smarty0114

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Hera, goddess of marriage

g o d d e s s o f m a r r i a g e
_{H E R A 
H E R A}

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	cate blanchett | #7845b8 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Queen of the Gods ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ marriage, women, and childbirth ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl}}

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 U L T R A S O U N D
U L T R A S O U N D

^{As the goddess of childbirth, Hera oversaw the birth of most children, mortal and divine. In her mortal form, Hera is still very much a fertility goddess, able to sense the pregnancies of nearby mortals and gods alike. She has no control over the fate of the child, but she is something better than an ultrasound. Her gift allows her to determine sex, parentage, even health.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Empathetic & Shrewd Resourceful & Resolute Inimitable & Maternal⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Envious & Vindictive Judgemental & Selfish Callous & Shortsighted ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Marilyn Montgomery ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ forty three ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ heterosexual, female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Divorce attorney

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{And I never got past what you put me through, but it's wonderful to see that it never phased you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Hera's life before the fall is a famously tragic tale. Swallowed by her father only moments after birth, she grew up in darkness, with the earliest of Olympians. She remembers little about that time, save the blinding light that came to save them from imprisonment. That, she will never forget, not even when her skin and bones have crumbled into ashes and rejoined the silt of creation. When Zeus freed his siblings from his father's stomach, he enlisted them in his war against the Titans. He took Hera as his queen, a marriage before a war. By his side, Hera slew countless foes. The war raged on, the land torn asunder, and still she fought. She fought for her new husband, and the children he would grant her. She fought for the splendor he would lay at her feet and the throne that he had promised her. Hera's prowess in battle was oft forgotten by the likes of Homer, but it was prevalent nonetheless. She was an Olympian, after all. When the Titans lay broken at the feet of their usurpers, Hera rejoiced with the others, and cradled the empty womb, sure to bear the Prince of Olympus. Only, Hera's child was not the first to be born. Zeus sired three children, one with Metis, two with Leto, before deigning to lay with the woman he'd married. This was only the first of many slights. Hera was forced to watch as Zeus paraded his dalliances across Olympus. She became known for her rage, and Zeus? He became known for his power. It sickened her. Watching him reap the benefits of her work. It was she who tended the divine court, she who wore the crown of a queen. Yet, her son received scorn, while Zeus' bastards were lauded with accolades and power. Wise Athena, Golden Apollo, Shining Artemis. The ever present thorns in her side. Of course, it was not enough for Zeus to simply humiliate her. She could live with humiliation, if it meant that Ares would one day get the position he was owed. When she heard of Zagreus, the unnatural spawn of Life and Death, she was appalled. Zeus had promised the boy a marriage, and a throne, a throne that was her son's by right. This would not stand. She met with Leto, away from the watchful eyes of her brethren, and together, they hatched a plan. United by their hatred of this usurper, the two women led him on a wild goose chase, into the maw of Tartarus. Her only regret was that she needed Leto's help to make it happen. She had plans for Olympus, for Zeus. With Zagreus gone, only Athena and Apollo seemed to present worthy threats to her son's inheritance. Artemis was unconcerned with the power plays of her family, but Athena would claim it, simply to vex Ares, and Apollo was a glutton for spectacle. He would not easily turn his head at a crown. No matter. These two were simply obstacles to be removed. And they might have been, had the world not suddenly crashed in all around her, crushing any hopes she had of redemption. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ What does a queen do without her throne, her crown, or her subjects? Hera had never been forced to ask the question before, but in the wake of Apocalypse, she found herself desperate for an answer. Strong as she was, she had never been...alone. Not once. If she was not accompanied by one of the Olympians, then her handmaids trailed behind her and served at her beck and call. Now, cut off from her power, she had nothing, nothing except her family. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was old habits, but she tried and failed to make Zeus an honest man. Mortaldom had not changed him much, it seemed. Failing with her husband, Hera turned to her children, rotating amongst Ares, Hephaestus, Eileithia, and Hebe. Some enjoyed her more than others, though none could say that Hera had nothing to offer. Overbearing as she was, her mortal life gave her more time to devote to their wellbeing, and their ambitions only benefitted from her continued attention. Far from Olympus, she still fancied herself a kingmaker. The occasional desire for independence surfaced sometime in their third century on Earth, a nagging whisper in her head. She followed it, out into the world, and found that being alone was not quite so frightening as it had been. She did not need Zeus, or her crown, to prove her worth. The mortals saw it, painted across every inch of her. She was regality incarnate, and where she walked, they practically begged to serve her. When Hera wasn't advising one of her children, or meddling in their lives, she found herself hosted in the courts of kings, an enigmatic woman of mysterious origins, paying her way with secrets and whispers. She went on like this for centuries it seemed, the picture of the middle class divorcee, centuries before it would be so in vogue. Loathe as she is to admit it, Artemis was the inspiration for the next phase of her mortal life. Her affinity with the savage girls she collected gave the queen an idea. The mortals clearly needed saving, uplifting, and Artemis certainly wasn't doing them any favors. So it was, as the world prepared for a second war Helena Albrecht arrived on the streets of London, a matronly but stern governess, and the headmistress of Albrecht School For Girls. It was a surprisingly apt role for the former queen, and she grew to think of the girls left in her care as her own children. She did not teach them archery or espionage like Artemis. Rather, she taught them etiquette, literature and poetry, with a healthy dose of statecraft, for every woman must know how to rule, even if her kingdom is just four walls. Then the bombs came. In an instant, the Fall returned for her, and her world was torn asunder. She choked on fire and ash, awash in chaos. When she awoke, she was alone, in the ruins of her school. Her children were gone, and with them, her good will. Hera had been scorned for the last time. She grew colder, if that was even possible. Her walls became bulwarks, and whatever glimmer of mercy that shone inside died with the girls of the Albrecht School. Hera sharpened her edges in America, as a businesswoman, as a small town politician, even as a crime boss. Seattle has witnessed this queen reborn in the form of Marilyn Montgomery, suave and sophisticated socialite, stunningly effective divorce attorney, and ruthless social climber. Rumor has it that Marilyn has eyes on the mayor's seat, but the truth is, Hera has much bigger plans in mind. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Hera wants power, plain and simple. She strives for the respect she's entitled to, not just for herself, but for her children as well. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The death of all her children.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Apollo, god of music and oracles

g o d o f m u s i c
_{A P O L L O 
A P O L L O}

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	brenton thwaites | #eed873 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ The Bright One ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ oracles, the sun, music, healing and poetry ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{so many tears I've cried, so much pain inside}}

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 P R O P H E C Y
P R O P H E C Y

^{Many people, including Apollo himself, have forgotten his role as the patron of oracles. The universe, it seems, did not. Apollo's songs, enchanting as they are, are ever so often tinged with words of prophetic wisdom. He knows precious little about what the future holds, only that sometimes, his lyrics light the way.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{but baby, it ain't over till it's over}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Optimistic & Creative Passionate & Empathetic Loyal & Brave⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Hedonistic & Impulsive Vengeful & Manipulative Juvenile & Vain ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Alexander Calimeris ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ bicon, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Host of popular radio show, Rise and Whine.

