#greco roman fics

[loud-whistling-yes]

I suddenly very, very deeply relate to the undertale stronger than you discourse back in 2017

[h0frwann1ng]

Harpy inspired dude chiken man 🧍‍♂️

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

"dying from too much amnesia".... dude. man. don't roast my fanfic plots like this

[earthtooz]

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

[prentissluvr]

now you know — sam winchester

cw : gn!awkward!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, canon typical violence and monsters, near drowning experience, poor editing as usual, 6.8K words. part two of makes you wonder.

summary : you become more entangled in "agent" sam's case when you come across the monster he seeks. pronunciation guide (using scottish gaelic) : each-uishge — yahk-oosh-ga. [ disclaimer, i found this on the internet! i’m not scottish nor do i speak scottish gaelic, so correct me if i'm wrong ! ]

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the bar isn’t your go-to spot after work, mostly because that means you have to talk to people for some reason or another, but you’re feeling good tonight. good, and also still questioning your entire worldview so you figure it’s a good time as any to get a drink.

you’re halfway through your drink, eyes downcast and tracking the details of the table’s wood, when a hand on the back of the chair across from you snags your attention. you look up, slightly startled by the sudden appearance of a stranger. the first thing you notice is how beautiful he is. his rich, lightly curled dark brown hair and finely sculpted features are the kind of handsome that resemble a classic greco-roman kind of beauty.

his unrealistically good looks and charming scottish accent as he asks, “would you mind if i sit here?” almost disarm you completely before you remember that means you’ll have to talk to him. plus, you have a date to schedule with your mysterious agent sam.

“well, i’m headed home soon, so i guess that’s alright,” you say, trying to immediately display your disinterest without flat out rejecting him. when he slides into the chair with a smile that teeters between sleezy and charming, you wish you’d just said no.

“maybe i can change your mind,” he drawls, and you have to hold back from physically cringing. you now desperately want him to go, but don’t know how to get him to politely after having made the mistake letting him sit. “let me buy you another drink,” he offers.

you shake your head. “no, that’s– that’s not really very necessary. this is enough for me,” you refuse, motioning to your half-empty glass.

“oh, come darlin’! a free drink might not be necessary, but it surely’s a nicety, don’t ya think?” he raises a thick, neatly groomed eyebrow at you, making an unfortunately successful attempt at a handsome, flirty look. 

for once, you hope that your smile looks just as pained and awkward as it feels. “it’s a kind offer, i just, you know, don’t want another drink, so… that’s okay.”

he lifts his hands a little to signal surrender. “your loss then, love.” as he searches for some other flirty quip that might persuade you better, he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, and if you weren’t paying close attention in that exact moment, you would’ve completely missed the sprinkle of sand that falls from his hair and into his lap at the movement. you inhale sharply, suddenly afraid.

you try to sound casual when you pull a classic, “you know, i should really get going. i have an early morning tomorrow.” gathering your stuff up into your arms, you stand and try to convince yourself that you’re seeing things and that even if there was sand in his hair, it was just a coincidence. “have a nice night!”

then, as you spare him one last glance, he tilts his head when he bids you a flirtatious goodbye. “hope to see you here again,” he grins and a few more grains of sand fall to his shoulder, it’s light color stark against the dark fabric of his button up shirt. you try to stay unreadable, but your gaze follows the sand as it falls and his eyes follow yours to his shoulder. he brushes the dirt off and a dangerous look crosses his face. quite frankly, the look terrifies you, so you don’t waste a second to spin on your heel and rush out of the building towards your parked car.

the moment your back is turned, you’re digging around your bag until you find sam’s business card. with shaky hands and hurried feet, you punch the phone number into your phone and hold it to your ear, silently begging for him to pick up as you exit the building and the cool air of the night hits you.

“hello?” comes the newly familiar voice of sam through the phone speaker.

“sam! hi, it’s me, from the museum. you know, earlier today,” you think your voice may have come out a little panicked.

“yeah, yeah, of course,” he answers, voice please at first, then turning more serious, “good to hear from you, is everything alright? it’s sort of late.” he seems to have picked up on the scared edge to your voice. 

“i, um, god, i’m about to sound a little bit insane, but i’m just gonna say it. are you a real fbi agent? if yes, that’s great and i’m probably just really paranoid and making things up, if not, can i say something sort of crazy because i think that you might actually believe me? you know, if you’re, uh– not actually an fbi agent who thinks that totally normal reasons can explain those deaths you’re investigating?” you ramble, stumbling awkwardly through your words and feeling like a complete fool. there’s a moment of silence where you curse the fact that you had to park so far away, because you just want to be safely tucked into your car and headed home. the thought that sam thinks you’re totally off your rocker crosses your mind.

but sam’s sigh on the other line sounds almost relieved, and he answers. “i’m not– not an fbi agent. and trust me, whatever you could say that you might think is crazy, is probably nothing compared to some of the shit i’ve seen, so you can say whatever it is. i promise i won’t think you’re crazy.”

“okay,” you say breathlessly as your vague suspicions are confirmed. then you let it just tumble from your lips. “i think that the each-uisge is real and that i just met it and–” you cut yourself off when you hear something behind you. you’ve been so focused on sam that you haven’t been paying enough attention to anything else, and when you whip your head around, you see the man from the bar following you from a bit of a distance. you draw in a sharp breath of fear.

“shit,” sam curses, “where? you gotta get away from it, meet me at the–,” he instructs quickly.

you cut him off, real panic entering your voice as you pick up your speed, almost at a run. “fuck, sam, he’s coming for me, i think– i– i don’t know. but he had sand in his hair and he saw me looking at it and he’s following me and i’m almost to my car,” you ramble, glancing over your shoulder. the man is closer than before, he’s clearly picked up his own pace as well. “but he’s getting closer and i don’t have any iron or silver or anything and i–”

“hey, hey, listen to me. run as fast as you can to your car. you’re gonna be okay.” sam’s calm and level headedness are helpful, and immediately, you begin to sprint. but with a glance backwards, you see the thing gaining on you with unnatural speed. “drive anywhere and i’ll track your phone, i’m already on my way to come get you, okay? you’re gonna be fine.” 

you don’t realize you’re crying until you choke on your tears when you try to speak. “sam i– i don’t think i can make it, he’s too fast. the lake isn’t far from here, just head there, i–” you scream when an unnaturally strong hand clamps around your wrist.

you hear sam shout your name as you’re whirled around to face the creepy man from the bar. you try to pull away, but his skin is like adhesive, literally. you can feel your skin sticking to his like there’s super glue leaking from his pores.

“sam, please,” you sob out before the phone is ripped out of your hand and tossed aside. the man, or creature, or whatever bares his teeth in your face.

“it’s too late, sweetheart. all that hunter’s gonna find of you is your liver in the water. but you already know that, don’t you? hmm? how’d you know what i am?” he snarls, tugging you closer to him and smirking.

you don’t answer, just growl in frustration and struggle helplessly against him. “let me go!” you demand through tears.

“‘fraid that’s not an option, lass.” he smirks, then he’s yanking you behind him, pressing you into his back and in horror, you realize that his shape is changing right against you until you’re stuck to the back of a tall, dark horse, high above the ground. you let out a strangled scream and desperately struggle to get off. but, just as the folklore tells it, his sleek coat is impossibly sticky, as the lake must be close enough for him to smell its waters.

the horse leaps into a gallop, and another yelp is pulled from your lips from the speed he takes off at. panic rips through you and you grip the hair of the horse’s mane to keep your upper body from being yanked backwards. in a small moment of clear thinking, you keep your other hand from touching the horse. indeed, even his mane is adhesive, and you’re now stuck with just a single free hand. 

the streets and buildings are a complete blur to you with the combination of such speed and the tears in your eyes. all you can tell is when the town fades into the forest, and you’re being torn at by harsh, unforgiving tree branches. at this point, you know that begging or screaming is useless. so, you let tears be ripped from your eyes and pulled into the air by the wind rippling past you, and silently beg to whatever entity may be listening that sam gets to you on time.

suddenly, you’ve torn past the trees and straight into the shallow waters of the lake, and your hope fades. in seconds, your feet dip into the cold shock of water, and you think of how you never imagined your life would end this way. mostly because you didn’t think that shape-shifting killer horse-men were real, but here you are.

as your helplessness increases, you remember the silver necklace around your neck. it’s small, mostly likely inconsequential, but you still yank it off of your neck and press it against the neck of the large animal. it rears up, whinnying in pain, and you would’ve fallen and likely cracked your head open if you weren’t stuck to the creature’s back.

the silver clearly burns, but it’s too small to keep the large creature from completing its mission. it’s hungry. 

as your knees dip under the cold water, you hear the rumble of an old engine, then glance back just in time to see a tall, broad silhouette against the car’s bright headlights, running towards you as your waist, then chest are pulled under. 

it’s sam, and he yells your name as he splashes into the dark water. you choke out his name, then gulp in a full breath as the water reaches your chin, then swallows you up whole. it’s coldest against your head, suffocating and heavy and horrifying.

you don’t stop struggling when you’re submerged, hoping maybe the adhesive wears up under water. of course, you’re not so lucky, but your struggle seems to slow down the horse as it dives deeper into the water. there’s a long, torturous moment that passes where you’re positive that sam will be too late; your lungs already burn and you don’t think it’ll take too long for you to be drowned and eaten by something that probably shouldn’t exist.

but, your hopelessness is interrupted when the dulled light of his flashlight hits you, just as it begins to flicker and fail from being under water. then, his long arm is reaching out, grabbing hold of the horses mane to tug himself closer. the horse attempts to kick him away, but sam is able to sink a long dagger blade into the horse’s neck. a shudder passes through the monster, then it stills, and your immediately begin to float away from it. it’s magical properties fail as it dies, dark blood oozing out into the water. 

in a haze, you notice the water tainted with blood is warmer. it’s darkness and the way it seeps through the water reminds you of the ink of a squid. in a split second, sam’s strong arm wraps around your waist as his flashlight dies and the darkness in your vision isn’t just from the loss of light, but the loss of consciousness too. 

you do your best to cling to your awareness and sam’s broad shoulders, but you go limp in his arms just a few heavy moments before he breaks the surface, gasping and struggling a bit from holding both you and the dagger.

dean is right there to help sam, knee deep in the water. he quickly takes a hold of you and carries you to the edge of the water where he lays you down on your back. sam drops to his knees right beside you, and immediately, his hands are cupping your face, one hand slapping your cheek gently to see if you’ll wake up on your own before he starts cpr.

dean’s about to shove sam out of the way to do it himself, given that he’s far less exhausted, when your eyes fly open and you cough violently, your lungs doing their best to expel the unwelcome water from your lungs. 

even soaked in cold water, sam’s hands are still steady as he turns you to your side and pats your back to be sure that you don’t choke. you can’t really make out what he’s saying, but his voice is comforting as you gasp and sputter, your hands grasping at his for something solid to take hold of. 

