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deanieweaniewrites · 4 years

Text

A Helping Hand

Rating: E

Tags: Destiel, Wing Kink, Canon fic, Love admissions

Words: 3034

Beta’d by: @alicethrutheburrows

Fic for the PBExchange for @river-bottom-nightmare! I saw Wing fics in your likes and knew I had to write it, wings are my favorite too <3

~~~

Underneath the dim bunker lighting, Dean sits alone at the table, cup of coffee in hand. His back is hunched as he looks over the books of lore strewn about in front of him. It’s inching closer to three am, yet somehow, Dean isn’t tired. The coffee is just a force of habit. Usually, he would be struggling to stay awake at this hour, but tonight is different. Tonight, He’s wide awake.

Everything is quiet, too quiet. Nothing makes a peep in the empty bunker with Sam and Dean as its only occupants. Castiel is off on one of his angel missions. Dean made sure to text him everyday to make sure he was still alive. The only response he usually got to his question of “are you alive?” was a simple “yes”.

Dean sips his coffee, and in the silence of the bunker, there’s a noise. It’s a knock on the door. Dean closes the book in front of him and walks up the stairs to the door. He looks through the peephole and spots a very tired looking Castiel. He opens the door for him and tilts his head in confusion.

“Dude, why didn’t you just fly in? How did you get here?”

Castiel looks around, seemingly relieved to be back in the bunker. “I’ve been walking for two days. It’s a long story.”

The hunter frowns. “What happened to your wings?”

Castiel starts walking down the stairs, ignoring Dean’s question. He’s moving slower than usual, like he’s exhausted.

Dean follows Castiel, looming over his shoulder like a concerned parent or partner. He follows Castiel all the way back to his room.

“Are you going to let me rest?”

The door frame props Dean up.. “Not until you tell me what happened. You look like crap, man.”

Castiel sighs, his shoulders slumping lower and making his body curl in on itself. “I said, it’s a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

Castiel stares at Dean, narrowing his eyes for a moment. “Fine. Close the door.”

Dean steps into the room and shuts the door behind himself. He backs up a little when Castiel starts undressing. It’s then that Dean notices just how dirty Castiel’s clothes are. His white shirt is stained a light brown, his trench coat is battered and frayed, and his pants have mud stains on them. Still, seeing Castiel undress makes Dean’s cheeks heat up in a way that makes him question their relationship. He had been having a lot of those moments. “Why are you taking your clothes off?”

“Just the top half. You’ll see.” Castiel sets his clothes aside until he’s naked from the waist up. He’s dirty under the clothes, and there are a few wounds that were slowly healing.

“Dude, what kind of fight did you get yourself into?”

“A bad one.” There it was, Castiel’s usual sarcastic tone. “They were rogue angels working for hell. I won, but at a cost.”

“The wounds don’t look too bad. You’re healing, right?”

Castiel nods. “I am. Slowly. It’s not my body that was injured, though.”

“Then what was it?” Dean takes a slow step forward. His eyes are trained on Castiel’s chest, and he tries to pull them away.

Castiel watches Dean for a moment before sighing. He rolls his shoulders, sits up straight, and something makes a noise.

Dean’s eyes are drawn away from Castiel’s chest to the big, black mass emerging from his back. The mass unfurls into a pair of massive black wings. “Holy shit. How am I seeing those?”

“I can bring them into this plane of existence. I don’t often. I had them out while I was fighting. They had theirs out, so I would have been at a severe disadvantage if I had kept them away.” He looks back over his shoulder at the wings, spreading them a little further. “They got several good hits on me. It’s nothing severe, but my wings are in such a desperate need of grooming from the fight that I can’t fly.”

Dean stares in awe, his jaw dropping slightly. He’s never seen anything like this in his life. In all those years of fighting monsters, demons, and even angels, nothing had shocked him like this. He gets his bearings back and speaks again. “Grooming? What does that mean?”

“Just brushing out all the dead feathers and debris. There’s a lot of debris and they’re just a mess right now. It’s going to take me hours to finish.”

Dean tilts his head and approaches the bed. “Can I help? Seems like you wouldn’t be able to reach most of that,” Dean offers, his mouth moving faster than he’s thinking.

Castiel flinches, much to Dean’s surprise. He opens and closes his mouth, trying to find the words he needs. “I don’t think you should. My wings are very sensitive.”

“I can be gentle. To be frank, I’d kill to touch those. They’re awesome.” Dean lets out a breathy laugh, his lips curled in a crooked smile.

Castiel watches Dean, seemingly searching his face for something. “Okay. You can help. Just be very gentle with them.”

Dean walks around the side of the bed and climbs on behind Castiel, sitting cross-legged behind him. “So, what do I do?”

“Brush your fingers through the feathers, take out any damaged feathers, and pull the debris out. I can feel the sticks and leaves in there.”

Dean looks over the mass of feathers and starts to notice just how out of place everything is. There are dozens of small sticks and leaves poking out, and none of the feathers are uniform. Instead of a row of neatly placed feathers that Dean would imagine on a bird, the feathers are facing every which way like a bad game of fifty-two card pickup.

He takes one more survey of the wings before slowly reaching out to touch them. But right as he’s about to sink his fingers into the messy plumage, a thought stops him. “This isn’t going to burn my eyes out or anything, right?”

“No, it should be perfectly safe.” Castiel’s voice is a little tight. He sounds nervous.

“Okay. I promise I won’t hurt you, buddy.” With that reassurance given, Dean begins. He plunges his finger into the feathers and slowly drags his hands down. He starts on the left wing, since it looks a little more beat up than the right.

As his hands move, feathers, sticks, and leaves fall to the bed. Dean feels feathers coming loose and frowns. “You’re losing a lot of feathers, here.”

“That’s to be expected. My wings really aren’t supposed to be in this plane when I fly. Don’t worry about how many I lose, I have plenty.”

Dean nods slowly and continues. His fingertips brush against the slightly rough skin beneath the feathers. On the second pass, he gets to feel just how soft the feathers are. His fingers feel like they’re brushing through smooth silk. The sensation is unlike anything Dean has ever felt.

The wing under his hands twitches slightly with each pass of his fingers. The feathers along the ridge start to lift off the top, puffing up and flaring out. Dean watches with morbid curiosity, wondering what that could possibly mean.

Time passes quickly. Dean becomes entranced by the work of grooming Castiel’s wings. By the time he starts on the right wing, his arms are aching. He doesn’t care. The act is calming and it’s all Dean can think about in the moment. The entire world had shrunken down to just that room, where Castiel and Dean sit.

Dean stops abruptly when he hears a noise. It’s followed by a round of coughs from Castiel. “You alright?”

Castiel rubs a hand over his face, which is still hidden from Dean. “I’m fine. You can keep going.”

Dean pauses, waiting a few seconds before continuing. He wonders if he accidentally pulled a feather too hard, so he decides to be even more gentle.

The puffed up feathers along the ridge of Castiel’s wing refuse to go down when Dean runs his hand over them. He tries several times before huffing. “These just won’t go back into place.”

“They’re not out of place.” Castiel seems to be having a hard time speaking. “My wings are...reactive to touch.”

Dean raises a brow at that. He scoots to the side and comes up on his knees to peer over Castiel’s wing. He finally gets a good look at his face and what he sees shocks him. Castiel’s entire face is beet red. His bent index finger is between his teeth and his hairline is damp with sweat. He looks like he either just had the workout of his life, or…

Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and his face gets impossibly redder. He removes his finger from his mouth. “You can leave. I-I’m sorry-”

“Dude, does this turn you on?”

Castiel looks away. “I told you my wings are sensitive.”

“So all the angels in heaven get off while they groom each other?”

Castiel makes a face. “No, of course not. It’s not like this with other angels.” There’s a brief pause. “I’ve only ever had this reaction with you.”

“So why did you expect it? You were nervous before we started, like you knew this would happen.” Dean ducks under Castiel’s wing and moves to sit beside him.

“Angels do have that reaction, with their mates. The feathers sticking up, it’s part of angel mating. I can’t control it. I knew it would happen with you because,” he sighs, “because of how I feel about you.”

Dean stares at Castiel, searching his face for a lie. He looks sincere, and that’s what scares Dean the most. “You consider me your...mate?”

“Not mate, at least, not yet. Potential mate.”

Dean takes a few seconds to process that information. This all feels very sudden, and not what Dean expected to happen at all. As he thinks about everything, the feelings he had bottled up for years start coming to the surface. All of the staring, the touches, and the longing had built up into something big and terrifying. It’s a pool that Dean stands at the edge of. He knows that if he dives into it, there will be no return.

