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mythicalgemwrites · 3 years ago

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Selkie x F! Reader (Linn) Part 1

Sorry for not posting earlier guys! I've been very busy with online classes.

Warnings: mentions of drowning. Pics are not mine, all credits go to the owner!

M! Selkie X F! Reader

Living on an island your whole life has its perks. From the fresh scent of the salty ocean air to the calming sounds of the waves crashing lazily, it never failed to wake you up with a serenity that could be found nowhere else. You had lived alone with your Toller pup for the past couple years, in the house that your grandparents had left for you. You grew up with them, as your parents always had to move from town to town due to their profession. They were both marine biologists and had taken up a job at a top secret research facility when you were 12, so they decided to let you stay with your beloved grandparents. However, on a stormy day a couple years ago, when you were 19, both your grandparents got caught in a storm while they were out fishing, and they never came back. During the funeral, you had found out that in their will, they had stated that you should get the house, in the event of something tragically happening to them.

And that’s how you got the house three years ago. When it became too lonely, you decided to adopt a Toller puppy for company, and you had named him Sam, which was your grandpa’s nickname. He provided good company and unconditional love, which is important in every home. The house had its own dock leading to the beach, so every morning, after your walk, you’d put Sam’s retriever genes to good use and play fetch with him, fetching the ball from the ocean was one of his favorite past times. Whenever you brought him to the beach, you sometimes feared he was going to be the reason why someone almost drowned. To date, you were grateful nothing like that had ever happened, but you sometimes couldn’t brush off that fear. You were a writer, and sometimes, you couldn’t control how far your imagination went, and sometimes, the words you put on paper would be some of your worst fears, if they were to come alive.

As the days go by, and the weather gets chilly, you would often take Sam on a walk to the nearby cove, usually in the warmer months it would be filled with children playing by the beach and in the waters, but as the weather got cooler, it was mostly couples going on romantic walks, or some who preferred the solitude, just came to enjoy the sunset. On this particular day, there weren’t many people by the cove, just a couple strangers. It was around 6:15 when you threw the ball the last time, and waited for Sam to retrieve it. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, fully inhaling the chill autumn air, when you heard a whelp coming from the water. Opening your eyes, you saw Sam caught on a wave, and struggling to get back to you. In a panicked state, you took off into the water, not worrying about the growing current, but more worried about your faithful companion, struggling in grasps of strong waves, at least for a dog his size. As you grab him by his collar, attempting to pull him out, another wave comes crashing into the two of you, causing you to go under. Trying to call for help, and failing, as the water fills your lungs, you stop struggling, knowing it might make your situation worse, however, Sam starts barking, with his head barely above the water.

Suddenly, you could feel yourself being pulled out of the water, and being held against a broad chest by strong arms. Once you reached the water, you looked at your savior, beautiful greenish-blue grey eyes met yours, and you saw a cute familiar face looking back at you. It was Linn, the barista in the cute local café. You had to admit, you’ve always had a crush on him, but from afar. You didn’t know anything about him, except that people claimed that his family had lived on the island for years, centuries even.

He had shaggy brown hair, and small freckles were scattered along his face. With his help, you got up from the ground and called out to Sam. “Are you alright? I saw you getting pulled under and saw your dog barking. Do you want me to call someone?” he asked , in a boyishly deep smooth voice. Gaping like a goldfish out of the water, it took you a few seconds to process what was said. Coughing, you rasped out “ Yes… I’m fine, thank you! My dog , Sam, got caught in the waves, and I tried to get him out.” you started babbling like a lost child. “ Can I call someone to come get you?” He asked again, a hint of concern in his eyes. “ oh, no… no it’s okay, I live alone, well with Sam. There’s no one to call.” you said, trying not to act like a 15 year old who just couldn't help but be nervous around her crush. “I’ll be fine, really, I just need to walk home and dry out. Thanks again for helping!” you exclaimed. Calling Sam to you, the both of you started to walk home. “ Hey! Wait!” you heard Linn calling from behind, “ I’ll walk you home, if that’s okay. It’s getting dark anyway. I’ll see to it that you both get home safe,”. Before you could say anything, you felt him putting his jacket over you, helping with the chill. You didn’t realize you were freezing until he wrapped his jacket around you.

When the three of you reached your home, Sam was happy to be back in the warm embrace of his bed. Standing by the door “ Would you like to come in? Maybe a cup of coffee… or tea or anything else, if you prefer?” quickly giving him the option of whatever he preferred, to make sure you didn't seem ignorant. Sure, he worked as a barista in the local café, but that doesn't mean he loved coffee, right? “ Um, sure! Anything will do,” he said, as he followed you in. Looking around, you kicked yourself in your head, not keeping up to the schedule you set yourself for cleaning up around the cottage. Sure, it was decent, but paper everywhere? A heaping amount of mugs were strewn around your coffee table, as you sat there working on your next work.

Quickly picking them up and moving them to the sink, you filled up the kettle and turned it on to boil. “ There’s tea and coffee in the cabinet above the kettle, feel free to help yourself. I’ll go get dried up,” the words left you, as if you were telling them to an old friend, hoping to not make a fool of yourself anymore, you gave him a sheepish smile and made your way upstairs to your bedroom.

(Linn pov)

I made my way to the cabinet, looking through the various tea blends. Something which would help with the cold temperature would be nice. There in the right corner of the cabinet, was a box of peppermint tea. It would definitely help make her feel better, since she was soaked to the bone. I can’t help but feel a sense of concern for her. This beautiful strong woman that I always encounter in the café I worked in, and possibly have a crush on, I can’t believe I never spoke to her. I’ve always seen her writing in the corner of the café, in her spot, as my coworkers and I have labeled it. She always seems so sure of herself, and always seems ready for anything, but today, out in the water when I saw her struggling, something came over me. I had to save her, felt a sense of protectiveness for her, hence why I offered to walk her home. Taking two bigger than average mugs from the cabinet, I filled them up with the boiling water, after placing a tea bag in each and placing them on the coffee table before the couch. Her dog was in front of the heater, longing for some warmth and hoping to dry off. I heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw Sam laying before the heater, trying to get warm. Making my way to the tiny laundry room, I picked up Sam’s towel. Making my way to him, from the corner of my eye I saw Linn, sitting on the couch, two steaming mugs of what seemed to be one of my teas in front of him.

“ I made some peppermint tea, it helps with colds, we don’t want you to catch one now do we?” grinned Linn.

Thanking him, and taking the mug he held one, I sat next to him on the couch. Keeping some distance between us, I asked him if he wanted to use the bathroom to clean up.

“ If you have any spare clothing that might fit, I’d like that! It’s okay if you don’t though!” he nervously exclaimed. “ I do have some spare clothing that belonged to my grandpa, they should fit. Gimme a sec! I’ll go grab ‘em, and a towel too!” I exclaimed, leaving the cozy embrace of the couch.

Making my way to my room, where I kept a spare drawer full of my grandparent’s clothes, I dug out a jumper and a pair of pajama pants which belonged to my grandpa.

When I went down, I saw Linn drying Sam with the towel that I had left by his dog bed, and Sam being the belly rub loving dog he is, happily accepted Linn drying him with the towel, belly rubs being a necessity. Letting out a chuckle at the scene before my eyes, I held out the spare clothes and a fresh towel to Linn.

“ There’s a bathroom two doors left from the stairs upstairs,” I exclaimed, reaching for the doggy towel he left by the couch and chucking it in the laundry room. “Thank you,” he exclaimed, leaving to go to the bathroom.

Once Sam was dry enough, I picked up my mug of tea, making myself comfortable on the couch. Looking out the living room window, rain droplets trickling down the class, I sip on my tea, waiting for my guest to arrive from the bathroom. A couple minutes passed, looking up when I heard soft footsteps heading towards me, I offered Linn a smile and patted down the space next to me on the couch. “ Here, you can leave once the storm stops,” I handed him the mug.

We both sat beside each other, talking about what we remember about my grandparents and how we never spoke to each other when we were younger. Sam sitting at our feet. The dying fire casted a warm allure on his face, illuminating the soft scattered freckles. Hours passed as we enjoyed each other's company over another mug of tea, laughing at all the brief mutual moments that were shared between us. He mentioned that he would always get excited to see me whenever I visited my grandparents by the docks. I didn’t want to admit it, but I always loved to catch a few glimpses of him, whenever he wasn't looking as well.

I laughed at his words, tired but somehow feeling rejuvenated. It had been a long time since I last laughed with someone. It felt good to let go.

His expression of awe paused me mid laughter. He was gazing into my eyes, as I his. For a brief moment, his gaze averted to my lips. Moving his gaze up to my eyes, as soft as a whisper “ May I kiss you?” he asked, a foreign emotion lingered behind his now soft eyes.

Giving him a gentle nod, I felt him place his hand at the nape of my neck. Inhaling a deep breath, his scent which reminded me of the sea with a hint of musky peppermint enveloped my senses.

Linn leaned in, gently bringing my face towards his. He closed his eyes, and for a brief few seconds I admired him until mine shut involuntarily as I felt his lips on mine. After a few seconds, he pulled away, still gazing into my eyes, “ I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now,” he said, with a sheepish grin, before kissing me again.

He deepened the kiss a little, giving my bottom lip a light lick before pulling away. “ I regretted not telling you how I felt about you earlier… I did ask permission from your grandpa before he passed. The last thing he said to me was, he’d be happy if you chose me,” he paused for a second, a hint of sadness and regret casting a shadow on his blue eyes. “ I… I need to tell you something. I might … might not be who you expect. And I understand if I’m not who you want,” he stammered. Grunting, “ The rain’s about to stop. I should probably get going,” he said as he started to get up.

Grabbing onto his hand, “ No...don’t! Please… It’s late, you should stay!” I stopped him. “And I’ve had a silly little crush on you too… I just never knew how to tell you” I whispered. He sat next to me, slowly, as if I were made of fine china. That, at any moment, I might crumble. “ You did?” he breathed, his breath close enough that I could feel it on my face.

“ I also know what you are. Grandpa made sure to educate me on myths, and he said some were not myths. I’ve seen you carry your pelt around sometimes,” I closed his hand between mine. “I know you’re a selkie, Linn. I don’t want you to hide that from me.” I breathed, gazing into his eyes. I could catch a glimpse of adoration in them. “Thank you… for not running away, even when you knew what I was,” he sighed. I gazed at his lips, before catching them with mine, a soft peck, to let him know I accepted him for who he is.

#selkie #selkie x reader #merfolk #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #sea creatures #scottish mythology #scottish folklore

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bokutosworld · 4 years ago

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then and now | kuroo t.

pairing: kuroo tetsurō x f!reader word count: 1863 words, fluff! mutual pining! warning: manga spoilers, with mention of kuroo’s timeskip occupation summary: always the bridesmaid, never the bride. you thought your time would never come until someone from your past comes along and brings up something you’ve long forgotten. OR where you and kuroo make a silly marriage pact and he shows up after years apart to make it come true.

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.”

The church bell tolls, white doves are released, and joyful cheer and applause erupts from the crowd as the newlywed couple steps out from the cathedral. The now husband-and-wife gaze at each other full of love, and it is a sight guaranteed to make one envious and long for that same kind of affection.

But to you, it’s a scene that you’ve seen so many times that it already feels like a short film played on repeat. For the past year, you’ve lost count of how many weddings you’ve attended – whether as a guest or part of the bride’s entourage – that you’ve acquainted yourself with the workings of the event.

Heck, you’ve even memorized the readings of the priest that if they ever need a replacement, you can be the stand-in and officiate the program.

However, this wedding was different. Your best friend of more than fifteen years is the one who walked down the aisle, and you’re more emotional than you expected you’d be. Earlier in the morning, she woke you up, feeling sentimental, and demanded a pep talk. It was laughable because, more than her, you thought it was you who needed that assurance as you sent off your childhood friend to a new journey in her life.

