#mount olympus university

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

Im listening to Mount Olympus University and Hades is the cutest human being ever. I had to pause it when he said "my dogs name is Cerberus, hes a boy :)" cause it waa too much

[sheep33hallow]

Entanglement *Superbat (Completed)

Entanglement

4/4 Chapters

Sequel to Entrapment

Mount Olympus AU: Hera!Bruce, Zues!Clark, batkids are their kids,

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"...AND HERA... GODDESS OF WOMEN."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on an inked, published, & textless double splash page of Hera, Queen of the Gods of Olympus, Goddess of Women, from "Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons" Vol. #1. January, 2022. DC Black Label. Artwork by Phil Jimenez (among others).

"Hera sees with a thousand eyes. She is your queen bitch, your sin-eater. Hera bears the burden of foresight. A prophetess, Hera knows your pride and your rage before you do... Every bruise to your dignity burns her like fire. She is branded with it. And she loves you beyond reckoning, for you all belong to her."

-- "WONDER WOMAN HISTORIA: THE AMAZONS" Vol. 1 (story/script by Kelly Sue DeConnick)

Sources: www.thepopverse.com/wonder-woman-historia-mythology-redefined-dc, Comic Watch, & Reddit.

[turiyatitta]

The Peak Experience

Mount Olympus and MysticismTo ascend a mountain and stand at its zenith is a profound experience. But to stand atop Mount Olympus, the legendary home of the gods, is to touch a space where the divine meets the mortal. Unlike any other, this mountaintop symbolizes an intersection between the world as we know it and a realm beyond comprehension. What does it mean to attain such an experience? How…

[allisongreenlee]

Mount Olympus: The Home of the Olympian Gods and the Legacy of Greek Mythology

“Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It just means that you’re brave enough to stand up and do what’s needed.”― Rick Riordan, The Mark of Athena Mount Olympus is the highest and most famous mountain in Greece. It is located on the border between the regions of Thessaly and Macedonia, and it is often referred to as the home of the gods. Mount Olympus has played an important role in Greek…

[ma1dita]

partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & most of these can be read as standalones!

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy ☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

chance encounters ☼

The one where you both daydream about different lives. (You think you'd find him anywhere, by soul alone)

to see the chaos through ☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

angel with a broken wing ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four women Luke Castellan risked it for and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry (LATEST ADD) 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below ☽ ☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Immortal Danger

Apollo x DaughterofDemeter!Reader

Summary: Apollo marries a half-blood without realizing how dangerous it can be.

Warning: PJO universe but no real PJO plot, (kind of) smut, threats, monsters, Ares slander

Word Count: 4.7K

Masterlist | Part 2

A/N Sam Claflin is my personal headcanon for Apollo and if he isn’t cast for the Titan’s Curse season I’m gonna cry

“Am I even allowed to be here?” I asked as Apollo and I materialized in his home on Mount Olympus.

“Probably not but Demeter’s already gonna be pissed when she finds out we eloped in Vegas,” Apollo smiles, pulling me down onto the couch. I laughed as he did so, taking a chance to look around. I was in awe. The ceiling to the sitting room was just a giant skylight and the sun seemed to perpetually shine through it. There were balconies in the column of the sun, revealing the upper levels of the extravagant manor decorated in gold.

“This place is incredible,” I said in awe.

“Yeah, Annabeth did a great job with the remodel. And it’s all yours,” he swore, his lips brushing against my cheek. “Everything that’s mine is also yours.”

“Really?” I challenged teasingly. “Then can I drive the sun chariot.”

He faltered. “Well… after Thalia, I don’t think-”

“I’m joking,” I assured him. “I don’t want to torch Antarctica. Or make North Africa freeze over.”

“I’ll give you lessons some day,” he promised. “Maybe when you’re a goddess and that human nervousness about dying instinct fades.” I laughed before he sprung up. “C’mon,” he said, pulling me up from the couch. “I wanna show you the bedroom.”

“Very subtle,” I chided him.

“I know,” he agreed with a cocky smile as he began climbing the stairs. “But you’re my wife now.” We went up so many levels I was beginning to get tired but Apollo was already practically dragging me up the stairs. When we went to a set of double doors I thought we were done with the stairs but there was one more flight. I followed him up, eyes widening as I realized his room made up the entire top floor.

There was a circle in the floor covered by glass with a view to the sitting room, allowing the sun to shine through the whole house. But the ceiling of the room itself was a glass dome, flooding the whole room with light. Surprisingly, it wasn’t ridiculously hot but that’s a perk of being the sun god. Several plants grew in various pots around the room—I had a sneaking suspicion he added them recently—and the walls were lined with various weapons, mostly bows and arrows. The bed itself was tucked into a sort of alcove, with pillows lining the edge of it, leaning up against the walls so as to make the whole alcove a soft bed. I noticed curtains hanging in front of the bed to shield it from the rest of the room, as well as a contraption above it against the glass probably to block the light from above.

Apollo came up next to me. “I know you’re a light sleeper so I had the curtains put in to block out the light.”

“This is incredible,” I said in awe. “But uh- do gods sleep?”

“We don’t have to but I love sleeping,” he smiled. “It’s one of the best things humans invented.”

I stepped closer to the bed, reaching down to feel the soft mattress. “Gods, do you know how long it’s been since I slept in a bed that wasn’t a twin size mattress?” I asked. Even though at 24 I was far older than any of the other campers at Camp Half-Blood, I had to stay there as the outside world had become too dangerous for me. Once I turned 22, Chiron finally let me have a room in The Big House because even the oldest campers besides for me were still around 17.

“Well,” Apollo began, getting closer until I was laying down on the mattress and his face was so close to mine I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, “I was thinking we’d consummate our marriage in this bed before sleeping,” he suggested, kissing me.

“I’d be open to that,” I laughed, kissing him back. Using godly strength, he managed to wrap an arm around my waist before pulling me up closer to the middle of the bed so our feet weren’t hanging off. As he kissed me, I could feel his hand find the zipper on the back of my wedding dress. But just as he started to bring it down, there was a bell and a shout.

“Apollo?” a masculine voice called through the house.

Our lips parted, and he rested his forehead on mine with a groan. “I hate him.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Hermes. Look, he can’t see you. He and I are cool now but he still can’t see you.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll just stay here.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead before running downstairs to an incessant Hermes. As he went down the stairs I watched in amazement as his tux transformed into a t-shirt and shorts. Once he left I started looking around the room more, wary of the giant glass circle in the middle of the room. I went up to the weapons, finding various plaques describing what momentous kill each weapon was responsible for. A little bit self obsessed to have in your bedroom but, hey, that’s Apollo.

As the gods moved to the sitting room I could hear them through the glass. “I know you’ve been dating a demigod,” Hermes’ voice came. “Chiron just sent a distress signal about a missing half-blood.”

“So…?” Apollo’s voice came, trying to act nonchalant.

“I’m saying that the girl you’ve been dating is the missing half-blood. Chiron is worried sick because apparently she’s powerful but will attract a lot of monsters. And Ares is still pissed at you for putting an arrow through him during World War I. She could be in danger of him while not under Dionysus’ protection.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, man. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”

“I haven’t known you to go even two days without seeing the person you’re dating.” I could hear the accusing tone in Hermes’s voice. And Apollo knew he was backed into a corner.

“Yeah well, dating a half-blood is hard. Chiron and Dionysus have her on lockdown. And do you know what Demeter would do to me? You remember how she lost it when Persephone ran off with Hades. How am I going to explain that I’m dating her half-human daughter?”

“Well you better pray Ares doesn’t find out about her or he’ll probably kill her just to piss you off.” Kill me?

“Look I’m going to have father turn her into a goddess soon anyway. She’ll be fine.”

“You’re awfully nonchalant about your little human going missing. Is it because she’s actually here?” Hermes accused.

“No!” Apollo said unconvincingly.

“Y/N!” Hermes called. “I know you’re here. Come on out.” I froze. What do I do? Obey the god or obey the other god?

“She’s not here and even if she was, she’d listen to what I said.” I didn’t move, contemplating whether or not I should hide.

“Fine, then you won’t mind if I check your bedroom.”

Σκατά. I could just hide in one of the many other rooms in the house. Hermes probably wouldn’t take the time to check every room. But once I reached the top of the stairs, the door at the bottom opened revealing a very pissed Hermes and distressed Apollo. Curse godly teleportation.

Hermes turned to Apollo. “Wanna do some explaining?” he asked sarcastically, observing my white dress. I just backed away, giving them space to come up the stairs. “Seriously, man. She could be killed because you married her and brought her here without permission,” Hermes explained as they walked up the stairs.

“But no one else is going to know because you’re not gonna tell them,” Apollo said, getting in between me and Hermes. “Right?”

He sighed. “Hi Y/N, congrats on getting married,” he finally greeted me.

“Thanks,” I answered hesitantly.

“Why is she even here?” he asked Apollo.

“Well, we were supposed to go talk to Zeus but I’m working the courage back up,” he laughed awkwardly. Hermes gave him an unamused look. “What? I’ve been single for millennia and then I’m just going to go up to father like ‘Hey, I finally decided to get married. By the way, it’s to a half-blood can you make her immortal too?’”

“So why is she still here?”

“Well Chiron has almost walked in on us having se- OW!” I cut him off with a pinch to his side. “What?” he asked, turning to me.

I could feel the heat rushing to my face now. “Shut up,” I chided him.

“Hermes of all people gets it!” he insisted, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You can’t honestly say you’ve never brought a girl to Olympus. Like Penelope? Pan’s mother. Because Odysseus would’ve tried to murder you had he walked in on you two.”

“That’s different!” Hermes insisted.

“How?”

Hermes tried to think of an answer for a few minutes before he gave up. “Fine, whatever. But either get her back to camp or tell Zeus what’s going on before anyone else can get their hands on her.” He left no room for argument because he quite literally disappeared in a flash of light that second. Thankfully Apollo had the foresight to cover my eyes for me because Hermes had turned into a ball of light before I could react.

My husband sighed as he looked down at me. “I guess I should return you, huh? I’m sorry I just can’t face Zeus today.”

I smiled softly at him. Truthfully I was in no rush for immortality. I wasn’t quite ready to leave my life behind either way but when Apollo burst into my bedroom declaring that today was the day, I just went with it. Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw I leaned up to kiss him. “Whatever you want, you’re the one who has to take responsibility,” I reasoned.

“Thank you,” he murmured, capturing my lips. “Do you think you can be missing for just a couple more hours?” he asked, pulling away from me.

“Probably,” I agreed. He was immediately scooping my legs up before dropping me onto the bed.

My new husband spent the entire night drawing orgasms out of me until I finally got him to stop. That was the thing about gods, sometimes they didn’t know when to stop because they didn’t always understand human limitations.

I was still breathing heavily from my last peak when I fell asleep on Apollo’s chest, so exhausted.

~

Despite the fact that the sun was down, Apollo could still see his new wife clearly through the moonlight streaming through the glass ceiling. He had laid there for hours, admiring her relaxed features and reveling in the touch of her skin on his. It was nearly five o’ clock and he’d have to get up soon. As nice and sunny as summer was, he hated having to get up so early to get the sun chariot ready.

He gently stroked the hair away from her face, pressing the lightest kiss against her forehead so as not to disturb her. Sitting up, he rearranged the pillows and blankets to cover her before sliding off the bed. He threw on some clothes, leaving a t-shirt for his wife when she woke up before disappearing to the moors of England. Humans thought the sun was always going around the world in a circle but for the west, the sun began in England because that’s where the dividing line fell between the east and the west.