“it’s okay, it’s okay. you’re safe now, i got you.” sam reassures, voice soft and steady. he pulls you up and into his chest as your coughing becomes less laden with lake water and more so with tears. it crosses your mind that you hate to be seen so uncomposed and vulnerable, choking a little on your own sobs, shaking from cold and residual fear, and sort of unable to speak after your whole entire view of the world has been grabbed hold of by some other force and tilted to a whole new angle. but you let sam hold you anyways; his broad frame, large set of hands, and hushed voice are so grounding that you wouldn’t dare move away.

you’re vaguely aware of someone else shrugging a warm, dry jacket over your shoulders, and sam is quick to readjust and pull it tight around you. and with that, your head tucked into his neck and your arms wrapped around his middle, you finally begin to calm down. your breathing evens to match the pace of his hand rubbing up and down your back and you shudder against him one last time before you shift to put a palm on the ground and take responsibility for some of your own body weight. you’re still leaning against him, because you’re not sure you could hold yourself up on your own, but you want it to be known that you’re regaining your composure.

the first words that you mean to say to sam are thank you, but the moment you open your mouth, you catch sight of something glinting in the moonlight just a foot or two away. so instead of the gratitude you mean to express, the words, “is that my dirk?” tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. sam winces guiltily underneath you and in an instant, you’re stumbling to correct yourself.

“oh god, that’s not what i meant to say, i’m so sorry. that is so horribly ungrateful of me,” your voice shakes from the chattering of your teeth as you look at him with total regret. “i was trying to say ‘thank you’ and i got distracted and i said that instead, but i didn’t mean it that way, i was just… confused.” you don’t even catch the way that sam smiles at you, all soft and endeared. 

and in reality, you are worried about the state of your priceless knife. you truly mean that you’re sorry for saying that instead of thank you first, but you still scramble away from sam in order to get the knife in your own hands.

the blade has mostly been washed up by the waters of the lake, but there’s residue of a dark, sticky substance that makes you cringe. but, with a sigh of relief, you realize that there’s no further damage to the artifact and carefully clean it with the still dripping wet fabric of your shirt.

behind you, someone’s laughing and it’s not sam. you finally fully register the presence of another person. you look up to see another man, pretty like sam, but with an amused smirk on his features.

“sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. “thank you, both of you. for, you know, saving my sorry ass.”

“of course,” comes sam’s sincere voice, “i’m just glad we got here in time. i’m sorry this happened. and for stealing your dirk.” you look over at him with an embarrassed, shaky smile. he points to the other man with his chin and you return your gaze to him. “that’s my brother, dean.” dean holds up his hand in a sort of greeting and you nod back.

“let’s get you two dried off,” dean says, voice still a little amused. “where can we drop you?” he asks kindly, stepping towards you and holding out a hand to help you up. you take his hand, still dripping the dagger in your other, and he hoists you up. as you’re still finding your footing, you feel sam by your side, then his big hand on the small of your back keeping you steady.

“thanks,” you murmur to the both of them. sam smiles at you, and dean lets your hand go, knowing that sam will be plenty pleased and anxious to be the one to lead you to the car. he managed to annoy sam into admitting that he asked you out on a date within minutes after he got back to the motel from the museum. sam had been trying not to be too smiley. he absolutely had been all smiley.

now, sam’s not smiling. he’s worried and completely guilt-ridden because he’s managed to see the sweet, awkward, and at ease you, and then a version of you that’s limp in his arms. as he ushers your shaking form into the back of the impala, he wonders if he should call it off. tell you he can’t make it to a date, that there’s a new case and he has to leave right away. not call you back. it’s nowhere near his fault that the each-uisge got to you, and yet, he knows that proximity to him means danger. that’s the last thing that he wants for you, even if he thinks he might want you.

and yet, you shiver and gingerly clutch onto your 16th century scottish dirk in the back seat of his brother’s car and when he glances back at you, you have the audacity to send him an adorable, lopsided little smile. you’ve just found out that monsters are real and nearly drowned at one’s hands and you have the audacity to smile at him? smile at him like you’re just fine when you’re so cold he can see you shivering through the rearview mirror and he feels like it’s his fault? and you look like you feel awkward, like you think smiling at him is the most normal thing you can think to do, and it makes him like you very much.

you’re irresistible, and he’d really like to be able to resist you, for your own sake.

“so,” when you start to speak, your voice trembles a little, just because of the way your teeth chatter. sam’s cold too, but it seems to be affecting you more. “hot, homicidal horse-man shapeshifters from scottish folklore are real,” you state, sounding an odd mix of afraid, confused, and very curious. you lean forward and lean against the seats in front of you. “is there… more?”

sam turns his head to look at you, his face full of regret. “yeah,” he says, sighing. “pretty much anything supernatural you can think of. from werewolves, vampires, and ghosts to djinn, each-uisge.”

“oh,” you ponder, “that’s… insane,” you settle on. sam nods in agreement.

dean lets out a huff of laughter. “you got that right. sounds like you’re handling it pretty okay, though,” he commends you.

you shrug, then admit, “i’m actually… trying not to be excited right now because i almost just died from that shit, but… it’s– sort of, kind of, just a little bit cool to me. to know that it’s all real, not that there’s dangerous creatures out there killing people. very not cool,” you nod at your own words awkwardly, trying to be honest about how you feel without sounding insensitive. “and you two… what? go around and save people from them?” you ask, tilting your head to the side curiously.

“yep,” dean chimes, “we’re hunters. we find monsters and gank ‘em for a living. not that it pays.”

“huh. hunters… that must… suck,” you conclude, then try to backtrack, “not– not that i’m saying it’s not important or– or that your lives suck, or– or… yeah.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” sam assures you, “it kind of does suck. a lot, sometimes, but we… we help people, and it’s worth it.” he wants you to think it sucks. he wants you to hate it and he wants you to think it’s too dangerous and awful that you don’t even want to be associated with him. and at the same time, he wants you to think that he helps, that he thinks it’s worth it because he can’t lie about that either. and he already knows, from the way you’re taking things, you won’t think of it as any reason not to be at least alright with him. god, sam’s got no idea what the hell to think, or what the hell to want.

“yeah,” you nod, “yeah, that’s– that’s good of you two.” you sort of wondered before if all this might change how you feel about going on a date with sam. when you think about it now, it doesn’t. it doesn’t change a thing. you still think he’s delightful. “so… where are you two staying? the bed and breakfast?”

“uh, no, we’re staying in the motel just outta town,” sam answers.

“in that shithole?” you raise your eyebrows skeptically. “gosh, i hear there’s never any hot water.”

“damn straight,” confirms dean with a humorless chuckle. “but we’ve had worse. at least this the water gets lukewarm.” sam shoots dean a look that neither of you catch, and the next words that you say are the reason for it.

“well, you two should come shower in my apartment, then,” you don’t seem to realize that’s a little bit suggestive, but neither could care less. it’s clearly just a kind offer. “it’s always hot and the water pressure is pretty much perfect. and sam, if you’re anywhere near as cold as i am, you definitely need a hot shower.”

“no, no, we shouldn’t,” sam refutes, voice kind and regretful in a way he hadn’t meant to show. “we don’t want to intrude after all the shit from tonight.”

you swallow, wondering if you can convince him to stay without admitting that you’re still scared. but you figure that might be the only way. after saving your life he seems to feel guilty, and you can’t understand why. “you wouldn’t be intruding, i promise. you… you really need a hot shower.”

“i’ll be alright,” he assures you, adding, “i’ve had much worse,” for good measure. he needs you to know that it’s dangerous to know him.

you sigh and sit back, leaning into the leather seat. “would you… would you mind, you know, staying with me a little longer?” you let a little bit of vulnerability seep into your voice; you don’t want to say the words i’m still scared, but you do want to give sam a reason to stay that he’ll actually take.

he glances back at you, and it’s too dark to see the look on his face; still guilty, but soft, warm, and understanding.

“no, no, i wouldn’t mind,” he says, voice extra gentle. you let out a relieved breath, glad that he understood your message. the rest of the car ride is quiet aside from your instructions guiding dean to your apartment. he pulls to the side of the road in front of your building. sam gets out first, opening your door for you and hovering his big palm over your head as you step out of the small car. you thank him quietly with a soft smile. he heads to the trunk to grab a spare change of dry clothes and you pull the big brown leather jacket off of your shoulders. you assume it to be dean’s, so you open the passenger’s side door and hand it to him.

“thank you, dean. you, um, if you want, you’re welcome to take a hot shower here, too,” you offer, noting the way he doesn’t actually park the car or step out himself. 

“that’s alright, sweetheart,” he grins, “i’ll leave you and sammy alone.” his tone is definitely suggestive, and he winks at you. you sputter for a second, then clear your throat awkwardly.

“i, um, sure! sounds good,” you squeak out, quickly retreating from the car and shutting the door. it’s very quiet, but you think you hear dean laughing a little. you try not to look completely embarrassed when sam approaches you.

“dean say he’s not coming?” he asks. 

you shake your head. “uh, n-no he said he’s fine.”

sam raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything about the way you seem much more flustered than you were just moments ago. he’s sure than dean made some inappropriate comment, and he’ll apologize for it later. 

“he say he’d wait here?” he asks instead. the last thing he wants is for dean to have inadvertently invited sam over for the night.

“um, no, i-i figured that he’d- that you’d…” you swallow thickly, unsure how to proceed. then dean shifts the car into drive and begins to pull back into the street.

“dean, wait!” sam calls after him, certainly loud enough to hear. sam is ignored, and the gorgeous black car just rumbles down the street. “god, i’m sorry about him. i’ll call him to pick me up.” he looks at you apologetically but you shake your head.

“no, no, it’s okay! i sort of thought that you… you know, might… stay over? only if you’re okay with that, i- it’s okay if you want him to pick you obviously, but… my couch is free and comfortable. probably better than the shitty motel mattresses.” you look at him, eyes both kind and unsure, and he finally remembers that you’re still shivering, even more without dean’s jacket pulled over your shoulders.

“i… if you’re sure. let’s just get inside for now,” he urges, hovering his hand over your shoulder blade as you both turn and walk into the building. you lead the way to your apartment, quiet and soft in your movements. somehow, sam is softer.

inside, he insists that you don’t worry about him, that you head right into the shower because you’re still shivering and it’s got him really quite worried. but you resist, first grabbing him a dry towel and a big fluffy blanket to warm himself up with while he waits in the living room. you tell him where the mugs and the tea can be found, and that the kettle should boil filtered water only. 

