#demigod!au

[jeonstellate]

divine thing

you and max defy stereotypes while simultaneously proving them right.

★ᝰ max verstappen x gender neutral!reader

★ᝰ demigod!au, greek mythology-inspired!au, percy jackson-inspired!au

★ᝰ paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist

[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

★ᝰ title from fly by midnight’s divine thing!

★ᝰ inspo tmi: took this percy jackson quiz to find out my greek godly parent && got hephaestus. can’t say i expected it since i had no expectations, but i was so amazed ‘cause it makes so much sense?? i wanted to commemorate it somehow, so i opened a new doc, lol.

In the grand scheme of the Fates, you and Max are each other’s antitheses.

You, a child of Hephaestus—god of meticulous craftsmanship; a personification of creation, artistry, and the painstaking effort to mend what’s broken.

Max, a son of Ares—god of violently untamed war; a personification of brutality, wrath, and the inevitable destruction that follows.

One forges masterpieces; the other revels in ruins. You’re never supposed to be together.

And, yet, sometimes, the greatest art emerges from what remains.

You find it incomprehensible: A child of Poseidon shouldn't drown. A child of Zeus shouldn't be struck by lightning. And a child of Hephaestus—a sibling—should certainly not be consumed by fire.

But there you stand: Ready to offer yourself to the flames, all in the name of no longer being a disappointing child of Hephaestus.

For a month, nothing of value has come from your hands, while your paternal siblings churn out project after project. Sebastian, for instance, is literally about to christen his fourth masterwork this month.

Perhaps, once engulfed by fire, you'll finally have worth—if not to warm your thriving siblings, then at least to others. Perhaps then you’ll finally bring some honor to your name. Maybe this will grant you a place in the Fields of Asphodel, if not the Elysian Fields—anything, really, but Tartarus.

Your workstation is a physical manifestation of your internal chaos. Scrapped projects litter every corner, and not a soul knows what they’re supposed to be—not even you. It’s a graveyard, essentially, of your mistakes, failures, and regrets.

You just need one paragon, and you can finally—hopefully—escape the fiery pit of a slump. But, alas, every new project you start never lives up to your expectations.

And you can already tell this new one is not any better.

Max strides into the Forge with the kind of arrogance only children of Ares pull off. His presence doesn’t immediately command the room like the children of Zeus, but it still has a certain je ne sais quoi that claims ownership of wherever he walks into.

Had he been any other child of Ares, he would’ve been barred from entering the children of Hephaestus’ sacred fortress. But Max has proven he is of fire like the rest of them, with his passion—and affection for you—burning as bright as the Forge.

"[First name]." He stops in front of your workstation. "Can I have—" he pauses to look around— "that?"

He utters no real greeting. You don’t point it out, nor do you mind. You’ve known each other long enough to not be bothered by such trivial matters. Besides, it’s part of who Max is as a son of Ares: Always brutal, straight to the point.

You follow where he gestured with your head and see an arrow made of celestial bronze. You return your attention to Max, one eyebrow raised. "If you wanted an arrow, you could’ve just taken one from the Armory."

Max merely shrugs. "Yeah, well, I wanted the one you made." He takes the arrow in question to inspect in closer, not bothering to ask for permission. "So what does it do?"

You scoff lightly, somehow finding humor in his actions. "I think, that’s the one that’s supposed to be a hand gesture-controlled weapon? Like, whoever’s wearing the partner ring is supposed to be able to control the arrow with their hand . . . or something. I don’t really remember."

"Cool," he nods slowly with an impressed hum. "Where’s the ring?"

"I never made it."

"What? Why?"

You look down, suddenly losing the strength to meet his eyes. "I realized halfway no one would want a controllable arrow when there are much better weapons out there."

"You can’t know that for sure," your boyfriend counters without missing a beat. "This can literally be someone’s dream weapon and you just didn’t know."

You are understandably unconvinced. "That’s a shit dream weapon."

"And they say I’m the bad one in this relationship," he shakes his head in mock disbelief. "You can’t shit on people’s dreams. That’s rude."

It’s your turn to shake your head. You continue tinkering with your newest failed project almost unconsciously and without real reason for every movement. "You know it’s true."

In lieu of replying, Max merely holds up the celestial bronze arrow higher and lets it catch more light. It glistens under the new angle, manifesting the promise of danger it conceals. "Not everyone fights like us. There are kids out there who prefer a longer range; for their weapon to be an extension of them, not just of their arm. This— this can give them that."

You recognize his point. A demigod’s choice for personal long-range weapons is limited to bow and arrow, longbow, and crossbow. Short-range weapons have a little more variety: sword, dagger, knife, spear, escrima sticks, scimitar, scythe. Another addition to the limited options wouldn’t hurt.

But to be the one to add to that collection? You’re not the right person for that. Especially not now, and maybe even never. You’re not worthy.

The sigh you let out a moment after is heavy with the unsaid. "I don’t know, Max."

Max takes one last look at the arrow before lifting your head to meet his eyes. Despite the slight delay, he moves and talks with no hesitation. "It just needs to exist, lieve. It’s the wielder who takes it to greater heights." He then flashes an encouraging smile. "Finish it. For me."

You and Max are never supposed to be together. You’re supposed to be like oil and water. You’re on opposite ends of the spectrum—you create, he destroys.

And, yet, your polarity is also why you two work well together. You balance each other. You ground each other—you consider, he charges; you feel, he fights.

You help each other see another side to manifest a bigger picture. Above all, you give each other a reason: To craft, to come back alive.

For the first time in weeks, the Forge feels like home again; your father’s symbol that appeared over you then carries no weight. "You want me to make you a ring?"

Your boyfriend’s smile widens. "Style it like a wedding ring with our initials."

You chuckle, ignoring the sudden heat on your face. "Better pray none of my siblings heard that."

"The ‘F’ in ‘Forge’ stands for ‘no flirting’!" You both hear one of your siblings comment from somewhere in the room before he can respond.

Your shared laughter rings.

("Forge it tomorrow," Max replies after you try to shoo him away so you can concentrate. "Daniel wants us to attend the party the Apollo cabin is throwing for the new kid."

You halt your actions, understandably intrigued. "New kid’s been claimed?"

To your surprise, his response starts with a "no." "He’s manifesting siblinghood because new kid’s apparently also from Australia."

"That’s a jinx waiting to happen."

"I know. It’ll be great.")

★ᝰ tmi, part 2: out of all the fandoms i write for, max is literally the only one that i can see pass as a son of ares?? or at least to the degree i’m looking for. but lowk, if not ares, i feel like he’d be great as a son of athena, too. he seems very knowledgeable to me.

★ᝰ tmi, part 3: i completely forgot about the whole hephaestus-aphrodite-ares drama while writing, so i didn’t get to incorporate it </3 so all i can say with that in mind now is this max and yn definitely started as enemies :D

[blossom-hwa]

Hi ^^ for the drabble event... maybe wonwoo + demigod au, if that's okay??

in honor of the recent PJO resurgence (I need to watch the show) please take this soft and cheesy demigod au of child of athena wonwoo + child of nyx mc as my humble offering <3 hope you enjoy!

summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

REQUESTS CLOSED!

~

Title: Stargazer

Pairing: Wonwoo x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: fluff, demigod!au

Warnings: n/a

~

"Careful, there."

Wonwoo grumbles as he pulls himself onto the roof, though really, he's counting on the darkness to hide his smile. "I wouldn't have to be careful if you didn't insist on nearly breaking our necks every time you wanted to meet."

Your laugh, though hushed, sends a warm tingle up Wonwoo's spine. "What, you don't trust me to save your neck before you die?"

"Tch." Wonwoo stops trying to hide his smile as he sits down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his. "Of course I trust you. I'd just rather not get to that point in the first place."

"Wouldn't we all?" you snicker. You turn to face him and not for the first time, Wonwoo wonders at your beauty in the darkness between the shadows cast by the moon and the stars, mystery cloaking your every movement. Up on the roof, under the night, you look so at home that for a moment Wonwoo finds himself uncertain whether or not he belongs here, disrupting your peace. Then you lay his head on your shoulder, all the while casting that moon-glow grin on him, and the uncertainty disappears. 

