#summit him like a mountain

[bluberryfields]

It's my birthday, so here's a bunch of David Tennant gifs I've been hoarding like a very thirsty dragon

[bluberryfields]

😳

David Tennant and Catherine Tate as the Fourteenth Doctor and Donna Noble from Wild Blue Yonder

for Tennant Tuesday (or whatever day this post finds you)

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

He knows what he's about

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Was soooooo happy with this phase 1 which is what made it so much funnier that I was immediately clapped by his phase 2 😂

[beeapocalypse]

a great number of sphynxes have that sort of 'human face on animal body' build to them bc thule got stuck on how to best make a mockery of drakes for a long while. humanity as a whole in alamannis seen mostly as a companion piece to vennettes- less varied and more delicate, yet inextricably linked with the most widespread species of the planet- so with drake relations to vennettes always just a bit Shit somehow insinuating that even humanity was more close to divine dragonhood than they was a stinger. a bit too petty though they eventually settled on instead an ominous fullcircle warning of the future their constant ambitions would bring with the more corvid leanings that the vascohse would end up with themselves

[fluffypotatey]

Fun part of imagining the start of macaque's devotion to wukong that it could be anything from saving his life to wukong smiling at him

or Wukong accusing him of following him because he saw through Macky hiding in his shadow or Wukong punched him in the face on reflex when Macky when to introduce himself or when Macky saw Wukong show off to humans that he can speak their language and was so fucking giddy about it or—

[envy-of-the-apple]

Dark! Gojo Satoru x reader (Soulmate Au blurb)

(warnings: dark content, implied kidnapping, implied noncon, masochism)

I really like the idea of soulmates in the JJK world. They're rare, but the reason why they're so coveted is because they are the only person in the world who is immune to their soulmate's cursed technique. 

Being Gojo's soulmate would be like hitting the jackpot, at first. You're a regular person, with no cursed energy. Maybe you and Satoru's hands bump into each other while you're at a cafe, grabbing your respective drinks. To you, it's just an accident. You apologize, make your way out. 

To him, it's like submerging himself into an ice bath. For the first time in years, someone had gotten past his limitless technique. It was so unexpected, and real, and so warm.

Your hands were warm. 

It's the thrill of it that gets him first. The unexpected. No one's ever come close to him. He is the summit of the mountain. The strongest. And yet, there you were, effortlessly able to bypass his barriers without even trying. With women, with Geto, he'd always have to turn his technique off. He'd have to let them do something to him. You could do anything to him, and his powers wouldn't even stop you. You could kick him, punch him, bite him. Anything you wanted, and for once, he'd be powerless to stop you.

He can't detect you with his six eyes. It makes the hunt even better when he catches up to you. It's days of stalking and harassment and the touching that finally makes you snap and slap him. 

It hurts. 

It hurts and he fucking loves it. 

He already made up his mind days ago, but this only cemented it. When he finally takes you home, to his bed, it's euphoric. You scratch and bite and scream and hurt him over and over again. Hours later, when you've passed out from sheer exhaustion, he has more bruises than you do. They'll fade eventually, but that's okay. 

You could always make more. 

[cinnam0ins]

Summary | a vacation in the mountains with Luigi ends in a kissing session on fresh mountain grass

AT THE SUMMIT, luigi m.

(english is not my first language)

It was mid-April, as it always was when you headed to the mountains this time of year. It was a moment of calm before the hellish exam prep began.

Usually, you went alone or with a friend or two, but this time, it was a guy from your university, Luigi Mangione.

He was the handsome and quiet type. You two had met at a university party, in your friend’s kitchen after nearly three-quarters of the guests had left. You were both drunk, along with some of your friends, but later you bumped into each other at the library, and your friendship grew.

You were lying on a blanket spread over the grass, with a few water bottles and cinnamon biscuit packets scattered next to you.

Luigi was in front of you, propped up on his right elbow, with a few cushions tucked under his back.

“You know, I think this is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

He turned his gaze away from the view to look at you.

“Yeah? What about this moment is so special?”

You smiled softly. “Everything. The mountains, the air, the way the sun feels like it’s hugging the earth right now.”

The brunette chuckled lightly. “That’s… very poetic.”

You playfully tapped his shin with your foot.

“Oh, come on, Mr. Ambition. You don’t always have to analyze things. Just feel it.”

He kept smiling, his dimples deeper than ever.

“I am feeling it. Just… maybe in a quieter way.”

You sat up slowly. “You’re always so careful. Always making sure everything’s balanced, everyone’s happy. Don’t you ever just let go?” You spread your arms as you said the last two words.

Luigi looked amused. “Let go, huh? Like what, roll down the hill and hope for the best?”

“Exactly! Or, I don’t know, stop thinking about what’s next for once.”

He considered this.

“I guess I don’t really know how to do that.”

Your voice softened. “I can show you.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s your plan?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Close your eyes.”

The breeze brushed against your face and hair as he hesitated.

“What are you—”

You cut him off. “Just do it! Trust me.”

He sighed before closing his eyes. Your knees brushed against the blanket as you scooted closer to him.

“Now… stop overthinking. Stop worrying about what you should be doing. Just… feel this moment.”

Luigi, still with his eyes closed, had a small smile on his lips.

“Okay, but—”

Before he could finish, you pressed your lips against his. He froze for a second before smiling and leaning in closer.

You pulled back, and Luigi opened his eyes, looking stunned but happy.

“That’s… definitely one way to make me stop thinking.”

“See? Told you I could teach you something.”

He bit his lip as he continued to look at you. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are.”

You both laughed, and Luigi tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. The sun dipped lower, the light casting a golden glow around you.

“You make everything seem so easy,” he murmured.

“Life doesn’t have to be as complicated as we make it. Sometimes you just have to… take a leap.”

“I think I just did.” He smiled, leaning in to claim another kiss.

[quinnred]

Tilshek: God of the Ugly Rage, WindRammer, He-Who-Drums-The-Summit.

Tilshek is the embodiment of warm storms, tantrum, frenzy, spasm, drunken fury, and unjust punishment. He is represented by the Urchin and Cactus in the South and by the Porcupine and Thistle in the North. Berserking warriors may don quills to evoke Tilshek in their rages, while others may wear a flower of a thistle or cactus to evoke his merciful servant, Mahtaa.

Tilshek was born from the abuse of two Feather Gods within the halls of The Sun. He emerged stillborn, fused with the bestial Jak that all Feathers Gods are pregnant with, and was denied feathers by his reckless parents. The babe was tossed from the sky and quickly forgotten upon the land. No god dare claim parentage as even they know shame.

