Snippet Saturday !!

“Because true and sincere friendships can transcend space and time, can last longer than a lifetime,” Mom replied. “Because you are a D and we laugh at the face of Fate. We don't let anyone define us or tell us what to do, we decide our own destiny.” Mom was right. Ace was the product of his parents and he had always hated it.

He got angry like his father and had the proud arrogance of his mother. He had his mother's taste for adventure and his father's charisma. He carried his parents' dreams and doubts and created his own path. He had Roger's eyes and Rouge's smile. He was both the best and the worst of his parents. But he also shared their will and their determination, their refusal to give up . They did not bow down to any man or god. (He was the son of a King, a Conqueror and an Emperor.) This realization left him strangely calm, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Ace closed his eyes and let the wind carry him, the setting sun gently warming his skin.

At The Dawn of Time by TheStarsInBetween

Illustration by @drop-of-starshine

You'll Need It More Than Me (She'll Need You More Than Me)

A little something inspired by the fifth headcanon because I couldn't help myself. Love me some tragic sibling relationships.

The sense of déjà vu tasted like ash and ozone in her mouth as Athena watched Hephaestus get banished from Olympus like she had been before him. Everything was the same as last time, down to the last word spoken by the God-King. Except for the tears silently streaming down Hera's cheeks.

This time, the Queen of the Gods was devastated to see her true child leave — flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood. Athena knew that if she could, Hera would offer her own life for Hephaestus’. But goddesses could not die, Hera could not move from her place beside Zeus' throne and this was perhaps the cruelest of punishments.

(Athena would do it too, take Hephaestus' place so he could stay by Hera's side. As a family. It wasn't like there was a place for her anymore.)

Ares' rage beside her seeping into the white marble like poison made her lose her mind, made her want to take that step forward and save Hephaestus from his fate. Or maybe it wasn't Ares, maybe it was all her.

A look from Hera, full of sorrow and anger, made Athena stop in her tracks. Obviously Hera did not want her help, did not need her. Athena's eyes sharpened beneath her helmet and she placed a hand on Ares' arm to stop him from doing something even more foolishly reckless than her.

Hephaestus looked so small in Zeus' shadow, scared and fragile. Almost human. Has she ever looked this small? Not in daylight anyway.

(She had never had the opportunity to be an infant.)

(But it wasn't about her. It was never about her.)

Zeus tore Hephaestus from Hera's arms and for a moment Athena's blood froze in her veins as she thought Zeus was going to yeet him from the mountain. She took an instinctive step forward.

“I’ll do it,” All eyes turned to Athena — Zeus's savage satisfaction, Hera's cutting disappointment, and Ares's corrosive disdain — but she composed herself, keeping her head high.  “I shall take him to the mortals.”

If there had been hope between Hera and her before, it was over. Not when Athena was the hand that snatched her true child away. 

Zeus smiled. “Great idea, child-of-my-mind. Come dispose of him.”

Athena stepped forward toward Zeus and he dropped the infant into his arms without warning. She made her forearm guards disappear before he could collide with the rough metal, cradling Hephaestus as gently as possible. She felt more awkward than a newborn fawn, all sharp elbows and violent hands. 

Without a backward glance, Athena left the throne room, her wings spreading behind her as she took flight.

.

.

.

Finding a mortal family she trusted to care for Hera's son, her brother, was surprisingly not the hardest part. Parting with him was. It felt like she was tearing her chest open and ripping out her own lung. As a goddess, she didn't need to, but it hurt to breathe all the same. 

She landed in a forest, away from men and gods, and carefully brushed Hephaestus' cheek. Hephaestus grabbed her finger and babbled, so happy that Athena's heart could burst with joy.

“I'm sorry you won't know your mother,” Athena apologized softly. “She… she’s wonderful. And you deserved to know her. I'm so sorry, Heph.”

Tears fell down Hephaestus' cheek and he looked up at her with big, round eyes, full of innocence, empty of judgment. It wasn't fair that Hephaestus had to grow up without his mother. Not when Athena knew how incredible it could be.

But maybe he didn't have to. 

Hera had once promised her that she would be loved forever, perhaps Athena could pass on that promise even if it no longer applied to her. Summoning to her the necklace Hera had given her centuries ago — hidden in a pocket dimension, never on her person, never too far away — she placed it around Hephaestus' neck.

