#what's he guarding? Only Apollo knows

[literallyjusttoa]

I love your work so much i can't even describe it, it's giving me a warm and comfy vibe <3 I recently remembered Apollo is the god of mice, so i was wondering... can you please draw him holding a lil mouse and being amazed by its preciousness ? I would be so blessed if you did

Ooh ohh this isn't exactly what you said but this gave me an idea.

When those close to the Lord Apollo pray for his presence, he will often come with a companion. Sometimes, it will be one of his sacred red cattle. Sometimes, the divine wolf, Kitrinomavros. Sometimes, he will fly down with ravens, or his arrival will be punctuated by the trilling song of locusts. But with only his closest circle, Apollo will arrive with ...

His pet mouse.

Apollo insists that this mouse is very important, but no one has quite figured out what he means by that.

[heartmii]

TOA 00

✮⋆˙apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: male reader but can be seen as gn, angst, mentions of blood.

✮⋆˙ this was honestly a fic idea i had for a while but since toa isn't really that popular, i figured it wouldn't do too well so instead here's a one-shot! Has been continued !

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"nonono.. beloved..." the god whispered as he dropped onto his knees beside your bloodied body. his hands trembling when he reached out to touch you.

your eyes were shut when he arrived at your spot. an opening deep in the forest behind his temple. after he'd set the sun and, his sister took her shift, he would then meet you here. here, where he learned of your body, and you learned his. here, where the whispers of intimacy stayed between two souls. here, where, apollo, the all-powerful god, submitted to a mortal and allowed his body to be used for love.

now, in the shadow of his love, was only grief. for as long as you love, grief will one day be in its place. a game of chance. it is said love is a fool's emotion as only a fool would jump into a game knowing the outcome would be a loss.

and perhaps, the god was the biggest fool of them all. loving a mortal promised nothing but loss, yet, when your eyes flickered open and connected with his, a fool was what he became once again.

his heart thumped against his chest. grief soon turned into hope. although your eyes were weak, and your skin was paling. you were alive. breathing. death had not claimed you, there was a chance you could live — a chance he could save you.

"apollo." even on your deathbed, his name would roll off your tongue like honey. he was worshipped, and his name was said many times a day by mortals wishing for his blessings or his wisdom.

but, your call for him was different. when you called for him it wasn't for him as a god, there was no expectation behind your words, no secret goal. if you did expect anything, if there was a goal, it was nothing more than simply just the presence of apollo. you would say his name gently as if you didn't want to scare him off, a reminder he could let his guard down around you.

there's a difference in being valued for what you could give versus being valued for who you were. something apollo could not comprehend until he met you. "what is it, beloved?" he murmured, his attempt to be gentle with you in your fragile state as his cheek leaned into the hand you had outstretched towards him.

your thumb rubbed circles against his skin. "I've been waiting for you." apollo swallowed down a sob. he could hear it in your voice, how hard it was for you to speak full sentences. broken breaths in between each of your words.

quickly, he answered before you could speak again. "i know, love, i know. it was my father's doing. he dispatched hermes to distract me... he knew i was coming to see you..." he let out a shaky breath, "my father punished you to punish me."

zeus's cruelty was nothing new to apollo. his father had been cruel to him his whole life. it was the whole reason he began the revolt against him alongside hera and poseidon in the first place. to be liberated from his father's tyranny.

they'd been found out, of course. hera had already received her punishment. she was to be suspended into the sky wrapped in chains. all of olympus winced as she cried through the night but no one dared to help her out of fear of their "mighty" king.

he wasn't supposed to hurt you. never in a thousand years would apollo have done any of this with the knowledge that you could be caught in the crossfire between him and his father. this wasn't how their game went. zeus had never gone after his lovers before. but dammit, he should've known better. he should've known his father would make sure to break him down. come for his every weakness. now, because of his carelessness, you are a pinch close to death. practically drowning in your own blood and only being able to use the tree stump behind you for support to stay upright.

the longer apollo's eyes stayed on your struggling figure, the foggier they became. "oh, im so, so, sorry." he choked out, the sob he swallowed down earlier forcing its way back up his throat. "this is all my fault."

he felt your thumb swipe at tears he wasn't aware he'd been shedding. how could you still be so gentle with him after he had put you in this situation? so attentive even though you were the one who needed the most attention?

And your eyes, they bore into his with the same amount of warmth as always. "hey.. its okay...we'll be okay." you mustered up a smile and, for a second, apollo believed your words, that everything would be okay. because your superpower was making him - everyone - feel like everything would be okay.

reality hit him with a strangled cough coming from you. he jumped, immediately, blinking away the rest of his tears as his hands helped to support you, your blood coating him. his breath quickened. every second you were falling further into the embrace of death. he was wasting time moping instead of helping.

apollo trembled as he went to press a hand over your wound. "let me heal you."

"no," you denied. it was all you could say with the little bit of strength you had left.

a helpless cry left apollo's lips, his tears flowing once again. your answer did not surprise him. in fact, he expected it. in all of your meetings with apollo, you never failed to mention that you cherished the value of a mortal life. to value which is rare, and what is more rare than a mortal life with the only promise that it would one day end.

apollo was a god. he was never born to die but born to continue living and changing as time allowed. life meant little to him, he'd taken many lives without much thought just as much as he created lives.

that was normal in the life of a god but, you were not a god. only a man. a fact that was being painfully made apparent more so now than ever.

power coursed through apollo's body and, yet, he could not get himself to use it. you were just a man. a man who got a god to submit to your will. you taught him the value in life, the value in you. in turn, he could not disregard your wishes as he could anyone else. he hated it. apollo hated how he loved you so much, he couldn't be selfish. how even when you were slipping through his fingers, he stopped himself from healing you because he knew you would be unhappy if he did, and he would be dammed if he was the reason for your unhappiness.

it was childish to believe that at the doors of death would you change your mind, abandon your humanity, and beg him to save you. "is this really what you want..." he asked. a plead, his last attempt to bargain with you.

you didn't answer his question. he preferred that. it left room to wonder, pretend there was a chance at something else. instead, you reached behind his head, pushing it forward until it gently bumped against your own. you didn't speak at first, opting to admire the face of your lover one last time.

“you're so beautiful..." you breathed out through your staggered breath.

apollo scowled at your words. Not finding the humor in your inappropriate timing for a compliment. “really? that's what you have to say right now." he frowned, his lips jutting into a familiar pout.

“it's true," you hummed, bumping noses with him.

he allowed you to indulge in your affections, scrunching his nose in response. a pointless attempt at gaining some type of normalcy within the situation. yet, the reality loomed over him. he could not shake it off as easily as you. “you’re dying and your last words to me are going to be something I hear from everyone.”

your laugh was music to his ears. soft, like your voice, but full of joy. the type of laugh that could light up a room and have even the gloomiest laugh along with you. he needed to savor it. to imprint the sound in his mind for the days he needs the encouragement to keep going. you found laughter even in a moment like this.

"it's only a matter of truth," you said, eyes flickering to his lips followed by a tilt of your head. when your lips brush, you murmur against his lips. "besides, wouldn't you miss hearing it from me the most?"

his stomach flutters at your words. of course he'd miss hearing your praise. not just for his beauty, but for anything. he held you in the highest regard, like you were a god yourself. but, it was easier to pretend he didn't care, and instead leave those words unspoken.

he settled for angling his lips to meet yours and disregarding your previous question. "you're being ridiculous." apollo mumbles, ignoring his aching heart.

then there is only silence as the two of you lean in to close the gap between you. like a magnet pulling you forward. when your lips touch, there's an immediate desire. your teeth smacking against each other, your hand pulling apollo's head in closer, deepening the heated kiss as much as you could. he didn't expect to feel droplets on his cheeks. you had cried. the realization made him want to weep.

you had nothing to lose, so you gave it your all. one last time.

the pull away was hesitant, and even then, your lips still ghosted one another's. forehead's touching, your eyes met. "i love you," you declared as if it was the first time you had confessed.

"i love you too." a silent goodbye hidden behind the desperation of his words.

you sighed contently as your expression softened and your eyes shut with a smile. apollo wanted to speak, to yell at you to keep your eyes open. keeping them on him until you couldnt anymore instead, he chose not to speak. the look on your face didn't let him.

you were happy. happy to accept your fate. you showed no signs of regret, no anger, no guilt, nothing that would keep you on this earth any moment longer. dying happily. who was apollo to take that from you?

his cries and begs would only put stress on you. you didn't deserve that. your death had to be just as beautiful as your birth.

so, apollo continued to sit there, watching your breath. how after a few seconds, it would begin to slow down, and the little tufts of warm air he felt against his cheek gently came to a stop. the cool air of nature taking its place.

your body was heavy against his. cold too. he didn't care, he would hold you until you were warm again. soon, as the hours went by, he would have to bring upon another day. a day that you would not get to be apart of.

until then, he would hold you under the moonlight one last time

they were caught. after making it onto the ship and successfully snagging caligua’s stupid sandals, they were taken by surprise by a horse. It was ridiculous. as piper laid out cold on the steed’s back, apollo made conversation about his demise. It was a nerve racking walk to the emperor’s throne room. caligua wasn’t merciful and apollo wasn’t sure of the whereabouts of meg and jason.

as a god, he thought he saw everything. but as lester, the surprises were never ending.

they made it to caligua’s throne, apollo’s eyes immediately scanning how many enemies were in the room. he wasn’t shocked to see the loyal attendants of caligua, nor was he shocked to see meg and jason trapped beside him.

but when his eyes settled onto the person beside caligua’s throne, apollo wanted to throw up. his heart thumping against his chest making him lose his breath. It was you. how was this possible? you died in his arms. In Ancient Greece.

reading the shock on his face, you dared to give him the smile he loved most as you stood behind the enemy. with a tilt of your head and a wave, you greeted him, “hello apollo, long time no see.”

[persevereforahappyending]

Luck Runs Out |Part 11|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: Drugs, Blood, Guns, Fighting, Killing, Death, Murder (I think that's it?)

Word Count: 6.1k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Epilogue

You had your hands shoved in your pockets as you made your way to the dock. Mabel didn’t live far from the docks, well not far by car, on foot though, it was a decent walk. A part of you wished Mabel could have given you a ride, it wound have been quicker and you would have gotten to spend more time with her. Having Mabel drive you though wasn’t worth the risk, you didn’t know how much they knew about her but the less they knew the better, if they saw you getting out of her car they could drag her onto the boat with you, intending to use her as leverage.

You jumped when tires screeched next to you. You whipped around ready to fight when you saw the black SUV with its dark tinted windows. You didn’t have time to do anything else before the passenger door opened and a large man jumped out and quickly threw you into the back seat. You pressed yourself against the nice leather seat, your eyes darting around the car.

The guy who had tossed you into the vehicle was the same one who had nabbed Charlie, the one driving was another man you recognized working for your boss, and then in the seat next to yours was your boss. The boss had this chin resting on his fist, looking out the window, looking as if he was contemplating life. He didn’t even so much as turn towards you, you didn’t dare speak, they needed you to get the drugs but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t do something to you before you even got to the boat.

“I needed to make sure you’d actually show up,” your boss said, still not looking at you. “Hope you enjoyed your goodbye.” He turned, looking you dead in the eyes, you saw no remorse staring back at you, you knew your goodbye was really your last goodbye.

You sat silently in the car, only moving when the car hit a pothole. When the car finally pulled up to the docks it was still dark, the sun had just barely begun to peek its head above the horizon. At least you’d get to see a nice sunrise before you died, you silently thanked Apollo or whoever was pulling the chariot that day.

The driver got out, opening the door for the boss to effortlessly slide out. The guy in the passenger seat got out at the same time, opening your door before dragging you out of the car, making sure to flash you his gun, letting you know what would happen if you tried to run. You wanted to roll your eyes, if you wanted to run you never would have been making your way to the docks. You watched as the driver opened the trunk and the boss grabbed a large black duffel bag out of the back, cash, a lot of cash. You furrowed your brow; you didn’t know what the boss needed so much money for. The duffle you gave the doctor to cover Mabel’s debt had tens of thousands of dollars in it but even it wasn’t stuffed as full as the one your boss was carrying around.

The guy guarding you aggressively pushed you to follow the boss and driver. Your boss led the way, the driver behind him, you behind the driver, then the lackey guarding you behind you. Despite the boss clearly not being afraid of you, his men were doing everything they could to keep you away from him while his back was turned. You followed along silently, occasionally feeling a hard shove to your shoulder as you all made your way down the ramp to the boats. You looked at the boats as you passed, wondering which one you’d be getting on. They blew up your crew's boat when they killed them, you weren’t sure how quickly they came up with another boat.

The boss came to a stop, raising his arms with a wide smile on his face. “She’s beautiful!” He yelled.

You looked around him, seeing a large fishing vessel. It was definitely much bigger than your crew's boat but wasn’t as nice, they didn’t have all the shiny new toys yours did, not that it helped much with the heavy load of drugs, your boat still nearly tipped. A man on the deck grumbled something you couldn’t hear before waving all of you up, you assumed he was the captain.

“We should have gone into business together a long time ago my friend,” your boss said, smiling widely at the captain.

“Where’s the money?” Is the only thing the captain asked.

Your bosses laughed; he flung the duffle bag down at the man’s feet. The captain huffed as he kneeled down, unzipping the bag. Your eyes widened at the amount of money, looked to be hundreds of stacks of twenties. Twenties were a small enough bill to not get flagged like hundreds or fifties but a big enough bill that they didn’t take up as much space like ones, fives, or tens.

“There you are my friend,” your boss said. “One million dollars.” The captain smirked before reaching down to grab the duffel bag. Your boss was quick to click his tongue, the driver, stepping up behind the boss and putting his hand on the gun that rested in his waistband. “Not until we’re at the coordinates.”

The captain huffed glaring at the boss who remained unflinching. When the captain finally glanced at the driver he backed down, not before his eyes went to the gun, the driver had no problem pulling if needed.

“Are we ready?” The captain asked.

“Just waiting on a few more,” your boss said, smiling. He zipped up the duffel bag before hoisting it up and tossing it at the driver who slung it over his shoulder.

Not even a moment later you could see two more SUVs pull up, five men piling out of each of them. Even from the boat you could see all the men were strapped with some sort of gun from a handgun to automatic rifles. You clenched your hands into fist, hoping that would hide the shaking.

“Now we’re ready,” your boss said, smiling at the captain.

The captain looked around nervously at all the armed men who had now boarded his boat. He nodded, fidgeting with the baseball cap on his head before turning and going to the wheel. One of the armed men followed him, probably to make sure he didn’t try to backstab anyone and radio the coast guard or something when you got far enough out to sea.

You remained on the deck with your boss and the rest of the armed men. You caught site of your boss staring at you out of the corner of your eye, but you refused to look at him. You kept your eyes locked on the floor, only shifting when the boat went over a larger wave. You were used to the sea, the way a boat swayed, and the waves crashed around it, you gave a ghost of a smile as you caught a few of the men stumbling and struggling to stay up right.

