ripple in still water

the aesthetics of the gods
  • Aphrodite: the bruises of love bites left by lovers on necks and thighs; smudged lipstick from hasty kisses; blood red roses with their sharp thorns still intact; the way you hug someone you love when you reunite after a lengthy separation
  • Apollo: polished instruments gleaming, held like the most precious of jewels by their owners; a sunny day with a clear blue sky where there are no clouds in sight; the rough script of poems penned out on scraps of paper or napkins before they're forgotten; when music is so loud that you feel it reverberating in your bones; the pale lines of fading scars
  • Ares: the hands of a fighter, short finger nails and bloodied knuckles; split lips that have scabbed over; the smooth and intricate lines of old weapons you see mounted on museum walls; deep trenches dug out from the earth; the way barbed wire contrasts against whatever it surrounds
  • Artemis: loose braids with wild flowers slipped in; the majesty of tall trees stretching up endlessly towards the heavens; the wide and captivating eyes of wild deer; cloudy nights where the moon is just barely peeking through; the colorful fletching of arrows drawn back to rest upon cheeks and along jaws
  • Athena: the straight and steady way a soldier stands at attention; fingertips smudged with ink; a stack of books to read piled on the floor or a nightstand; eyes gleaming with the glow of new ideas; the quiet and contemplative aura of museums and libraries
  • Demeter: the way sunlight catches dust motes in the air through the gaps in the leaves of the trees; the feeling of life you get from standing in the middle of an orchard with bees buzzing around you; crocuses and snowdrops peeking through the last dredges of winter's snow
  • Hades: the bleached bones of animals in the forest when moss has begun to engulf them; the way that graveyard angels look like they're weeping in the rain; the solemn aura of old churches, citadels, synagogues, temples, and mosques
  • Hephaestus: the pleasure of holding something you've created in your palms; the soft glow of heated metal; the intricate beauty of cogs and gears fitting together precisely and working in tandem; the smooth and polished surfaces of high-rise business buildings
  • Hera: the lacy white of flowing wedding gowns; the way a couple's hands look clasped together; pairs of old wedding rings that are scratched from years of use; the feeling of surrealism that comes from looking at old family portraits; getting used to sharing a space with someone else and then seeing the mannerisms you've unknowingly adopted from them
  • Hermes: the way that the low beam headlights of a car touch the roads that stretch ever onwards at night; old maps yellowed at the corners from their age; the way that things rush past when you look out the window of a car or train; quick hands slipping deftly into pockets and taking what they find
  • Hestia: the light and protection of street lights in an otherwise dark city; the warmth of your bed on cold winter mornings; the heat of a fire as you sit around it with people you love; the comfort of a home-cooked meal
  • Poseidon: the way light looks when you're seeing it shine down from deep underwater; the effervescent colors of cresting waves; the eery beauty of shipwrecks; the ripples created when you trail your fingertips through still waters; dust clouds kicked up by the passing of strong hooves
  • Zeus: the way that storm clouds darken the edge of the horizon; silhouettes framed against the sky by flashes of lightning; the splay of feathers of a bird's outstretched wings; the polished and tarnished brass of old fashioned scales
flickr

Good Morning from Scotland

Loch Achilty Sunrise by Iain MacDiarmid
Via Flickr:
Colour in a small part of the sky and a near perfect reflection just about made up for the lack of foreground and skyline interest and the photo-bombing ducks that kept causing ripples!

Understudy - Jasmine Cephas Jones x Reader

Summary: Based on a request I received, reader is the first female to play Alexander Hamilton, but is an understudy. Lin gets sick, giving Jasmine a great opportunity to make her feelings obvious to the protagonist.  

Warnings: Few swear words, allusion to smut. 

Word Count: 2,315 (I planned this way shorter and it just EXPLODED)

Request: @lawnmowerswig - Okay so I know I just gave you a prompt a little while ago (and it was amazing btw. You’re great man!!) but like Jasmine man.. Where like a girl plays Hamilton for the night and they kiss and it leads to more and ends with like half naked cuddles???

A/N: Okay so I SUCK majorly because I haven’t posted in forever because my writer’s block has been absolutely killing me, but here is me delivering on a request that I got embarrassingly long ago, I am so sorry it took me so long. This helped me push past my lack of inspo, so I’m ready for the Hamwriters Write-A-Thon! 

askbox | masterlist


The truth is, it was hard being Alexander Hamilton. Actually, to be more specific; it was hard to be the first female playing Alexander Hamilton. The idea itself had been a rock thrown into a pool of still water; plenty of ripples were created. The enthusiastic fanbase that had grown into a cult following of the musical had mixed feelings about this. Some were ecstatic. Others were less impressed.

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It wasn’t just that he could physically feel him, Naruto didn’t need sage mode to know exactly where his wayward friend had snuck off to in the dead of night from the hospital.

It seemed as if Naruto’s eyes had blearily opened the very moment he felt that chakra, that essence, that damn fire begin to distance itself.

He didn’t want to think too much on how the panic had flooded his being at the the idea of how he might not come back.

As it was, Sasuke had found himself restless and his feet had simply taken him to that familiar, nostalgic lake. Near numb, he had sat himself, body still aching, to watch the ripples of the water, the reflection of moonbeams on its surface. It had been so long since he had been here, this quiet, safe and sad little spot.

