#Sons of hestia

[24kmar]

𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙃𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚/𝐕𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚

Men who show fatherly, caring and protective traits. They don’t like straying far from home, or they can make anywhere feel like home for their family. The backbone of their group/family/team. They give good advice and make others feel safe. 

𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔

𝐸𝑑𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑘

𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑒 𝐶𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛

𝑅𝑒𝑚𝑢𝑠 𝐿𝑢𝑝𝑖𝑛

𝐽𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟

𝑆𝑖𝑟 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙

𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑑

𝐴𝑙𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑃𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ

𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡

[happyk44]

PJO: we need to recognize the value of the minor gods. The Olympians are important, sure, but the minor gods do a lot of work in maintaining and assisting the pantheon, have their own kids and deserve to be seen and valued just as much

HoO: Back at it again with Olympian-only nonsense!

[caduschka]

So I've been wondering and I'd really appreciate some other thoughts on that matter.

Are COTT Hera and Zeus only married or also related?

Hera never makes any reference to Cronus as her father or vice versa. I know it's probably done so that they don't have to confirm anything either way. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

[freetobeeyouandme]

just finished rereading the pjo books and I'm going to need a couple business days to process this like...your telling me what saved the world was his little sister looking up at him and telling him he promised her they were family. His little sister looked up at him, bloodied and broken and crying, and he realized he was just continuing the cycle in his rage. That he'd need to put a stop to what he'd set in motion, that he's wrong, that this isn't how he breaks the cycle. And then he kills himself because that's the only way for his sister to live.

And when the Fates carry his dead body out of the throne room his father stops them, pulls away the shroud and kisses him gently with all the love he was never allowed to show him before, because finally the cycle has been broken. Too late for the hero, but perhaps not for the rest of his family.

It's fine, I'm fucking great

[ladynicte]

Persephone eventually warms up to Nico, because honestly, Nico is down at the underworld every other day, and spending what little time she actually gets to spend with her husband at their home, being bitter about this kid, is just not worth it.

So she tells herself to go easy on it, at least just a little bit more, and then, eventually they find themselves forced to spend more and more time together, and the kid doesn't really like her, and she doesn't like him either, but they discover there's some things they can agree on.

Some to do with Hades, and the way he runs the place, some to do with the servants, and the shades, the ghosts too.

At some point she even finds herself laughing and nodding along, as Nico complains over some job Demeter had him do during his time on the fields, tending to Persephone's own mother's precious harvest.

She can relate, she realizes it is nice having somebody else around to chitchat about that. Most don't even remember what the surface was like at all anymore.

But, of course, she doesn't preen on him at all.

She's Queen of The Underworld, she's the master of the house, she cannot be seen going so easy on anybody. In the underworld the rulers have a very important reputation to uphold.

Afterwards, the whole mess with the sword happens, because she is Persephone, and she's not about to just sit back while there's outside forces threatening her family like that.

She's smart, she knows she doesn't really have that many options in the underworld if she doesn't want the Hades himself to find out immediately.

So she calls for Nico, that boy Percy Jackson, and that other girl, child of Zeus.

She's sure it be fine, deep down in their realm, hidden away by the darkness, nobody has to know she's getting help from this specific set of demigods.

When she sees Thalia she's reminded of quite a few things relating to Zeus, his wife, and the children that get caught in their crossfire.

Persephone, she has always been fond of the heros, they are brave and passionate, and fun. They are not afraid to chase after what they want. She knows about that.

She's met quite a few heroes, who reached the end of their tragic life stories already, hearing their tales, Hera tended to get involved in their lives more often than not.

More so the ones related to Zeus in any way. Persephone knows the feeling.

When that whole mess is dealt with, she expects maybe more than just some smugness from the kid, at least, it's not like she's ever been very kind to him, but no, it never comes.

Persephone realizes she's now officially been both of the roles she met in her own youth, the bastard child, and the insupportable step-mother.

She was never all that fond of Hera, but she never thought she would ever relate to her, and yet, listening to those heroes's stories.

She realizes maybe she's really been a little bit like Nico's personal Hera.

Not to the same extent of course, but well, aren't there enough bitter godly queens fighting their husbands, and hating their offsprings already.

