venetia h. martin 17. cabin one. ā¹ ā¹ ā¹ ā I wonāt be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. to shield me is an insult. canāt I be trusted to face the truth? ā ā¹ ā¹ ā¹ sit there, count those raindrops. feel them falling down all around you
@okayhadley send š for my muse to compliment yours
ā listen,Ā ā venetia let her head flop back on the floor, not looking at hadley even as she addressed him.Ā ā Iād say, honestly, weāre not that bad a match with a sword. weāre both pretty good. but anyone can get good with a sword if they really want to. you Ā ---Ā āĀ she lifted a hand, pointing at him with a grin whilst still directing her focus skyward.Ā ā are at least not as hopeless as I am with ourĀ ā powers,Ā ā and I wonāt lie, Iām in awe. why is lightning so fucking hard?Ā ā
@charlottejean sent š½ for our muses to talk about their godly parentsĀ
venetia veered away from zeusā table with conscious disregard for camp rules. she plopped herself in the first empty spot she saw, decided not to care in the slightest what cabin sheād be eating with; as soon as her plate hit the table she just pushed it away, anyway. not much in the mood to eat.Ā Ā ā do you think our parents justĀ ...Ā like fucking with us?Ā āĀ she asked, glancing up and noticing charlotte. she set her elbows on the table in an unladylike slouch, paying no mind to any of the blondeās siblings now that she was in the swing of her speech.Ā Ā āĀ that making us give them some of our food is purposeful salt in various, varied wounds?Ā ā
okay so this isnāt a regular announcement but i realized iād never made a task graphic and photoshop is currently out of commission so ā¦Ā this is what weāre working with !!Ā anyway,Ā iāve made an interaction-y ask meme for our members to send to each other !!Ā i guess itās not really a task, but i donāt know what else to call it.Ā weāre thriving here.Ā as always, itās not mandatory but highly recommended.Ā reblog this if you want your fellow members to send you memes, and please send to everyone who has reblogged it !!
ā you sure you want to do that?Ā āĀ venetia raised an eyebrow at a younger camper, leaning lasiez-faire against the stables as she observed a camp-typical bad decision being made.Ā ā I certainly wouldnāt be caught dead doing that. seeing as I might end up dead doing that ...Ā Ā āĀ she trailed off with a slight smile and watched the annoyed kid tear off to some other location for their shenanigans. venetia then turned to the person behind her, smile still there, and said,Ā Ā ā gosh. do you think it was something I said? that sent them running away?Ā ā
alright, so!! this is really just venetiaās info stolen straight from the app. xander got a real, actual, intro and look where that got him tbh. she would hate to be like xander. you can check out venetiaās playlist, herĀ pinterest, or her stats page!! sheās a daughter of zeus & sheās a MESS so if thatās your thing hmu.Ā
headcanon one: Ā it was easy to look at venetia h. martin and link the idea of her up with a thousand fictional characters. she was an archetype of a girl Ā --- Ā and with her, that never seemed entirely like a bad thing. she needed applause and belief to live, would have been suited to travelling by bubble, could never quite let go of sweeping yearning and measured, clever phrases.
it was fitting for an only child born less than a year before her parentsā divorce. she was the darlingest little doted on baby, growing up. of course she was; her parentsā split was no big deal. as venetia always heard it, they were just two successful, glorious people who could never be bound to each other in the long run, except through their daughter. she recalled the three of them having brunch on exchange days, and the meals never feeling quite like family ones. it was fine. the two of them went on to thrive without each other, passing their child from one privileged world to another. so venetia never wanted for anything, really. she certainly never wanted for attention; it was as if thereād been a blessing placed on her at birth, where every heaping compliment only multiplied the thing being praised. she was called beautiful, charming, precious, and so she was. so she always would be. never mind that simply being surrounded by both of their lives, wrapped up in their worlds, never quite made her feel like she belonged.
her father was a banker and her mother a ballerina turned artistās muse turned gallery owner turned collector of muses herself. their scenes glittered in different ways, but both saw young venetia dragged to various parties and functions, always dressed in mile-long tulle and pastel. she was born to young parents, and so was the only child at those functions, as she was everywhere else; the better to be cooed at and loved by everybody there. the better to train her appetite to yearn for that approval and acclaim.
there was always a reason venetia couldnāt tell, initially, which one of her parents had boned zeus years before her birth. for the first thirteen years of her life, all she knew was that her mother and father were two powerful people. there was never a way for venetia to live outside of the breadth of her parentsā reach and renown; so she lived within it, and did what she could to thrive. thriving, like most things, seemed to come naturally to her.
looking back, it made sense to venetia that she was more than charisma and an angelic face. she had always had a way. something inherited not from her parents but from the universe itself, that made people and objects and everything in between listen to her. she could ask something of her friends at school and it felt like they bent to an unseen power in her. if she was bored she could see thunderstorms play out in the sky. sudden breezes always seemed to play in her hair. it made sense that the string of bad luck that followed her was the world giving her a gift and asking for its weight in gold repaid.
headcanon two: she was having brunch with her father when it happened, the last day before she went over to her motherās townhouse for another two weeks. at first, when sheād seen the hulking women with mean faces coming towards them, venetia assumed the worst: her father had made a bad deal, invested with the wrong people, and they were coming to pay.