Setting up the sun chariot to do it’s course, Apollo set it off, watching it crest up in the sky like every day. Before he could turn to leave he sensed a new presence behind him. Turning, he found a very smug looking Ares. Trying to play it cool, Apollo smiled. “What are you doing here, brother?”

“I heard about a missing camper,” Ares began. “And then Aphrodite told me about a certain marriage certificate. Filed both on Earth and Mount Olympus.” Apollo cursed internally, that wasn’t supposed to be sent to Olympus for another week. The one time bureaucracy was efficient.

“Ares…” he began, intending to work out some sort of deal but the god of war interrupted him.

“I don’t know where you’re keeping her but until she’s immortal, she’s fair game to kill.”

“You really wanna piss off Demeter like that?” Apollo challenged, hoping her mother could provide her a little protection if he couldn’t.

Ares shrugged. “She has plenty of other children. And it’s not like I’m killing Persephone.” Demeter’s first daughter truly was the apple of her eye. She loved her demigod children but she’d get over their deaths. “Should’ve thought about this before you decided to put an arrow through me in 1918,” Ares sneered.

“That was like a hundred years ago!” Apollo insisted. “Don’t put her in the middle of this. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you fell in love with a demigod,” the god of war taunted before disappearing in a flash of light.

The sun god let out an enraged grunt before transporting to his house. He practically ripped open the curtains surround the bed to make sure his bride was still there. He let out the biggest sigh of relief seeing her still laying there, unharmed. But now she was stirring due to the sudden light flooding her eyes.

~

I groaned as the sun hit my eyes and a body came to lay next to me. “I’m sorry,” Apollo said, crawling into his spot next to me. “I really wish you could go back to sleep but you need to be back at camp now,” he said. I could now hear the urgency in his voice as I opened my eyes.

“Why? What happened?” I asked, sitting up.

“Look, I uh- may not have thought this marriage all the way through,” he said nervously, handing me a shirt.

My heart dropped and pain flooded my body. “What?” I asked. I cursed myself, I knew it was too good to be true. I thought that after seeing each other for five years he was being honest about wanting to marry me. But I guess five years to an immortal god is the equivalent to a week for a human.

Apollo turned, finding my hurt expression. “No!” he immediately tried to clear up. “No it’s the fact that you’re in danger now. I don’t regret you. I’m so happy you’re my wife now and that you will be forever. I just didn’t think about the other gods’ reactions.”

“Oh,” I said quietly, relief washing over me.

“I could never regret you,” he said, coming over to sit beside me. “I love you. So much,” he swore, pressing me into his chest.

“Is this about Ares?” I asked. He suddenly froze. “I overheard you and Hermes downstairs,” I explained.

“Yes, but I swear to you nothing’s gonna happen to you. You just have to stay at camp. Ares won’t harm you if you’re in Dionysus’ territory,” he said urgently. If his grave tone was any indication, I was in serious danger. “I’m gonna talk to Zeus. We’re already married and I consulted the Fates when I met you so he’ll probably approve your immortality,” he rushed out, handing me shorts to throw on.

I was at a complete loss of what to say so I said the only thing I could think of. “Okay, I trust you.”

He smiled, lightly grasping either side of my jaw. “We have to go. I’m gonna transport with you just outside of camp. The other campers won’t be able to see me but you’re gonna say you snuck out to visit your dad because you were… I don’t know… having a hard time being the only adult at camp?” he suggested.

I nodded, grasping his hand. Immediately we were standing on the side of a familiar rural road. I looked up at the hill in front of me, just over it was Camp Half-Blood. Turning, I found nothing next to me but Apollo’s hand still intertwined in mine was proof he was still there.

He untangled his fingers from mine and gave me a gentle push on my back to encourage me to walk. I did so hesitantly, slowly walking up the hill. As I spotted the gates of camp. Stood on either side of the arch, were two campers in full battle armor. I could hear an indistinct yell as I approached. Probably alerting Chiron to my reemerged presence.

When I finally reached the “safety” of camp I could sense that Apollo was gone. He had kept a few paces behind me but disappeared once I got past Thalia’s former tree. Meanwhile, there was a new threat currently facing me as both Chiron and Mr. D stared down at me disapprovingly. They so rarely agreed with each other and Mr. D so rarely even bothered to pay attention to us that I knew I was in deep shit. “Y/N,” Chiron said like he was scolding his 16 year old daughter, “come with me.” He turned, trotting away as I followed after him like this was a walk of shame. Dionysus just disappeared.

Once I finally reached the Big House, I spotted Mr. D and a woman in the room. She radiated warmth and life despite the rage coming off of her. “Mother?” I asked.

“How could you!” she immediately yelled. “You were seeing a god behind everyone’s back? Not just any god, Apollo,” she spat angrily. “And then next I hear you’re married to him?” she asked in disbelief. “Y/N, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into? I’ve already lost one daughter to a god. I won’t lose another one.”

Had I not been speaking to a goddess I would’ve lashed out at her. It’s not like she was ever really there for me. How can you lose someone you’ve never been there for? “You’re not gonna lose me,” I insisted, biting my tongue. “You haven’t lost Persephone either, she’s only in the Underworld for a few months. I will be on Olympus with you.”

“Locked in Apollo’s morally depraved sex mansion,” she spat, clearly upset. My jaw nearly dropped, I was so shocked she actually said that.

“Demeter, as valid as your worries are,” Dionysus reluctantly said, “there is the more pressing matter of Ares trying to murder your daughter. And he’ll keep trying until Zeus grants her immortality.”

“Are those boys still fighting about the arrow in 1918?” Demeter demanded.

“Wait, Ares wants to kill me because Apollo shot him?” I asked.

“Yes, it was an accident but Ares never forgot. Especially because it allowed the Allied powers to win. At the time, Ares was kind of betting on Germany to be the next big thing but then when the Allies all blamed it on Germany, Ares wasn’t happy.” Chiron clarified. “And he wants to destroy Apollo’s happiness in revenge.”

“I don’t want you seeing him,” my mother suddenly demanded, still hyper-focused on the wrong topic. Even Chiron and Mr. D rolled their eyes at that. “He’s a no good playboy.”

“We’re already married. I’m not gonna just stop seeing him. And I knew what I was getting myself into. I made sure he actually wanted a relationship with me before I got attached.”

“Oh please-”

“He married me, didn’t he?” I interrupted.

“Demeter, if it’s any consolation he does seem to genuinely be in love with her,” Chiron defended me. “Apollo has never married in all the millenniums he’s lived. He has finally settled down.”

She looked reluctant to accept his argument but didn’t say anything else.

“S-so what do I do now that Ares wants to kill me?” I asked. “Apollo said that he wouldn’t touch me under your protection,” I looked at Mr. D.

The god of wine still looked reluctant to participate in all this. “Well technically camp belongs to all the gods and I cannot ensure your safety. Besides, Ares has never minded breaking a few rules of war. I’ll have to bring you to a more secure place whilst Apollo tries to convince Zeus.”

Demeter sighed. “I will go help him too but after you are immortalized we are discussing your living arrangement,” she said with a stern finger. Before I could reluctantly agree she was gone.

“Come,” Chiron said with a hand on my back. “You must pack only your essentials. Then Dionysus will take you to the convent you’ll be staying at.”

“Convent?” I asked, stopping in my tracks.

“Well, I am the god of cults,” Mr. D reasoned from behind me. “I have a few of my followers there but enough real nuns to disguise you. You’ll be safe there.”

~

I was only at the convent for two days before I was in danger again.

I had been getting along fairly well with the other nuns. Except for one. Her name was Peggy and she seemed too friendly and was always trying to be alone with me. With this being a place that housed Dionysus’ followers I thought nothing of it until I found myself alone with her.

I had been doing my daily chores of dusting the entire convent when Peggy entered the room I was in. I thought nothing of it until I heard the lock click into place. When I turned I didn’t find the nun, I found a gorgon with a grotesque smile on her face. “Daughter of Demeter, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I heard about your little predicament.” I glanced to the open window across the room. If I could just get outside I could trap the gorgon in nature. “Poor Apollo will be so heartbroken when he realizes his bride is dead before he was even able to give her immortality.”

Grabbing a lamp, I hurled it at the monster while she was still talking. It bounced harmlessly off her, shattering but I was already throwing myself through the window. Jumping through a second story window face first probably wasn’t the best idea but I needed to get her onto the ground. As I hit the ground I felt my wrist crack but I didn’t even have time to consider it because the gorgon was bursting through the window after me. She barely missed jumping on top of me but I rolled out of her path. As she was still regaining her bearings I willed the roots of the earth to wrap around her.

Thousands of roots sprung up from the ground tangling each other and the gorgon until they secured her. Any monster worth their myth could cut through my vines but they would come so fast that the monster couldn’t keep up until they were immobilized by the earth. Once the gorgon stopped moving and had just become an unrecognizable mass of weeds, I willed them to pull her into the ground. I’m sure it was a horrific way to die, having every nutrient in your body sucked out of you from underground until you could only become a pile of ichor that would remain in the earth forever.

As soon as I sensed that her life force was gone, I allowed some vines to wrap around my wrist, using the resources of the earth to heal my broken bones. As I let out a sigh of relief at the pain subsiding, I saw a faint flash of light. Now standing a hundred feet away from me were twin brothers, each standing around six feet tall, in full Greek battle armor. I knew enough about mythology and the context of my situation to know that these were Phobos and Deimos. If they weren’t standing between me and the convent I’d try to run there for safety.

“I’m so glad that gorgon was here,” Phobos said. “If it weren’t for you using your powers we never would have found you.”

Σκατά. Well, I just took down a gorgon, I could imprison these two. I let the earth crawl up their shins but they both just looked at each other with smiles before bursting into flames. Their explosion was so violent it threw me back a few feet.

I let out a groan as pain exploded in my body. Peeling open my eyes, I found the earth underneath their feet scorched and they were laughing. I tried to grow vines around myself to pull me into the earth as protection but a blade was suddenly cutting through them and I was being pulled up by my guimpe. Curse these stupid nun outfits.

“Wait, wait, please,” I begged.

“Too bad for you we don’t get to kill you,” Deimos taunted in my face, still holding me by the guimpe. “Ares is gonna torture you to death and send the footage to your husband.”

I did the only thing I could think of. I spat in his face.

“Ew!” he yelled, dropping me to the ground. I wasted no time tearing off into the woods, barely paying attention to Phobos berating his twin.

I continued on, tearing through the woods to get far enough. Seeing a flash of light, I turned the other way, trying to escape Phobos and Deimos long enough so I could hide. “Y/N!” I heard a familiar yell but I didn’t bother to stop. For all I knew, that was one of the twins playing tricks on me.

As I tried to jump over a branch my skirt got caught, sending me to the ground with a crash. Again, curse these nun outfits. Before I could get up though, there was a weight on me. I immediately began screaming and thrashing, assuming it was either Phobos or Deimos but two hands on my face made me look straight ahead. I calmed down realizing it was Apollo currently sitting on top of me.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe,” he assured me. “It’s just me.” As I started calming down, he pulled the veil off my head. “There we go,” he soothed, pulling me up from the ground. As he was still trying to calm me down, Phobos and Deimos appeared behind him. He whirled around, pushing my body behind his. “Zeus granted her immortality. She is under his protection!”