Neither do the demigods nor the gods need another one.

But still, she's Persephone and she is to be revered, so she doesn't just start being nice for no reason to Nico, but if she does curse him a little, with some actually not so bad things, like sudden flowers that blossom and wither away, just as fast, wherever he steps, or if she grants him some bigger control over the cold he can produce.

If she slips him some secrets about her mother's harvest, and how to best handle it, that she herself had to learn the hard way on her youth.

Who's gonna tell her anything for it.

If it makes her husband happy, to see her more at ease and comfortable in their home, even when Nico drops by, that just means the house as a general is doing better now.

So no, Persephone does not care at all for the child her husband had with that other woman, and godly intervention is completely prohibited.

But, if she knows something is gonna happen, maybe she just so very happens to leave one of her precious pomegranates right where Nico can find them, and if one of her loyal servants just so very happens to be nearby, and lets it slip just how useful those little seeds can be, it's not like anybody really has to find out, right.

[feral-house-wife]

I have been having a hard time cleaning around the house for various reasons, but with it being warmer, I thought I would pick back up or, at least, be less difficult.

You can guess how that went.

So I wore my face mask at work while giving offerings of dance and song to Apollo. I gave offerings of being a good guest and song to Hestia while staying over a partners home for her birthday. I did skincare and took magical baths, and talked about wedding planning while giving offerings of k!nk to Lady Aphrodite. I gave offerings of research to Mother Hera and gave some local kids' craft supplies and kindness.

I rested and enjoyed myself and tried not to worry about the small things (and maybe drank a bit more wine than planned).

I started today with incense and a lit candle to Hestia while wearing one of her favorite headcoverings of mine. And well, it hasn't been a lot, but I've been cleaning and got more done today than I have in a long time. I'm not sure how much I will get done today, but I am very proud of myself!

[bambismoonlight]

Zeus: did you burn down one of my temples?

Hera: yes, and i stuffed it with every whore you fucked today.

Zeus: *holding a caramel drizzle frappe* I WAS AT STARBUCKS YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!

Apollo: dad, can i have my drink back?

[lesbianashlynx]

if i could write and finish fanfiction there would be some amazing bfish aus

[hotpotrandomfics]

Riordanverse OC: Cylus Cormac, Son of Hestia

Full Name: Cylus Cormac

Alias/Nicknames: Embers, House Husband, Cinnamon Roller, Heart Breaker

Godly Parent: Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, Fire, Home, and Family

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Birthday: March 12th

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Hairstyle, Hair Color: Wavy medium length, charcoal black

Eye Shape and Color: Upturned and Hazel

Lip Shape: Thin Lips

Nose Shape: Straight

Face Shape: Diamond Shape

Body Type: Mesomorphic, toned welterweight mixed with a swimmer physique 

Extra Traits: Light freckles along the bridge of the nose

Scars: Drakon claw marks on his back, a sword stab into his left shoulder, and a spear on his right lower abdomen

Height: 6'0"

Skin tone: Cinnamon brown

Ethnicities: Puerto Rican, Irish, and Greek

Personality: Calm and passive disposition, shy, compassionate, and rational

Flaws: Pacifism, dissimulation, self-deprecation, and shyness

Strengths: Loyalty, humanity, temperance, and compassion

Likes and Hobbies: Kind individuals, cooking, swimming, martial arts training, pegasus riding, guitar, dancing in private, heavy rock, and reading 

Dislikes: Arrogant and violent individuals, minotaurs, liars, country music, forced physical contact, and wasted food

Voice: Similar to that of Aaron Dismuke's character in RWBY (Oscar Pine)

Fears or Phobias: Genophobia, glossophobia, and atychiphobia 

Favorite Color: Persian Green

Favorite animal: Red Wolves

Favorite possession: A leather necklace with a hearth charm

Favorite food: Thai hot chicken pad thai

Least Favorite food: Pickles

Love interest: TBD

Best friends: TBD

Friends: TBD

Enemies: Extreme children of Priapus, extreme children of Aphrodite

Rivals: TBD

Species: Demigod

Fatal flaw: Low self-esteem

Powers:

