@breaking-atlas - Tumblr Blog

pspspspspspsps get your ass over here — @breaking-atlas

It's done. He's done it. Finally, fucking finally — all manner of scrap, fang, hide, claw, bone, ore, and sac are in his possession. All of it. No more coming up short at the smithy. Can't say shit about missing this or that, because it's all been collected. Right here in this overfilled sack, he's sure of it. Except he doesn’t. No, that’d be too easy. He goes into the forge so chock full of confidence, only to get spit out utterly defeated. Haunted, even.

"A gem.” Barely above a whisper, he chews the words before vaulting into a miserable groan. “A stupid gem!” His hands are already reaching up to tug at his helm in frustration. Eyes stinging from both exhaustion, resentment, and loss. “How’s I supposed to know I need a bloody fucking Legiana Gem? There's no way I'll ever get one! It's rare enough as is— and to look for it on purpose? Ha! Might as well give up. Fully resign, donate my shit to the next fleet, walk out into the Rotten Vale and give up."

breaking-atlas

The task was simple on paper. Some research assistants wanted information on a Legiana and were paying a good amount for it. With the discovery of the New World everyone was clamoring to map and understand it quickly. There was so much to see, and sometimes it sucked to have to sit at base while hunters went out. That was the downside of being a handler, but he trusted his hunter well enough.

Before the hour ticked past, his hunter returned complaining about materials. To those who weren't hunters, materials weren't as important. There wasn't a need for weapons and armor. "Have you tried capturing it? The researchers could most likely find one for you if you do. Or you could go back out there and find another and then maybe take me with you?"

#//idk what to tag

sidercal-archived

@breaking-atlas still thanking you for this blessed meme

supes-up:

Smack, smack.

Two for one – a twofer as his husband would proudly proclaim. The same husband that now sat cowering at the face of a mangy scrap of fur. “Alright, c’mon– I would’ve if you didn’t sneak up on us like that.” Either that or both of their ears are going bad. Talk about having one’s pride crushed.

“And for you, buster.” Cat expertly handled in his arms, he had Butters all wrapped up with the hem of his shirt. Though still relatively enraged, no further attempts were made to swipe at. “No more spittin’ ‘less you want another round of your inhaler.” A single mrr-ow in turn and the tabby chose to fall silent. “That’s what I thought.”

Upper half turned towards Jackson’s direction, he compensated the animal’s disgruntlement with some head scratches. “What’d you say earlier? Hoe Depo?”

Still on the floor, because that was the safest place to be, Jackson just let Griffin and Butters reach an understanding. He was never really invited to these peace talks (probably because his presence would cause things to get unpeaceful very quickly).

He peeked from behind his hands, “Yeah, Hoe Depo. Think about it, you can get so many employee discounts, and you can have middle aged men and women hit on you”. Those were the obvious perks of working at a hardware store in jack’s mind.

Carefully, he uncurled himself and got to his feet, still keeping a good distance between Butters and him. “I ain’t gonna say I don’t love the house makeover I see every day I come home, but I don’t think you gotta paint the walls, or rebuild the deck every week, sweet cheeks. You gotta get out and do other things”.

#{—Baptized with Holy Water and Shine—}

supes-up:

“Butts.” A single word – a warning to remind the straggly creature to keep his distance. Yet the slow creep of orange fur persisted, albeit at a slower pace. One paw casually stretched, claws out for the world to see, until contact was made with the very edge of a freshly planted plant. All while the two of them locked eyes, at that.

The balls this cat had.

Breath pressed through his nose, Griffin took a step towards the feline’s way. One single stride and he swooped down to wrangle Butters far away from shredding those leafy greens. That, of course, initiated an entire overture of meowing and whining – all of which he fell immune to.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just ‘cause I got greens growin’ back here don’t mean you get to fuck them up like the others.” Again with a displeased noise as the cat tried to wriggle free. “And if I catch you chewin’ shit then I’m givin’ you a ba–”

Human and feline alike flinched when another presence appeared. Familiar weight against his backside, Griffin hardly had the time to wish a prayer before all shit went to hell. All of the crying turned into a vile mess as Butters hissed and spat at Jackson’s proximity. And to make matters worse, the damn cat’s paws made quick work to swat the other ( and him ) square in the face.