Abandoned and with no guidance, the naked and pained god became a wild storm of knuckle and claw, scarring the land and terrorising all that lived on it. Only one, a young Manava named Mahtaa, would recognize this mindless wreaking as the divine bawl of a newborn god and calm it with soft word and tenderness and succour. The beaked giant would ever seethe, but placation allowed Mahtaa to guide Tilshek to the home of the Shell Gods, The Mesa.

The Shell Gods were impressed with the mad orphan’s strength and the wisdom of his guardian, asking what drove the new god to such a rage. He cawed to them that he was born of poor love and left naked and wronged, wishing that he could return to his home if only to pluck and maul his kin until The Sun hung red. The chief of the Shell Gods, mighty Zridtara, was greatly amused and sympathetic to Tilshek’s rage against their rival pantheon, welcoming him into his Mesa home as an honorary Shell God. Being too rowdy to live within it’s halls, Tilshek was appeased by sitting atop The Mesa, tended to by often smashed Godler servants and the soothing Mahtaa as he stared at the ever enraging Sun.

While the Godlers would serve their master divine boozes and sacrifices (and suffer pummeling due to minor grievances), Mahtaa’s role was to herd the ram skulled god away from fool furies. He became most needed whenever Tilshek was sent on an “errand” by his new kin, a distraction so the Shell and Feather god pantheons could visit and negotiate without conflict. As Tilshek would rampage across the mortal lands, Mahtaa would outwit his master and aim his rages away from innocent mortals, earning him the title “Storm-Guide”.

One day the tantrummer had been told of a piece of the moon that held Jak yolk, as it was the egg that The Mountain and The Sky conceived the Jaks from, and that it may yield him god feather. Mahtaa did not take this seriously, seeing it as yet another teasing of his master, yet Tilshek was ecstatic that his solar massacre dreams may yet be fulfilled. As they travelled Mahtaa would ponder that, if the moon yolk was real, should his idiot charge receive such a boon, even if it was his birthright as Feather God and as a Half-Jak? Surely he would not only kill his sun kin but also be slain himself in such a mad fervour?

And so Mahtaa would deny Tilshek his prize upon it’s discovery, allowing it to be taken and hidden by Godlers of the Feather Gods. In confusion, the normally unhesitating Tilshek paused for once in his life before striking down an offender. In those moments Mahtaa stood strong and loving, even as his god sprouted a pair of arms to strangle him with. But rather than suffocate, his head bloomed into a kind flower, his godhood blossoming into a champion of mercy due to his many good deeds. From then on Tilshek would ever carry the flower faced god as punishment for his betrayal, and in part as a comfort, like a child may clutch their blanket.

This arrangement would only end upon the coming of the Deiomachy, when peace between gods eroded and fate grew hungry for war. Tilshek silently granted his one and only mercy, releasing his beloved and loyal prisoner so as to spare him from the doom-drum of divine combat.

The Mesa would be capped by a false peak as Tilshek flung himself with a rising storm towards his twin-by-fate: Shrileket the Sun-Dropper. Their clash would announce war between the Feather and Shell, booming as only gods could for days until they fell upon each other’s impalements.

[insomniac4000]

Three Peaks-ChrisMD

I had to write this after the video yesterday despite having some requests still in and writing a Charity match fic....

The brisk morning air bit at Chris’s cheeks as he tightened the straps on his hiking backpack. Standing in the shadow of Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Scotland, the mountain loomed like a gray giant, its summit lost in a wisp of cloud. Chris had his hands clasped in front of him as he always did when he did the introductions to his video, addressing the camera ready to capture the beginning of what he hoped would be one of his second channel’s most ambitious videos yet. He was slightly nervous as it was a shift from his usual football content.

“Alright, lads and lady,” Chris called, spinning to face the group with his usual boyish grin. “Let’s get the obligatory intro out of the way before we regret ever agreeing to this.”

“That’s just every ChrisMD video ever,” ArthurTV clapped back causing laughs and jeers from the group, the group being; Harry Lewis who had already taken the role of morale officer, cracking jokes about the group’s preparedness—or lack thereof. Arthur Hill, visibly unsure about what he’d signed up for, leaned heavily on his walking poles, a sheepish smile on his face. ArthurTV and George Clarkeey exchanged knowing glances, already anticipating chaos. ReevHD was characteristically quiet, scanning the trail ahead with determination like he did with every challenge.

And then there was Y/n.

Chris tried not to let his gaze linger on her, but it was impossible not to notice how effortlessly she seemed to fit into the moment. At 5'2", she was dwarfed by the towering peaks around them, but her petite frame radiated confidence. Her auburn curls were tied up in a high pony tail but already a slight bit of frizz was poking out from the tie, showing her imperfections she embarced and her hazel eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and mischief.

“Ready to prove short people can climb mountains too?” Y/n teased, catching Chris’s eye.

“Short people?” Harry cut in with mock horror. “You and Chris barely make one normal-sized person!”

The others burst into laughter as Chris groaned. “Here we go,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help but smile.

“Team Hobbit in full force,” George added, slinging an arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Shire squad, reporting for duty.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but played along, giving Chris a playful nudge. “Come on, Frodo, let’s show them how it’s done.”

The group set off, their boots crunching against the ground. The first leg of the journey was deceptively easy, winding through forests and open meadows. Chris found himself falling into step beside Y/n, their conversation flowing as naturally as the babbling brooks they passed.

“This should be a doddle for you considering your videos,” Chris said, stealing a sideways glance at her. “Any near-death experiences you haven’t told me about yet?”

Y/n chuckled, adjusting her backpack. “Oh, plenty. But I’ll save those stories for when we’re at the summit. You know, motivation to keep climbing.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Chris replied, his smile lingering.

Behind them, Harry and George were already trying to outpace each other, their competitive streaks on full display. Arthur Hill lagged slightly, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You alright back there, Arthur?” Reev called, slowing his pace to check on him.

“Still alive,” Arthur wheezed, earning a round of good-natured laughs.

As the group ascended, the trail grew steeper and more rugged, rocks jutted out at awkward angles.Y/n, used to navigating tricky terrain from her travels, moved with practiced ease, her short legs propelling her upward with surprising speed.

“Alright, we get it,” George said, feigning exasperation as Y/n waited for the rest of them at a particularly steep section. “You’re secretly a mountain goat.”

