traveling and exploring the realm

Brave/Peter Pan Fluff

Originally posted by neverland93

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*

Request:  Hi can you do a sad/fluffy imagine with Peter Pan? The reader is a bad ass warrior princess hence her nickname “Brave Princess” with her sword and bow and arrows. The reader gets shot and Peter (who secretly lives her and vica versa) tries to heal her before she blacks out. Maybe a confession scene between them in his tent? Plez and thank you:-)

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Greek Mythology!AU

In italics is the name of the God each boy is supposed to be. I used the boys’ names as it is only loosely based on the mythology. In Michael’s blurb Y/N is Aphrodite because of the myth surrounding her affair with Ares.

They are also modernised.



It was no secret that the God of Commerce loved mischief.

Why, when he was born he had stolen his brother Apollo’s cattle, days old and already perfected the feigned look of innocence he now used with pride. His infectious laugh never failed to make those around him smile, and if you had no idea who he was, you would be unaware that you were probably laughing at your own expense.

Travel of course, was another love of his.

He spent his days exploring the worlds in which both the mortals and the Gods lived. And while officially he was sending messages and watching over travellers, he often used his time to explore both realms, and if a little mischief happened here and there it was just an added bonus.

It was also how he met you.

You’d been having an adventure of your own, exploring the mortal world with no one but yourself for company. And for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to joke at your expense, not wanting to hinder your journey a little by his meddling ways.

He watched over you for days on end, fearing for you every time he had to leave to deliver a message. You never saw him of course, never knowing that the reason you’d avoided misfortune for so long was that the God was devoting his time to protecting you.

Until one day, he couldn’t keep his distance any more.

You’d made your way to Athens and he knew it was time, time to finally meet the girl he’d felt so strongly for. 

You were more beautiful up close.

He was sure Aphrodite herself had created you, teaching you her ways of beauty. Your smile was breath taking and your eyes shimmered in a way the Goddess herself would envy.

“Your watch.” He smiled, handing you the small item he’d pilfered from your wrist without you even noticing. You’d almost stunned him with your smile, and he couldn’t help but gravitate towards you slightly.

“Thank you.” You’d grinned, and he thought he would collapse from the mere seconds your fingertips brushed his skin. “How did you know it was mine?”

“I watched you drop it.” He smiled, the innocent look fooling you just as it had done may before, except with you it was different. He thinks one day he’ll tell you the truth, when you feel as much for him as he does for you. “I’m Ashton.”


“Where are you heading to?”

“The Acropolis.” You smile, his own smile seeming to grow at your words. “Have you been before?”

“Many a time.” He nods, smile never leaving his face. “I can accompany you, if you’d like.

You didn’t realise the God meant forever, or that he was indeed a God.

Well, not for a while at least.



When people thought of him, they described him as angry.

God of War. What else would he be? Why else would he approve of war, of fight, of conflict? Why would he condemn poor soles to a life of battle? Why would he condone violence if he was anything other than resentful, anything ther tha frenzied and plagued with anger.

And to begin with, he’d believed them.

He saw nothing but red, eventually colouring his hair to match the angry colour. The colour of blood, blood that was spilt in his name. And black. He saw black. The black of the night when the sacrifices to him were made. The black of his clothes, his leather jacket darker than night and his jeans ripped at the knees to represent his anger.

He almost became the very thing they all said he was.


Until you changed that.

You with your laugh made of music and your eyes made from starlight. Your smile that shone and he swore that you were constantly surrounded by sunlight, even in the rain. You were the definition of beautiful What else would you be, Goddess of Love.

You told him he was passion.

He believed you, how could he not? How did he have any other choice but to believe you when you said it with such confidence, said it with such conviction. You made him realise what it was like to smile, to laugh. What it was like to accept the fate he’d been given by his status.

What it was like to love.