He did not intend to come back before, but he would not deny the bitter sweetness of its memory and felt himself almost smile for a moment at the sheer nature of it all. All that suffering, training, fighting, to end up back here was almost ironic…

An approaching presence caught him at full focus.

Of course he felt him instantly, as always, that familiar warmth, setting something within him to pulsate, wanting to gravitate towards it…

Naruto.

Honestly, Sasuke shouldn’t have been surprised, yet his eyes flickered a fraction wider for a moment, not a few minutes later he could barley but still perfectly hear the trained silence of the nins every footstep.

Sasuke did not turn to ackowledge the approach but Naruto didn’t need such to know that the other had already felt him.

The blonde plopped next to him, rather ungracefully, grunting softly most likely from the fact he was just as sore as Sasuke was.

Neither spoke, for their silence was comfortable and almost so lovely it hurt. It had been so long since it had been like this, just sitting beside one another after a mission, tired and worn and somehow content to simply be in one another’s company.



As usual it was Naruto who broke the quiet first.

“Ya know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He laughed softly, shaking his head, a soft smile on his lips.

Blushing, he peeked a sideward glance at the raven haired boy.

“To just sit next to you again.“

Scratching the back of his tousled blonde locks he continued on, no longer thinking much about what he was saying, it was flowing out of him and Sasuke listened intently.

“I know you already know… Silly how I can sometimes forget how much you really know me. Even after all those years we spent apart…”

Naruto looked away, those were still fresh wounds that hurt to talk about but he found himself smiling beside himself

“When I saw you, all that pain of time being lost faded. Like when I finally got to be with you everything went still… Which is sort of weird, ya know cause those moments were never enough.”

Sasuke felt something radiating through every facet of his being but naming it was frightening.

It would be just like Naruto to voice aloud the secrets they had already seen in one another’s hearts.

It was one thing to read his soul before a battle. Another to do so sitting here, a calm sweet breeze in the air, Naruto’s body beside his own, no plans, no motive.

Yes, of course he knew, for he felt it too. So much that it… Hurt.

Flashes of their last battle flickered before Sasuke’s vision. His sharingan had been engraining Naruto’s every movement to memory. With an opponent like Naruto, one couldn’t risk a moments distraction.

Sasuke smirked at the thought, Naruto would love to hear him admit that aloud but there wasn’t a chance he’d ever give the dobe that kind of satisfaction.

Not only that but Sasuke had wanted to recall every facial expression, take in the endlessness of his blue eyes, those charming whiskers, that determined glare… He wanted to put all that beauty that was Naruto and keep it in a mason jar snugged deep within his soul.

It was a masochistic ritual meant to make the killing of this boy even more devastating. Yes for he really had intended to do it.

Sasuke gulped, a slight tremble running up his single hand.

Naruto took notice and turned to face him fully now.

“What is it?”

Sasuke pondered for a moment if he should disclose anything to him. What words would he even say?

To say sorry didn’t feel right when Naruto hadn’t ever felt his intentions in any other way then it meaning the death of them both.

“Stubborn.” Sasuke murmured, suddenly. “Just so I wouldn’t be alone, you were really going to let me kill you and you were really going to kill me.”

Naruto’s eyes softened, his smile faltering somewhere lost in anguish and in love. Abruptly, he was pouting and Sasuke tilted his head curiously at the sight.

“You’re just as stubborn, teme! Worse even!”

Sasuke laughed at him, which only furthered his pouting.

“Did you miss me when you were gone?” Naruto asked, shamelessly, without warning.

“I tried not to think of you.” Sasuke answered, truthfully, shyly because it had been a feat he couldn’t ever tackle.

Naruto had to admit that ached. But he showed nothing of it.

“It turned out to be an act of futility though.” He added on, casually, despite how for some reason his heart was racing in his ribcage.

“Since sunsets have a way of reminding me of you. It’s very troublesome.”

“Heh.” Naruto’s entire cheeks went a soft pink that contrasted like art against his tanned skin. It didn’t go unnoticed by the boy beside him.

“I feel the same way about the moon but … To be honest I couldn’t ever stop thinking of you.”

“I know.” Sasuke’s voice went tender and when Naruto reached his good arm to let his fingers graze Sasuke’s, something inside him burst.

Like a tidal wave, no like a fucking volcanic eruption and when they intertwined their fingers, something like heaven crawled up both their nerves.

The comfy silence remained, the tiniest hues of light began to signify that soon the sun would rise, both boys a little surprised at how hours had passed and not just a few mere minutes.

Maybe that was one of the things the dobe was right about, Sasuke thought, with him time really did slow and yet there really never was enough of it.

Sasuke stole a glance at his bestfriend, who was dangling his feet across the edge of the bridge, a delicate, little smile about his lips.

Feeling his stare, Naruto met his gaze, blue eyes on black.

Naruto let his fingers slide from Sasuke’s, a loss of warmth Sasuke would have protested if Naruto had not immediately trailed his fingertips across his pale cheekbone, to grab a soft onyx lock of hair and gently place it behind his ear, revealing the swirling purple of the rinnegan.

Sasuke tried desperately to keep the rushing warmth from his face. Naruto didn’t remove his hand from its spot behind Sasuke’s neck.