“Just embrace your inner hobbit,” Y/n shot back, grinning.

“Speaking of hobbits,” Harry said, glancing at Chris, “you keeping up, mate? Or do we need to carry you?”

“Funny,” Chris replied, though he was grateful for the excuse to slow his pace. Y/n waited for him, her expression softening.

“You’re doing great,” she said quietly, her voice carrying only to him.

Chris felt his chest tighten, but he pushed the feeling aside. “Thanks,” he managed, giving her a small smile.

By the time they reached the halfway point, the group was a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. They paused to refuel, pulling out energy bars and water bottles. The wind whipped around them, colder and more insistent as they climbed higher.

Arthur Hill collapsed onto a rock, his face red but determined. “This is... definitely harder than I thought,” he admitted between gulps of water.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” Y/n encouraged, earning a grateful smile from him.

The teasing eased for a while as the group focused on the gruelling climb. The summit felt tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach as the trail grew steeper and the air thinner. Y/n took the lead, her smaller frame navigating the rocky terrain with agility that left the others scrambling to keep up.

Chris stayed close behind her, his own shorter stature making the climb a little easier compared to the taller guys, who were visibly struggling.

“Bet you’re glad to have another hobbit around now,” Y/n teased over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d say this, but yeah, maybe it’s not so bad.”

The summit finally came into view, on a good day it probably would have been an incredible view but the British weather was typical and as the group had looked out all they could see was fog. Still though, this was the tallest peak and they were at the top.

“We did it!” Harry yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

Y/n grinned, pulling out her camera to capture the moment. She turned it toward Chris, who was leaning on his trekking pole, looking both exhilarated and exhausted.

“How does it feel to conquer peak one?” she asked, the camera trained on him.

“Cold,” Chris deadpanned, earning a laugh from the group.

They spent a few precious minutes taking in the view, snapping photos, and catching their breath. But the celebration was short-lived as Chris checked his watch.

“We’re behind schedule,” he announced, his tone regretful. “We’ve got to get moving if we’re going to stay on track.”

As they began their descent, the mood remained light despite the ticking clock. The banter continued, with the group teasing Arthur Hill for his earlier struggles and Chris and Y/n for their so-called “hobbit couple” status.

Chris found himself walking beside Y/n again, their shoulders brushing as they navigated the narrow trail.

“Think we’ll survive the next two peaks?” he asked, his tone half-joking.

Y/n glanced at him, her hazel eyes warm. “If you stick with me, Frodo, I think we’ll be alright.”

Chris felt a flicker of hope, small but persistent, that maybe, just maybe, this challenge would lead to more than just a great video.

As the group reached the base of Ben Nevis and prepared to drive to Scafell Pike, the teasing continued, but so did the camaraderie. And for Chris, the chemistry he felt with Y/n was becoming harder to ignore.

Chris adjusted the camera, framing himself in the shadow of Scafell Pike, the tallest mountain in England. The crisp afternoon sunlight bathed the rolling hills of the Lake District, a stark contrast to the biting wind they had endured on Ben Nevis.

"Alright, peak two," Chris’s voiceover rang out. “Quick update: we’ve just finished a very cosy van ride—by cosy, I mean crammed—with practically no leg room. But that wasn’t a problem for two of the members of the group.”

The screen then filled with a picture of Chris and Y/n squeezed into a corner of the van, her head resting sleepily on his shoulder while they both grinned. Their legs, stretched toward the camera, showed just how much space the pair had, still having some room to swing their smaller legs, in stark contrast to the rest of the group.

The video then continued and now it showed the group gathered around, fastening their jackets and strapping on their backpacks. Harry stretched dramatically, groaning about his sore legs, while George filmed Arthur Hill struggling to zip his jacket.

"You alright there, mate?" George teased.

"Not really," Arthur Hill admitted, but his grin betrayed his determination to keep going.

As they started the climb, the monumental task settled on everyone once again, time was ticking away from them. The steep incline and rocky path demanded focus, and the chatter from the Ben Nevis climb faded into heavy breaths and occasional bursts of laughter. Y/n, as usual, took the lead, her smaller frame navigating the terrain with ease. Chris stuck close to her, their steps often falling into sync.

It wasn’t long until Arthur Hill faltered, wincing as he leaned against his trekking pole.

"Hold up," Reev called, motioning for the group to stop. "Arthur, you good?"

Arthur shook his head. "I’ve got an old injury and it was worse yesterday, I work up this morning thinking that I was okay but it’s really not good at all,” the musician whined a little, he was well aware he was the one who was slowing everyone down and he was in a considering amount of pain now too.

The group exchanged concerned glances.

"Are you going to sit this one out?" Chris said gently, resting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur hesitated, his face a mix of frustration and relief. "Yeah, I think I have to."

They helped him set up a small camp just off the path, ensuring he had water, snacks, and a comfortable spot to rest.

"Don’t worry about me," Arthur said, waving them off. "I’ll cheer you on from here. Just make sure to take loads of embarrassing photos for me to miss out on."

With a final round of reassurances, the group continued upward, joking at Arthur’s position as he laid still on the grass by a rock. As the group continued the summit grew closer with every step. Chris felt his chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t just the exertion.

His parents were waiting at the top.

They had moved to the Lake District from Jersey recently, and while he loved seeing them, introducing them to his friends—especially Y/n—brought a mix of excitement and nerves.

As they reached the peak George and ArthurTV tried to lighten the mood and keep morale up by making jokes about Chris’s mother.

When the group finally crested the summit, they were greeted by Chris’s mum and dad, both bundled in warm coats and waving enthusiastically.

Harry and ArthurTV greeted Chris’s parents like old friends, their laughter and inside jokes echoing across the mountaintop. Y/n, however, hung back, fidgeting with her gloves wondering why she felt so nervous, Chris was only a friend.

Chris noticed and leaned closer to her. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Y/n said quickly, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I just… don’t want to make a bad impression."

Chris chuckled. "You’ve got nothing to worry about. They’ll love you."

As if to prove his point, his mum approached Y/n with open arms. "You must be Y/n," she said warmly. "Chris has told us so much about you."

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she returned the hug. "All good things, I hope."

"Of course," Chris’s mum replied with a wink.

To Y/n’s relief, the conversation flowed naturally. She found herself laughing with Chris’s parents, sharing stories about her travels and listening to tales from their new life in the Lake District.

"You’ve got a good group here," Chris’s dad said, clapping him on the back.

