don't you?” 

Steve pauses. Is that what pulls him here? Memories of a time he shouldn’t recall? Of a place far more splendid than the crumbling ruins around them, a place filled with song and laughter and the strange but familiar language that keeps tumbling from his mouth? 

The boy - the god - watches the shift in his face and smiles. Nimble hands settle on his hips, pulling him closer, and Steve slings his arms around slender shoulders as the pillar slips out from under him. 

His god's eyes are bright as he walks them to the middle of the pond. 

“It has been so long, sweetling, and I hunger for worship. Will you give yourself to me again?” 

“I do not need to,” Steve smiles as he is slowly lowered into the cool waters. “You've always had me.” 

His god smiles and pulls him in, and Steve sighs against those beautiful lips. 

The water welcomes him home. 

In Roman mythology, naiads (better known under the name of their Greek counterparts, nymphs) are nature spirits most commonly associated with water, guarding rivers, springs and the like. Some were worshipped as local deities, with shrines built in their honor.

[somereaderinblue]

If I had a nickel for every time I debuted in a new fandom with a role swap AU, I'd have 2 nickels.

Here's the golden trio of ladies from me & @protagaster's Warrior!Penelope AU. Though I took a lot of inspiration from @gigizetz, @sloanslone & @vioofc, I tried to put my own spin on them.

Close-up doodles of them post-war/Odyssey.

EXTRA NOTES:

Penelope

her armour is more elaborate to reflect her status & the boar represents Ares' favour.

jack-of-all-stats, she can rotate between a bow, sword & spear.

pointy ears because she's a Naiad's daughter!

Ctimene

short queen, she's a potted plant next to her forest tree besties.

offensive type, hence the bigger pauldrons.

she can crush a watermelon between her thighs the fastest, make of that as you will.

Circe

changed OG!Polites' headband to a hair ribbon she knots to somewhat resemble flowers.

her outfit has elements from Penelope & Ctimene, reflecting her role as the mediator & foreshadowing the effects of her death.

master with a dagger & prefers a spear over a sword, the type to keep her distance and rely on speed.

[dorcas4meadowes]

could you do a luke fic where an apollo kid reader teaches him how to play guitar?(and maybe sing together) also i love your works🫶

Taught Strums

Pairing - Luke Castellan x Apollo!reader

W/c - 1.5

Master list

A/n: you are so sweet ml <33

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

Attempting to engage a handful of demigod children proved to be tedious. It was more tempestuous than a quest ever could ever be. You were exceedingly grateful for your students' inherent abilities to produce music, but it sounded as pleasant as a group of seven could on untuned guitars.

This was the most demanding part of your mornings, seeking out gratitude amongst the ringing noises. You woke with the desire to teach and would leave feeling mildly accomplished, but mostly drained. You loved your siblings, but they had demonstrated to be rather difficult.

You moved your brother’s grip to grasp a chord and allowed a gentle note to caress your ears.

“When can I learn a song?” He asked, strumming gently against his instrument.

“You keep this up and maybe by the weekend.” You replied with a soft smile.

“Really!?” The small blonde you assisted, beaming at his success.

You wouldn’t admit to favourites amongst your siblings, but the Solace boy raised your spirits.

Your sister called for your assistance and you were once again whisked away to help, oblivious to the eyes that remained on your applicable frame.

Your boyfriend was at the dining pavilion playing a distracted game of cards, his gaze gently on you. He watched you lean forward, the beads around your neck slipping over your shirt, his sight set on an additional emblem that graced the thread around your neck and his. Few campers had nostalgic pieces adorned to their threads, Annabeth had her fathers college ring, a few of the demeter kids had resin pressed flowers, but you and Luke shared a small stone carving a Lyre. It represented your gift, your love and the ever dreamt of Elysium. The charm is a constant affirmation of who you belonged to and who he would seek out in the depths of Tartarus.

“Luke,” Chris gestured, having to repeat his name to gather his attention, “your play man.” He mindlessly set out a card and let his gaze return back to your attentive grasp, soaking in your warmth. He couldn’t help but dismiss the meaningless game when you were near, he was like a moth to a flame, your fire slowly making his other priorities melt.

“Dude just go.” Connor took the pile of cards back and began to shuffle them, a few of them floating on the ground.