Kiss him, you coward, Sasuke thought. The desire and need for that intimacy and closeness to Naruto had completely taken over.

His eyes instantaneously casting downward to see the sculpted pink lips of his…

Friend.

What a insufficient phrase that had always been. Frustrated and determined, he gripped Naruto’s chin, Sasuke leaned forward and captured those lips, which were even softer and warmer then he could have daydreamed.

Blue eyes went wide only to flutter close, the kiss was short and somehow they both felt breathless once they broke apart, foreheads touching.

Something like fire burning at each of their cores.

“I’m still really glad I met you.” Naruto whispered.

“Even if it means one arm?”

The blonde chuckled and let his hand run through the others hair, caress his cheek, scoot in even closer till he was nearly on the others lap

It just felt too good to be beside him and Sasuke clearly had no objection to this, in fact for the rest of that sunrise they sat, legs intertwined, shoulders and heads resting against one another.

“Thank you, Naruto.” Sasuke said, looking down at the boy with half closed eyelids, near sleep on his shoulder

“For what?” The blonde yawned, sleepily.

“For being my damn usuratonkachi.”

Naruto raised his head to stick a tongue out at him.

Sasuke smirked in return. For the first time since Itachi, he felt safe and like he was home.

“Well then thanks for being my teme.”

“Hn.” Was the ravens only reply.

The rest of their time there was filled with tiny bouts of conversations about what each other had missed in their time apart, about their childhood and their plans and thoughts of the future.

Sasuke was content to hear the babbles and daydreaming of his idiot and they would have went on even longer if Naruto’s stomach hadn’t growled mid sentence.

“Ramen?” Sasuke figured and Naruto beamed at him, a burst of energy hauling him to his feet, he reached his hand out and Sasuke accepted, that same electric feeling soaring within him.

They walked hand and in hand. Neither feeling quite like letting go.

Fucking Fin.
Divination in Hyrule

So after making this post the other day, my brain rattled it around for a bit more. I asked my peeps over at the hyrulian pc discord chat for some input and we got a few more ideas hammered out:

Hylians seem to have a certain skill for dream interpretation and the Royal Family is known for their eerily accurate prophetic dreams. This is believed to come from their divine lineage and the goddess Nayru.

The Sheikah are masters of trancework and shadow-scrying. Its been said that their dreamwalkers were able to see hundreds of years into the future at one time. The Lens of Truth could be coaxed into revealing the true nature of things, and it’s accompanying Mask could even coax the secrets out of stones. (Interestingly, the Shadow Temple holds a great many secrets, and a young Sheikah is considered to be of age when they can traverse it’s numerous dangers with naught but the Lens)

Gorons feel changes in their volcanic home the way others feel the rains, deep in their stone-wrought bones and with a sense of the earth holding it’s breath. They cast dice and runes made of Dodongo spines and precious gems, and scry the curl of smoke and hot metals in their forges. Goron elders will bathe in blessed hot springs, where they listen to the Mountain’s hollow voice echo the earth’s secrets and the heat lulls them into deep trances.

Zoras cast shells and stones into reflecting pools, the answer in the number of ripples, or in the persistent stillness of the water surface. A special pool hides at the bottom of Zora Falls, for especially difficult questions. Zoras read the pool, the spray, and the emergent miniature rainbows for a fuller, in depth answer. Rain, mist and fog are parted by very skilled diviners, and rumors tell of a Zora hermit who collects the densest mist into a special bottle that can even see into parallel worlds.

Deku Scrubs divine leaves of all kinds, sometimes after tea, sometimes dried and crumpled into a special bowl. They can tell much by the state of their swampland, and the murky depths carry secrets from all corners of the land. Lily pads can be coaxed into formations that reveal the future, and glowing mushroom spores can be cast into beams of light or ingested to induce visions. (Quick-witted Business Scrubs cast lots with driftwood and moss-covered stones to find the best place for business and how much stock they should carry)

The Gerudo are masters of astronomy, the clear desert sky giving them a consistent view of Hyrule’s constellations. Pendulums made from sun bleached bones and hardy desert plants casting their shadows upon carved spirit boards are common. The witches Kotake and Koume (called Twinrova) scry with fire and ice, the elements the have power over.

Welcome to Hawkins, Max.

It’s not very long after they move to Hawkins that Max’s mother, Diane, and her brother, Billy, get into one of their routine arguments. It was inevitable, but Max had held on to some hope that a new town would change things for her family. That hope rapidly fading, Max is quick to slip out of the run-down house, the sounds of screaming voices following her as she shoulders her backpack, pulls on her worn red Converse, and grabs her skateboard from by the front porch. Now’s as good a time as any to explore this place.

Max, skateboard tucked under her arm, ends up wandering through Mirkwood—though she won’t learn of that nickname for several more days—looking for a spot that she can call her own when she happens upon the quarry, a glittering lake sprawling out in front of her. She walks over to the edge of the water, setting her skateboard down as she bends low and picks up a smooth round rock, rolling it over in her hands. Straightening up, Max glances at the rock once more before launching it forward into the lake, watching as it breaks the surface violently some ten feet from the shore. That felt good. Max takes a quick look around her feet and stoops to pick up several more rocks of similar sizes, throwing them with force into the water one by one, shouting into the open air as she does so, the sound of her voice echoing off the walls of the quarry and back at her.

