𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍

MAVERICK PARRISH ; 24 ; SON OF HERA

[chtcmvrc]

antluna​:

“ damn, that’s insane. ” he hadn’t been too privy to greek culture but hera had been a name that sat in his mind since learning of them in middle school. perhaps it was the way she held such control, an autonomy on the gods as his mother did with the surplus of people needing to be wrangled. to think that had simply been a lie this whole time, the woman who he believed to birth him now a fragment and a dream. would he ever know more about his true mother? his true identity? 

“ not gonna lie, that was fucking sexy. ” eyes glazing over as he watched the other smoke his nebula, it felt so intimate to watch the other devour something he produced. “ yeah, i was told that was the case. but, people be saying wild shit these days, so. ” his natural cadence came back to him as though the maverick had been a friend for a while. antonio heard the word apartment and felt a little embarrassed he had lived at home with his parents still, he’d keep that inside for now. “ there’s a lot to be uncovered, for sure. but for now, i’m still getting adjusted to not having a fuckin’ working cellphone. ” 

“i do lots of sexy things.” he says matter-of-factly, a smile dancing over his lips that’s devilish, inviting, and dangerous all at once. he’s not lying, of course, but he’d leave that for antonio to uncover if he desires. 

he can’t help the laugh that parts his lips. not having reception has definitely fucked with him—mostly because he hasn’t been able to post on his onlyfans or his instagram since his arrival and he wonders how many followers are leaving or berating him for ripping them off (not that he does, he keeps them very satisfied). “it’s kind of nice to be disconnected though.” he admits after a pause, realizing he meant it. “at least we have working electricity. only having fireplaces during this fucking cold would be killer.” he inhales and exhales, his breath coming out in a cold plume of icy breath. 

[chtcmvrc]

maverick is used to eating dinner out and about with friends, sometimes alone in his apartment with his dog on the couch. it all depended on his mood. but dining with a bunch of strangers, most of which he hasn’t introduced himself to yet, doesn’t seem appealing in the slightest. yet here he is, at dinner, in the banquet hall. he drums his index finger against the bottom of his plate before he moves through the tables. he moves toward someone he hasn’t seen within the mageia house and judging on his build he’s more of the physical type than the magical kind. “do you mind if i eat with you? i’m maverick.” he offers a bright, shining smile, charming as ever, and waits for an answer. 

@ofcourageousblood​

[chtcmvrc]

he kicks his feet up on one of the tables within the library of house mageia and has a large, leather bound tome opened against his knees. he drums his fingers across ancient words that have been transcribed for those without arcane knowledge—like an idiots guide to magic—and he hums to himself as he reads. 

he’s telekinetic, that much he’s gathered, and telepathic, too. he’s jean fucking grey. which is fine, he always liked her as an x-men, dark phoenix and all, but he wants to know more of the limits of his powers. 

without looking up from his book, he waves a hand and a chair moves for the dark haired figure to sit. “yes, you can sit here.” he looks up. “that’s what you were thinking of asking, wasn’t it?”

@asher-jones

[chtcmvrc]

kiteshields​:

𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 - perishing the very thought as the man suggests it. “do i look like a trained monkey, fez and all, that i should riverdance at your behest?” he asks, incredulous - had maverick been around, and kite had just never met him? his presence portrayed as much, but —

 “my magicks require both components and time to be cast properly… much like any SSS-tier rituals, they cannot be used as ‘cheap party tricks’ for first impressions. surely, as a fellow wizard of the craft, you understand.” 

he shrugs, marching forward still - because, clearly, maverick would let him in regardless.

was this guy for real? if he belonged to the house of magic, he would know the password. he’s not seen him before—granted he’s not seen a lot of them—and he wasn’t about to let someone into the house that isn’t supposed to be. what if he’s not even a demigod?

when kite steps forward, maverick stands his ground and holds a hand up. he can feel power uncurl from within him and stretch out like an invisible force field being placed in front of kite, keeping him at the threshold of the door. 