You glanced around the boat, it seemed to be a standard fishing boat. There were a couple barrels, crates, and nets, all things you were used to using when bringing in a catch. There were some ropes in one corner of the boat, along with extra cannisters of gas. The boat had definitely seen years of love, it was quite large, you wondered how big of a crew the captain usually had working on it.

You finally looked up when you felt the boat start to slow down. You looked around seeing nothing but ocean on all sides. “This is it!” the captain called down, dropping the anchor.

“It better be,” the boss mumbled, flicking a glance at you. You held his gaze until he turned around to give his men orders.

You walked to the edge of the boat, aware of your guards' eyes on you, just waiting for you to make a wrong move. You glanced over the side and stared down into the dark depths of the ocean, from the top it seemed like an endless abyss that would suck you in and never let you go. There were no landmarks, it was the middle of the ocean after all but assuming the captain followed your coordinates correctly then you were in the spot you nearly died. About a week ago you were standing on a different boat, with a different crew, under different circumstances, in the exact same spot. You survived death once; you didn’t think you’d be so lucky a second time.

“Suit up,” your boss ordered. Your head snapped to him, looking on as a few of the men he brought with him stripped down and began putting on wet suits.

You stood quietly by as a handful of men went into the ocean, all of them in scuba gear, and one of them holding straps to latch onto the pallet of drugs that they’ll be able to connect to the hook that will raise the drugs. You waited up top as the men swam down to the dark depths, until they’d eventually touch the ocean floor. You waited, unable to stop yourself from eyeing the radio in the boss’s hand.

As the last man flipped back into the water the captain came down to the deck. “Alright, can I have my money now?” He said impatiently. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere but the man was working with drug dealers so it wasn’t like you could blame him.

Your boss rolled his eyes before turning to face the captain. “Of course,” he said with a smile. He nodded at his bodyguard who tossed the bag of money at the captain’s feet.

The captain instinctively bent down to reach for the money again before freezing and looking up at your boss who gave him an annoyed nod. The captain smiled as he bent down the rest of the way, opening the bag even wider to get a better view of all the money. He pulled out a stack of cash, flipping through it as the smile on his face only got bigger. He dropped the stack back into the bag before zipping it back up.

“The wonders this money will do for me,” the captain mumbled more to himself than anyone. The captain went to the side of the boat, resting his hands on the edge as he stared out across the sea. The sun was just beginning to rise, and you had to admit it truly was a beautiful sight.

You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye before you could register what was happening. Your boss quietly moved so he was standing right behind the captain, he pulled out the gun strapped to his waist, pointed it at the back of the captain’s head and pulled the trigger. You jumped back at the blast, your eyes wide open as the bodyguard helped the captain’s body the rest of the way into the ocean, tossing him over the side as if he were just more trash.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” your boss said, shrugging as he walked over to his bag of money. “Put this somewhere safe,” he gestured at the bag, nodding at his bodyguard.

When he turned to face you, you could see little flecks of blood from the splatter on his cheek. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest as he made his way over to you. Your entire body went rigid when he swung an arm around your neck, the barrel of his gun tapping your chest whenever he moved.

“You know how to work that, right?” your boss whispered in your ear, pointing his gun in the direction of the machine that lifts the net with the catch. He phrased it like a question, but you knew it wasn’t. You could only nod your head. “Good,” he tapped his gun against your chest again before abruptly releasing you.

You let out a shaky breath, watching as he walked over to his bodyguard. The bag of money was sitting off to the side, never too far out of reach of one of the boss’s men. Four men went down to retrieve the drugs, leaving the remaining six up on the deck. While the bodyguard never left the boss’s side the other six men walked around the deck or through the cabins of the boat, all their eyes watching for anything amiss.

You weren’t sure how long you waited on the deck, you didn’t move from your spot, your gaze remained on the ocean, watching as the waves lightly crashed against the boat, making it sway back and forth. The water was still bloody from when the captain went into the ocean, but there was no sign of the body. The only reason you were aware of time passing was because it was officially light out. The sun wasn’t high in the sky, it was still pretty early in the morning, what was probably normal hours for the average person waking up and going to work. The ocean truly looked beautiful any time of day, reflecting the moonlight or the sun glistening off the top of it, forever unable to reach down to the dark depths of the bottom.

You jumped when you heard the radio in your boss’s hand crackle. “Go again?” your boss said, clicking the button as he raised the radio to his mouth.

The radio crackled again. “We…” one of the diver’s voices came, through all the static. “Found… it…”

The boss glanced at you, clicking his tongue as he nodded to himself. “Load it up.” He continued to hold the radio close to his mouth, so he was ready when they gave him word that the load was secure. “Guess you weren’t lying,” he directed at you.

“Load… is… strapped… down…” crackled through the radio.

“Come on up.” He strapped the radio to his belt and nodded at you to go to the machine.

You quickly did as asked, your eyes widened as you stared down at the control panel. Lifting the load was never your job, you had done it a few times, but you definitely weren’t the best person for it. Luck seemed to be on your side for a bit longer because the control panel was relatively simple to work, it had the lever to lift the haul, the lever to direct the crane, and the button to drop the hook.

You waited at the control panel until you saw the four divers’ surface, then you carefully maneuvered the crane over the water and dropped the hook into the ocean. One of the divers swam to the hook to grab it and swim it back down to drugs so he could secure it in place while the other divers climbed back aboard the boat. You watched as the cord connected to the hook continued to move the deeper the diver brought it, a part of you wished it was too deep for the hook to reach.

“Load… is… locked… and…” a voice crackled through the radio at your boss’s side. “Secure…”

The boss looked at you, giving you a nod. Your hand didn’t stop shaking until it was resting on the cool handle of the lever. You slowly began pulling the lever down, the machine whirred as the cord tightened and began to retract. You kept your eyes on the surface until finally the tip of the pallet broke through the waves. A loud noise made you flinch; you glanced to the side to see Your boss had barked out a laugh, he was smiling wide as the pallet got further out of the water. Within minutes the pallet was fully raised and hanging off the hook in the middle of the air was millions of dollars’ worth of drugs.

“Good, good,” the boss said, coming up and slapping you on the back, hitting your injured shoulder. “Now, keep it steady,” he whispered in your ear. “We have business to attend to.” You could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your face, but you refused to look at him as you hit the button, making sure the pallet would stay in the air.

Your boss kept his arm around your neck as he directed you away from the control panel. He walked you to the edge of the boat before finally releasing you. You stared out across the ocean, out of the all the things you could see before your life ended, you had to admit there was nothing like the sea, it felt fitting.

“Walk forward,” your boss ordered. You hesitantly lifted your foot and began inching your way to the side of the boat. With each step you knew you got closer to your death. “Stop.” You instantly came to a stop.

You couldn’t help the tears that filled your eyes as you stared off across the water. Soon you’d be one with the sea, your body lost forever to the dark abyss, your soul forever bound to the ocean floor. You reached up, your finger brushing over the trident necklace that still rested under your shirt. Maybe you had redeemed yourself enough for Poseidon to have mercy on you, you wouldn’t make it to Elysium but maybe he would consider reincarnating you as a tiger shark. You closed your eyes when you heard the click of the revolver pointed at the back of your head.

A loud nose broke through the wind, making you jump, your eyes snapped open. Your eyes darted around seeing the boat and the ocean, you hadn’t died yet, then the noise happened again. The noise hadn’t been the firing of the gun, it was a horn from a boat. You looked around, seeing a boat coming up on you in the distance. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw Finestkind across the front of it.

You spun around, knocking your boss’s arm out of the way causing him to fire the shot meant for your brain into the side of the boat. Before he could recover and aim the gun at you again, you flung yourself over the side of the boat and into the water. You held your breath, opting to stay underwater. You didn’t know what was happening above, but you saw dark outlines of a handful of people looking over the side of the boat. You quickly pushed back, swimming under the boat as bullets rained down where you had just been. You peeked your head out from under the boat seeing the shadows of the men looking over the boat, trying to catch a glimpse of you or your body. You went further under the boat when you saw the shadow of the Finestkind getting closer.

You popped out on the other side of the boat, making sure to stay near to keep yourself hidden. You could hear the boss shouting orders, his men screaming, and more gun fire. You couldn’t see them, but you heard another boat engine and felt the waves as it most likely passed by, you could only assume it was the Finestkind. Suddenly something grabbed your ankle, you had just enough time to take a big breath of air before it was yanking you down to the dark depths of the ocean. You could only watch as the light above slowly began to face. You tried kicking at whatever attacked you, all you knew was that it didn’t feel like teeth. When you whipped around you saw the light from a diving mask illuminating a diver’s face, the diver who had gone back down to secure the drugs.

He grabbed you by the waist, yanking you deeper as you struggled against him. You hit and punched at his chest before finally getting your hands around his mask and ripping it to the side. While he struggled to readjust his mask, you reached for the knife strapped to the side of his leg, then kicked him in the chest, sending him floating further away. You began swimming to the surface again, just as you were about to break through you were yanked back down again.

This time you quickly spun around, not hesitating as you swung the knife around, stabbing him in the neck. You ripped the knife out, your eyes widening as he brough a hand to his neck, but his blood still seeped out between his fingers, tainting the surrounding water. He reached out for you with his other hand which you easily dodged. You used one hand to push him away, watching as he slowly sunk down into the darkness, the light from his mask slowly disappearing.

When your head burst through the water you couldn’t help but take several deep breaths. You spun around, trying to regain focus, the shooting being what brought you back. You swam to the boat, then swam around to where you could pull yourself up onto it. You stayed crouched down, seeing your boss and his men shooting at something, when you peeked your head a little higher you could see the Finestkind circling around, dodging most of the bullets, you couldn’t see who was driving the boat or anyone else thankfully.

When one of the men got close to your position you popped up, slicing his throat before he had the chance to see you. You liberated him of his gun before he fell into the ocean. His body must have made a loud splash because one of the other guys turned around before you had a chance to duck and hide again. Your eyes widened at seeing his gun facing you, you lifted the one you had just taken and fire, nearly losing control of the automatic weapon but managing to hit the guy.

You ducked down again when two more men turned to face you, instantly firing. You covered your head as bullets flew above your head, piercing the wood you were hiding behind. You heard firing from two more weapons, different weapons than the boss and his men were using. There was a thud and another thud and the bullets sailing past your head suddenly stopped. You peaked around the corner only to see the two men that had been firing at you lying dead on the deck.

You slid to the other side to peek around the other corner, seeing your boss and his men hunkered down. Lifting your head a little higher you caught sight of Charlie and Costa crouched down and running across their boat. Before you ducked back in cover you saw one of the men raising his gun, aiming it at Charlie’s head that was just barely poking out. You raised your gun and fired, filling the man’s back with bullet holes. The guy he was next to reacted, sitting up taller as he aimed his gun at your position but was instantly met with a bullet to the head by Costa.

There was nothing for a moment, just the sound of the waves rocking the boats back and forth until you heard someone grunt. You peeked around your corner again to see the Finestkind had drifted closer and two of your boss’s men were able to jump aboard and were now fighting Charlie and Costa. You swung the strap of your gun around your shoulder before running and tackling a third guy before he could jump aboard the Finestkind.

You got a few punches in before the guy shoved you off himself. The two of you stood face to face circling each other, waiting for the other to make a move. The man got impatient and charged you, but you dodged out of the way, using your knife to slice him across the ribs as he passed you.

He did the same thing, running at you full force, his arms wide to tackle you. You ducked under his arms, grabbing one of his arms, twisting it behind his back with one hand while the other brought the knife to his throat. You held him pressed against you as you pressed the knife further into his skin, surely drawing blood. You turned around, keeping his body in front of you. You kept your head hidden behind his as you stared straight into the eyes of the guy who had kidnapped Charlie and forced you into the SUV.

The guy smirked before raising his gun and fired bullet after bullet into his own man. You kept the guy’s body upright as you pressed forward using him as a human shield. When you were close enough you pushed his body at the man who had been guarding you. While he was distracted you grabbed his hand, hitting it against the latter, trying to get him to drop his gun.

Distracted in trying to get him to drop his gun you didn’t realize he had pushed the others guy’s body out of the way, giving him full access to grab you by the back of the hair and slam your head into the railing of the ladder. You collapsed to the ground, reaching up for the ladder to try and regain your footing. When you looked up, through your spotted vision you saw the guard pointing his gun at your head.

Behind him you saw Tommy coming out, shooting one of the men that had been attacking Charlie. You couldn’t help but smile despite your predicament, the blood from your nose dripping down into your mouth.

“What the fuck are you smiling at?” the guard asked.

You could only chuckle as you saw Charlie flailing through the air as he landed on the guard. You scooted out of the way, only able to watch as Charlie and the guard struggled on the ground, taking turns punching each other. Charlie put both hands on the gun, trying to twist it out of his hands. There was a loud bang, your eyes widening as both men froze.

You released a breath when Charlie sat up, his shoulders relaxing. You couldn’t help but scoff at the guy who forced you into the SUV, the guy who was an enforcer for your boss, was now just a guy with a bullet in his chest. Charlie pulled himself to his feet and held out a hand to you, helping you to your feet as well. You both turned when you heard another bang, seeing Costa aiming his gun and the other man who had jumped aboard the Finestkind fall back into the ocean.

“Well, well, well,” you whipped around when you heard your boss’s voice. “Look what we have here.” Your boss was smirking but nodded his head to the side. You looked to see what he was nodding at, you and Charlie both froze at the sight of the bodyguard over on the Finestkind, a gun pressed into Mabel’s side and the rest of the crew on their knees with their hands behind their heads. “Get over there,” your boss ordered, nodding at Charlie.

“When you get the chance,” you whispered, barely moving your mouth so only Charlie would hear. “Run.” Charlie scrunched his eyebrows when he looked at you, his eyes widened with realization when you lifted up the back of his shirt and slipped the diving knife in his waistband. You held Charlie’s gaze for a second; you needed him to run as soon as he got the chance.

Your eyes went back to Mabel, seeing her forced to her knees next to Tommy. Thankfully she didn’t look hurt, you weren’t sure if you could keep your composure if they tried to hurt her. You couldn’t help but be grateful for her, she came with them, she came to rescue you, you couldn’t believe she actually came. Mabel had been free, free of this life, free of you, she was free of all the trouble and yet she still came to help you.

“Now!” your boss yelled again, waving his gun impatiently.

Charlie glared at your boss as he hopped back over to the Finestkind. The bodyguard made sure to have his gun on Charlie the entire time. When Charlie got close enough the bodyguard slammed the butt of the gun into Charlie’s ribs, making him double over as he got to his knees. “Hands up!” The bodyguard ordered, nudging Charlie in the back of the head with the barrel of his rifle. Charlie subtly glanced back at the man, giving him a glare.

“So much trouble and for what,” your boss said, walking up to you, “you?” He shook his head in disappointment. “You made this so much messier than it needed to be.” He glanced over at the Finestkind where the others were being held hostage. “You’re the girl that was with Mr. Hero here,” he gestured at Charlie. “The one my man let go?” He called out, looking at Mabel but she only acknowledged him with a glare. “I’m assuming she’s who you wanted to say goodbye to?” He looked back at you, chuckling. “Love,” he said wistfully. “It’ll only get you killed. Bring the girl here.”