She only vaguely hears someone call out behind her as she continues to toss rocks into the water, counting the rough ripples of every puncturing blow to the once-still water. Then, louder and with more force, the voice asks her what’s she’s doing. Max turns on her heel, glaring, and sees a tall and lanky dark-haired boy walking towards her alongside his bike, looking at her with confusion etched onto his sharp features. Max recognizes him from the school she started at earlier that week. Mark, Matt, Mike…something like that. 

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9

Ladies and gentlemen, boy and girls and everyone in-between and outside, you have asked, and I, as your resident imagines blog owner, am obliged to serve. 

May I present to you, the long awaited sequel to Space Hair (now with shotgunning):

Golden Eyes (<– link to AO3, it’s also below the cut)

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Chapter Four: Loch Ashie

Jamie sends Claire thru the circle of standing stones atop Craigh na Dun.
The Catch? Jamie somehow manages to go with her.
The Double Catch? They find themselves in 1543, not 1948.

You can find previous chapters here.


Late May 1543; Loch Ashie, Just South of Inverness, Scotland.
Claire.

We had left Marcus’ croft equipped with clothing, provisions, and a small purse of coins yesterday morning. Traveling overland by foot was slow going, but Jamie thought we’d reach Inverness within a few hours, well before nightfall. Our plan was to make a few connections within the city, find a decent horse to purchase with our meager gold, and then make our way to Broch Mordha.

I tossed a small pebble into the still waters of the loch, watching the surface ripple and settle back into complacency. It was warm for May and the sun was hot on my back. Lifting the thick plait off my neck, I let the gentle breeze refresh me.

Jamie seized the opportunity to place a kiss at the nape of my neck, his small scruff of a beard tickling the tender skin. I smiled as he murmured something in Gaelic in my ear. “I haven’t the slightest idea of what you just said, you know.”

“‘Tis easier to show ye than translate, Sassenach,” his voice was low as he pulled me onto his lap.

Movement on the loch caught my eye, and I spotted a distant boat. It was a small, rickety sort of thing. Two boys were fishing aboard it and one pointed in our direction.

“We have an audience,” I warned, not really wanting him to stop.

“Oh, aye,” he nibbled at my ear, apparently of the same mind. “Maybe we can teach them a trick or two.”

My lips found his as a giant splash sounded from the waters in front of us. One of the boys had gone overboard, judging by the solo voice taunting his friend. I paid them little heed and brought my arms around Jamie’s neck.

He suddenly tensed and pulled away as the voice’s tone changed from that of teasing to one of alarm. The boy was speaking in Gaelic, but a cry for help was universal. Jamie eased me off his lap, going to stand by the edge of the water.

A concerned question came from my husband and the answer made him hurriedly shed his kilt and boots.

“He can’t swim?” I asked as I stood and came beside him.

Jamie didn’t answer but plunged into the water. It was cold, judging by his reaction. The skiff was a good distance from the shore and it took Jamie longer than I liked for him to reach it.

What’s the fool doing on a boat in the middle of the loch if he couldn’t swim?

The boy had fallen off the far side of the boat and was hidden from view. Jamie rounded the bow of it, the sound of his movements masking those of the floundering boy’s. A few terse words were exchanged, presumably as they tried to decide if they could get the boy into the boat or if Jamie would need to swim back with him.  An attempt was made to hoist the boy back into the boat, but it resulted in the other boy joining Jamie in the water and the boat flipping over on top of the trio.

A cry of concern escaped my lips. What if the other boy couldn’t swim as well? Jamie couldn’t possibly haul the both of them back to shore without drowning himself.

The thought had me tearing off my shoes and wading into the water as three heads came into view, this side of the boat. One was Jamie’s. I mentally let out a sigh with relief as I propelled myself towards them, hip deep in the freezing water.

Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, it was cold.

Considerably taller than the Other Boy, Jamie’s feet hit the bottom of the loch first as they made their way towards me. He lifted The Boy into a better position and I could tell he was unconscious. Jamie’s eyes met mine, alarm shouting at me across the water.

Finally within reach, I grabbed hold of the Other Boy, shoving him towards the shore. Jamie was wading now and had The Boy cradled in his arms. His head hung limp, eyes wide and unseeing.

I raced to keep up with Jamie’s long strides, my sodden layers of skirts weighing me down.

“Lay him down on the shore, Jamie.” I instructed, just behind him.

He did so as Other Boy and I crowded around him. My fingers searched for a pulse in The Boy’s neck. It was there, weak and thready, but he wasn’t breathing. I tilted his chin up and forced my own breath into his lungs. I lurched back, hoping for an immediate response and not wanting to be in the way of the flow of his stomach contents.

He remained still and lifeless.

Again and again I repeated the action.

“Breathe, damn it.” I muttered under my breath.

With a jerk, The Boy came to life. I turned him onto his side as he vomited and coughed.

Other Boy pulled him into a sitting position and hugged him fiercely.

“We need to get him warm,” I turned to Jamie, who was panting beside me.

He nodded, squeezing my hand as he was unable to speak just yet. His eyes communicated his words as loudly as though he had spoken them aloud.

