and my sharp cheekbones

2

@obsesseswithdresses Within two watered-down cups he’s already speaking with partial capitalization.

Angel Eyes

Summary: An angel/demon AU featuring demon!Bucky and angel!Reader based on this request:

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Religious imagery, probably some blasphemy, language, unprotected (graphic) sex

Word Count: 2,915

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive. I kinda got carried away with this one. I do hope it’s okay? (.gif has nothing to do with the story. I just like staring at it)


Originally posted by gothicclownqueen


What happens when an angel knocks up a demon? You get a devilishly handsome half-breed with angelic charm and passion like hellfire running through his veins—you get me. Maybe I’m not as impressive as Lucifer, I didn’t fall from grace, I didn’t cut off my wings to spite my father—I never had wings—but I am more impressive than other demons. I’m stronger, smarter…just overall, I’m better. My unique position comes with perks from Luci, but jeers from full-blood demons. They say I’m not pure, that I have a disgusting heavenly glow about me. They say I don’t belong in Hell.

Keep reading

Don’t let me go

Group:Bts

Memeber:Jungkook

Au: Grim Reaper,demon

PART TWO

A/n: Let me tell you,I am inspired from Goblin. Watch this drama. Is the holy drama. This is the first part of a little Jungkook series. Also the different religions reading this.I tried to keep the religion matter as neutral as possible. If you believe that this is written with a bad thought in mind or to offend someone it is not. Thank you.

***************************


I am the person you are afraid from. I am the one with the skeleton body,black robe and а reaping hook. You mortals thought that I look like a skeleton simply because I deal with the dead. This is soo wrong. I am like the most handsome, funny man ever. You living people think everything that is dead is ugly and rotten. Hell( hell is mine creation actually. Its a piece of art) no. I am,however,prehaps rotten and dead. Inside. Inside the cage of my heart. The muscle which is supposed to pump adrenaline through my body. The muscle giving me life,love and so much more. But no. This place is empty and had been abounded centuries ago. The curse killed me a long time ago.

Things go way back in time.

I once had a wife. A very beautiful woman called Lydia. She was my whole life. I was a simple man. A sheppard. My biggest concern was if I will be able to go home on time to hug her before she closes her eyes to fall in beautiful peaceful sleep.

As always life decided to fuck everything up. God said it was time for war and suddenly my biggest concern became the smallest out of them all. Everything I had,I had to give up. It was my duty to fight for my country as a man. I fought many battles. Those in higher ranks saw potential in me and after eleven battles I became a commander. On the battlefield before what we hoped was the last battle. Ready to fight,not ready to die. I prayed like every other selfish human being that I’ll give up everyone and everything,just God let me live. Those words were the last words some people heard and the ones that left my lips before I shouted “For His majesty.” I killed many people in the battle and almost got killed more times than I can remember. But I survived. The last one to survive. The smell of Death was in the air. My breath was fading away. Youcould barely see it. My eyes started to tear up from the mixture of fear,the feeling of finally letting go and a scared scream from the consequences ahead in time. Suddenly a bright light blinded my swollen from crying eyes. And I met God. A nice man,looking trustworthy,someone who I never thought was actually real. He told me my wife,my parents, my sheeps,they were killed. That I made a choice. That I killed them when I was being selfish. My will for life,killed those who made me want to live. Lost in my fear and regret which were suddenly put upon me,I was ready to pull out the weapon and just kill myself. The man stopped my sword from moving through the flesh and stop my heart. God looked at me and told me “If you leave this Earth and become invisible as if you never existed,I will bring everyone you want back. Your family will live. Lydia will breath. I need a helper. Someone who will deal with the dead and will help them go in the afterlife. You will become the Grim Reaper. My right hand.” I was being offered a choice which wasn’t actually much of a choice. He was offering me to become a ghost. But for the sake of my love I was ready to do anything and everything. “Why are you Sir offering me this? Why me?” “You are a good man. But the sin of being selfish is a strong one. I see in your eyes love. This will be your curse. Love will be your pleasure and curse. The last man standing. The one who will walk this Earth way longer than anyone. Collecting grief and love. At the end of the day you will always be alone.” I became a sinner for wanting to live. I killed everything I believed in. But Immortality didn’t sound all that bad after all. Dealing with the dead also wasn’t a price high enough that I can’t pay for Lydia. The hesitation left me and my hand grabbed his. It was me or Lydia and my family. “Okay. Do this.” Just like that my existence was erased from the face of Earth,my name wasn’t remembered as the last commander alive,the war was doomed a fail and soon there were only the families of the dead and the memories of them to be remembered. Personally I assisted all of them in the after life making them forget the one they had been living in order for a new one to be born. But for the living organisms I was invisible,not existing. A myth surrounded by mystery. There were several cases in which people had been ablen to see me. You usually cab unless you had the vision or you were dead. And so for centuries I have met all kinds of death and people. Helping them go where their souls belong. My face haven’t aged a day since I gave my soul. A twenty years old is what you’ll see if you were able to.


