#What even is reality?

[asnowfern]

Why Do My Gods Look Just Like You?

Summary: Turns out, the statue that Mor has been confiding to isn’t just a statue. Emorie. Modern AU.

Read on AO3

A/N: This has been bouncing around my head for a while and June seems like a good time to finally write it🌈🌈🌈

The night was quiet as Mor sneaked a final glance at the distracted guard, slipping past the counter. She easily navigated through the familiar layout of the exhibition entrenched in darkness, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief as she exited out of the building's back exit. Her lips automatically pulled up into a smile as she spied the white stone statues peeking through the gardens behind the pasty yellow Victorian buildings. 

Her head swivelled left and right to look out for any patrolling museum personnel as she quietly ran towards the trees, reaching her destination without any hiccups. 

She looked up at the three statues, identified via the small rusty gold plaques at the bottom. The Valkyries from ancient Pyrthian myth. 

Gwyn of Song

Nesta of Flame

Emerie of Flight

She passed the first two statues, silently admiring the beauty carved out of stone. She eventually landed on Emerie. Because it was always Emerie that Mor was drawn to, like a moth to a flame. 

Emerie of Flight. Her face was turned away to look in the distance as her wings spread, ready to take flight. Mor would stare longingly, wishing for her own set of wings that could lift her up and out of her life. Away from her family's impossible expectations and controlling nature. Being the daughter of the governor meant that she was constantly scrutinised. From her grades and after school club activities to trivial nonsense like her appearance and her dating life. 

It was the thought of the latter of the two that had Mor sighing once more as she crumbled downwards and hugged her knees on the ground. 

"I told him," she said in the barest of whispers, "I told him I'm not marrying Vanserra."

She looked up into the fierce determined face of the winged warrior, willing the courage of the famed Valkyries to flow into her as she confessed the words that she never dared to voice out, not even to herself, "Because… I like girls and it might crush me to marry him." 

The words seemingly bounced around the statues and settled into the leaves and branches of the nearby trees. 

Because there it was. The truth she denied herself for so long. 

"I like girls," she whispered again, slightly louder this time, relishing in her newfound honesty. 

She breathed in deeply, a small incredulous laugh bubbled out in the exhale. 

It was like she could breathe.

She felt free.

"Is that so?" Asked a teasing voice that was so angelic, so lilting. 

Mor snapped her eyes open. When did she even close them?

"Wha-" the word remained incomplete, stuck in her throat as she registered the ethereal belle before her. 

Her brown skin glowed gently in the moonlight as luscious ebony locks swept into a simple braid rested against her chest. Her wings flexed outwards before tucking in behind her, drawing attention to the leathered armour that hugged every dip and curve of her body. Mor wondered dimly if they were comfortable.

"So is that so?" She questioned again as playful brown eyes twinkled at her. 

"So what?" Mor felt her face flushed slightly as the words escaped her. 

Emerie tilted her head slightly, "That you like girls"

"Yes," she breathed, still amazed at how natural it felt.

A smile enveloped the Valkyrie's face and Mor thought she had never seen a more beautiful vision in her life, "Good."

Mor stood up numbly, slightly trembling hands reached out on their own accord, pausing a mere inch before the brunette's face. 

Are you real?

A soft warm hand covered hers and closed the narrow gap between them. The blonde gasped softly, relishing the feel of the soft skin. Even in the dim light of the night, she could see the specks of gold dancing within the deep brown pupils of Emerie's eyes. 

"Have you been listening the entire time?" She whispered, afraid that anything louder would break the spell cast over them, "All those nights too?" 

Emerie's playful expression melted into a softer, tender one, "I've been here the whole time." 

Mor's face lit up. Somehow, the knowledge that she was never alone with her struggles lightened a weight inside. She impulsively tugged Emerie's hand downwards, holding it in a firm clasp by the side of her waist.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed and pulled her Illyrian angel with her, jogging towards the museum.

Emerie snorted but let herself get dragged away, "Where are we going?" 

"Anywhere!" Mor shouted, her face still split in a white smile. 

She froze as Emerie circled one arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Mor looked back with wide eyes, her heart hammering away wildly.

"I have a better idea," Emerie told her, her eyes glittering with mischief, "Fancy a flight?" 

Brown eyes met brown eyes as the agreement slipped out of her lips. Without another second, Emerie's grip on Mor tightened and they took off into the sky. 

Mor opened her mouth but no sound escaped, cut off as she got lost in a myriad of sensations. The wind in her hair, the cool air against her face, the light mist that gathered at her fingertips as she ran them through the clouds. Beneath them, Hewn City got smaller and smaller, dissolving into nothing more than dots of lights. 

Mor giggled as the exhilaration built up, turning the giggle into a joyful laugh. Beside her, Emerie grinned widely, "Let's take it up a notch."

The blonde yelped as the Illyrian dived them into a near freefall before launching into a series of loops. The shock quickly turned into elation. 

Eventually, Emerie landed them on top of the Moonstone Manor, the both of them perched precariously on the sloped roof. Just above the window of Mor's room.

"Thank you," Mor said breathlessly, her chest still heaving from the thrill of the flight. 

