Summary: In which Beauregard doesn’t much care for her real name. The shorter version’s much easier on the tongue anyway.
A/N: This isn’t canon or an actual headcanon. There’re only two episodes so far and my heart is pretty much sold on the characters already. This is just a silly draft of character interpretation and character study. Pre-Stream, pre-campaign. I hope this is passable reading material. That and it’s my first time writing on tumblr. I don’t know how this works.
TW: for dubious consent, implied/referenced homophobia, implied/referenced gender dysphoria, angst and alcohol abuse. (While I’m no expert at any means on gender dysphoria or at all knowledgeable about the lives of genderqueer individuals as I can’t claim to know their struggles intimately, but this is one such topic that I find personal anyway.)
Beau wasn’t what anyone had expected, much less wanted.
Well, that was what her parents told her anyway after her little roll in the hay with the neighbour’s daughter; the straw that broke the camel’s back, or something like that - back then, she didn’t care much to be the sharpest about everything because who had the time when you crunched numbers, drank booze and tried to keep your head above the water that threatened to drown you with disappointment and disapproval every single damned day, which was another thing her parents despaired about before she left them for good.
And the thing about expectations, was that they tended to wear out their welcome as time went on, and the wants of everyone else tended to grate rather than motivate.
Her parents had expected a beautiful baby girl that was cultured, prim, and polite, one that loved dresses and pearls and doing her hair in elaborate, ungainly hairstyles she shuddered to think about caring for. They wanted a girl who’d be predictable, smart, subservient, and effeminate. One that would take charge of the family business after they realised that they were stuck with her, rather than the son they’d wanted. And maybe, just maybe - if she was dealt a different hand in body parts, maybe her parents would’ve been more tolerant. Kinder. Accepting. Less pushy. It might have even lessened the urge to prove herself for all the wrong reasons.
(But it’s a thought that wasn’t worth rehashing, bitter tasting and foul in her mouth, much like that singular, humiliating morning-after from her more adventurous drinking escapades, because unlike the ones where she’d wake up alone and hungover with nothing but ledgers and empty bottles for company, she had woken up in bed with bruises all over and a warm body next to her own that made her feel so sick and cold - made worse still when her father merely looked at her and muttered a relieved ‘finally’ while her mother wordlessly handed her a mug of contraceptive tea -)
And it wasn’t as if she wasn’t a girl all the time - sure, she liked dress up as much as any sensible girl who worked and kicked ass on a daily basis, which was to say, sensibly - but there were days where she’d look at the mirror, frown, and try to hide away the barely there bumps on her chest with thicker cloth or bind them with linen, where the pronouns of ‘she’ and ‘her’ became more of a weighty reminder of what she was and what she looked like in everyone else’s eyes. Those were the days where’d she became louder, desperate to drown out her own thoughts with Jester’s laughter and Fjord’s smooth cadence, senses hyper aware and all too focused on the wrongness that were the parts of her that didn’t quite belong. Then there were also the days where she’d look at girls with their colourful dresses and their pretty, painted smiles, the women she’d tumble in bed with with their soft curves and ample breasts, Hell, even Jester - and wonder, what if?
Lately though, she doesn’t dwell on it too much. She’s accepted that she’s made her choices, questionable as they were, and will probably keep making mistakes as she goes about her days, that she’ll step on people’s toes more often than she’d like on the way, and that people will always find reasons to dislike her blunt, brash demeanour and have their expectations of her shattered in to tiny pieces.
Beau found that she liked it that way.
Because she’s got a family now, whom she chose as they had chosen her, and while that family was just a group of three, ragtag messes that bonded despite all odds, she’s found solace in Fjord’s long suffering expressions and Jester’s unflappable cheer; the way Fjord barely blinked at her when she’d asked him to call her Beau, not Beauregard please, and proceeded to tell her that no, he wasn’t about to let Jester and her go sight seeing without him because he’d rather not deal with the disastrous aftermath, with Jester at her side unflinching and eyes so kind Beau nearly swallowed her own tongue at the sheer amount of emotion that surged within her chest, the tiefling continuing to whine at Fjord in the same jovial, chirp-like tones, as if Beau’s request wasn’t at all odd or wrong, and the usual questions like ‘why’ and ‘do you not like the name your parents gave you?’ never came up.
