#“Well the words are Latin and that makes them Roman and Roman magic can hurt him” (said to me today) HP has a magic gap rule‚ he gone

[what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil]

The way the HP girlies on TikTok are fighting for their lives trying to prove that Harry can beat Percy, I'm immensely pleased 🤣

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Lilium

Summary: Although a witch, you weren’t the one to really summon demons, but your friends had insisted that you could use an extra pair of helping hands to help you with your run-down hut. After fixing the mess of a first attempt fail, you were expecting to summon a lower gremlin. What or who you didn’t expect, was to summon the demon king of hell, keeper of souls, in searching for something that only you could do perfectly.

In explanation of the fic: Each powerful demon has his/her own hell, and in each hell has layers, like onions. So although reader didn’t summon Lucifer, she summoned a pretty powerful Japanese demon who’s element of hell follows close to that of Greek mythology because Rita liked the Persephone vibes. As for the soul thing, those are the souls who just...wind up at his place.  

Title name: Lilies are a flower that represent not only unity, love, and devotion, but also the flowers are most often associated with funerals, they symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. Persephone held lilies in her hands/arms as she was take away by Hades, the flowers turning white as they fell to the ground. Ancient(?) Romans would stuff pillows full of the flowers, the fragrance perfect for love-making ;)  

Notes: @youtubequeens, or Rita, requested the beautiful idea of Tai-chan being a demon king in need of something that only the reader can do, and we brainstormed together on the setting and the plot, so the credit goes to her, go ahead and check her on Tumblr <3

Warnings not in order: Cursing, hand cutting for rituals (so blood), being void of a soul (cause, demons), summoning demons, minions, souls of the damned, smut, deals with the devil, having your soul taken and turning into a demon, and hellish stuff.  

Tag: @youtubequeens

   “I mean, look at this place, Sister! It’s a dump! C’mon, pleeeease!” Your friend begged. She, along a few others belonged to a nearby coven. Although good friends, they delved into the darker aspects of witchcraft, such as demon summoning, as you stuck to herbal remedies, readings, and a little bit of scrying. Although not against the art, you weren’t well acquainted, and a little nervous.

“You don’t even need a contract! Just bind whatever poor little goblin or gremlin to you, and...you know, have it help you collect your herbs! I know, binding seems a little much, and it’s difficult to get out of one, but they can’t hurt you when bound to you.” Another friend piped up, trying further to convince you. Your gaze fell onto the chalked-up pentagram within your home, surrounded by salt and melting red candles, looking innocently out of place, almost.

“Alright, fine.” You huffed, causing squeals of victorious joy from the gaggle of girls. It wouldn’t hurt, you thought. You lived in the outskirts of the village, within a rugged hut that you called a “store”. Although it was a popular little town, you weren’t doing to well. Your place was falling apart, herbs were harder to find, and although tolerated, your witchy status had alerted and unnerved everyone, except your little coven of friends, who had hidden themselves away deeper into the forest.

Your life sucked, and with your pet familiar, the two of you kept to yourselves as you brewed supper more than potions and remedies, your Sisters popping in from time to time, checking up on you.

Your little orange rabbit snuggled into your lap as you repeated the words in Latin, trying to spark hellfire into the pentagram. No such luck.

“Aw! Is it not working? I’m suuuure my aunt gave me the right spell!” Your main friend huffed into a pout, the two other girls following her example of disappointment.

“Perhaps another time? It’s getting late, girls.” You admitted. Truthfully, you didn’t want to have to deal with more pressure, and your familiar was getting unnerved by the whole thing.

“You’re right. It was fun hanging out with you, Sis! Wish we could do this more, but you know, coven stuff.” The sweet friend smiled softly as she hugged you tightly.

“We’ll be busy, you know, coven stuff. Auntie wants us to clean out the nasty pots, restock the potions, and go on a wild, exciting adventure of grabbing rare herbs, so we don’t know when that’s going to take. Ugh, I’m not leaving, yet, and I miss you, already!” The leader of the girls whined, dramatically throwing her arm over her eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle.

      “Stay safe, okay? We’ll visit to check up on you. Give Lottie some extra treats for us!” The third one grinned, petting the rabbit. With further words, they left, leaving you warm, yet saddened and alone.  

 Many times, the fellow women of the coven had offered a place for you, so that you wouldn’t be so alone, and you appreciated that, but you knew that the coven wasn’t one for you. Although not evil, you didn’t want to join for a multitude of reasons. They had strict rules and regulations, following their leader without question as they sacrificed time and energy for reasons that the girls, although close, didn’t tell you what for.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was rather sketchy. Your eyes laid upon the pentagram as the thought crossed your mind. You weren’t fully against summoning things from the underworld, it was an aged old practice that was held with reverence from generation to generation. You held Charlotte close to you, the rabbit sniffing at the air, scenting out scents that your human nose could not deter.

“I smell nothing out of the ordinary. The salt is too strong.” Her voice echoed in your head, and you nodded your thanks. You were curious, you admitted. You didn’t really have much things to do, other than clean your stew pot, tend to the moon water, and pluck the petals off of the dried out roses.

“Something has to give, in order for you to receive.” You said aloud, the wheels turning in your head. A certain flower could help, you thought suddenly, looking at the container of dried out white lilies. You opened the jar spreading out the white funeral flowers among the edges of the Celtic symbol. The scent was almost too pure for such a deed, you couldn’t help but think.  

Carving a fool-proof plan to mind, you placed Charlotte down, and grabbed a small blade used for cutting fruits from your kitchen. The little rabbit opted to say nothing, trusting you as her witch to do what you think was best.  

You winced as you sliced a small cut into your palm, letting the little blood droplets to drip onto each flower, avoiding the salt as best as you could. Picking up a slip of paper in which had the summoning spell, you began reading the Latin out loud as you channeled your energy at the edge of the pentagram, instead of in between it.

Your breath hitched as bright orange hellfire sparked, not going past the salt as it crackled at the precious crystals and parts of the flowers. You continued speaking the verses, watching in awe as the odd underworldly flames refused to consume, instead it burned brighter at each verse.

As you finished the last sentence with a final quip, you jumped in surprise as the flames reached almost as high as the ceiling, whirling dangerously as it let out smoke and sparks, fizzling as a tall figure behind the flames seemed to crawl from the little circle, you couldn’t see who or what it was, but you were coughing as the unnatural smoke outweighed the dying fire, floating heavily away as you looked up to see your first summon.

You were choked up, not knowing what to say as your eyes beheld the sight when the smoke finally cleared from the deadened flames.  

 A demon, and not just anything in the ordinary of what you knew about them. He was tall, as tall as the men in your village, and almost resembled a human. His pointed ears were adorned with little ringlets of gold, matching the glittering bracelets and bands that were worn upon his ankles, horns, wrists, arms, and a swishing pointed tail. His attire was something you’d never really seen within your village, but you knew what it was due to your books.

He wore dark orange attire that almost resembled a Doric chiton, except the one he wore, hardly left anything to the imagination, but you weren’t focused on that, right now. What you were focused on, was the demon’s scowl of frustration and annoyance, aimed at you as his tail swished and thumped angrily at the ground, reminding you of an angry cat.  

“This fuckin’ circle’s too small! And the hell do you want? I’m a very busy man, ya know!” He growled out, taking in your smaller frame with displeasure. You were surprised by his accent, it was gruff, yes, but it was new, something that you’ve never heard, before.

“I was trying to summon something else.” You stammered, and he faltered in an angry shock, before narrowing his eyes at you.  

“Tch! Who do you think you are, summonin’ a king of hell, tellin’ me that you were tryin’ to summon somethin’ else?” He bared his teeth, and you could see little tusks peeking out from underneath his bottom lip. You gave him your name as you found yourself blurting out who knows what.

“I need a um...helper. I needed somebody to look after my hut while I collected herbs...make sure that the villagers don’t torch down my shop.” The excuse slipped out as you stood your ground. It was partially true. His stance relaxed a bit at your words.

“A magic user, huh?” He asked slowly, behavior sharply and swiftly contrasting from his angry tone, as he rested his chin onto his hand in processing the thought. Then his eyes moved onto yours. He unnerved you.

“What about it?” You asked, and he indulged you.  

“Normally, mortals such yerself can summon us with ease, only because ya need a contract. You, lil’ witch, were trying to find a binding partner, which uses magic. I may have use for you, yet.” His attitude shifted, and you couldn’t help but relax a little at the honeyed tone. What was with this demon?

“What are you talking about?” You bit out. He let out a victorious grin.

“Yer magic was so strong, it summoned me. A king of hell, a keeper of souls, n’ lord of demons. Bindin’ magic can only get ya so far, it’s pretty much unheard of a mortal summoning somethin’ greater than an ogre, or an oni.” Rolled off of his tongue, eyes now glinting with something that you couldn’t pinpoint. You were surprised. A king of hell? It did explain his jewelry and finery, you silently pinpointed. Despite the shock, you still needed to ask more questions while he was in the mood to be generous with his answers.  

“So...you’re needing me to summon demons up for you from the surface?” You offered, and he looked at you with surprise.

“No….I need you to give up your soul, and live with me in hell.” He grinned at the tight atmosphere that he was causing, you froze.

“Tell me, why would I ever want to do that? What do you even want?” You grounded out the last bit, still confused, and getting weary. Your summon had taken a toll on your body, and now you were feeling the lull of sleep due to sapped magic.  

“I have two main underlings who are like sons to me, but the three of us can only do so much in carin’ for the undead. Ya see, hell’s a very powerful place, in which it can supply a witch’s magic with ease. Ya know where I’m getting’ at?” He drawled out, and you nodded a little.

“I think somebody of yer stature could really hold the forte down. All you have to do, is just be there, n’ yer magic can calm down n’ soothe the restless dead, making this job a lot easier. Since yer magic is powerful, it’ll be extra helpful n’ dosing the souls an’ lesser devils, down. You give me what I need, an’ I can give you what you need.” He purred at the end.

The thought of being useful did appeal to you, it’s what you ever wanted. Yes, it was a terrible decision and you’ll probably end up being burned, anyway, but you remembered that a bound demon or devil cannot hurt you, no matter how powerful they were. If they hurt you, they hurt themselves.

“I’m not going to give up my soul to burn forever, to live with a demon that I’m not bound to.” You countered, and his eye twitched

“First of all, Sweetheart, my realm is in layers. Where you, I, an’ my boys live, is an environment that resembles your realm, but better. Secondly, you will be bound to me, but not as a servant or master, but as an equal. Somethin’ akin to…” He let the sentence hang as he smiled smugly at you, brows furrowed with cockiness, leering at you from his height.

“Akin to?” You egged him, and he let the rest rolled off of his tongue without hesitation.  

“My queen.”

Your brain screeched to a halt.

He laughed at your stunned expression.

“What? Ya expected me to make ya my lil’ minion? No, no, Honey, somebody with yer power, and the sheer gall to stare into my face while arguin’ with me, has already earned my respect. Yeah, you’ll have to turn into a demon, but you’ll be immortal, n’ you can visit yer friends n’ family as long as you like, if you’re powerful as me. Which, you will be.” He threw in his own bait, trying to lure you in.

Understandably, you were stunned. You just summoned a devil. Who wanted you to rule hell with him.  And to become an immortal mistress of the night who can help rule over the undead while living forever with him in his realm.

It was tempting, yes, but you were not one who really chased power. You told him, and his eyebrows furrowed, as if thinking further ways to lure you in, and to be honest? You found that you didn’t mind being swayed by a literal handsome devil.  

“Well, think about it this way, Princess, I don’t know you well, but you live in a run-down hut, the peasants fear you to the point of possible violence, and you’ve turned your attention to demon summoning. We’re both desperate for somethin’.” He looked at you thoughtfully, tail swishing as you processed it. Hell.