She smiled in spite of herself when she saw the iridescent colors of the little metallic peacock. She had truly trusted Hera and her promise at that time, and the necklace had continued to bring her comfort long after the rift between them had widened. 

“I hope you have a happy life,” Athena whispered as she kissed the infant's forehead. "Remember that you are so, so loved. More than you will ever know.”

When Athena left, Hephaestus clutched in his hand a peacock necklace and an owl feather.

Some Slipping through my Fingers headcanons (is it a hc if it's my story? Wouldn't lore be more accurate? Does it matter?):

Athena's first crafting-related hobby was embroidery from when Hera gave her an old project to occupy her with way back. She always kept that hobby, but she's switched to weaving more since she has her official domain to distance herself from her childhood.

Athena and Ares spent a pretty long period living in a palace with their parents before Hephaestus built their own palaces. Little Ares had a proper "Do you want to build a snowman?" phase with his older sister. Athena may or may not have soundproved her door for a while against his knocking (Mean, mean owl. XD Also peak sibling behavior)

Athena refused to settle down in Lake Tritonis for the longest time. She held onto hope that she'd be taken back to Olympus soon. She started training hard to be good enough to be allowed back, and feels extra guilty because Pallas' death gave her exactly that, though only once she didn't want it anymore.

Athena is actually not Zeus' eldest daughter, she's just the oldest he claimed. Persephone was born very very soon after the Titanomachy. (teen pregnancy go brr) and neither he nor Demeter like to talk about it.

Hephaestus has a necklace with a peacock pendant that Athena left with him when she brought him to mortal family to raise. It was the same pendant Hera gave her when she was younger to remind her she was always loved.

Aphrodite was washed up on the shore near Olympus in a shell a lá Birth of Venus. Nobody knows exactly how she ended up in the sea, not even herself.

Ares likes the smell of  olives but not the taste. (Yes he gives them to Athena)

Hera's animal form is a white peafowl (wedding dress birb fr), not a "common" female peacock. She does keep the peacock color scheme for herself tho cos it's pretty.

Post-Triton Athena only very rarely goes completely armorless outside of sleeping. That doesn't mean she always wears a full set, but she does mostly wear something on her torso at least. Something non-metal like leather would already be considered casual. 

Athena called Metis "Mama", so she would never consciously call anyone else that, even when she was younger. She got to calling Hera "Mom" tho (Hera cried a little. All her kids, bio or adopted, call her Mom btw), post-Triton, Athena calls Hera by her name. She addresses Zeus by "father", but refers to him as Zeus when speaking about him. When she feels extra like hurting herself, she'll refer to Hera as "your mother" around her siblings.

Chat, what do we think? :)

There's nothing more devastating than watching a sad moment on a show and seeing how ugly you look when you cry in the middle of the night as your computer screen fades to black.

Eating is secondary. You know what's really important? Testing every possible combination of the picrew that @mischa-makowka made.

So, look at what I made during my discourse analysis class. Plus, I had this exact hairstyle today. I would have loved to use this as my profile picture but I really like my current one (baby luffy!) so I'm putting it here instead.

I need the people's opinion, tonight do I study or do I write something for Destiel Day?

Snippet Sunday !!

What do you mean I'm finally writing for Children of the Sea again? To celebrate, here is a little snippet from the next chapter, without the names obviously so as not to spoil anything.

Publication date is tentatively set for December 25th. A little Christmas present.

"The ties that bound them together were forged in the heat of battle, sharp and broken metal melding to create the most powerful weapon of all. A crew, a family. Through blood, sweat, and tears. To the ends of the ocean."

Born to write spn fanfic, forced to write college essays

I graduated therapy today, yohoo!

“I'm on Team Winchester now,” Meg explained, filling two shot glasses with vodka. “Or at least Team Kick-Crowley’s-ass-and-give-Sam-his-soul-back.”

“I don't buy it,” Jo retorted acidly. “You've whored yourself to Azazel and Lucifer. Why not Crowley too?”

There was a flicker of surprise in Meg's eyes, her memory of Jo probably no longer matching the woman before her. But Jo had died and been reborn, all sharp edges and broken angles. Full of anger and grief.

“Because I have morals, even for a demon,” Meg replied, brushing her fingernail across Jo's cheek. “Also, he tried to kill me. Multiple times. Call me difficult, but I don't find that very attractive in a leader. In a lover, on the other hand—”

“ You’ve tried to kill me,” Jo interrupted her, grabbing her hand in hers and twisting her wrist to keep it away from her face.

