#their purpose was to cover Zeus' crying

[aliciavance4228]

I am really sorry for this post but every time I remember this little detail about Zeus' childhood...

...all I can think about is this.

[grogusmum]

WIP WEDNESDAY/SNEAK PEEK

Dieter Bravo x muse!f!Reader

A Xanadu inspired AU

A/N: Just a little proof that I am working on this idea threw out there earlier in the summer

Prologue: Don’t Walk Away

“Dieter, I foolishly thought a loving person could…” Anika was past crying, but the sadness in her eyes would break anyone's heart. But Dieter was too angry, so instead, he spat -

“No,” she sighed, “help you. Fill the void that you had been filling with -”

“Fix me!?”

Dieter knew Anika loved him and didn't make a project of him, at least not on purpose. But he was feeling defensive -

“What, Anika?”

“Every excess. I was enough of a distraction for a little while. But my novelty has worn off, I guess.”

And that is when Dieter’s tears began to fall.

“I’m sorry, Dieter, this is goodbye.”

He wanted to yell, cover all his insecurity and pain with rage, but he could never do that to Anika. But he couldn’t bring himself to be magnanimous about it either. All he could muster was a broken ‘fine’.

The fire is dangerously high, but Dieter doesn't much care as he tosses another painting on the fire. They’re shit and only represent his manic despair. When he reaches the bottom of the pile, he shuffles back into his studio and pulls out his most recent sketch pad. It fights him a little, and when he gives it a forceful tug, some loose drawings float to the floor. He trains his eyes onto the one on his croc clad feet.

The Cliff Beasts Debacle was finally complete, with his wife walking out the door. The one and only good thing he said came from that ridiculous film, and the fucked up experience of making it. Dieter would love to say he just threw himself into his work, but parts began scarce ever since. (Shocker.) So he drowned himself in whatever mind altering substance was available and painted. It only reminded him more of the worst time of isolation while making that wretched movie. So, not helping.

It’s you.

Eyes wide and a playful knowing smile; at some point, he had added color, and your eyes look so real. He looks around at the other drawings, some large sheets of good art paper, some torn scraps, all you. His muse. His beautiful muse. Now, if he was with anyone and described you as such, they may think he’s waxing poetic about a lover who supported and inspired him. Sure, you were his lover. And you did support and inspire him. But when he says you were “his muse”, he means it. Literally. A daughter of Zeus… and Mnemósine. Not that he can't pronounce her name, so he kind of forgets about the titan goddess of memory (to her vexation).

Dieter picks up the watercolor; his hands trembling. He looks out the picture window at his impulsive bonfire. He grabs a few items in his art studio, bursts out the door, rounds the pool, and places the portrait on a nearby table. Out of his pocket, his pulls a zippo lighter and a small bit of wood, lights it until the end is glowing, and sends off a sweet smoke.

“Terpsichore!” the actor intones. He’s only ever used the name one other time. Generally calling you by the name you gave him. But for this, he uses your greek name. The Official One. Trademarked and all that.

“I - I beg - I beseech you, return to me. You came to me once, and I squandered your gift and, um, yo-your favor. I have learned my lesson. Just let me prove it to you.”

The glow of the fire flickers on his face in the halflight, and he murmurs your name. The one you gave yourself, the one he moaned when you touched him - “Please come back to me.”

Suddenly, the Santa Ana winds kicked up, and his rendering of his lovely muse is pulled from his hand and flies up on the draft made by the fire. He can't see if it went into the blaze or not, only that it went up and over. Then the quiet but for the snap and pop of the flames was interrupted by the blare of a fire truck siren, called by a neighbor, no doubt.

THANKS FOR READING 💚

[madhare0512]