“What about my familiar?” You were caving in, and his gazing expression broke out into a victorious grin as his eyes slide to your rabbit.

“Sure, the lil thing can come, too. Familiars exist in hell, too, but not the cute lil’ rabbit ones. Might be a nice change to have one. Wipe away the salt, n’ we can get started.” He acted as if he had already won, and to be honest, he did.  

It was too good of an opportunity to really pass up, and you didn’t really have anybody, and good decisions in your tired state were lacking. You wiped away the salt, and he sighed with relief as he stepped out.

“Man, that tiny circle was exhaustin’ to be in. Now, let’s take you home.” He tucked a fray hair behind your ear. Smiling a devil’s smile, he held you against him, and you tried to keep your cheeks from flushing as he began a mantra of a spell in his native tongue, leaving you awed that it wasn’t the usual Latin. You couldn’t keep your eyes open as a wave of exhaustion and tiredness wafted over you, and your eyes slid shut, darkness over-taking you, but not before hearing a dark chuckle.  

…………..

Warm. You were so warm. You opened your eyes, only to be greeted by a bare chest. Your eyes widened as now you were fully conscious, furiously wondering on what the hell was going on.

“So, yer finally awake.” He hummed, and you jolted slightly, looking up at his face with pure surprise, he smiled at you as he held you close to his chest. It didn’t take you long to realize that this was his bedroom, and your mind whirled, vaguely remembering prior events. Sitting up, he whined at the loss of contact, but you paid no mind.

The room was lit up by the flickering familiar orange flames emitting from the white candles slowly melting on top of his dresser, creating a safe, sleepy, and an almost romantic atmosphere. The bed was huge, and took up a good portion of his room, but there was still enough space for some furniture such as the dresser, and a large cage. You sighed with relief, seeing the familiarity of Charlotte within, the little rabbit’s eyes now glowed with luminescence, as if she were something else. It would make sense, your familiar was no longer a normal familiar, since she was in hell, with you.    

You looked down, feeling warmed metal against your skin, and that’s when you’ve noticed your new attire. It was a chiton, like his, although a little looser, and you wore the same amount of matching golden jewelry. Your ears stung a little at the newer piercings, but you didn’t pay that much mind as you couldn’t help but think that he went out of his way to undress you and doll you up to match him. You gave him a dirty look, and he grinned in retaliation, enjoying the flushed and guffawed expression that marred your face.

“If ya’re gonna be the part, might as well look like it. I didn’t undress you fully or touch you too inappropriately, if that makes ya feel better.” He shrugged. Although you admit that he sort of have a point, still!

“What happened to me?” You opted to say instead, and he sat up along with you, you jumping slightly as his tail curled around your waist, acting as a small comfort.  

“You’re a demon. I took yer soul, and bound it to me. Wish ya could’ve seen it, ‘s so pretty an’ pure, an’ it fizzled nicely within me. Was the only way for ya to come down here, sorry.” He hummed, rubbing his cheek against yours in seemingly affection, eyes glittering as he let you process the words and his bizarre behavior.  

Demon. Were you dead? You had no heartbeat, did you? You let your hand rest against your pulse point, surprised by the soft fluttering. You looked at him with question.

“Demon, not fully dead, but not fully alive, either, an’ yeah, you’ll look forever like a human, since ya weren’t born like us. I took yer soul, and gave you one of the multiple that belongs to me. ‘S how we tie our lives together fer eternity, as if exchangin’ rings. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Romantic, isn’t it?”

“I have so many questions.” You murmured, instead. He smiled.  

“We have an eternity together, I’ll answer all of ‘em. For now, c’mon. Lemme show ya what yer magic is doing right now at this moment.” He stood up from the bed, offering you his hand, pulling you up to him as you accepted it. He opened the drapes to his balcony’s windowed doors, revealing an ashen gray sunlight that paled in comparison to the candles. Letting you take Charlotte out of her cage, he opened the doors as the two of you stepped outside.

You looked on in awe.

The balcony to your new home, an ashen gray-stoned castle, had a short amount of steps that led into a gigantic garden. You stared in amazement and joy at the flowering plants and trees that grew in your former realm. There were so many plants, you couldn’t name all of them, but you didn’t mind as you looked on in the neatly organized forage of a garden, enjoying the array of greens and different colors of flowering foliage. Your familiar squirmed, wanting to enjoy the plants and be free, and so you let her, knowing that she’ll be smart enough to stay within eyesight.    

“Beautiful, ain’t it? It didn’t look like this ‘fore you were here. Sure, some plants such as pomegranates n’ ferns grew, but since it’s such a deadened place, nothin’ really grew. I tried for centuries, n’ no such luck. It’s so beautiful ‘cause of yer magic.” His voice broke out of your thoughts, and you listened carefully as a hint of sorrow passed over his features.

“Pomegranates…?” Your mind raced to the odd familiarity of the setting. Greek clothing, the underworld, and now pomegranates? He leaned down and smirked at you, bringing your hand to his lips.

“Heh, because, ya know…” He grinned, enjoying the way you stared up at him in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Can’t say that I don’t have a sense of humor.” He chuckled, and you felt yourself relax, thinking of ways to steer the conversation into another turn.

“You really like this place, don’t you...um?” You wanted to curse yourself. You went through a psychological loop in becoming a queenly wife to a stranger, no less a king of demons, and you didn’t even know his name. How forgetful were you?

Ignoring your inner dread, he grinned as he held your hand within his, rubbing his thumb over your palm.

“Taishiro. Yeah, I rarely visit earth ‘cause all the shit I have to do, n’ so this is my favorite place to relax. Thanks to you, it’s blossoming quite well.” He admitted, pecking your cheek, tail flicking with delight at the prospect of your face pink with the affection. Oh, you were so cute, he crooned.

“What about the dead, Taishiro?” You wondered as you tried out, the foreign language rolling off of your tongue. He looked at you with interest, liking the way his name melded to your own dialect.  

“I’ll take ya on a little tour, how about that? Show ya what’s happenin’ and yer new home. N’ later, we can relax in our garden, take a lil’ break to enjoy our Honeymoon.” He purred, and you felt butterflies flutter nicely within your stomach and chest as you nodded.

“Yer familiar can stay outside. It never rains here, an’ she’s not really...alive, anymore. She’ll be fine.” He looked at the little rabbit that was chewing on a blade of grass, absentmindedly paying attention as you agreed, knowing that she’ll be safe.  

Without further ado, he took you back inside of the castle, beginning the day.

……...            

       It was obvious that you were still in shock, and that this wasn’t a dream. He opted to say nothing about your state, as he introduced you to the castle, and the many rooms within. Of course the first thing he had offered to show you, was the dining room, stating that you were probably hungry, and a nice breakfast had been made for you. You blushed furiously, not acquainted with such treatment, and he grinned, pinching your cheek and you huffed at him.

“C’mon, Sweetcheeks, the staff’s all here, n’ they’ve been waitin’ to see what’s been in my bedroom fer about two days.” The sentence had surprised you.

“Two days?” You looked at him owlishly, and he shrugged.

“Turnin’ a human into somethin’ else, takes a toll on the receiver. I’m surprised that it was that short, to be honest.”  

 You walked along side him as the interior looked unique and odd, nothing of it that you’ve seen before. Colors of orange, gold, and red melded into a comfortable, royal setting as the hallways twisted. Each one sported different types of framed pictures and paintings of animals, spirits, and demons of which were new to your eyes.

 Taishiro smiled at your awed and innocent wondering as he began talking, introducing you further into his world, entrancing and entrapping you into the Greek and Japanese themes that he so loved, and you couldn’t help but feel fitted in comfortably within your new home as the two of you continued on-wards towards the dining room, your stomach feeling empty.  

You talked along with him, trying to learn and get used to the idea that yes, this was your husband. Your demon husband who was oddly being affectionate with you, despite his earlier, snappish attitude. Although, you were not minding it, preferring the brushing of hands, eyes meeting yours, and little touches, rather than the first thoughts of possibly burning in hell for eternity. He intrigued you, leaving you to wonder on how were you this lucky and yet foolish. All too soon, however, he had guided you into his favorite place that was second to the garden.  

 The room was beautiful and spacious, with multiple dining ware, vases of freshly cut flowers, and cloths laid neatly upon the long table. The staff were well dressed in their own lesser version of Ionic chitons, small bands of gold littered their collars and wrists, but nothing too extravagant like you and your husband’s. He sat you down, the smell of bacon, eggs, and biscuits wafted deliciously to you from the silver plate sitting in front of you. You could feel your mouth all but water as your stomach grumbled with an awakening realization. Taishiro sat next to you, chuckling at your eagerness.  

“I know that yer not human, anymore, but we demons can live on an’ indulge on such human foods. Thank our chefs fer goin’ out onto the earthen realm, n’ huntin’ down the stuff.”

“Thank you.” Came out, and who you guessed were the chefs, bowed with gratitude. You tried not to shovel the food greedily into your mouth, paying mind to try to eat with grace. You blanched, feeling a bit of the egg yolk dribble down your chin, and you jumped as Taishiro didn’t miss a beat in taking the opportunity to swipe it from your face with his forefinger, eyeing you with a dark look mixed in with a cocky smirk as he began suckling on said finger, rolling his tongue around it, and pulling it out of his mouth with a wet pop.

You felt as if your face, chest, and ears were burning as he then groaned.  

“Delicious.”

You weren’t burning in hell with actual fire, so you guessed he had to come up with other ways, you guessed.  

The two of you finished in silence, him grinning with knowing want at your expressions, liking the way how easy and fun it was to just tease you. After saying your formal thanks to the staff, the two of you continued onward.

 Most of the rooms, other than the main bedroom, that he had led you, were guest rooms, and the others were sleeping headquarters for the staff and his underling sons. Speaking of which, it did not take you too long to be introduced to them. Cue in bright laughter, oddly mixed in with a rather gloomy aurora caught your attention, and lo and behold, down the hall is where they stood.

“Oooh! Is this her, Tai-chan?!” Noticing your presences, a red-haired young man turned his attention towards you. He nor the other young man were dressed as glamorous as the two of you, but they were unique. The red haired boy, along with the black haired one, both had pointed ears, but that’s where the line was drawn. Red had scaled, burgundy wings, furled neatly behind his back as his reptilian tail wagged slowly, he sported a sharp-toothed grin and radiated sunlight.

The gloomy man had a crystal ball within his clawed hands, cape and hood cloaking his figure as he stared at you.

“Who else would it be?” He muttered slowly, sarcasm lost on the other.

“Eijirou’s the dragon, an’ Tamaki’s the sorcerer. Boys, this is yer Queen.” Taishiro made a short introduction.  

“Nice to meet you!” As well as “Hello.” Greeted you, and you mimicked their greetings, surprised by the welcome. You replied your own greetings, feeling a bit nervous.

“Tamaki, would ya show ‘er the souls? I’d like for her to know what’s on the lower layer.”

“Sure.” Without further question, the scryer demon began murmuring his own spell as you stared into the crystal ball, watching with amazement at the sheer focus that was being put into it as it began to reveal answers to your questioning mind.

“See what yer magic’s been doin? Told ya, Nightingale, yer magic’s one of a kind, an’ yer not focusing on it, right now, but see what it’s doin’?” Taishiro gestured towards the mass of ghostly shadows within the ball. They seemed still, as if time had stopped them.

“Rather than deafening screams, wailing, and clattering of chains, we have this. They’re calm, awaiting to be reincarnated. It’s the most quiet that we’ve heard in centuries. None of us has yet the need to intervene and waste our time.” Tamaki opted to explain for you, a small hint of a smile graced his features, while Eijirou smiled warmly.