“you should make yourself a hot cup of tea,” you say, and tell him that the decaffeinated green genmaicha is your favorite for this time of night if he’d like to make one for you too. sure that he’d feel unuseful just sitting on the couch, you give him something to do.

when you step into the shower, you expect to be soothed. you expect your shoulders to relax and your limbs to stop shuddering and your teeth to quit chattering. it’s true that the bone deep chill begins to fade, and you stop fearing hypothermia. but you are not near soothed or relaxed. it’s not horrible because of the heat, the light, and the familiar surroundings. but the water on your skin is not as welcome as you’d wished. it’s not cold enough or suffocating enough to pull you back down into the lake with the sticky flesh-eating horse, but it’s not pleasant at all. 

you wash up quickly, then step out, dry off, and get dressed even quicker. you cover yourself in the sort of clothing fit for the middle of winter when you’ve been snowed in. fleece pajama pants, a cotton, crew neck long-sleeved shirt, and a sweatshirt to top it all off with. you don’t forget thick socks or the fuzzy blanket from your bed.

you find sam in your living room, a cup of tea on the coffee table and another in his hands as he stands with the green towel you gave him before wrapped over his shoulders.

“why aren’t you sitting?” you ask, perturbed by the idea that he’s been standing this whole time.

“i… didn’t want to get your furniture wet,” he explains, almost sheepishly. you shake your head at him, half amused by the lengths he goes to be gentlemanly. 

“that’s sweet, but unnecessary. i wouldn’t have minded,” you say softly. “anyway, the shower’s all yours. take as long as you like.”

he sets his mug down and gathers up his change of clothes before heading towards the bathroom.

“and there’s a fresh towel on the counter! don’t use that green one,” you call after him lightly, wanting to be sure he won’t reuse the already damp one.

“okay,” he calls back, and he’s turned away so you don’t see the soft smile on his lips. you settle into one end of your couch, curled up with the blanket wrapped tight around your body for warmth and comfort. no matter how much you wish you weren’t, you’re still shaken from everything, especially after the feeling of water on your skin again. you reach for the mug on the table, it’s ceramic material warm on your hands, but no longer too hot to hold. it’s a soothing feeling, along with the hot, earthy tea that slides down your throat and into your stomach when you take a long drag of the drink.

all you do is sit there, drinking tea and wondering when sam will be done. you told him to take as long he wanted, but the sight of him is comforting, and you hope he’s done soon.

he looks refreshed and relaxed when he emerges from the bathroom. he sits in the chair across from you with a grateful smile.

“thank you,” he says, voice quite lovely and sincere, “it’s been a while since i’ve had such a nice shower.” to you, he wasn’t gone too long, but for him, it was special and an absolute privilege to have a hot shower last that long. and your bathroom isn’t that nice by any stretch, but it certainly beats anything he can find in a motel. it’s homier, warmer, and familiar only because it suits you. honestly, he had trouble getting the courage to turn off the shower head; it was just too pleasant. but he didn’t want to wrack up your water bill, so he gave himself an extra minute before stepping out and getting redressed.

and now you’re telling him about how easy of a favor it was, and that he’s welcome to that sort of thing anytime. he’s so unsure of how to proceed, so conflicted, that you’re the one to bring it up. 

“so… are you still, y’know, um, interested? in going out to lunch, that is,” you ask hopefully, clumsily.

oh god. he doesn’t think he has the strength to say no, to disappoint you, to ruin this chance with you. but it’s dangerous for you and that’s the last thing he wants. yet, he’s not sure he could ever bear the face you might make if he makes some lame excuse to blow you off. and it would all be a total lie. he is interested, maybe more than just that. he goddamn wants it. 

“i am. of course i am.” he’s more relieved than scared when he says that, so he feels like it must be right. and he hates the idea that you’d even doubt his interest in you. if anyone has the right to be second guessing a date, it’s you. he’s honestly a little surprised you’d still want this. surprised, and beyond flattered. “i… don’t know how long i’ll be in town, but i’ll of course be here tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”

you grin widely. “yeah, yeah that’s perfect.” your expression shifts and you look at him carefully. “and… after that? i don’t mean to jump ahead or anything and i… i know you’ll be… traveling, but it sort of seems like sometimes, you know, maybe, i could possibly… help you out? if you ever need information on weapons and lore and that sort of thing… you could, y'know, call me? i… i’d love to help, at the very least.” hopeful and clumsy. that seems to be the theme of the night for your words. 

sam’s gaze, no, his whole form softens. he loves the way you talk and he finds it sort of crazy that he’s met you only this afternoon. for a moment he thinks he’s surprised by your offer to help, but when he considers it for a moment, he’s really not. it fits you; your warmth, kindness, passion, and intelligence. he’s still scared about involving you with him at all, even more scared about involving you in hunting directly, even if you just help with information. 

yet somehow, your offer eases him. it’s a thought you’ve had all on your own, something you say you’d actually like to be able to do. he supposes he should just be honest with you.

 “i’ll call you. not just for help,” he begins, nodding to assure you that he wants that, and more. he’s so torn. torn between caving and just diving into this chance that he has or walking away and most likely saving you a whole lot of grief. and yet, it absolutely wouldn’t be fair to not give you a choice, so that’s exactly what he’ll do. “but… you… are you sure about this?” he asks with a heavy sigh, eyes careful and sincere as he examines your expression, your curled up form indicating you might still be feeling shaken.

“it’s not pleasant. people die,” he says, frank, but still gentle in tone. “dean and i, we could die. and you being involved… it makes things dangerous for you. even if you’re not out there, physically in the fight, it… it’s dangerous to be associated with us. with me. i don’t want that for you, but i… i would like to get to know you better, i know that much. and i know that it’s your choice, not mine. if helping is what you really want to do… i’m sure that you could save lives. we… could use your help. just… you can back out at any time. you can back out right now, if that’s what you want.”

he’s grateful that you really take a long moment to consider what he says. your eyes roam over his face, taking in the details of his expression, his sincerity, all of the changes in tone that you can pick up on. you think about it, you really do.

“let’s get to know each other,” you decide, voice soft. as you go on, you sound both unsure, like you’re still finding your footing, and determined, like you’re sure you’ll be steady eventually. “i’d really like that… as for the rest… for the monsters and all that, i… i’d still like to help. or at least try. if… if it’s too much, or feels dangerous, then i can… i can figure out what to do then. but if i could help save lives? i… i can’t just ignore that. i don’t want to ignore that. i do really appreciate that you're, you know, worried about my safety, it– it’s very sweet, i just– i know that i want this.” you say the last bit definitively, like you’ve been building up to it, convincing yourself of it and now you really believe it. 

sam’s relieved. he shouldn’t be, but he is. he wanted that answer, no matter his worries. he nods simply, giving you a soft smile. “okay. thank you.”

you smile back, thinking it’s sweet that he thanks you for offering your help, and maybe for something else too.

“my, uh, my lunch break is only half an hour,” you state, shifting the conversation just a little bit. “and i– i get if you’re tired, but we could… start now. you know, the getting to know each other part,” you offer, voice a little quiet and unsure again. you’re a bit clumsy and awkward when it comes to… well, most everything, but especially this sort of thing. you’re not even sure exactly what this is supposed to be. flirting? dating? or maybe it’s just as simple as that; getting to know each other. sam’s not perfect at this either, but he can certainly step into the more confident role for you. he wants you to feel at ease.

“yeah,” he says softly. “i’m not too tired. i don’t want to keep you up late, though. tonight was… tiring, i’m sure, and you have work in the morning.”

goodness, he’s so caring and considerate that it almost hurts. you fight back a yawn, trying not to prove his point as you think about waking to your alarm clock tomorrow morning. you don’t want to go to bed yet, and you don’t want to miss out on whatever time you have to talk with him.

“well… maybe i can call off. even just for the morning. i’ve got plenty of paid time off saved up,” you suggest, glad for this idea. you’re positive that you deserve to miss a little bit of work after what you just went through.

if you were offering just for him, sam would shake his head, insist that you don’t have to. but he considers that not having to worry about work in the morning and being able to sleep in would likely be very good for you. 

“if that’s what you want, it makes sense,” he says, smiling softly.

“okay,” you smile back, “i’ll email my boss, it’ll only take a minute. she’ll see it in the morning.” your computer’s in your room, so you leave sam to his own devices for just a moment. in the hallway on the way back, you speak up so he can hear you as you approach. “would you like to watch a movie? you might be right that i’m a little too tired to stay up talking, but i… don’t quite want to go to bed.” your voice quiets once you’re back in the small living room. frankly, the idea of being alone in your room, of laying down with nothing to do but think or sleep, frightens you.

his face softens like he can read your fear. “that sounds perfect to me.” you relax at his constant sweetness and subtle encouragements. 

“perfect,” you smile. “you’ll… have to get up so i can move that chair out of the way. you can sit on the couch, though.” he stands and moves the chair away from the tv for you, then sits on the other end of the couch. you snuggle into your own corner after picking a dvd. turns out that sam has seen and loves your favorite movie. 

turns out that he’s also a little too respectful and careful to get very close to you as you watch, but he doesn’t mind when you grow sleepy and stretch your legs a little more over the cushions. you don’t ask; you’re a little embarrassed, so he tells you it’s alright if you rest your feet against his thigh. and he doesn’t know where to put his hand after that, so you tell him that he can rest it on your calf. he does, and just that is infinitely comforting.

and turns out that, halfway through the movie, when you fall into a soft, quiet sleep, the only thing that sam’s worried about anymore is if he should let you just sleep there or carry you to your own bed. he doesn’t care if he has to sleep curled up in the corner of the couch or that chair or on the goddamn floor; he just doesn’t want to wake you.

[ophelias-lamentation]

Celtigar and dayne hairstyles pls???

Hairstyles of Houses Dayne and Celtigar

So the Dayne’s are dornish so they keep the Greco-Roman inspired hairstyles but as opposed to most other dornish houses who wear gold or copper they wear silver. I have a headcannon that I got from a fic that the dornish are expert glass artists so they wear slot of glass accessories, the daynes however opt for amethysts and tanzanite.

House Celtigar is of Valyrian descent, their hairstyles are unlike the the Targaryen’s however and have a strong stormlands and crown lands influence with elaborate updo’s and marine inspired, especially crustacean, headpieces. I hc that like the Velaryon’s they trade a lot so they are a richer house.

