#Heated Swordsman Ares

[n41r]

I saw the tags on the last ask but EXCUSE ME, NINE of those Dark Matter things?!?!?! Isn't that way too much than needed, hello!? Culann really got it bad after being forced just one (I'm really sorry if I ended up referring him in a bad way- T^T), but why nine times the amount?! Ouch... My bad on it getting to me by a lot, but I like both Tanta and Ares because the former's my first monster to get while playing and the other being the one that kept me curious about the game itself.. Aaaaaa, I hadn't been keeping up lore wise other than from watching gameplays alone but the big bad of chapter 4 just gives me bad vibes all over him, I think Laphroaig or something was his name? I swear if the personal theory of mine on Laphoraig is wanting a blank replacement that's like him or worse if he himself is gone was the right guess, it's gonna be vengeance time- Hdhahahbdsj, please let Oreca Battle be updated soon so I can beat Laphoraig with Purgatory Emperor Ares in the team!

Aishhh... Um, l-let's try to put that away for a bit, at least something just for me to do. Speaking of Culann, do you have any headcanons you can share? Kinda curious on which hero he's obsessing over in his 4☆ form, with his 3☆ form is literaly the positive polar of a defensive tanker instead of going on offensive. What happens in that one frame though, where he's being held back with Balt at the corner?

Yup, nine pieces of those Dark Matters on his headpiece- And interestingly enough, it's only apparent on the second version of Purgatory Emperor Ares Which described in the JP Fanwiki, is when any traces of who he was as a passionate warrior have gone and replaced by the purgatory emperor persona

Also, your theory might have not been far off Because from the description on Phantom Laphroaig's JP fanwiki page, his intention to invade the kingdom persist even without physical form

And now, to answer some of your questions about Culann

I'll put it under the cut, because this answer might go so long because of the images-

When Culann was first corrupted by Dark Matter in Demizu Posuka's manga, his obsession was to get stronger And in that state of mind, turning into a hero is the method he knows of to get stronger

But since "Sign of a Brave Hero" rejected him, he went on a blind rampage-

And this is a piece of my own headcanon, but if the Dark Matter that's inside Culann were not destroyed in this fight, the hero he is going be obsessed to, without a doubt, is going to be Tanta-

But since his obsession started with wanting to be stronger and/or anything related to a hero, he might also go berserk if he were to encounter other warrior with Hero in their title, such as Kurt or the elemental warriors on their 4★ evolution This one is only my headcanon, tho-

Other than that, my other headcanon for Culann is that,

4★ Culann is much more expressive with his emotions, while 3★ Culann is much more reserved (This was influenced by my mutual's tweet who points out the difference in fighting style between 3★ Culann and 4★ Culann)

4★ Culann might randomly freeze in place and needed time to regain himself again (This is just me referencing his losing line, which is "What in the world am I?!")

This one is just my own personal HC, but I love to think that Culann have a strong fondness to sweets- And I like to think that this little quirk of his is one of what still remained while he is corrupted by Dark Matter-

[enzina301]

Okay so uhhh... I have finally get to class change Earth Warrior Rock to Terra Fighter Rock today at a new mall that have tha Oreca Battle machines, and it's New Chapter 2, which is essentially the in-game chapter where Rock is the main character!

Because of that! I have made a doodle of sorts (well, if it still can be called that) to celebrate the ocassion, with my two Oreca monsters starters being both Heated Swordsman Ares and Bubble Wizard Powan!!

Big thanks to my friend, @n41r for compiling info on some locations with functionable Oreca Battle machines with me and a lot more along the way! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Of course, it's a sketch on paper, but I hope you can enjoy the drawing regardless! (P.S. Sorry on the dark lighting if the drawing's hard to see-)

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

  You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?” 

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him. 

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him. 

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.” 

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.” 

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

 He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant. 

 “What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.” 

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously. 

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?” 

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[eraenaa]

Stereotypical (Demi-God AU)

Aemond, Son of Ares x Reader, Daughter of Aphrodite Tag List

Synopsis: The daughter of Aphrodite falls for one of the sons of Ares— the second coming of their parents. 

Warnings:  Mature, 18+, Dry Humping, Semi-Public Relations, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2, 720

It’s stereotypical, you were aware—a whole cliche. But what were you to do when you realized that you were growing attracted to one of the sons of your mother’s past paramours? It did not help that he was the strongest fighter in camp— the most mysterious and illusive Demi-God there. You watch him by the benches whilst you sit and chat with one of the daughters of the Goddess Demeter, Helaena. “You’re staring at him again,” She teased as her fingers twirled the stem of a dandelion whose buds she blew away. You rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze, denying the accusation. “Just speak to him; I’m sure he won’t be as standoffish as he seems.” Helaena hummed, but you shook your head. 

“What are you two talking about?” Aegon, the son of Dionysus, appeared, seemingly intoxicated, even though wine was banned from camp. “No— let me guess,” he quickly said. “I’m guessing… the brooding swordsman? Hm?” He asked you, and you felt color bloom on your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You groaned and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear in frustration. “I do not understand! They… usually fall at my feet, trying to get my attention! But not him,” You complained, making Aegon and Helaena smile in amusement at the expense of your irritation. “Whatever, I’m going for a walk,” You grumbled and stood, trying hard not to let your gaze fly over to Aemond, who trained with a sword. 

You find yourself in the woods, threading closer to the lake where you often stare at your reflection in the water. You took in a deep breath and stared at your face blessed by your mother— the prettiest girl in camp, they say. You attracted all sorts of attention, good and bad, but the only attention you wanted was never bestowed upon you. He denied you of his lone gaze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” You hear a voice ask. You sighed and cast your gaze upward, landing on Jacaerys, son of Hephaestus. “Hello, Jacaerys,” You say politely. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked, dark eyes hopeful. “I… I’d actually prefer to be alone right now,” You reasoned. Watching his face drop. You sigh; if only Aemond were this excited to be in your presence. “Oh,” Jacaerys said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ll see you at dinner, Jace,” You give him a fleeting smile, and you thank the gods that he actually took the hint and left. You returned to stare at yourself, trying to define which aspect you could improve upon, highlighting them in hopes that it would catch the attention of one of the sons of the God of War. 

