#(also hermes read the letters too
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#im telling you#daffy duck is loki from another universe#they are the same#(also hermes read the letters too#but thats not important)#norse mythology loki#norse loki#myth loki#loki#thor odinson#thor norse#norse odin#odin allfather#myth odin#norse mythology#myth thor#norse gods#incorrect norse gods#incorrect norse mythology#im sorry (im not)
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Friendly reminder ☺️
Jason and Leo never got to reunite before Jason died.
Also have we though abt Thalia's initial response.
I know Reyna wrote her a letter, but we don't know her real reaction
Well, I cried, thinking abt it so I wrote this WIP, tell me if I should finish and edit it.
Thalia walked back to the nearby clearing in the forest. Her arms swinging beside her, her sweaty short, black hair contained by her circlet. Quiver containing her extra arrows and quiver heavy on her back.
Her other sisters carried the body of a deer they killed when hunting for the Teumissian fox.
It was a good hunt today. They had made progress on tracking the gods damned fox.
But something weighed on her mind, making her anxious and borderline paranoid.
A hand on her shoulder startles her. It was Naomi.
A sigh of relief escaped Thalia. She knew she was probably just acting irrational and it was probably just demigod nerves making her feel this way.
But the words escaping Naomi's mouth made her freeze harder than any nerves could, "Hermes is here to see you. He has a letter," she said in an almost shaky voice.
Weird, A god other than Lady Artemis wanting to talk to her. That didn't happen often. Especially with Artemis in Olympus trying to convince Zeus to get Apollo reinstated to godhood.
Hermes looked nervous, it set her even more on edge.
"Hey~~ Thalia" Hermes swallowed, "you might want to sit down to read this letter"
"Trust me, my lord, there is nothing that can phase me enough to have to sit down to read it. Besides, I can read the signature. It's from Reyna, what news could she have that prompted a personal visit from a god?"
Privately, she felt a heaviness set on her shoulders, like the sky would fall on her shoulders any time. And from what Annabeth and Percy told her that was no fun.
Suddenly, something hit her, there is only one person about whom Reyna could have sent serious enough news for a godly visit.
Hermes was still fidgeting as Thalia ripped open the envelope, maybe a but aggressively.
As her eyes tracked the words, all the air left her lungs.
No, no, no this has to be a joke
"Thalia, I don't know how to sugar-coat this so I won't. Jason is dead, he was killed when assisting Apollo and Meg on a quest. He was killed by Caligula, who threw a spear at him"
Thalia fell to the ground, the grass soft under her. The day was too good, the weather too perfect for her little brother to die. He likes the skies, he flies in them like a fearless hero. She thought, he was so much better than her both inside and out. If anyone should die it's her.
She opened her mouth to beg someone, anyone to bring her brother back. But all that came out was a guttural scream. Her power intensifying as her sorrow transcended heaven and earth. Lightning crackled overhead and on her skin.
#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo#jason grace#leo valdez#trials of apollo#heroes of olympus#thalia grace#hunters of artemis#pjo fanfic#pjo fanfiction#reyna avila ramirez arellano#Hermes
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malconnor...hcs... for the soul... pls...
oh ANON, I would LOVE to
SO
(AAAAAAA I GOTTA FREAK OUT FIRST MY BOYS)
k anyways
I think at some point Travis comes back to camp to visit, and while he was gone Malcolm and Connor had gotten together
so over the course of the first few days he was like huh that’s funny my little brother made a new friend
huh that’s funny they’re really good friends
huh that’s funny they are making out against a wall “hEY C O N N O R !”
the shovel talk help😭🫠
anyways Travis gets used to it eventually it’s fineeee
I was actually about to write a Home Alone AU for the two of them in which they’re the only two at camp because Malcolm’s dad is on a cruise with his new gf, Connor’s mom is on a mission too dangerous to have company, Travis is at Katie’s family’s for break, Dionysus is back on Olympus, AND Chiron goes off to visit some of his relatives. Bad time for an invasion but yk they handled themselves fine
Malcolm is a California boy FIGHT ME
beach drives with all the windows down help
the parallels… between Percabeth and Malconnor… “I’m so sick of your shit (affectionate)” blond Athena kid… “too bad you get to deal with more of it” dark haired little shit who is taller and loves bugging blondie while they’re trying to do homework… hhrngh the PARALLELS
Malcolm of course finds it attractive when Connor actually uses the brain cells he has… but a part of him will always find it so fucking adorable when Con turns to him with the most bewildered face and say “Mal… my math homework has letters in it”
(bonus: “it’s algebra, babe”
”I dropped out of algebra”
”…algebra is the grade standard tho”
”oh fuck me I have a hard enough time with letters in English”
”let’s…….. put the homework away for now. Mario Kart?”
”OHOHO YOU ARE GOING THE FUCK DOWN PRETTY BOY”
”I THINK NOT, HE WHO ALWAYS PICKS TOAD AND THE STUPID TOY CAR”
”DON’T TALK TO ME DEFAULT SETTINGS LOSER” I’m getting off track I had a very similar conversation with my brothers the other day but it’s fine)
hmm something about Connor being obsessed with the Heartstopper comics and Malcolm loving the Solitaire novel series
they are firm believers they’d win the Hunger Games together too
NOT MAL RECHARGING BY SITTING AND READING AND CON RECHARGING BY WRAPPING AROUND HIM LIKE A SLOTH AND PASSING THE FUCK OUT
symbiotic relationship, Malcolm would say
(another bonus: “shut the fuck up you’re making us sound like Venom”
”we could be as good as Venom if u really wanted”
“we’re better than Venom, baby”)
Malcolm loving the Marvel Comics is just something so important to me
Hermes gripping Malcolm by the shoulders and going “listen. that’s my boy. he pulled a Tartarus napkin out of a fireplace. do not hurt him” and Mal’s just like yeah man I was there
also Athena eyeing Connor and whispering to Malcolm, “is he smart?” and Mal kinda gives a half-nod-half-shrug, Con grins at her like an idiot (it’s giving golden retriever), and just like that she loves him
anyways my boys💖💖💖
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When I Write, Will You Answer? (Dream x Reader)
summary: you are a Messenger between realms. An eternity of sending messages to and from the Dreaming brings you closer to the King of Dreams. (wc 4.0k)
warnings: fem! reader (she/her pronouns), mentions of blood, a little bit angsty. let me know if I missed anything!
a/n: okay I know it’s not stranger things pls don’t murder me just look away. deeply inspired by @the-darklings ‘s series today i bury you in me which is truly one of the best pieces of fanfiction i’ve ever read. if you haven’t read it yet, please go and experience it.
masterlist
-----
When the first dialogue between beings was shared, you were there.
The universe unfolded you from her arms, realms lacing together to create you and those who would share your title.
The names shared by you and your siblings changed throughout history, over the many eons of your existence. Hermes, Iris, Mercury, Nesta, Nuncio, Couriers of the Planes, Bearers of Good and Bad Tidings- all titles bestowed upon you. From your first waking moment the whole of the universe whispered to you two words- first a name. Your truest name. The second your title. Messenger.
And so you were. So you are. A Messenger to all.