"The best," Chris agreed, his gaze flicking to Y/n.

After a round of photos and a quick snack break, they began their descent. The steep path required concentration, but Chris took the opportunity to start a conversation he’d been mulling over for weeks.

The voiceover took over again, this time the tone changing to a more serious one as Chris explained he wanted to do more videos talking about mental health he explained his struggles with anxiety for years, ruminating thoughts, intrusive stuff but also what had helped him try and get through it so he was now in a much better place. One by one he spoke to each of his friends about mental health, opening up to each other and it was a change of pace from their usual jokes and banter.

Y/n was someone who had also been very opened about her mental health and their conversation could have lasted for days.

Y/n, walking beside Chris, glanced at him thoughtfully. "How different is it for men, though?" she asked. "I mean, society’s expectations and all that."

Chris paused, considering her question. "It’s hard. There’s this pressure to be… strong, or like, unemotional. But that’s changing. Slowly. What about you? You’ve been really open about your journey, haven’t you?"

Y/n nodded, adjusting her grip on her trekking pole. "I try to be. It’s not easy, though. There’s still so much stigma. But I think the more we talk about it, the more we help people feel less alone."

Chris smiled at her. "You’ve helped me, you know. Just by being so honest."

Y/n’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked away. "You’ve helped me too."

Their conversation was interrupted when Y/n’s foot slipped on a loose rock. She gasped, her arms flailing, but Chris caught her hand just in time.

"You alright?" he asked, steadying her.

"Yeah, just my dignity taking a hit," she said, laughing as she regained her balance.

Chris didn’t let go of her hand right away, and when he did, it was with a lingering warmth that neither of them acknowledged.

The rest of the descent was filled with lighter conversations, the group joking about their shared exhaustion and Arthur Hill’s missed summit.

As they reached the base of Scafell Pike, Chris felt a renewed sense of purpose. Two peaks down, one to go. They had decided that twenty four hours was now long gone but they were going to enjoy the journey for what it is.

The glow of determination fueled the group as they loaded into the van, but the energy from the morning had shifted. Arthur Hill, sitting on a bench with his leg propped up and wrapped in a bandage, waved them off with Harry by his side.

"Be safe!" Arthur called. "And don’t forget to take a victory photo at the top of Snowdon—preferably one where Jamie doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out!"

Jamie, who had also been struggling a little shot him a mock glare.

With the group a little smaller now, the drive to Snowdonia was quieter. Chris glanced back at Y/n, who had claimed the backseat corner. Her head leaned against the window, her auburn curls falling softly over her face as she watched the scenery blur into darkness.

“You alright back there, Y/n?” Chris asked, his voice low.

She turned and smiled, though it was softer than usual. “Yeah, just thinking about how this’ll feel tomorrow when my legs refuse to work.”

The van erupted into knowing laughter.

 “This isn’t about the time,” Chris said as they stretched at the base of the mountain, the cold night air biting at their exposed skin. “It’s about finishing what we started.”

Y/n gave him an approving nod. “That’s what it’s all about. Let’s do it.”

The climb up Snowdon was quieter than the others, the fatigue settling deep in their muscles. The darkness added a layer of challenge, with headlamps and flashlights casting eerie shadows across the rocky path.

“Watch your step,” Reev warned as they navigated a narrow ridge.

There were a few stumbles—George slipping onto his hands and knees, ArthurTV catching himself on a low rock—but no injuries. Every so often, the group paused, catching their breath and sipping water, their chatter growing lighter with every stop.

At last, the summit came into view. The cold wind whipped around them as they reached the peak, and for a moment, no one said a word.

Then Reev broke the silence. “We actually did it.”

“Almost,” Chris corrected. “We still have to get down.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the moment,” Y/n teased, nudging him lightly.

The group broke into hugs, laughing through their exhaustion as they celebrated. Chris lingered in Y/n’s embrace, feeling the warmth of her against the cold air.

Someone snapped a photo, capturing their silhouettes against the starry sky.

The descent was slow and careful especially as night was falling now and torches were failing. The rocks, slick with evening dew, made each step treacherous. Y/n stuck close to Chris, their headlamps bobbing in unison as they navigated the terrain.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Y/n joked, her voice hushed in the quiet of the night.

“You’re the challenge queen,” Chris replied. “I thought this would be your idea of fun.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I usually have better planning, fewer risks of breaking an ankle in the dark.”

Chris smiled but noticed her pensive expression. “You okay?”

Y/n hesitated before answering. “Yeah. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot on this trip. About where I’m going, what I want. It’s hard not to when you’re staring down mountains, you know?”

“I get that,” Chris said, his voice thoughtful. “Climbing a mountain does have a way of putting things in perspective.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Y/n continued. “I’ve been doing YouTube for over a decade. I love it, but sometimes I wonder if I’m just… running away from things by traveling so much. Like, maybe if I stop, I’ll have to face everything I’ve been avoiding.”

Chris’s chest tightened at her honesty. “I don’t think you’re running away,” he said softly. “I think you’re just searching for what makes you happy. And that’s not a bad thing.”

Y/n looked at him, her hazel eyes reflecting the beam of his headlamp. “You really think that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Chris replied. “You’ve inspired so many people—including me. You’ve got this way of making even the toughest situations seem like an adventure.”

Y/n smiled, a genuine, heartfelt expression that made Chris’s stomach flip. “Thanks, Chris. That means a lot.”

They walked a little further before Y/n asked, “What about you? What are you searching for?”

Chris exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I’ve spent so much time focusing on work, on videos, that I’ve kind of lost sight of what’s next. But being here, with you guys, it reminds me of what’s important. It’s not just about the videos or the views—it’s about the connections we make along the way.”

Y/n reached out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s a good answer.”

Chris chuckled, his heart racing at the contact. “Glad you approve.”

As they continued down the mountain, Chris couldn’t help but glance at Y/n every so often. She looked tired but content, her curls glowing faintly in the moonlight. Chris couldn’t help but think this trip was very special for a multitude for reasons.

In the comments, viewers had plenty to say.

“Y/n and Chris definitely have something going on. The chemistry is undeniable!” “Chris catching Y/n when she slipped? Literal couple goals.” “The ‘hobbit couple’ strikes again! Just admit you’re perfect for each other already.” “Loved the mental health chat. So important to hear men like Chris opening up. Thanks for this, mate.”

Chris scrolled through the comments later that night, a smile tugging at his lips. He glanced at his phone, debating whether to message Y/n.

