#gcdlight

[bigidiotenergytm]

poseidon, who does your eye makeup?

"— My Queen of the Sea and Wilds." ( @pitfallfox )

[yellowfingcr]

🔥 inch resting

come ask heysel what she likes about you // not accepting!

The gloom stalker, for once not making the perception of her a trial by electing to simply stay under what sunlight is filtering through the window, raises a very visible eyebrow, and smiles a very visible smile.

“You? Asking me for something like that? I do not believe for a second that one thing, one single thing of what I could say hasn’t been told to you several times, lady Skol! But your wish is my command. The very least I can offer to a woman who has conceded me a roof and a bed to sleep in.” The way she tips her chin up and to the side, a motion so little but so sly! As if her companion of conversation wasn’t much taller than her.

“First of all, the objectively obvious: you look good. Very good. You might ask yourself why am I mentioning this in a list comprised of things that I like, and I shall answer, well, I am always grateful for beautiful women existing, they do make this dread strange world a brighter place. So thank you.” A bow, offered to her, for she is clearly Beautiful Women. “Your nose has to be one of my favourite traits of yours, I’ll say. It has a wonderful shape. But in general- hmm… You exude this sense of… power. Strength would be the better word for it, perhaps. And though I do see your arms-” she bows again- “I refer yes to the physical component of it but not only. In you I see more. I see the certainty of primordial things. That sense of- of grandeur, indifferent to time, the province of mountains, of lakes. You just seem so much larger than you are, ten, a hundred times taller. I mean this in the best of ways! Oh gods. Excuse my awkward grip on words, will you, I am but a humble ranger. But what I mean is: there are times in which I look at you and in that moment you seem to me the image of a forest. When midday sifts through the leaves and all is a blaze of green and brown that you know will outlive every sparrow upon its branches and every ant and you not in anger because it is what it does, simply.” She can’t find the correct order of letters that will finally materialize in sound what she wants to offer her. She wants to tell her, something about you is the pearl of life itself. That warm potential, enduring, observing what can't. “Does this make sense? Don’t answer, actually.”

She shifts her balance, left foot, right foot, sticks the thumb of a hand in the space between hip and belt.

“You’re kind. Generous. Patient but never in a way that allows harm. I like that of you and I think all like that of you. And you’re clearly someone who has seen and survived no shortage of events and this hasn’t made you any colder, which I don’t take for granted, I don’t know how much can happen to me before I decide to, well, stop, in all those many ways that make one alive as you are, though of course I hope such a limit is never reached. I don’t know. I guess that’s what I meant with my terrible forest analogy. The luminous shelter that continues past all and never forgets its heart."

A beat.

“Really, please don’t- ask me anything about what I just said, Skol. Just take it.”

[ncrthernl1ghts]

" MORNIN', ROSEBUD! " BOOMING, gravely voice disturbs the peacefulness of the flower shop as one stanley pines slams open the door, announcing his presence like thunder announces a storm -- if the thunder were loud & sort of annoying & the storm smelled like cigars & cheap booze.

" listen, i need to stop smokin' yesterday. you got anything to help a body quit cold turkey? "

@gcdlight from stan!

[allevils]

bingo time. @gcdlight

5 bingos? babe, that's good as heeellllll!!

[therelentless]

Bold your muses appearance, food edition!

tagged by ;; @fcllederage thank you!

Cake or Ice cream?

Sweet or Spicy?

Potato Chips or French Fries?

Seasoned or Bland?

Cookies or Brownies?

Salad or Pizza?

Turkey or Chicken?

Hamburger or Cheeseburger?

Sour or Bitter?

Homecooked or Takeout?

Hot or Cold?

Beef or Pork?

Chocolate or White Chocolate?

Fruit or Vegetables?

Soft or Hard Shell Tacos?

Tea or Coffee?

Stuffing or Mashed Potatoes?

Cake or Pie?

Fresh Ingredients or From The Can?

tagging;; @quccninchains + @b4didea + @gcdlight + @fulltimeforestcryptid + @thedevilsjournalist

[samuhelll]

Sarah smears her jeans and takes his hand. Something in him has already tunnel visioned.

Broken bones and gunshots and tears. The ground beneath his feet suddenly pulling out from under him. Sam, in his vaguely concussed state of mind, sees himself in Sarah’s eyes: a man in a bedraggled salmon dress shirt. A sad middle-aged eulogy waiting to happen.

“Wh—” Huffy, his face folds. “What does that have to—?” 

She can’t fix death. Who said anything about dying. Sarah with all her millenniums looks at him and in a way that confirms what he already knows, and Sam in his finite existence feels the unmistakable pull of an event horizon. Something he might regret. His cheek pinches. 

“This isn’t…” Involuntarily, he pulls back his hand. “I’m— keeping my ass out of the firing line here!” he finally shouts, hands rattling.

“‘Turf war’. What? How was I supposed to know? I can’t walk into town, Sarah? I’m not allowed to leave my own home? How am I supposed to do my job when I’m home!” Hair frazzled tacky. It makes him look older, Sam’s voice tinny and metallic the higher it goes. His back arches. “I was just out, doing my thing and making deals and— Sue me!”

Whirlwind hands. Finally, they drop. An electrical surplus cottons the air, something in him diverging. The event horizon. “But hey,” he says, bitter. “I’m not permanent. Right?”

Her expression failed to shift, it was difficult to find the joy in a situation that felt so horribly dire. Not with the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart that resonated in her ears. The Goddess’ shoulders sagged, face screwed up with worry as he did his best to dig out the humour in it.

“Samuel. I can’t fix death.”

Sarah’s voice was monotone, strained as she leant forward. Her hands were coated in a thin layer of drying blood, wringing anxiously over one another with a force that blanched the tips of her fingers white.