Well done, Sassenach.

I could catch snippets of the boys’ conversation as Jamie set about to make a fire, my Gaelic rudimentary at best.

Bràthair. Brother. Alasdair. Alexander. Uilleachan. Willie.

So, the two were brothers. Now that they were in front of me, I could see the resemblance. The older of the two, Other Boy as I had dubbed him, was apparently Alexander and the younger, Willie.

Willie was getting an earful as to what his mother would have done to Alexander if something should have happened to him. That much was clear and needed no translation.

Jamie returned and spoke to the boys in Gaelic, urging the two to sit near the fire.

He guided me to my feet and gathered me into his arms.

“Christ, Sassenach, yer hands are as cold as ice!” he exclaimed after I reached up to brush a wet curl out of his eyes.

My teeth clattered as I retorted, “You aren’t any warmer.”

He pulled me towards the now raging fire and started to unfasten my skirts. I grabbed at his hands, looking around him towards the boys who were definitely watching this interplay. They’re eyes were huge and mouths slightly agape.

Jamie followed my gaze and gave the boys an order. The two grinned, but eventually turned around, their backs towards us.

He cocked an eyebrow, nodding towards my sodden skirts. I rolled my eyes heavenward and grabbed my airisaid off the pile of packs and discarded clothing beside me. Offering it to my husband, I stammered, “H-hold this up.”

Dutifully obliging, he held did so as I tried to undress with trembling fingers.

“Having trouble, mo chridhe?” Jamie’s eyes twinkled as he peeked over my privacy screen. I glared at him and dropped my wool skirt to the ground with a loud squish. He nodded towards my pack, asking “Can ye reach yer other dress or should I move?”

“If you so much as move an inch, James Fraser,” I muttered, my lips thawed enough to speak coherently, “I just might throw you back into the loch.”

Marcus had given me his wife’s clothing, having been carefully packed away in a wooden chest after her death. They were too large about the waist, but were a decent fit.

They won’t be for long, I thought wryly. My layers of skirts and petticoats hid the small bump of our growing child, but soon it would be evident to all. Come autumn, the gifted wardrobe would be too small.

Jamie lowered the airisaid as I tied my bodice into place, leaning over to give me a kiss on the cheek. I took his face in my hands and kissed him right back. “Go sit by the fire, mo nighean donn. Yer still freezing,” he grinned.

I lowered myself onto a fallen log near the fire and basked in its warmth. Willie and Alexander turned to look at me, their eyes wary but filled with curiosity.

“Feeling better?” I asked Willie, smiling at him.

He returned the smile, glancing at Jamie and then back at me.

“He’s my husband.” I explained, not sure why I felt I needed to. “I’m Claire, by the way, what are your names?”

I already knew the answer to the question, having eavesdropped, but felt it was a good place to start a conversation.

The boys just stared at me.

Jamie spoke to them from where he was getting dressed. It was a question and both boys shook their heads.

“They dinna ken English, Sassenach,” he explained.

“Really?”

He shrugged, “The further we get into the Highlands, the more it will be so.”

“Any idea who they are?” I asked and sighed with fatigue.

Jamie made, what sounded like, a round of introductions. I caught the words bean-chèile, which I knew meant wife, and my name, followed by his.

James Fraser.

It was the surname we had agreed to go with. We were on Fraser lands, after all.

The name lit a torch of recognition in the boy’s eyes and I felt my heartbeat quicken. They hastily introduced themselves, Alexander and William. The name Fraser was tossed around between all three of them and finally Jamie turned to me in astonishment.

“They’re the Lord of Lovat’s sons, Claire.”

To the Ends of the World [1/?]

A/N: It’s finally hereeee! This is the sequel to my S4 Canon-Divergence fic, Days of Future’s Past. There are a lot of dynamics and backstory within Days that carries into this story so I’d heavily advise you read it before this one, other wise you’ll spend most of the time scratching your head wondering who the characters are and why x is happening. For those who did read Days, welcome back to the universe! I have been dying to get back to this world and finish out our heroes’ story! Many thanks to my amazing beta @ive-always-been-a-pirate for giving this a look over! 

Banner made by the ever lovely @thesschesthair!


Six months after the events in Days of Future’s Past all is eerily calm for the heroes - until Maleficent finds a way to circumvent the prophecy that foretells her demise. Emma and Killian must now race against the clock to save one of their children from a fate worse than death while battling their own internal demons. With long held secrets revealed and love tested, can the Charmings and Jonses save one of their own and finally defeat Maleficent before she becomes an unstoppable evil?


Rated: M
FFNET | AO3
Prologue - Ch 1

Prologue

On the shores of a vast and still lake, beneath the canopy of stars that had bore witness to the creation of all realms, stood a lone figure.

She would have been considered a vision if any mortal had been there to witness her presence, her beauty unparalleled except for that of Aphrodite’s. Her features were soft with her skin glowing alabaster in the moonlight, her black hair cascading down her shoulders and a stark contrast to the white gown that hugged her form. For centuries Mankind had written poems and songs about her, weaving her name and title into their tales until she was nothing more than a legend in their world - a faceless and forgotten woman. But they would never know the true depth of her being. She had been a fixed point in the cosmos since the dawn of time, born from the raw magic of the world and placed as its guardian before Mankind had even winked into existence. Power that not even the Dark Ones would have been able to comprehend flowed through her veins and seeped into the very air around her.