Just as Dean is about to say what’s on his mind, the bedroom door opens, and Sam walks in.

“Hey guys I found a- Holy shit!”

Castiel’s eyes widen and his wings curl up to his body. “Hello, Sam.”

Dean puts his hands over his face. “What did you find?”

Sam stares at Castiel, his jaw dropped. “I found a case but this is way more important. How did you bring those out, Cas?”

“I just can. They needed to be groomed.”

“Groomed?” Sam looks between Castiel and Dean, then back at Castiel. “Can I touch them?”

“No!” Castiel and Dean speak simultaneously.

Castiel looks at Dean, then back at Sam. “No, I don’t think that would be wise. I can show them to you later.”

Sam narrows his eyes at the pair, then nods. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that, Cas. Have fun with your...grooming.” He backs out of the room and slowly closes the door.

Dean groans. “I should have known that he was going to barge in.”

“What were you going to say?”

Dean meets Castiel’s gaze again. He swallows. The pool lingering in front of him, inviting him in. He stares into the water, and with a deep breath, he dives in. “Look, I know I’ve always been a little weird around you. We’ve had a strange relationship. We’re friends, but that’s never been enough, has it?” Dean chuckles nervously. “I know how I feel about you. You’re more than a friend to me. I’ve shoved it down for years, but I’ve always known.”

Castiel stares into Dean’s eyes a little too heavily. He glances away to nervously take Dean’s hand. “If we both know how we feel about each other, then what are we waiting for?”

Dean accepts Castiel’s hand, holding it tightly. “I don’t know. I just...I can’t lose you, Cas. I’ve already lost you a few times, and it’s too much. If we do this, I really won’t be able to lose you.”

“In all fairness, I don’t take the best care of myself. With you, I’ll try to change that. You deserve someone who plans on sticking around. You won’t lose me.”

Dean’s eyes flick from Castiel’s eyes to his lips a few times. They inch closer together, hands still holding each other tightly. Dean closes the gap and kisses Castiel, his eyes flickering shut. The moment is made that much sweeter by Castiel’s arms wrapping around him. Something tickles the back of Dean’s neck, and with a small peek, Dean sees Castiel’s wings wrapping around both of them.

When Dean pulls back from the kiss, they’re enveloped in a feathery cocoon. Dean brushes his fingers over the feathers and smiles softly. “This...This is easier than I thought it would be.”

“What made you think it would be hard?”

“Relationships are hard for me. There’s so much to think about. Even in the beginning, like this, it’s been hard. But, it isn’t now. This is easy. It feels right.”

Castiel smiles softly back. “It does, doesn’t it?” He leans forward and kisses Dean’s cheek.

Dean runs one hand through the feathers in front of him, eliciting a gasp from Castiel. “You seem more sensitive here.”

“Yes, the front of my wings are much more sensitive than the back.”

Dean hums and moves forwards. He swings a leg over to straddle Castiel’s waist and seats himself comfortably. He reaches forward and plunges his fingers into the feathers.

Castiel sucks in a breath and bites his lower lip, his head falling back. His wings unwrap from around both of them.

Dean grins and continues his ministrations. He drags his hands through the silky soft feathers, dragging moans from the angel beneath him. He shifts his weight and starts grinding his ass against Castiel. “I’m sure you’re feeling a little pent up from all of this. Why don’t we relieve that?”

Castiel’s eyes open and meet Dean’s. There’s a moment of silence, and then it happens. Castiel grabs Dean by the hips and flips him over onto the bed, hovering over him with his wings spread out behind him.

Dean stares up at Castiel with wide eyes, heat pooling in his belly from arousal. “Damn, Cas. You like to be in control?”

Castiel nods and straddles Dean’s thighs. “I think so, yes.” He leans down and presses heavy kisses along Dean’s neck.

Dean reaches down and grabs the hem of his own shirt, pulling it off over his head. This makes Castiel pause to wait for the shirt to be out of the way before diving back in. Dean’s hands move down to grab at Castiel’s belt, unbuckling it and tossing it aside. He makes quick work of the button and zipper of Castiel’s pants, pushing them down as far as he can.

Castiel sits up a little and grins at the marks he left on Dean’s neck and collarbones. He shifts his legs and slides out of his pants. He grabs Dean’s pants and yanks them down, the sound of seams ripping echoing through the room.

Dean kicks his pants the rest of the way off and leans up to kiss Castiel again. His hands find the massive black wings and plunge their way into the feathers. Dean is a little less gentle now, but Castiel seems to like it.

Castiel straddles Dean’s waist and grinds his boxer-clad crotch against Dean’s, creating a delicious friction that draws moans out of both of them. His wings are low, the primary feathers draping over the bedspread.

Dean uses one hand to stroke the feathers of Castiel’s wing and uses the other to cup the back of his neck. Their foreheads touch and their eyes are closed. The world is small again, reducing down to just the pair of them.

Dean lets go of the back of Castiel’s neck to reach down between them. He pulls each of their cocks out of their boxers and takes them both into his hand. He strokes them together and the pleasure is heightened.

Castiel groans. “Dean, I’ve never...This is amazing.”

“I’m right there with you, Cas. I’m almost there.” Dean’s hand tightens unintentionally in Castiel’s feathers and it makes Castiel cry out. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

“No! God, no. Do that again.” Castiel is breathless, rolling his hips into Dean’s hand. His wings are fluttering and puffed up with arousal.

Dean grabs a fistful of feathers and gently pulls, watching in awe of Castiel.

Castiel lets out a shout, and light forms behind his eyes. He slaps a hand over Dean’s eyes just in time for the room to glow with a light Dean could still see behind Castiel’s hand.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and moans as his own climax overtakes him, flooding his body with warmth. He shudders and takes his hand away, breathing heavily.

Castiel takes his hand off of Dean’s face and looks into his eyes with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Cas, I’m friggin’ awesome.”

Castiel smiles fondly at Dean. “I could say the same for myself.” He slowly moves off of Dean and lays down beside him. One wing stays straight out behind him, and the other gently covers him and Dean.

Dean brushes a hand over the feathers again. “So, what now?”

Castiel hums. “I think my grace has decided that you’re my mate, so I suppose that’s where we start.”

“What does that entail?”

“You’re my life partner. Forever. I’ll follow you to heaven when your life on this earth ends, and we’ll spend eternity together.”

Dean finds Castiel’s hand and holds it tightly. “I think that sounds perfect. It’s a little scary, thinking about eternity, but eternity sounds nice when it’s spent with you.”

Castiel leans forward and kisses Dean softly. “I love you.”

Dean swallows down his fear. Those three words used to be his biggest fear, but with Castiel, it feels easy. “I love you too.”

#gray writes #pbexchangequarantine #profoundnet #destiel #deanieweaniewrites #supernatural

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canyonhermit · 4 years

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Lost? (Portentum Canyon Masterpost)

So, you’ve found yourself lost in Portentum Canyon, California. Calm yourself. I know, all the trails look the same after a certain point. But don’t worry, my child, you’re safe here. Hm? Where are you? Who am I? What’s that sound? Why does that deer have three eyes? Let’s cool it with the questions. Take a seat and I’ll lay it all out in simple terms.

This post includes:

I. Who am I? - Who is The Hermit?

II. Where are we? - Guide to Portentum Canyon

III. What can I do for you? - How to interact

IV. The Author

V. Taglist

Who am I?

I’m what the folks around here like to call The Hermit. I live here, in the middle of the canyon, by myself. I get lonely sometimes, but I’m lucky to have weary travelers such as yourself every once in a while. I’ve been here for longer than you can even fathom- human minds, they’re so inhibited.

(The Hermit deals with all content tagged # hermit’s words)

Where are we?

Portentum Canyon, the most obscure and uncharted nature preserve in California. It’s big enough to be a state park but there were too many incidents to get it officially recognized, which is probably why you’ve never heard of it. Over 500 square miles of dense forest, steep cliffs, and dangerous rapids. Hiking here is definitely not for the faint of heart, but I’m sure you know that. It’s rarely traveled by humans, so it’s mostly populated by some of the most beautiful native wildlife in the country: the American black bear, common blue jay, Sierra Nevada red fox, hyampom hog bear, six-eyed deer, Central American whintosser, red-headed woodpecker, western double-headed coyote. It’s scorching hot in the day, but frigid at night.