The whole ordeal felt surreal and somehow, a tad more personal, because it wasn’t just any bride – this was the same girl you grew up with, the one you’ve seen in diapers, the one who held your hand in the playground, the person who you always ran to for boy troubles. Watching her exchange vows and rings felt like a coming to life of a scrapbook page, a long-awaited dream that you’ve talked about together in sleepovers where none of you really slept.

It made you wonder if you will ever march down the same aisle towards the waiting arms of your beloved.

---

“What a wedding, huh?”

The hotel reception was no different to the ceremony that took place prior. This time again, you wore the bride’s maid-in-honor hat and only after making sure that everything – that included the food, drinks, and entertainment – were in place did you take your place on the table and chatted with your old friends from high school.

The conversation started off with comments on how grand, intimate, and special the ceremony was. They talked about how it was wedding season, counting just how many of their schoolmates have already been wed. And before you knew it, eyes were on you and you had an inkling of what would follow.

“So,” Yoshioka, your former student council president, turned towards you. “You’re the only bachelorette left in our batch. We’re just curious.”

You laughed awkwardly, “No, please don’t expect a wedding invitation from me anytime soon. I’m still happily single.” The smile you wore felt strained, but whether the other girls recognized it or not, they chose to not comment further.

“Besides, it’s a great source of joy for me just being able to see you guys get married.” Noticing that the lights have begun to dim and focused on the spot on the stage, you clapped your hands, “Now, let’s just enjoy Yukie’s wedding, alright! Look, they’re coming out.”

As soon as the couple walked to the floor for their first dance, you heaved a sigh of relief and slumped in your cushioned chair. They moved gracefully as one across the dance floor, seemingly lost in their own world as they gazed deeply in each other’s eyes and swayed to the tune of the love song.

You thought back to the conversation earlier and weirdly, you felt a pang inside. Truth is, in every wedding you’ve attended, you can’t help but feel wishful. You consider yourself successful in almost every aspect of your life but sometimes, it can feel dejecting when you return home to an empty apartment at the end of a tough workday.

A part of you craved to make that little girl’s dream come true of wearing the wedding dress that you’ve designed, staying up all night for a bridal shower, and walking down the aisle to where your lover was waiting.

When the couple’s first dance ended, the host entered the stage and the program officially began. You could only hope that hours would pass faster.

---

Two hours into the reception and you can already feel the shots kicking in your system.

It wasn’t a really good idea downing five straight shots of tequila. At first, you thought it would quell your nerves, make you let loose and be the funnier version of yourself as you stepped to the podium to deliver your congratulatory speech to the couple.

In retrospect, it looks like the drink did its job as you managed to emit laughter and emotional tears from the crowd as you reminisced on your relationship with the bride, recounting the story of how she fell deeply in love and decided that he was the one.

But now, hunched in your seat with head on your hands, you were seemingly tipsy and all you could think about was escaping outside for some fresh air.

So, you did. When the groom’s best man took the stage, you saw this as an opportunity to quietly slip to the balcony.

Shutting the door behind you with a quiet thud, you eyed the empty balcony and sat towards the nearest bench. The surface was a bit cold as the city was now ushering the season of fall, signaling the arrival of long nights and chilly evenings. You shivered slightly and tucked your coat closer to your body as you stare at the darkness.

You don’t know how long you’ve been outside until you heard the door open and in came a tall, attractive, and oddly familiar man. His face held a warm smile as you noticed that his gaze was directed towards you.

“Long day?”

And it was only until he stepped closer and stood in front of you, the moonlight illuminating his face and accentuating his features, that you realized who he was.

“Tetsurō?!”

When was the last time you saw the Kuroo Tetsurō? You racked your brain for your last encounter with him and your memories point to your high school graduation. All of a sudden, you felt small and your surroundings became hot as you stood in front of him. Your former childhood neighbor. Former best friend. Former crush.

Not that he had any idea about that last item.

“I thought I saw you earlier before the reception started,” he made himself comfortable on the bench, patting the space beside him to urge you to sit as well. “But it’s been so long since I last saw you so of course I thought I was hallucinating. Then you gave a speech on stage – which by the way, I thought was awesome, you’re still as witty as you were before – and my suspicions were confirmed.”

You were breathless. Speechless. What were the odds that your reunion with him would be at a wedding?

“Did Yukie send you the wedding invitation?”

His laugh echoed in the darkness of the night, “Yeah, she did. It was nice to see familiar faces again.” He stared back at you, “I missed everyone.” I missed you, he wanted to say.

You hummed in agreement and without realizing, the two of you engaged in a comfortable conversation with Kuroo leading just as he always did. Being charming just as he always was. Telling you stories from the part of the past that you didn’t know. Catching you up with his present where he now works in the sports promotion division of Japan Volleyball Association.

A small part of you was relieved to know that Kuroo was doing well and successful just as you always hoped he would be. Years of no contact with the boy that stole your heart from day one certainly left you lonely. You wouldn’t say it out loud but he was part of the equation of why you still haven’t tied the knot. It was silly but you always thought that no one could measure up to him.

Absentmindedly, you started fiddling with your fingers, a habit you’ve formed when you were feeling cold, and Kuroo noticed. And just as he always did back then, he enveloped your hands with his and brought them to his lips to blow warm air on them.

“That better?”

Your heart threatened to flutter, “Yeah, thanks.”

After a long while of silence, Kuroo spoke. “I see there’s still no ring on your fourth finger.” He was now nonchalantly stroking your hands, letting his fingers slip in yours.

You coughed nervously, averting your eyes from his deep ones. “Well, I haven’t really found anyone.”

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” Oh no, be still my heart, you thought.

Kuroo went on, “Remember that silly pact we made on the night before graduation?”

Your mind takes you back on that evening when you and Kuroo were sitting on the rooftop, away from the noisy crowds and drunk soon-to-be college students. This was your thing, enjoying the calmness and admiring the stars spread out in the night sky.

That evening, you and Kuroo talked about the uncertain future that lied ahead. That evening, you bared your soul to him, letting him in on your worries and you fell apart in his comforting presence. He, as always, acted as your anchor, assuring you that he would always be your biggest supporter and that he’d always cheer on you even from afar.

That evening, with the two of you drunk on the excitement and the many possibilities for the new chapter of life, he brought up a proposal.

“I have a crazy idea.” Kuroo linked his pinkie finger with yours. “If we’re still single and not yet married by the age of 35, I’ll find you and we’ll get married.”

Swept away in the moment and the thrill of the idea, you agreed and sealed the proposal with a harmless kiss.

“You still remember that?” You questioned, not expecting him to actually remember that silly pact. Not expecting him to be holding on to that agreement.

“Sometimes, I wonder where we could be now if I just manned up and asked you out that night instead of pulling that act.” He holds your gaze, careful as he brings a hand to cup your cheek. “I’ve liked you for the longest time. And if you’re still available, if you’ll still have me, I am yours.”

“But we’re not yet 35, Kuroo,” you teased. He chuckled and playfully shoved you before bringing you in an embrace.

“I’ve decided years ago. You’re the only one for me,” he pulls away. “I’m sorry it took me a long time.”

And that night, it wasn’t only your best friend that went home feeling the happiest girl in the world.

Because there was Kuroo who was ready to make up for lost time and give you a reason to look forward to your trips back home.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kuroo x reader #haikyuucreations #haikyuu fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu one shot #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x you

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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 4 years ago

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What’s in a Name?

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Pairing: Michael!Dean x reader, Dean x reader

WC: 2,135

Summary: Weeks after Michael disappeared with Dean as his vessel, you decide to take some time away from the bunker. Nothing could have prepared you for the talk you have (or the tearful goodbye) when he pays you an unexpected visit.

Square Filled: Midnight Snack

Warnings: Season 14 spoilers if you haven’t seen it. Some angst. Sort of sappy fluff. Revelation of feelings and implied mutual pining. Minor mentions of injuries. Kind of a corny, abrupt ending. Also this gif by @teamfreewillbettertogether (I mean LOOK AT HIM.)

A/N: This is my first submission for #spndeanbingo challenge round 1 hosted by @spndeanbingo Inspired by this 14x01 gif and the end dialogue of 14x09. (I do not claim to own the dialogue from those episodes, I just paraphrased for this fic.) This was supposed to be a drabble but it got away from me. lol

You had just finished a case up north-- nothing big, just a few werewolves preying on teenagers who were exploring the woods on the outskirts of town at night for “something to do.” You had tracked down the last of the pack just in time to save a young girl from becoming an unfortunate midnight snack. After driving her home and observing a tear-filled reunion with her parents, you returned to the motel you’d been staying at.

You were exhausted, covered head to toe in cuts and bruises from the hunt, and you knew you needed some rest. But sleep didn’t come easily these days and, when it did, you often found yourself dreaming of Dean. It kept you up at night knowing he was out there somewhere locked away under Michael’s control, and dreaming about him only seemed to make you miss him more.

It was late, but you decided to venture to the gas station up the street to grab a midnight snack of your own, hoping the cool evening air and a little food might help ease your mind. After cleaning up a little, you slipped out of your room and back into the night.

It had been weeks and there'd still been no sign of Dean or Michael. Sam had been working tirelessly trying to find him, but so far he still hadn’t had any leads. In an effort to help with the search, you packed a bag and set out to connect with some of your old contacts.

...At least that’s what you told Sam.

Truthfully, you had decided to leave because you needed a break from it all. The bunker had begun to feel crowded with all of the new inhabitants from Apocalypse World. Sam, Mary, Cas, and Jack checked on you at all hours of the day because they all seemed to know about the feelings you harbored for Dean. You appreciated their concern, but the lack of alone time and space left you feeling suffocated and on edge.

On top of it all, the bunker somehow also felt eerily empty without your favorite green eyed hunter. Reminders and memories of him seemed to haunt every inch of the place. With how overwhelming everything had become, it was liberating to work a case or two while you took some time to grieve and process everything in peace.

After buying a sandwich, a six pack, and a mini pie, you thanked the cashier and began the short trek back to your motel. Still lost in thought, you had taken a shortcut down an alley when a noise from behind stopped you in your tracks. It was subtle and if you hadn’t recognized it immediately, it might’ve gone unnoticed-- drowned out by the bustle of cars, sirens, and drunken bar-goers still enjoying what was left of their night.

The familiar rustle of angel wings.

Realizing you’d left your angel blade in the duffel bag beside your bed, you tried to remain calm. Cas had no way of knowing where you were and you knew the few angels left in existence were doing all they could to keep heaven running. Grappling with the fear and hope you could feel rising in your chest, you wracked your brain for any other possible explanation for who could be behind you. But even before he spoke, you knew it was him.

“Hello Y/N.”

It wasn’t his voice-- not really. Even so, the sound was oddly comforting after so many weeks without it. If you’d kept your back to him, you might’ve been able to let yourself pretend it really was him. That he had managed to break free from the archangel somehow and track you down.

But it was the way he said your name that let you know who it really was. His voice was hollow. Almost formal.

One thing you’d always loved about Dean--whether he was angry or worried or teasing--was the way he said your name. There was always so much emotion behind it. Always a trace of the unconditional love he gave to everyone he cared about. When he spoke your name, there was always a deeper implication: no matter what he was feeling or what you had done, you knew he would always protect you and have your back. There was never a need for him to say those things outright, because somehow you’d always understood.

But this wasn’t him and those weren’t the feelings you had when your name rolled off of his tongue. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned to face the man behind you.

“Michael.”

The corner of his mouth tilted into a smirk. He wore a gray three piece suit, a long coat, and a newsboy style cap. His head was slightly bowed, casting a dark shadow over his eyes. Instead of the relaxed, bow-legged stance you were accustomed to, his posture was stiff and typical of the angels you’d grown familiar with over the years.