With your fingers intertwined he realised that the opinions of others didn’t really matter as long as you saw him for who he was. As long as you knew that he was more than just battle cries and war paint, that he was capable of more than sword fighting and battle plans, he didn’t care that no one else realised. That if he had your words of encouragement, the hatred of others was more than sufficiently drowned out.

“You should wear white sometimes Mike.” You mused one day, the two of you innocently walking along a mortal street. Every passer by was staring at you, and he bit back his tongue when a group of men wolf whistled. “It would make your eyes shine more.”

“If you say so Princess.” He hummed, lips brushing your temple.

He brought the white in, just like you’d said to. Whilst the leather jacket remained, he started to adjust to your suggestions, slowly moving away from the stereotype he’d forced himself into.

His hair was blue now.

And his heart was full of passion, and was completely and utterly yours.



His eyes always matched the sea.

It made sense, of course. The ocean was his realm, his job, his domain. He was the God of the Sea and why would his eyes be anything but blue. Why would they do anything other than perfectly mirror the waves that met the shore, some days dark and other’s the purest colour you thought you’d ever see.

They were what drew you to him.

You remember the day you met; his hair was the colour of the sand you were standing on, his eyes shining brightly as the waves rolled over your feet. You’d only gone to the beach for an evening walk, something to take your mind off the day for a little while. He’d smirked as he asked if you were ok, catching your arm as you tripped over nothing. His eyes were Cobalt.

You remember the day he’d revealed who he was. More than just Luke, the lifeguard who you couldn’t keep away from. You remember watching in awe as he manipulated the water, his eyes flitting back to yours quickly, cautious as he awaited your reaction. You don’t think you’d ever forget how brightly he smiled when you’d kissed him. Or that his eyes were powder blue.

You remember the day he told you he was scared. Scared that he’d fallen in love with you when you were only a mortal and he was a God. Scared that he would lose you when you realised he couldn’t give you everything despite his abilities. You remember kissing way the lines on his face and the way he smiled against your lips when you told him you didn’t care. The way his eyes were almost the colour of sapphires.

You remember the day he left you, claiming it was for your own good. The way his hair was a mess and the lightning that was illuminating the sky and the thunder that was crashing down and the way he apologised over and over again. And even though your vision was blurred from the tears that stung your eyelids you remember that his eyes were so dark they were navy.

You hadn’t been to the beach in a long time. Not since he’d gone.

But today, today was the day. Today you made your way to the sand and fell in love with the ocean again,like you had been before Luke had broken your heart. You walked along the shore and let yourself remember what it was like before the God had ruined it for you. Let yourself remember how the colour blue used to be your favourite.

You should have known he’d be there.

His smile was sad but he was hopeful and he begged you to let him try and fix everything, that he’d found a way to be together after all. He said that he loved you, that he needed you. That if you gave him a second chance you’d never regret it.

His eyes were electric blue the day you gave him a second chance.



Music and light were his speciality, being the God of both. But you still marvelled at just how skilled he was at music, and how he somehow shined, especially when he smiled. You would never get over how even though he was the God of music, he was still bashful when he played for you.

There was a particular day that stuck in your memory. The raging storm outside meant neither of you had wanted to leave the warmth of your small flat. He’d smiled lazily, claiming the weather meant he didn’t have to fly his chariot. Instead he’d shrugged into a pair of sweats, nothing else. It gave you a chance to admire him some more, a soft glow seeming to still surround him even with the dark outside, the sun far from visible. His tattoos stood out against his brown skin, and you’d asked him for the first time a question that had plagued your mind sincce the first time he’d revealed his identity.

“Are Gods allowed tattoos?” Your voice was soft, wearing nothing but your underwear and one of his band shirts. He had thousands of the things, claiming he needed to show his appreciation for all the music the mortal world had to offer. He’d smirked, shrugging as he’d made you breakfast.

“This one is.”

You’d spent the day doing nothing, just revelling in each other’s presence. By late afternoon you were both sprawled on the sofa, your laptop on your knees as he quietly strummed at an acoustic guitar he kept at your flat. You remember the way he didn’t even look like he was concentrating, the melody seeming to come to him as easy as breathing. You suppose it was for him. It was when he started singing you really started to listen, the words about love and warmth in a storm making a fond smile tug at your lips.