1998


“Jungkook” I heard in the distance waking me from my retrospective daydream. “Yes?” I turned my head nearly hitting my forehead in one of the lamps of the nice white office. “There is something I need to tell you.” It is a full miracle. My boss is usually quiet and doesn’t have the need to see me unless it was something urgent going on in the underworld. I have known him for so many centuries that is almost not imaginable. However today there wasn’t anything special going on in my part of the holy world. “Do you remember when I took you under my wing?” the sudden questoon caught me offguard. So being little surprised the answer rolled of my lips “Of course I do.” how can I forget anyway? My heart will never forget. My Lydia. Her smile,her heart of gold. And my selfish wish which killed us. “There is something I didn’t tell you back then. One day your savior will be born. A person who will reverse the curse you caused on yourself. She will heal your wounds and you will become mortal again. She will give you the chance to live. When you die as a mortal I will give you the choice to either become the Reaper and never be able to find hope again or this time go to Heaven.” Speechless probably would’ve explain it. But it can’t. Hope? Being able to live? I have been living wihout hope so many centuries. Evryday I have been holding on the simple fact that there is hope or happy ending for me. Now after 1000 years he decides to tell me that there is someone on this planet who can cure me. My emotions are too strong. The anger boiled. The fear entered the dusted chamber of my heart. Hope started to creep out of its dungeon somewhere deep inside of me. Why didn’t he told me this earlier? Why was I living without hope all this time? Where is she? How old is she? She can be dead by now.

“Why do you tell me this now?” my voice was deadly low. I was in a position to shout,however I didn’t want to lose all my cool at once. “Was I not good enough to be told this earlier? Was I unloyal? Have I ever done something to make you doubt me? I created Hell and Heaven and made them absolutely perfect. The department of Reapers is so big that I barely have to go out now. Don’t tell me I didn’t deserve to know the truth.” I admit I did lost my cool. I was shouting and destroying whatever was around me. Angry tears were falling down my sharp cheekbones. “No you were. You finished absolutely mesmerizing job at what you were doing. Jungkook-a, tell me honestly if I had told you centuries ago,you wouldn’t have searched for her. Tell me you would’ve done your job the same way.” although angry,I knew he was right. Nothing ffrom what I’ve created probably wouldn’t have been even an idea in my head. The Earth was going to be small. I would’ve searched under every rock,in every village,city,country and continent. One thing I couldn’t understand was “Why telling me now?” “Because she has been born. The person who is going to bring you back is born. And her name is y/n. The Grim Reaper’s Bride.

2016

"Are you the Grim Reapers wife?” a ghost whispered in mine ear. She was a rather beautiful ghost. A girl not bigger than me. But this question… If I collected a dollar for everytime I had to answer it,by now I wouldn’t be going to school. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.” “Oh…it’s true. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Bye.” “Wait. Talk to me.” but it disappeared. Good job Y/N. 

