#pyramid oracle

[lucianinsanity-only-art]

More of this AU, now with more Triangles

[ID in Alt text]

[localcanadiancreature62]

Oh no i gave the shapes angst lolll. Behold,the Shape Human Swap au aka the An Eye for a Hand au. Lore under cut. Also this au is partially inspired by @starmilkman's In Your Shoes au with Bill's personality and Ford's appearance. Have some silly doodles and design refs.

Description: The Pines are all Euclidean shape demons while Bill and Steve are humans.

Ford Caesar - Ford is a square demon who's complex revolves around being a "freak" rather than being a "monster". His trigger words are "you're a freak/you're broken" rather than "you're a monster". He's a square on purpose,because the word "square" is another word for a boring,nerdy person which perfectly describes canon Ford. He wants to cause the Freakpocalypse,a dream world where no one is ridiculed or doubted for being weird. Ford tortures people but only to break them and thus make them broken like him. One notable example is when some poor soul made the mistake of calling him weird,he ended up breaking that person's spine. Ford's abnormality is his strange mind rather than his eye. His mind gave him visions of other worlds,omniscient knowledge,and various other abilities. Ford often has thoughts of the third dimension,so much to the point that his parents had brain surgery performed on him to make them go away. But they didn't go away,in fact they got worse over time. Filbrick and Caryn often told Ford that he had a strange imagination and that he was crazy for claiming that he saw the third dimension within his thoughts. But he WASN'T crazy and he felt misunderstood for no one ever knowing how he felt about his third dimension thoughts. Not even his brother Stan understood him. Ford's genius and ego is a pretty big deal to him,so to see Bill take his own smarts for granted greatly pissed him off which is why they didn't have a good impression of the other. He poses as a wise and knowledgeable master towards Bill and his pawns rather than a muse,which is why Bill calls him "Master" instead of "Muse". Ford acts as unstable as he does because he has fully accepted being "broken" and thus he acts like how a broken man should. The Freakpocalypse is living proof of the fact that Ford accepting that he's broken and that he will never be normal. Shape Ford is evil neurodivergent coded ngl with the abnormal mind thing and the fact that he wants other people to suffer with disabilities like he did,he's the result of an autistic/adhd person snapping (the autism allegory was NOT intentional. it just happened. i just realized that midway into making his backstory pfft).

Billiam "Bill" Cypress - He's more insane and chaotic than canon Ford,as he often injects a bajillion things into anomalies for fun or vivisects them once he gets ahold of them. Bill is a genius but since he's still a mischievous and chaotic lil shit,he doesn't really take his gift seriously. It's a miracle that Scalene and Euclid favor him over Steve despite his behavior. Bill's abnormality is his closed eye since birth,he only has one eye because of this which is why Steve often calls him "Cyclops" to mirror Stan calling Ford "Sixer" in canon. Bill is Will and Tad's Great Uncle Bill who came from the portal,he's also the Author of the Journals which has a closed eye on it.

Tad Cypress and William "Will" Cypress - Tad is a wild but friendly goth boy who's into scary,macabre stuff while Will is a perfectionistic and irritable preppy jerk who loves the rules (to mirror their canon personalities of being a law obsessed control freak and king of horror respectively). Tad is the mystery solver while Will is the sidekick as Tad is into the weird stuff since he's also a nerd along with his gothic disposition as Will hates getting dirty/wounded or doing any unpredictable dirty work. Tad wants to grow up faster because he wants his gothic interests to be taken seriously rather than just be seen as a "phase" while Will wants to enjoy childhood a bit more so that he can have fun in his perfect and predictable life (Will: Growing up is unpredictable. What if i end up like those rowdy punk leather jacket wearing delinquents? What if i grow horrible facial hair?. What if?- *starts hyperventilating*). Also it's pretty funny how Tad is the mystery solver yet he acts like canon Mabel while Will is the sidekick yet he acts like canon Dipper. And yes they still sound EXACTLY the same as canon,with Will having the Adrian graye voice while Tad has the regular human Tad strange voice.

Bill and Ford didn't have a good first impression on one another despite still going through with the deal otherwise. Because Bill immediately tried to vivisect Ford soon after they made the deal while Ford got pissed over Bill never taking his own genius seriously. So yeahhhh meet ugly lolll.

However despite their horrible meet ugly,they still managed to form a great partnership/friendship/relationship with one another. Ford found comfort in knowing someone that FINALLY understands him while Bill is just glad to have a friend that isn't Steve.

Steve Cypress - He's Tad and Will's Grunkle Steve and the guy who keeps selling weird magic stuff to people at the Mystery Shack (the magic stuff is a parallel to og Steve's interdimensional stuff selling). He's known as Mr. Mystery and he often goes around the Shack advertising his strange knick knacks. He is pretty cheery and fun in comparison to his insane older twin Bill but even the nicest people have their secrets.. (Steve is not what he seems~).

Names - Ford Caesar,Billiam "Bill" Cypress,Steve Cypress,Stan Caesar,Mabel Caesar,Dipper Caesar,William "Will" Cypress,and Tad Cypress. Also Octavius Ballman and Amaris Shapiro (8 ball and Amorphous shape but as bratty children instead of humanoid monsters).

The main difference between canon Bill and shape Ford is that Ford never killed his family. He along with Stan and the twins were the remaining survivors in the Euclidean Massacre (let's say that Filbrick Caryn Shermie and the twins' parents aren't.. there anymore :]). Stan and Ford are very close since they've only had each other throughout the years,although Ford doesn't actually treat Stan as his brother and he's more like a favorite lackey to him. The twins are ALSO lackeys to Ford,as the kids and his brother are part of the Henchmaniacs. The Henchmaniacs swap with the rest of the zodiac wheel members.

Wendy = Pyronica. Soos = Kryptos. 8 Ball = Gideon. Amorphous Shape = Pacifica. Hectorgon = Robbie. The Oracle/Jheselbraum the Unswerving = Fidds. The Oracle and Bill are friends in this au,hilariously enough considering that Jhesel canonically hates his ass to the point of her quitting as a Henchmaniac. Fidds is the Wise Hermit,the sagely but slightly insane former Henchmaniac/former lackey of Ford with no eyes (no eyes instead of seven eyes) who ends up helping Bill get the metal plate in his head by surgically putting it inside of him.

The Oracle has 5 birthmarks around her eyes in order to mirror her seven eyes in canon.

Bill and Steve have the same middle name,this is how i managed to make the whole identity theft thing work. Billiam "Bill" Stephen Cypress and Milan Stephen "Steve" Cypress. They're both called Steve,but Billiam prefers "Bill" more in order to be differentiated from his weird brother. They're also called the Steve twins. Also also,Bill and Steve have the same hair style and nose,plus Steve often covers his eye with an eyepatch in order to mimic his brother's closed eye abnormality aka pass off his covered eye as his twin's permanently closed eye by telling people that his other eye is permanently closed and gross which is why he often covers it.

Ford yells "STEPHEEEEN" in the death scene,since Steve often prefers to be called Stephen as a full name as he's been pretending to be his brother who's also called Stephen for years.

The Shape Pines' surname is Caesar as in Caesar Cipher,in order to mirror canon Bill's surname.

[screechingbeef]

The differences between a board game, a wargame, and a roleplaying game all sit on the relative scale I would like to call the

PYRAMID OF TABLES & TOPS

If you are using a ruler, you are playing a wargame. If you are fiddling with cardboard, you are playing a boardgame. If you are getting into character, you are playing a roleplaying game.

Any game can be placed somewhere on this bast-dastardly pyramid.

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ SODA FOUNTAIN ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Autistic Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ She notices it before you speak. The stillness. The quiet intelligence you wear like a hand-me-down jacket. The twitch of your fingers, the tick of your breath, the way you hesitate before stepping into noise. ENA does not judge. She categorises. She studies. Her head tilts, sharp and interested. “Are you experiencing a SYSTEM OVERLOAD, partner? We can reorganise your sensory pyramid. Let’s start with the silence.” And then she sits beside you. Doesn’t speak again. Just… lets you be. Two opposing halves, resting in symmetry.

☆ When you info-dump about your favorite hyperfixation—whether it’s beetle taxonomy, train models, or a single obscure cartoon that aired once in 1998—Salesperson ENA’s red side lights up like a business expo. “Wow! You’re pitching an entire emotional enterprise, I love it. Could I subscribe to your newsletter? Or… marry it?” The meanie side, pale and sharp, cuts through the room: “HEY. IF YOU INTERRUPT AGAIN, I’LL CHEW YOUR FACTS INTO PIECES AND SPIT THEM INTO A MUSEUM!” You blink. She grins. Both sides are listening. Really listening.

☆ Routine? ENA treats it like a sacred business model. “So your Tuesdays require specific cereal-to-milk ratios and one (1) viewing of That Video With The Cat Screaming? A delight. I shall PRINT THE SCHEDULE and laminate it with my tears.” She starts mimicking the routine too, sometimes dramatically over-committing to it. One day she shows up at your door with four bowls of cereal and a projector. “Oops! I over-scheduled our scheduled overscheduling. Let’s recalibrate!”

☆ When you get overwhelmed—when the lights scream, and the noise becomes too much, ENA does not ask what’s wrong. She knows. She flips her hat backward, lowers her voice. “Time to switch gears. Come with me, my love. Let’s find a sensory haven.” And then she takes you under the table, into a bathroom, or behind a vending machine where everything buzzes in exactly the right way. She creates a little ritual with you. “Let’s play the quiet game, but instead of being quiet, we just exist. No rules. No points. You win by breathing.”

☆ Touch is complicated. Sometimes it’s comforting. Sometimes it’s a full-body fire alarm. ENA respects that like a legal clause. “Touch threshold acknowledged. Engaging… emotional contract.” She offers you her mitten hand when you’re okay with it. The yellow, clawed one stays behind her back unless you request it. She even makes laminated cards: [Touch okay] [Please no touch today] [I would like a pat on the head only] You catch her referencing them with comical solemnity. “Hm. The oracle says we’re on [Headpat Hour]. Shall I proceed?”