Nights here are treacherous and often lethal. Besides the fauna, the woods are plagued by restless spirits. They inhabit abandoned buildings and crashed vehicles, even the trees themselves. Some of them haven’t even died yet.

You were lucky to find my little shack before sunset. I know, it looks like a mess from the outside- some have said that it looks like it would tumble down the cliff and into the river if I so much as sneeze- but I promise it’s rather cozy inside. If you can get past the abandoned coffee cups and books on the floor, there’s a pair of mismatched armchairs (ignore the large purple stain on the back cushion of mine, it’s no concern of yours) and a fireplace. It’s always been lit, however, I don’t remember ever lighting it. There’s a window but it’s best you avoid it at all costs. There’s a wooden shelf full of books- yes, I know they look like they’re about to fall to the floor, but I assure you they want- and a small stove and sink. How do I have running water and heat all the way out there? None of your business, kid.

What can I do for you?

Unfortunately, there are no gifts without charge. You must be tired- I have food and drink, but you’ve got to offer me something in return. Requests can be anything, physical or otherwise, and offerings are in words (a story, a memory, a poem, anything non-physical) as long as you deem your payment of equal value your request! For instance, you could offer a story in return for a hot cup of coffee, or a book recommendation in return for some heartfelt advice.

(Similar to the ask/offering system of @/normal-horoscopes, @/theambersalesman, and @/thetatteredveil. My responses are primarily cryptic horror-writing oriented as opposed to genuine, more benign responses from those blogs, and payment is in words instead of objects.)

The Author

Hello! My name is Lawrence, I’m the writer behind The Hermit and the concept of Portentum Canyon. I’m a writer specializing in horror, I am absolutely in love with every legendary American cryptid, I speak three languages, and I’m allergic to fiberglass. I dabble in spirituality, witchcraft, and the occult, and I’m a nerd for urban legends.

I’m a Califonia native and I can assure you that (as far as I know) Portentum Canyon does not exist. It won’t exist unless I manage to manifest it into materializing in our dimension, but that’s not extremely likely. However! It is heavily based on the urban legends (haunted and abandoned buildings, rampant cults, ghosts of perished hikers, the occasional UFO, etc) surrounding Turnbull Canyon in SoCal, with an environment comparable to Yosemite Valley and the surrounding national park. (The header photo is a picture I took of Yosemite Valley on a disposable camera that would later be dropped into a lake and barely salvaged.) The creatures inhabiting it are various North American cryptids and legends with the addition of a few that are simply products of my imagination. Feel free to ask about them, I’d be happy to infodump!

To ask for me, simply clarify “to the author” in your ask. No offering necessary because, unlike the hermit, I’m not a rapacious immortal bastard. I’m not a pro at anything, but I’m still open to answering questions about my research on California, cryptids, and urban legends, or simply about myself. Or anything, honestly, I get bored. Out-of-character content is tagged # author’s words.

This blog is inspired by @/normal-horoscopes, @/theambersalesman, and @/thetatteredveil but does not claim any canonicity within said blogs. This blog and all characters and writing are copyright to me, the author. I am not an expert on American cryptids and urban legends and the stories and descriptions expressed here should not be considered factual or accurate.

Taglist

#hermit’s words = Posts The Hermit has added to and asks answered by The Hermit

#author’s words = Out-of-character posts I (the author) has added to and asks I have answered

#foodstuff = Asks requesting food or drink, horror writing

#talk = Asks requesting words (advice, stories, etc), may or may not be horror

#canyon lore = Asks and posts referring to and/or explaining legends pertaining to Portentum Canyon

#canyon friends = Asks and posts referring to and/or explaining the creatures and spirits residing in Portentum Canyon

#cw ____ = Content (primarily in horror writing) that may be considered triggering or disturbing. If you’d like me to add a cw tag for your triggers, send an ask or message me and I’ll be happy to do so.

#[blog name] = Content interacting with a certain blog

I will add more as this blog grows and changes!

This blog is a safe space for everyone except for bigots. If I catch you disrespecting anyone, you’ll be thrown off the ravine or fed to the double headed coyotes without hesitation :)

That’s all! Welcome to Portentum Canyon, where the sun is hot and you are never, ever alone. Animals with more eyes than are natural are always watching you. You cannot avoid them. Have a nice stay!

#hermit's words #author's words #cw long post #canyon lore #canyon friends #masterpost #portentum canyon masterpost

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pratigyakrishnaki · 4 years

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The Descent of Ganga

A/N: I’m BACK! Its been too long, just... too long. I had thought that the quarantine would give me some time to breathe and get my life together but that has not been the case. School and life almost destroyed all my creativity, but I’m building it slowly, and my itch to write is growing, thankfully. For reference, this fic was supposed to be out MahaShivratri 2018... but its finally done now. I’m tagging all my Mahabharat/Indian Lore peeps: @incurablescribbler @aapagaa @dilkishehnaai @heyifinallyhaveablog @mayavanavihariniharini @allegoriesinmediasres @chaanv @medhasree @avani008 and every other person I’m missing!

I miss you all so very much <3 Reach out! I’m still around! Just more quiet 😂

Bhagirath stared at the vast expanse of dry desert in front of him. It went on for miles and miles, the sun rising in the distant horizon. The earth was cracked and any drop of water he put into it soaked up like a baby thirsting for milk. Hot wind blew over him and into the land lifting dirt and dust. No, not dust. Ashes. This was the resting place of his entire ancestry. 60,000 people. His great grandfathers and their brothers were in this desert, reduced to ashes. All because of a yagna for power. The grand Suryavanshi line was decimated. Except for him.

“Bring peace to my grandfather and granduncles’ souls,” his father had said as his last breath left him. Bhagirath’s father, King Dilip had given his entire life to try and bring peace, but the task had remained unfinished.

Bhagirath thought back to the rishi who had cursed his grandfathers. Rishi Kapil had been in deep meditation, and the bustling of the sons of Sagara had awoken him and accused him of thievery. The sage’s wrath had been indescribable, and within moments there was only ash. Ashes and dust. The rishi had said, for peace, prosperity and happiness, the sacred Ganga had to come down, but she was precious to Brahma. Dilip’s life had gone into pleasing Brahma, and Bhagirath was left to finish the task. Just Bhagirath and a vast desert of land.

While Bhagirath stared into the expanse, a fire began growing within him. A fire that raged into a determined oath. Addressing the ashes, dust and cracked land, he spoke, his voice thundering with conviction. “I will put you to rest. I will bring Ganga down, not just for my family but for the world. I will do it! On my word as a grandson, and a descendant of the Sun, I swear to you.” He turned away, vowing to not look at the desert until it was filled with water.

After that vow, Bhagirath returned to his city, renounced the throne and went into the Himalayas. Twenty, long, arduous years passed. “Om Brahmaya Namah. Om Brahmaya Namah. Om Brahmaya Namah.” The chant was the only thing to leave Bhagirath’s lips. His penance was grueling, and his body almost withered away. But Bhagirath didn’t care. The only thing on his mind: Brahma. More time passed. To Bhagirath, time became fluid, nebulous. Days, months, years swirled around him, passing in an instance, until a deep voice woke him.

“Open your eyes child. I am here.”

As Bhagirath cracked open his eyes, he was blinded by light. Brahma shone, with an unearthly light, seated on a swan. His eyes, which were just half opened, focused on Bhagirath, a soft smile playing on his lips. Bhagirath’s eyes widened in awe and he bowed at deeply Brahma’s feet, unable to speak.

“My child, your penance pleases me. The steadfastness and determination in you warrant a gift. What can I give you, oh Bhagirath?” Brahma’s voice echoed in Bhagirath’s ears, the question ringing, but he was too awestruck to answer. Brahma merely chuckled, “Ah, my son, I see what you are trying to achieve. Arise and speak.”

At this, Bhagirath finally stood. With his head bowed, and hands folded together, he said, “Oh great one, there is no limit to your glory. You, who in moments can create worlds beyond my wildest imagination, have come to meet me? Who am I to ask anything from you? Being in your presence I have been given the entire world. I merely hope to fulfil my father’s final wish. I would like to bring the river Ganga to my ancestral ashes. Their souls have not had rest in three generations, and with your grace, I would like for them to achieve rest. With your blessing, please give me the strength to achieve this task.”

At Bhagirath’s words, Brahma opened his eyes fully and looked him in the eyes, almost as if testing him one more time. Bhagirath stared back, sincerity shining in his eyes. Finally, Brahma sat back.

