#riordan

Round #1 — Match 9 of 104

Riordan

“riordan: i have a plan the plan: die”

vs. Grand Cleric Elthina

“kirkwall is rotting, the templars are out of control, the mages are trapped, and she’s like hmm. prayers. anyway. hate her as a person love her as a character”

“*elthina voice* we must be calm kirkwall: *explodes again*”

“ok i’m nominating elthina because she is SUCH an effective portrait of institutional rot. when everything finally snaps it’s like… yeah this is what happens when you prioritize stability over justice in a city that never had stability to begin with”

The Aphrodite Cabin.

(Straight from the Wiki.)

I need all of you to remember that Aphrodite is the Goddess of beauty. Beauty isn't just Barbie pink, make up, and perfume. Sure, that is absolutely part of it, but it's not just that.

Because beauty is subjective. It's "in the eye of the beholder".

I think that entire cabin, inside and out, is a beautiful mess of different aesthetics and personalities and smells that go so well together, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Aphrodite is an ever-shifting Goddess. She's not one thing. She's beauty. And beauty is in everything. Beauty can absolutely be how it's described in the books, but not everyone thinks the same or likes the same things. And that's okay. That's how it's supposed to be.

(I guess the cabin could also look different to every person that sees it, just the way the Goddess Herself does it. She's a deity, She absolutely has that power.)

Diversity is what makes life worth living. Imperfection is perfection. There is no guidebook on "how to be beautiful". The way fashion and trends are ever changing is the best example for this.

- 🪽

to sensations, then to sight

WHO? : apollo WHAT? : fluff HEED! : nothing RADI SAYS : yes i deewww.! this'll be pjopollo since i still havent gotten around to hades 2 yet </3

You could feel him before you could see him.

It was the way the clouds broke through in a solitary gap, even on the most overcast of days. It was the way the air seemed to seize and still with a comforting tingle of warmth, dancing along your skin and emanating through your body.

It was when the sun shined brighter on you, that you knew the Sun had come to visit.

He came more often during winter, when he knew you were low in spirits from the heightened absence of his presence. You were sat lonesome on a bench right in the inner skirtings of your local park, cold but not cold enough for snow. It seemed like it was just about time for you to head back home when you felt it, then, that subtle warmth that crept through your thick jacket and brushed your cold nose, the gray sky ebbing away into one solitary beam of sunlight casting soft hues of light down the left side of your face.

And to your left, when you looked, where there once was empty space, was your darling.

"My love," greeted Apollo, grasping your gloved hand and pressing a kiss to the fabric on your knuckles.

He wore weather-inappropriate clothing, as always, dressed in flowy white button-up and linen pants. It mattered not, for the mundanities of weather did not effect him, and he naturally emitted heat anyways. Heat to which you quickly appreciated, snuggling up to his side and pressing your nose to the crook of his neck.

"I thought you wouldn't come," you murmured, inhaling the scent of sun on his skin. He laughed, a gentle sound, wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer.

Apollo's hand reached upward to caress your frigid-flushed cheek, connecting his lips again: first to your forehead, and then to yours. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "But I'm here now, right?"

You rolled your eyes. He laughed again, brighter this time.

Gently, your head came to rest on his shoulder, and he gingerly stroked your hair as you did so. "Just hold me," you sighed, and he had naught issue to comply.