Before he could decide, his phone buzzed with a message from her.

Y/n: “Can’t believe we actually did it. Thanks for being my rock on the trip. (Haha get it?) 😊”

Chris grinned, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing a response.

Chris: “That was awful, but really couldn’t have done it without you. Hobbit squad for life. 🏔️”

Chris bit his lip as he then typed out the message “Dinner?” three times before deleting it each time. Something had changed in him one day but was he ready for another challenge?

[lydiasfalling]

ALL MY LOVE

percy jackson x demeter!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : suggestive ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

i love a good nature oriented one shot, so here is one for u!! hope you enjoy. <33 (also established relationship!!)

as you and percy trudged along the path, you began to grow more tired. your feet seemed like extra weight, your bad irritated your shoulders, and sweat was dripping down your forehead. though it was a work out, the view in the end would make everything worth it.

“are we almost there? my feet hurt.” percy groaned, hoping to gain your pity so you would stop.

“getting closer. you need a break? we can stop here and take some berries.” you responded. a little ways ahead, you noticed a blackberry bush that you wanted to stop and check out. you assumed he would be hungry as well, so it seemed to be the perfect compromise. percy eagerly nodded at your suggestion, speeding ahead to sit on a rock by the bush. you followed after him, taking some of the fruit from the shrub and rinsing them with water. you plopped one in your mouth, testing the taste to make sure percy would like them.

“these are good. try one?” you stuck out your hand, showing him the handful of berries that you picked. he took one with fear in his eyes.

“are you sure these are safe, sweet girl? i don’t want to—like—die. . . or something.” percy inspected the small fruit with intention, looking for any giveaway that it could harm him.

“percy, i would never give you something poisoned. come on. it’s literally my mothers job to know about plants and shit.”. you rolled your eyes at the pure stupidity of his comment, putting another berry in your mouth.

he sighed, giving up on his in depth inspection. “i suppose your right.” he took a small bite before putting the entire berry in his mouth, letting out a small sound of approval.

“told you.” you giggled. deciding the break was long enough, you stood up and extending your hand in percy’s direction. he begrudgingly took it, standing up and starting to walk again. the two of you continued on the journey up the mountain together. the forest was peaceful, seemingly under a blanket of silence as the sun began its decent. your intention was to make it to the mountains summit as the sunsets colors were in their prime.

time passed slowly, giving the both of you hope of making it in time. they stumbled upon the end of the trail just in time to watch the color fade from the sky.

“no way! we missed it.” percy dropped his bag down, laying on the ground in dramatics. it seemed like mother nature was out to get you, not wanting the pair of you to see the sunset.

“its fine! we got the experience of the hike.” you assured him. you guys stay at the summit for a while, talking and laughing along with eachother. you guys feel into silence finally. laying on the ground was proving to be very uncomfortable as the time drug on. percy rolled over towards you, placing his hand on your waist and pulling you into him.

“baby. . . we should head back.” percy’s skin was taunt where it touched yours, leaving a fiery hot trail in its wake.

you couldn’t help but lean further into his warm body. “really? it’s so peaceful here though. . .”

his hand hiked higher on your waist, making its way towards your chest. “you know where��s more peaceful? my cabin. no one’s there.” he said, a mischievous hint in his tone.

that made you perk up, turning to face him. “why didn’t you say so earlier?” you pulled him up, grabbing both of your bags from the ground. you guys rushed down the trail hand-in-hand, giggling like schoolgirls. though you didn’t get exactly what you wanted out of the hike, you got to spend alone-time with your favorite person on earth. maybe that was mother natures true gift.

taglist : @laufeysvalentine @dancingwithourhandsuntied

my masterlist

[writeriguess]

Hiyaa!!!

I'm so so so glad that you're back! I wish you the best and hope you have the perfect time writing and enjoying this🥰

Since you said you got your old requests deleted I guess I'll send mine again XD

I had sorta of a specific request afab!reader x Bakugo first time (nsfw)? Reader and Bakugo known each other since middle school and hated each other's guts but then in the first year of ua thing start to change... Like a enemies to friends to lovers thingy And they confess to each other a day before the final war now it's several months after that and when Bakugo takes reader for hiking on the weekend but then end up having their first time in the hot springs?

I hope it's not too much XD

Thank you!✨❤️

author's note: I remember writing this request before and feeling proud of it, but unfortunately, I cleared my entire queue of over 40 fics when the plagiarism issue surfaced. It's been quite a while since I last wrote NSFW content, so I need to practice again. I apologize in advance if the smut scene ends up being a bit brief.

From Sparks

The crunch of boots against gravel echoed through the serene mountains as Bakugo Katsuki led the way up the hiking trail. The midday sun filtered through the canopy of towering trees, casting golden patches of light on the forest floor. Behind him, you followed, your breath hitching slightly from the climb.

The crisp mountain air filled your lungs as you adjusted the strap of your backpack, keeping your gaze on Bakugo's broad back. The way his shoulders flexed under his tank top with every step he took distracted you from the ache in your legs. He glanced over his shoulder, the usual fiery determination in his crimson eyes softened by a rare smirk.

"Keep up, slowpoke," he teased, his voice playful but laced with the competitive edge you’d grown to expect from him.

“Maybe if you weren’t trying to kill me with this climb,” you shot back, feigning annoyance. “You know, not everyone has the stamina of a hero like you.”

He huffed out a laugh, slowing his pace slightly. “Didn’t think you’d wanna quit on me, considering how much you run your mouth.”

The banter felt natural, a sign of how far the two of you had come since those middle school days filled with endless bickering. Back then, you couldn’t stand each other, always butting heads over the smallest things. Now, years later, things were different. The bond forged through shared battles and late-night confessions made your relationship unshakable.

When you finally reached the summit, Bakugo stopped abruptly, turning to face you as you caught up. His face was flushed, either from the climb or the way his eyes lingered on you. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you with an expression that made your heart race.

“This way,” he said gruffly, jerking his thumb toward a path off the main trail. You followed, curious as to where he was leading you.

The sound of running water reached your ears before you saw it—a hidden hot spring tucked away behind a cluster of rocks. Steam rose from the clear, inviting water, curling in the cool mountain air like a beckoning promise.

“You planned this?” you asked, your voice tinged with surprise and delight.

Bakugo shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Figured you could use some downtime. We both could.”

Without waiting for a response, he began peeling off his boots and shirt, leaving you frozen in place. His sculpted physique was on full display, every scar and muscle a testament to the life he led.