Luke didn’t have to be told twice and let the invisible guide between you tug him to your presence, to your sweet smile and gentle hands. His inherent nature was dependent on you, he was forever reaching out.

“Hi Luke,” a few of your siblings chorused, your head turning at his arrival.

“Bad time?” He asked.

“Just a minute,” you replied, turning to your sister. While you assisted the girl your siblings instantly flocked to Luke, asking questions about swords and fighting, the real world and about anything that came to their small minds.

As to your promise you salvaged him from your pestering - loving - siblings, explaining that practice was to be finished later, leaving them with a guitar’s neck in your grasp.

“Where to, ‘Lucy Gray’?” he asked, his calloused hands finding yours.

“You’ll see.”

The sun followed wherever your feet trailed, an ever glowing halo making your skin warm to the touch, Luke forever in the palm of your hand. You led him towards the lake, just to where the stones met the lush grass and blanketed at the base of an Oak tree, a seat woven from the flora and roots.

The plants saved you from your troubles and moulded around you, sculpting against your body and Luke’s alike, your guitar resting in your lap. Your eyes flickered to the splash of Naiads who retreaded under the rush of waves, the women’s tails snapping against the tension of the water, and letting it ripple against the tide. You turned your gaze to Luke, who’s never left yours. Your boyfriend had a tendency to stare, his mind would buzz and his head would tilt a little, but you couldn’t sustain contact for as long as he could, so you turned to your instrument.

The notes your fingers strum were pure and resonant and echoed through the stillness. Your fingers pulled across the strings with ease while you let a soft hum leave your lips, a whisper to the passing breeze.

You had a gift, distinguishable from your siblings. Children of Apollo had a tendency to lean towards the liberal arts, but you could manipulate sound like none of your siblings. The gift came after a rather uneventful evening in Olympus, Apollo was feeling bored and after your generous offerings he decided to grant you with the ability to hypnotise through your music. Your art tempted people, it made them forget their own names, it was a temporary trip from their troubles and had them craving your sound, fumbling under your voice.

Luke was not immune to your gifts and he adored them greatly. With you beside him he could appreciate his surroundings, the music pushing his stresses into the background.

“Can you sing?” He asked, his tone gentle. This was his request any time an instrument was in reach.

You smiled at his question, he still made you feel needed after years of people’s pleading. Your fingers smoothly eased between chords and began to play a song which plagued your mind, the lullaby which kept you at ease and proved your love is yours, all yours.

Moon a hole of light

Through the big top tent up high

Shinin’ down on me

The words rolled off your tongue with ease and were sent directly to Luke, slipping through his entire body. You fingers continued to toy with the strings and he continued to lean towards your presence, becoming completely in awe with you once again.

My baby, here on earth

Showed me what my heart was worth

So, when it comes to be my turn

He felt as if the words were crafted for him, each strum and pluck had him in mind, that the choreography of your fingers embraced him. It felt that way at least.

'Cause my love is mine, all mine

I love mine, mine, mine

Nothing in the world belongs to me

You lingered on the last note and then changed your grip and speed, confusing the brunette. Your hands trailed up the instrument then stopped looking over to him, setting the guitar beside you and nearing closer to him, resting your legs over his and pulling the instrument into your grip once more. You pushed the head in his direction which he graciously took then plucked at one of the strings, a painful sound from his flicking.

“Here.” You took his hand and settled it above the strings, his arm resting against the pure wood waiting for instruction. Your fingers climbed over his and delicately plucked at the string closest to him, pulling at it in a repeated manner. Once he grasped it you leant over to his other hand to linger between a few frets, the pattern continuous and difficult for his feeble fingers.

“Mhm, just like that,” you praised, your words lightening his view. He continued to pluck the strings and move his other hand, occasionally forgetting his next move which he picked up easily.

Once he became comfortable with the pattern he noticed your hands underneath his, playing a more complex tune. The two sounds - out of time - familiar to him.

You had shifted so you were practically in his lap and spoke “Ready?” To which he nodded, he would always be ready for you. You started, him following sourly after you, you slowed a little gaining motion with him.

“What is it?” He asked, his fingers messing up, his lips letting out a soft hum.

In your response you sung the chorus in time lowly.