They made her lungs feel like they could actually breathe without needing to drown in the empty comfort of alcohol, like she could actually stay and feel wanted to stay. Of being Beau and to be wanted because (in spite) of that.
(And if at the end of that conversation, found Jester exclaiming excitedly at the dress Beau had picked out for her - a pretty blue thing that had small white panels that flared at the hem, dappled with red floral accents on its ends and felt soft under her fingers - and Fjord sighing at the two of them with something close to fond exasperation, well.
This interview was taken from Tokuma Shoten’s Animage maganize vol.476, if possible, make sure to support them by buying it.
Please tell me what kind of character is Amemura Ramuda.
Shirai: Charming appearance and staccato, but is actually 24 years old; a character who doesn’t look his age. Pretty popular, but not only because of his appearance, I think his slyness is also a reason. A bit oblivious, and unexpectedly very manipulative. I am envious that he’s so popular (laughs).
How do you get into character?
Shirai: I kept [his] cuteness in mind, and also raised my voice to a higher pitch. Ramuda’s voice, is the highest possible voice of Shirai Yuusuke. And, not just high-pitched, I had to be conscious in expressing the “♡”s at the end of his sentences. In fact, amongst his lines on the original script, there were “☆”s and “♡”s. These parts especially, I tried to let out his slyness to the best of my abilities. It’s my first time playing a character like Ramuda. Even now, how “this character’s voice is Shirai Yuusuke” still makes me feel iffy inside (laughs). Surely, I am still surprised by how I was able to do all that.
Okay but imagine Yuuri retires from competitive figure skating at 27, and he decides to go back to college to become a teacher.
So this boy walks into class sporting the just-rolled-out-of-bed look with the sex hair and the big comfy sweater and the starbucks cup in one hand.
And you know, he’s enjoying his life, he makes friends in his program and on the weekends he helps his husband teach cute little kids how to skate and they have this cozy little house together in a nice neighbourhood. He probably has girls and guys falling for him left and right.
And then one day, Yuuri’s out with his friends, and they’re at a cafe or something.
And a group of girls comes up to them, and they’re all blushing and nudging each other saying “You talk first!”.
So Yuuri just turns this absolutely blinding smile on them and asks, “Autographs?”
The girls squeak, and nod furiously.
“Sure!” he says, reaching out for the notebooks they’re holding out for him to sign.
And about ten minutes later, after several selfies and autographs and a lot of gushing and squealing and “Please let Viktor know we’re looking forward to Yuratchka’s upcoming season,” the girls leave.
So Yuuri turns back to his friends, and they’re all just staring at him with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
Yuuri kinda wonders if there’s something on his face.
The first thing that comes out of anyone’s mouths is, “…who’s Viktor?”
And Yuuri’s kinda confused as he replies, “….my husband?”
“YOU’RE MARRIED!?!?!?!?” his friends all shriek.
Yuuri looks down at his hand to make sure his ring is still there. “Yeah?” he says, holding his hand up.
“I thought that was just a fashion statement!” one of the girls exclaims.
“Why did they want your autograph though?” asks another of his friends, and Yuuri just looks away sheepishly.
“I’m…uh….a retired competitive figure skater?” he asks, his voice going higher with embarrassment. “And I…uh…got 2 golds in the Grand Prix…and 2 golds in Worlds….and maybe a silver in Pyeongchang?”
His voice gets progressively quieter as his face gets even redder.
His friends are staring at him in horror and shocked disbelief now.
And he thinks he might as well get it all out now.