“i said no.” 

[chtcmvrc]

antluna​:

“ my apologies. ” it’s the main he smoked both cigarettes and weed, one to calm the nerves and the other the mind. he’s a bit surprised to have found the other with an ear for the chatter of the mind, antonio would hate to hear others thought, hell, sometimes his own were as dubious as the devil itself. “ pleasure. ” he shakes,  surprised to hear the other references as the son of a queen. 

“ i’m new, got here a few days ago. just got my powers. almost killed myself in the lake of souls, i got waist deep before the pain stopped. lucky for me, since i can’t swim for shit. ” he joked on what was actually such a serious manner, a stifled chuckle to ease the pain. antonio inhaled once more, blowing the smoke that noe had mimicked the night sky. “ cool though, right? this was my calling. how i knew something was up back at home during my lunch break at the butcher shop. fuckin’ a starry night encased with smoke. ”

another new person. he wonders how many of them had been here for longer than a few days, a few weeks. there’s some he can tell have been—like credence—but he wonders if any of them have full control over their powers. hera knows he doesn’t, otherwise he’d be able to shut out the louder voices that break through whatever barriers his mind now has around it.

he doesn’t like that his own mind doesn’t belong to him anymore. 

“i freaked out and almost tore down the statues in the temple of the gods before i fall face first down the stairs.” he admits freely, openly, a shrug of his shoulders. with a wave of his hand, the smoke that exhales from antonio’s lungs shifts and he inhales it as it flies into his mouth. he holds it for a minute before exhaling. “a whole new meaning to shotgunning.” he laughs, leaning back on his palms. “you had a sign that you were being called?” he questions, eyebrow arched. “i just had someone show up at my apartment and unload all of the ‘truth’. decided, you know what, always wanted a mom, so why not.” a piece of the roofing breaks in half and flies through the air like a discus. “think it might’ve been for nothing.” 

[chtcmvrc]

cvrsedcowboy​:

When quirks and coping mechanisms became too apparent and the solution to said oddities felt more like a punishment than help, creatures were quick to learn to hide what made them feel good or at ease. Hudson knew better than to argue with his selves out loud, the pebble hits him and a dozen unseen eyes hone in on the new face. Confusion, realization, followed by shame flashes across his features before settling into molten fury. “Your fuckin’ face!” Hudson snarls, baring his teeth. “Who the fuck are you?”

maverick stands there in faux shock, eyes wide but unbothered. his mouth drops into an o-shape, a gasp parting his lips as his hazel eyes train on the snarling man. he can’t help but chuckle. “aww, you hope my face is okay? how sweet. i’ll give you a trial to my onlyfans because of it.” he waves a hand dismissively as he stands his ground. “put it back in your pants, this isn’t a pissing contest of who can scare you.” the smile on his face feels foreign to him, devilish. “i don’t scare easily.” 

[chtcmvrc]

tellmeinstorms​:

“Well, there’s a difference between learning from teachers and learning from your ex-boyfriend.” He closed the leatherbound tome to make a small smirk at the other. The pout on Maverick’s face was cute for a moment, and then he spoke, and it wasn’t so cute anymore. “Fraudulent?” Credence echoed with a small, incredulous huff, averting his eyes elsewhere. Sons of Hera and their magical intuition. He laced his fingers together, wringing them for a moment before he spoke, “Aren’t all of us? What, you want me to show you all of my flaws on one day?” He set the book down. “Trust me, Maverick, this is a perfectly acceptable front of mine.” Blue eyes took in the other, more carefully this time. 

“What about you? Are you putting up a front, too?”

“probably a reason he’s an ex. didn’t teach you anything useful.” he shrugs his shoulder flippantly, moving his hazel toned gaze toward the stacks of books that line the shelves. there’s magic in the air, that much is apparent. he wonders if he can find something on hera and her kin’s abilities. just to be prepared. “i don’t see the point in being a facade. people find the truth one way or another.” he waves a hand toward him, from top to bottom. “what you see is what you get.” 

then his smirk is back, as sharp as a blade, gleaming and glinting. “because if they can’t handle me, they don’t deserve me.”