“What we don’t know can’t be held against us,” Phobos laughed.

But before he could do anything, I found myself in a new place. Olympus, I recognized it. Staring up in awe at all the thrones and the magnificent room made of marble. Eleven gods sat around me, including Ares. A completely golden throne that seemed to shimmer was empty.

I looked around, ensuring my head was bowed to all the gods—especially Ares—I finally reached Zeus, falling to my knee.

“Y/N L/N,” Zeus’ booming voice seemed to echo across the room. “You have been granted immortality by the virtue of your husband, Apollo. With the approval of myself and the fates. I hereby grant you goddess status: Y/N, goddess of healing, daughter of Demeter, and wife of Apollo.”

I don’t know what I was expecting but it was as if an unknown burden I didn’t know I had was lifted.

I stood, unsure what to do but all of a sudden a force was hitting me. As Apollo wrapped his arms around me I knew he had been what knocked into me. “My wife’s a goddess!” he yelled, still hugging me, much to the amusement of the other Olympians.

~

A/N I'm gonna be so fucking fr I had no plot going into this I just wanted to write about Apollo so if anyone has any suggestions or requests of a part 2 that ends this better I'm happy to write them

Masterlist | Part 2

[thepersonnamedsam]

she got this - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x academic!girlfriend

summary: oscar visits his girlfriends bachelor thesis defending

word count: 1.3k

face claim: phoebe bridgers

warnings: a swear word, some angst - mentions of a panic attack

note: this is for my baby @lissyontour, you got this, pls wish her good luck for today <3

oh and it’s my first oscar fic, hihi, enjoy it

and there is some of the bachelor thesis… i had to include some of it, thanks to chat gpt

masterlist / taglist

Fuck, was she nervous. Her head was spinning and her legs were jelly - no, scratch that - her legs were liquid.

Her eyes were trying to focus on something, just something that would help her back to reality. She knew she was somewhere else right now, somewhere where she shouldn’t be.

Why wasn’t Oscar with her? Why was she alone? This was not how she planned it!

Her heart was beating, she felt it nearly pop out of her chest. It almost hurt. Oscar should’ve been here with her, but a last minute meeting with Zak just threw her plans overboard.

Her breath quickend and her hands searched for the only safe thing she could think of, her phone. Her fingers quickly glided over the screen and Oscars answer made her hold her breath for a second.

Standing in front of the auditorium, the heavy red doors made her uneasy. It’s gonna be time soon.

Oscar had to hold himself back not to text her that he was actually sitting in the front row and waiting for her to enter the room. He knew it was cruel. But he just had to do it.

He was so much more nervous than her. He watched her write that bachelor thesis for over six months now. At every race she was sitting in his drivers room with at least ten books and her laptop. Only just for the last five laps she came out of the room to watch him race.

He appreciated her coming, she could’ve just stayed at home and studied, but she always came with. Multitasking her way through her studies. And he was so proud of her. There was no way he would miss her final step of the way.

And he knew his cruelty was all worth it, as she stepped into the room and her eyes spotted his. Her whole face lit up and he could almost spot some tears of relief.

„What are you doing here?“, she mouthed. A small smile on her lips. „Supporting you“, he mouthed back, matching her smile.

„Welcome Ms y/l/n!“, her professor welcomed her. „I am exited to hear you defend your bachelor thesis about; How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“

She smiled at her favourite teacher and took out her thesis. She closed her eyes for a second, breathed in and out again. She was ready. Oscar knew she studied English literature and oh did that make her sexy.

But he had no idea of Greek Mythology or modern literature by any means. Yes, he read her thesis at least twice, but did his brain understand anything she meant? It did not. Being the smart one was all her job.

„Welcome Professor McAllister, dear colleagues, guests and friends. I hereby welcome you dearly to my defending of my bachelor thesis: How Greek Mythology influenced modern literature.“

Oscar listened intently and always smiled when she looked at him for reassurance. His heart was swelling with proudness. He soon had a girlfriend with a bachelor degree.

„In the vast tapestry of literary evolution, Greek mythology stands as an enduring thread, weaving its timeless narratives into the very fabric of modern literature. As contemporary authors navigate the labyrinth of inspiration, they find themselves entwined with the rich tapestry of gods, heroes, and mythical creatures that originated in ancient Greece.

The resurgence of interest in Greek mythology can be traced to its profound impact on archetypal storytelling. From the lofty heights of Mount Olympus to the depths of the Underworld, these tales resonate with universal themes that transcend temporal and cultural boundaries. Authors draw from the exploits of Zeus, the sagas of heroes like Achilles, and the tragedies of figures like Oedipus to explore complex facets of human nature. The gods' capriciousness mirrors the unpredictable forces that shape our destinies, while the struggles of mortals against divine intervention echo the perennial human quest for agency in the face of cosmic uncertainty.

Prominent literary figures, from James Joyce to J.K. Rowling, have paid homage to Greek mythology, infusing their works with echoes of ancient narratives. The hero's journey, a concept rooted in the mythic structure of heroes like Perseus and Hercules, serves as a narrative template for protagonists in contemporary novels. These echoes are not mere nostalgic nods; they represent a perennial dialogue between past and present, a dialogue in which timeless themes find new expression.

Moreover, the enduring allure of Greek mythology lies in its malleability. Authors wield the myths as allegorical tools to explore issues ranging from power dynamics and hubris to the nuances of morality. The Hydra of Lerna becomes a metaphor for societal challenges that sprout anew when seemingly eradicated, and the labyrinthine trials of Theseus mirror the complexities of modern ethical dilemmas.

In essence, the enduring influence of Greek mythology on modern literature is a testament to the universality of its themes and the perennial resonance of its characters. As authors continue to delve into the wellspring of ancient tales, they discover not relics of a bygone era, but rather a living reservoir of inspiration that fuels the imagination of generations, perpetuating the eternal dance between the ancient and the contemporary.“

Her voice angelic as it could be, drew in people who never even heard of the topic. You didn’t have to be interested in Greek Mythology to listen to her thesis, because she delivered her speech that even Oscar understood and left him wanting to know more about it.

My god was he proud. He was in awe, his beautiful girlfriend standing up there, speaking about her passion and delivering it in a way he never thought she could.

Even the look on Professor McAllister made him proud. She looked at his girlfriend with a proud smile, nodding along with her and reassuring her. She was gonna ace this.

Oscar was snapped out of it when the whole auditorium clapped. She was standing with the biggest smile on that stage. Oscar just had to get a picture of her. His new wallpaper.

„Thank you, Ms y/l/n. This was magnificent! We‘ll just discuss real quick and we‘ll be back with your grade. You can be proud of yourself, Ms y/l/n“, Professor McAllister told the young woman on stage.

And as soon as they left the room, she squealed and ran to Oscar. He opened his arms and let the girl spring into his embrace. „Hi“, he whispered. „Hi“, she whispered back. „I thought you weren’t coming?“

He laughed, a real deep belly laugh. „I had to surprise you!“ She hit his shoulder and said: „I hate you, but I’m glad you came.“

„You did so well, my love. I am so proud of you! We have to celebrate afterwards, anything you want.“

The time together was cut short, when the door opened again and the four professors walked in again. „Ms y/l/n, please, have a seat“, her professor said and pointed to the chair sat in front of the four.

She nervously walked over to them and smiled at them. „No need to be nervous, you did well, you can be proud of yourself.“

They talked stuff Oscar didn’t understand. But when he saw a big smile form on her face, he knew she received the best grade she could’ve. Proud, that’s the only word that came to Oscar’s mind.

„I love the boys“, she told Oscar. He smiled up at her and said: „I know you do, but only I can celebrate with you today.“ She giggled and would’ve almost kicked her feet, if it weren’t for the others in the room.

Professor McAllister handed y/n her diploma and told her they’d see each other at official ceremony. After that, Oscar and his girlfriend almost sprinted out of the auditorium.

oscarpiastri

liked by yninsta, landonorris and 82‘729 others

oscarpiastri how did we get from that to this?

view all 22‘219 comments

yninsta the first one is NOT me, idk where you got this from

user1 weren’t we all at that point during our studies?

user2 yes, yes we were

yninsta glad i wasn’t alone…

oscarpiastri so it was you

yninsta oop-

landonorris congrats, y/n! when we gonna get a lecture about greek mythology from you?

yninsta any day you want

landonorris now?

oscarpiastri no, now she’s busy with me

landonorris ewww, my eyes are scarred, don’t ever come back to the mclaren garage

oscarpiastri i didn’t mean it that way

yninsta he did

landonorris you’re just kids

user3 we love an academic wag

user4 so proud of you, y/n!

mclaren congratulations, y/n, next podium is for you 🍾

yninsta thank you, admin

yninsta thank you, baby

oscarpiastri i am so proud of you, darling

loganseargant i cannot believe i have a friend with a bachelors degree…

yninsta better believe it, american boy

user4 do u even know what a bachelors degree is..?

user5 american slander, we love it

alex_albon we are all proud, y/n

user6 we really are

yninsta thank you all so much, i love you guys so much

georgerussel63 oh no, she’s getting sentimental, let’s stop here guys

°°°

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[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 15th of February, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 15th of February, 2024

Question: What is the best way for the BRF to deal with Harry and Meghan?

Interpretation: Tell the truth.

Note: I don't know if this is the universe or the collective speaking through the cards, but the message is something that we having been saying for a very long time

Card One: The Nine of Cups.

This is the card of emotional contentment, wishes coming true, satisfaction, success and recognition. No doubt marrying into the BRF brought Meghan all those things. The picture on the card is of the reunion of Eros and Psyche, a celebration of their togetherness before their marriage on Mount Olympus.

The energy of this card is to look into the engagement of Harry and Meghan. Look at Meghan's life before she met Harry, look at how she positioned herself during her relationship with Harry, and look at why the engagement was allowed and announced. There are clues hiding there in plain sight that we don't know about, but the BRF does. The energy of the card is to take another look at everything and examine what happened that led to the couple being engaged.

The clarifier for this card is the Page of Pentacles in reverse. Pages are children, and the Page of Pentacles is an earth sign child, like Archie. It is also my card for the UK. The energy of children is coming through here. Did Meghan say she was pregnant? What happened to that pregnancy? What was the proof? What do the people in her past say about her becoming pregnant? Is there anything in her past the suggests this is impossible? The Page of Pentacles is in reverse, so this is the negation of a child - the child never happened or the child is not hers.

The other energy relates to the UK and the status/money meaning of Pentacles. When Meghan married Harry, both of them gained status and money because of the marriage. The Page of Pentacles in reverse says to strip both Harry and Meghan of that status. Remove the titles. If they are still receiving money from their father, cut off that money. Return both of them to the position and finances that they held before the wedding.

Card Two: The Three of Pentacles in reverse.

The Three of Pentacles is about teamwork, people working together to achieve a goal. In the reverse, there is no teamwork, the person is not a team player, if there is a team it is divided and not cohesive or loyal. The energy of this card is of investigating the 'team' around Meghan - her friends, her mother, her PR agency/s. What can they tell you? What can you uncover from their behaviour and stories? The suit is Pentacles, so money is important - follow the money trail. Where does it go? To whom does it go? Who can be paid to talk about what they know about Meghan's past actions?

The clarifiers here are the Wheel of Fortune and the Ten of Swords. There were people who helped Meghan on her way up that she has now discarded, and they are willing to betray her in return. Find them talk to them, and see what they have to say about her actions and motivations.