"I think everyone likes to avoid death, or near-death experiences," Wonwoo replies. A breeze spins across the two of you, fluttering his hair, and he shivers a little. 

You pull him closer. "Yeah, well, that's just not what happens for us," you say, and even though Wonwoo can't quite see your face right now he knows the smirking smile that must be on your lips, sardonic but sweet. "Should've brought a blanket," you continue in a mumble, only just loud enough for him to hear. "I can get one now if you want."

"It's fine," Wonwoo murmurs. The world is so quiet now that the noise of the earlier celebrations has gone. If he closed his eyes, and if he didn't feel so safe, he'd almost feel like he was back on the quest—him sleeping, you keeping watch, your careful fingers smoothing hair out of his eyes. "Don't go."

He hears your smile more than he sees it. "I won't," you promise. "Not going anywhere, now."

"Good." Wonwoo sighs, pulling his head off your shoulder to look at you. "Let's stay here for a bit longer."

Your eyes turn a little softer, a little sweeter as you nod. You know he doesn't just mean now, on the roof of your cabin, under the stars, overlooking Long Island Sound. You hear the words he didn't say. Stay with me. Stay safe with me. Stay where we won't face death almost every other day—stay where I can love you peacefully.

Child of wisdom, child of night. When the two of you appeared at camp within a week of each other, battered and bruised and more than a little traumatized, it was clear even without the prophecy that your fates would be intertwined. The connection was only cemented when Chiron declared the two of you were the subjects of the prophecy—child of wisdom, child of night—and would leave just a couple weeks later that would take the best part of several months.

Wonwoo thinks about himself then. Nearly an adult, newly christened son of Athena—a goddess he hadn't even known existed until then—uprooted from his books and studies to fight monsters instead. You had seemed like just another anomaly with whom to acquaint himself, a child of Nyx, more comfortable at night than during the day, words sharp and strange and more than a little cryptic, and in truth, he'd been scared of you. At least a bit. Until nights spent in awkward silence turned into nights spent in stilted conversation turned into nights spent noticing that for all the darkness cloaking your every movement—

You looked just as comfortable among the stars, too. 

"What'cha looking at?" you murmur, tugging him close. Your eyes twinkle, the shadows that follow you wrapping around him too in a soft blanket. "Stargazer."

Wonwoo's cheeks feel warm even though his lips curve wide into a smile. You came up with the nickname after he once compared your eyes to stars in a moment of loose-lipped weakness, during the quest when you'd snuck him into a hospital babbling and exhausted and bleeding out of his side, and he'd woken up to you sleeping in a chair by his bed, his hand clasped tightly between both of yours. 

"You said a lot of stuff while you were out."

"Gods. How embarrassing was I?"

"I'll leave most of it out." Your laugh, soft like moonlight. "But you did say my eyes look like stars." 

His face flushing. Your eyes twinkling. 

"So I said that you must've looked at my eyes a lot to come to that conclusion, and you agreed, Stargazer."

Wonwoo leans in, presses a soft kiss to your lips. "The stars," he replies when he pulls away, smiling so hard it almost hurts. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, the stars were up there, in the sky." You wave a hand in front of your face. "Not right here."

Wonwoo likes reading. Likes stories, likes philosophy, likes pretty much anything that isn't a stupid physics textbook that he can't make heads or tails of. And while he doesn't read a lot of romance novels, he likes them well enough that sometimes he can't help but wish the two of you were in one—fated lovers guaranteed a happily ever after. 

Nothing is guaranteed here, though. Not his life, not yours, not that of those around him either. There may never be a perfect romance between the two of you, demigods that you are, forced to be on the watch every single waking moment. But despite that, right now, Wonwoo thinks this is about as perfect as it gets—the night sky, the stars, and you.

"That's usually true," he replies, smiling. You smile back, and when you do, it seems that the night smiles, too. "Just not if I'm looking at the ones in your eyes."

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[sloanslone]

More winged Telemachus! But with some cute wing decorations... (demigod au)

[Thank you so much for all your kind messages and birthday wishes...they keep me going fr...!]

context here for new followers

(not really, kind of??):

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Hermes's beautiful grandson ig?

[mediumgayitalian]

"Could you be. Any rougher."

"I could be," says Reyna casually, only the ice in her tone is unmistakable and, also, she is exhausted. This is evident, because she is limping.

Reyna does not limp.

Once when she was very little, young enough memory's edges blur, she was up late. Wanting. The kind old woman who lived next door made pastelitos -- Reyna's favorite. Best when fresh. But her father had scowled as soon as he closed the front door, muttering to himself as he placed the pastries delicately on a little cake stand, as Reyna and her sister watched. Salivated, jaws clenched shut. Nodded when he snarled at them about keeping their grubby hands to themselves. Not for them, he made clear. For the people who earned his charming smile when they rang the doorbell, waltzing through the beautiful, dustless house.

She only wanted to have one -- one. She was sure he hadn't counted them. And she was a good climber.

She made it all the way up to the handle of the top cupboard before she ran out of footboards. There was a car horn, in the distance, when she fell; her first thought was relief because it had muffled the sound of her crashing to the floor. And then, when she tried to stand, her fist in her mouth muffled her shout of pain.

She walked on her shattered foot until she could not fit it into her shoe any more. Even then, her sister only knew when she broke and told her.

"Sorry," mutters Nico. He winces as she jostles him, tripping over a rock. He feels another lazy ounce of blood ooze from the tear in his side, and manages to avoid crying out only because he is worried about how slow it has become.

The palm he has pressed to the wound has lost all feeling.

"You sure we're close?"

Reyna's voice is gruff, and her face is ashen. The trail of dragged, bloody footprints behind them stretches several desert miles. Anyone -- anything -- tracking them wouldn't have to bother trying.

It is not empty desert. There are valleys, and small mountains. Shrubs. Rocks, on rocks. Nico trips on one, this time, and the jerk of his leg pulls on his side, tearing the hole in the fleshy part of his side even wider. He cries out, and stumbles, and is in too much blinding pain to stop himself from falling; Reyna's head swims at the movement, vision blurring, stomach swooping, and she goes down, too.

"Get up," Nico croaks, eventually. "We are not dying here."

Reyna does not respond.

"Get up!" Nico shouts. With great effort he wiggles an arm free and decks her, hard, in the shoulder, or as hard as he can manage as weak as he is. "You are not leaving me! Get the fuck up!"

"Quiet," she begs, and it is worse because he can hear the tears in her voice. His own throat wobbles. Reyna doesn't cry much, either. "Please, Nico, don't --"

"Okay," he says, hands shaking. "Okay, I'll be quiet. But you gotta get up, Reyna. Please." The terror bubbles up in his chest and he can't hold it down anymore. His eyes water, cleaning a trail down his cheek. "C'mon, luna. We've got -- half a mile left. I can't leave you behind."

She nods, eventually. Her eyes are still closed. But she gets up on shakey feet, and when the last of their meager breakfast has been expelled from her stomach, offers Nico a hand. He is warm, when he grabs it, too warm, and it scares her, but he is at least conscious enough to smile at her. Even if the blood in his teeth makes him look frightening.

"We don't have fucking insurance," Reyna mumbles, a few dozen agonizing feet later. "They won't -- take us."

Nico takes a moment to answer. His breathing has gotten worse. More ragged.

"They will," he manages, finally. The words are slurred, so it's closer to they'll. "They have to. I think." He huffs a dark laugh. "That or we bleed out in their emergency room, so."

Reyna does not laugh. She does not beg her mother -- she will not -- but she searches for strength within her anyway, for the tiniest burst of steel that will take them the last stretch to the hospital. They can see it, now; a pale, squat building that would be assumed a warehouse were it not for the giant blue H painted on its side, as if reassuring passers-by that it is, indeed, a place of medicine, even though it is smaller than some barns.

By some miracle -- or Fate, although the thought makes both their expressions sour -- they make it to the front doors. There is no further signage, but there are no other doors, either. They take a moment to catch breath, panting in syncopated dissonance, before shuffling inside.