“What are you doing?” A different voice asked, a reflection joining yours on the surface of the water. You yelped and backed away in surprise. “Gods, Aemond,” You said as he finally cast his eye upon you. “What were you doing?” He asked once again, leading out his hand to assist you to stand. “Staring at myself,” You mumbled, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he caught you. You hear him scoff, “Of course,” He said and let go of your hand that tingled from touching his. “Best you be reminded by the fate of Narcissus,” Aemond stated. You bit back your tongue; this is what you wanted. He was speaking to you— his attention on you, but now it came; why were you frozen as if you had gazed at Medusa? 

“Do you not have to train?” You asked Aemond as you perched yourself upon a log near the river banks. You watch him take a pebble into his fingers, skipping it on the water. “I’ve just finished,” he said and moved to take a seat next to you. You took your lower lip between your teeth as you felt your shoulders brush, the heat of him reaching you. “What do you think we’re doing here?” You suddenly ask as both of you stare off into the orange sun that reflects on the lake. “What do you mean? We’re here to train. We’re here for protection from the outside world.” Aemond stated the obvious, but you shook your head. “Train for what?” You asked, “A war.” 

“Is there one?” Your eyes locked upon his. “I… I just do not understand why I was brought here,” You confessed as you saw the confusion in his lilac orb. “They say the world of mortals was filled with danger— but mine wasn’t. I was living comfortably— I do not understand why my mother had summoned me if I am not to do anything here,” 

“The gods have a purpose in every action they make— even if we do not understand it,” You hummed at his statement. “Do you truly believe that?” Aemond looked at you with a question once more. “I just… feel like we’re pawns being played here— born to do their bidding. We make the sacrifices; they get the glory.  I just think that the minuscule scrap of recognition they throw is not at all  worth it.” You saw a smirk rising to his lips despite the seriousness you posed. “What?” Aemond shakes his head; you feel him inch his way closer to you. “My sister seems to think that you’re filled with air in that pretty little head of yours,” You blinked at his statement; should you be offended or flattered?

“And do you agree?” You ask, fearing for his statement. Aemond hummed, gazing at your face. It was the first time in your life that you felt insecure under someone’s gaze— the first time you felt fear that someone might not think you agreeable and comely. “I agree with her when she said that you were pretty… very pretty,” You bit your cheeks as his eyes flew to your blushed cheeks and then ever so quickly to your lips. “But, no, she was completely mistaken to underestimate you,” You feel your lips twitch, catching Aemond’s attention. You inch towards him, your desires swirling with your assumptions. Aemond stayed rooted where he sat; he did not lean in, nor did he pull away. When your nose brushed, you hear him take in a harsh breath. “We should head back,” he said and pulled away, leaving you confused and overly embarrassed and rejected. 

You were so close— you took the courage to move first. It was all Aemond wanted— all that he had dreamed of. All his offerings to the gods were for this moment, which was why he was greatly disappointed and infuriated with himself when he backed away and left like a coward. It was too much— it was so much more than he could handle. Ever since you’ve arrived at camp, all he did was try and keep your attention on him. He trained day and night, purposefully choosing grounds where you would pass by. He would relish with each moment that he would feel your gaze upon him. Watching intently as he would fight and show off his skill, hoping that it would impress you. Knowing that it was how his father had caught the attention of your mother. 

Aemond’s eye would fly to you during dinner, you sitting with your brothers and sisters. There was no smile on your lips, unlike the previous nights; you sat limply and played with your food, your cheek resting on your palm as a pout formed itself on your luscious lips. What had he done? How could he subject the most beautiful girl his eye has ever seen to such a sullen state? Aemond dug his nails into his palms. You were the daughter of beauty and love, and he was the son of war and strife. He did not deserve anything so precious and delicate as you. He could only offer you ruin and struggle. The thought of bringing you conflict only fortified his decision to back away. To instead protect you from afar— to relinquish his desires to be with you, to hold you, kidding himself that gazing at you was enough. That simply looking at you had to be enough. 

Days passed as both you and Aemond avoided each other. You, embarrassed by your wanting actions and him, controlling himself from giving in to his desires. You no longer watched as he would impressively train with the sword, and he would no longer silently trail you wherever you went. Aemond only picked specific moments to follow you and made certain that no danger would find you— even though the two of you were in the safety of camp where no danger could reach, Aemond was just simply cautious. 

You traded the lake for the beach. Walking alone on the sanded path, the moonlight shining bright atop the water. Your mind consistently loops your foolish actions, making you cringe at yourself. You called for your mother the other night, trying to find guidance or perhaps comfort, as rejection did not sit well with you. The thought of someone not falling for your charms when everyone so easily did, scared you. She ignored your offerings and pleas, leaving you to face your confusion and fears by yourself, only solidifying your beliefs that you and all the children in this camp were simply pawns by the gods. Expected to answer their call when it first rings whilst they constantly ignore yours.

You sighed heavily, staring off into the sea where your mother was born. Stepping foot into the water, you tried to connect with the woman who disrupted your peaceful, mortal life only to bring you here and ignore you. You took deep breaths, walking deeper into the water, not caring that you were still clothed as you submerged yourself in the sea. Aemond watched by the shore, battling with himself if he should follow. When you disappeared under the water, with each passing second, you did not emerge; it only put forth fear in the bravest demi-god in camp. 

