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cordeliawhohung · 2 months

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Of Sea Foam and Iron [1]

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Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap

your beauty was meant to be a blessing, not a curse. the only way your father can keep you safe is by marrying you off to an ugly, scarred blacksmith. at first, it seems like your new husband wants nothing to do with you. you eventually learn that's not the case at all.

wc: 4.8k

warnings: historical au with lots of inaccuracies, blood/gore/violence, minor self-harm ideation (no sh happens), arranged marriage, reader is a virgin, reader is very shallow, nudity, fear of sex, ancient standards of women (the characters aren't actually gods, but rather god-coded. they're mortal, but still fit the symbolism of said gods)

When you were a child, people often told you that your beauty was a gift from the gods, and for the longest time you believed them.

Certainly, it was only by Aphrodite’s grace that you were able to hold yourself with such elegance and outshine even the most precious of gems and metals. Even as a young girl your father adorned you with flashy jewelry as if to prove to anyone who laid eyes on you that you were the only creature in the world that could make gold appear dull. You enjoyed every moment your father spent parading you around because that’s what love was supposed to be; the unconditional admiration of all those that were so far beneath you.

It wasn’t until you became of courting age that you learned better. Gifts of fine silk and flashy jewelry were commonly sent to your father by countless suitors, and while they were beautiful, he sent every single one of them back. Simple gifts of cloth and metal were not good enough for your fathers beautiful daughter. If a man were to wed you, he would have to offer up something that your father could not provide for you himself.

Countless suitors visited your abode where they would drink wine with your father and eat the freshest fruit while they attempted to gain his favor. Sometimes, you were permitted to sit in on their discussion, though you were not allowed to speak and no one was allowed to speak to you. You sat silent and unwavering like a transformed tree nymph, capable of only observing the events that unraveled around you as you stared at the man who sat in front of your father.

His name was unremarkable, something you didn’t think you could remember even if it had been carved into your skin. He was not handsome nor ugly, but you could tell by the vibrant color of his chiton that he was of nobility. A philosopher's son, or even a politician. Personally, you guessed a politician due to his sharp tongue and even sharper gaze. Every instance in which his eyes landed on you, you felt as if you needed to check your skin for cuts.

All the silver in the world couldn’t gild his tongue enough to grant him the ability to convince your father to let him take your hand in marriage. There was no amount of cattle or coin that your father seemed content in trading you for, and you watched in silent horror as the man stood from the table with his finger pointed in accusation. A finger turned into a blade all too fast, and it wouldn’t take long for blood to stain the stone floor of your home.

In either anger, frustration, or arrogance, your suitor had dared to pull a blade on the man that raised you. His blade was well made, built for killing men, but even in his old age your father picked up the very same knife he used to cut up fruit to carve into the man's stomach. The odor of his offals was putrid and you covered your mouth as you watched the man attempt to keep his organs within the confines of his skin. He failed miserably, and his body joined his insides as he collapsed on the floor as a bloody and gasping mess.

It was then that you learned love was not at all something gentle and sweet. Love was the spilling of blood in a brash act of violence and the decaying scent of rotting intestines. Love was what started the war of the Trojans where countless men lost their lives in gruesome battles. Helen of Troy brought the end of an empire simply by existing. You had brought the death of a man for that same crime.

As your father turned to face you with red and sticky hands, he finally realized what a suitor could provide to you that he could not; protection. Because despite his reflexes, and the body that laid on the floor in front of him to cool, his age would soon catch up to him. There would be a day where you would be alive and he would not, and should that day come before you were to find a husband, he was certain no one would live to tell the tale. Your beauty was not a gift from the gods, but a curse that could damn a nation to ruin, and it was his responsibility to ensure you were protected no matter the cost.

After that day, your father would not accept any more suitors into his home. No matter how much they groveled at the door, or begged to see even the faintest glimpse of you, they were all cast away back into the streets in which they came. For months, your father combed the city himself in search of a man who came even anywhere close to being worthy of your hand. During that time, you only ever set foot outside if you were in the enclosed courtyard of your fathers estate, otherwise you spent most of your time hidden away on the second floor where no visitors, man or woman, was allowed to see you.

Trapped in your own home, your mind began to wander to places even darker and more morbid than the Underworld itself. If you didn’t walk with such grace and have an air of beauty about you, then you would have never found yourself in that predicament in the first place. Some frustrated and upset part of you was tempted to disfigure yourself. Maim your face with a knife and become something no one could bear to behold. Maybe then at least you’d be able to pick your own husband. But if your beauty truly was a gift from the gods, and not at all a curse like it felt, you wouldn’t dare to cast their grace aside, lest you face the consequences.

Eventually, your father found a suitable man for you to marry. You had begun to think that he would never be able to find anyone that would meet his standards, and yet one day he returned home with the triumphant news. Your soon-to-be-husband’s name was Simon Riley, and you were to be wedded to him before Apollo drew his chariot across the sky the next day.

You knew nothing about this man besides the very few things your father would tell you over your last meal together. Simon Riley was an artisan, a blacksmith to be more specific. He often spent his days slaving over a fire as he bent iron and bronze to his will. In your mind you could already see his hands darkened from burns and skin wet with sweat from the heat. A man who could shape something as cold and unforgiving as metal certainly was a man to be reckoned with, yet plenty of artisans before him had asked to wed you.

What made him so different?

That question plagued your mind in the early hours of the morning as you washed yourself in the cooling water of your bath. Usually a nuptial bath would be given under much brighter circumstances, both literally and emotionally. As a young girl you always imagined that the sun would stream through the window and light up the water in the same way ocean waves sparkled at sunset. Instead, you bathed by candlelight as you purified yourself for your marriage, because marrying off a soiled daughter was unforgivable, no matter how beautiful you were.

Once you were clean and smothered in as many fragrant oils as your skin could hold, you donned your peplos and veil for the ceremony. Beautiful garments, the white fabric hung off your body and cascaded down your legs like foam, and the veil was as red as a blazing fire to ward off any ill spirits. If this was any normal wedding, people from leagues around would come to see you in your attire, to get a chance to attempt to bask in your beauty, yet it was no normal wedding. The only people who would see you dressed like that would be your father and your new husband.

“It’s safer this way,” your father attempted to soothe you. The night air was cool against your anxious skin as the two of you snuck through abandoned streets. It had felt like an eternity since you were able to travel along the worn stone, and it was only because you were to be transferred off to the care of another man. “There will be time for proper celebration later. No one will dare lay a hand on you under the care of your husband.”

An odd tingling sensation plagued your skin the closer you got to Simon Riley’s home, and the moment you laid eyes on the structure, you knew it was his. It felt like it was prophesied in a dream. Approaching the steps to the door felt strangely like coming home, yet it was wrong. This abode would not be a home, but a prison in which to keep you safe.

As if he sensed your presence, the man who you assumed to be Simon Riley stepped through the door and into the dim street. Darkness shrouded his figure, making it difficult to discern specific features through your veil, but his height was easily noticeable. He towered well above both you and your father as if he were a titan, and he was just as broad as an ox. Power and confidence exuded from him, and the only weakness he showed was a limp as he walked down the steps to the street.

“Quickly,” your father prompted as the man approached, “lift the veil and she is yours. Yours to cherish. To protect.”

Simon stopped in front of you and stood still for so long you feared he second guessed the whole arrangement. As much as you didn’t really want to get married, not like that in the darkness of a street in front of a stranger's home, you knew it was necessary. You would not be the reason more blood was spilled over pathetic jealousy. A part of you just wished that everything was as glamorous as was once promised to you.