[tsartistry]

So there is a character in Niobe Fic that I have not really mentioned at all, and I don't think any of you care, but I care and I wanna talk about Elmer. I think he's neat. I will be honest upfront, this is me indulging in one of my favorite friendship tropes:

Small Precocious Child and the Big Beefy Bodyguards who will protect them at all costs.

More than anything, Niobe needs to make sure no demigods get anywhere near Lester, so she hires monsters as security around her home/business. After all, monsters can smell demigods from miles away. She pays them handsomely, and includes very delicious and filling meals as part of their compensation so they won't be compelled to wander away and hunt for food.

Periodically throughout the Riordanverse we get glimpses of the monsters having an entire underground society (Monster Donut, the serpent on the train in TON, etc.) It seems like the majority of them want nothing to do with Demigod Bullshit and just want to live normal lives. So I think Niobe had no shortage of Monster Applicants wanting a Normal(ish) Job that pays Actual Wages instead of whatever Kronos was paying them (if he was paying them at all.)

Elmer is a Manticore that Niobe hired to be Lester's personal bodyguard. He has one job: If he smells any demigods, get Lester out of there.

Of course, Elmer has no means of sniffing out any other kinds of special children. So when Lester starts hanging out with Carter and Sadie, Elmer is just like "Well, the kid does look pretty lonely. He should have some normal human friends. As a treat."

Lester, being a mortal who doesn't remember anything about Greco-Roman myths being real, doesn't see Elmer for what he is. Which makes things very awkward for Sadie, who can see his true form almost immediately.

But Elmer seems pretty fond of Lester, and pretty chill in general so... maybe he's not dangerous? But there's definitely something WEIRD about Lester's life that she wants to figure out.

(and for those just joining us, Lester has a service dog because the process Niobe used to erase his memories gave him literal brain damage, so now he has a seizure alert dog)

[deantfwinchester]

A New Chapter

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AUJoel x Teacher!Reader (pregnant)

Moving forward in the narrative a bit y'all. Our girl is pregnant now, so we're a couple years into their marriage. The premise of this one's a little goofy, but he looks so pretty in the Gladiator trailer I couldn't help myself.

Summary: You and Sarah go Halloween costume hunting and find the perfect family costume, much to Joel's chagrin. He'll do just about anything for his little girl, though. :)

Warnings: fluff as per usual. a teeny bit of angst and emotional h/c, but so so fluffy. a couple of suggestive little innuendos for fun, but very much PG as usual.

A/N: I'll make a little timeline at some point explaining how these all fit into the same universe, but they're definitely the same couple so far! I've got plenty more planned for these two, and I'm excited to keep going, but I've also got a kind of multi-chap AU situation I may try to write? Idk, guess we'll see which bulleted fic I'm inspired to expand next, lol.

Word Count: 3.3k

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“You can’t be serious,” Joel looks at you, exasperated. 

“Serious as a heart attack,” you respond, smiling wide. 

“Hell no!” he says, amused at the very idea. 

“What, Sarah’s got that precious little goddess dress from the costume store, and they were right next to it!” you exclaim. 

___________________________

You’ve just presented Joel with a gold and white roman general costume you found while you and Sarah were shopping for Halloween costumes. You took her to the costume shop after picking her up from school and the two of you were over the moon. Halloween is your favorite holiday hands down - you and Sarah have always had that in common. It was one of the first things you bonded over, and Joel was thrilled that the two of you wanted to do that together. You hadn’t been looking forward to finding a maternity costume though - it was still early September, but you knew one that fit well right now would be pretty uncomfy by the end of October.

You and Sarah walk a few aisles in before stopping in your tracks at a beautiful mythology display - long dresses and beautiful accessories with the names of different Greco-Roman goddesses in a row, with a family-costume display showing mannequins of an adult man, adult woman, and a teen girl and young boy. The young boy’s costume had a shield and chest plate of worn-looking plastic, and the teen girl’s costume was a long ombré-colored dress with little gold appliqués printed on the hem.

Sarah was enchanted. And you were enamored with the childlike wonder she felt touching the low-quality polyester and spandex blend. The adult women’s costume mirrored the toga-like shape of the girl’s, but was one-shouldered and of a different shade. Sarah saw them and immediately knew what she wanted to be for Halloween this year - a princess in this goddess dress and you an empress to match. The names on these costumes were inaccurate as hell, but you weren’t here to hold Spirit Halloween to historical accuracy or academic integrity. The look on her face made it clear you couldn’t say no - especially when you saw the Maternity option hanging in a thick plastic bag next to it closed with a plastic snap. At least this costume would hang loosely no matter how much you’re showing by Halloween. Might even drive Joel a little crazy. 

Once you agreed to it, you decided just the two of you couldn’t do it alone - not when there was only one member of your family to be left out. You grab the Adult Men’s costume hanging next to the mannequin - it was different from the boy’s, not some sort of battle armor, but labeled Emperor to match the adult women’s. It’s white and lined in gold leaf appliqués just like the goddess costumes. It's a beautiful costume, with a cape and a little caged skirt thing hanging over the tunic. You’re especially fond of the myriad golden accessories accompanying this costume - wide bangles and a little headband of golden leaves. You’re torn between cackling at how much Joel would undoubtedly protest such an elaborate costume and practically salivating at the image of him wearing it. He’d look ridiculously hot in this costume — you’d just need to convince him. 

Joel isn’t totally averse to costume-wearing, especially for his girls’ favorite holiday. He would put on a little something here and there to appease you or Sarah - maybe a cape or a few accessories. You’d seen pictures from one Halloween a few years before you met them with Sarah in a pretty little pink fairy costume and Joel in a much too small pair of wings and a feathery tiara, holding a matching wand. Seeing it never fails to make you smile.

Joel is a wonderful father to Sarah - he can always tell her No when necessary, whether it has to do with her health and safety, development, or due to financial constraints, but always explains to her why. As much as he’d love to spoil her to pieces, he wants to make sure she grows up with a realistic understanding of the world around her, and understands both her privilege and the difference between Want and Need. The way he communicates with her and makes parenting choices with a focus on the kind of person she is and will become is in large part what drew you to him - to a place where you not only felt comfortable being with him, but having a child with him. You are more than confident he’ll be a wonderful father to your next child as well — he’d made that clear when you’d first found out.

When it wasn’t necessary to tell Sarah No, however - he couldn’t ever look his little girl in the eye and resist. Letting her polish his nails, play with glittery make-up, and wearing little wings to match her own were just a few of the things he’d done to make her smile. If the only reason to say “No” was that he didn’t want to, well it simply wasn’t reason enough.

With this knowledge in mind, you were fairly certain Joel could be convinced to put on this elaborate costume - maybe with some work boots instead of the mannequin’s little sandals, though. And a pair of shorts under the skirty pieces, probably. Once you and Sarah have picked out the shades you want and spent way too much time staring at the wall of accessories for your own costumes, you leaf through the men’s costume bags for Joel’s size and snag one off the rack. Sarah’s eyes go wide when you turn around and raise your eyebrows at her, and a huge grin spreads across her face - she’s laughing excitedly at just the prospect of her dad in this elaborate costume, and shaking her head vigorously while agreeing - it has to come home. 

____________________________________________

“C’mon baby. Y’all’s are beautiful but this?,” says Joel, gesturing to the elaborate white costume you’ve removed from the bag and hung up to present to him in all its gilded glory. “This is insane. Looks more like a damn wedding dress than a Halloween costume.”

“Oh but Joel, it’s so beautiful! I know it’s a little elaborate, but Sarah and I are already gonna be matching. We want you to do it with us! Dress as a family for the party,” you plead, and you can see his resolve beginning to crack. He shakes his head, both hands on his hips, and glowers at you, though it lacks any real contempt.

“Darlin’ I think it’s precious that you and Sarah got these little matching costumes. Hell, nothing could make my heart happier than seeing you two looking so gorgeous together in these pretty dresses she chose. But y’all are my beautiful little stars of the show, let’s be honest,” he finishes, placing his hand heavily on your hip and drawing you closer. “You, Sarah, and her perfect little sister on the way,” he grins, resting his other hand on your belly and locking eyes with you. 

“That’s kinda the thing though, Joel. This is the last Halloween we can do this, just the three of us. Every Halloween after this will be a different kind of special, but it’ll never just be us and Sarah again after this year. You know she’d love it, no matter what the reason,” you say with a slight smirk, knowing you and Sarah both want this, at least in part, to mess with Joel. 

He locks eyes with you,and his are gentle and wistful at the idea. You’re both elated at the mere thought of the future ahead with your growing family, but the change is a big shift for all of you. You worry about Sarah more than anything. You’ve had this conversation a couple of times already — the age gap between Sarah and the baby is so big, you just worry she’ll feel left out when you two get busy, or get hyper focused on the baby those first few months. 

You aren’t afraid to admit that you’re scared — scared you won’t be able to give the baby everything she needs or scared you won’t bond like you should. It’s a big relief to you, a new mom, that this won’t be Joel’s first rodeo. He’s already assuaged your worries on multiple occasions during this pregnancy and preparation period with his existing knowledge in child rearing. There’s not a man in the world better suited to fatherhood, and his quiet confidence and reassurance when your anxieties arise comfort you more than he’d ever understand.

But the fear is still there — fear of not being enough, leaving Joel to feel like he’s alone in this all over again, even with you standing beside him. You’re especially scared you won’t ensure Sarah continues to get all the attention and love she needs. You know fully well that your love can only multiply — it does so a little each year a new set of students arrives at your classroom door — but your attention can unfortunately divide, and sometimes will, despite your best efforts. 

Yes you both want to mess with Joel a little with your request that he wear this elaborate costume that’ll make him a bit bashful; but more than anything, you want him to do it with the two of you for Sarah. To make that choice to remind her that the two of you would do anything for her — as goofy as the request may be — no matter how much your lives change in the coming years. You want to do as many special things for her as possible beforehand — and you need his help for this one. 

“I just — I know it’s silly, but I want her to enjoy this chapter as much as possible before things change. And I know you do too, I’m just…,” you look down at your feet as you say this, unable to find the words to continue. Your eyes mist over as you think about it, and before you know it, you’re in his arms, face pressed tightly against his chest. His hand holds the back of your head, pulling you close, thumb moving gently back and forth over your crown, soothing the concerns he could see encroaching as you spoke. 