“It’s nice to be able to skip the introductions.”

He raised his head and the motion seemed almost robotic. His jade eyes briefly flashed a bright electric blue and the longer you looked at his emotionless face, the more unsettled you began to feel. Everything about him seemed detached and unnatural-- a stark contrast to the man you knew.

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? It’s a little...ironic.” His lips stretched into a wry grin, but there was still an emptiness behind it. “That’s what I’ve been traveling all around this world asking people. ‘What do you want?’ Their answers are always the same: Peace. Power. Revenge. Love.”

You exhaled upon hearing the final word--recalling the countless number of fantasies you’d had about Dean confessing something similar to you.

“They say the things they think I expect to hear. Give answers they hope will ensure their survival. It’s all so very...weak. Pathetic. Human. But I will admit free will does keep things marginally interesting...how these ‘wants’ seem to motivate you. To give you a cause to fight for.”

You stood motionless, soaking in every bit of the speech he was delivering. The way he spoke was flat and unhurried. You reminded yourself over and over that it wasn’t him, but as his voice washed over you...the hold he had on you was undeniable.

He took a few steps forward, hands behind his back as he began circling you like a predator stalking its prey.

“He’s still in here, you know.” He tapped a finger on his temple when he circled in front of you again. “Resisting me. Squirming and trying to claw his way out. To get back to all of you.”

“Is there a point to this monologue?” Your voice wavered, sounding feeble instead of assertive.

“I can sense how vulnerable you are in my presence because of this pretty face. Haven’t you ever wondered what it is that Dean wants most?” He began slowly pacing back and forth in front of you. “I know his thoughts. His desires. His reasons for fighting. I know all that you’ve been through together...”

“He wants the same thing we all do. To take out as many of you douchebags as we can until--”

“You are what he wants.”

You tried to swallow, but your throat had gone dry.

“...what?”

“Why do you think he said yes to me? Why do all of you sacrifice yourselves for each other? Again and again...and again.” He paused and met your eyes when you didn’t say anything. “For love. For the fear of having to live without each other. For the ‘family business’ or whatever. Now, Sam? Mary? His angel pal and even the nephilim-- sure, he loves them. He would die for them. But you…well, there aren’t words for how devastated he would be if anything ever happened to you.”

“You’re...lying,” you whispered.

“I’m just a messenger, sweetheart.”

He spun on his heel and held his hands out to his sides, chuckling as he shook his head. You wanted to believe everything he was saying, but you had no reason to. Michael had lied to Dean-- why wouldn’t he do the same to you?

“Why are you telling me any of this? Why bother finding me at all?”

“Because his squirming is like an incessant gnat that simply won’t go away. So, as a small attempt to put his floundering to rest, I decided to pay you a visit. To say the things he never could. To put an end to his doubts...the worry and the fear and the anger that keeps him fighting. To show him there’s no need to resist me any longer. Lucifer is dead and all of you survived.”

“So you’re pretending to care about his well-being now?” you scoffed. “That’s your play?”

“He’s angry with himself for saying ‘yes’--but he wanted to save his brother and the boy. To beat Lucifer and, together, that’s what we did. He’s so worried about his family’s safety but, with my help, you were all spared from Lucifer’s wrath. Now, after everything I’ve told you...do you have any idea what Dean’s greatest fear is? His reason for continuing to resist me?”

As the gears turned and every fiber of your being seemed to have a hunch about what he meant, your mind refused to even consider the possibility. There was no way he could possibly mean--

“You,” Michael sighed impatiently. “You’re the one he’s most attached to. The source of his deepest fear and regret. Because what if something happened to his beloved Y/N? What if he never had the chance to tell you that he loves you? That he’s always been too much of a coward to admit it.”

Feeling like the air had been knocked from your lungs, tears began to well in your eyes at his admission. You weren’t sure if he was telling the truth, but if there was any way to reach him...you had to try.

“Dean? If you can hear me--”

“Dean’s not home right now. He’s served his purpose and his mission is complete. Now it’s time for mine.”

You knew you should ask what he meant, but right now you couldn’t care less about Michael’s mission. Taking a measured step forward, you gazed into his eyes and hoped he could hear you, no matter how deep he was buried.

“I love you too, Dean. More than you could ever know… And no matter what happens, none of this is your fault.”

Michael scoffed at your attempt before suddenly hunching over to stare at the ground. His expression quickly grew irritated and he shook his head as he rolled his shoulders back.

“So...very...pathetic,” he mumbled angrily.

“...Dean?”

He stood abruptly, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as he closed the distance between the two of you. You watched as he curled his lip in disgust and placed two fingers on your forehead. When his pupils flash blue once again, your body went rigid as a warm energy spread from your head to your toes.

As he withdrew his hand, you breathed heavily and rolled your sleeves up to discover the wounds from your hunt had been healed. You glanced back at him with a puzzled expression and let out a small gasp when you noticed how drastically his demeanor had changed.

Instead of blank, dead eyes, you were met with tender emerald ones. He reached a hand out and lightly traced his fingertips along the edge of your jaw.

“Y/N…”

It was nothing more than a whisper; a silent plea for you to hear everything he didn’t have time to say. When the word escaped his lips, he drew his eyebrows together-- all of the raw emotion Michael had kept locked away painted clearly on his face.

You understood completely, hearing it all in the way he said your name.

“I know, Dean. We’re gonna find a way to get you back. Just hold on.”

He cupped your cheek and a sad, longing smile graced his lips when you leaned into his touch. Without warning, his eyes flashed blue once more.

In the blink of an eye he was gone.

Clenching the bag of food and beer in one hand, you wiped away a few stray tears and fished your phone from your pocket. After selecting a number from your favorite contacts, you began jogging toward the motel. The line rang several times before going to voicemail, but you quickly hung up and dialed again.

Arriving at your room, you unlocked the door and began frantically packing your bag. You huffed in frustration when the call went to voicemail again but, on your third attempt, you finally heard Sam’s groggy voice.

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Y/N. So, get this--”

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms @amanda-teaches @cosicas-cuquis @crist1216 @droidyouseek @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @flawless-disaster @janeyboo @jenn0755 @ksgeekgirl @maresmiley @memyselfandmaddox @notyourtypicalrose @randomparanoid @rynabarnesrogers @sandlee44 @scarletsoldierrr @shann-the-artist-moon @sheerioasteroidpanda @shynara51 @someday-when-you-leave-me @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @thisismysecrethappyplace @torntaltos @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @weebid @whimsicalrobots @wintersoldierbaby @wintersoldierissucharide @yesfanficsaremylife

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23 @deangirl7695 @dean-winchesters-bacon @fandomoniumflurry @pisces-cutie @supernaturalenchanted @superromijn @waywardnerd67 @x-waywardaf-x

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edencantstopfallininlove · 4 years ago

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Esprit de Corps

Content Warnings: Coming out, epiphanies, hugs, pathetic fallacy, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF

A/N: Since my coming-out experience with my family could've gone slightly better, I decided I'd finish this thing that had been sitting in my drafts for a while. Writing it has helped me immensely and I hope you like it! Dhar and I are bi/pan solidarity!

For context, this is set after the endgame, a short while before Heather's graduation exam; the two are staying in Heather's student accommodation. And they have a nice porch!

@selfship-pride

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Can I have a word with you? It's important."

Those nine words seemed to come out of nowhere for Dhar. Up until now, Heather had gone about her note-taking on topics that (frankly) eluded him, with total focus. But now, she had placed her trusty book to one side and looked his way expectantly.

Well. Whatever it was, he conceded that it would be better to address it now than to leave it until later.

"Of course," he said, taking the free space on the porch seat. His presence summoned a warmth in Heather's mind; it was a safe feeling, like when a cat curls up in one's lap. It was almost enough for her to ignore the barrage of rain hitting the shelter above them.

But every time she tried to start a sentence, she found her voice trailing off before she could get to the point. Her grayish-blue eyes never seemed to find a place to rest. It was in the middle of this half-rambling that Dhar quietly slinked his hands into hers, squeezing them ever so slightly to get her attention.

"Heather, you're trembling and I can't understand a word you're trying to say. I'm not going to let you speak until you've calmed down a little. Breathe with me."

And so it was, with him leading his beloved through a simple breathing exercise. In through the nose, out through the mouth. As she exhaled, the tension in Heather's head slowly faded into the background. Once he was sure that Heather had reached that natural place of rest, Dhar squeezed Heather's hands once again.

"Better."

"Look," she said, "I know you probably don't want me to waffle on, so I'll just come right out with it." A deep breath. "I'm pan."

Dhar looked at her in silence for a few seconds before cocking his head to one side. "I can't say I know what that means," he said. "Please, explain it to me."

Heather was prepared for this.

"Well, since I was a teenager, I thought I could be interested in, well, more than just guys? I thought about it long and hard - several years really - and I realised that attraction to all these different genders felt more or less the same, so I guess it's not a defining factor. See, some people think that bisexuality and pansexuality are one and the same, and that's not true. I've been around bi people, and I've noticed that some are attracted to multiple genders but not all, and some experience attraction differently for different genders."

She let go of Dhar's hands, stimming by fiddling slightly with the wrist of one of her white gloves. "I hope that's cleared it up, but-"

"You know something?" His comment prompted her to let go and look back up at him. His gaze now carried with it a sense of pleasant surprise. "That last part sounds a lot like myself. I'll admit that I had crushes on one or two men senior to me, but loving them felt different somehow to loving women, and especially to loving you."

"Course it does! I'm the love of your life, aren't I?"

"You don't have to be so blunt about it…" Dhar let out an exasperated sigh as Heather giggled in satisfaction; still, being wound up was worth it to ease the tension. She needed the opportunity to say that. "I suppose that means I'm bi, right?"

"If you want to call yourself that, yes!"

Dhar nodded. Yes, that felt just right.

"Look at you finding a label you can work with! Gods, that makes me so happy… But still, I just hope the way I am doesn't, you know, weird you out or anything."

"Of course not. You're still the same amazing person that I love, and I no longer have any doubt in my mind that you feel the same way about me. We just know a little bit more about each other now. Can I..." Despite himself, his eyes grew misty as he placed a single hand on Heather's shoulder. "Can I hug you?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Come here."

With that little bit of confirmation, Heather found herself wrapped in the comfort of Dhar's strong, but still tender, arms. Instinctively, she returned the gesture, soothing him in turn as they both quietly expressed their mutual relief. How cathartic it was to have each others’ shoulders to cry on... When it was finally time for them to let go, Dhar simply looked back at Heather with a softness reserved only for her.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, voice still a tad brittle from crying. "And if anyone tries to make you feel lesser because of who you are, they'll have to answer to my sword. I'll always have your back, my dearest."

"The same to you, Dhar. No matter what, I'm in your corner." Heather, not content with leaving her partner to deal with the aftermath by himself, leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. He let out a soft laugh as she lightly kissed his tears away.

The rain finally passed, leaving cosy sunlight in its wake.

#selfshipping #self shipping community #selfship positivity #self ship stuff #f/o community #gif cw #pride month #bi pan solidarity #I'll Bury You My Love #I Write Stuff Sometimes #pathetic fallacy is one of my favourite literary devices and I WILL USE IT #pansexual #bisexual #I SPELT THESE WRONG THE FIRST TIME DAMNIT

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thought-u-said-dragon-queen · 3 years ago

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I posted 30,860 times in 2021

11 posts created (0%)

30849 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2804.5 posts.