“It eases their suffering, too! Your magic to them is like a lullaby! You can’t hear it, but others can! It’s why Tai-chan’s been so calm-

“Anyway! Let’s go to the garden, yer not too tired, right? We can continue this later.” Taishiro interrupted swiftly, ruffling each boy’s heads as he gripped your hand rather gently, tugging you along back towards the familiarity of the garden, as you swore you heard two chuckles behind you.

……..

         “There is a teeny, tiny detail that I need to explain.” Taishiro dragged you further into the depths of the green foliage, slowly but surely darkening out the sunlight as you couldn’t help but shiver a little due to the anticipation. Where was he leading you? You guessed that he could see in the dark, but you couldn’t, feeling yourself stumble a little.  

“Taishiro, I can’t see.” You offered, and you heard a chuckled huff.

“Guess I gotta carry you, hm?” The sentence was your only warning. You let out a shrill yelp, feeling him lift you up with little to no effort into his arms. You liked the way how he gripped you, and seeped into his warmth as he continued walking to who knows where, and oddly enough, you trusted him.

“In order to fully complete the bond,” He startled you, as he finally broke the silence in what had seemed minutes. Setting you down, he snapped his fingers. Orange floating, flickering lights that resembled candles appeared right after, dimly illuminating the area around them. Your eyes adjusted, taking in the scenery that the lights were willing to show. It was a spacious area of smoothed down grass, white lilies and red roses crowned around it, giving it a magical, romantic feeling.

“you need to finally receive part of my power. Sure there’s multiple ways of sharing a mate’s essence, I just thought that this would be more fun.” He gave you a wink, and you felt your heartbeat quicken with a little nervousness. Yet, you found yourself not really surprised. He was your husband, after all. The thoughts of you becoming a demon, him being your mate, and that you ruled souls along with your new family, had been whirling around your head silently. It was only natural to continue, right?

“Only if you take the lead.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning down to finally mesh his lips upon yours in a secured kiss, tail swishing wildly as if joyed. Although a little snappy, he was also sweet and devilish in a teasing, fun way. You guessed that he was probably stressed from working and worrying too hard, thus you didn’t really hold it against him.

“Alright.” He led you to the clearing, laying down as he pulled you down on top, you basically straddling him, heat creeping up to your neck and ears as his clothed hardness poked at your equally clothed entrance. Not bothering to take any clothes off, he rocked his hips, groaning with guttural want as you let out a whimper, feeling the silk cloth of your clothing stimulate your clit as he rutted lazily up against it. His eyes focused up at you as he held your waist tightly, helping you rock your hips in sync with his as his tail rubbed itself against your sensitive, itching to feel you.  

“Can ya smell yer own arousal? Mixin’ in nicely with our flowers? Ya can cum anytime ya want too, okay?” He brought you down to kiss your clavicle and neck, your hands gripped his hair as your fingers threaded though the soft tresses and horns, keening as his own teeth latched onto the juncture of your throat as he suckled, minding his bottom tusks as he bit harshly, kissing the bruising skin with tenderness. You choked out a whimper as your hips bucked a little more roughly at his actions, causing him to groan.  

You could feel yourself clench with want as his precum and your wetness soaked through your undergarments, creating a slicking friction as the wet squelching noises echo through the dimly lit darkness. You looked down at him through lidded eyes, eyebrows furrowing as you bit your bottom lip, noticing that he mimicked your expression, if it wasn’t for the gritting teeth, You liked this side of him, too, you thought through your itching need to cum.  

He could tell that you were getting desperate, hell, he was, too. Yet, he wanted you to come before he did. Taking both hands away from your waist, he placed one underneath your ridden up clothing, and another cupped one of your bouncing breasts, thumb rubbing roughly over a nipple. Taking pleasure in the way that you were staring down at him, swallowing thickly, he let his hand slip into your soiled undergarments, making sure that every time your hips bucked forwards, you could feel his fingers brush against your clit.  

“T-Taishiro~!” You gasped, and he moaned, slipping two fingers in as he continued bucking, envying the digits as they stretched your tight and wet heat. Your juices were now dribbling down, creating more of a mess as his now four fingers pumped in and out of you, crooking them and stretching your walls with a gentle fervor as his dick slid between the folds of your labia, continuing to rub against your clothed clit. He ate up your desperate expression, knowing that he was no better as the both of you were about to cum. He picked up his pace as your face was buried in his shoulder, panting loudly and letting out breaths of need.  

“Y-ya know, I haven’t done this in centuries. ‘M gunna fuck you so good. Would ya like that?” He nipped at your ear, and you whined wantonly as you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, gripping them like a lifeline and he hissed as you came, cum soaking and dripping everywhere as you stilled, fingers grasped in his hair tightly, and damn if he loved that feeling. He stilled, awaiting for you to recover as you panted, lying against his chest as tears and a little bit of drool temporarily stained your flushed face. He kissed you softly, removing his soaked fingers from your fluttering heat, lust boiling within him as he imagined his cock in there.

“How do ya want this? Missionary and doggy are pretty good positions for first timers, either way, I’m going to claim you, Sweetheart.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes, as if contemplating on what you want.

“What do you want?” You asked instead, and the question caught him off guard, but he grinned.

“You.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then have me.” You felt a blush at your own statement, but you really wanted to continue.

“Ya sure?”

“Anyway you can, Taishiro. I trust you, you’re not going to hurt me.” At this, his expression softened as he then kissed you with such a tenderness.

“I won’t, but my instincts are screamin’ at me to take ya right here on the ground.”

“Then do so. We have an eternity together, right?” You pondered, and he frowned a little.

“For your-

“I trust you.” You interrupted, looking at him dead in the eyes, as if challenging him. He couldn’t help but smile at your spitfire attitude.

“As my Queen commands.” He kissed your cheek.

It was the only warning you really had, but your blood was on fire with heat and want, and truthfully, if he wanted to hurt you, he had every opportunity to after you wiped away the salt from the pentagram.

Shedding off the both your clothing, the both of you stared unabashed at each other, a red flush tinted his face, and you were blushing furiously. You weren’t really acquainted with seeing an angry-looking cock, veins visible as a drool of precum leaked onto the ground, but here it was, twitching slightly at your intense gaze. The golden glints caught your eye, and your eyes widened with surprise.

“Y-you have piercings-!” You guffawed as he laughed.

“Oh! You’re so cute! Easy to reach’n stimulate, Babe.” He winked and you swallowed thickly as he then decided that enough time was spent staring, and now he wanted to touch you, more.  

 He placed both garbs neatly on the ground as he gently maneuvered you onto them, your stomach and breasts were cushioned as you gripped the clothing, knees on the cool grass as you basically laid out bare for him.  

 You jolted as you felt his hot, fat tongue lick a long stripe along your leaking sex and clit, his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them gently as he decided to make a meal out of you, first. You could only lay there, whining and panting, trying to move your hips in his tight grasp as he licked you with fervor, taking extra time to suckle at your clit, chuckling as he also sopped up the extra slick running down your thighs, kissing them gently and you moaned.

“Taishiro!” You whined at him, silently pleading for him to get to the main event.

“Oh? Ya wanna be fully tainted by the devil?” He purred, and you nodded. You knew that he had to take care of his need, too, and he didn’t admit it, but he was getting a little impatient.  

“Easy there, Hon. If anythin’ bothers you, say somethin’, and we’ll stop, m’kay?” He finished, getting an affirmative from you, as he then grabbed his dick, leading it to your sopping entrance, and pushing a little bit in. He was amazed on how the muscles to your opening were loose, letting the head of his dick catch the rim, slipping a little inside.

He froze when you froze at the sudden prodding, opting instead to move his hips rather gently, not going further as you got use to the feeling of what’s already inside you. He decided that rubbing your clit was a good idea, and was rewarded as he felt you loosen up a bit, knees spreading out further as you bit your lip, feeling the gentle rubbing of calloused fingers.

“C-continue.” You murmured, feeling the other piercings now slide past the muscle. It was a delicious feeling of being stretched and stimulated, feeling yourself loosen as you took more of him in.

“Almost in, Sweetheart.” He murmured gently, his other hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. Finally, he moved the last couple of inches inside of your burning heat as he refused to move, letting the both of you take in the feeling of being joined together.

“Ya alright?” He grunted, silently pleading for you to give your affirmative for him to move. He was relieved when you nodded, amazed at himself for gently rocking his hips as you were basically sucking him in. You were in a daze, feeling every inch, vein, and piercing churn your inside walls as your breasts rubbed against the silken clothing, clit still being stimulated as he took care of you.

“Y-you can mo-ve fa-faster, T-Taishiro.” It sounded more needy than you liked to admit, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned down, resting his chin against your shoulder as he basically enveloped you from above, one hand rubbing your clit, and the other holding himself from fully crushing you as he let his hips buck with more fervor, both of you seeing each other’s needy expressions.

“Takin’ me in-oh! So well, Darlin’. Ya’re s-suckin’ me in so-damn! Nicely. Don’t know ya that well, but ‘m so fond an’ proud of ya.” He kissed your cheek tenderly, contrast to his hips positioning themselves in a new angle in a snapping motion. Your head spun with stars as you felt the piercing on his tip, hit something inside you, letting out a “do that again!”. He would chuckle, if that statement didn’t turn him on so much.

“Y-you’re doing such a g-good job, too! Ah! Like y-you a lo-ot!” You admitted, trying your best to return such actions of affections. He rested his cheek against your cheek, taking his free hand to interlace his fingers with yours as he felt you tighten when he rolled his hips, aiming for the spot that kept making you clench.  

“’C’mon, cum fer me, Baby. Lemme feel ya milk a century’s worth dry.” He growled into your ear, eager at the prospect as much as you were as you suddenly stiffened, your walls tightening around him desperately as you let out a whine, chasing the fleeting feeling as you reached down and gripped his fingers onto your clit.

“T-Taishiro! O-overstim-ula-t-ed!” You cried out, tears pooling around your eyes in frustration as your body kept clenching around him and the electricity of your high was going haywire, consuming you into a mess.

“J-just a lil! More!” He tore his hand away, sitting up as he gripped one hand on your waist tightly, and the other pressed down on your back, snapping his hips, churning your sensitive walls with an animalisitc frenzy. You could only whine, laying there and taking it as your mind was in a blank state as you felt him get bigger, suddenly. To your relief, he gave one final thrust.  

A hot warmth coated your raw insides, mixing in with your own cum as you felt him still. You whined softly as you felt full. Moments passed as the two of you huffed and panted, letting the cool air chill the two of your sweaty bodies down. He pulled out of you gingerly, you whimpered at the loss as you felt cum and slick leak out. He paid no mind, plopping down to the side of you, and pulling you back onto his stomach as the two of you took each other in, cooling down from intense highs.

He cupped your face, and began trailing soft kisses wherever he could reach, and you couldn’t help but rasp out giggles, the fog clearing from your head as you descended back towards your normal mental state of closure.  

“Beautiful. Mmm, ya took me so well, an’ ya looked so pretty n’ debauched. Don’t care, I’m gunna say it, Princess. I love ya.” He admitted so softly, hands smoothing down your back as you felt your heart softened as you gazed down at him.

“I love you, too. I know for sure that I will love you more when time passes.” You kissed him tenderly, letting your own growing affections seep into the kiss, and he let out an odd guttural of purring, enjoying the fulfilling feeling of a partner doting on him. The lights flickered, as if trying to lull you to sleep, but you weren’t sleepy, yet.

“I want to talk. What’s your favorite color? Why do you purr? How did you meet your sons? I want to know every bit about you.” You murmured into his chest, peeking at him through lashes, enjoying the surprised and pleased look that you were receiving. You didn’t care about the time, letting him ramble at each question you had, enjoying the way his heartbeat quickened as his breathing chest fell up and down, him talking excitedly as he threw in his own questions, pleased to know about you, more.