“You coming or what?” he called over his shoulder, his smirk returning.

Your heart hammered as you quickly removed your shoes and outer layers, stepping into the warm water. It enveloped you like a soothing embrace, but the proximity of Bakugo, now sitting beside you with the water lapping at his chest, set your nerves alight.

The conversation dwindled, replaced by a comfortable silence as the two of you soaked in the tranquil atmosphere. His hand brushed against yours beneath the surface, tentative at first, but when you didn’t pull away, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off with a gentle tug, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. His hands settled on your hips, steadying you. “Just… let me do this.”

His lips crashed into yours, a mixture of urgency and tenderness that stole your breath away. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat of his touch and the sound of your racing heart.

Your breath hitched when you felt his hardness pressing against your swollen pussy lips, and you couldn't help but moan. Katsuki smirked, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His usual brash confidence was softened by something more intimate, more vulnerable—a rare glimpse of the man beneath the hero.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, carrying the weight of emotions he rarely expressed. His hands tightened on your hips, grounding you as his forehead pressed against yours.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. You couldn’t imagine a better place to be than here with him, sharing something you had never dared to hope for.

You let out a soft whimper when he entered you, his cock filling you completely. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you rocked against him, taking him deeper. His hips snapped upward, driving his length even further inside you.

Katsuki let out a low growl, his teeth grazing your neck. Your skin prickled with anticipation, heightening every sensation. Pleasure coiled deep within you, building with each thrust until you couldn't hold back any longer.

Your release washed over you like a wave, the rush of emotions and physical sensations threatening to drown you. Bakugo followed shortly after, his body tensing as he came.

When your breathing finally returned to normal, he pulled back, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked, his tone soft despite the edge of frustration in his words.

"I could ask you the same question," you replied, giving him a smile that left no doubt about your feelings.

Katsuki chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess we're both fucked."

His kiss was softer this time, a promise of things to come. You didn't know where the two of you were headed, but whatever happened, you knew it would be worth it.

Feel free to request <3

[smilesatdawnmain]

So this is, kind of a present for you and part of my own boredom. I proposed the TDTWE/Split Eclipse with the twins a few months ago and I was curious about the meet scene with Wukong and the discovery of the twins, so I kind of took a chance and wrote it. I hope this is okay?

Wukong walked faster as the smaller white monkeys lead the way to the top of the mountain..the spot where..the egg laid. No! They shouldn’t be there! They knew it was off limits! He started running, his breath becoming heavy as he reached the summit. “Hey! You know you’re not supposed to-“

His words were cut off by the sound of a chirp, making his head turned instantly towards the pedestal where the egg should’ve been resting, but instead of an egg was a chocolate colored monkey cub, six twitching ears on the side of his head, a heart shaped peach colored mask, with dots underneath mask on each side of his face, like little freckles, his little hands reaching out for a peach, desperately trying to grab the fruit. Wukong felt his legs shake, he fell to his knees…his son..HIS SON! Was alive, tears started to fall down his face, his body trembling.

Another chirp sounded from the pedestal, a white blur of fur toppled over the chocolate cub, more chirps coming for the lifeform. The chocolate cub chirped in response to the white blur. Wukong’s eyes widened at the appearance of the second cub, his heart pounding in his chest…the second child was beautiful too, white fur with golden bits on the end of his hair, wrists, and ankles, his little mask was butterfly shaped and red..just like his Moon’s…the white one looked so much like his Moon.

Wukong slowly rose to his feet, a chirp coming from his own throat. The sound was broken and cracked a little, it had been so long since he had even dared to chirp. The sound got both of the cubs attention, both of them turned their head, both of their eyes going wide. In unison, the cubs chirped back. Wukong felt his heart squeeze with emotion, slowly moving forward and pulled both cubs into his arms. “My boys…my boys.” He cried as he held the infants.

Not only was his son alive, but he had two, TWO BOYS! That were both alive! Two little cubs, two perfect cubs. Wukong nuzzled his head against the boys’s heads, kissing them and crying. “My babies…my babies.” He whispered, his voice hoarse and broken, fat tears still rolling down his face.

The chocolate cub, let out a chirp, confused why this big monkey was cry. His little hands reaching out and placing his little palm on Wukong’s face. The white cub watched his brother’s action and quickly copied his brother, chirping as well.

“So sweet of you.” Wukong sniffled, realizing the cubs were trying to comfort him. He closed his eyes as the boys touched his face, their warm palms feeling good against his skin. He breathed in their scents, the chocolate one smelling like sweet bread and milk, the white one smelling like wild flowers…perfect, both were perfect. “My little boys.” He said as he lifted the head, gold and amber eyes staring up at him. “Names…you need names.” He said while holding the cubs, close to his chest.

Wukong thought for a while, his eyes looking at the chocolate cub. “You shall be Xiation.” He said to the cub, before looking at the white cub. “And you shall be Xiaohua.” He whispered, purring..he was actually purring as he held his boys. “My perfect little princes.”

OH MY GOSHHHHHH I LOVE THIS!!!! I love this so much!!! AHHH! I can't thank you enough for making this!! ;-; It makes me so happy. Like- my hands are shaking. Thank you!!

In return I draw you this!!

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

He has no rival for most beautiful man alive in my world

Source:

[someone-will-remember-us]

It would have been easier for Caroline Darian if her father, Dominique Pelicot, were an unremitting bastard: an absent or distant dad, a man who battered her mother, took no interest in his kids or just soured every family occasion. Then the daughter of France’s most notorious mass rapist could consign him to Hell without a backward glance.

But for both Darian and — it would seem from this account — her mother, Gisèle, it is the ambiguities that magnify their pain. This slim book comprises the diary that Darian, now 45, kept in the weeks after the police revealed that Pelicot had been drugging Gisèle and pimping her out to strangers for ten years. Yet amid her revulsion at his limitless depravity are sweet reveries. There is her father taking her to dance classes; urging her to the summit as they cycle mountain roads in Provence; putting Barry White on the car stereo as she and her brothers cram on the back seat for family holidays; singing beautifully at her wedding and making the perfect speech at Gisèle’s 50th birthday, calling her “my one, my all”.

After their father’s crimes were revealed, Darian and her brothers, David and Florian, packed up the rented house in Mazan, where their parents retired and the rapists came, in just two days. Everything was jettisoned: furniture, photographs and her father’s paintings, including a female nude entitled Under My Thumb, which Darian personally destroyed. Gisèle left for a new life with just two suitcases and her dog.