Just a Man

Warnings include: death (child), violence

~~~

Zeus is gone when Leo looks back. Leo doesn't say the words he thinks, not where the King of the gods is concerned. Looking back down, Leo looks into the eyes of the baby boy he'd been asked to fucking murder.

"No," he whispers. "No, please."

The blood on you hands is something you won't loose, all you can choose is who's, whispers Zeus in his ears.

Trembling, Leo puts down his sword and picks up the baby, giggling happily in his swaddle. He stares at the little bundle in fear. God, the baby was just an infant, just a little boy who's barely out of his mother's belly. His eyes fill with tears, gods above, they want him to kill a child?

Lady Athena? he asks quietly, but there is no response. Leo understands, he doesn't want to be involved with this either.

His grip tightens on the baby's body, gentle enough still that the baby doesn't stop laughing. A sob bursts from his throat. "Gods," he murmurs, "gods, you're as old as Cody was. You're as old as my nephew when I left for this gods-forsaken war."

The baby, predictably, says nothing, bubbles of spit blowing from his mouth while he stares up at Leo. Is this how Leo is repaid for his loyalty? With the blood of an innocent child on his hands at the end of a war demanded by the King of Sparta in the stead of the goddess Hera, who was furious with Hector of Troy for his choice regarding the fairest of the goddesses.

Athena must think him insane. Truthfully, perhaps he was, but this... this was the price paid for the gods' tribulations.

"Close your eyes, child," Leo bids, but the baby does not listen. He cannot kill the baby with bloodshed, he will not have the blood of innocent lives physically on his hands. Glancing around, he finds a ledge and decides it will suit his purposes just fine. Gods, what is he doing? Can he really hurt this little boy?

But...

He will burn your house and throne. He'll find you wherever you go. The gods will make it known. He's bringing you down on your knees for ya. Oh, this is the will of the gods.

He's just a man. Human, fragile flesh and bone, he couldn't ignore the will of the gods. He couldn't abandon his patron and her teachings. He couldn't let the future Zeus had shown him come to pass. He couldn't let this war go home to his father and youngest brother, his brothers, his brothers' beloved lovers.

The baby finally falls into sleep.

When does a comet become a meteor? When does a candle become a blaze? When does a baby grow into a monster?

Leo takes up the baby and approaches the edge of the building. "Forgive me," he whispers.

When does a ripple become a tidal wave? When does the reason become the blame? When does a man become a monster?

"Forgive me," Leo repeats, voice trembling as he lifts the baby and prepares to drop it.

When does a man become a monster?

"Forgive me," Leo pleads brokenly.

The baby falls from Leo's hands, the blanket tucked tightly over his body. Leo's eyes fill with tears as he turns away. His knees buckle, legs failing him, and he crashing to the cold rooftop with a cry of pain. His back hits the ledge, legs tucking to his chest with his arms wrapped around his knees. He covers his ears with a pained whimper at the sound of a body crunching against the ground below.

He cries quietly, hot tears streaking through the grime coating his face. If his crew could see the King of Ithica now... only his brothers would dare to be so soft hearted as not to judge him.

"Forgive me, he pleads brokenly.

He buring his face in his hands and sobs. The guilt leans heavily on his chest, crushing him under its weight.

"I'm just a man."

[letannabethchasesayshit]

Summary: Ripley Curbello's father always told her how she was born of the night sky. As it turns out, he was telling her the truth. She is the Daughter of Nyx, Greek Goddess of the Night. After Ripley's father is killed, she is sent on the run. She is all alone but not for long. She finds Annabeth Chase, Thalia Grace, and Luke Castellan. All four of them lost their families or were rejected. All four were alone, but they found love and family together. It was the four of them against the world and Ripley thought it always would be. Ripley must grapple with finding a family, losing them, and her fear of herself. All rational people are afraid of the dark, and Ripley is not different.

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Read on AO3 here

Part 12/14

Chapter Twelve: A Million Broken Pieces and Nothing To Hold Them Together

Chiron met us at the bottom of the hill. Grover had described Chiron to us many times, mostly through gasping breaths as we all ran. The way he described him, I expected a man just like my father. Someone who, at his most inner core, was kind. That was the realest truth about him, he was kind, just like my Papa.

In a way, I did get exactly as I expected, I just didn’t get a man. What came running towards us was not a man on two legs, but one on four. Everything from his waistline down was a perfect brown stallion. I heard the clop of his hooves before I ever saw him. He came running up to us with his sword drawn and his wizened eyes on us.

I never felt a burden like his. When I looked at him, I almost fell over with the sudden weight on my shoulders. It was heavy, I didn’t want to carry it, but he did. I felt his deep-seated desire to carry that burden. It was like he believed it was his purpose, like it was his reason for being alive.

It wasn’t just the burden, I also felt more exhausted than I had ever been. It was a different sort of exhaustion. This one was as old as time itself and I knew, I really knew, it would never end. Yet, he had become accustomed to it, he learned to keep it in his back pocket just like he did with most things. It was simply a part of him, he couldn’t let it stop him.

Luke was just as surprised as I was to see this half-horse half-man thing running towards us, but Annabeth wasn’t even phased. She had read enough books to know exactly who and what Chiron was. He was in many myths, and she had committed every single one to memory. She was the only one who wasn’t surprised to see the centaur running towards us.

“Grover, thank all the Gods,” he breathed a sigh of relief.

Grover ran up to him, “Chiron! Bla! Chiron!”

Chiron’s eyes landed on us. He saw Annabeth, covered in dirt and tears, with her knife raised. He saw Luke cradling me in both arms with his sword still drawn. He saw me clinging to Luke like it was life or death. He saw us, but he didn’t see Thalia.

“Grover,” Chiron’s voice was calm and collected, “Where is the Daughter of Zeus?”

Grover swallowed hard before looking back to the hill. Chiron followed his gaze, his eyes falling upon the brand new pine tree sticking out from the top of the hill. The hellhound had decided to give breaking in a second go, but he kept bouncing off an invisible forcefield. Chiron watched him slam into the force field several times before whispering, “By the Gods.”

“Thalia’s dead,” Luke said in a deadpan manner, “The hellhounds, the furies, they caught up with us.”

Annabeth was crying and clutching tightly to her knife, “She- she sacrificed herself to save us.”

Chiron looked down at Annabeth and smiled. Bending his front legs, he came closer to Annabeth’s level. He gently placed a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder, “You must be three very lucky children to have a friend who loved you so much.”

Luke snorted when Chiron called us lucky. I glanced up at him, but I couldn’t quite tell what he was feeling. I was too blinded by grief; my own, Luke’s, Annabeth’s, and even Grover’s. I think Chiron also felt a hint of grief for a girl he never even met.

“Thalia, she- she told me,” Grover bleated, “She told me to get them to safety.”

Chiron looked up at Grover. Rising to his feet, he never once took his eyes off the satyr, “Your actions are commendable Grover, but this was not the mission.”

“I couldn’t- bla!- I couldn’t just leave them!”

“No, not with a heart like yours. It is not my place to judge, however. I believe the council will wish to speak with you.”

Grover visibly paled. Through the heartbreak weighing all of us down like a thousand anchors, I felt a stab of fear. My arms began to prickle as each hair on my body stood up. I gripped tightly to Luke’s neck, watching as Grover sulked towards the forest, “What’s going to happen to him? Is he going to get hurt?”

“No, my dear, perhaps only suffering a bit of a lecture,” Chiron smiled, “The Council of Cloven Elders is very strict. They send all the satyrs on their missions to find and rescue demigods. Grover’s mission was crucial, and very specific.”

Chiron did not say he failed but the word still hung in the air. Luke began to scowl even harder, glowering at Chiron in a way that was quite unlike him. Annabeth and I both took notice. We turned to him with our wide eyes and quivering lips. When he saw our pain, all that darkness went away. He smiled at us in an effort to comfort us, but we could still see his pain.

“Uhm, Mister Chiron, sir?” I turned to the centaur in question, “Will Thalia always be a tree?”

Chiron rested his hand on his sheathed sword and sighed, “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer, my dear.”

“Did she create that barrier?” Annabeth asked, “The one that kept the hellhound out?”

“I believe her death had something to do with it. Before Thalia Grace became a tree, Camp Halfblood was protected only in numbers of well-trained soldiers. It seems, however, that night watch is no longer needed.”

He glanced up at the hill, but all of us continued to look at him. I tilted my head, “Is that where we are?”

“Yes, welcome, demigods, to Camp Halfblood,” Chiron waved his hand over the valley, “The only safe place for demigods such as you. Here, half bloods come to train, to learn, and to find others like them.”

Luke, Annabeth, and I all gazed out over the valley. The sun was just beginning to set and hordes of people were heading towards what looked like a large pavilion. In the distance, I could see a perfect ring of twelve cabins, each one different from the last. Three cabins stood larger and grander than the rest, but darker as well. Lava fell down the rock climbing wall and the strawberries growing in the fields smelled better than anything I had smelled in my life.

“You mean, we’ll be safe here?” Annabeth asked.

Chiron nodded, “Yes, all three of you will be safe here, that I can promise.”

“Thalia promised,” Luke corrected, “She’s the one who died to make that barrier.”

“Yes- of course.”

Chiron seemed slightly worried at Luke’s cynicism, but I think he, like me, chalked it up to grief. It was a miracle any of us were still standing after what we had just witnessed. I half expected us to fall into heaps at any second.

I felt like I might collapse even quicker. It had been so long since I had ambrosia and all that pain was returning. I swear my ribs had broken even more during our run. As the adrenaline wore off, it all started to catch up with me. I gripped tightly to Luke’s neck and winced, “Luke, it hurts.”

He glanced down at me worriedly before looking up at Chiron, “Ripley, she was attacked, she needs help.”

“We must get her to the medical pavilion at once, I will summon the healers from the Apollo cabin,” Chiron nodded, “in the meantime, the two of you will be allowed to stay with her. However, once she is healed, all three of you will be given a place to sleep in the Hermes cabin until you are claimed.”

“But- we were already claimed,” Annabeth responded.

“Really?”

“We were all claimed long ago,” Luke was already making his way to the medical pavilion as he spoke, “I am Luke Castellan, son of Hermes.”

“I’m Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena,” Annabeth was at his heels, “And that’s Ripley Curbello, daughter of Nyx.”

Chiron cantered at Luke’s side, “Remarkable. Welcome, son of Hermes, daughter of Athena, and daughter of Nyx.”

I was sure I wasn’t the only one who didn’t truly feel welcomed.

[thrassa]

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (from mere mentions to semi-explicit descriptions).

Please note that I do not mean this as an attack towards your person or anything of the sort, I'm simply tired of seeing the same things circulate over and over again. If my tone comes off as iffy, know that it truly was not my intention. Not towards you, at least.

Anyway, having spent a few years studying the sources that mention Medusa, when I saw your tags, I admit I was left sighing over and over again.

And it's not your fault, not wholly, given how easily misinformation can be spread around but alas.

Back to the topic at hand, though.

It is with great regret that I must inform you that we possess no versions in which Medusa is a "protector of women" - unless, of course, you can provide any. Can you?

Or any versions in which "Athena knew that the Gods would punish her (Medusa) for her beauty and Poseidon's actions". - why would she be punished for her beauty if she did not commit hubris? And why would any third - party deity punish Medusa for being assaulted? Why would they get involved? What would they gain?