Eventually you watched as his fingers pinched the sheer fabric of your veil and he peeled back your disguise with so much care it was as if he was afraid to harm you. There in the dim glow of the impending dawn, you saw your husband for the first time. He stood as tall as a warhorse and just as scarred as one. His nose was large and crooked and adorned with puffy, raised tissue that threatened the thin skin of his eye and tender rose of his lips. Dull eyes scanned the features of your face as he let the veil fall along your back. Despite your beauty, he almost seemed uninterested in you, and you weren’t sure if you should have been grateful for that.

“It is done,” your father concluded. He held out the leather pack that he had gathered a handful of your items in. Clothes, a few necklaces and bracelets, and a hairbrush was all you had to your name. Should you need anything else, your new husband would provide for you. “Hurry, inside. She is yours, now. Keep her safe.”

Without hesitation, Simon took your pack from your fathers hands before he rested his hand on your low back. Even through the fabric of your dress you could feel the coarseness of his palm as he urged you up the stone steps towards the entrance. You glanced over your shoulder and took in the view of your fathers features. For all you knew, it was the last time you would ever get to see him.

“You have my word,” Simon promised. Those were the first words you had heard him speak, and they were an oath.

Pale candlelight consumed you as Simon closed the door behind the two of you, locking you in your new home. It was only then that the true panic began to rattle its cry within your ribcage. You had been given away to a man you had never met before in the name of protecting you, and yet you had still been wedded all the same. There were certain expectations given to a new wife, one that you knew a man would be stupid to not take advantage of with a woman of your blessing. The very idea made your hands clammy, and you found yourself running your palms along your peplos in an attempt to rid yourself of the moisture.

“Come,” Simon urged as he crossed through the entryway.

Obeying him, you followed close behind him with careful and light feet as he led you through your new home. There was a vague scent of sweet fruit and warm bread that trailed behind you as he climbed the stairs up to the second floor. Though you tried to ignore it, your eyes couldn’t look away from the obvious limp in his step. His short chiton revealed several gnarly scars on his left leg even more fierce than the ones on his face. It was as if someone attempted to hack his knee off with a dull blade and pitifully failed. Was this man, this battered and ugly man, truly supposed to be your protector?

Simon brought you to a room that was obviously his bed chambers, and had you not felt slight terror about the events that might unfold in that room, you would have been utterly stunned. Never before had you seen a bed so large. Sure, the man himself nearly scraped the ceiling with the top of his head, and so it only made sense that his bed matched his size, but it was near ridiculous. Its width spanned nearly from wall to wall, wide enough to fit three grown men comfortably, and the length had a good foot on Simon, if not more. There was hardly enough room for anything else in the area because the object took up the entire space of the chamber.

“Rest. You look exhausted,” he said as he sat your pack on the end of the bed.

Confused, you looked up at him with narrow eyes as he gestured to the bed. You had the strange feeling that he would not be sated until you were at least seated on the bed, so you followed his outstretched hand and sat on the edge of the bed next to your pack. It was strangely comfortable, and dipped in low enough to swallow you whole. You wondered how much wool was used to create such a plush mattress.

Instead of joining you in bed, your husband took a step toward the doorway before he turned to face you once more. Early dawn light bled through the closed wooden shutters on the window, which illuminated his face but didn’t make his features any less dull.

“Help yourself to anything. What’s mine is yours. Plenty of food in the kitchen when you get hungry. If you can’t find something you need, ask,” he explained simply.

He spoke to you as if you were some lowly slave, and not his wife. His wife who had caused the death of a man just by beauty alone, a woman who had men lining up for miles for the chance of laying eyes on you, and he spoke to you like that?

“Where will you be?” you questioned.

“Working,” he answered gruffly. “My forge is in the courtyard. Don’t walk out there barefoot.”

He didn’t give you the chance to ask any other questions before he limped out the doorway where his footsteps fell heavy against the wooden floor like thunder. There you sat, at the edge of the bed, still in your wedding clothes, abandoned by your husband. Still, an odd relief washed over you at the realization that you were alone. He had not stripped you bare before him and fucked you into that ungodly large bed like you had expected him to. Grateful that you had not yet had your virginity taken from you, you did as Simon had instructed. It had been over a day since you had last properly slept as you spent the entire night getting ready for your rather depressing wedding ceremony, and that weight bore down on you relentlessly.

Removing your peplos, you donned a much lighter chiton before you stood at the side of the bed. Wool and animal skin blankets laid across the bed in layers and you peeled them back to crawl underneath. As you sunk down into the mattress, you were enveloped by a scent of musk and fragrant oils that was oddly intoxicating. The weight of the blankets on top of you held you in place, willing your eyes to close. Simon Riley was a strange man, but at least his bed was nice.

There were many things you learned about your husband that day, none of which he told you himself. He was a very quiet man who truly spent most of his time working at the forge. On the first day you had been wed, you snuck a glance out of one of the windows to watch him work over sweltering coals and steaming air. Though his legs seemed lame, his arms had no such problem. Thick muscles flexed and went taut as he brought his hammer down upon white hot metal to bend it into shape. Sweat lined his brow, which he would wipe at with his forearm every now and then, and though his face was a right mess, you realized the rest of him wasn’t too bad to look at. He knew how to make a variety of things, from tongs to signs to swords, and he was paid handsomely for his work, judging by the large pile of coins and bartering items you would find on the table at the end of the work day.

He never sat down for proper meals, but while he worked he ate enough to feed two grown men, which only made sense given his size. Lamb seemed to be his favorite, and there was plenty of it. Dried and seasoned jerky, a leg he would roast on a spit to then shred and add to bread, or even some he would fry in a pan. Your help with anything was unnecessary. He never asked you to cook, or clean, or assist in selling his products; Simon was completely self sufficient.

The thing that caught you most off guard about him was the fact that he slept naked. Your first night together, while you were already in bed, he shamelessly stripped his dusty chiton off and tossed it on the floor, baring himself completely to you. It was your first time ever seeing a man naked, and even in the darkness you could make out the silvery scars that tore through his skin. He was completely covered in them, and you couldn’t help but wonder which of the gods had cursed him with such a body; something that could have been strong, beautiful, and powerful, only to be covered with errors.

When he climbed into bed next to you, your eyes couldn’t help but glance further down to where his cock hung heavy between his legs. He wasn’t even hard, yet the size of it matched that of the rest of him, and you could feel your heart jump in your throat. Yet that night he still did not take you. Instead, the two of you slept on opposite sides of the bed facing away from one another with nothing but empty space between your bodies. He would not fuck you, and that confused you. Something must have been wrong with his body, littered with scars and abnormalities. Or maybe he was the only man in the entire world who was immune to your gift from Aphrodite.

If you remained a virgin for much longer, perhaps you could escape and become an acolyte.

The next month went by like this. He would speak a few words to you, spend his entire day working, and then sleep naked next to you in a bed large enough for a bear. He was not cruel, at least, in fact he was quite the opposite. There was always enough food for you that he would set aside on a special plate, and he bought you a new chiton when you had accidentally torn your old one, but no matter what, he did not seem interested in you. It was as if you were something for him to take care of, rather than something for him to love.

But that was what your father had wanted for you, wasn’t it?

Like a caged dove, you spent most of your days peering out of the second story windows to gaze at the city. Busy streets bustled with traders and artisans alike, and you would watch them mingle as they weaved between buildings like ants. On windy days you could smell the salt of the ocean, and you would long for the days when you were a young girl, collecting shells along the shoreline as sea foam gathered around your ankles. Things seemed more colorful back then. As a married woman, everything in your world seemed to only be the shade of stone.

One day after a heavy rain, some excitement had been brought back into your life. It started with the sound of triumphant horns followed quickly by cheering. Deep, bass drums echoed throughout the streets, drawing you to your window once more where you saw countless men in a march spanning further than you could see. Their red chitons and leather armor branded them as soldiers, and you watched in awe as they paraded through the streets after what was obviously another successful campaign.