Aemond shook his head and ran to the sea, diving to where you disappeared only to catch you resurface, shocked as you realized his presence had joined you. “Aemond,” You breathed out, wiping away the salt water from your eyes, the boy holding your arm, the waves pushing him closer to you. “What… what were you doing?” He asked, concern lacing his deep, silky voice. “I wanted to swim,” You reasoned, hoping that the water would clean you from embarrassment and shame. You feel his eye grow downward, looking at the clothes you fashioned. “In your night dress?” He asked, the silk fabric thin, the cool water clinging to your body. “It was a spontaneous decision,” You mumbled, your gaze shifting away from him as your cheeks heated. The both of you floating in the sea. 

“Why are you here?” you asked, realizing that he had gone in the water, fully clothed as well. You met his eye, the sapphire orb shifting around. His thin, pink lips parted as he tried to find a reason. “I… I—“ You bit your lip, as you had never seen him so flustered. The most fearsome son of Ares is at a loss for words when faced with the prettiest daughter of Aphrodite. 

Aemond stayed silent, only the crashing of waves reaching your ears. It took a while for the both of you to realize that you floated in each other’s arms— the past events of the other day returning to your mind, both making you conscious. “I’m sorry about the other day,” You whispered as you saw it best to address your actions in order for the both of you to forget it and your mind to free you from the torment of your idiotic presumption. “It was wrong for me to assume… I have misread your intentions and made you uncomfortable; I apologize.” You say sincerely. 

You hear Aemond sigh, the waves pushing your bodies closer together, his breath fanning your face, your scent invading his senses. “You did not misread anything,” He admitted. Making your brows furrow. “I… I wanted you to kiss me, wished for it for a while now.” He confessed with a small smile, trying to lighten the tense air with his rare but charming smile. “Oh,” was all you could say as you tried to comprehend his words. “Then why… “ you trailed as you had trouble wording out what had transpired in the lake. Aemond sighed, and you stilled as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, flushing your bodies together as the both of you floated. The moonlight lighted your face, illuminating his silver hair as well as your milky skin. “I got scared,” He admitted, daring to cup your cheek. Your skin was soft against his calloused palm. 

“You? Got scared? The favored son of the god of war got scared by the prospect of a kiss?” You asked in confusion, resting your hands on his shoulders. You hear him let out a small chuckle. “I was only frightened because it was you who I would be kissing,” He stated, caressing your cheek. “The most beautiful girl I was ever blessed to see… now, I hope you’d understand why I panicked,” Aemond smiled as the blush on your cheeks deepened. You set your gaze downward, staring at the water that sparkled under the silver light. Your heart stilled when you felt Aemond place a finger under your chin to raise your gaze once more, finally having the courage to place his lips against yours. 

Aemond wanted to be slow and cautious, to not frighten or pressure you to succumb to all his desires. But as a sigh left your throat when your lips finally met, all restraint he had disappeared. Pulling you impossibly closer to him, making you wrap your legs around him, letting your arms cling to him. Deepening your kiss, his tongue asked for entrance, which you were hesitant to give but relished the feeling when you did. Aemond’s chest rumbled with a sound as you accidentally nipped his lip, enjoying your mistake that only fueled his desires further. 

You pulled away from him, suddenly feeling cautious as the both of you were being so intimate in such an open space where anyone could see. You tried to speak reason, to speak caution that the both of you may be caught, but as Aemond placed his lips on your neck, kissing it and leaving his marks, you no longer had the capacity to speak. Pleasure freezing your mind at the new sensation. Aemond hummed as he heard your heavy breathing, your sweet taste mixing with the salted water as he indulged in the feel of your skin. Aemond closed his eye tightly as you, who had your legs wrapped around his torso started to move your hips. Squirming as you felt urgency for something you were yet to know consuming you. 

Aemond’s hand moved downwards from your waist to your bottom, cupping them and aiding your movements that sought for friction. You let go of a shaky breath against his lips, your eyes looking deeply at his sapphire eye that turned dark and glazed with deeper desires and restraint. “Aemond,” You whimpered, filled with anticipation of what was to come. You ground your hips further, making him utter a foul word and turn his head to the heavens. Aemond moved one hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer to kiss your lips once more. “I… I— Aemond,” was all you could utter as you were uncertain what the sensation was building inside you. It was sharp and urgent and pleasurable— an odd mix. “Are you to come, my pretty girl? Hm?” Aemond gritted as his hips met yours. He bent his head down and placed a kiss atop your chest; his head felt light at the whimpers of his name that your mouth spewed. 

“Aemond!” You shrieked as all finally fell, your body feeling alight as you came at the sensation of riding against the boy you had desired for long. Aemond gritted out your name as he, too, came, spilling himself in his trousers. You hummed as he kissed you again, tasting him and the sea that was witness to your desires and pleasures being fed. 

Sequel: Jealousy, Jealousy

[livlaughloveluke]

hi! could u do something with luke castellan x daughter of hades!reader? maybe something abt them training together?

ᡣ𐭩 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂

daughter of hades! reader x luke castellan 🪦

IN WHICH.. two competitive rivals are placed in the same arena for an intense sword fight.. what could go wrong?

warning! this fic contains- daddy issues ! // readers lowkey a bitch but for a reason // hades is also a bitch // swearing

[a/n]- is this cliche? maybe. do i care? no.

update: oh my gosh its been months but looking back on this i realized i did ares instead of hades 😭

i fixed it though!!

🎧- why i love you by kanye west

1.7k

The harsh sun beat down on Camp Half-Blood, creating an unwanted stench of sweat and a wave of exhausted campers. Its fiery touch left a red glow on the paler campers and the overheating of others. The heatwaves of mid-June had been expected, but that didn’t mean it hurt less to spend hours outside.