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{so many years we've tried to keep our love alive}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Zeus had never been known for his fidelity, of that, everyone can agree. Leto was just another woman in a long line of affairs, hardly even the first to get pregnant. Nevertheless, Hera came at her with all the rage she usually mustered, and sent the serpent Python slithering after the pregnant Leto. Tired and alone, with the serpent closing in, Leto found refuge on Delos, the ever moving island. Unbound, Delos floated across the many seas, keeping Leto safe from Python. It was on Delos where the twins were born, first Artemis, and then her brother, golden Apollo. Suckling on nectar and nibbling on ambrosia, Apollo grew faster than any mortal. He was fully grown within days, and hungry for vengeance on the beast that had hunted his mother. A babe in man's clothes, he slung his bow across his back and set off to slay a monster. He found the serpent at Delphi, guarding the resting place of his mother, Gaia. Their battle raged for three days, and three nights, but as the sun rose on the fourth morning, Apollo loosed his final arrow, and the great Python fell to the ground, dead. Apollo took Delphi as his sacred site after the battle, and in the years to come, he'd be known as the patron of Oracles. As a young Olympian, Apollo flaunted his divinity every chance he got, leading him into a myriad of troubling situations. Everyone knows the story of him, Daphne, and Eros' accursed arrows. For a long time, Apollo was a sort of proof that gods were just as unchanging as the mortals they lorded over. That is, until Hyacinth. Brash and braggadocios, Apollo was known for falling fast, and leaving faster. What drew him so closely to Hyacinth, none can say for certain. Perhaps it was his beauty, supposedly unmatched, or perhaps it was the fact that Hyacinth chose Apollo over all his other suitors? Whatever the reason, their love, like everything Apollo was apart of, was bright and splendid. Of course, like anything involving a mortal, it was also fleeting. Hyacinth's choice had angered Boreas, the North Wind, and he was not known for his forgiveness. One day, while Apollo and Hyacinth were throwing a discus, Boreas swooped down, and sent the disc crashing into Hyacinth's skull. He was dead before he hit the ground. Apollo held him until the sun went down, and on the earth, where divine tears and mortal blood mingled, a flower grew. Apollo named the flower for his dead lover, and buried him at the foot of his temple. Then he swore his revenge. Zeus had forbade him from taking revenge on the winds, but he had said nothing about the other Titans, those who'd sided with the gods and been allowed to keep their domains in return for their loyalty. Boreas' uncle, the titan Helios, held the sun, and his aunt Selene, the moon. With his sister at his side, Apollo challenged Helios to an archery contest, demanding that he answer for his nephew's crime. Artemis demanded the same challenge of Selene. The stakes? The coveted chariots of the Sun and Moon, one a shining star of gold, the other a shimmering silver. The titans lost that day, and with their chariots went any hope of a return. The Olympians had taken what remained of their regality, and they had nothing left but immortality. Gilded as he already was, the sun was little more than a trinket for Apollo. The awesome responsibility of the chariot was often lost on him, a child in the body of a man, who would rather pluck at a lyre than do any real work. Apollo, more than anything, loved to be worshipped. The sun was ultimately, just another source of mortal prayers to feed his immortal ego. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ The lead up to The Fall is still a dark spot in the sun god's memories. A fuzzy period, within which he can find no solid ground. Those early days though, after The Fall? He remembers those well. The chaos the gods found themselves in, the despair they all shared. Apollo had despised his mortality, had raged against these new chains. In the months following his new status, he drowned himself in the physical pleasures of the earth, base as they may be. No mortal music sounded quite the same as the melodies that he had commanded on Olympus, and no mortal lips were as sweet as those of Hyacinth. It was Artemis who pulled him from melancholy, with news of the Tree. Not the World Tree, that had upheld their mighty realms, but a sapling, one that might maintain their immortality, preserve their godhood until the day it might be saved. So it was, that Apollo found himself at the first Conclave, eating the fruit of this new Tree. As months became years, and years decades, Apollo began to adapt to his new situation. He was petulant, certainly, but there is only so long that one can be resist the workings of fate. He knew this better than most. Mortals were entertaining, at the very least, and with the passage of time halted by his yearly ambrosia, he had eternity to spend amongst them. He traveled far and wide, to Babylon and Constantinople. He watched as empires rose and fell, as mortals discovered new ways to inspire him. Legends circulated of a man, a wanderer who brought only instruments and revelry. Some whispered that if you pleased him, he might even leave a prophecy behind, as a thank you. He misses those days, when stories were just stories, and he and the others had the freedom to exist as they pleased. Of course, the mortals had to go and muck that up too. Apollo might've given them music and culture, but Hephaestus had given them industry and innovation. With that spark, they created even more weapons to defend their great works, and they destroyed any who threatened them. By the time the gods and their tree finally left Europe, he was glad to be free of the continent; the taste of the air had soured there. In America, Apollo found a new home. He'd been before, to sample the liquor of Prohibition, but the country waiting for him two decades later was much different. He was particularly partial to the 60's, when free love reigned and a party was never hard to find. Recent years saw him following the Tree, still beholden to it for his immortality, and immortality he has no intention of ever losing. Mortaldom might be a punishment, but it is nothing compared to the darkness of death that plagues his dreams. In Seattle, Apollo has become Alexander Calimeris, a minor local celebrity thanks to his radio show, Rise and Whine, where, in between carefully curated song selection, Apollo complains about a new thing everyday. In truth, Apollo isn't doing anything differently. He's partying, and inspiring mortals, all with his usual casual attitude. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Apollo gave up on goals a long time ago. He's enjoying immortality as much as he can, uninterested in the greater machinations of his family. He will fight for them if the time comes, but it's been a long time away from Olympus, and any threats have yet to show themselves. He's beginning to think they never will. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ Death. The permanent one. He knows what awaits gods when they die, or at least, he knows it's not Elysium.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Artemis, goddess of the hunt

g o d e s s o f t h e h u n t
_{A R T E M I S 
A R T E M I S}

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	hunter schaefer | #5e74ee ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Lady of the Hunt Mistress of the Wood Diana ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ the hunt, wilderness, the moon, chastity ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{easy they come, easy they go, i jump from the train, i ride off alone}}

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 T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D
T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D

^{There was a time when Artemis was a storm of divine power. The trees bowed for her, the animals of the forest loved her kind hands and feared her swift arrows, and she had mastered the moon and all its silver light. Once upon a time, she was a terror to those who'd scorned her, but now, Artemis is little more than a dog whisperer. While she retained a stunning control over wild animals, the rest of her divine gifts seem to have faded.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{i never grew up, it's getting so old, help me hold onto you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Diligent & Reliable Honorable & Brave Wise & Responsible⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Vengeful & Petty Hypocritical & Manipulative Arrogant & Cruel ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Selena O'Ryan ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ lesbian (except for that one time), female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Owner and operator of Moon River Retreat

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{i've been the archer, i've been the prey. who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Perhaps Artemis' nature is not surprising, given the nature of her beginning. Conceived out of a tryst between Zeus and Leto, Artemis and her brother were forced to face Hera's wrath while still in the womb. No place was safe for her mother, not with Hera's serpent following her every move. When Leto finally found refuge on Delos, the twins were nearly there. Artemis came into the world, stoic from the moment she opened her eyes. Her infancy was short lived, as moments later, she helped deliver her brother. While her brother sought immediate vengeance on Hera's beast, Artemis, always the more calculated of the twins, was far more willing to bide her time. While her brother gallivanted across the earth, inspiring mortals and finding pleasure wherever a lyre was plucked, Artemis spent her time traipsing through the forest, hunting the creatures of the earth and exploring the unknown wilds. She did share her brother's interest in mortals though, at least certain ones. Artemis was known to collect young maidens like they were coins, often saving them from the terrors of the forest. Always young, always virginal, always beautiful. These were the benefits of being a Huntress. Some think Artemis' vow of chastity is as old as time itself, entwine with her essence. While it's true that she took chastity as a sign of devotion in her Huntresses, Artemis did not take her own vow until later. Not until Orion. He had been a demigod, a child of Poseidon and a princess of Crete. Their meeting was fortuitous, and Artemis, whose eyes were rarely drawn to anything other than adventure, found herself enthralled by the young hunter. She began to spend her days with him, the first man to hold her bow, and those days turned into weeks, and then months. At night, they lay beneath the moon and watched the stars. It was perfect... until it wasn't. Mortals don't live forever, she knew that, but she had not expected him to be taken so suddenly. The scorpion moved faster, even faster than her, and she'd turned her back to him, and... when she turned to face him again, he was dead. She asked her father to bury him amongst the stars, and swore off love and anything that might lead to it. Artemis was always colder than her brother, more prone to offense, but after Orion she seemed to grow even closer to the wilds that she loved so much. Her vengeance became legendary in the wake of her grief. The likes of Actaeon and Niobe learned that the hard way. Artemis' wrath was terrifying, and lasting. When Apollo came to her, fuming over Hyacinth's death and seeking revenge on Boreas' blood, she was all too happy to help. She'd always thought it silly to entrust Titans with the Sun and Moon. The only trustworthy one was her mother. She took the responsibility of her chariot much more seriously than her brother. In part, she enjoyed the solitude, and the respect the mortals heaped upon her as she drew the silver light across the sky. Truly though, what she loved the most, was the proximity to Orion. Every night, she got to visit his resting place, where he watched over her with shining, bright eyes. She would've traded anything, to stay there amongst the stars with him. Alas, the Fates had other plans. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ At first, there was darkness. Never ending shadows, impenetrable, unescapable. Soon though, the darkness faded, and dreams swept her away. Orion was there, guiding her through the labyrinth of her mind, until, with a crash, he was taken away again. As she and the other gods began to stir, the dream faded away, and when she awoke, she was not alone. Perhaps it was a good thing that Artemis was one of the last to awake. Had she had it her way, there would've been a massacre, but cooler heads prevailed. She stuck around long enough to learn that nobody knew anything truly useful, before slipping off to explore this new world. When she wasn't checking in on the immortal leech that was her brother, she was hunting in the woods. She never lost her love of followers, and wherever she tread, young women seemed to trail close behind. Some were girls she'd rescued from danger, others had simply heard tales of a band of women traveling through the wilderness, and sought to join. Artemis offered them a rare form of adventure, not easily found for girls of the town. All she asked for in return, was devotion. In the early years, she did not hide what she was from them. She saw no reason to. But mortals were cruel, and soon, word of her travels reached the wrong ears. After centuries on Earth, many of Artemis' memories have blended together or faded completely, but she never forgot the night the Christians came. The sound of hooves beating the ground raw woke her, and she opened her tent to see them bearing down on her camp, bringing fire and steel. Her and her girls fought back, valiantly. She called on the forest for aid, but she was not the goddess she once was. So she was forced to watch as men ripped her life to shreds. They killed her, and left her for dead, and while her consciousness swam in a formless haze, she plotted. Revenge, not on the men who'd wronged her, for they were numerous and masked. She'd have to settle for those they protected, those they fought for. When she rose again, she set out on her bloody path. In between Festivals, she tore swathes across the countrysides, a pale spirit of vengeance haunting from the shadows, all those mortals who turned to that false god. She was not such a great warrior that she was free from defeat. But each time they cut her down, she rose, made stronger by rage. A boogeyman to haunt the Dark Ages. The years fell away however, and Artemis' crusade did little in the grand scheme of things. She watched as the monuments to her family were torn down, as the remnants of her people were scattered to the winds, or forced under the yoke of the Nazarene. Few know why Artemis ceased her bloody vengeance. She has always kept her pain close to her. Apollo though, and a handful of other Olympians, know that it was love that stayed the Moon's blade, just as it had set it into motion. Her name was Esther, and she was everything. Courageous, compassionate, willful. When Artemis came for her village, it was Esther who stayed the moon goddess' hand, froze the notched arrow. In Esther, Artemis was reminded of the virtues that mortals possessed, and so she agreed to spare the town, so long as Esther traveled with her. Initially, Esther resented the arrangement, but this only made her more unique in Artemis' eyes. In the woods, they grew close. Esther was wise, and Artemis enjoyed that wisdom. She had grown so tired of nights without conversation, nights without love. Esther unearthed a kindness in her that Artemis had thought lost amidst the stars. Under the light of the moon, a bond grew, deeper than the one she'd shared with Orion, or anyone before. In the end, it was Artemis' own hubris that cost Esther her life. After a year together, Artemis brought the young woman with her, to the next Festival of Life. There, in secret, Artemis fed her share of ambrosia to her lover, in the hopes that divinity might reach out its hand and grant her eternal life. Instead, it strangled her. Esther screamed, and writhed, and within a moment, was burned away by the fruit of the gods, her mortal soul scorched by the light of the divine. Artemis held the corpse in her arms, and swore an oath; no more innocents would fall before her. And so, after decades of rage, Artemis finally calmed herself, for Esther. She was an arbiter of justice no longer. As castles rose and with them, new empires, Artemis positioned herself in places of power, a wise woman on the shoulder of kings. She did what she could to honor Esther, to hold true to her vow. She preached moderation in times of excess, restraint in times of war. Her folly was not in her words, but in her belief that deep down, every mortal was as good and innocent as the woman she'd loved. The truth was that few were. Every day without Esther reminded her of the sins of man, and made it harder and harder to keep her oath. Artemis kept her oath though, until the world demanded more of her. She did not give in to the rage she'd felt once before. She approached the world with her old calculated certainty, an arrow in the dark. Subterfuge and politicking became her arrows, whispers her bow. Violence was no longer her way. Of course, words can be just as violent as a blade. With a new group of girls to serve as eyes and ears, Artemis built influence and wealth across her many identities, enough so that she could live luxuriously, while tipping decisions in favor of the downtrodden whenever she could. Was she a champion of the people? That's likely too generous. However, in the faces of beggars, she saw Esther staring back at her, challenging her to do better, to be better. She helped where she could, while she secured herself a position in the world of man. She carried her influence over to America, and now, in Seattle, she continues her games. Selena O'Ryan is an enigma in the city's high society. Little is known about her prior to her arrival on the coast, but it's clear that she is ambitious. Officially, she runs a meditative retreat on the edge of the city, dedicated to women's health. Unofficially, she is the woman with an ear in every office, a girl in every room. She is the Moon, and the Moon is always watching. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Artemis is swayed by little. While her family is always a priority of sorts, she long ago learned to leave them to their mistakes. She will defend them if need be, but she despises their petty drama, and does her best to rise above it. That is of course, until she finds herself offended. Primarily, Artemis desires the safety of her girls, by whatever means necessary. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The day the mortals find them. She does not need her brother's gifts of prophecy to know that they will come again, just as they did all those centuries ago. The world is advancing, and she worries about the day when humans tire of Prometheus' Flame, and fill their greedy hearts with the desire for more.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Artemis, goddess of the hunt