“It’s beautiful Cal.” You murmur as he finishes, returning to the soft strumming from before. His actions halt, heat rising to his cheeks as he smiles at you. He took your breath away.

“I had good inspiration.” He smiles back, as if he didn’t just write a song in minutes.

That night was the first time the two of you had really discussed the future. He said he could make a deal with his father, make you immortal. Or if you wanted to live a normal life he could age alongside you, spending the rest of your life at your side. You told him you weren’t sure yet, that all you knew was that you wanted him and nothing else, the ins and outs unclear.

His smile that night did more than just shine. It was pure sunlight, and you didn’t think you could be any more in love.

Spiritual Travel:

A Spiritual Approach to Out-Of-Body Experience:

Spiritual travel is a form of out-of-body experience done voluntarily to achieve a spiritual or religious goal. In order to have an out-of-body experience, the soul or consciousness of the individual must temporarily leave the physical body. During out-of-body experience, the physical senses shut down. When this occurs, an entirely new world opens up to the individual. Spiritual travel is a special type of out-of-body experience where the individual’s awareness is heightened, and he or she is able to make decisions and direct the experience.

The spectrum of experience afforded by spiritual travel is very broad and can include a wide variety of psychic and spiritual states. In most cases, the spiritual traveler is able to clearly remember the experiences and learn from them.

Spiritual travel is sometimes called transcendent or ecstatic experience because it deals with the “inner” senses rather than the physical senses. It also deals with states of being seemingly independent of the physical world.

The Purpose of Spiritual Travel:

The goal of spiritual travel is mystical or transcendent experience. The reason for an interest in spiritual travel is that it provides a unique means of approaching these distant and extraordinary states of awareness. It does this by exposing the spiritual seeker to a series of lessons about the nature of identity, and the freedom of the soul to travel in various non-physical environments. These lessons gradually introduce the spiritual traveler to a variety of psychic and spiritual states containing increasing degrees of individual freedom, and spiritual awareness. In addition, spiritual travel provides an inner laboratory where the seeker can experiment with techniques and methods of moving through the more limited psychic states of awareness and into these distant spiritual realms. We can use spiritual travel to explore the heavenly states described in religious texts prior to physical death which can help turn faith and hope from religious ideal into confidence and spiritual knowledge.

Take Me To Your Leader by wedcam Although I’m a certified scubadiver with years of travel, exploring and photographing the underwater realm, this image of a small jellyfish shot through the glass at a local aquarium is still my favorite.

My Issue with How the Curse Was Broken in Season One, and How I Think They Could Have Done It Better

I’ve noticed a lot of nostalgia for the first season of Once Upon a Time lately, so I thought now might be a good time for me to finally make this post about something that has bothered me since pretty much the beginning of season two. It’s a fatal flaw in the show, one that can never be fixed. I think about it way more than I should, and it will probably haunt me until the day that I die.

Anyone who is still watching the show post season one has to be doing so under the acceptance that they are not watching the same show that they were initially promised. The entire premise of the first season is basically gone. The first season was clever, showing us how these fairytale characters’ lives translated into our “real world.” There weren’t necessarily any major plot twists, but I much preferred the clever intertwining of the fairytales in the flashbacks. For example, the fact that the genie became Regina’s magic mirror. Or the fact that Cinderella was the girl who promised her baby to Rumpelstiltskin.

In my opinion, the reason the show got so off course from what it was when it started out begins with the way they went about breaking the curse.

The thing that bothers me so much about the way that they did it is that it basically erases the importance of anything that happened to the characters in Storybrooke in all of season one – with the exceptions of Emma, Henry, Regina, and possibly Mr. Gold. Anything any other character said or did served only to advance the development of those four characters because they are the only ones who don’t have false memories.

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