I heard he lives down a river somewhere

With six cars and a grizzly bear

He's got eyes, but he can't see

Well he talks like an angel, but he looks like me

He smiled sweetly, still out of pace, but his dimples showed for your accomplished work. His soft curls fell over his gaze, obstructing him slightly, but he didn’t mind, he enjoyed the simple pleasures as your hands brushed against one another, his lips buzzing a soft sound.

I heard you sold the Amazon

To show the country that you're from

Is where the world should want to be

You both choked out verses and let your voice guide his. He was not a child of Apollo - his voice cracks were questionable - but it was sweet being amongst one another with no other priorities.

When Luke’s fingers became numb he relaxed into your side, his curls tickling your neck and soft breath hitting your skin. You continued to toy at the strings and drifted between a piece you’ve been working on and trying to memorise.

You were a ballad and he was dyslexic, your relationship was a constant blur.

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

Tag-list

@prettyinsatiable @daisydark @creamsweets @auttumnsayshi @ashr0 @y0urm0m12 @2hiigh2cry @niktwazny303

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Men with a Monster!Reader (PT. 2)

Requested: No

Warnings: ✨Spice✨, Somnophilia, Human Consumption, some traditionally Female monsters but I wrote them GN

Alex - Naiad

Alex was on a mission in the heart of a deep and dense forest when he found you, having gotten separated from his team and left stumbling through foliage and low hanging tree branches. And then he found you. You were naked and splashing around in a river that was so clear that he could see everything. You seemed to be oblivious to his presence, your humming mixing with the sound of rushing water as you moved around.

Then you turned to him, and he was liked that your eyes completely white, ears slightly pointed at the ends, a faint shimmer like glitter on your cheeks. You stared at him and he stared back, entranced by your gaze and your beauty.

And then you beckoned him closer, and it felt like his whole brain just shut off, barely even taking the time to strip himself of his gear before he was wading through the surprisingly tall water just to get to you, watching you coyly swim backwards, a mischievous grin on your face.

It would take him a moment to catch you and when he did, it was only because you let him. Let him haul you into his arms and breathe against your face,let him run his hands over your body, cup your face and kiss you so sweetly that it could make someone cry. But all it did to you was make you hum, soft and pleased against his lips, letting him drag you to shore and invade your body, all while scraping sharpened nails down his chest and back, marking him for all the nymphs that surrounded your river to see.

Your human now. You weren’t letting him go back to his people anytime soon.

Alejandro - Succubi

Bad dreams were frequent for Alejandro. And if he wasn’t having them, then he got nothing. It was disappointing but he couldn’t escape into a more peaceful reality, even for just a few short moments, but such was his life. That was, until he started having those dreams.

At first he dismissed them as a fluke, a one in a million. It had been so long since he had had a wet dream that he was sure he wasn’t going to have it again.

But then it came again.

Dreams of you, someone he had never even met, under him. Splayed open and whining, clutching at him, calling for him, begging for him. It went straight to his cock, leaving him aching and dripping, covered in his own cum when he’d shoot up in bed in the morning. He didn’t understand.

It was affecting his day to day life too. He was more tired and that was affecting his attitude. He became more snappish, stricter, crueler almost. And there was this feeling on his chest, like someone was nuzzling against him all the time. And when he laid down it felt like he was being crush by something.

But today he was determined to get his rest, taking two of the sleeping pills his doctor had prescribed him (even though the bottle said only one), and curled in on himself like a baby, trying to ignore that feeling in his chest as he drifted to sleep.

Only he dreamt again. But this time it was different. He could tell he was more awake this time as he pounded into you from behind, bullying his cock into your entrance as you cried and writhed, trying to fuck yourself back against him, calling his name. Alejandro. Alejandro. Like it was some sort of prayer for safety as the room around you crumbled, revealing the truth to his eyes as he awakened.

You, speared open on his cock, wide eyed and clearly shocked at seeing him awake. He was certainly surprised as well. Of all the things that he expected, this was not one of them. He would have liked to pretend that you were some pervert, some lunatic that broke into his room, but your horns and tail were a dead giveaway that this was not anything of the normal variety. Especially with how your tail kept rubbing against his leg like some sort of needy pet.

He flips you under him, smirking at your squeak as he starts rolling his hips, watching you go cock dumb for him as he uses your body to his liking, determined to pay you back for all the sleepless nights that you had caused him. It was only fair after all.