“Ah~! I don’t think ya can’t get any cuter~.” He rubbed his nose against yours in affection, and you were surprised to hear the familiar purr echo through his chest.

“What about your purring?”  

“Yeah, happens now an’ then when I’m truly happy.”

“That’s wholesome and cute.” You admitted truthfully, liking the way his eyes danced with light at your confession.

“I wanna go again.” He said suddenly, and you flushed, realizing that he was stirring to life, again. You didn’t mind. You told him, and he smiled, kissing you.

“We’ll take it a lil’ more slow, this time. Face to face. Preferably ya kissin’ me, more.” He smiled, pinching your cheek playfully. You kissed him in false retaliation.

“Yer still a lil’ wet, so ya wouldn’t mind if I just-?” He asked, and you nodded, feeling his member catch onto the rim of your used entrance, the both of you moaning as he slid in easier, this time. You were wet and loosened, and instead of focusing on chasing your highs, the two of you paid attention to each other.

 Not many words were said as you did what you pleased, kissing, touching, and enjoying his softened expression at your inquisitive hands as he held onto you, returning your affectionate gestures as the atmosphere resonated with the flickering candles: soft and romantic as the two of your hips met in a slow, sensual pace, not racing against time as you felt him continue to purr, much to your satisfaction.  

You were still satisfied from earlier, but he still managed to make you cum again, this time it wasn’t as intense, but it didn’t matter, for your head cleared a little more quicker, getting to enjoy his desperate look as he quickened his pace. He looked debauched and desperate, eyebrows furrowed downward, pools of wetness gathering at his eyes as he bit his lip, only to open his mouth and call out your name as once again, he came inside of you.              

   “Damn, I think that I can forever make love to ya.” He panted out, sweaty chest rising and falling as one of your hands soothed circles around his waist, the other bringing his own to your lips as you kissed the back tenderly.

“I feel the same.” You admitted truthfully, and he let out another set of purrs.

……….

“Oh my goooooood! Oh my god! Sister! Where have you beeeeeen?! It’s been like, a year since we’ve last seen you!” Your friend hugged you tightly, relieved tears threatened to spill. Taishiro and you had decided to take a visit on the earthen realm to collect the rest of your things, if the villagers hadn’t destroyed your hut, that is. Luckily, your place was left untouched, and you came across the wondering group of girls, fretting over you, your state of dress, and looking at Taishiro with concern.

“Sis, did you finally summon a hireling? He doesn’t look like a gremlin?” One asked. You had to keep in your laughter as your husband’s eye twitched with annoyance.  

“Um, I used a different method on the summoning spell. This is my husband, Taishiro.”

“Whaaaaa-?”

“King of hell, keeper of souls, blah blah. Look, me an’ my Queen are going to go, now. Yer all annoyin’.” He griped, snapping his fingers as the portal to your home had opened, not giving your friends time to wave their goodbyes as he dragged you home, and oddly enough, you didn’t mind.

……..

          Your eyes glinted in the moonlight as the juice from the pomegranate seeds stained your lips red as you eyed the stunned man. Centuries had passed, and you and your husband had lost track of time, not aging as your magic grew in power, melding perfectly with his. Your adopted sons had moved on, finding their own mates, bringing them to your realm to visit regularly, and your love for Taishiro grew immeasurably.

  Unfortunately, since he was an ancient demon, he had to reincarnate once every one thousand years, letting his soul reset into a body although resembled his own, his memories were long gone, leading you onto a twenty-nine year old man-hunt for your reincarnated lover.

“I may have a use for you, yet.” You let the words soothe over the young magic user, his eyes widened in something akin to recognition, although confused.

“Alright, Dumplin, What’dya need?” His accent was the same, except it belonged to a young man, this time, and not a demon.

“I’m Queen of hell, lady of the lost souls, and I’m in need of a king.”

 “So familiar…” He gripped his head, eyeing you with confusion, yet there was a hint of your husband’s glint within those eyes.

“It’s because you know me. Very well.” You hummed at his confused expression.

“Alright, I’m curious. Lead me.” He gave in.

You smiled. It wouldn’t take long for the two of you to be reunited, after all.

………..

End! Give Thanks and Credit to Rita, or youtubequeens on tumblr for the idea and us brainstorming! I tried to fix any plot holes, I fell in love with the setting and mythology and other things, so I’m pretty proud of this fic :3

[deadanddeactivated]

Taking Secrets to the Grave, kinda

Alright, here’s my fill for the ATTIYS hosted by @magpiemorality cause they got  500 followers (and also for their bday) and i congradulate them on both ‘cause they great.

I’m not sure how good this is, but it got the idea across I think?  I hope y’all like it.  Please enjoy

--

Logan strode down the hallway, clutching his book in his hands. There was no time to waste! Information had been found and assessed and mused over, and now it needed to be shared. It could be vital! It could change everything. He just hoped he was still in time to help. Hadn’t he said that the right piece of knowledge could make all the difference in the world?! 

“I’m coming!” He called, speeding up his stride. “I know the answer!”

“What are you talking about?”  Patton asked, stepping out of his room and almost walking right into Logan as he rushed down the hall.

“I’ve figured it out.”  Logan announced, not looking back.  Patton had to rush to catch up, looking over Logan’s shoulder to see what he was clutching so tightly.  It looked to be an old book, one that had been burnt several times and seemed to ooze… something.  An aura of dread, maybe.

Or maybe it was Logan’s face that had Patton dreading.

“Figured out what?”  Patton pressed, even though he was pretty sure he knew.  He just hoped he was wrong.

“How to save him.”  Logan clarified, clutching his book just a little tighter.  He didn’t seem to notice the way Patton’s face fell, the way his steps faltered.  

“Logan, wait, please.”  Patton tried once he’d recovered.  “Let’s talk about this first.”

“What’s there to talk about?”  Logan huffed, stopping before a familiar door.  “I can save him, I can save so many.”  He added, muttering mostly to himself as he pushed the door open.  He didn’t step in right away, always thrown off by how… quiet the room was.  It wasn’t meant to be quiet.  

“You can’t save someone who’s dead.”  Patton said softly.  Logan tensed then he found his resolve and he walked into Remus’ room, walked right up to the frozen figure on the bed.  It almost looked like he was sleeping, but even that seemed just… wrong for Remus.

“I can bring him back.”  Logan said firmly, opening the book on the bedside table.  Patton flinched back as a wave of something rushed through the room.  Logan had handled a lot of things he really shouldn’t have been handling lately.  Ancient magics and tomes that would give anyone else pause.  But not Logan.  He wanted knowledge, and he’d achieved it.  More than that, he’d achieved knowledge no one else had.  

But this was different.  This was a line Patton knew Logan shouldn’t cross.

“Logan, you know that’s wrong.”  Patton tried. 

“It is simply not understood.”  Logan argued.  “I can’t just… I can’t just leave him like this Patton.”  The shorter side bit his lip, unsure what to say.  There were so many things he could tell Logan, that he probably should tell Logan, but… well he wasn’t sure how.  They’d already dug this hole, now he’d had to deal with the consequences.

“Okay.”  He said.  “Okay.”  Whatever happened, Patton would handle it.

Still, he found himself chewing on his nails as Logan set up the room.  Candles, sigils, and finally the words.  As Logan chanted in latin the candles lit themselves and the sigils seemed to move.  Logan lost awareness of everything else in the room, eyes glowing and voice layering.  Patton could only watch his eyes tight and send out his own little prayer, hoping beyond hope that this didn’t backfire.

“So,”  A voice called as Logan finished chanting.  “This is the mortal everyone’s talking about.”  Patton breathed a sigh of relief.  A figure had appeared in the room, standing on the opposite side of the bed to Logan.  He was dressed in a black cloak that had clearly been patched dozens of times, the newest of those patches having been made with a purple fabric in place of the usual midnight black.  He held a scythe causally in one arm, almost leaning against it, and only his eyes, one green and one purple, could be seen glowing beneath the shadows of his cloak.

“They say you can read the magic texts even the immortals have forgotten.”  The figure continued.  “I got the impression you were meant to be a lot smarter than this, scholar.”  

“Grim Reaper.”  Logan greeted, not raising to the bait.  “I have summoned you to ferry a soul.”  

“Yeah, I heard that part.”  The grim reaper said, rolling his glowing eyes.  “I don’t think you read the fine print.”

“Excuse me?”  Logan frowned.

“You called me to ferry a soul.  I could easily ferry yours.”  Patton jolted at the reapers words, stepping forward.

“Virgil!”  He said, panicked.  

“Relax Patton.”  The reaper said, raising a hand to brush him off.  “I’ll be nice, I’m just saying.  If he wasn’t your friend, I’d be ferrying his soul to the afterlife.”  Patton relaxed again, right until he looked over and saw the confused frown on Logan’s face.

“Patton?”  Logan asked.  “You… know this creature?”  

“I’d hope so.”  Virgil muttered.  

“Ah, well…”  Patton trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Surprise?” 

“That’s not an explanation Patton.”  Virgil pointed out before Logan could. 

“I know, I know.”  Patton sighed.  “We were planning to tell you Logan, really.  We just weren’t sure how.”

“Tell me what?”  Logan pressed, frowning deeper. 

“Um, well, we’re sort of… that is, um…”  Patton fumbled, trying to come up with an explanation but failing to find the words.  Virgil sighed, taking pity on him.

“You’re the only mortal in the house.”  He said. 

“Excuse me?”  Logan said, forehead scrunching up the way it does whenever something just… doesn’t commute.  It did the same thing the first time he found one of the magic filled book tucked away in the library.

“I mean, it did say that on the ad listing.”  Patton offered.  Remus had taken it upon himself to write the advertisement for the room they were renting.  If Patton remembered right his exact words were ‘Roommates are a couple of cursed princes and a deathless spirit’ or something like that.  Remus also hadn’t been subtle during the tour or when Logan had first moved in.  He’d decided to lay off when Logan had started discovery long forgotten magic, no one really wanting the mortal to realize how much danger he’d put himself in.  Better to fight off the mages and other creatures themselves and not involve Logan.

Of course that hadn’t meant to involve Remus taking a death curse to the chest protecting Logan but well, these things happen and it’s not like Remus could really die forever anyway.

They just hadn’t been sure how to explain that to Logan.

“But that…”  Logan started as his world view realigned with his new information.

“This is why we shouldn’t be making friends with mortals.”  Virgil scolded.  “De’s going to be rather annoyed I’m bringing these two up early.  You know how much he enjoys the company.”

“Two?  De?”  Logan repeated.  “What’s going on Patton, just tell me plainly already!”  He huffed.

“Well, um, De is Death.”  Patton answered first because that was the easy answer.  “And well…”

“Honestly Patton.”  Virgil sighed when Patton hesitated to continue.  “Remus and Roman’s lives are entwined, since they’re the cursed halves of a whole and all.  When Remus dies, Roman does and vice versa.  Usually they stay with De for a week or two before they’re souls come back, you have to give the golems time to heal.”

“Golems?”  Logan frowned.  He’d probably read about the humanoid, soulless creatures that were golems in one of those books.  Those things were probably hard to link to what Roman and Remus were.

“It’s a long story.”  Patton said.

“One you should have already told him.”  Virgil reminded.  “One of these days you’re going to learn to listen to him Pat.”

“No way.”  Patton teased with a grin.  “Little brothers aren’t allowed to listen, it’s in the contract.”

“Well then little brothers can deal with their own problems.”  Virgil said.  “I’ll go get the twins, you lot clearly had a lot to talk about.”