Emerie replied with a smile so tender that her heart skipped a beat. She leaned in, her eyes asking the question her mouth wasn't ready to voice. 

With a soft puff of air, Emerie closed the gap between them, pressing soft lips together in a kiss so light and gentle. Mor sighed, sucking on the bottom lip and swiping a tentative tongue. She felt the brunette's smile before hands entangled in blonde tresses and pulled her in closer. Lips parted in an exchange of tongue and teeth. 

If Mor had accidentally found herself in heaven, she knew that she never wanted to leave. 

When they broke apart for air, their foreheads pressed together, chest rising and falling in unison. Behind them, a sliver of gold peeked over the horizon, announcing the arrival of dawn.

"Get yourself out of here," Emerie said somberly, the words seemingly breaking the magical spell they've been under. 

Mor shook her head as the world swayed beneath, her body swaying with it. "No," she protested weakly, "What's happening?" 

"Velaris, Mor" 

Emerie's voice bubbled from a distance as an unimaginable weight bore down on her eyelids, forcing them shut. "Go to Velaris."

The next time Mor opened her eyes, she was back in her bed. She rolled back on her back, faded visions of flying and kissing literally the woman of her dreams flashed across her mind. 

She held onto them as she grabbed for her phone and dialled a familiar number, "Rhys, it's Mor. Wake up. I need a favour." 

***

Mor stepped out of the train and onto the crowded platform. Almost immediately, a rushing commuter rammed into her causing her to fall back a few steps. Horror streaked through her as she felt her back roughly hit a soft surface. Warm fingers wrapped around her shoulders to steady her. Mor turned, her apology poised and ready. 

"I'm sor-"

The words died at her lips as her breath hitched. The ambient noise of the train station faded to the background, overtaken by thundering heartbeats. 

The wings might be gone, the leathered armour replaced with a black leather jacket, graphic tee and jeans. But there was no mistaking the Cupid's lip, the high cheekbones and glowing brown eyes. 

"Hello, Mor. You made it."

[grabyourpillow]

I've been thinking about the moment Lawrence tells Bellini about his papal name "John. I would choose John".

On one hand the words of Conclave writer Peter Straughan bounce around in my head like a windows xp saving screen: "Lawrence admits he has harbored that ambition, that he has prepared his name. It's true what Bellini said about him. It's true about all of them -- except for one person, of course."

And on the other hand it's such a tender little moment. Lawrence could just, not say it and retain the moral high ground literally forever. And as always, always, he chooses to step down, and comfort his longtime confident and friend by looking at him, holding his hands and telling him "look. I'm down here in the muck with the rest of you. With you." And also, perhaps even more importantly "you did not read me wrong. You do, know me."

Going insane

[falafels]

pt.18!! <pt.17 pt.19>

tag gang @andrewsleftarmband @blurryhour @you-know-i-get-itt @notexactlythatgirl @strangeoffputtingrat @tessasilverswan @minyard-05 @carbon-dated-gal @bisexualchaosdemon @stormiiflies @watercoloureyes01 @vampire-overlord @iron-sides <333

[centaur-dreaming]

NUMBER ONE?! NUMBER FUCKING O N E?! ON TUMBLR?! T U M B L R ? !

[sourscratched]

quick comix of the little creatures

[notmysophie]

Just one more week and one more day until I get to see the object of my daydreams in the flesh.

[slfcare]

the most difficult thing about growing as a person socially, as in getting out of your shell and noticing that you are, is that there will still be times when it doesn’t feel like you’ve grown at all! times when you can’t really connect with anyone around you, times when you fail to enter into an existing conversation, times when you say the wrong thing (or nothing at all when in hindsight you probably should’ve). but that’s also kind of the best thing, because that’s the thing that helps you realize that sometimes, it’s not you or your lack of skills or any shortcoming. sometimes certain environments just aren’t for you and certain people aren’t your people, and that’s okay. that’s human. it’s okay to not feel the progress you have made all the time.

[cosmicraelum]

I rewatched perfect blue recently

[teratomatica]

you always land on all fours

[ilovecatfr]

"you can't script this" "it won't happen/be exactly like this even if you script it"

YES HO IT WILL, LEAVE ME AND MY SCRIPT ALONE.

[ups3tti]

Sometimes I think about how Kai made his way out of an inferno by accepting that being the green ninja wasn't meant for him but that didn't make him any lesser while Morro died in an inferno because he couldn't let go of the idea of being the green ninja and viewed it as his only source of worth. And then I lose it a little

[pastelaeqy]

can someone PLEASE get these characters out of my head I do NOT want them here anymore they keep making me SAD

more on the first one in the tags

[crazymecjc]

always the pawn in someone else’s game. ♟️

[licorishh]

no way she's alive ?? yea those mental health breaks because social media makes people suck are wild huh

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 12: Beware the Grapes of Wrath.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[aziraphalalala]

I am not entirely certain what will happen once the actors & writers strike ends, but I'm pretty sure Michael Sheen will break the sound barrier with how fast he will go feral on the internets about how Aziraphale wants to eat Crowley's ox rib