Harder to discard are the idyllic summers, Pelicot teaching his grandson to swim, and drinks and board games on the terrace. When you discover your father drugged and photographed you naked and may have raped you too (which he has always denied), where do you file the innocent memories?

This quandary divides Caroline and her mother. Darian describes Gisèle as a “medieval queen” whose “innate elegance extends even to refusing to say a bad word about our father”. Gisèle, who lost her own mother aged nine, maintains an outer serenity. Darian, who is more visceral and volatile, collapsed after the news and was admitted briefly to a mental ward. She was aghast when her mother fretted that her father would be cold in prison, and took him a bag of warm clothes, or when she declared: “I want to remember the good times.” Gisèle was trying to reconcile two warring thoughts: that her husband is a monster and that she once loved him deeply. Otherwise, one supposes, she would have to junk her entire life.

Pelicot’s crimes hit his family like a cluster bomb, a central explosion containing a multitude of smaller blasts. How can Darian tell her young son that the grandfather he texted before every football match is dead to him now? How will she forgive her mother for refusing to countenance — because the thought might have tipped Gisèle into insanity — that Pelicot raped her too?

All families are strange, but quirks read as normal when you’re a child. Now with open eyes Darian sees that her comfortable middle-class upbringing was a façade, that it was only her mother’s middle management job, which came with a five-bedroom company house near Paris, that kept them afloat. Her father, an electrician who dabbled in property, set up companies that always failed.

Papers her brothers discovered reveal that Pelicot defaulted on huge loans that he took out mainly in his wife’s name. Gisèle let him handle all admin, never wondering why he always rushed to gather up the post. Besides being raped 200 times by at least 73 men and left with four STDs, she faced bankruptcy too.

Darian sees what she missed as a girl: that this wasn’t a close marriage, but a coercive one, and her father manipulated Gisèle under the guise of loving protector. They all believed him during those ten years when her mother suffered blackouts and memory loss — a side-effect of the pills he fed her — that it was her grandchildren who had tired her out.

Now moments that seemed inconsequential loom large. Darian recalls her father angrily hauling her mother off her feet by her blouse, coming home from school aged 14 to find bailiffs had taken all their furniture including beloved heirlooms, and her father helping himself to cash she had made from summer jobs, saying it was his right.

Pelicot starts to come into focus: a grifter, an amoral chancer, someone who always had secrets. The most powerful memory Darian dredges up is of her mother’s old friend Pascale coming to the house to say that Pelicot had propositioned her. “Your husband isn’t the man you’ve always taken him to be,” she warned. Pelicot threatened to beat up Pascale, and Gisèle never spoke to her again.

Finally we learn the probable source of Pelicot’s character. His own father was a terrible man: a caretaker at a rehabilitation centre, he was a big, leather-jacketed bully, a lazy tyrant who took Dominique out of school at 13 to bring in a wage. Within weeks of his wife dying he made their foster daughter, who was 30 years his junior and had severe learning difficulties, his new spouse. Darian notes that this poor girl ripped out her own hair and needed permission to change the TV channel. There is a whiff of Fred West here, yet Darian’s parents sent her to stay with them every summer holiday until she was old enough to complain.

Darian has written this book to launch her campaign against “chemical submission”, the use of drugs within controlling relationships, which is seldom picked up by police. This account does not include the four-month trial that ended with 51 men including Pelicot convicted of rape. Nor does it mention Pelicot’s earlier crimes: an attempted rape in Paris in the 1990s that Pelicot has admitted to and a rape-murder he has denied, for which he will soon stand trial. “I’m convinced we still have more to discover about my father,” Darian says darkly, and the French police, who are checking his DNA against decades of cold cases, would agree.

But this book, although fragmentary and brief, is the story of how families can absorb horrible deeds and not merely function, but seem outwardly happy. Pelicot’s sons put up with him, although he was always cadging money after another failed scheme. His youngest child, Florian, still came to family parties after his girlfriend walked in on Pelicot in the daytime, his office door wide open, masturbating at his laptop. The last text Darian’s husband sent to Pelicot was a jolly message about the Tour de France. For the sake of family harmony, or for their mother, or because he could turn on the charm, they seem to have tolerated him as a bit of a rogue.

Yet all the while Pelicot was defiling everyone — his wife, his daughter, his sons’ wives (whom he filmed naked with spy cameras) — and violating everywhere they felt safe, raping Gisèle in her marital bed, at Darian’s home and at her beloved holiday cottage on the Île de Ré. And still three years ahead of them loomed the public ordeal of the trial, which Darian will cover in a future book. But what we have here is a primal scream of shock and disbelief. She may never call Dominique Pelicot “Dad” again, but the horror is that is who he remains.

(archive)

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * to love a soul

warnings: none pairing: cupid! percy jackson x psyche! reader a/n: I’m so genius for this tell me I’m a fucking genius

the most beautiful girl in the village, praised yet never loved. your looks claimed to be more appealing than even aphrodite herself. if this was the case then how come you couldn’t find love? how could your sisters less seductive than you find husbands and start a family while you’re left better admired from afar?

many boys approach you. they only want one thing, you know if it but you wouldn’t allow it. you yearned for love, true love. It was a shame they could not feel the same for you. your sister, calliope enters your family home, a smirk on her lips. she walks over to your sitting self

“It is sad that you sit at home”

you continue cutting your vegetables, your eyes not once being taken off your knife. when you stay silent in return your sister continues speaking, “you are of age for a husband. it is pathetic you take care of the house yet you have nobody to take care of”

“If you came here to insult me then leave. I am busy”

“you should be busy finding a husband. many boys have told me of their love for you, why won’t you let them love you?”

you sigh and place the knife down, forcing yourself to face your sister. “they do not love me. they only wish to bring me to bed”

“this is why you will not find a husband. you are a disappointment to the family” your sister remarks before returning to her bedroom

you avert your eyes back to your previous task and wait as the rest of your family trickles in for dinner

ੈ✩‧₊˚

aphrodite was unhappy. how could a silly girl possibly have gotten more compliments on her looks than the very goddess of beauty? she would not allow this, she would never allow this

“perseus!” she calls from her throne. soon after a dark haired boy appears

“you called?” percy asks, standing before his mother

“my dear have you heard of the beautiful mortal? the one who is dared to be compared to I?”

percy shakes his head. “no, mother”

“well now you have. I would like you to make her fall in love with the most vilest of men, will you do that for me, my dear?”

the love goddess takes her son’s face in her hands as he agrees to her request. she kisses his forehead gently

“thank you, my dear. do not make me wait”

“I will not mother”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

your father was angry. at your grown age you should have been married with children by this time and it was unfortunate that such a lovely girl had not chosen anyone yet. he seeks out help from the oracle of delphi. apollo had told him that you, dressed in a black dress should be brought to the summit of a mountain to be left alone. a winged man would arrive and take you as his wife

your father returned home late in the night and woke you from your slumber, in your groggy state you sit up

“father? what is it?” you take notice of his worried demeanor, yours beginning to appear similar

“you must leave”

your brows furrow. “what do you mean? It is late”

“I have gotten news you will meet your husband”

“husband?”

