#mentioned kristen

[ichosetenderplaces]

I : And Muse Beside the Rippling Stream

Part I : Feel No Fear Before the Multitude of Men Requested By: @lissthatskiss Ares!Technoblade x HalfNymph!Reader

Recommended Listening: For the Love of God by MSI and IDWBM by Type O Negative Words: 1.2k Taglist: @lissthatskiss @segnoblade @wingedghostpepper

The steady grip on the hilt of your sword is the only thing that grounds you. In the roaring cheers of the audience, it is much too easy to lose yourself. 

Racing feet. Your blood mixes with the sharp rocks that line your path away from your pursuers. Your sisters cut down and captured one after another. Tears down your cheeks, blood on your feet, you looked every bit the fleeing half-nymph you were.

Your mind lingers on the hot sand underneath your feet. It holds the hot fury of the noon sun. So much so, you almost imagine the blood that has soaked into it to evaporate. 

Slippery sand. You crash into the river bed and make a break for it. You are strong for a half mortal. Though, it truly wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Not in any way that matters.

Just like the sand, the sun beats down on your form. You do not raise your sword in victory, you never have and never will in such a bastardly place. You were supposed to be living by the river with the kin you have always felt closest to. 

Artemis was not enough to protect you. She could retrieve your sisters, the full nymphs, but for ones with mortal blood? There was nothing she could do. Not as you were dragged kicking and screaming into a slave wagon.

The hot iron shackles burn as you’re dragged back to your cell. Your weapon taken, there is little you can do. It would be futile to think otherwise. You have seen what they have done to those who do not listen. It takes all your self-restraint not to join the brutish display they have turned into. 

Tossed into a wagon with bars made for animals. You do not see any of your sisters nearby. One final cry, and you realize they have all been struck down or captured. All your sisters had been under the tutelage of Artemis. An inspiring goddess. She is, perhaps, the only reason you had gotten so far in the first place. 

A solid kick to the back of your knee and you find yourself brought to your knees. Cleaned with buckets of water, your wounds are also seen too. Bandaged and tired you are finally allowed to rest on your meager cot. You do not know how long you have been fighting in this arena, and to be honest, you don’t really care. 

Watching your God prepare for a hunt was one of the most exciting parts about serving under her. To hear her wisdom, to feel her confidence, it was one of the most honorable things to experience. If only she had stayed a bit longer, there was nothing she could do from her eye in the moon. 

Your cot is stiff as a board as you lie down. You have been here long enough to require your own cell and actual provisions. Having never lost a fight, you have gained a bit of a reputation among the slaves that have lasted long enough to see you in action. There is no sense of kinship or camaraderie in this place. All the better, you do not need to become attached to someone who will eventually die by your hand. 

She was a thing of beauty and chastity with the way she held herself. You and your sisters looked up to her. Striving to hold a small fraction of the confidence and beauty she inspired. Her teachings had always left you feeling accomplished. Her wisdom with the bow creating a small army of followers all armed. Those bows hadn’t saved you from the fire those men had caused. Hadn’t saved you from their dogs as they snapped at your ankles through the wagon. 

You are told that, eventually, you will have enough funds to buy yourself out of the ring. It's almost funny that your owners don’t realize you already know what happens to those who are close to leaving. Always struck down just before being able to. Every single time without fail they fall. And then, they have the gall to tell you that you only have a few more fights to go. At least they let you know of your soon to be death, perhaps you will see Keres, Lady Kristen, as she guides you to the otherworld. You will welcome her with open arms. There are many tales of her being beautiful. Her loyal crows are seen as harbingers of death if they linger too long. A ca-caw outside your barred window causes a rare smile to grace your lips. You used to think that crows were startling with their cadence. Now, you think of it as the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

You had taken pride in your long flowing hair. The care and maintenance it required made you quite vain about its beauty. Those men had paid no heed to your screams as they cut it shorter than it has ever been. Once long hair rendered down to barely an inch. The sight of it on the floor collected around you only causes more righteous anger. They eventually tied a strip of cloth around your mouth just to shut you up.

The moonlight gazes in from your barred window. You make no move to show yourself to a god you know is not watching. You lost your hope she would come long ago. Lost it in the first blood you spilled into the sand of that hell pit. While it is hell, it has become your new home. If these people denied your right to a death in your old home, they will be forced to accept your death in this new one.

You cannot speak, cannot eat, and cannot drink - as they have made sure of it. The fight you had put up against your captors wasn’t worth it. They have denied you meager offerings of food and water. The other women captured in the slave wagon get your portion. They do not look at you while they fight over your food. Reduced to nothing, all you can do is watch. 

You have watched many other slaves come and go from the arena. Many of those you cut down yourself in a bitter attempt to survive. Their features all blend in together and meet you for their revenge in your dreams. Sometimes, when you’re well and truly tired after a match, it's almost like you can hear them.

“Will we ever meet any other gods and goddesses, Lady Artemis?” One of your sisters asked. You and your sisters have only ever met Lady Artemis. Artemis stops attending to her bow, looking up you see a pensive look has overtaken her face. “Other gods and goddesses can be fickle. They can be much more cruel than I have ever been and ever will be. I would not seek out those you have not met before. Especially the gods who live and breathe violence. They will not be kind to you.” The garden goes quiet with her words. The sister that asked looks like she just bit into a lemon. Violence and bloodshed scares all of your sisters equally. They have not had to watch mortals be struck down by swords or illnesses, not in the way you have. 