“Sweetheart.‘S not silly at all,” he pauses, searching for the words to help you find solace in your unease. “I know you’re worried about that, I do. And do you know how much it means to me that this is on your mind? That you’re busy growing a little person in there, having to think about mothering a baby for the first time, and she’s at the top of your list?” Joel stares at you with a sincerity that aches in your chest before he continues, “And that’s why I want you to remember that she knows. You’re an incredible mother already, baby, and none of that’s gonna change. The fact that you’re concerned about it in the first place is enough. I really believe that, baby. Sarah’ll always know that we’re here.”

You’re crying for real now, burying your face in his chest again as he squeezes you tight, resting his head on yours as it lies in the crook of his neck. He closes his eyes and holds you for a bit longer, slightly swaying back and forth to soothe you. He knows the hormones are playing a part in your worry and reaction, but also knows better than to identify them as such. No matter the cause, you’re experiencing these feelings — and no matter how fleeting they are, he’ll make sure you get what you need. 

After a minute or two of holding you in silence, Joel pulls his head back and looks down at you, rubbing your back to rouse you from your trance. You look up at him to see a small smile on his face and enough warmth in his eyes to have you weeping all over again.

“Alright darlin’, let’s go give this ridiculous getup a shot,” he says, gesturing toward the bedroom with his head.

“Really Joel?,” you ask, voice filled with hope and gratitude. 

“Course baby. If I’m gonna wear it, gonna damn well make sure it fits right.”

“Wait’ll you see the accessories!” you say excitedly, wiping your eyes and sniffing back the last of your tears.

“Oh good lord,” he huffs out, rolling his eyes playfully before grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom, costume in hand.

______________________________________________________

~ Halloween Night ~

“Have I told you yet how gorgeous you look in this costume?” you ask in Joel’s ear as Sarah runs ahead of the two of you toward the door to Tommy’s. 

“Only about seven times since I first put it on, sweet girl,” he says to you through a smile, chuckling at your insistence. “Better give it a rest, or my head’s gonna be too big to fit through the door by the time we get home.” He smirks at you, squeezing your hand in his as you cross the yard. 

“Ah, I think it’ll fit just fine,” you reply, rubbing a gentle hand against his chest. “Did I tell you how sexy you are tonight yet?,” you whisper closer to his ear now, smiling while you do it, grinning wider as a light blush touches his cheeks before he smiles at you as well.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Mighta mentioned it once or twice.” His brows furrow as he feigns consideration. “I’d much rather talk about how incredible you look tonight, darlin’,” he whispers into your neck before pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, all too softly for the hormones rushing through your system. He knows it too, when your eyes go wide and your own cheeks flush, and is far too satisfied with himself for your liking. Years into your relationship and he can still drive you wild with so little — you have plenty of tricks up your sleeve as well, but the second trimester has been giving him an unfair advantage lately. 

Before you can gather your thoughts, you’re behind Sarah at Tommy’s door as he opens it to greet you, cowboy hat on and beer in hand. Otherwise, still dressed in his work flannel and jeans. Damn, Joel’s gotta be jealous right now. 

Tommy hugs Sarah and ushers her inside before looking at the two of you, eyes widening as he takes in Joel’s appearance, pretending to hide the elation growing on his face at seeing his brother in such an elaborate outfit. 

“Well ain’t that a lotta gold? Not sure what I expected when Sarah told me, but this wasn’t it,” he says, biting back a laugh. “Gotta say brother, didn’t think you had it in ya,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder, unable to conceal his entertained grin any longer. Joel rolls his eyes in response, and along with Tommy, looks to you.

“Now you look beautiful honey. Though I gotta say, if you’re goin for one of the Vestal Virgins, I think you may be in trouble,” he jokes, looking down at your growing bump and pulling you in for a hug.

“Aren’t you a riot,” you say flatly, rolling your eyes and smiling at his comment before hugging him back, “Hi Tommy. Y’all having fun in here?”

He moves aside so you and Joel can enter the house and Joel follows after Sarah to grab you both a drink. He’ll grab a beer like his brother, while you’re relegated to a soda without caffeine for the time being. 

“Course we are!” He waits until Joel moves further away and leans toward you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I have to say — Thank you. Thank you so much. For that,” he gestures toward Joel at the little drink bar with Sarah. 

You chuckle a little with him, “You’re welcome. Go easy on him tonight though, alright? I know he’d much rather be wearing what you are right now,” you ask.

“Alright, alright, I promise. But please take pictures. Take so many pictures,” he laughs, and you laugh with him. “Seldom I get to see my brother like this, I’m gonna need a record of it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s kinda the idea. Speaking of which, you really put some effort in on the costume for tonight, huh?,” you ask, unimpressed, but good-natured.  

“Hey, I’m hosting! A little busy gettin’ everything together. Besides, a cowboy hat always suits me,” he gives a winning smile before changing the subject. “Now how are you and my little niece doing tonight?,” he asks, moving a hand down to your belly and bending a bit to greet the little one from outside. You place your hand on top of his and move it over to the side where you’ve been feeling the baby moving around lately.

“Say something to her again,” you instruct, “she’s been wiggling up a storm today.”

Tommy speaks to the baby above your belly again and you feel a little foot move ever so slightly against his hand. The way he lights up warms your heart, and you’re nearly overcome with emotion. He’s so excited to feel her that he hugs you to him once again. 

The two of you talk a bit longer about the newfound quickening, and you’re elated at his enthusiasm. It’s an incredible feeling, knowing just how much this baby will be loved — how surrounded she’ll be with family, and how happy everyone will be to have her there. Before you can think yourself into happy tears, Joel returns, smiling wide overhearing his brother’s excitement. He has a beer in one hand and an odd-looking green drink in the other, adorned with a black bendy draw covered in skulls. Your eyes widen as he hands you the cloudy slime-colored monstrosity. Tommy looks warily at the drink, and excuses himself to go talk to Sarah instead. 

“Oh Joel, what is that?!” you ask amused.

“Go on, try it darlin’” he says, gesturing for you to take a sip.The morning sickness had been rough in the beginning, and though it had tapered a few weeks back, you weren’t exactly looking to reawaken the nausea anytime soon. 

You sip with hesitation. It’s surprisingly tasty, a little fruity and fizzy. When you look down in it to find two gummy eyeballs staring back at you, bobbing around in the green. You laugh aloud at the sight, and Joel smiles so wide his eyes nearly close - he has two favorite sounds, and that’s one of them. Soon enough, he’ll have three. 

“It’s delicious, but what the hell is it?,” you ask through the laughter. 

“Sarah and I thought you might like a little Halloween mocktail to shake things up. I think it’s lemonade, sprite, and some of that blue stuff? Might be some pineapple or orange juice in there too, I think Sarah just started adding stuff. Gummy eyeballs were apparently a necessary garnish - she said they’re ‘on theme’ and that you’d agree.”

“She’s very right. Thank you sweetie, I appreciate it,” you say, taking another sip before kissing his cheek. You got him this time, and he grows a slight bashful blush at the public affection, but it’s never unwelcome. 

“Course. Happy to experiment for you anytime, sweetheart,” he grins back and you lose the battle, jaw dropping open a bit in response, eyes wide at him. 

He laughs again and puts his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, before kissing you gently, just enough to keep the rise going. The two of you look over to see Tommy and Sarah talking excitedly, mixing some sort of other “punch,” this time in a shade of red. You raise your cup to Joel’s lips, and he takes a sip, looking surprised at the quality of their amateur mixology. You lean your head against his shoulder as you both look on at the party, wistfully watching your daughter enjoy herself. You stay there for a while, doing everything to remember the final Halloween of this beautiful chapter, just before a new one begins.

[deadhellenist]

types of tagamemnon posts

- "hey did you know in (ancient greece/rome/gaul/asia minor/etc) people used to do this isn't that hilarious"

- (in response to the previous) "hey op i have a degree in greco roman studies and i'm 99% sure that's something the victorians made up"

- (a joke about worshipping hellenic dieties)

- (a not-joke about worshipping hellenic dieties)

- "please enjoy this incredibly detailed fic i made that's a spin-off of a homeric epic"

- "(character from a homeric epic) was a dilf you like you agree you reblog"

- "soooo (roman generals and or politicians, dealers choice) were definately fucking right? right?"

- (twinkified octavian/augustus)

- (in response to previous) "nooooooo you can't do that!! not to my weirdly idolized big macho man!! what would julius caesar think!!"

- (i, claudius gif)

- (percy jackson)

[incubationformadness]

Thinking about how the Capitol in The Hunger Games is obsessed with classical antiquity - which does not belong to them - while simultaneously trying to wipe out the indigenous culture in the districts. How they idolise Greco-Roman culture not simply for its decadence but for its bloodshed.

I know that in canon we don't see much reference to Ancient Greece & Rome other than Plutarch briefly explaining bread and circuses, but I wanted to make Effie (a Capitolite) aware of classical antiquity from her education in my fic because a lot of far-right propaganda relies on a warped, distorted nostalgia. 'The good old days when...' kind of dialogue. This isn't new - Italian fascism, under Mussolini in particular, tried to emulate Ancient Rome.

My point is that the Capitol is in itself a theatrical illusion - it has no original culture of its own. It is merely extortionate luxury and authoritarian power in faux Roman wrapping paper. But the Capitol needs to appear to possess a seemingly superior culture - more advanced that the 'backwards' districts - in order to legitimise the dictatorship. You can't have the divine right of kings without belief in divinity.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @heartstringsduet @strandnreyes @orchidscript

@lemonlyman-dotcom @corsage @bonheur-cafe @nisbanisba 🩷

Chapter 1 of Rhythms (formally known a Poet Fic) is up on Ao3 today! Here is a snippet from Chapter 2, in which we join poor 2011 Carlos lamenting his entire existence:

He has to stop this endless fucking solo dance of dreaming for something that can never be a reality. But his thoughts always seem real enough to his stupid body.

Carlos bites his lip, tugs at the denim around the excruciating pulse of his crotch to loosen the chafe. Not again. He’s lost count of his boners today. Luckily, he managed to concentrate hard enough in wrestling practice so that he only had to deal with a semi, and everyone was too absorbed in perfecting their Greco-Roman facelocks that nobody noticed. It’s the threat of being spotted with a springing bulge that makes them cease in the end, the horror of that concept.

Chapter 2 coming next Sunday. Open tag and tags below:

@anactualcaseofthetruth @sapphic--kiwi @emsprovisions

@ironheartwriter @fifthrideroftheapocalypse @captain-gillian

@nancys-braids @butchreyes @literateowl @kiwichaeng

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@carlos-tk @three-drink-amy @tellmegoodbye

@herefortarlos @sugdenlovesdingle @theghostofashton

@honeybee-taskforce @freneticfloetry @chicgeekgirl89

@sanjuwrites @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @alrightbuckaroo

@liminalmemories21 @ladytessa74 @welcometololaland @rmd-writes

@lightningboltreader @goodways @paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @reyesstrand - if you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[theamazingmaddyas]

One completely untapped part of the Greco-Roman Riordanverse fandom, especially in fics that include the demigods getting technology is the amount of parodies of modern media Rick adds to his series, especially in TOA above all the others, and in the Senior Year Adventures.