☆ You stim. Flap your hands. Rock. Mumble. Hum. ENA? She mirrors you. Not to mock—but to validate. “Ohhh you’re FLAPPING?? ME TOO—WEEEHHH!” She makes it a duet. Sometimes it’s a whole musical. She turns your stims into a ritualized language. A way to say “I’m okay” or “I’m not.” She calls it your “corporate communication channel.” “I am now subscribing to your emotional data stream. Please keep broadcasting.”

☆ Sometimes people talk over you. Treat you like you’re slow. You don’t always have the words right away. ENA sees it. Salesperson smiles. “Pardon me, but you’ve exceeded your cruelty limit.” Meanie bites. “SHUT UP AND LET THEM SPEAK, YOU MOIST JELLYSACK.” ENA’s loyalty is a crashing stock market. Loud, sudden, intense. But always on your side. She will fight GØD if you’re being misunderstood. And then offer GØD a limited-time coupon.

☆ You script your conversations sometimes—rehearsed lines to get through tough moments. ENA? She calls it “performative theater!” “Oh! A fellow playwright! Let us prepare Act II of this Grocery Store Encounter Scene!” She even starts playing along, adding her own scripted responses. “Hi, how are you?” “I’m functioning within acceptable parameters. And yourself, my most esteemed collaborator?” She validates your way of communicating like it’s art. Because to her—it is.

☆ When you mask—when you try to be “normal” in public, even if it hurts—ENA sees right through it. She leans in close. “I see you under the disguise. The real CEO of your own joy.” She doesn’t ask you to stop masking. But she reminds you, gently, that you don’t need to with her. “You’re already profitable as yourself. No quarterly reports needed.”

☆ Your existence to her isn’t “difficult.” It isn’t a puzzle to be solved. You are anomalous. You are nonlinear. You are wonderful. And ENA, caught somewhere between marketing lingo and existential dread, wraps her arm around you and says, “You are the most reliable investment I’ve ever made. I hope you know that. Even if this whole world crashes… I’d still pick you.” Her Salesperson side beams. Her Meanie side nods like a glitching earthquake. She means it.

[imagineaspen]

Other than that enemy making me waste a potion though this dungeon was very cool, felt kind of like an early version of ToTK Lightning Temple with the traps and such

I've decided that this thing might just be the most annoying enemy in the entire series

[failbettergames]

any games you'd recommend? could be for any reason! (similarity to fallen london, you know the people who made it, you just think it's neat, etc.) besides your own, of course, I already own all of those :)

Yes, here's a list of all of the games we talked about in our newsletter last year:

Birth: an adventure puzzle game about constructing a creature from spare bones & organs.

Scarlet Hollow: an immersive, episodic horror-mystery.

Egypt: Old Kingdom: a strategy simulator of the Great Pyramids period.

The Past Within is a fun, eerie way to spend an hour with a friend.

The Pale Beyond: high stakes on the frozen wastes, Sunless Sea feelings. 

King of the Castle: medieval monarch party game.

Stray Gods: an urban fantasy, musical visual novel featuring the gods of Greek myth.

Vampire Survivors: so moreish.

Knotwords: extremely satisfying crossword-anagram-puzzle game.

The Banished Vault: so gorgeous it actually makes us a bit cross.

Astronaut the Best: an anarchic comedy about assembling a team of hapless astronauts. 

El Paso, Elsewhere: supernatural neo-noir shooter, in which you must destroy the villain you loved - even if it means dying yourself.

Thank Goodness You're Here: may be the only game that’s more British than the ones we make.

The Fabulous Fear Machine: pulpy horror narrative strategy.

WORLD OF HORROR: Junji Ito-adjacent roguelike.

Lies of P: tickles your Fromsoft fancy. 

The Lamplighters League: essentially 1930s supernatural XCOM 

Tails Noir (formerly known as Backbone): gorgeous, bleak, compelling and unsatisfying in equal measure. 

Mediterrea Inferno: a spicy story about finding yourself after isolation.

DotAGE: manage a village where the Village Elder has helpfully precise visions of the future.

Slay the Princess: the princess is very bad and you have to kill her. 

VR remake of The 7th Guest: very fun, silly and far less punishing than the original. 

Astrea: Six-sided Oracles: interesting dice-and-deckbuilding system. 

Return of the Obra Dinn: truly a modern classic.

[author-morgan]

Title: Unwritten Prophecies Pairing: Deimos!Alexios x fem!Reader Rating: M Word Count: ~6.3k Summary: You are meant for the gods, but beneath the wrath of the storm, he asks the one question no oracle is ever granted—what do you want?

...but your sweet sinless sensation is not my style...

THE MASKED CULTISTS trickle from the cave. Eupheme—your sister in training—leaves too and urges you to do the same and be free of the darkness hidden below the sacred Temple of Apollo. But you won’t go. Not yet. All evening, the Pyramid under the great, bronze serpent has called to you, a moth to a flame. You move toward the artifact in a trance, the voices you’ve heard since entering the cave growing louder with every step...until there’s silence. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

You know the rough voice and to whom it belongs. “Deimos,” you breathe, heart racing at the sight of the Cult’s champion as he emerges from the shadows—his golden armor nigh glowing in the dim firelight.

He steps closer, warm-tawny eyes darting from the artifact to you. Most of the cultists are frightened by the power of the Pyramid—a force they cannot truly comprehend or control—and none of the would-be Oracles have ever shown any inclination for being able to harness its potential for prophecy. Deimos looks down at the artifact and can feel its call and energy thrumming in his veins. He has never doubted that he has the blood of gods. But to find another like him? A blessing and a curse.

“Does it speak to you as well?” He asks. The edge in his prior words faded.

“Yes,” you answer. The voices grow more numerous, louder. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on a single thread of the tapestry of history and fate. “Of the past.” There are glimpses of Leonidas at Thermopylae, Themistokles at Salamis, and battles even more ancient for which there are no tales to be told or heroes to be celebrated. “The present.” Perikles gathers with his generals in the shadow of the Parthenon, and Spartans train for the upcoming war. But then the landscape becomes unfamiliar—seven hills—and wood and mud villages spring up on the banks of a mighty river, growing larger, grander, until the city of bricks turns into one of marble. An Eagle rises. “And of events that have not yet come to pass.”

Deimos extends his hand, fingertips barely touching the smooth bronze plates covering the artifact, a gesture for you to do the same—and a test. You know not what you’ll see—the future or the past, but the Cult’s champion hopes it will be the latter. Stepping closer, you reach out to the Pyramid, pressing a hand against one of the sides as Deimos does the same.

The oracle has spoken! To prevent Sparta's fall, the child must fall first. Your breath catches as a woman lunges forward. Her face twisted in anguish. She fights against the hands restraining her but her cries are swallowed by the wind and rain. “Please! You can't! No! No, no.” Lightning streaks across the dark sky. “Nikolaos!” At the cliff’s edge is an ephor of Sparta, holding a swaddled babe aloft in the air, inching closer to the chasm below Taygetos.  

And then the fall. The scream. A sister’s outstretched hand.

The vision twists, shifting like smoke, and you see something else—the boy again, older this time. His body hardened and face set in an expression too cruel for a child. A woman stands before him, cloaked in shadow, her voice smooth, coaxing. "Your family abandoned you,” Chrysis tells Deimos. Lies repeated so often they become the only truth the boy has ever known. “Your mother left you to die.” The priestess steps forward, cradling an object swathed in dark linen. She lays the gift before Deimos and reveals a sword—the Sword of Damokles. “But I will give you new purpose, my child."

You stumble back from the Pyramid and glimpse Deimos, breath coming in sharp, shallow pulls. He stares down at you, his expression a storm of barely contained rage, but there’s a rawness, vulnerability even, that you’ve never seen before in him. "You saw it," he murmurs, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. Not the voice of Deimos—the Cult’s blade—but the voice of a broken man who has spent his life trying to reconcile with the prophecy spoken by Praxithea when he was only a babe. A prophecy that tore his family apart and doomed him to this life of pain and suffering.

You swallow, hard, and nod. "Yes."

Deimos reaches for you—rooted in place beneath the great bronze serpent. You’re unsure what the Cult’s champion will do. You imagine few in Hellas know the full truth of what happened that night on Taygetos and the years following as they molded him into nothing short of a monster. His callous fingertips brush against your cheek, and trail to stop at your neck, his hand hovering there. He leans closer, breath ghosting over your cheek. “If they know you can use the artifact...” Deimos doesn’t have to finish the statement for you to understand—it is a rare show of mercy.

PRAXITHEA TELLS YOU to take leave of the lesson. Between her two students, you have always excelled in learning and perfecting new teachings compared to Eupheme. A clear sign of the gods’ favor. At this point, it seems obvious you will be chosen to wear the title of the Oracle of Delphi—the highest servant of Apollo—after Praxithea.

Returning to the home Elpenor gifted you in Kirrha, you find Deimos sitting on your floor, his back and arm contorted to stitch a wound on his shoulder blade with one hand. You cross your arms, frowning—at both the sight of the Cult’s champion injured and the dark stain on prized Tyrian red and blue fabric. “You’re bleeding on my favorite rug,” you chide, stopping in the doorway with arms crossed.

He looks back and meets your gaze, a flicker of relief brightening his scowl. Sighing, you go to Deimos and kneel, taking the threaded needle from his blood-slick hands before sitting behind him. He doesn’t flinch or tense when the hot point passes through flesh. “Did you foresee this?” He asks. You think there’s a hint of humor in how he says it.

“Your stubbornness leading you to my home instead of Lykaon when you’re hurt?” You query in turn, equally amused. “The gift of foresight would not be needed for that,” you tell him. It’s a terrible habit of his, turning up unannounced and uninvited, more often than not covered in the blood of others and not his own—this time is an oddity, but you’ve found yourself in this moment before, too.

There’s a dry chuckle in Deimos’s throat, though it’s cut short by a sharp pull of the catgut thread through his torn skin. He exhales heavily, tilting his head slightly, but he still does not flinch—of course, he doesn’t. Pain is an old companion. One he has long since ceased to acknowledge. You work in silence, one stitch after another. “You should be more careful,” you murmur. A pointless request, but one you speak often in hopes he will listen one day.