she was not expecting the claws and awful features they sprouted, and the terror they wrought on the poor unsuspecting new yorkers. she wasnāt quite expecting to see her father suddenly dead. she ran; and apparently her beloved city was over-run with people accustomed to more literal monsters. venetia blinked and was suddenly whisked away. no one was quite sure what to make of the latent power resting in her, no one quite sure what her parentage could be. it was apparently a surprise sheād only faced one monster attack, no matter how awful venetia, personally, thought it was. she spent two nights in the hermes cabin before a haze surrounded her one night at campfire and the charisma in her seemed to burn a little brighter, a sparkling corona around her with spine perennially straightened. it wasnāt a typical show of aphrodite's blessing Ā --- Ā but no one questioned the gods. and venetia certainly seemed to fit in cabin ten.
venetia never doubted that she was special; it was in finding a home for other people like her that the curtain crumbled a little in realizing she wasnāt, really. sheād always just assumed that as a baby sheād asked the world to make her its sun. at camp half blood, she was one star in a tapestry of constellations.
that wasnāt to say she didnāt adore camp with a fierceness she felt only perfect girls possessed. it gave her something to pour her grief into; it gave her a way to mourn both her father and the life she could have led. venetia had never had to wait for the things she wanted, and the burn of trying was a new challenge to conquer; she was thirteen upon her arrival and her hands had seen nothing but manicures and gifted bouquets. a sword seemed a fun change, no matter how funny it seemed in cabin ten.
the friends, the attention and adoration of those who didnāt make the cut for such a title, that was nothing new. she was the pretty new aphrodite daughter, young though she was. but the honing of the innate skill sheād always had burning in her veins was; she was a born leader, a quick speaker. everyone assumed she was a charmspeaker. the name for it was new, and it was glorious, and it gave her cause to exercise her sharp wit even more. there were things she couldnāt talk her way in or out of, immediately, things that did not so quickly bend to her will. things she could learn to fight her way through. the first time she failed spectacularly in her training, venetia recalled with vivid clarity laughing in delight.
headcanon three: Ā life was amazing until war knocked on the door of camp half blood. it was one thing for a tiny daughter of aphrodite to throw herself into needing to be the best in all arenas: not just her beauty and charm, but her strength. it was another thing entirely for her to be faced with a battlefield. venetia hated it. and she hated even more caving to the stereotype, but it was true. there was no worse feeling than finding silena dead. the only thing that rivaled it was the untouched memory of her fatherās death. what made it even more awful was that it wasnāt just silena Ā --- Ā it was what felt like a hundred other faces she had come to know in her time as a year round camper.
when venetia was still hurt and raging over her feelings of battlefield helplessness, she had her world turned over once more. it turned out being a literal natural born leader was easily masked as odd charmspeak. it turned out the tiny jags of lightning she could wish from the beachside sky were more than just really charming the clouds. the strange golden glow her blessing from aphrodite bestowed? not so strange when she found out it wasnāt aphroditeās blessing at all. it took percy making demands of olympus for venetia to find out, but once she did there was no going back: she was a child of zeus.
venetia felt Ā ... Ā cheated wasnāt quite the right word. it settled something in her, like a puzzle piece falling into place. of course sheād be the child of the king of gods, right? she was venetia. but why, when heād seen her mortal father taken from her, hadnāt he allowed her to know she had another dad? why let her waste her time in cabin ten? hadnāt he seen the grief she wouldnāt feel and thought to fix her? she was gifted in getting people to follow her; but her attempts at creating storms and lightning were pitiable. there was so much more venetia could have done at camp, so many other ways she could have thrown herself into moving on. and they hadnāt been shown to her.
( a quiet part of her, selfishly, horribly, thought that if heād claimed her at the start sheād have never loved silena enough to lose her )
for a girl to whom life came so easily, work was a great adventure. it had been since her arrival at age thirteen. it was still, when she refused to feel loss after the war and instead tried to hone her new godly talents. but it figured that it could never be enough. venetia was used to getting, and getting, and getting. she would never tell a soul, but she still felt bereft for all those years sheād been owed something more than what she was given. and so she didnāt feel her grief; she hated wallowing in it, feeling it, more than she hated war. and instead she felt a greedy hunger.
she was used to asking for more and having fate deliver. the issue was that sheād run out of things to ask for, now that her whole life had been thrown truly asunder. but the yearning in the pit of her heart never ceased Ā ā Ā it needed to be satisfied, because venetia was always satisfied.
what to ask for? what to need? it was a question worth a thousand more, but venetia found no answers. not in her soul, not in any soul around her. it might have seemed to a lesser woman that sheād finally reached an end to the things she could demand from destiny, but she was no lesser anything. nothing and nobody told venetia h. martin no Ā ā Ā they could try, but in her world, a no was simply a yes that wasnāt ready to be revealed. if she wasnāt asking through feigned charmspeak, then she demanded through quiet power. sheād bide her time; throw knives and fail to summon storms and bask in campās usual revelries.
it wasnāt enough for her, and she knew it, too. satin sheets and gilded smiles had long been her comfort, her safe space, the world sheād been born into. gods and heroes made the world sheād inherited. the combination of them in her was power, made incarnate, made real. and it grated on her that all the world would still call her beautiful, charming, precious Ā ā Ā all the world a fool who couldnāt tell it wasnāt enough. that there was more, and she didnāt have it.
what did the world know? itād called her a child of beauty when she was the daughter of lightning and dominion. when it seemed all her life had been a series of sad or harrowing surprises, venetia knew there was always something more. there had to be.
Iām proud to identify as morosexual. Iām attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. A guy asked me what the Spanish word for tortilla was once and now I dream of kissing him under the moonlight