---
“Messenger,” The Dream Lord regards you with a coldness that is a far cry from his sister’s kind eyes. You like delivering Death’s messages- she always sends them with a smile.
You incline your head, a sign of respect. You have been the bridge between realms for too long to not understand the difference when formalities are a necessity and when you can relax. And in this moment you understand that the King of Dreams demands nothing short of perfection.
“I have a message to be given to Delirium.” Even as he speaks, grains of sand flit through his palm, swirling, until they form together. The individual specks become whole, a black envelope, sealed with wax.
The letter floats from his palm, as though guided by a gentle breeze, into your own hand. It does not escape your notice that he does not hand the note directly to you. The passing of objects from his hands to yours appears beneath him.
What first appeared as a wax stamp you now can see looks like a small snapshot of the universe. Galaxies swirl and stars shine in the small seal. You cannot help the miniscule smile that upturns the corners of your lips as you gaze down at it. You know Delirium will enjoy this small rendition of the night sky- more so, she will be happy to hear from her brother in any capacity.
“Does your job amuse you, Messenger?” The Dream Lord intones, eyebrows raised.
You choose your words carefully, not wanting to lie but also wanting to say as few words to the intimidating being as possible. “I am simply happy to have the opportunity to see Delirium once again.”
“Happy.” You imagine that he almost sounds amused.
But then the hem of his coat cuts through the air with a faint swish as he turns his back on you, going to ascend the staircase to his throne. You know a dismissal when you see it, so as quietly as you can, you make your way from the palace, placing the envelope into your bag for safe keeping. Off to deliver a message from brother to sister.
---
You do not sleep often.
It’s the nature of your job, you have to be ready and available when you are called upon- any moment’s notice could have you flitting between stars, sent to fulfill your purpose.
So when you do sleep, you revel in it.
Even more so when you dream.
A field, as far as your eyes can see, dotted with every flower underneath the sun. You sit beneath the shade of a large tree, the sprawling branches letting only pinpricks of light filter down to you.
“Messenger,” a familiar voice chills the air around you. “I see you are not here on business.” Dream’s black attire and pale skin cuts a striking image against the kaleidoscope background of colors in the field.
“No,” You blink slowly, taking in his sudden appearance. “It would appear I am not. Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Grace. I fell asleep.” You berate yourself slightly for the foolishness of the last sentence- of course the Ruler of the Dreaming knows that you’re asleep.
He scans the scenery around you. “This is your dream then. What you have chosen in the whole of the universe.” He says it as a fact, a certain scrutiny. Perhaps he is judging the stillness of the scene.
“A place to rest. Is that not a fitting dream for someone made to always move?”
He does not deign to give your observation a response. Instead his gaze settles down at you, something curious flashing behind his eyes. It’s gone before you can fully register it.
“Until the next time you are called upon, Messenger.” He inclines his head slightly and then as you blink, he’s gone. A whisper of golden sand in the wind is the only evidence that he was ever there to begin with.
You’re left with the sound of blades of grass gently rubbing against one another, the brush of the breeze through the flowers. You know enough about the Dreaming to know that a certain level of sentience runs through all of Dream’s creations, so as you lay back, the field a soft cushion against your back, you whisper to the flowers, “This is a lovely dream. Thank you for letting me rest here.”
From where your hand rests in the grass, the leaf of a flower wraps gently around your finger, its softness gently encasing the digit. As close to a hug as this particular Dream is able to give you. You close your eyes and rest a little longer.
---
“Are all Messengers like you?” There is an amused bite to the Dream Lord’s voice. You would not notice if you did not have many lifetimes of studying his tone to compare it to.
You huff, arms crossing over yourself as you meet his eyes- blue, the color of a cold winter’s morning. Your jaw sets stubbornly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Well, you would look a bit fiercer if you did not also happen to be dangling upside down- caught in a human’s strange Nightmare about being caught and strangled by sentient trees.
You hadn’t meant to get distracted when you went to deliver the latest message to Prince of Nightmares, but the creak of wood and booming voices of the talking trees had piqued your curiosity.
“Return Messenger to her place on the ground so that she might fulfill her duties,” Dream calls out to the trees. They obey without hesitation, limbs for fingers depositing you without ceremony onto the ground. “It would do you well to not go seeking out trouble,” Dream advises, glancing you over.
You stand and brush yourself off, fighting the heat from your face at your disheveled appearance. “I did not go seeking trouble,” You grumble. “It has been many years since I’ve spoken to the trees and received a response. I wanted to see if these were very much like their counterparts in other realms. However, I’ve learned that your trees are not very good conversationalists.”
The quirk of his lip is there and gone in a flash, but you can’t help how victorious you feel at having seen it at all.
Dream turns his gaze to the Nightmares lingering behind the two of you. The air around all of you chills. “Messenger is a guest in the Dreaming. See to it that all Nightmares know that there will be consequences should they interfere with Messenger again.” Now this is the King of the Dreaming speaking. His words are law and offer no room for argument.
The trees nod their understanding, backing away to give you plenty of space as they lumber off past sight, apparently to spread the word.
“That’s not necessary,” You don’t mean for the words to slip out. Your heart travels to the base of your throat, lodges itself there. “I sought them out, they meant no harm other than their intended design.”
“They should know better,” Dream’s dry reply silences your wayward tongue. There is a moment of stillness between the two of you before Dream continues. “I would not have my best Messenger ripped apart by a rogue Nightmare. I do enjoy receiving my letters intact.” The lift of an eyebrow on his otherwise stoic expression gives away his teasing.
You can’t help it, you laugh. Your head throws back as you take in his words. “No, I don’t think I would enjoy that either,” you giggle, watching the Dream King as you shake your head. You remember your purpose, letting your laughter subside as you reach into your bag, presenting him with a letter. You let a small bit of magic carry it from your hand to his outstretched one.
He inclines his head, dark hair falling along his forehead. “I shall see you soon, Messenger.”
You're not sure why you do it. Why it is this moment. But you nod your own head back to the Endless before you and say one word in return. You give him the first name you ever received. Your name. Not Messenger.
Dream of the Endless studies you for so long you grow nervous. You wish to take it back, to snatch the name that so few know back to you. Hold it close to you where the horrendously intimidating being before you cannot judge it.
But instead of a scoff or a turn of his coat as he walks away from you, your name echoes back to you as Dream repeats it.
The twin stars of his eyes and the way he said your name burns you as you leave the Dreaming that day.
---
You sense him before you ever open your eyes.
“You know I love all of your creations, but this one is special- Don’t tell the others,” You hum, stretching in the sun of the Dreaming.
Fiddler’s Green truly is a masterpiece. Your favorite place in the Dreaming is beneath the shade of the trees here and making friends with the flowers.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Dream drawls, standing over you.
You squint up at him, shielding yourself from the sun so you can take him in.
“Would you sit with me, King of Dreams?” You ask because you expect a refusal, think that he will make a typical quip and leave you to return to his duties.
His pause shocks you to your core.
“Perhaps for a moment.” And then the King of this realm crouches down, settling against the base of the tree to sit beside you. He is close enough to touch, yet he is universes away. You feel the birth and the death of stars in the inches of space between the both of you.