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Enneagram Types As

What I Think Of When I Hear Each Enneagram Type 

What I think of when I hear 1: 

The brave white knight, valiantly pursuing his cause, the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil, pointy graphite tip just waiting to eagerly touch paper, a freshly washed shirt with the wrinkles being slowly ironed out until it’s smooth, perfectly cooked, crisp bacon with the edges curling up slightly, the frustration an artist feels when they’re just on the edge of the piece being the best it can be but it’s not quite there, the moment before they can declare it a masterpiece, a 5 year old child trying to get the angle on his drawing right and he keeps erasing until the paper is almost ripped, and smudges are everywhere until he tosses it aside and gets a new paper, starting over, a neatly written list with a slender check mark besides each completed duty, the scent of mint gum, a paper airplane soaring above someone’s head and landing on its intended target

What I think of when I hear 2:

A slender girl, helping an elderly woman sit down, the scent of freshly baked cookies, a family event, where it’s loud and raucous and everyone is arguing but there’s so much love that you do it again every year, two children whispering to each other and pinky promising that they’ll always be best friends and wearing matching charm necklaces, years later, still friends, one comforting the other as she cries over a break up, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, laughing so hard with your loved ones that your stomach begins to hurt, a pretend annoyed smile filled with affection as you watch your significant other do something silly, a mother beaming as she holds her newborn child, finally, love overflowing as she stares in awe at its tiny face and flailing fists, desperately holding onto a loved one’s hand and worrying frantically as they’re on their death bed, the bond of siblings who shout and argue all the time but in the end curl up beside each other and fall asleep when the love wins out

What I think of when I hear 3: 

Shiny trophies, the reflection of gelled back hair and a winning smile glinting back at you from the shelf on which they’re presented, a man standing in a mirror, fixing his tie just right and adjusting the sleeves of his suit, overflowing confidence, sipping expensive wine, a woman in a bold, red dress whose heels click on the floor with every step, an athlete who won the race by just a few seconds, bent over panting, hands on his knees, the most popular girl in elementary school affixing a bow to her blonde hair before she strides out the door, a couple at a carnival, a guy just won his girlfriend a stuffed animal and she’s hugging it to her chest, it took him three tries but he finally got it, a burning face when you stumble on stage, a perfectly exacted ballet performance, everyone bows at the end before the curtains slide closed, and then they all sag, exhausted and panting, but so, so proud. 

What I think of when I hear 4: 

The quirky eccentricity of an oddball. The mad musician, playing furiously, pounding their heart out upon those violin strings, sawing away viciously, the dreamer who lies in the grass and stares at the stars, streaks of unusually colored hair, polka dots and stripes combined together boldly, splashes of paint upon an unsuspecting canvas, a quirky, offhanded comment delivered that makes everyone giggle at the oddness of it, earnest expression, a girl sitting on a boulder by a rushing river, dipping her feet in, as she doodles idly in her notebook, multicolored lipstick, focused eyes speaking with depth, staring at a rainbow and believing there really is a pot of gold with a leprechaun at the end, and believing aliens could abduct you at any moment, and not caring, the old man who wears his tin hat proudly, not caring that others believe he is crazy, mismatched knee high socks combined with flip flops, lemonade on a hot summer day through a bendy straw, and walking on the moon, and walking on the ceiling, and the fizz of soda right after you take a sip

What I think of when I hear 5: 

A person fiddling at a Rubik’s Cube and right when they figure it out, twist it all out of place again, causing others to gasp, as they try all over again, a notebook filled with messy scrawl and notes, tossed carelessly onto a desk, pen flung alongside it, a dark cabin, a serious tone, curtains drawn shut as an eye peeks out from the crack between them, curiosity winning out, the nerd in the corner of class who stares out into space, stacks and stacks of thick books with cramped notes in the margins, sweats and hoodies with glasses that are askew, lying awake at night trying to solve a problem one of your friends is having as if it were a mathematical equation, matte everything, sitting in a coffee shop alone with your laptop, sitting alone in a quiet forest, sitting still enough that wild animals come close enough to sniff you, still pond water only ripples ever so slightly, a professor in his element as he begins to lecture the class, slowly gaining confidence and speeding up, the furrow of your brow when you’re trying to remember something and finally do, a black cat sitting on a fence quietly observing

What I think of when I hear 6:

The gaze of a frightened rabbit, not sure if it’s a fox or something completely harmless, a shout as you slip on something you didn’t notice before, the relief you feel when a storm passes, the rumble of thunder in the sky, but it doesn’t rain and you let out a relaxed sigh, taking steps gingerly, staring out at the vast, blue ocean, the strengthened kick of something struggling to live as its fight or flight response kicks in, visiting an old friend years later, the content you feel when your pet lies in your lap as you sit on the couch, flipping through the channels on tv, old, familiar pajamas you slip into on a Saturday, sips of hot chocolate grasped between freezing fingertips, fuzzy, pink bunny slippers, giving your significant other a kiss on the cheek and just reveling in your relationship, the justified anger you feel when one of your friends is being targeted, when you stick beside them no matter what, getting a reassuring hug from someone you trust, an old tattered stuffed animal you’ve had forever, hugging it as you fall asleep