For a split moment, there was hope. Hope that Jack could have a quiet night with Griffin, free of anything distractions or villains. In hindsight, Jack should have been paying attention. He had become oblivious while he played domestic. There wasn’t a need to look over your shoulder when you had a white picket fence, and PTA mom neighbors. He sometimes forgot there was a lifeform that was out to kill him at any moment.

The hiss and the spatting, for Jackson to pull away, but no goddamned fast enough. A swift and sharp paw to the face, and Jackson pretty much pushed Griffin and the Hell spawn away from him.

Somedays, Jackson swore he missed being shot, it was better than being attacked by some deranged alley cat. Sputtering, Jackson moved back at least five feet away from the imminent danger. “Jesus—God, please warn me next time if he’s that close! I ain’t looking to lose an eye”.

His heart hammered in his chest, as Jackson slowly lowered himself to the ground. It was better to just make himself smaller in the presence of Butters. “Please, Griffin...Make him calm down”.

#{—Baptized with Holy Water and Shine—}

For — @supes-up

After what felt like a lifetime of hurt and exhaustion, there was a bright light at the end of the tunnel. That bright light being a nice suburban home, in a quiet neighborhood without any violence (other than the odd passive aggressive neighbor), and no one to tell them what to do. This was the retired life for two ex mob members.

While sitting at home and enjoying being retired sounded fun, Jack just couldn’t do it. He needed something to do, so he found a job as a personal trainer for fellow amputees and paraplegics. It was a nice job, and it helped Jack give back.

This also meant he got to come home a lot more than he did before. And nothing beat coming home to see house renovations that Jackson didn’t even know they needed.

Coming up behind the big bear of a man he called his husband, Jack hooked his chin over Griffin’s shoulder put all his weight against him. “Babe, have you considered working for Home Depot or something? I appreciate the constant upgrades to the house, but I feel like maybe you gotta slow down. Just a thought”.

#{—Baptized with Holy Water and Shine—}

supes-up:

How long has it been since he’d been in the other’s presence? A decade, century, eon or more? The exact number might have escaped him, but one fact remained true. It’s been long enough to instantly regard the reply as a figment of his imagination.

Lost and alone ( by choice ) was he among the praised – the worthy. Only a matter of time before a man like him went mad. Cruel of the fates to torment him in such a manner, sure. But what was he to expect? Peace and tranquility? After all this time?

“Of course, as the Gods intended.” Paraphrasing or not, the rueful nature of his words still twisted deep in fetid anguish. “You made the choice, not me, and you prolonged that war, when you know just as well as anyone you could have ended it! But you refused. And now I’m here. And you?” A slight shake of the head in disbelief, heartache, and yearning.

“You’re somewhere else.. Please, phantasm, let me rest.”

The grief that ate at Achilles’ soul mixed with the guilt that ate at his heart. Patroclus was correct, the war could have ended before both of their deaths, but Achilles refused. The dishonor from Agamemnon had turned Achilles away from the battlefield, unbeknownst to him that the cost of such action would be Pat’s life.

He still remembered the grieving rage as he cried over Patroclus’ body. The searing red he saw when he slew Hector on the battlefield, and dragged him behind his chariot. Despite the warnings of what such an action could bring, Achilles couldn’t stop himself. What was the point of living if Patroclus wasn’t at his side?

Their bones had been mingled together, burned into ash with hopes of an eternity in Elysium. The Lord Hades had different plans though. Patroclus was yet again torn from Achilles’ grasp by his own hand for a second time. He couldn’t fault Pat for his words. The heart break was palpable in the meadow breeze.

