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bedlamsbard · 3 years

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I got a couple of different asks about Luke and Ahsoka in other side AU 10, so I guess I will just make it a regular post after all so I can answer all of them at once.

@slecnaztemnot:

Okay i just read your latest other side chapter and I wanted to ask about Ahsoka and Luke dynamics. I wonder what exactly where their heretics disagreemts about the jedi doctrine? while i can guess some of the stuff like attachements i guess i mostly see ahsoka as nonjedi and therefore someone who should not be attached to doctrine about attachements (haha) so i am wondering how you see her. i would actually love your take on how their first meetings went. continued in next ask, 1/2

1/2 continuation since most people write them as Ashoka immediately spilling the beans about the whole Vader situation to Luke and yours Ahsoka didn't. So I am curious what do you think Ahsoka feels about it. I got of course lot of it from the fic itself so i am mostly asking about how did you base your interpretation, if that makes sense and what led you to the narrative choices to portray their relationship in such way.

@comentter:

I'm most interested in what Luke and Ahsoka know about each other. Luke doesn't know much about Ahsoka obviously, but does he have any idea why she seems to hate him? He must be desperate lol. And how much does Ahsoka know about what happened on the DS2? And how much does Kanan know about these events? What was Hera able to tell him and what else did Luke and Ahsoka tell him? I always figure that everyone but Luke and a few people he told (like Leia) think the Emperor and Vader from the DS2 explosion.

I now have this image in my head of Ahsoka spending time with Rex and her laughing as Rex does something like tell a joke or a specific gesture. Then Luke walks by, does the exact same thing and Ahsoka is like "Of course, you'd do this stupid thing, you idiot!" :D

I think shortly before I started writing this sequence I had seen some cute art of Luke and Ahsoka hugging, which is a pretty common art trope and which has never sat quite right with me. I also have the tendency to want to do the opposite of common fanon, which I can’t leave out either. I also wanted to logic out what the hell was going on with Ahsoka’s charaterization in her Mando episode on a Watsonian level rather than a Doylist one (which I did a few weeks ago), even if other side takes place well before Mando and doesn’t intersect with it in any meaningful way.

When it came to the Luke and Ahsoka relationship (or lack thereof), it came down to three questions for me:

Who knows what?

What do they know?

When do they know it?

I made the decision early on in the chapter to leave Leia out of this relationship entirely, since the new canon seems to at this point in time (within a year of RotJ) be keeping it relatively quiet that she and Luke are siblings, and it’s not something that Hera would have a reason to know. (Note also that this entire sequence is told from Hera’s POV, which plays into the “who knows what when” angle.)

As per Rebels S4 (not the epilogue, because Mando’s thrown that out the window), Ahsoka knows (or has good reason to believe) the following:

Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader, Sith Lord

Darth Vader was directly or indirectly responsible for the genocide of the Jedi Order and the deaths of any Jedi who survived the Purge (”you and your Inquisitors saw to that”)

Padme Amidala is dead

Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead (Obi-Wan was not dead, but she has no way to know this)

no Darksider can return to the Light side

At the end of RotJ (not taking into account anything that happened in the comics or ancillary novels, which I’m not up to date on), Luke knows (or has good reason to believe) the following:

Darth Vader is Anakin Skywalker

everyone Anakin ever knew is dead, mostly because of him

Vader returned to being Anakin Skywalker at the end of his life

(Leia presumably also knows all of this, perhaps with a few more details based on things her parents might have told her, but her feelings about Darth Vader are: Bad, Do Not Want, to be glib about it.)

Now, there’s one other factor here, which is Rex. Rex knew Anakin and knew Ahsoka and was in the Rebel Alliance -- we know that he was on Yavin IV prior to Luke’s arrival and we know that he fought in the Battle of Endor. (And turns up in a couple of scattered art panels from the comics.) If we want to take his brief appearance in Galaxy of Adventures with Han Solo’s strike force as canon, then he may have also known Han and probably Luke -- certainly his ears would have pricked up at the name “Skywalker.” (Okay, there’s one other factor, which is R2-D2, but Artoo never tells anyone anything despite knowing...everything. Or most things, anyway.) Rex doesn’t seem to know that Anakin became Darth Vader (I believe there’s an interview somewhere where Dave or Pablo or someone says that a meeting between Rex and Vader would be “awkward,” but there’s no canonical reason to believe that he knew about the Anakin/Vader connection), but he probably found out at some point that the 501st was the battalion involved in the assault on the Jedi Temple. He also, as of Rebels S3-4, assumes that Vader killed Ahsoka -- presumably Ezra would have told him as much as he could. (And Ezra does know that Vader is Anakin, so he may have told Rex that as well.) Rex also knows that Anakin Skywalker was having an affair with Padme Amidala, but presumably didn’t know about (a) the marriage or (b) the pregnancy, because how would he know?

Then we come to Ahsoka’s return and unfortunately the current canon gives us no time point for when it actually happened: presumably Ahsoka did not or could not return to the greater galaxy at the point she “left”, during the fight on Malachor (3 BBY), because as of Rebels S3-4 everyone still believes she’s dead. Maybe she’s still stuck on Malachor without a way to get off, who knows; maybe after S4 Ezra grabbed her into the World Between Worlds she decided to stay on Malachor until she ~caught up with the main timeline, which...you then have to believe that Ahsoka is going to deliberately remove herself from the war, which I can get to, but is not something I’m totally comfortable with. Or she pops out in the timeline at the same time that Ezra returns to the main timeline and is able to more or less immediately return to the main timeline narrative, plus or minus a few weeks. (There are, after all, still a couple of Advanced TIE fighters parked in the Sith temple, even if they were potentially damaged in the temple collapse. Ahsoka could have repaired them or used the comms systems to call for a pick-up -- this is, btw, what happens in Crown.) We don’t know when the S2 finale scene/S4 WBW scene of Ahsoka walking back into the temple actually takes place in the timeline; it doesn’t have to be at the exact same time as the rest of the S2 finale sequence (since obvs Vader dragging himself out, Maul flying off, and the Rebels crew looking sad doesn’t all take place at the exact same time).

Other side AU is deliberately vague about when Ahsoka returns from the World Between Worlds/Malachor/to the Rebel Alliance; it’s not stated in the story, but I made the assumption that she came back shortly after the (non-epilogue) end of the Rebels finale, but was still deeply messed up from her Malachor revelations. (Also, like, Sidious, I guess, but she was probably so messed up about Anakin/Vader that Sidious being around barely registered.) Since she never seems to have held a formal position in the Rebel Alliance, I assumed that after she returned and let everyone know she was still alive, she then immediately took off to try and figure out what the hell happened with Anakin at the end of the Clone Wars, since she saw him like a week before he snapped and at the time he seemed fine.

The problem is that almost everyone involved is dead.

Now, at this point (shortly before Scarif and ANH), a few people are still alive who then die shortly, but whom Ahsoka may have no reason to believe were involved. Bail Organa, for example, is still around, but aside from him being Padme’s friend Ahsoka doesn’t have a reason to know that Bail was there when Padme died -- and since they were in contact for the nineteen years preceding there’s no reason for her to assume now that he was keeping something for her. Back in the comics (before I stopped reading them), Vader did some digging to figure out what was going on with Padme and his child; Ahsoka probably would have done the same digging (without having to torture anyone), but without necessarily knowing that Padme was pregnant. Knowing the date of Padme’s death (same as the Republic, essentially), she may have had a previous assumption that Padme was assassinated on Palpatine’s orders, but knowing that Vader is Anakin probably moves that assumption closer to the truth, that Anakin was somehow involved in Padme’s death one way or another. Sooner or later Ahsoka will turn up the fact that Padme was pregnant, come to the obvious conclusion that Anakin was the father, and possibly find out the same thing that Vader does in the comics -- that the child was born before Padme died. (But also probably not that Padme was carrying twins, but even if she found that out, it wouldn’t make a difference.)

While Ahsoka is doing her digging (and there really isn’t much information out there to find), the events of Rogue One and ANH happen, and Ahsoka comes back to the Rebel Alliance to find out which of her friends are still alive. (Maybe Rex is with her at this point, who knows.)

Everyone in the Rebel Alliance is talking about some young hotshot named Luke Skywalker.

Luke Skywalker who has a very familiar lightsaber, who claims his father was Anakin Skywalker, and who had some kind of relationship with Obi-Wan Kenobi, who turned up on the Death Star, fought Darth Vader, and died.

Ahsoka has just spent the past few months trying to figure out what happened with Anakin, and as best she can reassemble the facts it mostly comes down to “Anakin did something dumb for Padme, that something dumb was ‘turn to the Dark Side and kill literally everyone,’ and then Padme died, the Republic was overturned, and the Jedi Order was wiped out.” Ahsoka presumably walks into a room, hears the name Luke Skywalker -- maybe sees him -- and is all at once face to face with the living evidence of just how badly Anakin fucked up.

This is just too much for Ahsoka to deal with at the moment, so she takes off again, and spends the next five years brushing in and out of the Rebel Alliance doing odd missions that can really only be done by a trained Force-user. Rex, who seems to have a more stable position in the Alliance, is always going to side with Ahsoka over anyone else; if she tells him not to tell Luke that she knew Anakin, he won’t. (And for that matter, he may have somewhat fraught feelings about Luke himself.) She may have the odd interaction with Luke -- who has heard that there’s another Jedi in the Alliance and wants to be friends/get real training -- but Ahsoka just does not want any part of this. It’s irrational! She knows it’s irrational! But this is the living evidence of Anakin’s failure, Anakin who last she saw him TRIED TO KILL HER, who was at least partially responsible for the deaths of everyone she ever knew. (And honestly, finding out that Vader topped it all off by killing Obi-Wan is not going to help.)

Ahsoka may also be feeling a certain amount of survivor’s guilt: if Ezra had not pulled her out of the Malachor temple at that exact moment, she came pretty close to bringing the temple down on both herself and Vader, and may have succeeded in killing him. She did not do so, and who knows how many people died because of that in the years between Malachor and Yavin? (Just because Tarkin was the one who gave the order doesn’t mean that Ahsoka may at least partially blame Alderaan’s destruction on Vader, if she knew he was on the Death Star then.) She knows he killed Obi-Wan.

The Yoda lineage is very good at going “yikes, I am going off to live alone and beat myself up over my failure for years” and Ahsoka is very much an example of that lineage.

She and Luke have a relationship of “Hi, I’m Luke Skywalker, do you want to talk?” and “I have to leave immediately,” maybe with the odd “please stop using that lightsaber grip it is physically painful for me to watch, do it like this instead, okay, bye.” Luke probably told all of two other people about what happened with Vader on the Death Star, Leia and Han; he has no reason to tell anyone else about it because it won’t matter to them. Why would he tell Ahsoka, whom he has no relationship with? He doesn’t know that Ahsoka knew Anakin Skywalker and would only know if one of four people told him: Ahsoka herself (no), Rex (no), R2-D2 (maybe), or Admiral Ackbar (would never have occurred to Luke to ask, might have occurred to Ackbar to say). (We also don’t know that Mon Mothma knew Ahsoka very well, or at all, for that matter; they never interacted in TCW.)

As for her swinging harder into overt Jedi-ness by Mando after her blatant “I am no Jedi” of Rebels, it reads to me as a response to the Anakin/Vader revelation (especially the attachment thing). She had made certain assumptions in the TCW period (see her saving Rex in the TCW finale) and prior to Rebels; Kanan’s method of Jediness was something she could accept in the time period and in those circumstances; the Anakin/Vader revelation shattered all of that, followed immediately as it was by Kanan apparently going full Jedi self-sacrifice despite his attachments. (Her reaction to Ezra being a trauma response about two very different circumstances.) All of a sudden what she thought might have been mutable based on the circumstances became something that had to be adhered to in case of dangerous results, which she had just had brought home to her in extremely bad circumstances.

I made a crack somewhere about Mando’s central tension being between “being Mandalorian” and “being doing Mandalorianness”; I think in the post-OT period with Ahsoka and Luke we’re seeing something similar with “being Jedi” and “being doing Jediness.” Even if Ahsoka isn’t actively claiming the title Jedi anymore (because what does that accomplish in most contexts?), she’s leaning far more into the tenets of the Jedi Order -- which Luke doesn’t know and doesn’t know he doesn’t know.

Thus the doctrinal dispute.

Ahsoka grew up in the Jedi Order. That’s what she knows, that’s how she knows how to be a Jedi; for her being a Jedi is being part of the Jedi Order, whether or not the actions associated with performing Jediness are being actively practiced. Luke doesn’t have that context. For Luke, being a Jedi is...being doing Jediness. (This is super awkward phrasing.) Performing the actions of a Jedi. Luke has a few holocrons, but I’m guessing that a lot of what is on those holocrons makes the assumption that whoever is opening with them has the context of being a part of the Jedi Order and doesn’t explain really basic stuff about the Order or what that means. Luke’s Jedi Order is not going to be the Republic Jedi Order made anew; it’s going to be something that has a resemblance to it and is based on a similar view of the Force, even arguably its heir, but is just not going to be the same thing. It can’t be. Luke doesn’t know what he doesn’t know.

Kanan, of course, is coming into all of this from a similar context as Ahsoka: he grew up in the Jedi Order, it’s what he knows, it’s who he is. Except Kanan never walked away from the Order, so while Ahsoka had been disconnected from her Jediness at the time of the Purge, he never lost his -- part of Ahsoka’s tension from TCW S7-Rebels was “I can’t be a Jedi because the Order is gone” and Kanan’s was “can I be a Jedi without the Jedi Order?” (Ezra is a whole ‘nother thing but is somewhat outside the scope of this.) The Jedi Order never factors in Luke’s Jediness at all. (There’s some lineage doctrinal dispute here as well -- the Yoda lineage seems to be very closely connected to the Order as the font of Jediness, the Windu-Billaba lineage somewhat less so. The Yoda lineage is like...the hardcore conservatives of the Jedi Order, though, and are probably not typical.)

Poor Kanan came back from the dead, after a week in another universe (which had its own problems; he’s been trying to very gently convince his counterpart that even after being an Inquisitor for months he can still be a Jedi), into Luke trying to build a new Jedi Order from scratch, Ahsoka firmly believing it couldn’t and shouldn’t be done and not wanting to be in the same room as Luke at all (not to mention that she really did not believe that they should have gone for “hey, let’s send Hera Syndulla to another universe” as even being an option), and both of them having essentially incompatible notions of being a Jedi at each other -- this is probably the most time Luke and Ahsoka ever spent in each other’s presence. They’ve probably never articulated their problems at each other, just assumed that the other knew them. And Kanan has his own “how to be a Jedi” approach, which is from a very different than either Ahsoka or Luke because despite originating from the same context as Ahsoka, he had a very different path to get to his present position.

As for what Kanan knows -- uh, pretty much only what Hera knew, and Hera knew very little? She was friendly with Luke and Leia, but didn’t have much interaction with them -- she states that she had a tendency to avoid Luke because even if she would never say it to Luke’s face, she silently believes that if any Jedi should have been in the Rebel Alliance, it should have been Kanan and Ezra and not this relative newcomer. If the Death Star 2 news about Vader and Palps was never common knowledge, then Hera wouldn’t have known it. Kanan’s in a position of having to play catch-up, but also having a completely different priority (finding Ezra). He sat through this meeting where after they’d finished grilling him on “you were in ANOTHER UNIVERSE and also you CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD?” they politely sniped at each other with a bunch of context he didn’t have and flat out decided that wow, he did not want to deal with this at all, whatsoever.

(This is also not stated in the story, but Luke and Ahsoka also disagreed about whether Jacen should be trained or not: Luke said, yeah, of course, when he’s a little older! and Ahsoka said nope, he’ll be fine, it will go away. Hera was just very “...I will deal with this later” about it since it wasn’t an urgent issue.)

#also thanks to reena-jenkins and isweedan for talking this out with me #other side au tag

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buoyantsaturn · 3 years

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Bring On The Monsters (8/8)

chapter title: The Prophecy Comes True

word count: 4,520

read on ao3

The Doors of Orpheus let them out into the middle of Central Park, and from there, Will did his best to lead the di Angelos to the Empire State Building. In his defense, he’d only ever been in the city once, and Argus had driven him and the rest of camp there in a camp van.

When they got to the door, Bianca set a hand on Will’s shoulder to stop him from walking inside. She held the Lotus card out to him.

“You should go back to camp,” Bianca said. “We don’t know how Zeus is going to react, and we don’t need him getting angry at you and your dad when he’s only mad at ours right now. Trust me, Will, it’ll be safer for you this way.”

Will took the card, looking dejected, though he nodded in acceptance. He kept his gaze on the ground as he said, “You’ll wanna go to the 600th floor. Ask the doorman for the key. He’s gonna be a real jerk, but don’t let that stop you. And…” He lifted his eyes and met Nico’s. “Find me when you get back to camp, okay? I’ll be...in the infirmary, probably, but maybe the pavilion, depending on what time it is, and if it’s after dark then I’ll be in my cabin, but--”

Nico jumped forward and pulled Will into a hug. “Be careful.”

Will hugged him back. “You too.”

Will pulled away and glanced at Bianca, holding his arms out awkwardly. She punched him in the arm. “If you manage to get yourself killed between here and camp after the week we just had, I’ll find you in the Underworld and kill you again myself.”

Will nodded. “Noted.” He pushed forward for a hug that lasted no more than a second, and then he ran toward the street to hail a cab.

With one hand, Bianca tightly gripped the strap of her backpack, and reached down to grasp Nico’s hand in the other. “C’mon, Nico, let’s pay our uncle a visit.”

Will had been right about the doorman giving them a hard time, but after Bianca threatened him with her knife, he handed over the keys and pointed them toward the elevator. After what seemed like half an hour, the doors finally opened, not into a building, but out onto a stone path that wove between lush green hills.

Every building on Olympus was white. White and bright with little bits of silver decorating everything that reflected the sun straight into Nico’s eyes. He wished he was back in the Underworld, and he’d barely even stepped foot in Olympus at that point.

They followed the path to the palace, which was almost an exact replica of the one in the Underworld, only - of course - white and silver instead of black and gold. Nico hated it already. At least they had a good idea of where the throne room would be once they got inside.

Zeus was much more unnerving than their father, having chosen to appear as a larger being while Hades had opted for a regular human height. Zeus towered over them and glared with so much force that Nico thought would kill them in an instant if he had his bolt. And Hera’s presence at his side was nowhere near as comforting as Persephone’s had been.

“Hello, um,” Bianca started awkwardly, and then fell to her knees and bowed her head. She tugged Nico down beside her. “Uncle Zeus. We came to deliver your Master Bolt.”

“Admitting guilt?” Zeus asked with a raised brow.

“No, sir,” Bianca answered swiftly, and started removing her backpack. “We were set up. Ares gave us this bag during our quest, and it must have been...enchanted, somehow, so that the Bolt appeared after a certain amount of time.”

Zeus watched them for a second before replying, “Are you telling me that my own son stole my symbol of power? You do realize that it’s impossible for another god to do so.”

“No, sir,” Bianca said again. “He was working with someone else.”

“Who?”

Bianca hesitated, so Nico answered, “We don’t know.”

“Our dad had a guess,” Bianca told him, “but he wouldn’t tell us what it was. He said it was impossible, and that he couldn’t believe it was true.”

“And something about things stirring,” Nico said, though he wasn’t sure why he chose to bring that up specifically.

Something about it must have struck Zeus, though, because his eyes widened and he leaned back on his throne. He whispered something to his wife, whose expression turned to one of shock and fear, which definitely wasn’t making Nico feel any better.

“Give me the Bolt,” Zeus said, holding out a hand. Bianca took the cylinder out of her bag and approached the throne, setting the Bolt in Zeus’s hand. “I shall let you both live, for now. Return to camp, mention nothing of this stirring to anyone.”

Was that supposed to be their dismissal?

Bianca seemed to think so, because she returned to Nico’s side, barely stopping to grab her back with one hand and Nico’s arm with the other as she left the throne room. “Not even a thank you,” she muttered as soon as they were out of the palace.

They marched back in the direction of the elevator, though this time Nico caught himself watching the scenery as they went. There were nymphs and minor gods wandering about, and someone that looked an awful lot like… “Will?” Nico said before tripping over his next step.

“What?” Bianca asked. “Did you say you saw Will? He followed us up here after I told him not to?” She sounded angry, and was scanning the horizon in the same direction Nico was looking.

The Will look-alike appeared to notice them, and said goodbye to whoever he had been talking to. He jogged toward the demigods with a sunshiney grin, and it didn’t take Nico long to realize that this definitely wasn’t Will. For one, his hair wasn’t quite as golden, and he lacked Will’s freckles. And he was a good foot and a half taller than Will.

“Hey, di Angelos, right?” the man - probably a god, Nico’s brain supplied - greeted. “My son’s been praying non-stop for the last hour that I stop Dad from smiting you two, though I don’t know how he expected me to do that. But anyway, you made it out alive! That’s great!”

“Your...son?” Nico asked, feeling his face heating up at the attention the god was showing to him. That, and the fact that his chiton showed much more skin than it was probably supposed to.

“Will!” he said, his face somehow lighting up even more at the name. “I’m Apollo, you know, god of the sun? And poetry, and healing, and blah blah, all that. Hey, thanks for keeping my baby safe out there on his first quest. Well, he’s not my baby, but you know what I mean. My youngest. Well, my youngest at camp. Anyway, he’s going to be really happy to see that you both made it back to camp safely. And trust me, I’m also the god of prophecy. I know.”

“I don’t suppose you know how we’re getting back to camp,” Bianca said. “I gave Will the rest of our money, because I didn’t know for sure that we would be leaving. So now we’re sort of stuck here.”

Apollo thought about it for a second, tapping his chin with one index finger. Then, he reached behind himself and brought out a single gold coin. “This should be enough for a cab.”

“Cabs take mortal money,” Nico pointed out. “Not drachmas.”

Apollo grinned. “So don’t take a mortal cab!”

Nico was not a fan of the Gray Sisters. He almost puked in the back of their cab more than once in the ten minute drive - which was supposed to be closer to an hour. Nico and Bianca stumbled over Half Blood Hill, still struggling to regain their bearings. Once he could finally see camp, Nico’s eyes started scanning for Will.

He ran at full speed toward the infirmary.

Nico burst through the door, his eyes wild and searching. There were blond sons of Apollo inside, all looking at him with startled expressions, but none of them were Will. Finally, Lee grinned and said, “Hey, Nico, he’s--”

“Nico?” Will’s voice came from across the infirmary, and he practically flew out of the storage room. In a second, Nico was nearly knocked off his feet with the force of Will’s hug. “You’re okay! I was so worried, I kept praying, and you’re okay!”

“I’m okay,” Nico said with a giddy laugh, closing his arms around Will and tucking his face into his friend’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Will pulled back, just a few inches. “Wait, and Bianca?”

Nico nodded. “She’s okay.”

Will hugged him again.

After a few moments, Lee approached them and ruffled Will’s curls. “Alright, Will, let the boy breathe.” Will released Nico reluctantly and took a step back, but he took Nico’s hand instead. Lee turned to Nico and set a hand on his shoulder. “Glad to see you again, Nico! Any injuries I should know about before we go talk to Chiron?”

Nico squeezed Will’s hand, then shook his head.

“Alright, then let’s go get Bianca, and we’ll have Chiron call a head counselor meeting,” Lee said, then turned to Will and winked. “You’re in charge until I get back.”

The counselor meeting was just as uncomfortable as the first, if not more. It was clear that the other counselors still weren’t very fond of the di Angelos, but they were interested to hear about the quest - especially when Nico slipped up and mentioned the stirring again. There was a short debate over who Ares might have been working with, though Chiron had seemed thoroughly uneased, and ended the meeting early, insisting that Nico and Bianca needed rest. They were shuffled into their room in the Big House and left alone.

It made Nico feel trapped.

When they got to their room, though, Nico spotted gifts on each of their beds - wrapped, but in a way that showed exactly what was underneath. He figured it was probably difficult to wrap a sword without making it look like a sword.

There was a note left beside the sword that Nico couldn’t decipher, so he handed it off to Bianca to read for him.

Dear Nico,

I understand that your visit has left you unarmed, so I had your sword fished out of the Styx. The river has wiped away the curse placed upon it, and has transformed the blade from Celestial Bronze to Stygian Iron. This new blade is equally effective against monsters, though it has other properties that I would be happy to teach you of in person. The offer to visit again still stands, and I can ensure that you will receive the best training Elysium has to offer.

I hope to see you again soon.

Your Father

Bianca received a similar note, alongside a new knife and a bow. The blade of her knife, the heads of her new set of arrows, and the blade of Nico’s sword were all made from the same black material. Almost like obsidian, though it didn’t reflect light, and it was freezing cold to the touch.

Nico couldn’t wait to try it out.

He and Bianca had sword practice in the arena with the Hephaestus cabin about a week later. Just about everyone from cabin nine wanted to get a closer look at Nico’s sword, though he didn’t want to let anyone touch it until he learned about those other properties that Hades had mentioned. He wasn’t going to be responsible for… For sucking out somebody’s soul, or something.

When Beckendorf asked, though, Nico found he couldn’t outright deny him. He had made the sword, after all, even if it had been changed since then. Beside, Beckendorf was actually Nico’s friend, unlike most of the Hephaestus cabin. Sure, everyone had started warming up to Nico and Bianca by then, but Beckendorf had been there from the beginning. Sort of.

He was no Will, is what Nico was trying to say.

So, when Beckendorf asked to try out Nico’s sword, Nico had refused. And when Beckendorf came back with, “How about later, during free time? We can go out into the woods, so no one has to know.” And Nico figured, as long as nobody could see that he was playing favorites, then it was probably okay.

Which was how Nico found himself sneaking off with his sword just after dinner, making his way into the woods in the direction of Zeus’s fist. Beckendorf was already in the woods waiting for him, a few cans of Coke on the ground next to the rock he was sitting on. He smiled when he saw Nico.

“Hey, man, I was starting to think you’d ditched me,” Beckendorf joked. He reached down for one of the cans. “You want a Coke?”

“Bianca says I shouldn’t have sugar,” Nico told him.

Beckendorf tossed him the can. “She doesn’t have to know.” He cracked open his own can, and nodded to the scabbard at Nico’s hip. “So, you gonna let me see that thing, or what?”

Nico pulled the sword out of its sheath and stepped closer to Beckendorf to hand it over. The son of Hephaestus stood, then nodded toward the rock he’d been sitting on for Nico to use as he started to move away.

“It’s really well-made,” Beckendorf said, testing the weight in his hand and eyeing the blade to make sure the lines were all straight.

“You made it,” Nico reminded him, and Beckendorf shot him a confused look. “It’s the same sword I left camp with. My dad, uh-- Apparently, if you dip a sword in the Styx, it comes out like...that.”

Beckendorf took a few practice swings into open air, then came back to Nico. He handed the sword back, and reached around Nico for his own scabbard, on the ground behind the rock. “Why would he dip it in the Styx?” he asked, moving away again. “Did he say?”

Nico hesitated. The sword had been cursed, but Nico didn’t know when that could’ve happened, since it never left his side after he left camp. Which meant it must have been cursed before he left… Surely not all curses were bad, if it had been cursed at camp. “He said it was...cursed.”

Beckendorf nodded, like he wasn’t surprised, then gripped the hilt of his own sword. “Well, not all curses are bad, you know. I just made a new sword for myself, complete with a few curses of its own. Wanna see?” He didn’t even give Nico a chance to nod before he pulled it from the sheath.

The sword was easily a foot longer than Nico’s, and it reflected the sun almost blindingly compared to Nico’s. The blade was split down the middle, one half Celestial Bronze, and the other half something closer to silver.

“It’s really difficult to forge these two metals together,” Beckendorf was saying. “It took quite a few curses just to keep this thing from busting apart with a single hit, but it’s definitely worth it.”

“What is it?” Nico asked.

Beckendorf grinned. “I call it Backbiter. Half Celestial Bronze, half steel.”

Nico flinched. “Steel? But we’re not supposed to--”

“And whose rule is that?” Beckendorf cut in. “Chiron’s? Do you really think he knows what’s best for us?”

Nico ducked his head and shrugged, flicking at the pop top on the can without opening it.

Beckendorf kneeled down in front of Nico, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Nico, the gods make all sorts of rules for us to pretend that they care, when really, they’re just trying to keep us in line. They don’t realize that, together, we’re way more powerful than them. You’re going to be the most powerful demigod in the world someday, kid, and the gods are just going to keep piling on more rules to keep you from taking them down. Why should you have to reign it in when they never do?”

Nico frowned, and said the first words that came to mind. “My dad cares about me.”

Beckendorf gave him a sympathetic smile. “He doesn’t.”

“He does,” Nico shouted, shoving Beckendorf’s hand away. “He told me himself, and he wants me to come back to the Underworld!”

“So he can trap you there,” Beckendorf said, rising to his feet to tower over the younger demigod. “He knows how powerful you could become.” He held out a hand to Nico, though his other hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. “Look, Nico. I’m leaving camp, and I want you to come with me. I can help you train. We can find every other demigod before they make it to camp, and we can build up an army against the gods.”

“Why would I want to fight against the gods?” Nico asked, eyes flickering between Beckendorf’s face and his sword. “The gods help. It’s the monsters that we have to fight!”

Beckendorf raised his sword to Nico’s chin. “I thought you trusted me, Nico. I came to you because I thought we were friends! Are you really going to make me kill you? What do you think will happen to Bianca? Will she join me when I tell her that your dad sent another hellhound to take you out? Or will I have to kill her, too?”

Nico’s sword was in his hand without him realizing that he’d even picked it up. “Don’t touch my sister!” he screamed, and lunged blindly. Beckendorf parried his strike easily, and Backbiter sliced through Nico’s skin, just beneath his ribs. Beckendorf yanked the sword back, tugging Nico forward with it and knocking him off balance. Nico dropped to his knees.

“It didn’t have to come to this, Nico,” Beckendorf said as Nico clutched at the wound in his stomach. “Hopefully Bianca won’t choose to fight.”

Then he was gone.

Nico didn’t hear him walk away (probably due to the pounding of blood in his ears) and he couldn’t see any sign of Beckendorf around him (though there were black stops in the corners of his eyes that were moving inward). The only thing that Nico found around him was his sword. With one hand still holding pressure on his stomach, Nico reached for his sword, then used it somewhat like a crutch as he pulled himself toward the nearest shadow. He would never make it back into central camp on his own two feet, and he still didn’t know how the whole teleportation thing worked, but he had to try.

Hades had said something about shadows, so that’s where Nico went. And instead of crawling onto solid ground, he slipped through the earth, reappearing in the shadow of the Apollo cabin.

And he passed out.

Nico’s stomach hurt. Not like he’d eaten something he shouldn’t have, but like he’d pulled a muscle. Or a lot of muscles. Or like someone else had tried to pull his muscles out of his body.

He opened his eyes. He was in the infirmary, and there was a familiar head of blond hair resting on the cot at Nico’s side. Will’s hand was gripping Nico’s hand tightly in his own, despite how heavily he was sleeping.

“Charlie…” Nico whispered, suddenly remembering what had happened. He tugged on Will’s hand, but the other boy didn’t move. “Will-- Bianca!”

The curtain around his bed shifted, and one of Will’s brother’s poked his head in. Michael, Nico thought after a second. He was one of the only children of Apollo that didn’t have their father’s golden hair. He didn’t smile much, either, and those two facts had always caused Nico to have a hard time believing that he and Will could be related, let alone brothers.

Michael crossed to Nico, setting a hand on his shoulder with a stern, “Don’t move. Will put a lot of work into keeping you alive, and he won’t be happy if you mess that up.” He glanced down at his younger brother with the beginnings of a fond smile. “He healed you all by himself. And knocked himself right out.”

“Where’s Bianca?” Nico demanded. “Beckendorf, he--”

“She’s okay,” Michael cut in. “She wouldn’t leave your side when you suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and Chiron just took her to grab some lunch. They’ll be right back.”

“And Beckendorf?” Nico asked.

Michael frowned. “What about him? I haven’t seen him since dinner last night.”

“He stabbed me,” Nico said, feeling his body starting to shake at the memory. “He said he was going to kill me, and that he was gonna kill Bia next. He’s-- He’s running away to build an army!”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Woah, dude, uh. Maybe you should wait for Chiron to come back before you start talking about stuff like that.”

“Betrayed by a friend,” Nico mumbled to himself. “The prophecy...it wasn’t over yet.”

Nico and Bianca were kept under close surveillance for the rest of the summer, and Beckendorf never showed his face again. Nico wasn’t sure how many people had heard the truth, but it seemed like there was something of a divide at camp. There were the people who were on Nico’s side - the Apollo cabin, a bunch of Will’s friends, and a few who had befriended Bianca at some point or another - and the people who were in some way loyal to Beckendorf. Nico wondered how many of those people were going to disappear, and end up as part of Beckendorf’s “army.”

By the end of the summer, Nico felt more welcomed at camp than he ever had before. He had friends, more than just Will, and he didn’t feel like so much of an outsider. He was happy, and he was excited to stay at camp, until one day in August when Will sat him down by the lake and announced that he was going home to Texas for the school year.

“I’ve been at camp year-round for the last two years,” Will told him. “I miss my mama, and my grandparents. We all agreed that I would be safer here, but after going on that quest… I think I’ll be able to keep myself safe out in the real world, too.”

Nico felt ice in the scar on his stomach. “But… Charlie.”

Will’s expression dropped. “I know. But Nico, you have to know that I would never go with him after what he did to you.”

“But he could hurt you.”

Will shook his head. “I won’t let him get close enough. I’m fast, I can outrun him no problem. Besides, once you figure out your teleporting thing, you can come check up on me.” Will bumped Nico with his shoulder. “I know you’ll keep me safe.”

“I don’t...know how it works,” Nico told him.

“You’ll figure it out! While I’m with my mama, you can go visit your dad, and he can teach you all sorts of stuff,” Will said. “And when you come back to camp, you can sneak onto the computer in the Big House and email me about all the cool stuff you’ve done!”

Nico pouted down at the grass. “I don’t know what that means.”

“I’ll show you,” Will promised.

“And…” Nico hesitated. “Beckendorf, he said… He said that my dad doesn’t really want me to visit. He said that Hades is just going to lock me up so I can never get powerful enough to fight back against him.”

Will’s expression darkened at the mention of Beckendorf, and he sighed in frustration. “Well, he wasn’t there, and I was. I saw how much your dad wants you to visit him, and how much he wanted to help you learn stuff. I wish my dad would tell me stuff like that, but I’ve never even met him.”

“I have,” Nico said.

“What?” Will asked. “When?”

“On Olympus. He said you were praying that Zeus wouldn’t kill us,” Nico told him. “He thanked us for keeping you safe on the quest, and he gave us money to get back to camp. He… You look a lot like him. He called you his baby.”

Will’s nose scrunched up. “That’s...embarrassing. He really said that?”

Nico nodded. “You know, if you go away for school, then you might not be the youngest when you come back.”

Will’s eyes widened. “What? Did he tell you that? Do I have more siblings?”

“He said you were his youngest at camp,” Nico replied. “He… He didn’t say anything, but he implied it.”

“Woah,” Will said, glancing out toward the lake. Then, he shoved at Nico’s arm. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to leave! You think I’ll stick around just for the chance that I get a new sibling.”

“Well...won’t you?”

Will laughed. “And then what am I supposed to do all winter when you’re in the Underworld with your dad?”

“Who says I’m gonna do that?”

“You’d be stupid not to.”

Nico shoved him. “Maybe you’re stupid for going to school.”

“I’m definitely gonna be if I don’t.” He grinned at Nico, poking him in the stomach near the place where he’d been stabbed. “Now that I know I’m such an awesome healer, I’ve decided that I’m gonna be a doctor someday, so I have to go to school.”

Nico grabbed Will’s hand to stop the poking. “Promise me you’ll be careful? And Iris Message me if Beckendorf shows up. I don’t care if I don’t know how the shadow travel stuff works yet. I’ll figure it out, and I’ll come get you.”

Will squeezed his hand. “Maybe you can come visit for Christmas. Don’t let me leave camp without giving you my email address, okay? And my home address. And my mama’s phone number!”

The end of summer came a week later. Some of the campers wouldn’t be leaving for a few more days, but Will was set to leave right after breakfast. He’d given Nico about six different ways to contact him during the school year, and he’d sneaked Nico into the Apollo cabin to help him pack the day before.

At breakfast, Chiron enlisted the dryads to hand out clay beads to every one of the campers. The beads were small, but Nico could make out the design of a white angel on the black surface. The di Angelos, Chiron had announced, the angels.

Nico and Bianca helped each other with their necklaces, and after breakfast, Nico gave Will one last hug before he was shuffled off toward the van that would take him and a few other campers to the airport.

Nico sat on the top of Half Blood Hill in the shade of Percy’s willow tree and watched the van drive away. Then he stayed a little while longer, until finally pulling himself to his feet and heading back to the Big House to pack a bag.

He was going to see his dad.

thanks for reading!!

buy me a coffee | send me other canon scenes to rewrite

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #mine #my writing #bring on the monsters

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bxffysxmmers · 3 years

Text

real gods require blood

All gods who receive homage are cruel. All gods dispense suffering without reason. Otherwise they would not be worshipped. Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear and fear is the most divine emotion. It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom. Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood. - Zora Neale Hurston

- zeus inspo - hera inspo - poseidon inspo - demeter inspo - athena inspo - apollo inspo - artemis inspo - ares inspo - aphrodite inspo - hephaestus inspo - hermes inspo - hestia inspo - dionysus inspo - persephone inspo - hades inspo - modern gods inspo used in blurbs

first thing's first: everyone in this ad should be between the ages of 22 and 27 with the exception of persephone who should be 22 - 24 and demeter who should be 25 - 27. genderbending is okay with me as long as you run it by me first because i don't want to have a million girls, i want it to be fairly balanced. everything said below should be taken with a grain of salt meaning if you put your own spin on it that is totally fine, the inspo is what matters.

additionally, only one or two characters should be from chicago, because the group is a group of people who are imports to the city and the life they have here so please do with that idea what you will. i did link to some cool pinterest boards with some inspo for a modern take on all of the different gods if you want to look at those but again, it's just for inspiration, please please please make every single one of these guys your own.

now, for the actual ad, basically these guys are something of a found family. through their jobs, parties, socializing, exes, currents, whatever they all met and it was almost instant, that connection, that 'feels like i've known you my whole life' thing that came over them. and so they stuck together, even if it was just a group text or once a year dinner party, they've all stayed in touch ever since despite distance, work, time constraints, and anything else that came between them.

the first pair that met and really started it all were aphrodite and ares. they were on again off again, always a problem with time and where their lives were at, but the love is there. they've been friends since their time in school together and it never let up, that care. the rest of the group swear one day aphrodite will find a way to settle down and be with ares but for now ares deals with the on again off again because sometimes is better than never. and then aphrodite found god here, and another one, and their interconnections grew the group and now here they are, family without being blood, with ties running through them, cutting and caressing them all the same.

from there, feel free to just get with me and we can make it work. i'm going to be making a ship developer for them (including a timeline because it seems necessary so that we have some idea on who, what, when, and how) but the basis is a found family plot with interconnections that made this many people come to mean so much to one another. from there? go wild, get with me on any questions, and please have fun with it. some suggestions for interconnections are below in the applicable boxes but if you don't want to use them just talk to me.

and lastly... if you want to add a god who isn't listed please just let me know! give me a little blurb and we can make this happen. remember the slight dystopian feel and the modern twist but like... yes, please, let's do this, i'm here for it. thanks!!

ZEUS. OPEN.

zeus drinks himself half to death at a bar. he no longer cares for mortals. he has long stopped trying to make this world turn.

suggestions: brother to poseidon and hades. married to hera. enters polyship with hera and hestia after cheating scandal. himbo energy.

HERA. OPEN.

hera no longer praises marriage. instead she talks to the women. she tells them that men always lie, tells them to run. she wishes she could take her own advice.

suggestions: married to zeus. enters polyship with zeus and hestia after cheating scandal. better than you.

POSEIDON. RESERVED FOR TESSA.

poseidon still loves the sea but he could not hate mortals more. he feels the pollution of his domain like a phantom pain, raging that he could not protect his oceans from mortals.

suggestions: brother to zeus and hades. has a crush on demeter. moods like the sea.

DEMETER. RESERVED FOR LUNA.

demeter isn't peaceful. she feels the dying of the earth and with it goes her happiness. she curses the mortals who caused this.

suggestions: older sister of persephone. doesn't approve of hades. has a crush on poseidon. the mom friend.

ATHENA. OPEN.

athena chainsmokes in an alleyway, and glares at ares as bloody knuckles and booted feet connect with battered bodies between them. the fight clubs are their temples now.

suggestions: business partners with hephaestus (queer solidarity, y'all). just doing her best. definitely sapphic. possibly once had a thing with aphrodite.

APOLLO. RESERVED FOR THOMAS.

you find apollo in a nightclub on 55th and 3rd, his prophets writhing in intermittent darkness, bassline pounding in their ears, liqour coursing in their veins, smoke and strobe lights clouding their eyes.

suggestions: twin brother of artemis. pansexual and everyone knows it. always chasing the next high, running from the lows. in a secret relationship with hermes.

ARTEMIS. RESERVED FOR DAPHNE.

artemis spends the night in a jail cell, blood on her knuckles and on her shirt and in her mouth, the smell of metal lingering in the air.

suggestions: twin sister of apollo. sapphic pls. the protector meets the vodka aunt. possibly once had a thing with aphrodite.

ARES. RESERVED FOR KITT.

you watch as ares starts a fight in a dive bar, takes a knife from his pocket and uses it without flinching, smiles as he wipes his blade on his thigh, smashes a bottle on the floor and lights a match.

suggestions: on again off again with aphrodite. in love with aphrodite. not currently with aphrodite. just a boy, made of rage and the inability to express his emotions. looks like he'll kick your ass, will pull athena and artemis off of you in a fight, exhausted that he has to yet again. also requested here.

APHRODITE. FREYA WILDER, ATHENA.

aphrodite drinks your worship straight from your lips and chases it with a scotch, crashes a cigarette, flicks the ash on the floor and leaves without so much as a thank you.

suggestions: on again off again with ares. in love with ares. running from ares. most likely to have slept with everyone in the group, twice. intimacy issues? i do know her. i know her so well. someone help.

HEPHAESTUS. OPEN.

you find hephaestus on college campuses, amongst engineering students. in times like this he is more relevant than ever, growing whilst other gods die. it seems that aphrodite is more keen on accepting his gifts now more than ever.

suggestions: business partners with athena (queer solidarity, y'all). once had a thing with aphrodite. a serious thing. didn't end well. they're totes okay now, for sure, yeah, definitely, mhm. patience is a virtue. stubborn pride is a gift. also requested here.

HERMES. RESERVED FOR TONE.

hermes is in the hustle and bustle of rush hour and the rush of the subway. he is perched atop skyscrapers, surveying the beautiful chaos of it all and lo, it is good.

suggestions: brother to hestia. in a secret relationship with dionysus apollo. running to and for, never from. chaotic good gremlin energy. do not feed after midnight. possibly once had a thing with aphrodite.

HESTIA. OPEN.

hestia mourns broken homes, she waits for her family. she waits in the doorway, arms outstretched and a smile like forgiveness waiting to embrace the siblings whom she know will never return.

suggestions: sister to hermes. pretends she doesn't know about dionysus apollo. doesn't approve of dionysus apollo. enters polyship with zeus and hera after cheating scandal. the mediator. why can't we all just get along?

DIONYSUS. OPEN.

dionysus shoots up in a basement in the seedy side of town. he wants to forget the suffering that has filled his immortal life.

suggestions: in a secret relationship with hermes. "gotta stay high, all the time, to keep you off my mind". heart of gold but no one ever seems to believe it. here for a fun time, not a long time, but thinking about that too much hurts.

PERSEPHONE. RESERVED FOR ARI.

persephone grins when people tremble. she is vengeful and wears flowers in her hair and she will make damn sure that the world will never forget her name.

suggestions: younger sister of demeter. in love with hades. she's beauty, she's grace. she'll punch you in the face.

HADES. OPEN.

hades stalks the streets, hazy in the fog of the streetlamps, and he smiles, because people will always believe in death and worship riches.

suggestions: brother to zeus and poseidon. in love with persephone. can you say trauma? secretly the most well rounded and good hearted of them all. how are you so pure, bro? who sent you?

#renegaderp #site buzz #req

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valkyriesryde · 4 years

Text

Release the Hounds {9/?}

Chapter 9: Wait for Summertime

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: The god of Spring has disappeared and no one has seen Hades for a week since. That doesn’t mean she is gone or has admitted defeat.

Word count: 2,800ish

A/N: *warning nods of parental abuse* I wrote this while listening to Hadestown so I fell ya’ll should know this chapter is heavily influenced by that soundtrack hahah, anyway, hope you enjoy!

When Hades separated the Underworld from Olympus she separated herself from the obligations of working for the Olympians and following their rules and regulations. She had free rein over what she and those residing in the Underworld could do, she had freedom to rule the way she wanted to.

When the prospect of her joining the council of the Olympians came up one of the things that was vitally important to Hades was that the Underworld remained free of Olympian control; yes they would work together on issues that affected both populations, but no, the Olympians would not hold any authority in the Underworld just as she held none in Olympus.

Technically speaking, to make it easier to understand, the Underworld and Olympus were to separate countries that, in the event that Hades did join the council, had a council that overlooked both countries and how they worked together and shared resources and experience. Sort of like the European Union.

That’s at least what Hades hoped for and the terms she discussed with Thor, in an incredibly detailed report that he had to read twice to understand completely.

But things were different now, things didn’t go as planned.

Immediately following the speeches of both Demeter and Hades eleven Olympians of the council were to meet and the decision of whether or not Hades would join would be decided. Neither parties were to be present and neither were able to vote, “to make things fair” Thor said.

However, as the gods [ThorZeus, JaneHera, LokiPoseidon, NatashaAthena, Peter QAres, TonyHephaestus, BuckyApollo, RebeccaArtemis, PepperAphrodite, T’ChallaDionysus and PeterHermes] began to make their way to meet, word reached them that the god of spring had disappeared. He had gone missing straight after the presentation along with Hades and her judges.

With a cry for justice Demeter demanded the gates of the Underworld be taken down until her son was found. Thor refused. He said there was no evidence that Steve was even missing through force and not his own accord. But the other gods weren’t overly convinced that Steve wasn’t already under some sort of influence from Hades. And with the cries of Demeter the council decided that until Steve was returned safe and his side of the story was shared that the vote will be suspended.

As Loki told Hades this she rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath. She rubbed her hands over her face and turned off her computer, standing from her desk she walked around to stand in front of Loki and shrugged her shoulders.

“There’s nothing I can do. I don’t know where he is Loki, I swear it,” she told him and he told her he believed her. They hugged, Loki bid farewell and returned to Olympus and she closed the door behind him and locked it.

That was a week ago and no one has seen Hades since. They’ve heard from her, her own council, the judges and HarleyThanatos, MJ and Peter. But none had seen her.

When Peter came by to deliver her weekly fruits the door was unlocked but there was no sign of her. He looked in every room, he listened for any footsteps, but he couldn’t find her. She watched him, walked behind him as he called for her and as he wrote her a note saying he’d popped in and was worried about her she almost revealed herself.

However, as Peter went to walk out the door he turned back to the empty entryway and for a second thought maybe he knew she was here.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can…Bucky says he’s safe.”

It didn’t take long for Hades to find him. Bucky wasn’t a subtle person when he didn’t need to be and the more obvious he was about his movements the less obvious it was that he was hiding something.

She wore her helmet, glowing gold and blue but you wouldn’t know it as it sat on her head and made her and everything she wore invisible. Her favourite accessory. Hades followed Bucky from his office well after the sun had set. She followed him into her home and to a doorway that didn’t fit into the rest of the layout of the house. The she was in New York.

Her helmet now a cap, her attire now a casual jeans and t-shirt as she continued to follow Bucky out of the alleyway and down the busy streets. He weaved through the crowd with a sense of familiarity, she figured this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

Bucky’s footsteps slowed as he neared the apartment building, he stepped inside and into the elevator and she followed him in, standing further enough away that he didn’t accidentally walk into her or touch her as he pushed the button for the ninth floor.

She was his shadow as he walked down the hallway, he’d missed her every time he had looked over his shoulder, he was none the wiser when he unlocked the door and when he called “Honey I’m home” he had no idea he had let her into the apartment after him.

“Did you bring what I asked?” Steve asked from his seat at the table, a new sketchbook Bucky had brought him open in front of him.

“Food to last you a lifetime and I even got you a special gift from me to you,” Bucky beamed and started to unpack the backpack he had brought with him.

Hades stood by the wall and watched the two. This is where Steve was, he wasn’t taken, he wasn’t kidnapped, this wasn’t against his will. He was hiding, he was here because he chose to be. Who did he fear so much that he had to hide? Why hadn’t he told anyone, why hadn’t he told Thor?!

“I don’t trust your gifts, yesterday you brought a gold fish.”

“That’s what you asked for!”

“I asked for a some paints because I wanted to paint a koi fish!”

“Pfft, what’s the difference.” Bucky bit back and leaned against the counter and smirked at Steve who stood from his seat and began walking towards him until he held his hand up for him to stop.

“Wait there, do you want your present or what?”

“Not particularly,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh you’ll want this one.”

“What is it Bucky?” He narrowed his eyes and Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth and turned his head to where Hades stood, her heart started beating faster and she started to back away towards the hallway.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

Steve looked at the empty space Bucky was looking at confused, he didn’t know what he was talking about or who to. Until Hades appeared in front of him and in her hand a cap that he knew was her cap of invisibility.

“How did you know?” She asked Bucky, diverting her eyes away from Steve.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and patted Steve’s shoulder who still stood there dumbstruck staring at Hades.

“Had a hunch,” he whispered as he walked past her, “you two have a good rest of your night,” he called and soon enough it was just Steve and Hades left in the open living area.

“I’m sorry”

“Can I get you-why are you sorry?” he walked around the counter and stopped to turn towards her. She looked at the ground and fidgeted with the cap.

“I shouldn’t have intruded on you, I’m sorry for invading your privacy,” she said, “I’ll leave you be, you obviously don’t want to be found yet, Bucky shouldn’t have led me here but I also shouldn’t have followed him.” She turned to leave just as Bucky had a minute before but Steve quickly caught her wrist.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, I can’t even begin to imagine what impact my disappearance has had. I’m sorry if its caused any repercussions for you. Bucky told me they’ve suspended the vote.” He looked guilty, like a puppy caught doing something he shouldn’t and Hades wanted so badly to reassure him and tell him it wasn’t his fault. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I can go-“

“I want you to stay,” Steve had walked back over to the kettle and turned it on, pulling down two mugs, “tea or coffee?”

“Tea please,” she stepped further into the room but still stood awkwardly in the middle of it like she didn’t quite know what to do.

“Truth be told, it’s good to see someone that isn’t Bucky. I love him, and I’m grateful for what he’s done for me but interactions with others is something I oddly miss.” Steve chuckled and placed her mug on the coffee table. He gestured for her to sit with him and she did.

It’s my fault you’re stuck here. She thought. This is my fight and you were dragged into it. I’m sorry. She wanted to tell him. I’m sorry you shouldn’t have to go through this, you shouldn’t have to hide. This is my fault, this is my fight, you’re a victim. She couldn’t get it out.

“Tell me, how’s the Underworld?” Steve acted as though this was normal, as though they sat and talked before.

“Truth be told,” she laughed nervously, “I’m not sure. I haven’t been very present for the past week or so.” She brought the mug to her lips. Steve shifted in his seat.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I didn’t know you drew,” she quickly changed the subject, Steve looked up at her curiously, he saw her looking at the discarded papers over the table, the scenes from outside that he had drawn early in the mornings and late into the nights.

“I dabble, they’re no good though.” He reached to tidy the pile but she stopped him and picked up the discarded papers.

“I’d like to see what you consider good then,” she smiled at him, “this are beautiful.”

They talked for hours about his drawings, about the things he had seen from his window, about what he thought of New York and how it differed from Olympus, “some bits are similar, it’s all so busy all the time,” he laughed.

They ignored the elephant in the room as long as they could and Hades tried to ignore how heavy the empty mug was in her hands when she placed it back on the coffee table.

“Steve,” she took a deep breath and blamed it on her nerves.

“I can’t go back Hades.” He stood from the couch and took their mugs to the sink. She followed him and Steve kept his back to her as he gripped the sink.

“You need to tell Thor, your mother needs to know you’re safe.” She reached out a hand to his shoulder but he spun around, anger and fear across his face.

“So she can find me?!”

“She doesn’t have to know you’re here.” Hades’ voice was calm as she took a step towards Steve, “but I know how terrified she must be, if Harley-if any of the ones I care about disappeared without a word for even a day I would be terrified for them.”

Steve’s face dropped, words he’d heard before ran through his head. “I would tear down mountains for you…if anything happened to you no one would be safe…” Words his mother had told him once when he yelled at her when he was younger. But Hades would be terrified if her son went missing, if anyone she cared about went missing.

“Why haven’t you been present in the Underworld lately?” He asked, surely she didn’t think of him like he hoped.

“Someone I cared about went missing…” she pushed her fingers through her hair and averted her eyes, “and I was being blamed, I was being punished and I was terrified because I knew it was my fault they were in danger.” Her voice started to rise but she still refused to look at him. “I dragged them into this, I let my idiot brothers give them false hope and I didn’t stop them from putting themselves in immediate danger. You shouldn’t have to be here.”

“I have to be. I don’t want to be here but I have to be.” Steve reached out for her hands and held them to his chest, “I did this to myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did. This is no one’s fault but my own. You’re not the villain in this Hades. It’s not because of you I’m hiding here, it’s because of her. It’s because of my own mother I’m hiding for my life, I don’t want to be here but I have to hide from her,” his voice got quiet and his eyes dropped to the floor, “she’ll kill me, she’ll tear down mountains and no one is safe. If she’s focused on finding me that tyranny from hurting anyone else.”

Hades hand reached up and wiped the tears that began to fall down Steve’s face. She held his cheek and he flinched slightly before relaxing into her touch. Hades realised then the truth behind it all. She thought Demeter was just selfish, that she was just narcissistic but there was more. She’s hurt him before.

“Are you okay?” he asked, her breathing became heavy and he could practically feel her heartbeat in her wrist.

“I’m fine,” she lied through her teeth and tried to catch her breath. She blamed it on her anger, she blamed it on the pieces she’d put together. She was fine.

Hades stepped back from Steve, she needed to calm her beating heart. But as she walked towards the couch her knees gave out from underneath her and Steve was only just quick enough to catch her.

“You’re not, you’re weak like Bucky was when he was in the Underworld. You can’t be here for long can you?”

“Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she smiled shyly and leaned against the back of the couch. Steve rushed into the hallway and appeared again holding a familiar black flower. “You can’t use that, it won’t work I’m here with you already.”

“We need to get you back to the Underworld though!” He thought for a second before he remembered Bucky’s escape route if anything went wrong quickly. “I know how to get you back to Bucky’s and from there he can take you home.”

The building was quietly when they stepped into the elevator. Hades was weakening quickly now, she leaned against Steve and he was practically holding her up when they reached the basement.

At the end of the basement, behind piles of stuff and things Steve revealed a door, a sun and moon engraved on the handle.

“This will take you to him, I’m sorry I can’t take you back to the Underworld.” Steve was rushed, he reached for the handle and was too focused on the woman in his arms he didn’t notice the symbol change to a three headed dog until the door was swung open and he saw a cave that looked out to the river Styx. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s me,” she said quickly, “it’s okay,” her breathing was uneven as she stayed on the side of the door with Steve. “Steve…”

“You’re home, it’s okay. Go.”

“No, wait…if she finds you…” she could barely get the words out, “use the dahlia…she has no eyes in the Underworld…I promise Steve…” she gripped his shirt and he tried to push her over the line. Her eyes drooped and her strength was no more. “I’ll protect you there.”

“And I’ll protect you now.” He said and pushed her over the threshold, the door slammed and disappeared behind her before Steve could close it himself. He stared at the door and hoped she was okay. The symbol changed back to its original form and he dropped to the floor with a sigh as he started to cry. He was terrified. This is my fault, I’m so sorry.

Hades fell to her hands and knees, she felt the dirt under her fingers and took a deep breath as she felt the air fill her lungs. She stood from the ground and tucked her cap into the back pocket of her jeans. Hades walked out of the cave with her head held high, she walked down the bank of the Styx with her head held high and Cerberus ran towards her as she neared the gates.

Pietro and Harley were standing there has they guided souls through the right doors and when they turned and saw the queen walking towards them they were confused.

She was straight faced and didn’t stick around to answer any questions. Hades, with Cerberus on her tail walked between the two and through the gates but not before placing a quick kiss on Harley’s forehead and brushing a reassuring hand over Pietro’s shoulder. She walked through the gates and turned around as they watched her go.

“I apologise for my absence boys. Family dinner, tonight.”

Chapter Ten: Face Value

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#release the hounds #steve rogers x reader #persephone!steve rogers x hades!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #marvel au

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littlesparklight · 3 years

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thoughts/hcs about Hebe’s childhood

Hebe! <3 Babygirl.

Okay, that out of the way, I think she appeared (and thus was, though considering how a newborn god can walk, talk and reason at the very least like a, what, ten year old? the idea of divine age is always going to be tricky) around 10-13 for a very long time. She was the baby quite literally for decades after she’d passed the physical ten years, much like Eros is/was*.

For the timeline I made, I figure the birth of Harmonia and Himeros gave her a first little push (so to 13) and then she remained like that for another couple decades until Phobos and Deimos were born, so by the time Ganymede is brought to Olympos about two decades later, Hebe has been around his age for at least a decade.

Everyone thought she was disgustingly cute whenever she did her cupbearer duty, and you can bet she was Very Eager about helping her Aunt Hestia with basically anything she might need help with, even if she wasn’t very good at it, or couldn’t reach very well. Hestia of course just worked around that, and with Hebe, because why would she say no to her niece??? HAVE YOU SEEN HER FACE??

Hermes taught her to lie like a champ and she can scam you out of whatever she might want and still be innocent after, but she is a very Good Girl and feels ashamed for lying, so she only ever uses her powers for evil very rarely.

Ares is of course mush for any of his children (even if he’d claim not) but he’s also absolutely mush for his little sister, and even injuries he might have waved off (because they are going to be healed up very quickly, even without divine medical attention) get tended to with all due childish seriousness and gentle scolding by Hebe if she see him. Even long after she’s old enough to know what injuries are or aren’t fine for Ares to ignore - she doesn’t care. Three times out of ten, whenever Hebe helped Ares with a bath when she was younger, she would end it by spilling a jar of really cold water over his head. (Only Hebe can really get away with this. Anyone else, even when Harmonia was little and copied her once, would get a stern talking to, or more than that if they aren’t his literal children.)

Hera taught her little baby girl to deal with chariot and reins, even when that meant carrying Hebe in her arms while little Hebe is yanking on said reins, to the poor immortal horses’ suffering. (She has of course been good about that for a very long time.)

Zeus used to (sometimes still does) take her with him up onto Olympos’ highest peak and Hera would, at those times, when they returned, mock-annoyed ask him what he was scheming against her. He’d hold Hebe up and tell her very seriously not to tell, and Hebe would equally seriously nod and say “nothing!”

On the other hand, since she’s been “the baby” for so long, even when others were born after her but still aged at least somewhat beyond her far more quickly than she did, everyone basically... well, babies her. Partly in ways Hebe herself doesn’t even think about, or might notice, until it’s almost too late, because she’s not pushed, and no one feels like she needs to be pushed. If she doesn’t show interest in something to learn it no one’s actually felt like she super needs to learn in, because there are everyone else around her to take care of things.

So she’s never had to fight, and never really been in a situation where she’s had to use any of her powers that way. So the first pressured moment she is stuck in where she ends up using her youth/ageing powers offensively is going to be a chock for basically everyone.

#asks #greek myth thoughts #hebe #:D

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lovenona · 3 years

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LONG ask ahead, sorry T^T

*arrives in a hurry after 2-3 days* *slow, appreciative clap at the ted talk* sweetie, have you got any idea how much i adore hearing you ramble about the creation process??? seeing the whole love and dedication you hold for the odyssey makes my day! (and nooo, i'm totally not reading it again bc i want to have all of it in mind for tomorrow and bc it inspires me to no end hahaha what do you mean :) )

here comes yet another question: what kind of powers do you possess to write so beautifully. your writing literally punches me in the gut every single time, even the simplest of things!! it's hauntingly beautiful and i'm living for it!

(and another one) how did you find out how the odyssey was going to end?

also, it's rambling time because i've been thinking. (i do that sometimes.) each chapter title is a reference to a greek myth, and, in particular, odysseus' myth (no clue if i've written his name right, i've always knew him as "ulysse" in my mother tongue ^^;). and so my brain went: oooh nice, greek lore ^^ and then: yo wait. hold up. which brings me here: analysing the chapter titles. (bear with me please, and feel free to ignore my enthusiastic rambling/correct me if i'm wrong which i probs will)

so first, we have the prelude. david and calypso. while i'm sure david has his importance it's almost 1 am as i'm typing this so i'm going to focus on calypso. poor nymph is stuck in an island because of the will of gods for a reason i've forgotten. but here's the catch: while she cannot leave, others can come to her (good ol' odysseus for instance) until they leave her all alone again. and the cycle unfolds again and again. which brings us to a nice parallel with reader's situation at the beginnig. she, after all, is stuck on an island with no way out but stories. comes the dilf supreme toji aka an odysseus of sorts, until he leaves her. so she's alone again. calypso there illustrates a passive state of sorts. she cannot leave, or so she thinks: while she wants to, we don't see her try per se until sukuna comes in.

ah yes. sukuna’s arrival. chapter title: neptune’s hands. Neptune, god of the seas, all powerful, also known as Poseidon absolutely terrifying if provoked — which is something Odysseus did! well, man is smart enough not to do it to his face. but he did stab a cyclope, which happened to be neptune’s son. son who swore to a haughty Odysseus that he’d pay for it. in consequence: instead of going back to Ithaca without that much of trouble, Neptune goes: nope mate, and promptly sabotage his return (with a storm who leads his ship astray if my memory is correct). Neptune serves as a catalyst in here, to properly start the action. and it so happens to be sukuna’s role! he is, as well, the one who starts reader’s journey — well, odyssey in this case ;) — by making her this offer. plus, if we consider reader as being calypso, a nymph, and sukuna as being Neptune, a god, it shows their difference in power. sukuna is a fearsome curse, captain whose name is enough to strike fear in the cruellest pirate, who can and will kill reader should he get bored of her. reader is but a printer’s apprentice, so weak compared to him it hurts.

ah, yes. the narcissus pool aka siren gojo, aka me simping so hard for this man I might squirt with the mere mention of him. yes, siren gojo is that powerful, feel free to lure me in with them baby blues sweetie *blows him a kiss* hem. anyway. long story short, an oracle said: if narcissus sees his reflection, he’ll die. people prevent him from seeing himself. ofc man is so handsome it hurts and has women and men alike running after him, including a nymph named echo. he rejects her. hera is somehow involved in the mess and makes it so that he stumbles upon a river and sees himself. entranced by his beauty, he desperately tries to reach himself and stays near the river until he dies. this one is a bit trickier (especially considering I’m writing this as I go with no coherent preparation whatsoever but damn if I’m not having fun). but. *proceeds to read it again* *sighs in ‘why the hell ain’t siren!gojo real pls sir take me’* anyway. it’s never mentioned in narcissus’ myth, but I’m pretty sure he was tempted to look at himself. at least once, considering he could wonder why on earth all those people kept falling for his looks. (or he could be pretty dumb. let’s say he isn’t) so he’s tempted by his own reflection. just like reader’s tempted to follow segsy siren gojo. he doesn’t up until hera is involved and ends up seeing his reflection. he falls. not literally, but in love — with his own self. here it’s different (and the reason why i’m strugglingTM to gather coherent thoughts). gojo is the very embodiment of this temptation — so he acts as narcissus’ reflection here. he’s the one seducing reader, the one luring her until she falls in the waters, just like narcissus did. she didn’t die though, unlike him. (thank you sukuna. I guess. yes I would’ve given my life for gojo to consume me in both ways and??) now, this is very simp-tainted (sorry bout that ^^;) and the thing I’ve noticed is this: narcissus isn’t a character in the og odyssey. could it be bc to my absolute despair, gojo’s not as much of an important character as sukuna and toji? only you know!

(the hades, psyche analysis comes in tomorrow *looks @ time* *sees it's 1 AM* well, later on! have a lovely night/day!)

- the LRE (who's very happy tumblr allowed her to do paragraph breaks/to have a pirate history book recommandation! thanks about that one btw, it'll come in handy for a ff of mine (yeah it involves pirate gojo))

wait this is so precious n thoughtful oh my gosh 😭 thoughts n vibes under the cut :’)

first of all THANK U!!!??? ur making me blush out here omg my hEART 😭

as for ur first question, ur SO SWEET n IM LOSING IT bye i genuinely don’t know i just scream and throw a bunch of commas and metaphors everywhere and somehow things happen 💀 i read a lot (english major vibes) and it’s very helpful because i tend to imitate writers/phrases/books that inspire me while i'm figuring out how i want to write !!

secondly: how did i figure out the ending of the odyssey??

answer: i think i just stumbled across this one 😭 i was brainstorming w my bestie (@/suedebunn) n she originally suggested a different version of the ending that i was like “oh wait” and then i played with it for awhile until i arrived at the version i have now ! i want to tell u more about how i arrived from point A to point B and what the process was but i will withhold because i am not giving anything away >:)

onto ur TITLE ANALYSIS!! this is SPECTACULAR! ur pretty much on the nose for all of them god damn i don’t have much to add :’) i’ll give u some of my takes tho!!

david and calypso – ur absolutely on the nose for the calypso aspect; david’s just a passing nod to the pirates of the caribbean portrayal of davy jones and the doomed relationship between him and calypso (mirroring the doomed relationship between toji and reader since he leaves them)

neptune’s hands – yes! yeah! sexy! pirate sukuna is being compared to a sea god!! also a minor teaser but sukuna’s hands are important symbolically ;-)

narcissus pool – ur brain is so big here god damn 🤲 narcissus is more of a loose reference to the idea of pride/ temptation and also hollowness/mirages (the emptiness of a reflection versus the tangibility of the real thing) so it’s not immediately a reference to the odyssey itself or even the myth (i'm taking creative liberties bye homer) but probably the best entity to use when describing gojo – the dichotomy between pride/emptiness is a lot more apparent in part 5

gosh thank u sm for this!! excited to see what u have next!!!!!!

#THIS IS SO SWEET #THANK U??!?!!!?!>!#THANKS FOR NOTICING TITLE IMPORTANCE #UR A REAL ONE #OMG!!!#letters to adele #the odyssey!#LRE anon

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tea-with-cinnamontoast · 3 years

Text

"I am impertinent!" Percy said.

[a/n: kinda crack but do i care? nope. anyway context: remember that scene where percy sent the gods medusa's head? yeah, the gods were concerned]

Hermes rushed into the Olympian throne room, carrying a rather large box signed by a boy named Percy Jackson. Earlier today he had been busy, not realizing that one of the mail was to himself, or rather, the whole Olympian Council.

"Mount Olympus

600th Floor,

Empire State Building

New York, NY

With best wishes,

PERCY JACKSON"

the boy had written, then putting a pouch of Drachma for a Hermes Express. The god knew who this boy was, Poseidon's child, but wasn't sure what was inside the box. The godly 'know-it-all' is Athena or Apollo's job. Nope, that wasn't in the god of thieves' job description. Hermes had informed his family about the package, telling them it was from a demigod. That took triggered everyone's curiosity.

The god sat up on his throne, holding the box on his lap. He just finished today's shift and was tired, but the package is killing him. The immortal answered calls from his caduceus-phone, with his curly brown hair dangling by the side. He looked about 21 and was wearing some jogging pants an a normal shirt with "bros before hoes" written on it.

A few minutes later, others started arriving, first one being Athena. Typical. The goddess would always arrive as soon as she's called or on time, depending on how sudden it was. Her stormy grey eyes looked to the package and examined it for a while. Hermes hummed and Athena sat on her throne, contemplating and thinking about what the mail could be. After all, it's not everyday (every century, in fact) that the gods get a package to Olympus.

Hera, Aphrodite, and Ares came in, with the girls having their normal chitchat and Ares just silently walking. Apollo and Artemis came next, with the twins still on hunting gear. Apollo's daily shift just finished and it was Artemis' turn, but she poofed herself here. Hephaestus and Demeter arrived and sat on their thrones. Dionysus wasn't allowed to join. Then, bickering can be heard.

"I am not guilty, dearest brother! Why would I even take your Master Bolt!" Poseidon growled, opening the door to the room. "How am I supposed to know, Poseidon! It is not I who decided it was a rather amusing idea to steal my Master Bolt!" Zeus boomed in the room. Hestia sat by the hearth, silently trying to calm her brothers down. As they argued, the other Olympians flinched and groan, if it were possible.

"Lord Zeus, Lord Poseidon. Please be seated," Hera commanded, feeling the discomfort around her and from herself. They kept fighting whenever they see each other. Zeus hated Perseus Jackson for stealing his bolt, and yet there were no proof of that. He had just gotten claimed in camp, but ol' thunderpants was sure it was the barnacle beard's doing. Through his demigod son.

The sea god and the sky god grumbled something, glared at each other, and then decided to take a seat. Hermes figured it would be the perfect time for him to flutter down and show them the package. "So, um, we all know that a demigod sent us this package," the god of messengers' voice echoed. He hesitated. "Well, it was from Perseus Jackson."

Silence covered the room. Zeus looked like he was going to zap some poor, unfortunate mortal into dust. Poseidon got curious, what would his son possibly send them? He had a bad feeling. The others were amused on this demigod's bravery, knowing very well he was stuck in the middle of a fight Percy didn't know existed until now.

A look in Apollo's face flashed, only for a while and if Hermes didn't observe the room, he wouldn't have noticed. The sun god's looks went unnoticed, but Hermes knew that face. It was the manner of the god of prophecy's visions, even only near-time future. The blonde looked more amused, and then full-on laughed.

"Apollo. Apollo. Apollo!" their father called. The sun god stopped, composing himself, but letting a giggle or two escaped. "What is the meaning of this?" Ol' Thunderpunch asked, glaring at the poor sun god. "Nothing, father. Just... a little vision." Hermes knew well enough that it was about the mysterious 'gift' from the oh-so-humble Jackson. "Let us hope it is my bolt," Zeus mumbled.

The god of messengers opened the box, as the others watched. Slowly, he began to unravel the layers of plastic covering the... thing. Hermes grabbed a part of the thing and it felt like snakeskin. Multiple of them. Who in the right godsdamn mind would sent a god, or the whole council in this case, a lot of snakeskin?

Apollo looked like he was tearing, holding the chuckles that were going to erupt. Steadily, Hermes grabbed it and held it up, revealing Medusa's head.

Yeah okay, gods cannot get petrified by the gorgon, but holy hades was that horrific to see, considering they have seen wars, nasty ones at best. The head's eyes looked glossy and opened its eyes on them. The snakes started hissing and sort of alive. Yeah... it wasn't the best nor sane gift they've gotten.

"WHAT THE HADES!" Demeter yelped. It's not like they see a severed head everyday, and they're immortal. Apollo laughed in amusement, earning a few quizzical looks and glares. Hermes felt like throwing the head down the mountain, or building if you will. He had the urge to slice it and send it back to Tartarus. Wow, this demigod really is impertinent, but brave. Reckless, yet courageous.

Poseidon sighed in "what the fuck" and "honey, you didn't" and muttered something about impulsivity being a genetic thing. Athena just gasped in horror, Aphrodite looked like she was about to hurl. Ares wanted to pulverize the kid and Hephaestus just looked amazed. Artemis looked disgusted, trying her best to cover it, clearly failing. Only Hera looked more or less collected. Confused, but calmly looking at it.

"Let me kill the boy!" Zeus bellowed, Poseidon standing up to interfere. "You do not hurt my son," the sea god responded. But Hermes has a trick up his sleeve. "Lord Zeus, I think I have a better idea," showing his infamous mischievous grin. "He wants to send this to us?" he grabbed a magic pen, "Then let's just return it."

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson oneshot #oneshot #the lightning thief #olympians are concerned #twelve olympians

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

There's a huge amount of pressure on me and those just started fighting and I said get the f*** out of here and it's like next test run and my voice is going to take care of business and the FEDS are against him and Tommy f and others and the foreigners when I say is no one has a choice now you're going to do the stupid s*** again his rip s*** last time and this time it seems to be out of control over anger cuz he has no avenue it's nothing he can do except take you on and that's what he's going to do and he's not a girl he's not your GF I mean you're not Mac you are crazy it's reinforcing somehow I need to find out if you took the diamond out of here during the hurricane and it was like two who was there in that small rental it's the same way out in sizes this place he says practically this little kitchen no there was no kitchen in the hotel but my two says yeah it's about the same size what we were wondering was so we going to go back to a house or nowhere and he said you probably know where people put money and I said okay he said he started having a happy dream cuz he said you probably know where people put money you know watching people all the time so he says yeah so he's quiet and he just trying to eat and sleep and there's nothing to it but we looked at it this way like a clue that's what my two used to do and like two years to try and figure stuff out about them and Mac would have him do it so it's really like a watchdog and silently doing things he says mike wasn't doing that he started doing and he's stopped him there's a silent like the whole time for quite a while a couple people woke us up as much nicer he says what's the silence me he said cut the s*** we're going to look the knife and that was it and it was probably a misunderstanding with the electrical cord because he's trying to use it as a security device I said you don't have to so he didn't it's a little steamed about it come down when you saw my light sleeper and I sleep on top and I'm washing the door and he did actually and Mike can get people there too while I'm at the door so it worked out pretty good actually the trip was went real smoothly with my two which is awesome but really the people running the apartment had people coming I think I found that out in the morning she said oh and Lily is like one of them and yeah they filled the place up later on and he heard it and saw him a little bit and said oh okay and he thought you might have anything you were so he wants you want to every time he got up it's the real thing you like this cat so you trying to figure out your cat guy

But that was very Irma and you had some fun I mean people acting weird and they were acting weird said my God they're almost out of food they're saying like that so this is a bad idea stay with the sandwiches so I was trying sandwich and it was horrible get sick from it and it's a phosphate he said laughing probably other stuff too and it's like how can you drink the damn water he got mad so this is terrible a lot of heats up in the heater it's still washing yourself so it's under the water is bad in Florida I was a little so I can fix it angry because they tried the same thing why does piping hot it actually cooked the noodles so it shouldn't have been bad sugar from the peanut butter. They both buy some Pepto felt better they're going on the road is like nothing open there's no damage monsters oh my God that's an opiate crisis and some people bothering me is it true you are from Florida to Senile they startedlaughing too. Mike too says You never felt so Good returning to a place then he thought this place sucks why do I feel good I think we're stuck with black people no I don't think so Jason left Saudi Arabia pretty easy I also need to start thinking about something what the hell is that I don't know the national guard was there who are they so people check who they were and it was Max guys

Hera Zues

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therainbowwillow · 3 years

Text

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/639917088173113344/alright-its-been-a-hot-second-since-ive-written -Part 1

Okay, Hadestown Fanfic With Crossovers Where Orpheus’s Terms are Different and Also ✨Olympus Drama✨Part 2/???

I think my greatest struggle in writing is... posting it. And deciding on a consistent plot. That too. Expect changes. Edit: Well, well, well, there’s a draft feature on this website? I might just migrate to Tumblr.

I may make an overview post at some point so you don’t actually have to read this. A long TL;DR probably, because it is written by Miss What-Is-Concise. My TL;DRs need TL;DRs of their own. Anyway, I’m rambling, so let me actually get started.

Preemptive:

-Orpheus is Apollo’s kid in this version, as he is in many retellings. He is raised by Hermes.

-Hermes works for Hades, bringing souls to the underworld. He resides away from Olympus to fulfill said duties.

-Dionysus’ parentage is by Persephone and Hades. (Because there’s no way Persephone’s screwing Zeus in the other room. Also this is his more underworld-connected family ties.)

-You drink from the River Lethe, according to some ancient authors, to forget your past life. And if Virgil can blatantly rip off Homer, I’m stealing ideas too.

-Would you look at that? This ��short” AU fic is expanding by the minute. Hades and Persephone’s are true to the musical and that’s about it at this point.

Eurydice drags Orpheus to his feet. He leans against her. “Eurydice...” he mumbles. “I... I’m so sorry.”

“I signed my life away. That wasn’t up to you. We need to get going.”

Orpheus nods. “Why’s he letting us go? I don’t remember... anything really. I sang. Then I...” he turns away. “It felt like I was sitting in a fire. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t think. It was unbearable.”

“I’ll never let them lay a finger on you again.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why’s he letting us go?” he asks, softly.

“He’s not,” Persephone mutters. “He wants you to fail. Then he’ll have a canary for his mines.”

Orpheus shudders at the thought. “My song... I thought... Persephone, I think I rewrote every note a hundred times. I lost the love of my life for that melody. And... it failed.”

“Just walk, okay? Please. Once we’re out of here, none of it matters,” Eurydice pleads.

“H-how far?” He’s almost afraid to ask. The original walk had been a grueling task. This one, he thinks, might be a hundred times harder. Whatever Hades had done to him... the effects hadn’t faded. Eurydice must already think he’s a selfish, naive, worthless idiot, he’s certain, so he plans to stay quiet. Unless it gets bad. Only if he needs to tell her, he decides.

“A mile, maybe a little more,” Persephone replies. “We’ll rest in my old greenhouse. It’ll be a roof over our heads at least. Don’t look back,” she warns. “Hades’ servants will follow us. Don’t give them a reason to think we’re afraid.”

Eurydice wraps and arm around Orpheus’s waist. “Tell me if you need a break.” He nods.

———————————

Hades sinks into his office chair. A painting of his wife hangs on the wall. He’s posing at her side. They’re smiling. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He rises and storms over to the portrait. He rips it of the wall and it crumples to the ground, torn in two.

He glances out the window. He’s viewing his realm from the highest point in Hadestown. The landscape is as flat as a sheet of paper. No hills, no mountains, only rivers, flowing by some force that is not the gravity of the overworld. His tower is the only peak. And the smokestacks of his factories.

This is his realm. All of it is his. Every inch of dirt, every scrap of metal and gemstone beneath the ground. Every sullen face of every tortured worker who’d sold his soul away. The wall is his too. And the Styx, which wraps it 7 times over. He’s a king and his castle is protected by the highest of palisades and yet... that boy... that son of Apollo had taken it all from him. What is a king without his iron fists? Now he had shown softness, now he’d shown weakness. A crack in the wall will bring the whole structure down, he thinks to himself. But what else can he do? Persephone is his wife. She is *his*. To imagine a thousand winters and springs and summers without her...

The underworld is lonely. He cannot lose her. But he cannot let the boy escape. Nor his lover, nor his traitorous workers. If he shows them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Worse, the traitors were right. Orpheus is alive. Orpheus is not his. That poet is all that stands in the way of his kingdom. And like any barrier, he will fall. How? Hades wonders. How can he kill the boy, break his spirit and punish him without losing Persephone? What blinds his wife? he asks himself. That silly little song had manipulated him, taken hold of his heart like alcohol. And Persephone loves it. She believes, truly believes, that Orpheus deserves to live for the very reason he must die.

Hades slams his fists against the window. Perhaps she was right. He ought to follow in his brothers’ footsteps. Forget his wife. That simple action would be enough to fix everything. If he let her go, she’d have nothing to hold over him. He wouldn’t be her puppet. He’d kill Orpheus, chain up the boy’s foolish lover and send Achilles and Patroclus to the darkest mines, and force them to work day and night apart from each other. Sure, the bunch of them would whine like kenneled puppies, but he could take their cries. They’d forget everything if he could get them to drink from the Lethe. Orpheus would be easy. Threaten his pretty little muse and he’d be scrambling to his knees. Eurydice would be nothing without her poet. Achilles would resist. He’d fight a millennia before he or his lover bowed before their king. But they too would fall.

Only Persephone stands in the way, he knows. He likes to imagine he has her under his control. But he knows it’s a lie. The food of the underworld she’d eaten, it didn’t confine her as well as he’d hoped. Sure, her time above ground would be made unbearable, but she would still be out of his grasp. She could leave. She would leave. He knows her threats aren’t empty. So he’ll find a way around her. He needs her to come back. Without Persephone’s warmth, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He watches the crowd of shades begin to disperse and it dawns on him. Orpheus gives them hope, but he makes them afraid. How many deceased reside in Hadestown? It’d take a hundred thousand mortal lifetimes to count. And how many had stepped forward to help the poet boy? Two. Among that crowd, he knew, were great heroes. Heroes who once resided in Elysium. And still, only two shades had betrayed him. Two out of a trillion. Hades smiles. He won’t need to kill Orpheus. One of his workers can take the fall. Even Achilles won’t succeed in standing against an army the size of his. And Hades will win. His wife will see that some dead man has killed the singer to appease his king. She’ll suspect, but without proof, what does she have on him? Eurydice will see she has no choice. Once the boy belongs to him, Orpheus is his to manipulate. She’ll be trapped. Achilles, for all of his strength, is nothing alone. Without his dear Patroclus, he’ll give in. And so Hades plots.

————————————

Hermes, god of roads and messages, receives word of his adoptive son’s predicament with astounding speed. And he fears for Orpheus. But Hermes guides souls to the underworld, to Hades. To betray the king of Hadestown by helping the boy would be to lose his work and by extension, his freedom to live on the railroad. Without an excuse, he’d be back on Olympus, listening to Zeus and Hera’s endless bickering, watching Ares and Aphrodite humiliate themselves, and helping Dionysus comfort Apollo over the death of the mortal pretty boy of the week. And they wonder why Artemis avoids the damn place at all costs. In fact, he’s stuck on Olympus right now, called to the counsel by Zeus? Athena? He can’t remember. Some mortal breaking some rule.

Orpheus is more important than the meeting. His messenger had interrupted the counsel meeting to bring him word of the poor boy’s situation. He’s not sure how to cover this one up. No one was meant to interrupt important matters as this. Plus, he’d given the kid directions straight into Hadestown, which was the opposite of what his contract with Hades had said. He wasn’t allowed to barter for the return of mortal souls and he wasn’t allowed to assist mortals in doing the same.

“Hermes!” Zeus booms. “What is the meaning of this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Begone, messenger.” He slips a note into the man’s hands: ‘Tell Orpheus I’m coming.’ “Nothing, father. Just... matters of work. You know how Hades is. And don’t get me started on Thanatos! I’m late by half a second and-“

“Enough! I’ve half a mind to banish you from this counsel.” Hermes smiles. His excuses have succeeded.

Dionysus laughs, considerably beyond tipsy on his own wine. “You mind if I go too? I’m sick of this awful alcohol and I’ve got something far better back home.”

“Dionysus, wasn’t there an agreement we made?” Athena inquires, icily. “You cannot come to our meetings drunk.”

He smiles. “Well, you see,” he snaps his fingers and shakes his head, washing away his intoxication. “I didn’t come drunk. I *got* drunk while here.” He raises a flask and shakes it, refilling the canteen instantly. “There’s a difference.”

Athena grits her teeth. “Father, one more of these counsels and I swear...”

“And husband,” Hera pipes up, “We were going to address that nymph girl you’re always hanging around?”

Zeus flushes a deep shade of red. “Out. All of you. We’re done here.”

Hermes rises, forcing himself to keep his composure, at least until he’s out of sight. He steps into the sunlight that dazzles Olympus, treks the road to the edge of the mortal realm and... “Hermes?”

“Gods have mercy,” he mutters. He turns. “Apollo.” The god is puffy-eyed, probably from crying. Even Hermes had to agree, his latest lover had been gorgeous. Hyacinthus, was his name, if he remembered correctly. Apollo himself had called the counsel to beg for mortality when the boy had died and he hadn’t found another for what? Seventeen years? Spare for Orpheus’s muse mother, of course. Still, this was unusual, even for Apollo’s mellow dramatic self.

“You’re afraid.”

“Don’t... don’t do that, would you?” Hermes snaps, recoiling. “Yeah, yeah, medicine and all, but I don’t want you telling me what I’m thinking.”

Apollo dips his head in acknowledgment. “It’s my son, isn’t it?”

Hermes shakes his head. One word to Zeus and... all Prometheus did was hand over a spark. This was treason. “No, just work.”

Apollo tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

“What cause would I have for lies? I cannot keep Hades waiting, now.” He whirls away from Apollo’s gaze.

“Perhaps... treason?” Apollo inquires. Hermes’s eyes widen.

“Strong accusations.” He forces his voice not to shake.

“I won’t turn you in.” Liar, Hermes thinks. He wants to get on Zeus’s good side. A chance at getting his lover boy back.

“Correct. You wouldn’t have anything to turn me in for,” he tells the son of Leto.

“Orpheus’s wife... no, fiancée. No... I don’t know! The girl. She’s dead. Orpheus’s song is a failure. I heard it from Olympus. Lovely, really. But not nearly enough to convince Hades to let her go. Nothing is.”

Hermes turns again to face his half-brother. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Zeus hears a word of this-“

Apollo cuts him off. “And you helped him. You broke your contract and you know Hades better than anyone, other than Persephone, if they still talk these days. He’s crueler than he once was. They say Elysium itself is no more, that there’s only Tartarus now. You’re afraid of his wrath. And you’re afraid of Zeus. He’ll punish you too. You saw what he did to Asclepius. Struck by lightning for treason against Hades. And that was before this... winter,” he says, softer now.

“I don’t want a lecture, Apollo. What do you want?” Hermes glares at the god.

“I want a deal.”

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“You break me in to the underworld-“

“No. I’m in enough danger as is.”

“Hear me out.”

“I said no!” Hermes steps back onto the road. Apollo grabs his wrist.

“I can get you out of trouble. Dionysus!” The wine god steps out of the woods.

“I’m due to visit my mother. Hades won’t prevent me from entering his realm, I’m his son,” Dionysus explains. “You and Apollo are there on Demeter’s ask to learn why Persephone is late. You, because you’re the god of messages and Apollo because he was available, on leave from his duties to mourn.”

Hermes groans. “The walk is far. Even if you’re me. Days on end of moping and drunken ramblings for a plan almost certain to backfire? I said no.”

Apollo smiles. “Then I’ll turn you in,” he says simply.

“You won’t. Orpheus is your blood. You’d put him in more danger. He knew of my contract and he let me break it. You’d add a charge against him. And it’s me. You cared once, didn’t you?”

“You know I would. You said so yourself. I visited the poet boy twice, maybe. And you? Ask yourself: when was the last time you optionally visited Olympus? But Hyacinthus, I loved for years. If I turn you in, I’m one step closer to him. On Zeus’s good side again.” Hermes shifts on his feet. “It’ll be good to have a doctor at the boy’s side too, seeing as your instructions just about starved him to death.”

Hermes glares at him. “Don’t.”

“You know it’s true. So? Let’s go or you trade places with Prometheus.”

“Fine,” he mutters, through a clenched jaw.

“Good. Now, this is on our terms, Hermes. I will aid your son because you’ve always been good to me and because he is my blood. If he gets in my way, he belongs to Hades.”

#hadestown au #orphydice #hadestown #hadestown fanfic #therainbowwrites

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

lay me gently | ksj

there is no time for loneliness among the fires of your forge, no room in your buzzing mind for thoughts of anything but your next invention and the pain in your leg. your life is tilted off its axis, though, when your parents arrange a marriage without your knowledge or consent, and your new husband begins to situate himself into your life despite protests from either of you. you don’t know what zeus and hera have planned, but a volcano is no place for a love god like seokjin. | monsters and gods pt 2 (masterlist)

pairing | seokjin x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, aphrodite!jin, hephaestus!reader, disabled!reader (kind of. more technically accurate would be chronic pain!reader. but thats a whole discussion that ur welcome to have with me), fluff, slight angst but not a ton, v brief allusions to violence but its purposefully vague, not so brief descriptions of physical injury, descriptions of chronic pain, cyclopes! everywhere! i use that word so many times!, smut, literally the most vanilla smut i’ve ever written there are only two warnings, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, there are mentions of a war god that is a dick but it is Not Ares i promise, everyone still hates zeus bc he sucks, this also features dionysus!jimin but only a little,

word count | 12.9k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | this is the second installment of gods and monsters!! i was actually in the middle of writing from eden when i stumbled across a really fantastic blurb about retelling aphrodite’s story the way we’ve all collectively decided to retell persephone and hades, so that there are two decent fucking couples in greek mythology, and there were a lot of good comments on said blurb that made those last two braincells in my head run into each other and make an idea. and then i promptly opened a new doc and typed half of this and a vague summary before sleeping for longer than i should have! and i’m always weak for aphrodite jin bc i mean....look at him....man looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo like who am i to deny the gods, y’know? and i figured that since i had olympian!reader in the last one, i’d continue that and have olympian!reader in this one, also i wanted an excuse to write from a hephaestus pov since i’ve loved that dumbass blacksmith since i was ten and wrote a greek history article in school. so here, have this aphrodite retelling!! | title from work song by hozier

It's hot. It's always hot here, the consequences of living inside a volcano, you suppose, but the callouses on your skin have long since made you immune to the burns. You glide down through the halls, an old habit since the day you crafted the wheels you attached to your sandals. No longer did you need to carry the awkward and hefty cane everywhere you went, or struggle to make your leg move the way you wanted it to. The invention of the wheel was one you were forever proud of.

The forge is already blazing when you arrive, each of the hundred levels full of cyclopes all hammering away. Steam hisses and rises through the air, and you chance a glance at the lava bubbling miles below you.

"Careful today," You call to the cyclops closest to you. "It looks like she's feeling the burn again. Raise the guards soon, and keep them up until she blows. No sense letting good work go to waste." The cyclops nods and barks an order out at others across the levels. You wheel yourself further along, the sound of the celestial bronze shields being brought up serving as background noise. You probably could have waited another day or so to raise them, if you were honest; cyclopes are fireproof, which is useful in a forge, and you yourself aren't likely to be taken out by a mere volcanic eruption. The work, though...heat like that could affect even the strongest of your creations, and everyone works much too hard here to have to reform every bolt, repour every blade.

You valued your time too much for that.

"You have a guest, my lady," one of your workers called. You look up from the notebook in your hands - soot-covered, bound in leather, edges singed, with bits of paper sticking every which way from the many times you've jotted something down for later and stuffed it inside quickly before tying the leather cords that bind it - and frown. The cyclops grimaces slightly. "It...seems to be Lord Zeus."

You scoff and spin yourself around to follow him to the elevator reluctantly. "Probably wants to commission another throne, the bastard. Should've stuck him to the last one, maybe he'd get it through his head that not everyone wants to fuck him." You wave a hand and your guide gives you a curt nod before returning to work. You settle yourself in the lift and flip the lever. It's not a long journey, thanks to the many improvements you've made over the years, but it still seems that too soon the grate is sliding back into the wall to allow you exit.

You tap your heels together twice as you glide off the lift, already reaching for the cane that you keep there for situations like this. The soft clicks and whirs are nearly imperceptible as the wheels break themselves apart and regress into the hidden compartments in your soles. Your leg becomes dead weight once more, and you wince at the way it drags behind you. You've half a mind to curse whoever came to call on you this time; you hate walking, even if the charade is a necessary one. You're still contemplating the idea when you hobble into your entry to see Zeus himself, stoic and cold as he ever is.

"My lord," You call, barely keeping the venom out of your voice as you do. Many would say it's the heat of the mountain making your blood boil, but you know the truth. Very little in the world sets you off like the man in front of you.

He turns and fixes a blinding grin on you. "My dear Hephaestus!" You scoff at the title; no one has called you by your name in centuries, lest they inherit your lameness. "Wonderful to see you, truly. It's been too long since my last visit."

"Yes, four hundred years does seem to crawl by without you to grace the halls of my forge," You drawl. His eyes steel for a moment, your sarcasm not as lost on him as you'd hope, but it quickly passes. "Why are you here, my lord?"

"Well, you remember how I said I would owe you a favor?" Your eyes narrow and you nod. In the handful of times Zeus has repaid the hundreds of favors he owes, it's hardly ever been something positive. "I'm here to pay it! I brought you a gift."

"A gift, what-?" You don't get the chance to finish. Zeus has already waved forward a steward he brought along. Your heart aches for the boy as sweat drips down his body and his tunic is already singed. Your own leathers are slightly oppressive in the heat, but at least they don't catch fire. Zeus takes a scroll from the boy, harsh and rough, and shoves it into your hands. You unravel it quickly, your eyes darting across the words on the paper.

"A marriage?!" Your screech echoes throughout the mountain and the clanging of metal on metal pauses for a moment. "What am I supposed to do with a marriage, much less one to a-" You scan the paper again. "A love goddess?"

"Not a love goddess," He tuts. "The love goddess. Well. Love deity. Aphrodite is a beauty, you're lucky I could arrange such a thing." Your eyes strain against your skull, threatening to pop out with every word Zeus says.

"What in all of Tartarus is a ‘love deity’ supposed to do in my forge?" You ask him. He scoffs and waves the question off as if it doesn't matter. Your hand twitches with the urge to throw him into the lava, and the only thing keeping you from doing exactly that is the pain striking through your leg - a bitter reminder of just what Zeus is capable of - and the knowledge that it wouldn't even kill him.

"Your mother was adamant about this, Hephaestus." You echo his scoff at this; you're sure she was. "Aphrodite will arrive within the week. See to it that everything is fit for a god." He chuckles at his own joke, and a vision of your cane shoved through his skull implants itself in your brain. You force yourself to take in deep breaths. The scent of hot metals, sparks, and sulfur calms you, as it always has.

"Fine," You say, though Zeus is already on his way out. "I'm not keeping anyone here against their will, though!" Your shout goes ignored, as you knew it would. You grumble under your breath and hobble back to the elevator. Within moments you're shooting down to your bedroom, large and situated close to the heart of the volcano. You don't bother to activate the wheels of your shoes, instead leaning on your cane until you get to your bed.

The plush mattress and blankets are a relief on your aching hip and leg and you let yourself lean back and just relax for a moment. The notice is still clutched in your hand and you find yourself staring at the looping curves of Hera's signature, wondering what she's up to this time.

Memories flood you before you can stop them; being a young godling in Olympus, attached and in awe of your mother as she led you around the city, light gleaming off the golden columns. Seeing the fire in Zeus' eyes the first time he struck her in front of you, and the blaze that came when you stepped in front of her. Starlight glinting off her silver robes as she cried in her garden. The bruising vice he kept on your calf, the feel of the winds against your skin as you fell, the way Helios painted the sky as you kept falling. The feel of a hammer in your hand for the first time, juxtaposed to the throbbing pain in your crippled leg every time you so much as twitched.

The notice is across the room before you realize you've thrown it. You want to believe she isn't playing games; Hera has always been somewhat conniving, but your mother has never been outright cruel to you, not since the night you tried to save her from her husband, and she always had her reasons. You may not always agree with her reasons, but that didn't change the fact that she had them. Still, condemning an innocent person to a life here...condemning you to live your days with a constant reminder of your plainness, your deformity, wasn't something you expected from her. Zeus, yes, but not her.

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, only to adjust a few moments later when the pressure on your hip becomes too much. You're angled now, weight resting on your good side to alleviate even a bit of the pain from the other. It was the only way you could get a moment's peace since your fall, the only time the pain lessened.

You allow yourself five breaths. Five breaths to let the tear slip down your cheek, drawing its path through the soot and the smoke. Four to let your breath shake in your chest and shudder in the air. Three for the ache in your hip to disappear completely, so you are blessedly free from your pain for once. Two for the thorns to tighten impossibly around your heart and let it bleed for you. One for the hole in your chest, shaped like a loving father and a true family that doesn't constantly commission weapons from you to throw at each other.

Pain arcs through your leg once more and you wince. Your hand massages the muscles there absentmindedly; it provides no relief to anything but your mind. You stand and click your heels together once more, glad when the wheels are stable once more. In seconds, you're off, flying through hallways to get to your workshop.

You've got work to do.

It's nearly the entire week later when one of the workers knocks on the door of your workshop.

"Aphrodite has arrived, my lady." You wave at him and he disappears back into the mass of his brothers. It doesn't take you long to get to the entryway, rolling through the halls until you're just outside the large bronze doors. You retract your wheels and grasp your cane, reminding yourself that the more people thought Zeus had crippled you debilitatingly, the better. Your hip aches again and you tune it out in favor of tapping the end of your cane against a small hammer at the base of the doors. There's a quiet whir as they slide open, and you limp forward as best you can.

The foyer is packed with people, cyclopes everywhere with bags slung over their shoulder, forest nymphs tapping at their smoking roots, naiads hissing with steam. In the midst of everything stands two still figures, one infinitely more familiar than the other.

"I thought I told you that the next time you step foot in my forge, I'd stoke my fires with your bones." Your voice is loud as it reverberates across the walls. Both figures turn to look at you, but your glare doesn't falter.

"Aw, are you still mad about that?" His smile is deceptively innocent. "You never would've gotten her off that throne otherwise."

"It wasn't supposed to be her throne in the first place, was it?" You spit back as you make your way to him. It doesn't escape your notice that everyone but the cyclopes is staring at you, and you're glad the heat from the mountain keeps you flushed. You can't show weakness in front of this crowd, you can't let them know that you know they think you're below them.

You can't let them know that in your worst moments, you agree.

"Get the fuck out of my mountain, Dionysus, before I throw you out."

"Ooh, take after your old man a little too much there, don't you?" Jimin's smile never leaves his face and you resist the urge to smack it with your cane. Instead, you tighten your grip on it and take a breath.

"What are you doing here?" You eventually ask through gritted teeth.

"Just escorting a dear, dear friend." His grin has turned predatory as he rests a hand on his companion's shoulder. "My dear Hephaestus, I'd like to introduce you to Aphrodite." You glance over, looking the man up and down briefly.

He's taller than you - though, with your pained hunch, many are. His shoulders are almost as wide as his eyes as he looks around the room, taking in the granite walls and bronze moldings. His clothes aren't practical in the least; soft and sweet and flowing linens in a pale lilac that complements the purple of his hair. It's a stark contrast to the harsh reds and greys of your soot-stained leathers. When he finally looks at you, his eyes are the same color as the grease you use to oil your inventions and give you no clue to his thoughts.

He's fucking beautiful and it brings a sob to your throat.

"It's...a pleasure." He looks you up and down, not unlike you did him, but whatever conclusions he makes, he says nothing.

"Your quarters are on the fifth floor," You reply in lieu of an actual greeting. "Delius will show you the way. Be careful, or you're likely to lose your head. Keep a cyclops with you while you learn your way around, they can get anywhere." The god looks surprised, though you aren't sure why, and you turn. "They'll see to your meals and needs, as well, so if you find yourself wanting, just let one know. I'll have a key made soon, so you can come and go as you wish."

Aphrodite starts to say something as you walk away, leg dragging slightly behind you as you go. Jimin seems to cut him off, though, already asking for wine.

"And get that bastard out of my forge!" You yell over your shoulder. "If he's still here when I get to the lift, I'm throwing him to the pit."

There's scrambling behind you as the doors close. You feel a twinge of regret; the love god has done nothing to you, you could have given him even the slightest chance. The memory of his eyes as he looked at you flashes in front of you and you lean against the wall for support. No love god would want to associate with someone like you. He is beauty and elegance, a practiced dance in a moonlit gazebo, and you…

You are a mistake, cast from your home and crippled for all to see exactly what happens when you get in Zeus' way.

You take a breath and let the heat from the stone wall soothe the pain in your hip as much as it will before you set off for your workshop.

Seokjin isn't quite sure what to do with himself that night. His friends - suitors - have all gone, unable to bear the heat of the mountain for more than a brief goodbye, and Jimin was quick to go when the cyclopes started for him. What the story there is, he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything, as a matter of fact.

He doesn't know why Hera pushed so hard to have him wed to Hephaestus. He doesn't know why the girl was so cold at their first meeting. He doesn't know why she seemed so normal. Most people he met fell to their knees within moments, desperate to please him and showering him with vain compliments that used to sound like music in his ears. Most were insistent in their offers to him, throwing out their bodies and souls and anything else they thought he might want, just for a single glance from him. He used to laugh as he blew them kisses, delighted by their mindless adoration.

Used to.

He doesn't delight in such things anymore. Centuries have passed, and still, not a single one of the people and creatures that fought to stand in his presence cared about him. All of them saw Aphrodite, god of love and fertility, beauty and passion. They vied for just one night with him, fighting wars to win his hand, throwing whole festivals across Greece for his blessing. It was and would always be an honor. He is beautiful and is thankful for it, but…

Just once, he would like to be beautiful as Seokjin instead of Aphrodite. Would like the people attempting to woo him to hear the words he speaks instead of merely listening to the musicality of his voice. Would like to be believed, trusted, valued for something other than his face. Seokjin has a mind, a creative, capable mind that has - more than once - developed solutions to issues plaguing the mortals, only for him to be brushed to the side while the smart ones figured things out.

He hates it, just like he hates that Hera sprung this on him without so much as a warning. One day he'd been lounging in her garden, the one place he could find some reprieve from the hordes of suitors, and talking to Artemis about her life as a maiden, and the next, Zeus thrust a marriage certificate into his hands and told him to be packed by the end of the week.

And now his wife doesn't even care to look at him. You're not entranced like everyone else. The stories have grossly exaggerated your looks; he was prepared to look upon a monster, not a woman, pained and covered in soot with a limp. Still, there had been no emotion in your gaze, not even an ounce of the hatred or disgust he may have dreaded in his journey to this volcano.

Nor do you care to dine with him, clearly. He's been sat at a scorched rocky table longer than three of him, by himself, for nearly two hours. Olympus has spoiled him, clearly, or perhaps it's that your own manners are lacking. In the skies, everyone dines together, lounging on cushions and waiting until Zeus and Hera arrive before digging into the food presented to them. It's respectful, a way to honor the hosts of the home. Even there, however, he would not be kept waiting for more than ten minutes.

"You, there," He eventually calls to a cyclops in the corner, polishing goblets that likely haven't been touched in centuries. It turns to fix its eye on him, and Seokjin represses the instinctive shudder. "When does Hephaestus intend on dining tonight?"

"Apologies, my lord, but the lady has her dinner served in her workshop." Seokjin frowns at that and the cyclops continues. "She stays there most hours of the day, takes her meals there to ensure she makes the most of each day to create her inventions and improve upon her current ones."

Seokjin huffs and debates with himself for a moment. It would be rude to eat without his hostess present, but if you had your meals delivered elsewhere there was little chance you'd bother to come to the dining hall. He couldn't possibly go to your workshop to dine with you either; the cyclops could show him the way, yes, but he would no doubt be intruding on things he had no business being near, even as your husband.

He spews out a slew of curses that make the cyclops in the corner blush and digs into a roll. He would simply have to eat alone tonight, and perhaps if he catches you tomorrow, he can request your presence at meals.

You don't see Aphrodite again until the next evening.

You've almost forgotten anyone else lives in the mountain you call home, still used to being on your own besides the cyclopes. Roniah had informed you that morning that the god inquired as to your whereabouts the previous night during his supper, and the slightest bit of guilt shoots through you. You should have joined him if only for a moment to be polite, but you'd gotten entranced in your latest designs. Your own food had been taken away in the wee hours of the morning, stale and unwanted. It was commonplace, but you need to at least be polite to your husband.

You sink deeper into the steaming water around you, rubbing away the last bits of soot and grease as you ponder. The hot water is heaven on your aches, the warmth seeping through and relaxing them into painlessness. You don't allow yourself the luxury of bathing often, usually just wiping yourself clean every so often when the remnants of your work become too thick on your skin or the ache in your bones is too much to ignore. It's a nice reprieve, though, one you bask in each time. The water is close to boiling, comfortable and warm for a goddess such as yourself, and the steam makes it difficult to see much of anything.

You've long since come to terms with your life; you aren't beautiful, you won't ever walk without pain again, you won't be the daughter your parents wanted. But it's moments like these that you let yourself pretend, if only for a moment. Pretend you weren't thrown from your home. Pretend your leg isn't covered in scars from where the rocks of Olympus sliced it open. Pretend you're the same woman you were all those years ago, clutching at your mother's skirts as Zeus thundered towards her.

Your head starts to spin and you stand, clumsily making your way out of the pool and to the stone bench where your linen towel waits. You slip your robes over your shoulders and sigh at the softness of them. The black linen you keep here was woven by Ariadne herself, enchanted by Athena and dipped in the fires of your forge to withstand the heat. It allows for a slight breeze as you move into your bedroom, not bothering to tie the material closed completely so it hangs limp on your shoulders, torso exposed. Your skin is overheated from the water and you enjoy the way the air cools you just slightly as you sit on your bed.

You don't think anything of it until a throat clears behind you and you whip your head around to see Aphrodite standing just inside your door.

"Apologies, my lady. Horedon did not mention you were indisposed when I asked him to show me to your quarters." His voice is pleasant, soft and gentle. It matches his image and makes you acutely aware of how loud you always are, always must be in order to be heard over the forges.

"It's an honest mistake," You say eventually, tugging your robes tighter around you. "What do you need? As I said, the cyclopes are more than capable-"

"I wanted to extend my gratitude, actually." You can't even be mad he cut you off, too surprised by his words. "You and your workers have been very kind in the day that I've been here, and I appreciate that. I know that this isn't exactly something we had planned."

You nod in understanding. Pain flares in your leg once more and you massage the muscle out of habit. "Are your quarters to your liking? I did my best to position you high enough that the heat from the magma wouldn't be too overbearing, but not high enough that the forge smoke would choke you. Ah, and your bed also has a screen function built in to help to filter the air, so it may be more like what you're used to."

"Thank you, it's lovely. Delius showed me yesterday, it felt very much like Hera's garden." If he notices your flinch at the words, he doesn't say anything. "Listen, Hephaestus, I know neither of us may have wanted this, but I think we should make the most of this. We can at least be civil. If you would, your company at dinner would be most welcome." You stare at him, a laugh bubbling up in your throat that you can't stop. He looks baffled upon hearing it and it takes you a full minute to calm down enough to speak.

"Thank you for inviting me to dine at my own table, Aphrodite," you say with an amused smile. "I shall do my best to attend, should I find myself near the hall." His ears turn a lovely shade of pink as he inclines his head in a small bow and leaves. You laugh again once he's gone. The entire situation is too hysterical for you.

You, a plain and hobbled smith, are married to a love god who is beauty personified, who has already taken it upon himself to invite you to dine at your dinner table with him. You really should have expected him to pull something like this; already comfortable enough to show up unannounced in your private chambers and issue invitations and probably demands of your workers. You're not sure why Hera has banished him here; he's so much like her, he should be a favorite, and yet she must hate him if she's sentenced him to live here for the rest of existence.

With a sigh you settle back into your bed, pillows supporting the weight of your bad leg and sheets thrown haphazardly around you.

You don't expect to sleep, so when you wake, you're disoriented. You're not sure how long you were out, but it seems to have been a while based on the hunger that gnaws at your stomach. You click your heels and wheel your way to the kitchens, rubbing at your eyes to clear the sleep from them.

You're focused when you enter the kitchen and give a curt wave to the mass of cyclopes situated around the island. It isn't until you're done making your gyro that you turn, deliciousness only a bite away and lock eyes with Aphrodite.

He looks radiant, as always; the pale yellow cloth drapes along his form in a most appealing way, and there's an amused smirk playing over his lips. His hair is still that soft purple, but it's faded some.

"It's nice to see you again, wife," He says with an incline of his head. "It's been a while since anyone's seen you roaming through the halls." You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you lean back against the counter, wheels dig into the stone underneath your feet.