Deimos snorts, shaking his head. “Careful?” He sounds appalled by the thought—being careful hasn’t won him battles or infamy. He is dread incarnate, ruthless, and indomitable. “Is that what you want me to be?”

Your fingers still for half a breath before you resume your work with a sigh. “I would prefer it over reckless,” you tell him. There are times you worry his wounds will be beyond your and Lykaon’s skills to mend. He may have Ares and Athena’s favor in battle, but he is only a man, in the end.

“You wound me,” he deadpans.

“You’re already wounded,” you retort, knotting the stitch and cutting away what’s left of the thread and needle. “But that’s hardly new.” He hums, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, but he does not argue. His hand lifts absently, fingers brushing over the back of yours where they rest against his shoulder. You’re always here for me, Deimos thinks. The voice in his head is quieter than usual. Even when you shouldn’t be.

Dark clouds gather on the horizon as you mix a sweet-smelling poultice to soothe the puckered skin around Deimos’s fresh stitches. And though he should return to Delphi and report on his mission in Achaia, he lingers, sipping watered wine and eating grapes with fresh cheese—content with this fleeting moment to be in your company.

He lingers until the summer storm takes hold of the evening—wind howling, rain lashing, and thunder rolling between flashes of lightning. It does not seem as if Zeus’s wrath will end before the morn breaks. “Stay,” you tell Deimos, seeing he means to leave. The Cult does not like him to roam Phokis at his own bidding—Praxithea will be none too happy to learn of this night either, but consequences be damned. A part of you has grown tired of the sacrifices required to please the gods. “I would not force you out in this storm.” As if commanded by your words, a clap of thunder rattles the small villa. You step closer to Deimos, reaching for his hands. “Stay,” you say again, softer this time. Not a demand. Not a command. A choice.

Deimos stays.

The first kiss is chaste. It’s careful—tentative. Just like the very first. His fingers brush along your jaw, moving back into your hair. Deimos’s breath catches—just barely—but you feel it warm against your lips. His eyes flick to yours, searching for something unspoken. You could pull away. You should pull away. But you don’t.

And the second kiss…the second kiss is not chaste. His hand knots in your hair, pulling you closer as if the gods themselves might rip you from him if he loosens his grip. You melt into him, tasting salt and copper where a fresh split on his lip lingers as he urges you to lay back on the pallet of linen and silks.

“Deimos!” You gasp, pressing against his shoulders, but it’s like trying to move a stone wall. Truthfully, though, you only want to pull him closer—you have since the first time he decided to kiss you by the falls of Lalaia. But the years of training and lessons under Praxithea and the Cult’s desire for you to succeed as the Oracle of Delphi scream at the forefront of your mind. “You know the Pythia must be untouched,” you remind him.

“I know,” he breathes, his voice low and rough. Deimos doesn’t move, still caging you between his musculature and the floor pallet. There’s something different in his eyes as he looks down at you, keeping your gaze —something dangerous. And it’s not just the raw strength and fury he carries into battle or the untamed rage that makes him the Cult’s Champion. It’s something treacherous, something he’s supposed to never feel. Longing.

“You’ll belong to the gods,” he says, the words taste bitter on his tongue. You and he are kindred. You should not belong to the gods; you should be with him. “That’s what they say, isn’t it?” Deimos’s eyes are burning with darkness and madness. He shifts, one hand cradling the back of your head, his thumb running over your jaw. The Pythia must remain pure. Sacred. Untouched by mortal desire and hands. You swallow the growing lump in your throat. “But what do you want?” Deimos asks.

It’s the first time anyone’s asked of your desires since Praxithea took you and Eupheme in. Your fingers tremble where they press against his chest. He is warmth, strength, and everything you have ever been told to resist. You want this. You want him—more than you’ve ever wanted to be the Oracle of Apollo, lying to the masses at the Cult’s bidding when you see truths in the Pyramid. Perhaps, in his own selfish way, this is another show of mercy, to save you from a life that now terrifies you.

Deimos tilts his head, waiting—daring—you to give a truthful answer. His breath is warm against your skin. You can feel the weight of his question pressing against your ribs, stealing the air from your lungs. What do you want? The words coil around your mind and heart like a snake, sinking its fangs into every doubt, every moment you’ve silenced your desires in hopes of appeasing the gods and the Cult. Everything to carry out your duties but still keep Deimos for yourself.

“You already know what I want,” you whisper, fingers curling around the back of his neck, under his matted and adorned locks. He almost smiles as his thumb traces the curve of your cheek, then lower, featherlight against the column of your throat. Possessive. Claiming. And yet, he hesitates. The Cult has stolen much—his childhood, his family, his identity. They have taken from you, too, twisting your visions, binding you to a fate you never chose. But this moment? It will only ever belong to you and him.

So, you do the only thing you’ve never been allowed to do. You pull him down—taking his face in your palms and angle his head in the way that you like best—and kiss him. Deimos groans into your mouth, surprised by your eagerness. Your lips part with his only for breath, and even then, he chases you—mouth brushing yours again in a kiss deeper, slower, more desperate than the first and the second. You’re not sure which of you is trembling more.

His lips leave your mouth, trailing along your jaw until settling just below your ear. “The gods cannot have you,” he breathes. The remnants of whatever resistance in you are lost to the wave of him, and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never felt before. You don’t know what to say, so, in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name. Said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell ever since he first kissed you. Deimos. He inhales sharply, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours.

You press against his uninjured shoulder, not to push him away, but to give yourself room to sit up, to breathe. He sits back on his haunches and sluggishly reaches for the linen ties holding your dress together, and you give him a small nod, encouraging him to unravel you. As he gently tugs upon the tie, the fabric sags upon your shoulders, allowing you to push it aside, and then rise to step out of it altogether. His breath catches at the sight of you standing above him—flesh never touched, never kissed, never marked by a mortal.

Deimos’s jaw tightens, restraining himself from touching you as he pleases. But the longer he sits there staring—gawking like some clueless boy and reverential as a devotee at prayer—the more emboldened you become. You kneel in front of him and reach for the bronze pins at his shoulders, the ones keeping his dark chiton in place, and unfasten them. Deimos shrugs the linen away and lets you guide one of his rough hands to your chest as you lay back again amongst the linen and silks, pulling him with you.

“Touch me,” you whisper, noticing the way his tawny-gold eyes darken when his calloused palm fully embraces one of your breasts. It’s all the urging he needs. He surges forward, mouth moving toward the spot where your jaw and neck meet, the stubble on his cheek scratching ragged against your flesh. He palms your breasts, reveling in your softness against his rough-hewn hands. The backs of his knuckles trail along your ribs, tracing along your hip until he squeezes the meat of your thigh. His mouth. His hands. It’s already almost too much.

And then his fingers find the weeping want between your thighs—all for him—and slide through your folds, gathering the slick there. You gasp, mouth falling open, eyes slipping shut, and legs parting just a fraction more. Deimos watches the rise and fall of your chest quicken, and your fingers twist into one of the blankets beneath you as he draws out the slow torture. But then, just as you want to speak protest, a finger slips into your cunt, curling pleasantly.

Nipping kisses bite and trail down your neck, leaving mark after mark as his finger slips in and out of you before easing in another. Your hips begin to roll of their own accord into the heel of his hand, craving the unfamiliar friction. Deimos feels his cock twitch beneath his loincloth with your little moans, incessantly throbbing and straining against the material, longing to be inside of you—to claim you as his own.

“They would have denied you this,” Deimos breathes at your ear. “You would have never known a man’s touch” —he moves quicker, and your breath hitches when his fingers move a certain way, catching a spot deep within that makes stars explode behind your half-lidded eyes— “never would have known my touch.” Your back arches from the pallet. It’s as if you’d been struck by the lightning and storm raging outside, body bristling with long-repressed pleasure, something only Deimos can cure. You reach for him, fingers twisting into his matted locks, beckoning him to kiss you again, and he does.

Your release is fast approaching, like a tidal wave of heat flooding across your body with its intensity. Deimos’s name emerges from your lips as if it is the only word you know. He takes pride in being the first to see you like this. The first to make you feel like this. The pinnacle of your release makes you feel like you're floating, legs weak in the blissful aftermath. You exhale, chest heaving from exertion as you loosen your hold upon his dark hair.

Deimos withdraws his fingers from your warmth—glistening in the low light—and brings them to his mouth. He groans. It's as if he’s sampling the fruit of the gods. You shiver under the heat of his gaze, but then, he’s kissing you again. Open-mouthed, desperate, and rough. You cling to him, hands running over his chest, finding the scars on his arms and back.

He feels your fingers move towards the ties of his perizoma, and he doesn’t stop you, observing you in rapturous hunger instead. His breath hitches, mouth moving inward to press a string of hot kisses against the column of your throat. Freeing his cock from its confines, you move yourself up upon your knees, aided by his strong, firm hands, coming to rest just below your bottom. The flushed tip of his length nudges against your cunt, prompting you to sigh. “Please.”

In a sluggish descent, he lowers you onto his cock—gently as he can manage—the both of you shivering in tandem. The low, throaty groan that escapes him makes your stomach churn with molten heat, letting you find your own pace. He’s big, but he fills you perfectly. Mouths dance together and then clash again, kiss after kiss of pure ardor, and you brazenly give his lower lip a tug with your teeth. It’s messy and hot, feverishly so, bringing both of you to heel as you happily drown in desire and pleasure withheld for so long.

Your cunt is tight around him, slick with arousal as you continue to lower yourself, inch by blissful inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Deimos’s heavy pants flutter across your throat, mouth pressing near the curve of your jaw. His hands are resolute in guiding you, rocking you up and down along his cock, chest to chest with you.

Tangled sighs and low, heavy breaths weave together, forming a heated cacophony that fills your chambers. The feeling of his calloused hands sinking into your flesh is mesmerizing, leaving a wave of goosebumps to crawl across your skin. The sensation of his cock filling you completely, nearly kissing your womb, almost makes you sob from delight. The friction of your bodies, with your chest brushing against his, knees squeezing near his waist, hands gripping his shoulders. This must be better than even the Golden Fields of Elysium.  