In Wrath of the Triple Goddess, the show The Great Witch's Brew Off (a parody of The Great British Bake Off of course), is mentioned, so for the last two months I've been thinking of shows that could air on HephaestusTV. (Note, while I just reread TOA, I have a bad memory, and I know for a fact there are parody medias in that series, like I'm pretty sure there's an Instagod in TON, but there isn't a collective list and me a few months ago didn't think to write it down, something I regret already)

So, here's a list of six shows I believe have a chance of airing on HephaestusTV! I would love it if other people could make lists and add to it.

Disclaimer, I rarely watch reality TV, so some of these I haven't watched myself, and am basing my ideas off of my vague understanding of the plots. For that reason, my bolded explanations aren't in depth for any, to keep it consistant:

1) Dancing with the Gods (Dancing with the Stars) pros are probably nymphs, dryads, and satyrs

2) Keeping up the the Olympians (Keeping up with the Kardashians) note: I feel as though I've heard this before, but I don't remember where or why

3) Domain-ly Feud (Family Feud) instead of families, each team consists of gods/dieties with similar domains

4) Demigodly Ninja Warrior (American Ninja Warrior) Instead of Las Vegas, the final four stages are held in Olympus. Qualifiers are in CHB and Semis are in Camp Jupiter.

5) Say "Yes" to the Peplos (Say "Yes" to the Dress) a peplos is a garment worn by Ancient Greek woman, for those who didn't know.

6) The 100,000 ₯ Pyramid (The $100,000 Pyramid) note: I'm like 58% sure I used the symbol for drachma correctly, but if not, tell me

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

YESSS IM SO EXCITED YOU WRITE FOR RYAN FHDNDBFBFJ. Would you write like reader is part of the CKY crew and they’ve both had crushes on each other and like a gary flirting and then she’s thinking it’s unrequited so she gets like a Bf and I wanna know how ryan would feel about this like i wanna see his jealousy and shit talking with bam fjjfgnnkdjffnhy (sorry i had to much caffeine with my meds this morning lol) WHHDHDJAN THANK YOUUUU!!!!

Drunk Love

Y/N and Ryan are best friends, blissfully unaware of eachother’s feelings.

Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, nudity, alcohol, description of injury, fighting, jealousy, crude language

An: Thank you for the request!! I had a fun time writing more in depth for Ryan! If anyone is wondering why Bam always sleeps naked in my fics it’s because of a story he told on Radio Bam! You can find it on YouTube under “Bam Gets Caught”, but it’s not the onky time to my memory that he’s talked about sleeping naked XD! Besides that, I actually had a couple requests i combined to create this fic so I included the ones I didn’t reply to directly but still used below! :)

“Watchin’ the little back n’ forth thing you’ve got with her’s painful. I mean-“ Bam leaned over on his side, propping his head up with a hand while laying on the adjacent bed, “Just quit the pussy shit, dude.” Ryan ran a hand through his blonde, sweat soaked hand as the sounds of the running shower made white noise in the background. “It’s not easy, man! I mean, I’ve known her since we've been in diapers.” Sighing, Ryan finally looked at Bam, “I'm sorry- I just can’t take you seriously when you’re naked.” It was a casualty of their closeness that he was very comfortable being nude in front of his best friend, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest, moving to get up, “You know what? If you’re not gonna tell her, I will.”

“No way! She’s in the shower!” Like a startled animal, Bam broke into a sprint on a dime, nearly reaching the bathroom door handle before Ryan hurled himself off of the bed, tackling him to the scratchy hotel room carpet. His vision was a blur of un-vacuumed orange carpet and pale man skin as the two wrestled, thumping and rolling around and cursing through clenched teeth. But in an act of perfect timing, that’s exactly when you opened the bathroom door. Wrapped in a white towel, hot steam billowed around you as you stared down at the scene at your feet- Ryan pinning a completely exhausted Bam down on his back by his skinny little arms as he straddled him, the two of them making direct eye contact with you. Your mind went blank. “I, uh…did I interrupt something…?”

“It’s wrestling!” They seemed to speak in unison. Bam added hurriedly, “It’s a guy thing.” Panicking and trying to find a way out of this situation, Ryan played along, “Yeah, yeah- total guy thing.” You raised an eyebrow, “So, you wrestle naked?” Easily slipping out from under him and not caring if you saw him, Bam walked into the bathroom, squeezing past you as you still stood shocked in the doorway, “Yeah, Greco-Roman style. Totally!”

You and Ryan sat on top of the covers on his bed as you dried off, only half watching tv. There was some sort of tension between you and him that you really couldn't place. Maybe it was you thinking about technically sharing a bed with him. Maybe it was him thinking about you in that towel. Sniffing the air, Ryan broke the silent tension, “What's that smell?” You sighed in relief that you finally had something to talk about, accidentally replying a little too eagerly, “Oh! I bought some new shampoo.” He sat up a little bit straighter next to you, glancing down at you curiously, “Any, uh- any reason?” You shrugged, “Nah, just felt like it.” Ryan smiled at you. “It’s nice.”

Ryan could hardly remember what stunt he got hurt doing, but the blood dripping into his right eye from the gash on his forehead blurred his vision as he tried to get his bearings. His head spun as he pulled himself up from the pavement, little bits of gravel and dirt caked into his skin and hair. There goes that shower. At least it makes for good footage, he thought, as the rest of the crew cheered while looking back at the footage through the display of Rick’s camcorder.

But just as the cameras turned off, in came Y/N. Oh, Y/N. You kneeled down in front of the dazed man, and you could practically see the little birds and stars flying around Ryan’s head as you reached into your pocket, pulling out some first aid supplies. After a few years of this, you learned to keep this kind of stuff on you due to the nature of what you did- either that, or you'd have to drive bam to the ER again with another horribly infected wound while he wailed in the backseat like a baby. Tearing open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, you gingerly moved the wet curls that stuck to your best friend’s forehead before wiping the cut tenderly, little streaks of red showing through the thin wipe.

There was something in the way that you cleaned his wounds and tended to him better than any of the guys- or hell, better than he ever cared for himself. The alcohol stung and he winced, hissing air through his teeth. You chuckled, “Oh, don’t be a baby…” Your body was so close to him that Ryan could feel the heat radiating off of you as you blew gently on the alcohol soaked cut, the liquid rapidly drying on his face. Oh. Oh, yeah. Yep. He was getting a hard on.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice as you finished up, shoving the used wipes into your pocket, “There, all better!” Ryan chuckled and, for just a second, you lingered there, maybe a little too close to him for a little too long. But it felt so normal- so right. After a few heartbeats, you pulled away a little reluctantly. He smiled as you gave him a hand, helping him up while he was still a little dizzy, “Hey, thanks for that…”

“It’s nothing! Don’t worry about it.”

Bam groaned childishly, “If you like her so much, just fuckin’ say it!” Ryan relented that it still hadn’t gotten through his thick skull while he nursed that head injury from earlier with a bag of frozen peas. “She’s already got a boyfriend. It’s not gonna happen!” He was an asshole of a boyfriend too, Ryan thought, real scum. He was always so close to you whenever you all hung out as a group, just hanging off of you like he couldn’t stand by himself. Maybe Dunn felt a little envious of all of your body heat that was being absorbed by that dirtbag, but he would never say that to you. “I mean, he’s a fucking dick, but…” All he received from the other man was a shrug in return. “So? I’ve fucked chicks with boyfriends.” Bam sneered, making his way to the door, “Why don’t you just get’er name tattooed on your forehead if you’re so into her?” It’s not like Bam could get the point if he sat on it and it stuck in his ass. Rolling his eyes, Ryan didn’t even notice until his buddy was about hallway down the hall till he heard the echo of his voice, “Hey, Y/N! Listen, I got-“

Before he could even think, he was out in that hallway after him, jumping on Bam before he could finish his sentence. He landed right at your feet, nearly on the toes of your shoes. You peered over the scene as the two, fully clothed this time thank god, tussled in front of you, grunting and muttering cuss words beneath their breath. Eventually, he got Bam’s head pinned firmly to the ground and he looked up at you with those wide, baby blue eyes, cracking a tired smile as he caught his breath. “Hey…” You had to resist blushing, reminding yourself that your heart really shouldn’t be beating as fast for your best friend. “Where’re you two going?” Bam squirmed, muttering something that got spoken over. “The, uh- the bar! We’re going to the bar! You wanna join?”

That act of quick thinking actually worked better than he had planned. Ryan’s half thought out excuse led him to score what was basically- practically a date with you. The only problem was that his wingman was also the biggest cockblock in history. “So,” You leaned towards Ryan, scoping the place out idly, “you wanna get a table?” He glanced over to Bam for an answer, maybe even some smart ass response, but nope. Nothing. In the few minutes you three were there, he had already left and picked up a chick at the bar. Dunn was on his own and maybe not thinking clearly, but he replied anyway, “Uh…yeah, sure!”

“God…” Ryan’s head buzzed as he gazed at you from across the table, maybe just a little too close as he chuckled, “you’ll never guess what Bam told me earlier…” Giggly, you didn’t even think to move, breathing in the same booze scented air as him, “What…?” Your mouth moved lazily and the same was true for Ryan as he murmured, “He said I should get’cher name tattooed- On m’forehead.” He gestured with a finger to the top of his head. “Oh, that idiot…” You smiled, leaning forward just enough that your foreheads touched. While intoxicated, it didn’t seem like that bad of an idea- but not his face. His face was too cute, but maybe the arm. That would look nice, yeah. In fact, it was kinda romantic. Sighing, you sat there for a while, your eyelashes brushing against each others before speaking up, “M’tired…” Ryan looked at you through heavy lids as you slurred, your eyes falling, “Can I go back’t your room tonight?”

God, it was like fireworks were going off inside of Ryan’s head, soldiers giving a twenty one gun salute, angels singing, eccetera. Maybe, just maybe- maaaaybe this might be a sign you liked him back, but god it just felt too good to be true. Even with a stomach full of booze, all he could barely stutter out was, “Uh, sure. Yeah.”