I added 13 tags in 2021

#fuck off op there's absolutely supposed to be cereal in meatloaf - 2 posts

#mutuals - 2 posts

#when will techno's pov return from the war - 2 posts

#tong dong - 1 posts

#it's not for lack of trying i just don't have brain space for human interaction after working in customer service - 1 posts

#also hi - 1 posts

#remember when we talked a lot for like two months before i dropped of the face of the planet for a while because tumblr is hard sometimes - 1 posts

#before i disappeared for a while because tumblr can be hard - 1 posts

#that was nice huh - 1 posts

#sorry we don't talk much - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#so that's how i spent like a month testing the faux fur trim of the bottom of a cape and hemming it by like 3 inches and putting it back on

My Top Posts in 2021

I'll return the favour, five things that made you happy this week?

Ok uhhh

I found a skeleton horse trap in my survival Minecraft world for the first time, and it was super cool

My siblings and I went to the airport to pick up our sister, and just spending time singing along to the music in the car was delightful

I got paid today, and that was nice

I found a leather jacket at the thrift store for $4 and it's super comfortable

You in my inbox! I missed actually interacting

3 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 09:01:53 GMT

thanks!!!

beloved mutual!!! my friend!!!!

❤️💜❤️🖤💛💜💚💙💜

3 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 08:53:47 GMT

Get you some mutuals who check on you when you make a breakdown post in the middle of the night (thank you guys ily)

8 notes • Posted 2021-03-17 08:18:12 GMT

I crave interaction someone give me an excuse to overshare

13 notes • Posted 2021-03-16 08:56:17 GMT

You really have to pick one or two streamers to watch in order to not get overwhelmed trying to keep up with the dream smp, but God did I nerf myself by picking TECHNOBLADE, the man who NEVER PRODUCES ANY CONTENT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES as my main pov to follow

I only know about what's happening with Tommy through memes because everyone else only streams when I'm busy, but with Techno's pov I don't have to worry about that because he doesn't stream lmao

14 notes • Posted 2021-03-03 11:37:04 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

0 notes

gallifreyandemigoddess · 7 years ago

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Things I loved about The Dark Prophecy:

Once again, it starts with Apollo hating his humanity, something that I believe won’t change in some time, he was born a god, after all. Though I fervently believe that he is learning from his time as a mortal.

Through the whole book, we are able to read some of his most selfish comments, which is to be expected, since he had always been portrayed as a selfish, self-centered god. However, we’re able to see his selfless and kind side, too.

Example:

From:

“...It went against the very nature of being Apollo. I should always be the most obvious, brilliant source of light in the world. If you had to search for me, something was wrong.”

And: “I tried to contain my bitterness. Soldiers and sailors were all very well, but if your city’s biggest monument is not Apollo, I’m sorry, you’re doing something wrong.”

To:

“You rescued me.” Then I added two words that never came easily to a god: “Thank you.”

And:

“When I was a god, I would’ve been delighted to leave the mortal heroes to fend for themselves. I would’ve made popcorn and watched the bloodbath from a distance on Mount Olympus, or simply caught the highlight reel later. But as Lester, I felt obligated to defend these people....I wanted to be here for them.”

And:

“Their eyes were so full of concern- concern for me- that I had to swallow back a lump in my throat. Six weeks we had been traveling together. Most of that time, I had fervently wished I could be anywhere else, with anyone else. But with the exception of my sister, had I ever shared so many experiences with anyone? I realized, gods help me, that I was going to miss these two.”

These are some of the parts I loved the most about the book:

The Waystation. It’s nice to know of more demigod safe-spaces, more so when they’re under the loving care of Emmie and Josephine:

“We’ve saved a lot of demigods and other outcasts- raised them at the Waystation, let them go to school and have a more or less normal childhood, then sent them out into the world as adults with the skills they needed to survive.”

It’s different from both Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, where, no matter how much they protect you and care for you, it could never be as normal and comforting as being raised in a “normal” loving environment.

The relationship between Apollo and Calypso: They hate each other, that much is perfectly clear...

“Lo!” I said. “I arrived at Camp Half-Blood as Lester Papadopoulos!”

“A pathetic mortal!” Calypso chorused. “Most worthless of teens!”

“-...her evil stepfather had poisoned her mind!”

“Poison!” Calypso cried. “Like the breath of Lester Papadopoulos, most worthless of teens!”

“Lo!” I shouted. “From the Oracle of Dodona we received a prophecy- a limerick most terrible!”

“Terrible!” Calypso chorused. “Like the skills of Lester, most worthless of teens!”

Though as the chapters progress, it appears that it’s more of a mutual disagreement than actual hatred. Apollo realizes how unfair their punishment on her was, and starts to feel like his own treatment towards her is unfair:

“Just yesterday, I had toyed with the idea of leaving Calypso behind to the blemmyae when she was wounded. I’d like to say that it wasn’t a serious thought, but it had been, however briefly. Now Calypso refused to leave Meg, whom she barely knew. It was almost enough to make me question whether I was a good person...”

And, in the end, they become friends. They still have much path to cover and much to discuss, but I believe they’re on good terms now.

Calypso and Leo:

One of the many topics vastly discussed after Blood of Olympus was how short and forced their relationship seemed. However, in The Dark Prophecy, we caught a glimpse of the reality they’re living on:

They’re trying to discover who they are together, as a couple and as friends. We see their multiple fights and their disagreements, and I believe it’s a very good thing! They’re exploring the possibilities of their relationship!

We see Calypso missing her island, we see her missing her powers, but most than anything else, we can see that Calypso and Leo truly love one another, and that they’re trying. It feels real, their problems, which only makes it better. It was to be expected that they’d be fighting and having problems, since they hadn’t talked much back on her island before he was forced to leave. They’re testing the waters, as Calypso explained.

They’re trying to build a good future for each other, they’re even going to enter school together. I like how their relationship improved, I like that Rick portrayed and fixed the mess that was their relationship by the end of BoO.

I also loved that Leo keeps calling her mamacita, and that Leo’s full name is actually Leonidas.

In general, everything about Emmie and Josephine was pure perfection.

They were hunters of Artemis, hunters who fell in love with one another and decided to choose each other over immortality. Their love was beautifully portrayed, and the fact that they adopted a daughter was even more precious for me and for everyone in the LGBT community.

I like that, on a similar topic, we had more explanation about the Hunters of Artemis and their rules:

“All romance is off-limits. My sister is quite unreasonable in that regard. The mission of the Hunters is to live without romantic distractions of any kind.”

It makes more sense that the Hunters only being prohibited the company of men, as was stated by the Titan’s Curse. I like that Rick fixed that, too.

AND ARTEMIS BEING COMPASSIONATE AND LETTING THEM LEAVE HER GROUP WITHOUT PUNISHING THEM, GODS BLESS HER SOUL.

Also, Zeus forbidding Artemis from interfering with Apollo makes me so angry, but I didn't expect anything less than that coming from him. It was good, though, that Artemis sent her Hunters to help Apollo discretely, just like when Apollo helped Percy and co. with rescuing Artemis and Annabeth.

Apollo being thirsty as fuck:

Apollo having the hots for Tall, Dark & Handsome Jamie.

Apollo being a fluttering mess when talking to him, then feeling away as soon as he heard Jamie had a girlfriend.

Apollo canonically having fantasies involving Thalia: “Thalia Grace climbed up behind me on the elephant- which fulfilled a daydream I’d once had about the pretty Hunter, though I hadn’t imagined it happening quite this way.”

Apollo canonically doing all sort of stuff to get Britomartis’ attention. To get a “kiss” and a “cute date” from her. (We all know that he wanted more than just a date and a kiss, but alas, this is a “children’s book”)

Apollo and Commodus:

I’m aware that Commodus is evil, and I don’t like him as a character, but honestly, his relationship with Apollo killed me unlike any other relationship ever had. More specially, this:

“Overhead, a white silk canopy billowed in the gentle breeze. Inn one corner, a musician sat discretely serenading us with his lyre. Under our feet spread the finest rugs from the eastern provinces. Between our two couches, a table was spread with an afternoon snack of roast boar, pheasant, salmon, and fruit spilling from gold solid cornucopia.

I was amusing myself by throwing grapes at Commodus’ mouth. Of course, I never missed unless I wanted to, but it was fun to watch the fruit bounce off Commodus’ nose.

“You are terrible,” He teased me.

And you are perfect, I thought, but merely smiled.”

And:

“I didn’t mean to laugh at the expense of his distant wife, but part of me was pleased when he talked badly about her. I wanted all his attention for myself.”

And, of course:

“Commodus looked at me, panic in his eyes.

“Go,” I said, as calmly as I could, forcing down my misgivings. “You will always have my blessings. You will do fine.”

But I already suspected what would happen: the young man I knew and loved was about to be consumed by the emperor he would become.

He rose and kissed me one last time. Then he left the tent- walking, as Romans would say, into the mouth of the wolf.

“Apollo,” Calypso nudged my arm.

“Don’t go!” I pleaded. Then my past life burned away. “

Never forget this hear-wrenching part:

“As I often did for him after our workout sessions, I filled his great marble bath with streaming rose-scented water. I helped him out of his soiled tunic and eased him into the tub. For a moment, he relaxed and closed his eyes.

I recalled how he looked sleeping besides me when we were teens. I remembered his easy laugh as we raced through the woods, and the way his face scrunched up adorably when I bounced grapes off his nose.

I sponged away the spittle and blood from his beard. I gently washed his face. Then I closed my hands around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

I pushed his head underwater and began to squeeze. Commodus was strong. Even in his weakened state, he thrashed and fought. In had to channel my godly might to keep him submerged, and, in doing so, I must’ve revealed my true nature to him.

He went still, his blue eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. He could not speak, but he mouthed the words: You. Blessed. Me.

The accusation forced a sob from my throat. The day his father died, I had promised Commodus: You will always have my blessings, Now I was ending his reign. I was interfering in mortal affairs- not just to save lives, or to save Rome, but because I could not stand to see my beautiful Commodus die by anyone else’s hands.

I hunched over him, crying, my hands around his throat, until the bathwater cooled.

Britomartis was wrong. I didn’t fear water. I simply couldn’t look at the surface of any pool without imagining Commodus’ face, stung with betrayal, staring up at me.”

Rick Riordan has a talent of portraying gods and their actions unlike anyone else.

Apollo loved Commodus, he loved him deeply and wholeheartedly, but he couldn’t see anyone else killing his beloved Commodus. He killed him, for he could not stand the way the young man he loved had destroyed himself, turning into a murderous, evil emperor.

For me, Apollo has always been a complex god.

He said so himself in the first book, when he called his arrogance a pretense, when he mentioned he was a guilt-ridden, miserable god. He has never been good at love, for some reason, all of his lovers end tragically in one way or another, some by his own hand (Cassandra, Commodus, etc). It weighs him down more than he admitted when he was a god. As a mortal, he is more connected to his emotions, and is unable to put his usual facade of coolness and of arrogance.

Everything he has done, every sin he has committed, weighs him down:

“I imagined Trophonius’ head transposed on his body- my son’s agonized voice crying to the heavens, Take me instead! Save him, Father, please!

This blended with the face of Commodus, staring at me, wounded and betrayed as his carotid pulse hammered against my hands. You. Blessed. Me.

I sobbed and hugged the commode- the only thing that wasn’t spinning. Was there anyone I hadn’t betrayed and disappointed? Any relationship I hadn’t destroyed?

And, since we’re talking about Apollo and his change, I’d like to mention his relationship with Meg.

In the beginning, he could not stand her. Then by the end of the first book, he cared for her. Now, on this second book, the feeling grows and morphs into something so profound and so beautiful that I do not have words for it.

“No! She was- she was trying to protect me.” I choked on the words. “She is my friend. Take me instead!”

And also:

“She is precious to you,” Said the Oracle. “Would you give your life in exchange for hers?”