Your eyes widened, you glanced at Charlie, he gave you a subtle nod, but you still held your breath as you waited to see how this would play out. As soon as the bodyguard walked up behind Mabel, shifting his gun to only one hand so he could grab Mabel by the wrist with his other, Charlie made his move. Charlie spun around, you didn’t even see him slide the knife out of his waistband, you just saw him move his arm, slashing the man’s heel.

The bodyguard screamed, instantly letting go of Mabel as he reached for his injury. Charlie knocked Mabel out of the way as he grabbed hold of the gun still in the bodyguard’s hand and pushed him back. As Charlie was fighting the bodyguard you rushed toward your boss when you saw him raising his own gun at Charlie, slamming into him, sending both of you to the ground.

You quickly pushed off him and ran to the side of the boat when you caught sight of the duffel bag. You snagged the duffel bag and put as much distance between you and the boss. You glanced at the Finestkind, seeing Charlie struggling with the bodyguard until finally he tossed the guy over the side of the boat.

“One wrong move and say goodbye to your money,” you said, when you saw your boss had recovered. He was wobbling on his feet, but he had made to raise his gun at the others again.

You kept the automatic weapon close to your side to help give you more support while you used your other hand to hold the duffle bag out over the side of the boat. You saw your boss’s finger twitch, but he didn’t raise his gun at you or the others. His eyes kept going from the bag to you, you could see him debating in his mind if you’d really follow through and toss his money into the ocean.

“Easy, easy,” your boss said. He smiled, trying to appear calm, acting as if he was still in control, but there was an edge to his voice. You held all the power now; you just couldn’t take your eyes off your boss.

“They’re going to leave now,” you said, surprising yourself with how calm you sounded. “Charlie!” you hoped he got the message; you couldn’t spare a glance back at them.

“What are you doing?” you heard Mabel call. “No! No!” you flexed your hand, gripping the gun just a bit tighter; Charlie was doing as you asked.

You finally released a breath when you heard the engine of the Finestkind start up. You felt the boat sway as the Finestkind began to pull away. Your eyes flicked down, looking at the ground behind your boss, there was the gas cannister, still rolling around. You didn’t have a plan when you first grabbed the bag of money, you just wanted to give Mabel and the others a chance to escape but now you knew what you had to do. Your breathing wasn’t as shaky as you imagined it would be, but you guessed that’s what happened when you looked death in the eye for the third time. You blocked out Mabel screaming your name and yelling at the others to turn the boat around.

 You twisted your body, using your one hand on the gun to pull the trigger, shooting up the panel that controlled the crane that was holding the drugs. “No!” your boss screamed, running towards the panel as it sparked and whined before dropping the drugs back into the ocean, nearly tipping the boat in the process.

Your boss whipped around, his eyes looking like a rabid animal as he ran at you. You used the duffel bag to hit him in the chest, knocking him back to the floor. With him on the ground you tossed the duffel bag into the ocean. You stepped up onto one of the crates, placing one foot up onto the edge of the boat. You spared your boss one last glance, watching as he held a hand to his chest as he tried to catch his breath and find his balance again. You took a deep breath then raised your gun one last time and fired.

You jumped off the boat the second your finger pulled the trigger. You didn’t need to see the bullet hit the gas cannister. You hit the water and the force of the explosion pushed you deeper. You ignored the sting of saltwater, your eyes wide opened as you watched the sky light up, bits and pieces of the boat sinking down to the bottom of the ocean. You waited a few moments, hoping all the debris was done falling before swimming to the surface.

You took a deep breath when you finally broke through the waves. There was nothing left of the boat and certainly nothing left of your boss. You began to swim through the wreckage, avoiding burning pieces of wood floating in the water. Your arm brushed against something and when you looked to see what it was you couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing the duffle bag, maybe you still had a bit of luck left after all. You flung one arm over the duffle bag, using it to help keep yourself afloat.

“Y/N!” you heard Mabel shout. You whipped your head around, trying to figure out where her voice was coming from. “Y/N!” you broke out into a smile when you saw the Finestkind coming through the smoke, you never thought you’d be so happy to see that damn boat.

“Holy shit you’re alive,” Charlie said when the boat got close enough. You breathed out a laugh, which seemed to be becoming Charlie’s saying when it came to you.

You tossed the duffel bag onto the stern before taking Charlie’s hand, allowing him to pull your aboard. You collapsed onto the deck, breathing heavy as you looked up at the clear blue sky. “Thanks,” you breathed out.

Mabel collapsed to her knees next to you, resting her hand on your cheek as she turned your face to look at her. “Hey,” you said still breathless. “Thanks for saving me.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said, clearly holding back a sob. You nodded, unable to argue with her, you did do a lot of dumb things. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

She lifted your head off the deck, pulling you into a kiss. You leaned up, instantly kissing her back. Mabel’s tears streamed down her face, mixing with the saltwater you were soaked in, despite the salty taste it was the best kiss you ever had. Mabel pulled away, keeping her forehead resting against yours. “You paid my debt,” she whispered.

Now you were breathing heavily for another reason, your eyes never left her lips. “I owed you,” you admitted. Paying her debt that she only had because she was trying to save your life was the least you could do.

“I really hate you,” she sniffled. You couldn’t help but chuckle before she pulled you in for another kiss. She could hate you all she wanted if it meant spending the rest of your life like this.

[its-your-mind]

This is a call to action for all the PJO girlies (gender neutral) that I know are sleeper agents on this webbed site

Go read Trials of Apollo. Go do it. Do it right now.

I know what you’re thinking. “Tbh I didn’t love Rick’s writing towards the end of Heroes of Olympus” “There’s no Percy so why bother” “All of the Argo II crew are kinda OOC” and listen my friends. You are so valid to have those opinions. I felt the same way after Blood of Olympus. But listen to me. Look at me.

Now that you have had some time away, you must give these books another try. For me. For Uncle Rick. For the demon baby grain spirit who is only able to say his own name (Peaches).

Do not worry friends, I do not expect you to read just based on my say-so - I also provide:

A list of reasons why you (yes you) should go read the Trials of Apollo series right now gogogo:

(Spoiler warning - all broad plot things that you learn early on, but I know some people (including me) avoid that shit at all costs)

All the chapters are titled in bad haiku. Ya know that one scene in Titan’s Curse where Apollo just starts reciting apropos of nothing? That’s every chapter title. They’re all so bad it’s amazing.

Apollo is so up his own ass about everything, and it’s so cool to experience the same world through the eyes of someone who is not used to being in amongst the chaos

Oh yeah the plot. That’s a reason to read it.

Okay so

Basically Zeus continues his streak of being a shitty shit parent and decides to blame like… every bad thing that has happened on Apollo, and punish him by turning him mortal and enslaving him to a demigod girl named Meg who is a garbage gremlin with a little demon baby guard named Peaches (see above)

And like the A plot is they gotta save the oracles from shitty old Romans who wanna take over the world (stop me if you’ve heard this one before)

But like the B plot is about what it means to discover that you’ve fucked up, you’ve made mistakes, you’ve hurt people, and you gotta fucking own up to that shit

But also

You do not deserve to be punished for every horrible thing that has ever happened because of you, or even around you, and when a parental or authority figure in your life tells you that, they are an abuser and they are wrong

And yet

It can be so hard to fully separate yourself from them. Because for so long, they were all you had.

But that’s okay, because when you start to learn that the people who were supposed to care for you and love you were not actually doing that, there are people around you who will love you, who will support you, who will pick you up and hold you close and make sure you know that you are okay

And they can’t fix you

But they can give you the safe space to fix yourself

hmm that was an essay about themes and metaphors BUT THATS WHY YOU SHOULD READ IT

also there’s a wikipedia arrow who only speaks in Elizabethan prose (in all caps)

OH ALSO ALSO you get to see Will and Nico being a CUTE AS FUCK couple in the first book. Nico smiles. Also makes skeletons grow out of the ground when people annoy him. Fuck I love this little gay death boy so much.

AND. You get to see so MANY of your old friends. And they still! Get! Plot! And! Character! Development!! Even though they are only there for a little bit

OH OH OH there are two old lesbians who run a halfway house for people who are tangled up in magic shit with nowhere else to go

Did I mention Peaches? I did. He’s my favorite.

OH ALSO. This is “unreliable narrator” executed SO FUCKING WELL. Like, all narrators are unreliable. But Apollo used to be a FUCKING GOD. He has not had to deal with the reality of death all that much. He’s used to people praising his name and bowing down at his feet. But that ain’t happening!! And he is Unhappy about that!! But it also lets there be such a clear juxtaposition between what Apollo believes about himself and about the world and what is really true, which is such a wonderful way to write about recovery from trauma.

Ahem

Anyway it’s just real good Uncle Rick continues to knock it out of the park but he just did something different and we (at least I) needed some space from OG PJO fan brain before I could appreciate how fucking awesome this series is.

OH OH OH and if you like audiobooks Robbie Daymond (hello CR mutuals - yes, this is the one who is our beloved Blue Boi who we (Orym) so desperately need returned) is the audiobook narrator and he is. So fucking good. Absolutely NAILS the dramatic-ass-inner-monologue of this dramatic ass ex-deity. Also nails all the other voices as well. 15/10 audiobook narration I’m lichrally gonna go listen to other books JUST cuz he reads them.

okay why the fuck are you still here. GO. GET THESE BOOKS. If your public library does Libby you can absolutely get them on there. GO FORTH.

[khaire-traveler]

You know what kind of bothers me is this strange UwU-ification of Patroclus from The Iliad. Y'all, Patroclus was ALSO a soldier, and he killed a FUCK ton of people before he, himself, was killed. Many warriors fell by HIS hand. The only reason he stopped fighting in battle was because Apollo literally hit him in the head and dazed him, catching him off-guard long enough for Hector to step in and rock his shit (as well as that Euphorbus guy). It took a literal GOD to slow him down!!! Patroclus is so fucking strong and cool and badass; stop making him out to be Achilles' lesser or weaker half.

[arielluva]

so back in april i had the idea to draw ace attorney characters as if they were in fantasy life (so essentially combining two of my favorite games) but only finished phoenix then. tonight i finished up the page with some more, and since we know what the new lives in fantasy life i will be, i got the excuse to include vera as an artist :))

id under cut

[image ID: 5 digital drawings of some ace attorney characters drawn in the fantasy life art style, which is a very expressive, stylized chibi style. they are drawn in the outfits for different lives as if they were in fantasy life. in the top left, phoenix wright is drawn as a paladin, with text next to his head that says "Phoenix Paladin". he is wearing silver armor with gold trim, the trim forming a 'P' on his chest. the 'P' has a red gemstone in the center of it. his shoulder guards also have red gems on them. he has a long blue cape fluttering behind him, as he stands confidently, holding a sword in his left hand and holding up a shield with his right. the sword and shield are also silver with gold and red accents like his armor. next to phoenix, in the top middle, apollo justice is drawn as a blacksmith. he has text next to his head that reads "Apollo Blacksmith". he is wearing a teal apron on top of a white shirt and pants. his sleeves are rolled up, and he has a red piece of fabric tied around his waist. he is wiping sweat off his forehead with his right hand, and holding a hammer in his left. next to apollo on the top right, is vera misham. she is drawn as an artist, with text next to her head that reads "Vera Artist" she is wearing a pink beret that resembles her bandana, and has a paint brush with pink paint on the very top. she is holding her sketchbook in her right hand, and a paint brush in her left. she is wearing brown gloves that are stained with various colors of paint. she is wearing a pink dress with a darker pink collar and bow, and the skirt of the dress has a darker pink line going horizontally across it. she has a white apron tied around her waist that is also stained with various colors of paint. she is wearing brown sandals. on the bottom left of the drawing is trucy wright drawn as a wizard, with text next to her head that reads "Trucy Wizard". she is in an excited pose, running while holding her staff, a tall wand with a glittering green gem on top. she is wearing a light blue pointy witch hat with a white ribbon wrapped around it. the inside of her hat is pink. she is wearing a medium length black dress with a white belt, and she is wearing pointy white shoes. she is wearing a light blue cloak, with the hood on her shoulders, that has her green diamond brooch hanging where the ends of her hood meet. her cloak is fluttering behind her and trimmed with white and gold, the insides if her sleeves being pink. on the bottom right of the image, ema skye is drawn as an alchemist, with text next to her head that reads "Ema Alchemist". she is wearing gold goggles with pink lenses, and her hair is drawn more poofy than usual. she is wearing a white coat over a light green dress. she has a pink tie loosely around her neck, and she is wearing a darker green corset with gold buttons. her shoes are plain black. she is holding a potion bottle filled with a yellow liquid in her right hand, and is looking at it calmly, with the left hand in her white coat's pocket. end ID].

[connabeth]

rick really woke up and said "what if i give the people what they want for once" and gave us grumpy black cat introvert percy and sunshine golden retriever extrovert annabeth we never knew we needed

also no one's talking about how percy made friends with annabeth's college's security guard (Florence or smthn?) so he's the only one allowed to walk in her campus anytime?

also I found a typo in the third chapter where dave was accidentally called paul which I found really funny

1) i’m glad this series is doing justice to annabeth’s personality because she spent so much of pjo & hoo caught in an inner turmoil of hurt and uncertainty and self-loathing and insecurity and fear given the circumstances of luke’s betrayal and percy’s imminent death. in spite of it all, she was still a bastion of hope and light throughout those books, but she deserves to be silly and unburdened by the weight of the world now that she has percy back and there’s no big prophecy (unresolved trauma aside). i think, in her mind, even though new, crazy things keep being thrown at them and she most certainly deals with a latent fear of losing percy at any moment, she’s resolute and confident that they can overcome anything that gets in their way of their dream of going to college and finding peace together because she feels that invigorated and wants it that bad. even if greco-egyptian gods or a triple goddess or a mortal apollo pop up throughout their senior year. i feel like she’s giving herself the freedom to just let go, breathe, be sure everything will be okay in the end, and just be excited about things without drowning in worry for once, which i love. she deserves to feel that childlike enthusiasm she was deprived of for so long. her confidence that they’ll be okay extends to percy being able to complete all his classwork and applications, which in turn reinforces his determination.

