#Children are the future

[anjels001]

(I am incredibly grateful for the support and love on the first post of the AU! I'm so happy you liked it, and I hope this second part resonates with you just as much. If there are 20 reposts of this, maybe I'll bring the third part and post it on Ao3! Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and feel free to share your thoughts! 💖)

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The God and the Monster

Poseidon felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders. The sacred oath of the Big Three had been broken once again, and he knew there would be consequences. There always were. But the truth, plain and simple, was that he did not regret it.

Sally Jackson was an extraordinary woman. Strong, determined, full of life in a way that had been erased from most mortals over the centuries. It had been a long time since Poseidon had met someone like her—and he couldn’t force himself to regret loving her. Nor for getting her pregnant.

What tormented him wasn’t the act itself, but fate. What would happen to the child he had fathered? A hero’s life was never easy. And, as much as Poseidon was a god, an emperor, an immortal and indestructible being, he was still a father. And he feared for the future of his youngest.

So, he remained alert. Vigilant. Silent in his own anxiety, trying to keep calm, hiding any trace of having committed this transgression. He didn’t want anyone to notice. He didn’t want the gods to turn against his son.

But then he felt it.

It was as if the ocean shattered within him. A deep impact, impossible to ignore, reverberating through the very core of his being. Poseidon had felt this before, in ancient times, when a great spirit was about to be reborn in the mortal world. But this time… this time it was different.

For a moment, he didn’t understand. There was confusion—an echo, broken between past and present, as if a dark whirlwind spun through his soul, pulling old memories to the surface. The sea inside him roared, impatient, feeling the dissonance in the thread of his son’s life.

He sought to recognize the soul of his heir, expecting to find a new spirit, free from past marks. But all he found was an abyss of old memories, of battles and betrayals, of a name buried in time.

And then, he realized.

The revelation hit him like a destructive wave. His son—his youngest, his little prince of the sea—was not just a new life. He was an ancient shadow. A reincarnation.

And worse than that.

He was him.

The monster.

The one who had defied the gods, who spat on the mercy of Olympus and returned from death covered in blood and lies. The man Poseidon had personally cursed, the one he swore to make suffer, the one who should never have come back.

OdYsSEus.

Poseidon's chest tightened. Chaos spread within him, a whirlwind of emotions impossible to contain. Anger. Horror. Despair. How dare they? How dare the Fates have the audacity to bring this soul back through him? How could Styx condemn him in this way?

His body reacted before his mind even could. The invisible sea currents around him stirred, the salty mist swirling in a violent dance. The sea inside him screamed, a storm trying to break through his mortal form. His primal instinct screamed to end the threat before it was too late.

Destroy him.

Eradicate him.

But then, an image appeared in his mind.

Sally.

She had no idea. She didn’t know the history her son carried. She didn’t know that the baby she held in her arms had cursed the gods in another life. That he had been a king, that he had been a soldier, that he had been a strategist so cunning that even Olympus couldn’t stop him.

She saw only her son. Her little Perseus.

What if he was wrong? What if, in trying to prevent the monster from being reborn, he tore away from Sally not just her son but her soul? Poseidon knew: destroying that child wouldn’t just punish Odysseus — it would break the heart of the woman he loved. And that thought hurt more than any curse from Olympus.

Poseidon closed his eyes, feeling the sea inside him still roaring. But now, it wasn’t just anger — it was fear. A deep, crushing fear, because he knew what this meant. That boy would grow up. One day, he would remember. And Odysseus always found a way. The ocean outside, once an untamable force, now lay still, reflecting the father — wild, but, for a rare moment, at peace. Each wave seemed to echo the silenced storm within him, a reflection of what he had become.

A distant thunder rumbled in his mind, a reflection of the war waged within him.

For a moment, he almost gave in to the darkest impulse — to end the threat before it could blossom. But then, something fiercely protective grew within him, a wave that swept away his hesitation.

Because that child was his too.

His son.

Not just the shadow of a monster, but the blood of Poseidon, an heir of the sea.

And no one — not even the ghost of Odysseus — would dare take that from him.

When Poseidon opened his eyes, it wasn’t just fury. There was a raw possession, a wild and violent love, like a crushing tide.