The Grim Reapers wife.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART TWO

Our First Kiss// Sherlock Holmes

Originally posted by explosivecumberbatch

Requested by Anon:  Hi!! I was wondering if you could do a sherlock x reader, where they have their first kiss? Maybe you could write it similar to the scene between Han and Leia, and their first kiss in the millenium falcon? Sherlock like: you’re trembling. And the readers like: I’m not trembling. But then Sherlock kisses them?? It’s just an idea, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna. Thanks anyway :)):

I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, so I hope you all enjoy it!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

His lips were always moving.

Smiling, talking, pursed, pressed..

But you wondered how they tasted.

Sherlock Holmes was infuriatingly irritating, hauntingly mesmerizing, and altogether beautiful. The only one who knew about your feelings towards the Consulting Detective was his partner John Watson, who was one of many in your circle of friends. 

The first day you knew Sherlock - he hated you because you were incredibly distracting. Why? You were beautiful. 

Within the first month he had chased away every man who was interested in you. You flirted back and forth constantly for weeks, occasionally held hands, but it never went further then that. With his personality, you never knew whether or not he was manipulating you or genuinely felt the same way. 

So of course, John had to suggest you did something about it. 

  “You are incredibly beautiful, and you have all the skills you need to reel him in. He’s the type of guy where you really just have to go for it.” John proclaimed, lifting his wine glass in the air to clink it against your own. Sherlock had specifically said he wasn’t needed for this case, and you were struggling so of course you’d called him over with red wine as incentive. 

  “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were gay.” 

John snorted and pressed a finger against your lips as the door to the building opened. Sherlocks steps were the easiest to distinguish of everyone who ever came through 221B. “I’m not gay, but I am Mr. Love! Hop to it! I’ll be in the hall closet!” He rushed down the hall and hid himself inside the closet just as Sherlock appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. 

  “Ah y/n. Having a night in?” He commented, folding his hands against his waist as you lifted your wine glass. “For two, I assume?” Your eyes flickered over to where Johns glass had been sitting before he’d fled the premises. “Your lips are red.’’

You snorted rather loudly and stood from the table. How many glasses had you had? Four? “That’s what alcohol does to you-” You retorted, gasping as you took several steps before stumbling. Your vision was hazy, but you didn’t fail to notice the strong arms that wrapped around your waist. “Oh, now you’re way too close to me.” 

It was true. His face was just inches from your own, so close that you could smell the mint on his breath. His hands were firmly gripping your hips, twirling his thumbs in a circular motion on top of your blouse. Just the touch of his thumbs sent shivers down your spine. “You’re shaking. Is it the alcohol or the physical reaction you display when I’m around you?” His voice dropped an octave as he pressed the lower part of your body against the door that also led into the flat. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and in that moment, you made your decision. 

  “Both.”

Your fingers slid up his chest to tug on his hair, pulling him flush against you as you propped yourself on the wall. His lips were exactly as you had always imagined; warm and soft against your own, as if they were whispering the millions of words he refused to speak aloud. You tilted your head to the side, sighing into his mouth as he teased your lips open. 

He was just beginning to explore your mouth when you pulled away, resting your forehead against his own. “I think this may be a new experiment I need to continue to… analyze.” Sherlock panted. You lifted your head to look at his dilated pupils and couldn’t help but smile just as his eyes met yours. “What? Was it that good?” 

  ‘’You kissed me.” 

  “According to my deductions of both you and myself, I think we’ve been wanting to kiss each other for months. I hope I’ve made it quite clear in the time we’ve known each other how I feel about you.” He replied. “Now I think this is what leads to me asking my next question. Would you like to be my girlfriend?” 

You were so stunned at his remark that John took the opportunity to jump out of the closet, completely hammered with the remaining red wine he’d taken in with him spilled all over his shirt. Laughter emanated in the kitchen as he threw a fist in the air and began to pound it. “Say yes!” He cried out. “They don’t call me Doctor Love for nothing, y’know!” 

Sherlock buried his face in your neck to hide his laughter. Your hands found their way underneath his chin, lightly running your thumbs across his sharp cheekbones. “It would be my greatest adventure to date you, Sherlock Holmes.” 

  “DOCTOR LOVE WINS!”

Tag List

@charlottemalfoy @gonnamurderyou @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @foureyedsiopao

Depending on who you ask my sister and I range from “how the fuck are you two related” to “are you twins?” The second one confuses me more, as my sister is four years my senior and thus has mostly completed her adult face morph.