"Take a number," drawls a voice. The person attached to the voice continues to work on a sudoku puzzle and does not look up when Nico and Reyna stare, not answering. "Today, please. Wait times are only getting worse."

Nico rips a number out of the plastic little holder. It falls to the ground. They step over it, struggling onto a plastic set of seats.

"I hope I don't actually die in an emergency room waiting area," Reyna mumbles, slouching into Nico's side. Her eyes close, and Nico's heart pounds, tapping frantically at her cheeks every time he loses sight of her black eyes. "I don't want to die in this outfit."

Nico glances down at the ripped, dirtied, bloodied mass of fabric covering her and laughs out loud. It hurts, and the tiny crowd of people huddled as far away from them as possible in the opposite end of the room jump. One even whimpers. He doesn't notice, or care.

"Not very you," he agrees, motioning to the t-shirt they picked up on their last stop, which is four sizes too big and reads, under the grime: ANNUAL TURKEY DOG GUZZLER CHAMPION 1994. Her shirt had been destroyed by Hydra acid in Arizona, and it was the first shirt they managed to grab from a Salvation Army before they'd been chased out by an angry woman with a broom. "You prefer beef dogs, if I remember correctly."

Reyna's eyes slide shut again, but she smiles. Nico finds her hand and squeezes it.

The wait takes hours. It is better, slightly, outside of the relentless sun, but there is no air conditioning, and it becomes clear quickly that both of them reek. And Nico is bleeding, still. And Reyna keeps dipping in and out of consciousness. And they are seasoned warriors, at this point. They have been questing for years, in and out of their respective camps, chasing monsters within the country and outside of it, for more than most demigods can claim. They can handle themselves and have been able to since they were teens. They're professionals, now.

But sometimes the gods like to remind them they're not infallible. Or, at least, this is Nico's theory, and Reyna says nothing when he mentions it, bitter over an open fire; but as much as her and her kin are no antagonists to the gods, not like the Greek are, she secretly agrees. Nothing makes sense, when you are a demigod, but stepping into a random abandoned warehouse in rural New Mexico, where a list of monsters in alphabetical order lay in genuine wait for them to appear -- they have enemies, yes.

But none were claimed, when they were attacked. The monsters were only smug, and they barely lived. They had been on a quiet quest, unadvertised, sanctioned only by Olympus.

"--heading out," calls a warm voice, muffled in distance from the stuffy waiting room. Nico is relieved to see Reyna blink, to adjust herself to mostly-upright against his shoulder. "See y'all tomorrow!"

A man follows this bright voice -- he is tall, and as warm as his drawling voice, despite the bags under his eyes. He stands with a looseness to his posture and his white coat makes his bronzed skin look darker, makes the thick blond curled frizzing around his head appear golden, even under the awful fluorescent lights. It is hard to look good in mint-green scrubs, but he manages; fills out the shirt nicely and is on just the right side of gangly, soft jaw making his squinted blue eyes look gentle. Smile-heavy. The worn white coat shifts as he lifts a hand to wave at whomever he was speaking to, and turns to the emergency room, smile still small and genuine on his face.

"Is that --" Reyna whispers.

"No way that is --" Nico says at the same time, because it's not, and it can't be; the sun is down, for one, and Apollo spends his nights either in clubs or in someone's bed and most certainly not working, even if he has come to help. And he is more angular, anyway, never having quite dropped the Spartan look to his features, and his hair is not quite so messy. He is not covered with a spattering of freckles, either, and his eyes are blue, yes, but not quite so dark; this man's are almost navy.

"Uncanny," Reyna mumbles. Nico huffs in agreement.

The handsome doctor waves at a young boy who picks at the peeling paint on the wall. The boy grins back, mangled arm pressed to his chest.

"You pinky swore to stay out of trees for a solid month, Alberto," the doctor chides. "I have your mama as witness and everything."

The woman next to the boy sighs. The boy grins, showing several missing teeth.

"I did!" he insists. "This time I fell off a playground! You shoulda seen the landing, Doctor Will. If I managed to stick it I woulda been recruited for the Avengers!"

The doctor laughs. It is low and snorting and -- ridiculous, honestly, the man covers his mouth only the voice cracks and snickers break through anyway. Nico's heart pounds. Reyna, close enough to hear it, snickers.

"Bet you wish you were in a better outfit too," she mumbles, snickering louder when Nico flushes, knowing he can't hit back.

"Shut up," he hisses, instead. "Go be concussed somewhere else."

But he keeps a firm hand on her elbow. And she doesn't go anywhere.

"Alright," finishes the doctor, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'm heading out, kiddo, Nurse Gianna will help you out. I hope I don't see you in here for a hot minute."

"Me and my bank account hope this also," mumbles the boy's mother. "And, yet."

The doctor snorts and sympathy and turns with a wave. His gaze sweep the waiting room and pause when they land on Nico and Reyna, tucked into each other in the far corner, having managed, for the most part, to keep the blood off the floor. Considerate of them, Nico thinks, honestly.

Those dark eyes widen, and his whole face erupts in a myriad of easily trackable emotions: shock, and then a little bit more shock, concern, fear, determination. And, chief among them, making Nico and Reyna straighten, look at each other warily: recognition.

"Mark," he hisses, warmth dropped from his tone. He whirls to face the impassive receptionist, who startles. "There's a fuc -- why didn't you call me? Immediately?"

Mark-the-receptionist glances for the first time over at the pair of them. His expression floods with guilt. "I didn't -- notice!"

"Dude!" says the doctor emphatically. "I'm gonna --" He stops and breathes deeply. He drags a hand down his face. Nico notices they are quite large hands and then forces himself not to notice. Reyna also notices, and laughs and laughs.

The doctor sighs, heavy, and takes his stethoscope back out of his pocket. He hangs it back over his neck, turns to Nico and Reyna, expressive face gone serious. The two of them sober immediately. "Clock me out, still," says the doctor wearily. "Don't tell Gianna and I won't tell on you, you fu -- freaking idiot."

The receptionist nods weakly. The doctor sighs again, and walks back through the doors at the other end of the room. After a moment, he appears again, brows furrowed.

"Well?" he says, looking directly at the pair. "C'mon, you two. Can you walk?"

Nico looks at Reyna, and she scowls, shoving him. "Of course I can walk," she mutters, to herself more than anything, and gets -- creakily -- to her feet. She veers as she stands, face going green, and Nico is quick to slip himself under her arm, under the guise of needing her support. She is not stupid, but looks at him gratefully. He sags into her touch.

There is not very far to follow the doctor. He leads them down a short hallway, checking on them every three seconds -- Reyna tries very hard not to chafe -- and into the first room on the right.

"I'm going to close the door," he says gently, "because people walking in here or overhearing could be very bad. But it doesn't lock, and I'll try and stay on the far side of the room."

It's an odd disclaimer at first, and Reyna isn't exactly sure why he says it -- but then she notices Nico let out a breath, notices his tiny nod. She realizes the own tension in her jaw, and the doctor's small, sympathetic smile. She watches as it shifts to something a little more teasing.

"Whatever keeps that sword from pointing at my throat," he says drily.

Both Nico and Reyna startle.

"What sword," Nico says carefully. But the doctor only raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly at the giant spike of Stygian Iron at Nico's hip, and the several knives tucked on Reyna's person, as well as her spear.

Nico and Reyna share a weighted look.

"You can see through the Mist, then," pokes Reyna, as the doctor preps something on the counter. They have met a couple mortals like this, in their travels -- most notably the Oracle that lives in the Greek camp, but here and there they've been in trouble as some teenager sees their weapons and screams at the top of their lungs.

"No clue what that is," says the doctor cheerfully. "But you two are not the first…warriors? That's I've had in here."

He turns back to face them. He has ditched his lab coat, and Nico is so distracted by the numerous tattoos obvious on his now-bare arms that he misses whatever he has clenched in his long fingers until the instruments are set gently on a sterile tray, the doctor gesturing to a bench.

"One at a time, okay? I can see blood coming from at least one of you and I want to treat that first, unless one of you is hiding a spine or head injury."

"She has a concussion," Nico says immediately, setting his jaw as Reyna scowls at him. "Her first."