“And I'm very glad I didn't succeed,” Meg replied with a smirk, her eyes roaming over Jo’s body.

@bartylily-microfics | april 2 | rainstorm | 828 words | warnings: none

After the Rain

Thunder rumbled in the distance the moment Lily stepped outside the library, dark clouds stretching across the summer sky. She quickened her pace, hoping to reach the bus stop before the rain started. The ozone in the air tingled her nose in the best way possible, sky and earth intermingling in her lungs. She loved that feeling just before the storm—before the world fractured in a burst of lightning. It was like standing on the edge of a building, never leaning too far to one side or the other.

Lily had lived her whole life like this, on the verge of explosion. But she had everything perfectly under control.

Flood poured from the sky. Raindrops hit her skin as she ran to the nearest awning, pulling her jacket over her head. It was just her luck that she chose to take a tote bag today, her computer and books were going to get wet. Lily leaned against the wall of a closed cafe, watching the rainstorm unravel before her eyes.

The streets were deserted, as always in August in their town, everyone having gone on vacation. Except for—

“Fancy seeing you here, Evans.” Barty's voice was dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at his lips. He ran his hand through his wet hair, strands of green-dyed hair escaping through his fingers.

Lily kinda wanted to kick him. 

“What are you doing here, Crouch? I thought you would be on the French Riviera this time of year,” Lily retorted, more out of habit than anything else.

She and Barty weren't exactly friends, rather their friends were friends (and some of them were dating depending on the week) and they had known each other since elementary school. They had some sort of unofficial academic competition and Lily hated his guts most of the time.

Lily had accompanied him to throw eggs at his father's company at the beginning of the year. Barty had brought her food every night during exam periods.

“I bailed,” Barty shrugged as he sat down next to her, pressing his shoulder against hers. “There's no place I'd rather be than here.” 

Lily's laugh caught in her throat, shivering as her wet denim jacket clung to her skin, drops of water running down the back of her neck. Her half-undone braid fell pathetically over her shoulder, and she'd caught a glimpse of her smudged eyeliner in the window earlier. 

She looked as tired as she felt, and school didn't start for another week.

“So, Lils,” Barty drawled, “what are you doing here? It's pretty dead this time of year.”

“I just wanted to be ready for the start of the year. I really need this full scholarship to go to college.” Lily replied. Two years ago, she would have rather died than admit this to Barty Crouch Jr, but if anyone could understand the crushing weight of expectations, it was him.

There was no pity, compassion, or disapproval in his eyes as he smiled at her, just understanding and amused fondness. “Looks like we'll be continuing our little date nights this year too.”

“Looks like it,” Lily said, realizing with a flutter how close Barty's face was to hers. He had a new piercing above his eyebrow. 

“I missed you this summer,” Barty said, his eyes lingering on her lips. 

Lifting her head, Lily straightened up to kiss Barty on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. She stared straight ahead, watching puddles form on the road, the occasional car driving through them and sending drops flying into the air, as she whispered. “Me too.”

The rain beat against the roof reassuringly and comfortingly as Barty put an arm around her shoulders. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sticking one between his lips. His lighter flickered before lighting, the end of his cigarette igniting and Barty inhaled, throwing his head back. The tattoo on his throat stretched over his Adam's apple, disappearing beneath his white t-shirt.

“How’s your sister?” Barty asked, smoke escaping from his lips. 

“How's your father?” Lily retorted, playing with the rings on Barty's fingers.

The laughter they shared was bitter. Barty offered her his cigarette and Lily blew the smoke in his face playfully. Barty pinched her ribs and Lily doubled over, a laugh ripping out of her. 

“You should laugh more often,” Barty breathed into her ear, his lips grazing her skin.

Lily sighed contentedly, leaning into Barty's chest, a blissful smile illuminating her face. She stole the cigarette from Barty's hand again, letting it burn between her lips.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Crouch,” Lily said light-heartedly. 

"I wouldn't dare," Barty grinned lazily, tucking a strand of Lily's hair behind her ear. He flicked her dangling earring with his fingertip. “New earrings?” 

Lily shook her head affectionately, stealing another cigarette from Barty's pocket. Together they watched the rain fall and the sun rise behind the clouds, a rainbow forming above the buildings.