“Wait!  Virgil!”  Patton tried but it was too late, Virgil had already vanished into the shadows.  He sighed then looked over to Logan, who was staring blankly at where Virgil had just been.  “Lo?  Are you okay?”  He asked nervously, gulping when Logan didn’t answer.  Before Patton could try and bridge whatever gap had just opened, a gasping intake of air drew their attention to the bed.

Remus took a few more deep breaths before looking around the room and breaking into a grin.

“Lolo!  You conquered life and death!  Woo!”  He cheered.

“Based on the information I had just discovered, I believe there is much more to it than that.”  Logan said.

“Ah, you found out then.”  Remus said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling himself into a sitting position.  It was impossible to tell he’d been dead a minute ago, but then again he had a lot of practice.

“Yes.  The grim reaper, Virgil apparently, informed me.”  Logan said it with an even tone but Patton could tell he was hurt.  

“I’m sorry.”  Patton offered.  “I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“I told you all the time.”  Remus argued.  “I even told you the part about being kidnapped by a witch.”  He added, somewhat smugly.  Pounding steps cut off any reply Logan had, Roman appearing in the doorway a moment later.

“Damn it Remus!”  He snapped.  “Stop getting hit with killing curses!”  

“It’s only happened twice.”  Remus huffed.

“Try five times.”  Roman glared.  

“You should be thanking me for the chance to go see your boyfriend.”  Remus claimed.

“Well that didn’t work out either, because your boyfriend decided to get in the way!”  Roman snapped.

“Uh, you two…”  Patton cut in, looking between the angering twins and Logan - whose whole body seemed to be shaking.

“Lo?”  Remus prompted.

“Why did you just tell me?”  Logan asked, tone almost monotone doesn’t his shaking.  The other three shared a look.  In the end Roman spoke up.

“There’s a whole world of people that want the knowledge you have.  Or want you dead so no one else can have it.”  Roman explained.  “We didn’t want you to worry about that.”

“Yeah, we wanted you to just be your knowledge-seeking self!  Undistracted by things like killing curses and vampires!”  Remus added.

“So instead I had to worry about you being dead?”  Logan asked.  “And when was I going to find out about Roman?  What if I had walked into your room?”

“I would have stopped you.”  Patton said and then winced because that clearly wasn’t the answer Logan was after.  “We really are sorry, we were trying to figure out how to tell you I swear.”

“We were definitely going to tell you when Remus and I came back.”  Roman claimed.  Logan just sighed.

“I’m glad you’re both alright.”  He mumbled, and then moved to leave the room.  Remus didn’t let him, jumping up to grab Logan’s arm.

“Wait, Logan, we’ll make it up to you!”  He promised.  “Oh, oh how about you study us?  Yeah?  Would that make it better?”

“Yeah!  And we can answer any questions you have!”  Patton added.

“I refuse to be poked at with anything sharp.”  Roman said but raised his hands when Patton and Remus shot him a look.  “Okay, okay.”  He said.  “I’ll get poked.”

Despite there words, Logan was silent and Patton was starting to worry.  What if this didn’t fix anything?  What if Logan left forever and they’d ruined everything?

“Alright.”  Logan accepted.  “Let me get my notebook.”  Patton breathed a sigh of relief, happily following Logan does the hallway this time.  Things clearly hadn’t been fixed completely but at least Logan was letting them try.  

Now he’d just have to figure out when to visit De to apologize for Remus and Roman’s visit being cut short.

[noonymoon]

JUSTICE FOR JESUS — Misconceptions & Prejudices about the Faith in the Biblical Jesus Christ.

PART TWO: But why are Judaism and Christianity extremely different from one another, if they worship the same God?

The short answer is: Satan has infiltrated Christianity around 300 A.D. and turned it into something ENTIRELY else than God said, and Judaism developed to be an extremely religious system with 48942084 rules on top of the rules that YHWH originally established for Israel - like the food laws (which according to modern Science are for a very good reason and me personally, I try to eat as „kosher“ as I can as well because I know God doesn‘t say ANYTHING just to show His dominance, He ALWAYS has 100% good reason to say things and usually all these things are in OUR best interest). Also, at some point Judaism had all the oral traditions of the Rabbis, and the Kabbalah, which is 100% mysticism and magic, when God makes abundantly clear from the VERY beginning that He HATES sorcery, witchcraft, divination, all kinds of occult secrets and arts; and He has all reason to do that. Which you will probably only understand if you watch this video series

I‘m going to adress „Christian Witches“ and „Christian Mystics“ for a second directly and I pray you would listen and REPENT because God makes it abundantly clear that you can not serve two Masters, there‘s no way you can be God‘s child and dabble in occult practices. The Bible says very clearly that everyone gets judged according to their knowledge. So, knowing the Truth about God and Jesus, you still decided to turn your back on Him and mock Him and His Truth („Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.“ — Galatians 6:7) - I really don‘t want to be in your shoes when Judgment Day comes. I understand that you have been hurt by the institutional church, that you needed „more“ than „this“ and that you thought Occultism would make you more „spiritual“ and more „fulfilled“; thousands of Christians have been hurt by the church and dabble in the New Age. But there‘s NO WAY that God will forgive you for being a CHRISTIAN WITCH. It‘s. Not. Possible.

The longer answer is: From the moment Jesus was crucified and was raised to life again by his Father, the Devil knew that he has literally NO POWER anymore. Satan has held humanity in chains since practically the beginning of time, because he had the keys to Sheol since Adam and Eve fell into a linear existence in Eden and would ultimately die, and every single descendant of them (to be more specific it is the Father who bequeathes the spiritual nature of a human, that‘s the whole point of Jesus having a human virgin mother and God Himself as His Father) would be under the curse of death, and when people are afraid to die someday, well, they do all kinds of ridiculous things. The only way Satan can accomplish his goals (of ruining every single person on the planet) is to discredit, confuse and alter the work that Jesus finished on Golgotha. So basically, He can‘t change that it‘s all done, but he can change the way we perceive Jesus; he can change the way we collectively think, behave, feel, act - to take us away from God and His Truth as far as possible; he can change the way how humans „interpret“ God and Jesus and what has been done for us, he can basically distort EVERYTHING, except the fact that it is DONE. He KNOWS there‘s not much time left for Him - because Satan is a diligent student of Bible prophecy and uses literally EVERY flawed translation, every piece that could slightly be misunderstood and develops WHOLE doctrines and denominations and cults of them; in some few cases he even managed to alter the text of the Bible entirely to create a doctrine, today the CORE doctrine of Christianity - without it, you can‘t be a pastor or preacher without getting extreme backlash and will be considered a Heretic or cult leader, and that „you would lead people astray“, and this doctrine will steal your salvation and 90% of all Christians don‘t even notice it, it‘s just so sad. And when you speak up against this doctrine, the Holy Christians suddenly become nasty and call you a Heretic, like? Yes, of course that is God‘s Holy Spirit dwelling within you, and not that counterfeit one from Satan (because Satan can disguise as an angel of Light if he needs to, he once WAS the most beautiful and glorious Angel in Heaven, but his pride and arrogance ruined his heart. So basically, YES, Lucifer‘s/Satan‘s powers are VERY real and VERY powerful, but he will NEVER be as amazing as Jesus, and he most certainly will NEVER be as amazing as God, who created him!)

Basically, when Satan knew that the brilliant plan of Salvation was accomplished when Jesus was raised alive again after His crucifixion, he tried his first attack: relentless persecution of the Apostolic Church from 31 A.D. until ~320 A.D. through both the Jews and the Romans. But Christianity EXPLODED to that time, because the Gospel was pure, the Apostles and Disciples were extremely effective and the body of believers was just amazing. Then, Satan noticed that the message of Salvation in Jesus spread so hard that there was no point in persecuting every single Christian, so his new strategy was to infiltrate it and morph it from within.

“From the first moment of his accession declaring himself the protector of the church...the first emperor who publicly professed and established the Christian religion...rendered Christianity the reigning religion of the Roman empire” The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Edward Gibbon, Vol 2 Chap 16, pg 138.

This was no other than the Roman Emperor Constantine who professed to be converted to Christianity in 323 A.D. himself, but his belief at best was a blend of paganism and Christianity for political purposes, to keep unity in his empire. This change of events was the reason why pagan and occult practices, traditions and beliefs from Ancient Babylon could infiltrate the true Gospel of Salvation, and sadly it‘s been like that EVER SINCE.

So basically, there‘s no reason at all why Christianity and Judaism should be THIS much of a difference. The faith should be the exact same with the only (major) difference, that one group accepts Jesus, the Son of God, and gains everlasting Life and the other group refuses to accept Jesus, and will not. But both groups have developed into something that God absolutely never wished for. Christians always feel like they are so high and mighty and yet they have NO IDEA that they will not make it to Heaven themselves, because they ALL teach, believe and practice doctrines and traditions (of men) that have NOTHING to do with the God of Israel and mock Him without even knowing it. God says in the Bible that people who diligently SEEK Him and who don‘t fall for man-made doctrines and traditions, THOSE people who overcome the world and overcome THINGS OF THIS WORLD with the magnificent power of Christ, will have Everlasting Life.

Satan raised up his own „Christian“ church through pagan Rome and when he made it big and strong enough, he went back to his first strategy: relentless persecution and execution of true Bible-believing Christians, which we all know as the years of Papal Supremacy or „the Dark Ages“ from 538 A.D. to 1798. And why was it dark? Because there was no spiritual light in the world: The Papacy has managed to destroy all of the ~500 different language translations of the Bible in that time, the common people had no access to the Word of God and the only language the Bible was available in was Latin, and most people could not read Latin. This was a truly dark time for humanity and believers in God. And then, thank God, the protestant Reformation started, the Bible got translated for the common people again, preachers stood up for the Truth of God‘s word, risked their own lives for spreading the true Gospel, got rid of a lot of the terrible blasphemy in those days, millions of true Bible-believing Christians got burned alive as Heretics and Witches, only because they wouldn‘t bow down to the Papal Church. 

Sadly, they as well, adopted an essential doctrine from the Roman Catholic Church and so now today, only people who are not indoctrinated by Religion and discover God, Jesus and the Bible for themselves, without Church, Pastors and Creeds, have the Truth of God. I remember at the beginning of my walk with Jesus, I‘ve thought I need to find a church congregation and attend church every Sunday and so I‘ve tried it once. My local Church is a VERY beautiful church on the inside and I was moved to tears just being there, but as soon as I listened to the sermon, felt the atmosphere and saw the other people in there, i just KNEW in my spirit that God is not present at ALL. It was very disappointing and so I never went to church again. Ever since then, I‘ve learned A TON and know exactly why I had felt this way. God truly is not in the institutional Church - how could He, when all churches belong to Satan?

Up until this day the Papacy, who claims to be the Mother of ALL churches, even the protestant and evangelical ones, says things like: „Let Judaizers be anathema!“ which means that people who practice Jewish traditions rather than Catholic traditions should be accursed (!) as if the Jesus that walked the Earth 2000 years ago was a Roman European and NOT A JEW, like..????. It‘s just bewildering what Satan has accomplished to make people stray away from God and His Son.

In case you ever wondered why „Christian“ Holidays, rituals and beliefs are so similar to the ones of Pagans, why monumental church buildings have been planted on ancient sacred pagan sites, why Christianity seems like a „high and holy“ version of Paganism - it was NOT God, it was NOT Jesus, it was NOT even the Bible, simply said: it was the Roman Catholic Church (Satan) and no one else. 98% of all things that Catholicism believes, teaches AND REQUIRES is absolute blasphemy when you take God‘s Word as the highest authority (which the Scriptures says we SHOULD do, lest we be deceived, nothing will ever contradict the Bible that is true and of God) yet Catholicism is the largest, most influental and most powerful Church; how? Because the Papacy developed something that is called „Papal Infallibility“ which enables them to literally be the scum of the Earth (if you think that I am being rude, please read the following picture carefully) without facing any repercussions!