A burning sting begins to dance along your thighs, the exertion of muscle as you ride him, moving up and down in somewhat rhythmic motions. His cock spearing you over and over again, filling you completely before you nearly draw yourself out and back down again.

“Gods,” You sigh, nails sinking into the muscle of his shoulders, your countenance one of complete and utter pleasure. Leaving behind angry red crescents against his sun-kissed skin, you don’t want the feeling to end. “Deimos, please!” With a simpering moan, your head begins to roll back slightly. Spurred by your softly-spoken praise and breathy sighs, Deimos does not relent, hands sinking into your thighs as he guides you against his cock—the angle causes friction to blossom, chests bumping together, bodies wholly tangled up within one another.

He nips his way along your collarbone, bringing you up enough to trap one of your nipples within his mouth. The head of his cock remains buried within your cunt, the warming of it making you writhe. He holds you steadily, greedily. It’s his turn to take what he desires. One of your hands twists into his matted dark locks, tugging on them as if you were attempting to wrangle him into submission. His mouth peppers warm, needy kisses around the valley between your breasts before he lets you sink yourself back down, cunt clenching around his cock.

Shameless strings of sinful noises leave you in droves, eyes closed in a state of ecstasy. Deimos groans with you, vocalizing his own pleasure as he coaxes you down towards the silk and linen pallet. With a brief bob of the head, you find yourself beneath Deimos, content between your thighs as he hitches one leg around his hips. The calloused plane of his palm slides down to your ankle before coming back up to wrap around your calf—you shiver at his touch, even with the warm, humid air and the building heat between the two of you.

Like this, Deimos can look upon your face and see the way your visage contorts into pure pleasure when he rocks forward, his cock burying itself deep into your cunt. His skin is flushed, and his expression is a mix of reverence and awe, even if you’re too lost to notice.

Your hands move, one finding purchase against his bicep, the other on his shoulder as his pace quickens. It’s a chase, galloping after his release as he bends to kiss you, releasing a grunt into your mouth when you roll your hips into his. You don’t care if he’s a touch rough with you—gods, you needed him, just like this. Just as he is. Rough and brutal. Heat swirls within your stomach, gnawing at your bones and making your toes curl in delight.

“Deimos,” you cry, and that nearly sends him soaring over the edge, cock throbbing inside of you. The friction of your pelvis grinding against him almost makes his resolve shatter into two. He’s lost count of how many times his cock has sank into you—it’s all blurring together. The inevitable rush of euphoria reaches him as his release comes, hot and blistering, making his vision blur. Teeth bared. He groans your name. Your nails dig into his bicep, a gasp torn from your throat when he thrusts into you again before stilling—his weight braced above you on trembling arms.

You coax him down, letting him rest atop you. He pillows his head upon your breast, breathing erratic but calming. You run your fingers through his damp hair, down his back. It’s a moment you’ll savor—a moment you may never have again. Another flash of lightning cuts through the warmth of the firelight, a clap of thunder following, but the silence between is longer. The storm is passing.

After a while, Deimos moves to lie beside you, half-propped on one arm, his tawny-gold eyes fixed on your face—the glow of the sheen of perspiration, the flush of your cheeks, and the soft smile upon your lips. He’ll commit it all to memory, just in case…he shakes away the dark thoughts of what the Cult would do if they knew. His other hand rests on your stomach, fingers spread out almost possessively.

For a long time, neither of you speak. Words feel clumsy, and there’s little to be said when actions speak so much louder. Eventually, you turn on your side and move closer to him, brushing a knuckle along the stubble on his jaw. Deimos. His name lingers in the air between you. He exhales, hearing you breathe his name like that is a balm and a fresh wound all at once. You curl farther into him, and his hand moves up, splaying across your ribs, feeling the rise and fall of your breath. Deimos rolls onto his back, drawing you with him, and you rest your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. “Get some rest, my love,” you tell him. He presses a kiss to your temple—soft, a vow. You are his, and no man—not even the Cult or Praxithea—or god can have you now.

PRAXITHEA IS FURIOUS. Her protégé ruined. Years of meticulous training carelessly thrown away without a second thought—the marks on your neck speak unto themselves, as did your request to a servant for a cup of silphium tea. A moment of weakness, lust, and worldly desires. All things Apollo’s servant must be free of, immune to.

“You have been defiled!” She shouts, pacing before stylobate rostrum. “The Pythia must be chaste.” It was among the first lessons she taught you and Eupheme—to always shun the attention of men and love only Apollo. “A virgin!” Praxithea turns to face you, eyes burning with her fury and grips your face with bony fingers, nails digging into your cheek and jaw. If she cannot have you to do the gods’ bidding, then she must smite the man who had the gall to ruin you. “Who has sullied you?” The old oracle asks, voice like a serpent’s hiss.

You squeeze your eyes shut, flinching away but unable to escape the crone’s grasp. Heavy footfalls echo off the temple floor, and you meet Deimos’s tawny-gold eyes as he walks into the firelight of one of the braziers and smile, slowly, deliberately. There is no shame nor regret in your eyes or expression. Praxithea follows your gaze, and realization dawns upon her. “You.” She spits, turning to see the Cult’s champion—she should have known.

Deimos comes closer, his presence a tempest. His black-and-gold tunic hangs loose around his broad shoulders, and in the dim light, you can still see the faint crescents of your nails raking down his chest. Shadows flicker across his sharp features, his golden eyes gleaming with pride and defiance. You were meant for the gods, but now you are his. 

Praxithea lifts her hand to strike you. Punishing Deimos is beyond her, but you are still her student and ward. “Hurting her would be unwise,” he grits out.

Deimos does not bow before gods or mortals. He does not shrink beneath the weight of an old oracle’s rage. He steps onto the dais as if to defile it further. Praxithea stiffens as he nears both of you. Her grip tightens on your jaw before she wrenches her hand away as though your flesh has burned her. Her fury is still palpable, though—eyes blazing with righteous wrath. “Of course, champion,” she placates.

You step away from Praxithea and to Deimos’s side, your choice made, and path changed. You will not serve as a false oracle. You will not be bound by Apollo and his temple. You are his. And the gods nor Praxithea can have you now…but the Cult, they will still get what they desire, one way or another.

THE ORACLE OF Delphi packs a small bag with shaking hands. She must leave, quickly, before more of the Cult soldiers arrive, or worse, their champion. Because of her, Elpenor is dead. And one of the only people in all of Hellas who has the power to stop the Cult now knows the workings of the shadow organization. You try to calm her when you arrive at the chora, but she is hysterical. “Eupheme, what is it?” You ask, pleading, taking her hands into your own.

“The sister came to me,” Eupheme admits. Kassandra. You have heard the name whispered in the shadows—have seen her in visions and memories not your own. “I must leave Delphi,” she cries. After facing the Monger, she needs to get far away from Phokis before it is too late. She stiffens in your embrace. “Deimos,” she utters, looking over your shoulder, her voice trembling. You step away from Eupheme—still grasping onto her hand—and turn, seeing him stride forth into the villa’s courtyard.

Eupheme’s grip on your hands tightens for a moment before she lets go, stepping back as though distance can protect her. But there is no outrunning Deimos—not here, not now. He tilts his head, seeing the Pythia’s plan clearly laid out—she means to run. You feel Eupheme’s breath hitch beside you—so soft no one else would notice. But you do. “I could take your head,” Deimos says, voice low and dangerous. “Just as Elpenor’s was taken.”

You step into his path when he moves forward, stopping him before he can reach the sitting Oracle with a hand flattened against the center of his golden breastplate. “Deimos, please” —his tawny-gold eyes flit down to you, his lips pressed into a taut line, the harsh lines between his brows lessen, if only a little— “Eupheme had no choice,” you tell him, a convincing lie.

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

You keep your hand against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath the plate. His body is tense, a coiled serpent ready to strike, but he hasn’t pushed past you—and you know he won’t. “I have foreseen this.” Another lie. “The Gods—Khaos and Kosmos—willed this to be.” You stand a far better chance against his wrath than Eupheme ever would, and for that, you will risk the storm to save a friend.

Deimos looks between you and Eupheme, jaw tightening, then he nods in the direction of the door—a noise somewhere between a sigh and grunt leaving his throat. “Go,” he tells the Pythia with reluctant restraint. Eupheme gathers her things and rushes out of the chora, fleeing into the night, and you know you’ll never see her again.

His attention returns to you—there’s a spark of danger in his eyes, burning gold in the firelight. Deimos reaches for you, his hand rising to rest on your cheek, and you close your eyes as his thumb trails across your cheekbone before slipping lower to your neck. “What else have you not spoken of?” He asks, tilting his head as he looks down his nose at you, fingertips pressing into flesh, but not ungently.

“Only that which will forfeit my life,” you tell him. And yours.

“Come with me.” It is not a request this time. You follow him from the villa—a white horse is waiting at the entrance. Deimos places you astride the beast's back, then mounts behind you, spurring the stallion toward the Sanctuary of Delphi high in the mountains. He doesn’t speak—never having been one for needless words—but the look in his eyes when you glimpse him over your shoulder is unfamiliar. Kassandra’s arrival in Phokis has shattered the careful balance of things. The old order crumbles, and in its place, chaos reigns.

The Temple of Apollo looms above. But it is not your destination. He brings you to the Cave of Gaia.

You look around the empty chamber and then down at the Pyramid, pulsating with energy even though the bronze plates are coated with blood and scattered around the floor—a remnant of his rage. “Why are we here, Deimos?” You ask, a whisper swallowed by stone.

"My sister," he starts, face twisting in anger. "She was here among the Cultists. I–" He stops himself, stops pacing too, jaw clenching. His hands curl into fists at his sides. His memory and hers are the same but different. For years, he knew the truth of his past. There was no doubt what happened that night on Taygetos, but now...Deimos shakes his head and looks at you. "I need to know," he tells you.

"Know what?" You challenge.

The truth, but his pride won’t let him say it. He swallows hard, his voice dropping lower than a whisper. "My fate."