Horangi - Kumiho

His things were going missing. And when they weren’t going missing, they were being moved. It was Horangi’s only clue that something was different than usual. It felt like someone was constantly shifting the world just a little bit to the left every time he turned his back or did so much as blink. It was the most annoying experience he had ever had the displeasure of enduring.

Everyone was subject to his wrath while this was happening, even his superiors. Demanding to know who was playing these “pranks” on him and why they would do such a thing. Everyone vehemently denied having any part in what he was saying but it did little to deter Horangi from interrogating each and every one of them to no avail. Eventually he got sent home to calm the fuck down while his superiors investigated.

But when he went home and found that these same events were still happening, he knew something was off. No way any of his teammates had managed to sneak home with him, let alone stay hidden. This was his home, he knew every nook and cranny of this base, down to its very foundation. If anyone was here, anyone human, he’d know.

Cue a ransacking of his own home, throwing around clothes and knick knacks to get to any sort of hiding spot in his home, checking every possible entrance and exit, a man gone mad in an attempt to find someone that wasn’t actually there.

Or so he thought, until he felt something hard drop onto his head and bounce onto the floor beside his feet. He looked down, looking at the shimmering and glowing marble by his feet, bending down to carefully pick it up. He….was sure that he didn’t own anything like this.

Something brushed against the back of his neck when he stood back up and he immediately whipped around to face it, surprised to come face to face with a….was that a tail? It was definitely a tail. A tail that was connected to a human being when he looked up slowly, your eyes wide at getting caught red handed, all nine of your tails fluffed up in panic.

Well….that explained that at least.

Keegan - Ghoul

Keegan was visiting the graveyard when he met you, flowers in hand for the mother he barely remembered at this point, just another loss that ached in his chest. He was late today, so late that the stars were shining in the sky and he needed a flashlight to see anything. The graveyard was technically closed but it was easy to hop the fence, even with a bouquet and a flashlight in his hands. He made a note that he should talk to the owner about upping security.

The walk was short to his mother’s grave but to him it felt like an eternity, especially when he kept hearing the rustling of bushes and twigs snapping, likely some sort of rabbit or deer but he was still on guard from all his time in the military.

Only, as he grew closer, he realized that he could hear a different cracking sound, something he couldn’t quite place, especially when the sound of slurping followed it. It became all the more clearer when he was but a few feet from the grave he planned to visit, a giant mound of dirt laying on top of it while there was a hole in the one beside it.

He peered slowly into the hole, shining his flashlight down and seeing….a person. You. An arm in your hand that you were ferociously tearing at with your teeth, mouth covered and dripping with blood. So busy with your feast that it took a minute before you realized that you were being watched. You turned your head slowly, following the light up to see him just….standing there.

He was in shock, especially now that he could see your dagger-like teeth. And then you were hissing and he was reminded of an alley cat he had cornered once as a small child, wanting to pet it. It had not gone well then, and it would surely not go well now. He slowly backed away but stayed close by, watching you carefully crawl out of your hole, arm tight in your jaw’s grip, watching him warily as you start to shovel the dirt back into the hole.

You watched him, he watched you.

And then you scampered off, startling him with your sudden movement. He could do nothing but stare dumbly at the direction you had run in, wondering what exactly you were.

And how he could encounter you again.

[ithacas-prince]

“Give me sirens and a cyclops!”

Telemachus, the prince of Ithaca. Parents are Queen Penelope and King Odysseus. also a great-great-grandson of Hermes, and a grandson of a naiad.

No need to inform me of affairs, for I am well-versed in the matters at hand.

The goddess Athena is my benefactor. In days past, she took on the guise of Mentor and urged me to embark upon a voyage in search of my father. Though my quest bore no fruit, I believe we would have become steadfast companions.

(PFP BY sloanslone | banner by jarondont)

death count: 1

kill count: 109

I seek knowledge of my father Odysseus's fate. When I inquired of Menelaus, he recounted a vision revealed by the sea-god Proteus, declaring that my father is marooned and ensnared upon the island of Calypso.

My inclinations are yet unknown to me. (He’s bisexual.) I find joy in music, my lyre, and the companionship of my faithful dog Argos. However, I harbor great disdain for the suitors, for they seek to win the favor of my mother, which I find most vexing.