Meanwhile, I’m hoping that my mug can eventually catch up to “passably decent”.

The swoop and curve of eyeliner makes her slightly inhuman
in a way that she deserves.

With a flash of teeth she has bitten apples from the claws of trees.
In a pyre of swept-up petals and mouse guts she burnt her final offering.
She only took off her sunglasses when it reached full dark.

She didn’t take me along on the first foray or the third adventure.

I frost her lips in blue because it was never the point to make her look like a real girl.

When I tried to slither through the gate she plucked me up and told me wait.
She had to speak to something in the soil first.
Through the black coil bars I watched her drive stakes through the ground.
She tasted the dirt and said it wasn’t ready.

With a flick of my brush I forge her cheekbones sharp as splinters.
What am I preparing you for? I ask. Can I weave myself up your arm like a vine and come with you?
This isn’t armor, she says, as I dust her eyes pollen green. It’s an opening.
The bees won’t listen unless I’m in bloom.

Nightmares

Tags: @megant22, @sexywolfsfordays, @houseofrahl, @sterek-basically, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @misshinehou, @unbreakablevoices, @champagneblues, @dallysgreasergirl, @juliaspnlover, @cineyou, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @fallenangel-13x

Word count: 598

Author’s note: Just a little something that came to my mind :) Really short, I know, but I wanted to write fluff. I hope you will enjoy it!


“How about we visit your parents tomorrow?” Derek offers, words murmured into my temple softly. I giggle as I fold my arm over his chest, nestling my head on his right pectoral, using that firm muscle as a pillow. He smooths his palm over my forearm, eventually reaching my hand and entwining our fingers together. He pulls our connected hands up to his mouth to leave a kiss on mine, his mossy eyes never leaving my gaze.

“We can do that,” I say. Ever since we’ve been together, Derek has always wanted to make sure my parents won’t feel left out or being forgotten – he wants to make them feel loved for him having no one to make happy any more. Sometimes, he still has nightmares about the death of his family, waking me in the middle of the night with his arms flailing and gasps dying on his lips, pleading for the bodies not to be combusted.

He’s forever trying to get through the door, but he never can.

My heart clenches at that thought, at the memories that come flooding my mind of him struggling among the sheets, and I prop myself on my elbow to be able to reach his sharp cheekbone and leave a tender kiss there, providing him mute comfort. I can feel his smile with my pink flesh, and my thumb starts to rub soothing circles into his skin over his ribcage through the cotton tee he has on. In return, he starts massaging the small of my back, and reels me in for a languid, gentle kiss, when there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Yes?” I ask, sitting up on the mattress, waiting for the door to open up.

Tentatively, slowly, it does, revealing the shape of our little son. “What’s the matter, baby?” I coo, leaving Derek’s side to approach Michael. I cower in front of him to be at the same eye level as him. He whispers, ever so quiet, “I had a nightmare.”

“Come and join us, honey,” I tell him, holding my hand out for him, which he takes without a second thought. I can clearly see as tension seeps out of his small frame, easing his features at my touch. I lead him to our bed, where Derek is already sitting at the edge, waiting for us with an affectionate smile adorning his features, lighting them up with sparkles of joy. He helps Michael up on the high mattress, sitting him on his thigh, hugging him protectively.

“Shall daddy chase the ghosts away from his little Mike?” he all but coos, and I can’t help my smile. I join them, taking the spot next to Derek, seeing how our boy nods frantically, tiny paws balling up two handfuls his father’s shirt, burying his face in the fabric. We trade a loving look with Derek before scooting backwards, pulling the sheets over us and laying Michael between us, caging him, giving him much needed comfort.

Derek has a hand splayed on the small of my back, whereas I have mine around Mike, holding him to me, massaging him to help him settle. His entire body is covered in sweat, having made his pyjamas moist, and I would have had him to change if it weren’t for the fact that he was too tired, and he’s already fallen asleep, breathing evened out, monsters no longer present in his mind.