Or any versions in which Athena turns Medusa into a Gorgon as a "gift of protection" - who offers protection only to assist in one's murder, later on, after all? In what world would that make even a little bit of sense?

All the "facts" (💀) you've mentioned (though quite more elaborate than their original version as they have first passed through the tumblr shitpost machine) stem from one "source" and one "source" alone - and that's Ovid.

As stated:

Ovid, Metamorphoses 4. 770 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) :

"[Medousa (Medusa)] was violated in Minerva's [Athena's] shrine by the Lord of the Sea (Rector Pelagi) [Poseidon]. Jove's [Zeus'] daughter turned away and covered with her shield her virgin's eyes. And then for fitting punishment transformed the Gorgo's lovely hair to loathsome snakes."

The above happens to be the only account of assault and transformation that we possess when it comes to Medusa and suprisingly enough, none of the things you mentioned can be found in the text.

(Side note: It is Neptune, not Poseidon who commits the act and Minerva, not Athena that places the curse).

Now, let's note some minor but important factors:

1) No Hellenic source from the 8th century BC to the 2nd century AD make any mention of any sort of assault, either physical or sexual in nature.

2) The text above is a poem by Ovid - a Roman - created not for purposes of worship (it was not theological in nature) or for purposes of simply writing down oral tradition (he was not a mythographer) but was created as a means of entertainment and propaganda against the Roman Ruling Class (how did Ovid achieve such a thing, you may ask? By using the Gods as abusers in all senses of the word as they represented the aristorcrasy).

3) If you read the Ovidian works, from his Metamorphoses to Heroides to Ars Amatoria and beyond, you will notice an incredible amount of sexual violence (mainly directed towards women). That was intentional. Ovid sought to showcase sexual assault because he believed it to be arousing and something women desired, despite their claims otherwise. As shown below:

Ovid's Ars Amatoria (as translated in the work of Margaret Caroll):

"Though she give them not, yet take the kisses she does not give. Perhaps she will struggle at first and cry ,"You villain!" Yet she will wish to be beaten in the struggle. . . He who has taken kisses, if he has not taken the rest beside, will deserve to lose even what was granted. . . You may use force; women like you to use it. . . She whom a sudden assault has taken by storm is pleased.. .. But she who, when she might have been compelled, departs untouched. . . Will yet be sad. Phoebe suffered violence, violence was used against her sister; each ravished found favour with the one he ravished."

(Side note: The Ars Amatoria is a long account of Ovid's personal hatred towards women and his desire to constantly belittle and violate them masked as a "guide of love").

4) I also feel the need to mention the obvious, Ovid is a Roman poet whose work has no bearing on Greek Mythology so it is hightime people stopped thinking the two are interchangeable. Also, I feel it is a great disservice to see Ovid's works as part of the Roman Mythos, given that people did not believe in his accounts.

5) The name "Medousa" does, in fact, mean "Protector" but that merely comes from the fact that her face was used as an amulet against evil - just like the evil eye. It was not used for women's protection, it was used for the protection of all.

6) There is one Greek source, and one Greek source only that mentions a connection between Athena and Medusa before Athena's assistance of Perseus in his quest to save his mother and that comes from Pseudo-Apollodorus.

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 2. 46 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"[Perseus gave] the Gorgo's head to Athene . . . Athene placed the Gorgo's head in the center of her shield. It is affirmed by some that Medousa (Medusa) was beheaded because of Athene, for they say the Gorgo had been willing to be compared with Athene in beauty."

As you can see, even in that case Athena assisted Perseus due to Medusa's hubris against her in beauty - nothing to do with an assault or a gift or anything of the sort.

In short, I'm sorry to say but tumblr lied to you.

Ps. Please read the ancient sources and educate yourself on the topic, and do not take things you see online as facts simply because 'usermenelaossucks4539583' claims them as such.

Believe me, it will be worth it.

some (not necessarily connected but similar) thoughts that have been plaguing me for several days:

It's very easy to retell the Perseus and the Gorgons myth by casting Perseus as a dumb thug who couldn't have completed the quest without as much divine aid as he received. I've read a few retellings that take this angle, and while it can be comedic, it isn't my favourite flavour of Perseus. It often verges into classism when adaptations focus on Perseus' "lowly" upbringing as a fisherman, and conflate this with his supposed idiocy. I think he's an impetuous teenager who isn't very bright – or perhaps it's fairer to say he's ignorant, being sheltered in his little corner of the world by his mother and guardian – but nonetheless starts with good intentions.

It isn't necessary to make Perseus a villain (or a dumb thug, as in previous Thought) in order to present a more sympathetic angle on Medusa. Perseus is tricked into volunteering for what is essentially a suicide mission in order to save his mother. The act of killing Medusa while she sleeps is a horrifically violent one – but so is King Polydectes' threat of forced marriage to Danae, which Perseus is trying to prevent. If Medusa and Perseus could have sat down and had a chat, it would be a very different myth, which is what makes it so tragic imo. (Although I'm definitely not saying Perseus was a Good Guy who did nothing wrong. Heroism ≠ goodness, which is something it's easy to forget when looking back at Greek myth through a modern lens).

I'm very fond of the mytheme/folklore archetype of a hero getting magical or divine aid to complete their quest. I actually think there's something in there about accessibility and ableism, and how most ordinary people who are thrust into a magical quest narrative would need some aid because the world of gods and monsters is a long way from the world of, say, a little-educated island fisherman. I don't think this aid detracts from their heroism.

[mollymawks]

Hades Hugs

Zagreus: Platonic ideal of a friend hug. Warm like a fireplace, firm but gentle. Might start crying if you hold the hug too long I can't imagine this boy has had a ton of physical affection lately

Thanatos: If you try to hug him he will teleport away

Meg: If you try to hug her she will stab you

Alecto: She'll hug you back but you'll get about 3 seconds of weird-but-nice hug in before she rips ur head off ur body

Tisiphone: Will push you away out of surprise and confusion but won't stab you if you leave and don't try again

Nyx: A good hug, but kinda weird. Not cold like ice, but cold like a dark room

Achilles: Genuine hug but with the awkward purposeful separation of hugging your favorite teacher from high school

Hypnos: His quilt cape drapes over both of you and you are immediately both in dire danger of falling asleep in a pile on the floor

Dusa: Like hugging a quivering beach ball covered in snakes

Skelly: Probably not super comfortable

Sisyphus: Pick-up hug that feels like he's gonna snap you in half but when he puts you down your back feels better than it has in weeks

Bouldy: It's not just a boulder!

Eurydice: Kinda scratchy with the bark skin, but hugs you like a good friend you haven't seen for a while. Comforting but in more of a casual than intimate way

Patroclus: Will not hug you or even stand up but won't stop you from trying either

Theseus: Does a side hug and strikes a pose like he's posing for a picture or a selfie but cameras don't exist in universe yet

Asterius: Large but surprisingly gentle, smells like a barn but in a good way

Zeus: Overbearing auntie hugs, leaves you with static cling in your clothes

Poseidon: Slightly less overbearing auntie hugs, leaves you slightly damp

Artemis: Will be very stiff and won't hug you back but will pat your head awkwardly

Dionysus: Goes limp full weight and leans on you, basically drapes himself over you

Demeter: Cold, in temperature but not in feeling. Not a bad hug, but weirdly intimidating

Ares: Amused that you're not too intimidated to hug him. Slightly too tight hug that you're gonna feel in your bones for a while

Aphrodite: Comforting or sensual depending on if she feels platonic/familial or otherwise toward you

Athena: Nice but weirdly impersonal, like you can tell she's actively thinking about how much pressure and how long to hug you for

Persephone: Platonic ideal of a mom hug. Warm like sunlight. You never remember how long you hugged for cause it feels like forever and not long enough

Hades: Absolutely Not

Charon: If you pay him enough sure

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. I don’t think it’s the fact the “gifting ceremony with one bad option” is a common trope (which tbh it really isn’t even in old fairytales? But w/e) it’s the fact it’s so obvious Rachel is just lifting ideas from her Disney+ account to pad the story out even more than even attempt to think up something creative or god forbid let Persephone have any sort of flaws to her. The whole comic is mind-numbingly unoriginal and insultingly watered down with the sleeping beauty ripoff as more proof of that

2. why is there more instances of rachel trying to use mythology sources to "confirm" hades has kids and persephone was the hottest goddess ever over being remotely accurate on the actual hymn or mythology of hades, persephone, demeter, etc. she even purposely cut off the hymn quote in the first episode to focus on hades giving her gifts and not mentioning persephone was scared/crying and wanted to go back to her mother. shes aware she's wrong but wants to pretend she's a good faith adaptation.

3. I don’t even think HxP retellings realize they’re doing this but the way they look at the myth and go “hmm, how do I fix this? Oh yes, I make Persephone change who she is and and adjust her whole world to be with Hades!” Is unintentionally saying they read this myth of her being kidnapped & forced into marriage and thought it was HER fault she wasn’t thrilled to be Hades’ wife and that SHE needs to change for it to work. It’s lowkey victim blaming her for not loving Hades after he hurt her.

4. Everyone talks about how regressed of a character Persephone is because RS insists on always walking back even a step of character development, but can we talk about how stagnant Hades is? He has not changed in literal years at this point. He’s still the same violent, entitled asshole he was at the start. He has learned nothing and yet we’re supposed to praise how much he’s “grown”? The only way he’s grown is RS once again not using a design sheet and making him 8 feet tall, not developing him.

5. saw a LO stan try to defend the age gap as "that's just how the culture was!" as if that makes it better. yeah maybe in ancient times but LO is supposed to be modern with modern values, so why would it go off a culture it's not apart of? Even then it acts as if people didn't disagree with stuff like that even back then? Ancient societies also had slavery, should we be ok with that and ignore the abolitionists back then too? Then again RS thinks Hades is "smart" for his eternal slavery so :/

6. baby persephone has an adult face but adult persephone has a baby face. someone make it make sense please.

7. Not only was RS trying to use the Niobe myth as "proof" Zeus wasn't being "fair" to Persephone (even though her actions were far worse)/demonize Apollo/trying to be an excuse to Persephone's actions, it's a complete misread of the actual myth. The whole point of the Niobe story was Apollo and Artemis realizing what they did was wrong and doing what they could to atone for their actions, but go figure RS would butcher another myth to push her illogical story along for Persephone's benefit.

8. Apparently there’s some app drama with WT India so I wanted to see if it also showed up on the American end … and the ENTIRE ad video for the app and promo images are just of “read LO!!!l and that’s it. Like can’t they even pretend to promote their other series? Why keep releasing new comics each week when they only going to focus on the same comic? tho even the ad material only focused on the stuff from 2018 once again, so more proof they don’t want new customers to see what it’s become 🙄

9. not Rachel's publisher seeing how everyone dunked on how bad the vol 2 cover was that they had to bring in a designer to do it for her 💀 also is it just me or is the logo theyre going with it now kinda ugly?? it sure doesnt fit the actual story at least