You study him—can see his anger give way to something else. It nigh breaks your heart. You know he is not a god, not even a demigod, just a man, but to see him act as such. He’s never looked this vulnerable, broken. "You’ve never believed in fate,” you counter.

He exhales sharply, frustration flickering across his face. "Tell me anyway,” Deimos grits out.

Taking a long breath, you reach out to the Pyramid and let the artifact's power take over. There are flashes of red and blue flames and battles on land and sea, but he stands in gold-and-white, drenched in blood. “You walk the path of fire, but the flames do not consume you. Not yet.” And then there is a flicker of hope shining through the violence and suffering—redemption. Deimos doesn’t move. He barely breathes.

Your voice drops to a hush, yet your words strike him like a blade. "Blood calls to blood, Deimos.” You can see his sister and mother—and him—standing atop Mount Taygetos, an echo of the night when he was only a babe. Both he and Kassandra have their blades drawn, and Myrrine of Sparta weeps for her children, Kassandra and Alexios. “You will have to choose. Between the path of the serpent” —you look up at him— “and the path home.” His face twists, as though he will refute that this is his home, but before he can speak, you continue. “And you already know which will lead to your destruction.”

Sighing, you step around the Pyramid, your hands rising to cradle his face, to force him to focus on you—not the dark thoughts burrowing into his mind or the decades of lies. “Deimos.” The feather-soft whisper of his name brings his gaze to yours. Alexios. Your smile is faint, fleeting. He will not believe what his sister or mother says, but you—he hangs off your every word as though they are a lifeline. “When those who would name you Alexios, speak, you must listen.”

His fingers curl around one of your wrists, keeping your hand against his cheek. Everything will be different now—there will be no return to the old ways. And should the Cult learn of what you’ve told him this night…he dreads to think of what they will do. “You should leave too,” Deimos mutters. “I can no longer promise to keep you safe.”

THE SHIP WHICH will bore you away from Phokis and the Cult of Kosmos is The Nauplios, a merchant vessel bound for Thrace. They are meant to sail with the rising sun, but a full purse of drachma and jewels assures the cover of darkness will be an ally. Kirrha’s harbor is silent in the early morning, save for the wind rustling the rigging and cloth sails of the docked boats and triremes and the breaking of small waves against the pale stones and wooden piles. Deimos has come to watch you leave—his bidding is the only reason for your departure.

The captain nods for you to join them aboard, but you’re not ready. Lowering the hood of your chlamys, you turn to face Deimos—for the last, but not final time—you rise, settling your lips upon his. Deimos doesn’t move at first, but then his hand finds your waist, fingers tightening into linen and wool, pulling you closer. His lips are warm, windburned from the sea, and rough from battle, but they part beneath yours, answering in kind. The wind tugs at your cloak, urging you away, but you linger, pressing yourself into the heat of him as though pleading with him not to send you away. A shout from the ship reminds you that time is slipping through your fingers. The captain waits. The sails are ready.

“Remember,” you breathe against his mouth, fingers curling into the open neck of his black-and-gold chiton. “You are Alexios of Sparta before Deimos.”

His fingers curl around your wrist, holding you back from stepping aboard the ship. He knows he is not supposed to feel like this, but he has—for years. Deimos hesitates, keeping you with him for a moment longer before he finally ousts the reticent question haunting his every waking thought since the path forward became clear. “Do we meet again in this life?” He asks.

Deimos is relieved to see you smile—an answer on its own. Yes. You lift a hand to rest on his scarred cheek, thumb tracing the raised scar before slipping down, combing through the growing stubble on his jaw. “As strangers, my love,” you tell him softly, a glimmer shining in your eyes. “And as old friends.”

[Deimos taglist: @alexandra-alle / @athy-lex / @certifiedlittleshit / @chaotic-spooky / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gallimaufrea / @hereforreadandwrite / @Idkjj04 / @jadynchronicle / @joossieisdabomb / @kitkitvm / @ksziggy / @missmannequin / @morganamayne / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @novastale​ / @qhbr2013 / @rigshak / @stormyblue90 / @thatrandomfeministgamer / @thepreciouspurrsian / @vymyn / @wallsarecrumbling ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Deimos taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[inkyrainstorms]

Imagine Martian Stan, Oracle and Pyramid Steve and Polly throwing a “Bill is dead party”

And Ford has no clue what’s going on because on the other side of the walk-in talkie he hears noise

Stan makes SO many friends and enemies on that side of the portal except nothing bad can happen to him because Polly can and will kill for her little Godkiller. I mean, she’d kill for less. I don’t think she can conceptualize death. Do things die in the Nightmare Realm? An entropy exist in a place that exists between existence?

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face they’re throwing the most epic parties ever, one in the NR, and one later, after Stan is rescued. They can get up on the roof and blow up fireworks before Polly eats them all, it’d be great

[claudiafrankie]

Pick a Card: How is Your Soul Doing

Disclaimer: Tarot is not an evidence-based practice. You are in charge of making your own decisions.

Pile 1 - Water

Wowie pile 1! This feels really good. The picture on the oracle card you picked made me feel like you are in this drop of water, protected and encased in this womb. The rainbow looks like it's feeding/emptying into the water drop, kind of like an umbilical chord. You are kind of churning around and developing, maybe growing a little uncomfortable, feeling like you are too big for your current environment.

Then, bursting over the waves or a rocky mountain range in the distance, a bright white sun explodes into the sky. I see you with your back to this, you aren't aware of it yet.

It looks like the drop of water is suspended over the ocean - and not a calm one. You are cocooned amidst a storm. You probably have felt like you've been in survival mode for a long time. Trying to do small things to bring the light and spark back into your life, with nothing really sticking or working for you. You might have been feeling like you just want to cut everyone off and run away, or like you need to do something drastic, or make some kind of otherwise significant change in your life.

I think you are being heavily protected right now, and watched over. The rainbow emptying into the drop, to me, is like your ancestors and guides providing you with the nourishment you need should you decide to seek it out. They have been sending you messages and communicating with you, and want to pass on advice and wisdom. It's like your outside looks solid or mostly the same, but on the inside you are caterpillar chrysalis enzyme goo, not quite sure what you are going to solidify into.

I think you have been emitting light and hope to those around you during this time of transformation, whether you are aware of it or not. There seems to be light emitting from the right side of the water drop, which spirals upwards and connected with the illuminated sky. I think people around you are anticipating your reveal, waiting to see what kind of person you are going to become.

I think you feel pressure from this, like you have to become something extraordinary and "wow" people that you might not even know very well to begin with. This is part of why you are in this cocoon, you are connecting with who it is that you want to be. Without taking outside opinions into consideration. Going deep into that space within you that is always there, that's quiet and still, that connects you to god.

Pile 2: Fire

Hey pile 2, welcome to your reading!

You chose the 'fire' oracle card, which reads: "As one of the four physical elements, Fire brings us inspiration, creativity, and focus, while also being associated with the masculine properties of strength and life-force. This card can indicate a powerful time of transformation and creative energy."

Your tarot cards are: Queen of Swords, 3 of Swords, Knight of Swords, Nine of Swords, and the Page of Cups.

Looking at your oracle card I was getting the feeling that you have been putting out signals, trying to communicate the need for help, ask for assistance from the universe or your guides or some higher power or source, whatever you believe in.

It looks like the pyramid in the bottom center of the card is lit on fire with the orange/red triangle on the top. Then the large planet-looking object hovers above, and I get the sense that there is help coming to you that may come as a surprise, maybe in the form of a person you wouldn't expect.

Also with fire, and asking for help, I started thinking about fire signals, and then that moment in Lord of the Rings where Gondor lights the beacons to summon help from Rohan - "The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

Looking at the Queen of Swords kicking off your spread, (using the universal waite deck) she holds her sword upright looking straight ahead, gesturing outwards with her left hand. She gazes over the rest of your cards, we only see her right profile. The 3 of Swords stands before her, and the Knight of Swords comes crashing in, sword raised, windswept and single-minded.

The 3 of Swords is sandwiched between the queen and the knight... big red juicy, pierced three times, exposed to the elements.

The queen has placed her sword in the heart and so has the knight. Then there is a final ace of swords down the middle - remember in Avatar the Last Airbender, one of the very first episodes, we learn that Sokka tried to remove a fishhook lodged in his hand with another fishhook?

The nine of swords... Something has been attempted to be solved from an angle that doesn't work anymore. A cerebral, thinking one. You have thought yourself in circles about something. You have learned a great deal, about yourself and whoever else this involves. But it's hurting you. And ultimately, it's done. Whatever has happened is over now, but it's like your brain cannot seem to let go. You hold on, desperately trying to decipher some riddle, some code, some writing on the wall that at this point you think you might be imagining.

The Page of Cups stands at the very end of your spread - the only card that's not in the suit of swords. He sees the woman in the nine of swords suffering night terrors, and the repetitive cerebral approach being taken to mending the broken heart. He doesn't seem to be judging, he offers his cup lightly, almost like he's dancing. Here is the help you called for - the Queen, looking over all the cards between her and the end of your spread, is beginning to see above the clouds. How her sword is not a one-size-fits-all tool for solving problems. She has become so used to running her world using her brain. The page sees this and, filled with respect and admiration for her obvious intellectual prowess, lovingly and informally suggests a new way. One that's a little less heavy than that steel sword in your hand.

The four of cups at the bottom of the deck - the page offers his cup but won't force you to take it. After that, the six of swords, ace of pentacles, queen of wands, ace of wands... I think you might want to take that cup.

[archgabrielangel]

uhhh rating the first and last lines of riordanverse series (yes all of these get above 5s 💀)

-The Lighting Thief

"Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood."

iconic. what's a halfblood? there's suspense. why percy??? tell me?? 10/10

-The Last Olympian

"For once, I didnt look back."

such a great ending, he's moving on and thinks he's gonna have peace for once. so naive. 9/10

-The Red Pyramid

"Look, we don’t have time for long introductions. I need to tell this story quickly, or we’re all going to die."

huh??? whatsgoingon???? even more suspense 10/10

-The Serpents Shadow

"Brooklyn House is open for buisness."

mediocre considering the other 2 books ended with the sentence just mixed around but I still like it;) 8/10

-The Lost Hero

"Even before he got electrocuted, Jason was having a rotten day."

not giving us much to work with. like ok?? also who even are u?? 6/10

-The Blood of Olympus

"The bronze dragon spread his wings and they soared into the unknown."