Maybe it becomes more clear now why Christianity is utterly misunderstood, hated and judged. It was not Jesus Christ, it was „MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.“ — Revelation 17:5 .... and Christians today get confronted with, for example, the Crusades and how Christianity is the worst Religion in the world and they don’t even know how to answer because they never cared to investigate their own Faith! Every evil deed that has ever happened within “Christianity” was, in fact, the Roman Catholic Papal Church who belongs to Satan himself.

According to an Ex-Jesuit (special order of Roman Catholic Priests) whose whistleblowing testimony I‘ve posted a few posts back, the Opus Deii (who disguise themselves as „Christian Democracy“ like my country pretends to be) is an arm of the Jesuit Infiltration that is responsible for the Illuminati, the Masons, the New Age Movement, the Trilateral Commission, the Club of Rome, and many more; and all of them serve just one purpose: The total control and world domination of the Roman Catholic Church (Satan).

If you love Jesus and are a Catholic brother, PLEASE LEAVE IT BEHIND.

Thank God that He not only gave us our world, our existence, and his Son Jesus, but also the Bible, which tells us EXACTLY what is going to happen and who the Enemy is, when we make the effort to study, and keep Jesus close to our hearts.

It grieves my heart that God and Jesus are so misunderstood because of Satan‘s works and that millions, the majority of all humans that ever lived and all humans that live right now, in these last days of humanity, are all deceived and will perish. And to any other generation in the past I would have said „well.. at least you had an entire human life experience, if it made you happy, then so be it“, but this generation right now, is the one that will regret their decision the most because every person under 60 will not even be close to having an entire human life experience, nor will it be happy. The worst thing is that which is going to manifest until ~2025 will not even be worth considered as a whole „human life experience“. If you think that Covid-1984 was a tough year, buckle up, because from now on it‘s going to get worse and worse. 

I know I say this a lot but today I cried on my way back from the supermarket because it‘s just so devastating to see Prophecy unfolding right in front of my eyes and everyone is VAST ASLEEP. People STILL wonder why it was possible that Hitler (who, by the way, was a Catholic, not a true Christian like he claimed, no wonder he was deeply wrapped up in the Occult) rose to power, how it was possible that we Germans didn‘t notice and didn‘t do anything to stop him from the evil things he did, why we gave him power and authority ... One word: Propaganda. Germans back then were absolutely brainwashed, just like today, WE are being brainwashed globally. And I can PROMISE you 100% that you WON‘T like where our world is heading and everyone will cry „but how could this happen?“ just like they cried about Hitler.

I pray that God‘s chosen people wake up in time, that these posts can help someone to find Christ, see through the deceptions of this world and be set free from Satan‘s bondage. Life is so much more than what we think it is, and honestly, if you‘re like me; always craved for deeper connections, more support and more honest affection in your social circles but never received it, always felt like an alien to everyone else, never had anyone to talk to about meaningful things because everyone was just shallow, then please just maybe consider Jesus as your best friend, because HE LOVES YOU and you will never ever be lonely ever again and you will always, always feel loved and „at home“. Jesus is literally the BEST thing that has ever happened to me, and I truly tried to be happy in this world. You have NO IDEA what I‘ve experienced in my 30 years, I‘ve literally experienced ALL OF IT, and nothing has ever given me peace and love and sanity. Only Jesus. I will never exchange that ever again for nothing! And I wish this experience to literally everyone because it‘s the most beautiful thing ever.

TESTIMONIES

How I Know God is REAL... my encounter with Jesus

Atheist To Believer In Jesus Christ: How Jesus Cured My Eating Disorder

Ex-Muslim Conversion Story

Homosexuality Was My Identity

My Testimony for Jesus 2020- WEED, ALCOHOL, PORN, LUST, TOBACCO, PRETTY MUCH IT ALL! SET FREE!

[hunterartemis]

The Assistant: (Appendix 2): The Making of Maxine Valois

Like many fanfiction writers, I spend a lot of time thinking about forming different types of Original Character, and the drafts I have mentally done for Maxine was difficult each time. I have noticed from my habits that I spend a lot of time thinking about what the character looks like and not how the character feels. In terms of Maxine it was completely opposite--I had basic features in my mind, Long and black wavy hair arranged everyday in flapper-style chignon, silk clothes, tall and willowy, pale, sharp and symmetrical features, thin lips and black eyes.

“What’s in a name“? well, when it comes to my story or when I am writing--everything? I had spend a lot of time to name my OC. My first thoughts were really stupid, I went from 1920′s names to classic French names, but none matched her temper, thus I looked into some Latin names feeling that I should make her lineage a little more prominent. My choices were Claudia, Dido, Aurelia, however they sounded too serious; suddenly it clicked that Maxine sounds very regal and powerful, while ‘Max’ sounds very modern, tomboyish and playful which summer up her character in my mind. Coincidentally Letter M and N comes one after another.

Her surname is Valois, in French it means “from the valley”. The Valois name is historically relevant, and I characterise the family as the authoritarian oppression of society on women. Both the houses where Maxine was born and lived were former prisons. This signified that her entire life has been spent as a prisoner--something that clashed with the name ‘Maxine’: the greatest.

I had given her three names: Maxine, Adrienne and Odessa, each representing three aspects of her characters. “Maxine” means ‘greatest‘, ‘Adrienne’ is a French name meaning ‘dark‘ and ‘Odessa’ is just a female version of Odysseus. The Second Epilogue of The Assistant was the homage to her ‘Odessa’ name: Nostoi, on in Greek “homecoming“. When she was born, she was not welcome in her father’s home, neither in the three schools she studied: Durmstrang, Hogwarts and Mahoutokoro, nor in her Auror office as Theseus’ Vice Head, nor as Newt’s lover--a role she sought after so greatly. Her homecoming was possible by acknowledging her feelings for Theseus which she ran from which resulted her encounter with Newt.

The name “Adrienne” seems quite non-symbolic in my story, but this name was specially implemented by me with a very specific intention. ‘Adrienne’ is the French variation of the Greek name ‘Ariadne’. The most popular versions of Ariadne is ‘Ariana’ and ‘Adriana’ but I didn’t want that. The reason I selected one of Maxine’s middle name after Ariadne needs to be elaborated with the myth surrounding Ariadne.  Ariadne was the daughter of Minos, the King of Crete, who helped King Theseus cross the Maze to kill the Minotaur. After the matter was over Theseus had a brief relationship with Ariadne. He abandoned her leaving her deeply heartbroken for the Amazon Queen Hippolyta. 

JK conspicuously sneaks Greek and Roman myths into HP stories. The dynamics of Leta, Newt and Theseus seemed very ‘mythlike’ to me.By remaining Virgins fro perpetuity, Amazons sacrifice their motherhood which was quite symbolic in Leta’s mistake that killed Corvus Lestrange. Leta could easily be the diminutive of ‘Hippolyta’ the Amazon Queen. Amazons are loyal to both Artemis and Ares, which can easily be compared with Leta’s earlier attachment to Newt, (One of Newt’s middle name is ‘Artemis’). Hippolyta’s status of getting married to Theseus is a transition from Virginity to the subjugated of a King, which can easily be seen in Leta X Newt and Leta X Theseus.

How does Maxine fall in the story? King Theseus abandoned Ariadne for Hippolyta, and Ariadne was loved by Dionysus, God of Wine and revels. Maxine, just after her full name was revealed, was already showed falling drunk on the floor. Her usual material ‘excesses’ is very Dionysian in nature. After their rift with Theseus, Maxine sought comfort in her usual ‘excesses’ because I had imagined that’s what an ‘abandoned’ Ariadne would do. I also often wondered what if King Theseus repented and Ariadne caused him pain just to get a revenge on him? The union symbolizes penance of Theseus for abandoning Ariadne. 

It is not only for narrative sake, the ‘Ariadne’ name also describes Maxine’s nature. Ariadne is associated with threads and Mazes; Maxine is deliberately seen messing and tangling with the threads of relationships--profession, familial, sexual and romantic. Ariadne, with her thread left a trail throughout the maze which would later help King Theseus to get out of the maze. Maxine was proposed by Theseus right after Leta’s death. Maxine broke it off and Theseus followed her trail to her first in Newt’s apartment and second in Japan--wherever Newt and Maxine were--Theseus was always present--either physically or mentally. Her character is the most confusing array of emotional mazes. I would describe her character as ‘onion-like’: there is mask after mask: under the face of Audrey there was Maxine; under a face of employee was a crushing lover; under an envious woman was a desperate want of love... if all the masks are removed, there will be nothing left--she is essentially a hollowed out creature. 

“Tricksters“ are abundant in literature and media. We have Loki, Joker etc. who are often identified with this type: physically not very strong but highly intelligent who challenges the norms of society just to prove that strength, beauty and authority isn’t everything. We don’t often associate women when it comes to this particular archetype and this made me think about it--women can be mischievous and equally chaotic when they want to so why not! In 1920′s when women can either be Flapper party girl or a modest matron, I chose Maxine as someone different. I imagine her to be capable of walking into a party into her lingerie just to irk the “uptight official people“. Her very introduction is the testimony of her Tricksterdom--she challenges and fools the authority (Theseus) in the support of the Alternative (Newt), she combines her intellectualism with her sexuality, a point which makes Theseus readily fluster around her: snatching his wand and suggesting that she had concealed it between her breasts is not only standard-defying but also an open declaration of feminine sexuality; furthermore she later threatens that she will have Theseus’ wand “for realment”-- it could indicate either “real wand“ (indicating Theseus’ manhood) or “wand“ ‘for real‘. This play of words is so ambiguous that it makes the hearer confused and unpredictable.

It has been indicated that Maxine’s upbringing was very strict where she was constantly reminded of her inferior status: her illegitimate birth. This made her dissociate with her family and compelled her to spend more and more time developing the ways to defy them. This not only brought signs of magic in early age, but made her the innovator that she was. I imagine that she would spend her days creating spells to trick people or to harm people but also to keep her busy in the head. Tricksters are often very imaginative as their character requires it. However in one manner Maxine defers from the Trickster type. Tricksters never change in their heart; they are constant reminder that Exceptions Exist. However a change in heart occurs when she sees her mother and father being killed in front of her, which made her realise that like dynastic curse she will end up finishing herself and Newt in the process. She surrenders and accepts her punishment, something a trickster will never do. At the end she finds the reasons to submit, something she defied doing for so long, but her triumph comes when she almost scares the wedding guests and the groom Theseus to death by answering to the wedding vows “or do I?”

When we are talking about how ‘trickster-ish’ Maxine is, her name “Odessa” is meant to be under scrutiny. Homer’s Odysseus is considered a Trickster hero, whose wickedness of fooling Polyphemus cost him twenty years of detention in the sea. Maxine’s wickedness had cost her too: expulsion from Durmstrang (for murders she committed under Anatole’s manipulations), transfer from Hogwarts to Mahoutokoro (before she finished her Seventh year; only after her detention in Mahoutokoro she gets the graduation from Hogwarts), persecutions at her job etc. More than her it had cost other people: it almost got Newt, Theseus and Tina killed, imprisoned and off their jobs, the Bulgarian secretary in the party was hurt by her and Charlemagne almost lost his job (and life) for her. Her actions patronised people like Anatole who kept feeding off Maxine’s weakness and assumed British Ministry office using her as a bait. However despite all the facts, she continued to use cunning, manipulation and a pretended innocent facade to get to “home”, like Homer’s Trickster hero Odysseus did.