“I can fulfil this wish of yours. My daughter can come down to Earth, but the force of her fall is too great. If she falls with no one to catch her, the Earth will split in two.”

Bhagirath’s eyebrows crumpled, eyes filled with worry, “Lord, how can I let that happen? The world needs Ganga, but how can she bless us if she’ll destroy us first?”

Brahma smiled slightly, “I have the solution, but it will require even more resolve by you. Can you do it?”

“For the world, for my ancestors, for my vow, I will do anything.”

“Call upon the Mahadev. Ask for Lord Shiva to come and catch her in his matted locks. If he agrees, Ganga will come down.” Bhagirath bowed his head and closed his eyes, nodding gratefully. When he looked up, Brahma had vanished.

Looking to the sky, Bhagirath carded his hair with his fingers and sighed. Steeling his jaw, he set forth another goal. Shiva would come, he would make that certain.

Bhagirath peered at the Himalayas. On the snowy mountain range, only a few mountains were higher than he was, but to capture the Mahadev’s attention he would need to be in plain sight. He began climbing, and once he reached Dronagiri’s peak, he sat, settling in for another long penance.

Bhagirath closed his eyes and began concentrating on Shiva, and Shiva alone. Om Namah Shivay. Om Namah Shivay. In the frigid cold, his words cut through the wind, his mind fixed on the great Mahadev. He forgot to eat, forgot to sleep; in his mind only Shiva was fixed. Bhagirath himself was lost, time fluid once again. Soon, much too soon, another voice spoke to him.

“Bhagirath, you had called me? Open your eyes and ask, son.” In his mind, however, Bhagirath refused to budge. Brahma had taken much longer to come; Shiva could not come so quickly. He would not be swayed. Keeping his eyes closed, he furrowed his brow and thought to Shiva once again.

Lord, save me from whoever is distracting me. I only wish to focus on you. The entity in front of him chuckled, his voice throaty, almost as if he had read Bhagirath’s mind.

“My child, you have called on me, how can I distract you from myself?” Hearing this, Bhagirath’s lips turned down into a thoughtful frown. He had never heard Shiva’s voice, but how could the entity in front of him know that he had been thinking of Shiva? Bhagirath’s eyes popped open, lashing words at the tip of his tongue ready to be spoken at the one who had broken his concentration. His mouth was open ready to berate, but as his eyes finally registered who was in front of him, the words died in his throat. Dressed in nothing but a tiger skin and elephant cape stood Lord Shiva himself, a smile ghosting his lips. For a moment Bhagirath gaped, taking in the Mahadev's full glory: his knotted hair tumbling down past his shoulders, the ropes of rudraksha beads wrapped around his arms, and the snake coiled around his throat hissing and spitting. He was tall, taller than even Bhagirath and his hand held a trident, a trishul, made of a metal sharp enough to cut through stone.

Bhagirath’s eyes travelled up and down Shiva’s form, marveling at his glory, until he locked eyes with the god. His eyes widened in shock and he fell to Shiva’s feet in awe that the great god had come so quickly.

Clutching his feet, Bhagirath closed his eyes and began mumbling, “Mahadev, Mahadev you came? You came so soon? How? What had I done to make you come so quickly? I couldn’t believe it was you. I’m so sorry for staring, so, so sorry. It was the height of disrespect; I am so sorry. Shiva, Shiva thank you, thank you for coming. Thank you…” Shiva grasped Bhagirath’s shoulders, lifting him to his feet, cutting off his stream of mumbling. He looked at the ascetic king with his eyes tightly shut, his hands clasped together as though he were waiting for Shiva to release his anger at his insolence.

Instead, Shiva began laughing, loudly and unabashedly. The loud guffaw of the god confused Bhagirath even further and he opened his eyes slowly, still afraid to face Shiva. He kept his eyes lowered in respect as Shiva quieted from his laugh.

“Look at me, son. Do not be afraid. I like some spirit in my devotees.” Shiva’s voice was rough from misuse as he spoke. Bhagirath raised his gaze and locked eyes with the Lord. He saw brown eyes, like his own, twinkling back at him.

“There we go. I know your respect and piety for me, otherwise I would not have come, but you require something from me, and when you ask, I want to see your face.”

Bhagirath smiled, albeit a little thrown; Shiva was baffling. He had heard of the Mahadev’s severe austerities, his immense sacrifice, the vast knowledge he held, but the Shiva in front of him was different. The Lord Shiva he faced commanded great respect, but he was also… friendly. He was the Lord of his devotees. Shiva chuckled again, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and Bhagirath realized that he could hear his thoughts.

“Son, I see and hear things pretty clearly. I don’t need the extra fanfare that comes with worship. So, ask and let us see what I can do for you.”

Bhagirath held his breath and let it out slowly, calming himself and collecting his thoughts. “Lord Shiva, you truly are the Mahadev. I am eternally grateful to you. Thank you for coming at my call. No doubt, you are already aware, I wish to bring the Ganga down to Earth. Not only to help my ancestors but also for the good of the world. Her holy waters will bless us all…” At this Bhagirath hesitated, catching Shiva’s eye once again. At Shiva’s curious gaze, he continued. The Lord wanted him to vocalize his thoughts.

“However, sire, Lord Brahma said her fall is too great. When I had asked him, He said that if she falls without anyone to catch her, she will splinter Mother Earth. I wish to help the Earth, not destroy it. My Lord, please catch her fall. Catch her in your matted locks so she gently flows.” Bhagirath concluded his thoughts, folding his hands into a prayer.

Shiva listened carefully to Bhagirath’s prayer, and stroked his chin, humming under his breath, “Bring Ganga you said? Hmmm, you want me to catch her? I can do that.”

Clearing his throat, he caught Bhagirath’s gaze again, “Vishnu was right about you. Your innocence and virtuous character are worthy of this great task. I will do this. But be warned, great Bhagirath, Ganga flows wildly, she is unpredictable. It would do you well to stay on guard, my devotee.”

Hearing this Bhagirath’s face lit up. He once again touched the feet of the Mahadev. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you. I will stay on my guard.”

Lord Shiva smiled and touched Bhagirath’s head, blessing him. “May you be victorious in your task.” Bhagirath stood, and next to Shiva, Brahma winked into existence.

“Lord Shiva, Bhagirath, my daughter Ganga stands ready to fall. Are you both ready?”

“Stand back, oh king. Lord Brahma, let her come.”

Brahma winked out of existence as Bhagirath scrambled back, away from Shiva as he stood, his arms akimbo. He looked up as water began hurtling down from the heavens in a steady fall, appearing out of nothing, from nowhere. As Bhagirath peered closer, he saw the form of a young woman in the water, her hair streaming behind her, her eyes piercingly dark. This was the river Ganga. She had a serene look on her face, but as she approached Shiva’s locks, her smile turned playfully impish, as if she were about to play a nasty prank on the Lord. Shiva looked up at the falling water and narrowed his eyes, arching an eyebrow, almost daring Ganga to continue, reading her thoughts.

Bhagirath watched on, his face furrowing in more confusion as Ganga gushed into Shiva’s hair but never came out. More water flowed and flowed, falling out of the sky, straight into the Mahadev, but why wasn’t she leaving? Why wasn’t she hitting the earth? Bhagirath watched brows creased as Shiva began cackling again. He studied Shiva’s hair, looking for Ganga’s form, and found her struggling against the hair, trying to push her way out. She wiggled this way and that, trying to tear apart her hairy prison to touch the floor. Bhagirath watched as Shiva laughed and Ganga struggled back and forth. His eyes widened in alarm as he caught on. At this rate, the river would never reach the Earth!

Bhagirath clambered over to Shiva and prostrated at his feet. “Lord, why have you caught the Ganga?”

“Bhagirath, this is what you asked of me. I have caught her,” Shiva smiled knowingly.

“Yes sire, but…” Bhagirath’s eyes turned pleading as he stood up and looked at his lord. He knew that Shiva knew what his goal was. Then why this delay?

“Bhagirath, Ganga is very mischievous. She is not used to flowing with boundaries. As she fell, she believed that she would be able to sweep me away with her to the underworld. She must learn humility and docility.” Bhagirath looked up into Shiva’s hair to see a quieted Ganga. She had stopped struggling and was listening quietly to the conversation of Bhagirath and Shiva. She softly smiled, and Bhagirath’s heart melted. He looked back into Shiva’s eyes and pleaded, “Lord, in your locks you carry an important treasure for the world. Just by your touch, she has been twice blessed and will remain so as long as she flows. Please let her go, but control her flow, I will watch over her like a big brother would. On Earth, she will not flow anywhere without my permission. I promise it.”