Given the underlying energy, this could also be a surrogacy card (three to make a baby - mother, father, and surrogate - pentacles is about the body and material things, such as making a baby). If so, then the energy from the cards is the same - investigate and talk to those who were involved. They are ready to talk now, whereas before they may have held their tongue.

Card Three: The Two of Swords in reverse.

This card has the meaning of not making a decision, having a decision made for you, not being able to decide, the lesser of two evils, and the truth being revealed. The last meaning is not one that I often find with this card, but today it is the one that has the energy. The cards are saying to reveal the truth. There is no right way out of this, You are at a stalemate, and there is no solution that will please everyone. The card acknowledges that both outcomes will be less than ideal, but the push of the energy is to revealing the truth, not covering it up. As the saying goes, speak the truth and shame the devil.

The clarifier for this card is the Seven of Swords, the thief card, the card of wrongdoing. There has been deception and trickery going on. We all know this. It is time to come clean and reveal what lies and deceptions were told. Let the Harkles face the full consequences of their actions.

Underlying Energy: The Empress.

This card is appearing in its meaning of the mother. The energy is of pregnancy and children or pregnancy and a child. This energy is underlying all the cards above - the engagement, the rumoured surrogacy, and the trickery that has resulted in choosing between two bad outcomes. They are all connected by the idea of pregnancy and being a mother.

The clarifier for this card is The Tower. Knowing the truth about the children will create a Tower moment that will successfully stop the Harkles's current behaviour and render them unable to damage the institution of the BRF.

Conclusion.

The cards say that the best way to deal with the Harkles is to make a decision that has no right answer and/or has two equally bad outcomes, and to tell the truth. Gather information of what Harry and Meghan have done, especially in regards to the pregnancies and children, and release it to the world. Look into Meghan's past life, look at why the engagement was allowed, look into the team that supported her and talk to them. They may have held their tongues in the past, but now they are ready to talk.

Once you have gathered all the information you need, bite the bullet and release the truth. Reveal all the deceptions that were practised and the lies that were told. This may make you look stupid or foolish, and you may have been complicit in some of the deceptions by your past silence (the choice between two bad outcomes). Release them anyway. Then strip the pair of the titles and status that they gained upon their marriage (I say strip them of everything, but the cards refer to the engagement and subsequent wedding). This will be a Tower moment for the Harkles were what is left of their reputation and credibility crumbles to dust around them, and they will not be able to rebuild it. They will be rendered toothless when it comes to damaging the BRF.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 2.1k | cw: major character death (temporary, as in reincarnation) | tags: soulmates, starcrossed lovers, reincarnation | summary: In every life, in every universe, they will find each other again. What's a lifetime if you measure it in eternity? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is a fire that never goes out | AO3)

1

Troy, 13th century BCE

Achilles often marveled at the serenity of the sea at night. His mother is tempestuous by nature, unpredictable and untamed, and most days the sea reflects her nature. But not tonight. Tonight the waves are shallow, a gentle rocking of their ships that had lulled Patroclus to sleep in his arms.

The lone candle on his bedside bathes the room in a warm orange glow, casting shadows across the naked skin of his lover. He can see his marks on the alabaster skin, pale as the moon to Achilles' sun-kissed skin.

Many people have said that they are a study in contradictions, one the perfect antithesis of the other. They're not entirely wrong, but they miss the point. The most important fact of all.

Patroclus is the other half of his soul, and they only make sense together.

The war rages on, and deep down Achilles knows he can't sit this one out forever. Everyone thinks he refuses to fight out of spite, a bruised ego and a prideful, stubborn nature, much like his mother's, that keeps him away from the front lines.

Sure, it feeds his ego to know they're losing without his sword, but it's not pride that keeps him from joining the Greeks in this senseless war.

It's fear.

He's not afraid for himself, never has been. Achilles is a hero, he's destined to die at the hands of another. It's a cold comfort, this knowledge of the path that awaits him: Glory, honor, death.

It's what will make him a god one day.

No one ever asked him if he wanted that. No one but Patroclus, half his soul, all his life. Being a god, worshipped and admired by the masses, pales in comparison to the feeling of dark brown eyes looking at him with nothing but love and devotion. They don't see a half god, Achilles knows that.

They see the lonely boy who only ever wanted someone to see him and love him for that. For what he is, not for what the prophecies say he will be.

Tomorrow he will take up his armor again. Not to win a war for a man blinded by pride and greed and stupidity.

For the man whose love burns as warm and bright as the fire on Mount Olympus, and only for him.

2

England, 15th century

Public executions are Stephanos' least favorite of his princely duties.

He hates to see men and women die by his father's hand, no matter who ties the knot or sets the stake on fire. It might as well be his father's hand swinging the axe. The only thing he hates more is the cheering of the crowd, the spectacle. How they enjoy the suffering, the death, being played out before them. They're probably glad it's not them, but that's no excuse in his eyes.

Stephanos vows that when he becomes king, he will be a more just ruler.

It hasn't always been this way with him. When he was a young boy, he wanted to be like his father. There had never been any question in his mind that the people who were executed for public entertainment deserved their fate. They had it coming, bad people needed to be punished.

Edmund showed him that wasn't true.

Disguised as a commoner, he had taken Stephanos out of the castle and into town. He had shown him how the people of the kingdom really lived, and who the villains really were: his father's men, who tormented and abused and exploited the people they were supposed to protect and serve.

Edmund, who had lost his parents to King Richard's cruelty and still retained his kindness and warmth, and who had shown Stephanos what true love really meant.

Love for his people, who deserved a king who would rule them justly and kindly.

Love for the friends he made along the way, as Edmund taught him about the suffering that was happening right under his nose.

Love for another man, a man who found it in himself to love the son of the murderer of his parents.

It's the only thing that keeps him upright when he's forced to watch his love burn at the stake for having bewitched the young prince. Witchcraft, the only acceptable explanation for what they had caught Stephanos and Edmund doing in Stephanos' chambers.

As the flames die down, long after the painful screams of the only man, the only person, Stephanos has ever loved, the fire within him burns brighter than ever. He vows to avenge his lover and honor his memory by being a ruler Edmund would be proud to call his king.

3

Normandy, 1944

"God, they tell you about the bullets and the bombs, the blood and the death, sure. But they never talk about the rain and the cold and the bloody mud, do they?" Stephen knows it's a rhetorical question because Edward loves to ask them.

"Ever wonder if our commanding officer has a map, or does he just like sending us on scenic tours of enemy territory?”

" Wonder if the rats in the trenches have formed a union yet. Bet they're negotiating better living conditions than we are.".

"Do you reckon the General's war strategy involves a magic eight ball? I mean, that would explain a lot."

At first it had pissed him off. It was bad enough that they had to fight alongside a British battalion with soldiers who talked funny and were trained in ways Stephen didn't really understand. Most of what they did didn't make sense to him and he just wanted them all to fuck off back to where they came from. Maybe take some Germans out on the way, because even in his irritation he could admit that they could use all the help they could get.

That didn't mean he had to like the hand attached to that help.

It's just that during the last two months they've been hunkered down somewhere in the north of France, with rain pouring down almost constantly, he's gone and fallen in love with an Englishman.

How embarrassing.

Even the accent kind of does it for him now, all thanks to Edward ("Would you just call me Eddie for Christ's sake, you literally saved my ass.") and his charming, if slightly odd, ways. He was infuriating, but kind and funny, always trying to cheer everyone up even when he was barely holding it together. Eddie made him laugh and blush and curse up a storm and roll his eyes fondly and cry exhausted tears into his surprisingly strong shoulders.

Eddie makes him feel alive. He makes Stephen want to be alive, too.

Most of all, he wants Eddie to be alive.

The gaping bullet wound in his chest tells Stephen that he may not get what he wants.

Eddie's hand in his is wet from the rain and too cold, as if the life has already begun to seep out of his limbs and with it all his warmth. Which is ridiculous, because no one burns as warm and bright as Eddie, even on the darkest days he would be their beacon of light. A roaring fire of life and love and hope.

A fire that couldn't be put out just like that. They needed him, all those young soldiers, barely 18, if that, who looked up to Eddie and worshipped the ground he walked on. Who would look out for them now? Who would keep their spirits up, their will to fight and live?

Stephen couldn't do it, not without Eddie.

"I can't do it without you, Eddie." He is not ashamed of the way his voice breaks as he holds the love he has just found in his arms, only to lose it again.

Eddie's eyes are warm and soft as they gaze into his, even with the pain clearly visible in them. "Yes, you can, sweetheart. They need you."

"I need you," Stephen sobs, his tears mixing with the rain that falls on a face he knows will one day be a fading memory. The thought hurts. It fucking hurts.

With the last of his strength, Eddie squeezes his hand. "You have me, Stevie. You'll always have me. My love will keep you warm long after my body has grown cold, I promise. I'll always be with you, in every life to come."

4

Hawkins, 1987

"Hey Eddie, it's me. Steve." Rubbing his hands over his face, Steve sighs, a sound as tired as he feels. "God, this is so stupid. You barely knew me. I barely knew you. I shouldn't be sitting here mourning you like we were anything more than two strangers thrown together in this fucking mess. Not that you don't deserve to be mourned, man. It makes me so fucking angry how they still refuse to see who you really were. A hero. A friend."

It's cold where Steve sits on the ground in front of a slab of stone that reads "Edward Munson".

"It's just... I don't understand why it hurts so much. It feels like, fuck, like there's a fist in my chest, in my stomach, squeezing so hard I can barely breathe some days. We all miss you. Not just the kids, although it hit Dustin the hardest. He's not the same and I don't know how to help him. Christ, I can't even help myself. I sleep with your vest under my bed, right next to my bat, how crazy is that? Most nights I can only sleep for a few hours if I touch it."

He runs his hand through his hair and grips it tightly, as if the pain helps make sense of everything he's feeling.

"You'd probably call me crazy, a fucking nutcase. Or maybe not. I don't know you well enough to say for sure, but I feel like maybe you wouldn't judge me too harshly. What I'm trying to say is this: I feel like when you died I lost something I didn't even know I had. Like, ugh, I dunno, I'm not good at this, you should have seen my college essay, Nancy told me it didn't make any sense. But it's like your death should be the period at the end of our story, right? The sentence is over, the story is told. Only it feels like it's just a semicolon and part of the story is still coming. That doesn't make sense, does it?"

Sighing again, this time because he's annoyed at himself for not finding the right words to explain himself, he climbs to his feet and slaps his hand on the cold stone.

"Right. Sorry for disturbing your rest. You deserve some rest, Eddie. Thank you for saving us. For saving Dustin. And for, y'know, saying those things in the woods. I never told you that, but it still means a lot to me."

The you still mean a lot to me swings in the space between the living and the dead, the thread that holds both worlds together.

5

Chicago, 2023

Steve knows they should go inside. They're too old to sleep out on the cold, hard ground, even if the night air is mild at this time of year. Steve and Eddie aren't 20 anymore, they're twice that age, and he knows they're going to regret not sleeping in a real bed in the morning.

"We should go inside, it's getting late," he says to Eddie, but his husband just hums where he's nestled into Steve's side, his cheek on Steve's chest. Right over his heart, where he's carved out his own space in the two decades they've been together.

"Just a little while longer, love. I don't want to miss it."

Eddie sounds wide awake, as excited to be lying in the garden outside their little house on the outskirts of town as he is about anything else in their lives. It's one of the most endearing things about him. Every day with him is a new adventure, even if it's Sunday morning reruns of Friends.