g o d e s s o f t h e h u n t
_{A R T E M I S 
A R T E M I S}

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	hunter schaefer | #5e74ee ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Lady of the Hunt Mistress of the Wood Diana ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ the hunt, wilderness, the moon, chastity ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{easy they come, easy they go, i jump from the train, i ride off alone}}

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 T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D
T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D

^{There was a time when Artemis was a storm of divine power. The trees bowed for her, the animals of the forest loved her kind hands and feared her swift arrows, and she had mastered the moon and all its silver light. Once upon a time, she was a terror to those who'd scorned her, but now, Artemis is little more than a dog whisperer. While she retained a stunning control over wild animals, the rest of her divine gifts seem to have faded.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{i never grew up, it's getting so old, help me hold onto you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Diligent & Reliable Honorable & Brave Wise & Responsible⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Vengeful & Petty Hypocritical & Manipulative Arrogant & Cruel ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Selena O'Ryan ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ lesbian (except for that one time), female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Owner and operator of Moon River Retreat

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{i've been the archer, i've been the prey. who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Perhaps Artemis' nature is not surprising, given the nature of her beginning. Conceived out of a tryst between Zeus and Leto, Artemis and her brother were forced to face Hera's wrath while still in the womb. No place was safe for her mother, not with Hera's serpent following her every move. When Leto finally found refuge on Delos, the twins were nearly there. Artemis came into the world, stoic from the moment she opened her eyes. Her infancy was short lived, as moments later, she helped deliver her brother. While her brother sought immediate vengeance on Hera's beast, Artemis, always the more calculated of the twins, was far more willing to bide her time. While her brother gallivanted across the earth, inspiring mortals and finding pleasure wherever a lyre was plucked, Artemis spent her time traipsing through the forest, hunting the creatures of the earth and exploring the unknown wilds. She did share her brother's interest in mortals though, at least certain ones. Artemis was known to collect young maidens like they were coins, often saving them from the terrors of the forest. Always young, always virginal, always beautiful. These were the benefits of being a Huntress. Some think Artemis' vow of chastity is as old as time itself, entwine with her essence. While it's true that she took chastity as a sign of devotion in her Huntresses, Artemis did not take her own vow until later. Not until Orion. He had been a demigod, a child of Poseidon and a princess of Crete. Their meeting was fortuitous, and Artemis, whose eyes were rarely drawn to anything other than adventure, found herself enthralled by the young hunter. She began to spend her days with him, the first man to hold her bow, and those days turned into weeks, and then months. At night, they lay beneath the moon and watched the stars. It was perfect... until it wasn't. Mortals don't live forever, she knew that, but she had not expected him to be taken so suddenly. The scorpion moved faster, even faster than her, and she'd turned her back to him, and... when she turned to face him again, he was dead. She asked her father to bury him amongst the stars, and swore off love and anything that might lead to it. Artemis was always colder than her brother, more prone to offense, but after Orion she seemed to grow even closer to the wilds that she loved so much. Her vengeance became legendary in the wake of her grief. The likes of Actaeon and Niobe learned that the hard way. Artemis' wrath was terrifying, and lasting. When Apollo came to her, fuming over Hyacinth's death and seeking revenge on Boreas' blood, she was all too happy to help. She'd always thought it silly to entrust Titans with the Sun and Moon. The only trustworthy one was her mother. She took the responsibility of her chariot much more seriously than her brother. In part, she enjoyed the solitude, and the respect the mortals heaped upon her as she drew the silver light across the sky. Truly though, what she loved the most, was the proximity to Orion. Every night, she got to visit his resting place, where he watched over her with shining, bright eyes. She would've traded anything, to stay there amongst the stars with him. Alas, the Fates had other plans. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ At first, there was darkness. Never ending shadows, impenetrable, unescapable. Soon though, the darkness faded, and dreams swept her away. Orion was there, guiding her through the labyrinth of her mind, until, with a crash, he was taken away again. As she and the other gods began to stir, the dream faded away, and when she awoke, she was not alone. Perhaps it was a good thing that Artemis was one of the last to awake. Had she had it her way, there would've been a massacre, but cooler heads prevailed. She stuck around long enough to learn that nobody knew anything truly useful, before slipping off to explore this new world. When she wasn't checking in on the immortal leech that was her brother, she was hunting in the woods. She never lost her love of followers, and wherever she tread, young women seemed to trail close behind. Some were girls she'd rescued from danger, others had simply heard tales of a band of women traveling through the wilderness, and sought to join. Artemis offered them a rare form of adventure, not easily found for girls of the town. All she asked for in return, was devotion. In the early years, she did not hide what she was from them. She saw no reason to. But mortals were cruel, and soon, word of her travels reached the wrong ears. After centuries on Earth, many of Artemis' memories have blended together or faded completely, but she never forgot the night the Christians came. The sound of hooves beating the ground raw woke her, and she opened her tent to see them bearing down on her camp, bringing fire and steel. Her and her girls fought back, valiantly. She called on the forest for aid, but she was not the goddess she once was. So she was forced to watch as men ripped her life to shreds. They killed her, and left her for dead, and while her consciousness swam in a formless haze, she plotted. Revenge, not on the men who'd wronged her, for they were numerous and masked. She'd have to settle for those they protected, those they fought for. When she rose again, she set out on her bloody path. In between Festivals, she tore swathes across the countrysides, a pale spirit of vengeance haunting from the shadows, all those mortals who turned to that false god. She was not such a great warrior that she was free from defeat. But each time they cut her down, she rose, made stronger by rage. A boogeyman to haunt the Dark Ages. The years fell away however, and Artemis' crusade did little in the grand scheme of things. She watched as the monuments to her family were torn down, as the remnants of her people were scattered to the winds, or forced under the yoke of the Nazarene. Few know why Artemis ceased her bloody vengeance. She has always kept her pain close to her. Apollo though, and a handful of other Olympians, know that it was love that stayed the Moon's blade, just as it had set it into motion. Her name was Esther, and she was everything. Courageous, compassionate, willful. When Artemis came for her village, it was Esther who stayed the moon goddess' hand, froze the notched arrow. In Esther, Artemis was reminded of the virtues that mortals possessed, and so she agreed to spare the town, so long as Esther traveled with her. Initially, Esther resented the arrangement, but this only made her more unique in Artemis' eyes. In the woods, they grew close. Esther was wise, and Artemis enjoyed that wisdom. She had grown so tired of nights without conversation, nights without love. Esther unearthed a kindness in her that Artemis had thought lost amidst the stars. Under the light of the moon, a bond grew, deeper than the one she'd shared with Orion, or anyone before. In the end, it was Artemis' own hubris that cost Esther her life. After a year together, Artemis brought the young woman with her, to the next Festival of Life. There, in secret, Artemis fed her share of ambrosia to her lover, in the hopes that divinity might reach out its hand and grant her eternal life. Instead, it strangled her. Esther screamed, and writhed, and within a moment, was burned away by the fruit of the gods, her mortal soul scorched by the light of the divine. Artemis held the corpse in her arms, and swore an oath; no more innocents would fall before her. And so, after decades of rage, Artemis finally calmed herself, for Esther. She was an arbiter of justice no longer. As castles rose and with them, new empires, Artemis positioned herself in places of power, a wise woman on the shoulder of kings. She did what she could to honor Esther, to hold true to her vow. She preached moderation in times of excess, restraint in times of war. Her folly was not in her words, but in her belief that deep down, every mortal was as good and innocent as the woman she'd loved. The truth was that few were. Every day without Esther reminded her of the sins of man, and made it harder and harder to keep her oath. Artemis kept her oath though, until the world demanded more of her. She did not give in to the rage she'd felt once before. She approached the world with her old calculated certainty, an arrow in the dark. Subterfuge and politicking became her arrows, whispers her bow. Violence was no longer her way. Of course, words can be just as violent as a blade. With a new group of girls to serve as eyes and ears, Artemis built influence and wealth across her many identities, enough so that she could live luxuriously, while tipping decisions in favor of the downtrodden whenever she could. Was she a champion of the people? That's likely too generous. However, in the faces of beggars, she saw Esther staring back at her, challenging her to do better, to be better. She helped where she could, while she secured herself a position in the world of man. She carried her influence over to America, and now, in Seattle, she continues her games. Selena O'Ryan is an enigma in the city's high society. Little is known about her prior to her arrival on the coast, but it's clear that she is ambitious. Officially, she runs a meditative retreat on the edge of the city, dedicated to women's health. Unofficially, she is the woman with an ear in every office, a girl in every room. She is the Moon, and the Moon is always watching. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Artemis is swayed by little. While her family is always a priority of sorts, she long ago learned to leave them to their mistakes. She will defend them if need be, but she despises their petty drama, and does her best to rise above it. That is of course, until she finds herself offended. Primarily, Artemis desires the safety of her girls, by whatever means necessary. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The day the mortals find them. She does not need her brother's gifts of prophecy to know that they will come again, just as they did all those centuries ago. The world is advancing, and she worries about the day when humans tire of Prometheus' Flame, and fill their greedy hearts with the desire for more.