Shiva inhaled deeply through his nose and pulled apart a lock of his hair. Through this sluice, Ganga streamed out and stood next to Bhagirath. Shiva scrutinized her intensely and her cheeks turned red as she faced his silent but judging gaze. She folded her hands into a prayer and meekly whispered, “Lord Shiva, I will follow the King Bhagirath. I will not be disruptive.” At her soft voice, Shiva smiled and reached out, patting her cheek. Nodding to Bhagirath, he blessed them and pointed their path. Bhagirath bowed and turned away leading Ganga to where his ancestors waited.

For a while they walked, or rather flowed, silently, the only sound was Ganga’s waters, tumbling and gurgling faintly, following Bhagirath and her footsteps. As they walked, Bhagirath thought back to his ancestors and the rest they would finally have. Ganga would help so many people, her sacred waters would provide a sense of sanctity in the coming eons. This era was the Satya Yug, the holiest era, the first era, but by Kal Yug, the darkest era, Ganga would be a beacon of hope in an otherwise obsolete land. Lost in his thoughts, Bhagirath exhaled heavily, his brow low set as his train of thought ran on and on.

Hearing his sigh, Ganga piped up, pushing him out of his musings. “Bhagirath Bhai, is something wrong?”

Startled by her bubbly voice, he jumped, almost like he had forgotten that she was with him. His lips quirked into a sad smile and he attempted to articulate his train of thoughts, “My lady, I am grateful to you. You will help so many people and my ancestors. You have left your home, and your father and your comforts for me. How can I repay this action?” He hung his head in sorrow, for he had pulled a daughter away from her father.

For a moment, Ganga considered him. He didn’t look much older than her current form, but his shoulders drooped, as though the burden of the entire world was on his shoulders to carry. His heart seemed heavy, and this did not seem like the Bhagirath she had watched while he did penance for her. She came to a resolution. Like he was taking care of her, she would take care of him. She laughed, her smile bright and toothy, “Bhai, first of all, to you, I am just Ganga. Consider me your little sister.”

Her eyes sparkled merrily; her voice cheerful. As they walked, she explained her thinking and by some small miracle, Bhagirath’s heart became lighter with every step, “I came because it was my duty, and it’s a new adventure! Plus Bhaiyya, I’m not alone. You and all the citizens of Earth are here. You will take care of me, I know it. There is no repaying between siblings!” She spoke with an air of finality her tone light but full of conviction, and Bhagirath began to grin, her sunny disposition infectious on his own mood.

“Thank you, Ganga.”

“Hush now Bhaiyya and look!” She waved away his gratitude and pointed in the horizon, as a plume of smoke drifted up, kissing the clouds. “Is that a yagna I see?” Bhagirath strained his eyes as the sacrificial flame grew in his line of vision. As they approached the flame, his vision cleared. He saw a wizened old sage sitting in the front of many other sages and disciples, chanting mantras and pious shlokas to the flames. Every now and then, the first sage would dip a small ladle full of ghee into the fire, feeding its flames larger and larger. Bhagirath and Ganga approached carefully, the aura of the sacred fire filling them with happiness and contentment. As the sage chanted further, Bhagirath felt a flash of recognition. He knew this sage.

“That is Sage Jahnu’s ashram and yes, he’s conducting a yagna. Let us turn away and give him space. We should not disturb him.” He whispered to his companion, willing her to stay quiet and turn away, but he should have known better.

“Bhai, please let me look closer!” Ganga surged past him, ignoring his objections, her waters rushing forward closer to the yagna. Her curiosity was too great, and even she wanted to be sanctified by the sage’s penances.

“Ganga, No!” Bhagirath gave chase, trying to stop her before she would submerge the flame, but it was too late. As he reached the ashram, he saw desolation and a very wet, very angry sage. In her haste, Ganga had destroyed everything: the fire, the huts, the entire ashram. She had gone too far, and Bhagirath had not been able to hold her back. As Bhagirath surveyed the damage, Ganga cowered behind him, trembling in fear at the sage’s anger. She had made a grave mistake, but sometimes, even she forgot how powerful her tide was. She had tried to hold back, but was unable to, and in consequence she had wreaked havoc on holy work. She only hoped that Bhagirath would be able to pacify the enraged sage.

“Ganga!” Jahnu thundered, “Come out and face your punishment!” Sage Jahnu was a very sorry sight. His saffron clothes were soaked, and his hair and beard dripped cold water onto the floor. But his eyes, his eyes spit fire. His body shook with rage and Ganga’s heart dropped to her stomach. She was in trouble.

“Careless girl! You have destroyed years of hard work and heavy austerities. Come out and face my fury!” Jahnu surveyed the area, arms akimbo, waiting for Ganga to reveal herself, but she wouldn’t come out from behind Bhagirath. Quickly realizing that she would not give up her location, the sage’s wrath grew. Before Bhagirath or Ganga could protest, he pooled together all his yogic energy and gathered all of her water into his cupped hands. He tipped his head back and in one long gulp swallowed her right out from behind Bhagirath.

Bhagirath could do nothing but watch, jaw dropped, as the sage swallowed Ganga, burped quietly, and went about his day, as if nothing had happened. Bhagirath waited as he turned around, checked up on the many sages and disciples, and set forth to fix his destroyed ashram. For a moment, the sage ignored Bhagirath, working to put his yagnakund back together, until Bhagirath cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence. The sage turned around and found a very distraught Bhagirath staring back at him.

“Yes? How can I help you?”

Bhagirath bowed his head, pressing his hands together, and began speaking delicately so as to not anger the sage anymore. “Great sage, my name is Bhagirath and I am the descendant of King Sagara. As you must know my ancestors had perished because of the wrath of Rishi Kapil. Their ashes lie in the vast dry ocean in the East. I had hoped to bring the sacred river Ganga to their resting place to release them to heaven. However…” He trailed off, bowing deeply to the sage.

“Yes, my child. I am aware of your penance. I am also aware that the river I just swallowed was the Ganga herself. However, she ruined years of hard work with one fell swoop. Her impulsiveness destroyed my work!” The sage retorted hotly, as he gestured to the ruined ashram.

“Benevolent sage, I understand she caused havoc, but she is just a river. It is in her nature. Please do not let your anger hinder the world from her divine touch. Please let her go.” Bhagirath touched Jahnu’s feet, pleading for Ganga.

The sage exhaled hard, thinking. Bhagirath had worked hard for Ganga, his sacrifice could not be put to waste. “I shall let her go.”

“Thank you, Sage Jahnu. You have indeed made her holy. She shall be known as Jahnvi for you have thrice blessed her.”

The sage nodded and tilted his head to the right. With a loud popping sound, Ganga cascaded from the sage’s ear. Bhagirath waited as she came out, arms crossed across his chest, his face stern. Ganga stood; her eyes cast to the floor in shame as she toed the dirt around her feet.

“Sorry Bhaiyya.”

Bhagirath arched a brow, “It’s not me you need to apologize to.”

Ganga turned, pressing her hands together and bowing deeply to the sage. “Sire, I deeply apologize. I did not mean to destroy your work, your yagna, and your ashram. Forgive me?” At Ganga’s sweet words, even Jahnu could not remain angry. He smiled grudgingly and let the duo pass by, raising his hand in a farewell blessing.

Ganga and Bhagirath moved on, slowly winding around the land, avoiding any more ashrams and disasters. They walked for what seemed like days with Bhagirath leading the way and Ganga, walking beside him, her waters following. They talked quietly as they walked, learning about each other, becoming companions on their path to the ocean. Bhagirath shared fond memories of his childhood, his father, Dilip, and the grave vow he had made before he started penance. Ganga talked about her father, the Lord Brahma, the rivers: her other sisters, and her childhood home in heaven. Together they shared their lives, relating past experiences as they journeyed together. Surprisingly, they found themselves uniting, becoming closer, like the brother and sister that the gods had told them to become. Their conversation was elevated as Bhagirath explained the many plights of the world, Ganga listening empathetically. In her heart she felt a fraternal love grow for her leader and even Bhagirath began looking at Ganga as if she were his younger sister, even though she was eons older than he.

Time began speeding as they trekked through India, and in short time, they reached the vast dry desert where Bhagirath had given his vow. It had been decades and he had not been back since. As he approached it, a knot grew within him, his footsteps slowing to a stop. Ganga stopped beside him, looking out into the desert. For once, she did not rush ahead, but rather waited, prompting him to speak.