"Miss what, babe?"

"The shooting stars. Didn't you listen to Dustin when he said there was a meteor shower tonight?"

Steve chuckled. Of course his little brother would know such things. He has to admit that he didn't listen to his ramblings when he stopped by for lunch, too distracted by the way the autumn sun had cast shadows on Eddie's face. Not that he'd say it out loud.

"Mhhh. Must have slipped my mind. So, what do we wish for?" It comes out more earnest than he intended, his teasing feeling oddly displaced in the face of the pure love and adoration on Eddie's face as he leans up on his elbow to look down at Steve.

"For another lifetime with you. What more would I want than more of what we already have, preferably an eternity of it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees the first shooting star streaking across the night sky, and as he pulls Eddie down for a kiss, he wishes for just that.

[khaire-traveler]

Offering Ideas for the Muses

~ Since I don't see many posts on this topic, I've also included common "general" traditional offerings to the Greek pantheon. I did my best to come up with unique but simple ideas; I wanted to include things that most people could likely offer or do. I hope this list is helpful to someone. ~

Kalliope - Your favorite poetry, poetry books, poetry you wrote, musical instruments, writings you're proud of, devotional writing to her, a handmade scroll with your writing, your favorite pen/pencil, a quill, clay objects (especially tablets), gifts from your siblings (if applicable), imagery of Orpheus, lyre imagery, golden crown imagery. General: Imagery of here, incense (frankincense, patchouli, citrus, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, baked goods, wine, rosemary, Orphic Hymn 0 or 75 (can be given to any Muse, but I'll only list it here since Kalliope is thought to be the mother of Orpheus).

Kleio - Any historical or historical fiction books you enjoy, your favorite books (any genre), school notes about history (if applicable), a list of lessons you've learned from the past, a letter of how the past has helped you grow, setting time aside to learn history (anything that interests you), learning about ancient Greece, your favorite bookmark (especially one you frequently use), your favorite quotes. General: Imagery of her, incense (frankincense, patchouli, lavender, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

Ourania - Star maps, globes, maps of Earth, compasses, dream journals, telescopes, glow-in-the-dark stars, your favorite books about the universe, sci-fi books/shows, seeking knowledge about the unknown, your own art of the stars or space, your own sci-fi writings, solar system imagery, space/star imagery, imagery of your favorite constellation, General: Imagery of her, incense (patchouli, lavender, rosemary, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

Thaleia - A list of your favorite jokes, a joke book, ivy leaves, an ivy wreath, funny stories/memories from your life, jokes you've written, your favorite comical musical/play/movie/etc., confetti, streamers, a shepherd's (or wooden) staff, comical masks, smiley faces, blooming flowers, sheep imagery, comedy mask imagery. General: Imagery of her, incense (patchouli, rosemary, strawberry, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

Melpomene - Ivy leaves, an ivy wreath, serious/somber poetry, "vent" art, your favorite tragic musicals/plays/movies/etc., tragic stories you've written, symbols of inner strength/perseverance (whatever that looks like to you), stories about overcoming/growth, therapeutic journaling (I recommend doing this with professional assistance), tragic/sad masks, siren imagery, sword imagery, boot imagery, tragedy mask imagery. General: Imagery of her, incense (frankincense, lavender, cedar, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

Polymnia - Meditation (if applicable), devotional writings you've written, your favorite hymns/devotional poems, laurel leaves, lustral water, self-made hymns, devotional writings about her, burning non-toxic offerings, fire, prayer journal, imagery of Mount Olympus, imagery of animals you associate with "divine connection" (maybe doves, stags, owls, etc.), imagery of anything you associate with "divine connection" (hands in a praying position, the stars or sky, nature, etc.). General: Imagery of her, incense (rosemary, myrrh, patchouli, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

Erato - Smut fanfic (that's right, I'll say it), written erotica, your own erotic writing, love letters you've written or received, erotic poetry, setting aside time to explore your, er, "interests", red or pink flowers, jewelry/perfume that makes you feel attractive, sex-positive journaling, basil, myrtle, lyre imagery, sexual imagery, anything you associate with passion/erotica. General: Imagery of her, incense (rosemary, rose, amber, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

Euterpe - Your favorite poetry, your own poetry, poetry books, sharing your poetry with others, relaxing/calming tea, media that brings you comfort (watching a movie with her, giving her a DVD of your comfort movie, your favorite book, etc.), the lyrics to your favorite songs, imagery of animals/objects that have symbolic meaning to you, imagery of double flutes. General: Imagery of her, incense (patchouli, lavender, myrrh, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

Terpsikhore - Musical instruments, dancing in honor of her, songs you've written, a devotional playlist, your favorite song lyrics, setting aside time to simply listen to music, your favorite musicals, expressing yourself through song/dance, picks for instruments (guitar picks, lyre plectrums, etc.), sheet music, supporting local/small musicians, learning to play an instrument, lyre imagery, songbird imagery (or any animal you associate with music). General: Imagery of her, incense (patchouli, citrus, strawberry, etc.), olive oil, olive branch, honey, water, wine, baked goods, rosemary.

[thealogie]

I think this episode really was like…this show is set on mount Olympus among the Greek gods and they all just play by totally different moral rules like you can’t judge them by normal human standards, you understand it’s all heightened fiction so you can like and dislike each of them based on the in-universe moral code. And then suddenly there’s an election abruptly making their “world” intersect with our world and you’re like shit shit shit their weird Greek god antics are having real world consequences on a world we recognize as our own and you’re like….wait are we now suddenly supposed to judge them by our own real life moral code what the fuck is this???

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Hi, I’m the one who asked for a fluff request yesterday. And, you told me to request on this blog.

would it be possible to request for a fluff ares x reader where he has a massive crush on the reader but he’s too shy to admit it bcs she’s just so perfect and she’s sought after by many gods. Lucky for him, she has a crush on him as well?

And once again, I apologize if it’s too much to ask :)

Hi! I did make a couple of changes to the scenario, but I hope you will like this rendition of Ares with a haganzeuka!fem!reader :)

Special thanks to @radioactivesweet for bouncing off ideas to me and @yellow-snark for being honest with their feedback!

Ares adored Aphrodite. From the moment he set his gaze upon her that fateful day in Mount Olympus, they were fated to be together. Love and War, forever entwined even when their tumultuous relationship had been fractured over and over for centuries, finding comfort in the arms of others. But now…well, Ares was tired. He had long since grown weary of the goddess’ vanity and manipulations, especially the former.

Why would she still get into an argument with Athena, Freya, or any other goddess on who is the most beautiful being in the universe, he had no idea. Had his opinion not been enough? He wooed her with gifts, sang praises of her loveliness and dedicated any victories in his battles to her.  And yet it still wasn’t enough for her, who wanted the entire world, nay, the universe to kneel at her feet. 

Henceforth, he and Aphrodite were no longer romantically involved. Strangely enough, instead of isolating himself from the Greek pantheon to lament the loss of Aphrodite’s affection, his sorrow was soon forgotten when his armorer [First Name] arrived at the steps of his temple, asking if she may enter. She was here to deliver his spear and the new custom-made gauntlets that Ares ordered to replace his old ones. 

As an apprentice who worked in Hephaestus’ workshop, [First Name] was allowed to have the other gods as clients but never to aid him in his projects without explicit permission. Even after all of these centuries, Aphrodite’s husband is still a picky artist. 

The war god immediately allowed her to come inside, instructing his guest to leave her offering of plum wine in front of his statue before following him inside further into the temple. The wind chimes attached to her wide brimmed hat created a pleasant ‘ching’ sound as she walked down the marble hallway in her sandaled feet. It made [First Name] less…intimidating. 

Her fashion sense wasn’t horrid per se, though she did appear intimidating with the lower half of her face concealed by a bronze mask shaped in the muzzle of a Chinese guardian dog. Her [Hair Color] tresses were either pulled back and tucked under a black handkerchief or let loose because she had been too focused on her craft that she forgot to take care of herself again. 

Although Ares had expected the armorer to immediately leave once he was satisfied with his equipment, she stayed with him for a bit longer. She did not talk much; she was more of a listener, and she listened to him talk about Aphrodite, then rant about other things until he saw Apollo’s chariot ride across the blue hazy skies. He apologized profusely for taking up her time, but [First Name] brushed it off with a small smile and said to contact her again if he needed anything else done for him or his men before exiting the temple. 

It was after the armorer left that Ares noticed a cluster of pretty stones sitting right next to the offering. He didn’t know why or how…but the war god supposed that was when he began falling for her. 

Like everyone else in Olympus.

But this time, he had an advantage over his competition. Ares knew what she liked and disliked, even what day of the week when Hephaestus' workshop was not too busy to drop in for a surprise visit...only to discover that his sweet little armorer had an incredibly short temper as he did.

��HOW DARE YOU LOSE YOUR SWORD, YOU FOOL?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO LOOK FOR THE CAVE THAT POSSESS AN EXTREMELY DURABLE ORE, WHICH MIGHT PREVENT YOUR SWORD FROM BREAKING AFTER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME?!  FOUR MONTHS OF SEARCHING, GONE TO WASTE! THAT’S IT! DIE! DIE TEN THOUSAND TIMES AND REFLECT ON YOUR ACTIONS!!” [First Name] roared, [Eye Color] orbs glowing in fury as she chased after the terrified client around the workshop with a cleaving knife, ignoring everything and everyone else around her. 

Including him.

Ares sighed softly, glancing down at the bouquet and the bag of sweets he was carrying. Perhaps he should have gotten mitarashi dango instead of cupcakes? She loved sweets, but which one would calm her down long enough for him to profess his desire to court her?

[nothazellevesque]

Okay, rereading pjo as an adult made me realize that Luke and the titans really used the geneva conventions as more of a geneva checklist. like bro technically did all but FOUR of the war crimes outlined in the geneva conventions. and he technically attempted summary execution, but he failed. let’s recap and go over what Luke did and where it fits as a war crime:

Willful killing, or causing great suffering or serious injury to body or health- literally all of the shit he does. Luke breaks this one with the pit scorpion in book ONE, and then keeps on breaking it every book.

Torture or inhumane treatment- okay so technically Luke is a victim of torture and inhumane treatment by kronos, and kronos tortures folks with Ominous And Scary Dreams.

Unlawful wanton destruction or appropriation of property- Luke/kronos goes absolutely HAM with the scythe and wrecks olympus. and a lot of Manhattan.

Forcing a prisoner of war to serve in the forces of a hostile power- okay so technically, luke HAS no prisoners of war, but he blackmails silena to serve him as a spy. she is not physically held captive in the traditional sense, but she is forced to serve out of fear for her and her loved ones’ safety. technically not a traditional prisoner of war, but DEFINITELY not a willing member of the titan force (i have no idea how to classify silena, really) also forces annabeth to hold up the sky so atlas can be free, literally forcing her to serve his goals.

Depriving a prisoner of war of a fair trial- technically has no prisoners of war in the traditional sense, but considering percy and his friends are briefly held prisoner by Luke and he tries to kill percy by letting antaeus, ethan, and a dracaena attack him without him being formally accused of a crime, i think this counts in the loosest sense of the law.

Unlawful deportation, confinement or transfer- annabeth in the titan’s curse. while technically not shown in the books, she did NOT make it from that cliff at westover all the way to mount othrys on her own or willingly. sorry girl

Taking hostages- annabeth. all those mortals on the princess andromeda. man took a LOT of hostages

Directing attacks against civilians- he puts all of New York City to sleep. not ONE of those people is a combatant, Luke. those are civilians, Luke. You did a war crime, Luke.