Anteros, god of lovers

g o d o f l o v e r s
_{A N T E R O S 
A N T E R O S}

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx	harris dickinson | #facade ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Erote ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ requited love and lovers ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{i am your sweetheart psychopathic crush, drink up your movements, still i can't get enough}}

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 L O V E ' S T O U C H
L O V E ' S T O U C H

^{What was once a piece of a larger group of powers that could bring Greece to its knees, is now just a sliver of divinity. Anteros once reigned over those sweethearts so happily in love, second only to his mother in that domain. Today, he is still tapped into the power we call love, though his grasp on it is tenuous at best. Once though, he could send mortals swooning after one another, proclaiming their eternal love, and it would be real. Now, he has only the most minor of influences over the minds of mortals and gods. He has no power to place love where it has never been, but where there is a mutual love, he can sense it and nudge the participants together.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{I overthink your punctuation use, not my fault, just a thing that my mind do}}

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Jacek Philon ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty one ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ pansexual, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ College Student

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{our thing progresses, i call and you come through, blow all my friendships, to sit in hell with you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Before Pothos, there was Eros, the winged god of love found through lust. Atop Olympus though, Eros was one of few children, and so, as gods are wont to do, Ares and Aphrodite conceived a playmate for Eros, a brother. For love must not be alone, to flourish. So it was that Anteros sprang into being, a boy with a pleasing disposition and the wings of a butterfly. He was born to keep Eros company, to keep him happy, and so he did. The brothers spent those years as a duo. Eros, with his bow, drove the humans into the throes of passion, and Anteros decided which pairings were meant to be, tying people together with his own arrows. He grew fond of his position, content to follow Eros, so long as none interfered in his pairings. Of course, interference was inevitable. Soon, two became three, and with the birth of Pothos, Anteros became part of the Erotes. Pothos and her lead arrows brought complications, wrenches thrown into the delicate gears of the relationships he so loved to cultivate. He took to stealing away from his siblings, hiding those couples he valued most from their prying eyes. He found Apollo and Hyacinthus on one of these days, and watched as their love turned to ashes pressed against the sun god's chest. He watched as Theseus deposited Ariadne on a desert island, scorning the love that Anteros had so carefully cultivated. He saw Patroclus fall, and Achilles driven into madness by fate. In these stories and many others, he learned something. It was not Pothos who brought pain to relationships. Her meddling was not required most times. To love was to lose, to hurt. This revelation brought him to his knees, forced him into mourning. For what was he if not a bringer of pain? Was he any different than Phobos and Deimos, the twins of terror? Perhaps it was his siblings who were merciful, for all he did was ensure the pain of a broken heart. If he was intent on finding an answer to this eternal problem, it was of no use. As Anteros struggled with his place, the World Tree was shriveling, dying, poisoned at the root. With a terrible roar, Olympus fell from the sky, and Anteros fell with it. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ Mortaldom was, surprisingly, the perfect antidote to his melancholy. Anteros became known amongst the fallen gods for his fast and fleeting romances. He was prone to falling headfirst into passionate, whirlwind romances that left him reeling. He entered a cycle, finding a new lover, exhausting them, wallowing in the pain of the breakup, celebrating his new freedom to love and be loved, and starting the whole thing over again. Throughout the years on Earth, Anteros was never one to stray from his family. His earlier gripes had been washed away by their new situation, and without the weight of their responsibilities, Anteros found his siblings more tolerable than he had in the days of Olympus. Modernity ushered the world into ever changing eras, and as wandering became less viable, Anteros surrounded himself with mortal youths. He enrolled in college, too many times to count, less for the education and moreso to be around the myriad of young adults searching for love between classes. As his own human dalliances bored him more and more, he once again took pleasure in pushing people together and playing matchmaker. No longer was he forced to watch people fall apart. He could watch the good part, and pretend it all worked out like the fairy tales. In Seattle, Anteros has found himself at school once more, enjoying his endless days. Mortal life has only grown infinitely more interesting to him in the centuries since the Fall, and he is not likely to give it up anytime soon. He's come to enjoy the quirks of this life, and the ease with which he moves through it. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Anteros is driven by two things: his own whims, and those of his family. He does what he wants, most of the time, and what he wants is hardly of importance to the likes of Zeus and Ra. However, when his mother or siblings come calling, he is a loyal servant, born to follow them wherever they might lead him. He wants what they want, even if it kills him sometimes. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ Love, hate, sadness and pain. These are emotions that Anteros knows well. Fear though, is unfamiliar to him. He felt it first, as Olympus fell. Later, he felt the gnawings of it at his stomach, when Eros skipped a Conclave. The centuries have given him time to mull on that which makes him afraid, and he's concluded that it is the idea of losing his family. Not necessarily because of the pain (though he imagines there would be quite a bit of that) but because he is unsure who he is without them. He is an Erote, even as a mortal. All his running from them would never change the fact that he was born to keep Eros company. Without the others, he is nothing.

Apollo, god of music and oracles

g o d o f m u s i c
_{A P O L L O 
A P O L L O}

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	brenton thwaites | #eed873 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ The Bright One ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ oracles, the sun, music, healing and poetry ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{so many tears I've cried, so much pain inside}}

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 P R O P H E C Y
P R O P H E C Y

^{Many people, including Apollo himself, have forgotten his role as the patron of oracles. The universe, it seems, did not. Apollo's songs, enchanting as they are, are ever so often tinged with words of prophetic wisdom. He knows precious little about what the future holds, only that sometimes, his lyrics light the way.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{but baby, it ain't over till it's over}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Optimistic & Creative Passionate & Empathetic Loyal & Brave⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Hedonistic & Impulsive Vengeful & Manipulative Juvenile & Vain ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Alexander Calimeris ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ bicon, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Host of popular radio show, Rise and Whine.