2) as for percy, he’s definitely the more outwardly insecure out of the two, mainly because of how his academic prowess pales in comparison to hers and the fact that he feels he doesn’t deserve her and she’s way better than him. percy thinking her SODNYC friends perceive him in the same critical light obviously isn’t helping. it’s evident in the way he’s amazed when he looks at her, disbelieving for a second that she’s his girlfriend, and how he observes her interaction with others more similar to her, feeling like an outsider who can’t understand that part of her brain the way her friends can. it’s even more abundantly clear when he believes “She would always succeed whether I was around or not,” which in theory is a sweet sentiment to have about your very capable girlfriend, but academic and social success aside, she needs him as much as he needs her and she’d see no point in being in california without him. but his insecurities and easy jealousy prevent him from fully understanding this even if he innately knows it’s a universal truth that they’re meant to be together. however, all this being said, percy’s characterization in wottg so far is a little…weird. in order for you to literally pee your pants, something must scare you or catch you off guard really, really bad. so while it makes sense for him to fear a powerful goddess, wetting his boxers seems like an extreme reaction. i know rick was probably just trying to insert immature humor, but the implications are not what he was going for considering this is the boy who didn’t have that reaction staring down titans and giants and nyx and tartarus himself. so forgive me if i think it’s a little insane that percy having such a visceral reaction to a goddess 13 year old hazel fared well against is out of character, even after taking into consideration his fear of not receiving and completing the remaining quests on time. it makes sense for him to be nervous and on edge, given the quiet of the past month, but that amount of fear towards a deity who’s not the most scary thing he’s faced down is an interesting choice since rick isn’t known for realistic depictions of PTSD and that likely isn’t the intention here. it’s also curious how it’s implied even a goddess as primordial as aphrodite caves in to hecate…

3) florence is the goat and i love percy making random friends to help his cause. he doesn’t go out of his way to befriend others in the mortal world unless they approach him first or there’s an opportunity there. and the fact that annabeth can a casually ask her friend to cover for her being gone from her dorm for several days makes me think this is far from the first time she’s snuck out for prolonged periods of time👀

4) this is an INSANE typo to have in a book because clearly not a single person proofread it and it doesn’t surprise me that it got past rick, but becky and several rounds of editors and everyone else in his circle who’s read the book not picking up on it prior to publication is wild. rick is too eager to have his self-insert be everywhere and it shows💀

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 6: Athena, Goddess Of Wisdom]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Here at the midway point in our journey—like Dante stumbling upon the gates of the Inferno—would it be the right moment to review what’s at stake? Let’s begin.

It’s the end of August. The delegates of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago officially vote to name Aemond the party’s presidential candidate. His ascension is aided by 10,000 antiwar demonstrators who flood into the city and threaten to set it ablaze if Hubert Humphrey is chosen instead. At the end—in his death rattle—Humphrey begs to be Aemond’s running mate, one last humiliation he cannot resist. Humphrey is denied. Eugene McCarthy, dignity intact, boards a commercial flight to his home state of Minnesota without looking back.

Aemond selects U.S. Ambassador to France, Sargent Shriver, to be his vice president. Shriver is a Kennedy by marriage—his wife, JFK’s younger sister Eunice, just founded the Special Olympics—and has previously headed the Office of Economic Opportunity, the Peace Corps, and the Chicago Board of Education. He also served as the architect of the president’s “War on Poverty” before distancing himself from the imploding Johnson administration. Shriver is not a concession to fence-sitting moderates or Southern Dixiecrats, but an embodiment of Aemond’s commitment to unapologetic progressivism. Richard Nixon spends the weekend campaigning in his native California, a gold vein of votes like the mines settlers rushed to in 1848. George Wallace announces that he will run as an Independent. Racists everywhere rejoice.

Phase III of the Tet Offensive is underway in Vietnam; 700 American soldiers have been killed this month alone. Riots break out in military prisons where the U.S. Army is keeping their deserters. The North Vietnamese refuse to allow Pope Paul VI to visit Hanoi on a peace mission. President Johnson calls both Aemond and Nixon to personally inform them of this latest evidence of the communists’ unwillingness to negotiate in good faith. Daeron and John McCain remain in Hỏa Lò Prison. The draft swallows men like the titan Cronus devoured his own children.

In Eastern Europe, the Russians are crushing pro-democracy protests in the largest military operation since World War II as half a million troops roll into Czechoslovakia. In Caswell County, North Carolina, the last remaining segregated school district in the nation is ordered by a federal judge to integrate after years of stalling. On the Fangataufa Atoll in the South Pacific, France becomes the fifth nation to successfully explode a hydrogen bomb. In Mexico City, 300,000 students gather to protest the authoritarian regime of President Diaz Ordaz. In Guatemala, American ambassador John Gordon Mein is murdered by a Marxist guerilla organization called the Rebel Armed Forces. In Columbus, Ohio, nine guards are held hostage during a prison riot; after 30 hours, they’re rescued by a SWAT team.

The latest issue of Life magazine brings worldwide attention to catastrophic industrial pollution in the Great Lakes. The first successful multiorgan transplant is carried out at Houston Methodist Hospital. The Beatles release Hey Jude, the best-selling single of 1968 in the U.S., U.K., Australia, and Canada. NASA’s Apollo lunar landing program plans to launch a crewed shuttle next year, just in time to fulfill John F. Kennedy’s 1962 promise to put a man on the moon “before the end of the decade.” If this is successful, the United States will win the Space Race and prove the superiority of capitalism. If it fails, the martyred astronauts will join all the other ghosts of this apocalyptic age, an epoch born under bad stars.

The night sky glows with the ancient debris of the Aurigid meteor shower. From down here on Earth, Jupiter is a radiant white gleam, visible with the naked eye and admired since humans were making cave paintings and Stonehenge. But Io is a mystery. With a telescope, she becomes a dust mote entrapped by Jupiter’s gravity; to the casual observer, she doesn’t exist at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

What was it like, that very first time? It’s strange to remember. You’re both different people now.

It’s May, 1966. You and Aemond are engaged, due to be married in three short weeks, and if you get pregnant then it’s no harm, no foul. In reality, it will end up taking you over a year to conceive, but no one knows that yet; you are living in the liminal space between what you imagine your life will be and the cold blade of the truth. Aemond has brought you to Asteria for the weekend, an increasingly common occurrence. The Targaryens—minus one, that holdout prodigal son, always glowering from behind swigs of rum and clouds of smoke—have already begun to treat you like a member of the family. The flock of Alopekis yap excitedly and lick your shins. Eudoxia learns your favorite snacks so she can have them ready when you arrive.

One night Aemond takes your hand and leads you to Helaena’s garden, darkness turned to twilight in the artificial luminance of the main house. You can hear distant voices, chatter and laughter, and the Beatles’ Rubber Soul spinning on the record player in the living room like a black hole, gravity that not even light can escape when it is wrenched over the event horizon.

You’re giggling as Aemond pulls you along, faster and faster, weaving through pathways lined with roses and sunflowers and butterfly bushes. Your high heels sink into soft, fertile earth; the air in your lungs is cool and infinite. “Where are we going?”

And Aemond grins back at you as he replies: “To Olympus.”

In the circle of hedges guarded by thirteen gods of stone, Aemond unzips your modest pink sundress and slips your heels off your feet, kneeling like he’s proposing to you again. When you are bare and secretless, he draws you down onto the grass and opens you, claims you, fills you to the brim as the crystalline water of the fountain patters and Zeus hurls his lightning bolts, an eternal storm, unending war. It’s intense in a way it never was with your first boyfriend, a sweet polite boy who talked about feminist theory and followed his enlightened conscience all the way to Vietnam. This isn’t just a pleasant way to pass a Friday night, something to look forward to between differential equations textbooks and calculus proofs. With Aemond it’s a ritual; it’s something so overpowering it almost scares you.

“Aphrodite,” Aemond murmurs against your throat, and when you try to get on top he stops you, pins you to the ground, thrusts hard and deep, and you try not to moan too loudly as you surrender, his weight on you like a prophesy. This is how he wants you. This is where you belong.

Has someone ever stitched you to their side, pushing the needle through your skin again and again as the fabric latticework takes shape, until their blood spills into your veins and your antibodies can no longer tell the difference? He makes you think you’ve forgotten who you were before. He makes you want to believe in things the world taught you were myths.

But that was over two years ago. Now Aemond is not your spellbinding almost-stranger of a fiancé—shrouded in just the right amount of mystery—but your husband, the father of your dead child, the presidential candidate. You miss when he was a mirage. You miss what it felt like to get high on the idea of him, each taste a hit, each touch a rush of toxins to the bloodstream.

Seven weeks after your emergency c-section, you are healing. Your belly no longer aches, your bleeding stops, you can rejoin the living in this last gasp of summer. Ludwika takes you shopping and you pick out new swimsuits; you’ve gone up a size since the baby, and it shows no signs of vanishing. In the fitting room, Ludwika chain-smokes Camel cigarettes and claps when you show her each outfit, ordering you to spin around, telling you that there’s nothing like Oleg Cassini back in Poland. You plan to buy three swimsuits. Ludwika insists you get five. She pays with Otto’s American Express.

That afternoon at home in your blue bedroom, you get changed to join the rest of the family down by the pool, your first swim since Ari was born. You choose Ludwika’s favorite: a dreamy turquoise two-piece with flowing transparent fabric that drapes your midsection. You can still see the dark vertical line of where the doctors stitched you closed. Now you and Aemond match; he got his scar on the floor of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, you earned yours at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan. There are gold chains on your wrist and looped around your neck. Warm sunlight and ocean wind pours in through the open windows.

Aemond appears in the doorway and you turn to show him, proud of how you’ve pulled yourself together, how this past year hasn’t put you in an asylum. His right eye catches on your scar and stays there for a long time. Then at last he says: “You don’t have something else to wear?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Labor Day, and Asteria has been descended upon by guests invited to celebrate Aemond’s nomination. The dining room table is overflowing with champagne, Agiorgitiko wine, platters of mini spanakopitas, lamb gyros, pita bread with hummus and tzatziki, feta cheese and cured meats, grilled octopus, baklava, and kourabiethes. Eudoxia is rushing around sweeping up crumbs and shooing tipsy visitors away from antique vases shipped here from Greece. Aemond’s celebrity endorsers include Sammy Davis Jr., Sonny and Cher, Andy Williams, Bobby Darin, Warren Beatty, Shirley MacLaine, Claudine Longet, and a number of politicians; but the most notable attendee is President Lyndon Baines Johnson, shadowed by Secret Service agents. He won’t be making any surprise appearances on the campaign trail for Aemond—in the present political climate, he would be more of a liability than an asset—but he has travelled to Long Beach Island tonight to offer his well-wishes. From the record player thrums Jimi Hendrix’s All Along The Watchtower.

When you finish getting ready and arrive downstairs, you spot Aegon: slouching in a velvet chair over a century old, hair shagging in his eyes, sipping something out of a chipped mug he clasps with both hands, flirting with a bubbly early-twenties campaign staffer. Aegon smiles and waves when he sees you. You wave back. And you think: When did he become the person I look for when I walk into a room?

Now Aemond is beside you in a blue suit—beaming, confident, his glass eye in place, a hand resting on your waist—and Aegon isn’t smiling anymore. He takes a gulp of what is almost certainly straight rum from his mug and returns his attention to the campaign staffer, his lady of the hour. You picture him undressing her on his shag carpet and feel disorienting, violent envy like a bullet.

Viserys is already fast asleep upstairs, but the rest of the family is out en masse to charm the invitees and pose for photographs. Alicent, Helaena, and Mimi—trying very hard to act sober, blinking too often—are chit-chatting with the other political wives. Otto is complaining about something to Criston; Criston is pretending to listen as he stares at Alicent. Ludwika is smoking her Camels and talking to several young journalists who are ogling her, enraptured. Fosco and Sargent Shriver are entertaining a group of guests with a boisterous, lighthearted debate on the merits of Italian versus French cuisine, though they agree that both are superior to Greek. The nannies have brought the eight children to be paraded around before bedtime. All Cosmo wants to do is clutch your hand and “help” you navigate around the living room, warning you not to step on the small, weaving Alopekis. When Mimi attempts to steal her youngest son away, he ignores her, and as she begins to make a scene you rebuke her with a harsh glare. Mimi retreats meekly. She has never argued with you, not once in over two years. You speak for Aemond, and Aemond is a god.

As the children are herded off to their beds by the nannies, Bobby Kennedy—presently serving as a New York senator despite residing primarily on his family’s compound in Massachusetts—approaches to congratulate Aemond. His wife Ethel is a tiny, nasally, scrappy but not terribly bright woman, five months pregnant with her eleventh child, and you have to get away from her like a hand pulled from a hot stove.

“You know, I was considering running,” Bobby says to Aemond, chuckling, good-natured. “But when I saw you get in the race, I thought better of it! Maybe I’ll give it a go in ’76, huh?”

“Hey, kid, what a tough year you’ve had,” Ethel tells you, patting your forearm. You can’t tear your eyes from her small belly. She has ten living children already. I couldn’t keep one. What kind of sense does that make? “We’re real sorry for your trouble, aren’t we, Bobby?”

Now he is nodding somberly. “We are. We sure are. We’ve been praying for you both.”

Aemond is thanking them, sounding touched but entirely collected. You manage some hurried response and then excuse yourself. Your hands are shaking as you cross the room, not really seeing it. You walk right into Lady Bird Johnson. She takes pity on you; she seems to perceive how rattled you are. “Oh Lyndon, look, it’s just who we were hoping to speak to! The next first lady of the United States. And how beautiful you are, just radiant. How do you keep your hair so perfect? That glamorous updo. You never have a single strand out of place.” Lady Bird lays a palm tenderly on your bare shoulder. She has an unusual, angular face, but a wise sort of compassion that only comes from suffering. Her husband is an unrepentant serial cheater. “I’ll make you a list of everything you need to know about the White House. All the quirks of the property, and the hidden gems too!”

“You’re so kind. We’ll see what happens in November…”

“Good evening, ma’am,” President Johnson says, smiling warmly. He’s an ugly man, but there’s something hypnotic that lives inside him and shines through his eyes like the blaze of a lighthouse. He pulls you in through the dark, through the storm; he promises you answers to questions you haven’t thought of yet. LBJ is 6’4 and known for bullying his political adversaries with the so-called “Johnson Treatment”; he leans in and makes rapid-fire demands until they forget he’s not allowed to hit them. “I have to tell you frankly, I don’t envy anyone who inherits that den of rattlesnakes in Washington D.C.”

“Lyndon, don’t frighten her,” Lady Bird scolds fondly.

“Everyone thinks they know what to do about Vietnam,” LBJ plods onwards. “But it’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t clusterfuck. If you keep fighting, they call you a murderer. But if you pull the troops out and South Vietnam falls to the communists, every single man lost was for nothing, and you think the families will stand for that? Their kid in a body bag, or his legs blown off, or his brain scrambled? There’s no easy answer. It’s a goddamn bitch of a quagmire.”

Lady Bird offers you a sympathetic smirk. Sorry about all this unpleasantness, she means. When he gets himself worked up, I can’t stop him. But you find yourself feeling sorry for President Johnson. It will be difficult for him to learn how to fade into disgraced obscurity after once being so omnipotent, so beloved. Reinvention hurts like hell: fevers raging, bones mending, healing flesh that itches so ferociously you want to claw it off.

LBJ gives Lady Bird a look, quick but meaningful. She acquiesces. This has happened a thousand times before. “It was so nice talking to you, dear,” she tells you, then crosses the living room to pay her respects to Alicent.

The president steps closer, looming, towering. The Johnson Treatment?? you think, but no; he isn’t trying to intimidate you. He’s just curious.