Over his head, Derek kisses me, wishing me good night with the gesture; it doesn’t take long for me to follow our angel into the realm of dreams.

anonymous asked:

Your myth retellings always make me giggle. Could it be possible for you to do Echo or Narcissus? If not it cool, just wondering. Thanks again for making my days brighter. *hugs*

Sweet summer child, that is absolutely something that I can do! 

Anyone who wants to skip a poorly retold story of a ludicrously hot young asshole and a woman who is cursed to accidentally hit on people should press J on their keyboard now, as this is a long post. Historical / literary info under the Read More!

-*-

Our story begins with the birth of a beautiful, bouncing baby boy. Well, actually, our story begins with a man named Teiresias, who used to be a woman who used to be a man and was cursed with blindness by Hera and blessed with prophecy by Zeus for daring to say that women enjoyed sexy times more than men, but that’s another myth for another day.

Anyway, back to the adorable bundle of joy. One day, this baby’s mother, a smoking hot nymph named Liriope, goes over to old man Teiresias and asks him “you’re old as balls, will my sweet baby Narcissus grow to be as old as you?” and Teiresias nods sagely and says “yeah, he’ll be fine to claim a state pension, as long as he never comes to know himself, if you get what I mean” and Liriope just shrugs and says “I actually have no idea what you mean, but I’m sure I’ll find out” and Teiresias does a really enigmatic thing with his arms and says “but you have to find yourself first” and Liriope frowns and she’s like “is that part of the prophecy, or” and Teiresias is like “look, lady, I don’t even want this job, just let me have some fun with it” and Liriope looks at him really strangely and walks away with her ridiculously adorable baby. 

16 years later, that adorable baby boy is no longer an adorable baby boy, because that is how time works. Instead, Narcissus is a tantalisingly hot piece of man. It’s actually ridiculous how attractive he is. All over the realm, there are literally hordes of women and scores of dudes just overheating with lust for his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and the way his hair curls alluringly at the nape of his neck. There is no way of exaggerating just how incredibly, incredibly good-looking this guy is. Imagine every single beautiful thing you’ve ever seen: a rose-hued dawn; an oil-slick sea under a sky threaded with silver; a full box of pizza with the steam still rising off it. Narcissus is all of those things and more. Unfortunately, he’s also a massive arsehole. Whenever one of the millions of girls and boys who want to climb him like a tree eventually plucks up the courage to tell him, he just gags and pretends to throw up, and then starts laughing until they leave in floods of noisy tears, and then he shakes his head and says something like “my wit is as sharp as my cheekbones” and then he high fives himself, because he has embraced a poetic kind of solitude and also it’s hard to make friends when you’re that much of a vain dick.

Narcissus lives on Mount Kithairon, near a forest because he’s basically Snow White apart from the hideous personality defects. In these woods there also lives a nymph named Echo. Echo lays eyes upon Narcissus one day while he’s out frolicking in a manly fashion in the woods, and being a sentient being with both eyes and a pulse, she immediately falls in love and starts fantasising about getting married to him and having his genetically superior children and maybe getting a mortgage and living in wedded bliss until their kids leave for college and the love dies. However, there’s a slight hitch in her plan, and that’s the incredibly inconvenient curse that was placed on her a while ago by Hera.

Around the time Narcissus was first growing beautiful golden tufts of hair under his armpits and staring lustfully at inanimate objects, Echo was playing wingman to Zeus. Basically, Zeus would pick up a honey with legs up to their armpits and an apparent incapability of experiencing basic fear, seeing as Hera, Zeus’ wife, has a really bad habit of viciously murdering and maiming Zeus’ lovers and their extended families. Anyway, when Zeus picked up his saucy companions, he’d go and find Echo and be like “yo, if Hera comes looking for me, can you distract her? I’ll need, like, ten minutes max, you can totally do it, I have complete faith in your bullshitting abilities” and Echo would be like “if I decline, you’ll fry me to death with a lightning bolt, won’t you” and Zeus would say “got it in one, sweet-cheeks, now go and talk to my wife about the political situation in Crete or some shit like that, I don’t know what women talk about these days apart from how good I look in these jeans” and then he’d bugger off and go and make sweet, adulterous love to his latest squeeze, probably in the form of an animal, because that’s how Zeus rolls.