Misusing a flag of truce, a flag or uniform of the enemy- kronos literally wearing Luke as a skin suit. While Luke may have been an enemy combatant to percy and camp half blood, it is VERY apparent that he is fighting for some aspect of control and does not want to be kronos’s skin suit (as exemplified by his conversation with annabeth). or, a more obvious example, Luke masquerading as a normal camper while doing kronos’s bidding in the early days. man DEFINITELY wore the camp shirt while doing his evil deeds.

Settlement of occupied territory- taking over the princess andromeda. does a cruise ship count as territory? Idk. but i don’t think the titans built a whole ass cruise ship JUST for luke and kronos’s coffin and then decided to let a bunch of random mortals on. those folks were most likely already on there.

Deportation of inhabitants of occupied territory- the mortals on the princess andromeda are NOT present after sea of monsters. so where did they go?

Using poison weapons- idk what to classify the lydian drakon as. is that thing a combatant? a weapon? whatever it is, it has poison, and it kills people, which is Not Allowed. also Ethan’s little poison knife stab on annabeth. little war crime bestie

Using civilians as shields- wtf else would you call just leaving all those sleeping mortals on the street in Manhattan if not human shields?

Using child soldiers- okay to be fair EVERYONE in the pjo universe does this war crime. so ill give Luke a slight pass

Firing upon a Combat Medic with clear insignia- the Apollo cabin. those kids are the closest we got to combat medics in these books, and the monsters definitely try and munchity crunchity the fuck out of those kids

Murder, cruel or degrading treatment and torture- um… literally EVERYTHING luke/kronos unleashes upon the campers? idk what you would call a POISON ACID SPITTING DRAGON HITTING YOU IN THE FACE if not torture. also. he murders ethan. that’s definitely a thing he does. if the shard of weapon in Ethan’s body doesn’t kill him before kronos drop kicks him through a pit hundreds of stories above the ground, that drop definitely will. sorry ethan.

Pillaging- technically he does not do MUCH pillaging, but the stealing of the helm of darkness and the lightning bolt, and other minor things counts i think

idk if luke and kronos know about the geneva conventions, but they definitely exist in universe, so… have fun at The Hague with your war crimes mcgrimes headasses

[happyhauntt]

BURIAL GROUND, a hunger games fic. ─── summary:  In District Four, they teach you  how to survive the Games. They don’t teach you how to survive what comes after. ─── warnings: this story contains triggering themes including sexual assault & rape, prostitution, self-harm and thoughts of suicide, death and canon-typical violence. these themes, along with others, are prevalent in the hunger games universe and will come up in this story, so please don’t read if these things affect you! ─── fic tag. read on ao3. fic masterlist.

CHAPTER TWO ─── pretty things (5.1k words.)

     LONG AGO, BEFORE THE GAMES clawed their way into Nimah's life, she dreamed of being the guest of honour at one of President Snow's glittering pageants.

     She remembers being a seven year old girl, crouched right in front of the television in her old house. Her mother bustling in the kitchen, her father at the factory, her grandparents sitting on rickety wooden chairs behind her. They were chattering to one another in hushed voices, pretending not to watch the broadcast.

     Her brother, Caspian, had been at the combat academy. Months before had been his first reaping. He'd been twelve and terrified, with trembling hands he'd balled into fists to hide the tremors. He'd worn his best shirt and their mother had combed his hair, and he'd stood in line with the rest of the children to await his fate.

     He hadn't been chosen. Both Nimah and Caspian were born with knives in their hands and sweat on their brow, but she'd still been a child then, too. She still had chubby cheeks and shining brown eyes, and she'd leaned in so close to the television that every breath made the image flicker.

     Nim's parents spent every bit of money they had to send their children to the combat academies. Nim learned to fight as soon as she could walk, and yet, with her knees pressed into the grimy carpet, the horrors of the Games never reached her. Only the glamour of the Victors, bathed in riches beyond all imagining.

     She had dreamed of Snow's parties. The champagne, the glitter woven through her hair, dripping in jewelry and adored by the nation. On television, the Presidential Palace stood proud and pale, seeming to shine beneath the lights. Nim had wanted to be there. She'd so badly wanted to have that life.

     She had not known what her naivety would cost her.

     The diamonds wrap around her throat like a noose. Jeweled bracelets layered upon bird-like wrists feel like shackles weighing her down. The lights that had made the mansion shine on television are blinding in real-life, technicolour flashes painting rainbows across the party.

     Everyone else is made to shine, too  ━  skin splashed with gold-and-turquoise body paint, gems of every kind adorning every surface of their bodies, everyone draped in expensive silks and brocades. Each and every Capitol citizen trying to outdo one another, to look more outrageous than the next, trying to grab the attention of the cameras, the president, anyone worth something.

     Unfortunately for them, all eyes have been on Nimah Caplan since the moment she won her Games.

     President Snow's mansion has always been a sight to behold; whether she is seeing is through a television screen or in person, the grandeur of his home never fails to take her breath away. Tonight, the ballroom has been transformed into what Nimah assumes must be intended to imitate Mount Olympus.

     High above her head, stars twinkle where dozens of chandeliers used to be. It must be an illusion, some trick of the light or a clever projection, but the dark abyss of the night sky stares back at her. In spite of the bright stars and pretty constellations, it feels as if it is trying to swallow her whole.

     All around, there are guests lounging on soft sofas and large, fluffy cushions. There are fireplaces and gardens and small ponds filled with exotic fish, and the faint scent of honey lingers on the air. Everyone here behaves as if they belong; as if they truly are gods resting on their mount in the heavens, ruling over the unfortunate mortals below.

     Nim is too used to playing the role of goddess.

     As sure as she is with a knife in her hand, temptation is the game Nimah was truly born to play. Her eye patch is bedazzled with emeralds and held in place by a stiff golden braid, and her hair, left to fall down her back in sleek curls, is speckled with rhinestones. Her stylist chose a forest-green dress, simple by the Capitol's standards  ━  swathes of silk pool around her ankles, a sweetheart neckline guards her modesty, and the sleeves come all the way down to her wrists.

     To anyone who looks  ━  and all eyes are on her, the belle of the ball  ━  she is the very image of an angel. Saintly and demure, she floats through the ballroom, gracing familiar faces with a pleasant, welcome smile. But when she walks, those watching will catch brief flashes of smooth skin, courtesy of the thigh-high slit in her dress.

     She knows how best to get them talking.

     Someone taps her shoulder. For a moment, Nim's whole body stiffens, her muscles coiled to strike out at the stranger. Within seconds, the facade slips seamlessly back into place; she turns on her heel and greets the man, someone she recognises vaguely from other Capitol parties, as an old friend. She allows him to take her hand, lets him lead her into the center of the dance floor.

     He twirls her slowly, his grip on her waist too tight to be polite. Her senses scream at her to run  ━  to peel his roaming hands off her body and snap his fingers like twigs  ━  but she carries herself as she always does. She lets him touch her, tossing her head back to laugh at every word he says, more of a showpiece than a person tonight.

     That's all he wants. Everyone to watch them, him dancing with her. To watch his light fingers wandering dangerously close to inappropriate places, to know that he got to touch her, the Capitol's darling.

     When the song ends, he finally releases her. She gives him a coquettish smile and promises to save him another dance for later in the evening. No sooner has he left that someone else arrives  ━  a woman this time, who kisses both of Nim's cheeks, her spidery lashes fluttering against Nim's skin in a way that makes her stomach churn.

     Her skin burns, but the mask never slips. Not for a moment.

     In the Capitol, Nim becomes someone else so easily, it's like she never existed before. The moment she steps off the train, her sharp heels clicking against the pavement, the cameras flashing, dazzling her, she is a shapeshifter. A woman once dead, come alive again.

     When people are watching, there is nothing else she can afford to be. She'll paint her lips red and flash her smiles, make them all swoon for her; the performance, the persona she slips into, did not come easily at first. Now she is a well-oiled machine, a doll the Capitol gets to play with, to dress up or dress down, to play with and then discard. The mindless gossip, the glitter, the constant reaching hands, all of it is precise.

     She can play her part better than anybody else, but it leaves her reeling for weeks after.

     Some of the others don't play their parts as well  ━  and some of them, the unlucky few, have very different roles.

     Cosmo Byrd lies slumped over one of the sofas in the corner of the ballroom. There are some who earned their victories, like Nimah and Finnick, with blood and guts and lifetimes of guilt to show for it. They parade around with their crowns forged in death. They are society's glittering elite  ━  the ones who fought. The ones who earned it.

     Then there are the ones, like Cosmo and Annie Cresta, who were lucky. They snatched their lives back from the jaws of death through sheer circumstance, and now they must live with the trauma of it. He was seventeen when he became the Victor of the 60th Hunger Games, and all that time he was just a boy running scared. The last one standing.

     In the fourteen-and-a-half years since that moment, he has never stopped running.

     There is a boy attached to his neck; in the hazy light, Nimah can just make out blue-painted nails and hair slicked back with green paint. Cosmo lifts a hand and greets her with a lazy smile. She wonders if he knows who he's waving at, or even where he is.

     A presence hovers near Nimah's elbow as she finishes dancing with another Capitol citizen. It is strangely comforting, the way the man's pink irises flicker between her and the girl at her side. He bids her goodbye, stuttering as he does so, before swooping back into the crowd that huddles at the edge of the dance floor.

     With a gentle smile, Nim turns to greet her old friend. "Derry. Enjoying the party?"

     If Nimah is the bright shining light at the center of a room, attracting glossy-eyed people like moths to a flame, then Alderry Minette is a lightning strike in the middle of a forest. Something about her has always screamed DANGER  ━  from her sharp jaw to the curve of her lips, the devious look in her eyes and the strange quickness with which she can move, standing at Alderry's side has always felt more like handling a pit viper.

     Perhaps that is why, after all these years, Nimah feels more at ease when Derry is in the room than anywhere else in the world. With Derry near, everyone else seems to steer clear; they know who she is, how she won, what those quick little hands are capable of.

     She won the 68th Hunger Games, two years after Nimah. She was sixteen.

     She was one of the ones who earned it.

     Derry flashes a quick grin. "As much as I enjoy any other party. When do you have to leave?"

     Nim clenches her jaw for a split second, the only flaw in an otherwise perfect performance. She glances quickly at the edges of the room; the doorways are cloaked in shadow, almost giving the impression that there is no escape from this decadent illusion. Something about that reminds her of the arena so suddenly that her lungs constrict painfully.

     If Alderry notices, she doesn't remark on it.

     "I'll go when the party's over, and not before," Nimah says finally, when the panicked feeling passes. It leaves behind that prickling static that dances across her skin; it never really goes away. She spares a glance around the room, wondering if her client for the evening is among the guests, or whether she'll find them waiting at her apartment. They might be eager to begin with her, but they'll have to be patient. President Snow likes her to stick around until the end of the festivities, showing off. "Was fight club before the party, or after?"

     Derry gives an unpleasant snort. Her faces has been splashed in rouge and shadows; her eyes streaked with black liner, her cheeks and lips painted pink to highlight her porcelain skin. Her hair is sewn with quartz crystals. She looks more like a doll than a killer.