10. aint no way she made a BABY arch her back out like she makes her adult women do???? no im not claiming she's a ped0 for it but ma'am that's just WEIRD. baby persephone is a walking hate crime.

[kechiwrites]

Asphodel

Hades!Endeavor x Reader

wc: ~1k

“We were playing and gathering lovely flowers in our hands, an assortment of delicate crocus, iris, and hyacinth, rosebuds and lilies, a wonder to behold, and the narcissus, which is grown, like the crocus, by the wide earth. I was joyfully gathering the flowers, and then the earth beneath me gave way, and there it was that he sprang out, the powerful lord who receives many guests.”

                                                            -  Hymn of Demeter, Homer

warnings: mild angst, mild sexual content, allusions to myth typical themes (kidnapping, zeus being an asshole, etc.) 18+

author’s note: this is a short one but i used all of my degree to write it, enji is a tired old man. what can i say? i like em beaten down. special thanks to @enjifuckersupreme​ and @pleasantanathema​ for basically betaing my thesis.

The flowers bloom and die under your fingertips. Nothing lives here for long; it’s a wonder you’re still alive yourself. Your fingers and wrists are covered in gold rings and bangles that clink together with the slightest of movements, gifts, dropped at the foot of your bed for you to awaken to in the morning. Or what must be the morning, it’s hard to tell down here, the sun is so far removed from this world. Instead, your room is kept alight with candles, dozens of candles on every surface that can bear them. The carved stone night tables, the cold granite floor, the wooden stools near your adjoining baths.

Your gifts jingle again, disturbing the quiet of your solitude, when you try to nurture another pale aster bud into life only to have it wither under your hands, just like the others. The gifter’s shadow looms over you in an instant, suddenly present where he was not, no door could keep him from you, and he’d stopped bothering to ask for entry once you’d stopped crying. He thought it had been progress.

A clay cup is placed before you, filled to the top with dark, black soil. 

“I know you’re unhappy here, Kore.” His voice is so quiet, as if he almost wants you to miss it.

You do not miss it.

Your anger flares to the surface and you shove the cup to the ground, the sound of shattering filling the space between you when you whirl on him. “Do not call me that. You do not call me that. That’s not my name anymore.” 

For a moment his expression is sad, his eyes are glassy and unfocused and he drags them from your downturned mouth to the destroyed pottery. 

It was grief, initially, that drove you to him. 

Grief made you push open the heavy stone doors of his rooms and fall into his waiting arms. Grief that made you undo your golden stays, slip linen from your shoulders and press your hands against his scarred chest, cheek. Grief made you take him in your mouth and swallow him down, into you, where he would remain forever. Grief made you take him between your legs and beg him again and again to spill on your thighs and in your cunt. Grief made you forsake your eternal vow, your purpose. Grief changed your name. Grief made you his wife.

Loneliness made you come back the next night.

And the night after.

You need a new name, one to take when you inevitably leave this place. Your divine origin stands, virginity or not, and the name you had before you became the Herald of Spring hangs in your mind, but it would be wrong to go back. To be the person you used to be.

You stare at him for a while, anger sapped from you as fast as it came. King of everything that surrounds you, The One Who Receives Many Guests. You’d been scared of him at one time, hiding behind your mother’s golden skirts when he’d been pushed from the rest of you. Gifted the Underworld as his domain, pressured to split from his brothers to undertake bureaucracy, no praise, no worship, just fear. He’d seemed powerful back then, decades or centuries or perhaps millenia ago. His eyes, so bright a blue, that when they’d turned on you you’d cowered. Back then he had smiled at you. And you grew tall grass to hide behind. Now the slope of his shoulders are weary, the pallor of his skin so sickly, being deprived from sunlight for so long. So far removed from the man who’d split the earth to take you, who dragged you from the fields, from the hands and love and sight of your friends, your mother. 

He is pitiful.

You take pity on him.

You stoop to the ground, kneeling at his feet and begin to sweep the soil back into your hands. 

“K-” He stops himself from angering you again and when he places his hand on your shoulder, the heat of his flesh on yours shocks you. It’s the only thing that surprises you anymore. The God of the Dead being so warm. 

“Don’t worry about that. You could cut yourself.”

“I’m not a child Enji, I can clean without injury.” You had begun calling him by his own name in an effort to irritate him, to provoke him into anger, into striking you or forcing you, into doing anything that would stoke the dying rage and resentment under your ribs after days and weeks of nothing. But he would not react, and soon his name became a comfort to you. You called it when you came to him, when he placed his mouth at the bend of your knees, and at the swell of your hip and between your legs. 

Before he can pull you upright, you see it. The clusters of ugly brown roots hidden in the spilled dirt on the floor. Quickly, you push the dirt around to surround the juvenile roots before rising to deposit it into an empty pot by your bedside.

“Asphodel. They’ll grow unimpeded here. I realize they may be unappealing to you, but I know you miss it, the green.” He shifts closer to you, stepping so hesitantly into your space.

“Mother called them weeds.” Your voice almost shakes with awe while you will the plant to grow. A strong green stem shoots upward, and bright white flowers bloom, pointing towards the ceiling. Their gentle scent is a balm to you, and you feel for the first time since your marriage began, at ease.

“Demeter has been open in her disdain for them, yes,” you hear him shift and the bed sinks with weight, “However, I thought you might appreciate them.” His voice is unsure, like it always is unless he is above you, or under you. Or behind you, in one fervoured instance. 

With one hand clasped around the rim of the pot, (as though it may have disappeared were you to break contact), and one hand resting on your bed, the smallest of your fingers brushes his thigh. You will not withdraw.

“I do. Appreciate them.” You do not look at him. Instead, you watch the flower’s column of buds open into starry blossoms.

[disgustingtrash]

God of war thought vomit

Pls don’t bully me for all of my half baked

“ theories “ or my HORRID spelling...

Why did the giants break the Atreus healing/killing kratos drawing so much? Change of prophecy? Faye not wanting to accept it ? Thor was at the giants place and ruined wanting to take kratos life for himself? Most of the drawing is ruined and we can’t see what else is to happen beside Atreus healing/killing Kratos. Not only is most of the drawing ruined but it is also COVERED!!! It’s covered by a curtain. Why? Why would whoever ruined the drawing want to cover it up? A change in fate so last minute the giants tried destroying the evidence but they were rushed for some reason and covered hoping no one would find it? Why is it covered!!!!! Another thing , the door that leads to the highest peak. That bit is smashed in , so I assume the room was just a room maybe for worship or was created by Faye to tell a story. At some point tho the door is created and we miss the part that is smashed in. The part is smashed for a door, than why is the Atreus kill/heal part also smashed? For what purpose? Every other part of the mural is fine beside a few non interfering cracks but the kill/heal is almost all gone. Another door to somewhere? Hidden secrets perhaps

Atreus and Kratos healing drawing. Healing? Is Atreus donating some of his own soul to his father to revive him? Or is Atreus stealing kratos’ soul?

We fight freya in her Valkyrie form! Talks about how she wants her wings back, and how much she wants to kill kratos. Maybe if kratos kills thor she gets real pissed and talks w Odin saying that if she gets her wings back she can kill kratos.

The giants called Faye their guardian and she would “ return” in their time of need but she didn’t really guard or protect shit. shit. Maybe her ashes will revive the giants since they were all glittery. The return of Faye could also mean just re uniting with her people as ashes. Could as be that she left the guardian of giants role bc she chose a life with kratos hence the argument with the giants. OR could also be the guardian of giants with Atreus , who is part giant and will let the giant race live on.

Kratos killed the sisters of fate in his own land, he can change his fate how ever he wants. Kratos is not of Norse decent so he is not bound by the fate everyone there is ( if fate does exist in cold ppl world ) , perhaps fate of Norse lands did not expect Kratos who is not bound to their rules of life progression. Kratos can fuck up Norse mythology however he wants.

What if Faye was the one who made all the drawings in the ending room? We know she knew that they got there since her gold pathing is on the rocks. Nowhere BUT in the end is kratos mentioned, I would think some random god from another land fucking everything up would be very important to write down somewhere but it isn’t. Unless I’ve missed lore , the only place kratos is told of is in the ending drawings. Maybe the giants did not see kratos coming , and only Faye knew? The room is opened with all the carvings made by the dead giants , maybe Faye was the last and when she got to the giants land she tore down the past depictions of ragnork and re made them to include kratos since he did make ragnork happen like 100 winters early or something like that. This would explain the broken wall where kratos is seen held in the lap of Atreus. She was making the drawings in a rush and couldn’t complete the rest of the wall.

Pls go to the end of this specific “ theory “ I kinda debunked it 😔😔

Can tyre time travel??? I feel like I should remember something like this :/ In tyre tomb we see the Greek pot with kratos depicted on it , him and the blades. So I’m gonna guess this is by the time kratos is the new god of war ( 28 yrs old according to the wiki ) and ppl r worshiping him ( like how they worship all gods). If Tyre was alive when kratos was the god of war surely Tyre must’ve been young when he died since kratos is like what? 50? And Atreus is 10 or 12? So all of the messy shit must’ve happened when kratos was traveling to Norse lands. But that dosent make sense since everything is talked about as if it was forever ago. So... did kratos time travel??? Bc in game he thinks time travel is crazy but is somehow around for all dis other shit. Tyre being able to time Tavel dosent explain how kratos is so young in GOW4. Just remember kratos IS super fucking old and cannot die from old age despite not being immortal. If I remember right Zeus was like “fuck you

* stab *, now you aren’t immortal lmao “ .

:/ now this “ theory “ is very dumb, pls ignore 😌 don’t wanna remove tho so I can come back incase something else is reviled

Not really a theory , but I think Atreus is gonna have a good/ hero type arc. A lot of people r making it out for him to be evil and that makes a ton of sense seeing real Norse mythology, but I think kratos will be a better dad and instill some yummy good people traits into Atreus. This has no evidence which is why I’m not calling it a theory!

About the actual giant drawing itself , what if kratos is putting something into Atreus instead of Atreus bestowing something upon kratos? What if Kratos is giving up his life for Atreus? Not likely since the body is very weak obv .Another thought , what if Atreus is sharing knowledge with the corpse who I’m assuming is kratos even tho my only evidence is 1- Atreus sad and 2- beard. OOO what if kratos is gifting Atreus his god powers? Making Atreus Loki and the god of war( I guess the Greek god of war but beside the point ). So the world servant is Loki’s son. And the drawing kinda looks like the world serpent even though I believe it’s words and not a snake let me throw some shit out there. What if this is not kratos ( or is idc ) and Atreus is using the body as a vessel to birth the world snake? Maybe stealing the persons life to bring about the ending or ragnork in the form of snake ?