The flowers crisped up, and the lake overflowed with mucky children. Apollo’s choice of weather even caused Chiron to cancel activities, the infirmary becoming overcrowded with patients who had passed out from the unbearable temperatures.

However, while most campers and counselors enjoyed the cooling, fresh water, one remained absent from the day off. Leader of Hades Cabin, you have been missing all day. Everyone shrugged it off, the heat leaving them in a fatigued daze that removed all efforts to find you.

Instead of shedding your clothes and going for a swim, you took this moment to train in the amphitheater. Your camp shirt clung to your dewy skin as you swung your sword at a practice dummy. The unbearable sun only added to your determination.

‘Why would someone torture themselves by working in the dog days of summer?’ You may be asking. The answer was quite simple, really. Luke Castellan.

Camp liked to refer to him as ‘The Golden Boy’ for his friendly attitude and seemingly charming personality. He was the greatest swordsman to roam the property in three hundred years; his skills with the weapon were almost unmatchable.

Almost. 

You were first in the fighting industry for a while, until Luke decided to stumble in. You watched from afar as his fourteen-year-old self picked up the blade, slicing his opponents with ease. Your blood boiled upon seeing the sight, anger flooding your brain at his effortless talents. 

You had dedicated your whole camp experience to sword fighting, and now you were watching everything crumple with the arrival of a lousy new camper. Although your skills were displayed when you defeated him as a young teenager, he's improved since then. 

And that’s the reason he conquered you in battle a few months ago. It sent you into a fit of rage, a typical reaction for the children of Hades. Campers watched as you stomped away from the arena, breathing heavy as you carelessly tossed your armor onto the sandy floor.

What you hid from the crowd were the tears shedded into your pillow later that night. A mix of hatred towards Luke and disappointment bestowed upon yourself caused salty droplets to stream down your cheeks and into the fabric of your pillow. What would your father think of such a failure?

Ever since then, there has been none-stop resentment directed at the Hermes boy from you. Despite the fact that arguments were mainly caused by you, your interactions often left you pissed. But how were you supposed to ignore the way he constantly cracked his knuckles or the way he was always late to training who Chiron assigned you and Luke to lead?

While everyone was enjoying themselves and relaxing for the day, including Luke, you took it as a gift from the gods. No people in the arena meant a perfect solo training session, with no kids whispering in your ears about your loss to the counselor.

So here you were, sweating under 30 pounds of heavy armor and sticky clothes, working on your stance. Unfortunately for you, Luke had noticed your absence, and after asking around a little, he headed to find you. 

He came up empty-handed upon searching your cabin, then the fields, then the forges. Running out of hope and patience, he trudged along to the amphitheater. And there you were, looking heavenly as you swung your blade at a fake person. 

He saw as you furrowed your brows in frustration at every flaw you performed. You were so harsh on yourself, grunting in anger at nearly anything. He could tell you had been outside for a while by the way salty sweat dripped down your forehead. 

“You know training was canceled today, right?” He alerted you, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“Yeah. Thanks, Castellan. You can go now.” You glanced over at him before turning back to continue your practice. All you wanted was a little peace, and with Luke here, you were sure to lash out. 

“Why are you out here then?” He persisted, ignoring your comment about leaving. You let out a heavy sigh, and this conversation became a large distraction.

“So I can practice. By myself.” You respond, not breaking to glare at him. For a moment, you thought he had left based on the silence in the arena. However, a few seconds later, he chirped back in.

“Go against me?” He offered, catching you off guard. You immediately turned to him, confused and slightly mad due to his presence.

“What?”

“Redeem your title of number one sword fighter. Without the pressure of anyone watching.” He said, sweetly smiling at you. You rolled your eyes, although in reality, this deal didn’t seem so upsetting. 

“Fine.” 

He perked up after hearing your approval, lightly jogging to the equipment station with a pep in his step. He strapped on all of the metal gear and grabbed his signature sword.

You watched as he walked back, slightly bouncing with joy. You fought back a smile while witnessing his positive energy, trying to keep up your usual hatred towards him. 

The sight of his sword snapped you back to reality, and you cracked your knuckles while narrowing your eyes. His small grin made it really difficult to remain tough, but you put in a large effort to remain unfazed.

You both got into the starting position, staring at him with a fierce gaze. He remained calm, holding his sword up. Time seemed to stand still as you both waited for someone to make the first move. Originally, your plan was to play defense, with a perfect strategy to ensure your win. 

But your dreams fell apart the moment he sent you a smug smile, rage distracting you and sending you lunging forward. You sliced at his arm, clashing with the steel of his armor. He easily rebutted, nicking your thigh with his blade. The seeping red dripping down your leg caused a gasp of shock from you; your normal skills were slightly fractured due to his sudden offense.

You were able to mainly recover, your moves converting into some with rhythm and precision. Until he began to swipe with such power, one move sent you stumbling to the floor. As he held the blade to your throat, signaling your defeat, you muttered out a quick “I surrender” and slid the cold metal off. 

He retracted his weapon, offering you a hand to help lift you. You fiddled with your breast plate before sliding it off and chucking it onto the dusty ground, trying to blink away the water forming in your eyes. 

“I hate you, Castellan!” You yelled, your voice shaky, as you picked yourself up and stormed off. Unable to control your emotions, tears began to flood down your face. Your skin felt hot, partly irritated by the beaming sun, and partly flushed with embarrassment from your sobs.

Luke rushed behind you as you trailed to a secluded spot behind the building, throwing his gear down. When he finally caught up, you were sitting against the wall, your head buried between your arms as you weeped.

“Hey, hey. Are you okay?” He comforted you, watching your back rise and fall unsteadily, matching the pace of your breaths. 

“Go away. Please. And don’t tell anyone you saw me.” You mumbled, not bothering to look up. He slid down next to you, sitting on the sharp sticks and dirty floor.

