Welcome to the 3rd Street Saints. Let’s get down to business. If we’re serious about takin’ back the Row, we gotta let those muthafuckas know what time it is. Now you break it down, and it’s all about respect. Get enough of it, they’re gonna back off, and we’re gonna move right on in. We got some friends in town that could use some help. Give ‘em a hand. 'Course, you can always drop any muthafucka flyin the wrong flag. So long as word gets out that the Saints is on the Row, I don’t give a damn how you do it. You feel me?
All I have to say about this is, GARTH!!! You little hugger bug, I missed you, and I still miss you! Ahhhh and Dean looks so offended at that implication, but Garth is so right ;)
Supernatural season 9 episode “Sharp Teeth”
The countdown to Supernatural season 11 continues…
18 days left!
(A/N: Hey guys, just to clear a few things up before you read, Thanatos is the Greek god of death, and Antheia of flowers. Go check out Rhine’s story from yesterday if you haven’t yet, it’s cute as shit. Annnd enjoy!)
He was the son of death. More merciless than his father, more unforgiving than tartarus. His name was Michalis. And he only ever saw her to collect the poppy.
She had no name. She was the daughter of the garden. The child of Antheia who spent her days tending to The Garden of the Gods. This was her duty. Grow the lilies for Hera, the roses for Aphrodite, the laurel for Apollo, the magnolias, and begonias, and bluebells, and the daisies – grow the poppies for Thanatos.
Michalis worked for his father, as the girl in the garden did her mother. Though he was not death, and could not take his father’s position, he was the second best thing. A bringer of death and guide of the dead, he offered a poppy to all he brought to Hades.
This is where they meet. In the Garden of the Gods, Michalis would wait by the gates for the girl in the garden. Though most Gods could walk the garden freely, like his father, Michalis could not. In a garden where life must bloom, death could not walk amongst the garden alone. Only Antheia and her daughter could keep could keep the flowers alive in the face of death.
The girl in the garden, every day at noon would stop tending the daisies, and make way to the gates. They rarely said anything, but she would always grab his hand and walk into the garden. Beyond the foxglove and the lavender, at the most southern point of the garden were where the poppies lay. Only here would she release his hand. He would walk amongst the flowers. Run the tips of his fingers among every poppy he needed, and almost at once, they would wilt into nothingness. Only in death could the poppy be his.
She could never watch. Though she knew it was necessary, and that the flowers were not hers, it pained her to see them go. She grew them, and he destroyed them.
This is why they could never be together. The idea of the girl in the garden, and the boy who brought death was unheard of. What good could they possibly bring to the world? What good could they possibly bring each other?
And though they never seemed to age, years went by. Years of life, and death, and long walks where they would hold hands. And in a way, they became friends. They spoke more often, and though Michalis, like his father, seemed cold and unfeeling, she knew he wasn’t. The day she cried, when the death of her poppies became too much, he was the one to wipe away her tears. In the back of the garden, hidden away, that became the first day where life and death felt for one another.
And suddenly it didn’t matter if they were good for each other. They didn’t care. They were unsure of what they felt, but they knew it was something. It was in the way they looked at each other, and how he told her of the remorse he felt, and how she wished he would always stay longer. Their secrets, and their hopes belonged to each other. Their love was quiet, but their love was more beautiful than any cherry blossom the garden had ever seen.
The day that it happened had begun as any other day. She walked to the gates to meet him, through the garden, and to the poppies. But unlike the normal crown of violets she wore, today they were lilacs. Only after the poppies were wilted, and he had walked back to her side did he notice.
He looked at the flower crown, and then back at her, before raising his eyebrow. But the girl in the garden was quiet. She had nothing to say, so she just looked into his eyes, and quietly removed the crown from her head. And gently, so very gently, she placed the crown on his head.
And Michalis flinched, as if expecting them to disintegrate at first touch, but somehow, they didn’t. They remained lilacs – beautiful, and alive, and all his. Her gift to him. Her love, displayed perfectly on his head, and so he asked her something he hoped finally she would answer, “What’s your name?”
And for the first time, of the many times he asked, she decided to answer, “I don’t have one.”
All he could do was stare at her, and after a moment ask, “May I give you one?”
She could only nod, before he replied, “I will call you Morare. My Morare.”
In 3 days, it’ll be one month until Strange Magic comes out on DVD! I vote that starting Sunday, we just blow tumblr up with as much posts and reblogs about this beautiful movie as possible! I’m talking, fanart, fics, drabbles, GIFs, AMVs, clips, discussions, smut, the works! All as we count down the remaining days to the DVD release! Let’s go CRAZY IN LOVE!!!