But there was one soldier above all others who towered over them upon a warhorse adorned with armor and a mighty spear. Even from a distance you knew that this man was John MacTavish. He was a soldier bred and born for war as if the only thing he knew how to do was kill. People often said he was bestowed his gifts of war by the God of War himself, Ares, and it was a tough speculation to deny. Countless lives had been taken by his hands alone, and no matter the odds of the battle, he always came home victorious and smiling. You had seen his face only once before in the last victory parade he marched in, but you could never quite get his grin out of your mind.

“I’m heading into the city,” Simon said behind you.

Despite his sheer size and thunderous footsteps, your husband had managed to sneak up behind you, startling you half to death. You spun so that your back was to the window to face that goliath of a man with a racing heart.

“Will you be alright on your own?” he asked.

Still trying to calm your racing heart, you nodded.

“Good,” he concluded as he began to walk away. “There is a sword in the kitchen. If anyone attempts to harm you while I’m gone, use it.”

He didn’t give you any time to explain that you had no idea how to wield a sword, let alone kill a man, before he vanished down the stairs. Moments later you heard the doors to the courtyard open and close, and Simon’s body melted into all the other figures in the streets below you. It wasn’t his first time leaving you alone, after all, he had to get materials for his work somehow, but it was his first time instructing you to use a sword to protect yourself. You figured the countless soldiers that flooded the city had him on edge.

But if that was the case, why would he leave in the first place?

As you waited for him to return, you couldn’t help but meander down to the kitchen in search of this sword he instructed you to seek out. It didn’t take you long to find it, as he had left it right in the middle of the table next to your lunch. Beautiful iron extended strongly a good foot or so in what was the most well crafted shortsword you had ever seen. Dark wood formed the grip, and there was a flared base made of gleaming brass for the pommel. This looked different than his other works. There was more flair to it, like it was more of a gift than something he would sell for coin.

With tender fingers, you reached for the grip and took it in hand. Its weight was heavy, more so than you had anticipated. Holding it was awkward as it felt like it wanted to fall forward no matter how high up you held it, and you huffed as you attempted an amateur swing. Unsteady, your strike would have hardly broken the skin of any intruder. When you set the blade back on the table, the memories of your dead suitor bubbled up in your mind. The sheen of his blade as he drew it on your father, the blood and offal that spilled on the floor shortly after, and the reeking stench of death that followed. You weren’t sure if you could ever do such a thing.

Simon was gone for only half an hour before you heard the sound of the courtyard doors swing open with a creak. You gazed down at your half empty plate where you had snacked on fresh fruits and cheeses while you waited for his return. Sticky juices coated your fingers which you quickly cleaned with your mouth before you stood from your seat and left to greet your husband.

He wasn’t alone. Another man accompanied him clad in light armor and a sword strapped to his hip; a soldier, likely one of the men who had just returned home. This man’s chin bore a hefty scar, and still despite it he was one of the most handsome men you had ever laid eyes on. Battle hardened muscles bulged out of his uniform, and your gaze couldn’t help but fall to his powerful thighs as he took a few steps into the courtyard. It wasn’t until you saw him smile that you realized who this man was; this was John MacTavish. The hailed hero of your city, its greatest defender, a man who could cut down hundreds and come back smiling through the blood.

Simon hardly had the time to shut and lock the courtyard doors behind him before John’s hands gripped the fabric of his chiton. Words escaped you but your mouth opened in a silent plea. Were they about to fight? Was this soldier, Ares’s wild dog, about to slaughter your husband right in front of your very eyes? Your hands flew to the doorframe to steady yourself as you watched Simon stumble forward while John yanked him closer. You could already smell the gore, imagine the pink intestines and organs that would spew from your husband’s body and all you could do was stand there and watch in horror as John… kissed him?

This man, this near mythical being who had won countless battles in the name of your city, pressed his lips against your husband’s with such passion it left you stunned. And it was not at all unwelcomed, it seemed, as Simon’s hands rested on the man’s waist and returned the notion, curving his spine enough to meet the man's height more comfortably. As they embraced one another in front of you, the horror on your face quickly melted into confusion.

“I missed you,” John muttered as his lips separated from Simon’s.

“I’ve dreamt of this day ever since you left,” Simon countered, his voice more tender than it ever had been with you.

But John would not be the highly acclaimed soldier that he was if he hadn’t felt the prying eyes staring at their intimate moment. Eyes as blue as the ocean turned to land on you, and your jaw slammed shut underneath his inquisitive gaze. He was not secretive in the way he looked over all your features, scanning first your face and then lower, over the curve of your hips and the hidden flesh of your thighs. While he nearly licked his lips at the sight of you, his obvious attraction did little to cover the confusion hidden in his eyes.

“I didn’t realize we had a visitor,” John admitted humorously as he glanced at Simon.

As you waited for your husband's response, you glanced at him in hope to receive an answer to the storm of questions that raged in your mind. But there was something different about his gaze. Rather than contentment, something else ignited in the darkness of his eyes that blazed just as bright as the forge he slaved over day and night. Whatever flat expression he normally gave you transformed into something so shining it almost looked like love.

“She is no visitor,” he claimed with pride. “She is our wife.”

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #f!reader

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nvirskies · 3 months

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it's getting hot in here - c. la rue

warnings: reader is like half-naked? just no shirt on is all but reader is wearing a sports bra, nothing sexual just like a tad suggestive?, clarisse is a gay mess, kinda ooc clarisse, i know next to nothing about blacksmithing please hang in there with me, fem reader, no use of y/n, self-conscious reader, not beta read

summary: clarisse goes to pick up a custom order dagger from the forge when she's met with an unexpected sight.

hephaestus!daughter!reader x clarisse la rue

word count: 1.3k

taglist: @lvrue @azrielsdiary @b0ok-lover @star-girl69 @petitegavotte

from this post !

a/n: tbh might make this a multi part thing, at least a second part. also, so sorry this took so long to finish- i got sidetracked with a couple other things irl. hope you enjoy! men, nsfw, non-sapphics, 16- / 19+ dni

It was no secret the kids of Cabin 9 ran a side business to make some extra cash. It was pretty lucrative, given that there would always be a line of demigods waiting to have their weapon(s) of choice customized. Custom engravings, patterns cast into handles, ergonomic handpiece add-ons, and so much more. Name it, and it would be done for the right price, forged with impeccable quality.

And that was how Clarisse La Rue found herself heading to the forge just east of the strawberry fields with a thin paper in one hand and a small bag of golden drachmas in the other. The edges of the slip were just barely singed, and the writing on it looked nearly incomprehensible to many eyes, scribbled notes of her order confirmation and gods only knew what else. It didn’t matter to her, she just needed it to get her dagger and go.

Crowds parted for her like the Red Sea, once-lively conversations coming to a grinding halt as she walked straight through crowds and groups with nothing more than a glare and a sharp look in any general direction.

In no time at all, the familiar sounds of machinery clanking, fire hissing and crackling, and hammers striking metal filled the air. It was the forge, the singular place where one could guarantee there would be at least one child of Hephaestus in there at all hours of the day.

She pushed open the heavy metal door, swinging it wide open soundlessly despite its obvious weight. And what a sight she was greeted with. You were there alone, hunched over a piece of blisteringly hot metal, pounding away at it with a hammer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other.

Something about you entranced her.

She didn’t know if it was the way your hair was pulled into a low ponytail, some loose strands clinging to the sides of your face, the way you subconsciously bit your lip as you focused completely on the red-hot metal in front of you. Or perhaps, it was the way your muscles rippled in the dim firelight as you struck the metal again and again, a thin sheen of sweat covering the exposed portions of your skin from both the heat and the exertion.