With a bone deep weariness, you force yourself to stop thinking of the past. You think of these memories every day. Fighting for your life cannot even take away your attention from what was. There is no god that can save you - no peaceful one anyway. 

Drifting into sleep, you get the odd feeling that you are being watched.

[hankandmonty]

“Remember when we died?” Is such a raw line. Happy D20 eve

I forgot I had a rain version thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[audoneout]

also like, as far as miracles caused by doubt go, Kristen’s little brother spoke to her. Like he had to have even a sliver of doubt that his parents and the church were being honest to talk to her. but i am a sister and if your little brother approaching you even just to say hi after over a year of separation when you grow up in that kinda household and you know they’ve been pouring venom in his ears about you isn’t a miracle, i don’t know what is

[the-great-kraken]

one of my favourite things about the bad kids is absolutely none of them are part of conventional families. you've got:

- fig "four parents" faeth, with her mom and bio dad and step dad and step dad

- fabian, whose dad is dead, living with an emotionally absent alcoholic mother with her boyfriend in the garage while most of his parental connection comes from his maid

- adaine being disowned and moving in with her guidance counsellor turned adoptive father and her older sister, who's kind of an asshole but they're working on it

- transracial adoptee gorgug who loves both sets of parents very much, thank you (and doesn't need his parents dickhead relatives in his life)

- riz and his overworked but genuinely lovely single mother

- and, of course, kristen applebees, who lives with two of her best friends and her ex-girlfriend's uncle

[twinstxrs]

this is such a simple but good bad kids friendship moment to me. fabian being the first one to say hi to gorgug when he shows up in the middle of the investigation, followed by fig. gorgug saying hi but communicating that he doesn’t want to talk & them both not understanding but going “okay.” gorgug saying hi to riz as a form of acknowledgement even though he’s in full blown investigative mode & probably hasn’t realized gorgug is there yet. gorgug feeling comfortable enough to just put on his headphones & unwind while sitting there with his friends. they’ve come so far from freshman year ❤️

[kittyoverlord]

This is only a positive thing.

[notoriousmasc]

freshman year

[binomaly]

I’m ngl y’all I feel so bad for Cassandra. Imagine having your image entirely remade and reborn and being so eager to help and the cleric who literally reshaped you wants absolutely nothing to do with you. I’d be sick

[satisfactuality]

something something cassandra formed in kristen's image and kristen loves her and finds power and comfort in doubt but could hardly stand to be around her at the beginning of junior year

and tracker faithfully worships a goddess that was and maybe still is ashamed of her and her working to restore galacaia to her former self and maybe getting lost by the influence of others along the way

and lucy believed so strongly in ruvina that she would rather stay dead and lost than give herself over to rage to be resurrected under a deity she didn't choose but there's loneliness and sorrow in sticking to your guns

and fig having no conviction in her sense of self but having endless conviction in her loved ones and claiming ankarna's infernal domain to keep it safe and gaining power from a divinity that's been made unknowable

and teenage girls seeing the best and worst parts of themselves in divinity and still choosing to believe

[evil-ot3]

kristen: if you believe all that about the catholic church, how can you work for them?

ben: I don’t work for for them. I work for david, and I like david. and you

kristen: oh shucks 🤭

the ot3 be ot3ing since s1 I fear

[septembermonologues]

never in a million years would i have guessed that dorian storm and kristen applebees would have crossover like this

[angelwiththeblue-box]

this episode has everything, illegal drinking, sister on sister hostility, adaine unhinged energy, and insane lore about the ratgrinders and a corrupted god :D

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taglist: @dapper-nahrwhale @leelovessharks @disdoorted-crows @thedragonemperess @depressedtransguy @joshkiszkashusband @blueskiesandstarrynights @starchaserbaby (lemme know if u want to be added or removed)

[saintapplebees]

have we considered the possibility that kipperlily stole cassandra’s fragments from kristen…

[vanillababyyyy]

"It happened. There's no avoiding it. No forgetting... I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if I just stopped talking."

[doctorodyssey]

sorry not to be mean for no reason but i saw a few people headcanoning that tommy is "a film buff" and their evidence is that he's mentioned the following 4 movies: star wars, fight club, twilight, love actually. quite literally 4 of the most popular movies ever on the history of the earth.

[grasslandgirl]

SUBSTRATE

[Fig/Gorgug. modern/no magic restaurant au. 27k. tw for discussions of alcohol/drug abuse, sobriety, and recovery]

SUBSTRATE (n) 1. an underlying substance or layer. 2. the surface or material on or from which an organism lives, grows, or obtains its nourishment. 3. the material on which a process is conducted. --- “Do you miss it?” Gorgug asks. Ice leaks into Fig’s stomach. “Miss what?” Drinking? Drugs? The burn of tequila down the back of her throat? The smoky-sweet haze settling under her skin until she feels liquid and calm? The buzz at the back of her head, but one she can control; one she can ride out like a surfer on a ten foot wave? Feeling human and likable and electric and real? Yeah. She misses it. “Performing,” Gorgug clarifies. --- or; gorgug, fig, and sobriety

as always, all my love to darling carnation boy and fellow figgorgug warrior jamie @gilears without whom this wouldn't exist <33 also so much love to my bestie @uwusillygirl for also agreeing to help beta and edit this so it's fucking legible !!! this fic is very personal and full of a lot of projection, but also deals heavily with discussions of sobriety and alcoholism/addiction, so please heed the tags, warnings, and author's notes appropriately and keep yourself safe <333

happy junior year!!

YOU CAN READ IT HERE ON AO3