It might not be kratos on da wall. The skirt color is off , looks like he’s kinda wearing an eye patch ( unless his eyes were gauged out ) , and his missing foot. But you go “ it was smashed out! We can see it!” Perhaps not. If you look at the leg , the smashed bit is LINED!!! His missing leg is definite and inked , unlike the arm which was smashed out since it lacks the defining outline. I don’t know of anyone with a missing leg or is super close with Atreus that he’d be crying over it tho. Also , on the farther leg from us , it looks like on the inner thigh there is a tattoo, unless this is like a pouch idk if Kratos is hiding a sexy sexy leg tat. To add , we never see kratos shirtless in GOW4 , or without shoes or pants and in the drawing he’s both pantless , shoeless and shirtless.

This is also not a theory , just over thinking. What if Atreus never turned out to be a warrior? What if he took more of tyres path gathering knowledge and not fighting skill. Would kratos still love him? Faye WAS a warrior. Atreus eventually becomes very useful and is super strong by the end of the game since we murdered baulder together. But like... what if Atreus just didn’t? Does kratos love Atreus cause he’s his son or because he becomes capable? Ik I’m digging to far In but I love hurting myself with ‘ what if’s ‘.

[mythologyfolklore]

Marpessa isn’t into gods (and Ares makes a speech about love)

(My take on the myth where Marpessa rejects Apollon out of worry, that he would abandon her in old age)

.

Apollon was arguing with a mortal man over the probably most gorgeous girl he had ever seen.

Who did that boy think he was anyway? Daring to compete with him for a girl's hand! Him, the god of light, music, medicine, prophecy and so much more! This puny mortal man couldn't compare with him to save his life and he had the gall to point an arrow at his face!

“Lower your bow”, he ordered. “Cease this nonsense. You're insane to attempt to go against a god.”

“I don't care, if it's crazy!”, Idas spat. “I will stop you from taking away my bride, no matter what!”

“Cute”, Apollon commented, “But there is nothing you can offer her, that I don't have as well.”

“Sure is!”, Idas spat. “How about true love and a faithful and caring husband?”

The god gasped at the insolence: “Are you saying that I'm a liar and a player?!”

“No, I'm saying that you're an arrogant prick, who only wants her for her beauty!”

By now Apollon was too angry to just point out, that Idas was being hypocritical, since Marpessa's beauty had been the reason why he had abducted her in the first place.

With a face like thunder he pulled out the sword that was hidden beneath his chiton (and no, that was not a euphemism, that was an actual sword). “That's it! You must be hubristic or suicidal – or both! Either way, enough of the useless talk. Let's duke it out. Single combat, for the sake of fairness I won't be using any of my divine abilities.”

Idas nodded grimly. “So be it then.”

Then the god and the mortal engaged in mortal combat, while poor Marpessa just stood at the side, not knowing what to do.

This lasted for several hours and it was getting nowhere.

But then, all of the sudden a voice boomed: “EVERYBODY SETTLE DOWN!”

And in a flash of lightning, Zeus and Ares were standing between the contestants, driving them apart.

“Cease this pointless fighting right now!”, Zeus ordered. “This is getting ridiculous and the noise can be heard all the way up to Olympos.”

“Yep”, Ares nodded. “At first I thought it was funny, but then I looked down and saw, that you're fightin' over my granddaughter like she's some kinda prize.”

Ares' granddaughter, huh? Well, that explained why the oaf of a war god was here.

“So”, Zeus said, “why don't we just ask the lady herself? Has that occurred to you?”

Apollon felt just a little awkward, because in his case the answer was no.

Idas cleared his throat, making the three gods glare at him.

“In all respect”, he coughed, “Marpessa agreed to elope with me, because we're in love with each other and-”

“Did she?”, Ares questioned coolly. “Certainly didn't look or sound like that to me earlier-”

“No, no”, Marpessa finally spoke up, “He really didn't abduct me. I was just fearful, because the chariot was so fast. The speed was scary.”

“Huh. Sorry, my bad”, Ares apologised. “But her father (my son) just drowned himself in a river in despair, when you made off with his only child, so do forgive me, if I'm not the most reasonable.”

“My father is dead …?”

Zeus clapped his hands to get everybody's attention. “No time for this. Let's get it over with. Everybody be silent, except for Marpessa. This young lady here will choose who she wants to be with and the loser has to accept her decision. Is that clear?”

The two contestants nodded and Zeus turned to his great-granddaughter: “Well then, child. Make your choice.”

Marpessa looked back and forth between the god and the Argonaut.

For a few minutes, she considered.

Eventually she addressed Apollon (he could hear her heart racing in her chest): “Phoibos Apollon, Life-Giver and Lord of the Oracle …”

“Just Apollon will do”, he told her gently and tried not to look too nervous.

She swallowed and went on: “Please forgive me, but I choose Idas.”

The god of light felt all colour drain from his face, while Idas cheered in triumph and danced around joyfully, like young men in love had the tendency to do.

Great. Now that bold son of Poseidon got to be all smug and happy, while-

Oh, what was that? Ah, that was Apollon's heart being shattered into a thousand pieces! Again.

“Wh-what?! Wh-why?!”, he choked. “What does he have that I don't?!”

“Mortality”, she answered.

“What?!”

“Let me explain”, the young woman pleaded. “You're without a doubt the most handsome man I have ever seen – no offense, o King of the Gods …”

“None taken”, Zeus laughed in good humour.

“… I know what I would gain with you, Apollon”, Marpessa continued. “You're the god of many wonderful and terrible things and abundant in talents and virtues like no other. You could give me everything: adventure, excitement, and so on. But you're ageless and immortal. I'm not. I will age and die. You love me now, because I'm young and beautiful, but how will it be then? Will you still call me the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, when my face is covered in wrinkles and kiss the top of my hair, that by then will have gone grey? Will you be there, when I die? Will you cry, when I'm gone? Will you remember me fondly, because I delighted you in my youth?”

The god of music was speechless.

The question had hit him right in the gut. He hadn't thought about that – never had, because it had never been necessary. His lovers usually either broke up with him after a while, or they died young. Or he didn't get lucky in the first place, like now.

“Your silence says it all”, Marpessa sighed. “You wouldn't – perhaps even couldn't – stay with me for the rest of my life. But Idas would. He truly loves me. We will grow old together and, for all of his adventures, he will never abandon me.”

The Argonaut hugged her from behind and she turned her head to smile at him.

No, there was no chance he could convince her to change her mind, Apollon realised.

Suddenly there were sniffles behind him and to everyone's surprise, Ares was wiping his eyes.

“That was one of the most beautiful speeches I have ever heard!”, he sobbed. “I just can't even! Anyway, well chosen, my granddaughter. You two have my blessing. Off ya go!”

She beamed at the war god and let Idas help her back onto his chariot.

And off they went.

Zeus gently pat Apollon's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “Better luck next time, my son”, he said. Then he vanished in a flash of lightning, leaving Apollon with Ares of all gods.

“Won't you leave too?”, the god of prophecy asked.

Ares shook his head. “Ya don't wanna be alone as much as ya think ya do.”

“Ares, please.”

“M-mh. What she said back there really got to ya, didn't it?”

The blond god groaned in distress. “She really thinks I'm so shallow as to abandon her at the very first wrinkle.”

“Well, is she wrong?”

Apollon stared at the black-and-red-haired god. “Excuse me?!”

“Has anyone ever asked that of ya before?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Would you have stayed with her?”, Ares queried sternly. “I'm her grandfather, so I wanna know. Would you stay with her until she dies? Would you make the effort of weathering the storms of life with her, for better and for worse? Would you be to her what every person, mortal or divine, needs: a constant in her life, who's always there? Would you give her the loyalty every woman wishes for? Could you handle the pain of seeing the woman you fell for grow old and frail, while you stay forever young? Could you still love the face that belonged to the once most beautiful girl in all of Hellas, when it's full of wrinkles? Would you still find her beautiful? Would you wax your pretty poetry and tell her cheesy shit to cheer her up, when she gets nostalgic? Would you take care of her, when she can no longer take care of herself? Would you hold her hand, when she lies on her death bed, tell her how much you love her and give her one last kiss, before she descends to Hades?”

“I … I …”

Ares cupped Apollon's chin and forced the younger god to look him in the eyes.

“You're not that kinda guy, Apollon”, he stated with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Ya give your affection so easily, but it fades so quickly. And even if not, you leave your lovers with pretty gifts and abilities and then watch them from afar. But that's not what they need. What humans need is commitment. What Marpessa an' I just listed up? That's commitment. That's real love. And it takes a kind of courage most gods don't have or are unwilling to muster, 'cuz lovin' a mortal is painful. You an' I know that all too well, don't we?”

By now Apollon was trying really hard not to cry in front of the savage god of terrible war. But damn, Ares had a forsooth impeccable talent of hitting people, where it hurt the most. It was rivalled only by Aphrodite and their arsehole son Eros (like parents like son, Apollon supposed).

Ares sighed and hugged his younger half-brother.

“I hate you!”, Apollon choked. “And your oldest son too! What have I done to you for you to always hurt me like this?!”

“I know, I know”, Ares muttered. “Promise, I didn't do it on purpose this time, though. I just wanted ya to understand.”

“…”

“It's okay to cry, by the way. I may not be the best shoulder to cry on, but I won't judge. Let it out. It'll do ya no good to bottle it all up.”

Screw it.

The god of light collapsed in his older half-brother's arms and began to bawl relentlessly into the other's shoulder.

“Shhh”, the other murmured, while soothingly rubbing Apollon's back and holding him tightly.

They stayed like that for a while, before Ares backed off to look at the other.

“Man, they're really screwin' you over, huh?”, he asked sympathetically. “C'mon, lil' brother. Let's go home. Hestia gave me lots of cookies, but I don't like sweets, so you can have them as comfort food. Take a break from love and while you're at that, think of what I said, hm?”

Apollon just sniffled and let the older god transport them both back to Olympos.

[unbcwitched]

"saying my name is so intimate, why would you do that to me" Hades x hera

emotional starters !

   » green eyes were as teary as poseidon’s oceans, taking similar strength as moving mountains to keep from any drops from falling down her face. the female wished for the skies to rain, to hide her face so she could cry without him seeing.  the night was clear, a celebratory gala ( held by the heir of the skies ) were euphorically dancing inside, while the two stood underneath a darling white gazebo, decorated with fairy lights as if it would suffocate without them. was this coming full circle? 

yet even with the staggering the heels, the power of being a goddess on her side, she still felt terribly small. but not in the same way as his brother would make her at times, by accident of course; that was simply the price to pay with such a charming face, dazzling greying eyes that’d steal anyone’s attentions. it was the complete opposite with hades. they saw each other as equals, as confidantes and most importantly, as partners. it was the one of the first things hera could remember as a young child, that no matter what, he’d be by her side.

the news should’ve been joyous, and it had. for hera’s family, it was an accomplishment for her bloodline to achieve such royal status at such a young age. the youngest of three sisters to reach such high recognition. everyone gave blessings and prayers to the young queen-to-be, standing in the center of attention just like zeus did. yet it seemed like everyone was much more happier than hera ever showed. all she could ever think about was how proud her father would be, maybe if he was still around, he would show just a sliver of a rewarding smile.

yet his features didn’t show it. tired lines and soft edges contorted to almost unreadable expression, a rarity for her. his brother was so open that at times, the femme purposely tried to ignore the signs. hera stood with fingers anxiously intertwining together, curled blonde locks falling over her shoulders that were covered in white lace. it hadn’t even been that long, and his attachment was already beginning to grow on her. “ he proposed. we’re getting married in spring. ”