Maybe it was a combination or something else entirely.

As she gazed at you, a light blush dusted her cheeks as she came to the realization that you weren’t wearing much while working. The heat of the forge had led you to forgo wearing a shirt entirely, said shirt reduced to a tiny, crumpled gray bundle of fabric in the corner of the room. You were left wearing a sports bra, dusted with ash and soot and a pair of baggy sweatpants resting just above your hips.

It wasn’t as if Clarisse had never seen people dressed in less before. Hell, she’d seen her own fair amount of skin for various reasons. But this time, it seemed different. The slip of paper and bag of coins in her hands were forgotten momentarily as she simply stared at you from the doorway.

The way the dim light of the roaring furnace illuminated you from behind gave you an almost ethereal glow, the edges of the flames flickering around your moving silhouette.

She could see the muscles in your arm and shoulder tensing and relaxing with every ever-so-precise swing of the hammer, and she found herself silently watching you work from the doorway.

Ultimately, it was the soft clinking coming from the bag of drachmas Clarisse held in her hand that drew your attention away from the project in front of you. Your head snapped up, tense and a tad startled from the sudden sound, having been so zoned into your work that you hadn’t noticed her presence.

The hammer in your hand dropped to the metal workbench with a loud clang, the sound reverberating throughout the forge, ripping Clarisse from the glossed-over, hazy look in her eyes as she watched you move just moments ago, having been completely and utterly under your spell.

“Shit-!” you exclaimed, jumping slightly and wincing at the harsh sound, eyes widening further as you’re greeted with the sight of a Clarisse who seemed far too casual compared to how she normally treated campers, especially given her outward distaste towards children of Hephaestus.

And all of a sudden, you’re all too aware of your lack of a shirt and your cheeks flare with an embarrassed bright red flush.

Flushed the same color as the heated metal in front of you, Clarisse noted absentmindedly. It wasn’t a look she didn’t like. But of course, she would never admit that. The big, bad Clarisse La Rue flustered over something as insignificant as muscles on a girl? Impossible.

Her attention is drawn back to you, observing as you scurry to the other side of the room to grab your stashed-away shirt, slipping the loose grey fabric over your body, any and all views of the muscles she had seen just moments prior completely disappearing in a matter of seconds.

After having taken a few calming breaths, you steeled yourself for a barrage of snarky remarks that you were sure would come spewing out of the Ares cabin counselor’s mouth like acid out of the myrmeke’s mouths, but they never came.

Instead, you’re greeted with the sight of a Clarisse who seemed to be a bit flustered? Her eyes didn’t meet yours for a moment before she straightened herself out. Before your very eyes, you watched her cool and collected facade slip over her like a mask, and that trademark smirk of hers tugged at the corners of her lips.

“I’m here to pick up an order, under my name,” she remarks, holding up the bag of drachmas and thin slip of paper in an outstretched hand. Her gaze seemed like it was scrutinizing everything about your appearance from the baggy grey shirt that hung loosely over your frame to the soot just barely smudged on your forehead. Whether it was a good or bad look you had no idea, subconsciously shrinking into the shadows of the dimly lit forge.

“Right, right, La Rue…” you trail off nervously, scanning the room for the rack that held completed orders and leafing through the tags attached to each object. “La Rue, La Rue, La Rue, where is it-?” you muse to yourself, repeating her last name in a hushed tone until the sight of it comes into view. The dagger she had ordered was at the edge of the table, with the request for a heavyweight handle and an etching of her initials into the butt of it.

Normally, Clarisse would have found your behavior annoying if it were coming from anyone else, but oddly enough, she quite liked the way her last name rolled off your tongue. It felt almost natural, too natural. Quickly, she brushed away the lingering thoughts about how you had looked almost god-like with the flame from the roaring furnace glowing behind you, the thoughts of what your skin would feel like under her hands.

After a beat of silence, you grabbed said dagger, placed a little ball of clay over its razor-sharp tip, and slipped it into a small drawstring bag, pulling it closed.

“That’ll be five golden drachmas, La Rue, or fifteen silver ones. Whatever works for you” you say as you hand her the bag, other hand outstretched for the paper she held and to take the coins. She dropped the five golden coins in your palm and grabbed the bag to turn on her heel and walk out without another word.

Or so you thought.

“Thanks for the weapon. I’ll see you around, pretty girl.”

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse pjo #cabin 9 #daughter of hephaestus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv

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fangirltothefullest · 3 months

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Remus as Hephaestus, Greek God of Blacksmiths

This: the song of sons and daughters, Hide the heart of who we are. Making peace to build our future, Strong, united, working till we fall.

Check it out, Remus titties! It's what he would want I'm sure. I could not decide which colour scheme I liked better so I figured I'd post both. I really liked the idea of Remus, being fond of weapons as he is, getting to be the Greek God who gets to make them.

If you like it, please reblog it! 83

#tashiarts #sanders sides #remus sanders #Remus as Hephaestus #greek gods #also listened to cold below lol #Hephaestus could also be a dick about stuff too like all the classic greek gods

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anniflamma · 4 months

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Time for Apollo and Hephaestus!

Both of these two gods were very tricky for me to put on the table.

Apollo has essentially always been portrayed as either a pale/blond/twunk with a bandana or dark-skinned/abs/manly shoulder with beautiful golden locks. It's either one of these two types that I see everyone portray him. So... well... I leaned into the pale/skinny option, and I got this.

I think that I leaned more into his musical aspect in his design. Like he is a singer/dancer and is very gracious in how he moves, kind of similar to Aphrodite! I can imagine that I will update his design for his other aspects, like medicine or archery! But this is fan art for a musical first, so he should be the musician for now!

I also wanted to add references of his three most well-known lovers, Daphne, Hyacinthus, and Cyparissus. Due to me wanting to use Apollo's sacred floras of laurel, larkspur, and cypress. However, I noticed pretty fast that larkspur isn't related at all to Hyacinthus.... The flowers do look alike but are different, so I just added the larkspur flower to the sides of Apollo's lyre! The laurel crown is actually a nod to the raven. That idea I got from a commenter on TikTok on my Zeus design! Couldn't help but use that idea! So it's raven feathers instead of the regular leaves.

I am also thinking about if I'll ever design other forms for Apollo, then, I think it would be pretty neat as well to portray him as a god of disease. Maybe his dress becomes all black?

Then we have Hephaestus!

GOSH! I WAS THIS CLOSE TO GIVE HIM THE MOST SLUTTY WAIST THERE EVER WAS. It's not me who drew him with a small waist and wide hips in ancient pottery art!

But I ended up giving him a more rectangular shape, which is nice! He looks very warm and cuddly! He was also a very hard character to make him stand out. Right now, I am actually not that happy with his design overall. I do really like the idea of him using prosthetics, but I am not sure about his clothing. My first idea was that he would have a big reminiscence of Hera, that his clothes were flowy and airy like her dress. But it didn't really fit the aesthetics of him being a blacksmith. Then I tried to play around with implementing the Donkey in his design, and he just ended up looking like a troll... So right now, he kind of has this regular everyday blacksmith look.

I will probably set him on fire in the animatic once his song comes out. But only if it fits the audio, of course! And the red stuff on his face? Yeah, that's a nod to the Crane, his sacred bird!