"He is bleeding actively and has been for hours," she hisses, "him first."

"Her first," Nico insists. "Doctor's orders, head injuries take precedent."

"Yeah, cracked skulls. You and your thick head might not realize, but losing blood kills you pretty quick --"

"-- as if brain damage doesn't --"

"-- I'm fine! I can stand! I can see! I can --"

She steps closer, balled fists, or tries to. She falters and gags, nausea turning his stomach to churning lava, and would have thrown up on the scuffed floor if there was anything else for her to lose. Instead, she sways, and Nico tries to catch her, but the sudden movement of his arm makes him cry out.

"Freeze!" barks the doctor. "Both of you, cut it out."

There is no warmth in his tone -- only command. On reflex, or maybe because there is no strength left in their bodies, they stop moving, breathing heavy, hands shaking.

"Okay," says the doctor, gently as he can. "It doesn't help to get tense, yeah? You're stressed enough. I'll treat you both. You gotta trust me." He guides them both, hands light and gentle on either of their shoulders, up on the paper-covered bench. When they are settled he smiles softly, giving them a step of space. "I'm Will, and I'll be your doctor. I can feel that neither of you is at risk of severe brain damage or bleeding out or any kind of spinal injury paralysis, okay? You're hurt, but not desperately. All can be fixed."

Reyna ducks her head, meeting Nico's gaze out of the corner of her own eyes.

Feel?

"On the left," Will says, gesturing to Nico. "I gotta get you closed up before it worsens. The concussion is nasty --" he nods at Reyna -- "but that's a more long-term problem. Hang in there for a little bit, okay?"

She nods, and doesn't smirk smugly at Nico for two reasons. One, because if she moves too hard she'll pass out, and two, because Nico is gray and ashen, and reaches, in the space between them, for her hand. She curls their fingers together and squeezes lightly and does not promise she will be okay, but swears to herself that she will be anyway.

No more lost sisters, she mouths at him.

He hesitates, then nods.

Doctor Will -- he hadn't given them a last name, nor had the child in the waiting room addressed him by it -- is quick working and methodical. He cuts Nico's ruined shirt away from his torso, announcing every time he is about to touch bare skin. Gentle, too, but firm; he makes quick work of wiping the blood off Nico's skin so he can see what he's working with, and manages not to gag at the sight of the torn, inflamed skin, the oozing blood, the corrugated muscle and flecks of dirt and fabric. Reyna is not quite so skilled, and Will hands her a paper bag without looking.

"Damn," Will mumbles to himself, steadying his forceps against the edge of the wound, "somebody got your ass good."

It is probably not meant for Nico to hear.

Reyna laughs, but makes the mistake of looking again, and it turns quickly into a groan.

"You are not the one being operated on," Nico snaps, but it's more incredulous than anything. "Why are you whining."

"You should keep your insides to yourself," she mutters, still a little green. "That shit is disgusting."

Nico huffs -- "Stop that," Will commands, free hand on Nico's chest -- Nico stops breathing -- "Stop that too, preferably, I can't hear your heart right." -- hand still on chest -- Nico prays for death and then takes it back quickly when the first suture makes his vision swim -- and they fall into silence. His side hurts, his body hurts; Reyna's head pounds so hard she can't even feel the swelling bruise of her knee. They haven't slept in a couple days, at least, well before the attack in the warehouse. Nico is weak from his failed shadow-jump. Reyna is weaker from the strength she lent him.

It's a little easier to relax in this office, at least.

It must be Will's -- it's different in every conceivable way from the waiting area. From the hallway, even. The lights are too-bright still but they are offset by walls painted a deep green, not reflecting so harshly. Shades are pulled over the windows and its dark outside anyway, but the mere presence of windows makes it easier to feel like they are not going to die in a timeless prison. Drawn pictures and thank-you cards and grinning photographs are pinned all over the walls, and Doctor Will is hand-painted on a sign on the door in careful child's handwriting. This is not a place of despair, or even fear; the chair next to the bed for supportive family or friends is comfortable and not hospital issue, and there is music playing, almost imperceptively softly. The room -- or Will, Nico guesses -- smells slightly of lavender. This is a room where someone has worked very hard to make comfort a priority.

"Okay," Will says softly, pulling away. There are bones tattooed on his hands, Nico notices. They are covered in blood. Reyna notices that Nico is now breathing out of his dropped mouth and rolls her eyes. "I'm going to dress it now. Did Mark --" he scowls at the name -- "give you guys an intake form?"

Reyna and Nico shake their heads.

Will cusses.

Reyna and Nico try very hard not to laugh, except it's not that hard because it hurts to breathe.

"'Course he didn't," mutters Will darkly, "because he is a blight on this Earth."

Nico bites his lip hard.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go grab a couple, okay? I need to know about allergies and history and stuff before I treat you. I have an, um --" he falters -- "modified version for folks like yourself, it'll take me a minute to get them from the storage room. Hold tight."

He slips out of the room, closing the door behind him. Reyna waits until she can hear his footsteps fade before turning to face her best friend. He is looking, already.

"So," she says.

"So indeed," Nico agrees. "They're not usually so…competent."

"I'm sure more of them --" Mist-aware mortals, she means -- "are doctors than we would have guessed. When was the last time you went to a mortal hospital?"

"Uh." Nico ponders that for a moment. "I was born in one?"

"A century ago," she snorts. He scowls and flicks her. "That doesn't even count."

"Well, whatever. You most certainly haven't."

"I wasn't even born in one."

"So I have a leg up on you then!"

"You're arguing with me about nothing."

"You started it!"

She grins, and he grins back. There are still no returning footsteps, so she says: "We can't stay here."

"Obviously."

"What are the chances he's gonna give us some nectar and send us on our way?"

"Bad, probably," Nico guesses. His gaze slides over to the swollen goose egg on the back of her skull, and he brushes gentle fingers around the base of it. "Nectar can't fix everything, anyway," he says softly. "I think we're stuck, Rey." His face falls, guilt clouding his dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

She doesn't punch him out of it, but only because she isn't entirely sure if he hurt his shoulder taking that hit for her, when she first went down, so instead she reaches calmly for his wrist, flips it over, and pinches him as hard as she can in the dead center of his palm.

"Fucking ow!" he shouts, dramatically loudly in her opinion. "What the fuck?!"

"Get all sentimental and sad on me like that again and I'll throw up in your hair," she promises. "You were gushing blood and losing ground, you fucking idiot. And canyons always fuck up your jumps. Stop apologizing."

He still looks guilty, but at least he nods. It helps that he keeps rubbing his palm and glaring at her.

"Fine," he concedes. "Whatever, she-demon. Let's just -- fix up, and then we'll figure it out."

"We can't stay in here," she reminds him. "You're a homing beacon and they hate me personally. I won't be bringing a horde of demons to a hospital."

He nods. Just then, the footsteps return -- hurried, Nico's lips quirk up -- and there is a rapping at the door, and it opens a crack.

"All good?" inquires Will, slipping in. "I got the files, moved as fast as I --" his leg brushes Nico's knee as he hustles past, and he pauses. He turns to face them both, eyes narrowed, hands on his hips. Nico freezes and has the sudden and long-buried feeling that he's in a principal's office. "Were you two roughhousing?"

Reyna's jaw drops.

"You are critically injured. In a hospital." Will shakes his head, face creased. "And you were roughhousing." He scoffs. "I have six year old patients who are less inclined to that nonsense, y'all, c'mon. Do I need to treat you separately?"

"No!" they blurt at the same time, meeting each other's eyes to mouth: how did he know??

"No, please, we'll be good," Nico promises, ignoring the flush that burns immediately across his cheekbones. "She just pinched me but I'm fine."

"Snitch," Reyna hisses.

"Enough," Will orders. His lips twitch, but they stop squabbling like schoolchildren. "Jesus. Y'all known each other a long time, huh?"

Reyna nods hesitantly. Will meets her eyes and smiles. "I could tell. Friends'a mine are the same way, been dating since middle school and you can tell. Sweet."

"Oh we're not --" Reyna begins.

"I gagged in my mouth just now --" Nico starts.