“yes, yes, come”

your father grabs your arms and hauls you up from your bed. “you must wear a black dress, do you have any of the color?”

“I do”

“then hurry. I will be waiting”

he hurry’s out of your room and you’re left alone again. you scavenge through your dresser until you come across a dark dress and quickly you change into it. you scurry out of the house and before you know it you’re left at the summit by yourself. you sit on the ground and wait, soon falling back into slumber

when you wake the sound of clear stream fills your ears. your eyes open met with gold columns, silvers walls, and floors of precious stones. a god’s palace it must be. you stand up, seemingly dressed in a silk nightdress. your fingers trace the delicate walls, admiring the beauty of the room when a voice speaks to you:

“the palace is for you. do not be afraid. take a bath and we will honor you with a great dinner”

you turn to find the body belonging to the voice but nobody is near. you frown and take notice of the bathroom door opening on the opposite side of the room. you look back once at the wall and head to the bathroom for your bath

when you finish another dress is settled onto the bed, a soft shade of pink. you assume whomever the voice belonged to must have left it out for you. you clutch your towel closer to your skin and look around again, seeing no one before dressing and leaving to the dining room; a beautiful feast had been set up for you. that evening you ate well that night and went to bed with a full stomach; sleep came easy to you

ੈ✩‧₊˚

a kiss to your shoulder woke you up. your eyes flutter open, but nothing is to be seen

“I am sorry for waking you” the voice says and you feel lips on your shoulder again

“who are you?” you whisper into the darkness

“your husband”

“you are a god?”

“yes”

you roll on your back eager to face him but you’re met with only dark; you pout. the god takes your arm in his grasp, and starting at your fingertips he kisses up your arm, your neck, your jaw, then connects your lips. you sigh in contentment but the kiss ends too soon

against the lips of the god you inquire, “will you come back?”

“I will never leave”

you smile. when even the god leaves you can’t help the warmness permanently staining all your systems

the following nights the god visits you while you slept (although you woke every time). though you never did see the appearance of your lover. the more time you spent at the palace the more you admittedly missed your family. you ask the god to have them visit, he replies saying they are allowed to visit but you aren’t to be influenced by them or your relationship would suffer a great deal

the visiting of your sisters was unpleasant, envy radiating and pooling out with ever word. they admired the palace, jealous you had gotten treated better than they ever could have. when they were leaving the played a trick on you

“do you know what I heard, sister?” calliope asks you

“what?”

your other sister, amalthea speaks, “he is a monster. that is why he doesn’t allow you to see him”

calliope nods in agreement “yes, how could you sleep with such an awful creature?”

“he is not” you defend

“have you seen him?” asks amalthea

you shake your head

“very well. we will be leaving now”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

the following days you couldn’t help but think about the lasts words your sisters has told you. what if it had been true? you had been deceived! you did find it odd your lover had never showed in daylight, but only the darkness of the night. you made a decision- you would light a candle and enter his bedchambers while he slept. if he was a monster you would kill him, if he was a man you would let him live

you snuck in quietly, eager yet worried for what you might discover laying on the bed. your heart nearly pounds out of your chest, your palms get sweaty. you at last hold the candle above your lover and you thanked the gods for the sight you saw. a beautiful male sleeps peacefully, although dark hair unruly from tossing. you send a single prayer to the gods and when your eyes open you see the god had woken from the light of your candle

he looks at you once before leaving the room, you follow behind crying out pleads of forgiveness. your lover turns around and faces you

he says, “love cannot live without trust” before flying into darkness

how stupid had you been! your lover was the god of love and you broke his trust. you cried for days and days, searching for him but found nothing. without knowing what else to do you went to the temple of aphrodite and asked to see her son again. aphrodite, still jealous of you had not allowed you to be let of easily. she asked you to complete three tasks for her

the goddess showed her a dune of many seeds. “the first: you will separate all these seeds before this afternoon or you are not to see perseus again”

alas, you began separating the seeds, tears streaming down your cheeks. the ants saw your despair and helped move the seeds. aphrodite, angry fell to her bed and decided your next task would be impossible to complete. meanwhile, percy was not allowed to leave his room, where he was mourning your betrayal

after you first task was complete aphrodite came to you again

“can you see those black waters?” she points to a river in the distance and you nod “that is river estige. fill this bucket with its water”

you descended to the river. the rocks were slippery and steep and the water rushed through abruptly, only a winged creature could approach. and indeed an eagle came to your rescue, it felt sympathy for you struggling to capture water. It seized your bucket and filled it with water, returning it back to you

aphrodite appeared to you again, telling you that you had not completed the task without help, leaving you for another task. you were to visit the underworld and ask persephone to drain a little of her beauty. obediently you did so. the path was treacherous but you managed. when you arrived you stood before the spring goddess and asked her to complete your task. she gladly helped an drained a little of her beauty. you took the box back from her hands and went to bring it to the love goddess who was furious

“I will never let you go!” aphrodite yells, “you will always be my servant, do remember that foolish mortal”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

percy found you weeping in his mothers garden. he approaches you slowly, sitting beside you, allowing you to cry in his arms and in your vulnerable state you let him

“I am sorry” you muster out

“it is okay. please do not cry” percy requests, running a comforting hand up and down your back

“It is not! I betrayed your trust”

“your redeem yourself. you completed all the tasks my mother put upon you. If anything you were only curious, I do not blame you”

“are you sure?”

“I am very sure, my love”

from that point on you hadn’t been harassed by the love goddess. as a wedding gift zeus had granted you immortality, making you the goddess of the soul. he handed you an ambrosia square to seal the deal. you had been happy to live in the palace with percy and it was seemingly okay with his mother who had the attention back on her now that you had been married. all peace was restored at last