You sit, side by side, in silence with Dream. The scent of wild lavender in the air. The edge of his coat brushing against your thigh.
You smile.
---
“You have been hurt.” There is an odd tone in Dream’s voice. One you have never heard before in your many centuries of knowing one another. It simmers in the air, leaving a bitter tang coating your tongue.
You frown, hand raising to the golden blood spilling from the cut along your arm. The cut itself is shallow but long, slicing through the skin of your bicep. You hadn’t even noticed it in the moment that it occurred, in your haste to simply get away.
“Ah,” you press your hand over the wound, knowing that soon the bleeding will cease and your skin will knit itself back together. The luxuries of quickened healing. “Well, you’ve heard the saying don’t shoot the messenger. Some people follow directions more closely than others,” your lighthearted tone does not mix well with the harsh lines of Dream’s brow.
“I would ask of you a name,” Dream says. You can’t help the confused tilt of your head at his response. He inclines his head to the blood like golden ink staining your fingertips. His request clicks in your mind- the name of those who drew their weapon upon you.
Your smile is soured, a brittleness to its edges. “My station prevents me from disclosing the names of those that I deliver and send messages to. Just as you would not want the words I deliver for you falling into unintended hands, I must maintain the privacy of others.”
A look of understanding passes over the Dream Lord. “I have often wondered what keeps the Messengers so…discrete.”
You nod just once, “Others before me tried to break our code. The realms were not kind to them.” The cut along your arm stings like fire as your skin knits itself back together slowly. You lower your voice, eyes falling to the marbled stone floor as you continue, your voice no louder than a whisper, “It is not that I wouldn’t tell you. And I probably have told you more than my order would care for. But, I…respect you too much to deny such a simple request without an explanation.”
You keep your eyes trained on his shoes as he steps closer to you. A square of black cloth, held delicately in pale fingers invades your vision. First, you think he is going to press the handkerchief into your open palm. You hold your breath, waiting for the brush of his fingertips against your hand.
Instead he simply holds the handkerchief between the two of you, his hands displayed openly.
“May I?” He asks.
“Of course,” you agree without thinking. You’re not even entirely sure of the question, only that you would let Dream of the Endless do just about anything.
The distance between the two of you becomes minute as Dream raises the cloth to your arm. His touch is a brand. He rewrites the atoms of your existence with the tips of his fingers against your skin.
He drags the square of fabric up, up, up, cleaning away your blood. He is delicate around the now-closed cut, treating your wound as something fragile.
How terrifying to be treated delicately.
With your skin now cleaned of the evidence of your hurt, Dream waves the fabric one through the air and it dissolves into sand, swirling and returning to the dream stuff that it was made from. His hands then settle on either sides of your arms.
“Thank you,” the words are caught in your throat. You force them out anyways.
“I would not see you hurt again. Should these patrons of yours trouble you again, know there is no order or law of the realms that would stop me from finding them.” Dream says the declaration as a fact, though his voice is low. His words are just for you.
There is no expression of adoration that could begin to encapsulate the feeling growing in you. It festers in you, significantly worse than any physical wound that could ever be inflicted on you.
You convince yourself it is the same wound in your heart that makes you imagine that Dream glances down at your lips before releasing you from his grasp.
---
The wound of caring for Dream of the Endless only grows when he disappears.
You have managed to quell your traitorous heart as well as you’re able. You have long accepted that you will take whatever part of Dream that you can get, and if that means letting your feelings live and die inside of you then so be it. For he is Endless, and you are just a Messenger.
You enter the Dreaming without a message, as you’ve taken to doing more and more often. The precious time that you have when not delivering letters is now spent here. Not always by Dream’s side, but it is rare to see one of you without the other when you are in the Dreaming.
Which is why it comes as a great shock when you enter the throne room and are stopped first by Lucienne rather than the low rumble of Dream’s usual greeting or the appearance of his outstretched hand, ready to lead you to his next destination.
The news of his disappearance brings you to your knees.
You don’t have the mind to remember all of what happened next, but there are tales in the Dreaming that your cries reached the shores of Nightmare.
---
A century later, the King returns to his kingdom with a crash and finds it much altered.
While the changes to the Dreaming cause a great turmoil in the Dream Lord, there is one alteration that gives him pause. A pile of letters, stacked neatly in the crumbling seat of his throne.
“They are from Messenger, my lord,” Lucienne tells him. Just hearing her voice again relieves him of some of his ache.
The envelopes are not recognizable. They contain no sigil or markings to distinguish them- nothing save golden wax, sealing the paper shut.
“And which of my siblings tried to contact me so often over the years?” Dream murmurs, most of his strength delegated to simply remaining standing.
“No, you misunderstand, sire. They are from Messenger.”
Dream stills. A living statue amongst the rubble.
Lucienne continues. “When she found out you were no longer in the Dreaming, she scoured the different planes for you. But, whatever magic had you… trapped shielded you from her. She started leaving these,” Lucienne gestures to the letters. “They are sealed with old magic. Only the intended reader may open them. I assume that is you.”
“My own subjects were convinced of my abandonment…but not Messenger…” Dream says, a confession to himself, as he sifts through them, finding the envelope that looks the oldest. He touches the paper. Indeed, old magic spills from it, rearing fangs as it feels his approach…and then stilling, recognizing the recipient, curling in on itself happily as the wax seal breaks beneath Dream’s touch. Your letter unfolds before him.
Lord of the Dreaming, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories,
I hope one day you will forgive me for acting so informally as to write to you, Dream of the Endless. I am meant to be the deliverer of messages, not the creator.
But if one day I am able to ask your forgiveness, it will mean that I am seeing you once more- and for the opportunity to see you again I can not find it within myself to feel ashamed or embarrassed.
You are missed. Without diminishing the feelings of others, I dare say, by none so much as me-
Dream folds the letter, phantom pains clogging his throat. His eyes burn bright- two twin stars shining against the night. He cannot bring himself to finish it, not here, not now. He will take your words, gather them close to his chest and read them without onlookers, no matter how trusted they might be to him.
Something possessive, yet gentle claws at the base of his spine. If you sealed your words with old magic, you truly meant for none but him to ever read these words and he will respect your wishes.
“Thank you, Lucienne,” Dream finally calls over his shoulder, “For keeping these safe.”
“Of course, my lord,” Lucienne inclines her head, and knowing the Dream King far better than he would care to admit, she knows he must face this particular battle without her. She exits the room without further pageantry, leaving him with the fragments of yourself you wrote out for him.
Dream picks up a different letter- like the first, the magic recognizes him, greets him as an old friend.
Morpheus-
The sight of his name in your script nearly drains the last of his strength from him. His fingertips trace the curve of your letters. An involuntary exhale escapes him as he studies the shape of your handwriting.
-Morpheus. Morpheus. It was once believed to be within the power of Messengers to call upon others by simply writing their name. I know this to not be true. If it were, you would be here-
Dream tucks the letter into his coat. He will read no more of your words now- he cannot afford to. Even now, the Dreaming crumbles around him, reminding him of his weakness. No, he will not seek you out until he is something worthy of the words you penned. Worthy of you. But still the paper burns him, sears through his clothing.