Looking into the dusty, cracked horizon, Bhagirath felt a swell of emotions within him. He had finally done it. Ganga was here. But he hesitated to let her surge forward. A lump was stuck in his throat, and he felt himself choking up.

Pushing past the emotions, he spoke, “It has been so long. So long that I had forgotten what it had looked like. This is the desert where my ancestors lie. This is the great ocean that Brahmarishi Agastya had swallowed. I had been but a mere boy when I had left this place, vowing not to return without you, Ganga. And now that we are here, I do not want you to leave my side. I wish we could stay together, siblings united.” He swiped away the stray tears that had gathered at his eyes at the thought of leaving her side. She had been with him for such a short amount of time, but he had become her older brother. He wanted to protect her, but he knew, for the sake of the world, she would have to leave him. The only thought that made their parting less bitter was that she would not be too far away from him.

“You, my sister, are my savior, our savior, the Earth’s savior. I promise that my descendants and I will look after you like our own, but you promise me that you will continue blessing the Earth the same way you were thrice blessed by Brahma, Shiva and Sage Jahnu. Do so, and I will let you fill the ocean with your waters.”

“Bhaiyya, I promise. The same way you looked after me, I will watch over the Earth. I will protect the world and bless its inhabitants. Now, let me do my part and help you fulfil your vow.” Ganga gently touched his arm, asking for permission. Bhagirath nodded and Ganga burst past him, flooding the barren earth. She coursed into the land, soaking the earth, filling the vast basin until it was tumbling and splashing, a full, watery ocean. Bhagirath looked behind him as their path had become a mighty river, ebbing to and fro into a colossal ocean. His ears strained, and beyond the crashing waves, he could just make out a sigh. His ancestors had finally found rest in heaven. Bhagirath bowed to the great ocean as Brahma once again flickered into existence.

He turned to Bhagirath and proclaimed, “Great Bhagirath you have completed your task. You have fulfilled the vow of your ancestors and have become glorious. When your time on Earth is complete, I will welcome you with open arms into heaven. For now, your kingdom awaits you.”

“Thank you, Lord Brahma, for helping me with this task. I shall remain forever grateful.”

Brahma faded and Bhagirath turned to make his way back to his kingdom. However, as he stepped away, a voice stopped him. “Bhaiyya, wait!”

Bhagirath turned back to see Ganga floating above her river, waiting to say one more thing.

“Bhagirath bhaiyya, I want to say one more thing. You have been my companion on my largest adventure so far. For taking care of me so well, I would like one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I want to be known as Bhagirathi. I want to be known as your younger sister.”

Bhagirath chuckled, “As you wish.” Grinning brightly, Ganga swished down and with a final wave, she became one with her water. For a moment, her water pushed past her banks and washed over Bhagirath’s feet, almost as if asking for a blessing. Raising his hand, Bhagirath blessed his younger sister and headed home, his task finally completed.

#mahabharat #not mahabharata this time #indian mythology #triveni writes #Shiva #Ganga #Bhagirath #Indian lore

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smilesthroughfandoms · 5 years

Text

Every Single Star vs. the Forces of Evil episode in one sentence or less

I’ll probably post a more in depth-review later this week, as I have opinions literally no one wants to hear but I will proclaim anyway, and then I’ll probably also due a revision of my ‘Past Queens Connection to Star’ post from way back in season 2. Cause that needs an update.

Anyway, enjoy!

Star Comes to Earth: Princess Cinnamon Roll that Could Kill you comes to earth and meets Misunderstood Safe Kid.

Party With a Pony: Spoopy Wardens hunt for the glitter pony while Star gets ice for Marco’s sweaty back.

Matchmaker: In which we learn it was probably a bad idea to give Star the wand in the first place.

School Spirit: Star misunderstands football and Marco tries to get Ferguson to blow his whistle not in that way.

Monster Arm: “Not my bowels! I love my bowels!”

The Other Exchange Student: Star is jealous of the meatball man from Bakersfieldville.

Cheer Up Star: “It’s supposed to be ironic!”

Quest Buy: Very accurate depiction of what it is like to work in retail.

Diaz Family Vacation: Both Marco and Star see new sides of their dads but that’s not necessarily a good thing

Brittney’s Party: Star and Marco party on a bus that Ludo hijacks

Mewberty: Star gets horny and snares boys in her web but not in that way

Pixtopia: Marco messed up and Alfonso marries Ferguson’s rebound

Lobster Claws: “… You can’t eat children.” “Really? Not even the annoying ones?”

Sleep Spell: “Camera Phooone!”

Blood Moon Ball: We’re suppose to ship them now, right?

Fortune Cookies: Love is never the answer kids

Freeze Day: Father Time offers Star and Marco some mud before riding away on his wheel-mobile pulled by giant time-hamsters I am not making this up.

Royal Pain: King Santa Claus destroy mini-golf

St. Olga’s Reform School for Wayward Princesses: Princess Prison sure is a nightma–OH MY GOD ARE THOSE CLUBS?!

Mewnipendence Day: No wonder monsters hate Mewmans so much.

The Banagic Wand: Star still doesn’t get Earth and like all of us, Marco is always hungry.

Interdemensional Field Trip: Miss Skullnick fears the “Big Change” while Marco sends Jackie cat memes

Marco Grows a Beard: Ludo is out, Toffee is in, and Marco will probbaly be terrified of beards forever

Storm the Castle: “SURPRISE!”

My New Wand!: DIP DOOOWN

Ludo in the Wild: Wait, since when did Ludo become badass?

Mr. Candle Cares: “Star and I have recently become smooch buddies… On the lips.”

Red Belt: Marco searches for a meaning in life and Star searches for hammer.

Star on Wheels: *epic remix of Marco saying Star is in trouble*

Fetch: Marco can’t open juice and Star runs away from her problems and sending thank you cards

Star vs. Echo Creek: Star gets high and destroys a police car

Wand to Wand: Both Ludo and Star are terrible at magic also major ship tease

Starstruck: Star and her idol Sailor Super Saiyan destroy a park and Marco is 100002% done with this shit

Camping Trip: King Butterfly has a mid-life crisis and tries to control an eagle

Starsitting: They’re gonna be great parents some day.

On the Job: Buff Dad is best dad and buff babies are adorable

Goblin Dogs: “You might think this line is long, but listen to my goblin song!~”

By the Book: Ludo and Star still suck at magic and Glossaryck is a bigger troll than Alex Hirsch

Game of Flags: And I thought my family was dysfunctional...

Girls’ Day Out: Janna is back and is still awesome btw

Sleepover: “TRUTH! STAR HAS A CRUSH ON MA–” *cue fandom freakout*

Gift of the Card: R.I.P. Rasticore Chaosus Disastorvayne… He couldn’ get his fucking chainsaw to work

Friendenemies: Star becomes one with Christmas tree while Tom and Marco go on a date and sing a romantic pop ballad.

Is Mystery: Meatfork is apparently a family name and Ludo is really starting to freak me out tbh

Hungry Larry: “He’s still hungry…”

Spider with a Top Hat: He tries and he is awesome and that’s all that matters

Into the Wand: SPAAAAADESS!!!

Pizza Thing: Marco is OCD about mushroom and Pony Head buys skinny jeans

Page Turner: Moon, how did you miss Toffee in the orb he was right there!

Naysaya: Marco is a mood in this episode

Bon Bon the Birthday Clown: Honestly my favorite episode overall

Raid the Cave: Glossaryck is the true neutral asshole.

Trickstar: Weird Al is a treasure and I’ll mes up anyone who makes Marco cry!

Baby: Aw, look at the little deadly baby, I love her!

Running With Scissors: Marco gets a new edition to his shipping harem and she is so cute!

Mathmagic: Why did the chicken cross the road?

The Bounce Lounge: Marco is definitely the mom friend.

Crystal Clear: The Chancellor guy is amazing and Rhombulus just needs a hug and wAS THAT ECLIPSA IN THE BACKGROUND?

The Hard Way: “SURPRISE!” 2.0

Heinous: Oh, so that’s how Marco got all that money.

All Belts Are Off: This is the negative side of “Pro-tag teen hangs out with older adult figure” trope done splendidly

Collateral Damage: Marco how do you not know what a possum is?

Just Friends: I’m fine! *blows up sign to prove just how fine I am*

Face the Music: This song is actually a banger

Star Crushed: Looking back, I’m starting to think the writing peaked at this episode....

BATTLE FOR MEWNI EDITION!!!!!

Return to Mewni: This is… just an exposition filler. Not much else to say….