     "They'd never risk bruising my face before the party," says Derry, a cold smile curling on her lips. She swipes two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and offers one to Nimah, who accepts it gladly, downing the contents in one mouthful.

     They all have their parts to play. Nimah and Finnick, the Capitol's darlings. Cosmo, a cautionary tale. Alderry Minette, a bloodthirsty girl, forced into underground fighting rings to earn money for sponsers.

     And Katniss and Peeta, Nimah thinks, as they enter the ballroom together. She wonders what roles they will have to play.

     All attention shifts to the newly-engaged couple, and Nimah slumps for a moment, taking the opportunity to catch her breath. Most of the time she can make herself love the lights, the glitter, the attention when it's happening. She can regress to the starry-eyed child who wanted to be there, shining  ━  but not at the cost of who she is.

     These people, all of them, think they know her because they watched her transform from an innocent girl to a teenage killer on a television screen. They don't know half the shit inside her head. They don't know half the shit she went through. It sticks to the inside of her skull, messy and black and congealed. She tries her best to deal with it, but the more she scrapes and claws at it, the messier it gets.

     Her whole body is a cage. Her skin holds back a tide of black matter, of rage and ruin; it wants to escape. It wants to stain everyone it can, to blacken everything Nim touches, to make the world as dark and messy as she feels.

     She can smile, and smile, and flatter and shine, but her fingernails still bleed when she scratches at her bedroom walls. The inside of her throat is still raw from screaming, from the alcohol she swallows to fall asleep at night, to keep the nightmares at bay.

     Nimah catches her reflection in her champagne glass. Just for a moment, her gaze lingers. Someone strange stares back at her; a green-eyed, eye-patched girl she cannot be now. She wrinkles her nose, bile rising in the back of her throat, and she passes it off to another waiter. Her hands tremble; she closes them into fists and prays for the shaking to pass.

     "I feel sorry for the poor kids," Derry mutters, taking a sip from her own glass.

     Katniss and Peeta are sixteen, just teenagers, their faces fresh and pulled wide with smiles as they circle the room, led by their escort. Their eyes are shiny and bright, they kiss the cheeks of those clamouring to meet them, but there is a tensity in their shoulders that Nimah knows only too well.

     She frowns. "All of us were those kids."

     And none of them are kids anymore.

     She shakes herself out of her daze, plastering a pleasant look on her face as the other guests flock back to the dance floor.

     Gently, she taps Alderry on the shoulder, leaning close to murmur in the woman's ear. "Check on Cosmo before you leave for fight club, please?" She spares a glance at their barely-conscious friend. She wishes she could spend her days in a similar state of numbness. "Another public overdose is what none of us need."

     Alderry nods. Nimah leaves her, disappearing back into the crowd as stretching hands reach out to brush over her shoulders, her face. A million tiny spiders scatter across her skin.

     She finds Finnick at the other end of the ballroom. He stands tall, like a statue made of bronze, copper hair glowing beneath the dim lights. The crisp edges of his suit are bedazzled with precious gems; when she reaches him, emerging from the crowd of admirers like a rose blooming in the summertime, he greets her with a gracious, slightly-relieved smile.

     "Dance with me?" It is more of a demand than a request. She stands too closely to him, trailing the tip of her finger along the sapphires on his lapel. She leans in and murmurs, "It'll look good, like the king and queen dancing. That's always great publicity."

     The corner of Finnick's lip twitches with the hint of a frown. He always struggled to understand the difference in Nimah, when she comes to the Capitol. As a snake sheds its skin, she sheds her insecurities and twirls in her sparkling dresses. At home, she cannot sleep without a light on in every room. She is frightened and fierce, two entirely separate entities. He always wondered how two creatures like that could live inside the same body.

     But now he sees the anxiety flickering in her eye. The nervous flick of her wrist as she flattens down his lapel. They're watching us. He can feel their eyes, too, all of them, like a burial shroud. Without another word, he leads her into a dance.

     Most of the time, he's used to it. Someone is always watching. You get used to the burn that comes with eyes staring at you. Like an unfamiliar smell in your bedroom. At first, it's all you can think about  ━  how different everything feels. But if you live with it long enough, it becomes part of your life. Another thing to carry.

     His fingers hold tightly to Nimah's waist, their hands clasped together. She lets him lead, for once. The song changes to a light, airy tune, floating down from above them. The other dancers seem to distance themselves, making space for their golden Victors in the center of the dance floor.

     Nim plasters a deceptive grin on her face, one that must be convincing to everyone in the room except him. Finnick cannot tell whether it is a blessing or a curse that he knows her so well.

     "I hate this," she murmurs, so quietly that he almost doesn't hear her. Her lips hardly move, the words breathed between her teeth as if they are some secret, revolutionary covenant that cannot ever be heard by prying ears.

     Finnick gives her waist a gentle squeeze. Nim can't tell if it's because he has one more year of this under his belt than her, or if the looseness of his shoulders comes naturally, but his smile is too easy. He is all charm.

     Is it easier for him? Did he just... adjust better than she did?

     Their hell will last for only a few hours more, at most. By midday tomorrow, they'll both be on a train back to their district, and the decompression will begin. Nim will lock herself inside her house for days, hiding beneath the duvet with all the lights turned on, an empty bottle resting on the pillow beside her. Hobbs might try and break the door down again, if he doesn't see any movement through the windows.

     "It won't be like this forever." The words taste stale and false on his tongue.

     Nim scoffs. She looks up at him through her lashes, her lime-green eye narrowed scornfully. The emeralds on her eye patch wink. "You're too smart to believe that."

     He doesn't try to correct her.

     When the song ends, morphing into another ethereal melody, Nimah peels herself away. The few minutes of peace she earned with Finnick vanish as she slips back into the sea of guests. Various excuses spill from her lips as she makes a beeline towards one of the tables lining the walls, an array of stunning food laid out to be sampled.

     She plucks a small, rose-shaped pastry from a plate and pops it into her mouth whole, careful not to smear her lipstick. A delighted moan springs from someone nearby, and her eye wanders to find Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire and the Capitol's newest obsession, with another pastry caught between her fingers.

     "Congratulations." Nim's heel-clad feet carry her toward Katniss before she truly knows what she's doing. "On winning your Games."

     Katniss looks startled, choking on a stray flake of pastry for a moment. She swallows quickly, a strange frown overtaking her features as she realises who spoke. "You're Nimah Caplan," says Katniss. "You, uh..."

     The younger girl struggles to find the right words. Nimah chuckles. "You can say it, you know. I killed my brother." The wet squelch rings in her ears; her brother's dying words float through her brain. She thought it would hurt less, almost ten years later. When someone dies so you can survive, though, that pain stays with you like an open wound.

     Still, she presses her lips together in a grim smile. "My favourite response is usually your Games were very memorable. But not more memorable than yours, hm? Two victors." It isn't bitterness that colours her voice; it's almost wonder. "Star-crossed lovers."

     Katniss narrows her gaze for a moment, as if trying to decipher whether Nimah is mocking her. In spite of the scorn curling up in her ribs, though, Nimah wouldn't mock Katniss. Not for such a clever move. Not for pulling one over on a system designed to make them suffer.

     "You're not very good at masking your feelings, are you?" Nimah mutters, observing the uncomfortable tension in Katniss' jaw. Nim keeps her features locked in a steady smile, always ready for the cameras. "You'll learn to. You'll have to. But you don't love him, huh?"

     Katniss doesn't respond.

     Nim almost doesn't expect her to; denying it would be an outright lie, and both of them know better to tell half-truths in the Capitol, a city built of pretty falsehoods.

     The muscles jump in Katniss' cheek. Nim fixes the younger girl with a piercing eye. "There are worse things," she says quietly, turning back to the dessert table. She surveys the pastries, one ring-laden hand lingering over some chocolate tarts. "There are roles we have to play for the rest of our lives. Most of us would kill to be in your place, Katniss. Can I call you Katniss?"

     The District 12 girl blinks. Nimah wonders if Katniss is imagining lodging a knife in her throat.

     "Playing happy families is a dream compared to what some of us have to do." Perhaps she is being cruel, but it's not her intention. She was thirteen, but she could've been sixteen; she could've fallen in love, or pretended to, just to get out of there alive.

     Nim has too many regrets, but there is only one thing she would do differently.

     Her brother would be standing here, instead, if she could make that happen.

     The silence between them stretches on as Nim chooses another pastry, the otherworldly music wrapping around them like silk, swallowing them whole; insects caught in a fantasy, something soft and warm to keep them happy while they are digested.

     Then Katniss says, "What happened to your eyes? I don't recall hearing about any head injuries in your Games..."

     Nimah swallows roughly, her smooth facade chipped slightly at the edges. She turns to face Katniss, and finds the younger girl staring at her through narrowed eyes, triumph dancing through her expression.

     Perhaps, Nimah realises, Katniss is better at this game than she thought.

     "It happened after."

     She hardly remembers it; the hilt of the kitchen knife clutched in her hand, digging into her skin. The white-hot flash of pain and the blood and the screaming. The memories of that awful morning stay hazy and pale at the edges of her mind, and she is thankful that she cannot remember the true horror of it.

     "A few years ago." She wipes the discomfort from her eyes, paints the simple smile back onto her face as if she is some perfectly-poised doll. "It was an accident."

     Katniss clicks her tongue, and mutters, "Some of us have to do what we have to do, huh?"

     Nimah nods soundlessly. "Call me if you need any advice," she says, after another moment of silence passes between them. She takes a step closer to Katniss; she stands half-a-head taller than the younger girl in her heels. Her eyes bores into Katniss, almost pleading. Her voice is low when she adds, "The fight is over. We've got the rest of our lives to deal with now, and it's easier to do it together."

     She spent years hiding. Growing thorns instead of skin, pushing away anyone who dared try to help her, dared to try and share her feelings. All of them are Victors. All of them won their Games.

     Now they get to live with it.

. . .

     THE NEXT MORNING, Nimah lies on the bare wooden floors of her apartment, in the patch of sunlight streaming in through the window. She doesn't know if the weather outside is truly good or bad; she changed all the windows to show only sunny days the moment she got the keys, and ever since, her mornings in the Capitol have been spent wishing the sun could burn her up.

     President Snow pays for it. Nimah is sure he pays for all of their apartments in the city, so the Victors he chooses to use for his own gain are always shown in the best light. Expensive furnishings, silk bedclothes, he made sure these rooms were a luxurious paradise fit for a queen.

     Nimah emptied out all the furniture as soon as she could.

     She kept the bedroom the same; perfumed bed sheets with a thread count higher than the sky, candelabras in the corners, a rug that must've cost a fortune, which Nimah poured a bottle of red wine over out of spite. But everything other room is bare.

     She wanted a place that felt safe and empty. The Capitol has never been either of these things, but in the middle of a bare room, with wooden floorboards digging into her shoulder blades, she can trick herself into believing something else for a moment or two.

     A light tap at the front door grabs her attention, but Nimah doesn't move. She lays still, her limbs protesting against the discomfort of the floor, the urge to run rising as heavy footsteps thud across the floor, but then Cosmo's face dips into her line of sight.

     He raises an eyebrow, a silent question. His eyes scrape over the dress she wears, the same dress from the night before, except one of the sleeves has been torn away, exposing her arm to the sunlight. One knee is drawn up, so the slit in the skirt falls away almost completely.

     Nimah remains quiet, and Cosmo accepts her non-answer, lying on the floor next to her. She wonders if he cares about the dust sticking to his brocade waistcoat.