I had trouble processing that question. Give up my life? At any point in my four thousand years of existence, my answer would’ve been an emphatic No! Are you crazy? One should never give up on one’s life. One’s life is important! The whole point of my quests in the mortal world, finding and securing all these ancient Oracles, was to regain immorality so I wouldn’t have to ponder such awful questions!

And yet... I thought of Emmie and Josephine renouncing immortality for each other. I thought of Calypso giving up her home, her powers, and eternal life for a chance to roam the world, experience love, and possibly enjoy the wonders of high school in Indiana.

“Yes,” I found myself saying. “Yes, I would die for Meg McCaffrey.”

And lastly but not least important:

When Apollo shared Meg’s curse, slipping into her mind and trying to save her: “I would share this burden with her, even if it kills me.”

What saved us what a simultaneous thought: Meg/Apollo needs me.

There we had Apollo, someone that, supposedly, only cared about himself, risking his life, his human life, to save his little but beloved friend from madness and darkness.

It’s a beautiful moment, more so for those of us that adore Apollo since before the PJO books. It’s a beautiful character development from the fuckboy we saw in Titan’s Curse; it’s a beautiful character development from the god that we met in the first TOA book, the god that could only feel annoyance towards Meg.

“Let the girl go,” I whimpered through the pain. “Kill me and let her go.”

I surprised myself. These were not the last words I had planned. In the event of my death, I’d been hoping to have time to compose a ballad of my glorious deeds- a very long ballad. Yet here I was, at the end of my life, pleading not for myself, but for Meg McCaffrey.”

The mention of other gods through the book:

Apparently, gods have a weekly game night in Mount Olympus where Athena loves to gloat about her Scrabble scores.

AND THIS SAVAGE LINES: (AKA: my cute, dorky ex-god being dorky as fuck)

“Ever since my famous battle with Python, I’ve had a phobia of scaly reptilian creatures. (Especially if you include my stepmother, Hera. BOOM!)

“I’ve always found spiders fascinating creatures, despite what Athena thinks. If you ask me, she’s just jealous of their beautiful faces. BOOM!”

This important, yet short part:

Leto knelt at Zeus’ side, her hands clasped in prayer. Her bronze arms glowed against her white sundress. Her long golden hair zigzagged down her back in an elaborate ladder weave.

“Please, my lord!” She implored. “He is your son. He has learned his lesson!”

“Not yet,” Zeus rumbled. “His real test is yet to come.”

I laughed and waved. “Hi, mom! Hi, dad!”

There we have a glimpse of Leto being concerned over Apollo’s fate and we see that she cares. Zeus is, as always, being shady as fuck, and Apollo is super cute while hallucinating and being under the effect of the waters of Mnemosyne and Lethe.

Apollo realizes how hard some demigods have it:

From:

“I’m new to these heroic-quest business. Shouldn’t there be a reward at the end? Not just more deadly quests?”

“Nope,” Leo said. “This is pretty standard.”

My sweet, innocent Lester seems to forget that when he was Apollo, as a god, he never cared much for the quests he made demigods go through.

“I wondered if demigods ever felt the need to restrain themselves when facing ungrateful gods like this. No. Surely not. I was special and different. And I deserved better treatment.”

Had Percy Jackson been there, he would’ve written a gigantic thesis statement with a power-point presentation about how wrong Apollo was.

Also, this part:

“I knelt next to him- a boy of about sixteen, my mortal age. I felt no pulse. I didn’t know whose side he had fought on, but that didn’t matter. Either way, his death had gone to waste. I had begun to think that perhaps demigod lives were not as disposable as we gods liked to believe.”

Finally, at the moment of war, Apollo realizes how easy it is for a mortal to die. And most times, demigods die because of the gods.

The part where they find out Georgina might be Apollo’s daughter:

The whole scene, though the most painful part was when Emmie asked if it was payback for having renounced to his gift of immortality:

“I hadn’t known I could feel any worse, until I did. I really hate that about the mortal heart. It seems to have an infinite capacity of getting heavier.

“Dear Emmie,” I said. “I would never. Even on my worse days, when I’m destroying nations with plague arrows or putting together set lists for Kidz Bop compilations, I would never take revenge in such a way...”

That shows that he was a good god, even if he murdered and punished people, he had some kind of morality. He knew where his boundaries went: like when he mentioned that he flirted with the Hunters, but that he would never dare to go any further than that.

Had it been Zeus, he would’ve raped them already; and canonically, on mythology, I’ve never read about any case of Apollo raping anyone.

Also, I really liked that Rick added certain parts that showed that our actions, as mortals, are what define us and that, once we take one wrong decision, we cannot pray for better things when it is us that fuck things up.

I’ve heard so many people complain that their prayers were never answered, that their God never helped them. They don’t seem to realize that God cannot help us if we don’t help ourselves first.

It’s shown here:

“Don’t blame me for you robbing the king’s treasury!” I snarled. “You are here because you messed up.”

“I prayed to you!”

“Well, perhaps you didn’t pray for the right thing at the right time!” I yelled. “Pray for wisdom before you do something stupid! Don’t pray for me to bail you out after you follow your worst instincts!”

Apollo’s son, Trophonius, made wrong choices all his life, and when it came back to him, he wanted his father to miraculously save him. It doesn’t work like that, God/gods cannot help if we try to make them fix our whole lives.

The way they temporarily defeated Commodus. (I found extremely pretty the way Apollo’s real form was revealed) (Finally we had an explanation as to why gods’ real forms are deadly to mortals: they’re pure light.)

The second chance Apollo gave Lityerses. “Everything alive deserves a chance to grow.

Lityerses sobbing when Emmie said he could be part of their family.

All the “lit” jokes. And the commode ones too.

“The two bumped fists as if they hadn’t spent the last few days talking about how much they wanted to kill each other. They would’ve made fine Olympian gods.”

Little Georgina’s words to Apollo. How he told her he was there for her if she wanted to talk. How he was concerned about her, even if he was not sure if she was his daughter.

“You’ve built something good here, Hemithea.” I said. “Commodus could not destroy it. You’ll restore what you’ve lost. I envy you.”

Everywhere he goes, Apollo seems to crave home. Not Olympus. Home, as in: a place where he’d feel loved and safe. In the 1st book, he wanted to stay in Camp with his children, now there, he admits that he craved the lovely home, the safe environment that they created at the Waystation.

“It all felt so homey and cozy, I wanted to volunteer to wash dishes if it meant getting to stay another day.”

Apollo trying to fix what he did to Agamethus by offering to go to the Underworld once he became a god again, to ask Hades to send him to Elysium.

“Never underestimate the healing power of music.”

Lit staying in the Waystation.

Apollo mentioning that he believed in second chances, and that he could understand Lit since they had things in common- being attractive being one of those things.

Apollo’s talking arrow only speaking bad Shakespearean English.

“Being productive. Urgh.” Same, Apollo, same.

The whole choo-choo scene, I don’t now why but I really really loved that part.

The fact that WE MIGHT GET TO SEE REYNA, FRANK AND HAZEL ON THE NEXT BOOK.

GROVER UNDERWOOD IS FINALLY BACK. MY SON, MY BABY, MY FAVORITE ENCHILADA LOVER SATYR. HE WILL BE BACK.

I must’ve missed many points, but this was already very long. In general, I really loved The Dark Prophecy, and I recommend everyone to read it as soon as they can! It is honestly so, so good. As good as the first one, I cannot wait for The Burning Maze!

#trials of apollo #toa #apollo #lester papadopoulos #the dark prophecy #leo valdez #calypso #josephine and emmie #meg mccaffrey #grover underwood #my thoughts #book #the trials of apollo #pjo #hoh #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

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tenroseforeverandever · 7 years ago

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Dear Father Christmas Chapter 6: 24th December, 2021

MASTERPOST

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Rose is beyond frustrated when the children’s creative intelligence results in an explosion of melted candy canes.

Notes: As always, my thanks to my darling betas mrsbertucci and @rose--nebula for offering their unstinting support and insightful comments. ((((hugs, ladies))))

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today was Candy Canes.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2021

Dear Father Christmas,

Ooooooh, some days I just want to tear my hair out. Today, in case you couldn’t guess, is one of them. It was completely mad! The Doctor aggroed (full Oncoming Bah Humbug), the TARDIS is in a snit, the children are in solitary lock-up until the foreseeable future (imposed by aggro-Doctor), and I have candy cane melted into my hair. The smell of burned sugar is everywhere! And on top of all that we’re expected at Mum and Dad’s in a few hours for Christmas Eve, and I’m not even sure we can pilot the TARDIS in her current state. We’ve been travelling this past week, so Mum suggested we could stay at the mansion overnight tonight and open pressies with them Christmas morning. Honestly I just want to go to bed and stay there for a very, very long time.

Even though it’s completely against everything me and the Doctor agreed on, this is one of those days when it’s really tempting to consider cheating a little with the timelines and stealing a few hours to give us a chance to get it together. It’ll never happen, but it’s sure nice to think about.

Actually, the whole of autumn has been a bit of a challenge, if I’m being completely honest. We decided to do try something new this year. When the school year began in September, we enrolled Hope at her own age level to help her to socialize (that’s another story! Let’s just say, some attitude adjustment was necessary.) That meant taking the TARDIS out on the weekends to explore and educate the children, Doctor-style, which was lovely. But, it also meant the two kiddies left at home during the week whilst Hope was at school weren’t having their intelligence challenged as much as would be considered ideal… for them. It’s a constant battle trying to keep on top of them to figure out what they’ll get into next.

I don’t quite remember why we didn’t enroll them in the Torchwood Nursery… Some nonsense about me needing to be home to do the school-run, morning and afternoon, and since they had each other for company, they might as well stay home too and drive me mental while they were at it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Santa, it was a mutual decision between me and the Doctor. We talked it over and decided since he’s enjoying working in the Torchwood labs so much, he should keep doing it, and he relieves me whenever I really need it. It’s just some days I find myself questioning my life choices...

Anyway, the upshot of it is, this past week, we thought we’d give ourselves a nice break. We took Hope out of school a week early for a few days of hols before settling back to Earth-life over Christmas. It started out great, exploring cave life on Naotol-ri-Pibol one day and observing the process of the Grand Canyon gradually forming over eons from the TARDIS doors the next. (That little trick always floors me: to have the TARDIS hover in one point in space, but move through time, so the evolution of the planet plays out like a time-lapse film before your eyes! Brilliant!) But our final stop, yesterday, was the absolute best Christmas planet in either universe: 63rd Century Yultidia! I know, I know, the name is cheesier than my mum’s festive nutty cheese ball, but it sure makes up for it in many wonderful ways.

You’d love Yultidia, Santa, for a chance to get away. It’s completely impractical and over-the-top, not at all suited for building toys, but still everything’s decked out in Christmas cheer. And there’s so much to do: reindeer-pulled sleigh rides (not that that’s anything special for you), shops, carnivals and amusement parks, ice skating, sledding, and all kinds of other winter sports. There’s brilliant, posh hotels and restaurants, the ultimate hot chocolate, and the most wonderful spas… ever! You can guess where I spent most of my time. You and Mrs. Claus should come and treat yourselves to a post-Christmas massage some year. You deserve it!

(I could bloody use another massage, myself, right about now.)

So, while I was enjoying my day at the spa, the Doctor and the brood went exploring. They went snow tubing and they each got to ride a reindeer. And then they went shopping…

Hope, being the most diplomatic of them all (and not just because she’s the eldest… it’s just her nature) convinced her pushover of a Daddy (she has him wound around every single one of her little fingers) to allow the three of them to buy, in addition to a soft toy each, Christmas decorations to add to Gran and Grandad’s setup this year. Of course they chose the tackiest, most garish multicoloured garland possible. Now I’m not talking about tinsel-garland, yeah. I’m talking about fake metallic tree branches in every shade of the rainbow and then some. A bit naff. Not that Mum would mind one little bit. Even though she’s gone a bit posh, living in luxury these last few years, she could never be accused of being particularly sophisticated in her decorating tastes. And besides if her grandkids want something, her grandkids get it.