This arrangement worked like a charm for a while, until one day Hera suddenly remembered that actually, she wasn’t a total fucking idiot, and she immediately caught on to what Echo was doing. Echo was like “look, Zeus made me do it, it was a choice between joining his clique or joining his hit-list and honestly I regret the choice I made” and Hera just raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and said “damn straight you should, you’re on my hit-list now and trust me, my hit-list is way worse than his, for a start I don’t give gift bags” and Echo tries to say something like “you don’t even get a gift bag when you join his clique, what a scam” except what actually came out of her mouth was “give gift bags”, and then Hera cackled evilly and she was like ”I am so diabolical and attractive, good luck helping Zeus distract me now when all you can do is repeat the last few words you hear!” and Echo was like “words you hear” and Hera nodded and said “yeah, words you hear, now run along and tell my husband… oh, I don’t know, I guess just tell him whatever he tells you, seeing as that’s all you can do” and Echo was like “you can do” and Hera just grinned and said “damn straight I can do, I’m the fucking head honcho around here, now run along” and Echo, more humiliated than Hades at a marriage counselling session, ran off and hid in the woods, probably mournfully howling “run along” as she did so, and that was that.

So, back to the present day and the slammin’ bod of Narcissus. Echo, as previously mentioned, totally wants to cut herself a generous slice and serve it for all three courses, but as it turns out, it’s pretty hard to flirt successfully when your pick-up lines are limited to ceaseless repetition, and the object of your affection is about as talkative as post-Apollo Daphne. Therefore, Echo spends most of her days creeping around the place, staring at Narcissus’ abs.

One day, Narcissus is taking some time out of his busy schedule of being devastatingly attractive and being insanely easy on the eye, and he decides to take a masculine stroll down past the river. Echo follows him, because apparently boundaries aren’t a thing in Ancient Greece, and after a little while, Narcissus gets hopelessly lost, because apparently a sense of direction isn’t a thing in Ancient Greece either. While she’s following him, Echo makes a sound, and immediately shit goes down.

Terrified, like a woman who’s just come face to face with Hera, Narcissus is like “is anybody there?” and Echo is like “shit, shit, I fucked up, I fucked up everything”, except what she actually says is “is anybody there?” and Narcissus rolls his eyes because he’s 16 years old and being teased is his second worst thing ever, after his mum going into his bedroom without his permission, and he says “well, no fucking shit, obviously there’s someone here, I literally just asked you that” and Echo is like “asked you that” and Narcissus grits his pearly, perfectly aligned teeth and says “I’m going to knock your block off, just you come here” and Echo is like “you come here” and Narcissus shakes his wonderfully glossy mane and he’s like “no, you come here” and Echo decides fuck it, enough is enough, and she leaps out of the bushes and beams manically and cries “come here!”, and she’s so overcome with lust at seeing him close-up in high definition that she can’t stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck and basically fawning all over him, living the absolute dream.

For 10 seconds, anyway, because Narcissus is totally grossed out by this creepy girl touching him, and he shoves her off and he’s like “whoa, whoa, sweetheart, don’t touch what you can’t afford, you’re not invited to enjoy this body” and Echo just silently wills him to say something else, anything else so that she doesn’t have to repeat that, but Narcissus just stands there and looks at her and so Echo sighs and says “enjoy this body” and Narcissus wrinkles his adorable and yet rugged button nose and says “I don’t want to enjoy your body, I thought I made that like really clear” and Echo nods forlornly and says “really clear” and then she just runs away, because avoiding conflict is another of her trademarks.