Pyrokinesis

Past Visions

Serenity Inducement

Food Generation

Culinary Arts

Weapon(s):

Celestial Bronze cane sword

Stygian Iron and Silver alloy karambit knife

Fighting style(s):

Pankration

Fencing

Wing Chun

Judo

Jiu-Jitsu

Backstory: Cylus Cormac, was born through parthenogenesis in a hearth, out of a whim from Hestia and at the whispers of a prophecy three thousand years ago. Hestia was unsure what to do with her child as she only birthed a few in secret in her unusual manner. Cylus specifically was born in the hearthe of an abandoned home that belonged to an Irish immigrant in the forest of Puerto Rico. Cylus would be founded by a satyr named Natalia Bellerose, who named the infant after the former owner of the house. Natalia would take Cylus to New Athens to be raised in its orphanage until he was of age to train.

At camp, Cylus wouldn't be claimed until the day of his 13th birthday. Oddly enough, he was already settled in the Hestia cabin and would have awoken to a box by the hearthe in the cabin area addressed to him. Grabbing the box, he opened it to find his cane sword though he was unaware of it being a sword for some time. When he pondered his thoughts at breakfast, a symbol of a warm fireplace with a mild fire appears above the child's head and a Celestial bronze fire poker landed on his lap. While he was happy to be claimed there was an omen in the air of something off as he glanced to the Oracle cave within the hills of the valley of Camp Half-Blood and New Athens green lights began to flash. The next Great Prophecy to come...

Picrew:

[24kmar]

𝘾𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙣 21

[kingsbride-moved]

I love H.ades game sooooo much but it makes me extremely frustrated that so much of its fan community is pr*ship </3 I have several fan projects I want to make and I’m going to make them despite everything because I’m the only person who can make the content I want to see in the world, but I do worry about unintentionally attracting Those kinds of people thru it </3 especially when I post fics and the likes, there’s no good alternatives to That Website but it’s community terrifies me! and it frustrates me more bc it seems like the majority of fans of theseus / asterius fall into this category for reasons I cannot understand </3 </3 </3 (well I have a theory but still)

[vivalarevolution]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Paul Atreides x Reader

Request: „Paul Atreides falling in love with his father's younger wife, whom he recently married for political reasons, yet he remains loyal and in love with Jessica.‟

A/N: Request from anon. A very interesting concept that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. As always, I hope you will like reading my work, especially since this is my first attempt at writing for Paul Atreides.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes might happen.

She reminded him of a goddess , a being from ancient books that survived the destruction of Old Terra. She was beautiful like Aphordite , full of warmth as Hestia and innocent and sensitive as Persephone. Yet her eyes were full of sadness , like those belonging to Oizys.

And the young duke hated it.

He hated her sadness. The sadness which was caused by his own father. Leto Atreides married her , but there was no love between them , there was only darkness and misery that was draining the young woman from the inside. In Paul's eyes, his father's actions were cruel. He did not deserve such a delicate soul , and much less he deserve it to destroy it.

He tried , almost desperately , to understand the man when his eyes followed him with his own mother , but in vain. Because he loved the woman he could not have too much to forgive him for what he did to her.

So he stopped. He stopped looking for forgiveness , which never existed.

Instead, he surrendered to the arms of forbidden desire , surrendered to the feelings he had been hiding so deeply inside himself, surrendered to her will without her even knowing.

His shadow began to follow hers, her steps became his steps , her breath became his breath.

And suddenly Paul Atreides became everything to her that his father never was. He became her protector , her rock , her guardian , her savior.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He had to have more.

He found her in her chambers , she was sitting on one of the many cushions, reading. But when she felt a presence behind her she stopped , turning her head to the side , looking out of the corner of her eye at the young duke.

-Paul - she said softly , turning fully in his direction - What brings you to me? - she asked him , closing the book , which suddenly no longer seemed interesting to her.

He didn't answer , not immediately.

But as the silence lengthened between them , the tension begin to grow as well.

-I want you - he replied suddenly , and despite the seriousness of the sentence his voice was composed , remarkably calm.

-What? - the woman whispered, shocked.