“Why are you so bothered by losing? I promise you, the world won’t end because you lost one lousy match.” He whispered. 

“You don’t know my dad. I’m lucky he’s forgiven me for my last loss.” You replied, messily inhaling through tears. Your dad expected so much of you, constantly reminding you of your mistakes instead of your accomplishments.

“Forgiven you? For what? You did nothing to him.” He mentioned it, and you rolled your eyes. Why were you even conversing with your enemy? Maybe he wanted dirt on you—something new to make fun of you for. 

“Never mind. You don’t get it.” You said, voice still muffled as you spoke into your arm.

“Cmon, tell me.” He insisted.

“Forgive me for being such a disappointment.” You responded, going silent after. You felt his judgmental stare and realized you shouldn't have said anything, now awaiting a snarky comment about your confession. Instead, you ended up surprised by his next words. 

“Don’t say that. Your dedication is amazing. He’s just a god who only sees your mistakes. Don’t let that define you.”

His hand rested on your back, drawing shapes on your skin. Raising your head, your eyes met his. It was then that you realized how one-sided your feelings were. How he never started any arguments with you, or how he was the only one who noticed you were gone from the lake and set out to find you. 

Not to mention, he was cute. Really cute. His brown curls draped over his forehead, and his dark orbs stared into yours with such passion. It's like he put a spell on you; the moment you made eye contact, you felt the need to apologize. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so awful to you all these years, and for-" Luke cut off your rambling.

“All is forgiven. You know, you don’t have to be what they want you to be. You don’t have to hide your tears.” His sweet and genuine words caused you to grin for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Or your smile, either. You’re gorgeous.” He finished. The both of you silently leaned in until your faces were only centimeters apart.

“Can I..” He whispered.

“Please.” You responded, lifting up your hand to bring his head closer. He cusped your cheek, and within moments, his lips were on yours. Fireworks erupted in your stomach as you kissed for the first time, his dry lips getting coated in your spit. He pulled away, not wanting to creep you out so soon. 

"Would you want to, uh, maybe go out with me?" Luke whispered, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

"I'd like that."

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[blackholesun321]

New One Piece AU dropped focusing around Zoro and Mihawk! You shall be subjected to it.

TW: Long Ask

Okay, so basically, this au has a long title but I dubbed it Child of the Sword. It started off with Zoro being able to see the spirits of the swords since in One Piece, swords are sentient and are possessed in a way. Only Zoro can see these spirits and talks to them all the time. At first, he didn't realize others couldn't see them. My friend and I played around with this a lot, and now's it's developed into a whole thing.

When Kuina died, Zoro's anger and grief erupted and Zoro discovered he was the incarnation of the Ancient Weapon: Ares. Created by the war god Asura. The sensei makes Zoro swear to never use his power in public unless it was life or death. Zoro goes on to see Kuina's spirit tied to Wado Ichimonji. During the shells town arc, Morgan is extra cruel bc he is Morgan, and when Zoro is tied in the courtyard he has the swordsman whipped on the back, marring and littering Zoro's back with scars. Zoro's honor is in shambles when Luffy shows up and helps him. During Baratie, Zoro fights Mihawk and loses, ending up with the scar on his chest. After Zoro promises to never fail, he whipsers "Finally a worthy scar" and Mihawk overhears. Mihawk almost noted how Zoro always seemed to be looking at things that aren't there.

So naturally, the warlord decides to kidnap Zoro instead of Luffy (yes I am mashing up OPLA and the anime, fight me). The Straw hats go on the free Nami from Arlong then make plans to get Zoro back from Mihawk. Zoro is less than pleased to be kidnapped by the strongest swordsman. Mihawk brings Zoro with him to meet with Shanks about Luffy's bounty poster and Shanks convinces Mihawk to give Zoro back to the Straw Hats, but before that happens, Mihawk and Zoro end up talking about Zoro's special abilities. Mihawk comes to the realization of what Zoro is and keeps it to himself.

During the two year time skip, Zoro reunites with Mihawk (even though he never stopped talking with the warlord after being dropped off ((begrudgingly)) at lougetown). Mihawk trains Zoro in the way of the sword AND helps him to realize his full potential.

This is all I have for now, but I have ideas for Dressrosa and Wano. :D

FUCK YEAH ASKS AGAIN! I’ve been ignoring the rest of my wings au ask gotta go finish those up lol just kinda sitting in my drafts. Anyways.

Oh fuck yeah again! I love the guy can see spirits no one else can mixed with reincarnation trope my little Bleach nerd heart is swooning.

But yesss constantly talking to air and technically he doesn’t need to but the swords haven’t told him that because it’s funny. And he’s just this ball of angst plus weirdo probably crazy guy who talks to his swords— so he’d be even more ostracized then in canon yeah the mentality Ill are stigmatized and treated poorly in all universes. Expect he not mentally ill I mean if we don’t count the Kuina trauma ™️ probably which is what gives Ironjaw the gaul and to whip him as well as tie him up to suffer dehydration and probably heat stroke so fun.

Maybe Kuina tags along in the form of wado-ichumongi? Maybe he can talk to her sometimes? Idk I just want him to be constantly fighting and loosing to a preteen girl that lives in his sword, I think that would be funny.

Mihawk please! Mihawk that’s kidnapping! Mihawk you’ve kidnapped a child. Because of course he has and did because Zoro=interesting equals if I leave him alone he could die and with the looks of his crew probably will die. Ugh guess I have to steal him.

You know he shows up at that beach eyeliner on, lip gloss applied and cunting it up to shore and with Zoro trying to stab him every other step. Shanks is very worried and weirded out. But also laughs his ass off because of course this is how Mihawk acquires a kid. But also he’s like Mihawk seriously no bad we don’t kidnap… Whitebeards the exception not the rule!