So that’s how you ended up in Ryan’s bed. Sure, you were fully clothed but nonetheless it meant something. The bed felt so nice, so warm and cozy with the two of you in it; hotel beds are made to be shared, you thought, feeling the heat from his body press against your back, not noticing how quickly his heart was beating against you. Ryan thanked god. Slowly but very surely, the two of you were both drifting off to sleep when he piped up, his lips barely moving against your neck as he spoke. What he meant to say was, ‘I think I like you.’ but it came out more like,“I think I love you….I mean, I have for a while.” Time stopped as Ryan felt his face get hot, holding a breath. He felt the giggle reverberate through your body as you dreamily smiled up at him, making eye contact the best you could while reclining to rest your head on his shoulder, speaking just barely above a whisper, “I love you too.” Just like that, you fell asleep, leaving Ryan awake to process what the hell just happened to him.

You were still soundly asleep when the man you were snuggled up against blinked his eyes open, rolling over to face the warmth behind him. “W-what…dude!” Ryan whisper-yelled, “Get out!” Bam simply threw his arm over him, murmuring while half asleep, “Go back’t sleep…”

[seven4asecret]

₊✩‧₊˚ Tipping The Scales Pt.1 ˚₊✩‧₊

Moonknight System x Layla x Gn! (Eventual Avatar) Reader

Content & Warnings: No pronouns, no Y/N, no Smut, descriptions of typical violence, eventual polyamory, & badly written fight scenes

A short fic following the show with a reader sensitive to otherworldly beings. I wrote this because I have beef with the show's Anubis erasure. Apologies for any errors & bad writing.

Ao3 Wattpad Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Chapter 1: A Dusty Ass Bird Man Won't Leave My Neighbor Alone

For as long as you can remember you've been able to see or sense things, whatever they might be. Spirits, guides, or guardians, you thought you had seen them all by now. It had become normal. Especially since beginning at the museum. It was common to see spirits watering around the exhibits. After all, the museum did house remains, and items of all sorts, each with a story. Even during tours, you would spot at least one person with some type of attachment. Perhaps, a deceased family member, a guide, or a protective spirit. So when you met Steven Grant and sensed the entity attached to him, you figured it was something similar.

As you spent time with Steven you were able to get a better feel for the entity, it became more tangible. It felt different, off in a way you hadn't felt before with others. So you waited, maybe time would allow your ability to reveal it. The entity hadn't appeared to be hostile, at least not yet. But you got a distinct feeling that it could be very dangerous if it wished, and it felt

very, 

very, 

old. 

 And it knew! 

It knew you could sense it, and it watched you.

When you were near it you found that it would respond. It would cause small, almost gentle gusts of wind, to brush against you, or the lights to flicker. You got the odd feeling that it was curious about you. Somehow, for some reason, you had caught the attention of something very old and powerful. You weren't quite sure what that meant.

Especially now.

Because it was looking right at you.

Across the museum showroom, it perched on top of a ledge. Whatever had clouded your ability to see it before had dissipated, leaving the entity finally visible. It was frightening, and unlike anything, you had seen before. It was a tall semi-humanoid skeletal bird, wrapped in old bandages, gripping a crescent-topped staff.

It tilted its head to the side, and your stomach dropped. You felt that it was examining you. Your hands shook, and you tightened the grip on your coffee. Your eyes darted to the right, catching a glance inside the nearby gift shop. Steven was there speaking to Donna. You looked back to the entity, only to feel its presence dissipate. Whatever it was, had left you for the time being. You let out a breath.

Donna passed you as she headed out, heels clicking against the tile floor. You took this as your chance. You stepped into the gift shop. Steven was sorting through the array of trinkets at the register, his curly hair a bit disheveled, and dark circles under his lidded eyes. You smiled fondly as you noticed the quirky Hawaiian-like shirt he wore.

You liked to think you knew Steven fairly well, despite you both working in different areas of the museum, yours being the Greco-Roman exhibit. Something about Steven caught your attention when you first saw him at the museum. Maybe it was because of the strange entity that followed him, perhaps it was because you could sense death at one time had a hold on him. Either way, your curiosity got the better of you. Your observations from afar eventually turned into conversations. It was tricky at first with how easily flustered he got, but you found it charming. He was a bit clumsy, often tripping over his own feet, and had a tendency to drift off in odd places. But it quickly became obvious how fond he was of Egyptian lore, you loved how happy and animated Steven would get when he talked about it. You found him enduringly awkward and made a point to speak to him when you could. It didn't take long for a friendship to form.

His face lit up as he saw you approach the register. Your heart skipped a beat at his smile.

"Hiya!" He gave you an adorable half-wave, "What brings you in here? Thought you'd be out touring by now."

You smiled, "I had a tour canceled last minute and made a coffee run. I thought you might want a little something." Steven had told you about his insomnia weeks ago as he walked with you to your shared building. You weren't surprised. You were a bit touched though. He trusted you enough to tell you about just how serious it was. While you couldn't do much to actually help him you tried to make work a little more bearable. And while you hadn't actually ever seen him drink coffee, you knew how he took his tea. He used a sickening amount of sugar and honey and- 

"Oh! You didn't- You didn't have to do that. But I- I appreciate it, really. Thanks." 

You handed him the still-steaming cup of tea. Your fingers brushed. You tried to ignore the sudden heat rising in your face. You hoped that he didn't notice.

"I don't mind. Gives me a chance to visit my favorite gift shop-ist." You caught a sheepish smile from him as he took a sip.

Your eyes scanned the shop, looking for a conversation starter. You spotted a sarcophagus poster behind him, and your smile widened.

Bingo.

His brows furrowed and he lowered his cup as he noticed the shit-eating grin on your face.

"Oh no, don't even think about it, I know exactly what that look means-"

 "What's a mummy's favorite type of coffee?" You paused for dramatic effect. "De-coffin-ated!" You attempted to make finger guns the best you could while holding your coffee.

Silence.

"That was-" He shook his head, smiling softly, "that was terrible." 

It was. But hey, you put a bunch of effort into researching Egypt-related jokes. It may have only been for Steven, but you were going to use them, even if they were terrible.

"I know, pretty bad. It was just too good to pass up." You take a sip of your coffee, suddenly a bit shy. "I um- I never got a chance to thank you for the book. It was nice of you to do."

A few weeks back you had mentioned to Steven that you had never gotten into Egyptian mythology. You knew barely anything about it, save for your fascination with the mummification process. You couldn't help but notice how fond Steven was of it. He would light up, eyes gleaming and gesturing excitedly as he mentioned historical facts. You loved to listen to him, he made it seem so intriguing. While you hadn't had any interest in Egyptian lore before meeting Steven, you certainly did now. When you told him about your curiosity on the subject he looked at you like you had made his day. And honestly, you probably had. On your next shift, when you opened your locker, you were surprised to find a book. 

'Egyptian Mythology: Gods, Goddesses, and Lore of Ancient Egypt'

It looked well worn, and very much loved. Its pages were a bit yellowed and curved, and its spine had lines. You could easily tell this book had been read many many times. You opened the cover and saw a name scribbled into the top corner. It was Steven's. Steven was letting you borrow his book on Egyptian mythology. You flipped through the pages briefly, a colored tab grabbing your attention. You stopped, and read the note:

 'Have a feeling you'll like this one' An arrow extended from the end of the sentence to the chapter title:

'Anubis: God of Mummification and Guardian of the Dead'

After this, you quickly developed an interest in the afterlife and Anubis. A bit morbid, but both fascinating and fitting.

"O-oh! It was nothing really," He blushed, "just nice to have someone else to talk about it y'know." 

You nodded and began to fidget with your cup. "I was wondering if- you don't have to of course, but maybe you'd like to talk about it over lunch sometime or-"

"Sorry, can you give me a second?" Dylan, another tour guide, asked you. 

 "Oh! Yeah. Sure, of course." You stepped away from the register.

She turned to Steven, "Hello!"

"Hello." Steven looked a bit taken aback at her sudden appearance.

"How's the sugar trade going?" 

 "I don't know what this has to do with Egypt really." You smiled at his exasperated explanation as he fidgeted with an item." They didn't have that back then, did they? No. They liked figs and dates, and-" 

 "My next tour's here but just checking, are we still on for 7:00 tomorrow?" Your eyebrows raised. 

'Oh. ' You glanced at Steven, heart sinking. 

 "7:00 tomorrow?" 

"Best steak in town?" 

"Oh, yeah. Right. Yeah. Yeah? Okay." He laughed. "Sorry. But... What? Are you asking me out?"

She laughed, "You're funny. I'll see you then."

"Stevie," Donna suddenly reappeared, "you absolute rascal. I didn't know you had taken a crack."

"I didn't know either." He sounded genuinely shocked, if not a bit confused.

"Steven," you asked," aren't you vegan?" 

 "Yeah." 

"What in the world's a bloody vegan gonna eat in a steak house?" Donna said.

 "I don't know, Donna. Salad? Bread?"

They did have great bread…

 "Yeah, I can see why she went for it. Real catch you are." She rolled her eyes and left. 

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a great time." You smiled softly, ignoring the pit forming in your stomach. You weren't jealous, you told yourself, you weren't. Dylan was nice and super smart, they'd have a nice time. 

 Steven nodded.

You glanced at your watch."I-I got to go, my next tour is probably here. It was nice to catch up."

"Laters!" He gave a small wave, which you returned as you left the shop. As you rounded the corner your eyes widened and you had to muffle a cry. 

It was right there. 

The large bird-man stood against the wall next to you. Your heart hammered against your chest. It turned its head and you could feel his non-existent eyes on you. You should just ignore it. After all, your tour was waiting. Instead, for some reason you greeted it. 

"H-hello." Your voice shook. 

You got the distinct feeling you had surprised it. You had never tried to speak to it before. It said nothing, just nodded its head in acknowledgment. You used this as a sign to continue, walking past it quickly, eyes fixed on the tiled floor below.

 You took a breath in an attempt to settle yourself and walked toward your group. You introduced yourself and apologized for the delay.

"If you would follow me over here," You gestured with a sweeping motion, "you'll see the 'Pitsa pinakes', one the oldest known examples of panel painting in ancient Greece."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You walked through the building entrance, carrying a few bags. Your favorite tea brand had been on sale and you may have overindulged. But, in your defense, this particular strawberry tea was horribly tricky to find now. You sighed, pressing the up button. The elevator doors opened, revealing a familiar figure curled up in the corner.

"Steven?" You blinked in surprise.

He moved the hand that had covered his mouth, blinking a few times before giving you a small pitiful wave. 

"H-hello." He muttered a bit dazed as the doors closed. 

"Are you- are you okay? What happened?" His eyes were wide and he was trembling. You wanted to ask him where on earth he had been. Maybe mention the fact that he had missed his shift for two days, had you worried sick, but this obviously wasn't the time.