“Do you know what Aemond’s plan is for ‘Nam?” LBJ asks, eyes urgent, voice low. “I’m sure he has one. He’s sworn to end the draft as soon as he gets into office, but how is he going to make sure the South Vietnamese can fend off the North themselves? We’re trying to train the bastards, but if we left they’d fold in months. It would be the first war the U.S. ever lost. Does he understand that?”

“He doesn’t really discuss it with me.” That’s true; you know his policies, but only because they are a constant subject of conversation within the family, something you all breathe like oxygen.

“We can’t let Nixon win,” LBJ continues. “It’s mass suicide to leave the country in his hands. The man can’t hold his liquor anymore, getting robbed by Kennedy in ’60 broke something in him. He gets sloshed and shoves his aids around, makes up conspiracies in his head. He’s a paranoid little prick. He’ll surveille the American people. He’ll launch a nuke at Moscow.”

You honestly don’t know what he expects you to say. “I’ll pass the message along to Aemond.”

“People love you, Mrs. Targaryen.” LBJ watching you closely. “Believe it or not, they used to love me too. But I still remember how to play the game. You’re the only reason Aemond is leading the polls in Florida. You can get him other states too. Jack needed Jackie. Aemond needs you. And you’ve had tragedies, and that’s a damn shame. But don’t you miss an opportunity. You take every disappointment, every fucked up cruelty of life and find a way to make it work for you. You pin it to your chest like a goddamn medal. Every single scar makes you look more mortal to those people going to the ballot box in November. You want them to be able to see themselves in you. It helps the mansions and the millions go down smoother.”

“President Johnson!” Aegon says as he saunters over, huge mocking grin. He thumps a closed fist against the Texan’s broad chest; the Secret Service agents standing ten feet away observe this sternly. “How thoughtful of you to be here, taking time out of your busy schedule, squeezing us in between war crimes.”

“The mayor of Trenton,” LBJ jabs.

“The butcher of Saigon.”

Now the president is no longer amused. “You’ve never accomplished anything in your whole damn life, son. Your obituary will be the size of a postage stamp. I’m looking forward to reading it someday soon.” He leaves, rejoining Lady Bird at the opposite end of the room.

You frown at Aegon, disapproving. You’re dressed in a sparkling, royal blue gown that Aemond chose. “That was unnecessary.”

Aegon is wearing an ill-fitting green shirt—half the buttons undone—khaki pants, and tan moccasins. “I just did you a favor.”

“What happened to your new girlfriend? Shouldn’t she be getting railed in your basement right now? Did she have a prior commitment? Did she have a spelling test to study for? Those can be tricky, such complex words. Juvenile. Inappropriate. Infidelity.”

“You know what he brags about?” Aegon says, meaning LBJ. “That he’s fucked more women by accident than John F. Kennedy ever did on purpose.”

“That sounds…logistically challenging.”

“He’s a lech. He’s a freak. He tells everyone on Capitol Hill how big his cock is. He takes it out and swings it around during meetings.”

“And that’s all far less than admirable, but he’s not going to do something like that around me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not an idiot,” you say impatiently. “He was perfectly civil. And I was getting interesting advice.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry I crashed your cute little pep talk with Lyndon Johnson, the most hated man on the planet.”

“I guess you can’t stop Aemond from touching me, so you have to terrorize LBJ instead.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon hisses, and his venom stuns you. And now you’re both trapped: you loosed the arrow, he proved you hit the mark. He’s flushing a deep, mortified red. Your guts are twisting with remorse.

“Aegon, wait, I didn’t mean—”

He whirls and storms off, shoving his way through the crowd. People glare at him as they clutch their glasses and plates, sighing in that What else do you expect from the worthless son? sort of way. You’re still gaping blankly at the place where Aegon stood when Aemond finds you, snakes a hand around the back of your neck, and whispers through the painstakingly-arranged wisps of hair that fall around your ear: “Follow me.”

It’s not a question. It’s a command. You trail him through the living room, into the foyer, and through the front door, not knowing what he wants. Outside the moon is a sliver; the light from the main house makes the stars hard to see. “Aemond, you’ll never believe the conversation I just had with LBJ. He really unloaded, I think the stress is driving him insane. I have to tell you what he said about—”

“Later.” And this is jarring; Aemond doesn’t put anything before strategy. He grabs your hand as he turns into Helaena’s garden, and only then do you understand what he wants. Instinctively, your legs lock up and your feet stop moving. Aemond tugs you onward. He wants it to be like the very first time. He intends to start over with you, the dawning of a new age in the dead of night.

Hidden in the circle of hedges, he takes your face roughly in his hands and kisses you, drinks you down like a vampire, consumes you like wildfire. But your skull echoes with panic. I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want another child with him. “Aemond…”

He doesn’t hear you, or acts like he doesn’t, or mistakes it for a murmur of desire, or chooses to believe it is. He has you down on the grass under the vengeful gaze of Zeus, the fountain splashing, the sounds of the house a low foreign drone. He yanks off your panties, but he doesn’t want you naked like he always did before. He pushes the hem of your shimmering cobalt gown up to your hips and unbuckles his trousers. And you realize as he’s touching you, as he’s easing himself into you: He doesn’t want to have to look at my scar.

You can’t ignore him, you can’t pretend it’s not happening. He’s too big for that. It’s a biting fullness that demands to be felt. So you kiss him back, and knot your fingers in his short hair like you used to, and try to remember the things you always said to him before. And when Aemond is too absorbed to notice, you look away from him, from the statue of Zeus, and peer up into the stone face of Athena instead: the goddess who never married and who knows the answer to every question.

“I love you,” Aemond says when it’s over, marveling at the slopes of your face in the dim ethereal light. “Everything will be right again soon. Everything will be perfect.”

You conjure up a smile and nod like you believe him.

“What did LBJ say?”

“Can I tell you later tonight? After the party, maybe? I just need a few minutes.”

“Of course.” And now Aemond pretends to be patient. He buckles his belt and returns to the main house, his blood coursing with the possibilities only you can make real, his skin damp with your sweat.

For a while—ten minutes, twenty minutes—you lie there on the cool grass wondering what it was like for all those mortals and nymphs, being pinned down by Zeus and then having Hera try to kill them afterwards, raising ill-fated reviled bastards they couldn’t help but love. What is heaven if the realm of the immortals is so cruel? Why does the god of justice seem so immune to it?

When at last you rise and walk back towards the house, you find Mimi at the edge of the garden. She’s on her knees and retching into a rose bush; she’s cut her face on the thorns, but she hasn’t noticed yet. She’s groaning; she seems lost.

You reach for her, gripping her bony shoulders. “Mimi, here, let’s get you upstairs…”

“No,” she blubbers, tears streaming down her scratched cheeks. “Just go away. Leave me.”

“Mimi—”

“No!” she roars, a mournful hemorrhage as she slaps your hands until you release her.

“You don’t have to be this way,” you tell her, distraught. “You can give up drinking. We’ll help you, me and Fosco and Ludwika. You can start over. You can be healthy and present again, you can live a real life.”

Mimi stares up at you, her grey eyes glassy and bloodshot but with a vicious, piercing honesty. “My husband hates me. My kids don’t know I exist. What the hell do I have to be sober for?”

You weren’t expecting this. You don’t know what to say. “We can help make the world better.”

“The world would be better without me in it.”

Then Mimi curls up on the grass under the rose bush, and stays there until you return with Fosco to drag her upstairs to her empty bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon, you’re lying on a lounge chair by the pool. Tomorrow the family will leave Asteria and embark upon a vigorous campaign schedule that will continue, with very few breaks, until Election Day on Tuesday, November 5th. The children are splashing and shrieking in the pool with Fosco, but you aren’t looking at them. You’re staring across the sun-drenched emerald lawn at the Atlantic Ocean. You’re envisioning all the bones and splinters of sunken ships that must litter the silt of the abyss; you’re thinking that it’s a graveyard with no headstones, no memory. Your swimsuit is a red one-piece. Your eyes are shielded by large black Ray Bans aviator sunglasses. Your gaze flicks up to the cloudless blue sky, where all the stars and planets are invisible.

Jupiter has nearly a hundred moons; the largest four were discovered by Galileo in 1610. Europa is a smooth white cosmic marble with a crust of ice, beautiful, immaculate. Ganymede, the largest moon in our solar system and the only satellite with its own magnetic field, is rumored to have a vast underground saltwater ocean that may contain life. Callisto is dark and indomitable, riddled with impact craters; because of her dynamic atmosphere and location beyond Jupiter’s radiation belts, she is considered the best location for possible future crewed missions to the Jovian system. But Io is a wasteland. She has no water and no oxygen. Her only children are 400 active volcanoes, sulfur plumes and lava flows, mountains of silicate rock higher than Mount Everest, cataclysmic earthquakes as her crust slips around on a mantle of magma. Her daily radiation levels are 36 times the lethal limit for humans. If Hades had a home in our corner of the galaxy, it would be Io. She glows ruby and gold with barren apocalyptic fury. You can feel yourself turning poisonous like she is. You can feel your skin splitting open as the lava spills out.

Aegon trots out of the house—red swim trunks, cheap red plastic sunglasses, no shirt, a beach towel slung around his neck, flip flops—and kicks your chair. “Get up. We’re going sailing.”

“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“Great, because I’m not asking you to talk. I’m telling you to get in my boat.”

You don’t reply. You don’t think you can without your voice cracking. Aegon crouches down beside your chair and pushes your sunglasses up into your Brigitte Bardot-inspired hair so he can see your face. Your eyes are pink, wet, desperately sad. Deep troubled grooves appear in his forehead as he studies you. Gently, wordlessly, he pats your cheek twice and lowers your sunglasses back over your eyes. Then he stands up again and offers you his hand.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says, softly this time. You take his hand and follow him down to the boathouse.

Five vessels are currently kept there. Aegon’s sailboat is a 25-foot Wianno Senior sloop, just roomy enough for a few passengers. He’s had it since long before you married into the Targaryen family. It is white with hand-painted gold accents; the name Sunfyre adorns the stern. He unmoors the boat, pushes it out into the open water, and raises the sails.

You glide eastbound over the glittering crests of waves, slowly at first, then faster as the sails catch the wind. Aegon has one hand on the rudder, the other grasping the ropes. And the farther you get from shore, the smaller Asteria seems, and the Targaryen family, and the presidential election, and the United States itself. Now all that exists is this boat: you, Aegon, the squawking gulls, the school of mackerel, the ocean. The sun beats down; the breeze rips strands of your hair free. The battery-powered record player is blasting White Room by Cream. When you are far enough from land that no journalists would be able to get a photo, Aegon takes two joints and his Zippo out of the pocket of his swim trunks. He puts both joints between his lips, lights them, and passes you one. Then he stretches out beside you on the deck, gazing up at the September sky.

You ask as your muscles unravel and your thoughts turn light and easy to share: “Why did you bring me out here?”

“So you can drown yourself,” Aegon says, and you both laugh. “Nah. I used to go sailing all the time when I was a teenager. It always made me feel better. It was the only place where I could really be alone.”

You consider the math. “Wow. You haven’t been a teenager since before I was in kindergarten.”

“It’s weird to think about. You don’t seem that young.”

“Thanks, I guess. You don’t seem that old.”

“Maybe we’re meeting in the middle.” He inhales deeply and then exhales in a rush of smoke. “What do you think, should I get an earring?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It might shock Otto so bad it kills him.”

“I’ll get two.” And then Aegon says: “It’s not cool for you to mock me.”

You are dismayed; you didn’t mean to hurt him. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You were mocking me. You mocked me about the receipt under my ashtray, and then you mocked me again last night. I’m up for a lot of things, but I can’t handle that. Okay?”

“Okay.” You turn your head so you can see him: shaggy blonde hair, stubble, perpetual sunburn, the softness of his belly and his chest, flesh you long to vanish into like rain through parched earth. “Aegon?”

He looks over at you. “Io?”

“I don’t want Aemond to touch me either.”

He’s surprised; not by what you feel, but because you’ve said it aloud, a treason like Prometheus giving mankind the gift of fire. “What are we gonna do about it?”

If you were the goddess of wisdom, maybe you’d know.

[jgracie]

Hello can you do Percy Jackson ⚔️ please

send me a character + an emoji for a surprise! (closed as of 3.5.24) on the radio . . . long way 2 go (cassie)

percy jackson was absolutely insufferable

you had just arrived at camp half-blood, and he already managed to make an enemy out of you. well, enemy's too strong of a word - let's just say you didn't like him very much

unfortunately for you, he'd been assigned to help you learn how to engage in combat and defend yourself on the battlefield. apparently, he was one of the most skilled demigods in camp, which you doubted considering the amount of times you've seen him trip on his own shoelaces in the little time you knew him

you tried protesting in private to chiron and mr d, but they insisted percy should be the one to teach you. still, you didn't know why. wasn't there a whole cabin of kids of the god of war? why couldn't one of them teach you? surely, they're better than percy

oh well. you just had to tough it out and pray to whichever god or goddess was your parent to hurry up and claim you

"so, today we'll start with your posture. there's no point in using a sword if you can't hold it right, after all," he said. it was way too early in the morning for you to be training, the only other people who were awake being the children of apollo. however, you thought it was good to get it out of the way before doing anything else so you wouldn't spend the whole day dreading it

what percy didn't know was that you already had some experience with a sword. whilst on the run from monsters, you'd found one in an alley (perfectly placed by your godly parent, maybe?) and have been using it ever since. it fit perfectly in your hands and so posture was like second nature to you

“i don’t need to waste my time with this, jackson, just get to the actual stuff,” you told him, rolling your eyes and positioning yourself perfectly - much to percy’s surprise and disappointment. he was really hoping to impress you today

his brows furrowing, percy said, “fine, since you’re so good, let’s have a duel.” you grinned at this, glad to finally have a proper challenge and a chance to prove yourself to your godly parent

at first, he caught you off-guard. you’d never fought an actual person before, only monsters who tended to just lunge at you with no proper strategy. if you had to give percy one thing, it was that he was skilled

however, so were you. as the duel progressed, you began to recognize his patterns and counter them, eventually managing to pin him down and make him drop his sword, which in turn made you the winner

you smirked at the look on his face - one of complete shock and admiration. a wild blush coated his cheeks and his sea green eyes were wide

“told you all that posture nonsense was too easy,” you said before getting off of him and helping him up. maybe percy jackson wasn’t too bad after all

[starrystevie]

it’s a horribly normal sunday afternoon when everything changes between steve and eddie.

they’re in eddie’s van, windows down and hair flying, rays of a new spring sun warming their winter chilled skin as their arms dangle outside the open windows. some band that steve is sure he’s never heard of is playing loudly though the speakers and eddie looks over at steve with a grin.

the sun gives him a halo like it belongs there, the wind in his curls breaking up the beams to make it look like he’s flying, like hermes or apollo or some other greek god steve cant name while he’s enraptured with the view. eddie's smile crooks up, something mischievous, and he reaches down to grab a tape out of his collection.

“you know what we need?” eddie asks and steve holds his tongue to stop from saying something stupid like 'you'.

the music changes and it’s familiar and loud and, oh no. the crooning first notes of 'somebody to love' cuts into his heart in a way he never expected queen to. he feels like he’s bleeding out, watching eddie’s smile shift and change, playful and wide, and it breaks him. his face crumbles and morphs into something mean, trying to protect the remnants of his guard from crumbling along with it like ancient remains.