#epic the musical #fanart #greek mythology #apollo #hephaestus #character design

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apple-piety · 2 months

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Something I just want to reiterate for people is that not every spirit/deity that comes into your life is a “calling”. Sometimes they come around just to remind you of something. Sometimes they show up and offer their help with something, and when that is finished, they leave. Sometimes they show interest, but it’s not a good time for you. It hurts to see people burnt out and floundering because they have 20+ deities that they’re trying to denote equal attention to. You’re just one person. For example, Alala, the daimon of the war-cry, stopped in to remind me to be louder and more assertive. Astarte showed up to point out that I wasn’t communicating with my partner well enough. Both of them did not stay. I could’ve asked them and they probably would’ve stayed but I only have so much energy and I couldn’t devote enough to either of them. Sometimes spirits show up and you find that you don’t vibe with that energy (infernals are cool and have helped me but my connection with them is weaker than other spirits). You can also simply worship them. The idea of “working with” a god has been entirely overused and I think it’s because we associate the word worship with the Christian god from our churchy upbringings. It’s okay that not all gods are equals to you.

In ancient times, Hephaestus would’ve taken precedence for blacksmiths, but he probably didn’t have a huge place in the house of traveling merchants (that’s Hermes’ domain). It’s the same in modern times. As a delivery driver, Hermes is huge for me. As someone who loves to learn and craft and has a strong sense of Justice, of course Athena is my patron. As an asexual aromantic person, Aphrodite doesn’t have much place in my life.

The gods don’t get offended when we prioritize who we are. If you are bookish and want to become wise, not just book smart, Athena is a great choice. If you are an extrovert who is looking to expand your awareness through ritualistic ecstasy, Dionysus is your man. The gods are fine without us. They like to help and be near us because it’s part of their vast, inconceivable nature.

Do you. 🤍

#pagan #paganism #hellenic deities #hellenic devotion #hellenic pagan #hellenism #hellenic polythiest #hellenic community #hellenic gods #witch #deity work #deity worship

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rubyreduji · 10 months

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svt as children of greek gods

back in my percy jackson phase 😩 i tried to not to the stereotypical ones people think of so pls enjoy 🙏🙏

seungcheol - HEPHAESTUS; cheol as a blacksmith 🫦 but fr like i feel like he's so strong and hardworking and he's be a good role model for the younger kids (charles beckendorf type beat)

jeonghan - DOLOS; dolos is the god of trickery and he's a minor god so everyone would think jeonghan is a child of aphrodite but that makes it easier for him to decieve people

joshua - POSEIDON; we all know how he loves water...

junhui - HYPNOS; bro is sleepy okay

soonyoung - DIONYSUS; the god of insanity, pleasure, theatre, alcohol, and parties??? just listen to cult of dionysus you'll get it

wonwoo - APHRODITE; his face card NEVER lies and he helps break the stigma that aphrodite kids are only a pretty face, he also likes meddling in people's loves lives but from behind the scenes

jihoon - HESTIA; he is the heart and fire of svt, he writes all of their music and he loves them so fiercely, hesita is the god of the home and what is jihoon other than home to the members

seokmin - APOLLO; he's our sunshine singing boy who else could he be the child of???

mingyu - ATHENA; HEAR ME OUT OKAY gyu is SO SMART and like he's all cute and creative and stuff like this is another one that people aren't expecting but he likes proving people wrong

minghao - HADES; emo. but nah fr like he has a lot of patience and calmness but when he finally does finally explode it results in hell beaking loose, literally (pls meditate hao)

seungkwan - ARES; bro is always ready to throw hands with someone and ares is the god of courage and i feel like kwannie is super courageous with his outgoing personality

vernon - HERMES; the vibes are just there, he's pretty laid back from all of the chaos that surrounds him but likes to get into mischief of his own sometimes

chan - ZEUS; this kid??? holy shit "the future of kpop" who else could he be the son of?

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sinsmockingbird · 4 months

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Because I've seen people asking for it, here's all the information I have (and have made) for the PTN Goddess!AU. Keep in mind it's still in development, meaning I'm happy to hear people's ideas and input and I'll probably change things up from them.

CW: PTN Goddess!AU under the cut.

For this AU I'm using Greek Gods & Goddesses specifically. Mainly because I know about them the most and plus this was inspired by Chameleon, Chelsea, & Cabernet's Greek inspired attires.

Before I go into information on the PTN women, here's stuff to know about the Reader; They are a human who devotes their life to worshipping the Gods. So much so that's caught the attention of a few. They are devout and loyal to their Goddesses, worshipping not just at their shrines, but worshipping them in the bedroom as well.

Next, here's the women I don't have anything set up for yet (have chosen a Greek God they could be). So, would love to hear opinions on these women; Eleven, K.K., Macchiato, McQueen, Pricilla, Shalom, Stargazer, & Uni.

Now, here's a list of the other women and the Gods they represent in this AU;

✧ ADELA: Hades, God of the Underworld, the dead and riches.

✧ ANNE: Asclepius, God of healing and medicine.

✧ BAI YI: Hermes, God of travel, speed, thieves, trade and invention.

✧ CABERNET: Dionysus, God of grape-harvest, wine, orchards, madness and parties.

✧ CASSIA: Aglaia, Goddess of beauty, splendor, glory and adornment.

✧ CHAMELEON: Hypnos, God of sleep.

✧ CHELSEA: Aphrodite, Goddess of beauty, love, desire, passion and pleasure.

✧ CINNABAR: Soteria, Goddess of safety, salvation, deliverance and preservation from harm.

✧ COQUELIC: Demeter, Goddess of harvest, grain and fertility.

✧ CORSO: Lyssa, Goddess of mad rage, frenzy and rabies.

✧ DEREN: Pheme, Goddess of fame and renown.

✧ DREYA: Nyx, Goddess of the night.

✧ EIRENE: Plutus, God of abundance and wealth.

✧ ENFER: Hephaestus, God of technology, craftsman, sculptures and blacksmiths.

✧ GAROFANO: Hera, Goddess of women, marriage, childbirth and familial love.

✧ HAMEL: Terpsichore, Goddess of lyric poetry and dancing.

✧ IGNIS: Hestia, Goddess of hearth, home and family.

✧ IRON: Paean, God of healing and physicians.

✧ KELVIN: Khoine, Goddess of snow.

✧ LAMIA: Poseidon, God of the sea, storms, earthquakes and floods.

✧ LANGLEY: Athena, Goddess of wisdom, strategy, crafts and the arts.

✧ LISA: Apollo, God of the sun, light, plague, music, art, poetry, knowledge and truth.

✧ MANTIS: Pan, God of the wild.

✧ NOX: Psyche, Goddess of the human soul.

✧ NINETY-NINE: Kratos, God of strength.

✧ OAK CASKET: Thanatos, God of peaceful death.

✧ RAHU: Nemesis, Goddess of balance, retribution and vengeance.

✧ RAVEN: Calliope, Goddess of epic poetry.

✧ SERPENT: Morpheus, God of dreams.

✧ SUMIRE: Persephone, Goddess of the springtime and vegetation.

✧ TETRA: Peitho, God of persuasion.

✧ ZOYA: Ares, God of war and courage.

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins rambles #goddess!au

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

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any way the wind blows (Platonic)

So I kinda watch records of ragnarok and became obsessed

This is platonic but later on I might make some romantic scenarios for a few characters

Y/n is based off of scaramouche fron genshin if he didn’t have mommy issues and was a decent person. Also left it gender neutral

Gods and humans had always been divide since the dawn of their creation

Molded from clay in their likeness yet considered inferior for their mortality

Despite the fact their creators were just as flawed (if not more) than they are

This was a reality that few knew or acknowledged, but one that Hephaestus had come to as he pondered one day in his lab

It was no secret he was hated by the others

For he is everything a god isn’t supposed to be

Their supposed to be beautiful and angelic yet he is ugly and deformed

Thrown from Olympus and experienced humans first hand before clawing his way back to his spot in the heavens

Given the most beautiful wife of them all who hates and despises his despite how hard he tries

He is scorned for simply existing just as humans are

Perhaps that’s why he finds better company in them than he does with his fellow gods

Though they are flawed beings they know that are not perfect

They embrace their flaws, and persevere despite how hard they are thrown down

They invent, create, destroy and rebuild again and again

Something in which the god of blacksmithing respects, for even the strongest blade can be melted down to create something even better

In his loneliness in his lab, deep within the smouldering smoke and bubbling magma of his volcanic home

Hephaestus longs to learn, to see, to hear but knows he cannot go to the surface world

So instead he decides to do what he does best

He decided to create his own human, one that would be imbued with the blessing of true immortality

For only something with a soul can be reaped, even gods face that fate if they are wounded enough

But if something doesn’t it will last forever

Hephaestus creates his magnum opus

His human

His child

“From finest clay your are molded, but within your veins lay no blood nor Ichor, but instead pure energy shall power you.”