I yearn for the company of my kin, to partake in the simple joys of life as any mortal might. Yet, alas, I find it difficult to embrace normalcy, for I am bound by blood to a certain messenger god. His whims and tasks often draw me into the realm of the extraordinary, making it nigh impossible to dwell in the comforts of the ordinary.

hi, mod here.. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE SAYING??

appearance: curly raven black hair, dark aquamarine green eyes, pointy ears (which turn into naiad ears in the water, cough) fair skin, freckles, he towers EVERYONE mf is 6'2 help this man, very attractive (unknowingly blessed with beauty by…..???)

voice claim: zagreus from hades

personality: chaotic but mainly calm at times, caring, sometimes an idiot, impulsive, strategic, loyal. he has ADHD, btw. low self esteem issues.

skills: archery, running, swimming, swordsmanship, disarmament, wielding daggers, fighting, etc.

powers: breathing underwater and minor control over water, plus being able to unlock doors with ease and controlling money, he sometimes teleports though it drains him after.

he has maladaptive daydreaming

—

quick rules:

- Romantic interactions will only be with CHARACTERS eighteen years or over.

- This is a ask/rp blog! So you can ask or rp.

- No strong NSFW.

- Innuendos? Allowed.

- Nothing is fully canon!

- If I interact with someone or something or reblog something bad on accident. PLEASE tell me so I can fix it.

- if he dates anyone, it’s set in separate universes.

—

tags:

#the prince has spoken — 👑 (Telemachus)

#asks — ❓ (for asks)

#mod comes over — ⭐️

#the goddess of wisdom appeared — 🦉 (Athena, obviously.)

#god of wine slurs — 🍷 (Dionysus, adopted/mentors Telemachus now.)

…

PLEASE INTRODUCE HIM TO SHIT HES VERY BAD AT THIS 😔😔😔

…

Let me speak of those whom I am acquainted with:

@odysseus-of-ithaca-is-lost, @penelope-simp (my dad!!)

@penelope-is-waiting (my mother)

@imnotaman (she forced me to put her here/j but another version of my mom! love her :3)

@reigningprincesstofithaca (my biological sister. she keeps scaring the shit out of me.)

@thehermesguy (my great great granddad)

@unhinged-waterlilly

@quillis-climbs-trees

@thementallyillapollochild

@when-fate-is-mistaken

@sunlights-daughter

@sillypuppetmeister

mod speaking here! NO NSFW. Swearing and cussing happen here.. so..

Im fine with being tagged in random starters or posts.

…

him, btw (art by @/sloanslone

winged, naiad, genderbent and reg form ^

[carolinelikesdinner]

Fablehaven headcanons that have no basis in canon but they're correct (trust)

Newel and Doren read manga in their free time (specifically Shoujo)

Seth enjoys drawing and painting, and his work is surprisingly good

Ronodin can play the violin very well

Kendra has a slight fear of dogs (<— me self projecting)

Kendra and Alyssa were actually friends when they were in kindergarten, but then drifted apart due to going to different elementary schools. They then reconnected in late middle school when they joined the same soccer team

Dragons human avatars look different based on how powerful they are. If a dragon is weak and doesnt have much power, when they transform into their human avatar they can be easily clocked as a dragon. Scales, horns, claws, unnatural skin color, ect. tend to appear on weaker dragons avatars. Colorful hair and eyes are the most common signs of a dragon at medium power. If a dragon is particularly powerful, their human avatar can look nearly indistinguishable from any normal mortal (for example, Navarog)

It’s the same case with unicorns. If a unicorn isn't very powerful, they can have more horse like features in their human avatar. Cloven hooves instead of normal feet, horse ears, and the horn still attached to the forehead. This usually only tends to happen to younger unicorns, who don't have as much control over their magic and havent gained their third horn

Before Stan became caretaker, and was in his 20s or so, he was good friends with Newel and Doren. He consistently hung out and partied with them, until he became caretaker and married Ruth. They're still friends to this day, but not as close as they used to be

During the first few years of Patton and Lena's marriage, Lena would visit the pond and chat with her sisters, though they usually either ignored her or beckoned her to come closer to the water. Her visits slowly waned over time, the nail in the coffin being when one of the naiads managed to grab her leg, and was only saved due to Patton being with her. She never visited again after that

Dale has a noticeable southern accent. Warren also has the slightest hint of one, but it becomes much more noticeable when he's emotional

[yuesgirlfriend]

of birds and honey

(simon "ghost" riley x reader) medieval AU

part 1/part 2

Mass in the early morning is, like most things in this mortal life, something to be silently suffered, on your knees with your hands clasped. 