"We're not dating," Reyna says, at the same time Nico says, "I'm gay."

"He's an asshole, too," Reyna adds. "I'm a catch."

Will laughs loudly.

"You are!" Nico assures, voice cracking. It has been a long time since Reyna has seen his face so cherry red and she really takes the time to enjoy it. "She is, I'm just -- you know? Like --"

"Stop," Will begs, holding his stomach. "I get it, I get it, oh my God." He busies himself with grabbing a pen and sliding a couple pages on a clipboard. "I'm sorry for assuming, that's on me. You're both kind of equally jaw-dropping, so I just guessed."

Nico shuts down. There is actually a visible shutter in his eyes as his brain reboots itself. Reyna regards the doctor with an eyebrow raise.

"Is flirting very professional?"

"Not strictly," Will says with a grin, "but technically I'm off the clock."

Reyna scoffs and rolls her eyes. For her best friend's sake, she pushes forward. "Alright, Casanova. I guess I'm going first since he's still recovering."

A mask of detachment fits back onto Will's face, and he focuses on the sheet in front of him. Reyna answers his rattling questions -- full name, which he doesn't so much as twitch at, increasing her respect for him, date of birth, allergies, so on and so forth -- and pauses when he flips the page over and gets to a part she can see is hand-written and photocopied.

Not hospital standard.

"Okay," Will says, tapping his pen on the paper. "Do you know how much higher your blood count is than standard?"

Reyna pauses. "I do not."

He twists his face, jotting that down. "Damn. No one ever does, which is a shame because it's always higher in you guys but I can't get anything to a lab before Friday. Not that I would send it there unmanned. I mean I can't charm my way into the lab until Friday because that's when my ex works and he's sweet on me still. I'll just be cautious with dosage, I guess. Anyways."

Nico, who was just recovering, goes back under again. Reyna sighs, and pats him supportively on the shoulder.

"Are you more responsive to medicinal flora from Greece or Rome?" he pauses, tilting his head. "Or a secret third answer? There could be more, I guess, those're just the two I've noticed over the years."

That hikes Reyna's eyebrows up her forehead. It's an interesting enough observation that Nico sits forward, watching the doctor closely -- he is calm, totally, unbothered by their staring, or perhaps ignorant to the magnitude of his question. He knows much more than the average Mist-sensitive mortal, but not explicitly -- he did not ask who their godly parent was, or even which pantheon, even though there is no reason to be secretive about such a question. Just a startlingly accurate observation about what medicines will help them, and evidence of a search for why.

"Roman, for me," says Reyna slowly. "Greek for him."

"Okay," says Will, "excellent." He makes a couple more notes, asks a couple more questions, and then removes the paper with her info on it with a flourish and hands it to her. "Check it over, if you don't mind, while I do your friend."

Nico starts. He does a very admirable job of not reacting to Will's unfortunately casual sentence, even though Reyna's snickering disagrees with him. He also manages not to punch her which he feels should be worth some kind of award.

"Name?" Will asks, looking up through his eyelashes. They're very long, Nico notices. Very blond.

Nico swallows. "Uh, Nico. di Angelo."

"Pretty," Will says idly, jotting it down. He looks up and smiles. "'Of angels'. Suits you."

"Oh my gods," Reyna comments. Neither notices her, which she feels is upsetting because that was embarrassing for her to witness. "Is my name beautifully suiting me, too?"

"Next question," says Will quickly. He rattles off a list about family history and allergies -- "Aside from latex," he adds, although Nico does not remember mentioning that -- and gets quickly to the back of the paper. "Greek," he notes, remembering. He hums. "You look it, too. Anyway. Have you been stabbed before?"

"Few times," Nico acknowledges. "I, uh, don't respond well to healing, though. Most effective thing for me is something called unicorn draught and it's --"

Will tilts his head. "Silvery looking thing? Kind of oily in texture?"

"…exceedingly rare," Nico finishes, alarmed. "You…have it?"

"I have bandages that are treated in it," Will corrects. "Girl came by here last year with a pot of it. Healed her up nicely, and she let me dunk some of my supplies in it." He smiles sympathetically. "Whatever wack instant shit it can do -- I don't have that. But it should speed up what's normal, hopefully? I don't really understand it and I had nothing to compare it to under microscope, so I have genuinely no idea what it will do to you other than help. So."

Nico doesn't need to meet Reyna's eyes to know what she's thinking -- if the monster attack was on purpose, meeting with Will must be, too. Calling him a 'godsend' would be a little on the nose.

"Okay," Will says, collecting both their sheets and laying them on the counter. "Lemme finish examining y'all both, and I'll give you a verdict."

He's very meticulous, Doctor Will. He doesn't even need to ask where they're hurt, although he always asks for permission to touch, seemingly drawn to every wound and swollen break. In minutes he has every scratch catalogued across Nico's body, and has analyzed the severity of Reyna's concussion, prodded her fucked-up knee. They should go to mortal doctors more often, maybe. The wait sucks and Nico could do without the scent of hospital, but Will clearly knows what he's doing.

"The good news is that I can help you," Will says, pulling back from Reyna and tugging absentmindedly on his stethoscope. "I have a couple salves I worked up last week that'll help fix up your laceration, Nico, and Reyna -- your knee is broken pretty good but I can get the swelling down fast and I have a tonic that will encourage your bones back in place right. If you were anywhere else, you'd be stuck here for a good three months, the both of you."

"And the bad news?" Reyna asks. No use in dawdling.

"You are still stuck here," Will says apologetically. He holds up a hand at the immediate protest. "I know y'all don't like that kinda thing. Believe me, I have been yelled at enough." He meets both their eyes in turn. "For three weeks, though, you're stuck here. It takes time for medicine to work. And both of you are in pretty precarious spots, with either infection or worsened brain damage as a result of neglect."

They are silent, the both of them. Will frowns -- he must be expecting argument -- and adds:

"Don't like…escape into the night. Okay? I mean it when I say you'll die. Take it from someone who physically cannot lie, you are in danger if you go back to the wilderness. Or wherever y'all were."

Reyna and Nico turn to face each other. They can't actually communicate telepathically with each other but amuse themselves by pretending that they can -- they have been partners for almost longer than they haven't, really, and when you spend that much time on the road with someone, you get good at reading their face.

Reyna twitches her left eyebrow. Nico nods imperceptibly. Reyna clicks the nail on her third finger on her right hand. Nico blinks twice.

It's not a secret code or anything. Reyna's eyebrow is itchy and Nico is getting a little woozy. But the effect is great and they turn back to face the doctor in perfect unison, which is always funny to watch people squirm about.

"I'm not happy about the risk," Reyna admits. "But we refuse to stay here. And we don't have many other options."

"We can't even pay for this, technically," Nico says, and he probably shouldn't but -- Will clocked out to treat them. They are not the first, and Nico is not trusting, but he is not stupid, either. He can tell when someone is being genuine.

Reyna, who is not quite as attracted to Tall and Handsome, is more inclined to believe there is something trustworthy about someone so openly and generously knowledgeable. They owe him now, anyway. Their trust.

"Hm," says Will, rocking back on his heels. He blinks, seemingly realizing something, and almost jumps, beelining for the cupboards along the wall. "Oh, shit, I forgot to give you the -- goddamn medication, that's my bad --"

Reyna huffs a laugh, although strangely it took her a minute to notice, as well -- the pain in her head has already lessened, somewhat, just by Will's examination. Nico frowns thoughtfully, because part of it is his stitches, but the the stinging pain has gone down enough that he can feel the hurt in other places now, too. But that could be faded adrenaline.

Will is red-faced when he returns, glass bottle in either hand. "Sorry. I don't mean to be so scatterbrained." He pauses for a moment, considering, and upon deciding its safe adds hesitantly, "ADHD works for me usually, actually, makes me more perceptive in surgery -- and helps me focus, honestly, since it's complicated and interesting enough to keep me invested -- but I can get distracted at the smaller stuff." He huffs a laugh. "I do lose my keys every single day, though."

Nico does not need to be telepathic or even close to Reyna to know they are thinking the exact same thing -- her eyes are wide as his, and the alarm practically manifests between them in the form of a giant red exclamation point.