His words seemed to cut through the air like the sharpest knife, leaving behind a mark that was impossible to erase.

-I want you - he repeated , slowly approaching her figure.

She watched his movements , stopping only when the brunet kneeled before her.

-But you already have me - she said , placing her hand on his pale cheek.

Paul grabbed her wrist and closed his eyes allowing her addictive scent to dull his senses.

-Not in the way I would have wanted - he confessed , tasting her soft skin with his lips.

At his words, the woman pulled her hand from his hold , moving away from her husband's son.

-We can't. You know it's forbidden - she announced, furrowing her eyebrows.

-I know - he responded , getting up from his knees to approach her yet again - But no matter how cruel the truth is , my father does not love you , he never will. And I hate him for it, I hate him for marrying a woman he is not able to love.

-The world has always been cruel Paul. You cannot change it , you are in no position to. You are not a god - she said with a shadow of sorrow in her voice , feeling tears involuntarily flow into her eyes.

-But I can change the part of the world you belong to.There will be no more misery , no more pain - he declared, approaching her , trapping her between the wall and himself.

-Don't say that. I am begging you , don't say that - she whispered , closing her eyes, trying to push the brunet away from her, but to no avail.

The man kissed her cheekbones , nuzzling his face into her thick locks.

-Tell me the truth - he asked , but was met with silence - Tell me the truth - he repeated , but his voice no longer sounded familiar.

-I love you more than life itself Paul. I'm willing to die if it means I can taste your lips, even for a slight moment - she admitted, but although her words were sincere, it seemed to her as if someone pulled them out of her, without her permission.

-And I love you - he said - And believe me when I say this. I will never stop loving you. My love for you will only cease to exist when the sun will rise in the west and set in the east , when the seas go dry and mountains will blow in the wind like leaves.

-One day , you will regret those words Paul Atreides - she professed , feeling her breathing become more shallow and her eyes more clouded.

-Never - he growled , before attacking her full, pink lips.

His kisses were the opposite of him. They were burning , chaotic , dangerous.

But despite this , she desperately grabbed his shoulders , trying to pull him closer and closer. Their hands traveled over each other's bodies , as their lips tasted one another, never having enough. They seemed to have forgotten about everything except themselves.

Suddenly the mortal world no longer existed. There was no fear , sadness , or despair. In their place came lust , desire and love. Feelings that were forbidden to them.

But they didn't stopped.

They didn't stop when their bodies merged into one. They didn't stop when the first rays of sun appeared on the walls of her chambers.

They didn't stop because there was nothing strong enough to separate Paul Atreides from his goddess.

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[satoshy12]

Meeting the Clocky family

Kronos/Clockwork invited his family to his favorite son's birthday party.

Totally forgetting, he never told them he wasn't insane anymore and was doing much better.

Well, to be fair, Kronos just planned to invite Hestia and forget about the rest. Only she is a good girl, but once he wrote, she wrote back, thinking it was a trick.

So he allowed her to get the rest of them.

Danny: " So this is your family?"

Kronos;" Yeah. You ever read about the Titan of Time?"

Danny: " The one who ate... Oh, you really were crazy!"

Hestia:" It doesn't shock you that he eats us."

Danny:" And? He never tried to eat me."

Clockwork:" You barely have any meat."

Danny:" And a baby God has. "

Clockwork:" Yes. Believe me on that."

The seven children of Kronos and his wife weren't sure what to think.

Danny just blew a raspberry against Clockwork and joined the rest of Ghost for a talk.

[muiltifandomnerd]

If Rick decides to give Athena kids even though she’s a virgin goddess and justify it with them being brain kids, then we deserve to have Hera, Hestia, and Artemis to have kids as well

Hell throw in Persephone and Amphitrite as well

Just Imagine Reyna or Jason being children of Hera

Leo being a son of Hestia

Frank being a son of Artemis.

Hazel being a daughter of Persephone.

@pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid @hotpotrandomfics @hazellevesquelover @heroes-of-olympus-next-gen @takaraphoenix @jollyholidayswithmaryandjane @overanalyzer

@yonemurishiroku @chairmenmeow