And so Dream of the Endless goes in search of his tools. For the quicker he returns his realm and his power to their former glory, the sooner may he seek out his Messenger.
---
The air is different when you enter the Dreaming this time.
Many years ago, you stopped with the formalities of going through the gates upon every entrance, but this also means you encounter very few of the remaining residents as you make your way across the bridge to the palace.
You enter the throne room. “Lucienne?” You call, reaching within your bag to procure your latest writing. “I’m just stopping by, I can’t stay. I’ll just leave this with the rest-” You stop short. Your pile of letters, carefully placed and maintained by the librarian, are all gone.
“Messenger, you’ve returned,” Lucienne calls from the opposite side of the room. There’s a lightness to her voice that you have not heard in many years. It sinks in your stomach as though you’ve swallowed a stone.
“Lucienne,” You begin, measured. “Where are the letters?” You clutch the strap of your bag to quell the shaking of your hands.
“Lord Morpheus has returned,” she responds. A simple explanation. Her relief, her happiness, is palpable.
“I see.”
You hear her footsteps behind you, she touches your arm gently, steering you to face her. You are helpless but to follow her guiding hands- a leaf being thrown about by a gust of wind.
“Is that not a cause for celebration?” Lucienne asks, her voice hushed as she meets your eyes. The tears that well in your eyes are traitors.
“And is the Ruler of the Dreaming in the palace now? In this realm?” You know the answer. You want her confirmation. Lucienne’s gaze grows heavy at your question. You both know what you’re really asking. After all this time together, no one could understand more than the faithful librarian.
“No. He is not. He went in search of his tools shortly after his return.”
“But not after seeing what I wrote to him.” Despair has her hands on you now- the feeling sinks into the marrow of your bones. “He took the letters with him, I believe. I do not know-”
“He has read my words and not sought me out. Not even a formal declaration to suggest that I return to my usual work within his realm.” You laugh, but it is a broken, wet thing. “I have been very foolish indeed, Lucienne. I spent too much time here, and dreams and wishes have muddled my thoughts. I built something in my head that exists only to me. I will not make that mistake again.” You wipe away a single tear that dares to betray you further, straightening your shoulders as you gaze at Lucienne.
You see your own heartbreak reflected in the sadness of her eyes. “He was moved when he read your words- I saw it before he sent me away. He is much changed from his time away, he simply-”
“I would not ask you to make his excuses for him, my friend,” You interrupt Lucienne, no trace of harshness in your tone. “I forgot my place and overestimated our relationship. I must return to my duties.” You have seen the way the Prince of Nightmare can act when someone assumes more of his feelings than he is willing to acknowledge. You gently remove her hands from your arms, squeezing them once.
You flee from the palace. For the first time in the eons of your place as Messenger, a letter sits without intention of delivery in your bag. It is the first time you have failed in your job.
You convince yourself you must imagine the way it feels like the Dreaming stretches out to you as you leave. A cold brush to the back of your neck, the feeling of arms around your waist, trying to keep you there. Imagined things, surely.
For why would your unreciprocated affection be welcomed anywhere near Dream of the Endless.
#Dream x reader#morpheus x reader#the sandman x reader#the sandman fanfic#dream of the endless x reader#the final girl writes#not st babes
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Modern au
Headcanons for if Jack, Hercules, Hermes, and Buddha work in a daycare/preschool.
Inspired by this official art.
-Valhalla Daycare was a lovely establishment, with several different classrooms, each classroom handling a different age group of children from six months to four years.
-Each room had 4 caretakers, and there were never more than 12 children in one class, so each child could get proper care and education, for the older children at least, teaching things like shapes, colors, numbers and letters.
-Each of the caretakers were licensed educators, able to take care of children with expert care and provide them with whatever they could need while in their care.
-The fourth classroom on the right side was one of two rooms for the four-year-olds, the oldest children, who would soon graduate and move to preschool; this particular room was the Crimson Room.
-All four of the teachers were adored by their ten children they oversaw, each one able to provide the children with a different type of enrichment activity, one to teach them different things, but also provides them with fun games.
-Jack was the head caretaker in the room, and taught theatre and read to the children, as he could do the voices of different characters when he read and taught the children how to act in mock productions, performing for just the four teachers.
-He was proud that many of the children gained a love for reading as well as a love for Shakespeare, wanting to learn more.
-This is why Jack’s class had a waiting list for future children coming in, as all students in Jack’s class were so well prepared and cultured, but not just from Jack.
-Hermes was the music teacher, starting the students who wanted to learn different instruments early on, giving them a head start and giving them the starting grounds of going into music.
-Hercules was the outside teacher in charge, as he taught the children all sorts of sports, from baseball and volleyball to power lifting, sprinting, and anything else between.
-The students loved Hercules, as he could turn anything into a game, something his co-teachers appreciated and respected.
-The parents appreciated his skills too, as he always wore them out.
-Buddha was the class therapist, he taught the kids about their emotions and how to express them in a safe and healthy manner.
-Parents adore Buddha, as he helps them learn too, that children don’t know how to express emotions like adults do, something many parents had to learn alongside their children.
-Buddha also taught the kids about baking and sweets, like how candy is made, teaching them about foods they like to eat.
-The four adults worked well off of each other, helping each other with their own lessons, hyping up the kids, teaching them other important things like confidence, empathy, learning that their creativity has no bounds, and how to help others when they can.
-The Crimson Room was truly a paradise in Valhalla Daycare.
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I wanna write (or read, wink wink) an AU where Armando goes public with Betty before he's ready.
I think it could start right after the Board Meeting, when Marcela finds them in Betty's office and asks why they're hugging. In the original novela Margarita and Marcela comes in and Armando is too overwhelmed and starts giving excuses and returns to the board meeting. In this AU, this changes. Something in Armando (perhaps he looked at Betty, or perhaps it is Marcela's insistance, idk) that doesn't let him come up with any excuses. He jusf doesn't say anything. When Marcela insists Betty tries to scape and Armando in his desperation grabs her hand to not allow it and Marcela is SHOOKED.
It would all be a silent admitance. Not really sure how it'd go down but Armando doesn't really say "yeah I'm with her" or anything. He just sorts of... passively lets Margarita and Marcela make assumptions, and after all hell breaks loose, he just tells Betty that he's being serious about her and his love for her, and that he wants to prove it to her. It doesn't come out romantic or any of the sorts, he's terrified and uses that monotone and stiff tone, with his eyes darting from one place to another and his jaw clenching and unclenching.
This wouldn't be a happy AU.
Armando would beg Betty to stay, and she'd miss her flight to Cartagena. She'd miss her opportunity to grow and heal away from all the toxicity.
Armando, On his part, would be trying to rebuild his relationship with her while also dealing with the depression that happened in those episodes. Betty is obviously not convinced yet, but with nothing else to lose and wanting to see how far he's actually willing to go for his business, she'd allow him to do his best. Obviously she's still sarcastic and snappy and manipulative, because she's still hurt and doesn't believe him. There would only be some truly romantic moments every once in a while, like the one that happened the night before the meeting, because at the end of the day she still loves him and fights with the side of her that wants to believe him.