[chtcmvrc]

tellmeinstorms​:

He chuckled hearing the grimace in the other’s words. “I hope you had fun.” Credence drew a single knee to his chest and then rested the ankle of his other leg on a nearby table before sinking further into the velvet cushion. “Screams what?” He asks when Maverick wavers, one brow arched. An amused snort leaves him the next second. “Snobby? Presumptuous? Fancy?” All flattering words, really. Credence grabbed a hold of a book from the table and flipped it open to a random page. “Someone taught me there’s impossible value in language and history. We have to learn it, so that we do not repeat it.” In his head, a memory unspooled: brown curls, goofy grin, and golden eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. His smile softened for a moment before as he looked at Maverick, mischief returned to it. “So, what do I ‘scream’? I am very curious.”

each word that the raven haired son of zeus checks off doesn’t seem like it would be a true fit to what maverick sees. he stares at him for a moment, lets his words go in one ear and out the other, and tries to see if he can get a good enough feeling for who credence, son of zeus, is. “they teach you that in school, too. that’s why there’s classes about it.” he laughs, adding a small roll of his eyes before he leans back onto his palms. the fabric of the chair feels cold to the touch, but it’s a welcome feeling. he turns around to look at the man again, pouting for a moment as he thinks of what word to use. “fraudulent.” he says after a moment. “like you’re just putting up a front.”

[chtcmvrc]

“what if he’s not okay?”

the voice slips into his mind and snaps maverick out of his concentration. the stack of rocks he’d been levitating fall from the air in heavy thuds. “motherfuck!” he exclaims, exasperated. he thought he was out here alone but the voice was too clear for it to be far away. that’s when he sees the long haired man, walking around almost aimlessly. ever the person to butt in, mostly to see if he can find something to stir, he lifts a pebble with a wave of his hand and sends it flying toward the other, aiming for his shoulder. “who’s not okay?” he asks, standing up, dusting the snow from his ass. 

@cvrsedcowboy​

[chtcmvrc]

svnxrxse​:

Greyson had always been an early riser, up with the sun’s first light. He’d been like that even before he knew his connection to it, now that feeling of alertness and strength that came with the golden light just made a little more sense. 

He’d always liked the early mornings around camp, the peace and quiet when most were asleep and only a few up to start their day. It gave Grey some time to just be alone with his thoughts. As he wandered back towards the four houses after feeding the pegasi, chatting along with Solis as they strolled, Grey noticed another figure up and about. A face he didn’t recognise too well, but that had never stopped the sunshine demigod.

“Not always, depends on how moody Credence is on whether you wake up to this or a stormy sky.” Greyson joked. “I wish I could take credit for the nice view but that would be a lie.” He chuckled before offering a hand. “Greyson, son of Apollo. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure yet.” He smiled warmly. 

hazel eyes focus on the man speaking now and a soft smile etches itself onto the corner of his lips. he lets out a chuckle. credence is a name he knows, thankfully. the son of zeus. he wonders how often he has a temper tantrum and messes with the weather.

he gets the feeling it’s probably often. 

he brings his cup of coffee to his lips once more and takes a long, slow sip of it. the smile is still plastered against his features and he keeps eye contact with the demigod—greyson, son of apollo. “i don’t know, the view’s pretty nice from here.” it’s suggestive, just the right amount of flirtation in it. “maverick, son of hera. new guy.” he takes a step closer and offers a hand, warm from the cup. 

[chtcmvrc]

antluna​:

his head rests against the hood of his jacket, eyeing the stars curious if they would move with his persuasion. that was until he hears the rumbling of a filled house and the tugs of plywood as a man he had never seen before asks him to be quiet. antonio casually cranes his neck from his very comfortable position to catch the other’s glance. “ i’m not speaking. ” clarifying before he connected the thoughts and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit before pushing himself up. another drag, he blew the smoke towards the stranger before beckoning him over to sit for a moment. 