They also bought a huge box of candy canes to hang from the garland, and no doubt from other places as well, given the quantity of them. I’m not quite sure what the Doctor had been thinking, allowing them to buy so many. Probably thinking with his sweet tooth instead of his brain.

Anyway, they picked me up from the spa, and we all went to a restaurant to have our tea. Soooo good! They have Christmas Chips! I can’t begin to explain the flavour. Gooorgeous! So after enjoying some hot chocolate and mince pies for dessert we all headed back to the TARDIS. Me and the Doctor left the three kids to play in the console room. They were looking all innocent, oohing and awing over their purchases and plotting where they would hang everything when they got to the mansion. Basically, they seemed content, so we headed down to the family room to watch some Scrooge. Biggest mistake ever… but we wouldn’t know that until this afternoon.

In retrospect, we should have known. The three of them were being awfully quiet for children who were “playing”, but we were just so happy to have a quiet evening to snuggle together, we didn’t want to jinx it. When the movie was over, I went to get them ready for bed. They had already tidied up the garland and candy canes, and Wilf was nodding off, hugging his new stuffie reindeer. I got them all into a bath to wash the glitter off them, then into their new Christmas jimjams and straight to bed. Nothing seemed amiss. Same this morning when I made banana pancakes in Christmas shapes for breakfast, although there was rather a little too much chatter about them getting to see Father Christmas (you!) hiding pressies under the tree this year.

We decided to spend a little longer on Yultidia. They all wanted me to go tubing with them! So much bloody fun! Then we had lunch and bought a pile of Christmas goodies for Mum, Dad, and Tony, and gifts for Hope’s teachers and the folks at Torchwood. They’d get them a little late, but that’s okay. I know you’re thinking “time machine”, Santa, but remember, me and the Doctor agreed not to cheat with the timelines, and anyway, those sweets are worth the wait.

We all bundled back into the TARDIS, and got ready to go: the kids were all buckled in and squirming, so excited to show Gran the garland. The Doctor did his usual dance around the console switching switches and pushing buttons, and I followed behind, making sure everything was set just right, then both of us once again. I know it sounds tedious, but these days… safety first!

Then, the Doctor’s running his hands through his hair and telling me “Something doesn’t feel quite right. Something’s off. I just can’t put my finger on it.” And as he’s fishing for his sonic, I can’t help but see our three little angels giving each other guilty looks and biting their little lower lips. And all I can think is “Oh, bloody hell…”

Next thing I hear is the buzz of the sonic, then a violent rumbling coming from the candy cane box under the console, and I’m throwing myself between it and the children as fast as I can. Flames come shooting out of the box, and the Doctor’s just standing there gawping and saying “What?” over and over. I mean, at this point, Doctor, does it matter?

Suddenly the whole thing explodes, bits of melted and burning candy cane go soaring around the console room, sticking to everything. And believe me, hot candy cane burns are not to be taken lightly. The stuff was everywhere, in our hair, on our clothes (the kids had managed to come out of it with only a little stickiness, thank goodness.) But, worst of all, some of the molten sweet had seeped into the TARDIS controls.

The Doctor lost it. Completely lost it. I could see he was scared shitless. Things could have been so much worse, and he was over-reacting as a result. Like I said earlier, he put the kids in solitary time-out rooms. They were blubbering and apologizing and begging. At least Hope and Charlie were. Poor Wilfred, was just sobbing and sucking his thumb, really frightened and not quite realizing why his Daddy was so angry.

After the kids were settled, the Doctor gingerly ran his sonic over the TARDIS console and deemed it would be hours before she’d be ready to fly again. She just grumbled and dimmed her lights. I wonder if she would enjoy a nice spa treatment…?

Anyway, the Doctor just went down to interrogate the little hooligans, so I’m taking the time to record my letter to you now.

Holy crap! Hang on just a minute, Santa! Now, that plonker is crowing away to the kids about how brilliant they are. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he is! And they’re all laughing and talking some bloody technobabble language I swear they all made up. I’ll make them laugh, all right! I’ll be right back. Looks like Mummy Scrooge is going to have to step in after all.

--ooOoo--

I’m back! Honestly, that man is such a pushover! If I hadn’t stepped in… The brood may be little but they’re definitely smart enough to learn that they have to be held accountable for their actions. I saw their faces when Daddy thought there was something wrong, and they knew it was probably their doing. So accountability! No matter how clever their little invention was!

So, right now, they’re giving the TARDIS her “day at the spa”. They damaged her, and they can fix her up again. They’re polishing and buffing her, and the Doctor is helping them take apart the damaged bits and they’re all putting them back together. The Doctor’s even letting Hope use his sonic for the really stuck-on candy, and the TARDIS is humming in appreciation. My lovely, baby TARDIS. She’s such an important part of our family and it doesn’t hurt for us to remember that once in a while.

In case you’re wondering, it turns out the little inventors were devising a surveillance system to watch for you coming down the chimney. They had rigged each and every candy cane with miniature cameras they found in one of their father’s storage cabinets. (To answer the burning question that must be on your mind: no, I don’t know why he had them. I think it must have been from when Hope was small and he wanted to be able to keep an eye on her everywhere she went.) Anyway, long story short, they rigged them up incorrectly (they were a bit dodgy to begin with, mind) using some wiring they had pinched from under the TARDIS console that was completely incompatible. So, when the Doctor activated his sonic, he ended up reversing the polarity of the neutron flow (or some rubbish like that) and BLAM! Candy cane fireworks!

All I can say, is thank goodness we found out about it before we got to Mum and Dad’s. Can you just imagine Mum’s reaction to having peppermint-scented goo all over her living room? Blimey, what a nightmare that would have been!

Well, it’s time for everyone to get bathed and dressed again (right into their jimjams, I’m thinking.) Then off to the mansion to put up some rather naff garland (minus the candy canes!), hang some stockings, and as it’s been a very long day, a quick tea and off to bed.

Happy Christmas! Love to all, Santa. And here’s hoping you don’t encounter any exploding candy canes on your travels tonight!

love, Rose

#doctorroseprompts #kid fic #tentoo x rose #christmas fic #christmas fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #family #love #romance #ficandchips #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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hyperesthesias · 7 years ago

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Loki x Sigyn

Love Never Dies | Part XII

Rating: G

Words: 2.466

Notes: i’m tired of writing summaries tbh. i never know what to say! D: i had a second part to this but i don’t really have time to write it, and this is consistent in length already, so. i’ll make it part of the next chapter. i will probably post the next one soon. anyway, enjoy! ♥

Four days passed, and Sigyn had taken to the deer bone broth nicely -- drinking whatever Loki gave her with obedience and a will to get stronger, and not only for her own sake. But to see the lightness in his features, a levity she had not seen on him in some while, like the days of old when there was nothing else but them, her soul quietly rejoiced to see him happy. As he did to see her well. Every day, he would feed her a bowl of broth, working on the same bowl throughout the entire day -- sometimes she would finish it all, sometimes she could drink no more for fear of bursting -- but whatever she drank, he said some quiet thanks to whomever might have been listening. He would read to her, books in her own language, and books in his, recite to her poetry, recall stories of his misadventures during his absence -- being sure to eliminate any thing of his doing that might have upset her, but this was not ignorant upon her -- and day in and out he would care for her every need. And never did he leave her side. He would bid her not to speak, not so often, that she might not over-exert herself, and he asked her not to move, that whatever she needed, from moving the blanket, to the washroom, he would aide her in her every whim.

But by the fourth day, Sigyn’s voice had become less clouded by the fog of Death’s cling, and she was determined to speak to her love in a conversation, rather than some wheezed and morose hum. Thus, when she woke, she saw him sitting there in a chair at her bedside -- slumped over, with a fist to his jaw, looking entirely uncomfortable. She could only smile, her head turning more to see him clearly as the daylight fed through the space in the curtain -- he was so beautiful when he was asleep, she told herself, never getting into trouble that way. She couldn’t help a whispered chuckle as she thought on him, and how they both would say the same thing about their son. But a thought came over her as she watched him, his lulled breathing keeping him in slumber: had he been sleeping in that chair the entire time?

An attempt to move her arm proved fruitful, and she managed to slide it off the bed, lifting it with great effort to place her hand on his knee with every fragment of gentleness in her. “Good morning, my love,” she breathed -- this time with some clarity, that she smiled not only at Loki, but in pride of her condition.

Loki started awake, his fist slipping from his jaw and he gracefully caught himself as he sat upright, confusion muddling his features in whether or not he had imagined the voice that bid him hearken.

“Hello,” she said again, a languid smile now resting on her as her eyes bat sleepily, trying to hush away the claims of night.

“Sigyn,” he quietly exclaimed and immediately took her hand and knelt by her. “Are you well? What do you need?”

She shook her head on the pillow as she gripped onto his hand with what strength she had -- which had been more than any other time she’d tried. “Nothing, my love. Just you.”

A sigh emanated from him as his worry bled to contentment, and he kissed her knuckles. “You have me.”

“Then I count my fortune as every speck of sand,” she said, without a hitch, neither a breath, or a rumble or wheeze -- yet with a wide and gladdened smile.

His brows lifted as he heard her speak, keeping her hand to his lips, he let a breath of paled shock. “Your self...it returns to you.”

“It does,” she agreed, struggling to sit up by herself, perhaps a little too hasty in her efforts, but she was determined to do it herself.

Loki immediately stood to aide her, offering her his hands, after she had stopped him from lifting her by the waist. And while he would have felt shunned at any other instance when she rejected his help, he could do nothing but admire her as she lifted herself to sit with her back against the headboard. He shied from tears of relief and joy that threatened him as he watched her -- exasperated as she may have been afterwards -- as her strength returned to her inch by inch.

If he had been honest with himself, and he often was not, he would have admitted he had losing hope that anything he had been doing would help her -- that he had doomed her, and that she would be doomed until Death came upon her for a second time. He’d begun to dread each day, feeding her the broth as a last resort, where he felt perhaps it was meaningless and he might as well had been feeding a corpse. But to see her, seated there of her own accord, moving her arms and legs -- as slow and as halting as they may have been -- he had felt no such joy like the joy he felt then. Nothing could compare to it.

“Do I make you proud, my love?” she asked.

Though she had no reason to. “I take pride in your very existence, nyaphte’h,” he spoke in her language a word that has no translation, but that was only reserved for the one most beloved to the heart.

She beamed with his words. “It warms my heart to hear you speak my language. It always has,” she cleared a place for him among the blankets to sit beside her. “Come,” she beckoned him beside her. “Have you slept in that seat this whole time? Or had you succumb to exhaustion last night?”

“I took my place there,” he answered and came to sit beside her, landing his long legs out the length of the bed, as he placed his head on the wood of the headboard, hands rested behind them. “I did not wish to exceed my permission,” he sighed finding his back was much more agreed to his newfound position.

She took heart in his wish to make and keep her comfortable, but placed a hand on his leg to reassure him. “I wish you here beside me.”

“Then here is where I shall be,” he turned to her, removing a hand form behind his head to comb it through her hair.

Sigyn’s eyes closed with a breath of peace and pleasure at the sensation of his soothing -- and though her time away, as she had decided to call it, had not been perceived as very long from her own perspective, it felt as though she had not felt his touch in aeons. Every fibre of her ached to be near to him, every cell and nutrient that was huddled within her begged to never part from him again -- for just as he had missed a piece of himself in her absence, she had not been complete, either.

But when she opened her eyes, she was met not with a mutual expression of serenity, but a shadow that darkened him. A swell of pity came over her as she lifted her hand again to meet her fingers to his face. “Such dimness is always plaguing you -- I think it more familiar to you than quietude,” her voice not above a whisper, this time not out of necessity, but of gentleness to his heavy spirit.

