#mpxapollox

@mpxapollox

This is not how days are supposed to go.

She is not supposed to find herself in a chair in her boss’ office, leg raised and resting upon a little stool while she waits for the colleague who brought her there to return with said boss.

She is most definitely not supposed to feel like her ankle is sprained, because she is a daughter of the Morrigan, should have lightning-fast reflexes and battle instincts that rival those of any trained soldier.

Apparently even her godly lineage can’t battle the bone-deep exhaustion of many nights unslept. And apparently her body, her brain and the treadmill behind her collaborated to make her trip, twist her ankle in an attempt to keep her balance and then barely manage avoiding faceplanting into the floor by putting her hands out first and somehow scraping them on the smooth floor.

Without fear of being heard, she heaves a deep sigh and lowers her head into her hands for a moment, absolutely giving up on any kind of hope for the day. She only lifts it again when she hears the footsteps indicating the arrival of her boss, and she locks eyes with him the moment he’s inside.

“I’ll be fine,” she says instantly, almost defensively, not wanting to hear one more comment on how ‘surprisingly clumsy you are today, ash, haha’. “I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be better in the morning.” Probably the same way the bags under her eyes are better in the morning; still there and growing worse but she ignores them a bit more every day.

continued from here with @mpxapollox

{ ✉ ➡ Star Customer }: ooh a rebel - I like it { ✉ ➡ Star Customer }: twisting the rules just to give me a gift? how sweet of you 😊 { ✉ ➡ Star Customer }: of course I will accept! do I get a hint as to what it is?

@mpxapollox

he’s freshly showered after working out, running a towel through his damp hair as he walks down the hallway of zero to hero - he loves the name, what an absolute masterpiece of a reference - when the sight of a familiar face temporarily stops him dead in his tracks. it actually takes him a whole minute just to process, close his gaping mouth, stop staring, start making heart eyes, stop making heart eyes and finally move on into the bedroom eyes territory. once he’s there, it still takes him another moment to put himself into motion again, walking out of the hallway and into the bigger entrance hall of the gym building.

there, chatting with a highly unimportant being, stands the man of his dreams; the absolutely dropdead gorgeous example of what a man should be like. not just in looks, but in the charisma he exudes, the deliberate gentleness he can portray but equally so the unlimited violence. if anyone would ever ask him to tell them why exactly he liked the man so much, he wouldn’t even be able to point it out, unless he just pointed in the general direction of all of him.

when the man apollo had been talking to leaves, osiris quietly takes his place, looking at this sun god with a searching gaze. he had believed, of course, even back then, that the man he knew as apollo harker was really the greek god roaming the earth, but there had been no proof and he had never asked any. for to ask for proof of that would be to reveal that he knew the gods existed, and at the time he’d just been living one of the many mortal lives. to be here, now, revealing himself like this is a strange thing, a thing that feels almost dangerous. and yet it also feels right.

foiseach’s garden with @mpxapollox

there have been many, many years now that she’s spent outside of the hills that made up her home when she was younger. she still well remembers her father, her family, her life in the hills, among her people. she still well remembers a time when she was young and inexperienced, a time that had come to an end when her father murdered her brother and, a little while later, when yixing had entered her life.

by now she is undeniably one of the ancients, alive so long that many have already forgotten her name, her existence. alive so long that her mind has adapted to immortality in a way that mortal minds never could. but once upon a time she was a young soul with hopes and dreams, with delusions and expectations that would never come to pass, with heart and joy and life.

she remembers the deities she met on her way, those people who’d stolen her breath with their power, their ability, their wisdom. she remembers the awe she felt upon meeting such big and powerful gods, the gratitude she expressed many times when they decided to take her under their sometimes metaphorical wings and teach her some things about life.

what she doesn’t expect is for an echo of those feelings to hit her square in the chest in the year 2020, simply because an all too familiar warmth steps back into her awareness. for a few moments she sits frozen, unable to move as the warmth of a summer sun radiates ever closer towards her cottage, pulsating with undeniable physical health, and for a few moments she is speechless, motionless, endless.

then she’s moving, taking off on her bare feet through the grass, over the rocky parts and around the bend of the road. when she comes to a stop a little while later, across from the origin of the gentle warmth ever growing within her, she can only look at him for a few long moments, surprised as she still is by his presence here even if she’d known all along what she would find.

the magic of fuller sentence meme: still accepting

Seshat had been drinking... and anyone who knew the goddess knew that she was more fun after having a few drinks. She loosened up quite easily and was known to answer any questions. It was also possible that she’d just spew random information to anyone who would listen. This evening's poor victim was Apollo. With a new beer bottle in front of her, she lifted the amber glass to her lips and took a long sip. Her chosen poison was always a beer, a dark one. With an unusual smile, she leaned on her hand on the bar and looked to her companion. Seshat couldn’t help the slight slur to her words as she spoke.

“Oh, I don’t feel bad really. I’m sure you find this very amusing. I also think you may be one of the first people to ever say that about me. I have been told I am a - what do they call it - a stick in the mud. Or Spock even. I’m prettier than he was anyway. Sure, he was an alien but still. I am a literal goddess of knowledge I am way better than that guy.”

“Are you joking? What are you even talking about?”

“... Excuse me?”

“Hm? Yes, Apollo?”