i’ve signed my life to him. 

“ why. ” he asked back. 

how could you.

“ i- ” her lips opened but nothing fell out, not even a whimper. “ please, i want you to be there. for your brother, for- ” hera hesitated as words collided ever so gently, stopping herself from exposing true intentions. “ hades. ”

“ don’t. saying my name is so intimate, why would you do that to me ? ” hades begged. hera’s lips stayed open, uncertain of what to do. she could plea and beg all night, but the fear in her heart told her it wouldn’t be worth the effort. hera took a delicate step forward, one click of her expensive heel. only the fates knew what held in their future, what paths they would lead, but hera wanted to be certain herself. “ say you’ll come. it won’t be the same without my partner there. ”

the echos of her fiancee’s voice pierced through the distorted, distant sounds of the waltz inside, searching through the air of where his ‘ darling dove ’ could be. hera glanced back to her future for a moment, before gazing back to her present. “ promise me, pluto. ” 

silence between them before another ‘ hera! ’ shot through. with a purse of his lips, and a tilt of his head, the god spoke. “ i’ll try. ”

the answer was good enough for her. without thinking twice, hera moved closer and placed a final peck on the side of his cold cheek. an eternal reminder of what possibly could’ve been. with a sickly weak smile, hera spun around and realigned herself to survive the rest of the night by his side. “ coming, my love. ”

the wild warrior had finally become tamed. 

@otherworldqueen

[author-morgan]

Kryptic ↟ Deimos

seventeen - ashes to ashes

masterlist

But the great leveler, Death: not even the gods can defend a man, not even one they love, that day when fate takes hold and lays him out at last.

Death submits to no one, not even Dread and Destruction.

They are both weapons of flesh and bone, of warm blood and beating hearts, and they cannot be controlled.

LESYA ARRIVES AT the Sanctuary of Asklepius shortly after sunrise after stopping at a stream to scrub the blood from her hands and fade the fresh, dark stains on her pale grey chiton. She takes rest in the shade beneath a large oak near the heart of the Sanctuary as Kassandra had yet to arrive —or show herself. 

Deimos dodges her blade but does not move to strike when the opening is created. They are toying with one another like this is a game. The snap of a switch pulls them away from what looked to be a well-rehearsed dance. “You both hesitated,” Alektor announces, snapping the supple switch against the ground with a crack. He had seen it in both champions —a moment’s hesitation could mean the difference between life and death in battle. The Cult could not afford to let hesitancy have a place within demigods. “Again,” the trainer instructs.

Sweat beads down both Deimos and Enyo’s foreheads under the hot sun. Their armor is discarded in a pile outside the chalked circle. She levels her sword, tracing his steps as he moves around her like a predator preparing to pounce. He lunges, sword slicing through the air like a viper strike. She spins out of range, then darts forward, flicking her blade upward —the tip cutting into Deimos’ cheek. He stumbles back, lifting his fingers to his cheek to find them coated in blood. The distraction serves its purpose. Enyo uses his bent knee as leverage and leaps into the air —twisting as her legs enclose around his neck and shoulders. 

They both hit hard in the dirt, but it is Enyo who has her knee against his chest and blade against his neck. Deimos looks up at her, panting —blood running down his cheek and back into his hair. “Good,” Alektor praises with drawn-out applause. Enyo rises, tossing aside her blade and extends her hand —he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pushes off the ground. Alektor nods his approval and turns from the training grounds, leaving the champions to themselves for the evening. 

He reclines against the cool stone wall when they return to the villa —ignoring the sweat stinging the fresh cut as he watches Enyo splash water on her face and neck. Wringing out the water of a rag, she goes to his side and scrubs away the blood on his neck and clinging to the stubble on his jaw. Deimos’ lips twitch, tugging into a half-smile when he drags Enyo into his lap —hands lingering on her bare thighs. “Didn’t mean to draw blood,” she admits, noticing her blade had cut into his brow too as she dabs the drying blood away. 

“I’ve had worse, you know,” Deimos remarks. She laughs softly at that, the sound reverberating through her chest so that he could not only hear but feel it too. They had both had far worse than scratches. He thinks she is beautiful, skin still flushed from training with sunlight streaming through the window lattice. Her laughter combined with the sun across her skin and strands of hair framing her face —it makes him smile so genuinely that he is sure he must look a fool. But as she dips her head to press their lips together, fingers ghosting across his skin again, by Zeus, he could not care less.

WHEN SHE WAKES in the early afternoon, it is to the sound of a woman sobbing and pleading with the priests and priestesses for her sick baby. They claim the boy has passed on, but Enyo has seen how this story plays out time and time again. Priests lie, Chrysis claims another child and the Cult gains soldiers who endure a lifetime of torment. 

Lesya rises, unsheathing one of the blades on her back and approaches the squabbling priests. “Let her see the child,” she demands and does not have to speak again on the matter. The doors to the building open and the distraught mother races forward, lifting a squalling babe from the table and to her breast. 

A swell of anguish rises inside her as she looks upon the mother and child, but it is all consumed by a bitter emptiness. They took everything from me. Lesya closes her eyes and remembers the pain and the blood. The room had been dark, lit by a single brazier. A group of masked figures surrounded the stool. Only the twisted physician did not cover his face. Chrysis’ laugh had been unmistakable when they tore out her womb —it was the final step to become the Cult’s Champion. For a second time, Deimos had found her lying unmoving in a puddle of blood. He had carried her from the antechamber and refused to leave her side until the next full moon over a fortnight later. 

She recognizes the physician though he does not know her. “Hippokrates?” Lesya queries, stepping up to the table where there is an array of herbs and oils. He does not frequent the sanctuary often as many consider his methodologies impious, but it is a quicker journey here than to Argos for the assortment of herbs he needs to continue treating patients near the Cave of Pan.  

The physician turns —eyes quickly skimming over the woman though he finds no indication of sickness or injury. “What ails you?” He asks. 

Lesya thinks about the mother and child and knows this is folly. “I,” she starts but then shakes her head, “it’s nothing.” 

Hippokrates has heard rumors from the soldiers he’s treated of a demigoddess who bears an eerie resemblance to the woman before him —copper hair and laurel eyes and something harsh and cold in her expression. He is certain this is Enyo, a weapon for the Cult of Kosmos. 

But now, her expression is softened, filled with pain and longing. The physician looks over his shoulder, following her gaze to a mother and child. “They took your choice,” he surmises and Lesya nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I know what you seek,” Hippokrates tells her, “but I cannot help you nor can any other physician.” What was done could not be undone unless by the hand of Asklepius and Eileithyia.

KASSANDRA DISPELLS WHAT she has learned from Hippokrates and the priests in the sanctuary upon finding Lesya wandering about the Epidauros sanctuary temple at dusk. Everything brings her to a single conclusion. The priestess, Chrysis, had lied to Myrrine that night about her son’s death and taken Alexios as her own —turning him into Deimos, a weapon. “You must know something, Lesya,” the Eagle Bearer pleads, remembering she had mentioned the old priestess before. 

She looks at her hands —Midas’ blood still stains her nails. It has been many years since Chrysis had brought her children to Argos, but the path through the forest is ingrained in her memory. “There’s a temple on Mount Kynortion near the Altar of Apollo Maleatas,” Lesya announces, “she takes the children there.” Kassandra nods, clasping Lesya on the shoulder in thanks. They have work to do before the sun rises. 

Splayed out on the altar is a dead eagle —a warning. Ikaros lands on the feet of Apollo, staring down at his butchered kin before taking to the skies again. In the still air, both Lesya and Kassandra can hear the piercing cries of a child. The Temple. Lesya motions for the Eagle Bearer to follow —they both creep through the underbrush, keeping low and out of sight. 

Before the small temple are two Cult guardians and within is the child. Kass frees the curved bow on her back and nocks an arrow, aiming at the man furthest from their position. Lesya keeps her attention focused on the other. The arrow sails through the air, finding its mark in the neck of the guardian, a second later Lesya bursts from the underbrush —dual blades moving in a fury. She straightens, and the severed head of the last guard rolls off his shoulders to the ground. Each of them had fallen without a sound. 

Kassandra kicks open the doors to the temple. The air is heavy the scent of herbs and myrrh and lying on the altar is a babe crying for its mother. Chrysis stands above the child —knife in hand— when her gaze is drawn to Deimos’ sister and her child. “Killing seems to run in your bloodline, oh mighty Eagle Bearer,” the old crone rasps. 

The misthios takes another step into the small temple, but Lesya is rooted in at the doors —frozen with ire. Her feet are only spurred into motion by a burst of flames licking at her skin. Chrysis flees, leaving the child to perish in the fire. Kass scoops up the baby and Lesya bounds through the heat, seizing the knife the priestess had wielded —she is not yet out of sight, out of range. Lesya rears her arm back, launching the short dagger into the air. It catches Chrysis’ calf and sends her headlong into the dirt. “Is this how you repay me for what I made you?” Chrysis screeches, but it turns into a sharp scream when Lesya twists the blade, pulling it free from bone and muscle. 

The Eagle Bearer stands over Chrysis now too, but her gaze is focused on Lesya. There is dark hatred and hunger glinting in her green eyes mirroring how she’d looked after slitting Leandros’ neck in Athens. This is the woman who caused so much pain for her and Deimos —the monster who stole children from families and tormented them until they died or were turned into a hollow shell. The Eagle Bearer steps aside, keeping her sandal on Chrysis’ torso should the old priestess try running from her fate. “You deserve this more than I do,” she notes and Lesya nods, fingers curling around the bloody hilt of the knife.

The old crone laughs at her lost child —trying so hard to become something she isn’t. “Even though you try running from it, you can’t. You’re a killer,” Chrysis hisses, “that’s what I made you.” Lesya’s face twists in anger as she crouches down. Shame Deimos can’t be here to see you die. “You can use a spear as a walking stick but that does not change its nat–” Chrysis’ words are cut off with a spray of blood. 

@wallsarecrumbling @novastale @jaegers-and-kaijus  (if you want to be added to the tag list for Kryptic just let me know!)

[keeping-up-with-the-olympians]

IF THE GODS HAD TUMBLR BLOGS

Aphrodite: You think you’ve seen a feminist blog? Think again. There are ~tasteful~ pictures of nipples left and right, quotes about body image and lots of empowered women. The title is: freethenip_keepthewhip Rupi Kaur would probably deem the blog too much, but somehow she manages to keep it to a sane level. Everyone follows her, even tho they all deny it. 10/10 inspirational as fuck

Hermes: He runs: yaboy-hermesss This blog is a mess. There is no such thing as a theme, or any kind of cohesion, the boy just reblogs what he likes. That’s it, that’s the only rule. It’s a shame he mostly only blogs when he’s high, so it’s a game of “will today be a motivational quotes over colorful sunsets OR Low-resolution pictures of literal houseplants in the dark” kinda day? 7.5/10 – if you’re high too, it’s the best thing you’ve seen all year

Dionysus: AKA: yourdaddywouldnever. The blog is pretty tame, it’s mostly just memes and an occasional photo of the latest shenanigans he’s gotten into. But he likes everything. EVERYTHING. From cat pics on Hephaestus’ blog to random selfies of Indian dudes, it seems like Dio uses the like button every time he takes a breath. 5.5/10 the blog itself is really mediocre