Loki’s eyes lifted to her, an apology hidden somewhere within their emerald shade, and he pursed his lips as he averted his gaze once more. “I think our welcome may be overstayed soon,” he admitted.

“Then it is good that I have been getting better so quickly,” she offered, ever the one to balance his grimness.

“And for that I am grateful, but...” he sighed.

“What troubles my King?” she murmured, tucking a lock behind his ear.

Eyes flickered to her again, his heart not unnoticing to her words, but his relishing in them had to be saved for later. “...Thor returns today.”

“He is away?” she asked, wondering if he had told her already -- the past weeks had been naught but a blur. “Yes, I wondered why it was so quiet.”

He couldn’t help a chuckle as he returned his sights to the canopy above their bed. “I just...haven’t any notion to where we might go.”

There was a pause in her, that a question had perched itself on the tip of her tongue -- but she was afraid to ask it, unsure if she wished to know its answer: “Can we not return to my realm?”

By the breath he took in alone, she knew the outcome, and steeled herself for his words.

“All the portals are closed. The Convergence has passed, and every doorway from this side of the Universe is...gone,” he wished not to break her heart, but less so did he wish to lie to her. Especially about something so dear to her.

Then she was trapped there, Sigyn thought. Although, she supposed ‘trapped’ was too harsh a word. The Universe from whence Loki and his people came was not too frightful but...her people. What had become of them? Who led them whilst she was away? Would she ever see its golden skies again? Or participate in festivals of the deep blue forests, or feel the softness of the red meadows, or let the river wrap her in its mirth?

“I am...truly sorry,” she heard his voice call to her.

Sigyn’s eyes stung as they looked up to him, but he dared not look to her -- she knew, she knew the guilt on his complexion, there was some deed he’d done for which he blamed himself, not out of unjust cause, but she knew his words were sincere. Nonetheless, she did not blame him. What happened had happened, whatever it had been -- actions would take their course, whether good or bad, this she knew all too well, and what needed to be done would be done. All she could do was accept it, and with no people to lead in the midst of everything, she decided to lead herself. To navigate herself through whatever outcome had befallen the Realms in her absence.

“We will find some other way -- we always have,” she cleared her throat. “But you say your brother will be returning soon -- from what?”

“Some peace-keeping ruse Odin concocted,” he scoffed. “Merely to keep him away from his pet, I’m sure.”

“‘Pet’?”

“That is what I call her -- Thor has acquired a Midgardian woman of whom he claims to love,” the ire dripping from every word.

“You seem not to like her,” whilst the unsurprise breathed from hers.

“I despise her kind,” he spat, a little too quickly, and a little too harshly. He glanced to Sigyn, swallowing as he regained himself. “But Odin wishes not for any other to become the future Queen of Asgard than an Asgardian, as we well know.”

Indeed, they did. For all its grandness and all its gildedness, Asgard was not without its faults of prejudice and misguided attempts -- then again, no Realm was immune, this Sigyn tried to remember. “I suppose there will be a celebration for his return,” she mused.

“Indeed -- for three days,” he grumbled. “However, I will be required to attend, at least for a little while, lest they grow suspicious.”

“How have you abstained from suspicion thence?”

“I’ve had my mother tell everyone I was ill,” he huffed. “But I suppose that will not do for now.” He turned to her again, leaning on his side as he continued his motion of stroking her hair. “I fear to leave you.”

She took in a breath as he ran his fingers through her tresses, closing her eyes for a minute, stilling herself as he spoke.

“That...if I leave, and come back...you will be gone when I return. That you...” he trailed off, shaking his head as he took his eyes from her to the blankets beneath him. “That you were naught but once more some...figment.”

His meaning did not escape her, and her eyes fluttered open to see him, but she did not question him -- only wondering what torment he had endured to make him see her when she was not there. A hand of hers cupped around his sharp features, thumb stroking along his cheek, while her fingers reached to soothe the nape of his neck. “You needn’t worry, my love,” she whispered, nudging forward to close the space between them; her head resting against his. “I am here, and I will not vanish.”

He found he had no words left within him -- she the only one who could make him speechless -- where his hand ran through her hair to rest upon her neck, pulling her closer and closer, though there was no more space left, until his lips met hers.

The first kiss they had shared since her return -- and how sweet it was, a nectar to the bitterness that resided on his tongue; the antidote to the poison that rested in his bones -- he felt his entirety purge itself all at once, and he was both himself and not within her presence. And through all its sweetness, the taste of her was still tainted with the fog of Death, for never could he forget that her breaths of peace came at the price of screams of terror, and never could he forget that, for a time, he enjoyed it.

But never moreso than the feel of her. For tat, and more, every life had been worth it -- for she had no price, and this he remembered and held nearly as dearly as he held her.

He didn’t want to let her go -- fighting with his hands to relinquish her as he left the bed and readied himself for the banquet in Thor’s honour. An event to be dreaded in of itself, but when he had Sigyn, who needed him, who wanted him even, even more did he rue it. Nonetheless, to protect her secret, to not arise any more suspicion than his presence did normally, he obliged, wearing nothing particularly special, and assuring himself he would not stay particularly long. But any amount of time away from her was long enough.

And when he kissed his wife in parting, he felt his soul nearly threaten to break within him -- and when he closed the door behind him, he was sure it shattered with the sound of its finality.

#logyn #loki x sigyn #sigyn x loki #ship: logyn #*#fic: love never dies

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silverineontherun · 6 years ago

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Fic: May the cycle never break

Klance fic. Altean!Lance, Galra!Keith (Past lives), G rated, 1440 words. ANGST / MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

Hello! I’m in kind of a slump with my new post s6 fic I’ve been working on, and also in a very angsty mood, so I decided to write this idea I’ve had since I published my fic fake, not fate. It’s a “prequel/sequel” if that makes any sense. Enjoy! (Sorry if it looks shitty on mobile).

***

The bashed Galra fighter is auto-flying towards its final destination, and the pilot struggles to keep his eyes open. Lorim’s shaky hands rest on his temples, passing his vital energy in a slow, uninterrupted chain.

“Don’t you dare to fall asleep on me, Yorak,” warns the Altean.

Yorak faintly smiles, showing his fangs in the playful way that conquered Lorim’s heart, deca-phoebs ago.

“I am not going anywhere yet,” answers the Galran in his low, reassuring tone.

Yet. Because they are both dying, though he doesn’t know it. Lorim swallows the knot in his throat, ignores the piercing pain on his bleeding side and the heavy heave of his lungs, and just puts his forehead on Yorak’s, feeling his own vitality draining through their connection.

He is lucky. Lucky to be one of the royal alchemists in the Court of King Alfor, and to have enough knowledge to keep his fatally wounded beloved alive, at least long enough to buy them some time. Lucky to be one, if not the only survivor after Zarkon’s attack. Lucky to be so loved by one of King Zarkon’s guards, that he would betray his own people and come to his rescue, being brutally shot on the way, but still managing to sneak them away.

Lucky to have lived enough to enjoy his smiles and caresses, when peace reigned, and no evil had tarnished the souls of those powerful enough to break their lives.

The escape was too rough for both, and they know they can’t go that far away without assistance. They also know no one will assist them, not when fleets under the crazy Galra King’s command are overflowing every civilized system.

And they both know Yorak is not going to recover, clinging to life only thanks to Lorim’s energy, who stubbornly insists on sharing it, knowing fully well how that will end up for him. Yorak doesn’t suspect it. Otherwise, he would never allow it.

Ignoring the real extent of the damage, the Galran had one last request. He had always loved the tales that Lorim shared with him in the comfort of their bed, bathed by the golden sun of Altea that entered through Lorim’s tall window. His favorite was the legend of the eternal bond of Sakh’ir, the moon that could bond people through time and space. Yorak looked tough, but he was weak to such romantic tales.

“Someday, I’m going to take you there,” he declared once. Lorim smiled. His childish enthusiasm was always so endearing.

“Oh, really? But what if we are not aure?”

Yorak pulled his partner’s hair very softly to make him look right into his purple eyes.

“Hah. We are, Lorim. And I’m taking you there someday to prove it,” he stated, planting a kiss on Lorim’s forehead and then on his lips, melting him like only he knew. Because the softness of his raw power and the purity of that heart was impossible to find anywhere else, it was very easy to believe his words.

And so, Yorak’s last request was just that.

“Please, let me fulfill my promise. I can’t die without proving it to you… let's go to Sakh’iru.”

—

When they arrive, Lorim can barely lift his tall, heavy lover. He never stops transferring his energy to him, not even when they leave the ship and are immediately surrounded by masked priests. Lorim tries to keep his eyes down, as the archives recommended, but has no time for formalities.

“Priests, I am Lorim and this is Yorak. We need to perform the rite,” he announces. Looking down, he notices the purple aura that surrounds both his feet and Yorak’s. His heart hurts. Could this mean…?

“You are dying,” says one of the priests, in a gurgling voice. Yorak raises his head slowly. His eyes look fazed, clinging to consciousness.

“I am,” he mutters.

Lorim dares to look at the priests and almost imperceptibly shakes his head in a silent plea. The priests remain quiet, and then they nod. The one that spoke first points to their feet and makes gestures to the other priests, who scatter. Two of them help both lovers walk ahead, and Lorim’s heart finds peace. They made it on time.

—

The spring shines in the middle of a forest clearing, surrounded by tall vines and colorful crystal trees, and Lorim can’t help thinking that it is a wonderful last place to be. Wearing the ceremonial masks, with Yorak’s head resting on his thighs and their joined right hands sank in the cold water, they follow the priest’s instructions.

“Now you must wet your faces and drink.”

Lorim guides Yorak’s hand to his face and then takes some water to his lips. Then he does the same. The spring shines and the air around them feels suddenly dense, as if someone turned off the lights. Now the vines on the floor among the crystal herbs are shining in golden light.

“May the cycle never break,” murmurs the priest. Then they add, in a soft tone, “as soon as you share your minds and find the thread, join your faces and consummate the ritual. Then… it will be done.”

“Thank you very much,” says Lorim, watching how the priest leaves them alone.

Yorak’s breathing is uneven, and Lorim feels his eyes sting. With effort, the Galran raises a hand that softly caresses his partner's jaw.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs. Lorim can tell he is smiling under the mask. It makes it even harder to answer.

“I am not,” he lies, trying to keep his voice firm.

“You are. But I am happy,” admits Yorak.

“A dream come true,” whispers his voice inside Lorim’s mind. They are connected. Lorim closes his eyes, but he can feel how Yorak snaps his open, startled.

“No… no, Lorim, you are dying too! It’s my fault!”

“No, Yorak. I was going to die anyway. You lent me this time, and there is no other place where I’d rather be.”

“But, Lorim…” tries to protest Yorak, and his lover puts his hands on his face again, still giving him his energy.

“You were right. We always were aure.” Lorim can feel their hearts beating at the same time. His lips crook in a teasing smile under the mask. “Who would have thought.”

Yorak scoffs. His dry lips part to let out a resigned sigh.

“I told you so. I’m always right,” he mumbles, his voice ragged and weak, but that spark in it that ignites a flame in Lorim’s heart without fail is still there.

Will always be.

“I hate to admit it, but it is true,” answers the Altean.

He feels how life is slowly leaving Yorak’s body. The desperate impulse to contain it, to fall into anguish at the inevitability of the twilight overcoming them is controlled by a sudden, absurd, and absolute certainty that they are exactly where they were always meant to be.

So, instead of fighting against their bittersweet fate, now he only wishes to see his lover’s face at least one last time. Putting their foreheads together, he strongly makes a wish in his mind.

“If we are to meet again, I wish we could be born at the same place. I wish we could meet sooner, to enjoy our entire lives together.”