The chapel is chilly in the hour where the sun has barely peeked over the horizon.  As the priest drones on quietly in Latin, she clasps her rosary and attempts to focus on his words. Incense hangs heavy in the air, cloy and sweet smelling. The birds chirping outside are louder than the priest.  You should exercise more caution, when listening from rafters and castle walls like a little bird.

She does not glance to her left where the hungover knights sit, irreverently chatting amongst themselves, crowded together on the pew. And she does not feel the skull-faced (Ghost, she had heard the Scotsman call him) ones dark eyes follow her when she steps up to receive a blessing.  Instead, she focuses on the gilded, shiny cross resting on the wall above the priests head. Strange that the only display of finery in the modest chapel would be what killed the Christ, rubies dripping off it like his blood. 

Delight thyself also in the Lord; And he shall give thee the desires of thine heart, the priest mutters, making the sign of the cross above her head. What are the desires of her heart, she wonders. Are they as they should be?

Sundays are slow days, in her fathers castle. Those who labor in the fields put away their plows, servants do as little as they can get away with, and her father spends the day hunting and resting. With her maids and father distracted and relaxed, she’ll slip away to walk the grounds, down to the edge of the wood to practice balancing on fallen logs. If she is stopped and inquired after, she claims it is to meditate on the message of mass. 

On the Lords day, she does not feel like a fine lady, or a forgotten child- she can walk by the edge of the river and climb trees until the sun sets and the restlessness in her heart is sated. 

Today something urges her to strip down to her linen smock and climb down slippery tree roots into the river below. The water is ice cold, numbing her toes until she can scarcely feel the mossy stones they glide over. Involuntary shivers wrack her body. 

She sinks lower and lower until the water reaches her shoulders, then her ears, then over her head. Scrubbing a hand over her scalp, she relishes the way her hair floats in the water around her face, like long grass in the wind. She holds her breath until she feels ready to burst before she resurfaces. 

When she does, a skull with dark eyes is there to greet her. 

She gasps and kicks back in the water on instinct before recognizing him. Annoyance and something bashful takes fears place. 

“I nearly mistook you for a river otter, lady.” Even in the privacy of the wood, he wears a cloth mask with an embroidered skull emblem and a hooded cloak, revealing nothing but his coal-dark eyes. In his hand is a bow, and on his broad shoulder a quiver.  He must have been hunting. 

“Then I pray you do not shoot me for my skin, sir.” 

He kneels down as if to get closer to where she wades in the water. A chill goes up her back. It must be the cold. 

“I’d never slay a naiad, lady. Wretched luck would befall me.” How can a voice, so harsh when ordering his men, suddenly sound as mellifluous as the river she swims in? How can a ghost look so very corporeal and present before her? 

She only responds by tilting her head, wondering where he learned of Greek, pagan spirits. 

He clears his throat, standing straight. “Your maids were askin’ after thee, before I left.” He readjusts his cloak. “Get out before you freeze, and I will escort you back to the castle.”  

Defeated, she sighs and turns, climbing up the slick roots on the riverside where her discarded garments wait. So much for an afternoon of peace. 

She is squeezing river water from her shift when she realizes the immodesty of the situation- white, soaking wet linen does little to hide the curves of her body or her nipples, pebbled from the cold. 

Peeking  under her damp hair, she expects to see him shielding his eyes or cowering away at her lack of modesty. Instead he is leaning against a weathered tree, toying with an arrow, appearing bored even as his eyes track her every move. Every bit a hunter. 

She should be aghast. She should scamper behind a tree or imperiously demand he turn his back to her. 

She ignores the things she should do, and instead bends at the waist to wring water from her skirt, tilts her head back to comb through her long hair with her fingers. Layer after layer of the dry, simple clothes she wears on these excursions are on next- her kirtle, her belt and pocket, her surcoat and woolen cloak. Last are her stockings and leather shoes . 