“I made a deal. I had to stay in Tartarus and help Lord Hades’ son, in exchange for you to be able to live peacefully here in the meadows. It was not an easy decision to make, and I apologize”.

#{—if he is dead I will not be far behind.—}

supes-up:

Strands of ivory hair stuck against sharp features; half of which was still hidden by the wide brim of a midnight hat. Rain hardly bothered him. Wettened skin, clothes, items – all came with routine as is.

A noise was drawn from the back of his throat; deep and faintly irked. Yet the aura of annoyance chipped away with every step taken further indoors. Soon there laid an ashen smolder of displeasure in a roaring flame’s stead.

“Hnm..” Boney fingers worked at the skull crowned sack tied at the waist. Obols clinked against one another and sparked recent memories. Mismatched eyes, scorched steps, an irrefutable backbone of politeness.. sly hands that grasped the neck of his greed.

It took considerable effort to set the bag down. But the deed was done in favor of greeting the other properly with both kiss and question of what Hermes was doing.

The Gods of Olympus had always prided themselves on how they were better than the mortals. They didn’t fall for the same mistakes (or so they thought). They were divine beings, and diving beings didn’t subject themselves to meaningless things. Perhaps there was a moment where Hermes believed himself to be as such too. The moment was far and fleeting though.

He had found that so called meaningless happiness within the psychopomp. He could suddenly understand why Orpheus had gone to Hades to bring back his lover. Would Hermes have done the same?

Of course.

Words were never needed between Charon and him. They had worked together since the start, and had surpassed the need for words (even if Hermes spoke a mile a minute at times).

A gentle hand reach up to caress the boney structure of Charon’s face, “I hope you are hungry”. Did Gods and Chthonic beings need to eat? Probably not, but it was a gesture Hermes was always proud to make.

#{—But scripture burns holy between our bodies—}

For: @supes-up

Home was where the heart was; that’s what mortals said. Back then, home was in the clouds, on top of Mount Olympus. Mortals would run around beneath them, their lives coming and going like the rising and setting sun. That was home for Hermes, until his heart was found somewhere else.

Now home was a two story house, with expansive windows to let in the sun (which the rain was currently beating against). A warm house, that most gods would scoff at, and yet this was home.

A warm light from the kitchen contrasted the dark grey skies full of rain outside. Hermes cooked peacefully, waiting for those tell all noises that meant he was no longer alone. The clinking of coins brought a smile to his face, and he poked his head out from the kitchen to greet the ferryman.

“I hope the rain wasn’t too cruel to you out there”.

#{—But scripture burns holy between our bodies—}

supes-up:

* & STARTER CALL ( ACCEPTING ) – @breaking-atlas

Gentle rays cast their light against tender moss. The glow of it wavered and melted along the rippling stream just at his backside. The Fields of Elysium was a paradise for all those deceased. Often wished upon, sought for, revered by the shades to escape all pain and strife.

Don’t make him laugh.

Bitter as the molten lands below, a knot of contempt had bound itself to his heart. Patroclus knew it could be picked clean by the waters of the Lethe. The same river that bordered the glade he chose to reside in. Yet the bliss of forgetfulness never passed his lips.

“When we were both alive, I… thought you were invincible. I knew of no one, nothing stronger, other than the love we shared. Was I deceived, in thinking this of you, of us? Well…” Monologue only spoken to an audience of crystals, pots, and statues. A stream of consciousness held so stubbornly by an aching soul. Of longed memories.

Heroes were often praised during their lives. Stories of their bravery and accomplishments were passed down by generations, creating a myth. These myths painted beautiful pictures of life, but they always seemed to leave out what would happen after the heroes died.

That was what hurt Achilles the most.

He deserved to live among the other shades in the teal grass fields of Elysium, where he could drink from the river Lethe and find peace. The hero didn’t lay with the other heroes of their times though. Instead he stood guard in a great hall, for this was the deal he made.