AJHSJSJS. need i say more? 10/10

-The Sword of Summer

"Yeah, I know."

hes so relatable. 100/10

-The Ship of the Dead

"But in the meantime, as Loki once said, we can choose to alter the details. That's how we take control of our destiny."

ho o o oly shit. 9/10

-The Hidden Oracle

"My name is Apollo. I used to be a god."

wow way to give it all away. but great segue since we all (kinda) knew what happened to him in BoO. 8/10

-The Tower of Nero

"Call on me. I will be there for you."

ohmygohsohmygoshohmygosh. this sentence is like a warm blanket being wrapped around your shoulders. it's like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. I may have cried??? you'll never know. 1000/10 I totally did cry

(btw this is edited since I didn't spell thief right the first time😭)

[sunsets12]

Follow up to the other ask cause I really would like to know.

How long do you think Rick has been using a ghost writer for? What made you have this theory?

A friend of mine mentioned thinking Trials of Apollo was ghostwritten (I've only read the first book, not the whole series), and it made me pause and be like... wait a minute.

I think he used them for sections of the Heroes of Olympus, but not all of it. The Last Hero and the Son of Neptune do seem like his writing style, but after that it just seems to almost sound like an impersonator. Plus if I'm looking at it from a cynical view, his release schedule of books was crazy:

The Lost Hero: October 12, 2010. ~127,859 words The Red Pyramid: May 4, 2010 ~124,305 words The Son of Neptune: 2011 ~117,675 words The Throne of Fire: May 3, 2011 ~113,038 words The Mark of Athena: 2012 ~132,818 words The Serpent’s Shadow: 2012 ~116,000 (approximate) words The House of Hades: 2013 ~129,725 words The Blood of Olympus: October 7, 2014. ~111,748 words The Sword of Summer: October 6, 2015 ~118,701 words The Hidden Oracle: May 3, 2016 ~89,000 words The Hammer of Thor: October 4, 2016 ~111,544 words The Dark Prophecy: May 2, 2017 ~93,559 words The Ship of the Dead: October 3, 2017 ~101,274 words The Burning Maze: May 1, 2018 ~97,644 words The Tyrant's Tomb: September 24, 2019 ~101177 words The Tower of Nero: October 6, 2020 ~95272 words

Like, I know I've written a lot for TSIYW in less than a year, but I'm not editing it multiple times like RR had to do for his published books. It's honestly likely he had to get a ghostwritter to write some of it just to make his deadlines.

With that being said, from what I remember of The Hidden Oracle (it's been years since I read it) it didn't seem ghostwritten the way some of HoO did. And regarding Chalice of the Gods, it's 100% ghostwritten, and ghostwritten poorly at that (just look at the chapter titles for it vs. the lightening thief: "I Get Flushed" vs. "I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom", "I Take a Himbo for Smoothies" vs. "A God Buys Us Cheeseburgers", "I Meet the Man Bun of Doom" vs. "My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting".) I haven't read wrath of the triple goddess and don't plan to.

[tempusedax-rerum]

All references in TiBiBiBaP

Under the cut you'll find all the little references and allusions made in Then it Becomes, it Becomes, it Becomes a Problem because I kept track of them and hey, why not, right?

It's going to include some stuff that probably seems painfully obvious. And did I miss some? Most likely, yes.

Obviously this contains MAJOR SPOILERS lol

Chapter 1:

Bill-proof suit -> The Book of Bill (TBoB from here on out)

Post-it notes -> TBoB

Shave-and-a-haircut -> classic call-and-response

“Have you come to steal my eyes?” -> S02E12, a Tale of Two Stans

Venus de Milo -> ancient Greek marble statue

Chapter 2:

“…grisly warzone that had once been their favourite taco place.” -> TBoB burrito paradox incident

“hourglass-shaped container” -> inspired by the ‘Cosmic Sand’ from S02E08 Blendin's Game and also the oracle page in Journal 3

“Vigilantes vel somniantes vel ambo…” -> this is actually a direct reference to a poem I wrote

“…you never needed the feather, Dumbo!” -> this scene in Dumbo

“The first line of the pyramid is also a theorem; it follows directly from axiom two.” -> Gödel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden braid by Hofstadter, Douglas R., page 224. All of Amorphous Shape's dialogue comes from GEB because I'm saying that all of reality is consciousness-based (specifically Axolotl-based). What is Amy? A mystery, at her core. Some kind of expression of the fractal structure of the multiverse.

"in the backroom" -> did I spell back room incorrectly?? No. I did this on purpose.

Chapter 3:

My take on the mindscape is loosely based on Plato’s theory of Forms with some scaffolded fractal panpsychism thrown in for good measure

“…grains of sand on every beach…” -> reference to Carl Sagan's book Cosmos

5D Chess with Multiverse Time Travel -> reference to the actual game

Chapter 4:

“It would be insane for a serial killer to press and stamp their own fake pain killers…” -> allusion to the Tylenol murders

Photocopier -> S01E07, Double Dipper

“Route 14” -> Journal 3

Chapter 5:

“…a large gourd with an unnervingly friendly face.” -> Journal 3

“ten distinct varieties of spectra” -> Journal 3

“a huge chess pawn” -> seen in the background of various Gravity Falls episodes (in the attic)

“Teen and Up” -> reference to AO3's rating system

“chamomile, cardamom, and dandelion root” -> chosen for their occult and medical properties: chamomile is associated with calm, cardamom is associated with love, dandelion root is associated with change. Basically a little spell to keep Ford thinking good thoughts about Bill.

Chapter 6:

“Chumbo’s hungry” -> TBoB

“singing the alphabet backwards and chanting Z-O-Z-O-Z-O” -> these are two common ouija board events that are attributed to demons

“Bring spiders! Sixer liked those.” -> TBoB

“The sum of the angles in a triangle is 180 degrees only in Euclidean geometry; it is greater in elliptic geometry, less in hyperbolic.” -> Gödel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden braid by Hofstadter, Douglas R., page 100

“party like it’s 1346!” -> this is the year the bubonic plague started

Chapter 7:

“There are these cows” -> Journal 3

“The Collector” -> a real Marvel villain

“eaten by Steve” -> Journal 3

“A mop and a bucket.” -> allusion to the various Handyman Bill AUs

“STARVING BLACK HOLES HAVE EATEN ALL LIGHT” -> that's entropy, babyyyy. Specifically, I was thinking about this video: time lapse of the future

“He wants his mother to cut the crusts off his sandwiches.” -> TBoB (burrito paradox 911 call script)

Chapter 8:

“the Purple Man” -> also a Marvel villain

“nice birthday present” -> TBoB

“I don’t want to be a fish!” -> the theory that hiccups are an old fish reflex

“Or Plato?” -> allusion to the allegory of the cave which is linked to Plato's Forms

Chapter 9:

“…has caused me harm in the following ways” -> common script for intervention letters

“A potato-shaped creature with a jelly-like consistency and four eyes” -> Journal 3

“Et tu, Brute?” -> Julius Caesar of course

“this space was originally my biospec lab” -> and that’s what it is in the show according to S02E15, The Last Mablecorn. I tried to stay true to this layout but I did make a few changes.

“He gave me rats for my birthday.” -> TBoB

Chapter 10:

“For here it is true that si paullum a summo discessit, vergit ad imum. I turned back when I saw that no man can reach the bottom of this night.” -> Gödel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden braid by Hofstadter, Douglas R., page 92

“We cannot make the loop any tighter, but we can open it wider, by choosing to insert any number of intermediate levels, such as ‘picture frame’, ‘arcade’, and ‘building…’” -> Gödel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden braid by Hofstadter, Douglas R., page 716

“Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.” -> direct quote from the Twilight Zone, S01E28

“The architect of my own destiny.” -> paraphrase of Jean-Paul Sartre

“Self-made man” -> paraphrase of Frederick Douglass

“portable portal device” -> allusion to the portal gun Rick and Morty... bordering on reference the further into the story we go... lol

Chapter 11:

Tachyon Queso’s Time-Loop Pizza Palazzo —> this is obviously just Chuck E. Cheez which, apparently, used to be called "Chuck E. Cheese's Pizza Time Theatre"

Chapter 12:

“Mens, corpus, in aethere separatum, spiritu unitum” –> I swear this is a reference to Supernatural but I can't remember which incantation I was thinking of

Chapter 13:

Multibear → S01E06, Dipper Vs. Manliness

"Just a couple tweaks" -> reference to Let's Get Weird by Longest Solo Ever

Chapter 14:

“If you wanted to go back and replace axiom one by its negation, you could not just do that by itself; you would have to delete all theorems which had involved axiom one in their derivations.” → Gödel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden braid by Hofstadter, Douglas R., page ?? (forgot to record the page number, so sorry lol. When I reread I'll fix this)

“Querying the system about some particular idea sets up a goal in the form of a string to be derived.” → Gödel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden braid by Hofstadter, Douglas R., page ?? (same issue as above)

“hyperdrive from crash site Omega” → Journal 3

���concentrated dark matter” → reference to Rick and Morty, S01E04, M. Night Shaym-Aliens!

“shadow realm” → reference to Yu-Gi-Oh!

“Magrathea” → planet in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Sikaris → planet in Star Trek (Voyager, S01E10, Prime Factors)

Naboo → planet in Star Wars

Arrakis → planet in Dune

Golden fiddle → reference to The Devil Went Down to Georgia

Chapter 15:

“Swayze-style” & “You had me at ‘ditto!’” → references to Ghost (1990)

Chapter 16:

Nothing here except a bunch of over-simplified neuroanatomy.