Armando would face social rejection. His parents would absolutely turn on him, especially Margarita, because remember that when she first found out about the Plan to use Betty through the Letter in the novela, she was relieve that Armando didn't actjally love Betty. Marcela would be fully bitter, more than in the novela because at least by the time she finds out he is actually in love with Betty, she is away and wants nthing to do with him. Here, she's right there, and he is fully rejecting Marcela. This isn't a clean cut like in the novela tho, it's nor Armando growing and understanding that their relationship is so bad and dead. It's Armando desperate tl get Betty back. It's Armando's depression wanting to cling to Betty. It's Armandk near alcoholism guiding his actions.
It would also be a matter of time before people noticed that he's no longer with Marcela, that the wedding got canceled, and that he's now with Betty. Perhaps it would even appear in gossip magazines.
And that's probably how don Hermes would find out.
Just a work in progress! Just some thoughts!! What do y'all think???
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HEYYYY MINI CONGRATS ON 177 FOLLOWERS YOU GO GIRL
I want to take a visit around Aphrodite’s cabin (inheritance games) and maybe Hermes’ too if you have the time?
LY GIRL CONGRATS AGAINN!!
HII KAE THANK YOU SO MUCHH
right away!
cabin ten (aphrodite): i ship you with a fictional character (you can req a fandom from my list) and assign you a romance trope
i assign you
*drumroll*
Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne from The Inheritance Games
your trope: forced proximity
cabin eleven (hermes): i write you a letter or a short message (moots i have interacted with only)
kae,
i think you're very creative with your asks and ask-games and stuff. you are extremely fun to talk to and i've also read your writing and you are an AMAZING writer
also you have IMMACULATE maxine liu vibes
always be yourself
xoxo
#sorry for doing this late#life is a mess lately#mini answers#asks#my moot kae<3#welcome to camp half blood#mini's follower event
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He just needs a friend : Part 2
PART 2: I’m currently trying to figure out a name for this fic concept.
I’m also needing ideas for Villager names -
--------- --------- ---------- -----------
Eddie managed to convince the young Demi-god to stay on his boat while the harengon inspected the portal the others had left through, worried that the little one might end up falling through.
Something about what Hermes said stuck with him. What was that thing? He had not been told exactly what it was these Hermits had been building - but the boy spoke as if it were alive.
The smith pressed a palm up to the door of the fort- trying to socket it back onto it's hinges so he could do a quick repair - he had skimmed the letter that Sausage and Joel had left behind, and they seemed eager to go through - see this world that these Hermits had come from.
They wanted to bring Hermes along- but they couldn't be sure it was safe quite yet.
The Harengon hummed as he tapped the hinge pin back into place. The structure was hastily built- with no real interior. He hoped it was to keep others from wandering in.
The smith turned back toward the tower- past the bridge- the smoke had died down by now. "What were you?" For some reason, his chest ached every time he looked upon it - the idea of it having been alive weighed on him.
Repairing holes in walls could wait. Fatherly instinct takes precedent.
It took the harengon about fifteen minutes to get from the rift to the massive structure, toolbox in hand, apron adjusted so nothing would fall loose on his climb up. The maze of rooms inside astounded him - it seems the Hermits were preparing themselves for a long stay- but clearly those plans changed.
He followed the scent of smoke, opening a door into the inner workings of the machinery- likely only included for maintenance purposes. Scattered around him were live wires, innumerable shards of skulk-forged glass, and overall decimation of what once must have been quite a sophisticated machine.
Eddie followed what appeared to be the power line, leading to a master switch, and tentatively stepped on it. Cooling fans slowed to a stop, wires died down, and the drone of overburdened machinery quieted almost instantly.
The harengon pulled a pair of thick rubber gloves from his toolbox, and lowered his goggles.
He might not know exactly how this works, but years in a forge has taught him how to spot something that looks important.
“Alright, now… What seems out of place….” the harengon snooped around, running his hands across circuitry, occasionally brushing redstone dust aside to clear the view. Many of the parts were labeled, likely to keep the builder who put this together from mucking anything up. Eddie chuckled when he read “This way up” written on several pieces that were side by side.
He used to do the same sort of thing when having Sausage help him in the forge- pinning armor together.
After a period of looking, the smith found a block labeled “Central memory core”, buried beneath a sheet of metal that had been warped by the explosion and subsequent flames. It seemed, by some miracle, that this piece had avoided damage - or at the very least, had not been burned.
Eddie wrapped the block in a piece of cloth, tucking it into his toolbox.
Maybe he should ask around Sanctuary- surely there was someone with the expertise needed to figure out how to get this part to work again.
— — — — —
Hermes had been watching Eddie work from the deck of his watch boat, petting Bubbles as he did so.
“If anyone can fix him, Grandpa can.” Hermes said happily, scratching the little dog behind the ears. “Do you think the big robot likes games?”
Bubbles tilted her head.
“Yeah, I think it would too.”
#hermempires#empires smp#grumbot#hermes empires#empires hermes#empires eddie#empires sausage#mythicalsausage#empires season 2#empires season two#empires s2#esmp#esmp 2#hermitcraft#emporer grumbot
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Hi Annie 💕💕
I couldn't go without giving you some love too!! This event has just proven how much of a genuinely kind and sweet person you are. I admire and appreciate the way you interact with everyone on here so much, you're always so kind and wise with the advice and answers you give to people. I'm genuinely always excited to read your answers to asks because you create and lead great, thoughtful and very insightful conversations.
And I seriously believe at this point that there's no end to your creativity and talent. Everything you make is stunning, the little details blow my mind and I could stare at them for hours. I sometimes randomly think of one of the things you've made and just open it immediately to marvel at it for a few minutes. You can always tell that so much effort and thought was put into them, and yet I'm always amazed when you talk about the process of making them and how even more time and effort was invested. I hope you know how talented you are and that we're all so lucky to be witness to your beautiful creations!
I also hope you had a nice and cozy Christmas and that this new year treats you well! I hope it's full of love and happiness just like I'm full of love and admiration for you and everything that you do 💞💞💞
ivi my darling that little event wasn’t supposed to have me involved, my duty was to play hermes, not be a receiver!! 😭🥺🥺🥺 ah you’re simply too kind, of course I still appreciate you writing me a (not so!) little love letter, what a beautiful surprise gift 😔❣️ I wish I could just come over to wherever you are and hug you so tight right now, I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude, I don’t know how to put it into words that properly describe it. from the very first interaction with you, I’ve known that you’re one of the people that would brighten up other’s and my own experience in this fandom, and it was certainly true – your support and limitless kindness creates such a safe and happy place, I’m sure it’s the same in real life. you never hesitate to give so much love to all of us, this ask is the latest proof. I’m so thankful for you and the way you think about me, I couldn’t wish for more, it makes me so happy and proud. thank you for being here on tumblr with me, ivi, I love you 🤍🤍🤍
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" hey, can you deliver this important letter to Hermes? " she asks of the God himself, passing him a note with 'FUCK YOU' written in bold and all caps.
