currently going through a super rough patch *insert uni & work & fam medical issues here* also, the hospital has horrible wifi ( i’m fine, not here for me ). is saving lives really the higher priority here ?? horrible joke what else did you expect from me-- where do you think calder gets it ?

It is violent that we cannot touch each other, yet. It’s a war crime. It should be illegal that my fingers still haven’t learned the notches of your back. I think about holding your wrist in the O of my thumb and my index finger. I think about kissing the blue veins there. I think about careful mouth touches, and the tender of you. The warm, soft hollow of you, and how I lose my bottom lip wondering about yours. I’ll kiss you there, I promise. I promise.

 Azra.T., “These wrists, these eyes, these praying hands.” (via glcnnrhee)

PEPROMENO TASK || HOGWARTS

‘ I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me. ’

- Hogwarts House ? Slytherin. ( Eventual Death Eater & Spy for The Order. ) - Bloodline ? Pureblood. - Amortentia ? Rain and Pine - There is something Calder loves about being lost in the woodland; a dark pine forest somewhat masked by the scent of fresh rain. Blood and Roses- The scent is rather bittersweet, but he finds the mixture rather tantalizing. The tang of scarlet, and the sweet scent of a rose has him hold a change of thought- even if it’s only for the briefest of moments. Fire and Smoke - Calder holds a strong fascination for flame, as it can be a rather destructive tool, and quite enjoys the crackling wood and scent of wildfire smoke. - Favorite class ? Defense Against The Dark Arts & Care of Magical Creatures. - Wand type ?  Ebony, Phoenix Feather, Thirteen Inches, Unyielding. - Patronus ? The wolf is a bit of a darker and mysterious soul, with the strength of a fighter. A person with this patronus has had a lot happen in their life, and do to that they wear a mask over their emotions. They do not trust or tame easily, and since they have been made cynical over the years this can be difficult. - Would they be a prefect ? No. Calder breaks too many rules to dish them out. - Would they play Quidditch ?  If so, what position ? Captain. Keeper or Seeker. - Favorite spell ? Cruciatus Curse. - Favorite teacher ? Professor Lupin & Professor Snape. - Magical pet ? Kneazle. - If they had to make a Horcrux, what special item would they use ? When Calder’s first owl passed away, he kept a bone from its wing, thus it being the item of his choosing.

highkey enjoying this task tbh expect mine up soon. also, i survived hurricane nate, because apparently irma wasn’t enough ???

Matthew Daddario for Raw Pages, August 2017.

What traffic sign would you be? +

B E T T Y.

the daughter of hermes began a slow clap before letting out a loud wolf whistle, loud and obnoxious. “ impressive aim. ” it was no secret that, out of all the campers, betty fletcher may be the biggest knife enthusiast with her extensive collection of blades consisting of both mortal and divine metals. the one that she yearned for most, however, was something that she was almost positive she could only pry off of a child of the underworld. the blonde took a long drag from her cigarette, filling the air around her with a heavy veil of smoke before she ashed it and looked up at him again. “ calder, right? cabin thirteen? ”

his knives were of stygian iron; their razor-edges glinting, mirroring the appearance of obsidian stone. yet its appraisal was nightmarish-- the celestial metal pitch black noir. the onyx-tinted item flips upon his palm despite the source of his newfound attention. a molten gaze resides upon an ashen-haired woman. the scent of nicotine breaches his atmosphere. “ right. ” it isn’t often one decides to converse with his threatening spectacle. “ fletcher, is it ? ”

A L E X A N D R I A.

at the recognition that it’s only calder, and not some young demigod she’ll have to corral back to their cabin like a lost sheep, alexandria’s posture relaxes. “ ah, your royal highness, forgive me for forgetting you were above all camp rules. ” she retorts, the hint of a smile playing slyly on her lips. “ tell me, is it your head counselor status or your particular ancestry that allows you such power ? ”  she’ll avoid questioning why he isn’t asleep at this hour, because this is not an exactly an unusual occurrence. she also chooses to believe that her lack of interrogation methods will allow her the same fate. 