Chapter 17:

“Krombo-whoever-the-fuck” → allusion to Krombopulous Michael from Rick and Morty, S02E02, Mortynight Run

“she’d figured out how to set water on fire” → that one chemical that can do that. I forget. I think it's lithium? It also burns pink, so I think this was Alex's intention for Pyronica

Jheselbraum → Journal 3

Chapter 18:

“he had Jennifer Aniston beat in that regard” → reference to the Jennifer Aniston neuron

“what was his name… George? Henry?” → allusion to a series of comments where people kept getting Gary's name wrong. It really cracked me up. Like, yes, exactly! Gary is barely a person. Hilarious.

“‘Subsystem’ is just another name for an overgrown symbol, one which has gotten so complicated that it has–” → Gödel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden braid by Hofstadter, Douglas R., page 384

“spiritui esto subiecto voluntati meae" -> and then Snooki appears! Reference to Supernatural, S9E16, Blade Runners

“Greek superstition” → parsley is associated with the dead in Greek mythology

“Yarrow? Frankincense?” & “absinthe?” → chosen for their occult properties. Yarrow is associated with removing blockages, frankincense with ritual amplification and consecration of ritual spaces, and absinthe is associated with spirit communication

Chapter 19:

“Anima, corpori fuerit corpus totem resurgent.” → reference to Supernatural, S8E1, We Need to Talk About Kevin. Fun fact: Amina (Anima backwards) just so happens to stand in for "amen" in Arabic in certain circumstances. Neat how that worked out.

And lots more oversimplified neuroanatomy. I like brain science. :3

Also thank you to my university's physics department and to some very helpful people on discord who checked my math on those three problems.

Chapter 20:

"Dammit, Janet" -> a song from Rocky Horror Picture Show

“fucking Nosferatu” → Nosferatu :) obviously :)

Chapter 21:

“Obtuse Society” → From this panel about the pitch document for TBoB (here's the actual document)

Chapter 22:

“cells, interlinked” → Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabakov

“Dr. Jacobi” → Laura Palmer's therapist in Twin Peaks

“Did the lambs get too loud for you, Clarice?” → Silence of the Lambs

“salt on Ford’s windowsills” → allusion to Supernatural. Just salt everywhere.

Chapter 23:

“stupid… calcium” → lack of calcium re-uptake is one of the causes of rigor mortis

Chapter 23:

I am purposefully drawing parallels between Bill's trauma-based dissociative experiences and my own experiences with dissociative disorders. This is also a nod to Disco Elysium!

"jelly doughnut" -> reference to the autopsy snack time trope

Chapter 24:

Nothing here

Chapter 25:

This chess game is just The Immortal Zugzwang

Chapter 26:

"a tattoo guy" -> it could be any of the embarrassing tattoos tbh (but it's definitely the "if lost return to Bill Cipher" one from TBoB, the "my muse and me" page)

Moloko plus → disgusting milk-based beverage in A Clockwork Orange

That ol’ Janx Spirit → alcoholic component of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Chapter 27:

The spot in the Atlantic ocean that Ford is referencing is meant to be the Bermuda triangle

“Eyepatch?” → allusion to Theseus' Guide to Ruining a Perfectly Good Boat by @stump-not-found

The cake in this scene is an internal reference to the moment that Bill saw in chapter 7 which he was using to anchor his behaviour in subsequent chapters. In case.... anyone missed that. It was a very small moment.

"Just rebrand it as an adhesive exfoliating strip. The rash means it’s working." -> Stan's bandaid brand, "The Rip-Off," that won't give you rashes from S02E12, A Tale of Two Stans

The final scene with Bill is a reference to the one therapy session we see on thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com when you type in "even his lies are lies"

Spiders Georg -> we all know this guy, I hope

[letterful]

If people know any portion of Herodotus, they almost certainly know the story of Croesus, the immensely rich king of the Lydians, who asked the oracles at Delphi whether he should go to war against the Persians: “The answers both oracles gave to the question were perfectly consistent with each other: they told Croesus that if he made war on the Persians, he would destroy a great empire.” Thus reassured, Croesus attacked and was utterly routed: The empire he would destroy was his own. Herodotus is a treasure chest of such stories and of what he calls thomata, or wonders. He tells us about temple prostitutes in Babylon, the Scythians’ use of cannabis to get high, fathers inadvertently feasting on the flesh of their own sons; he shows us the oases of North Africa (the Ethiopians, he says, “are the tallest and most attractive people in the world”), giant ants that bring up gold from underground, and Amazons who must first kill a man before they can marry; we even glimpse a high-born Persian who cuts off his nose and ears to accomplish a daring undercover military operation, a circumnavigation of Africa, and a foolish king so infatuated with his wife’s beauty that he insists that one of his counselors see her naked. With his usual charm, Herodotus notes that there are so many aromatic spices in Arabia that the entire country “gives off a wonderfully pleasant smell.” His book’s famous second chapter alone, a long excursus on Egypt, describes the use of mosquito netting, how to hunt a crocodile, the legend of Helen in Egypt, the building of pyramids, and three ways to embalm a corpse. After the mortuarial details, he gruesomely adds, “When the wife of an eminent man dies, or any woman who was particularly beautiful or famous, the body is not handed over to the embalmers straight away. They wait three or four days before doing so. The reason for this is to stop the embalmers having sex with the women.”

— MICHAEL DIRDA, from Bound to Please.

[jgoddesstarot]

Pick-A-Pile: How Will Your Relationship Bloom With Your Future Spouse

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

✨ Visit my shops at Ko-fi.com or J.Goddess Tarot✨

🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: Death, Page of Swords, 8 of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, 6 of Swords

Oracle Cards: Yang, Yin

Greetings, my Pile 1's. Let's delve into the journey of your future marital life.

The first card drawn is Death, which might seem ominous but it symbolizes transformation. In the context of your relationship, it implies that you and your future spouse will experience profound changes, evolving together as individuals and as a couple. These transformations may come in various forms; personal growth, changes in perspectives, or shifts in life circumstances. Embrace these changes as they come, for they are the stepping stones towards a stronger and deeper bond with your partner.

Secondly, we have the Page of Swords. This card signifies curiosity, a thirst for knowledge, and effective communication. Your future spouse will be someone with a keen intellect and a vibrant mind. You'll find joy in deep, meaningful conversations, exchanging ideas, and learning from each other. This meeting of minds will stimulate a rich intellectual bond between you two, enhancing your relationship further.

Next up is the 8 of Pentacles. This card represents dedication, mastery, and commitment. Your future spouse will be invested in making your relationship work. They'll be willing to put in the necessary effort to understand you, to adapt, and to grow with you. This card reassures you that your spouse will not shy away from hard work when it comes to maintaining a healthy and fulfilling relationship.

Onward to the Knight of Swords. This is a card of action, ambition, and directness, somewhat similar to the previous reading for Pile 3's. It suggests that your future partner will be straight forward in expressing their emotions and desires. They'll have the courage to tackle problems head-on, paving the way for open and honest communication between you two.

Lastly, we have the 6 of Swords. This card symbolizes transitions, changes, and journeys. Much like the Death card, it suggests that your relationship with your future spouse will involve a series of transitions. You'll sail together through the calm and turbulent waters of life, growing stronger with every wave you conquer.

Alongside the tarot cards, your Oracle cards - Yang and Yin - stand for the divine masculine and feminine energies. Your relationship will embody a balance, a harmony between these complementary forces. You'll find an equilibrium between action and introspection, speaking and listening, giving and receiving.

Remember, my Pile 1's, these cards are your guide. They suggest a future where your relationship with your spouse is not just about love, but about growth, communication, commitment, courage, and balance. Embrace the journey that awaits you, and may your love story be as magical as you envision it to be.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: Strength, The Tower, 7 of Cups, The Star, 5 of Pentacles

Oracle Cards: The Lakshmi, The Pyramid

Greetings, my beloved Pile 2's. Let us embark on the intricate journey that your love story is destined to unfold.

Firstly, let's explore the Strength card, a powerful symbol of inner resilience and compassion. This signifies that your future relationship will be built on a solid foundation of emotional strength and understanding. Together, you will weather any storms that come your way, guided by the light of kindness and patience.

Next, we encounter The Tower, a card often associated with upheaval and sudden change. But fear not, for this suggests that your relationship will undergo transformation and growth. The Tower reminds us that sometimes, things need to fall apart to make space for better things. Throughout your journey together, you will have the strength to rebuild and emerge stronger from any challenges that arise.

Then, we have the 7 of Cups, a card that represents choices and dreams. It signifies that your relationship will be filled with endless possibilities and aspirations. It is important to remain grounded and make decisions that align with your shared goals as you explore these dreams together.

The Star follows, shining as a beacon of hope, inspiration, and serenity. This indicates that your future spouse will be your guiding star, illuminating your path with love, encouragement, and optimism. The Star reassures you that no matter what obstacles you face, there will always be a sense of faith and hope in your relationship.

Finally, we encounter the 5 of Pentacles, a card often associated with hardship and adversity. However, it does not suggest impending doom. Instead, it implies that your relationship will not be without its challenges. Together, you will navigate these hurdles and transform them into stepping stones that enhance your bond and strengthen your connection.

Accompanying the tarot cards are the Oracle cards - The Lakshmi and The Pyramid. The Lakshmi, representing wealth, prosperity, and divine grace, suggests that your relationship will be abundant in love and mutual respect. The Pyramid, a symbol of strength, longevity, and the journey towards self-discovery, indicates that your relationship will be a journey of personal growth and deepening understanding.

There you have it, my dear Pile 2's. Your relationship with your future spouse, as depicted by these cards, will be an exhilarating blend of strength, change, choices, hope, and resilience. Remember, these challenges and transformations will only serve to strengthen your bond. Embrace this wondrous journey and let your love story unfold in all its beautiful complexity.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: Knight of Pentacles, The Tower, 10 of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, Justice

Oracle Cards: Intuition, Self-Doubt

Greetings, my beloved Pile 3's. Let us embark on a captivating exploration of the intricate tapestry woven by these tarot and oracle cards, as we seek to unravel the future unfolding of your relationship with your spouse.