You are created by his scarred and broken hands that are steady and firm

He makes you an epitome of beauty, something that he wishes he could be

For only something that is considered ugly can know what true beauty looks like

When your body is complete he imbues you with life through the lightning of Zeus

And then he lets the breath of zephyrs wind wake you

Through pure eyes you awaken and he helps you walk

Your like a newborn deer, shaking and buckling legs as you lean to him for help

You look at him with such kindness and innocence

And love

That one thing he had only wanted in his life from anyone

For the next couple of months he’s raises you, teaches you his craft and how to adapt

He is gentle but stern in his teachings, guiding yours hands and teaching you what he knows

Luckily your blessed by him to understand all languages and speak them as well

But despite spending months raising you he had not given you a name

Only calling you “my child”

When you ask of him why he hadn’t bestowed upon you a title he says he want you to decide

For you are worthy of picking it yourself when the time is right

For a long time you ponder

What shall that be

But it isn’t until he tells you to travel, to learn, to live and love like all humans that you decide your name

“And so you become a wanderer. Just know my child that if you ever need help I am at your call. My only advice is that humanity can be fickle but the gods are worse”

And so you begin your travels, through marshes and hills, or mountains to deserts

Through the valleys and into land that is lush in greenery of various kinds

From dusk to dawn you travel, stopping sporadically to stay in places that interest you, with people whom teach you before you leave for the road

It is a cycle

One that teaches you of humanity’s greed, pride, jealousy, rage, hate and despair

But one that also teaches you of their compassion, love, kindness, strength and their passion for surviving despite how the gods strike them down over and over again

They rebuild, they overcome and engineer a solution

For they only have themselves to rely on as the gods turned their backs to them

They adapt just as you do

But you are fundamentally different from them

An immortal being without a soul, one that looks and acts just as they do but retains thousands of years of knowledge you’d collected through experience

You aren’t a god but you aren’t quite human, yet you retain qualities from both

You are in between them but also something entirely different from either

You are you

And perhaps that is enough

“You and I have crossed paths, but our journeys will eventually diverge. Who knows what will happen next? Let's just wait and see.”

You end up meeting many humans (and some gods) in your journey’s but many stand out in your mind

One being the human who later would go onto become a demigod

Heracles who you knew as Alcides is someone you had met by complete accident when he was young

He was being bullied, pushed around and punched by children yet he still tried to put up a fight

He kept pushing on and standing up no matter how many times he was thrown down

You stepped in, sending the children running back scared whilst he gave you a toothy smile

Despite losing and being beaten down he was still optimistic

As you patched up the young boy he explained that those boys had been bullying him and his friends castor

That he never won against them but wouldn’t let them keep hurting his friend

It wasn’t righteous and he couldn’t stand for it

You can’t help but smile as he explains this, he was someone you’d only meet once in a blue moon

So you decide to offer him help

For the next couple of months you help the young boy train just as your father taught you

At first he fails

And fails some more

But he always returns to training no matter how beat down and tired he is

In his training your stern but encouraging

Teaching him to hone his strength and use it properly

It is then he begins to make progress

You show him how to stand up for the weak and to never waver in his righteousness

When you aren’t training him you spend time with him and Castor in Thebes

You buy them proper food and give some extra drachma to take home

They always feel a bit guilty about it but you assure them it’s no worry

You had plenty more (no, literally you had more money than you could spend from being a damn good blacksmith)

Figs are eaten as the three of you watch the sunset along with some honey drizzled fruit

They look up to you like a older sibling and it’s safe to say you view them as little brothers

But eventually as always you must eventually leave

Both are upset (especially Alcides) but on the night before you leave you take them to watch the sunset and stars once again

Eating ripe pomegranates as you explain each constellation that lights up the skies

“There is no need to be sad you two, perhaps we will meet again one day. Even if we don’t I will always be with you in memory and in what I taught. Just look to the stars and remember my stories”

That morning you leave but not before telling Alcides to keep up his training and to keep doing what he believes is right

You leave on horseback throwing to him a bag of coin with a sly smile

It’s many years later that you learn he became a god

A bit of pride swelling up in you along with worry

You can only hope he retained a bit of his love for humanity when he ascended to the heavens

another interesting human you meet is Qin Shi Huang

The first emperor of China with you as his personal Historian

The supposed cursed prince who was able to unite a shattered land under his power

Unlike others who still looked at hims with some semblance of hate or fear you always kept a small smile

Offering the knowledge he seeked with a certain something in your voice as you recounted tales of old

After a certain time he begins coming to you more, wanting to learn more

(Also using it as a way to get to know you. A mysterious traveler that somehow was so knowledgeable that despite being a foreigner ended up in court life)

You are outcasted much like he was when he was a child yet like him you bear it with a smile

When you talk with him the conversations start our formal

But in time he opens up as do you

Not about everything of course but about some of your travels and the sights you’d seen

From far spanning mountains that scraped the clouds to the green fields filled with wheat that made them look like fields of gold

He ends up wrapped up in those stories

At some point he’d come to call you friend

The only person after Chun Yan whom he’d let close to his heart

To see how he actually felt when he hadn’t locked it all behind a smile

As you get close to him rumours spread and it leads to you being harassed by several jealous court members

You don’t say anything, it’s not like it actually affects you anyways but when he learns

He is furious

It hurts him to know you were harmed because of him

That you were hated

Just like he was for actions that were not his own

But you brush it off simply telling him to give them a small punishment but nothing extreme

That in the end your alright and that you can’t really be mad at them

In their eyes your a foreigner who was in a position they could only dream about

It’s expected they’d get mad, maybe trying to drop a vase on your head was a bit much but in the end it didn’t hurt you

He reluctantly follows what you say but remains hesitant to let their actions go

Not long after this he tells you of his childhood, all the pain and loss

But how in the end he killed a god and united the land

There’s something in you that sparks at the “killing a god” part but he doesn’t ponder on it long

Instead the two of you talk

And for the first time you feel close enough to open up about not being human nor god

His ego probably gets a bit bigger when you causally mention that he’d likely go down in history

For your time as his historian he shows you in a lot of luxurious befit for royalty and high class nobles

Even years later you keep them, gifts you’d treasure for the rest of eternity and make sure to keep safe

He was born and bred in brutality so his rather violent ways aren’t much of a surprise but you try to help him find ways to temper it

To see that there are peaceful ways to end a fight

Around 4 years of staying there you know it’s about time to leave and Qin Shi isn’t very happy about it

He tells you as emperor that you couldn’t just leave

That as his historian you couldn’t up and go

As his only true friend

But those orders soon become pleads

And the authority in his voice drained as tears replaced it

During the month before you go he is at your side

Making new memories and silently dreading as hours and days fly by

He listens to more of your stories, to your personal accounts and how they differ to what’s told

And on that last day when the moon is full and you await a horse to take you on your next endeavour he stands by your side

And when the times comes for you to go he gifts you a bracelet commissioned just for you

He gently fastens it to your wrist

“A gift from me, a silent sign that you are forever the friend of the emperor”