“And…my husband might be the most decorated athlete in figure skating history?”
isn’t it kinda weird??? how people don’t pick up on details??? and freak out over smallest things???
like people don’t notice how the other persons voice goes higher or lower during a convo and doesn’t start freaking out over them hating you?
and people don’t notice how others can start texting shorter replies in a less enthusiastic way and they don’t actually start hyperventilating when it happens?
i wonder what that’s like tbh not to be paranoid over every little thing and how it is not to have breakdowns over the smallest changes in someone’s voice or facial expressions or even the frequency of their texting
imagine what a simple life these people must have
Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy
has many sons.
ever has nine daughters.
his first when he’s young, too young to know better.
is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally
silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves
bite marks up his neck.
father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was
secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her
impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.
finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s
riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last
time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could
open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too
tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.
child is still warm.
child is still alive.
cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath
the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty
will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair
will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks
down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter
will have you.”
calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day
of her life.
is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the
first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.
time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate
hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.
later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his
legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him,
but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s
wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia
rarely leaves Olympus.
no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm,
squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name
leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby
has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”
is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come
Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls
of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is
bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use
one of her libraries.
kisses both their foreheads before leaving.
falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide,
pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile
that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions
utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years
Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has
for his sister.
Hyacinth is killed.
shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at
him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in
blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.
clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring
himself to sleep.
than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are
red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A
toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of
Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”
hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed
– but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your
am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have
a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she
can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and
my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”
flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I
will take her.”
smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to
Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.
watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with
his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching
Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves
the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the
name of each one.
she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.
is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear
to watch her age and die.
chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child,
and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she
loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.
is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with
her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.
fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him
and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a
the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your
furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she
bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.
delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her
niece. “What will you call her?”
choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.
sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I
think you should name her Thalia.”
it is,” he says.
mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls
pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to
keep her out of worse trouble.
a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually
finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the
bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so
dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t
through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies
and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as
he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.
hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.
finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”
downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares,
“You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods,
ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to
look contrite and innocent.
might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.
down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond
shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep
lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues
into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.
he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month
with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep,
because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never
the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding
Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his
realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you
it was a good time,” he says faintly.
Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them,
creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.
gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.
a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey
hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he
accidentally snaps one of his strings.
Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can
help you with?”
child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out
a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”
the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between
every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing
about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.
of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite
well among others of her own kind.
sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”
the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.
tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes
over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is
neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her
attention from it to rear a child.
ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the
time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that
get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo
says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the
Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to
raise her actual daughter.”
a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an
unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be
quite lovely – all of them.”
course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows
him the side.
time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to
ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks,
and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.
stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.
is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the
sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is
dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified
when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of
his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”
no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”
grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his
eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought.
How … ironic.”
it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.
she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for
one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”
he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any
children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might
kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that
aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she
might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of
hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”
deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.
Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice
doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and
one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a
teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone
structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo
greets warily, “and who might this be?”
her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to
join her sisters.”
is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that
she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days
looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s
laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves
love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite
commends her talent.
is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves
behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.
complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has
some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell
around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she
forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing
for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.
daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks
he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.
hunts are easy things.
feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as
painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it,
if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume
the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.
she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”
is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her
hands. “You can do this.”
pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”
kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an
honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer.
“ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this
war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”
of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud
and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until
they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.
first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through
them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her
back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.
has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t
figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting
loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a
goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and
take down another enemy.
uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling
and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who
go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia
and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.
wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to
safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says
looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the
battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to
stay as long as he did.
giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side.
She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to
stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand
and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her
burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both
Apollo and Artemis scream
took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he
has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream
at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A
– nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of
injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his
shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes
the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.
get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms.