Nico opens his mouth, and Reyna knows what is going to come out of it -- she flicks his shoulder, shaking her head rapidly. He swallows his word back and nods reluctantly. She extends her finger, to ease his frustration, pointing at the labels on the glass bottles.

The writing is godawful, so it takes him a second, but after a moment of squinting he can puzzle it out: netel lor laurel; migraines + symptoms on the jar of bright green liquid, and honey akilea labelling the thicker paste.

Now, Will could just be a bad speller.

But Nico doesn't put much faith in coincidence.

Will doses Reyna's medicine first, and then busies himself with Nico's wound. Nico meets Reyna's eyes, relieved to find her as nervously contemplative as he is -- a lot of things are adding up very very quickly. Both of them feel leagues better than a few hours ago, but Nico can feel his own weakness, his own exhaustion. He is in no place to fight anything. He is in no position to ward off danger.

Danger always comes knocking, with the two of them.

Will complicates things even further.

"Okay," he murmurs, pulling away. "I hope y'all feel better." He shoots the both of them a small, winning smile, and even Reyna melts -- although slightly, she would like to make clear. She does feel better, anyway, and she can feel the relief pouring off Nico in waves. "Next step is rest. And food. And maybe, like, a shower? I won't ask where y'all've been --"

Both Nico and Reyna graciously refrain from commenting on the triple contraction. They do note it. Reyna bites her lip.

"-- but, and no offense meant, I've met pigs in a pen with less mud on 'em. We gotta get you cleaned up."

"Offense taken," Nico grumbles. "We're not that bad."

"Should've seen Albania," Reyna agrees. And then, at Nico's grimace: "…Sorry for bringing it up."

"…Anyways," Will says pushing through the awkward air. "It's after midnight. I know a couple'a nearby motels, but they ain't open this late."

Nico picks at a thread torn loose from his jeans. Fuck. He knows where they are -- mostly -- and knows they are nowhere near any kind of safehouse. They could break into a motel, probably, but it means one of them is on guard at all times -- Nico doesn't have the strength for that, and neither does Reyna. They need sleep and they need sleep yesterday.

Nico straightens, color draining from his face as he remembers: Reyna has a concussion, and a nasty one. She needs constant monitoring, or she could literally fall into a coma and die. And die, fuck, what are they going to do, they're out of money and out of drachmas and Nico can't shadow travel and they're nowhere near --

"That's a myth," Will interrupts gently. He puts a warm hand on Nico's knee, and it is then that he realizes he's hyperventilating. "Breathe, darlin'."

This does not help.

"She actually needs to sleep quite a lot right now." He nods at her. "I've checked her, she's not at great risk for a coma unless she smacks her head against something else. Or makes her way to a roller coaster." He eyes them warily. "Please don't make your way to a roller coaster."

Nico, dazed, murmurs his promise. Reyna reaches over until she has her hand on top of both of his twitching ones, and, smiling wryly, promises to avoid them as well.

"If you're lookin' for someone to keep an eye out, though," Will says. "I can help."

Reyna shakes her head. She's pleased to find she can do so and it only hurts on a level 6, rather than the extreme level ten plus some it was earlier. "Like we said -- we can't stay here, Will. It's not safe for anyone else."

Will inclines his head. "I believe you. I meant -- my apartment is a two-bedroom." He bites his lip. "It's not ideal, and, I mean, it would deeply suck for me if this was some very elaborate serial murder set-up, but I can't just leave y'all out to suffer." He grins. "My mama'd whoop my ass if she heard. Not very hospitable of me, I imagine."

Reyna opens her mouth to protest.

Nico squeezes her hand. "I don't love it," he says lowly. "But I -- I'm tired, Rey."

It takes a lot for Reyna to remember Nico is younger than her. It hasn't mattered since they were -- well, it hasn't really mattered ever. Nico is nothing if not exceptionally competent, unbelievably powerful; but he's human, too, and he watched her get her head bashed on concrete until she didn't get back up again. He's been twitchy, braver than he can afford, since then, dark eyes bloodshot and blown-wide and tracing rapidly over every new space, scanning every potential threat. He's been on for too long. For a moment he looks at her and he is scared, and she sees the face of the fourteen year old who was still trapped in that bronze jar, in his mind, and who sometimes didn't know where he was.

"Alright," she relents. She turns her gaze squarely to Will. "I've killed people," she says shortly. "Dying and maimed. It doesn't matter how concussed I am. Don't assume I've let my guard down."

Will steps ever so slightly away, but there is a smile on his face, still.

"I'd expect nothing less," he says lightly. "Let me help."

Reyna swallows, and Nico sighs. Together, hands clenched, they agree.

-- -- --

next

[mariewrenau]

Solangelo playing Mythomagic dawn of the demigods

[drenched-in-sunlight]

AU where Messmer went back in time to save a young Marika before she had to save herself, somehow no time paradox happened, and now he’s stuck with the burden of reverse-parenting (?) 😂

there’s no logic to this, I just want to see a happy young Marika being protected by her future snek son

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Random Question: In a Percy Jackson Au, with everyone being related to the gods, who would be Stan and Ford's parent? B/c I keep thinking either Athena(Ford smart) or Dionysius(madness).

Hmm. Hard to say, because they are twins so it'd need to be the same one, and they're mirrors of each other which makes choosing difficult. Hmm.

Dionysius would work better than Athena, but maybe Eris? The goddess of chaos? Fits their general behavior.

Ares might be interesting, Ford thinking it was wrong only for him losing his temper and showing off his own skills as a son of war (filbrick parallel there maybe?)

Hermes would work too, fitting Stan but making Ford feel alienated? Before he goes on his own 30 year parallel journey and sort of goes 'ah no this feels right actually'

Poseidon seems too on the nose, but i'm partial specifically because he's also the god of horses.

Thats what i've got off the top of my head! Hope this helps!

Waiit!!!! Additional thought!

Athena would absolutely work, because not only does she suit Ford for the obvious intellectual reasons, she suits Stan for also being the goddess of handcraft, and both for being a goddess of war. Fords the stereotypical son of Athena (not actually as wise as he appears lol), while Stan not so much, more creatively inclined.

Because not only would Filbrick still be their dad, maybe impressing her with his business savey? or something? and dumping his terrible parenting on the two kids he didn't really want, you could def add more angst with them showing up to camp, staying at the Hermes cabin, and only Ford getting claimed. They're twins, nearly identical, but Fords her son in all the ways the rest of her children are, exhibits traits similar to the rest of her children, and has six fingers. I'm not an expert, but my brief research into the subject shows that six fingers was seen as something to celebrate by greeks? Could be wrong, but Ford being bullied hard because of his hands with mortals, then getting praised for it when he gets to camp sure does sound like something that would boost his ego and twist his insecurity about it.

And then there's Stan. He's not a stereo typical son of Athena, more creative and loose than his siblings. Leans more towards those craft qualities and warlike, and him being Fords twin makes everyone stop and second guess their assumption that Athena must be their mother, because Stan's so different. Must be Eris or some other minor god or goddess. something that can get two such different kids.

Then Ford gets claimed, and Stan doesn't. Everyone knows Athena is his mom, they're twins, so her not claiming him is a deliberate choice. Another snub in Stan's face, being second best, the unwanted child. Fords moving out to the Athena cabin, and Stans hanging out with the Hermes kids. And he'll brush it off! Say he was just too much to handle, and really the Hermes kids are more his style! Everyone knows the Athena cabin is full of nerds after all! He'd hate it there!

(He'd love it. Surrounded by his siblings, all of them passionately explaining what they're doing to him, sitting there and getting to be a sound board or someone to bounce ideas off of is all he ever wanted to be with Ford. Sure he might not understand what they're doing and might get rowdy, but he's sure they'd have just as much fun as he and Ford did back home)

So while Fords shining as the six fingered newest addition to Athena's cabin, Stan's now the black sheep of camp. Why wouldn't his mom claim him? Whats wrong with him that the goddess wouldn't claim a child everyone knows is hers? Is he even? What if he's some kind of monster, some new beast there to get them while they're guards down.