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{so many years we've tried to keep our love alive}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Zeus had never been known for his fidelity, of that, everyone can agree. Leto was just another woman in a long line of affairs, hardly even the first to get pregnant. Nevertheless, Hera came at her with all the rage she usually mustered, and sent the serpent Python slithering after the pregnant Leto. Tired and alone, with the serpent closing in, Leto found refuge on Delos, the ever moving island. Unbound, Delos floated across the many seas, keeping Leto safe from Python. It was on Delos where the twins were born, first Artemis, and then her brother, golden Apollo. Suckling on nectar and nibbling on ambrosia, Apollo grew faster than any mortal. He was fully grown within days, and hungry for vengeance on the beast that had hunted his mother. A babe in man's clothes, he slung his bow across his back and set off to slay a monster. He found the serpent at Delphi, guarding the resting place of his mother, Gaia. Their battle raged for three days, and three nights, but as the sun rose on the fourth morning, Apollo loosed his final arrow, and the great Python fell to the ground, dead. Apollo took Delphi as his sacred site after the battle, and in the years to come, he'd be known as the patron of Oracles. As a young Olympian, Apollo flaunted his divinity every chance he got, leading him into a myriad of troubling situations. Everyone knows the story of him, Daphne, and Eros' accursed arrows. For a long time, Apollo was a sort of proof that gods were just as unchanging as the mortals they lorded over. That is, until Hyacinth. Brash and braggadocios, Apollo was known for falling fast, and leaving faster. What drew him so closely to Hyacinth, none can say for certain. Perhaps it was his beauty, supposedly unmatched, or perhaps it was the fact that Hyacinth chose Apollo over all his other suitors? Whatever the reason, their love, like everything Apollo was apart of, was bright and splendid. Of course, like anything involving a mortal, it was also fleeting. Hyacinth's choice had angered Boreas, the North Wind, and he was not known for his forgiveness. One day, while Apollo and Hyacinth were throwing a discus, Boreas swooped down, and sent the disc crashing into Hyacinth's skull. He was dead before he hit the ground. Apollo held him until the sun went down, and on the earth, where divine tears and mortal blood mingled, a flower grew. Apollo named the flower for his dead lover, and buried him at the foot of his temple. Then he swore his revenge. Zeus had forbade him from taking revenge on the winds, but he had said nothing about the other Titans, those who'd sided with the gods and been allowed to keep their domains in return for their loyalty. Boreas' uncle, the titan Helios, held the sun, and his aunt Selene, the moon. With his sister at his side, Apollo challenged Helios to an archery contest, demanding that he answer for his nephew's crime. Artemis demanded the same challenge of Selene. The stakes? The coveted chariots of the Sun and Moon, one a shining star of gold, the other a shimmering silver. The titans lost that day, and with their chariots went any hope of a return. The Olympians had taken what remained of their regality, and they had nothing left but immortality. Gilded as he already was, the sun was little more than a trinket for Apollo. The awesome responsibility of the chariot was often lost on him, a child in the body of a man, who would rather pluck at a lyre than do any real work. Apollo, more than anything, loved to be worshipped. The sun was ultimately, just another source of mortal prayers to feed his immortal ego. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ The lead up to The Fall is still a dark spot in the sun god's memories. A fuzzy period, within which he can find no solid ground. Those early days though, after The Fall? He remembers those well. The chaos the gods found themselves in, the despair they all shared. Apollo had despised his mortality, had raged against these new chains. In the months following his new status, he drowned himself in the physical pleasures of the earth, base as they may be. No mortal music sounded quite the same as the melodies that he had commanded on Olympus, and no mortal lips were as sweet as those of Hyacinth. It was Artemis who pulled him from melancholy, with news of the Tree. Not the World Tree, that had upheld their mighty realms, but a sapling, one that might maintain their immortality, preserve their godhood until the day it might be saved. So it was, that Apollo found himself at the first Conclave, eating the fruit of this new Tree. As months became years, and years decades, Apollo began to adapt to his new situation. He was petulant, certainly, but there is only so long that one can be resist the workings of fate. He knew this better than most. Mortals were entertaining, at the very least, and with the passage of time halted by his yearly ambrosia, he had eternity to spend amongst them. He traveled far and wide, to Babylon and Constantinople. He watched as empires rose and fell, as mortals discovered new ways to inspire him. Legends circulated of a man, a wanderer who brought only instruments and revelry. Some whispered that if you pleased him, he might even leave a prophecy behind, as a thank you. He misses those days, when stories were just stories, and he and the others had the freedom to exist as they pleased. Of course, the mortals had to go and muck that up too. Apollo might've given them music and culture, but Hephaestus had given them industry and innovation. With that spark, they created even more weapons to defend their great works, and they destroyed any who threatened them. By the time the gods and their tree finally left Europe, he was glad to be free of the continent; the taste of the air had soured there. In America, Apollo found a new home. He'd been before, to sample the liquor of Prohibition, but the country waiting for him two decades later was much different. He was particularly partial to the 60's, when free love reigned and a party was never hard to find. Recent years saw him following the Tree, still beholden to it for his immortality, and immortality he has no intention of ever losing. Mortaldom might be a punishment, but it is nothing compared to the darkness of death that plagues his dreams. In Seattle, Apollo has become Alexander Calimeris, a minor local celebrity thanks to his radio show, Rise and Whine, where, in between carefully curated song selection, Apollo complains about a new thing everyday. In truth, Apollo isn't doing anything differently. He's partying, and inspiring mortals, all with his usual casual attitude. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Apollo gave up on goals a long time ago. He's enjoying immortality as much as he can, uninterested in the greater machinations of his family. He will fight for them if the time comes, but it's been a long time away from Olympus, and any threats have yet to show themselves. He's beginning to think they never will. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ Death. The permanent one. He knows what awaits gods when they die, or at least, he knows it's not Elysium.

Hera, goddess of marriage

g o d d e s s o f m a r r i a g e
_{H E R A 
H E R A}

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	cate blanchett | #7845b8 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Queen of the Gods ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ marriage, women, and childbirth ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl}}

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 U L T R A S O U N D
U L T R A S O U N D

^{As the goddess of childbirth, Hera oversaw the birth of most children, mortal and divine. In her mortal form, Hera is still very much a fertility goddess, able to sense the pregnancies of nearby mortals and gods alike. She has no control over the fate of the child, but she is something better than an ultrasound. Her gift allows her to determine sex, parentage, even health.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Empathetic & Shrewd Resourceful & Resolute Inimitable & Maternal⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Envious & Vindictive Judgemental & Selfish Callous & Shortsighted ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Marilyn Montgomery ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ forty three ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ heterosexual, female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Divorce attorney

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{And I never got past what you put me through, but it's wonderful to see that it never phased you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Hera's life before the fall is a famously tragic tale. Swallowed by her father only moments after birth, she grew up in darkness, with the earliest of Olympians. She remembers little about that time, save the blinding light that came to save them from imprisonment. That, she will never forget, not even when her skin and bones have crumbled into ashes and rejoined the silt of creation. When Zeus freed his siblings from his father's stomach, he enlisted them in his war against the Titans. He took Hera as his queen, a marriage before a war. By his side, Hera slew countless foes. The war raged on, the land torn asunder, and still she fought. She fought for her new husband, and the children he would grant her. She fought for the splendor he would lay at her feet and the throne that he had promised her. Hera's prowess in battle was oft forgotten by the likes of Homer, but it was prevalent nonetheless. She was an Olympian, after all. When the Titans lay broken at the feet of their usurpers, Hera rejoiced with the others, and cradled the empty womb, sure to bear the Prince of Olympus. Only, Hera's child was not the first to be born. Zeus sired three children, one with Metis, two with Leto, before deigning to lay with the woman he'd married. This was only the first of many slights. Hera was forced to watch as Zeus paraded his dalliances across Olympus. She became known for her rage, and Zeus? He became known for his power. It sickened her. Watching him reap the benefits of her work. It was she who tended the divine court, she who wore the crown of a queen. Yet, her son received scorn, while Zeus' bastards were lauded with accolades and power. Wise Athena, Golden Apollo, Shining Artemis. The ever present thorns in her side. Of course, it was not enough for Zeus to simply humiliate her. She could live with humiliation, if it meant that Ares would one day get the position he was owed. When she heard of Zagreus, the unnatural spawn of Life and Death, she was appalled. Zeus had promised the boy a marriage, and a throne, a throne that was her son's by right. This would not stand. She met with Leto, away from the watchful eyes of her brethren, and together, they hatched a plan. United by their hatred of this usurper, the two women led him on a wild goose chase, into the maw of Tartarus. Her only regret was that she needed Leto's help to make it happen. She had plans for Olympus, for Zeus. With Zagreus gone, only Athena and Apollo seemed to present worthy threats to her son's inheritance. Artemis was unconcerned with the power plays of her family, but Athena would claim it, simply to vex Ares, and Apollo was a glutton for spectacle. He would not easily turn his head at a crown. No matter. These two were simply obstacles to be removed. And they might have been, had the world not suddenly crashed in all around her, crushing any hopes she had of redemption. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ What does a queen do without her throne, her crown, or her subjects? Hera had never been forced to ask the question before, but in the wake of Apocalypse, she found herself desperate for an answer. Strong as she was, she had never been...alone. Not once. If she was not accompanied by one of the Olympians, then her handmaids trailed behind her and served at her beck and call. Now, cut off from her power, she had nothing, nothing except her family. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was old habits, but she tried and failed to make Zeus an honest man. Mortaldom had not changed him much, it seemed. Failing with her husband, Hera turned to her children, rotating amongst Ares, Hephaestus, Eileithia, and Hebe. Some enjoyed her more than others, though none could say that Hera had nothing to offer. Overbearing as she was, her mortal life gave her more time to devote to their wellbeing, and their ambitions only benefitted from her continued attention. Far from Olympus, she still fancied herself a kingmaker. The occasional desire for independence surfaced sometime in their third century on Earth, a nagging whisper in her head. She followed it, out into the world, and found that being alone was not quite so frightening as it had been. She did not need Zeus, or her crown, to prove her worth. The mortals saw it, painted across every inch of her. She was regality incarnate, and where she walked, they practically begged to serve her. When Hera wasn't advising one of her children, or meddling in their lives, she found herself hosted in the courts of kings, an enigmatic woman of mysterious origins, paying her way with secrets and whispers. She went on like this for centuries it seemed, the picture of the middle class divorcee, centuries before it would be so in vogue. Loathe as she is to admit it, Artemis was the inspiration for the next phase of her mortal life. Her affinity with the savage girls she collected gave the queen an idea. The mortals clearly needed saving, uplifting, and Artemis certainly wasn't doing them any favors. So it was, as the world prepared for a second war Helena Albrecht arrived on the streets of London, a matronly but stern governess, and the headmistress of Albrecht School For Girls. It was a surprisingly apt role for the former queen, and she grew to think of the girls left in her care as her own children. She did not teach them archery or espionage like Artemis. Rather, she taught them etiquette, literature and poetry, with a healthy dose of statecraft, for every woman must know how to rule, even if her kingdom is just four walls. Then the bombs came. In an instant, the Fall returned for her, and her world was torn asunder. She choked on fire and ash, awash in chaos. When she awoke, she was alone, in the ruins of her school. Her children were gone, and with them, her good will. Hera had been scorned for the last time. She grew colder, if that was even possible. Her walls became bulwarks, and whatever glimmer of mercy that shone inside died with the girls of the Albrecht School. Hera sharpened her edges in America, as a businesswoman, as a small town politician, even as a crime boss. Seattle has witnessed this queen reborn in the form of Marilyn Montgomery, suave and sophisticated socialite, stunningly effective divorce attorney, and ruthless social climber. Rumor has it that Marilyn has eyes on the mayor's seat, but the truth is, Hera has much bigger plans in mind. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Hera wants power, plain and simple. She strives for the respect she's entitled to, not just for herself, but for her children as well. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The death of all her children.