She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus
does not care for his children.”
think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks
stricken. “Right Dad?”
looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She
cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”
well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”
girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”
Euterpe,” he says.
then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to
them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would
be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he
had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”
have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend
to her burns.
thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice
like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.
knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time
at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he
loves her sisters.
while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished
Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against
an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess
hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”
least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress
off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with
Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more
standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a
way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.
she snaps, “Now get moving.”
vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with
Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.
months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His
daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t
waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does
she have a name?”
my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.
brings her to the home where all his daughters live.
grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she
answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty
and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.
She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a
asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo
doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to
her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks
after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”
has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the
underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo
tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.
is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the
flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his
bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis
rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a
very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at
one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if
she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.
don’t leave her house for five days.
curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to
know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs
and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the
gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”
never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.
is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses
him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.
when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.
too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to
focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too
caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as
her stomach swells.
tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be
ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only
manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries
to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way
that they’ll die.
helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and
worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.
sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her
cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t
want this to happen.”
looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on
her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved,
she will die, here, now.
wonders if she saw this coming.
blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a
long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last
daughter you will have.”
kisses her, his last chance to do so.
dead before his lips leaves hers.
tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis
doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You
can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re
not allowed to run.”
crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her
calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them,
soft and warm and alive.
is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her
dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like
You gasp at the sight in front of you. Looking back at you through your mirror was yourself, but not exactly. You had just gotten out of the shower, and once you walked by the mirror, something a little blue had caught your eye. You went into the shower with y/h/c hair, and now you’ve come out with royal blue hair. You took deep breathes as you lifted some parts of hair from your scalp to see that all of it really was blue. Some strands were a more faint blue than others.
Meanwhile, Peter was sitting on your living room couch, giddy with anticipation. You didn’t know it yet, but he was the one who had put the blue dye in your shampoo. It was semi-permanent, he figured it’d be a funny little prank. He impatiently waited to hear something from you, knowing your reaction wouldn’t be subtle. He had heard the shower turn off, “Hows it going in there y/n?” Peter called to you.
It all clicked to you now. Peter was the one who had ruined your hair. Of course it was him. Blue hair to match his red and blue suit. “Peter Parker, I’m gonna kill you!” you screeched as you bolted into your room throwing on two pieces of clothing that were the first items you saw, a pair of underwear and Peters hoodie that you “borrowed”. With your wet blue hair, you marched out to the living room where Peter was laying, laughing uncontrollably. His eyes ran up and down your body and rested on your hair, “Well you look, amazing,” he told you, attempting to stop his snickering.
“You think this is funny, Parker?” You grumbled, breathing heavily.
“No, no not at all, I’m sorry. I think it’s hilarious,” He knew you meant war when you said his last name, but he couldn’t help but give himself a small pat on the back at his clever prank.
You groaned at his comment and began to advance towards him. Peter was taking no chances, knowing you were currently wild. So he flexed his arm out, and from his wrist shot out a web that pinned your fist to the bookshelf behind you. Looking at your hand that was covered in a sticky substance, your jaw dropped and features turned to a bewildered look. Oh he did not. You yanked and pulled at your hand, but it wasn’t escaping anytime soon.
“Look just calm down,” he tried to reason, with a wide smile on his face, “wait, is that my sweater?” he asked you in a higher, curious tone of voice. He cocked an eyebrow, as he studied the article of clothing. But because he was a teenage boy, his eyes became glued to your naked legs. He was quite enjoying your outfit,
“Don’t try to change the subject Peter. What did you do to my hair?” you demanded, ignoring his burning gaze,
“It was just a joke, baby. I swear.” He said, taking slow steps towards you,
“You think it’s funny that I get to match your stupid onesie now?!”
“Ugh, it’s not a onesie,” he whined, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger, “babe, I’m sorry-”
“Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!” you interrupted him, yanking at your hand once again.
“I’m not letting you out of that till you calm down y/n,” Peter told you, gazing down to webbing.
“I’m not going to calm down, my hair is blue!”