The simple truth is that his parents are both terrible, and both prefer Ford. Even if Stan proved himself and got claimed later, there's no recovering his reputation, and his relationship with Ford's always going to have that hanging over them, along with the experience Ford got being by himself in the cabin, then feeling like Stan got dumped on him just as he was becoming his own person. Not seeing that Stan's smiling and joking around to hide the fact that no one likes or trusts him, and Fords the only person who talks to him at all.

Then maybe he does something, messes up something up for Ford that endangers the camp, and yeah its not so terrible they'll kick him out, the feeling of the one person who gave him the time of day turning his back on Stan is enough to be the same thing. Maybe Stan just disappears one day, and everyone mutters about how right they must have been not to trust him, not to include him, not to want to do anything with him. Maybe Fords sees it as Stan deciding he was better off alone, didn't want Stan to leave but thought he had all the time to be mad and talk about it later, but now Stan's gone, and no one knows where.

Whew. That got way more intense then i planned. Anyway thats my thoughts on it!

[mrsmanofthemonth]

₊ ⊹ 𝐏𝐁&𝐉𝐉 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬

ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ | sᴏɴ ᴏғ ʜᴇᴘʜᴀᴇsᴛᴜs

ʙᴏʙ ʀᴇʏɴᴏʟᴅs | sᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴢᴇᴜs

ᴊᴏᴀǫᴜɪɴ ᴛᴏʀʀᴇs | sᴏɴ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀᴍᴇs

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ sᴛᴏʀᴍ | sᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴀᴘᴏʟʟᴏ

sᴏᴍᴇ ᴇxᴛʀᴀs ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ😛

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ sᴏᴏɴ!

ᴘʙ&ᴊᴊ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛs | sᴜɴɴʏʙʀᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪʙʀᴀʀʏ ⛅️

[bigidiotenergytm]

ok so I have 2 questions about fmtd!ody

so from my knowledge all of the mortals that were turned immortal became a minor god.

like psyche being the goddess of the soul

heracles being the god of strength

ganymede the god of homosexual love etc

so wouldn't nob(ody) start the represent a concept as time went on, would he be a minor diety like the rest?

if he does become a minor diety, what would he be the "god" of?

the only thing that's left after being stripped of everything else.

hatred.

[humblefryingpan]

Rick Riordan always villainises the most random characters ever and it's so stupid to me

Why would Hera, queen of the gods, protector of women, send a cow to shit on a teenage girl? What would she gain from that?

Why would Dionysus, the god of festivity, madness, ecstasy and theatre be an angry alcoholic? Why would he bully kids?? Rick was probably trying to make a point about how bad alcoholism is but he rlly didn't show that

Why would Hebe, goddess of youth and old age, curse people into turning into children? Why would you not at least google what she's the god of before putting her in the book??

All the gods are such complex characters but he just picks a few and decides to use one of their traits to form a whole new personality.

And then he'll glorify other equally random gods. Poseidon? He made him dear old dad, a harmless fisherman that wants to see his kid but is sadly not allowed to.

Poseidon in actual mythology has assaulted just as many people as Zeus, and he was one of the most feared gods because of his tendency to randomly hurt mortals and destroy entire cities

And then there are gods that should've been plot relevant but weren't. Because they weren't connected to his favorite characters

It's not just the gods though. It's easier for me to notice with them because they have existing characterisation outside of pjo but there is obvious bias towards other mortal characters.

The treatment of Luke vs Octavian specifically. Luke was a 26 year old man that was literally trying to destroy all of humanity. He literally enjoys hurting 13 year old Percy. And Octavian? He was a bit annoying? He cut up a teddy bear? And he's villainised so much for that. While Luke was able to go to elysium and never be hated by the main characters, Octavian was fired out of a canon and insulted constantly.

And remember Octavian always thought he was doing the right thing. He thought Apollo was supporting him, he thought the Greeks had already started a war (we know Leo was controlled, he never did). He thought his camp was under attack and took charge when their leader refused to (never giving him a real reason other than 'no that's bad')

I have many other thoughts but I cba to type more rn. Feel free to ask about other characters you think Rick did dirty. I'll probably agree and I'll yap about them too

[martincrushcameback]

@tifalikesart's Demigod Martin! I didn't have the energy to draw Chris. >.>

[semi-decentperson]

Most versions of the Athenide au I see have Perse disappear or fade before canon.

And that's angsty, and really fun, but what if she didn't?

Perse successfully creates the world she always wanted for demigods- A place where they don't have to be scared, where they can grow old and live happily. But nobody she loved really exists anymore- Because she loved the version of them that doesn't exist anymore.

[kupidachillea]

Achilles x You x Patroclus hcs

Author note: this took way too long. But this is respond to the request I got for more of these two and the reader. Ngl- I’m with them- I’m a sucker for those boys (Patroclus save me-)

TW (Trigger warning): Not much. It starts off as fluff then slowly branches into angst sort. Has a few Yandere themes. Achilles being possessive along with Patroclus. Slightly out of character (but hey, it’s a fan fic). Achilles and Patroclus are lonely lads and want a third-

CW (Content warning)⚠️: Slight coercion, manipulation (?), drugging with magical fruit. Forced imprisonment (?), Achilles and Patroclus are being selfish. This takes place in the modern world.

Basic summary: What happens when you decide to visit the underworld and meet two long dead heroes? Do you make new friends and form a bond or do you awaken something darker..?

🌿- You were granted permission to visit the underworld. A privilege that wasn’t given to many. It wasn’t as simple as finding a secret passage and letting yourself in.

🏺- No, Hades had gotten more stricter with all that. Not like the days of old where many heroes and mortals were able to just waltz on inside the land of the dead. You, however, were blessed enough to have the opportunity to explore and experience this world. Hades was kind enough to pardon you. As long as you followed a few simple rules of course.

🌿- One such rule was ‘Do not eat of any fruit or food in the land of the dead.’ Of course you took in his words and tried to honour them as best you could..however the moment you were granted access, that important rule slipped your mind. Now only full with excitement and wonder.

🏺- You would traverse through the foreign terrain and territory of the underworld. Occasionally seeing Hermes and giving him a greeting or so. You saw unique plants and creatures..not to mention the Shades.

🌿- For the most part the Shades were like people, living their lives in the Asphodel fields. Most of them paid you know mind while others would give you a simple wave.

🏺- Eventually though m you find yourself in the Elysian. You weren’t aware that you had traveled so far until a certain fiery blonde approached you.

🌿- He was a bit taller than you, piercing green eyes and olive skin. He looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen him before. “A mortal in the land of the dead? Haven’t seen one in years…” He would mutter. A slight confused smirk on his face as he took you in.

🏺- He had that thick Greek accent that Hades would have and that’s when it hit you..this must be Achilles. He was a bit surprised to see a human all the way down here unscathed but he actually didn’t mind all that much, especially after you introduced yourself.

🌿- The two of you got to talking as you both walked through the valley together. He would ask you about how you ended up down here and you would explain your story. Of course he was a bit confused but he seemed to understand for the most part. It’s been awhile since he had a conversation with the living..and he was enjoying this little blessing in disguise.

🏺- Soon enough you both stumbled upon another man. He was a bit taller than Achilles (even if he was sitting by a tree you could tell) and his hair was a dark brown with lovely curls..his eyes were as grey as a brewing storm. His skin darker than the blonde next to you and he had visibly more scars than Achilles.

🌿- It took you a moment to realise that this was Patroclus; only when Achilles went up to greet the other did it finally click in your head.

🏺- Achilles obviously introduced you to his companion. And from there you all talked and got to know each other better. By the end of your visit you all made arrangements for you to come back and meet them.

🌿- So over the course of the next few days you’d come down to the under world just to check up on the pair of ancient warriors. You’d talk to them about life in the 21st century and they would teach about the ancient world.

🏺- Obviously you took this to your advantage. Who needs google when you have the (not so) living proof right in front of you?

🌿- But unbeknownst to you, a new feeling started to emerge inside both men. They liked you…they both did…every time you would come down to meet them, they dreaded sending you away when it was time to leave.