@astremourante | IM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
---
He brought this onto himself, you might argue.
And you'd be absolutely right.
Serves him right for engaging with mortals beyond what is traditional, orthodox to pursue for an Olympian.
He's not the first one (nor will he be the last) to entangle himself into human affairs and grow intrigued enough by someone who isn't an Olympian to know them by name, by the taste of their lips even.
The only difference is that... no one does it quite as well as Hermes.
Although he's the busiest among the Olympians, he'd argue and defend with ichor-blood, he's also the one who has most to do with mortals. And he's also the one most intrigued by just about anyone the sky and the earth, immortals and mortals, deem worthy of being shunned.
Nay, he is particularly fond of those others feel justified in shunning, othering, forgetting about, banishing.
One of his favourites among the fine people he's laid his eyes on had been Circe, after all, loathed by her entire family, a witch who turned vile men into pigs and cared for the nymphs on her prison island with the kind of care Greek mythological figures are not used to receiving from children of Titans: benevolent.
Snide tongue, sharp eye, witty mind, a good lay, even.
He has a type.
So, knowing full well who he's up against, that he's always enjoyed surrounding himself with people, mortals, who portray his favourites of mortal traits, the wit, the cunning, the raw ugliness of being anything but holy (that same ugliness he is the only one to recognise within his family), the bite, the ferocity of fighting because a mortal's life is so very short it makes it so very valuable to them especially, does he have any right to be surprised here?
No.
Which is why he isn't.
For a brief moment, a flash of something infinitesimal in contrast to a second, he'd been excited at the prospect that she'd have any interest in any aspect of who he actually is. They don't talk about divinity, his role. He doesn't even know if she knows he carries souls of the damned within his bag at times, that he's closely (closely, even) associated with the ferryman of the underworld, that he truly is the fastest among the God and can get her to anywhere in the world in the bat of an eye.
Then he hears his own name and reads the note.
There's another brief moment he dedicates to the shudder giggling along his spine, hidden beneath the mask of careless maniacal superiority, at hearing his name on her lips, so rarely used (especially in contrast to how often he'd like to hear it.
Then he bursts out laughing.
Because... because of everything described above and because of how none of the above truly matters, because the true reason he should have known better, the true reason he still takes it and laughs is because Amelia dug herself like a hook into his core and he'd probably find ways to fuck it all up, for the skies, the earth, the oceans, if she asked him just often enough.
He wouldn't right away, because he's smarter than that, God of Cunning and all that.
But he'd entertain it, entertain it in earnest.
A good idea.
Cause a war for Amelia Sinclair?
A good idea.
"Will do," he responds, with the glee of a flirty inside joke, smiling, all teeth, all a mollified cat just a nudge too enamoured with his Alice.
"That will cost you, though. I don't do deliveries for free. Can you pay, miss?"
#astremourante#the first;hermes#oh but my coin don't you glow brighter when you make the world bleed;amelia sinclair & hermes#a LOT of unnecessary internal monologuing but i needed to culminate it into 'oh he's a simp okay'#he's so embarrassing he got so excited she wanted him to deliver mail he's the worst pathetic man#;answered
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hey morrigan!! second ask of the day 😅 but, happy sts! maybe a 🌹 and: 2 & 8 from the personality/character section of the oc ask game and 1, 8 21 from the author questions section? from the google doc? cheers, no pressure to answer any/all of these, have a lovely day! [@fiercely-raging-writer]
Hello again!! :)
🌹: a random line from your wip
Hearing footsteps, he hastily pocketed the letter and resumed eating. Kristopher entered the room, heading straight for the buffet on the sideboard without so much as a wave. “Good morning, Your Highness.” The Prince ignored him, descending on the buffet with the fervor of a man who hadn’t eaten in days. How is that man always hungry? Hermes wondered, suppressing a grin.
2: What is their fatal flaw? (Bonus: are they aware of it?)
Fallon’s fatal flaw is 100% her stubborness. She is too stubborn to give up, even when she probably should. Also, she would run herself into the ground before she admits that she needs a break.
8 - How would they calm themselves down when feeling stressed or upset?
Fallon is definitely the kind of person who tries and solve all her problems by herself. However, she’s not very good at realizing when she’s overly stressed. To her stressed is unfortunately a pretty normal state. When she does realize that she’s overly stressed or feeling upset, she usually will go somewhere quiet and private like her rooms or the library, and try and clear her head. She might try and read, but sometimes she’s too stressed for that. If she lives in modern times, she would probably just enjoy turning on music and letting that distract her from her thoughts, but that isn’t an option in her world. She also likes going for walks in the Royal Gardens, so long as she can do it alone and unbothered by anyone.
1 - Describe your WIP in 5 words or less.
So. Much. Angst.
OR
A Romance I Actually Like
8 - Is your story fully planned out, or are you still changing things? Have you planned the end?
I have a lot of it planned out, but there are also some gaps. I have only a few plot points planned for Acts 2 and 3, but on the other hand I have almost everything planned for Acts 4 and 5. Act 1 is somewhere in the middle. But I’m definitely still changing and adding and working on things.
I’ve actually already written a draft of the last scene in the story, but I’m not sure if I’ll keep it.
21 - If you could be one of your characters for a day, who would it be? Why?
Probably Fallon. She’s literally the Queen, and she’s awesome. Just maybe not during Act 4. But Acts 1-3? Sure!!! I would love to be Fallon for a day. (espeically if it’s a day when she spends time with Kris.)
She gets to wear fancy dresses, and can host masquerade balls, and also can do whatever the fuck she wants, because she’s litearlly the Queen. Ugh, I wanna be her at a ball very badly. (although, ironically I usually hate dresses)
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I am really getting into the Holy Tarot and how it corresponds to the Qabalistic Tree of Life. These Occult things are fascinating and so spiritually rich and Real.
If you practice the art of studying and working with Tarot, I highly recommend this book ( free pdf ), I was blown away with the information and kind of learned the basics of the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet and how they correspond beautifully with the 22 Major Arcana.
Very Incredible Insight from a True Mage.
Anyways, after reading this, And Coloring the Builders of the Adytum Deck that comes with being a member of the the Order this book is from, I kind of wanted another deck created by somebody else.
Back in the day, I stole 2 whole Crowley Thoth Decks from a Barnes and Noble when I was all fucked up on fake Xanax that had Chinese research chemicals and fentanyl in them. I ended up letting them fly out my car window out of my hand like wild birds into the breeze from a madman hellbent on self destruction. This was 2 years ago and I’m way better at navigating reality in a clear headspace and I’m ready to get down to the famous Thoth Deck. I ordered it yesterday and it should be here today.
I got the Thoth Deck because it’s incredibly Beautiful and it was put together by a dark genius and I’m intrigued at how this deck will operate but I also got the Thoth Deck because during my daily meditations, when I go to light candles and incense, I’ve found myself randomly saying “ This is for Thoth and Mercury “ It just started happening the other day because I had no other diety to dedicate an offering to. I have PTSD-like worries about connecting with entities because I was visited by a Sumerian Demon from the Qliphoth and I’ve been down a dark Occult road and I’m not into that shit anymore. I don’t like to call upon dieties. But I really dig Thoth-Mercury-Hermes because This entity is a demigod of Wisdom, Magick, and Writing. And that’s all i care about too. Literally all I do is study and practice magick techniques, read books, and write. I have the same interests as this entity and feel like I want to befriend a corporeal being. So after ordering the Thoth Deck I thought it was only right to Invoke Thoth and Befriend it by setting up a nice Altar.