“May our paths cross in the future my friend”

“Yes, let’s hope they do”

When he dies on a tour of his land at age 49 you somehow appear before his side as if sensing he was dying

His advisors are confused as he orders them to let you in but they do so in fear of the consequences

You might not agree with many of his actions you’d heard he committed but he was your friend

He passes holding your hand

The bracelet he once gave you is still worn to this day

He only wished he achieved immortality so you never had to deal with loosing yet another friend

But he is human and nothing can change that despite how you and he wish so

If you had a nickel for every time you ran into a human turned god you’d have two nickels

Weird it happened twice but your not complaining

You met Gautama Siddhartha the former prince of Kapilavastu as you took shelter beneath a tree when night fell

There you found him beneath the Bodhi tree that you took shelter beneath in a deep state of meditation

Until you politely asked if he was ok and he answered you

Compared to most you met Gautama is relaxed

He is in-tune with both himself and the world around him in more ways than he knows

You could already tell he was a legends in the making and decided to stick around for a bit to see where his journey would take him

Eventually as he reached enlightenment you grew curious as to why he remained on earth despite being able to go to the heavens above

But he tells you that his word isn’t done, that he wanted to spread what he had learned

To make people happy and to ease their suffering

It makes you happy

Never had you thought a god would do so but you assumed that because he was human before

That’s possibly why he still cared

Even years later when he does eventually go to the heavens you have a small Buddha statue in your possession of many items

As a way to honour him

You wouldn’t exactly call him friend (you didn’t know him long enough to do so though he’d disagree) but he is someone you’d certainly never forget

Raiden Tameemon is another you met curiosity enough at one of his Sumo matches

At the time you heard talk of a seemingly legendary fighter who had yet to lose a match and you wanted to check it out

You weren’t disappointed and began going to show up in the crowds who watched him

His strength was certainly admirable but so was his kindness in donating money back to his home town

So after a match you approached him and went with him for celebratory Sake

You kinda after that became drinking buds with him since other sumo wrestles didn’t seem keen on being around him

He is a lovely fellow one who you swear can eat a mountains worth of food and drink an oceans worth a anything

You on the overhand are technically the same m, you don’t need food or drink to survive you just have it to experience it’s taste and experience

He flirts with you quite a bit but you laugh it off

Taking them as compliments as you comment on his strength

His laugh is loud and boisterous as you both guzzle down more booze

You don’t really get drunk?, so your always the sober one who makes sure to get him home

To a normal person he’d be quite heavy but your able to carry him with no problem

Which gets quite a log of amazed onlookers as you carry him without so much as sweating

At his wrestling matches you’d always at the front of the crowd cheering for him

You know he won’t be defeated but you encourage him anyways

At some point he definitely uses your hat as a makeshift Frisbee despite you yelling at him

Sometimes during his drunken ramblings he talks of how he feels like a monster

You always assure him though that he is not

That he’s a man like everyone else

One who deserves love just like everyone does

It’s a rare moment but hearing that from you makes him cry a little

Perhaps he had waited a long time to hear that

He knows beforehand that you’d have to leave one day but when you do he says goodbye with a smile

He gives you a hug and pats your back with a blinding grin

You promise to catch another of his fights one day and you do

The last one before his retirement is spent with him drinking with you like for old times sake

Slurred singing and messy dancing as you and him walk side by side of the busy street as the moon is risen in the sky

He teaches you to laugh and enjoy a drink when times are rough

Every year though on the date of his death you honour him by having a sip of sake whilst watching the moon

For the moon had is the only remaining witness to those nights filled with laughter

Mr. Anonymous otherwise know as Jack (though your not sure that’s even his real name) finds you on his own

At the time you were briefly stopping off in Britain to check out the Industrial Revolution

So far it’s been disappointing to you and slightly disturbing as you’d seen young children be put on the workforce

Having to deal with hazardous materials and operate machinery that could rip them apart

Oh plus the buzz around the serial killer called “jack the ripper”

Now that in itself didn’t really interest you

But what did was how the media seemingly just ate it up

They speculated and theorized of who done it

Seemingly sickly enamoured by the mane who butchered innocent women who just were trying to get by

Those same victims seen as nothing more than side notes to the man himself

Their murderer

The ripper

At this point your not sure what’s worse, the idolizations of the killer or how the victims themselves are seemingly shamed for their profession

Anyways

Unbeknownst to you Jack had the uncanny ability to see people’s souls as colours along with their emotions

But for you there was nothing

Absolutely nothing except for sparks of electricity? Of sorts that buzzed around you

Ever the gentleman he offers you a spot at his table and even buys you a cup of tea

He insists and you allow him with a smile

You can never pass on a good drink and someone who wanted to talk

Eventually as day turns to night he offers to walk you to your hotel

Saying that London streets aren’t exactly friendly to those alone at night and you agree

It’s on that walk he reveals more of his true intentions

Still cordial and polite but you can tell he’s holding back getting violent if you did not respond

So you respond with the truth since if he attacked he’d figure out you weren’t human anyways

Safe to say he’s very fascinated

For the rest of your stay in England you stick around with him

By your choice as well

He is an interesting man but one that you nether the less find yourself enjoying the company of

He is upfront with you about how he is a killer

And how he goes by the Jack the Ripper moniker after killing the original

He knows he’s not a good person but despite that you see that maybe he’s selling himself short

There’s apparently a secret organization in London that tracks down and kills far worse scum of society

Killing the original Jack the Ripper is also a sign that to you be at least has some moral code of sorts

He brushes your comments off, though you can see that it seems to somewhat resonate with him

You and him often discuss Shakespeare especially since you had met the playwright and even acted in a few of his productions

Though you don’t have a colour he associates your soul with that of a rich Violet

A beautiful colour for someone as beautiful as you are in both body and metaphorical spirit

When your time in Britain is just about up you and him go to see Hamlet

It would be a night he’d never forget since it filled him with joy that he had not seen since the early days of his childhood

He felt at peace for once

Even when you leave you continue to mail to him

Telling him of your travels around the world and even sending a few small souvenirs

When he dies he’s at least glad to have had 1 true friend

“ Aphrodite?, heh. A wolf in sheep's clothing. To exert a higher level of control over people, she puts on a graceful and beautiful front. Most of those who have seen her true colours know of her cruelty”

Through your journeys unlike your many human friends you’ve meet a handful of gods in your time

You don’t go out of your way to meet them

But sometimes fate has different plans

And though those encounters are rare they remain in your mind

For a few examples

You meet Thor when Odin’s Raven Huginn was injured

He was sent to earth to deliver some sort of message and inadvertently got injured

And that’s when you found him, a bleeding mass of feathers in the snow

Yelling swears that would make even Loki blush

The bird is at first hesitant to accept your help

For he saw you as just as human but he reluctantly accepted once realizing he could get nowhere

So you brought the immortal pet of Odin back to your cabin to heal him

Whilst the raven is boastful and full of pride

He eventually begins to like your company as you engage in long conversation with him

Most gods brush him off as annoying so it feels nice being appreciated

He won’t admit it but he might’ve began to get attached

He might not like humanity but maybe your an exception

Once he is healed enough to fly it’s when he is able to alert Odin to his location

And a meeting place is made

You bring him out into the freezing cold

He’s talking and your making hums of acknowledgment as he talks about the gods

It’s somewhat interesting getting his view of them since yours is relatively negative (except for your father and Buddha)

And then he pauses

the talkative raven suddenly leaps from your shoulder and into the air

Flying high as you spot a man…no a god

Long red hair, markings covering his skin, piercing eyes and a large hammer resting upon his shoulder

When you get within a couple feet of him and Huginn the god stares you down

The Raven perched on his shoulder talking his ear off about how you had brought him back to health

It is then you learn the person in front of you is Thor, the strongest of the Norse pantheon

One whom you heard was battle hungry

Though other than that you don’t know much of him

You stand before the god of thunder unfazed

Huginn seems rather surprised at that fact but doesn’t make a comment on it

Perhaps even somewhat amazed at that fact

Thor offers you a reward though he doesn’t seem enthusiastic as he says this

Likely just following the orders from Odin

You quirk an eyebrow

“I don’t want a reward in money, I just have a question for you oh mighty Thor”

His eyes widen ever so slightly but he nods

“What is that?”