"turn that shit off." and steve’s always been a bit of a bitch, eager to fight with bared teeth and bleeding knuckles, but it's never been towards eddie. eddie with his halo of sun and eyes full of warmth and that smile that makes steve feel like he can fly. "now."

eddie scrambles. his hand darts out and fiddles with the volume knob, his smile cracking along the edges and getting soft and worried and steve is made only of anger, boiling over in a tirade. he keeps talking, barely processing what he's saying, but he sees it hurt eddie and that feels right and so fucking wrong all at the same time.

"who told you," he seethes out, hisses through his teeth like a goddamn snake. "it's all just a rumor so don't think for one second that it's true-''

the only person steve has even told is robin, one drunken night with their friends jack and captain morgan, secrets spilling out from them faster than they can make a new drink. he let it slip that he likes queen, relates to queen, and robin cocked her head in that sickeningly endearing way she does, cartoon lightbulb clicking on above her head.

"steve," she whispered, hand reaching out to cover his knee. it was a moment of surprising sobriety when their eyes met and steve felt something click into place for him, too.

"it's okay to be like freddie, right?" his voice was soft, broken and strained, watery smile covering up what little vulnerability he had left.

they danced until sunrise with queen blasting through the way too extravagant speaker system in the living room, screaming lyrics about not wanting to be born at all and asking for someone to find them somebody. they fell into a pile all breathless and dizzy and the relief that flooded steve's system was enough that he could drift into a deep sleep for the first time in a long time.

but now that memory feels tainted, destroyed, because he only told robin and that means she must have told eddie about being like freddie because no one else knew and he thought that robin was the one person he could trust but that seems not real anymore but it's robin and that is the only person who has stuck around but now there's eddie in the back of his mind grinning and that bleeds into him laughing which bleeds into him laughing at steve, turning on a song to let him know he's laughing at him for being like freddie, for being wrong, being wrong, being wrong-

"steve..."

"-it's not even true, anyone can like queen without being a fucking queer, you know? plenty of people like them and are happily married with their 2.5 kids and a goddamn picket fence-"

steve's still ranting when eddie pulls to the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires, eyes soft and careful as they look over steve. his face feels hot and pinched with his vision blurred from unshed tears that he'll be damned to let fall. his hands are flying around aimlessly in the air as he spits out lie after lie, watching eddie sit and take it unflinchingly.

"steve," he says after a minute of listening, a gentle hand on his knee that steve wants to throw off of him, eager for something tangible to destroy. "stop for a second, please."

he wishes he could but his brain won't let him, so he pauses for a second and catches his breath before starting again and ignoring the way eddie rolls his eyes in disappointment. he rants and he vents and hurls harsh word after word until he can see that eddie's had enough. he wants to keep going, yelling until his throat is as raw as his heart feels, but there are arms wrapping around him and holding him intact so he doesn't fall apart all over the floormats.

"you're okay," steve registers what eddie's saying after a beat or two. he's whispering low into his ear in a repetitive mantra, over and over and over. "you're okay, it's okay. breathe."

it's only after they're both breathing normally that he pulls away.

"what was that about," eddie asks, and it's not accusatory but steve can't help but shy away from the easy way he's looking at him. the tears he had been so good about holding back fall down his cheeks, disloyal soldiers admitting defeat.

"i just-," he breathes out as he keeps his eyes trained to the gear shift. "i thought you knew something about... me."

he hears eddie sigh and steve latches onto it like it's a ray of sun in and of itself. "i know a lot of things about you, steve."

"yeah, but you can't know this one. not yet"

there's fingers tangling into his own and they feel nothing like nancy's or robin's or tracy's or melissa's or heather's and he relishes the calluses that bump into his own. steve doesn't want to look up, he can't look up, but he's a vine and eddie's the sun and he has to face him like it's his life's purpose to do so.

the halo is back around eddie's head again when he finally looks.

"i can wait, if you want me to."

[coirinthyurilo]

Headcanon and explanation about Will's plague powers and how dangerous he can actually be, even if it's watered down.

Okay. So I get it. Will is the son of Apollo, and he's pretty OP in a sense. He can heal people, and that's like. Technically the most important thing in the Demi-god world. Due to the amount of injuries you can have.

You need a healer on bay. But Will is not only just a healer. He actually has plague powers as proven in TSATS. Able to give hay fever to a primordial that even Zeus fears? If your hink about it. If Will's plague powers weren't that powerful. Nyx wouldn't even have registered that she had gotten sick. But she did?

I doubt even a primordial goddess can even get sick. So imagine her shock when she realized she got sick all because some boy who was made from the sun gave him sickness in one of his domains.

And imagine that much power to even AFFECT Nyx? To a Demi-god or a simple fragile, can die at any-given circumstance, MORTAL. They'd probably have the worst known disease that not even mankind has even registered to know yet.

And I like to think. That as he grows his healing over time so does his plague powers. They're two sides of the same coin. Like they develop at the same time in the same way. Every time Will heals, it adds more power to his healing. With his plague powers it does the same.

That's also probably why he was able to make Nyx sick. Because if he had just found out about his plague powers wouldn't it be really weak at first?

So there. That's my explanation on it.

Now for the headcanon.

I like to think that in a future war or so, when Will is shoved to the edge, seeing multiple die at once. He just wants it to stop. He wants the war to stop. He NEEDS the war to stop. Especially when he finds Nico fatally injured.

And because of that desire and need for that to happen. The only thing his brain processes a logical answer. Is death. If the enemy is dead. The war will end sooner and no one that he cares about will continue dying.

So imagine seeing Will Solace walk into the middle of a battle. Many lay dead at his feet and there's an entire army in front of him. Out of pure fucking anger, he let's out piercing supersonic whistle that catches them off guard. And once they drop their swords to cover their ears.

Will takes a breath.

One single exhale leaves him. And green smoke erupts from his throat, like a poisonous gas. It didn't seem to bother then at all at first, it didn't even smell..?

And it looks pretty harmless, until people start to have burns and rashes, eyes turning red, as their legs give in, their Asaphogus shuts tight and they have the trouble to even breath. And they die. They die and they fall.

And the so called healer. Has once made an entire army sicker. That's how scary Will's powers can be if developed to the FULLEST of it's potential.

There's even a head canon I thought on how Will can drain people's life force and take it for himself to use and resotre his power to heal once he runs out of energy. That would be such a weird and cool concept.

Imagine some guy uses another person's life force and transfers that life force to you so can survive instead? What an eerie and such a terrifying thing to see and think about.

Especially when the harmless healer can most likely be fatal. It's just that no one has ever made snap. 🤷‍♀️

[enehana]

Chthonic Gods' Cabins Headcanons

Children of Hades, Persephone, Nyx, Hypnos, Nemesis, Hecate, Thanatos, Eris, Geras, Selene, etc. Any God that lives in the underworld or is a child of God that lives in the underworld.

They refer to themselves as Hellspawn endearingly.

They are so much more loyal to each other than to children of other Gods. They're all united by the underworld.

They have sleepover in the Hades Cabin. Chiron doesn't know, and he wouldn't allow it if he did. The Hecate Cabin masks their presence so others can see, hear, or sense them.

They treat children of Hades like royalty. They're all the pretty princesses of the underworld. They put a pink, fuzzy crown on Nico one time. He didn't particularly enjoy it, but he didn't stop them.

They make homemade candles and hold rituals in cemeteries and abandoned playgrounds.

They always make sure Hazel is welcome at camp. She is a queen. She can't be uncomfortable or unhappy at camp half blood.

They held a grand funeral for Bianca. She has a beautiful burial plot. Fresh flowers every week.

Sometimes they go frolicking through the underworld, holding hands and skipping. Purely for the irony.

They kind of consider Will one of them? They're a bit iffy about him because he's a son of Apollo, the sun god, but they appreciate how happy he makes Nico.

The underworld children that can summon spirits (Mostly Hades children. Children of Hypnos can make dead people appear in dreams. Few children of Nemesis can control vengeful spirits. Few children of Ares can call upon dead soldiers who lost their war. Thanatos children.) will gossip about the spirits they spoke to. They'll also work together to try to summon a lost friend or family member, to give one of them some form of closure.

The Hades cabin leads their little clique. Planning outings and meetings.

The Hypnos cabin regulates their dreams, making sure everyone sleeps relatively okay. They keep their dreams not terrible for the most part.

Children of Selene will use their powers to radiate moonlight, effectively making other children of the underworld slightly more powerful.

Children of Nemesis act as their regulators, their judges. If someone wronged one of them, the entire Nemesis cabin will get revenge for them.

Children of Nyx are their guards. All they have to do is look at someone, and they'll think a million times before they even interact with one of them.

Children of Persephone will grow flowers and fruit for them. They keep their lives bright and meaningful. A symbol of peace, even if only in short periods.

Children of Hecate will enchant anything for them. Magical weapons mean more security. And Tarot readings. A small glimpse into the future will calm them down so much.

Children of Geras will give them wisdom. Old age comes with experience. And experience leads to knowledge. An excellent guide for young, inexperienced demigods.

Children of Eris will remind everyone of what someone has done. Never forgetting someone's blatant wrongdoings. They warn everyone when they hear about something someone has done, trying to keep them out of trouble.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Imagine of Leonidas who found a child in middle of the woods, lost. Leonidas adopted Y/n. Y/n grown as beautiful woman when many years has pass by til her beauty caught Apollo attention. Leonidas is very overprotective of his daughter and never let Apollo go near her.

-He could remember the day he found you, all those years ago, you were only a baby, a few months old at least, abandoned in a forest, as he had been drawn to your cries.

-You were so little in his arms, cooing quietly up at him, now happy that someone was there, as you had been scared, being alone and he instantly fell in love you, adopted you as his own.

-His men didn’t know what to make of the sight, seeing their fearsome king and leader, smiling down at you as you were trying to walk to him, playing with you and being a totally doting and whipped dad to you.

-However, many were quick to learn that what they said was true, the dads with daughters are very intimidating, as Leonidas was fiercely protective, ready to even punch a child, a boy, who had been picking on you, much to the amusement of his men.

-You were not a delicate flower, despite your stunning looks, you were the daughter of one of the greatest Spartans to ever live! You were a warrior, being trained by your father himself, as he wanted you to be able to take care of yourself if he wasn’t there.

-You grew up protected, as your papa was the definition of protective, and his soldiers were all threatened to keep you safe if he wasn’t around, but you were able to defend yourself if needed.

-Not many believed you knew how to fight, you looked so angelic, like a delicate flower petal, graceful, soft, and your beauty was stunning to all who met you, men and women alike.

-So once you were old enough, Leonidas’ worst nightmare came true, where men were coming to ask for your hand in marriage. You set a stipulation for anyone wanting to ask you that question, that they had to ask your father first.

-He always said no.

-Many complained to you, claiming it wasn’t fair and some were even trying to turn you against your father. That didn’t work and you told them that if they had a problem with it, then to challenge Leonidas to a duel, if they managed to beat him, then he would give his blessing.

-You didn’t mind staying single, as you weren’t thinking about it at the moment and had no interest in being with someone who was only with you because you are pretty.

-You wanted someone who loved you for you. And that certainly wasn’t Apollo!

-The day that sun god saw you he was instantly enraptured, wanting you for his own, you were beyond perfect, you were so beautiful but so sweet, as he had seen you with some children, making flower crowns.

-As Apollo approached you to speak with you, like a demon of the shadows, Leonidas appeared between you in a plume of smoke, a fierce glare on his face, “You’re not going to approach my daughter, you bastard!”

-You turned, seeing a god and your father speaking and you could see that your father was extra grumpy with this man, before one of the children told you that this was Apollo!

-You nodded, now realizing why your papa was so pissy, now locked up with Apollo, both trying to make the other submit and you herded the children away from the area.

-Apollo wasn’t allowed to get close to you, if you left the house, you had to take several of his strongest warriors with you or take your papa with you.

-If you were with your guards, they just ushered you back home, keeping themselves between you an Apollo, but if you were with your father and he tried to approach, you heard the bell that signaled the start of a fight, and you walked off to sit until they finished.

-When Apollo finally was able to greet you, he grabbed your wrist, “You’re coming with me Y/N! I’ve been dealing with a lot from your bone head of a father and you’re going to make it up to me!”

-He didn’t get farther than a few feet after you rocked his ass, punching him hard in the center of his face, sending him to the ground. He held his bleeding nose as you glared fiercely down at him, “Nobody touches me without my consent. Get lost you shithead!”

-Leonidas was beaming behind you as he had been running to defend you, little flowers of happiness surrounding him as he smiled, feeling so proud of you that you mimicked him while Apollo was stunned, seeing that you were just as strong as your father.

-He had to admit that he was impressed with your strength, as not many could put a god on his ass. If anything, your actions weren’t seen as disrespect, he came on too forcefully and you put him in his place!

-Leonidas couldn’t help but groan in annoyance as Apollo only seemed more infatuated with you! But hell to the no was he going to get you! Don’t worry Y/N!! Papa’s coming!!

[cupidcures]

When Tulips Kiss | Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

CHAPTERS: 𝜗𝜚 THIRTY-FIVE | THIRTY-SIX | 𝜗𝜚 THIRTY-SEVEN

WORD COUNT: 2.2k (not proofread)

better off

“Will you move over?” Beomgyu vocalized his agitation towards the young man in front of him, but he still didn’t budge from the spot.

The last thing either of them expected was to see one another here at Jisung’s place, yet here they both were, standing face to face.

“I’ll give her the flowers, thanks. What are you doing here, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbled and eyed him up and down in a somewhat indifferent way.

“No thanks man, I’d rather do it myself. Mind calling her down for me? I don’t wanna waste my time here talking to you when I could be with Y/N.” Beomgyu smiled fakely and tilted his head to look past his shoulder, making eye contact with Jeongin.

“Yo Jeongin!” He waved, “Mind getting this dude out of the way for me?”

Jeongin glanced between the two boys, deadpanning at their immature bickering.

‘There’s no way these two guys are grown…’ he thought to himself before shaking his head and exchanging a glance with Jisung, who was sitting across the couch opposite of him.

“You wanna go get your wife?” Jeongin joked as Jisung crackled in amusement before nodding his head.

“On it. Go take care of whatever is happening over there.” He pointed his lips toward the front door where Hyunjin and Beomgyu stood before making his way upstairs to grab you.

“Yo baby, I’m coming in, alright?” Jisung knocked on the door of his bedroom—where you were currently staying—before turning the knob and opening the door.

You were tucked inside the comforter of his bed, scrolling through your phone without a care in the world. You tore your gaze away from your phone and directed it to the quokka boy standing by the door.

“Sungie?” You mumbled and he grinned.

“Hey, wifey! The dude that’s courting you is downstairs to take you out. You should hurry, though. He and Hyunjin might kill each other with their glares.” Jisung approached you with light footsteps as you hooked your arm around his with a nod.