Over the next few months, Echo continues her creepy stalking addiction, and eventually she literally wastes away from sadness, because as we all know, a woman is nothing without the love of a man. Luckily her consciousness remains, and so she’s still able to follow Narcissus around like a bad smell. Unluckily, this means that she gets to watch Narcissus act like a total fucking douche about a hundred more times, just rejecting all these well-meaning people who want to maybe stroke his face a few times and have him tell them that they’re pretty, and eventually, one rejected nice guy decides that enough is enough. His manly pride wounded, he raises his fist to the sky, probably knocking off his fedora in the process, and says “Narcissus has friend-zoned one too many of us! I hope the fucker falls in love one day with someone who’ll never love him back. Then he’ll know what it’s like to live under the cruel haze of inadequacy, or something like that. I am so alone.”

So, a few days later, Narcissus is out hunting in the woods with a group of his less attractive bros, and he suddenly realises how thirsty he is. Actually thirsty, that is. It’s not euphemistic. So he jumps gracefully off his trusty steed and goes to the nearest spring, and he’s about to take a nice long sip of water when he spies this goddamn vision of loveliness in the spring, and immediately he’s just like “oh my days, this must be what love feels like, or perhaps it’s just teenage arousal, but either way, I want to get on that” and so he just sits there, staring into the spring, saying stuff like “babe, your hair is like spun silk, I could run my hands through it and give you a scalp massage at the same time because that’s the kind of boyfriend I’d be”, but the image in the water doesn’t respond and Narcissus is like “this must be how all those people I rejected felt, don’t make me feel empathy, just love me” 

but obviously, the image doesn’t reply because it’s just Narcissus’ fucking reflection, and this entire time Echo is just watching him like ‘holy shit, and to think this is the man I’m in love with, he’s certainly something to look at but there’s absolutely jack shit going on upstairs’. At one point, Narcissus leans in to try and give the hot boy in the pool a cheeky smooch, and the water is disturbed and the reflection fades away, and Narcissus panics and he’s like “whoa, whoa, I’m sorry, I moved too fast, we can take it slow, baby, just come back to me” and the water stills again and the reflection returns and Narcissus smiles wanly and says “this is enough for me, baby, we don’t ever have to touch, just let me look at you” and by god, does he look. For weeks, he just sits there like a teenage girl waiting for One Direction ticket announcements, staring into the spring and sighing wistfully.

Eventually, he just starts to waste away staring lovelorn at his own reflection. Instead of doing the normal thing and doing things that are necessary for life, such as eating, he literally just lies by the water and stares at himself, because Narcissus is nothing if not committed. He’s so committed that he ultimately ends up dying, because that’s the sort of thing you should be willing to do for love. With one last melodramatic sigh, he whispers “I just don’t get it, I’m a hot hunk of beefcake, everyone else wanted me but you… farewell” and then he just keels over and dies the lamest death that anyone has ever died. Echo, who’s been doing her usual routine of standing unnervingly near and watching, says “farewell”, which for once is not an inappropriate thing to say and would probably make a really great line of dialogue in a Nicholas Sparks novel, and then she watches as his body turns into a bed of fucking white and yellow flowers, because if anyone’s corpse is going to do that, it’s Narcissus’. 

Somewhere, probably in a strip-club far away, Teiresias says “I fucking told you so”.

More mythological goodness can be found herehere and here. The latter two links also allow you to follow my progress in writing a whole actual book. Thrilling.

Keep reading

AUTOLATRY

/ɔːˈtɒlətri/

noun

I. worship of oneself

II. when I told him he was lucky, he said cockiness doesn’t suit me. his hand (oh god his hand, my mercy, my heart) he pulled away and I cringed and laughed and said I was joking.

III. he didn’t feel lucky so I left. I glanced in the mirror 32 times while I told him to go because I needed the reminder of my mouth and my eyes and my cheekbones and my sharp teeth that I loved myself enough to leave.

IV. she came around with eyes that looked like the sky at 20:47 in summer; no longer light, not yet dark, a sapphire sky with stars waking up slowly.

V. she looked at me like I was magic and I laughed that she was lucky. she nodded, in awe.

VI. he was lucky too. because I am the ocean and the sky and the earth, I am stardust and precious metals and air, I am a smile like the sun and a love that runs deeper than a black hole and he should have thanked god on his knees that something celestiel wanted to be his.

VII. I knew this all along.
—  autolatry - dictionary poems #4 - a. CLAW