“Broken bones, gunshots, tears, those are all fine. But if your body, your heart gives up? It is beyond the divine. Gods die. Nothing is permanent, Sam, tomorrow is never guaranteed, but that is the beauty of life.” Pleading now, she wiped a hand off on her jeans before reaching out to clutch at Sam’s own, brows furrowing in the middle. She couldn’t hide it from Margot, she knew how much her daughter had grown worried ever since the incident. And she knew of territorial disputes, she knew how the otherworldly would fight, she had more than enough blood on her hands from protecting what was hers, but she could take a lot more hits than him.

“You have a wife, you have family. Don’t squander it all over petty turf wars. You’re smarter than that… and I would hope far less selfish.”

[bigidiotenergytm]

“No Poseidon, if it’s a girl I will NOT be naming our daughter ‘Princess Luna’.”

[wrldofmyown]

@gcdlight asked: “god, you’re perfect.” || meme.

The Texan snorted as his cheeks tinted a shade of red and his smile was closer to being shy rather than smug. "I'm far from it, sweets." He said while standing before her with his chest bare. "You, on the other hand... are so much more than perfect." While not sure there existed a word for it; to his mind and heart Sarah was more than just perfect.

[allevils]

❛  it’s  not  morning  yet .  ❜ @gcdlight

" the city never sleeps and neither do i. " it's an effort to be humorous, punctuated by the sound of a rustling shirt. his eyes catch the light of the moon, something deep and dark in his gaze before it changes into something more friendly. how funny: the morning star has somehow become a night owl. perhaps it's the quiet in which he can take a moment to himself, full of cheap diner coffee and nicotine. perhaps it's the only time she doesn't mind being alone. whatever it is, lucy doesn't want to think about it too hard. if she does that, there's a chance she can spiral again.

she buttons her jeans, flashing a smile at sarah. " you shouldn't worry, though. you know just as well as i do that i keep coming back. sarah, you should take that as a compliment. " underneath the tone, he means it as one. he's careful to step around the bed before she presses a kiss to sarah's cheek. " i promise you don't need to worry about me. i can take care of myself. "

[bigidiotenergytm]

hahaha nooo.... don't be stuck w me on an island.... nooo.... don't relate to me so much i fall in love........ noooo don't beckon me into the spring with u ur so sexyyy haha (ody and sarah/skolkulv rp moment @gcdlight)

[bigidiotenergytm]

ARE YOU KIDDINGGGGG

ody rn:

[bigidiotenergytm]

Banned nipple soz

OH ODY NEVER STOOD A CHANCE I FEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW CAN U BLAME HIM FOR SIMPING FOR SUCH A BEAUTIFUL GODDESS............

[bigidiotenergytm]

“You can join me you know.” The goddess glanced back over her shoulder to Odyseuss, waist deep in the small spring. “Or you can lurk by the shore.”

He was the King of Ithaca. And now he's here, standing at the bank of a spring, fidgeting.

Nervousness doesn't quite encapsulate it. There's so much respect for the Goddess in the spring. Being here, trapped on this island with him, finding a comfort within one another that was so similar it beckoned Odysseus to always come back to her. It was... nice. Skolkulv was nice. And now Skolkulv was inviting him into the water.

Bathing with other people is quite normal. Granted, it's less... looked upon whenever a man and a woman does so. Only leads to trouble, they say. He doubts a mortal tradition passes through the thoughts of a Goddess. As much as he's seen the water these last few years and how much he's been AVOIDING it— it's awful hard to reject her. The blush on his cheeks proves it.

"A Goddess and a man bathing together... I'd believe I'd make quite a few priests back home jealous." The king nervously jokes. His blue cloak already off and placed to the side. Those anxious fingers trail his belt, slightly hesitating. "You're... sure I can join you?"

[bigidiotenergytm]

And the creature SHRINKS.

WHAT IF I'M THE MONSTER?

The shaking in his hands show with how the stick trembles within his grasp.

The woman turns her back to him to reveal her tattoos of complete unknown origin to him. Dark eyes squint as he tries to recognize them, but they're cut off. Written over with scars that litter across her shoulder blades. It causes his already faltering grasp to unravel completely. The stick toppling to the ground as all he can do is STARE. It was exactly what it looked like. Like a bird whose wings had been ruthlessly torn off.

I fled the cruelty of my own God King.

The King's head falls down some, the long strands of hair blacking out his eyes. He moves the arm littered with Zeus's scars underneath his raggedy cloak. It was from the aftermath of the strike. Odysseus can't help but wonder if Zeus had made that lightning strike him in his injured side on purpose. It had been the only thing that could save his life at that point.

It replaced what was going to be a damning scar by those of his fallen brothers to a scar far bigger. Any skin around the area was branded with that lightning. Most of which he could hide. With others...

"... I'm sorry." Odysseus finally says. For her troubles, for scaring her. She was just as afraid as he was.

Skolkulv hesitated, wincing at the bark of his voice, recoiling from the shrubbery. The young god had grown to recognise that raised voices often led to her blood being spilt and a new scar left to mar her skin. To be such a mighty, divine beast, she found herself a shrinking, frail thing far too often.

A pause, head held low. Cautious.

“The marks I bear are not Grecian.” Soft, weary. The goddess turned to expose her bare back where the fabric drooped, deep red tattoos covering her skin, and large, fresh scars mottling over her shoulders. Still tender, she flinched as her own fingers brushed over them. Her wings torn from her back, left broken, a bird with no where left to go.

“I have fled from the cruelty of another, my own Godking.” She moved further back, coming to rest on a rock, bringing a knee up to her chest and clutching it there. “I mean you no harm, I swear.”