     He rakes one hand through thick, curly hair before drawing a lighter from his pocket. He lights the cigarette that dangled between his fingers and takes a drag; the heady scent of cloves and some sweet drug Nimah can't identify clouds the air around them in a pale yellow haze.

     She plucks it from his grip and takes a long drag. Her lungs fill with smoke, an unfamiliar sweetness sits at the back of her throat. Before she can take another drag, Cosmo swats her and snatches the cigarette back.

     Nim blows smoke through her lips. She watches it swirl through the air, long tendrils curling and then vanishing entirely. "This wasn't what I thought it would be."

     Cosmo turns his head to face her, blowing smoke into her face. "What, the cigarette?"

     She reaches out and flicks the end of it; ash sprinkles down to powder Cosmo's face with tiny speckles of black-and-white. He rolls his eyes at her. "Go on."

     "Not the sex." That's almost empowering, for Nimah  ━  for an hour she can be the center of someone's world, feel the illusion of total control. She can make someone feel exactly as she wants, twist the whole world to her whims for just a little while. When, for so long, control has been something that slips through her fingers like sand, pretending to possess some is a strong tonic.

     But it isn't her choice.

     "If I decided to stop, someone would get hurt." Fear races, black and cold, through her bones. It leaves her shivering. "Look at what happened to you. And Haymitch."

     Cosmo looks away, and takes a long drag of the cigarette. Something in his dark eyes turns murky. It aches them both to think about it; Cosmo Byrd, ten years her senior, a man who'd love to slip inside of himself and never, ever come out.

     Nimah wishes she didn't know about what happened to Cosmo's family. She wishes she didn't have that knowledge hanging over her like a sword, a threat to never step out of line.

     "Do you think it makes Finnick feel better?" she murmurs. Her green eye finds the window; she fixes her gaze on the artificial sun glaring through until her eye waters. "Taking secrets instead of money. If it makes him feel less used, less... dirty."

     She doesn't remember much of what happened, but she recalls how it felt in perfect clarity. The knife in her hand, the way she'd driven it into her own skull. How much it had hurt. How relieved she'd been, to believe she'd found a way out of this.

     "This is the game, honey. You bought a winning ticket," Cosmo tells her, glassy eyes settled on the bare ceiling, "and you get a lifetime supply of bullshit as your prize."

     Above all else, Nimah wishes she'd known, as thirteen-year-old girl craving glory, that it wasn't such a pretty thing.

[underworldboss]

"Let's Separate the Myth from the Gospel Truth..."

"Okay, so, lots of you crazy kids know your Greek mythology, but let me just tell ya straight up: the stories you know are like the results of playin' a game of telephone over thousands of years. Distorted mumbo jumbo! So I'm gonna set the record straight and give you fine people the full and true story of Hades! And this time those pesky Muses aren't gonna misconstrue what I've got to say! So relax, pull up a chair, and grab a bag of Feta Puffs. Let's get this show on the road!

"Back when the world was new, the Titans were running things and really driving everyone's cosmic property value into the dirt. You know the song and dance number, so I'm not repeating it. Cronus was the king of the titans, and he was the most powerful one of them all, controlling the universe with three gems that let him bend time and space to his will. But with great power comes great paranoia. See, he and the other Titans overthrew his dad Uranus to gain power, and the Fates gave him a prophecy warning him that his own kids would do the same thing to him.

"Well, as my rotten luck would have it, my mother, Cronus's wife Rhea, was pregnant with me at the time, and Cronus's solution to that prophecy was to swallow me whole so that I could never usurp him. And my mother just let it happen! She just drank lots and lots of wine to make herself forget about the atrocities she was party to (don't think I've ever see her sober). Cronus did the same thing to my brother Poseidon and the other children of the Titans, the future gods. And yeah, I know your myths say that all the gods are related to me, but that's just another example of mythology telephone. We were in my daddy dearest's stomach together, but Poseidon and Zeus were my only blood related siblings.

"But then along came Zeus. Apparently, Rhea grew a conscience after letting her first two kids get eaten by their father, and so she used her magic to make a rock look like Zeus and fed that to Cronus instead. Can you believe her? Doesn't give a satyr's ass about me or Po-Po, but her golden boy Zeus was just a smidge too far. Mother of the year right there. Well Zeus grew up in secret and trained for years to defeat Cronus, and then he came back, gave Cronus a potion to make him up-chuck, and well... you get the gist. Suffice to say I was free at last.

"And okay, lemme just address this one thing right here: I am the first born son of Cronus and Rhea, but I was the last god freed from Cronus's stomach, which is why Zeus calls me his little brother... Also because me being younger helped legitimize him taking the throne for himself, but I'm getting ahead of myself. So me and my fellow former contents of Cronus's stomach join forces with Zeus, and the Titanomachy war breaks out. Big fight, lots of lightning booga-booga, and, hey, I hedge my bets by double dealing with both sides under Zeus and Cronus's noses, but the gods win in the end.

"Zeus defeated Cronus in battle and banished him to spend eternity locked away in Tartarus. He then took the Gems of Cronus and scattered them across the cosmos, hoping they'd be lost forever... except the one he kept locked away on Olympus for a rainy day, but shhh, you're not supposed to know about that one. The other Titans got locked away in Tartarus too, except for, get this, Rhea. I wanted to lock her up and throw away the key, but Zeus had a soft spot for mommy dearest and just banished her to a cosmic golf course retirement villa. Oy, it still BURNS me up that she got off scot-free.

"Well, Zeusy names himself King of Mount Olympus even though it should have been MY gig, but the other gods supported him, so, hey, what'cha gonna do? Bolt Boy starts delegating jobs for all the gods, and in his infinite wisdom, he sticks me with the Underworld to be the Titans' jailer and keep track of the dead people. Sound like fun? No it isn't. And let me just tell ya, the Underworld was a PIGSTY when I got it dumped on me. The plumbing problems with the five rivers? Forget about it! But you're not here to listen to me kvetch. Suffice to say, I start plotting to take Olympus for myself from that moment forward.

"The Underworld job came with two 'perks', if you can call 'em that: a pair of imps, Pain and Panic, to be my personal servants. And, hey, they're not the best minions, but at least they were housebroken. Gave me someone to talk to and FRY when things went wrong. But it was a lonely life down under, bein' far away from the other gods on Olympus, and a god has needs, if you know what I mean. It was time to find myself a wife to be Queen of the Underworld by my side, and that's when I saw her: Persephone.

"Persephone was a total knockout and the Goddess of Spring, Demeter's daughter. You'd get a flare up just lookin' at her. Now, see, she didn't want anything to do with me since she was so wrapped up in her hippie nature lovin' shtick, so I tried everything to get her attention. I chained myself to a giant olive tree to keep it from gettin' chopped down - nothin'! I had Pain and Panic pose as cute helpless animals in distress so that I could 'save' them - nada! So, I decided, hey, why try to be someone else? I'll just go with my strengths, namely being evil. So I kidnapped her and dragged her down to the Underworld.

"Now I know how that sounds, but it wasn't so bad. I built her a mansion in the Underworld on Styx front property, and that was NOT cheap! But I found somethin' out real quick after I started livin' with that girl: she was annoying. Total militant vegan annoying. She threw out all my red meat, started tryin' to hook the Underworld up with green energy, and nagged me constantly about goin' 'Cruelty Free." ME! The Lord of the DEAD! Oy, romance was NOT everything it was cracked up to be. I was THIS close to kicking her out and sending her back to Demeter...

"...But then along came Zeus... and Hermes and Demeter. Apparently kidnapping 'Seph triggered an eternal winter up above, and, hey, who am I to say no to the world above dying? Zeus said I had to give Persephone back to her mother, because of course he had to stick his big orange nose where it didn't belong. No way was I gonna let Bolt Boy boss me around this time, and when I was doin' my home improvements in the Underworld, I found a little somethin' special to give me what I wanted...

"Erebus. The most ancient of all darkness. That stuff was old when my dad was King of Olympus. Do NOT touch it! Erebus has an appetite that puts Ursula to shame. It can eat through a universe if you get enough of it! After Zeus and Demeter annulled my shotgun wedding to Persephone, I tried to use the Erebus to keep her there. A handful of pomegranate seeds imbued with raw Erebus would've made 'Seph toxic to any place outside of the Underworld. Zeusy would've had no choice but to make her stay in the Underworld. It was all so perfectly planned.

"Unfortunately, Zeus caught wind of my plan. Before she could eat the seeds, Zeus pushed me and the seeds into the Phlegethon to 'save' Persephone. Never mind what that all-infused mineral bath did to his 'baby brother.' But, hey, some cosmetic changes end up bein' for the best. Wouldn't have my fiery hair without it! They took Persephone, high tailed it outta there, and now Demeter does the whole winter thing once a year to commemorate the occasion or somethin'. So needless to say, I HATE spring because it reminds me of my ex-wife. Moving on.

"After Zeus dunked me in the River of Fire, I decided that I'd put off my schemes of conquest for too long. Went ahead and made an alliance with Echidna so that she and her many many kids would join my team for the uprising. She even gave me a puppy to guard the Underworld as a show of good faith, and, boom, that's how I got Cerberus. I also made an appointment with the Fates to get the dish on how best to overthrow Zeusy-High-and-Mighty! They revealed that in eighteen years, when the planets aligned, I could free the Titans and topple Olympus with their help, but with one big catch: Zeus's little sun spot kid Hercules could muck up my hostile takeover bid.

"I had a special potion tucked away for a rainy day that could turn gods mortal, and trust me, it wasn't cheap to get it. It only worked on gods who hadn't come into their full power yet, which made it perfecto for the bouncing baby brat. I sent Pain and Panic to kidnap the kid and turn him mortal, but, of course, they BOTCHED THE JOB! He didn't drink the last drop and retained his godlike strength, and they didn't kill him!

"Now the timeline here gets a little fuzzy for me. Had a bad run in with some Lethe Water at some point during Hercules's teenage years. But once I figured out Jerkules was alive, I started hatching a bunch of different schemes to hedge my bets and take control of Olympus. None of 'em panned out, but ya can't blame a guy for tryin'. Met Jafar for the first time during that time period, and he helped fill in some blanks later on. But, basically, had a run in with Lethe Water at some point, lost all memory of Jerkules bein' alive, and went right back to blissfully settin' things up for the prophecy.

"I invested in a new minion at the time, a girl named Megara. She desperately sold her soul to me to save her boyfriend's life, and, look, I'm not sayin' I made him abandon her, but it sure cleared her schedule up havin' him gone. Of course, it wasn't long after that when I found out Jerkules was alive and well again. I threw everything I had at the kid, but he just wouldn't DIE! So I tried a different approach: I threw Meg at 'im. And he fell for the girl, hook, line, and sinker.

"I used Meg as leverage to take Wonder Boy off the board, and then I finally released the Titans and defeated Zeus! What we in the biz call a two-for-one special! Power was MINE at LAST! ... For about ten minutes! We tripped at the finish line because little Nutmeg had to go all noble! She sacrificed herself to save Herc, then he sacrificed HIMSELF to save HER, and all my plans just sorta fell apart, ending in me getting knocked into the Styx by Jerkules.

"But, hey, I got outta there with a little help from my old friend, Jafar. You can't keep the Lord of the Dead down, and the devil's always gonna get his dues! Bolt Boy and his little sun spot better start countin' their days, because I've got a hot spot reserved for both of them DOWN UNDER!"