the tempest’s tongue fails to deter him; acidic toxin a withered tactic. a brow quirks and shoulders roll, the motion luring a sigh from his diligent stature. “ neither. ” he concludes. a glimmer invades his peripheral-- another apparition seeking hades’ spawn. he’d be an earnest liar if he proclaimed the phantoms did not, at times, exasperate him. “ i would have thought your inherited wisdom would remind you of my preference-- night over day. besides, i know your privileged preference. ”

N O V A.

she turns slowly on her feet, recognizing that she doesn’t belong here yet she does… somehow. nova places the back of her hand gently on her forehead, beads of sweat — from the heat, from the action of it all — serving as a reminder to finally step out of the arena. she glances back at calder and her jaw is clenched. nova can’t mimic him and that’s part of her irritation, her hate against him… though she knows that such a thing doesn’t exactly. “FINE.” she gives in. “go teach —” nova walks past the son of hades, grabbing her weapon from the ground and turning it over in her hands. “i have lake activities.” 

nova finds his realist ideals infuriating and when she turns on her heel, a weapon once built to kill that’s merely a keychain now smothered by her palm, her expression alone conveys the smallest flames of anger within her. “you’re talking to someone who believes the idea of real is SUBJECTIVE, calder. i can give you an idea of real and death wouldn’t exist in it.” to her, a world like it sounds like a dream — to her, a world like that is where she’ll find her mother make peace with a dedulya who never passed and she’ll have at least one side of her family COMPLETE. 

a small part of her is thankful for her tendency to crack a joke. nova suddenly snorts in derision, a smirk playing on her lips for the first time in minutes. “that sounds like something someone who’s bitter about not having sex would say.” it quickly turns into a pout, nova feigning sympathy. “all your good looks are wasted on you being such a debby-downer.”

as her stride carries her onward, calder turns to face his awaiting novice. he expects this to be their conversations finale; their disagreements often end in futile, unsolved explanations. five deft digits adjust their hold upon the wielded weapon and prepare to strike the voluntold opponent. then, the banshee reascends. a heavy sigh escapes him, the sword tilting back to his side.

he thinks she’s abandoning the post when her timbre arises once again. the weapon she possesses has been smite, and his interest for their altercation dwindles. there’s something exhausting about their united presence-- something that the daughter of dionysus manages to overturn with a simple redirection. she has her punctuated points, and he has his, and both hold earnest disposition. “reality is subjective,” he remarks, “but it’s difficult to have one when you’re dead.” the son of hades often finds his thoughts redirected: why is here still here ? why does he ever return to camp half-blood ? why does he waste his precision ? his instruction ? do any of them deserve it ?

her general bereavement is ceaseless. his aura has always possessed an unmarred graveness. perhaps he lacks the ability to shed serious diligence from his features. “your acute interest in my sex life is alarming.” in fact, he doesn’t mix business with pleasure. camp occupants are off limits. her apparent compliment is lost among potent agitation ( and truthfully, he doubts she means it ). “if you’re starting this conversation, then I’m going to tell you to stop spreading rumors about what you’ve coined as my peculiar interests-- especially to my sister.”

nova rowe ft. calder valerius / aesthetics ( 6/? )

❛ we are who we are when no one’s watching. ❜

@caldervalerius

more replies are coming i love you all-- uni & work just keep interfering. and to everyone who has hit up my starter so far: you’re all the mvps.

A L L U R A.

this was calder, she remembered. allura watched him crouch to the ground; she was a child waiting to see if her family would like her again, wondering if she could tell them about stars. there’s a stoniness in his expression, but she could see something else there, more important to her: he was trying. 

she slipped her fingers out of the book and held it shut, putting it on her lap. “…allura. i’m allura.” she paused, licking her lips. after a moment, she couldn’t help herself: “is…is our cabin meant to look this depressing?” 

i’m allura. the hint of a smile curled a corner of his mouth, lip uplifting in the briefest of grins. its appearance was hesitant and rare, the motion of it fading like the phantoms they often spoke to. “welcome home.”

a low rumble is lured from a hollow chest, a soft chuckle emerging from the confines of his throat.“what, don’t like father’s aesthetic?” the cabin has never caused him unrest, its only irritable qualities residing in the fact that it’s simply enclosed, whereas he prefers spacious freedom. 