What I think of when I hear 7: 

The loud “WHOOP,” you shout as you go skydiving or a rollercoaster starts, dancing wildly and laughing hard as you hold your hands on your stomach, the curiosity of a child who asks, “Why?” to everything until it just ends up in the answer, “Because.” Rolling down a hill at full speed, tumbling down and getting all messy and having grass stains all over you, the excited bark of a pet dog as its tail wags, ready to play, the guilty faces of children who just colored on the wall because they didn’t like how blank and boring it seemed but they’re now realizing that they’ll also be in trouble, the big, bright yellow sun every child seems to universally draw in the corner of every drawing, neon colored clothing, making best friends with a stranger in a day, and getting lost and then ending up in an even better situation, the sly gaze of people who have known each other forever and are mischievously planning something when they both make eye contact, and it’s as if an invisible light bulb has popped up above each of their heads

What I think of when I hear 8: 

The sharp bark of a medic who knows what they’re doing when they see someone injured, the heavy sigh of someone who knows the difference between what they want to do and what they have to do and does what they have to, the clang of armor and swords clashing together, the confident stride of someone who can get what they want, and if they don’t, they’ll just take it instead, the clenched fists of someone who’s just seen one of their loved ones be hurt and is taking names, the determined gaze of someone who’s dying when they make their death wish, feeble and wheezing but still manages to grasp their loved one’s hand firmly, the scent of a letter written in pure black ink when it’s still wet and barely drying, applying red lipstick with a wicked grin, the flick of your wrist when you’re drawing on your eyeliner wing, slamming your fist down on a table and demanding justice as you stand, a towering building, still majestic, even in its old age as it begins to crumble, the reverberating echo of a clock after it strikes the hour

What I think of when I hear 9: 

A tinkling laugh, a flowing, white dress, twirling in a circle and flopping down, a shy smile, the scent of your favorite candle, flickering, rain that’s not heavy, but just barely sprinkling and bringing your face up to the sky and closing your eyes, the twinkling of the stars in the night sky, lacing your fingers through someone else’s and feeling their fingertips link through yours, sipping tea on your porch in a sweater, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, going to an aquarium and watching the fish swim by majestically in awe, with your face up close to the glass and hands pressed to it. A romantic loveletter, a quiet, muffled giggle, talking on the phone for hours, and hanging upside down with your feet on the wall while you do so, drifting off into a daydream, closing a good book with a contented sigh, a concerned, shifting gaze between two friends who have begun to argue, falling asleep and not quite realizing you have yet as you bury your face into your pillow and pull your blanket tighter

Pool Time [Requested]

“I can’t believe you installed a pool,” you frowned, staring into his backyard. “Are you sure you have enough money for this?” You turned to Jin, who was proudly standing beside you. He looked at you and just cocked an eyebrow in response. It made you laugh.

“It’s a good thing I got you a swimsuit because we’re going to test it out today,” Jin grinned excitedly. You laughed again, wordlessly consenting to test out the new pool. He jogged upstairs, and you waited patiently for him. When he returned, you were surprised to see him shirtless and in his swim trunks already. You tried to avert your gaze, but your eyes kept wanting to scan over his chest and stomach. He strode over to you and handed you the swimsuit he bought for you. It was a green-colored two piece, but it looked decent.

You shamelessly glanced down at his red swim trunks with the Mario “M” in the corner before he spoke to you.

“Go on; I want to get in!”

You stuck your tongue out at him for hurrying you, but you changed quickly in another room. You passed a mirror in the hallway, saw Luigi’s “L” on your chest, and sighed with amusement.

Jin was already outside, starting to test the water. You snuck up behind him, pushing him in. He yelped and spluttered; he got his bearings quickly despite his disorientation. He tried to glare at you, but all that came out was: “it’s cold!”

“You didn’t turn on the heater, genius! Of course it’s cold!” You doubled over in laughter while Jin slogged his way out of the pool. He waddled over to the heater, turned it on, and waddled back to you. He smirked and unceremoniously scooped you up and tossed you into the water. You squealed the whole way down, and while you were still underwater, you felt the water ripple as Jin jumped in after you. Swimming to the surface quickly, you fought the cold away with every fiber of your being. You tried your best to breathe deeply and not shiver. You looked around confusedly; Jin hadn’t surfaced yet.

Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull you close, and you pressed against his dripping chest. You whipped around and smacked him in the shoulder, but he just grinned at you.

“The heater will come on soon,” he promised, laughing at your chilly form.

“It’d better,” you grumbled while clutching your shoulders. “I’m freezing.” He moved towards you a little bit.

“I can warm you up, if you want,” he said, removing a wet strand of hair from your face. You bit your lip unconsciously. His tone had dropped a bit, and it made your stomach clench. He leaned his face down towards you, and you froze, unsure of what his intentions were. His hands slid down your arms slowly; your body started to hum with a dull heat—until he found your ribs and tickled you.

You shrieked and swam away, making sure to splash him in your retreat. You made it to the wall and tried to clamber out, but Jin caught you and dragged you back. Your back was against him once again as he trapped you against the wall. Your fingers curled in the small puddles on the lip of the pool. The water was definitely warmer than before, and you could feel Jin’s breath against your ear.