Mine.

If Odysseus wanted to exist again, he would have to do it under the waves of his father.

And this time, the sea would not let him escape.

Poseidon didn’t wait a week. Not even three days. The torment inside him wouldn’t allow it.

Time felt like poison coursing through his veins, a salty pulse driving him forward. Each hour spent away from that child was a rising tide in his chest, a current that threatened to drag him to the depths of his own chaos. He needed to see. He needed confirmation. He needed to act.

When he finally appeared, there was no sound. Just salty mist and a damp breeze that filled the small mortal apartment. The moonlight spilled through the window, bathing the crib in silver clarity. The air was too dry, the space too small, and everything smelled of humanity and solid ground — an insult to what he was.

But there, right there, lay his answer.

The baby slept. Curled up, breathing softly, oblivious to the god who now watched him. Poseidon stood still, every muscle rigid, his gaze fixed on that tiny, helpless form. And inside him, something ancient and fierce roared.

He knew what he should do.

If it were true — if that tainted soul had returned — he would end it. Right there. Now. He would kill the child and give Sally another. It wouldn’t be the first time a god had shaped such a destiny. It wouldn’t be the last.

Or at least, that’s what he tried to convince himself.

But the sea… the sea is not made to kill its children.

Poseidon felt the conflict scrape at his insides like a whirlpool. His feral instincts were at war — the primal urge to destroy a threat collided with something even older: the wild, possessive instinct to protect his offspring.

Because the children of the sea were rare.

The ocean, by its nature, was not kind. Infant mortality among the sea peoples was cruelly high. The waters claimed their young with the same ease with which they created monsters. And so, those who survived were precious. Touched by the sea, shaped by it, they were part of the ocean’s soul. And any mother or father who dared to harm a child… well, the ocean itself would crush them.

And Poseidon was the sea.

His fists clenched, and he growled low, a guttural, hoarse sound like a wave breaking in the distance. The idea of destroying something of his… something that carried his essence… wounded his very nature. But what if that thing was him? What if the man he hated — Odysseus, the shadow who had cursed him for so long — was there, reborn in his blood?

A soft breath.

Poseidon stopped.

A delicate sound, almost a sigh. He looked at the cradle.

Two eyes were staring at him.

The world seemed to tilt.

The irises were the color of the sea — his color. But the shape… the shape was hers. Sally. They were gentle, wide, innocent.

Poseidon held his breath.

The baby laughed.

It was a small, pure sound. A carefree giggle that exploded like foam on the waves, and Poseidon felt something inside him crack. The storm within him stalled for a brief moment, like a raging sea suddenly becoming smooth under a gentle breeze.

He stepped forward — a shaky step, then another. Powerful hands, capable of destroying cities with a gesture, now hovered over the cradle, uncertain. Then, with a hesitant movement, he took the child into his arms.

Small.

Light.

So… fragile.

Poseidon trembled. He could smell the sea air that surrounded the boy, undeniable proof of his lineage. But there were no fangs. No claws. No scales or gills. Just soft skin, dark hair, and eyes that stared at him as though he were the only being in the universe.

His long fingers traced the baby’s body, instinctively counting and checking.

Two eyes. Check.

Two arms. Right.

Two legs. Right.

Ten fingers on hands and feet, all in place.

No monsters.

No threats.

No curses.

Poseidon let out a ragged sigh, something between a sob and a hoarse laugh.

His son was perfect.

“I’m sorry, my pearl…” his voice was just a whisper, almost inaudible, as he held the baby more firmly. “None of what happened was your fault. None of what will happen will be your fault.”

Little Percy smiled at him, babbling something incomprehensible, and Poseidon felt a violent wave of possessiveness rise within him.

Mine.

That thought hit him like thunder.

mY SØŊ.

Not a punishment.

Not a threat.

Not a reborn enemy.

Just…MINE.

“You are not a punishment for me.” Poseidon murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You are a punishment for him.”

There was a dark flash in his eyes — the cruel irony of it all. Odysseus, the man who had most challenged him, now reborn as the heir of the one he despised most. What more poetic punishment could there be?