Hephaestus: Pictures. Of. Cats. Just so many cat pics. He recently began adding gifs to the mix. He names every kitten, and his tags are full of things like #fluff #meow #furryfriends. There is an occasional photo of him posing (but pretending to be natural) and some of those memes your aunt would post on facebook, tagged with three crying-laughing faces. The name is: hephaestus1 – “hephaestus was already taken” 9/10 gotta admit the kitties are cute as fuck

Hestia: Poetry blog. She uploads her own stuff and reblogs quotes from others, but the main purpose of tumblr for her is to get into debates about meaningless stuff in the comments. Her blog’s name is: lines­­­_of_revolution 6.5/10 the poems are not bad actually, but for the love of everything, don’t tag her

Ares: His blog is mainly black and white images. He tries to maintain an aesthetic but sometimes it is too much for ADHD boiTM, and he spirals into a pit of sad and miserable quotes only. But when he’s doing good, the pictures are a very decent way of telling what mood he is in, and actually tell a pretty good story of his week. The blog name is: ares-godofwar 8/10 when he’s fine

Artemis: This is The Aesthetic Blog TM. Everything matches with everything. She keeps up themes that change every month, and there is not a post that’s out of order. The blog is so aesthetically pleasing, legends say you can not look at it for more than 15 minutes at a time or your life will fall apart and nothing will ever seem worthy of looking at again. Her blog is: goddessofperfection

Apollo: There is no good way of putting it, Apollo’s blog is a good ol’ pornblog. He strongly argues and puts it as some kind of “artistic choice” or “naturalistic expression” but that’s no way of fooling anyone when there are more naked butts on his page than on Burning Man. His username is: harp­_me_up (he spent 3 weeks coming up with this name) 5/10 for the denial (just admit it bro)

Demeter: She runs: demeter-dontmakeatumblrplease. Now listen. I don’t have any explanation for this. But her blog is the funniest shit ever. In the history of time, it is the most hilarious thing to grace this blob of stone we call Earth. It is just straight up hysterical. It resonates with everyone. The things she reblogs and the things she posts herself. Quality content. This is what I’m here for. And by myself I mean everyone ever. 100000/10 would recommend

Athena: Song lyrics everywhere. She probably thinks the site is a knockoff karaoke bar. Her blog is the equivalent of every single time a song has gotten stuck into your head for two days. Besides that, it’s usually “intellectual” stuff such as quotes from famous thinkers, but just when you think there is more to that than annoying lyrics, a line from I Wanna Know What Love Is pops up and the illusion is ruined. Her blog is: itsa-kindof-magic 5/10 pretty boring (sorry)

Persephone: Pretty convinced that her site (queen­_of_the_dead) is just a cover for some serious satanic shit. It’s straight up scary. Can’t really give a rating, cuz I’ve only looked it up once and it still haunts be, but let’s go with a 10/10 not to piss her off.

Hera: It’s a pretty standard hipster blog with the trademark pics of cozy coffee shops and those backpacks (you know, the ones you see on the back of a dude with a beard longer than your last relationship) in every color imaginable. The blog is: mom­_friend101 It’s cute and sweet and reflects her personality very well. Lot’s of rolled up pants to reveal crazy patterned socks. All around great vibes. 9/10

Hades: Ah yes, the dog rating site. “how many TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT IT’S NOT A DOG RATING…!!” Ssssh, Hades, it’s okay. We all have a soft spot. A for effort for posting some other stuff once every month or so just to keep up the illusion. But it is what it is. His blog is: not-a-dog-rating-site JK, it’s actually: hatethis­_hades 10/10 because it’s the best thing to come out of the grumpy old man (the dude gives every dog a max score)

Poseidon: Doesn’t get the concept of it, regularly confuses tumblr with twitter and posts his opinions nobody asked for. His username is: better-than-zeus, and he begins every single one of his posts with “Now guess what…” a strong 8/10 because he is actually pretty funny but no one will admit it, so don’t bring it up

Zeus:

AKA: zeusofficial Only posts about twice a year and it is always a link to some other site or article you know you’ll never read. -100/10, this is not your granddad’s facebook page, get it together man

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker, Hades Stark

TW uh...it’s a bit dark? Just watch out cuties. Mild Dubcon. Abuse of authority. 

“Stark?” Comes a voice.

Tony doesn’t turn around just yet. He lets the voice delight the fire in his bones as it sinks down through his body. Oh how delightful, a voice. For once, no meaningless screaming from the demons, no tortured groans of agony from the dead- no, this is something different. This is- a voice.

He turns, smirk changing in a look of- disbelief.

That’s a mortal.

It’s a- a mortal, in- in Hell, in his country, but- how-

Tony drinks in the sight of him. His eyes flash crimson as he takes him in. “A human,” he breathes, and the boy trembles in the face of his immensity. “Not even a demigod, not even half…” he crosses the stone hall in a flash and the boy lets out a shriek but he doesn’t move. Tony leans down and presses his nose against the boy’s throat, breathing in the scent of his blood. Not even an enchanted mortal. This boy is pure. “Oh,” Tony purrs, tracing a clawed fingernail over the boy’s cheek. “I think you have quite the story to share, don’t you?”

The boy swallows hard, but stands his ground. “If you’ll hear me, Hades.”He offers, sweet as anything.

Tony grins. Sharp. White. Too many teeth. “How many of my names do you know?”

He lifts his chin and looks almost brave when he says: “Enough.”

“Well, you have my attention and my ears,” he sighs, trying not to betray how thrilled he is. It’s not Steve, or Zeus, or whatever he’s going by these days, coming down and lecturing him again. It’s not a goddess from Olympus demanding leniency from the fates, it’s not another boatful of writhing corpses, no this is a human. A very, very pretty human. Tony never gets to see them for very long in this state. Alive. He wants to treasure it. “But here is not the place.”

He transports them, in a whirl of fire and flame, into his palace.

The walls glitter with crystals, the floor is studded with gems, and Tony glides to his throne, and waves a hand, lighting a path of the floor on either side of the mortal with ashy, whisping smoke. “Begin.” He orders. 

The trembling mortal nods. “My name is Peter Parker,” he begins, and he has very lovely brown eyes. Tony marvels at them. “My Uncle- my Uncle Ben, he- he-“ his voice shakes and Tony raps his fingernails against the throne’s arms. This is boring. Oh, he’s heard this plea before- Peter seems to notice and tries to hurry through. “He died.” He spits out, “and I- I heard that you- that you sometimes show mercy-“

Tony wants to laugh. “Darling boy,” Tony purrs, “you’ve been cruelly misinformed, I’m afraid.” 

Peter barrels on. His skin is milky white, his hair is silken and wavy and Tony could study him for centuries. Have mortals always been so beautiful? He thought that was reserved for gods like him and the other Olympians. “I also heard that you make deals against formidable beings. Was that wrong too?”

Tony eyes him with a grin. “Are you a formidable being, Peter Parker?”

Peter doesn’t smile. “I made it here, didn’t I?” He hisses, and Tony lifts his eyebrows and waves him on. He has to give the human that. “I found the entrance in the mountains- I came down into hell, and I found your river. I tricked the man with the boat with fake gold, I jumped off half way and swam through the Styx, I navigated the realms and I’m here. I found you, with no one’s help. I am formidable.”

This is…true. Tony tips his head consideringly. The boy has made it here. He snaps his fingers, and the smoke disappears. The crystals twinkle iridescently. He likes this boy. He likes the supple, human form. They can be so pretty when they last. “And what would you like to make a deal on? Sweet Uncle Ben, I assume.”

Fierce brown eyes glitter up at him for taking the name in vain, before Peter gets down onto his knees very slowly. Purposely. And Tony leans forward to drink it in. God, he loves it when they beg. Peter must know this. “You made a deal with Orpheus.” Peter whispers, “When he played the harp for you, you let his wife come back from the dead.”

Tony licks his lips in anticipation. That one act of kindness seems to make everyone think he has a soft spot. Oh, they’re wrong. “Don’t you remember what happens next?” He whispers eagerly. Orpheus and his wife are down here too. In agony somewhere. He should pay them a visit. 

“You had a condition. You always have a condition.”

“You humans,” he purrs approvingly, leaning back, “you get smarter every time I see you.”

Peter doesn’t blink at the compliment which is graceless. Tony will train that out of him. “I want my Uncle Ben to be allowed back to Earth. Happy, alive, well. Return him unharmed and do not harm him once he’s free. Do you understand that? Can you…” a little more hesitantly, “...can you do that?”

Such things are child’s play. “Without lifting a finger, little one. Be assured. But what do I get for such an act of kindness?”

“It must be lonely,” Peter muses with faux-idleness, looking around the glittering palace. If he’s impressed by the millions of diamonds, he doesn’t show it. He looks clever and calculating. “All alone down here. No one to talk to.”

Tony bites. “You’re offering to stay?” He asks, just a little impressed. It’s not the first time someone has made the trade, but it’s been a long time.

“I am.”

Peter looks assured, like this is a deal he’s sure Tony will take and Tony- well, like he said. It’s not the first time. “This has been fun, little human,” he sighs, whistling, so two of his most deformed monsters, with too many bones at awkward angles appear and grab hold of Peter’s arms. “But I’m afraid I’ll pass. My friends here will see you out. And you’d best not come back if you know what’s good for you. Tell your friends about me.”

Peter yelps, struggling against the hold determinedly, his eyes wide as saucers. “What would you accept?” He screams in desperation.

Tony flies across the room and stops just before his face. Nose to nose, he looks deep into the whirlpool of the boy’s eyes, and sees his own face reflected back at him. “Letting me set the terms?” He growls, using a clawed nail to slice open the mortal garment that covers Peter’s chest. His torso is pretty just like his face. For now. The boy nods. So young. Barely a man. Tony’s lived for eons. “Human life is…far too short.” He says thoughtfully,  “I’d have a…companion in you for barely a blink of an eye.”

Peter frowns, “how can that be helped?”

“Oh, it can be helped.” Tony murmurs, and he lifts up his hand. In it, he conjures the glass vial full of ambrosia, and Peter stares at it in awe. “This is ambrosia, sweet boy.” He strokes his free hand through Peter’s hair and the two demons gibber excitedly like goblins. “One sip, you’re a god.” His fingers tickle down the boy’s throat, over to his chest and resting over his heart. “Mine not just for your life, but for eternity.”

The vial gleams and Tony presses it into Peter’s hand, stepping back and gesturing for the demons to release him. Peter slumps once he’s released, staggering to find his footing and staring at the vial in shock. “Eternity?” He breathes, “you want me for-“ he rapidly changes tactic. “One million years.” He offers.

Tony laughs, a full booming laugh, it’s been so long since he’s had one of those. “Very clever boy. I know how much you humans love an end in sight, but this is not that story. If you want your precious Uncle Ben to rejoin- your darling Aunt May, is it?” Peter’s eyes widen, and Tony smirks. “There’s nothing I don’t know,” he whispers. “When I want to know it. If I’d wanted to- I would have known when you found the door and how you made it through, but when you get to my age…” he chuckles, “a little surprise is a good thing, right guys?”

The demons chort and snuff.

Imbeciles.

“What happens if I drink the whole vial?” Peter asks, lifting it up curiously. He doesn’t sound upset. He’s considering it. The possibility of a companion- of a companion in his bounds- so beautiful, and only enhanced in beauty by the ambrosia has Tony desperately keen. His fingers seem to thrum with hope. What a human emotion.

“The more you drink, the faster it happens, that’s all.” The more painful it will be. “It’ll hurt less,” he whispers enticingly, because he wants to see the boy cry in pain.

Peter licks his lips and looks him right in the eye. “You’ll free Uncle Ben?”

Tony grins and draws a silver cross in the air. It twinkles and dissipates. “He’s already free.”