Moon the Undaunted: B4! B4! B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4!

Book Be Gone: Seriously, did Glossy take trolling lessons from Alex Hirsch this is hilarious!

Marco and the King: This is the “Pro-tag teen hangs out with older adult figure” done slightly better

Puddle Defender: Aw, look at the little buff babies, they’re getting so big!

King Ludo: The mime stole the show.

Toffee: Yeah, I think the writing peaked somewhere around here...

Scent of Hoodie: Huh, so Ponyhead can be written as likeable, who would’ve thought?

Rest in Pudding: The colors are not doing the censors any favor here, huh?

Club Snubbed: I literally yelled “Phrasing!” whenever they dropped the title

Stranger Danger: Is she the new antagonist of the series? I can’t tell

Demoncism: Tom is a wonderful baby boy and Ponyhead is written as likeable, part 2!

Sophmore Slump: *sobbing* Jackie deserved better, dang it!

Lint Catcher: I’m starting to wonder if there is any competant authority figure in Mewni

Trial by Squire: I think the writers were all like” You think these guys will ship anyone with Marco?” and decided to test that theory.

Princess Turdina: I got more lore out of this episode than I thought I would.

Starfari: Welp, she makes me uncomfortable.

Sweet Dreams: *Sailor Moon-ing intensifies*

Lava Lake Beack: Proof that this fandom will ship anyone with Marco at the slightest inclanation

Death Peck: Rich Pigeon is my new favorite birb and Ponyhead is written as likeable for the third time

Ponymonium: Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Night Life: The writers made so many new ships they had to get rid of an old one!

Deep Dive: “Chicken butt”

Monster Bash: Well, that explains the cheekmarks.

Stump Day: I think they just made an episode based around a picture from that bookcover.

Holiday Special: *insert every cheesy Christmas/Holiday episode trope here*

The Bog Beast of Boggabah: The title is fun to say and the episode is average at best.

Total Eclipsa the Moon: Seriously, I’m supposed to think she’s an ultimate villain.

Butterfly Trap: In which we are all Sean, don’t lie we were all him at the end

Ludo, Where Art Thou?: Dennis is best brother, hands down.

Is Another Mystery: *sniff* I got more emotional over this episode than anyone else did and I’m not sure how I feel about that

Marco Jr.: I… I just… Why? What’s the point?

Skooled!: Epic advertisment fakeout combined with wonderful character development and lore with a shock ending makes a 8/10 episode.

Booth Buddies: Old Man McGucket ships Starco, proceed to react accordingly

Bam Ui Pati!: Ponyhead is kinda likeable in this episod–nevermind she’s back.

Tough Love: Oh man, it’s happening! It’s happening guys here we go!

Divide: We are going to war everybody–And they’re all dead. That was quick.

Conquer: They should have paid Alex HIrsch to voice Glossaryck at this point, it’d be more in character for him.

Butterfly Follies: Proof that someone will always complain about politics no matter what.

Escape from the Pie Folk: Is anyone else disturbed by the fact that he kinda resembles Eclipsa more than Festivia?

Moon Remembers: I was expecting a freakout but was pleasantly surprised

Swim Suit: I’m starting to get a bad feeling about Rhombulus

Ransomgram: Why is everyone in this dimesnion hot?!

Lake House Fever: She’s a good mom

Yada Yada Berries: They missed an opportunity to have a Seinfeld actor guest-star, just saying

Down by the River: I’m glad that she can relax

The Ponyhead Show!: And Ponyhead is offically no longer likeable, can someone toss her into an abyss please?

Surviving the Spiderbites: SpiderSlime is canon proceed to react accordingly

Out of Buisness: How did this place go out of buisness???

Kelly's World: Man, they’re really setting these non-Starco ships up to fail, huh?

Curse of the Blood Moon: Pfft, yeah, sure, Starco won’t be canon at all!

Princess Quasar Caterpillar and the Magic Bell: I think Ludo has the most consistent character arc out of the entire show’s history.

Ghost of Butterfly Castle: Moon, Star is your daughter and Star supports Eclipsa, why would you not tell her?

Cornball: This episode has a heartwarming lesson that I hope more people come to realize

Meteora's Lesson: I’ll take any Toffee scenes I can get

The Knight Shift: I honestly don’t remember what happened n this episode

Queen-Napped: Seriously, can someone please dropkick Ponyhead into an abyss?

Junkin' Janna: The JanTom interaction I’ve been waiting for

A Spell with No Name: These types of episodes stopped being charming awhile ago

A Boy and His DC-700XE: I think Tomco has more ground to stand-on then Starco at this point

The Monster and The Queen: Don Panchito voices Globgor! There’s hope for this show yet!

Cornonation: They’re the best couple/parents/anything around!

Doop-Doop: I honestly think Rick just put Morty through some flux-capacitor or something

Britta's Tacos: Hey, remember these people that we suddenly brought back? No? Me neither!

Beach Day: This feels like a Season 1 episode and it’s nice

Gone Baby Gone: I want a TV show aout them now! Disney, please!

Sad Teen Hotline: Mr. Diaz is way to invested in Star’s love life.

Jannanigans: Hello last minute Janna character development!

Mama Star: So that’s how Mewni came to be--and I don’t care anymore

Ready, Aim, Fire!: Let’s get that finale ball rolling people!

The Right Way: Ok, that spell is actually pretty badass.

Here to Help: There, Starco’s finally canon will you guys just shut up now!

Pizza Party: Moon you idiot you ruined everything!

The Tavern at the End of the Multiverse: Toffee was right all along... I think we all knew that in some way

Cleaved: I expect nothing substanial and that’s what I got

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #svtfoe2 #svtfoe3 #svtfoe4 #battle for mewni #smilesthroughfandoms #Don't repost without my permission #seriously don't #these are my opinions #scary i know

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sky-scribbles · 6 years

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CREATOR MEME 2018

I was tagged in a lot of things yesterday. Let’s work through ‘em...

@norroendyrd tagged me to showcase five of my creations this year that I’m proud of. I’ve not been writing or drawing as much as I’d have liked this year, thanks to my uni workload, but here’s what I got:

This biro drawing of Derkeethus from Skyrim. It took forever to draw, shading every individual scale in tiny detail, but it turned out so well and I’m still thrilled about how many notes it got.

Drops In The River, an Elder Scrolls Online fic featuring my Argonian sorcerer Kaneeth, and his first ill-fated love. It was the first time I’d written a longer fic in a while, and I’m really happy with how it turned out, especially the Argonian lore headcanons I worked into it.

A portrait of my SWTOR character Zeth. I’ve always struggled with drawing human (or humanoid) faces, but while drawing Zeth I worked out some new techniques that have made me much more confident about trying to do human portraits more often.

Five Times, and the other one-shots in this series, which feature my newest OTP of Zeth and Theron Shan. What makes me really happy about this series is that... I sort of finally entered the SWTOR fandom for real while writing it. I mean, I’ve been playing this game for five years but I’ve never really created much content for it, mostly because this blog is primarily Dragon Age (though it’s got ridiculously multifandom over the years, I can only apologise for that XD) and I didn’t think it’d get much attention. But recently I realised just how much I love this game, and I decided I wanted to write and draw stuff for it even if it got no attention whatsoever. And I’ve met some great people in this fandom thanks to it. So that makes me very happy. :)

This little chibi drawing of my Revan and Carth, because a) it celebrated my overcoming bugs, crashes and glitches to finish KoTOR (which I loved), b) it was the first time I tried putting my chibi drawings into more complex poses, c) it’s just cute and happy.

And... I’m now realising that despite this blog being primarily Dragon Age (or trying to be), none of this stuff is for the DA fandom. Hmm. I’ll... work on that for the rest of the year. XD

#tag #creator meme #sky's ramblings

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lethesomething · 6 years

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A writer tag thing

I was tagged by @tottwritesfanfic and it’s an excuse to talk about fanfic. Let's do this!

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

Uh. Um. Since I am an Old, this username has existed since forever, and acquiring it involved a goth themed IRC chat room and some virtual naked table dancing. The Lethe refers to the River of Oblivion in ancient Greek Underworld mythology, because again, I was Very Goth at the time. I'd… I'ma leave it at that.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos).

That'll be Chocolate Hearts. It's not the one with the most hits, because it's not porn, but it's getting there, considering it was only posted in August. That whole fic was such an incredible experience, because I was getting daily feedback from people as I was writing publishing it.