Poseidon laughed softly — a bitter sound, but laden with something new. Something dangerous. A wild, raw love, as vast as the ocean.

“Funny, isn’t it?” he whispered to the child. “Perfection born of the greatest offense. The most monstrous man reborn… as my son.”

Percy just yawned, his eyelids beginning to droop, snuggling deeper into the god’s chest.

Poseidon closed his eyes, feeling that tide of emotions drown everything that had once driven him. The unbalanced hunter fell silent. The king-god stayed behind.

Only the father remained.

With the utmost care, he placed Percy back in the cradle, adjusting the blanket around him. His fingers brushed through the soft strands of the baby's hair.

"Nothing will ever be your fault. And I will always be proud of you." His voice was a promise, sealed by the ocean itself.

A final kiss on the forehead.

And when Poseidon left that night, the sea became calm.

In the following months, the weather remained perfect.

< Back: Chapter 1 > Next: Chapter 2 Au Post prompt

[classycookiexo]

Love this

[sunshine-gumdrop]

It's part of calgary flames' schedule announcement.

[thephysicsofmiracles]

When we incarnate, there are two stages of life ahead of us. During the first, rarely are we aware that we are designed with the capacity to create our own reality. And we bring with us all the consciousness of our previous lives and ancestral intergenerational karma, which we have volunteered prior to incarnation to live through and alchemise emotionally (endure karma and let ourselves be changed by the suffering). The second stage isn't a given, though, and comes about usually as adults when we become more intimately aware of the lives of those around us and notice the discrepancies in the efforts of others as compared with ours to gain happiness and success. 'Luck' seems to follow certain people, and we wonder and observe how they tackle similar circumstances we mutually experience. Because deep down, we innately know that things are supposed to work out and our dreams are meant to be lived. But since generations before us have settled on mediocrity time and time again, we are afraid to trust that it is meant to happen for everyone, not just "some people". That's where a relationship with Self becomes the most paramount acquisition of a human life. Because when we endeavour to establish communication with our Higher Self in a regular grounded way, through meditation and other various practices that bring on altered states of consciousness that re-thread our heart's consciousness into our internal dialogue, it becomes very clear right away, how loving, kind-natured and benevolent our Godforce Self is toward us, continually and constantly. Never accusatory and always deeply desirous of our comfort and intrinsic peace. Like the way you want to soothe a newborn in your arms when they are swaddled and sleeping. You see, the suffering we endure prior to learning how to control our reality is not wanted or insisted on by some higher force. It is simply part of our consciousness when we arrive, and our higher selves protect our hearts so that we stay loving on the other side of the experience. Some of us do not retain connection to our Soul or soul-union post-trauma and this is deeply unfortunate. Because the health of all our relationships with others in our respective futures depends on the ability to connect to our Soul, post our voluntary generational cycle-break experiences. This is where sound, frequency and light play such a huge role in the process of human evolution. What might take an entire lifetime or several to heal through, possessing only an average capacity to process experiences within the confines of 3-dimensional perception, can happen within a week, a day or even a few hours when we are exposed to the formulas within nature, music and deep states of openess that come with meditation, fasting and silence. The frequencies emitted within each of these environments cause the brain to operate at another level of consciousness that gives more control over to the Higher Self, which knows exactly what needs re-tuning within the heart to return to an unconditional love perspective on any troubling or afflicting beliefs held within the biofield pertaining to a particular trauma. Like re-tuning a piano, it's never not worth it. The design of life may be simple, but the design of a human being is not. You would never overlook tuning a grand piano so that it would again play perfectly. And yet, the human design is far more sophisticated, complex and valuable. ~ Chantal Eva

[watchespregnantstreamerz]

Hey y’all, looking for some pregnant twitch and/or youtube streamers . Preferably those in the second or third trimester. 1st is fine as well but I probably won’t interact with them much until the fetus has matured more to a better nurturing stage.

Gender is irrelevant. Ideology is also irrelevant. I’m looking specifically to foster a nurturing environment for the children of these streamers as they are likely to grow up in a household where they are broadcast to the world. I want to make sure the spaces in which they are publicly visible, protect their upbringing, especially in their most vulnerable state when they still are in the womb.