Descension {A God RP}

#blessed

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

Location: Katie’s Room -> OIC Office of Admissions

Mentions: The Saint @horangi | The Empress @Venus | The Pretty Face @KZOMBI3 |

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Time was moving steadily on, and Katie couldn’t help but feel like it was all going so fast. Between her classes and extracurriculars, her dad’s campaign, the oh so ominous absence of Ms. Fortune, and one baseball player in particular, her mind had not known much peace in the last three weeks.

When Birdie texted, she was glad for something to distract her. Clothes were strewn about her room in haphazard piles, the aftermath of her failed attempt to find an outfit for tonight’s events. A whisper in the back of her head had plenty to say about that, but she did her best to ignore it. Ren would help her deal with that later, and she’d help Birdie with this boy trouble now. Besides, confirming a possible stalker was way more important than trying to find an outfit that said, “I’m fun and different, but still classy and way out of your league.”

Growing up surrounded by wealth and status, Katie had learned a thing or two about digging up dirt. Finding out where someone went to school, now, that was usually easy. If she’d been a normal girl, she might’ve sat on her phone for the next hour, scrolling through the various Elliots of the world, trying to match one with the descriptions she’d gotten from Birdie. Katie wasn’t normal though. She had connections, and she liked to use them. Time wasted, was time lost, after all.

Luckily for her, Mr. Callaghan hadn’t lost all of his contacts at OIC. One in particular, was a family friend, one who owed his job in the admissions office to a letter of recommendation from her father. Grant was a few years older than her and Jamie, and his dad had been her grandfather’s favorite driver. The Callaghan’s put Grant through school, and always treated him like one of their own. He’d been close with the twins, closer than close with Katie some might’ve said, but that was a long time ago now. Katie always thought that was normal, that that was just how her family was. Generous. She would learn, and later accept, that she was wrong. Grant, and all the other people her family liked to lift up, were just investments. Today she figured she’d collect.

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Katie walked into the Office of Admissions with her usual swagger. The interior of the building was regal, dripping with money. If she was anybody else, she might’ve stopped to admire the decor, the meticulous details, but she was a Callaghan, and wealth didn’t faze her. In the warm yellow light, she seemed to glow, luminous as she strutted across marble floors, clad in designer fabrics and extravagance.

She found Grant on the second floor, quietly tapping away at his computer. He was tall, dark hair framing a handsomely average face, green eyes tucked away behind black framed glasses. He didn’t look up as she walked over, nor as she stopped in front of his desk. Finally, Katie tapped her manicured nails against the monitor, and Grant gave her the attention she was so used to commanding, looking up at her with the startled expression of a deer about to meet the front end of a car.

“Grant Petrov, is that any way to greet a friend?” Katie tilted her head and smiled, fluttered her eyelashes just a little too much to be unaware of what she was doing. Of course, she never was. She knew she was gorgeous, knew that men fell for that kind of shit, and was certainly not going to waste a gift she’d been so generously given.

She knew too, that Grant had never really gotten over their summer all those years ago. She saw it in the flush that came to his cheeks, and the way his eyes stuck on her hair just a bit longer, the same hair she’d let him run his fingers through, when she was young and he seemed exciting. Of course, he’d only been an adventure for a moment, and then he became another mundanity. She broke it off as soon as it started, but she didn’t have any qualms about using his feelings to get what she needed. It was harmless anyways, and it wasn’t like this was something Zach needed to know about.

“Katie! Uh, hi!” Grant stammered out his response, eyes flicking everywhere but never quite landing on her face for more than a second. “What-uh I mean, erm, what are you doing here?”

“Good to see that I was missed,” Katie joked. She looked around, spotted an empty chair, and as if she owned the place, swiveled it over so that she could sit, ignorant to Grant’s attempted protestations. “So, how have you been?”

Grant looked around, like he was stuck in a cage. Katie suddenly noticed that this wasn’t the usual Grant Petrov nervousness that had been so endearing in her childhood. He was practically shaking. “Good. Good, just, y’know, working.” He practically hissed the last word at her, as if some extra force might deter her.

“Clearly. I mean like, you know, with life and everything.”

Grant sighed. “Katie, what do you want?” The look he gave her was unmistakable this time. If there were still feelings there, in those green eyes, they weren’t some misplaced love.

Confusion broke through the confident mask that Katie wore so well. “Grant, what-”

“There’s always something with you guys. It’s never enough. Fucking Callaghans. My dad drove your grandfather around for practically his entire life, but that wasn’t enough, you guys needed me too, right? Look, tell your dad it was low of him to send you here, and that-”

“Why the fuck would my dad send me?” Katie said, hushed as she could with the sudden adrenaline of her rage beginning to course through her. The mention of her father wormed it’s way into her brain. Last she heard, Grant and her father had been fine. When had the world gone upside down? “Look, obviously we aren’t as cool as I thought we were, but-”

“I mean, are you shocked? Really? I wasn’t going to be okay with you running me around on some leash all my life, Katie. I used to think you were really something, but you know what Katie? You’re just like your dad. Like a fucking truffle pig, just tracking down people you can use.”

Truthfully, if she hadn’t been doing this for Birdie, she would’ve hit him. Anger bubbled in her, hot and dark and mean. She bit the inside of her lip, and stayed silent for a moment. Deep down, she had this sinking feeling that he was right. Not because she was insecure, but because she knew it was true. She’d thought it enough herself, had pondered over this mistake, and all the ones after that seemed to wear his face. Would this be how Zach saw her, seven years from now?

She let out a long breath, and spoke. “Grant, we can go over all the ways I’ve fucked things up sometime over dinner, my treat, but right now, I’m trying to help my friend. I just need to run a name by you, that’s it. It’s probably only like, a mild invasion of privacy, and if you were in the mood to hear the story, which you’re clearly not, you’d probably be on my side.” This wasn’t Katie as she usually was, at least not completely. This was Katie as the guards lowered their spears, vulnerable, at least ever so slightly.

Grant stared back at her for, and for a moment she thought she’d failed. “One name.”

Katie grinned. “Elliot Wood? Woodward? I don’t know his last name for sure, but he’d be a recent transfer.”

Grant turned to his computer and the keyboard let out a quick beat as his fingers fell against it. “I’ve got an Elliot Underwood. UCLA transfer.”

“Anybody else?”

“He’s the only one this year.” Grant said. There was still a terseness to his voice, but it had softened somewhat. Somehow, she felt worse about that; that she’d done such a number on him, he couldn’t even hate her properly.

“That works. Thank you, Grant. Seriously.” She went to place a hand on his shoulder but thought better of it. There was a rift between them that she hadn’t noticed, and it had thrown her for a loop. She was used to being on top of everything, in control of everything. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she couldn’t shove away the doubt creeping it’s way into her mind. She got up to leave, and as she did, Grant let her name slip from his mouth, this time without the hard edges of earlier.

“If you stopped sprinting for a second, things might seem easier, y’know?”

Katie looked at him and smiled, softly. “Wouldn’t the world like that?” She turned and walked away without another word. She couldn’t imagine a world where she wasn’t running all the time, spinning as many plates as she could, especially now. Suddenly, she had a friend to help, a father to look into, and a budding romance to keep alive. There wasn’t time to stop.

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

_{A @smarty0114 & @viktorseier collab, with a special guest appearance by @nasty}

_{Location: 155 Cafe}

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“You better not have gotten me anything shitty, Callaghan.”

Jamie was embarrassed by the little flip his stomach did at the sound of Axel’s voice, shamed by the speed with which his head turned to face him, and mortified by the sudden heat in his cheeks. Nobody seemed to say his last name quite so perfectly. He steadied himself, hopefully fast enough to escape Axel’s notice, and pushed a coffee cup and a small bag across the table. “Coffee and a breakfast sandwich, because I’m a wonderful person,” Jamie said, taking a sip of his own drink just to have something to do with his hands. “Are you grumpy cause of your brother, or cause of the bulletin board?”

“Who’s cranky? I’m fucking ecstatic. You can tell by my big smile.” Axel responded with a forced, sarcastic smile, reaching out and grabbing the coffee Jamie had so gallantly bought him. “Bulletin board? The hell you’re talking about?” Making sure to completely ignore and move past the brother comment, Axel raised an eyebrow as he took a big swig.

”Okay, this is actually pretty damn good coffee.”

“You’re welcome,” Jamie said with a nod. “Hold on.” Jamie fished his phone from his jacket pocket, and unlocked, quickly locating one of the many photos of the bulletin board, currently circulating the OIC social media sphere. “This, is the bulletin board.”

Axel narrowed his eyes down at the screen, letting out a scoff.

“‘Lost Cause’... who wrote this, my fucking dad?” Not seeming too bothered, he leaned back on his seat with a shrug, the ghost of a grin on his face “At least yours is kinda cool. Snake. Pretty badass, if you ask me.”

Jamie laughed. “I don’t think it’s meant to be endearing, but I’ll take it.” Jamie’s lips parted as if another question might fall from them, but then he closed them and the question died. Of course it was there, always there in the background whenever he was with him. The way he’d skirted the mention of his brother wasn’t lost on Jamie. He knew this place was hell for Axel, and he often wondered if he was selfish for wanting him to stay. “At least somebody cares what we’re doing. Maybe it’ll be kind of fun to have a secret paparazzi running around. I’m sure there’s not much of that in Vermont.”