She rests on a tree stump and struggles to fit them over her wet skin, the wool catching. All the while the knight stands and watches her, even when she hikes her skirts up to her knees. To better access her shoes, she tells herself. 

He carefully steps on the river stones and reaches the other side without so much as a drop of water staining him, until he is looming over where she ties her laces, eyes trained on her ankles.  

She starts her way back to the castle, ignoring the hulking shadow of a man behind her, plaiting her hair as she walks. Humming, crunching leaves beneath her feet, trying to enjoy her few moments of freedom before the week begins anew. Trying her best to not think of the way the Ghosts eyes felt on her, as tangible and real as the water droplets slipping down her back.

[frogg-water]

Edit: baha i totally forgot to put my watermark somewhere, oops

So I went ahead and turned Odysseus into a Lykoi cat

I still think its clever, especially if Telemachus is a lykoi cat too, just because hes called little wolf

It's kind hard showing the patches on a lykoi where the fur is thinner/thinnest, but I tried

I didnt do any serious lineart, and the athena emblem was completely from memory, and idk what sword to give him in that lil doodle there

But this was fun

I didnt intend for they eyes to look like that but ngl i kinda like it. Reminds me of how some of my favorite artists draw cat eyes

So ig i can go over my ideas for the premises of this cat au

All the normal humans, like odysseus, are normal cats. Any breed bc i am not serious enough about this is do research on what cats where made in which time.

Some limitations I will break for the sake of recognizable character design, but I am also not a good character designer at all, so ehe

Characters who look human but have some godly power, or close lineage with the mythical, will look like normal cats but have patterns or features that separate them from the typical. Like Calpyso, though a typical classic brown tabby, will have some markings that are a sunset palette ombre. Im still thinking about Circe.

In the case of Penelope, she is the daughter of a naiad nymph, so perhaps she would have, idk, sharper ears or webbed paws or smthn, for hydrodynamicism or something like that

Now for gods, they will be cats as well, but they have major features that displays their status. Hermes and Athena have wings, Hermes all across his body and Athena two large owl wings. Aeolus is a cloud..? shaped? like a cat? i'll draw them soon

For the gods whos animals are like, bovine or equine, they will have hooves. Thatll be weird to design

It'll take awhile to turn all the characters into cats but i am determined

It'll just probs be slow

Everything is the same in this au, just everyone is cats. They can still build, the can still row boats, they can still sword fight

Theyre just cats

I have listened to every saga so many times just to imagine the characters as these feline creatures, I cant get enough of it

I love Epic the musical, guys

I love cats too

Putting two of my favorite things together is the best

[dootznbootz]

Water Wife!Penelope having sharp teeth reminds me of how in the 1997 miniseries she sometimes covered her face in front of the suitors. Maybe she covers her face to hide her sharp teeth?

Thank you for the ask! :D

Yes and No in my writing!

Only in the beginning on Ithaca and during certain moments of scheming does she really cover her mouth. While first on Ithaca because she noticed people were a bit nervous around her because of it (not always good to have, intimidation is nice but so is flattery). As not many "wild naiads" (aka non-fountain ones) were in the city. And the Wild Naiads on Ithaca are a bit temperamental, so people would see her pearly whites and have a "oh shit, is she gonna yell at me?"

So she sometimes covers her mouth when she laughs in the beginning, in order to not startle people and make connections.

Odysseus notices this and doesn't like this as "when have you ever wilted for another?" but Penelope knows this is how she eases into this new place/culture. It's hard for her, as it's very different from what she's used to in Sparta, but the Ithacan royal family, a few other nymphs, Athena ofc, and others are supportive of her. :)

A few spats with snooty fountain naiads cause some problems as Penelope can't keep her mouth shut, but she very much comes into her own on Ithaca. Most already know she's a nymph with her ears and reputation so there's no point in hiding it. plus smiles are fun.

Another part of the reason why the suitors wanted her so much (along with the throne and her intelligence) is because nymphs, even non fullblooded ones, remain fairly youthful, live long lives, and usually affect their spouses in that way too. But it's also a whole thing of keeping them happy and that they LIKE you. xD

People already know she's a naiadborn and a smart one at that. She only hides it if the scheme needs it (and then she should cover her ears as well, and she has some scaley spots on her body). But even then, fountain naiadborn are common, so it really depends :P