Thank you all again in advance. Much love to everyone. Happy Mother’s Day

[professionalfacesitter]

Some of these people out here are dumb parents, and you don't find out if one of them is your parent until you're an adult

[gazagfmboost]

Mohammed Ammar Abureada (13) & Family

Vetting: IG content back to march 2024 Personal IG video #1 & Personal YT video #1 Instagram: ammar_medo Fund Currency: £ Pound Mohammed is spending his formative teen years being displaced from camp to camp. He, his two sisters Alma, Razan, & younger brother Taim have lost their home, instead of going to school they worry about safety, shelter, food & water. Any contribution to their future, no matter how small, is deeply appreciated. I hope that we can come together to help bring them one step closer to ensuring they can rebuild their lives- Thank you for your kindness, & for any hearts & re-shares to help their story to be seen & heard!

A Lifeline for Mohammed: Fleeing Conflict, Pursuing Dreams gofund.me/c817151a

[brandyschillace]

My 13 yr old niece painted this for me—she is so amazingly talented at anything she touches!

[withinsight-motivation]

[not-mary-sue]

I love random silver linings. Had an awful day at work, but the toddler at the bus stop decided to babble away to me and insist on sharing their sweets. That toddler won't remember that interaction. That toddler won't know how much better they made me feel. God speed, tiny human, never lose your kindness.

[awesomecooperlove]

✨✨✨

[anjels001]

The Ocean’s Legacy: Clans, Hierarchy, and the Guardians of the Pearls

The society of the sea people is built upon clans, social structures that extend beyond mere blood ties. Each clan is a fundamental unit of society, economy, and politics, comprising individuals who share a common ancestry, a specific territory, or a crucial function within the oceanic world. Unlike terrestrial societies, where bonds can be severed easily, in the ocean, separating from one’s clan is nearly impossible—belonging to a clan is a lifelong commitment.

Clans vary greatly in size and power. Some consist of only a few dozen members, dwelling in isolated reefs or abyssal depths, while others are vast dynasties, ruling entire underwater cities and rivaling even the minor sea deities in influence. Respect in the ocean does not come from sheer strength alone, but from one’s ability to protect, nurture, and secure the future of their clan’s offspring.

The Hierarchy of Poseidon’s Ocean and the Role of Clans

Above the clans stands the Kingdom of Poseidon, a vast and complex divine monarchy governing the seas. Unlike terrestrial rulers, where kings and emperors compete for power, the ocean answers to a single absolute sovereign—Poseidon, the God-King-Emperor of the Seas.

The kingdom is divided into enormous territories, each ruled by an Ocean Governor, who could be a lesser deity, an ancient sea spirit, or even a powerful mortal ruler of noble lineage. The clans, in turn, are vassals of these territories, aligning themselves with a governor based on their location and strategic importance. However, these alliances are not rigid—clans can shift loyalties, form temporary pacts, or even challenge a governor’s authority, provided they have the strength to sustain such a move.

Poseidon does not rule every detail of oceanic life directly, but his word is absolute law, and his wrath can erase entire civilizations from the waters. However, there is one force in the ocean that holds the power to stand against him if necessary.

The Guardians of the Pearls and the Ocean’s Social Structure

The Guardians of the Pearls are a neutral order within the sea’s society. They do not belong to a single clan, but rather, to all clans at once. When a child is born, regardless of lineage, they are considered a Pearl of the ocean, and the Guardians bear the sacred duty to protect them.

This order was established by Poseidon himself in the early days of his reign. Before him, the sea followed the brutal law of survival—the strong devoured the weak, and new generations rarely had the chance to grow. Poseidon, having personally endured the horror of being swallowed by his own father, vowed that no child of the sea would suffer the same fate. Thus, the Guardians of the Pearls were formed, the first armed force of the ocean, not created for conquest, but for preservation.

While clans compete for resources, territory, and influence, the Guardians remain the only force that transcends these divides. They are warriors, healers, and educators, bound by three unbreakable tenets:

No Pearl shall be left behind. If a young one is in danger, a Guardian will answer the call, regardless of who the threat may be.

Strength must nourish, not destroy. Their martial and magical training exists not for conquest, but for protection.