He sighed, and tilted his head to the side. He began walking towards you again. Once he was within arms reach of you, you brought up the hand that wasn’t pinned down, and swung it at Peters chest. He caught it before it could hit him, and he pressed his body against yours. Trapping you completely, in the corner between the wall and the bookshelf. You tried taking back the hand that he had a hold of, but he held it tightly and closely to his chest. You grabbed a fist full of his grey shirt, and attempted to push him away, but he wasn’t budging.
Peter lowered his forehead to yours, knowing your wild mood was slowly fading. He knew what he was doing, and he knew the effect he had on your body. “Stop it. I’m mad at you,” you spoke to him sternly, determined to keep your fuming attitude, to prove a point to him. “No, you’re not,” he persuaded you with a smile.
“Yes, I am. Look at my hair!” You argued not looking him in the eye. Again you tried shoving him away, but it was hardly worth trying, without control over either of your arms.
“There’s nothing wrong with your hair. It’s perfect,” he whispered to you. You stopped struggling against him, and decided your best bet now was to give him the silent treatment. Moving your head to the side, you didn’t give him any attention and took your forehead away from his. Shortly after, you felt a pair of soft lips press themselves to your temple. You closed your eyes at excitement of butterflies attacking your stomach. Peters lips pecked a trail of kisses down the side of your face, “I’m sorry,” he muttered in between every one of them. Leisurely, he brought them down to your exposed neck. Sticking to your plan of the silent treatment, you didn’t protest.
“Please-forgiveme-I’msorry,” he repeated every time his lips left your neck and reconnected them.
“I hate you,” you whispered, just barely audible for him. Peter smiled against your neck and placed his forehead back against yours, “What was that?” he asked teasingly with a grin. You tried so hard to keep a smile from taking over your lips, but you failed trying, “I hate you,” you said louder to him.
He shook his head with a smile, “No you don’t,” he declared with a laugh. You just nodded your head in response, letting out a laugh also.
“Nice sweater by the way,” he said to you, “mind telling me where you got it?”
summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon
Eyes like ice, cold and calculating narrow over the rim of a wine glass. Soft lips press to the polished glass, the crimson complimenting tan skin. If it weren’t for the soft dent between his brows you would have assumed he had not heard you. He takes his time allowing the wine to caress his palate, eyes closed as he savors the taste. As always, he makes you wait until the wine glass is drained of it’s dark contents. You ponder on the taste, if it is bitter upon his tongue much like his words.
I am definitely not a langblr but I learned basic French and I am currently learning Korean starting with Hangul. There are a lot of things to be reminded whenever you are trying to learn a new language especially if you are new to the experience (like me lol).
1️⃣ It will take YEARS
Yes, believe me when I say that you will struggle. Those programs that claim that they will help you become fluent in a certain language in 3 months or less, they are probably over exaggerating. There is more in learning a language than just writing it and making sure you have proper spelling and it was translated correctly. You also need to understand it and be able to pronounce it properly with confidence. It’s just like learning your mother language, you were not able to be fluent in you mother language in just months or in just a year.
2️⃣ Starting with the characters is a must
If you are learning a language that requires you to use different characters, learn those characters first before the ‘translating game’. In learning Korean, you first need to learn Hangul, just like when you first learned English, you started with the Alphabet. After learning the characters, you can start forming words, and that is where the ‘translating game’ starts.
3️⃣ The struggle is real when learning the ‘accent’
This is the part where most struggle (including me lol). I struggled at pronouncing words in French mainly because I was not made to speak French (like how my the pitch of my voice gets higher whenever I speak English and drops down when I speak Filipino). It really does take time and many give up at this stage but since WE ARE STUDYBLRS, WE DON’T GIVE UP LIKE THAT.
4️⃣ The pressure is real when you try to use it IRL
I tried using French MANY times in real life when I have the opportunity to but then I just fail and make an embarrassment of myself and just go back to speaking Filipino or English and at the end, I will regret that I missed that opportunity. It will be hard to get yourself to confidently speak your new language especially if you don’t speak it enough (which is the reason for no. 3). But it is very important to have confidence in speaking it because if I hadn’t pushed myself to speak in front of many people in an unfamiliar language, then I wouldn’t be able to write and speak in English.