He longed to be reunited with the one he lost too soon, and when the opportunity presented himself, Achilles leapt in with both feet. He strode into Elysium, his confidence high up until he heard that beautiful voice.

There had been many late nights and early mornings where Achilles would be surrounded by that deadpanned mirthful voice. It made his heart beat faster. He felt scared, and nervous.

Would Pat hate him? It was Achilles’ fault for his lover’s fate. He couldn’t save Pat.

The grass crunched under his feet as Achilles approached, the spear he always held at his side in defense fell. There was no defense that could keep Patroclus out.

“You were not deceived. I was only invincible for as long as the Gods intended”.

#{—if he is dead I will not be far behind.—}#//YEAH BAYBEEE #//sorry i got carried away uwu

rcppled:

“Mm, wouldn’t have to breathe a word for it to happen anyways. Isn’t that right, Addy?” A reluctant huff sounded behind him – not that it was needed. The werecreature’s knack for being a busybody wasn’t exactly a secret among the three of them.

Grin still bright on his face, Lior bundled Will into his arms and gave a tight squeeze. “You know I would, but business calls more often than I’d like,” he sighed, woeful – wistful – to be torn between land and sea so frequently. “But enough about me for now. How have you two been? Safe sailing, I hope? Nothing monstrous and mysterious darkened your deck, has it?”

For someone who had been alone for a majority of his life, only for it to be flooded (pun intended) with people again, Will thought it made it out like a bandit. Sure, he was surrounded by creatures that were anything but human, and there would come a day where Will would have to leave due to his mortal life. Still, he loved them and would continue to do so until the end.

Lior was cold, wet, and not something one would want a hug from first thing in the morning, Will will embraced it. He pat Lior on the shoulder and laughed, “Other than you? No, nothing has graced our deck. We did gather a few cultures from various water depths though, so that might have been the most exciting part of this trip”.

rcppled:

Wait any longer and the door would surely be flung off it’s hinges. Once opened, radiant light immediately flooded the den of waking slumber. Not the imposing figure that waltzed in, mind you, but rather the rays of sunshine. Frigid hands reached forth to cup the sides of his face; far too tender – loving – to match how brash the uninvited guest had been seconds before.

“About time– oh, cuore mio.. you look tired,” the figure crooned as Adal’s head was tilted this way and that.

Cheeks squished, a little grunt wormed its way out. Yeah, he wondered why. “Jus’ woke up,” Adal mumbled during the other’s inspection; noticeably calmer than when he startled awake.

“You should get more rest, dear.” A gentle pat to werecreature’s features, and Lior’s pale gaze shifted to look further in the room. It only took a few strides before Lior reached the bedside; arms already spread wide for a loving embrace. “Gioia mia, you’re not working him to the bone, are you?” He inquired with thinly veiled amusement lacing his words. As haggard as Adal might seem, that man could endure a surprising amount of physical strain.

It was cold, so cold. Why couldn’t Lior at least shut the door behind him so the cold air couldn’t get in. Will grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped himself with it. If he was going to have to sit through the drama, he would at least be warm while doing it.

Lior was always so dramatic, but that was probably why Will liked him. He fit well and added the excitement to everything. A eccentric Sea Creature was never really an option as a lover, but Will was happy to have him nonetheless. Said Sea Creature’s gaze was suddenly shifted, and Will was no the target of affection.

“I don’t work him hard. I’m not cruel”. Shifting on his feet slightly, Will tried to find a way to avoid the no doubtfully cold embrace. The cabin was small though, and didn’t provide many areas of escape. “He would work a lot less if you stuck around for a few more days”, Will mused as he surrendered himself to the hug. “It would also mean that you don’t have to swim through cold water to find us, Lior”.

#char:Will

rcppled:

✃ ✁ closed | @breaking-atlas ✃ ✁

It started with a simple knock.

A gentle rap-tap-tap.

Rap-tap-tap.