“You’re giving this random chick with an uninspired pun for a name way too much credit. ” He snorted, shaking his head at the boy sitting across from him, who was the only person who managed to get this many words out of Axel without getting insulted or told to fuck off “I dunno’ about fun. Not a big fan of having people all up in my business, Callaghan. You already know way too much about me to my liking.”

“Y’know I think there’s a term for that. Emotionally unavailable?” Jamie said, a smirk dancing it’s way across his face. “Not that we should normalize digital stalking or anything. Just that, this place might suck a smidge less if you opened yourself up to it.” He could think of some other ways they could make this situation suck less, but Jamie had convinced himself that those would only bring about rejection and hurt.

“Fuck off.” Axel replied, with no heat to his words and a grin on his face, knowing Jamie wasn’t exactly wrong about that “Why would I do that? I already got you bothering me, that’s bad enough.” He shrugged, taking another swig of the black, sugar-less coffee and not thinking too much into what he said.

In truth, that wasn’t the worst response Jamie could think of. Admittedly, maybe even selfishly, he enjoyed being the most important person in Axel’s OIC life. Before he could shoot back a response of his own, his phone buzzed against the table, three loud vibrations in quick succession. Only one person demanded his attention so forcefully. Rolling his eyes, he reached out for his phone and opened it up to confirm his suspicions.

From:Katie
look at what this bitch said

From:Katie
this shit can’t fly dude, dad will murder me if this becomes a thing

From:Katie
it’s scorched earth time

The texts came with an accompanying screenshot, a twitter exchange between one Kat Vaupel, and his sister. Silently, he scanned the screen, and felt as his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Jamie and Katie’s father had always been a fiery man. His anger was a wildfire, burning everything in it’s path. Katie had taken after him. Jamie on the other hand, had taken after his mother. His rage, like hers, was calm, cool, and icy. So, when he rose from the table, it was without a word, barely a flicker of disruption, aside from the way his fingernails scratched against his cuticles.

He found Kat right where he’d last seen her. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was about to say. He wasn’t even all that sure if Axel was behind him, or if he was just watching him take a kamikaze dive straight into the ocean. Jamie was past caring about either issue. He set his phone, open to the screenshot Katie had sent him, in front of Kat. He didn’t sit. This wasn’t a conversation between friends, and he saw no reason anymore to continue those pleasantries.

“Look, if you have a problem with me, that’s fucking fine, but keep my sister out of it. You barely know me, and you sure as hell don’t know her.” Jamie wasn’t concerned if people heard, if he made a scene. “There’s a million other things you could be doing to help people, but instead, you’re pulling out your soapbox and doing what exactly? Putting the kids of some washed up director in their place? Give her a medal and call her Chief Comrade everybody!”

Kat glanced lazily at Jamie's phone screen, shoulders slumped, eyes de-shined. All traces of whimsy were dashed from her mind. ”Eugh, yea-” , she said, gazing up at Jaime. ”What? Like what do you actually want me to do about this?”

She raised her shoulders in a mock shrug, holding them up for a whole second, mouth thinning into a smile that only asked why she should care. ”I posted some shit on twitter and your sister took it, like - way - too fucking seriously. I mean- I guess I knew you would. But anyway. Twitter’s hardly a fucking soapbox, you just think it’s a bigger deal than it actually is because you’re a self entitled prick who thinks everyone is paying attention to every mention of your name or whatever. I used you as an example of a systemic issue. Get over it.”

“You might not realize it, but I’m doing you a fucking favor. Katie will go full Sherman’s March on you. You think you can play in the big leagues, but you just can’t Kat. Most people wouldn’t be so accommodating as to give you fair warning. Pull this shit down, and get a journal like everyone else.”

”Um- Jaime. I don’t know how you don’t… like how don’t you know that I really don’t give a shit about these ‘big leagues’? It really- she started, before spotting Axel at the other table. ”I’m sure he gets it. Like actually, do you seriously give this much of a fuck? It’s… dude, isn’t this twitter we’re talking about?”

Jamie scoffed. “Okay Kat, fine.” He reached down and picked his phone back up, shaking his head. “You know, it’s funny how you seem to recognize that the world falls into place around people like my sister and I, and yet, you act like it’ll do the same for you.”

”Um… what? I- I literally just told you I don’t care for that. It’s absurd. I’d…” Kat started. She looked around the room, baffled, as if the right thing to say would jump out at her. ”I dunno, I’d piss on you before I let myself consider anything like that - let alone myself - important.”

Jamie began to turn away, but not without one final remark. “And, I think I will help with Jeim’s fundraiser. What can I say, I guess you’ve inspired me?”

”Uhm… okay? Good for you.” Kat said. Her eyes slid slowly down to her phone once more, never once objecting to Jaime’s leaving.

Jamie strode across the cafe, ice still running through his veins. He slid back into his seat across from Axel and felt it begin to thaw, ever so slightly. He was suddenly aware of the eyes watching him, the glances down at phones with screens he could not see. His lip found it’s way between his teeth. “I’m sorry, that was… Look I get a good vendetta, but there’s no need to bring Katie into it,” Jamie said, shaking his head like his disapproval wasn’t already obvious. He took a steadying sip of his coffee, and wondered when the arrow he’d just fired into the sky would fall.

“Jesus, stop apologizing, snake. Gotta live up to your new nickname.” Axel mouth turned upright into an amused smile, the first proper one since he’d arrived in this hellscape of a school. If he noticed the eyes on them, he didn’t care- if anything, Axel’s mood seemed to have improved significantly after seeing Jamie blow up “At least you just made my morning a little more interesting, Callaghan.”

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

Location: Dorms -> 155° Cafe

Interactions: Andreas Mossos @metanoia

ootd

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Charlie Baker’s fifteenth morning at OIC did not seem very different than all the others. She awoke, from a distant dream that left no trace, aside from the pit of discomfort that rested within her gut. This school was… a lot. In her first two weeks she’d already failed her first quiz ever, and had received no fewer than twelve, truly icy stares. Apparently a trust fund gave you a lot of time to practice making other people feel like shit, without even opening your mouth.

She showered and dressed without incident, though there was a pang of melancholy. Charlie had come to OIC with a suitcase full of clothes she’d designed and made for herself, but outside of the random shoots she’d done, she hadn’t had the balls to wear any of it herself. She had naively thought that this school would have a place ready for her, that she wouldn’t have to carve out her own. She wasn’t sure she could handle it, if one of these kids came for her clothes. That would hurt too much.

There was of course, still the hole in the universe where her dad ought to be, or at least, answers about him. She’d been naive in that too; hoping that she would just stumble into a man she’d never met, who probably didn’t know about her, and feel the connection that some people don’t, even after knowing their father all their lives. As she began the trek towards the quad to meet Dre, she couldn’t help but feel silly, and not in the good way. That, was not how she liked to be with Dre. He was one of the few trust fund babies she enjoyed, but he intimidated her in a way. Everyone here did.

Back in New Mexico, she’d been the big fish. Sure, being an army brat didn’t give much in the way of stability, but it gave plenty in terms of experience, and alone time to read. Here though, with kids who’d been spoonfed Ivy league critical thinking skills since they were old enough to toddle? She was starting to think that New Mexico had simply been a pond, and that she was a freshwater fish who’d somehow gotten themselves out into the ocean. No. You belong here. You got in, same as everyone else.

That affirmation carried her to the gate. She was almost starting to come out of this self-pitying funk, might’ve, if it hadn’t been for that stupid fucking bulletin board.

Brat

There it was, written for everyone to see, just beneath a picture of her laughing. A piece of her recognized a few other faces up there, but her consciousness was closing in on itself now, swirling around that one word, scrawled in such nice handwriting. She hugged her bag to her chest and pushed through the crowd and into the quad, walking as fast as she could towards the cafe.

She could feel her eyes burning with unspilt tears. She hated crying, refused the catharsis whenever she could, but right now, she could do no such thing. The emotions of the last two weeks had reached a boiling point, and the dam within her was finally bursting. She felt a tear slip out and her hand moved violently to her face, wiping it away. She was vaguely aware of stepping into the cafe, pushing through the line and to the bathroom.

She gripped the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. A sob broke out, quickly muffled by her arm. She found her way into one of the stalls, locking it and sitting down on the toilet, pulling her feet up so that she might hug her knees to her chest. Why the fuck did you come here?

---

She was only in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, it turned out. She thought when she stepped out, finally satisfied that her eyes weren’t a red, puffy mess, that Dre would be waiting for her, truly perturbed at her for wasting his time, but she didn’t see him anywhere. She took a booth by the door, and sat down, somewhat gloomier than normal, but otherwise none the worse for wear. If there was anything she hated more than tears, it was others knowing that she’d shed them.

She saw him come in, and shouted his name, waving with the kind of enthusiasm that said, “Hey! I definitely wasn’t just crying in the bathroom!” Watching Dre almost give himself whiplash in an attempt to find her voice brought a much needed smile to her face though. "Hey, uh, sorry if I'm late. Kinda got caught up in that bulletin board and just kind of lost track of time."

If Charlie noticed anything wrong with Andre, she didn’t say anything. She let out a commisarating sigh, and shook her head. “What the fuck is with that thing anyways? Is that like, real? Like do people actually care about what we do?”

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

_{a @horangi + @smarty0114 collab
ʜᴀsᴛɪɴɢs ʟɪʙʀᴀʀʏ | 𝟿:𝟺𝟻 ᴀᴍ}

---

The words in front of Katie were already beginning to swim as her mind refused to stay nicely situated within the confines she’d so thoughtfully laid out. She couldn’t help but think about Ms. Fortune and all the pictures she’d seen this morning. She wasn’t just worried for herself. She was worried for her friends, who probably had way more to get hurt by.