5️⃣ There will be times when you will lose motivation
For some people this is the first stage in giving up, but in terms of learning a language, this is completely normal. Yes you need to practice everyday in order to succeed but there will be days when you do not feel like it or it does not interest you anymore. Always remember to give yourself a rest because learning something out of your comfort zone can be tiring too. But there will also be days when you will wake up and feel motivated as if nothing can stand in your way and use that to your advantage and make up for lost time.
Idek if these actually help as I am not an expert and it no way can be labeled as a langblr or such but if it did, please like and reblog and follow my studygram (chrissiestudies) and tell me what other posts interest you because I am on summer vacation so I now have more time on Tumblr as opposed to before. 💕💕
Character Pairing: Demon!Bucky x DemonKing!Steve x Female Reader
Word Count: 2912
Warnings:NSFW 18+ Smut. M/M/F threesome, oral (male and female receiving) fingering, sexual penetration, female ejaculation (squirting), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) and swearing.
can you write one where bucky and steve are demons and they fuck angel reader and she squirts and bucky goes “ well damn stevie look at this”
A/N: Don’t judge me too harshly! This is my take on angels and demons!
“I thought you’ve been told not to come to our neck of the woods angel face.”
You squared your shoulders and walked straight past Bucky. You heard his heavy boots turn to follow you.
“Defiance,” he said as he sucked in through his teeth. “I like it. I thought angels were supposed to be sweet and innocent. A bit on the submissive side.”
Glancing at him over your shoulder, you smirked, “Goes to show how dumb you demons are.”
Bucky lunged forward and grabbed your forearm roughly. He backed you against the nearest wall and pushed his big body against yours, pinning you in place. “Tread carefully angel, I’ll make it to where not even your precious God can save you.”
You quirked a brow at him as you chuckled, “Your first mistake is thinking that I need to be saved,” you pushed against his chest, backing him up a step. “Besides, your King summoned me here.”
It’s true that you really are your own worst critic.
Because it is only you that is able to see every little flaw that you may have.
You are the only one that hears each and every one of your thoughts.
It is you who can speak, say, and criticize yourself without anything being around to stop you from doing so.
Yet, you are the only one who is able to control your worst critic.
Instead of listening to words of shame, defeat, and failure, choose to listen to those of encouragment, self respect, and wisdom.
Choose to listen to your higher voice. Your biggest supporter. Your strongest nurturer.
You only deserve to hear the best from yourself; whether it’s to grow or to learn. So please, listen to your best self,
And banish your worst critic from your life.
give me trans girl pidge who grew used to having her hair short again and is unsure of letting it grow out, looking at allura’s long hair and wondering if she could pull it off again
trans girl pidge where she wears basketball shorts the most when hiding her identity because theyre big on her and the closest thing to feeling like a skirt
trans girl pidge coming to allura and asking if she has any other dresses they could tailor to fit her, thus it ending in creating a wide variety of dresses for pidge to walk around in and show off
trans girl pidge who is working really hard to make her voice sound higher to sound more feminine after having to untrain herself just that
trans girl pidge desperately trying to make herself seem more feminine to aliens they meet just so she doesnt risk being misgendered anymore than she has been
trans girl pidge who plays video games to let off steam and falling in love with the masculine presenting female characters she comes across because shes like that too and the characters are still known as women to everyone else
trans girl pidge going to bed that night after coming out to the team and letting out a deep breath of relief and happiness because she’s finally found people who still accept her for her
Title: My Future Wife, LeFou! Words: 2,456 Pairing: GastonxReader Warnings: Little Bit of Swearing A/N: Oh dear god I can’t find any Gaston stories I like so I guess I’ll just write my fucking own I guess that’s the only way I’ll ever be happy so enjoy my Luke Evans thirst