Peter pulls the cork, and downs the whole vial.

Tony and the beasts howl with glee.

[loki-fanfic-whore]

Falling From Olympus ch.4

Warnings- none

@drakesfiance @kybaeza

Chapter 4 Bone

Loki read the book in a low suave tone using his seidr to give illusions of each scene. You laid in bed completely captivated by the entire story. Too into the plot to sleep. By the end Loki was chuckling at the grin on your face.

"Loki that was amazing! The way the prince swooped in to save the dragon and the princess! The lore behind it is completely different than my realms!" You felt your voice rise an octave excitedly. Loki chuckled and sat next to you on the bed.

"Princess, you must sleep...when dawn breaks you will be forced awake for long hours... I understand the time must be different on your realm but you must try to sleep." He sounded like he was chiding a child, but then again your excited giggle and the way your hair hung around your face made you look like a young teen.

"Loki I'm not sleepy at all. I-I think I love it here..." you whispered gently. Loki reached out and touched your hand gently. He noted how smooth your skin was and how your small slender fingers and fit into his long slender fingers so well.

"I'm going to help you fall asleep." He whispered gently as he kissed your hand. His seidr seeping into you flooding you with a euphoric sleepiness. You immediately yawned and removed your hand from his, laying back and falling into a soft snore of a sleep.

Loki sat on the bed for a while watching you sleep. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, your hair, your beautiful face with soft lips. He was infatuated with you and wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms.

He watched over your sleeping form until light flitted through your curtains illuminating the room. A maid scurried in to begin your day and Loki glared at her.

"She just fell asleep. Tell whomever needs to know that she is not t ok be woken. If something persistent happens then I am to be alerted and I shall wake her. Understood? All meals are to be silently brought up and left. At the next meal take the previous meal away if untouched or finished etc. Also bring her some tunics. Green and black preferred. " The maid curtsied staring him in the eyes, it was the blatant opposition in her eyes that Loki then realized this was the same maid he had fucked yesterday.

"She is to be my wife. Remember your place." He hissed at her to drive the fact she was nothing compared to you home.

The maid bowed her head and kept her eyes trained to the floor. She curtsied again before leaving without a word.

You were plunged into dreams of screaming and tears.

Waking up in a cool sweat you whimpered as thunder and lightening cracked outside. You still thought it to be Zeus.

You stood from you bed to find a small tray of fruit next to you. You studied the fruit for a moment before you realized it was a bowl of pomegranates. You hadn't seen one in so long and missed how they tasted. You looked around finding dark green dress looking garments laid out. Smiling, because you knew they were from him, you stripped down to nothing and donned the garment, and trousers. You pulled your hair up into a messy bun atop your head and reached for a pomegranate.

"Ow!" You felt a stabbing like pain in your ribs and moved your hand to feel for it. You couldn't reach. Hoping it was just a hunger pain you reached again.

"Oww!" You groaned frustratedly.

Your door burst open to show a heaving Loki. His eyes wide.

"Thor was training. I came at the first crack of thunder. I didnt want you to worry." You giggled at his disheveled appearance then winced as you felt the stabbing again.

"Loki something is hurting me." You whimpered as you pointed to your back. Loki ran his hands over your back trying to find it. He stopped midway and with a calm tone gently demanded you strip.

You shakily removed your top crying out in pain.

"Oh dear gods...someone has put a bone pin in your tunic." Loki spoke as he touched your skin where it hurt.

"Oww a wh-what?" You asked wincing. A burning feeling was climbing up your back.

"It burns." You whimpered out. Loki frowned and gripped the pin gently. He wrenched it from your skin tearing your beautiful flesh. Blood oozed down your back as you cried from the pain.

"Shhh its okay... I've got you." Loki whispered as he cuddled you to his chest his hand rubbing over the wound to try to heal it. You felt a cooling touch against the burn and began to relax.

"Who would put a b-bone pin in my top?" You asked looking up to him.

"A bone pin is a barbed needle made to tip arrows. Think of a porcupine quill." Loki explained. So this had been put there on purpose. You sighed and stepped out of his arms covering yourself again. The blood down your back beginning to dry.

Loki glared at the floor.

"I know who did it. Rest assured princess. They will pay." His hands were trembling and his look was murderous.

"Loki...maybe it was a mistake... things happen often. You shouldn't be so livid, it isnt good for your health." You found yourself touching his chest gently trying to calm him. He sighed and wrapped you in his arms again kissing the top of your head.

"You do this to me princess. You make me want to give my life to protect you. You are so innocent and naive, that I want nothing more than to show you the real world." He whispered into your hair. You felt a shiver run down your spine and smiled.

"I may only be a teenager, but I am well seasoned. Just not for your realm, my prince." You teased him with the name and he groaned lowly.

"I have to go, princess, I have to give justice for what has happened. Until I return please do not leave this room nor let anyone in. Not even the maid staff." Loki spoke sternly and you smiled.

"Keeping me all to yourself? How selfish my pronce." You teased him again and giggled as he flustered for a second before leaving you.

He raced down the hall to Thor who was training in the sparring field.

"I have to punish a maid. She left this-" he handed the bone pin over to the sweaty panting Thor.

"In the princess's tunic. I had to RIP it from her back Thor." Loki snarled. Thor sighed and wiped his face with a small cloth.

"How are you sure it was the maid Loki?" Thor asked making sure the guilty party was infact guilty.

"Because I-...I just know...this maid was blatantly opposed to the princess and was brave enough to keep eye contact while bowing."

"Hardly a cause to think she left the bone pin." Thor retorted turning over the bone in his hands. It was dark with your blood.

"I rutted in her last night then left her like I do every one. She thinks that entitles her to better treatment. She forgets she is nothing more than a maid." Loki lowered his voice as he spoke and Thor sighed again.

"We will lock her away until she confesses without torture." It was the best Thor could do. Loki nodded.

"Why are you so obsessed with his princess Brother?" Thor asked putting a hand on lokis shoulder.

"Its hard to explain...she fascinated me and captivates me and..."

"You have fallen for her." Thor boomed, laughing. A crack of thunder rang out as training pelted the windows.

"Yes you oaf scream it out so the next realm over can hear." Loki hissed before turning to leave. His mind reeling at the fact Thor wasnt wrong. He had only been near you a day or two and yet it felt like eternity. He wanted to be with you in every way always. A feeling the God of mischief had never felt before.

[someone-online]

Okay now you have to tell us all about the show!! Was it as amazing as you thought a Percy Jackson musical would be?

HOLY HECKING YES!!!! I WROTE DOWN ALL MY THOUGHTS TOO BC I HAD SO MANY (spoilers for the musical):

•THUNDER!!!

•PERCY JUST GOES IN THAT “ALONE ON FRIDAY NIGHT GOD YOUR PATHETIC” POSE

•or its “draw me like one of my french girls”

•Ryan plays Chiron incredibly regal

•Jorrel!!! As Grover!!!!! Is so!!!! GOOD!!!!

•Percy is a lot sadder in person compared to the cast album

•Chris sounds so ready to cry like omg i wanted to cry withr him

•”im not a bad kid on purpose” MY HEART!!!!!

•Percy bringing out fabreze when Gabe came djdjdjdj

•Gabe wearing slides djdjdjdjdjdj

•OKAY BUT I LOVED SALLY IN STRONG LIKE SHES ACTUALLY SO FUNNY

•”YOU MET A FURY” “/YOURE/ A FURRY!!!”

•THAT MINATOUR HEAD IS SO BIG

•oof sally doesnt disappear in a beam of light but ;-;;;;;

•CAN WE TALK ABOUT RYAN PLAYING POSEIDON HEJDJDJDJD

•HE SOUNDED LIKE JASON TAM

•”you drool when you sleep”

•JORREL AS MR D IS SO FUNNY DJDJDJDJDJ

•WHEN MR D SHARPENS A PENCIL FRONT OF KATIE GARDENER

•CHIRONS HORSE LEGS DKDJDJDJDJDK

•I WANTED TO CRY!!!! FOR PERCY!!!!! BIG OOF

•Forgot about Annabeth’s crush on Luke and they actually had it!!

•”YOURE MY DREAM GIRL!!!”

•”it’s a sword not a lightsaber”

•”I love girls!!”

•shfjjdkdkdk why is percy a mood

•SILENA WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER!!!

•TOILET PAPER!!!

•”the toilet just responded to me”

•”all hail percy lord of the bathroom”

•”SHE COULDVE KILLED ME” “the plan wouldve worked either way”

•Silena and Katie just high fiving in Campfire Song

•GROVER DJDJDJDJDJDJ “MY TURN!!! ITS MY TURN!!!!”

•”thats so much mascara”

•”well he vomited them up afterwards”

•”all hail percy son of Poseidon” “SWEEET!!!”

•”I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDVE TURNED HIM INTO A DOLPHIN!!!!”

•Mr D just insisting on turning Percy into a dolphin djdjdjjdfm

•”not some zig zag prop for some traveling musical”

•”there are no sons of Hades or daughters of Zeus running around” I FREAKED OUT

•WOWOWOWOOW THE ORACLE WAS SPOOPY

•I ALMOST CRIED IN GOOD KID

•ACTUALLY I DID CRY

•KRISTEN SINGING THE WORD “QUEST” WOWOWOWOOWWO

•CHRIS SHAKING THE SHOES DJDJDJDJJD

•Chiron covering Clarisse’s mouth djdjdjdjjd

•WOWOW HOW THAT FIRST ACT ENDED

•I NEED TO MENTION THE CHOREOGRAPHY THAT WAS SO GOOD

•AND THE COSTUME CHANGES!!!! WOW!!!!

•THE BUS AT THE BEGINNING OF ACT 2 IS SO COOL

•also the bright lights wowowowow

•”Perseus Jackson!!! I want you to meet my sisters!!!”

•annabeth happily saying she hopes the quest will dangerous djdjdn

•THE SQUIRREL

•chris sounds so different from the cast album honestly djfjfjjdfn

•Auntie M’s Emporium djjddjjdjddj

•Medusa’s actor just randomly deepening his voice djdjdjd

•”i had a boyfriend once”

•Grover ranting about Uncle Ferdinand fjdjdjdndj

•”interesting choice to have him screaming”

•the statues shaking the things

•”your mother and i are old nemesis... nemeses... nemesissies... we didnt get along!!”

•”ew ew ew ew ew ew ew”

•”oh hey look! Empty boxes!!”

•”THE GODS WILL THINK WE’RE IMPERTINENT!!!” “Oh we /are/ impertinent”

•Annabeth teaching Percy to hold a sword!!!

•i was watching My Grand Plan and the only thing I could think was that Alana Beck should sing it too djdjdjdjjd

•KRISTEN STOKES!!!! QUEEN!!!!

•”I JUST SOLVED ALL OUR PROBLEMS!!! While you guys were here /not/ solving all our problems, the squirrel came back and gave us these!!”

•THE TRACTOR JDJDJDJDJDJD

•OKAY BUT I LOVE THE SET???? THE DESIGN AND THE LIGHTING ARE SO NICE????? AND IT LOOKED SO COOL AND REALLY ADDED TO THE SCENE LIKE WOWOWOWOWOW

•”i swallowed a bug i swallowed a bug”

•BIANCA

•it looks so fun to be part of that cast!!!

•THAT KRONOS SCENE LIKE WHOA

•WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA

•”cant go to the movies mom, i have a quest... and homework”

•TREE ON THE HILL!!!! MADE ME CRY!!!!

•THALIA!!!!!!!

•have i mentioned yet that i love grover? Bc i love grover

•THEY KEPT THW DROWNED IN A BATHTUB THING DJDJDJDJDJDJDJ

•Charon is so extra djdjdjdjdjjd

•”my true pssion is music”

•IT LOOKED LIKE THEY HAD KERMIT PUPPETS????

•i forgot to say earlier but wow James is shorter than i thought i thought hed be taller than Chris but hes shorter

•”why would Kronos want my shoes?” “They /were/ cool shoes!”

•ANNABETH THINKING PERCY WAS THE LIGHTNING THIEF!!!! THEN PERCY THINKING ANNABETH WAS THE LIGHTNING THIEF!!!! MY PERCABETH HEART

•”HADES ISNT THE BAD GUY!!! WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK IM THE BAD GUY??? Well, maybe its the decor...”

•why does hades talk like that djdjdj

•WOWOWOW THE FIGHT WIRH ARES

•PERCY AND POSEIDON MEETING!!!

•Poseidon is a massive dork

•also lets talk about that dolphin fjdjdndndn

•Poseidon and Sally interacting djdjdjdjdjdj

•”i got your gift.” “And i got yours”

•”so. Thats my dad” “*seductive voice* thats your /dad/“

•percy trying to get lukes attention in last day og summer!!!

•LUKE SOUNDS A LOT MORE ANGRIER THAN IN THE CAST ALBUM

•I FREAKED OUT WHEN LIKE STABBED PERCY LIKE WHOA WHOA WHOA

•”he wont get far!! Ive got all the squirrels on the east coast searching for him!!”

•chris dont stare at me before Bring On the Monsters telling me i have to face my monsters

•LUKE IS IN THAT SONG

•the bows were short

•im sad they all decided they didnt want to stagedoor so i didnt get to meet anyone but you know what i got to see the Lightning Thief musical im okay with that

•AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA