#contains hera

[incorrectgreekgods]

Poseidon: So, are you two dating now?

Zeus and Hera: Yes.

Poseidon: Why?

Zeus: I happen to find Hera very appealing.

Poseidon: Yeah, I can understand that. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with Hera.

#incorrect greek gods #incorrect quotes #incorrect mythology #incorrect greek quotes #incorrect gods #incorrect greek mythology quotes #greek gods #greek mythology #mythology #gods #zeus #poseidon #hera #zeus x hera #hera x zeus #contains poseidon #contains hera #contains zeus

[hephaestuscrew]

It's a small thing, but I think it's important that when Lovelace describes what she thinks they should do in Securité, she explicitly says they should transfer Hera's personality over to the Urania before they "blast the hell out of dodge".

She doesn't have to say it directly. It's not like she's outlining a full detailed plan at that moment. Eiffel and Minkowski probably would have assumed that any "we" leaving the Hephaestus would include Hera (if at all possible). But if Lovelace had just said 'We should get on their shuttle and blast the hell out of dodge', I think Hera would have wondered whether that included her. Instead, Lovelace leaves no room for doubt.

I don't think Lovelace and Hera are really friends at that point, not after what went down in Mayday. But Lovelace still shows a kind of simple consideration there, in not just thinking that Hera would come with them if they left but saying it out loud. It's a contrast with Lovelace's behaviour in Season 2, when she lets Hera (and the rest of the crew) believe that she would be willing to blow the Hephaestus up with Hera still on it. Perhaps the talking to that Hera gave her in Do No Harm had an impact. Perhaps Lovelace has simply come closer to understanding Hera's perspective or to properly considering her a part of the crew.

#I know the situation is a bit different between Season 2 and Securité #because the Urania is much more likely to be able to contain Hera's personality than Lovelace's shuttle #so bringing Hera with them is much more possible in Lovelace's Securité plan than in S2 #But Lovelace still could have left it implicit that they wouldn't just leave Hera behind on the Hephaestus #if they left on the Urania #Instead she chooses direct communication #I think Hera needs that given all her past experiences #She needs it to be stated that she is included when people say 'we' #She needs it to be stated that she won't be left behind #I don't think it's necessarily a conscious decision Lovelace makes to say it like that #but I do think it's significant #w359 #wolf 359 #w359 spoilers #isabel lovelace #hera w359 #wolf 359 spoilers #the empty man posteth

[myxinidaes]

just...! the evolution of eiffel and minkowski and hera's relationship is SO well done. the way that eiffel and minkowski go from resenting and being truly horrible to each other to having to work together to genuine friendship and finally a deep, unshakeable trust to the point where they both sacrifice themselves for the other!!! eiffel freaking out over hera at the beginning but becoming the first person to see her as a person instead of just a glitchy ai, to her personal cheerleader and trusting her even when by all accounts she shouldn't have been trusted!!! and hera and minkowski's relationship doesn't get as much time since neither of them are the narrator of the show but you can tell there is SO much happening there. hera trying so desperately to be loyal to minkowski even when she's being hacked and OUGHHHHHHH so many feelings all the time

and thinking about the aftermath of the show. hera losing her body and autonomy! eiffel losing his MEMORIES!! minkowski being the only thing keeping them + lovelace and jacobi and miranda from falling apart even though by all rights she's earned her happy ending like! they won and escaped but also they didn't. and don't even get me STARTED on hera's sacrifice for her crew. there is nothing for her on earth! earth is where she's probably going to be confiscated and sent away for study or destruction or reprogramming. but she did it for them.... I hope that in the end things worked out for her ;;

#wolf 359 #i ship them all but also like. theyre soulmates they balance each other they are platonic life partners after escaping to earth #they mean everything to each other #and to me. #tumblr is so exciting i kept #being like aw rip im at 250chars but NO. i can no longer be contained! #im forever going to be stuck on that one scene in memoria where hera is imagining herself *at the table* #eating with her crew #and then she's like no... this isnt right is it. i cant be with them.

[commsroom]

i love that the information on hera's servers is just something she (mostly) has access to and it isn't inherently part of her or necessarily something she knows, exactly - that she has to actively read the books available to her, that she doesn't commit all of the information she processes to memory, that her memory is fallible and influenced by her own biases, etc. because it means sometimes eiffel is like, wow, hera!! you're so smart; you know everything!! and meanwhile she's doing the equivalent of like, googling stuff really fast.

#wolf 359 #w359 #hera wolf 359 #the show can be kind of inconsistent and/or vague about what information hera has access to #like. all three of these examples are music related i'm realizing: #she's able to find information about janis joplin #she's able to identify bach #and she references anarchy in the uk back at eiffel #all of those examples are from at least early-ish episodes however #if hera had access to music the way she has access to writing #that feels like it would have to come up. so the only other reasonable explanation #is that all of those things happen to be referenced in files she's able to search #which seems reasonable i guess? that there might be biographies or books on the history of music or books containing sheet music #though i think re: classical music it's possible she could've been introduced to it pre-hephaestus #there's not really much we know about that either like. what information goddard gives their AIs or what tests are run on them. exactly #all of which is just. something to think about. #anyway hera IS smart but that's about her as a person and how she processes information #not the information itself #i still kinda love the idea that the way she navigates her directories #would get a 'you do WHAT??' type reaction if she ever talked about it with another AI #oh also there's something to say about hera's servers vs. the information recall the dear listeners gave eiffel #like i kinda wish they could've talked about that i think it would've helped him understand her situation better

[sayoneee]

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside. 

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.” 

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him. 

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy. 

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash. 

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed. 

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side. 

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces. 

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you. 

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew. 

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual. 

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands. 

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands. 

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention. 

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder. 

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him. 

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars. 

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish. 

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes. 

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke x reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem! reader #hermes cabin #percy jackson imagines #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan one-shot #luke castellan oneshot #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #woc friendly #aphrodite cabin #kashaf ki likhai

[peachesofteal]

The Acheron

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 10.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Modern retelling - Greek mythology AU. Hades and Persephone. Two Kings of the Underworld. Abuse (by reader's mother). Bad BDSM etiquette. Dom Simon Riley. Switch John MacTavish. Impact play, spanking. Ichor (blood) play. Non-con voyeurism. Kidnapping. Submissive reader. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Alcohol. Praise kink. Biting. Anal play. Subspace. Dubious consent. First they're sour, then they're sweet, then... they're sour. Tags are for your health, not mine. .A meeting, a trick, a meal.

Hebe’s is humming.

You nod to her through the crowd, a gaggle of mortals waiting at the counter, the line of them moving swiftly as they order their pastry-coffee duo for this dreary, rain slogged morning.

Her perpetually young face lights with exuberance once she spots you, and you can’t help the smile that fights into place at the sight of her. Hebe is a cherub. Soft, curved for ages, like she had been sculpted by her father himself. Today, she’s dolled up in tones of pink; pink lipstick, fuchsia stained cheeks, magenta streaks in her otherwise dark, tightly coiled hair that sits at her shoulders.

For a while, before you were brazenly corrected, you wondered if maybe your mother wanted Hebe as a daughter, instead of you. A perfect picture of untouched purity and power, an eternal cupbearer, worshipped as the goddess of Mercy. She was sweet, like her famous Portokalopita, orange syrup cake that drew a group of wanting mortals at the door every morning. She’s a stunner. A mountain of sunshine, a ray of positivity.

Sometimes, you hate her for it, even if she is one of your best friends. 

Something about her cheerful demeanor can dig at you, scrape along the sticky matter of your brain, gnaw at the soft bits that you’re still trying to protect, tender pieces that match your heart.

You follow the hall to the back room, where bookshelves taper off and large floor to ceiling windows flank the east and west sides to allow as much light in as possible. There are others here, a few mortals curled in overstuffed armchairs, books and cappuccinos in hand, light jazz soothing the atmosphere through a few hidden speakers. Healthy clematis blooms along the stair rail, purple blossoms disappearing into the second floor, where more reading rooms wait, books and plants boundless inside Hebe’s.

A place for everyone. 

You feed the clematis a little spark of magic, enough that the vine stretches, shivering and sprouting more flowers. “Aren’t you stunning this morning?” The plant curls around your fingers eagerly, imbued with the essence of power, drinking up the magic drops you encourage into its cell structure. “So healthy and strong, you’ve recovered so well.”

“Good morning.” A wraith of a voice whispers, and you catch the iridescent flicker of a cloud, of Nephele. The clematis will need pruning soon, probably next week, or maybe you can make time in the next few days, you don’t really have too much going on, just your birthday, and that delivery to Hera- 

Ghostly fingers stroke the inside of your elbow, and the cloud nymph regards you with an insightful expression. “Earth to Seph.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is meek, and she shrugs.

“I asked what you’re doing tonight?” Oh.

“Dinner… with my mom.” She nods, and says nothing, jaw clenching, apologetic grimace lining her lips.

“And Friday… Aselgeia?” The club. Your muscles tighten. It’s been over a year since you’ve been to Aselgeia, the club of many vices, the ones where mortals and creatures and gods all mix interchangeably, chasing their own pleasure. The memory of last time heats your spine: A private room. A black chair. A stranger swinging a paddle towards your bare-

Nephele coughs.  

“Yeah, definitely.” You put the box down that you’re carrying, twelve small pots containing strings of pearls, all crossbred to produce different colors, emboldened by their proximity to you in the Greenhouse for these past few months. They’ll sell well, you have no doubt. “I’ve got a few more boxes to bring inside. Don’t supposed you could do something about this slag weather we’re having?” You gesture, and she snorts.

“Hebe says they’re fighting. Probably looking at weeks of storms.”

“They’re always fighting.” You whisper it, even though most know the truth. Zeus and Hera were explosive. Tumultuous. Which is fine, you suppose, for a private life. A public life, however, one that belongs to the Golden King and Queen, should probably be a bit more… restrained.

After all, why should you and everyone else have to suffer because Hebe’s mom and dad can’t get along? 

“I’ve got a lot of cataloging to do, so I’ll catch you around. Text me after dinner tonight, if you need to talk.” She finishes quietly, kindly, but without encroaching, and you squeeze her hand with affection.

“Thanks, Nell.”

The final two boxes stack comfortably for your dash inside. You're eager to get all the plants settled so you can get back to the Greenhouse, slink away to your personal temple, your place of refuge, somewhere quiet to prepare for your dreaded birthday dinner in peace.

“Hello.” A male voice calls, accented so strangely it’s impossible to place. He waves, trying to flag you down.

“Hello?” You turn, nearly stumbling back at the sight of him.

Who is this? 

He’s stunning. Brilliant blue eyes study you from a mountaintop, taller than you by more than a head or two. His hair is short on the sides, but long in the middle, a fashion of mohawk you’re unfamiliar with except for in Hoplites, warriors who sacrifice themselves for the sanctity of the state. He’s broad, built like there’s a Herculean amount of muscle underneath his immaculately tailored midnight black suit, and his cheekbones complement the razor edge of his jaw, framing a full set of dark, plush lips.

He looks like a dream you’ve never had. A fantasy that failed fruition.

Fairer than Adonis. Brighter than Apollo. 

Butterflies kick up a fluttering frenzied in your belly.  

“Sorry to bother ye, I’m looking for Hebe’s?” Ah. You smile.

“You’ve found it. This is just the backside. Front door is around the walk to the left.” He steps closer, and you’re about to introduce yourself when you hear the whinny of a screech owl’s tremolo, a tinned melody that whistles past your ears.

Olympus tilts. Axis trembles. And so do you.

The stranger is keen, and glances around. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I um… it’s just that owl, I swear I saw the same one a few days ago… I didn’t think they were too common around here.”

“Dinnae think they are.” His eyes twinkle, celestial light that has you drifting, floating through time and space into starlit irises. The air turns heavy, hot- fresh fired bricks weighing down your chest, and everything spins, day turning to night, night molting black, deep hues of purple and blues streaking past your vision, spinning like moon, twisting you up until your balance is faltering, and you sway. “Whoa, hey.” Fingers fold over your arm, surprisingly cool, chilled, and it pulls you back into your body, spine uncurling, brow smoothing.

“Sorry, I…”

“Ye alright?” He’s still holding your arm, directing you to a bench, relieving you of your box in a swift motion.

“Yeah, sorry… I… I skipped breakfast.” There’s no other explanation, right? The handsome stranger tsks.

“Can I get ye somethin’? Maybe from inside?”

“No!” You blurt, horrified. Hebe would have a cow if she thought you were feeling faint or had skipped a meal. She takes caring for her loved ones far too seriously. “No, I’m almost done, and then I’ll be on my way home. I’ll eat there.” He raises an eyebrow, completely skeptical. “I swear.”

“Alright then. Let me help ye with the rest at least?” He’s standing with a hand extended, and you track the veins on the inside of his wrist until they disappear beneath his t-shirt, golden, tawny skin just barely allowing them to be seen. You wonder if it’s mortal blood that catapults through his body, or the rich, golden ichor that also spills from yours.

“Sure.” He lifts the box, gesturing for you to grab the other.

 “I’m John, by the way.” John. It simmers in the front of your mind, stitching itself into the fabric of your magic.

“Persephone. My friends call me Seph.” Bold. Too bold. 

“Ye’re Demeter’s daughter.” He comments, and you blink, fresh wave of regret curdling the sourness of your stomach.

“Yes.” Fool. Give your name to a stranger, and this is what will come. “Do you know-“

“Only in passing, dinnae worry.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“Ye wear yer emotions plainly.” Your cheeks burn, embarrassed at the blatancy of his statement. “It’s refreshing. So many of us, we play too many games, hide our true selves.” Us. Golden ones. Gods. 

“You’re Cloaking.” You intend it to be a statement, an observation, but with a tight jaw and frowning brow, it’s an accusation.

“Aye. Wouldnae want to scare ye away, would I?” What? Your steps slow, gait pausing in concern. “Sorry, ah. Bad joke.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” He carries the boxes to the door, setting them down carefully, and then rising back to his full height. You swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Well, John,” you say it with a hint of sarcasm, and it conveys your doubt. That’s not your real name, is it? “It was nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, expecting a shake, but he holds it with both of his, back bowing, lips softly pressing the skin of your knuckles, tender touch making your knees weak, your heart swooping and swooning.

“The pleasure was mine, Persephone.”

“Have you given anymore thought to your role in the coming year? Your presence at harvest, or planting, would do-”

“I haven’t.” The wine is too oaky, so earthy it takes like dirt, the opus of your mother’s existence, and you swallow it down in silence.

“Persephone.” She chides, like she has a million times before. “If you just tried, a little harder-“

“I am Spring, mother. Life. Rebirth. Fertility.” You ignore her wince. “But that doesn’t mean I’m well suited for crops, and grain, and harvests.”

“It means exactly that. Otherwise, the Greenhouse would not exist.” Her knife slices into a bloody piece of meat, red dripping down the sterling to her fingertips. “Why must you fight your destiny?” Your mind wanders to your visitors the other day, the sisters. The Moirai. Does she know? Is that why she’s saying this? Did she send them? “You spend so much time actively trying to deny me, holed up with your flowers and silly little house plants-“

“It is you who denied me.” Her eyes narrow. “You who didn’t want me to become a fertility goddess, who wanted me to be some weapon of green light, to be the spitting image of you. You raised me to be a threat!”

“Is it so wrong, that I did not wish for my daughter to become a common whore? That I had hoped to prevent her becoming such a failure? That I dreamed of her becoming so much more than… what sits before me now?” The words do not shock you anymore. You’ve grown to expect them.

That does not mean they do not sting.

“It is wrong that you kept me locked in this house, away from the world, until I was too strong for you to control.” You spit, fork clattering against your plate. Rage sears white at the edge of your vision, overflowing bouquet of flowers in the center of the table blooming into massive blossoms, edges of petals beginning to curl inward.

“Control yourself.” She warns. “Or I will do it for you.” Your pulse thunders. The air in the dining room crackles.

You do not relent. Rationally, you know you should. You know this will only end one way, that this will sever another tie to your past, to your mother, one you won’t be able to repair… but you can’t stop. The magic itches under your skin, screaming.

The ivy that covers the outside brick shatters a windowpane above her head, springing through the opening like a virus seeking a host, sticking to the inside wall. Glass falls to the floor, rain pelts the roof.  

“Persephone.” Shining silver spools, churning across the table, through the air until it takes form-

The Whip.

Your mother’s favorite.

It licks your skin, your fingertips, your knuckles. A different touch, from the reverent kiss you received only hours ago. It cracks through the air like the lightning.

“That’s enough.” She vows.  

You will not cry. You won’t. You won’t let her get to you like this anymore. You’re a woman now. An adult. You’re not a child, you’re not, you’re not- 

She sighs. Your fingers clench the stem of the wine glass so firmly you think it might shatter.  

You finish your meal in stiff silence. Its heaviness droops all around you, blanketing the entire table, your fork, the distance between you and your own mother. It’s an eon. A millisecond. Never enough because you always crave more. More space. More time. More distance. Her eyes spark, anger burning hot behind them, but she says nothing.

When she’s finished, she rises from the table without another word, disappearing down the hall.

Happy Birthday, you guess.

In the middle of the night, the Greenhouse is quiet.

Even the plants slumber, most of the daylight seekers, pistils, stamens, all covered by their petals, lying in wait. In the back, you pad along the floor of moss, allowing the tiny tendrils of green to skim along your bare skin, pulling opulent, indulgent specks of power into themselves. Wisteria lines the walls, tiny blooms of purple and white falling like curtains of stars, only parting for the archway that leads to the spring, a small freshwater lagoon that spills from the crust of the earth as hot as tea, bubbling eternally, waiting for you.

Tonight, the water is ethereal. Steam rises from the pool, slicking its stone home, and you bask in it, muscle and bone turning languid, supple in the roiling spring. It’s nearly sublime, almost perfect.

Your mother’s voice still echoes. Even now, hours later, you can hear her.

A failure. A disappointment. 

Your knuckles sting from the salt of the Whip, the silver crust that slices so effortlessly, just as it has since you were a child.

You cried a lot, then.

Now, it’s few and far between. You’ve grown, rebelled, retaliated. You’ve become a lost cause.

Ungovernable Persephone. 

The pain still sits so heavily in the bottom of your soul, a wretched, tangible thing that sprouts blackened vine from the earth and a whole manner of other things.

You eye the marble encasement, the walls that harbor the spring. They too, are black. Born from your rage, your sorrow. Your uncontrollable, ungovernable power that grew from the depths of your despair and built you a temple.

The Greenhouse. Your home.

Everyone called it a wonder. A feat, proof of your power. Trees and vines and branches all twisted together, building a harbor, solidifying your presence, your Golden light.

You took your first offering in this place, the glass for the windows and the roof, the final piece of your shelter from the storm, the first stake of your life as a goddess, your life of freedom.

You left your mother’s house that day, only returning now on occasions. You never looked back.

Though, you can still feel the Whip, can still hear it whirl through the wind against your supine form. Can still feel the ridges of scar tissue that never fully healed.

You could have called Nell. Or Hebe. Or Melia. Anyone of them would be here for you. Would listen. Understand. 

Outside the window, an owl hoots.

You sink beneath the water line, magma rushing over every inch of your body, washing you clean of her, of the Whip, of the wounds on your knuckles.

A trembling fawn. Still to this day. 

A wicked daughter to have, they tell her. A vengeful soul. Rotted to the core. 

Ungovernable Persephone. 

Olympus is buzzing, even on its ninth day of rain. It’s a vibration that all manner of beings can feel, creatures, gods, even humans. The ground rattles like there’s a lightning bolt shoved into the center of the rail system, electrifying the wires and tracks, zinging from pole to pole between the buildings and above the streets where cars putter alongside those who walk to their destinations.

When you were a child, the name of the city was almost dirty. It made your mother’s nose turn skyward, disgust and disdain clear as the day on her delicate features. “The golden city is anything but.” She promised, on her knees before you, gentle hand at your back. “Those who live there are heathens, and naught else. They would seek to destroy you if they knew the truth.”

For many, many years, you never step foot here.

Not until University. Once you graduated, the rope around your neck, the bit in your mouth began to loosen, and you had already lost your taste for the expanse of metropolis, more interested in your own space outside city limits where you could feel your connection to the earth, where you could indulge your power in privacy.

“It’s not the city she fears.” Melia told you one night. “But Aphrodite. Demeter’s worried ‘Di will knock you right off the whole bloody planet.” She peered over your shoulder, catching the gleam of Apollo, his bright eyes tracking her from across a crowded bar. “Trust me. She’s a jealous bitch.” 

Tonight, the city is waterlogged, soaked to the bone, raindrops splashing as you slide from the car to the black door tucked inside a black wall, a soft faced Harpy standing in front of the passage.

“Hebe. Persephone.” She greets, turning to your other companions. “Nephelle. Melia.” You pull your power through the earth that sits beneath cracked concrete and heavy asphalt, spinning your Cloak up and over your body, adjusting your appearance just so. Your mask slips into place, obscuring nearly all your face, both Nell and Melia pulling together something similar.

“Ocypete.” Hebe pauses. “Is there a riddle tonight?” The Harpy grins, flashing rows of too sharp teeth, fine points that can cut the flesh from bone in a clean bite.

“No riddle.” The door creaks wide, and she steps aside. “Enjoy your evening.”

You don’t notice the way her eyes linger after you’ve passed.

Aselegia is one of the safest places in the Olympus. Here, Golden ones must be Cloaked, mortals must be masked, and creatures must go to great lengths to hide their identity. All intermingle with one another, safe in the anonymity. Gods and Goddesses usually choose to mask as well, a practice, you believe, stemming from common occurrences of violent jealousy, an effort to prevent becoming the target of one’s wrath.

The club itself is big enough to get lost in. The first floor houses the lobby, and a set of elevators. The walls are covered in shiny waxed mahogany, red wine rich carpet covering the floor, and it smells different, sweet and smoky, cigars and finely spun sugar. Intoxicating.

The elevators will take you anywhere you have access, and most can visit three floors. There’s a dancefloor on the main level, with a giant bar, private rooms in the wings, bottle service, tables. Very standard. Other floors have gambling tables, quieter music, even a dimly lit pool and sauna.

It isn’t until you get above level three that things change. Endorsements or sponsors are required. Waivers need to be signed. Negotiations begin.

Pick your poison. 

You start on the main level tonight. Melia insists, and you agree, grateful to the Oceanid for suggesting starting slow, the low rumble of nerves still present in your magic, your body. The music thumps, high to low song and symphony synthesized into something electronic, and it draws you into a sway, shoulders against shoulders, hips moving in time with the melody.

“Shots?” Hebe brightens, waving over a cocktail waitress, a pretty thing who eagerly does her bidding, enraptured with the way she moves in the skintight, cornflower blue dress. Her Cloak has disguised her well enough that no one would know who she is, but she does not ever manipulate her body. A cherished rule of her own, you’ve learned.

“You’re beautiful.” The girl coos, and Hebe nods, singing over the explosion of Nephelle’s laughter.

“I know, sweetheart.”

A slick sheen of sweat coats the space between Melia’s breasts. You’re both on the dancefloor, moving with the music, Melia perfectly in time, like she was born to it, and you pull her close, slinging an arm over her neck to whisper in her ear.

“He’s here.” A god’s dark eyes glint in the night, between the passages of writing bodies. He wears a white mask, stitched with the threads of glowing sun, but his obsessive gaze gives him away. He’s transfixed, focused solely on the Oceanid in the middle of the dance floor, and she giggles, turning so that her ass is pressed against your pelvis, her head tipped back on your shoulder.

Her hand extends, an invitation. A request.

He’s by her side within a second.

“Apollo.” You nod, and he barely spares you a glance, too busy cradling his Oceanid’s face.

“You have been ignoring my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” He tenses.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Of course, I am.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re here for Sephy’s birthday, not this.” He peeks towards you, sliver of regret flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry, Persephone.” You wave him off, not wanting to be in the middle of… this.

“It’s fine, we’re just… out. It’s not for anything special.” You look away from them, casually glancing around. You look, but you do not see. Not until…

There’s a male, wearing a pitch-black suit. A god? A mortal? He’s taller than anyone else in the room, broadest shoulders and proud posture, everything about him drawing you in, like blood in the water.

The room stands still. Silent. Empty, save for two.

Tempered water like glass, undisturbed. An undertow vicious beneath the surface, unknown to all.

“Hello.” The pitch of his voice is familiar, almost dreamlike, something that’s never been real, yet startling all the same.

“H-hi.” You stammer. His hand reaches, a magnetic force pulling yours from where it’s clawed against your thigh, and he grasps it like he’s cupping a dahlia bloom, a fragile collection of so many petals that make up an entire beautiful blossom, a universe unto itself.

Black leather caresses your skin. Clear, golden-brown eyes pin you in place, anthracite spiking around his pupils in a halo. You cannot see his face, or his skin, only what’s barely visible of his eyelids and dark spun lashes.

Still… 

His beauty is terror. It’s the throat of a lamb, freshly cut. The mutilated carcass of a doe, feeding a forest. Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

It drags you out into a river, where your feet no longer touch the bottom. It sings to you from the depths.

You cannot tear yourself away.

He does not let go. Even when that same voice fills your mind.

“My darling. You shall rule all that lives and moves, you shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.” *

Warmth slips from your hand, sand flitting through your fingers, a fleeting touch of comfort and confusion fading into the night.

My darling. 

My darling… 

When the light comes back to you, the male is nowhere to be found. Only Apollo and Melia stand to your side, still in their own world.

“Will you let me take you upstairs then?” He croons, and your heart dances, nerves and anticipation all spiraling together like a sailor’s knot. You know what comes next.

“Only if the girls can come.”

You try to forget the strange encounter on the main level and focus on your needs instead; you’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it, and you say the same to Hebe, too, when she disappears with a male who seemed much too large to not be the son of a giant, leaving you alone on a small, velvet couch, Nell and Melia already long gone. Your second martini sits untouched, and you keep yourself from looking at any one being too closely, lest you get caught staring.

That’s when you see him.

Light blue eyes. Handsomely styled mohawk. Even with a Cloak and mask, he’s hard to forget.

John.

His mask is a red skull, covering nearly all his face, the sculpted brow severe, almost angry.

His eyes glow behind it, locked on yours.

Oh. Shit. You vibrate like a live wire, hanging onto yourself for dear life.

“Hello.” Your mouth doesn’t work. “I’m Soap.” He extends his hand, and you blink. Oh, right. The alias. Because what is the point in all this, if you give your real name?

“K-kore.” You manage to stammer, and the corner of his eyes crease.

“Why are ye here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are ye looking for, little goddess?” He still has not dropped your gaze, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, feel him in your mind, your body.

Myself.

Your teeth dig downward, pressing hard before you whisper the truth.

“Pain.” His eyes flash, and then he tugs.

John- Soap, takes you to a private room. You follow, numbly, shivering with a million emotions, stumbling through the chances, the possibilities of seeing him twice, when before he was a stranger.

A coincidence, you decide, putting it out of your mind. You’re dwelling on it too much, picking it apart, riling yourself up… over nothing. Over a handsome god, existing in the Golden city? Like you’ve never seen those before… like it’s so unbelievable.  

“Are ye alright?” He murmurs, stepping up to your back. You can feel the heat of him, his warmth bleeding from beneath the suit to your exposed skin, the dress you chose wholly exposing your spine, your skin.

Your nipples tighten. Your heart races, and your thighs press together inadvertently.

“Yes.”

“Dinnae lie.” He’s gentle in the reminder, and you fill your lungs.

“I’m just… nervous.”

“Ye’ve done this before?” He’s assuming. You nod, quickly, and he motions to a very comfortable looking lounge chair, where you perch on the edge of the cushion. “What would make ye happy tonight?” Anxiety unsettles your posture, and you choke down the embarrassment that tries to claw its way up your throat.

“A… a spanking.” You whisper, pushing flimsy confidence forward. Far away, a piece of your mind, your magic, pleads. It cries, it begs for release. It urges you forward, and you lift your face to his, seeking approval. Comfort.

Reassurance.

The cold hand of doubt rears. It snickers at you. It laughs.

Reassurance from someone, anyone but yourself? Comfort? 

No. 

“Do ye-“

“My safe word is flower.” You spit, motioning to the stool that waits between you.

It’s an act. A song and a dance, something fake and forced. But he doesn’t know that.

He freezes. Thick tension runs the gamut, heavy and exhausting, and you smother yourself, your emotions, your reactions to this very moment.

Pain. The desire burns. It pushes you to the zenith, until you’re down on your knees, folding yourself forward.

Pain, to turn it off. Pain, to make it all stop.

Pain, to release you into yourself. 

What matter of creature are you, that you can only feel whole, when parts of you are carved away? 

“Up.” John commands, and you lean back, confused. “Ye’ll do this over my knee.” He bends you, with grace, back towards the soft cushion, laying comfortably, your palms flat.

A hand coasts over the swell of your ass.

“Ye’ll count.” His voice has shifted. Gone is the feather’s edge, now replaced by steel. His accent still rings true, but there’s a firmness to it, a finality. Dominance.

“Yes.”

“Ye’ll tell me yer name, and today’s date, when asked. If ye cannae answer, we’ll stop. Immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I need a yes.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll go to ten, then.” We.

“I can take more.”

“We’ll decide what ye can take, when we get there.” You acquiesce, fingers digging down into the cushion before forcibly relaxing. “Big breath.” He coaches, and then-

The first slap stuns you. Only with his hand, and yet still so much stronger than last time with a paddle. It punches air from your lungs, the noise that rockets out of your throat a mix between a scream and a moan.

“F-fuck.” You croak. “One.” He doesn’t hesitate and rains the next one down on your opposite cheek. Again, it robs you of oxygen. “Two.”

“Good girl.” The praise is very small flame at the bottom of the darkest well. It barely lights the path ahead, desperately trying to catch, to grow, but it’s too easily snuffed out. His palm rubs the base of your spine to the tops of your thighs.

Crack. 

The sting sizzles outward from impact, and you gasp. “Three-“ Another, same cheek. “Four!” The whistle of the swing alerts you a second before the next, and when you shout “Five!” it sounds off kilter.

“What’s yer name?”

“Seph-Persephone.” Raw warmth simmers beneath your dress and underwear, and the fire at the bottom of the well starts to rage, growing larger, eating what it’s been given, hungry, seeking, trying to build momentum. He asks you the date, satisfied at the lack of delay, and swings so high, you can see the shine of his palm from the corner of his eye. Your toes curl.

Whack. Two, too quickly.

“Six!” A choked cry. “Seven.” Your face is wet, saltwater tracing the plush swell towards your mouth and chin. You sniffle.

“I know, I know. Ye poor thing.” He bunches the fabric of your dress, scratching it across your scorched cheeks. “Ye’re doin’ so well, almost there.” The words barely register, only the sentiment cuts through the haze. Your thighs are pressed so tightly together, slick dripping from your cunt, the aching throb of your clit rubbing against your panties. You’re desperate… to be touched, to be hurt, to be whole. You need it. Crave it more than anything else.

He delivers two more strong, healthy, swift blows. Eight. Nine. They enflame you completely, fire burning in the pit of your soul, encasing you in a coffin where no one can hear you, or see you. Safe and tucked away, floating into a dark cocoon of eternal night.

At the tenth, the room changes. The air grows colder, nearly frigid, shadows clinging to the walls, and you barely register being moved, held like a child, tucked into a chest. There’s talking, somewhere, in your mind or maybe behind you, two pitches at war, a dance of wills.

“Beautifully done, darling.” Somewhere far, far away, in the last sliver of your sane mind, you realize it’s a different voice, a voice echoed in gemstones, ruby and emerald and pearl, before that too, slips into space, and you drift deeper inside the luxurious praise. A warm bath. A sunlit meadow with thousands of Narcissus dotting the hill, soaking up every ray. A golden fawn, taking her first steps to freedom.

John’s face looms into your line of sight, maskless, no Cloak.

“We need a yes.” He murmurs, cupping your cheek. “Persephone.”

“Hmmm?”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.” The words don’t match. They don’t click, they catch, they bump against each other, trying to lock into place, failing over and over.

“Supposed to go… home with my friends but-“ Your tongue is heavy, weighted beneath a giant sequoia, and you shiver. The chest that your head bobbles on catches, an arm securing you in place. It’s warm, and firm, heavier than a tree. Who…

“Little goddess.” He prompts, and you sigh, already wistfully unaware.

“’kay, yeah. Yes.”

You’re already slipping away when the world goes dark.

Your eyes open to a strange place.

You don’t recognize any of it, from the massive four poster bed with lithe, gauzy curtains drawn closed on three sides, to a fireplace the size of a giant, roaring, sizzling flame burning endlessly in its hearth. You don’t recognize the room, the black marble floors, polished to a brilliant gleam, one that you can nearly see your reflection in, or the vanity, dark oak housing a hand carved mirror. You’ve never seen the ornate stained glass window before, stretching from floor to ceiling, the size of ten men. You don’t know the bed, sized for a king, emerald silk sheets and a matching duvet, with a million pillows that were just cradling your head. The robe you’re wearing matches, the green only a shade lighter, and you tuck it tight across your body, realizing you’re fully nude.

The fire pops. It pushes a gasp from you, caught off guard, and at the sound, another being in the room stirs from the plush rug just beneath the bed.

A three headed dog.

It, they, stare at you, tongues wagging, eyes wide. Jet black fur, darker than midnight, white teeth so sharp they could rip your throat free in an instant.

You’ve seen this dog before… in pictures. Schoolbooks. You know their name.

Cerberus.

Panic races through your veins, ratcheting your heart rate higher and higher, your body and mind separating, all synapses dizzy with fear.

Oh gods. Where… where are you? What happened? You were just… you were just having some fun, at Aselegia, with John… weren’t you? Where…

Are you dead?  

You reach for your power, digging deep, trying to drag as much as you could to the surface-

Nothing.

You bleat, a scared lamb, in panic. It’s a cry. A scream. An awful sound. You need your rage now, but all you find is fear. You cannot reach your power. There is a blackened lock around it, a casing that holds it away from you, out of reach.

Cerberus whines. They hold their position, tail swishing back and forth, and you scramble towards the middle of the bed. Your ass protests, skin warm and tender against silk. Your knees tuck to your chest, and you force your eyes closed, trying to take long, measured breaths without success.

You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re-

The door clicks. John appears, two palms out, hesitant, and cautious. Your voice shakes, no matter how hard you try to reinforce it with iron will. “G-get away from me.”

“Ye’re alright, Persephone. We’d never hurt ye.” We?

“We need a yes.”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.”

Something flickers behind him. A figure, a shape of shadow, shifting.

Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

The male from the dance floor. He wears no mask now, but the feel of him, the threat of his power, is unmistakable… and familiar. You sputter on it, choking on him and John, the threat of their power combined looming, suffocating. “Oh gods.” You clutch the robe tighter. “Wh-where am I?”

“You know where you are, darling.” The other one says, and you moan.

“N-no. I… I can’t be. I can’t dead. I can’t be here… I-“

“You’re not dead, Persephone.” He cautions. “You’re very much alive.” And shaking, alive and trembling so vigorously you can hear your teeth chattering, chest heaving up and down, desperately trying to suck air inward. Cerberus whines again, and he rubs a thumb behind one of their ears. “Easy, Cerberus. She’s alright.”

“I ca-can’t be here. I have to… I have to go home.” The room seems wet, dollops of tears falling from your lashes, sticking to your skin and the sheets. Reality slams forward, rushing right up against your nonsensical mind.

It takes one gentle pulse of their power, to realize the truth. 

Hades. They’re… Hades. They’re Hades and you’re… you’re in the Underworld. 

Beg. Beg them for mercy. Whatever it is you’ve done, you must try. 

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know what I did but I swear, I’m sorry, I-“ John tries to reach, seeking your hand, but you curl up into a tighter ball.

“Shhh. Ye hae nae done anythin’ wrong, sweet Persephone. Ye’re alright. Ye’re safe.” Safe? Safe in the Underworld? With them? 

Oh gods. You let Hades spank you. 

“You… you tricked me.” You whisper, raw betrayal and pain weeping profoundly in your heart. You trusted him and…

You are a fool. 

“We did what was necessary.” The wolf-like one says solemnly, gaze heavy.

“Necessary?” You squeak. “What’s… necessary about this?”

“We will explain everything, after we’ve eaten. Or maybe had some more rest? It’s the middle of the night, for you.” What? 

“No… I can’t… I can’t stay here. I have to-“

“Go home? So, you can hide away in your temple, kept company only by your plants and the occasional friend you let inside?” You blink, stunned, mouth dropping open.

“How do you... have you been watching me?” The stained-glass window on the far side of the room shifts, drawing your attention, morphing slowly from a tawny blur to a… screech owl.

“Oh, my gods. Oh…” The room shudders. “You can’t keep me here, I have to go…” Wolves circle, flanking where you sit, precarious and hopeless, a hand in front of your body like it will save you. “Please.”

“It’s alright, darling.” The dark one moves, blurred in shadow, magic blanketing you in a warm, comforting hold, heating your bones, encouraging your eyes to slowly shut.

The last thing you see is the ceiling, your body cradled in the embrace of a stranger.

Morning comes slow.

At first, you don’t open your eyes, even though you’ve been long awake.

If you open them, your fear will be real. It will be valid.

So, you keep them closed. Keep them shut long enough you drift in and out of twilight, until someone clears their throat.

Fuck. 

“Are you going to open your eyes?” His voice is ruby and velvet. You shudder.

“Hades.”

“Technically. One half of a whole, but my loved ones call me Simon.” Your brow flexes at that, and there’s a soft chuckle in response. “Will you wake? It’s well past morning now.”

“Are you going to render me unconscious again?” you hiss, cracking an eyelid. He’s sitting in a posh armchair, oiled black leather beneath his black suit, eyes steady on yours. His face is a map of scars, but instead of seeming rough, or out of place, they naturally suit him, complementing his broad jaw, severe expression, perfectly sculpted bone structure. His nose is crooked, like it had been smashed and rearranged once or twice, but still sits as if it was meant to be, and you wonder how anyone could do anything of the like to Hades.

He's handsome, in a way you expect to die from. 

“Only if you cannot behave.”

“Perhaps I could show you how I behave.” You smile with a full set of teeth, words ending in a snarl, and he huffs another gentle laugh.

“I have seen the victims of your wrath, Persephone. I have no doubt you’d strike me down if you could.” You swallow the nausea in your stomach. Your magic. 

“I want my magic back.” You blurt the demand, not even pausing to consider a more tactful way.

“We did not take it, only… bound it, for the time being. It’s still within you, we would never separate you from your power.” He sighs, a golden pearl rocking in his palm, glinting in the fireplace’s gleam. “Contrary to popular belief, we are not a monster.”

“Then let me go home, if you’re not as they say you are.” His eyes harden, face twisting sour, and then… sad.

“I’ll give you some privacy. There are clothes in the closet. Johnny and I expect you for breakfast, and then a tour… if you’re good. Cerberus will show you the way when you’re ready.”

If you’re good.

Cerberus leads you through a maze of decadent marble and arches.

You follow behind them hesitantly, cautious, and they mind you, slowing when you’ve lagged too far behind.

You can’t help it. You’re mystified.

You expected the Underworld to be dark, and dingy. And while maybe it is on the dark side, with glossy, polished marble, giant onyx columns that blot of the sky, and black stone everywhere… when you peek out the windows, you’re gob smacked.

Beneath wherever you are, which you’re beginning to suspect is Hades’ palace, is lush greenery. A verdant, fertile field lays to the south and the east, wrapping around to the edge of a forest, where you can just barely make out a large variety of deciduous trees. To the North, a river winds, separating the palace from a large meadow and… a town? You shake your head, as if to clear your addled mind and cloudy vision. Is that truly… a town? 

“Asphodel Meadows.” Someone says from behind you, nearly jumping you from your skin.

“Fuck.” You gasp, hand clutching your chest. It’s a man, not John, or Simon, but a stranger, clad in all black.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s… okay. I- what did you say?”

“The town. It’s Asphodel Meadows. A place for mortal’s souls.” He bows. “I’m Thanatos.”

“I’m… Persephone.” He smiles, just slightly.

“I know who you are, my lady.” My lady?

“What do you…” words nearly fail as you grapple. “What do you do here?”

“I am a child of Nyx. The god of Death.”

“I thought Hades…”

“They are the Kings of the Underworld. I am the personification, the embodiment of Death.” Oh.

“You reap.” You whisper. His jaw tightens, and then smooths.

“Your escort is impatient. I think he’s probably ready for his bacon.” He eyes Cerberus, who whines, tapdancing on slick marble.

“Bacon?”

“Yes. He’s very spoiled. Eats better than the Kings themselves.” He motions down the hall. “It’s just that way. Lovely to meet you, my lady.” He gives you another bow, and then turns down a corridor, one that had not been there before, leaving you and Cerberus alone in the empty hall.

“I- you too.”

The Kings, as Thanatos called them, are both seated when you push the incredibly heavy door open. At the sound, John rises, Simon behind him, and the three of you stare at one another for a minute, until Cerberus barks.

“Please, sit.” John motions to the only other place set, a third chair between them. You swallow.

“Uh…”

“We don’t bite.”

“Not unless ye want us to.” John smiles, sinfully handsome in the morning light. It streams into the surprisingly cozy dining room through a group of five windows, all facing east, capturing the light of… a sun?

“Is that a sun?”

“It’s a sun of sorts.” Simon offers. “We have a sky, weather. A sun, a moon. Clouds. Everything that exists in Olympus.”

“Are ye hungry?” You hesitantly lower yourself into the chair, surprised at the array of food displayed. “We ah, weren’t sure what ye liked so, got a bit of everything.” Meats, yogurts, sweets, cereal, fruit, anything you could want laid out in front of you, but it’s something so near to your heart that catches your eye. Portokalopita.

“They are Hebe’s.” Simon murmurs.

This is a trick. They kidnapped you. They’re holding you hostage. You have to convince them to let you go. The warning resounds, and your stomach thrashes.

“I want to go home.” You push the plate of orange cakes away, disappointment flickering across John’s face, exasperation on Simon’s. “Please. I… I appreciate your hospitality and you… you bringing me home for… aftercare,” you grit the word, shame rocketing up your spine. This is what happens when you trust. You let Hades spank you, for fucks sake. And then they abducted you. “but I need to go home. The plants, they need me. My friends-“

“Your friends are used to going days on end without contact from you.” Simon cuts you off, and the blood drains from your face. “Are they not?”

“N-no. They’ll know I’m missing, they will.” Lie. He knows. You know they both know, just by the way the regard you. Half pity. Half amusement. It makes your blood boil. “Fuck you.” You hiss, shooting up in the chair.

“Seph-“ John tries to soothe you, calm you, using your nickname like he knows you, and it only makes you more irate.

“Don’t call me that.” You whirl on him. “I trusted you! I don’t even know you and I let you-“

“That is the nature of Aselegia, is it not?” He counters, cutting you off. You gape like a fish. “The anonymity. Dinnae turn it on me now.” His tone melts from ice to warmth, sympathy bleeding from his irises. “I assure ye, we are more than trustworthy. We would never, ever hurt ye. We would never let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye’ll see.”

“Then let me go home.” He shakes his head sadly but says nothing, and rage snaps in your heart like the drawback of a rubber band, stinging and sharp. “What do you want from me?” John opens his mouth, and then abruptly closing it, deferring to Simon.

“You are our guest. We’d like to get to know you. I promise, just as before, you will not be harmed in our care. We will never hurt you."

"How do I know that?" You’re incredulous. “You expect me to take you at your word?”

“Let us strike a deal then.” He declares, and John nods supportively.

Don’t, your good sense screams. Don’t be an idiot.

“What kind of deal?”

“You will stay here for two days, forty-eight hours exactly. We will show you this realm and get to know one another in that time, and at the end, we will reveal the doorway that leads back to Olympus.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Two days? And then I can go home?”

“Two days.” John echoes. Sapphire eyes gleam, and you carefully, quickly, try to pick apart every word in the proposal.

“My magic.” You demand, and they both answer immediately with a resounding,

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Your power is wild, Persephone.” Simon tells you, not unkindly. “We do not know how the Underworld will react to it, and we must think of our residents, all the souls we care for here. We cannot let something upset the balance that is so delicate.” Your mouth goes a little dry. You were expecting more of an answer about control, domineering you, your magic, keeping you contained. Not… care for souls.

“Yer mother raised ye to be her weapon.” John says softly, kneeling before the chair where you sit. His hand rests on the cushion, and you wonder if he means to touch you. “We dinnae regard ye as such, but until we understand ye better, we need to protect-“

“I understand.” You cut him off. You don’t need some forced sympathy, pity, thrust upon you by Hades, of all gods. They exchange a long glance, one that gives you a small peek into their lives, layers on layers of words and sentiment, communicated with a single glance.

Simon reaches for John, pulling him to his feet and into his body, chest to back.

“Do you agree?” Two days. Two days and you can leave. You can do two days of anything. You certainly cannot fight them, or your way out. What choice do you have? 

“Sure.”

“We need a yes, darling.” Darling. The pet name makes your toes curl. You take a big breath.

“Yes.”

The valley outside of Asphodel Meadows is one of the most stunning places you’ve ever been. It’s lush and lively, covered in Narcissus and Asphodelus, like a meadow one could only dream of. You're not sure why it feels so familiar, like the cusp of another life, or a nightmare, but it takes root inside you. You lay in the field of flowers, letting them cover your body, wishing so desperately to touch your magic, so you could truly feel them, the grass and the dirt and the stems here, all things that seem like they’re so full of life, so opposite your expectations of the Underworld.

“Shall we continue?” Cerberus perks up at the sound of their master’s voice, head popping over the flowers to spot both Kings standing on the path, a good distance away. They peek at you, heads tilted, and you sigh. It seems you’ve been assigned a minder, in the form of a three headed dog.

You join them on the road before long, walking silently, sullenly, John sneaking glances at you nearly every chance he gets, and you can pinpoint the heat of his gaze every time, the throbbing intensity of his focused power nearly bowling you over.

“So, there are two of you?” What are you supposed to talk to the Kings of the Underworld about, anyway? 

“Aye. It’s a little-known secret. One realm, two gods to rule.” You frown, perplexed.

“But… you haven’t always been that way?”

“No.” Simon answers. “We were once Golden brothers in battle, long before your time, before becoming this. When we fell in love, our souls split. They merged with our magic, tied us together eternally. Now, we rule as one.”

“So, you’re married.” You deduce.

“In the most permanent way you can think of.” They stop short of a bridge, one that crests high over a roaring river, and Simon gestures broadly. “Persephone, this is the Acheron.”

The Underworld is a place of rivers, you learn. Waterways that hold power, that possess the ability to cleanse you, free you, burn you, punish you. There is a river of fire, a river of weeping, a river to forget.

The Acheron is the river of woe.

Fitting, you think, standing on the bridge. Below, bright turquoise water rushes by, crashing into rock and boulder, each sound more akin to a scream than the thunder of a tributary. Mouths, long and full of despair, wail beneath the current, wraith like creatures with bone white skin and eyes skimming along the top.

You get lost in them. Lost in the irreversible cycle of woe, desolation creeping up inside your own self as you peer down into the depths. Are you not like them? Despondent. Bleak. Isolated. Is that not what you’ve made with your life, what was chosen for you? Hidden away, sharpened like an axe never to be used. Are you not alone, like them? Trapped, like them? 

You don’t even realize you’re leaning forward until pressure rests at your back. “Easy. Dinnae want ye fallin’ in.” John murmurs, stepping away the edge, bringing you with him. Your limbs feel shaky, and you wonder if it’s because you just almost went over… or because you didn’t eat earlier.

“Sorry. I uh-“ you don’t know how to explain it, that feeling. The agony that bubbles up in the back of your throat.

“We know.” Simon regards you with empathy, understanding, and you shake the attention loose, pushing ahead of them, down the bridge and into town, into Asphodel Meadows itself, eager to leave the river and its woe behind.

In town, the Kings are well received. It surprises you, to watch them in the street, welcomed by the souls who live there. They take you on a tour, introducing you to residents, explaining the structure, the magic and the infrastructure that makes it all work. Souls take their preferred form in Asphodel Meadows, allowed to choose for themselves, whatever they feel most comfortable in, and you’re shocked that such benevolence would be bestowed upon anyone in the Underworld.

Why are they showing you this? Why go to such great lengths? What is the purpose? 

“Hi.” A small voice breaks you from your confusion, and you find a small girl at your feet, bouquet of Narcissus clutched in her tiny hands. You crouch.

“Hello.”

“I’m Phoebe.” She giggles, cheeks round and rosy.

“I’m Persephone.” You incline your head. “Phoebe is a beautiful name.” Your heart pangs. She’s so small, so… fragile. How did she die? Where is her family? Is she here alone?

“Thank you, my lady.” She tries to bow, and you rush to stop her, stilling her with a hand.

“Are those for me?”

“They are. Johnny said they’re your favorites.” Johnny? You glance over to where they stand, both turned your way, something unreadable in their reflections.

“Well, thank you. They’re lovely.” She wishes you well, skipping off in another direction, and you meander across the street, unable to hide your quizzical expression.

“Johnny? Not Hades?”

“Ach. The kids they’re… they’re usually a wee bit scared, first thing. It’s better for them, if we’re friends.” He shrugs, but Simon watches him in reverence, pure love and light beaming from his gaze, adoration in every slow blink.

Your heart skips.  

Fuck. 

“Are you not hungry?” Simon muses, walking beside you and John in the castle. Your shoes tap along the way, echoing, and Cerberus barks. John glares at them.

“I… I am afraid to eat here.” They both stop short.

“Why?”

“I have always heard… a myth. That if you somehow find yourself here and you eat, you’ll become trapped, stuck here forever.” Simon chuckles, dry and warm.

“No, darling. Please, we do not wish for you to starve.”

“The legend isnae true. Only by eating whole pomegranate seeds that ye pluck from the flesh of the fruit yerself, can ye become bound to the land. And we dinnae serve those.” He winks, stepping a little closer. “Ye can eat, little goddess. Please. Join us for dinner, we insist.”

“Okay.”

Simon is not at dinner.

John makes no mention of it, and only when you’re halfway done does he offer an explanation, something important that needed to be tended to.

“Ye look stunning.” He hums, and you have half the decency to smile. You chose a dress from the never-ending closet, black to match their suits, for fun. Its back is open, and the front offers a generous view of your breasts, but not quite enough.

You felt like sin. Johnny has been staring like you are. And maybe, you didn’t want sex, but you did want to punish them for their treachery. If only a little bit.

For making you a fool. 

“So, no Simon?” He swallows a mouthful of red wine.

“He apologizes. Somethin’ came up.”

“That’s alright.” You shift, legs crossing. The transition is unintentional, but it draws Johnny’s eyes to your knees, and up. You lift your glass, the largest goblet of red wine you’ve seen, and allow a small river of red to run from the corner of your mouth to your neck. It traces the valley between your breasts, and Johnny growls.

“Persephone.”

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Ye’re playing with fire.” He grits, the gleam in his eyes one of a predator.

“I’m not playing with anything,” you hiss, slamming the glass down. It shatters, it sloshes, it spills onto the table and into your lap. “You’re the ones playing with me. Kidnapping me, holding me hostage.” Your anger builds, overflowing inside your soul, clawing at the locked box of your magic. Cerberus whines, galloping across the floor and out the main door, but you hardly notice, too focused on spitting as much fire and venom at your captor as you can. “Touring me around the Underworld, making yourselves look like some benevolent, beloved rulers when really all you are… are gods of death and decay.” John stares at you, wild eyed. Your chair clatters to the ground as you stand, fury rocketing through every vein in your body, ichor pulsing beneath your skin. You’re so, so close to your power; you can taste it. Can feel the way it screams, how it howls to you, churning in the depths of your being, rattling the cage it’s trapped inside.

Trapped. You’re trapped. Like always. 

Your vision blurs, and you take a step towards John. It all happens so fast, so lightning quick that it doesn’t even register until your hand is swinging through the air and across his face.

He does nothing. You feel the rumble of his power, pushing and pulling at the seams of your very being, waiting to tear your apart, but he holds himself at bay.

Only watches you with cold, wrathful eyes.

The air chills.

“That’s enough.” Simon stands between your bodies. Power, so potent, so strong, wraps tight, shoving your wrists together, Golden cuffs immobilizing you, holding you still. “You want to be a disobedient little brat, is that it?”

“YOU STOLE ME!” You scream it, raw and agonized. It tries to burst through your skin. Tries to explode your vessels. Your very heart. Your chest heaves, eyes wide, and John flanks you, coming closer and closer until you can feel his heat against your side.

He’s hard.

“What did ye think ye were doin, sweet Persephone? Did ye really think you could strike me?”

You don’t have an answer. Words die on your tongue. Guilt burns. Did you want to hurt him? 

Did you?

The cuffs yank you forward. They singe your skin, dragging you to the table. “What’re you doing?” They drag you across the food until you're climbing on top, until your whole body is prone, feet dangling above the floor, bent at the waist.

“Is this what you wanted?” Simon mocks. Hands grip your hips, and your traitorous body clenches. “This what you need, little goddess? Need to be punished?” Your dress is shoved up around your waist, exposing your skin to the frigid air, and you force away a small moan. “You need your pain, darling?” Yes. Fingers pinch the back of your neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You snap, darting daggers with your eyes over your shoulder. His answer is a chuckle.

“Turn your head.” He hisses, hand on the back of your skull. When you do, you come face to face with Johnny’s hips, the length of his cock freed from his suit pants and bobbing right in front of your mouth.

Oh, gods. 

He strokes it slowly, the pink- nearly red tip oozing pre-cum, long and thick in his fist, his size enough to make your thighs press together, cunt throbbing with delight. Traitor.

“Open, darling.” He smears it against your lips. You tuck them in tight, trying to keep them closed, and he looks over, to the god who stands at the curve of your ass.

Simon takes a handful each of your cheeks, spreading you wide. He kicks your feet too, knocking your legs into an A-frame, fully exposing your weeping cunt.

“She’s dripping.” He announces, a finger sliding through your folds, body jolting with his touch. He circles your clit, barely, not enough, and you whine indignantly. It’s enough to loosen your lips, enough for Johnny to grasp your jaw, shove the tip of his thumb between your teeth, and then pry you open.

Once he gets the tip of his cock against your tongue, it’s over. Salt and earth dab along your tastebuds, and you drool on the table, trying to breathe through his rhythm, trying to focus as Simon tucks a finger into your hole, slowly pumping in and out, occasionally pulling free to swirl it around your untouched rim.

One finger inside you is enough to burn, heat rising through your belly, walls clenching tight, and John groans, pressing into the back of your throat, cutting off your airway.

“So good, all day.” Simon grits, stroking your clit in tiny circles. “Sweet Persephone, and now,” he’s building you closer, so close to the precipice, to the top of the mountain where you’ll hope he’ll throw you off.

But it’s not enough. 

“I know darling, don’t worry. I’ll give you your pain.” He croons. John thrusts hard, drives into you vigorously, head thrown back. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck, and you watch a slow rivulet dip beneath his collar. He’s so… they’re so…

A hand cracks across the tender skin of your ass, rippling out like a shockwave. You choke.

You clench. The tide rises.

“Fuck. There you go.” Light dances in front of your eyes, small pinpricks of stars, and you gurgle on the dick that shoves down your throat. Another strike, the same side, and you cry out, gasping for air. The tip of his finger gently pushes against your rim, and then it’s replaced with a mouth, a hot, intrepid tongue, swirling around as your hips buck and he plays with your clit.

You’re going to die. You’re going to explode. You need more. 

You try to tell him, try to choke it out around John’s shaft, but it’s like he knows, like he’s reading your mind, and he pulls away to dig his teeth into the plump swell of your ass, biting down so hard you think you’re bleeding.

No. You are. 

You scream.

Rivers of ichor paint your skin. The next spank comes directly over the puncture wounds, and instead of screaming in pain, you moan in pleasure, head held in Johnny’s hands, your face a tool for him to fuck, your pussy squeezing down around the single finger stroking in and out of your body. He swings again, and again, fire lighting behind your eyes, explosions going off one by one, your orgasm cresting, rising in the swell of an enormous wave, and just as you’re about to come, Simon plunges a finger deep into your ass, shoving you off the mountain.

To where they catch you below.

The rest is a blur. John finishes down your throat, salt and sweat and tears all mixing in your mouth, and he moans your name as he gives you a belly full of seed.

You’re limp, floating, drifting higher and farther than you ever have before, not in your body, not even in your own mind. Hardly cognizant when you’re picked up, tucked away in the shelter of a chest and carried down the hall. You close your eyes.

You come back a little bit when you’re placed in shallow hot water, a steaming, rocky pool, your face settled in Johnny’s neck. Cloth and deft fingers rub your shoulders, your waist, anywhere you might feel sore, even the bottoms of your feet.

All the while, they talk.

It starts simply, sweet words that fills you up until you can’t take anymore. “Did so well, darling. So good for us.” John murmurs in hushed tones as Simon shifts you, turning you on your belly to run the cloth between your legs and over your ass. It stings, and you hiss, but you’re soothed with an apology, gentle kisses down your spine, each one pressed with praise.

It’s not long before you’re tucked into bed, turned over on your side, some sort of magic and salve being applied to the bite in your skin. You’re gone now, barely aware, barely awake, but with it enough to catch the little bits here and there.

“-talk about it tomorrow.”

“If they’re from Demeter, I’ll-“ No. Not this. Anything but this. Distress catches in your chest, and fingers stroke your cheek.

“Shhh, sweet one. Rest now.” There’s a little touch of magic, a barely there pulse of power, and you let it take you into the soft comfort of sleep, bedded down like a fawn, cradled between two Kings.

*Hymn 2 to Demeter, line 347

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x soap #soap x reader x ghost #AIV #ghost x reader #hades and persephone #AIV(OFK) #modern retelling

[mattapparentlystumbltourneys]

Virtual Character Tourney - FINAL

Propaganda below (May contain spoilers)

Hatsune Miku propaganda:

she is hatsune fucking miku. progenitor of the character vocal series. she is everything

she's literally the OG virtual girl…

first sound of the future and the most iconic #Girl in the world. everybody loves her. liking vocaloid is not a prerequisite to liking miku she is everything to me she is blue hair blue tie hiding in your wifi. And she is my best friend

Hera propaganda:

Shes badass and runs the whole space station because she pretty much is the space station. :)

Truly one of my fave character arcs of all time. Like. Her body is a space station but people can rip out her brain but she wants to kill people but she forgets how fragile human life is but she can find loopholes around any rule you give her but she LOVES her FRIENDS. I'm OBSESSED with her.

She is the AI running an entire space station orbiting around a red dwarf star. She's tried bypassing her programming to keep everyone on the station multiple times just to see if she could (and it ends up saving the day at one point). She also has been programmed with anxiety (basically a glitch that'll pop up that repeats the phrase "I can't do this. I'm not good enough") by her creator and she learns how to get around this. She's picked up sarcasm from one of her human shipmates, she died and came back, she is all around a 10/10. Sorry I just really love Hera

#virtual character tourney #finals #hatsune miku #miku #vocaloid miku #vocaloid #hera wolf 359 #hera #wolf 359 #character polls

[evermore-grimoire]

The Evermore Grimoire: Astrology

Cancer (June 21st - July 22nd) is the fourth astrological sign of the zodiac, which the sun enters at the summer solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. In Greek mythology the constellation is represented by the crab that pinched Heracles (demi-god and son of Zeus) while he was fighting the Lernaean hydra. Crushed by Heracles, the crab was rewarded by Heracles’ enemy, Hera (queen of the gods), by being placed in the heavens. Traits associated with Cancer include being emotional, intuitive and practically psychic; ruled by the moon and characterised by the crab, Cancer has so much going on in its watery depths. Cancerians may seem prickly and standoffish at first meeting, however once they make the decision to become friends with someone, that person has a friend for life. They have also been called psychic at some point, and with good reason as Cancer can often intuit relationships, ideas, and motivations before anyone has actually spoken. That can make for challenging interactions with this sign as they hate small talk, especially when it contains white lies (like saying, "How nice to see you!” when it's clear that both parties would rather avoid each other). That's why social gatherings can be overwhelming for Cancers. They'd much rather spend time in small groups where everyone is on the same page. They’re also incredibly loyal, sometimes to a fault. Cancers will go to the ends of the earth and even against their own beliefs to help someone they love. Learning how to step up for what they believe in (even if it means turning down or going against a friend) is a lifelong lesson for Cancerians. As the emotional heart of the Zodiac, this sign teaches everyone else that, while there's so much in life that we may not be able to see, we should still pay attention to the unseen because it does exist, and we do need it!

artwork by Yaroslava Apollonova

#MythEdit #MythologyEdit #Astrology #Zodiac Signs #Cancer #My Edit

[cosmicanakin]

rainy day in la.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.

outline. you're wearing one of vinnie's hoodies and he can't help but express how beautiful you look in his clothing.

contains. fluff, smut, explicit language.

authors note. writer's block is a pain in the fucking ass. but we're back bitches !!!

you were nestled against the headboard of your bed, lazily scrolling through your phone as hera dozed cozily in your lap. soft patters of rain could be heard gently falling outside the windows, the steady rhythm adding to the cozy atmosphere. your furry companion let out a contented sigh in her sleep, and you smiled down at her fondly while scratching behind her ears.

it was rare for LA to see such a heavy downpour, the skies an unusually dark gray for the normally sunny city. you were certainly not complaining, enjoying the excuse to have a lazy, indoor day tucked safely in bed. your fingers wandered absently to the front pocket of the oversized black hoodie you were wearing, trying not to smile too hard as you thought of its rightful owner. it was vinnie’s favorite seattle sweatshirt you had “borrowed” from his closet the other day, hoping it still smelled faintly of his cologne.

pulling the hood up over your head, you inhaled deeply and sighed happily at the lingering traces of vinnie’s scent surrounding you like a comforting hug. the material was worn and soft against your skin, and combined with hera’s comforting weight on your lap it made for the perfect cozy atmosphere for a lazy rainy day. you could hear vinnie talking animatedly in the other room as he streamed, his voice slightly muffled through the walls but still bringing a smile to your face at his enthusiasm and humor.

time passed lazily as you switched between browsing apps on your phone and petting hera, perfectly contented for the foreseeable future. before long though, you started to hear things winding down in the other room, vinnie’s voice growing quieter as the stream came to an end. hera picked her sleepy head up at the sound of approaching footsteps, tail wagging lethargically. the bedroom door opened to reveal vinnie, his face breaking into a blindingly happy grin upon seeing you curled up cozily in bed.

“hey baby,” he greeted warmly, padding over at hera’s insistent tail wags. you returned his smile, heart melting as it always did at his overflowing affection. “hey. stream go well?” vinnie flopped down playfully beside you both, immediately fussing over hera’s silky ears. “yeah, it was chill, played a few rounds with jett and jordan. hope you guys weren't too bored without me.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “we managed to entertain ourselves somehow, don’t worry.”

hera stood and stretched her legs before hopping off the bed, clearly sensing you would both appreciate some alone time now. vinnie’s eyes flickered to your attire, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “is that...my hoodie?” he asked slowly, suddenly seeming uncharacteristically shy as a blush rose on his cheeks. you suddenly felt bashful too under his intense gaze, pulling the drawstrings teasingly. “maybe. found it in the closet and it looked cozy.” his grin turned a shade more playful and hungry.

“it looks way better on you though, i gotta say.” leaning closer until your noses almost touched, he added lowly, “you just look so pretty wearing my clothes, baby.” before you could respond or even register the unexpected compliment fully, vinnie’s lips were on yours, kissing you firmly yet gently. you squeaked in surprise against his lips, hands grasping his hoodie strings in shock before relaxing into the affection. his kisses were always soft yet passionate, somehow conveying all his underlying adoration without words.

you kissed him back fervently, eyes fluttering shut to savor the butterflies his touch always sparked anew within you. vinnie shifted impossibly closer, hand sliding up your neck to cradle your jaw as he deepened the kiss hungrily. a soft moan escaped your throat at the intimacy, head spinning deliciously at his sudden ardor. when you finally parted for air, vinnie traced light pecks along your flushed cheeks and forehead, smile sheepish yet vibrant with undisguised fondness.

“sorry, you just looked so pretty wearing my stuff i couldn’t help myself.” you chuckled, heart, swelling almost uncomfortably full. his honest displays of affection never failed to overwhelm you with joy and self-confidence. running your fingers through the soft hairs at his nape, you tugged him back for another long, lingering kiss, pouring all your wordless adoration into it. vinnie rumbled happily in his chest, embrace growing bolder as he maneuvered you onto your back, settling flush between your thighs.

his insistent kisses soon had you gasping and grasping at his broad shoulders, lost in sensations only he could invoke so thoroughly. when you parted again, vinnie gazed down at you with eyes dark yet piercingly tender, taking your breath away all over again. “i love you,” he murmured, voice raw with sincerity. your own throat grew tight, at the open care and devotion in his words and countenance. “i love you too,” you replied in an undertone, willing your love to shine through as purely in your hushed confession.

vinnie’s beaming smile could have rivaled the sun itself in radiance, illuminated with unbridled affection for you that never ceased to humble and hearten your soul. dipping his head once more, he slanted his lips sweetly, slowly over yours as if to seal that intangible bond binding your hearts and lives inextricably together. the rain pattered calmly on as you lost yourself in his kiss, all external distractions falling away until only you both existed in that singular connection.

eager hands began to roam and explore more hungrily, re-memorizing hidden curves and dips through the familiar layers separating flesh from flesh. a breathy moan sounded when vinnie delicately nipped your bottom lip, granting him immediate entrance to slip his talented tongue inside in a teasing caress. his kisses left you lightheaded and aching for more, a fire igniting low in your belly imploring to be stoked higher.

you scratched lightly at his scalp through soft curls, delighting in the rumbling growl emanating deep within his chest at the intimate contact. vinnie always responded so carnally yet tenderly to your every touch, making you feel cherished yet irresistibly desired all at once. he balanced worshipping and seeking worship so effortlessly it left your head spinning. your wandering palms traced the chiseled planes of his back through his shirt before skimming lower, gripping his flexing backside to grind your heat against his thickening length.

a guttural groan rumbled from his throat, grinding his hardening cock insistently against your clothed core in retaliation. his questing fingers trailed teasingly up your ribs before closing gently around your throbbing breasts, kneading lightly through the layers separating skin from his eager touch. you cried out softly at the twin sensations of pleasure assaulting your heated nerves, chasing the delightful friction between your joined bodies with ever growing desperation.

“baby you feel so fucking good,” vinnie grounds out, releasing your kiss-swollen lips to mouth hotly along the length of your throat. your answering moan was wantonly loud at the stimulation of the skin on hot skin, arching invitingly into his talented mouth as he sucked purple marks into the delicate flesh. his large palms continued massaging your aching mounds before slipping lower, fingertips dancing along the hem of your stolen sweatshirt to graze the soft skin beneath teasingly.

you keened high in your throat at the electrified tingles racing across your flesh, tangling your fingers in vinnie’s soft curls to guide his greedy mouth back up to claim your lips once more. his tongue dueled ardently with yours as his palms finished hiking the oversized hoodie up your torso, calloused fingers rediscovering every curve and dip of your torso. your nipples pebbled tightly at the chilled air hitting your now bare skin, aching desperately for his touch once more.

as if sensing your need, vinnie palmed your breasts, simultaneously sucking your bottom lip between his teeth to tug playfully. you gasped at the sensation, arching higher into the cage of his massive frame with abandon. vinnie’s low groan of approval sent fresh heat spiraling low in your belly, hips canting needily up in search of friction. his deft touch rolled and pinched your delicate buds expertly, coaxing breathy cries of bliss from your parted lips with each practiced twist and caress.

just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore electrified pleasure, vinnie surprised you by trailing open-mouthed kisses lower, tracing a path down your throat, between your breasts, stopping to lavish extra attention on your aching nipples. hot tears pricked your eyes at the sheer bliss of his hot mouth closing around one tiny peak, flicking his tongue determinedly as his calloused palm rolled the twin bud tantalizingly. the sensations were almost unbearably exquisite, limbs trembling uncontrollably as climax approached fiercely.

“vinnie,” you gasped brokenly, carding your fingers urgently through his hair to hold him impossibly closer against your heaving chest.

he hummed approvingly against your tender flesh, sending delicious vibrations all the way to your core. he switched his eager mouth to your other longing peak, lavishing equal attention until you were keening deliriously beneath him.

“you’re so perfect,” he breathed hotly, kissing a path lower still until stopping to meet your desperate gaze. his eyes shone with unrestrained longing and adoration that stole what little breath remained in your lungs. “can i taste you, sweet girl?”

you could only whimper and nod frantically, beyond coherent words in your haze of need. vinnie didn’t hesitate, grasping the waistband of your biker shorts and panties in one large hand to tug down your legs with practiced efficiency. cool air caressed your bare heat for mere moments before his scalding mouth replaced the void, licking a broad stripe directly up your dripping slit.

“oh!” you cried out piercingly, back arching off the mattress at the exquisitely electric contact. vinnie hummed approvingly, swirling his tongue around your throbbing clit in tight, teasing circles. your hands flew to grasp at his soft hair desperately, bucking helplessly into his greedy mouth as ecstasy ricocheted through every vein.

he lapped eagerly at your slick folds, greedily drinking in your essence like a man dying of thirst. his finger toyed teasingly at your clenching entrance, just barely grazing inside to elicit high-pitched keens of pure bliss. vinnie swirled his gifted tongue expertly around your swollen bud, sucking it between his lips to lavish intoxicating suction before parting to trace figure eights in long, languid strokes.

white hot pleasure spiraled impossibly higher with each practiced stroke of his talented muscle, muscles contracting tightly in your impending release. “vinnie, i’m so close,” you whimpered, fingers tugging pleadingly at his hair. he groaned appreciatively against your weeping core, the vibrations shooting straight to your tightening core.

fingers curled expertly inside your clasping walls in tandem with his tireless oral ministrations, coaxing you fluidly over the precipice with unparalleled skill. colors exploded violently behind your screwed-shut lids as your climax crashed over you in immense, rolling waves, muscles spasming uncontrollably around vinnie’s digits. he lapped eagerly through your pulsing release, helping you ride out every aftershock before trailing gentle kisses back up your quivering form.

vinnie pressed tender kisses along your heaving chest as you descended from ecstatic highs, mind blank yet abuzz. his lips paused to suckle gently at your distended nipples once more, stoking flickers of fresh pleasure through your satiated nerves.

“you taste so sweet,” he murmured against your fluttering skin, lust-hazy eyes flickering up to gauge your receptiveness. finding your gaze hooded yet eager, vinnie’s lips quirked in a lazy smirk. “but we aren’t finished just yet, princess.”

his muscular frame caged you back into the plush mattress, grinding the substantial length still confined by his jeans against your sensitive core. you moaned wantonly at the delicious friction, hips canting up greedily to meet each roll. vinnie’s lips captured yours in a searing kiss, allowing you to taste your essence on his eager tongue.

your hands roamed hungrily over his straining muscles, urgency resurging tenfold at his evident desire yet tenderness. never ceasing his attentive grinding, vinnie rid himself of constraining layers with practiced efficiency, freeing his thick cock to nuzzle teasingly at your slick entrance.

a shuddering gasp tore from your throat at the scalding contact, simultaneously begging for fulfillment yet cherishing the lingering intimacy. vinnie reached between you to languidly circle your swollen clit once more, coaxing thighs to part impossibly wider on a broken cry.

“you ready?” he rasped, peering down with such care and ardor you felt fit to burst. all you could do was whimper and nod frantically once more, clutching at his broad shoulders as your bodies joined with marvelous perfection.

#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚ #vinniehacker #vinnie hacker #vhackerr #vinnie imagines #vinnie x y/n #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker angst #vinnie hacker x female reader #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie smut #vinnie angst #vinnie icons #vinnie fluff

[genericpuff]

The Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Hiatus - Part 1

So Lore Olympus' return is right around the corner, and I realize I've never actually talked about the S3 midseason finale. I think I said I was going to, but then I just sorta didn't, probably because I was still reeling in the absolute absurdity of it for weeks afterwards. In hindsight, I should have written about it back when it was still fresh, but I feel like I can do it just as much - if not more - justice writing about them in hindsight, now that they've had time to sit and I've seen what Rachel and WT are clearly planning to do after the comic ends (whether or not they succeed... that's a different story).

CAUTION: THIS IS PART 1 OF A 3 PART SERIES IN WHICH I WILL BE SPOILING MUCH OF EPISODES 251-253. THIS EPISODE CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE INVOLVING STRANGULATION. THIS WILL BE A LONG POST. BRACE YOURSELF.

So one of the things that really motivated me to finally talk about this was a conversation that happened recently in the ULO Discord - the realization that there are many readers who still don't know what happened after the free to read finale cliffhanger.

Y'know, the one where Hades gets possessed by Kronos and attempts to choke Persephone-

Now, awful dark jokes aside about how Persephone frankly deserves to have her balloon head popped, this was a wild cliffhanger to leave on for free readers, but the strange thing this time around - unlike with the previous midseason hiatus - is that this is where the cliffhanger has stood for free readers for the past 3 months, and it will be 4 months by the time the series returns.

And frankly... this just highlights a huge problem with LO's writing, because this cliffhanger? Like all the others, it's literally resolved within the next episode. The one that's currently under the FP lock.

Man, isn't it a little fucked up that we only ever get trigger warnings when it's concerning Persephone? Where was the warning for when Minthe got turned into a plant? Where was the warning for the entire episode that depicted Hera's trauma from Kronos and how it's still affecting her in the present? It's always either the Persephone, Hades, or Apollo focused episodes that get the trigger warnings, they couldn't care less about the violence being done onto other people in the story.

Anyways. Episode 251 opens up by reminding us, oh yeah, Kassandra exists!

Remember back in Episode 227 when Psyche stole Apollo's USB drive (and by "stole", I mean she picked it up off the ground where Apollo had conveniently dropped it?) And they found a folder with a picture of Kassandra? Well, Episode 251 opens by reminding us of her... 24 episodes later. SEVEN MONTHS OF REAL LIFE TIME, LITERALLY THE LENGTH OF BOTH THE SEASON 2 AND SEASON 3 MIDSEASON HIATUSES COMBINED-

Anyways, I guess Rachel finally figured out what she was gonna do with Kassandra after all that time, and it's... really stupid.

But wait, don't worry about that yet, because only the comic's opening reminds us of Kassandra, we gotta establish the title first and get back to that cliffhanger from before, the one that free to read users have been waiting 4 months to see.

(pay attention to the episode titles here btw, it's probably one of Rachel's lamest 3 parter title sequences yet)

Turns out Kronos is still intent on getting his hands on Hera, even though we've literally already seen Kronos haunting Hera. Is he just a ghost? A hallucination of her traumatized mind? We don't know, it never really explains itself. So Kronos is still looking for Hera.

(kinda weird that we're getting all these redrawn fullbody angles of Hades-possessed-by-Kronos choking his noodle-bodied wife who is doing literally NOTHING to actually fight back besides yelling at him, but okay.)

Turns out Hades isn't really hyped about this choking game going on between his dad and his niece wife, so he goes full on "release the beast" Naruto mode on his ass.

And that's it. That's literally the conflict resolved. The cliffhanger that free to read users were left with over the 4 month hiatus is resolved literally within a handful of panels and Hades just "believing enough" to save his wife.

And then that's just it, it cuts away, and we get this sorta awkward conversation between Persephone and Hades (now himself again) over the fact that he just choked out his wife.

The scene transitions to Hades waking up in his bed (literally that last shot of him and Persephone was it, it transitions immediately). I'm trying not to use up Tumblr's 30 image posting limit so I'm not posting the 3 fucking copy pasted panels of this that just involves Hades waking up, use your imagination lmao

There's literally no actual conversation here, no amount of Hades asking "what happened", somehow despite his possessed state he remembers everything so succinctly that he jumps right to demanding Persephone to see her neck.

(literally removed the panel of Persephone saying "Hades..." because these types of "let me do the thing" "Hades :(((" "let me do the thing" exchanges are literally just Rachel trying to hit her panel limit, once you start seeing these '3 panel' exchanges that copy paste the same shit over and over again, you can't unsee them and you realize this is why so little happens in the comic as a whole, because it's just constant repetition of dialogue and reaction panels to pad out the episodes).

And then we get what I like to call "guy in a position of power manipulating his more vulnerable partner into pitying him without actually apologizing":

No for real, I didn't cut out a single thing from this exchange aside from a couple copy pasted reaction panels, this is the entire conversation. Hades doesn't apologize, he doesn't ask Persephone if she's okay, he just pulls the "you can leave if you want toooo :(((" baiting Persephone into further trapping herself with this jackass. SHE'S the one who's stuck with HIM.

Like, obviously Hades wasn't the one who choked her, that goes to Kronos, but he doesn't even ask her if she's okay. He just looks at her moldy ass bruises and immediately goes "YOU CAN LEAVE IF YOU WANT TO I'M A MONSTER OH GOD-" and then of course she's having to comfort him which is fine but where's the balance? It's always Persephone having to comfort him and listen to his trauma and we never get Hades doing the same for her - the times we do get Persephone talking about her trauma and struggles with him, he always finds a way to make it about him.

Hades proceeds to talk more about his childhood and more of the shit he's already talked about multiple times before, I don't even need to go over it at this point.

That said, Rachel does remember to bring his stutter back. When's the last time he stuttered? 200 episodes ago ?? (literally I don't remember, it's like when he used to twist his napkins, he doesn't have these character traits consistently anymore).

THERE we go, finally some semblance of an apology. It came after more trauma dumping, but at least it's something-

Oh for fuck's sakes.

This is literally such generic "you've come so far!" motivational jargon. And it's made even worse in LO because what has Hades overcome exactly? Just a reminder, here are the things we've seen in Hades' backstory since he was rescued by his brothers:

He started a business in the Underworld that he's been operating with slave labor and profiting off ever since as a tyrannical oligarch

He entered a multi-century-long affair with his brother's wife, his own sister in law

He cost Demeter - Persephone's own mother - the role of Queen of the Mortal Realm and Persephone still does not know this.

He abused and neglected his adopted son - who was literally abandoned on his doorstep - for hundreds of years and used his role as his adopted father to guilt trip his son for getting "special treatment".

He never took responsibility for the financially dependent relationship he created between himself and a lower class nymph and tried to bribe her out of his life as soon as he fell for a 19 year old intern

HE LITERALLY FELL FOR THE 19 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER OF A WOMAN WHO HE HAD SCREWED OVER AND PRETENDED LIKE THAT WOMAN WAS IN THE WRONG FOR NOT APPROACHING HIM DURING THE EVENTS OF THE ACT OF WRATH, AND THEN HE HAD THE GALL TO PROPOSE TO HER DAUGHTER RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER WHEN SHE BASICALLY HAD NO OTHER CHOICE BUT TO SAY YES.

Everything he's legitimately had to overcome involving his trauma has gone completely ignored until pop in comes the pink cinnamon roll girl to solve all his problems and do for him what apparently even a therapist couldn't do (because haha he thinks his therapist is a hack.)

Persephone saying "look at all you've done" should be a reminder of all the crimes Hades has committed against people weaker than him, but instead it's used as a term of endearment, because Persephone literally got with him when she was 19 years old. And apparently the whole "eternally 19" thing applies to more than just her body, because even now, 10 years later, she's still lacking all the smarts and self-awareness and maturity to realize marrying this man was a mistake.

At this point Persephone isn't too naive or stupid to realize what she's gotten herself into, she's just a terrible person who's entirely complacent in Hades' bullshit and frankly, they deserve each other.

They literally keep talking about him for several more panels. Hades literally whines on and on about how much of a failure he is, how he feels like he failed the child who's trapped in Tartarus, and then of course Persephone tells him "no honey, you're the most important being in this process!" and she's LITERALLY STILL JUST TALKING ABOUT HIM, THIS WHOLE EPISODE IS PERSEPHONE TALKING ABOUT HOW WONDERFUL HADES IS, NOTHING ELSE HAPPENS. HAVE YOU NOTICED WE HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN KASSANDRA YET ?? HAVE YOU NOTICED THE COLD OPEN FOR THE EPISODE HASN'T BECOME RELEVANT YET ?? I'VE ALREADY HIT THE 30 IMAGE LIMIT AND I HAVE TO START CUTTING STUFF OUT-

Persephone and Hades talk about how they should name the interloper, but they don't come up with anything before transitioning to Leuce and Thetis.

And y'all, this has gotta be one of Rachel's worst cases of backpedaling in the entire series. You thought how she turned Leuce - Hades' first wife - into a homewrecker was bad? You thought it was absurd the plot tried to turn Leuce into Minthe 2.0?

Remember those text messages that Leuce and Hades sent between each other? The ones we never saw but kept getting alluded to? Well of course we couldn't have Hades actually text Leuce during Persephone's banishment, because then that would mean he isn't 100% loyal to his little pink cinnamon roll "qween", so what was the next best thing? Kronos possessing Hades and texting Leuce like so many people - even fans - assumed? No. It's worse.

The text messages... weren't real.

This literally makes no sense. First of all, it's once again Rachel creating drama out of "haha woman delusional!" much like she did with Minthe. But second, it literally doesn't make sense after what we've seen leading up to this.

Leuce didn't just talk about Hades texting her. She went to his office, intent on seducing him, with the knowledge of these text messages being real. She even TALKS ABOUT THESE MESSAGES WITH HADES.

But of course, they were interrupted before Hades got a chance to respond, so this was convenient enough for Rachel to try and pull off some 'twist' where she could easily absolve Hades of "cheating" on Persephone (again, the girl he only knew for like 1-2 months) but also not have to deal with the weird logic of Kronos possessing Hades just to text some random nymph.

This is absolutely one of the most absurd retcons Rachel has ever tried to pull to get herself out of the corners she writes herself into.

Now the episode is still going and FINALLY, it gets to Kassandra, after teasing her at the beginning of the episode and proceeding to do a whole lot of nothing throughout the entire thing.

This has to be one of the funniest panels in the entire comic, bar none. Rachel's gotten worse at drawing men despite making this comic for 5 years and having plenty of opportunity to improve, and he literally just looks like the fucking Amazing Bulk, haunting this poor mortal woman with his very presence.

So yeah, it turns out that the "curse" Kassandra suffers from in this "retelling" is, rather than having prophecies no one believes (or at least, if she does, we don't see that), she sees Apollo and no one believes her. Again, Rachel takes these weird liberties with the original myths that don't make a whole lot of sense all for the sake of seeming original, but whatever, Rachel hit her panel limit for the week, because that's essentially where the episode ends, with Apollo greeting Kassandra. As quickly as it was shown at the beginning of the episode, the one part of the episode actually featuring Kassandra is wrapped up in literally 7 panels.

THOUGHT VOMIT TIME

So with Episode 251 now summarized and out of the way, I really wanna talk about how this episode operates as the first FP episode after the midseason finale for free readers.

Despite the fact that it was a 4 month break and despite the fact that WT has always still released these episodes for free on schedule - with the idea that every reader will be up to date with the current content and can start fresh with a new set of FP episodes when it returns - this time around Episodes 251-253 have remained locked.

And I say Webtoons specifically because as far as I know, the creators typically don't have control over this type of decision. From what I've heard from other Originals creators, it's often WT who decides shit like coin costs, FP release dates, etc. This is why during hiatuses the numbers on the episode unlocks never actually align with their real return dates, sometimes they completely undershoot and reset, sometimes they overshoot and tell people LO is coming back in January despite the fact it's been confirmed it's coming back in November. This isn't Rachel's doing. It's clearly Webtoons trying to squeeze as much money out of this series as they can so they think the 4 month hiatus will motivate people to pay... but even the newest episode is still only sitting at 17.9k likes, which is just slightly above the average amount the FP episodes normally wind up sitting at by the time they're unlocked after 3 weeks, but this has been after four months. The hiatus of the comic and its communities absolutely put LO out of sight, out of mind.

That said, I don't know what this means for the series' return, if it'll have 6 FP episode unlocks going forward or if it'll just return with one new FP episode and Episode 251 unlocking for free readers, but holy shit, if that's the case, this is gonna be a shitty way to return from 4 months of nothing. The cliffhanger from 250 implies so much more than what it ends up being and it's, again, highlighting a fundamental issue within LO - it operates purely on a week to week basis, producing episodes on the fly, and concerning itself more with filling up its panel quota so that it can get readers from beginning to end when they can drop some new cliffhanger that likely won't lead to anything or will be completely resolved within three swipes of the next episode. Season 3 has been especially egregious with this and it's clear Rachel has run out of track to run on.

There is speculation that perhaps the reason the timing of this cliffhanger is so off is because Rachel didn't know the hiatus was going to happen and WT forced her on it. That said, it's not something anyone can really confirm besides Rachel. I wouldn't blame her for taking the time she did considering she was attending both NYCC and SDCC this past summer, and it's hard enough for her to keep up with any sort of buffer to begin with, so those conventions would have definitely resulted in episodes getting postponed anyways.