"Yes, well, I was resting. Nothing strange about that, is there?" His lips quirk in a knowing smile and he shares a glance with the cyclops to his right. You notice for the first time how soft his mouth looks, pillowy and full, and you absently wonder how many have felt those lips against their skin.

"Eat up, my lady," Aphrodite says eventually. "After a week-long nap, I expect you need it. Zeus dropped by a few days ago to deliver his wedding gift, it's waiting in your workshop. I've already commissioned a new necklace for Hera as thanks."

You frown, stuffing the gyro in your mouth. It was one thing to learn that you've been asleep for a week - not uncommon, for a god, but useful knowledge - but to know that Zeus stopped by without waking you, and that Aphrodite has been running things in your stead… You glance quickly around, noting the way each cyclops in the room is turned toward the love god as if they had all been deep in conversation before you arrived, and the sprawling mass of gems and stones atop the island in front of them.

"You're commissioning the cyclopes for jewelry now?" You eventually ask. He nods.

"They truly have an eye for detail," He says, a cheeky grin growing on his face. The cyclopes look amused, a couple even laughing outright, and you stifle a sigh at the terrible joke. "And I had no idea that these gems are so common here. The quality is astounding, honestly, I only ever see it in the gems on Olympus."

"That's because the stones on Olympus are from here," you tell him. Your eyes rake over him and he seems...happier than last you saw him. The soft light from the magma tunnels highlights his features beautifully, only enhancing the natural beauty, and there are gems decorating his hands and wound tight around his throat in a choker. More than that, though, he looks peaceful, relaxed. His muscles are relaxed as he sits among the one-eyed giants, a smile never far from his face, and they make conversation with him easily, despite their usual hesitance to be around any of the other gods. It warms you to see them so at ease around someone other than yourself.

"Well, if it's for Hera, it must be the best. Get me the designs, Aphrodite, and if there's anything else-"

"Seokjin."

"Hm?" You turn, already halfway to the door.

"Seokjin is my chosen name. Please, you don't need to keep using my title."

"Oh." Your eyes must be as wide as saucers as you stare at him, but the soft grin on his face doesn't falter in the least. "Alright then, Seokjin."

"We'll get you the designs when we're done, then, Hephaestus." You nod a little at his words and roll yourself away from the kitchens. It isn't until you get to your workshop that you realize you never gave him your own name.

Seokjin is...confused, to say the least.

The stories on Olympus about your mountain forge are varied and extravagant, but they all seem to agree on the basics. The mountain is a terrible place to live, always filled with soot and impossible to navigate and as hideous as its master. The cyclopes are unfriendly and outright rude to everyone, if not openly hostile, likely because they are forced into servitude. The forge goddess that rules over the volcano is as violent and temperamental as the mountain itself, liable to explode at any moment after being cast out of Olympus for her own hubris. You're said to be cold and unfeeling and cruel, whipping any cyclops that doesn't do what you say when you say and beating the others into submission as you forge more and more powerful weapons for Zeus, your punishment for daring to stand against him.

Seokjin was finding more and more that none of those things were true.

Yes, there is soot everywhere, but a simple wash and blessing upon his clothes keep them clean and beautiful. The mountain itself is a bit harsher than what he usually would consider beautiful, but the crystal mines glow with the magma behind them, lighting the walls with a myriad of colors, and the soft light in the palace does wonders for his looks, not to mention the way the ash and charcoal have helped his complexion. The halls are winding and strange, but following the system of bells and strings that he's seen messages shooting along means that even when lost, he can easily find a cyclops to help him to where he's going. Said cyclopes were unfriendly that first day, but now? They were nice beings, each one enthusiastic about the things they create and excited to be there, especially now that there's another person to talk to. They warmed to Seokjin fairly quickly after he asked what they were making; some kind of automaton, apparently, and when he asked what it was supposed to do, how it works, each eye lit up with glee as they began to explain it to him.

And you.

You are not violent at all. Every time you look at one of your workers, it is with friendship and happiness, and while you are easily distracted and yes, a bit temperamental, you are ultimately kind. He wants for nothing, everything he could ask for is given almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, he is free to come and go as he wishes, which is more than can be said for some of the other gods he's met. You have been unfailingly kind in the wake of your marriage to him. Everything he's witnessed, from the way you rushed to stamp out a flare at the bottom of his robes one day to the way you held a cyclops in your arms as he sobbed for a brother who had been lost to the sea, nothing has shown him that you are anything like what the Olympians say. You are frequently absent, locked away in your workshop for days at a time and leaving him to his own devices, but even that is a breath of fresh air. For so long, he's been surrounded by people - gods, nymphs, mortals, anyone and everyone all vying for his attention because he's beautiful and elegant, stealing precious moments of solitude where he can, and now he has as much as he desires. It makes him want to cry, he's so thankful for it.

He's only left a few times, determined to visit Hera and see the few friends he keeps - Dionysus is always glad to see him, odd enough, and loves to hear his tales of life under the mountain. Each time he leaves, however, he's swarmed. Not always immediately, but it's as if the world can sense his return, and they come in droves, all to catch a glimpse of his beauty. It's exhausting and overwhelming now that he's had so much time on his own, which is the exact reason he doesn't leave very often. The worst of them is an especially willful war god, who Seokjin swears has been camping outside the volcano to know the second he leaves to visit a friend because the man is on him in a heartbeat and refuses to leave him alone.

It's irritating and the way the man looks at him leaves him uncomfortable for days after he returns. He has half a mind to ask a cyclops to start accompanying him out, but even Seokjin knows better than to bring one of them to Olympus; Zeus would strike the gentle being down in a heartbeat just for daring to step where the gods live.

He ponders what else he can do as he wanders the halls of the mountain, a habit at this point. He's been here weeks, each day better than the last, and still hasn't explored the entire place. He's on the lowest level now, heat scorching the hair on his arms and sandals blackened with ash. There's been quite a clamor down here somewhere for the past few days, and he's curious to see what project is being hammered out.

He doesn't expect to turn a corner, walk past an open door, and see you, wheeling frantically around a large room, papers tucked in all sorts of pockets on your overalls, hair wild, face covered in soot. He watches, fascinated as you screech to a halt beside a large worktable, rifling through paper after paper before finally finding whatever it is you're looking for, only to push yourself to the other side of the room to pull a steaming piece of celestial bronze out of a pail. You look harried and distracted, not even having noticed him yet, and it…

It's honestly beautiful.

He's always loved seeing beauty like this; the sheer, unfiltered rawness of creativity and passion. The way you and others lost themselves in their work, blind to everything but the vision in their heads, forgoing sleep and food and everything else in favor of making something out of nothing. It's beauty in its most naked form; the naked truth of being real, in the fleeting moments of existence, and Seokjin lives for it. It's his personal favorite of all the beauty in the world, and you encapsulate it better than anyone he's ever met.

It's also beyond fascinating to watch you roll around on the wheels attached to your sandals. He can't help but wonder what it's like, to not have to take step after step and instead just roll through the slightly slanted halls of the mountain.

"Did you make those?" He regrets the words almost immediately, reaching in futility to catch you as you turn and trip over a pail set just too far in your path for you to dodge. "I'm so sorry, I should have announced myself. I don't mean to keep startling you."

"It's fine," you groan, though the hand on your hip is white-knuckled and your teeth are gritted. "I should have been paying more attention." He strides over and helps you to your feet, not missing the way you lean on him for support until you can sit on the now-overturned pail. "What did you need?"

"Oh, nothing, I was just exploring. Those, on your feet, though. You made them?" He smiles at your nod, however hesitant it is, and settles on the ground beside you to get a better look. "They're amazing. This compartment here, are they retractable?" You click your heels together in response, and Seokjin watches with wide eyes as the discs fold themselves up and slide into the soles of your sandals. "Amazing. Can you make me a pair?"

"You...you aren't going to tell Zeus, are you?" Your voice is the most unsure he's heard it, and he frowns.

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, I just...he wouldn't really be happy if he knew I made these. Since I'm supposed to be suffering and everything, and they make it...not as terrible."

Seokjin scoffs. "No, I won't tell Zeus. You really do have to make me a pair, though, these are amazing. What else have you made?" Your eyes are wide when he looks back up at you, but you quickly pull papers out of your pockets to hand them over.

"Well, this is my current schematic. I've just got to figure out how to get it to work."

"Is this...is this a person?"

"Kind of. The muses asked for some kind of...enhancement that would let them be heard in more places at once. So I've created this," You point to the left-most figure, which could only be Calliope. "Which is going to essentially absorb whatever the muse is doing, and then these," You run your finger along the other eight figures, each distinct but still matching overall, "Will distribute that to wherever they are. I've got a good basis for the visual representation, I think, and the audio system should be fine, but the issue I've been having is that I can't seem to get it to all...click."

"So you've got the transmitting figured out?"

"Yeah, that part was easy. And I built the miniatures, and they've been working fine, but I can't get the full sized ones to work correctly. I've smelted them down at least five times just to rebuild them." Seokjin stares at the papers in his hands, trying to make sense of the little scratches of handwriting that dart on and off the papers. He shakes his head, and pulls back, squinting.

"This may be a stupid question," He starts, looking at the front and side views you've drawn out, "But did you account for the weight?" You're silent for a long while, and when he looks up, you're gaping at him. "Sorry, of course you did, that was dumb."

"The fucking weight," You mutter. You're off in a flash, pulling the papers out of his hands to throw them down on a workbench and start scrawling again. "Because it wouldn't affect the smaller models since they use less material, but the full-size automatons would have the pressure which would affect the-" You start whispering to yourself, too rushed and quiet for him to make sense of, but he softens as he watches you go. He pulls the pail out of the way and sets it back against the wall before settling in on top of it.

He stays there for what feels like hours, watching as you pour adamantine into the molds and weld parts together and breathe that spark of life into the core of Calliope's automaton counterpart. He doesn't dare to breathe as you watch, hope clear in your eyes. Then the whirring starts and the automaton assumes a very Calliope-like pose, and you actually start to laugh and jump up and down. He can't keep the smile from his face, but he's satisfied now that he knows you're happy, so he moves to leave.

He's stopped by your voice, softer than he expected it over the hissing of the dying forge. He turns and you repeat your name. It sounds awkward on your lips, like you haven't said it in so long that your voice has forgotten what it sounds like, but you're smiling at him and you have soot on your face and he has to resist the urge to wipe it off. He echoes you quietly, and he thinks he's never heard a name more beautiful and fitting for someone like you.

Later, as he sinks into the steaming water of his rooms to wash the soot from his skin, he surprises himself. For the first time in his life, he wishes he wasn't a love god not for the unwanted attention, but because now he knows. He knows this feeling blossoming in his chest, and he knows how it mirrors that spark in your own heart. He can sense it, can feel it in the air as if it had actual weight to it, and he just...knows. He knows that you don't know what this is, that you probably will never realize what he feels, that you'll brush off your own feelings as some reluctant fondness while he can feel every step you take further into the magic of love.

And he won't be able to do anything to keep himself from falling in love with you and you won't ever be able to see that.

You've been locked in your workshop for days, putting the finishing touches on the Muses' automatons and adding the decorative bits you know they'll love. You haven't slept in twice as long, food even further from your mind, as it usually is when you get into one of your projects. It's a shock when Seokjin returns to your workshop balancing several trays of food and drink. You hold a strange fondness for him, unable to resist after he'd pointed out something so obvious in your designs. Anyone that could help you with your designs was worth at least knowing a little, you figure, but you never expected him to keep coming back.

And yet here is, directing three cyclopes to set cushions and blankets and all manner of soft, plush bedding on the ground just inside the door of your workshop. You gawk, wondering just how much nerve he has to be doing this and also what possible reason he thinks is good enough to disrupt you.

"You need to eat," He says when he notices you staring at him. "Besides, you're basically finished with them, and you need sustenance and rest if I'm going to get my awesome wheel shoes." You refrain from mentioning that you've already got them made; you don't want to encourage him too much. Pelion gives you a look as he exits the room and you huff. Just because they spend centuries here, they think they can tell you when to take breaks and eat. Typical cyclops.

You grumble as you wheel yourself to the mass of cushions Seokjin has created, but you quiet at the way it does ease the soreness in your leg. As good as you've become at drowning out the pain, the steady onslaught to your nerves has been fraying your attention more than you'll admit.

Seokjin sits after you have and presents the food with a flourish. It all looks delicious, much better than the hasty gyros and wraps you put together, and your mouth waters. He very kindly does not mention how disgusting you must look as you begin to dig in, instead talking about a recent trip he'd taken to see Dionysus.

His tone eventually catches your attention more than his words. "Wait," You stop him, slurping down some ambrosia. "Back up. Someone's stalking you?"

"I...don't think I'd call it stalking, exactly. I don't think he's going to do anything, either, it's all just talk, but...well. It's still frustrating when I'm just trying to visit friends."

"No, if it's bothering you, then it's an issue, then it needs to end. Tell me everything." And Seokjin does. From how the war god waits for him, either outside the mountain or outside Olympus, spends every moment Seokjin is gone following him around and saying some truly crude things. All of it makes your blood boil - Seokjin is kind, to the point that even the cyclopes love him, which is rare, and he gets harassed enough apparently without some god running around hitting on him constantly.

The rumors, though. The rumors are what get you seeing red. It's no secret on Olympus that this was an arranged marriage; they aren't uncommon among gods, and they aren't usually a scandal, but yours apparently is. Seokjin hesitates when he tells you about them, and you nearly break your fork in your effort to keep your rage from him. All sorts of stories, from you abusing him, forcing things he isn't comfortable with, keeping him chained up, feeding him pieces of your cyclopes, that you had bought him from Zeus with promises of gifts from the forge. Each is as terrible as the last, and all of them have your stomach rolling, and Seokjin reluctantly explains that he believes the war god to be the source of most of them.

"Well," You say, violently spearing a grape. "That must be stopped, immediately. I refuse to allow people to think of you like that, it's utterly disrespectful." You wobble to your feet and roll over to the wall of ideas you hadn't managed to get around to yet. "What do you think? Maiming? Or is that too quick? I've got a truly brilliant idea for a bull, it could eat him if I use the right materials. It'd take at least a hundred years for him to get out of that."

"Well," Seokjin eventually says. You turn to look at him, excitement bright in your eyes. The wheels in his brain are turning and he's got a fondness on his face as he lounges on pillows and cushions; it melts your heart. He looks every bit the love god he is, and something in you wants to sob at the thought. "I would say, personally, if he's going to embarrass us in such a public way, then it should only really be fair to embarrass him in such a way." He tosses the knife in his hand and it embeds itself in one of the papers on your wall. You ignore the throb of arousal that runs through you, looking instead at the design he's chosen.

"Oh," You whisper. Ideas are already running rampant in your mind. "Yes, I think this could be a very good plan."

Seokjin is in stitches when he next sees you, clutching at his sides as his laughter echoes through your workshop. The sight of his harasser in your net as he spouted off a variety of kinks that made even Zeus blush, in the middle of the golden city with all of the gods around him isn't one Seokjin is likely to forget.

"I still don't understand how you did it," He says, calming slightly as he wipes tears from his eyes. "How did you weave such a net, and how did you enchant it to make him say such things?"

"It wasn't much," You say. Your smile is beautiful, a treasure rarer than all the gems that he wears and more valuable than anything he's come across. He wants to wear it, wants you to keep smiling like that, with such pride in your work and happiness radiating from you. "...and then Arachne wove it all together." He nods as if he'd heard the rest of what you said. Part of him feels guilty for not listening; it really is fascinating, how you craft such wonderful things out of such pedestrian supplies.

"You're amazing," He says. He doesn't mean to, but it's true. Even now, as you lean against your workbench, fingers digging into the skin of your hip without even realizing you're doing it, smile slowly fading into something else - something more - you are radiant. Soot across your face and wheels on your shoes and the kindest heart he's ever seen in a goddess, and he wants you like no one else. There has always been beauty in creation, always been love in inspiration, and you are the ultimate mix of the two, painted over with enough cunning and determination to keep at your work no matter what.

He steps closer to you, slowly, and brings a hand up to wipe at the soot on your cheek. It smears under his thumb and your breath hitches in the most attractive way.

It's unbearably attractive, honestly, and it makes an ache swell within him that goes deeper than the physical. He wants to keep you smiling like that, wants to watch you work and bring you gyros and cart you to a hot bath on a bad day. He can see it, all of it, splayed in front of him as clear as if he were an Oracle. He'd waltz into your workshop and pepper you with kisses before pulling you out after him. Your wheels would squeak along the stone floor but you wouldn't complain even as he settles you in hot water and makes you forget your pain as he asks about your newest designs and creations. He can see it, and it's beautiful, and he wants it so bad that it hurts.

Almost as much as it hurts when your face falls, expression closing off into the same passive coolness that greeted him when he first arrived. You slide your way around him and turn to face another worktable. It hurts, the way you won't look at him, and moves something deep and primal inside him. It urges him to go on, to trap you against that table and make you open up to him, make sure you know that you can trust him to satisfy you.

He stamps it down with a long breath.

"Well," He says, pointedly ignoring your shaky breathing. "Thank you, again, for helping me. I suppose I'll see you around."

"You don't need to thank me, Seokjin," You say. Your voice is tight and your hands twitch and he wants to kiss you until the pain is gone forever. He doesn't. "You're my husband, I was only doing what was right."

"Still," He says, "It means more to me than you know."

You don't respond, and he leaves before you can. He doesn't want you to, doesn't want to hear the reluctant rejection spill from your lips when he knows. He's a love god, he knows when someone is in love, can feel in the air and taste it on his tongue. He knows that scent better than his own face and your workroom was suffocating with it.

He has no doubt that some was his own; he knows this fluttering in his chest, the rolling of his stomach, the spark of lightning dancing along his skin. He knows.

But he can smell the hesitation, too. Can see the way you fight the feeling, in every aborted reach for his hand and each averted gaze when he looks at you. You love him, he's so sure of it, but you don't want to be.

And he cannot force you to change your mind about that. He won't. He just isn't sure how long he can last without telling you that he loves you, too.

Curses spill from your lips as you glide cautiously through the hallways. You've grown too complacent, comfortable around your husband. You very nearly slipped the other day, were a hair's breadth from throwing caution to the wind and kissing him; it was a miracle you caught yourself. He'd just looked so happy. The smile, that laugh, everything about him was just glowing in the light of your workshop, and then he'd complimented you.