[chasholidays]

Good job on not killing yourself with prompts this year, Chash. We appreciate your continued existence! I would like a modern AU where Bellamy bonds with Clarke’s foster daughter Madi by playing video games with her. Bellamy and Clarke have been friends for a long time but recently started dating, and everything’s gonna work out just fine but you know, they’re nervous.

Overall, Bellamy thinks the timing on two of the best developments of his life could have gone better.

The first best development is that he and Clarke are finally both single at the same time and manage to have a conversation about feelings that ends in the two of them agreeing to give the dating thing a try, which is honestly a miracle in and of itself. They’re going slow, trying not to screw anything up, and it’s going really well when the next best development hits, which is Madi.

Clarke had been on the wait-list for a foster kid for a while, and their entire friend group had been anxious for the assignment to finally come through. Most of them are only children who long to be cool aunts or uncles, so Clarke getting a kid is basically the perfect scenario for them. Bellamy had been excited too, of course, despite having an actual sister who had an actual child, but the combination of “new relationship” and “new child” makes things awkward.

“I just don’t really know how to introduce her to you,” Clarke says. “Like–I don’t know, it feels more serious than her meeting Raven or Wells. And I don’t want her to get invested in us as a couple or us as her parents if it’s not going to last.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He kisses her hair, settles in a little closer. They spent the whole day setting up the apartment for Madi, cleaning and moving furniture, and he’s sad he won’t be around to help her settle in, but he can’t actually object. “My mom introduced me to a lot of boyfriends, she might have a history with that too. We should take it slow.”

“We were already taking it slow,” she says, sounding mostly amused. “You know I’m really excited about dating you, right? It’s not–”

He laughs. “I know, don’t worry. If you wanted to break up with me, you’d break up with me.”

“I would. I just wish we had a little more time to settle into this before Madi came along.”

“When it rains it pours. I don’t mind taking a back seat for a while.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be long. She’s ten, I’m hoping that’s old enough where we can have a decent discussion about who you are and how you fit in. And even if we break up, I assume you’re still going to be a part of her life.”

“Of course,” he says. Half the point of being as careful as they’re being with the progression of their relationship as they are is to try to make sure the friendship survives. There’s no guarantee, but–he can’t imagine his life without Clarke in it. They’ll make it work. “If I’m not the cool father figure, I want to at least be a cool uncle.”

“You’re not that cool,” she teases, all warmth. “Sorry. You’re going to have to settle for dorky guy who talks too much about Latin and history.”

“I can definitely get a better vibe than that going,” he says, and she just smiles and kisses him and clearly does not believe him at all.

Which he can’t blame her for, really. Her knowledge of him as a parental figure comes from Octavia, whom he did name after a historical figure from Rome. There’s precedent at work, but he doesn’t have to be like that. He could, in theory, come up with a different gimmick, some other way to relate to Madi. It doesn’t have to be all fun facts about word origins and Roman emperors.

The nice thing about being the last one to meet Madi is that he gets to hear about her from everyone else first, like he’s prepping for a very weird kind of test.

“She’s cute,” Murphy says, with a shrug. “I don’t know, she’s a kid, what do you want from me? Clarke says I can’t tell her to start fires, which seems like a weirdly specific thing to worry about, so maybe she has a history.”

“She thinks you have a history of being a dumbass,” says Raven, which seems like the right reading of that interaction. “Madi’s cool. Smart, and she wants me to teach her about computers and stuff, so I like her.”

“Nate and I just brought Smash Brothers over, she liked that but she was getting frustrated.”

Bellamy perks up, turns his attention to Monty. “Yeah? That sounds promising.”

“You want to beat a kid at video games to make her like you?” Murphy asks. “You’d be better off telling her to start fires.”

“I’m not going to tell her to start fires. Or beat her at video games.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure Bellamy can beat an incompetent fifth grader at Smash Brothers,” Miller says. “Fighting games aren’t exactly his forte.”

“So that means Madi and I can work on it together,” he says. “I’ve already got a Switch, I can pick up Smash Brothers, Mario Kart–we can do video games together. That can be our thing. You guys are too good at it.”

“If you play video games, what are we supposed to do with her?” Miller grumbles. “Then we don’t have a thing.”

“Yeah, but Bellamy needs a thing way more than we do. We can just buy her stuff.”

“And once she’s good at video games, she can start playing with you guys. She practices on me until she’s ready to get her revenge.”

“Wouldn’t that work better if you were good at video games?” Raven asks. “So you could teach her?”

“Or she’ll be happy that we’re both shitty. And I’m good at some video games.” He finishes his drink. “This could work. Once I actually meet her.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Monty says. “She’s a good kid!”

“And everyone knows you and Clarke are you and Clarke,” says Raven.

“Nice–” He makes a face. “I was going to say tautology, but that’s not even a tautology, it’s just the exact same thing.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Just saying, I get why you guys are taking it slow with everything, especially with Madi, but you’re going to be fine.”

As one of the involved parties, he can’t have quite the faith in himself and Clarke that Raven does–he doesn’t want to get cocky and fuck it up–but he does think it’s largely true. His awkwardness around Madi is a consequence of timing, and in a year or two, he’s pretty sure they’re just going to be a functional family unit.

Which doesn’t mean he can’t screw it up in the meantime, so he’s still going to be careful.

Clarke’s had Madi for a month and a half when she says, “Should we start off with family dinner?”

“How did you start with everyone else?”

“Not with family dinner,” she admits. “They just came over to meet her. But she knows you’re different.”

“Maybe I could cook for you guys,” he muses. “Dinner and a movie, but at your place.”

She laughs. “It’s a little creepy that you’re adapting date ideas into stuff to do with Madi.”

“I’m good at cooking, it makes people like me. If she’s eating your food–”

“I’m doing fine!” Clarke protests. “But yeah, that would probably be good. Cook something kid-friendly, hang out. No sleepover.”

“I know.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know it’s complicated right now. I wish we could spend more time together, but I get it. And it’s not going to be like this forever.”

“No.” She leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet. “Okay, I have to go get her. Saturday, maybe? Come over in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Figure out what Madi wants to eat and text me. I’ll go to the store and pick stuff up. Is there a dessert I can bribe her with?”

“You don’t need to bribe her, she’s going to love you.” She pauses. “But it couldn’t hurt. I’ll see what she wants.”

“You’re the best. Let me know when you get home?”

“Will do.”

He doesn’t spend the next few days stressing about things, but he does spend the next few days planning. He buys Smash Brothers and plays it just long enough to confirm he’s bad at it, buys a bunch of cupcake toppings and experiments with frosting to make sure he’ll be good at it as a group activity, and then he calls his sister so she can tell him he’s trying too hard.

“Definitely. This isn’t an audition, Bell. And it’s not your only chance. If you come on too strong, you’ll probably just freak her out.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She hums, thoughtful. “My advice? Skip the cupcakes this time. Do a baking thing, like, next week. You’ve already got a ton of activities for this one, don’t overload her.”

“When did you get so good at this?”

“Ash’s second birthday,” she says, prompt. “I got over-competitive with some asshole mom from Mommy and Me because I wanted to throw the best party ever and I planned, like, fifteen more things than those kids could ever do. Or wanted to do. They burned out so hard. And it’s not like you want to set expectations that high. You want to just be a normal part of her life, right? Not the magical guy who shows up once a week with a Mary Poppins bag full of shit.”

“That’s true, I should keep her expectations low.”

“Just stop stressing, okay? Clarke loves you, her kid will put up with you no matter what, it’s going to be fine.”

“I want it to be good.”

“It’ll probably be good too. Seriously, just give it time.”

“This is still the most mature advice you’ve ever given me.”

“I’m actually a pretty kickass mom. And you were a pretty good big brother with too much responsibility, and Clarke’s going to be a good foster parent. Just let it happen.”

So Bellamy leaves his cupcake-decorating kit at home, goes to the store to pick up a pretty normal–albeit Madi-approved–dinner, and brings that and his switch over to Clarke’s house on Saturday afternoon around three.

Clarke answers the door, leaning up to give him a kiss. “Hi. You look normal.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“I meant you’re not obviously dying of stress.”

“Should I be?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, so–what does she know?”

“You’re my boyfriend, but we were friends for a long time before we started dating. It’s new but pretty serious, but I don’t want her to feel pressured to take on too much family all at once. You’re a dork who tries to hard, but it’s because you care.”

“That all sounds about right. I brought video games for us to play.”

“Am I included in that us?”

“It’s on Switch, so you can be if you want to be, yeah. Depends on how much of a family activity you’re looking for.”

“I’ll supervise for now.” She kisses him again. “She’s going to love you, don’t worry.”

Madi is in the living room already, her attention fixed on a book in a way that makes Bellamy think she’s not actually reading so much as avoiding looking at anything else. Not that he blames her, really; if he was Madi, he’d be trying and failing to play it cool too. That’s the ten-year-old experience in a nutshell.

“Madi, this is my boyfriend, Bellamy.”

“Hey,” says Bellamy, offering her a smile. She puts her book aside and stands, offering her hand, formal and a little stiff. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“You too.”

“What are you reading?”

“Oh, it’s just for school.”

“Bellamy teaches high-school history,” Clarke says. “So he always likes hearing about school stuff.”

“And pretty much all books. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty good. Especially for a school book.”

“Cool. Well, if you want to keep reading, don’t let me stop you. I can read too, I’ve got stuff on my phone.”

“What did you want to do?” she asks, sounding a little wary.

“You met Nate and Monty, right? And played some video games?” She nods. “They beat me every time we play, so I’m trying to get better. Seriously,” he adds, before she can say anything. “I like role-playing games and stuff, I’m good at those, but I never got the hang of fighting games. I just button-mash. So if you want to practice on someone on your level, that would be fun.”

“He really does suck,” Clarke puts in. “Even I beat him sometimes.”

“And I really don’t get Smash Brothers.”

Madi’s still frowning. “So, you want to learn how to be better at video games with me?”

He shrugs. “And get to know you, but–video games would be a fun way to do that, right?”

“Depends on how fun it is to play video games with you,” she says, and that makes him smile.

“Yeah, fair enough. You want to find out?”

They start with Smash Brothers, which is a franchise he only vaguely understands. It’s fun enough and he’s played various versions with Miller over the years he’s known him, but he also knows there’s a lot of history he doesn’t get.

“I don’t even recognize half the characters,” he admits to Madi. “Like, Marth. Where did Marth come from? What is it?”

“Fire Emblem,” says Madi, to his surprise.

“What’s Fire Emblem?”

“It’s a tactical RPG series.” She worries her lip. “I really like video games? So I watch videos on YouTube and stuff, Let’s Plays or whatever? But I’ve never had a game system of my own to play on, and it turns out I suck.”

“You don’t suck,” says Clarke, sitting down on Madi’s other side. “Miller and Monty are sharks. I think they have fans online who watch them play. Just because you didn’t win playing against them your first time playing doesn’t mean anything.”

“We can definitely get better,” Bellamy says. “Especially you. But is this what you want to get better at?”

Madi shoots him a look. If nothing else, she seems fairly comfortable talking to him. That’s not nothing. “What do you mean?”

“Are there games you want to play more than Smash Brothers? Would you rather be doing Fire Emblem?”

“Smash Brothers is fine.”

“I’ve got other stuff. Breath of the Wild is pretty cool. I’m worse at Mario Kart than I am at Smash Brothers but it’s fun to play with Clarke, she’s so bad.”

“Shut up,” says Clarke, without heat.

“Breath of the Wild looked cool, but I like Smash too. I want to unlock more characters.”