Jin’s fingertips ran down your sides again, but this time, they moved in a more sensual manner.

“You look really good in this,” he murmured, tugging lightly at your waistband. You just hummed in response, giving no indication of how aroused you actually were. “Can I get a better look?”

You turned around and faced him; you were somehow surprised at how close he was. He looked you over, his fingers unconsciously tightening against your hips. Your leg “accidentally” brushed against his, and you looked into his eyes suggestively. You could barely feel the water gently lapping against you as Jin bent forward and kissed you. There was a strange sensation against your stomach as his erection pressed against you through his swim trunks. His plush lips molded together with yours, and your fingers brushed up his biceps. You found his wet locks quickly and tugged on them with need. He reciprocated the feeling, his tongue brushing against your lips.

Instead of continuing with your lips, Jin trailed slow, gentle kisses against your cheek, to your jaw, and up to your ear. You tilted your face away from him, granting him more access. He ground his hips against you, rubbing your clit deliciously. You moaned softly and pushed back on him. His fingertips teased the hem of your bottoms, and your hips happily complied with his wishes to remove them. You lifted your legs, supporting yourself with the wall, so he could pull the bottoms off completely. He tossed them out of the water, and you heard them land wetly on the cement behind you somewhere.

He pressed against you once again, taking your head in his hands and holding your face against his. The kiss only grew deeper, and you started to breathe heavily.

“Seokjin,” you moaned as his clothed tip teased your slit, “Seokjin, please…”

Jin planted one more kiss against your neck before he pulled down his trunks. You wrapped your legs around him, and the water made you easier for him to support. He pushed into you slowly, never breaking eye contact with you. From your peripheral vision, you could see his teeth clench as he hissed lightly in pleasure. He moved slowly, and if you could see the pool, you were sure you would have been able to see steam coming from the two of you. As he pumped in and out of you slowly, small waves radiated from your bodies and rippled back, lapping against your sides hungrily.

You held Jin’s shoulders, and he started to kiss you in a pace that matched his slow, deep thrusts. He sped up only slightly, but it was enough to drive you crazy. You felt how deep he was with all of your being, and you moaned heavily against his mouth. His speed made a crescendo; he was no longer fucking you slowly, but he plunged into you with fast, small movements. The water splashed around you, and he was grunting with a slack jaw against your lips.

“Seokjin, I’m gonna cum…” you gasped. Your core was building up and knotting tightly.

“[F/N],” Jin moaned. You climaxed hard at the sexual sound of his voice, and your walls clenching around him pushed him over the edge. Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades as you held him; he returned the embrace as he came inside you.

Panting, the two of you pulled apart after a moment. You climbed out of the pool and laid down on the cement, and he followed you out. He tossed a towel from one of the chairs down on you, and you dried off quickly. He laid down next you, clearly still fighting to catch his breath.

“That was great,” you murmured.

“Yeah. It could have been better, though. There are disadvantages to sex in a pool,” he responded.

You looked at him questioningly. He rolled over to hover on top of you, playing with your hair for a moment.

“I wanted to do other things, too,” he smirked. You closed your eyes and let him spread kisses down your body and spread your legs.

<3 Admin Bibi

Master Post

the song i sang

(title from something @ryekamasaki sent me forever ago)

 here’s a little something I threw together for @notsuchasecret‘s birthday

i tried for nothing but smooshy fluff Bre but… you know how things go for me.  hope it’s still tooth rotting enough after you get past the baby muse fingers taking over.

A prophecy had been told once long ago.  Of war and ruin and paralyzing fear.  Of treacherous darkness covering the land, seeping over hills and dipping cautious fingers into valleys and caverns.  Of hubris overflowing and pride shattering.

The prophecy forgot, however, that with the darkness came the silver shine of moonlight, the hazy interpretation of walls and shadows, the teasing reminder of sparkling stars reflected in still waters.  Of long fingers sending ripples through time and piecing shimmering mirrors back together.

Keep reading

Euryale, The Ghost of the Brine

Still within context of Hesiod’s imagining of the Gorgons as sea-demons, Euryale bears possibly the most sea-related name, tentatively “of the wide and briny sea”. Resembling her Graeae sisters’ shapely likeness to a swan, Euryale’s ghostly figure ripples in and out the foamy vapours of the still, quiet waters, dooming all those who chance to hear her melodious, sorrow-stricken wail for, like the gaze of her mortal sister, Euryale’s voice is petrifying, each piercing note paralyzing further ‘til it rings on solid stone.

If you can imagine

If you can imagine
The eyes that shine bright
Over the lines of ridges’
Grand silhouettes tonight,
Cloudy cotton candies
Disappearing behind the hills,
The moon obediently 
Following quietly still—
The sky’s dark, the water silent,
Ripples making their way
Toward the end of Earth
Awaiting dawn of a new day. 
But there are yet more hours,
Long before the stars sleep,
Echoes of wishful whispers
Throughout the mountains steep. 
A million miles until
I’m back in your embrace.
Comets dancing in the night theater,
Into the painted dusk I gaze,
Watching constellations glide
As their journeys are due. 
Distance regardless, I know
You’re under the same sky, too.