“ i’ll smoke a bit more and that should quiet the demons. ” his words were a tease, scooting over on the large knitted blanket he brought for the other to join him. “ it’d say i could try to be quiet but i’m not sure if i can soften the internal voice. it has a tendency to ramble. ” offering the other a hand for a handshake and a turn at his joint. “ ‘m antonio or ant. son of selene, the moon titan. ”

maverick rolls his eyes before he walks over toward the offered seat. he’s never been scared of heights, thankfully, but something about being on the ceiling of their new home is intimidating. he wonders if he could fly with his new powers. 

he makes a note not to test that theory just yet. 

“never worked for me.” he shrugs his shoulders, jutting his chin out toward the joint in the man’s hand. he tosses the blanket over him loosely, hugging his arms around himself to keep the warmth in. hazel eyes look out over the grounds and when the man introduces himself, it makes sense why he’d be on the roof. closer to the moon, closer to some new familial connection. he sighs and shakes his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he does so. “maverick, son of hera, the queen of the gods." he rolls his eyes again, not wanting to be addressed as a prince of any kind.  “when did you get here?” being the new kid, he’s not sure if the man is a veteran like some of the others he’s met.

[chtcmvrc]

tellmeinstorms​:

son of hera, he thought, interesting. even if credence knew that every child was not a model for the other, he was surprised to find such variety between the three hera sons he’d met, from orion’s softness, to loreto’s faith, to maverick’s … well, that smile.

“again, eager,” he added once more, this time with an answering smirk to maverick’s own. “i am glad, though, to have hera in our midst again and on a short notice.” by then, credence let his elegance down a little much like the armor it was, flinging himself down upon a nearby chair and dangling an arm down the rest. “well, this is it, my favorite place.” he gestured broadly at the room. his eyes scrutinized maverick a little closer, trying to read past the mischief. “so,” a click of his tongue, “have the satyrs filled you in on anything yet? has anyone told you about the ambrosia ceremony that makes you feel like your head is burning from the inside out?”

credence lets out an amused snort. 

there had been others before him. interesting. he wonders if they all died and he wonders how many came before him. would he last? there’s a plethora of questions that he knows he can’t answer and he’s really not in the mood to go searching for them. 

he’ll do what he always does and come out on top. 

he follows credence into the library and he wonders how they have enough space to house such a large collection. maybe it’s all magic. maybe the room is only a tiny footprint within and expands out like those tents in harry potter. he trails his fingers along the back of the chair credence flings himself over, as if he’s some romance protagonist, and then crosses his arms over his chest. 

“i already did the ambrosia ceremony the night i came here.” he grimaces, hating the memory that swells in his mind. “i don’t need any repeats of it, thanks. i didn’t take you for the learned type, something about you screams...well, it doesn’t scream book worm.” 

[chtcmvrc]

antluna​:

@chtcmvrc​ he is dressed for warmth, not that the midnight chill stops him cold in his tracks but he likes his oversized jackets, it reminds him of home. it’s bizarre to now have a daily password and a guardian protecting their homes but it is something he’ll have to get used to himself one day. for now, antonio sits on the roof of mageia, days after succumbing to the ambrosia and feeling the power coursing through his veins. he is of the night and casually waits for the sun to dip and for his nightly reign to begin, joint in hand and a myriad of thoughts being offered up into the evening sky. 

with his window open, the winter breeze dances into the son of hera’s room. it’s a nice way to keep cool but, when he begins to feel a stampede of thoughts that aren’t his own infiltrate his safe haven, he has to squint and focus. he inhales and exhales, trying his best to remember how jean grey shut the voices out in x-men. he’s only partially successful. there’s one voice that seems louder than all of them, a chaotic wave of thoughts that seems to be dulling by the second. 

roof top. is all that maveric gets and he heads to the top of the mageia house, a large, insolated bomber jacket on over his overalls. he climbs through a window and pulls himself up and sees the figure. another newbie like himself. “can you quiet down maybe?” he asks him, a stoic look on his face. “you’re loud.”