So that my planning the the Invocation ritual and finding out what to put on the Altar. Israel Regardie made a famous recording of the Crowley/Golden Dawn Invocation Ritual and it sounded a bit dull so I went perusing the inter webs for a better ritual. I basically Frankensteined a few people’s Rituals and put my own spin on things but then I really got into writing the Ritual. After this, I went back to The Israel Regardie Ritual and Wrote that one down and said wait, I should do the Qabalistic Cross/ Lesser Banishing of the Pentagram first to clear the Etheric space and get my vibration up, then do this long ass Invocation, then end it with the Crowley Analysis of Keyword Ritual because it has an Egyptian Flair to it and end on the LBPR for a nice well rounded thought-out Ritual. I feel like a Real Occultist.
I have to make a part 2 to show this madness. BRB
🕉☯️🔯✝️☸️🌓🔥🙏💟
MAY THE LIGHT BE EXTENDED
TO YOU UPON YOUR PATH
IN L. V. X.
FRATRE J.A.H. ☿
#blog post#magick#gnosticism#writers on tumblr#philosophy#tarotcommunity#esoteric#occult#tarot tumblr#tarot tips#tarottribe#thoth#thoth tarot#aleister crowley#thelema#ritual#invocation#occultism#occultist#tarot witch#tarot decks#magic ritual#hermes trismegistus#hermes#hermetic principles#hermetic philosophy#hermetic order of the golden dawn#hermeticism#gnostic teachings#crowley
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I'M FALLING IN LOVE SO FREAKING HARD.
Someone help me😭😭✨✨
Okay so something it's kinda happening with a girl this summer, and yesterday it was my birthday and I met up with my friends and okay, they all bring me presents and I knew she (THE girl) had something prepared something super cool and cute bc she asked me on like the firsts days of July about my birthday SO I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS MY GAYS😭😭😭😭
SHE GET ME THE FIRST VOLUME OF MORIARTY THE PATRIOT (I just finished now) BUT IT WAS LIKE IN A BIG CUTE BOX WITH CANDIES AND A SUPER BEAUTIFUL LETTER (LIKE OH HERMES MY HEART AND MY SOUL—) ALSO A VERY CUTE FROG TO DECORATE MY ROOM (at my desk I have lots of silly little things bc I love the chaotic vibe and all, bc a Howl Pendragon room is what I achieve, in the future bc I have parents 😭😭) AND LIKE SOME NECKLACES AND BRACELETS HANDMADE AND IT WAS ALL LIKE SUPER CUTE AND THE DAY BEFORE WE TALKED ALL NIGHT TILL MIDNIGHT SO SHE WAS THE FIRST ONE TO WISH ME HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND AHFKWKDPQNSLQ
Sorry I just needed to say all of that bc I can't
Like what??? THIS SUMMER IS GOING SUPER GOOD COMPARED TO MY LAST SUMMER AND I'M SO HAPPY🫶🏻✨
Bc like I just chat with her, met with friends, write my silly WIP's, put my Spotify playlist while daydreaming that I'm an elf, reading fanfics and theories as always and watching Good Omens on repeat<3
I just wanted to say that I'm so excited and grateful for all that is happening right now, and hope you have a nice summer too, or at least if u are struggling that u find a way to get out and get better and happier<3
Remember to drink water and thanks for reading💖💖💖
#falling in love#summer love#im so gay#ABDOWNFÑWN#sending love ❤️#have a nice day<3#dio shit#sapphic romance#kinda?#teen romance shit#I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE ANYTHING#IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL AND CUTE AND— ✨✨✨✨#:) <3
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Saw your rune and incense and skull post. I knew you liked runes, don't try to hide it! Even though I was goofin' that first time there was still an element of it that was simply appealing to what I presumed was a (b?)lat(a?)ent love of the mystic. And it was genuine, even underneath all the jealousy I had for you, too. Come on. You've got some woman of the night shit in you, too! I'm not saying this in a cruel way. Not the Language Demon speaking. Or maybe he's just quietly murmuring in his seal you trapped him in. Either way. I'm just sayin': U know u love it ;)
What does the note say, btw? Not good at reading cursive.
the man u reminded me of would freak the fuck out every time he saw runes cause he assumed they were a defacto white power thing
this is multiple levels of stupid i will now elucidate publicly, for my lovely assistant has so graciously prompted me with an opportunity where we can both look like functional human beings on tumblr.
right, so. not everyone who is a norse pagan or even proud of having european heritage is a white supremacist. first of all, the concept of white supremacy is already something of a plot, for it assumes all europeans are a homogenous mass, which they're certainly not.
sure, maybe this is the fascist proof of alan moore's octopus monster or whatever, that you need an external enemy (or simply the threat of one) to unity fragmentary groups into oppositional unity, but like ~ white people invaded Africa, bro. maybe black people used to have Atlantean magic powers and white people lied and said it was them.
they're real good at that. i don't know.
let's step back for a moment and reconsider that the hunky northmen are themselves an indigenous religion which was pushed to near extinction by an invading colonial power, by which i mean the romans who are the catholics now. white in the American parlance is better understood as WASP -- White Anglo Saxon Protestant. East-coast yuppies. Frat boy supremacy. It's ain't exactly pan-Europa, but the imaginary category of "white people" allows them to claim the krauts, the mics, the dagos, and even sometimes the slavs under the banner, as honorary members, by which i mean trophy servants they can spit on cause they ain't got money or divine carnivore blood, making this a race issue and not a class issue, and not a hybrid reptile-essence infusion issue.
this isn't even considering that the magical properties of norse runes are shared by the letters of the hebrew alphabet, which have their own sets of numerical magical correspondence in the kabbalah, both deriving from the shared Phoenician alphabet, which was a gift of Hermes-Thoth father of all language arts, come on bro. how fuckin stupid can ya, be?
like, don't get me wrong.
racism in america is definitely real, but also if you hyper-fixated on it in real obvious and specific ways, the clever racists who secretly hold the political power can get real good at gaming u.
history matters, bro.
there are real answers. not just what makes you look good.
#the note is a list of all the bros#whose heads i wanna fill with fun#and whose mouths i wanna fill with cock#thank you very much indeed!
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Nameless Prince: Rejected Ideas
Zagreus starting off in a dead village, but purposefully enrages Poseidon, who summons a storm to try and drown him — the OG chapter 1 only one other person has seen. It was rough, but a start.
Zagreus starting off trying to learn letters in a village that’s not 100% dead. He’s a slave and is sold off to the traders. He sees Thanatos reap a soul from someone dead on the road — rejected because the chapter 1 I went with establishes a greater disdain for the gods.
Demeter searching for Persephone in Corinth, and encountering Zagreus there — rejected because I honestly think Demeter wouldn’t have given Zag the time of day to talk with him.