"Yeah...yeah I'm fine, thanks." He stood slowly, continuing to shake as he tightly gripped something to his chest. You pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"I don't want to bother you...but are you sure you're alright?" You knew Steven to be a bit jumpy, of course, but you had never seen him so terrified before. You hated seeing him this way. "I could walk with you, or just stay with you a for a bit... If you want. It would be no problem really." 

The elevator jerked suddenly, causing Steven to make a sound of surprise as it reached the floor. The doors opened and the lights flickered eerily.

"S-sorry. There was..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

"Hey, its alright. Its okay. You're okay." You attempted to calm him, placing your hand on his arm. 

 "N-No. No I'm not." Steven shook his head. He looked at you, his eyes threatening to spill with tears.

"I'm not okay. I-I lose time and forget things. I go to sleep but only I'm not asleep. And the dreams- I can't tell if I'm dreaming or awake. I-I'm seeing things. And now there's this thing following me. I think- I think I'm losing it. I think I'm broken. I don't know what to do..." His voice broke, " I'm- I'm scared."

"Steven." You started softly, "I can't pretend I understand what you're going through... but you're not broken. You just need a bit of help. How about we go to my place? I'll make you some tea and you can tell me everything there if you want. Okay?"

 He blinked at you confused and a bit surprised, "Y-yeah. That'd be- that would be nice." 

"It's just down here." You adjusted your bags to one arm and took his hand with the other. You walked a few doors down the hall, pulled out your keys, and opened the door to your flat. You dropped his hand.

"Sit anywhere you'd like, tea will be just a moment."

Steven hesitated a moment before moving to the couch. He sat and began to fidget with his sleeve as he waited.

 Meanwhile, you quickly threw a kettle on the stove before sitting beside him. 

"Okay, tell me what happened, what's going on?"

 He took a breath, "I told you about the insomnia right?"

You nodded.

"Well, I- when I do sleep, I have a bit of a problem too. I sleep walk. End up in all sorts of weird places too. Used to be pretty bad but I've...I've had it under control. For a while at least. I had this crazy dream though! It felt so real. So I sit up, I have no idea where I am, and this voice keeps telling me to 'surrender the body'. I got no clue what it keeps going on about so I look around and next thing I know I'm being shot at-" Steven continues to explain this dream. It was definitely odd, and a bit disturbing. You weren't quite sure how much it had to do with him being huddled in an elevator.

The kettle screeched.

"I'm listening, one moment." You grabbed two cups and poured the tea. Three spoons of sugar, and two of honey went into Steven's tea. The man’s sweet tooth was horrid.

"Anyway, I wake up today and Gus, my fish, he's always had only one fin, right? But I wake up and see he's got two! Two! Crazy right? And I'm no expert on fish but I'm pretty sure they don't grow back fins, yeah? So I take him to the shop and I ask the lady about it. And she said that she told me yesterday that all the fish have two fins. Now I know I haven't been in there for weeks. I know I wasn't there yesterday!" Your brows furrowed at this as you stirred the ungodly amount of sugar into his cup.

"Then I look at the clock and it's six already! And that's not right 'cause I just woke up. Then I go meet Dylan and wait, and she never shows so I-"

You handed him his cup.

"Thanks. So I call her, turns out its Sunday. Our....our date was two days ago!" His voice wavers. " I think I've been- I don't know, blacking out? Loosing time? I get back to my flat, give not-Gus a few sprinkles, and drop the chocolates I got. Then I notice drag marks on the floor. And that doesn't make since. I never move that table. So I follow them, and poke around and found a loose board above me. I reach in and find a key and the phone here." He pulled the phone out of his pocket.

"I looked through it, just a bunch of missed calls from the same person. Layla. Then they call. I answer and she calls me Marc. Which is crazy right? Just like the dream! Of course I tell her I'm not him and she hangs up. Then I hear this voice telling me to stop looking, to stay away. I was sure it's was an intruder but I look in the mirror and my- my reflection shakes it's head. On. It's. Own."

He took a breath, "Then the wind started throwing stuff across my flat, and there was this awful looking t-thing chasing me and-"

Your stomach dropped. You knew instantly what he was talking about.

"Wait. Hold on." You set your tea down. In all the time you had sensed the entity you had never felt that it held any sort of aggression towards Steven. This was new, and this could be bad. "The bird-man tried to chase you?" 

 "Y-You've seen it too?" Steven looks at you, pure shock etched onto his face. 

Oops.

You didn't mean to say that, you didn't want to freak him out more.

You set your cup down and took a breath, cringing as you elaborated. "When I met you I could... sense the entity but couldn't actually see it- until recently. "

"And you've- you've never told me? Its been following me this whole time?" He looked down at his tea, hurt.

You sighed, " I wanted to. But it can be a bit hard to tell someone they have an ancient entity attached to them. It never seemed to have any ill will towards you, in fact I got the feeling it was more protective. If I'd have thought it would have threatened you I would have mentioned it. I'm sorry Steven."

He sighed. "No, its-its okay, just- its a lot. Do you-" he glanced at you, "Do you see... things like that often or..."

You nodded, looking down at your forgotten tea. "Yeah. I have... my entire life."

"So it's a bit like a 'Sixth Sense' thing is it?" He gave you a soft smile, his dark eyes glistening. You almost let out a breath of relief at this. At least he wasn't too upset with you.

"A bit, actually." You chuckled, before becoming serious again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Go on."

 "N-No its fine. It just- it chased me into the elevator. When the doors opened and you were there I thought...I thought you might have been it."

You couldn't for the life of you understand what could have happened to make the entity's behavior change so drastically. You had no idea if any protection you could offer would work against something so old.

His voice wavered when he began to speak. "But the mirror...and the dreams...I'm-I'm not sure how much I see is real anymore."

It hurt you to see him like this panicked, and scared, and that you couldn't do anything to help him. His eyes began to tear up again.

"How do I know..." He paused. "Are- are you real?" Your heart broke when he looked up at you, uncertain. You set your cup down and took his hand, beginning to caress the back with your thumb. His eyes widened a bit at your gesture.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm real." You weren't sure what to do. What if he wanted you to prove it? If his dreams or hallucinations were just as vivid as reality, you couldn't. Instead, he released a breath in relief and to your surprise let his head drop to rest on your shoulder. Your heart pounded, and you hesitated a moment before resting your head on top of his. 

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, tracing your thumb against his hand, and listening to his breathing settle. You weren't sure how else to comfort him, but you wanted to do something. You hoped your company could at least provide him some comfort.

"This was...this was nice, having someone to talk to. Feels safe" He was tired. His voice was softer and slower, and his speech was more slurred so it would have been easy to miss what he said next:

"You make me feel safe." You were a bit surprised at his comment but relieved. You were glad you could do something for him, even if it was just that. Another moment of silence passed between you. 

"I-I should go." He suddenly lifted his head and stood up, suddenly flustered. 

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" You weren't sure if it was a good idea. What if he blacked out? What if the bird-man did something to him?

"Yeah...I'll- I'll be fine." You walked him to the door, as he fidgeted nervously. "Thanks. For the- well, for everything, really."

"I'm happy to help!" You opened the door, and Steven stepped into the hallway.

"Laters!"

"Steven, wait." You ducked back into your flat and grabbed a scrap of paper. You quickly scribbled on it. "I-if you need anything, or if something happens again, just text me okay?" You nervously passed him the paper. He took it and glanced at it, eyes widening a bit.

"O-oh." He blinked, "Yeah...yeah I will, thanks... Laters gators!"

"In a while, Crocodile" You smiled fondly at him as he perked up a bit at the saying. He gave you a wave, which you returned, and walked off towards his flat.

Ao3 Wattpad Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[syrupsyche]

“Will you kill me now?” Enjolras asked, his words carried away by the winds that still beat upon him. The flames were up to his hips, lapping at his stomach.

“No.” the voice replied, sounding nearly regretful. “I have come to take you away.”

“But I am to be killed.”

“You are to be sacrificed. You have been sacrificed, to me.”

“I do not understand.”

“You are mine,” said the voice, almost sullenly. “A beautiful young man like you belongs to me now. Surely you can see the implications.”

Or; In a France still ruled by the gods, a prophecy is released, calling for the beautiful young Enjolras to be sacrificed to a hideous, cruel monster. Upon learning that his sacrifice will bring about the liberation of France, Enjolras gives himself up readily. Still, he does not expect to be whisked away by this invisible creature, who is sentient and intelligent and indescribably kind.

He expects lesser still to fall in love with him.

—

exR, Greco-Roman mythology, unnecessary socio-political commentary on fated prophecies....it's a syrupsyche fic alright! Do mind the tags as you're going in!

[koukouture]

Hiii okay so I am trying to figure out what time period roughly Garlemald's fashion would look like for my fic and the problem is I get really conflicting vibes.

Like, on the one hand Garlemald has all of this dark, Star Wars-esque armor for the military

And on the other you have more traditional double breasted military jackets that have been staples in imperial uniforms for centuries with epaulets, sashes, stiff fabric and sometimes fur for Garlemald's winters I presume

And then a lot of the normal citizens are kinda just wearing the universal normal fantasy world civilian clothes with varying degrees of detail and embellishing to distinguish class or profession.

Obviously we can eliminate Greco Roman clothing styles even though Garlemald is heavily based on Imperial Rome due to their advancements. We can also place them ahead of industrial revolution fashions since Garlemald is well beyond all of that as they have trains, cars (yes I saw cars in the ruins of Garlemald come on now) and obviously their airships, robots, and various types and styles of guns.

I know Garlemald is rooted mainly in Imperial Rome but I'd argue a lot of their influence could be attributed to Fascist Italy circa WWI because yeah Garlemald is very much pulling a fascist thing.

Having said that I would roughly place their fashion around here with some exceptions and fantasy influence because of course. After seeing Jullus and the Imperial Armor set I am doubling down on this early 20th century look for Garlemald so here are some references of civilian clothes for your Garlemald needs

And some evening wear because I know a lot of us are writing Garlean balls lmao

Not a lot of stuff for the guys lmao outside of the double breasted military coats that are kind of timeless, suits have remained roughly the same throughout history though it is worth mentioning that bowties were mostly the rage back then

Two brands that are nice to look at are vintage Dior and Chanel as they were both founded around this time as well as Hugo Boss who used to make uniforms for the Nazis.

For something more fancy, Edwardian wear is a good reference but after that, ruffles aren't super popular and give more rise to more timeless silhouettes.

Obviously you need to have some fun with it! FFXIV is super loose with time periods and fashions you can play around with it however you want!