[transbordastes]

Via Noah story

[chtcmvrc]

he stands within the temple of the gods, among the marble carved statues of what some might think the gods looked like. it’s strange seeing them now, in the flesh, standing in a circle. he can feel eyes looking through him as if he’s not there, as if he’s nothing. 

he’s never been nothing. 

he looks toward the statue of hera, toward the queen of the gods, ruler of the skies. they don’t make eye contact—how could they when she simply looks through him as if he’s not there. he’s the newest addition to the demigod’s, the newest to accept his birthright; he’s here because of her and it barely matters. 

hermes is the one who brings the golden goblet filled with the ambrosia to him. even with his lithe movements, the liquid doesn’t move at all, as if magicked into the cup. he holds it in one hand and barely listens at the warning. he hears some things—it’ll unlock his powers, his potential, but it’ll do more than just that when accessing his divinity. there will be pain, thoughts. 

he doesn’t let hermes finish before he raises the goblet up toward his mother—a silent fuck you for not paying attention to him—and swallows the fiery liquid down in a few gulps. it dribbles from the goblet down his chin and he pulls the goblet away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

and then he screams.

fingers dig into his curls as he slams his eyes shut. there’s a splitting headache that feels like an icepick to his crown. “no, no, no.” he whisper chokes.

he’s plagued with images flashing behind closed eyelids—his mother and father fighting, the slamming of doors, the words he’s hardly even my son, his mother packing her things and leaving, time spent between two households, a new father figure, being told he’s got to stay behind because mom has a new family now.

“make it stop!” he cries out, eyes still shut. he feels something unfurling in him, like a fetter that he didn’t know he had being ripped away. everything gets too loud, voices that aren’t his own filling his head. a split second later, everything goes quiet, he can only hear the sound of his jagged breathing, like gravel against the bottom of a shoe. he clenches his fingers together and it’s like he can feel things that are around him—offerings to the gods, the goblet that he dropped, pieces of armor and weapons. 

he lifts his hands from his head and throws them to the sides, sending the offering bowls flying toward the walls. even the statues of the gods vibrate as he opens his eyes and stares at his mother and then toward her statue.

his mother. a woman he knows barely anything about except for what he’s learned in school. a woman who, like who he believed to be his birth mother, wants nothing to do with him.

never good enough for love, never good enough, never enough. his own voice rings in his head as clear as day and he turns toward the temple doors and shoves, sending the doors flying open, teetering on the hinges before he makes his way out of them. 

he feels overwhelmed. something inside of him is wild and he doesn’t know what it is. his divinity? his power? the tapping into it for the first time?

he sways on his feet as soon as he’s on the steps, tripping like a drunkard before he falls down, collapsing into unconsciousness. 

his dreams are not the dreams he remembers, but the nightmares from his childhood coming back to haunt him. 

but somehow, he survives the night. somehow, he survives the pain and steels himself. 

an iron forged mind, power that he can now taste on the tip of his tongue. 

[chtcmvrc]

the morning norwegian air is brisk and sends a shock through his lungs when he inhales. this type of cold isn’t something he’s used to. he’s used to warm weather, sunshine, and the occasional rain fall once or twice a year. 

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think this place is beautiful. 

he holds a mug of steaming hot coffee with both hands and stands at the ever burning bonfire that rests between the crossroads of the four houses. his eyes linger on the flames before he takes a long, slow sip of his drink and taps his fingers against the mug. 

the sunrise is cresting over the mountains, casting the grounds in a wintery wonderland glow. he notices someone else approaching the campfire and gives them a nod in greeting. 

“it always look like this first thing in the morning or am i just lucky to witness it today?”

@svnxrxse​

[ncentineosource]

Noah Centineo for Calvin Klein (2019)