Loyalty to the future, not the present. The Guardians serve no king, no clan, and no empire. Their only loyalty is to the next generation.

The Guardians and Poseidon: The Unbreakable Oath

The creation of the Guardians was not just a measure to protect the young but also a safeguard against Poseidon himself. The Sea God knew that absolute power could corrupt even deities, and that his own father, Cronus, had been a tyrant who devoured his children. To prevent the seas from ever falling under such rule again—even if the tyrant was himself—Poseidon granted the Guardians of the Pearls the undisputed right to judge and punish him should he ever betray the principles he swore to uphold.

This makes the Guardians a truly unique order within the ocean: they are the only force in existence with the authority to bring a god to reason.

The Relationship Between Clans and the Guardians

Despite their neutrality, the Guardians are not above the clans. They rely on the support of oceanic communities for survival, whether through shelter, resources, or apprentices wishing to join their ranks. Many clans deeply respect the Guardians, seeing them as an extension of Poseidon’s will. To some, allowing a child to become a Guardian is an immense honor, as it means their lineage will directly contribute to the protection of the sea’s future.

However, not all clans share this sentiment. Some believe the Guardians interfere too much in the natural order of strength and survival. Others resent their political influence, as they often prevent alliances formed through the capture of young heirs to secure power. To such groups, the Guardians are an inconvenient force, a reminder that not everything in the ocean can be ruled by brute power alone.

The Guardians in Action

The Guardians’ duties go beyond fighting external threats. They rescue kidnapped children, heal the wounded, teach younglings about the ocean, and, when necessary, deliver justice upon those who harm the Pearls. When a Guardian intervenes, their word carries undeniable weight—not as a representative of a clan or a king, but as a voice of the ocean’s balance itself.

This neutrality often makes them solitary figures. A Guardian may travel for years without ever settling in one place, as their duty constantly calls them elsewhere. However, despite the isolation, they find unshakable purpose in their mission: as long as there is a Pearl in danger, they will always answer the call.

[log-1n]

shout out to my student who asked me “ why do you dress like an old person“, also shout out to his classmate who told him “it’s because he is”

I love my job.

[thephysicsofmiracles]

It's been a tough couple of days. As wonderfully I was doing with my business collaboration and finance opportunities, I only just found out some news about my health that has me vexed and so uncertain. To top it all off, the people you would expect to support me are stretched themselves and making it seem as though my requests for minimal support are overbearing. After escaping domestic violence and having to move more times I can count, living with a sibling to escape who turfed me out of her house the moment she felt her online business might suffer from my staying with her interstate, and being unable to live with my son whom I miss every moment of the day, I find myself questioning my reality pretty much every day and doing all I can all day to support my mental as well as my physical health. My sense of self worth has really taken as massive hit, to say the least. It's times like these when I rely on my work the most; what I write, or, as I feel it is best described, what I channel. This piece was next in the queue to be posted today, and it couldn't be a more fitting reminder for me, really. That's how I know my message comes from the place beyond me, because it isn't something I am naturally inclined to believe, yet it comforts me with the deepest resonance of truth. It helps me know, that no matter how I am perceived, the whole of me has worth, full worth, regardless. And what others think, is really just the license they use to care less sometimes or to avoid looking deeper and consider how their responses (or lack thereof) contributed to preventable hurt and damage. ~ Chantal Eva

[anonymiss-puzzler]

Back to the Dark Ages: The Ingenious Plan to Defund Vaccine-Requiring Schools

Haha What The Fuck?! YCMTSU EP: Holy 💩 Welcome, dear reader, to an era where logic and science are just quaint relics of the past. Yes, that’s right—President Trump has taken us on a time-traveling adventure straight back to the Dark Ages! And what a bold move it is to cut federal funding for schools that dare to mandate COVID-19 vaccinations. Who needs educated, healthy children, anyway? Pish…

[lilyimmsim]

there's a girl at my school with no arm. she's much much younger, perhaps 11 or 12. this morning as i walked to class i watched as kids helped her across a flying fox on the school playground. they pushed her and stayed close behind her in case she fell. children are beautiful and there should always be room for them and their ideas in this crippling world