[fang-wolfsbane]

Devil May Cry: Twist: Chapter 13: That’s A Wrap

As it turned out, the Fury hadn’t been the only one present during the day. As the old saying in the underworld went, ‘if you see one Fury, a dozen more of those sons of bitches are right around the corner’.

Whoever had quoted that, had definitely not been wrong. Dante had been kind enough to ensure that the twins were well aware of that.

While the Furies themselves were relatively weak enough that all it took was a direct swing from Ares’s sword, a generous handful of those were enough of a pain in the ass that Aspasia had to jump in after a while.

Even with his capability as a swordsman, even Ares could be overwhelmed with enough numbers pitted against him. Hell, even Dante himself had jumped in after rescuing a human boy that had stood on the side lines and watched, simply stood by and watched, while they battled the demons desperate for their next meal.

She had a good mind to try and find the boy afterwards to give him a good smack upside the head. If he had been in the underworld, he would have been expected to deal with the Furies on his own, and if he failed, well… there was a reason graveyards existed, especially in the demon realm.

The best part of all? The boy had known that he was in no shape or form capable of defending himself in case the demons decided to attack, and yet he had stood – just stood – there like he had gotten a front row seat to the Roman coliseum.

Oh how she wished it had been the coliseum. She still remembered her mother telling her and Ares about the times she attended and watched both humans and demons tear each other to shreds. It had sounded like nothing less than a dream come true at the time. In fact, Mundus had approved so much of the human pastime that he had it instated in their own realm, except theirs lacked the basic human element: humans.

Not that she cared all that much. Watching her own kind tear each other to shreds suited her just fine. She supposed that was why she wasn’t against the thought of joining Sparda’s kin in defending humanity.

She couldn’t give two shits about the species, but the thought of fighting powerful beings, that was enough to heat her blood. Whether Ares had caught onto that or not, she didn’t know, but that was his own prerogative. She wasn’t going to force him to join her. He was old and informed enough to choose for himself.

Though after he had gutted a Fury through its stomach, she was almost certain that he wasn’t going to make up his mind anytime soon. On their way back to the base building, he hadn’t said so much as a peep, only sparing glares at humans curious enough to cast weary glances at his bloody appearance.

She had barely been able to contain her laughter when she caught sight of him after snapping a Fury’s neck from behind with pure arm strength. She would have taken the opportunity if Ares hadn’t thrust his sword past her ear and into a sneaky Fury’s forehead. That alone had spared him her teasing. For now anyway.

None of them spoke a word to each other until the front door opened with the glasses-wearing human nearly tumbling right out.

“Ah! There you are!” The grin that was on her face upon catching sight of them quickly retreated into a grimace and a pinched nose. “Ugh! What happened to you guys? Did you decide to have a intestine feast or somethin’?”

“More like a Fury feast,” Dante informed her as he stepped past Ares with a snarky smirk, earning a glower in return for his comment. If they had been younger, she would have warned the demon hunter about possibly waking up with a bucket of demon intestines at his bedside in the morning. There was only one problem with that prank, they couldn’t afford upsetting their landlord.

“Ew. No wonder y’all smell like shit,” Nico continued, stepping to the side as she waved her hand in front of her face as if that would somehow quell the stench. Not that she blamed her. She was close to asking someone to break her nose just so that she didn’t have to smell the rotting blood.

“To hell with all of you,” Ares muttered as they all gave him a wide berth on his way to the bathroom upstairs to try and alleviate the nausea his face showed. Even the strongest stomach couldn’t handle a stench that foul. No wonder lesser demons avoided eating the Furies if they had a choice in their next lunch.

“Just don’t clog anythin’!” Nico shouted after him, only to receive a raised finger in return, that she shot right back with both hands. “Yeah, you too buddy!”

Shaking his head, Dante headed towards the wooden desk that occupied his ‘office space’ and shot his legs right on it. “Right, I’d say that was pretty good for the first day on the job. What do you say we get some pizza to celebrate?”

“Not it!” Nico said almost faster than Dante’s own words left his mouth. Aspasia followed suit directly after. Dante shot them both a frown just before Nero and Kyrie joined them.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” Nero was stupid enough to ask.

A smirk crossed his lips as Dante held his hand up as well. “Not it.”

Kyrie quickly followed suit just before Nero caught on to what he had just walked in on. His frown spoke before his mouth did. “Shit.”

Devil May Cry, Dante, Mundus, Sparda, Nicoletta Goldstein, Nero and Kyrie © Capcom Twist, Ares Sanguinem and Aspasia Sanguinem © Fang Wolfsbane

[pseudofaux]

No one has asked tor sirius? let me be the first! can we get sirius using a riding crop on mc please? 😌

PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

“Arms crossed,” he reminds her, not unkindly. Sirius is always at his sweetest when she is brave before pain. He is only sweeter when he’s taking care of her afterwards, his low voice full of praise as he recounts her efforts.

It’s what makes it worth it, honestly. That and the fact that she likes the pain. She settles her wrists one on top of the other over her head. His bed is so long they land short of the pillows, falling onto the clean cotton of his sheets. He always dries them in the sun instead of using magic crystals for the sundry task like so many others do. Sirius cares for and makes his bed like a military man, which explains why the blanket below her back is pulled so perfectly taut.

It won’t stay that way. She knows better. He does, too, that’s why he made the bed so neatly. Maybe a man might like to see how badly you mess it up, little lady. His voice had been so smooth and deep when he said that she nearly feel off her own feet. His dark chuckle when he saw her swaying made his hand at the small of her back a very necessary thing. She was glad for it all.

“Ready?” He asks. He always checks.

She dips her head as politely as she can while laying on her back. She tries to make it elegant, because his maturity always makes her want to meet him there. “Please,” she says.