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

It's Shimizu Kiyoko, because I still mostly write Haikyuu, and because she's awesome (and I, too, wish to be awesome).

Let’s put a cut here because this is Long.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

I'd rather not name names, but I met at least one of my friends through AO3 comments. There's also a commenter whose style I liked so much that I started copying it for comments on other people's work. I absolutely notice when people drop by regularly, and I love every one of those people. I try to follow them back. There are few feelings more rewarding to me as a writer than seeing someone like one of my stories, and then go through the other ones I wrote for that fandom.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

I don't regularly re-read fics, because I have enough trouble keeping up with fiction I feel like I *should* be reading. In that sense, the ones I keep going back to are the long ones I'm subscribed to. Bell, book and candle is my go-to plane fic for when I'm travelling, for instance. It's a 1k page pdf on my phone and I try to go back and comment on the chapters I finished when I get to a computer (or like three months later, most likely).

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

*Opens statistics page* I don't so much subscribe to stories, as I do to people. And I'm apparently subscribed to 22 people. I have 33 bookmarks, but that's mostly because sometimes I'll go back through my history and bookmarks stuff that I still like a few months later.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

Urban fantasy. That seems to be the AU where my mind goes into every single direction and comes back with 60k worth of words every time. Also, a disproportionate amount of characters in my fics end up being bakers or baristas. So, uh, make of that what you will.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

Um, I have 36 user subscriptions. 299 bookmarks. And 117 subscriptions to various fics.

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

Well, there's always stuff you come up with that maybe shouldn't be put to paper. When it comes to very self-indulgent, or very smutty, I try to stay my hand. I struggled a long time with whether or not I should publish any smut at all, because I don't want like… my colleagues to find it. What I ended up with, was several fail safes, and the promise to myself that I would only write… acceptable smut (so no werewolf orgies for you! not that I, uh, would write them otherwise).

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

So, uh, the very specific reason I started writing smut at all, was because that is the hardest thing to do. For me. Sex is, a lot of the time, awkward and funny and feely and there's a lot of emotions and actions going on, and I very specifically do not want to write lifeless mechanical porn sex. Because that's not what I'm here for. But that's difficult. I write to have the kind of stuff I want to Read, and I'm very friggin picky when it comes to smut, so it takes me longer to write 1k of smut than it does to write 20k of teen rated fluff. I wish I was better on that front.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

It's a mixed bag. I'm pretty sure me and @leeva-art are the pioneers of all ShinToko content. And I did that whole SugaTen one. Looking through the list, I actually did a fair amount of rarepair shorts. I kinda like writing rarepairs because there's a lot more of the dynamic for me to explore. But I'm currently writing a series full of popular ships (YamaYachi, DaiSuga, KageHina, IwaOi), because sometimes, those are popular for a reason. To be honest, I think the ship I write most is 'x reader', and I'm fairly certain that's an under-reported popular ship.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

I have 21 works on AO3 in total. All of those are finished one-shots or multichapters, except the one I'm currently working on. Yes, I'm proud of this :P.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

Oh god. So apart from the current multichapter one I have… one longish romance story that's been gathering dust for two years (The Aomine. I swear I will finish it one day), and… about four smut shorts in various states of unfinished-ness. And an Aizawa short that is like smut in the sense that it's a lot of action and feels and I'm Struggling.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

I do both. I'm a bit of a daydreamer, so I like to play ideas and scenarios in my head for a while, and then I jot them down when they've grown enough. But I'm also a talker, and anyone who has chatted with me for any length of time probably knows that an Idea can take root in a convo and I basically talk it out and two months later there's a massive fic brewing. My brain is an overexcited puppy.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Nope. It's not that I don't want to, I'm just not sure how that would work practically.

16. How did you discover AO3?

It's all Rin's fault. I pretty much only got into fanfic after watching Free! and discovering the joys of tumblr. Fairly certain I discovered AO3 while looking for Quality SouRin.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

Ahahahaha…no.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

That would be weird? I'm not Lady Gaga.

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

I've been writing since I was a little girl. So the first stories I wrote were probably inspired by that one teacher I had when I was eight, that kept saying I was good at this. But I remember in my teens, wanting to write like Anthony Horowitz, and later like Terry Prattchett, or Douglas Adams. As for writing fanfic, that is the fault of Aleramicci and A Shadow so Great. That was the first time I saw someone take that level of world building and lore creation and character development, and spin it into this… epic tale. Because I have always imagined scenarios and characters in my day dreams, I was creating alternate endings for the Three Musketeers at 13, but I didn't think anyone else was willing to read them. I thought fanfic was, well, smut. And she showed me that you can create worlds out of nearly nothing (please remember that 2014 League of Legends Lore was total shit), and do it Well, and write it well, and… ugh.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

Ok, where's that meme. I think the main thing is… just do it. You've got stories, you write them. But know that it is work. Like every hobby, it takes time, it takes energy and effort. You need to Make that Time. Very few people can sit down and just have the words flow out of their fingers. For most, it's Work. Once you know that, and you make the conscious decision to do the work, you can get shit done.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

I try to plot up to a certain level but I leave room for a lot of improv. Like especially for longer fics, I'll have a vague idea of where the characters end up and what needs to happen for the finale to… happen. The actual scenes aren't plotted though. I write better when I just let the scene take me where it wants to go. I've learned a lot from the Lock, the Key and the Sacrifice, in that it was my first Very Long multichaptered fic and it was Mostly Improvised. This meant that some character development got lost, and that I had to write myself out of some weird situations but also, some of the best scenes in that fic are complete bursts of random inspiration. Since then, I've gotten a bit more organized. I use OneNote to jot down 'spur of the moment' scenes to slot into stories later, and to make time lines and character profiles and all that. The actual fic is still me opening the Word doc and going 'ok, it's day six in this story, what should happen today'.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

I don't think so? AO3 readers are very nice and disciplined, I think. Either that or I've been very lucky. All I've gotten were a few comments that left me flustered, mostly along the lines of 'when are you updating', when I keep a very tight schedule. That sort of thing. I just leave those be.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

See above: smut.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

Currently, My Girlfriend is a Goddess?!, which is a fantasy exchange gift that ballooned into a very long, multichapter and possibly trilogy book type thing.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

The Plan is to finish book one of My Girlfriend is a Goddess?! (the YamaYachi, aka the actual exchange gift), then take a break for some one-shots and whatnot, and then continue to book two (the DaiSuga one). So yes, I do try to stay somewhat disciplined. This isn't to say that inspiration can't strike like a vengeful god and I have to rearrange the whole thing. Chocolate Hearts happened while I was trying to work on the TenSuga, and it got written in like a month of furious typing. Shit just happens, man.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

No. I have a very unstable work schedule, and sometimes I'm just tired. I try to get certain chapters finished on a weekly basis though. I learned with NaNo that when I try to write too much in one go, the output is also not that great. I need to write, and then do a whole bunch of editing, and then write again.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Things are certainly going smoother now than they did two years ago. It's a certain… confidence? I think? A rhythm you get into. I got wordier, too. Not sure if that's a good thing.

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

This is hard. That is a hard question. For the longest time, my fave story was Balance. But if I read it now, it does show its age. So I'm going to say The lock, the key and the sacrifice. I will always be super proud of that, because that's my first and currently only 'book' and I worked a year and a half on it. Not every part of it is amazing, but there's some Pretty Good Parts and I just felt such an immense relief and… satisfaction on finishing it.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

One of the first things I published was an Iwaizumi smut short. It's… ok, but it has some issues that I would iron out if I were to write it again.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

When I was little I had this Plan to write a bestseller and sell it to Hollywood and then buy a castle in Scotland and basically be JK Rowling, but I sincerely doubt that's going to happen. Goals, tho.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

Coming up with random shit that blossoms into big, huge ideas and worlds and complicated plot lines. Like… that happens without me trying.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

The bit where you sit down to write through a part you've been struggling with. Those few paragraphs that you need to connect scene A and scene B, for it to make logical sense.

33. Why do you write?

Because I like it. Because I enjoy building worlds and scenes and characters, and sharing them. Because like all kinds of creative work, it has gained me relationships and connections to people I resonate with. Also, ngl, for the kudos and the comments. I get a lot of joy from seeing people enjoying my work.

The tagging part. Um, I dunno if @skittidyne has done this one yet. Also the usual suspects: @bsinoranges, @haruhi02 and @thekuroiookami Consider it a subtle nudge if anyone else wants to do this.

#lethey writes #tag thing

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