🏺- They hated it. They couldn’t help but worry. They didn’t think it was right. How could they protect you if you weren’t with them? Anything could happen once you left the safety of the Elysian.

🌿- They both ended up talking and discussing a plan..a way to keep you down here with them. There’s no harm in that..right?

🏺- “We’re just trying to protect the poor dear…right?” Patroclus would say, as if he was trying to justify what they were about to do to you on your next visit.

🌿- Achilles would scoff as an impish smile graced his lips. “Of course..the mortal should be grateful. It’s the only right decision..”

🏺- They both nodded to each other. Their plan was set.

🌿- The next time you came to visit, it went as usual. You all talked, joked, and conversed about each other’s day. You really enjoyed being around them and they LOVED being around you..

🏺- Eventually though, your stomach grumbled. You were hungry, you would let out a soft groan. Whining about how you wish you packed snacks. Both boys grinned..perfect.

🌿- They could now put their plan into action. Patroclus got up and went over to a fig tree, beckoning you over along with Achilles. “Well if you’re hungry, dear- why not take a fig from this tree..?” Patroclus asked softly. His voice was cool and calm, hiding any form of deceit or manipulation.

🏺- You would stare up at the fruit before going on your tip toes and picking one. It was a pretty looking fruit and you figured it would be the same as the ones on the surface..however just as you were about to take a bit you paused. Didn’t Hades warn you about having any form of food from the underworld?

🌿- Your thoughts were interrupted when Achilles spoke up. He could see the doubt and hesitation growing in your mind and he was desperate to make you forget your uncertainty. “What’s wrong? Do you not like figs? We could get you something else…” He would say.

🏺- You blinked and shook your head, telling him it was fine before you pushed your doubts aside and took a bite of the fruit. Besides, what could possibly go wrong? More than you think.. unfortunately for you..you had just made a grave mistake..

🌿- You felt a little weird but you brushed it off as being tired, meanwhile the two men looked much too happy that you had eaten the fig from this land. Their plan had worked, you were as good as theirs.

🏺- When you expressed you were feeling a bit drowsy they took it upon theirselves to get you a nice place to rest. Patroclus allowing you to rest your head on his lap as you drifted off. Achilles’ hand playing with your hair as you started to sleep.

🌿- “It’s alright, dear..just rest..we’ll be here when you wake up..” Achilles uttered, a slight smirk on his lips as he ran his calloused fingers through your hair. With his words you finally submitted to sleep.

🏺- It was done…you were now theirs. You had sealed your fate, for better or worse..

[aroaceleovaldez]

once again thinking about my au of Alabaster willingly getting possessed by Jason as a bargaining chip for Camp Jupiter/Olympus to try and get around his exile...

[filialdisciple]

the idea of catholic priest!luke is so funny

hermes, sneaking into priest!luke's confession booth: bless me, father, for I have sinned. My last confession was—

luke: —yesterday. now get out of my confession booth.

YESSS i love it sm it can go so many silly ways HAHSHDJFJD

btw the og catholic priest!luke idea isn’t mine (it’s by @bugwolfsstuff 🫶), here’s the link to the og post!!

[clownzaf]

I know that people love to headcanon Tim as a child of Athena, I personally like to headcanon him as child of Hades due to his similarities with Nico and the fact that dead seems to follow that kid like a motherfucker but never actually reach HIM.

But hear me out.

Tim as a child of Dionysus. And he gets claimed during the Bruce-quest.

When he was in Gotham monsters were a usual thing. You never knew that they were there for your godly blood, you just thought that they were things created by pollution or something like that. And when he became Robin fighting things that wanted to kill you while saying weird things was more usual than a hug (not that that was a hug standard for Tim).

But then everyone started dying. His parents, Kon, Bart, Steph, BRUCE. Everyone. Every. One.

And Tim…Tim couldn’t seem to reach madness. I mean YEAH he wasn’t doing great by any standard, but he knew madness, he grew up in madness, and he wasn’t going mad.

The cloning was just a treat.

And during the Bruce-quest, everyone thought he was crazy, he was casted away because everyone thought he was crazy CRAZY Tim can’t he crazy! He knows that! He knows that in his blood that going crazy isn’t a chance for him. He made everyone crazy when they were around him (hence Jason. He knew that Jason was mad at him from the start, but going near Tim lighted a flame inside him that Tim is sure isn’t completely Jason’s) but Tim couldn’t go crazy. He could ACT crazy. But never too serious.

And then, in the depths of Greece, he met his dad. His real dad.

He always knew that Jake wasn’t his dad. The blonde hair his mother forced him to dye since he was 5 and the purple eyes his father forced him to hide with contacts told him that. But Tim grew up looking up at Jack, even if Jack didn’t love him, he was the dad that decided to (figuratively) stay. And Tim loved him till death.

But when that man appeared, Tim knew, with only a moment of stares, that that man was his father. They talked a bit, too. The man knew about everything Tim was doing, and that creeped Tim out, but when the man made appear a glass of wine for Tim (and one side for himself) and Tim drank it, he knew what he was.

Something on the flavor, on the feeling. It was Tim. It was home. Something he hadn’t feel in a long time.

He spent the rest of the quest feeling sure that he would make it, because somewhere on the heavens his dad was looking out for him, he promised he was. And this time it wasn’t a figuratively sentimental bullshit. His dad was really helping on the heavens. And Tim was gonna make it.

He saw him again when the quest ended. He appeared in all of his godly glory while Tim was living in the nest. He opened a can of soda and sat on his couch like he wasn’t a man Tim has only met twice, but that was ok, because that was his dad, and he was choosing to visit him. (Also, he wasn’t going to say no to a literal GOD) .

He yapped for two hours about the kids at the camp his dad forced him to work at ( “HE IS SUCH AN A-HOLE SOMETIMES TIM YOU DONT UNDERSTAND-“) and the more he talked about that camp, the more invested Tim got. At the end of it the man, his dad, just looked at him in the eye and said “y’know if you were there we could do this more often. Yer a better listener than that centaur. Also, I think your brothers would like having you there”

He leaves immediately for camp after that. The family thinks Tim decided to leave them for not believing in him, so it’s a shock when he comes back after the summer being great with a sword and with a Tan his skin haven’t known before, not even after fighting crime during the hottest days on San Francisco, and he was happy, like actually happy. A kind of happy he never was with them.

Tim made friends there. He was friends with Annabeth, a girl from the Athena cabin, who honestly thought that Tim was one of them after they had a talk about strategies on the field and all that, and was about to fist fight Dionysus for claiming one of her brothers. She still called him brother, but now she understood that Tim was a Dionysus kid. And her boyfriend Percy. They talked all night about the weight of being a leader and having your people die without you being able to do anything. Percy talked about a boy named Ethan and two girls named Zoe and Bianca. Tim talked about Steph, Kon and Bart.

Tim told him about the Bruce-quest, and Percy told him about the time he was ready to fist fight a good to get his mother back from the underworld.

He also fully loved his brother. Pollux was great and made him feel welcomed to camp. They talked during lunch and Pollux showed him every single thing that made camp especial. He also teached him how to make fun of their dad without turning into a dolphin, so yeah. They got along like a house on fire.

He also made friends with a girl from the Aphrodite cabin. Her name is Drew. She was kind of an asshole and tried flirting with him, and THEY DID GET TOGETHER FOR A BIT, but after some time they decided they were better as friends. And friends they were. Best friend even.

He never told the Batfam any of this.

So after some months in Gotham there’s a cult going around calling themselves “Children of Dionysus” and doing atrocious things.

Duke walked in on Tim trashing the training room of the cave, and later on Jason walked in on Tim having his fourth bottle of wine.

Tim was FURIOUS. Not only that was disrespectful to his dad, but to his brother and himself too. He was going to pick every part of that little cult and trash it.

There he meets Bernard. Then they get on a relationship.

When a sathyr comes to take Bernard to camp Tim goes with him, excited to have his dad meeting his boyfriend.

Dionysus has never been more uncomfortable than when he had to claim his son’s boyfriend in front of him. It wasn’t that hard before! But now they had those things against incest on the human world and he knew this wouldn’t be pleasant to any of his sons.