“Shall we?” You giggled and so did Jisung. “We shall!!!!!”

The two of you enthusiastically skipped out of the room and down the stairs, greeting the three boys (hehe Omar Apollo ref) downstairs with a princess wave. “Hey Jeongin! Beomgyu, Hyunjin!”

The arguing pair immediately stopped at the sound of your voice as they both turned their attentions to you, mesmerized and smitten.

“Y/N! Hey.” Hyunjin blushed and stood in front of Beomgyu, blocking your view of him.

“Hi Y/N. You look pretty.” Beomgyu pushed past Hyunjin and gave him a petty glare, which he returned with no hesitation. “I brought you some roses!”

White roses. Easy to spot due to their brightness and the way the light of the sun would easily reflect off of them. White roses symbolize purity and innocence. Beyond this, white roses are used in funerals because it is also a way to bid someone farewell. Being brought white roses was certainly new to you, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It’s not like he knew and studied the flowers’ languages like you did.

Taking the flowers off of Beomgyu’s hand and bringing them to your chest, you thanked him graciously, “Thank you Gyu!”

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his shirt. “Of.. of course! Can I take you out?”

“Ooh actually… we’re all hanging out here you know… It’s a shame! Come back some other day.” Hyunjin responded for you, eye twitching in irritation.

The three other people in the room were caught off guard by his statement, and it bestowed an awkward silence in the tense atmosphere.

“Uh… yeah! Sorry Gyu, maybe next time?” You were confused, to say the least, it’s not like Hyunjin made plans SPECIFICALLY for everyone to hang out, the only plans that were made were between him and Jisung. But you still decided to hide his little lie nonetheless. You could always just ask him about it later, but you had a feeling you already knew what it was about.

“Oh. Okay, I see. Well, you guys have fun then!” Beomgyu offered a weak smile sided with a look of disappointment plastered on his delicate facial features.

“Actually! You could always just hang out with us, none of us have a problem with an extra person! Right, guys?” Jeongin spoke up before Beomgyu had the chance to leave, and his eyes lit up.

“Can I?” He asked for confirmation from everyone else. And by everyone else, he looked to you and Jisung, ignoring the look of disbelief on Hyunjin’s face.

“Uhh…” Jisung’s lips pressed together awkwardly, forming a thin line, inspecting everyone’s faces before hesitating, “I mean I guess it’s alright?”

“Great! It’s settled then, go ahead and sit down, Hyunjin was just about to put on a movie.” Jeongin grinned mischievously and ushered Beomgyu further into the house before closing the front door, making sure to lock it.

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” Beomgyu thanked enthusiastically and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, causing you to blush a little.

Hyunjin scoffed at the action and rolled his eyes, walking himself to the far end of the couch and picking up the remote to choose a movie to watch.

Jisung followed close behind and took a seat next to him, patting his back. Jeongin sat down on the other, smaller couch and reached for a blanket.

“What kind of movie are we feeling?” Hyunjin asked.

“Romance!” Beomgyu suggested as he sat down on the opposite side of the same couch Hyunjin and Jisung sat at, bringing you along beside him.

“Horror it is.” He decided with a monotone voice, resulting in Jisung choking back a laugh at his antics.

God, he was so petty. But it was humorous, who could get mad at that?

The movie started a little after Jisung turned the lights off to properly adjust the environment accordingly to the movie.

You were cuddled up against Beomgyu, more for warmth than anything. You couldn’t deny the attraction you had for the boy that pulled you in. You found yourself spacing out, deep in thought. This was something that occurred frequently whenever you were with Beomgyu. He made you dreamy and you would often drift away to your thoughts. He brought peace and serenity to you, so you were naturally much more comfortable around him. With his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his head resting on top of yours, it felt like second nature.

All of the tension directed towards each other had died down, and it instead projected onto the movie. The jumpscares evoked jolts and screams now and then, often followed by the sound of laughter due to the high-pitched shrieks that would fill the air for a moment or two.

Everyone let loose and focused on the movie. Everyone but Hyunjin.

He did his best to enjoy the movie much like everyone else, but he would constantly find himself sparing glimpses into your direction.

He noticed the way you were snug against Beomgyu, and there was nothing he could do but stare and wish it was him you were with instead. He knew it sent pangs to his chest whenever you played with Beomgyu’s hair and held his hand, but still, he struggled with tearing his gaze off of you, and you never seemed to notice. You looked happy, comfortable. You were content, and maybe it would just be better off for everybody if he were to just back off and leave you be.

He was being immature, trying to keep the two of you apart—when it was clear that you and Beomgyu had something, even if it was only a little.

Hyunjin quietly dismissed himself to the kitchen to grab a drink of water with ice, his throat had gone dry as a consequence of watching the PDA you shared with Beomgyu.

“You good bro?” A hushed voice broke the silence in the kitchen as Hyunjin turned around to face whoever it was, the sound effects of the movie playing in the distance.

“Dry throat.” He responded as Jisung nodded slowly and skeptically.

“Uhuh… And you think I’m stupid enough to believe that? Don’t think I didn’t notice your little attempts at trying to inconvenience that dude she’s with. Beomgyu, is it?”

The two boys chuckled lightly. Hyunjin didn’t expect anyone to follow him, but he was glad that Jisung was there to prove him wrong and lighten the mood.

“You still in love with Y/N?” He pulled a bar chair from under the island and sat down, leaning himself on the table.

“Unfortunately.”

“Woah, unfortunately? It’s a privilege to love Y/N, buddy,” Jisung joked but cleared his throat right after noticing that he didn’t laugh along.

“Not when she doesn’t love you back,” Hyunjin took a sip out of his glass. “It’s hard. Unrequited love is hard.”

The faint buzzing and the bright light above stimulated his senses more than they should, inducing a headache.

“I was gonna try to win her back, not gonna lie,” he chuckled. “But who am I to do that?”

“What do you mean? Why give up?” Jisung pursed his lips and scrunched his face, confused.

“I lost her the first time because I was scared that someone was gonna take her away,” Hyunjin circled his glass around on the kitchen counter, creating a small vortex in an attempt to rush the ice’s process of making the water cold, just how he liked it. “I may not like Beomgyu—but to instill the same fear that I struggled with—in him, that’d be real fucking shitty, don’t you think? Now, I’m not saying he’s not secure in himself and in whatever they have going on, I’m almost sure he’s better than me when it comes to that. But just thinking of attempting to steal her away, when I know exactly how it feels to be scared of that happening, it doesn’t feel good. Makes me feel like shit.” Hyunjin inhaled deeply, watching as the ice cubes struggled to keep afloat with the miniature whirlpool dragging them down.

“Everything I’ve done for her, relating to her, it was all to do what’s best for me…” He trailed off and halted the movement of his hands, the whirlpool slowly dissipating. “I’ve been selfish and it has done nothing but drown me and add to my struggles.”

The ice cubes in the glass were finally resting on top of the surface, the water now still and calm, lacking disturbance.

“I love her. But I don't want to be selfish, not anymore. I want what’s best for her, even if it isn’t me. I need to learn to stop meddling with things just because I’m not satisfied with how it’s going. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. But I’m backing away, and I’ll do my best to move on.”

The outside of the glass was now moisturized with small droplets due to the coldness of the water meeting with the warmth of the air.

“I didn’t know that was how you felt.” Jisung grimaced at the thought of how he used to hate him for what he had done to you, when in reality, it probably affected him more. “I understand, honestly. I know what it feels like to have your fears and insecurities get the best of you. I think it’s really mature that you’re deciding to do this when you’re still in love with her.” Jisung got up from the stool and walked over to Hyunjin to pat his back.

“It’s good that you acknowledged your wrongs. Wanting to do better is already one step ahead, you’re already improving. I know we’re not close dude, but damn… am I proud of you. I would love to get closer. I appreciate all your efforts in trying to do what’s best for Y/N, it seriously warms my heart.” Jisung playfully placed his hand on his chest where his heart would be with a soft expression on his face—the two boys burst out in laughter after that.

“I love Y/N, platonically of course. And seeing how much you love her now? I was wrong about you,” Jisung hummed. “I’ll be right here for support! I have your back.”

He gave Hyunjin a thumbs-up, who then returned it with a smile.

“It’s gonna be hard to move on from her. THAT, I know. Especially since we’re still gonna be friends? Fuck, bro. I might just be setting myself up for failure.” Hyunjin laughed before bringing the glass of water to his lips and drinking it all, the cold water bringing a shiver down his spine. “But it’ll happen eventually. That way, everyone is happy. I should just leave it be. As long as she’s happy, no matter who she’s with, I’ll be happy too. It’s better off like this. And she’s better off with him.”

“That’s the spirit! Now come on, let’s go back to watch the movie.” Jisung placed his hand on the back of Hyunjin’s and pushed him towards the living room where the three others were.

a/n: THIS IS SO SHORT I’M SORRY LOL

𝜗𝜚 WTK series masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN)! @jeonginplsholdmyhand @jeonginsgirl @mlrroh @mafiulaputaama @seungzsmin @hannie-bees @skz1lov @porang-poranglinos @sillyhal @mitchii @soulphoenix1618 @gnab-nahc @hyunjins-dimples @nappynapnaps @15092000volcano @livixcore @linocvp1d @yaorzu-blog @scallywag1299 @boo-ven9eance @lys4lix @kirbrary @4ln-stay8 @sellomaybe @aznstoner @saintcosette @starseungs @syedazarintasnim @elqivxstxr @ivydoesit23 @weirdowithaphone @hyuneee3 @nhyunn @velvetmoonlght @amarecerasus @skzstan12345 @ravengxbss @sweetbokji @wondering-out-loud @girlblogger-04 @soaplickerrr @oddracha @realrintaro @hyukazwifey @manuosorioh @qu4ckqu4ck

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Chapter 2: Do you want me to burn your cookie?

First flashback chapter, yay! Let's see how things were with younger Emily at camp. So that you don't get confused, this is set before Annabeth and Luke first even make it to Long Island

Word count: 2500 ish words

Warnings: None I can think of

Fic masterlist here!

Age 6

It was during the last days of spring when Emily met Ares again.

She had been at camp for a few weeks now, and the arrival of the rest of the demigods was impendent. Until now, she had only met her fellow year-round campers, some of them also from the Ares cabin; it was weird at first for her to understand that they were her siblings (or half-siblings, to be clear), but Chiron had taken his time to explain everything to her, and answer every question she had: Why do we burn food? Can I ride the Pegasi? When will Daddy come see me?... and so on.

As she was still pretty young, and unfamiliar to their world, Chiron let her miss out on the last weeks of first grade, letting her explore the new surroundings on her own; she was a child of Ares, she would be fine by herself. So she met the people around camp, Mr. D (who she didn’t really like, especially after he insisted on calling her “Ellie”, almost as if wrong on purpose), and the satyrs, who she followed around the crops, marvelling at how they played music to help the plants grow. Once she was settled, and after a general introduction from the centaur to camp half-blood, Emily’s curious nature took over, and she spend her mornings roaming the wild.

Ares watched her. He saw her run through the forest, her teddy bear under her arm, discovering, playing, and laughing to herself. She found many animals, small and some bigger ones, and she befriended many, always guarded by the spirits of the woods to ensure her safety; she was a sweet child, despite her heritage, and they guarded her while she was alone outside. She didn’t seek destruction, or causing havoc; she was tranquil, and adventurous.

Maybe it was because her environment had been a good one during her first years, but she wasn’t as brute, gruff and brash as Ares had expected her to be. It surprised him, to be honest.

During the afternoons, Emily was introduced by her siblings to training. However, she was small, and they were older, taller and stronger than her, so she sticked to the side, watching them fight with swords, spears and other weapons of their choice against other campers. They were nice enough to show her the basics, although she was still too petite to hold a sword properly, so her siblings introduced her to using daggers and other small weapons first.

“Why do I have to learn this?” she pouted, frustrated at her failed attempts of doing what her older brother had taught her; it was still weird for her to think of them as her siblings, as she had never had any and now there were… a lot, but she was slowly getting used to it “I don’t want to do this”

“You are a child of Ares” said one of the boys, a son of Apollo “Fighting comes natural to those of your kind”

“But I don’t want to fight” she replied, still pouting “I don’t want to hurt anyone”

“Maybe not, but there are monsters out there who won’t hesitate to come after you, and kill you if they get their chance” the girl who spoke, a daughter of Hermes, received glares of reproach upon saying that, and she was shoved to the side by one of Emily’s brothers after seeing how scared she looked now “Hey, it’s true, the sooner she learns the better for her”

“There are monsters out there?”

“You are safe at camp, don’t worry” one of her brothers kneeled beside her, handing back to her the dagger that had fallen from her hand to the ground “But she’s right. The sooner you start training, the stronger you will be”

Strong. Emily watched her siblings, bulked, skilled, tough… and she honestly doubted if training would ever make her look as powerful as them. She was only six years old, she didn’t know if she was actually strong enough to grow into a warrior like them.

She sat alone later (although accompanied by her teddy bear, her loyal companion), on the edge of the forest in front of the beach, munching on some cookies Chiron had given her. The waves of Long Island Sound crashed rhythmically against the shore, whilst Emily couldn’t shake off the feeling of inadequacy that lingered within her; she could still hear her siblings at the arena, laughing while they playfully fought, and the music the satyrs played at the strawberry fields. Beside her on the grass lay the dagger she had been training with, and she looked at it with uncertainty.

Her little fingers wrapped around the hilt, her gaze examining the weapon: it was bronze, the handle was covered in leather, and the blade had small Greek symbols engraved into the metal. Due to her dyslexia, she’d always had trouble reading, however these letters didn’t dance in front of her eyes as it usually happened. This time, she only had trouble understanding the word itself, because she didn’t know the language.

“Need some help?”

Emily instantly recognized that voice. She turned around, and there he stood: her father, a few feet away, leaning against a tree.

“Daddy!”

Squealing, Emily stood up, the dagger falling on the ground beside her Teddy and the plate with cookies. She crashed into Ares’ legs, smiling up at him, jumping with excitement.

The first days at camp had been tough, especially because she constantly waited for Ares to show up and take her with him again; yeah, she was amazed by the nature surrounding her, the cabins and the new environment in general, but she missed her parents: her mother wouldn’t come back, she knew that, but she still had her father, right? Her siblings were no help, telling her that she shouldn’t get her hopes up, because godly parents weren’t known for being present in their demigod children’s lives, but she was sceptical, thinking that if he had come for her after her mother’s passing, maybe he would come again. So she burned part of her food at every meal like they had taught her, thinking of a message for her dad, just as her siblings had explained to her how she should do. She prayed to him, in her own childish way of how she thought praying was done, and thought of him when she was alone in her bunk bed at night, missing being tucked in; he had never done that, that was all her mother… but now she only had Ares, and she longed for him to care for her.

And on the verge of losing hope, fortunately, he came.