He acknowledges her with a thoughtful sound and presses the tip of the new crop against her hems. Sirius asked her to pull her skirts up to her thighs—he always does, there’s something specific about that he enjoys— but of course he’ll need more room than that, so he uses the stiff black tongue at the end of the crop to slowly lift her skirt and settle it on her belly. She can feel the stitched black leaf stroking her skin as he sets the skirt down and pulls the crop out from underneath. The tongue of this new one is so beautiful, silver and purple threads making the black look impossibly deep. The way he sometimes makes his whippings feel.

“Right, then,” he says, all warmth and business, and immediately smacks her lightly, high on her legs. Little wake up slaps to get her good and ready for what’s to come. She loves him for it. No one has ever given her pain with such care. She waits as demurely as she can manage.

The first real hit is on her left thigh, and she can feel the shape of the tip of the leaf and a shower of sparks behind her eyes that surely must have fled or danced off the pain, which is hot as liquid metal. And then it has a twin, crisp and cold as a winter bruise, when he slaps her right thigh. She is breathing through her mouth as though that will pull more of this sensation into her body. Her eyes slowly open and he’s breathing through his mouth, too, the dear man.

“How was that?” he asks, voice as hot as liquid metal. His tone is nearly flat and she knows that’s because he’s trying to keep his excitement under wraps. The devil is in her today and won’t let that stand, so she shifts her thighs against one another, pressing the edges of the new marks together, sighs dreamily, and murmurs “Wonderful.” And then through her low-lidded eyes she watches his go wide.

Maybe the devil is in him, too, because he presses the black leaf to the seam of her legs. Just south of the gusset of her panties, so close she feels how it gently grazes her through them and she shudders. Then she parts for him immediately. Sirius mutters “‘Wonderful’, hmm?” and zigzags the tip of the crop between her legs. Wider, that means. Wider she opens. Usually he hits up and down the fronts of her thighs, making patterns he will match at different times (he always gives her the most beautiful marks, and never gives them to her in a pattern she can anticipate, putting her wholly at his whim, exactly where she wants to be). Only then does he has her open for the delicious whipping of her sensitive inner thighs before he turns her over and fucks her abraded skin and mewling mouth into the tumble she’s made of his wool blanket.

But she’s always game to follow his lead at something different. He takes them such wonderful places together, after all. And his bed is so very big and everything on it so freshly laundered.

“Spell ‘wonderful’ for me, Alice,” he says quietly. She nods as though she is curtsying, even though her hands remain above her head, wrists crossed with no restraint. She did tease him, but she’s a good girl.

Just above the inside of her right knee, lightning lands and makes her w more gasp than exhalation.

Two quick smacks high on the left, very high. Her o comes out naturally, though perhaps it is also very high.

Sirius touches the tip of the crop gently against her right thigh again, just as high as he was on the left but so much more gently, the touch is like a fingertip. And indeed, he strokes it all the way down, slow and even, and she catches on and holds her n in the air until he punctuates it with a very sharp hit just above his first mark of this game, and it’s perfect pain, shimmering and oozing and hot, and she sobs with gratitude.

“More letters in that word,” he prompts, but he makes it sound like praise and she starts shaking from the thrill coursing through her entire body, and from her thankfulness for his care and encouragement.

Sirius lets her breathe out the d without any distraction, and an “I love you,” slips out of her instead. He smiles and leans over her to give her a quick kiss, which stills her comfortably.

“You look beautiful,” he says. The praise is warmer than liquid metal. It turns the tingly excitement in her to a more settled bliss. She knows it is still all disorder inside her skin, but the feeling is pleasant, less out of control. Even if she does get out of control, Sirius is right here.

She makes her e clear and slow, slow enough that he can get in a swat. He does, in the vulnerable middle of her left thigh. Both her legs jerk from it.

Need. She has so much need. He does not make her wait. He gently grinds the tip of the crop into her right thigh and murmurs “Right here.” She nods and the r becomes an “ar-uh!” when he quickly straightens himself and brings the tip back down, flat and with great force. He looked like a swordsman and she is sweating like a damsel deep in the mist blissful distress.

He lets her pant for a moment and strokes her legs with comfortable touch. Surely he feels the heat he’s made. She knows he knows it is there. It’s probably why he ignores it for now.

“I liked how you held the e,” he says. “Do that again with the next one. And eyes on the ceiling, Alice, don’t make me remind you again.”

It feels like she holds the f for a long time, but when he does bring the crop down it’s on her belly, and there is more breath than she thought she had left to go out of her in a hiss. It wasn’t a sharp hit but it was unexpected and heavens, does it concentrate the way her panties rest against her, squishy and wet.

Her u is so pathetic she can feel the way he stops in midair. She clears her throat and apologizes. In her head she makes it right, I-love—

“You,” Sirius says over her letter, and brings the crop down on her mons. The cotton over her is a pillow that absorbs the smack. But not all of it. Still, her groan is from knowing what comes next—or so she dearly hopes— than from the hit itself.

“Wait on the next one for a moment,” he tells her, and gives her a series of lashes on the tops of her thighs, shifting the heat again, putting her closer to where they usually go.

“That’s better,” Sirius says warmly. “What comes next?”

“L,” she whispers.

“That’s right,” he says. “Look at me, Alice.”

His face is flushed and smiling. He’s the picture of good health and humor, and he makes her want to launch herself into his arms and cling to him, but she stays put and waits for what he’ll say or do.

“How do you feel?” he asks. As though he doesn’t know.

“Wonderful,” she says honestly. “And agitated.”

He laughs and leans down to kiss her forehead. “Do you want to take these,” he whispers, poking her slit directly with the crop so she gasps under his chin “Off, or leave them on?”

“I want you to take them off,” she breathes. She’s allowed to be honest, he always wants her to be honest. “When you want to,” she adds.

