The first humans were gods—powerful ones. But as they multiplied, their powers and domains were broken and distributed among their offspring: from the sun goddess rose dawn and evening, from the earth god, stone and treasure. And as the children of the gods multiplied and became the human race, these domains splintered further and further and grew weaker and more specific, until in the present day Lars Nilson of Oslo, 55, is the unwitting god of the sound rain makes upon a single pond in India, and your great-grandmother may have been the goddess of calico cats, but you are only the god of one, named Jupiter, and he hates you.
Mythology Posters:Selene was the Greek Titaness of the Moon who drove the moon chariot across the heavens , the daughter of Hyperion and Theia and sister to Helios (The Sun) and Eos (The Dawn). In Classical Times she was identified with the Goddess Artemis, and along with Hecate they were regarded as lunar goddess, though only Selene was seen as the personification of the moon itself.
Warnings: ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. and swearing, light smut.
A/N: wooo it took me two days to write this. this my entry for @whothehellisbella‘s Cool Times Summer Jamz Mix Writing Challenge! My song was Final Song by MØ and I hope I did it justice
You never noticed how the grey clouds highlighted the sky. How through their shadows and darker outlines only made the white, the purity, stand out.
The rubble that had fallen on you had no effect anymore. Your body had become numb a long time ago, something you assumed was the last gift the world presented you with. Making sure your death wasn’t that painful.
You were aware of the body next to you, groaning and crying out in pain, in despair for some kind of help, but that’s all it was. Despair.
He too had been there with you, he too had been under the rubble, but his strength prevented him from giving up. His lower body was probably as crushed as yours was, but all you could do was watch the sky.
Here's a thought for you, when Shiro comes back from wherever he vanished to, for him it's only been like an hour but for everyone else it's been like five years or maybe even a decade?
:3 I like a decade.
Immediately after stepping out of the Black Lion, something felt wrong.
Something was different.
Shiro stood in place, helmet on his lip until it clicked. The hangar was rearranged.
Not that it had a lot of things in it already, but there was some equipment on the walls and shelving, and it was either switched out or moved around.
An odd thing to do, while he was flying around Zarkon. Shiro found himself a little irritated at the idea - he was the one who used those tools most, after all, and someone else messing with it made him antsy. But he shook that off. It wasn’t like Shiro owned any of it, and Allura and Coran had every right to move it around as they pleased.
That settled, Shiro walked back out, head tilted. Was he the first one back, somehow? He didn’t remember anything after passing out during that battle until he woke up in the Black Lion, hungry and cold but otherwise intact. Maybe Black had flown him back and he had just woken quickly?
Shiro put his helmet back on, listening for the inevitable post-battle chatter, at least from Allura and Coran.
When you’re immortal, there’s a point after a couple decades or maybe centuries, when everything becomes boring. It has happened to Magnus as well – after a long while of going through day-to-day motions, ordinary chores and mundane routines, he has gotten sick of them and instead searched for new ways to reinvent living without falling into absolute decadence.
He stopped doing his own laundry in favor of sending it to professional businesses, cooked rarely and instead snapped his fingers to conjure the best dishes from around the world; even walking or talking became a show of grace and elegance and poise to the point of not seeming remotely human underneath layers of satins and silks and the most expensive jewelry.
So this shouldn’t feel special, yet it is. The windowsill is cluttered full of clay pots with herbs preening in the natural light, mint and basil and rosemary alongside species that do not have a name in any language close to English; the window itself is thrown wide open, letting in a breeze smelling of pollen and carrying the buzz of the city.