It's been decades since someone complimented your work like that, and none of them had done so with that look in their eyes. The gentle warmth, the fondness, the glow.

The love.

That was what startled you out of your thoughts, the sheer love that radiated from him. That was what made you push him away. It's what has kept you from seeing him for nearly a week, turning on your heel and going the other direction when you spot him. You can't handle love.

Not just because you've never known such an emotion, not just because you've never had anyone look at you that way, but because...he's a love god. A man like Seokjin surely falls in love every day with each passing stranger that catches his eye, and you...don't. You've never felt this before, you've never had someone love you, you don't know how it works, and worse, you can't figure it out.

You can't take love apart and look at each gear and cog and spring until you can piece it back together into a whole again. You can't observe and tinker and improve on something like love. Clouds and lightning? Simple mediums. Celestial bronze? Malleable as clay under your hands. But love? No, that was something utterly foreign to you.

You drop to your bed and pull your leg up beside you to inspect the wheel. It's cracked, badly, and it's a shock that it survived long enough to get you to your room. You lean closer and flinch at the stabbing pain that rolls through you. It's a stark reminder of yet another reason you don't belong with Seokjin. A god like him has almost definitely lain with the most beautiful in all creation; he surrounds himself with only the finest gems, the softest cloth, the richest wine. He only accepts the best.

You are far from being the best. Mutilated and scarred, left to limp around your mountain in solitude. You're past acceptance of your pain and the scars that mark your skin, you don't really care much that they exist anymore most days. Life could be easier without them, but would you have become the person you are today without them? You wouldn't have been so determined to find an easier way around, you wouldn't have worked for days on the wheeled sandals, you wouldn't have discovered your passion for creating.

You wouldn't be in pain, though. And maybe, just...maybe, Seokjin would find you beautiful. As beautiful as the twinkling stones around his throat and the flowing silks across his chest. Beautiful enough to stay beneath this mountain in the smoke and heat, to press his pillow-soft lips against yours, to love without abandon. Now, though, with your scars and pain and awkward gait, you find yourself doubting what you saw. It could have been love, yes, but how likely is that? A love god forced to live in a suffocating cave, wed to the laughingstock of the pantheon. It's more likely that he's attached himself to the nearest person that shows him any affection, despite how desperately you want him to really feel something for you.

Three succinct knocks on the door of your room jar you away from the thought.

"Come in," You call. You wish you were more surprised to see Seokjin, purple hair prettily faded and matching the soft lavender cloth that drapes from his shoulders.

"Can I have a few minutes of your time, Hephaestus?" He hasn't used your title since you told him your name, and it hurts to hear it now. Cements the fact that you are too different.

You nod, and the pain in your hip keeps you from moving away when he comes to kneel before you.

"I love you," He says matter-of-factly. "I've let you avoid me this past week because it's not my place to force these feelings on you, but the stench of heartbreak is too much now. It just lingers in the halls and it's starting to seep into my clothes and if it keeps up, I might have to double my skincare routine because it soaks into my pores. So I love you. A lot more than I ever expected to, and probably more than I've ever loved anything in my life."

You gape at him. "What...why…what?"

"You are creative and cunning and petty and inventive and intelligent and determined and it's so beautiful," He says. There's not an ounce of hesitation in his face, and it steals the words from your throat. "I love you, and I need you to know that so you stop stinking up the forge with your angst and heartbreak. I understand if you don't want to be with me-"

"What heartbreak, what-"

"Well, I don't actually," Jin continues, ignoring your protests. "I'm really quite the catch and to deny yourself of me when you love me this much would be an entirely new and advanced form of masochism, but nevertheless, I will accept your rejection, however inane and ill-advised it may be, because it is, ultimately, your choice. You can tell me to go, and I will, and you won't ever know I'm here again. But, if you accept this, then…"

He trails off and his eyes soften impossibly as he wraps his hands around yours. You've never believed people could communicate so much with just a single look, but you're proven wrong by the sheer emotion in his gaze. Your name falls from his lips, and it's never sounded so nice to your ears.

"If you accept, then I swear to you, I will spend every hour of every day ensuring you feel loved. I will bring you food when you forget to eat, I will tidy your workshop when you can't find anything, I will carry you wherever you need to go when the pain is too much to bear." One hand moves to rest along your hip, warmth distracting you from the stab of pain that ghosts through it. "I will be everything and anything that you need, always and forever, and I won't let another moment pass with you thinking otherwise."

He looks at you with expectation in his eyes, and you...can't speak. There are no words for what you're feeling; the sureness of his love warring with the anxiety of not being worth it. You open your mouth several times to respond and find that you can't; of all the words flying around in your mind, none of them make it out. He waits, for longer than you would have, before he sighs and nods.

"That's fine. Love is complicated even at the best of times." He stands, and the loss of his hands on you feels like part of you is being ripped away. "If you ever change your mind, let me know."

His smile is sad as he leaves, and the clink of the door behind him is the last nail in the coffin. Something wet and warm hits your hand, and you realize you're crying. When did you start crying? You struggle to your feet, rolling wildly across the room before you gain your balance.

The door swings open as you shove past it, the last bit of his purple robes turning the corner, and you shove off the wall to gain speed. You can't let him go. The knowledge surges through you with surety you've never felt, and it feels like there's a timer above your head, counting down to the moment you lose him forever. His name echoes through the halls, even though you don't remember calling it, and you speed around a corner to him.

He's half turned to face you already, about to head down another hall since this one dead ends, and it's as you go to brake that you remember the cracked wheel. There is no braking, you're lucky you've made it so far, but you're at top speed right now and there's no time.

"Don't-" is all you can get out before you're crashing into him, wincing as he falls down to the hard ground and the wheel splits in half beneath you. The pain comes an instant later, too much weight too suddenly, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you didn't fight them down.

"Wow," Jin says after a second. "You really did fall for me, didn't you?" His laughter drowns out your groan, but it's worth it for the way he's smiling at you.

"I…" You hesitate, unsure of the words. He waits, patient and relaxed even as he adjusts you to sit on his lap instead of the rock. "I do. I want this."

"I know," He says with a grin. "It's nice to hear you say it, though." He doesn't flinch at the smack you give his shoulder, just presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"I swear to all the gods, Seokjin, if you don't stop, I'm going to put this discus through your skull."

"Ooh, please do. I hear that's how Athena was born."

"Seriously?"

"You're right, we don't need anyone else like that running around."

You let your tools fall to the table in front of you and spin around to face your husband. He's exactly where he has been for hours, lounging among pillows and silks on the bed he's had installed in your workshop. A bowl of grapes sits nearby and he's been working his way through them for what feels like forever. If you weren't so irritated, you'd be struck dumb by the image he paints, half-naked and glowing as he pops a fruit between his lips.

As it stands, you're just frustrated and horny now, which is never really a good thing, but especially not on bad days. The ache has made it hard to think, and you've been shuffling around all day trying to find a position that made it hurt just a little less but had no such luck. You've made no progress on the designs in front of you, either; between Seokjin's commentary and the fog of pain in your mind, you had no concentration.

"I'm trying to work, Seokjin. We had an agreement, remember? You could have the bed installed, you can hang out here, I don't mind, but you have to let me work."

"You've been trying for hours," Seokjin whines. "Take a break with me, please? You need to rest your hip anyway, or you won't be able to focus." You hate that he's right, and you hate that he knows he's right, and you really hate that he knows you know he's right. You grumble as you wheel over to him and as you slide your shoes off. It's his one rule about the bed, no shoes, and while you can't blame him since they were covered in ash and soot and rock, you still like to complain about it.

His hands are on you in an instant, gliding under your shirt and massaging your hip. You sink into the touch, sighing as the pain lessens slightly.

"Let me help? We've still got some of the lotion that Apollo sent as a wedding favor. I brought it down, just in case." Lips press soft kisses to your shoulder, and you know it's only a matter of time before you give in. You should probably be a little ashamed of how little it takes for your husband to distract you, but you can't bother to care now.

You nod, and you feel him smile against your skin. He's gone and back in a heartbeat and he lays you back against the pillows carefully. You wince when your hip rests flat, instantly adjusting to bear your weight elsewhere.

"Is it bad today?" He mutters as he slides your usual leathers off. Any shyness and embarrassment you once had are long gone, softened by the passage of time and the sheer amount of times he's seen you naked.

"No," You respond quietly. He shoots you a disbelieving look. "It's more annoying than usual, I suppose, but it's not any worse than usual."

"You shouldn't have irritated it by working," Seokjin says as he runs some of Apollo's lotion between his hands to warm it. "You could have stayed right here and gotten more done."

"I can't forge a throne from the bed, Seokjin."

"No, but you can draw designs for it. And for the jewelry I promised Dionysus."

"I still don't know how you talked me into making something for him that isn't a chastity belt or a guillotine." The heat in your words is dulled with every slide of your husband's hands over your hip. The lotion starts working almost immediately, sinking into your skin and dissipating any discomfort it reaches. Seokjin is smiling as he works and pats your thigh lightly. You twist more, laying on your side so he can reach the back of your thigh.

"You can't be mad at him forever, can you?" He asks. You open your mouth to disagree - as a goddess, you quite literally can - but only a squawk comes out when he slaps your ass and watches it jiggle. He laughs as you slap at his shoulder, no real strength behind it.

"That's it, give me my clothes, I have work to do."

"Mm, I don't think so. Apollo said you have to rest for a while after applying, remember?" He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek.

"What do you expect me to do, just lay here and do nothing? I can't turn my brain off, Seokjin, I'll go mad if I have to lay here without being able to work."

"I actually had other ideas." The smile never leaves his face, and as he leans over you, you can feel the length of him pressing into your thigh. "Still just laying there, but much more enjoyable."

"Scandalous," You whisper, fighting a smile. "What would my husband think?"

"That you look sexier than anything he's ever seen like this and that he wants nothing more than to make you forget about anything but him."

“That doesn’t sound very restful,” You tease as he kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you can feel his familiar smile against your skin; he always does love it when you get flustered. “I’m pretty sure Apollo specified ‘no sex’ in his definition of resting. He was pretty clear about it, actually, which makes me wonder what you’ve told him.”

Seokjin nips at your collarbone lightly. “Didn’t I say I want you to forget about anything but me?”

“Didn’t you say you were going to make me?” You retort. It’s a familiar argument, as comfortable and warm as Seokjin’s hands massaging your hip and thigh. His silk-soft hands dip downwards even as he rises, lifting your leg up and hooking your ankle around his neck. The discomfort that hits is overshadowed by the relieving stretch, and heat pools in your belly when you feel his length press against you once more, significantly closer to where you’d like it. He straddles your free leg, pressing against your naked core.

“Seokjin, please,” You mutter. His touch is feather-light now, fingertips ghosting over your skin and marveling at the goosebumps they raise. You wiggle underneath him as he begins to trace your scars. The first time you’d done this, you didn’t let him linger; you were too embarrassed, too ashamed, too aware of the marks that start just above your hip and travel nearly to your knee. He’d insisted on it the next time, but you’d kept the room dark so you wouldn’t have to see his face. Months had passed before you could bear to watch him look at you, and when you did, it shocked you. It still does. It never seems to matter how many times he sees you like this, bare and vulnerable, scars on full display underneath his large hands. He always wears the same expression, the same awe reflecting in his eyes each time, his touch always gentle and careful, like he doesn’t want to make it worse than it already is. There’s no disgust, there’s no carefully crafted neutrality, nothing that you convinced yourself to expect. Just pure, unfiltered love.

It’s there still, radiant as he slides his hands along your skin. The sensation is dulled along the scar tissue, and yet you feel it in your very core. Wetness seeps into the fabric Seokjin is still wearing, and you whimper a little. He shushes you softly, grinding lightly to give you just a taste of the friction you so desire.

“Oh, my beautiful little blacksmith,” He coos. “You are absolutely soaked, did you know that? I haven’t even started yet, and you’re already so ready for me.” You whine as he slides a finger along your folds. You try to buck into his touch, but his other hand holds your hips firmly in place, though he never stops his massage. “Ah-ah, none of that. You’ll make the pain worse.”

You huff slightly under your breath, but you know he’s right. It’s a lesson you’ve learned several times over.

“Seokjin, don’t tease,” You plead. You let your lip pout, knowing he can’t resist the very rare sight. “You said you would distract me. Or should I go back to my designs?”

“If you think you can,” He responds amicably. You turn slightly, your back resting flush against the bed while he moves your leg to wrap around his waist. It’s still twisted to the side, but the position helps with the pain leftover from the ointment. You open your mouth to snark at your husband, but all that comes out is a loud moan as he sinks two fingers deep inside you. His length, pressed into the meat of your ass, twitches at the sound.

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You breathe. The way his fingers fit inside you is like no other feeling, and you could spend centuries trying to recreate it with no luck.

"That's it, love," Seokjin purrs. His eyes are blown wide with desire and focused entirely on where his fingers disappear into you. "You take my fingers so good, sweetheart, like you were made just for me." A whimper escapes and you roll your hips slightly so he hits deeper inside. He grins and quickens his pace, knowing all too well what your body wants at this point. His thumb comes up to rub circles into your clit, gentle but firm; your back arches and your vision goes white with the force of the orgasm that's torn from you, and when you open your eyes, Seokjin is glowing. Literally, because you found out after the first time he made you come that that's a thing that happens to him.

"Please, love. I want you inside." Seokjin chuckles a little at your words, and if you had the energy, you'd kick him, but your legs don't work very well on a good day, so it's unlikely.

"Always so impatient," He tuts, though he does slide his fingers out of you and into his mouth. He moans at the taste of you, and your pussy clenches around nothing, because it's absolute sin to hear, and you wonder idly if maybe those Christians were on to something when they started talking about things being so good it's unholy.

Seokjin grabs your attention with a soft nip to your calf, accustomed to the way your mind wanders. He smiles at you, soft and private and beautiful, and lifts your hips with one hand. He slides a pillow underneath you and stifles a laugh at the way you wiggle into comfort as he settles your legs on either side of his hips.

“Don’t laugh at me,” You huff. Seokjin doesn't respond, but you can see him trying not to smile as he pumps his cock lazily with one hand. "It's not very polite to laugh at your wife. In fact, it's considered fairly rude."

"Oh, is it?" He teases as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. The contact is brief but has your heart jumping in your throat nevertheless.

"Yes," You reply, "It is. You should be nicer to m- fuck, Seokjin." He grins against your lips at your reaction, stilling as he bottoms out inside you. The stretch is perfect, would hurt if it didn't feel so good, and he knows it.

"What was that?" He asks. He nips at your lips when you whine. He drags his cock out, slow and delicious as you tighten around him, before sliding himself just as slowly back in. You'd be embarrassed about the moan that escapes you if you could focus on anything that isn't the way he feels inside you.

From the first time he slid inside, there's always been something so right about the feeling. He fills every part of you, thick and long and harder than the bronze you work with every day. You've never been to the underworld, but you imagine this is what the Isles of the Blessed are like for the mortals, because it's rapturous.

He thrusts gently in the beginning, always, careful to be sure he isn't too rough with your hip. He doesn't stop kissing you, plump lips moving sinuously against your own and breathing in every little moan and whine you make as he moves. He's so slow, so considerate, lets you set the pace each time, and right now? Right now, this is good. The slow, sensual strokes that you can feel against your walls, the steady press of him against your g-spot with every thrust, the warmth of his hand traveling from your thigh up your torso to tweak your nipple as he moves to glide a thumb over your jaw and then retrace his path back down. This is exactly what you want: the two of you moving together, slow and soft and perfect.

You have plenty of time to try some wild new position later, after all.

Your stomach lurches at the thought, heat pooling between your thighs as the band in your tummy steadily stretches. He doesn't change his pace at all, just adds a bit more force as he thrusts inside, and the added force against that spot inside has you seeing stars. Your moans are echoing and loud and with each one, Seokjin's glow just gets brighter and brighter. His hand wanders between your legs, rubbing small circles into your clit in time with his thrusts.

"Show me, love," He mutters in your ear. "Love you so much, show me how it makes you feel. Let go for me." You whimper, blunt nails digging into the skin of his back. He doesn't stop, whispers exactly what he wants to see you do, but it's the way he says your name - quiet and reverent, like you may disappear if he's too loud - that finally has the cord snapping.

It must be too much, because you come to after a few minutes - maybe, time is so strange as a goddess - to find Seokjin rubbing soothing circles into your hips and pressing gentle kisses along the column of your throat. Your pussy contracts around him, and you whimper when you realize he's still hard inside you.

"You didn't…?" You mutter, finding more words are too much work right now.

"No, I don't need to," He assures you. He starts to pull out, but you manage to get a hand on his shoulder.

"Want to," You mumble. Talking is hard, but you manage. "Want to feel you. Inside. Fuck. Please." He asks you if you're sure and you nod, and that's when he kisses you, soft and sweet and completely at odds with his next words.

"Gonna fuck you so good, my little blacksmith," He groans as he begins thrusting once more. He's faster now, hips snapping roughly against yours as he chases his high. "Can't wait to fill you up, wanna see you so full of my cum, want you to swell with it." He grins as you moan, tightening around him as another orgasm approaches. "You like that, love? You want me to fuck you full of my cum? Fill you up so good that it spills out of you for days?" He hisses a curse under his breath as you buck. Your free hand moves downward, rubbing at your clit gently. It's just the right edge of overstimulation, and it sends you off the edge once more, clenching around him. His hips stutter, and the feeling of you milking his cock sends him past the brink as well, and then he's painting your walls with cum.

Later, after he's fucked his cum into you three more times and then eaten it out, he watches you draw a lazy sketch on the little bit of paper that you can reach.

"It looks good," He says softly. You hum, wrinkling your nose.

"I'm worried it's too...understated, I guess."

"No, I think it's perfect for her," Seokjin assures you. "Very Hera. Though, you should put in a secret compartment here, so she can stash her sex toys somewhere he won't look."

"What? No! I'm not building a secret sex toy stash in my mother's throne!"

"Fine." He's quiet for a few more minutes as you sketch. "I'll just get the cyclopes to do it."

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