Yorak’s chest raises in a pleased, weak hum. He is hearing. He is feeling him. They vibrate with the same deep intensity. They hear each other, and at the same time, they are the same being, for a magical and fleeting moment.

“That would be nice. Then… I wish no war ever separates us again.”

“Yes,” agrees Lorim, the pain in his chest swelling and blossoming with images of better, blinding outcomes threaded in their mutual dreams. A plea for the universe, a wish for another chance to meet, in the chaos of the cosmos. The Altean closes his eyes.

“It… it would be nice if I could give you offspring. That way, at least our children could remember how much we loved each other, even after we are gone.”

“No, not that.”

Yorak’s thoughts are getting misty, fading away in a weak echo, but he manages to mutter:

“I wish for you to be just like you are now."

His voice is but a murmur, but his words are clear, and they envelop him like a warm wave against the cold of their unfair end.

"I love you, Lorim.”

The vines are shining in golden tones and then, as their masks slide down from their faces, they suddenly darken. Lorim’s tears are now falling over his lover’s closed eyes.

“I love you too…”

A priest approaches them in the mist. Lorim’s sight is blurry. Yorak’s body is no longer receiving his energy, but he can feel himself being drained by the mysterious crystalized ground of this sacred place.

And his heart is empty, but his mind feels somehow satisfied. Strong. Filled with a conviction that invites him into a new chapter, an unknown one.

“We can try to detach you from the ma’kiya before it is too late. Maybe there is still time for you,” offers the priest, kneeling by his side.

“It is already too late. But thank you, priest,” says Lorim, white fog clouding his vision. He sighs, content.

“I’m making one last great offering. Maybe that will please Sakh’ir, and they will make it easier for us next time.”

“Sakh’ir always finds the way,” reassures him the priest. Lorim closes his eyes, smiling. He forces his last remnants of energy to flow outside his body directly to the ma’kiya, while resting his head on Yorak's quiet chest.

“May the cycle never break, then. See you next time, my love.”

—

Lance wakes up in his bed at the Castle, startled. He was dreaming about something, and that something was really sad, because his pillow is wet and his eyes hurt. Not like anyone will ever know, though.

Anyone, except for his new husband, maybe. He really wants to see him, even more so than usual. Looking at the comm on his nightstand, he feels his heart heavy. No calls yet. Without much hope, he puts it to his ear and tries to call Keith anyway.

Again, no answer. Where could he be?

Bummed, he takes it off again and watches the ceiling, uneasy. It’s been weeks and no one seems to be able to reach Keith.

Lance lifts his arm to admire his thin golden bracelet, and then smiles. Deep down, he knows Keith is fine. He may be far away, but he will find a way to come back, like he always does. He doesn’t know why he is so sure, but somehow…

Somehow, it feels like the price has been paid already for their happy ending. Closing his eyes, he remembers their ceremony, like every day.

“Rest assured in Sakh’ir promise,” had said the priest. And so, resting assured is what he’s going to do, Lance decides, closing his eyes again, with his heart full of hope.

***

HAHAHAhahah... 😭. I don’t think I’ll upload this one to AO3, it’s too short. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed? And apologies to my followers. My queue is finally over after this week of constant s6 posting, rest assured in Silverine’s promise (to not shitpost so much). Check fake, not fate to feel better!

#klance #laith #klance fic #laith fic #vld #voltron #voltron fanfic #altean!lance #galra!keith #altean au #galra au #galtean klance #silv writes

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newmonk · 6 years ago

Text

TAKE IT EASY

30TH MARCH 2018 I was out with mom for my birthday lunch. My 25th birthday. This year wasn’t heading anywhere in terms of what I’d imagined it to be and I was sort of disoriented with life. I had just quit a long term project mid-way on an ugly note, was at the lowest in my personal life, and I’d started losing interest in things around me. Seemed like everything was breaking down at the same time.

But being the eternal optimist that I am, I was pushing myself everyday into thinking that come what may, now on I will only focus on what I want to do, both professionally & personally, so that I’m never in the mental space that I was (then)in.

Coming back, after lunch when mom & I headed out of the restaurant, I got a call from Riva (OML), saying they wanted to meet regarding Anirban Dasgupta’s Amazon Prime special. Now Anirban had discussed about his special with me and had mentioned a couple of months ago that he wanted me to work on his special, but in what capacity, I didn’t know, I don’t think even he knew what designation he wanted me to handle when he said that. Honestly, I was yearning to work on a stand up special, yet was slightly skeptical, as some time ago another comic had approached me to work on their special, since that hadn’t materialized, it had fizzled my excitement. Anyway, I was elated to be working with Anirban, since I really like the man, his comedy and even more: his ethic. So right after I got off the call with OML, at that very instant, I felt positivity rush through my head, a feeling that this could be the beginning of something new, a fresh start.

FLASHBACK #1 I remember meeting Anirban for the first time at CLC Mumbai back in September 2016, he had called me over to record his set. I had frequently been shooting live stand up sets then, and a mutual friend, Siddharth Dudeja had referred me to him.

3RD APRIL 2018 I met the producers Tihany and Harshita at OML, we had a nice conversation and I shared my previous work with them. They clearly seemed like people who were open to working on new ideas with new people, which was really good. So, after certain deliberations over the following week (as I am told), I finally got a confirmation call to direct the special!

11TH APRIL 2018 Pre-production for ‘TAKE IT EASY’ kicked off on 11th April 2018, the core team sat across a table, and tried to understand each other’s’ perspectives. Usually, I take some time to open up and discuss my ideas, and that’s what happened here as well, but the vibe at that workspace was quite comforting, and within a couple of days, I felt like a part of the team.

Special thanks to Tihany, Harshita, Riva & Sneha for handling the entire production so well right from the top.

15TH APRIL - 30TH APRIL 2018 Recces at CLC began. The good part was that CLC was home turf for both of us; Anirban(as artist) and me(as director), as we had done several shows at the venue both together & individually, yet we knew that it would be challenging to shoot there, as the entire idea was to make CLC not look like CLC, firstly because it is an Amazon Special and has to look like one! & secondly, ANYONE who has seen even one Indian stand-up act on YouTube knows exactly how CLC looks like. That was the first realisation that this is going to be a tough job.

As recces and pre-prod meetings became routine, Parag - Associate Producer, joined the team (He is a valuable addition to any unit that he joins)

TRIVIA #1 Judah Friedlander, Bill Burr, Chris Rock & Chris D’Elia are some comedy greats that Anirban introduced me to during pre-production. We kept referencing their work; posters, framing, edit patterns, trailers, which helped us get perspective on our own show, right from the beginning.

FLASHBACK #2 Anirban had asked me back in January (2018), how the idea of an entirely black and white special was, what would be anyones’ first thought about it. What was my first thought about it? My first reaction was that it’ll be super-cool, but immediately I started thinking about its context with the material & I remember telling him a mix of black & white with color would be a better option.

6TH MAY 2018 Shoot day passed by just like that, I honestly don’t remember much from that day, it was a weird mix of nervousness, sleeplessness & excitement. I remember how it ended though, we celebrated Harshita’s birthday at CLC, and later Anirban, Prerna & I went to a house party, quite chill, good times :)

9TH MAY 2018 – 11TH JUNE 2018 Post production. Long working hours. Sleep? What’s that? No routine. Miscommunication. Post production. Long working hours. Sleep? What’s that? No routine. Miscommunication. Post production & Sound Mixing. Long working hours. Sleep? What’s that? No routine. Miscommunication. This loop is infinite.

On a serious note: Pooja, Mihir & Kshitij, added immense value to this project.

One interesting thing that happened during this time was that we only got the OFFICIAL CONFIRMATION to go ahead with the black & white look just ONE WEEK before the final delivery of the special. Hard to believe, right?

BACKSTORY: During pre-prod, we were told that the black & white look had been approved which is why we had planned EVERYTHING according to that color palette, but just TEN DAYS before the shoot, we were informed that suddenly the platform wasn’t sure of screening a full blown one hour special in monochrome, and was contemplative about their decision (Read: Murphy’s Law). Now neither did we have time for coming up with Plan B, nor could the show date be pushed, we had no option but to play safe, so the setup that we finally shot; including: lighting, backdrop, costume, was kept global/generic, since the call of the special being in color or monochrome would only be taken during post-production. It was a bummer, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

We stood our ground, and as you may have noticed: the special went out in MONOCHROME. Yay!

PRE-CLIMAX The kind of freedom Anirban gave me was commendable. He didn’t compromise on anything whatsoever, and I truly truly appreciate that about him, it was empowering. The thought was clear, we wanted to create a new experience for the comedy viewers, but with purpose in place, not only for the sake of it, or just because we could. We had fresh ideas, at the same time, needed to balance it with the guidelines of the platform, so although we were taking risks, they were calculated, as to how experimental we can/should get.

CONCLUSION During this process, I realised that Anirban apart from being such a well-established artist, consciously ‘chooses’ to be a student of the (comedy)art form, always open to ideas, opinions and learning. You name a special (live or online), and I’m quite sure he must’ve seen it. That level of involvement.

He’d told me once that his intention is to go up at least once on stage EVERYDAY, irrespective of the circumstances; That just blew my mind! Even I want to be that determined in what I do, or find something that pushes me to that extent.

I can’t even begin to tell how straining, restless yet satisfying the last two months have been. But streaming the special on Amazon Prime Video now is a great feeling. I’ve seen the special on all devices possible, Android phone, iPhone, Macbook, Windows, PS4, Fire Stick, you name it. I think I’m just habituated to watching it every day.

Anirban performed ‘Take It Easy’ for the last time at CLC, Noida on 23rd June, 2018 & coincidentally I was there to watch the show, for the final time, thereby coming full circle with the show. Somethings are meant to happen I guess, or perhaps I’m just overthinking. Haha.

RANDOM NOTE I love the art-form. It comes from a place of angst and frustration, its just lovely to see a comic go up of stage and share their individualistic opinion about things. More than laughing, it makes you wonder about the circumstances that the person has been through, the issues that we as a community, a country face on a regular basis. Stand-up actually comes from a place of deep-rooted pain and I think that’s beautiful.

SHOUT-OUT (i) Namit & Prerna(Anirban’s management): These guys operate at a different pace man! So efficient & creative at the same time. I love the understanding they share with Anirban, it’s such a good marriage between the three. They helped us sail through the process, with ease. Most of the good ideas & creative decisions that made it to the final output, were actually suggested by the two of them. Great collaborators.

(ii) Vipin from 9 Horses, who gave the sound the exact feel that we wanted. P.S.: Sound is the MOST important (yet highly neglected) aspect, especially for a comedy special, it’s make or break.

(iii) Every stand-up artist who has hired me till date. It was because of them that I could consistently practice shooting and editing comedy, it was during this course that I realized the potential that stand up has, especially visually, and I can’t even begin to tell how experimental it can get, if thought through!

CONCLUSION CONTINUED I want to thank Anirban for giving me this opportunity, I absolutely enjoyed myself through it (except the marketing collaterals -_-)

Also wanted to share that I got to direct another Amazon special, for Gaurav Kapoor. This time again, we’ve tried a different look and feel and I’m really glad that the folks at OML have been accepting of most of the ideas that we’ve pitched to them. Anirban & Gaurav’s specials are two ends of a spectrum, which is good for me, since I get to showcase my versatility right from the beginning of my directorial journey.

Directing ‘Take it Easy’ was a big deal for me, and I think I lived up to it(whatever the case, IMDb ratings will tell soon). I hope I’ve grown as a person during this process and can apply the knowledge I’ve learnt from this, into future projects and life, in general.

Going back to my beloved(NOT) corporate films for a while, see you on the other side!

Sharing some images from the process behind making ‘Take It Easy’.

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