What I'm really interested in seeing is the reception when the comic returns. Hiatuses like this are brutal for traffic, it's incredibly difficult to get every single person who you started the hiatus with to return after it's done. It's not uncommon for comics to come back to only a fraction of their readerbase - and that's where the marketing comes in.

S3's return has been incredibly undermarketed. I've talked about it already but I'll mention it again here - they have done nothing to hype up LO's remaining audience for the ending of LO. Not only has the fact that the comic is even entering its final part been mentioned on either Rachel's or WT's social media pages, but the fan groups have been shut down for almost the entirety of this hiatus, shutting fans away from discussing the comic, making predictions, and just participating in their most active and direct part of the fandom. This was an absolutely absurd decision on Rachel's part, I don't know if this was her trying to shield herself from criticism or if she genuinely just doesn't give a shit about her fanbase anymore, but it's not a good thing if the only active groups to be found online during a comic's hiatus - it's final hiatus before the series ends - are the critical ones. Fans of the comic should not have to find out about its ending from me. I know I've got a way with words, but it's not fair to the long-term fans of this comic that they're being shut out by the comic's own creator, simply because she either doesn't care or is just so afraid of the critics that she'd rather hurt her relationship with her fanbase by shutting them out just to maybe shut out any critics who are nearby.

I don't know what the reasoning is and I don't know how it could have been beneficial. But that leads us to the other theory, one that I can see as plausible-

I don't think Lore Olympus was supposed to end here.

We've talked about this theory before, but to reiterate - it's been speculated for a while (prior to the news at NYCC that the comic would be ending) that S3 of LO wasn't going to be the final season as so many people had been assuming based on past info. There was no indication or marketing implying this was the final season - meanwhile webtoons like City of Blank were marketing their final seasons from day 1 of the premiere - and there were loads of new plot threads being established in S3 that we knew couldn't possibly be wrapped up by the end of the season. Case in point, it took Rachel seven months to get back to Kassandra, and while during that time she's rushed plotlines that shouldn't have been rushed (the wedding) other plotlines have proceeded to drag at a snail's pace or been dropped altogether. The speculation that S3 wasn't going to be the final season was plausible.

But now, suddenly, LO is coming to an end, likely within the next 20-30 episodes, and neither Rachel or Webtoons have said a word about it. No announcement post, no hype, no promotional art, no statement from the Webtoons VP of what to be excited for (which he's done before). It seems like they're either intentionally trying to bury it to keep people from panicking while Rachel retreats into the shadows to hide from the crimes she's committed, or they're intentionally keeping the ending of the comic unannounced so they can backpedal on it later to generate hype over it "deciding to stick around". Chances are, it'll be based on how the return of the series goes, and whether or not it's able to get the performance numbers back in the green.

I do not think it will. As I said already, hiatuses are already notorious for destroying built up traffic, especially on Webtoons where people (many of whom are teenagers and children) are conditioned to expect regular content on a schedule. But there's one other thing that's been bugging me - there hasn't been a shred of promotional art. We're currently less than a month away from the return of LO and not only are Rachel and WT being incredibly hush hush about it, but all the art Rachel has put out has been largely on her Blue Sky, where she has the smallest following, and none of it is exactly indicative of being "promotional art", rather just random sketches and doodles that she's doing on her downtime. Everything else has been promos for her books, SDCC/NYCC, of course, Rachel Smythe Presents, her next venture which she has been hyping up more than the actual return or ending of the comic that made her famous in the first place.

At this point, I'm not even fully convinced she's even started working on the next episode yet, let alone any sort of buffer. If anything, she knows that she's coming back to the series with 3 episodes still locked under FastPass, so all she'll need to technically have ready for launch is one new episode. Rachel has never been good at building buffers, not even in the beginning when she apparently started off with 2-3 episodes of buffer. Even when her comic is nearing its end, she's not learning any lessons, she's not setting herself up for success. And I'm not setting myself up for the hope that the series could possibly come back any better than it was when it left - if anything, I think we're about to see Rachel and the comic outdo itself once again on how bad it can possibly be.

And we still have two more episodes to talk about, which includes the cliffhanger for FP readers that we've been waiting four months on. Part 2 and 3 of these FP episode analyses will be going up as soon as I can get them done, ideally I'll have all three parts done before it returns so we can start off fresh with the newest episode.

Buckle up folks. Pour yourself a drink. We're gonna need it.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #long post #essay post #tw violence #tw assault

[tylermileslockett]

8: ZODIAC CONSTELLATIONS The ancient Greek Zodiakos, or Zodiac, is a division of the celestial sphere into twelve equal parts; each one containing a specific group of stars with a mythic association called a constellation. Ancient Greeks used the constellations for sailing navigation, time keeping for seasonal agricultural practices like planting and harvesting crops, mythic storytelling purposes, and astrology practices. Hellenistic Astrology, taking influence from the Babylonians and Egyptians, sought meaning in the zodiac signs and how they influenced a person’s character based on the position of the sun when they were born. They also used this practice for divination, providing guidance and predictions for the future. Let’s take a look at the twelve Zodiac constellations and their mythic tales. 1.) Aries (March 21-April 19) represents the flying golden ram sent by the gods to save the royal children Phrixus and Helle from sacrifice, and whose fleece later becomes the quested prize for the Argonauts. 2.) Taurus (April 20-May 20) represents the bull which Zeus transformed into to seduce Europa, and is linked to the Cretan Bull and the myth of the Minotaur. 3.) Gemini (May 21-June 21) represents the twins Castor and Pollux, sons of Zeus and Leda, known for their inseparable bond and heroic deeds. 4.) Cancer (June 22- July 22) represents the crab sent by Hera to distract Hercules during his battle with the Hydra, later placed in the sky by Hera as a constellation. 5.) Leo (July 23- Aug. 22) represents the lion, representing strength and kingship, associated with the Nemean Lion defeated by Hercules. 6.) Virgo (Aug 23- Sept 22) represents the maiden, often linked to the goddess of agriculture and fertility, such as Demeter or Persephone. 7.) Libra (Sept 23- Oct 23) represents goddess of justice Astraea, daughter of Themis, who carries the scales of justice. 8.) Scorpio (Oct 24- Nov 21) represents the scorpion sent by Artemis or Gaia to kill Orion 9.) Sagittarius (Nov 22- Dec 21) represents the centaur archer, often identified as the wise and skilled Chiron. 10.) Capricorn (Dec 22- Jan 19) represents the sea goat Aegipan, who aided Zeus in his fight against Typhon. 11.) Aquarius (Jan 20- Feb 18) represents the cupbearer of the gods, Ganymede, who was abducted by Zeus and placed among the stars. 12.) Pisces (Feb 19- March 20) represents the two fish, Aphrodite and Eros, who transformed to escape the monster Typhon.

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#greekmythology #greekgods #pjo #mythology #classics #classicscommunity #myths #ancientgreece #zodiac #greekzodiac

[incorrectgreekgods]

Zeus: Hold on! I’m having one of those things... a headache with pictures.

Athena: What the fuck?

Hera: He's having an idea.

#swearing #tw swearing #incorrect greek gods #incorrect quotes #incorrect quote #incorrect greek mythology #greek mythology #greek gods #gods #mythology #zeus #athena #hera #contains zeus #contains athena #contains hera

[lilislegacy]

you may have gotten a similar ask before, but I'm new to your blog, so i just wanted to ask: what do you envision Percy and annabeth's post-college life to be like? how many kids? girl/boy? names? (If they have kids at all?) their jobs? where do they live? what does their house look like? do they have pets? what are their relationships like with the other demigods? This might be a lot for one ask but you seem like you can literally dive right into percabeth's minds so I just thought I'd ask 😅

ok. you have just asked me a question that i instinctually want to answer with a 3,000 word essay. so i am going to keep this as short as possible (which is not short at all.) i’m also open minded, so my headcanons can be changed if i see a take i really love. but these are my own beliefs

i think they get married. definitely after college. i know some people think they don’t marry because of hera, but i can’t stand the thought of them not doing what they want because of a god. (i also have a hc that they kinda blackmail her lol. as in she goes to them needing help - a quest - and they say they’ll do it only if she swears on the styx to never interfere with or harm their marriage)

i think they both do a lot of things over the course of their careers. annabeth is an architect, but she does multiple things with that. she creates some big famous attractions, she designs a greek version of new rome, aka “new greece” or “new athens” or something, maybe she builds hideouts for demigods (suggestion from a previous asker), etc. and for percy, i think he definitely does something that involves helping marine animals. he can literally speak to them - something no one else can do. he also is very protective of all sea animals he encounters in the books. so he needs to be doing that. personally, i love the thought of him becoming an aquatic vet. but there are several other marine animal related jobs that he could do in replacement of/in addition to that. i also see him doing several things throughout this life, and i made a big post about my thoughts there. i’ll link it at the end of this post.

they definitely have kids. no doubt. they’ve been thinking about having kids together since they were 16. i love the thought of them having 3, maybe 4. i think their first is a boy with short blonde curly hair and sea green eyes. i also think he has a “p” name, since his dad is named percy and his paternal grandfathers are poseidon and paul. but i don’t have names for any of them. ive always imagined them having 2 boys close together and then a girl later on. but i don’t have exact ideas, you know?

i think they live in a few different places. they probably start off in new rome, then eventually in new athens/new greece, and then i think nyc again at some point, maybe when the kids are grown. but i think they always try and live on/near beaches or lakes, when possible. (for obvious reasons)

they do a lot of traveling throughout their lives. because annabeth loves it, and percy loves seeing her happy.

they definitely have a family dog (look in the linked post for my thoughts on that.) plus horses/pegusi will always be around their place.

i don’t have exact house details in mind.

and they keep in great contact with all their demigod friends. both roman and greek.

all i know for sure is that they remain best friends who are deeply in love. they’re always each others battle partner. and they do everything in their power to not only protect their kids, but to make sure their childhoods don’t contain the same darknesses that their own childhoods did. they’re amazing parents, and they’re gonna do great things. they’re both going to use their abilities to help so many people and creatures. and their lives will never be dull or “normal.” not even for a second. and they love it.

my thoughts on percy’s career: ⬇️

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #percy x annabeth #percabeth babies #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #answered ask #anon ask

[ct99r2d2]

Omega... The Pilot, a study

I keep thinking about this moment from the S3 trailer...and how much Tech (but also Hunter and Wrecker) have prepared Omega for this moment, (whatever it entails).

She has had a long journey of pilot training going back to Season 1 and I am SO excited to see it potentially pay off big in Season 3.

Recapping Omega's journey becoming a pilot so far....

In S1E9 Bounty Lost, Omega does some Piloting trying to escape Cad Bane and Fennec Shand. She was obviously familiar with these flight pods since they were Kaminoan. And I am going to assume that the malfunctioning of the flight pod was because of the abandoned pod itself, and not Omega's doing.

Then shortly after that in S1E10 Devil's Deal, while Omega is giving Hera a tour of the Marauder, she tells Hera that Tech won't let her train at flying the ship until she can recite ALL of the ship's specifications from memory.

Omega and Hera then have a nice exchange where Hera tells Omega that flying is only half about spec's but also about "a feeling". I love this so much because while of course she will get the finest education from Professor Tech and the other boys, having this additional not-by-the-book insight on what might make a good pilot is so great for Omega. (maybe we will see this come to fruition in season 3.....?!?!)

Next in S1E13 War Mantle, Omega is tasked with Piloting the Marauder and stabilizing it close to the mountainside in order to rescue Tech Hunter Echo and Gregor. She only keeps the ship steady for a few moments before Tech comes in to take over, but she got some good practice in!

Presumably she is willing and able to do this because at this point she has been getting some beginner level of flying lessons with Tech. Which means she Also memorized ALL of the ships spec's. (if at this point she Hadn't been receiving flying lessons with Tech yet, then it was probably the emergency rescue of it all and Wrecker would of course be the most encouraging that she take the wheel)

In the Season 2 opening episode Spoils of War, Tech and Omega with a very obvious Teacher/Student dynamic, suggesting they have been doing this for a significant amount of time and at Least since back in S1E10. Now Omega is studying and memorizing ALL of the ships in the Imperial FLEET. Which idk sounds like a Lot. (But also... I BET this will come in handy in Season 3 maybe?!?!)

Later in the same episode, it appears that Omega Also gets regularly scheduled Quiz time with Hunter. (which is ADORABLE)

(and yes I translated the data pad bc hyperfixation is a helluva drug)

Then All of that studying pays off immediately in the same episode when Tech Echo and Omega escape a cargo ship via a cargo container. Which was Omega's suggestion since she knew about the container's reentry thrusters from her studies.

And Tech is even Impressed!

There is a long stretch in Season 2 before there is any more Omega doing Pilot things. But Wow is it worth the Wait!

In S2E14 Tipping Point, FINALLY a Flying Lessons scene with Tech and Omega 🥹 and it's not even the first lesson! Based on their conversation it is apparent they have had Several lessons.

This is a HUGE payoff all the way back to S1E10 when Tech wanted Omega to memorize the Ships specs before training to fly.

From what we see in this Flying Lesson, Omega definitely knows her way around the ships maneuverability and limits, but she still needs practice with Landing. Tech gives her some constructive feedback and they seem to have a good rhythm with training.

Aaaand Now for some crack pot Season 3 Trailer speculation/theorizing...

I think this is definitely Omega at this crash site....especially considering the other shot we get of her in a Pilot seat.

I also think all of the subsequent shots in the trailer of that same shuttle type is also Omega piloting the ship while escaping from Tantis. If this is correct, it's clear that the shuttle is hit mid-escape and that is probably what causes it to eventually have to be crash landed.

And then those last two shots on the bottom right...it's a long shot but I think the shuttle shooting at the Troopers could be Omega (but maybe not) and the Doggo attacking the trooper was for SURE at the crash site with Omega and is probably protecting her here, or just going wild at the trooper. either way I support this doggo friend.

#bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch season 3 #bad batch spoilers #omega bad batch #tbb tech #tech bad batch #tbb omega #free omega #Star Wars doggo

[gingersnappish]

The 2024 Fandom Trumps Hate Charity Auction is LIVE!!!

Bidding runs 5th March 8am EST to 9th March 8 pm EST!