His hum is so low it rumbles and she can feel how soaked she already is by the way more arousal slips out of her at the sound. “Wear them just a little longer, then,” he murmurs, and stands back up.

Sirius clears his throat into his fist. “Eyes,” he reminds her, and hers zip back to the ceiling. “Last letter?” he asks.

The crop comes down with perfect force on the wet cotton before she even says her l, so it is a song coming out of her, her need sharper than the slap, hot enough to stop an entire winter. Her hands grip one another so tightly she can feel her arms trembling.

He’s slipping her panties off her hips with careful hands. She nearly asks where the crop is before she realizes how impertinent that would be, and how grateful she is to feel his gloves. The air of the room feels so very cool on her heated flesh; his touch stabilizes her as he drags the sodden fabric off her legs, and it keeps her from feeling lost.

“Very good,” he tells her. The words are somewhat tense and she dares to allow her eyes to drift to him. He catches her doing it, of course, and smiles from behind the glove he’s just pulled off with his teeth. “That’s not so good, but I’ll allow it,” he drawls, tossing it behind him. “I’d say you’ve still earned a reward.”

He sits beside her on the bed and she babbles out overexcited thanks until he kisses her and slips his tongue into her mouth and two fingers into her sex, and then she is not sure she could spell if her life depended on it.

Thankfully he doesn’t ask her to.

[theycallmepspshh]

My analysis of the overachievers of the greek pantheon (with reasons)

Athena: Nerd (60%) + Jock (40%)

- goddess of wisdom

- Invented numbers, double flute, plough, rake

- goddess of weaving and decorative arts

- goddess of war strategy

- invented war chariots and war ships

- has beat Ares' ass multiple times

Apollo: Nerd (50%) + Jock (50%)

- god of knowledge, arts and healing

- god of city founding (that is basically engineering)

- patron of philosophy

- inventor of alphabets (along with Hermes) and string music

- inventor & god of archery, patron of boxing, also a good swordsman

- in Olympic games he defeated Ares in wrestling and outran Hermes

- killed the tyrant Phorbas in boxing match

- intervened in a heated duel between Ares and Athena and stopped them.

Hermes: Nerd (30%) + Jock (70%)

- invented wrestling

- patron of gymnasiums

- defeated Ares in a wrestling match while fighting over for a lady

- inventor of letters (along with Apollo) and the lyre

- patron of astronomy

[brokenbow]

t a g   m e m e

NAME: Apollo || Lester Papadopoulos  NICKNAME:    AGE: 4,614 years old SPECIES: theoi

PERSONAL.

MORALITY:   neutral good RELIGION:   SINS:   greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES:   / patience / justice / mind opened / sincerity / loyalty/ kindness KNOWN LANGUAGES:   Greek, Latin, Italian, English

PHYSICAL.

BUILD: scrawny / bony / slender / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / pudgy / average HEIGHT:   6′2 || 5′3 SCARS:   Bite marks on his left bicep from the fight with Python. Small scar right over his heart from when he stabbed himself. Pale burn marks from the lava shackles when Medea started to flay him. ABILITIES  /  POWERS:  

Battle Prowess: Apollo has great superhuman strength and combat skills, and the Homeric hymns also described that no ropes could bind him. During the very first Olympic games (which were for the gods), he defeated Ares in boxing and outran Hermes. 

Archery: 

Swordsmanship: Given Homer's description him as "Apollo of the Golden Sword", Apollo is an expert swordsman. 

Musical Ability:

Audiokinesis: As shown in The Blood of Olympus, Apollo's son, Will Solace, could make a sharp ultrasonic whistle-like sound that can temporarily stun his opponents, making them clutch their ears in confusion, so Apollo himself most likely has this ability as well.

Heliokinesis: As the God of the Sun, Apollo has absolute control and divine authority over sun

Photokinesis: As the God of the Sun and Light, Apollo has absolute control over sunlight

Pyrokinesis: As the God of the Sun, Apollo has absolute control and divine authority over the flames of his Sun Chariot. However, this power of his is inferior to that of Hephaestus, the God of Fire, and Helios , the original driver of the Sun Chariot and Titan of the Sun. 

Sunlight Rays: As his twin sister could create shots of moonlight, it is probable that he can generate rays of sunlight.

Fire Immunity: Apollo is completely immune to any amount of fire and heat

Supernatural Sight

.Vitakinesis: As the God of Healing and Medicine, Apollo could manipulate and modify a person's anatomy, as well as restore the injured to full health. 

Enhanced Healing

Disease Manipulation:

Prophecy:

Madness (limited): 

Truth Sense:

Couplets Curse: 

Flight: 

Invisibility: 

Hypnokinesis (limited):

Shapeshifting: 

Granting Powers: Apollo had the ability to grant the gifts of longevity and naiad-hood to whomever he desired - he transformed his lover, Cyrene, into a naiad with a very long lifespan. He also, like all gods, has the power to create new gods however this comes at a price. For every god he creates he loses a piece of his own power as seen with Hemithea and her sister. This creates very minor gods bestowed with only a tiny fraction of actual powers. The stronger he makes them, the weaker he becomes.

Teleportation: 

Cloud Transformation: 

RESTRICTIONS:   As Lester, Apollo does not have access to his powers, and actually seems to be losing them the longer he’s in this form.

FAVORITES.

FOOD:   bacon PIZZA TOPPING:  bacon COLOUR:  light blue or gold MUSIC GENRE:   ALL MOVIE GENRE:   Comedy CURSE WORD:     SCENTS: hyacinthus, though it makes him cry

FUN STUFF.

BOTTOM OR TOP:   switch, prefers to top SINGS IN THE SHOWER:  Always LIKES PUNS: yes

tagged by: @goddessofbirth tagging: 

[n41r]

Still thinking about the roommate situation