“What do you desire out of everything in the world, what is the one thing you want despite being an all powerful god?”

Now that makes him pause

Of all questions be certainly didn’t expect that nor did the Raven that begrudgingly found itself enjoying your company

He answers and your not surprised

“An equal. Someone i could fight full strength and be at match with. That’s what I desire”

You chuckle a bit at this

“I’m not surprised, but that did fulfill my suspicions. I wish the best to you, that you’ll find that one day. Maybe we’ll cross paths again”

And with that he nods and turns around

What surprises him though is when he feels something hit is back

He turns, there’s snow sticking to his hair

But then that-

Your gone, completely and utterly gone when he turns around

The furious wind carrying snow that covers up any footprints

He realizes that by throwing that snowball you were in some way teasing him

Something he’d normally be able to detect before you even threw it hit him like he was nothing

He searches for you for the next couple of years, always searching through crowds whenever he’d have to go to earth for whatever reason

It gave him a sense of something

He wasn’t sure what it was but he knew he wanted to challenge you

He needed to conclude that fight you begun but left for him to finish

But for him he would get to fight you again at a raid Vikings were doing against a village you were staying at

You couldn’t just there and do nothing so you geared up and ran into battle

And that’s when you noticed a familiar red haired god watching nearby

And he seemed to spot you as well since the next moment your engaging in battle with him

The battlefield around the two of you in an icy wasteland is accentuated by crashing thunder and biting lightning as you exchange blows

That the normal apathetic face filled with giddiness at someone finally living up to expectations

The raid is long forgotten as everyone evades the area and you do your best to lead the fight into a nearby wooded area

Trees are flattened by his infamous hammer that now pulsates and cracks at the seams

Flesh spilling out of it as it beats like a heart

You use the trees to bounce off and lead him deeper into the secluded area

Eventually you wear him out just enough to get a hit that sends him staggering back

You could go full power but you decide not to since you’d rather have some cards up your sleeve

And as he’s on the shattered ground, kneeling as a hand is placed over his bleeding chest he asks for your name

You just reply your a wanderer before disappearing into the brush

He’s found by Loki not long after who is confused and somewhat scared at the fact Thor of all people has an almost fatal wound

When he asks the red head simply replies he was training and nothing more

Content on keeping your existence a secret for his own sake of having an equal

Loki doesn’t need to be the god of lies and deception to tell he’s lying but says nothing

Another god you meet is Ares during wartime

You were on the battlefield not fighting but just doing your best to help those who were injured

You’d had a good amount of fighting in your life and had decided to do you best to help instead

And there on the battlefield, bloodied and victorious is the god of war

You locked eyes with him yet didn’t waver

Instead focusing on picking up a solider who had sustained a leg wound

He looks over the human who relies on you and at his uniform

One of the men on his side

Unbeknownst to him someone was foolish enough to try and sneak up on him

But you mouthed the words “behind you” to the god

Within an instant the man is dead and your taking the soldier back to his camp

A small interaction but one nether the less

Sometimes in war you see him but you avoid being seen

Disappearing within the blink of an eye

You’d rather not have your immortal status be known to the gods

There’s a bit of resentment you hold towards him for your fathers sake

Being a lover of your dad’s wife, the goddess of beauty herself

Whilst your father is resigned to the fact that his wife will never love him and goes behind his back constantly

You can’t help but feel angry for him because at this point he’s used to it

Speaking of which

Your father visits you every 5 years on the eve of your creation

Though as he said when you set out on your adventures you can call to him whenever you need him

As usual he is kind and caring

You recount to him your travels

Your friends and all of the advancements in technology the humans had made

He listens with a smile, eyes twinkling with joy at your happiness

On these occasions he almost always gifts you something he’s made

All of which you use on your journey like the satchel that no one but yourself can open

Or your now iconic kasa hat with a veil trailing behind it which was inspired from your times in Japan

And your clothes built to be able to be able to withstand your power when you use them

Hephaestus isn’t used to affection from being scorned by everyone

So he melts when you hug him or hold his hand

You never hesitate to do so and the first time you initiate the platonic action of love he cries

The god of smithing usually talks of his latest invention or what’s happening with the gods

The usual petty squabbles over any inconvenience

being invited to their council meeting every 1000 years yet again but not being told until last minute

He worries for not only you but also humanity

He sees the resentment and disgust the others hold for humans, despite the entire race being moulded after them

They don’t seem to acknowledge that humans are just as flawed as they are

He knows he can’t do anything though

So he just focuses on his worries for you

About how it must be to loose all your human friends

For they age and you don’t

A small part of him expects you to resent him for making you immortal

Yet you don’t

Though yes, it is hard to befriend people knowing you’d always outlive them

And while there were times in your life you had craved death

You came to realize how You enjoy the fact you’ve lived long enough to meet them in the first place

To be able to see how far humanity has come and how far it needs to continue

To watch empires crumble but new ones be rebuilt in their ashes

To meet people like Hypatia or Nicola Tesla, minds ahead of their time only to be recognized for their accomplishments later

Sometimes when he feels more alone than usual he looks at the little gifts you gave him

And it reminds him of how he’ll always have you

The one person who would ever give him love

Something that even his parents had denied him for something that isn’t even his fault

And unlike his uncaring mother and father he’d always give you his love

His care and support

For he knows that someone deprived of that can end up becoming cruel and angry

Just like he had for so many years until realizing there was nothing he could ever do to get that love

But now he realizes that’s ok

they deserve him nor his care

Only his child does

“You want me to introduce myself? I've gone by many names and titles during my journeys. they're all just water under the bridge to me now and you can Call me whatever you like…but y/n is what I originally gave to myself”

When the gods gather for yet another 1000 year meeting Hephaestus feels little need to go yet attends anyways

Perhaps to spite those who wanted him not to go

He sits in his seat of sculpted metal

Normally he barely listens but when the fate of mankind is brought up he becomes deathly aware

X’s are thrown up by almost every god

And he’s left confounded on what to do

He doesn’t put up a sign yet no one notices

And the normally stoic and calm god is left silently panicking

Until a certain Valkyrie makes her appearance

He knew of her well enough

Valkyrie’s were some of the few who treated him fairly since they respected him for his craft of weapons

She offers an opportunity for humanity to prove itself

Ragnarok

An event in which 13 humans and 13 gods would fight to the death

At first not many are intrigued until she does something to ensure they would accept the challenge

She called them chicken, scared to face the humans they had created

Once the meeting is over the god finds Brunhilde and her younger sister Göll

The youngest scared to a T whilst her older sister remains dead calm

It’s there that he tells her that he’s an ally

And that there is someone that she might wish to contact for a fighter

And so she takes his advice and finds you having tea in your home

when she asks you to fight for humanity against the gods you agree

And so Ragnarok begins

#platonic #shuumatsu no Valkyrie x reader #records of ragnarok x reader #travler y/n #ror Hercules x reader #Hercules x reader #ror #ror qin shi huang x reader #raiden Tameemon x reader #ror raiden Tameemon x reader #ror Buddha x reader #ror Jack the Ripper x reader #ror thor x reader #ror ares x reader #ror Brunhilde x reader #ror x reader #holy shit this is long

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