The start of a low groan swathed the noise; had it fade into the distant background. Half of his body turned, if only to curl further into the cushion of warmth to his right. He’ll investigate the noise in.. a second. He wasn’t done with slumber just yet.

Minutes passed before it came again.

Rap-tap-tap.

Rap-tap-SLAM.

Alarm flooded his senses in an instant. Dark eyes snapped open as he lurched from bed. Had something struck the hull? Unbidden, the quiet tumble of a growl burned just beneath the chest. Slowly, oh so cautiously, Adal inched towards the cabin door; wary to clear the mystery. Another two steps and..

“–wam all this way to be greeted by who? The seagulls? Scram you lot! Drop another piece of shit, and I’ll pluck your feathers one by one–” The wooden frame suddenly rattled with the rhythmic rap-tap-tap as the familiar voice prattled on. “Adal! Will! It’s well past dawn! Wake up– ‘less you’re planning to sleep the day away!”

Having peaceful sleep was easily accomplished when you were set adrift on a boat. The gentle rocking and the sounds of the waves crashing against the haul. This was where true peace was found.

It was also found lying next to someone you love. Their warmth and presence creating an anchor to hold yourself against during the cold nights. Will couldn’t ask for any other way to end the night. During moments like this, he was also excited about waking up. Ada would be there with him, and they could start their day looking out at the expansive sea before them. Peace.

Of course, peace had it’s limits. It came in the form of a long banging on the door, and someone yelling for them to wake up. It took all of his might not to just stay in bed, but Will would be damned if he thought their alarm clock wouldn’t break the door in.

He was ready to drag himself to the door, and let their +1 in. Thankfully Adal beat him there. Will sat up on the bed and yawned, “There is nothing wrong with sleeping the day away. We worked very hard last night, I do believe that warrants us a break”.

idontwikeit

see, in this story, he heard Penelope was dead.

Odysseus untethered, unmoored - he throws himself into storms like he might match their fury, like he might find her there, the calm at their centre. yet their centres stay empty and he sails on - sticks his oar in the salt and fucking dares it to drown him.

see? there is no peaceful way to end this. — | s. r. @spacegaysian

it’s a dog-eat-dog world

and i’ve got bigger teeth than you

Rules||Muses|| Scribbled by Mar

#indie rp #horror rp #indie supernatural rp #indie horror rp #indie crime rp #self promo #//i've returned from the dead huzzah

pilipalea-deactivated20200202

EIGHT ( 8 ) MATCHING PSD PACKS (20+ SLIDES ) & PSD COLORINGS INCLUDED! all for free! these are from my old series and can be used for aesthetics and more. these will be the last time any of these psds will be featured on my blog! most popular: sad days, reborn, silje slides.. hope you all enjoy. dl here.

#resource.

sorormystica89

tewwor‌:

✧･ﾟ closed | @breaking-atlas･ﾟ✧

Alright, so, the whole protective eye wear didn’t work the way he had hoped. They were supposed to be somewhat resistant to the whole ‘holy mojo’ Wade emitted, but here he sat with his eyeballs starting to burn.

Titus cleared his throat lightly as he adjusted the glasses by the frame. “Still no way to, you know, tone it down, huh?” He asked, almost a little too nonchalantly given the fact that he was slowly being roasted alive. Which he merely equated to the first few times he had met the other in that one church. Just a slight sunburn- that’s all that it was.

There was something endearing, yet completely fucking stupid about Titus wearing sunglasses in order to combat Wade’s holy aura. On one hand, he found his husband’s commitment wonderful, on the other he still thought he was dumb as bricks. Still, this was the man he married in holy matrimony.

He did try to tone down the holiness, even going as far as the hide his wings. He didn’t like the fact that he always hurt Ty without him actually trying. It was stupid and there were days where he just expected the demon to leave and save himself. Of course, that would go against who Titus was. “I’m trying. A little hard when you have the Lord’s light inside you. Also, are those your prescription lenses? You know that won’t help right?”

#ch:Titus #char:wade #//YEAH BAYBEEE

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