Our journey commences with the Knight of Pentacles, a card symbolizing steadfastness, patience, and meticulousness. It indicates that your relationship will flourish upon a sturdy foundation of loyalty, reliability, and unwavering commitment. Your future spouse may be someone who values taking their time to build a relationship that is stable and secure.

Continuing our odyssey, we encounter The Tower, an emblem of sudden upheaval and transformation. Fear not, dear Pile 3's, for this signifies necessary shifts. Your relationship may undergo profound changes, leading both of you to outgrow old patterns and embrace new paradigms. This renewal will ultimately fortify your bond and deepen your connection.

The third card, the 10 of Pentacles, is one of the most auspicious cards in matters of love and relationships. It symbolizes financial stability, security, and long-term success. This suggests that your relationship will evolve into a fulfilling, enduring commitment, enriched with abundance and shared triumphs. You and your future spouse will luxuriate in a life of material and emotional prosperity.

Next, we have the 2 of Pentacles, representing balance, adaptability, and decision-making. This foretells a relationship marked by a dynamic dance of give-and-take. There will be moments when you'll need to skillfully juggle responsibilities and make significant decisions. Yet, remember, maintaining equilibrium and embracing change will ensure a harmonious journey for your relationship.

Our voyage culminates with Justice, a card embodying truth, fairness, and the law. This signifies that your relationship will thrive on honesty, equality, and mutual respect. Any conflicts or disagreements will be handled with equanimity, fostering an environment of fairness and understanding.

Accompanying the tarot cards are the Oracle cards - Intuition and Self-Doubt. Intuition urges you to trust your instincts and inner voice in this relationship. It will guide you through the peaks and valleys, leading you towards a fruitful union. Self-Doubt, on the other hand, serves as a reminder not to let insecurities overshadow your growth and happiness. Embrace your journey with unwavering confidence and allow your love to bloom in its unique rhythm.

And there you have it, dear Pile 3's. Your relationship with your future spouse will be a magnificent voyage encompassing patience, transformation, abundance, balance, and justice, guided by your intuition and unburdened by self-doubt. Embrace the winds of change and witness the unfolding of your love story in its resplendent splendor.

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[briefpiratewitch]

Ok to all the people who are fans of Percy Jackson and the Percy Jackson universe have you ever wondered what the chronological order of the the books are, because I have. And guess what... I figured it out :) It took a long time and I had to ask for some help from a friend but I got there. I am about 90% sure this is right and there is also his new book that hasn't been released yet that comes after The Chalice of the gods: Wrath of the Triple Goddess. I no virtually nothing about this book but I'm really look forward to it. I also included a few short stories from his side books. And so I now present you all the books in chronological order:

The Diary of Luke Castellan (The Demigod Diaries)

The Lightning Thief

The Sea of Monsters

The Titans Curse

Percy Jackson and the Olympians the Ultimate Guide

The Stolen Chariot (The Demigod Files)

Battle of the Labyrinth

The Bronze Dragon (The Demigod Files)

The Sword of Hades (The Demigod Files)

The Red Pyramid

The Throne of Fire

The Last Olympian

Percy Jackson and the Singer of Apollo

The Staff of Hermes (The Demigod Diaries)

Son of Magic (The Demigod Diaries)

The Serpents Shadow

Demigods and Magicians

Brooklyn House Magician's Manual

The Lost Hero

The Son of Neptune

The Quest for Buford (The Demigod Diaries)

The Mark of Athena

The House of Hades

The Blood of Olympus

The Greek Gods

The Greek Heroes

The Sword of Summer

The Chalice of the Gods

Wrath of the Triple Goddess?

Hotel Valhalla Guide to the Norse World's

The Hidden Oracle

The Hammer of Thor

The Ship of the Dead

9 From the Nine Worlds

Camp Half-Blood Confidential

The Dark Prophecy

The Burning Maze

The Tyrant's Tomb

Camp Jupiter Classified

The Tower of Nero

The Sun and the Star

The part I'm unsure of is the The Sword of Summer and the books under it. The first reason is because of all the new books Rick has released lately and the second is the fact that ToA and MG happen around the same time. I would not recommend this order to people reading the books for the first time but for long time fans I challenge you to try this. Hope you enjoy this either way.

Adiós! ;⁠)

[ashoss]

For the bat x pjo thing, I’ve always loved the idea of Jason as a son of poseidon. I know that one’s probably overdone, but I love it a lot!

Just think about it—he’s got the looks, the sheer physical and probably even mystical power, the changeability…he’s just as intelligent as Percy believes he (Percy) isn’t, especially strategically. He was resurrected during heavy rain, which could be an explanation, like Poseidon’s upset his kid died so he’s sending rain to bring him back. He died in the desert, where there’s not a lot of water, and I know it’s a lazarus pit, but he regained his faculties in the water, and in both the comics and the movie, he’s extremely disoriented and falls/is pushed off a cliff into a body of water—but more than that, even if he preempts betrayal later on by leaving first, he is EXTREMELY loyal and will do anything for his friends.

I don’t know if you’ve already heard it, but you should really listen to Ruthlessness from Epic the Musical, with Jason confronting Bruce with the Joker in mind. It’s perfect for that, and that’s actually how I got the idea before I read anything on AO3 with Jason as a son of poseidon.

And I love the idea of Roy as a son of Athena too, you know, extremely clever, invents things but also fights very well, and, even if he’s not great at lying as a leader, is a very good leader anyway. (Kori and Bizarro have their own things, but Artemis, even though she is from Bana-Mighdall, is still descended from the greek amazons, and could be a legacy of a child of Athena, Ares, or Apollo).

And yeah, okay, I feel like Damian kinda has to be a legacy or something, BUT what if he were more like Carter Kane in The Red Pyramid? A vessel for Horus, or something, but a powerful warrior-magician nonetheless.

For Dick, I really liked in your other one him as a child of Hermes, but I feel like a son of Astrape, goddess of lightning, would work better. Astrape for sheer, you know, flashy power that still puts you on your ass, and arcs through the sky even if it can’t fly on its own necessarily (although that’s just a lot more representative, of course his abilities would be the result of hard work, as usual). And the fact that Astrape and Bronte are in Zeus’ entourage, and his shield/weapons bearers just fits Batman and Robin’s first thing and then Nightwing and Batman’s whole thing after very well, I think.

As for Tim? I honestly think he should just be a clear sighted mortal. He’s never seemed that much like any one child of anything to me.

Stephanie as the daughter of Dionysus is just inspired, and I can’t believe I never thought of it!

And Alfred I feel like would be, even if not the son of anyone, or a legacy, a sort of disciple of Hestia or something.

Babs I just love as a daughter of Athena, but also, she’s kind of taken the role of Oracle for herself, and I was thinking, you know, she should be a clear sighted mortal who became the oracle of Delphi, like Rachel.

And Cass I love as the daughter of Nike, but I feel like a daughter of Hades just fits her so well! Disappears into shadows, often called quite creepy and yet has no patience for what she sees as trivial when she could be attacking something with her fists instead (and has something against contributing to the overpopulation of her father’s realm 😆).

And Duke I liked in the other one too, able to see something vaguely…Other about his foster family, and the gods already seeming much too bright, but just with his meta ability.

Heh, I know I focussed a lot on Jason and the Outlaws, but they are very much my blorbos 😅.

💜

god i do really love Poseidon kid Jason (especially if we give Jason more of the earthshaker powers). he's definitely very similar to Percy in a lot of ways like you mentioned. HOWEVER while you bring up a LOOOT of good points for Poseidon kid Jason i think i want to stray away from having any of the batkids being kids of the big three? i feel like it might to into like,, mary sue territory (even though they're not really OCs but I'm lowkey kinda strict with my PJO aus and want to stick as close to canon as possible - meaning the big three only broke their oaths to not have kids with Percy, Jason and Thalia.) maybe ill do another au or something with Poseidon kid Jason because i really do love it lol

Athena kid Roy is interesting! unfortunately i don't know much abt Roy himself to really refute it or anything

as for Damian i definitely was playing with him being a magician, and maybe a legacy on Talias side? I'm not too sure on that part.

Astrape kid dick is also interesting! i haven't really looked at any of the more minor gods/goddesses for any of them but i can def see it! it's taking some of the traits of Zeus and toning them down a bit without really taking away the power. i still think I'm kinda attached to Hermes kid dick, but if we really want to give him flight we can give him the shoes similar to the ones Luke gave Percy in tlt

honestly mortal Tim does make sense and can also play into his insecurities on not being enough to fit dick or Jason's shoes as robin, since he's not a demigod he's just a regular kid. (however i think i am attached to Aphrodite kid Tim now lol but i do think mortal Tim could be good)

i think i may need a bit more swaying on Dionysus kid Stephanie but i do think its cool - it's definitely something i haven't seen before.

and yes i think Babs should just be a clearsighted mortal no matter how much i like Athena kid Babs. i did really want to play into the oracle name itself and her being the oracle of Delphi is good (however i don't really think her being the oracle itself - like Rachel- would fit in the au? unless they were all at camp i don't really know. i don't think the batfamily themselves need an oracle ? maybe she could be blessed (or cursed) by apollo )

i do like hades kid Cass but like i said with dick i kinda don't want any of them to be kids of the big three. but i think it fits her character - especially with her being a bit creepy as black bat/batgirl. but it might be interesting in terms of her childhood - if David was aware of her parentage he might have had higher hopes for this killing machine he wanted. this child of hades who is a master at reading body language and could kill with the touch of a hand? it could also tie into her adverseness of death itself - because she couldn't handle the feeling of death because of two contributing factors - her understanding of death through her hades powers (like Nico) and her understanding of body language. (hmmm maybe i might make an exception of my refusal of big three kids for hades Cass)

and yes!! i love the ideas of just meta Duke with no godly influence. it might be interesting for him to not be clearsighted - but that could bring in more ideas for how his powers affect his life. do you think he could see the outline or the shadow of a monster? or that his new foster family's eyes tend to glow slightly too bright and there seems to be something golden in their veins? maybe one of them could have some control of the mist like hazel does and would lift the mist later on for duke.

very good takes!! you're definitely making me think about these tho lol