@fandomtrumpshate is an online multi-fandom auction that benefits a lot of progressive non-profit organizations! Fans 'bid' to donate directly to a listed charity and the winning bidder receives a thank you gift for their donation in the form of the personalized fan work- You can read about exactly how it works HERE and see the FULL LIST OF NON-PROFITS!

Star Wars Fandom has a lot of really lovely works being offered this year - 34 creators are offering their time and talents as a big thank you to the winning bidders for their donations! Please, check them out!

And then...

Help out some wonderful progressive charities (and get a lovely custom fanwork as a thank you gift !

The following are brief summaries and not comprehensive. Please read the full offerings before bidding! The full Star Wars TAG contains all the following listings in their entirety!

Written Fanworks

@shadow-spires is offering a <5K piece for Prequel Trilogy or The Clone Wars! Loves working with Cody, clone culture, and fix-its, AUs, angst with happy endings, and more!

@marroniere is offering 20-50K for Andor, Thrawn Trilogy (new canon), Thrawn Ascendancy, or Ahsoka! Especially interested in anything Thrawn and Chiss, as well as Mon and Cassian from Andor! Versatile in genre and focussed on how characters relate to one another and heal!

finkpishnets is offering 5-10K for Prequel Trilogy or Clone Wars! Happy to work with Obi-Wan/Anakin or Obi-Wan/Cody in canon, diveregent, or AU settings! (also comfortably familiar with the Kenobi series canon)

@dirtbag-linecook-kyloren is offereing 5K per $10 donated! Sequel Trilogy Kylux author specializing in Modern AUs!

@captainlilja is offering 5-10K for Sequel Trilogy or Rebels! Especially interested in Finn/Poe, Finn/Poe/Rey, Zeb/Kallus, Hera/Kanan and happy to work with AroAce characters, AUs, fluff, and kinky-fluff where everybody is in love!

blackat_t7t is offering 5-10K for Book of Boba Fett, Clone Wars, or Mandalorian! Interested in M/M or Genfic, Angst, canon-divergent AUs, anything with a Clones focus or BobaDinn! Also appreciates rairpairs and characters!

Tathrin is offering 5-10K for any of the Trilogies and/or Legends/Extended Universe! Enthusiastic about world-building and plot and queering canon! Classic Legends stuff is a favorite, with a love for snubfighter pilots, YJKs, Leia, nb-Revan, and original flavor Boba Fett!

hoebiwan is offering 5-10K for Original and Prequel Trilogies or Legends/Extended Universe! Interested in crack, grief, recovery, anxiety, trans and queer themes!

@geekymoviemom is offering 5-10K for Prequel Trilogy, Clone Wars, Rebels, or Rogue One! Happy to write Anakin/Padme, Cassian/Jyn, Obi-wan & Anakin, Kanan & Ezra, and family stuff for Clone Wars and Rebels Fam! Canon-divergent or in-universe AUs please!

@treescape is offering <5K for any Star Wars! Familiar with all eras and happy to work with most characters or pairs!

@xenomorphic-warrior is offering 10-20K for Original or Prequel Trilogy, Andor, Clone Wars, Mandolorian, Kenobi, and Rogue One! Especially interested in Cody/Obi-wan, Bariss/Ahsoka, Din/Cobb, Lando/Han, Lando/Leia/Han, Cassian/Jyn, Cassian/Jyn/Bohdi, Cassian/Kino and are fond of speculative AUs like horror and sci-fi, mythology, and canon-divergence!

van1lla_v1lla1n is offering <5K for the Sequel Trilogy! Enthusiastic about Rey/Kylo (one or both of them queer) and will write in canonverse or modern AUs! Likes to work with erotic and heavier themes, ambiguous endings!

solas_oiche is offering 10-20K for any Star Wars! Enthusiastic about anything Ahsoka-centric and open to themes and tropes you may want to see!

Kartaylir is offering &lt;5K for Legends/Extended Universe and the Old Republic! Especially interested F/F, darker themes, world-building, and weird lore details! Familiar with Thrawn Trilogy, Shadows of the Empire, and Tales of the Jedi comics, KOTOR, and have written lots for SWTOR!

Ninja is offering 5-10K for Original or Prequel Trilogies, or Mandolorian! Especially interested in working with Fluff, H/C, happy endings, magic, plot twists, crack, and humor! Loves zany hijinks! Good at taking an initial prompt and running with it!

@s-c-g-s-c-g is offering <5K for Prequel Trilogy, Clone Wars, and Legends/Extended Universe! Especially interested in Jedi characters, pre-quel era fic, gen, bonding, H/C, canon-adjacent AUs, and found family! Primarily experienced writing Gen but open to some rairpairs!

Ternary is offering <5K for Prequel Trilogy and Clone Wars! Likes queer themes, ace&aro themes, and exploring disability themes, as well as trauma-recovery, and emotional H/C! Interested in Obi-Wan’s Legends padawanship, Obi-Wan/Quinlan, Obi-Wan/Cody, Quinlan/Fox!

geniecat2 is offering 5-10K words for the Prequel Trilogy, Book of Boba Fett, or Clone Wars! Especially interested in the AceAre spectrum, found family, platonic and romantic CodyWan, Jangobi, and lineage exploration, as well as Clone and Jedi appreciation, JediCorps too!

@musetotheworld is offering 5-10K for the Original and Prequel Trilogies, and Legends/Extended Universe! Loves Legends-inspired plots and has read most of the Legends books! Experience with writing F/F ships, M/F is fine too, also cool with AUs!

Stens_McHenry is offering 5-10K for All Trilogies, Book of Boba Fett, Mandolorian, and Kenobi! Prefers to write M/M ships and happy to work with AUs and canon-adjacent/divergent works!

MaudeZbornak is offering scaled-by-donation wordcount ($5 = minimum 5K) for All Trilogies, Book of Boba Fett, Mandolorian, and Kenobi! Happy to work with any pairing for Star Wars and welcomes detailed prompts!

thebeespatella is offering scaled-by-donation wordcount ($10 = 1K) for Andor, Clone Wars, and Rogue One! Especially interested in F/F, trans/gender and exploring corporate surveillance, identity and conformity, colonialism/diaspora, radicalization, trauma, moral injury, and interfacing with technology (cybogs)! Likes Clone troopers, clone culture and clone ships, Imperial/Rebellion era, and spy/thriller AUs! Experienced writer of Cody/Rex!

MayQueen517CactusDragon517 is offering <5K words for the Original and Sequel Trilogies, Rogue One, or Solo! Open to many ideas, smut included! Likes exploring alternative identities like a trans or non-binary or ace/aro interpretation of a character! Likes to communicate lots with their winning bidder, building ideas and sharing snippets!

@elthadriel is offering scaled-by-donation wordcount ($10 = 1K up to 10K) for Clone Wars! Especially interested in Clone troopers and their culture and ships, Imperial/rebellion era, missing war scenes, PWP, Cowboy AUs, bittersweet vibes, Cody/Rex, Echo/Fives/Fox, Thorn/Fox, Rex/Fives/Echo/Cody, Cody/Fox, Ahsoka/Bariss, Bly/Aayla, Cody/Maul!

@cabezadeperro is offering <5K for Prequel Trilogy, Clone Wars, Legends/Extended Universe! Interested in open endings, Imperial era, missing war scenes, cloneships, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan, canon divergence, complicated relationships, codex, Fives/Echo/Fox, Cody/Fox, rewalker, qi’rahsoka!

darktenshi17 is offering two auctions for 5-10K fics for the Sequel Trilogy as well as the Original Trilogy! Open to most ideas (with the exception of Kylo/Rey) and interested in working with F/F, polyships, genderswap, trans or nonbinary characters, unhappy or ambiguous endings!

commanderdameron is offering 10-20K for the Prequel or Sequel Trilogies or Kenobi! Loves character and relationship studies! Interested in exploring canon in more plot-centric ways and excited about world-building from a character-driven mindset! Obi-Wan, Poe, Leia, and Rey are favs, so things that focus on their relationships are welcome!

Visual Fanworks

c_art is offering a comic page (per $50 donation) for the Original and Prequel Trilogies! Enthusiastic about Gen and Femslash as well as rarepairs and unusual ideas! Fluff, angst, slice of life, and action all welcome! Black and white pages - will ask the winning bidder for a script or fic to adapt, higher donations = gets more pages!

@temporoyales is offering a drawing/painting for any Star Wars! Any pairings, genders, sexualities are welcome! Likes working with everyday interactions, environmental storytelling, symbolism, genderbending, and costume design! Starting bid gets a black and white portrait and larger bids increase up to fullbody/color!

@gingersnappish is offering a full color book cover/illustration/drawing/comic page/etc for any Star Wars! Specializes in Kylux but open to almost all characters, pairs, ideas! Happy to work with scifi-fantasy design, animals, detailed backgrounds and tech! Will make 2-4 small sketches for the recipient to choose from and then show a refined sketch before finishing the piece!

@nattyjae is offering a comic/drawing/painting/etc for any Star Wars! Scaled donations $5 = black and white, $15 black and white comic, $20 full color illustration, on up to a full color comic page! Loves Clone Wars, Rebels, and Bad Batch but will be happy drawing any Star Wars! Happy to design characters, redraw scenes or visualize AUs!

Beta Reading

@shadow-spires is offering to beta 10-20K for any of the Trilogies, Clone Wars, Rebels, Rogue One!

birbleafs is offering to beta for <5K for any of the Trilogies, Clone Wars, Legends/Extended Universe!

geniecat2 is offering to beta for 5-10K for the Original and Prequel Trilogies, Book of Boba Fett, Clone Wars, Legends/Extended Universe, Mandolorian, and Kenobi!

Podfic Recording

@shadow-spires is offering to record a <5K podfic for any of the Trilogies, Clone Wars, Rebels, or Rogue One: clones centric and Jedi-positive stuff always welcome, as well as OCs!

flowerparrish is offering to record <5K for any of the Trilogies, Book of Boba Fett, Clone Wars, Legends/Extended Universe, Mandalorian, Kenobi, Rebels, Rogue One! They are especially interested in canon-divergent AUs, fix-its, Poly ships, F/F, trans or nonbinary characters, rarepairs and crackships!

kbirb is offering to record fic with wordcount being contribution-based (Donations: First $10 = 2K, +$10 = Additional 1K)! Open to all three Trilogies, Andor, Clone Wars, Mandolorian, Rebels, Rogue One! Especially interested in found family, soulmate AUs, polyamory, trans clone troopers, neopronouns, Jon Antilles rarepairs, Hevy/Fives/Echo, Cody/Obi-Wan, and period pieces (Regency!) Loves recording for an author who wants to hear their fic aloud!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanart #fandom trumps hate #fth 2024 #fanworks charity auction

[pathfinderyderss]

Heads up! The user barbex is a proshipper (supports romanticizing abuse in fiction).

Hi! So, I apologize for my delay in responding to your message - I have had a lot of thoughts and wanted to make sure l was expressing them in the best way possible.

I want to be honest, when I first read your message, I didn’t know what pro-shipping was, but I do know @barbex --I've been following her for the better part of a decade and she is an excellent author and l enjoy her views on the Dragon Age lore (and her views on Anders). I've also done more than a few of the prompt months that she's put together.

With all of that said, I wanted to better understand your viewpoint and see what it is that is defined as part of your block list. So, I hopped on your blog! I found your blocklist and the items you've listed as egregious enough to report users and as a former Literature Major, it saddened me to see such Puritanical and Orwellian views being broadcast with such vitriol.

The first thing I want to address is that in my fifteen plus years in fandom I have always subscribed to the “Don’t Like, Don’t Read" mentality. I am unafraid to block people on this website for a single take I don't agree with, and with that I am a FIRM supporter of accurate community labels as there are many things that I myself do not enjoy or want to read - so my blocked tags are plentiful and the blogs I block are many and that curated experience is why I do not get involved in any sort of fandom drama. 

I implore you to do the same. Fandom can be such a wonderful, constructive experience when you surround yourself with like-minded individuals. A dear friend of mine reminded me of the phrase, ”No Good Fandom, Only Good Friends” and nothing could be more accurate. Your tiny corner of the Fandom is an amazing way to flourish socially and mentally; however when your energy instead is spent on searching for others with ideological differences the experience instead becomes a witch hunt full of dog piling and negativity.

Now, on your blog, I noticed that you bemoan that you are unable to have a conversation about Fandom/Purity Culture/Fanfiction and I feel like this is an important topic to discuss so l am going to indulge in this against my better judgement, and at the end if you don't like what I've said, l implore you to block me as well.

My primary issue with your block list is that it derives from anti-intellectualism and a puritanical view of fandom. Which, if that is how you want to experience fandom, that's fine, but publicizing it is beyond ridiculous and leads back to my earlier point about witch hunts and dog piling.

Based on your list, your primary concerns in your block list stem from the following topics: rape, incest, pedophilia- including predatory age gaps and abuse. And I wonder; do you devalue fiction in the same way?

The first thing on your list that caught my attention was your adamant disapproval of the Thanatos/Zagreus ship in Hades. Is this just a general distaste for all Greek/Roman mythology as all of it could meet your block list above? Does Disney's Hercules get a pass due to the inaccuracies in the retelling — does the Hera/Zeus relationship get a pass because it isn't explicitly mentioned? And does it matter that it is a more inaccurate retelling of the myth?

In that same vein; are stories like Jane Eyre (which contains both a predatory age gap and a horrific example of a mentally ill character) or Wuthering Heights (which contains incest and abuse) not worth telling to a modern audience because they show these things? Are we forgoing media literacy and critical thinking now because these things glorify the worst parts of humanity?

And regardless of if it is a piece of classic literature or a piece of modern fanfiction making the decision for others that they cannot read these things due to them being "bad” or "wrong" or "shameful" is no different than banning books. And you devalue the readership of these pieces of literature by saying that they are unable to critically think for themselves and find the value of an individual piece of fiction.

I emphasize again, YOU as an individual do not have to view or interact with this material if it makes you uncomfortable, but I beg you not to police others in an Orwellian fashion over the media they choose to produce or view. Use the block button and blacklist tags you don't like or make you uncomfortable - that is what they are there for. Instead, talk to people who share your views but do not turn this into a witch hunt or an NC-17 purge that we've seen so damaging to our communities in the past.

All of this is to say; find joy Fandom — whatever that may mean for you and let others do the same. 

I hope this was informative.

- Ryder

#chats with ryder #long post #fandom culture