S A M.

she stepped in as soon as he opened the door, turning back around to face the son of hades. “oh be quiet, you know you love me.” sam gave him a sideways smile, before immediately going back to her rant. she would of never stated something quite this plainly to anyone else, but with calder she knew that this was the only version of her that he’d tolerate. and right now, it was the only mood she cared to be in.

“anyways so back to what i was saying before i was so rudely insulted. so rhys was talking to me about handling myself in capture the flag? like, where the hell does he get off to telling me what to do? last time i checked we weren’t even speaking.”

"I don’t love anyone.” he objected, yet her prattling overturned the conviction. at least the daughter of zeus’ fist hadn’t berated hell’s gates with salt on her cheeks. that, even she knew, would have resulted in immediate expulsion from the premises. his mouth contorted into a smirk, features relinquishing their stoic resolve. a scarred brow quirks at her grievance, unimpressed with her lack of vengeful inventiveness.

“strike him with lightening.” he offers, back meeting the coffin-like interior of his bed. “I don't mind rhys. he’s an excellent sparring partner-- as he should be. your verbal assault lacks purpose. how will it settle anything? you can’t complain to me with the expectation of surrender.”

His hands held precision. The blade flipped upon his palm, deft digits curling lightly around its textured grip. Three of his knives were already lodged within the center ring, outlining the crimson mark which would receive his fourth. Index and thumb grasped the silver blade whilst his eyes honed in on the inanimate victim. His arm swept upward, dagger poised beside his ear before the swift backward wrench and forward release. The weapon struck home, its sharp point embedding itself within the core as commanded. Calder often chose luncheon to occupy the various training grounds, where the majority of camp settled among the dining pavilion. Yet, an uninvited presence arrived to interrupt his ritual. His gaze failed to greet them, his attention instead plucking a fifth knife from the table.

N O V A.

as calder’s running his mouth, nova considers leaving him by accompanying the younger to the infirmary. or even better, bring her someplace else where the likes of calder is forgotten about even for just a minute. “neither of us are her enemies. we’re supposed to be her teachers, making her fear for her life even more should be the last thing we do.” training has never been her strongest suit and she isn’t planning for it to be a priority either. nova doesn’t like it here, nor does she like what she’s meant to do here. 

she’s so annoyed, evident in her voice as she runs hands almost devoid of battle scars through her hair. she watches the camper rush off. “death doesn’t care?” nova repeats in disbelief and she scowls — it’s an ugly expression, it makes her SICK to her stomach… it makes her forget the initial guilt that washes over her, watching and listening and doing nothing but be the complete opposite of what these demigods are being trained to become. if they’re meant to be something like calder valerius, then it’s a good thing that nova skips out on training days. “have you ever tried being less cynical? how do you expect to get laid when you’re always so moody and terrible at giving advice? fucking christ, calder.”

"making her fear for her life will save it.” he interjects. “if she doesn’t associate us as a potential enemy in training, then a very real enemy will seem less threatening. and there are plenty of fatal mistakes when that association is made, nova. if you want her to live-- if you want any of them to live-- you’ll let me teach.”

he’s well acquainted with the irritable response-- the daughter of dionysus isn’t the first to expel the sentiment. her verbal repetition rolls his eyes. the statement doesn’t require serum to spill its truth. “cynical,” he muses, arms folding, “maybe, but REAL above all else.” death doesn’t care; it steals and does not release. calder’s hope did not rest with any demigod who questioned that ideal. a brow quirks at her final argument, yet he finds it the least of his concerns. “there are bigger concerns in our world than who I set myself up to have sex with.”

me, casually screaming: CABIN THIRTEEN IS FULL. the hades kids are all here to fuck shit up. underworldlings, unite.