“Not losing sleep over Political Ideology, are we Ms. Callaghan? You know there are much more exciting things to trade for your beauty sleep.”

Katie’s head swung around at the sound of the familiar voice, and a grin broke out across her face once her suspicions were confirmed, followed by an ever so subtle flushing in her cheeks. “And how much beauty sleep do you think I need, exactly?” Katie asked, cocking her head as a playful smile danced it’s way across her face. She turned away from her laptop, and gestured at the empty seat next to her. When Zach was around, homework was suddenly far less of a priority.

“Not a lot. Mmm…” Zach’s voice trailed off as he took the invitation to sit beside her. Settled sideways into the chair with his knees pointed towards her and his torso supported by the table, Zach returned to his previous thought.

“Just enough for a round two or world domination,” he issued a quick wink leaning in towards her a bit, “your choice, of course..” The warm southern twang of his was not without the tone of suggestion as he held Katie’s gaze with ease.

Katie let out a gasp of faux offense and smacked his arm “Zachary Bishop, what would Jesus say?” She leaned in towards him, ever so slightly, while a slender finger twirled a lock of her hair around. Zach was the kind of boy who latched onto her synapses, and set her whole nervous system alight. The kind of boy she loved to dance these little waltzes with, so long as she got to lead.

Zach’s hearty chuckle at Katie’s teasing earned him a withering glare from the passing librarian, but he was enjoying himself far too much to care. What would a college library be without an obnoxious jock making too much noise in one of its corners?

“The lord did say to love your neighbors, but he never specified how to love them.” Zach offered in a light-hearted manner as he leaned back slowly, letting the building tension fade away, “plus, I reckon I’d have been smited already if Jesus was watching out for the shit I get up to on the day to day. Unless Ms.Fortune is the new messiah, and she’s gearing up to send the sinners of OIC to the slaughter.” Zach shifted topics easily but kept his eyes on Katie’s face; it was easier to measure the furrow of a brow or the downturn of her lips than it was to flat out ask her how she was. Politician’s kids were always doing “great.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Katie said, an exasperated sigh tearing past her lips. “Are we really that interesting? I mean, obviously we are,” Katie gestured between the two of them, “but it’s not like Jamie has anything going on. And all the new kids? Who cares what some scholarshit kid gets up to in their spare time. I guess it’s asking too much to have a normal year, god forbid our tuition pay for that instead of Kat Vaupel’s fucking scholarship.” Katie shook her head, blonde waves bouncing around her as she did, and forced a smile back on.

“Enough about things that piss me off though. I can’t go nuclear yet, it’s only week three,” Katie said. She did her best to refrain from having any meltdowns until at least week five. “How was your weekend? Last time I saw you I think I was carrying Jamie back to his room.”

Zach’s smile was a knowing one. His eyes never wandered away from the golden beauty in front of him as she shared her unfiltered thoughts. Perhaps that’s what Zach enjoyed so much about Katie Callaghan, ” Ah, you know, the life of a star college football player is riveting. Early mornings in the gym and late nights on the field, it’s like a 24/7 sausage fest, fun, right?” Zach issued a dramatic roll of his eyes, just as his phone dinged thrice in his pockets, “If it’s Alessio- oh it’s Birdie, one sec.”

Zach readjusted in his seat, pressing his feet into the ground as he tilted backward, just enough for the chair’s front legs to hover off the ground. Zach nibbled at his bottom lip in irritation as he responded to Birdie’s distress, it wasn’t her fault the guys that interested her were idiots, “How do you tell your friend they have shit taste in guys without being rude?” Zach asked, turning his face to Katie, ” If Birdie had your taste, we’d all be living the good life.”

Katie let her eyes traverse Zach’s jaw as he looked down at his phone, felt her stomach clench as he chewed his lip, and then, as if it had been only a passing moment of insanity, turned her eyes away as he came to meet them. “Oof, uh, gently, and with a whole lot of foreplay,” Katie said. “Birdie definitely doesn’t want to hear that though, so better to err on the side of ‘Fuck him, he’s an asshole.’ Who’s on the shitlist now?”

“Arthur, but it’s nothing too serious… unless sending pics and getting no response is a herald for the end of the world, and I am but an ignorant fool.” Zach chuckled and lowered the seat back to all fours as he took note of the time, “I think I’ve distracted you enough, wanna help me look for a book real quick before I have to go meet the boys down in the quad?” he asked with a smirk growing on his face as he stood to his full height.

“I guess I better add librarian to my resume.” The playful smile on her face gave away her good intentions. She shut her laptop and stood to meet Zach, seeming like something out of Oz standing next to him. “Allow me to be the first to introduce you to the wonderful world of books,” she said over her shoulder, sashaying towards the shelves, a subtle, but noticeable, sway in her hips.

Zach gave an amazed “Woah” as he looked past Katie to the aisles of books, but his eyes were quick to snap to the dawg of her hips, “Thought it was time to put my hooked on phonics to work, got flex more than my arm muscles, you know?”

Katie laughed, not the practiced chuckle of the future mayor’s daughter, but the loud and boisterous roar of laughter that only those close to her ever heard. “Don’t let Isa find out. She’ll start thinking you’re competition. What exactly am I finding for you anyway?”

“Or add me to her hitlist underneath her brother’s name.” Zach’s eyes twinkled with joy at the sound of Katie’s laughter. When they stopped in the middle of an aisle somewhere near the back of the library, where the sunlight filtered in through the gaps on the bookshelf, and it was just the two of them Zach leaned in. With his palms resting against the bookshelf on either side of Katie, q he drew closer to her at an agonizing pace. Finally, at the last minute, his lips grazed the side of her cheek to stop at her ear and whisper, “ ‘Our Love Story’, or something, bring it to Nadia’s on Valentine Drive, Thursday at 8?” Zach pulled away slowly his right hand tucking her hair behind her ear before he gave a wink and ducked out of the aisle.

There were certain moments in her life that Katie had attributed the feeling of breathlessness to, but she realized as Zach disappeared around the corner, that she hadn’t truly felt it until right now, amongst the books. Finally, air returned to her lungs, in gasping breaths intermingled with a nervous laughter. One hand came up to touch her ear as her lip found its way between her teeth. “Fucking Zacharias Bishop,” she said to herself, basking in the euphoric haze of the moment for just seconds more, before pulling out her phone and checking her reflection. She gently smoothed her hair, more out of habit than necessity, and stepped out from the aisle, a grin stuck on her face, and a new bounce in her step.

♔ ♕ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞

Location: 155° Cafe

Mood: everything is fine -> everything is definitely not fine

Mentions: Kat Vaupel @nasty || Mimsy Vuong @Vox || Axel Maddox [@victorseier]

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Jamie Callaghan is many things, but relaxed has never been one of them. Despite the calm and collected way he moved across the quad, bookbag bouncing rhythmically against his hip, he could feel the quiet pangs of panic scouring the edges of his mind. The truth was that, despite appearances, he hadn’t had a relaxed day in weeks. Maybe if he had, he’d be reacting with a bit more passion to the news that he was an “Elite,” but as it stood, he was just glad it hadn’t been him saddled with the Fake label. He was tired, and while some distant, sleepy part of his brain might be able to plan a way through this mess, it had been working overtime already. The summer had taken an unexpected toll, and the last few weeks hadn’t been alleviating any issues he had. OIC wasn’t exactly known for it’s spa days. He needed a coffee, a scone, and whatever strange comfort Axel brought him.

Jamie stepped into 155° Cafe and tried once more to push all his worries into a dark corner in his mind, while surveying the room. His eyes fell on Kat Vaupel, and his lips curled down into a frown. Of course she was here. He got in line and looked back over at her, only to see Mimsy Vuong appear suddenly. He cocked an eyebrow Now that, was fucking interesting. Smirking ever so slightly, as he often did when he felt like he knew something that was unintended for him, he moved forward in line. His phone buzzed, and he checked his DMs, grinning now as he typed up a response.

The grin faded as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, or perhaps more truthfully, he forced it away. He couldn’t let himself keep stumbling over the line with Axel, even with his thoughts. Friends didn’t smile like that at each other’s texts. He needed to be… cool. Not a hot fucking mess, and definitely not the dude who fucks everything up by going and getting a crush. Still. He wants you to get him something. Good sign. Or not. Could mean nothing. Or everything. Probably nothing. Nothing is more likely. But you simply can’t rule out the possibility of it meaning something, so maybe just pick wisely. Black coffee? Do I get him food too? That’s nice right? Is it too nice?

Snap! Snap! “Hey! You ordering or not?”

The shout from the girl behind the counter shook him out of his introspective labyrinth, and he stepped up, blinking. “Sorry, I’ll just get a scone, a breakfast sandwich, a black coffee, and a white chocolate mocha.”

“What kind of breakfast sandwich?” The girl behind the counter looked back at Jamie with a look of unbothered annoyance. He was already taking longer than the usual customer. Of course there were different types of sandwiches. He should have just stuck with the black coffee.

Hurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurry BUT DON’T PICK WRONG hurryhurryhurry His brain was a broken radio, unintelligible static in which sometimes, in order to keep your sanity, you hoped and prayed to find something that made sense. “I don’t know, just pick one with bacon and give that to me,” Jamie said, handing his card over and looking down, trying not to let on as to just how flustered he was.

Moments later, the interaction was over, and Jamie was free, free to sit and agonize at a table instead of while standing. He looked out the window but saw no sign of Axel yet. He took a deep breath and made a promise to enjoy at least this one thing. He needed that right now.