Ares wasn’t really sure what had motivated him to visit her. He never did stuff like that; the gods sometimes gave out missions, quests or requests for demigods to fulfil, and only then would they actually show up. But they usually never visited their children. Maybe the reason was that he had been sick of Hermes talking about his latest travels and the gossip he had picked up, or that he didn’t want to face his father after him requesting everyone to show up that day at Olympus. Maybe it was an impulse that arose from having been watching her from time to time the last few weeks, or maybe… something he couldn’t name. And he for sure wasn’t going to show up anytime soon once summer began, not with the rest of the campers there: he would definitely stand out, and he didn’t have time to deal with a bunch of dumb children if they noticed him.

Seeing Emily there, though, sitting on the edge of the forest, reluctantly clutching the dagger in between her hands, he appeared behind her, watching her study the engraving of the weapon. The breeze stirred her hair, while she mumbled to herself, trying to spell the word she couldn’t read, when he decided to reveal himself.

He awkwardly patted her head, definitely not expecting so much excitement from her side. He thought she would probably really hate him by now, after abandoning her there and not acknowledging her for weeks.

Emily began to talk, words thrown at him a hundred miles per minute, telling him everything she had seen and learned at camp half-blood about the gods, the goddesses, the satyrs, the centaurs… and that she loved the Pegasi, and the strawberries they ate, and that she had met her older siblings.

Ares wasn’t used to being around little kids very often; he kind of avoided them, as he didn’t really know how to handle them. Emily was very much like other children her age: small, innocent, and filled with excitement. It stirred something inside him, thinking that that sweet little girl came from him.

“What do you have there?”

He pointed to the dagger, and Emily went to get it, Ares remaining where he stood. His daughter, back at his side, raised the small weapon up to him, the bronze metal shining under the spring sun.

“My brother gave it to me. It says something here, but I don’t know what it means” she told him, frowning. Ares thought she looked cute when she did that, little face scrunched in confusion “Do you know it?”

It didn’t take him more than a glance to recognize the word.

“That word means ‘Ares’” he explained, smug smile on his face “That’s me”

“You?”

“The only one there is, princess”

He wasn’t planning on calling her that, and if so, it wasn’t meant seriously, more so in a mocking, sarcastic way. However, Emily’s face lit up, and he couldn’t take it back anymore.

“Daddy?” he hummed in response, listening “Are you a god?” It seemed that she had caught up on the meaning of that word. Of what that meant, and the power it held. Ares nodded, telling her that he was the God of war. She nodded back, biting her lower lip before speaking again “So… you’re like, really old, right?”

Ares laughed, not expecting that question.

“You could say that” he shrugged, still chuckling.

“Why are you the god of war?” her head tilted to the side, looking him in the eyes, her own full of curiosity “Why not the god of trees? Or the god of flowers, or clouds, or… dogs? They are sweet, I like them”

Something similar to a short circuit occurred inside his head. He didn’t expect those questions. She was just like her mother, full of curiosity. Ares paused, taken aback, and pondered for a moment, contemplating how to explain the complexities of his role as the god of war to a young child; his title had been given to him so long ago… he had just rolled with it over the centuries, throughout the millennia’s.

“I just am, kid” he couldn’t just tell a six year old that he was the god of war because he was seen as someone aggressive, violent, cruel and… just everything that accompanied the brutalities of battles. In ancient Greece, citizens used to hope he would not take notice of their cities, because they believed he only carried death and suffering with his presence “I’m territorial. I’m not afraid of fighting. I get what I want when I want, and don’t let anyone steal what’s mine. And if they do, I won’t let them go unpunished”

War isn’t only about that, though. It’s about protecting what you love, standing up for what’s right, and sometimes, making sacrifices for the greater good. Many use war to get what they desire, yes, and start a fight for unjustified reasons, but true war, a true fight, is for defending what you believe in. Ares also embodied all of that, even though he had forgotten it himself.

"But why not trees or flowers?" she persisted, her curiosity unabated. Ares smiled, amused by her innocence and inquisitiveness.

"Each god has their own domain, their own special role to play in the world. Trees have their own protector, as do flowers and clouds. And as for dogs… I like them too. My uncle Hades has a very cool one”

“One of Mommy’s friends had a big dog, and he brought it with him sometimes when he came visited” she explained, doing a face. She didn’t see Ares’ eyebrow raise when mentioning her mothers’ ‘friend’ “I didn’t like that dog, though. He had big teeth, and he barked a lot. He scared me”

“At camp you will learn to fight and to defend yourself, so you won’t have to be afraid anymore. Not of any dogs, and not of any monsters”

“But I don’t want to fight monsters, Daddy. I’m not strong enough. They’ll eat me!”

Ares almost chuckled, certainly amused.

“They’re not going eat you, Ems” again, that nickname wasn’t planned. He had to start controlling himself “Not if you win”

“But I’m tiny. They will get me and swallow me”

“You will not be tiny forever. You’ll grow, learn, and train. You’re my kid: fighting comes natural to you” it was the same thing the Apollo boy had said to her; coming from her father, though, she started to consider those words as a possible truth “You’ll be just fine”

“Do you think I’m strong enough?”

She referred physical strength, but also mental, even if she didn’t know what she really meant with that question. In her eyes, her siblings and the other campers she had met seemed all so strong and tough; it was of course the result of years of tutoring in the skills of combat, shaping their moves and reflexes, moulding their bodies. It seemed impossible to ever reach that level of strength.

“My kids are warriors. Eventually, you are strong” Emily did her cute frown, not completely understanding what he meant. Ares had to find the words, not really knowing how to answer her. Oh, his little girl, always asking the tough questions. He hadn’t really thought about that… if he considered her strong enough, but the answer came to him in a breeze once he contemplated it “Yes, you are strong enough. But Emily, strength is not only about size, or power. It’s about determination, and courage; believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Look… you may be small now, but you’re a strong kid. And one day, you’ll grow into a strong warrior”

Emily hugged his legs again then, smiling up at him. The sincerity and admiration in her expression towards him stirred something inside Ares, like the day he had left her at camp.

“Thank you, Daddy”

He nodded, acknowledging her words. She let go of him then, running back to where her Teddy and her plate of cookies lay, grabbing one of said biscuits, offering it to him.

“For you” she smiled, and he was actually speechless for a second, not knowing how to react to such an innocent and kind gesture. Emily understood that in her own way, remembering how she threw part of her food into the fire every day praying to him “Oh… do you want me to burn it for you?”

Ares snickered, a smile taking over his face, shaking his head no. He ruffled her hair, and accepted the cookie; he took a big bite out of it, and Emily smiled again.

----

Taglist: @strawberryys-stuff @ladysybilchronicles @kyuupidwrites @nhloversblog @beansficreblogs @priyajoyy @zeeader @lightsgore

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

ToA Theory 1 - Apollo's Waking Visions

First official theory post, here we go! :D

Alright. So. After rereading The Dark Prophecy, I started wondering about something. In TDP, Apollo experiences waking visions, where he conks out for a bit and has prophetic visions.

I found this interesting because, well...isn't Apollo supposed to be cut off from prophecy? With Python back in control of Delphi?

Because think about it. Python controls Delphi, the root of all earthly prophecy. This would include Dodona, Trophonius, Herophile, and Sibyl - sure, they aren't strictly connected to Delphi, but it's pretty heavily stated that Delphi just straight-up Makes The Future. It's prophecies are The Big Deal and you Should Listen.

Meanwhile the other Oracles seem more guiding and "beware!" instead of "this is how it's gonna be".

(sidenote: found out there are MORE oracles and I wanna know WHERE THEY ARE IN RRVERSE CANON because I want my boy Branchus okay??? Okay. Branchus's oracle was second only to Delphi let's give Apollo's first boyfriend the attention he deserves!)

So of course, like all great members of this fandom, I started thinking.

Let's do a little family history first. ;)

Buckle up. We go down a deep rabbit hole 😎

Apollo and Artemis are twins, born to Leto and Zeus. Zeus's parents are Kronos and Rhea. Leto's are Koios and Phoebe.

Rhea has connections to Dodona, as we learn in-series, but she doesn't really seem to be all that involved with prophecy.

Her siblings, meanwhile...ho ho ho, they are a WHOLE NOTHER STORY!

Let's start with Phoebe. Phoebe, like all first generation Titans, is the daughter of Gaea and Ouranos. She married her brother Koios. Her children consist of Asteria, Lelantos, and Leto. As well as Artemis and Apollo, her other two grandchildren are Hecate (Asteria) and Aura (Lelantos).

Her name means "bright" and is the root of Apollo's most famous epithet - Phoebus. She is often described as "golden-crowned" and is the Titan of bright intellect, the overseer of Earthly Prophecies, and is the second guardian of Delphi, after her sister Themis. She gifted Delphi to Apollo for his birthday after he defeated Python.

Classic grandmother move.

Anyway. There's a bit of Phoebe lore. Time for her elusive husband :3

Koios. His names means "question" or "questioning", probably because he's the Titan of inquiring intellect. He's also the overseer of Heavenly Prophecies, and has an oracle up in the North Pole guarded by an earth-dragon - you'd know this serpent by the name of Draco, the constellation btw. Additionally, Hyperborea (where Apollo goes in the winter times) is part of his domain.

eyes

Unfortunately, we have very little mythological lore on these two, and even less in the RRverse (I cling to that one (1) Koios scene) which sucks because I love them already BUT it does give me lots of legroom to mess around with canon >:)

Back to the theory now. As you may have guessed, I'll be taking us in a direction concerning Apollo's mysterious grandparents. But what does this have to do with Apollo's visions?

Well. Remember when I mentioned that Delphi is the root of all earthly prophecies?

...look at Phoebe's paragraphs. She's the overseer of Earthly Prophecies, right? So it makes sense she's been affected by Python's takeover too.

(if you've read my fics you'd know this already lmao)

Asteria, Apollo's aunt, is a little trickier. She, too, has a hand in divination, but mainly through the night/stars and dreams. <-will come back to that later.

Koios, again, is overseer of Heavenly Prophecies, and is heavily implied to be able to commune with Ouranos's spirit. This is, apparently, a Big Deal because nobody else is mentioned to be able to do this.

...Except...remember this throwaway line in The Hidden Oracle?

^Apollo can see Ouranos too.

Within this theory is a sub-theory, so to speak - that immortals with the gift of prophecy can see Ouranos, since they can see what cannot be seen. This would include Phoebe, Asteria, Koios, and Apollo.

And it'll make sense why they'd keep it to themselves. Kronos wouldn't have been happy to hear his dad was still around. Neither would Zeus, for that matter.

So here I was. Contemplating. Wrote a few fics based around this idea. And one in particular got me thinking (fic in question being When The Stars Align), and a little ways down the road I realized something.

If Phoebe, the overseer of Earthly Prophecies, would have been affected by Python's takeover...was Koios? Could he even be affected?

Because here's the deal: Koios is the overseer of Heavenly Prophecies. Prophecies from the Sky.

Phoebe's are of the Earth - the Earth that Python has taken control of. And Delphi is the root of Earthly Prophecies - not Heavenly.

That would be Koios's oracle, up in the North Pole with Draco.

...So that means Heavenly Prophecy must have still been in business during ToA.

But then comes the question: If it was still within the gods' control, why didn't they use it?

Well...Draco's there, for one. He's probably the Python-equivalent of the North, and clearly he's still there since no myth has spoken of his death (that I know of).

If you ask me, I just think the gods are too nervous/afraid to try Koios's oracle. They were too scared to face Python, after all, until Apollo arrived. I think they'd be scared of a serpent who comes and goes from the stars as he pleases.

And as for why Apollo hasn't done anything about it...well, I think his fight with Python left him rather scarred, don't you think? He probably went "yeah grandma's oracle is enough" and the only time he ever got close to Koios's was during his time in Hyperborea.

So getting back to the main theory now. (So many rabbit holes to dive into with this post. The ADHD Urge is real)

Since Heavenly Prophecies is still active, but Earthly is in Python's control, I conclude Apollo's visions come from the Heavenly source.

Could they have come from the now-working Dodona? Maybe. But Dodona's all about those windchimes and trees. It doesn't have the Vibe, so to speak, for granting visions.

And remember. Trophonius, Herophile, and Sibyl aren't destroyed/freed yet. They have Zero connection to Apollo at this point because Python cut him off from them.

...but he didn't from the North. From Koios's divine power.

Because remember. Apollo is the god of prophecy.

Not of Earthly Prophecies, like Phoebe.

Not of Heavenly Prophecies, like Koios.

Not of nighttime divination and dreams like Asteria.

Of. Prophecy.

Prophecy as a whole. The entirety. The whole enchilada.

Every part of prophecy he's the god of, be it tarot cards to the Oracle of Delphi itself.

In my opinion, I think whatever Koios's Oracle is, it has just as must power as Delphi. The only problem was that...everybody just left it be. Nobody considered it because:

1) scary dragon

2) scary titan ruled the place

3) honestly at this point I think it's just straight-up forgotten about. Like Branchus's Oracle. I think at one point Apollo himself mentions there are other Oracles besides the ones in-series, but there's so many that his mortal brain cannot comprehend how many.

If the Grove of Dodona nearly faded into obscurity, then I think it's entirely possible Koios's Oracle was forgotten about (or so we think...I'm gonna be chewing on this for a while.)

Coming back round to TDP...I think this is a reasonable explanation about Apollo's visions. To summarize:

Apollo is cut off from Earthly Prophecy, his usual source of foresight that he gets from Phoebe

The unused, near-forgotten-about Heavenly Prophecy side of Apollo ignites to steer him on the right path

This is possible because Apollo is the god of prophecy itself, and not a single subset of prophecy, so he's not limited in the same way Phoebe is

Koios's Oracle is still out there and kicking and I will die on this hill

One problem. What about Asteria? She can interpret the future from the stars...aka the Sky. Like Koios. So couldn't she provide some insight to the future, since she, too, is connected to Heavenly Prophecy?

This is where things get a lil' tricky. And where I really slap on my tinfoil hat and start headcanoning my way through lmao

Basically, I think that since Asteria became the island of Delos (long story) a good chunk of her power is ingrained there. She's not as strong as she used to be, so her foresight isn't as strong.

This, in turn, I think could also serve as a reason why Koios's Oracle is "asleep" so to speak and nearly lost to memory in the RRverse - in fact, I think Asteria and Phoebe are the only ones who bother to remember its existence.

And Leto, of course. But I don't think she wants her son to know of another Oracle with a giant snake guarding it. She's had enough heart-attacks, thank you.

(Same with Lelantos, tbh.)

Canon is my sandbox and I am making some sweet sandcastles out of it XD

TL;DR

Apollo's visions in TDP stem from Koios's source of Heaven Prophecy because Phoebe's source of Earthly Prophecy (Delphi) has been taken over by Python. Koios's source firmly knocks on Apollo's mental doors and decides to kick back into gear to help its titular patron's grandson out. Because Apollo is the god of prophecy itself - every bit of it.

Extras:

I find it fascinating how magic and prophecy are both part of the same family tree (Hecate & Apollo).

and yes. You should expect a fic concerning Koios's Oracle at some point. but no promises on when :3

Thank you for coming to Insane Theory Time With Alder. I hope there will be more lmao

Websites you can look into:

Koios (Theoi)

Phoebe (Theoi)

Hyperborea (Theoi)