Thanatos solo section while he’s imprisoned - rejected to build up Than and Zag’s eventual meeting
Demeter killing Zagreus — rejected because I couldn't think of a could enough reason for Demeter to kill Zag, they never interacted, and then I ended up putting her on a bus with Demophoon.
Athena sending Zagreus into the Underworld to hide him from Demeter — rejected due to the above.
Zagreus getting whipped by the mortals in Corinth when he tries to steal food — rejected for the rule of threes with the sacrificial animals.
A Poseidon interlude after the the mortals in Corinth start worshipping Zagreus — rejected because I don’t like writing Hades’ Poseidon and it wasn’t necessary. At all.
Zagreus running to the shore and encountering Poseidon —rejected because I couldn’t think of what that encounter would accomplish or lead to. Zag in this fic is already mostly reactionary/strung along, and this would’ve only dragged things out.
Zagreus taking refuge in a mortal family’s home, rather than the sanctuary in Corinth — rejected because I didn’t feel like doing research on what an Ancient Greek home was like, and then I read up on the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore.
Thanatos finding Zagreus in the forest after escaping Corinth — rejected because it was too convenient.
Athena and Hermes encountering Poseidon and/or Demeter in Corinth, and trying to convince them not to kill everyone — rejected because I couldn’t find a good place to put it without slowing the pacing. It also wasn’t necessary.
Callisto saving Zagreus from Dionysus — rejected because it was a deus ex machina, if she had succeeded it only would’ve dragged the story out and fucked up my rule of threes. Plus she would’ve succumbed to the madness anyway.
The bad ending: Persephone leaves before Zagreus arrives in the Underworld —rejected because it could’ve easily been solved with Thanatos transporting back up to the Temple entrance and telling her to go back.
An Olympian section in the epilogue — rejected because this ain’t about them
Rejected titles: Goldblood, Boy With a Coin, Death Chaser, Golden Child
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hermes pochette kelly 28
Hermes Kelly Pochette 22cm Chevre U4 Vert Verigo Gold Hardware Clutch
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Before buying, one must also evaluate if the replica Hermes baggage are priced too excessive in comparability with its high quality and product distinction. Quality, designs and stitches are a few of the marks that leads girl to determine if the purse sold are replica Hermes luggage or unique ones. The purse may be small however the price tag that follows it's HUGE. An beautiful archetype of Hermès small leather items with its excellent inside configuration it could be slipped right into a bag or hooked up to a detachable shoulder strap for hands-free put on. Shop our choice of on-sale Hermes Kelly Cut Clutch Bagkelly Cut Pochettekelly Cut Crocodile extra within the official hermes online hermes kelly reduce bag worth retailer. In the United States, the Hermès Kelly Danse II in Evercolor or Veau Jonathan retail for round $7,000.
4) All Kelly baggage include a shoulder strap, which could have the same warmth stamp in the identical color foil as the bag it accompanies. 1) Hermès now makes use of a secret proprietary code with just a singular letter that bears no shape or has no obvious order. You'll find the key stamp under the entrance flap or on the straps. The brand stamp is a stamp on the bag that reads 'Hermès Paris Made in France'. The Vintage baggage from 1954 do not share the same design. Actually, at first, the bag wasn’t perceived nicely by the public.
Only well -hosen ostrich skins with flat quills are able to be crafted by Hermes artisans. Lizard pores and skin has beautiful small sales and iridescent. Colors; it's incredible for making small objects less than 25cm.
… Birkin bag retail costs vary from $9000 to $150,000 and can see resale costs as a lot as $223,000. “Most Birkins retain or increase in worth, once more depending on leather, hardware, and demand. We provide every kind of excessive finish Hermes Handbags that mix classic and revolutionary designs.
Love ostrich and Hermes blues a superb combo. I do have a Kelly Danse that will get out so much and I’m going to strive your tip of leaving the straps open. Thanks this will make it a lot more accessible. Eye on a Kelly Pouchette for over 10 years after I handed on a lizard w/ special embossed HW as i simply couldn’t justify the worth and am still kicking myself.
It ranks as some of the desired handbags on the earth making it scarce and a coveted bag to personal. Exuding an elegant look, they're iconic and a true symbol of luxurious. wikipedia handbags Hermes is understood to assign one highly educated craftsman to each purse from begin to finish. Every stitch is positioned with care and each materials is prime of the range. The French label's Kelly and Birkin luggage have helped to secure Hermès’ place as an opulent style powerhouse. Even today, the coveted Birkin and Kelly bag has the longest waiting list of any accent in the world.
It is necessary to know that if this piece is used, it could tell its story via its imperfections. As all gadgets are or have previously been owned by personal collectors, purchasing this item continues its journey so that you could be assured that you're making a positive and sustainable selection for our planet. Every merchandise on our website goes by way of stringent inspection and verification by our team of assessors and authenticators. The situation particulars and rankings offered offer our sincere opinion on the item’s situation, however, they could not all the time have the flexibility to embrace all faults. Fashioned from Monogram canvas with a mini Monogram sample on the edges of the two pochettes, it has both a removable gold-tone chain and an adjustable strap for multiple carrying choices.
It is constructed of clean matte Mississippiensis alligator leather in the striking and alluring Bleu Paon color accented by gold tone hardware. This extremely rare Mini Kelly Pochette is in Rouge Vif doblis leather with palladium hardware and has tonal stitching, entrance flap, two straps with middle toggle closure and a high flat deal with. The interior is lined with Rouge Vif chevre and has an open wall... And this mini Kelly clutch is like your little cutesy handbag and never just a clutch, it’s two in one and it’s too classy! Kelly luggage aren't only obtainable in leathers, but in addition in exotics.
The inside is lined with Rose Lipstick lambskin leather and has one open pocket on... The inside is lined with Bubblegum chevre and has a... This Kelly, in the Sellier type, is in Rose Sakura chevre leather-based with palladium hardware and has tonal stitching, two straps with entrance toggle closure, single rolled deal with and detachable shoulder strap. The interior is lined with Rose Sakura lambskin leather-based and has one open... Are cone possession that females maintain very close to their coronary heart.
Metal surface may show slight floor scratches, however item has "like-new" sparkle and shine.Gently UsedItem has obviously been used, but no indicators of significant abrasions, stains, scratches, or dents. Metal surface has superficial floor scratches.Well UsedItem has been well-loved and it shows. Signs of damage, with medium scratches seen from a detailed distance. Light soiling or discoloration of materials may be current. Our objective is to process your order quickly and guarantee its secure delivery. We provide free delivery for all home orders and flat rate delivery fees for expedited and international orders regardless of how many gadgets are in your order.
phoenet.tw replica kelly pochette The finest new and preowned Hermès Kelly 32 Bags all guaranteed genuine and up to 70 off. Hermès by no means includes authenticity cards with their handbags. Many faux Hermes Birkin and Kelly baggage include these orange plastic bank cards that say “Hermes” on them. If the bag comes with considered one of these cards, it is undoubtedly a fake. Authentic hardware on Hermes baggage are at all times a real valuable steel, such as plated gold or palladium plated.
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