He lets it go at that, and they spend an enjoyable afternoon playing together. Clarke gets in on it sometimes, but she also wanders off to do other things, leaving the two of them alone to get to know each other. Bellamy already knows the bones of Madi’s life from Clarke–parents died when she was young, sent to her grandmother and then into foster care when her grandmother couldn’t take care of her anymore–but it’s different hearing it from her, and sharing his own past with her in return.

It feels like it’s going well.

Over dinner, he asks, “So, what are your favorite games that you watch online? Or as Let’s Plays?”

She mulls it over. “I like watching people play Overwatch, but I don’t think I want to play it? Skyrim’s cool, and Fallout. I don’t know if I have a favorite.”

“Any you wish you could play? Or the ones you wish you could play most.”

Another pause. “Kingdom Hearts,” she decides.

“Is that the Disney one?” he asks.

Clarke holds up her hand. “The what?”

“It’s the Disney one, yeah. Square Enix,” she says, turning her attention to Clarke. “That’s a big gaming company. They decided to make a game with Disney, and it’s really fun. They have new characters too but they’re going between different Disney worlds. So you get to play in a bunch of movies.

"Have you played that one?” Clarke asks him.

“No, but I’ve heard of it. It’s on Playstation, right?”

“Yeah, and it’s kind of like Smash Brothers too because it’s got characters from other games too. The third game in the main series is supposed to be coming out soon after, like–a really long time. I think the second one came out before I was born? But there are a lot of spin-offs too, so it’s not like there’s been nothing.”

“I’ve got a PS4 too,” Bellamy muses. “I could probably get Kingdom Hearts, right?”

“You don’t have to,” Madi says quickly. “I didn’t mean–”

“I’ll see how much it is. It sounds fun, and I’ve always been kind of curious about it. You could play and I could watch and try to help you figure out what to do.”

He can see her struggling with what to say, the urge to minimize her own wants at war with how much she does want it. Bellamy’s not rich or anything, but he’s more than financially stable enough to buy a video game, especially one his girlfriend’s foster kid will like. He’s impulse-bought games for way worse reasons.

“If you want to,” she finally says, and he smiles.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Clarke washes the dishes while he and Madi play a couple more rounds of Smash, and then they watch a movie. Madi makes it to the end, but just barely, and Clarke sends her to bed after that.

“It went okay, right?” he murmurs into her hair. He’ll have to go home sooner or later, but he’s opting for as much later as he can manage. “I didn’t push too hard or anything.”

“I don’t think so. Are you getting the game?”

“Yeah. I might ask Monty and Miller if they have any old game systems she can have too. If you’re good with that.”

“Yeah, that would be great. I wish I’d thought of it.”

“Did she know she liked games so much before?”

She shakes her head, smiling a little. “No, that was new. She must really like you,” she teases.

He kisses her hair, settles in closer. “I hope so.”

He spends the next morning lost in the incredibly confusing tangle of Kingdom Hearts wikipedia pages and comes to the conclusion that if he can get Madi a PS3, she should at least be able to experience Kingdom Hearts I and II, if not all of the confusingly named and numbered side games.

“Probably,” says Miller. “Honestly, Kingdom Hearts is so weird, I assume there’s a spin-off you can only play on the back of Japanese cereal boxes.”

Based on his morning reading, Bellamy would believe that. “So do you have an old PS3 you’re not using?”

“You know can get them on PS4 too,” he points out. “You don’t need to get an older system to experience them as they were meant to be experienced.”

“Not for me, for Madi. Apparently that’s the number-one game she wants to play, and if I go out and buy her a PS4, that’s definitely trying too hard.”

“Yeah, definitely. Does it have to be a PS3?”

“Not if you have something else that can play it instead, I guess. Don’t tell me you guys have an extra PS4.”

“No,but I think we have some old PS2s. I think Monty might even have Kingdom Hearts around. We can take a look, make sure everything’s working, but as long as it is, Madi’s welcome to it.” He pauses. “Do you get credit for being the cool boyfriend if we’re the ones doing all the work?”

“I’m coordinating,” he says. “And I’m going to help her.”

“With what? You’ve never played Kingdom Hearts.”

“It’s an RPG, I’m good at RPGs.” He pauses. “And I was going to buy it and play it on my own so if she has questions I can answer them.”

Miller eyes him. “You probably don’t need to work this hard, you know? She’s a good kid, you’re a good guy, you’re going to be fine.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “I’m not an expert or anything, but I remember after my mom died, I always felt like an after-thought to people. Especially adults. So I want Madi to feel like she’s our top priority. Put in the effort for her. In a non-creepy, not trying too hard way,” he adds. “So asking my friend if he’s got an old game system she can use seems fine.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty normal. Downloading the game so you can be her guru is–” He pauses. “Actually, yeah, that’s cute. You’re going to be a great dad. Or whatever else you and Clarke end up calling it.”

“That’s the plan,” he says. “Thanks for helping out.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? You need to work a lot harder to be cool than I do.”

According to Monty, the Playstation 2 is fully functional and the Kingdom Hearts games work as well on it as they ever have. Then he gives Bellamy a long list of tips and a rant about the game’s lore, so he definitely has a resource of his own to go to if he can’t figure it out without Madi.

But Clarke doesn’t see it that way. “I really don’t think you should play on your own.”

“No?”

“I get the impulse, and it’s cute, but the internet exists and is right there. If she can’t figure something out, you guys can work on it together and google it if you have to. But if you’re playing on your own, there’s no reason for you to play with her, right? If you’ve never played, you’re discovering it together.”

He smiles. “That does sound good. Do you think I’m working too hard at this?”

“No. I think you care about it, so you want to do it right. That’s good.”

“Here’s hoping Madi thinks so too.”

“I think she will, yeah. She’s still kind of–it’s a lot for her, I think? Having so many people who are working really hard to make her like them. She’s not used to people caring about her opinion so much.”

“Local thirty-somethings very invested in ten-year-old’s opinion,” he says, making her laugh.

“Pretty much. But we had a talk about how long I’ve been waiting for a foster kid and how much I want one, and how supportive all you guys are, and I think she gets that she’s a big deal for us. Even if that’s weird.”

“Does she know I want to be a part of the family some day?” he asks, which is, admittedly, something of a roundabout way of asking if Clarke gets that, too. In case he hasn’t made it clear enough.

“Honestly, I think she doesn’t get why you’re not a part of the family already. I said you’d probably be coming by once a week and she was like, that doesn’t seem like a lot.”

“It really doesn’t.”

Clarke bites the corner of her mouth. “What happened to slow and careful?”

“Maybe we can focus on careful, but not slow. If I want to play Kingdom Hearts with her, it would kind of suck if I was just around once a week, right?”

“It would.” She leans up to kiss him. “I could see you more.”

“Yeah, I thought maybe you could.”

While Clarke goes to pick Madi up from her social worker’s appointment, Bellamy gets the old Playstation set up and makes sure the game is working as promised, fools around with it just long enough to make sure everything’s in working order before making himself stop and focus on anything else.

It’s a nice surprise and she’s going to like it. He did good here.

“Hey, Bellamy,” she says, when she gets in. It’s their fourth time meeting, and he’s looking forward to the day when that’s something he stops being able to count on one hand. “Are you not coming on Saturday anymore?”

“Clarke and I thought I could start coming more than once a week,” he says. “If you’re good with that. Plus, I’ve got something for you.”

She looks surprised, but pleased. “What?”

“I told you Monty and Miller have a ton of games, right? I thought they might have some old ones they didn’t want, too. And when I asked about Kingdom Hearts, they said they had a Playstation 2 and an old copy of the game you can have. So–” He falters, voice melting away and leaving only what feels like a very sheepish smile. “It sounded pretty fun when you talked about it, so I thought maybe you could show me.”

Her own smile blossoms like springtime, warm and bright. “Really?”

“Yeah. I got it hooked up and checked to make sure it worked, so you should be all set.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft and genuine. “This is–I’m really excited.”

“Me too,” he says. “Let’s boot it up.”

She finishes the first game and is a week into the second when she says, “You have a PS4, right?”

“At home, gathering dust, yeah. I figured I’d bring it over soon. Why?”

“Because once I’m done with this one, I’m going to want to play Kingdom Hearts III, and that’s on PS4. So it would be a lot easier if you were just already here already. You and the PS4. Like–all the time.”

“Are you asking me to move in for Clarke?” he asks, unable to keep a grin off his face.

“Well, she’s not doing it, so someone has to.”

“I guess when you put it like that,” he says. “And I wouldn’t want to miss out on Kingdom Hearts III.”

She settles against his side, smiling like she won some great victory instead of asking him to do exactly what he’s been wanting to do basically since the second he and Clarke started dating. “I thought not. It’s going to be really fun.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I bet it is.”

[sidewritings]

Say My Name

Pairing: None!

Genre: ??? Fantasy, I guess, friendship?, a lil angsty

Warnings: blood, violence

Word Count: 2386

Author’s Note: Based on this lovely fic here with permission from @icecoldparadise This is just me playing in their sandbox a bit. Can be read alone, but it’s kinda a sequel to the fic linked above.

Virgil learned a lot about his new friend as they continued to hang out.  He learned that the Dragon Witch's favorite color was dark green, her laugh (when she wasn't in character for one of Roman's adventures) was loud and warm, and she had a wicked sense of humor that rivaled Logan for wit.  One of the things Virgil learned as he spent more time with the Dragon Witch was that she didn't have a name.  It took a surprisingly long time for him to find out, over a month. 

It was on their fifth friend-date, they were standing on the edge of a lake skipping stones, or well, the Dragon Witch was skipping stones.  Virgil occasionally tossed a pebble into the water, but couldn't get the hang of skipping them.  He was going to ask her is she used magic to help her when suddenly he'd realized that he didn't know her name, so he'd asked.

“I don't know,” was her matter of fact reply.  

She picked up another stone and skipped it three times before it sunk out of sight.

“You don't know?”

Virgil fingered the smooth, oblong pebble in his hand, a bit surprised.

“I don't know.  I wasn't really given one was I?  Creativity simply created me on the spot.  I got a name, some powers, an alignment, and a cave.  That's all.”

Virgil turned to look at the Dragon Witch and noticed how melancholy she looked. He'd noticed as they spent more time together that she often got introspective.  In a sense, she wasn't even real, not even as real as Roman, Patton, Logan, and he were.  She wasn't a part of Thomas's personality, she was an imagined character that wasn't fully formed.  Sure, she took more shape with each interaction, Roman creating better powers, giving her minions, etc.  But she wasn't complete by any means and was self-aware enough to realize it.

Virgil dropped the stone and took one of the Dragon Witch's hands.

“We should find you a name,” Virgil blurted out, “something you like.”

It took three weeks and two more friend-dates before they found one that she liked.  Whenever Virgil had free time, he worked on lists of names, finding their history, their language of origin, any information he could find that might make his new friend feel a connection with a name.  He didn't really read all of it, just mechanically copied information he found on Google search.

When he'd come to visit this time she'd rushed over to him waving some papers around excitedly. Her smile wide and her eyes shining as she gushed over the history.

“It's Latin and it's the name of the legendary mother of the Romans. It went in and out of fashion for thousands of years, being used in literature several times, and guess what!?  It's the name of an American woman who was hanged in 1820 after being convicted of highway robbery, but legends grew up that she was a serial killer, there's even a song written about it!”

“So what's the name, or are you going to keep it to yourself?”

Virgil couldn't help the little smile on his face.  It was nice to see her so excited about something, especially something he'd been able to help with.  He didn't make the other sides smile or laugh much except when they were laughing at him, but this, this felt good, and Virgil was happy for her.

“But I haven't told you the best part!  The woman who was hanged?  Her last words before she was executed were:” the Witch posed dramatically, hands behind her back as if tied, eyes to the horizon and chin up and defiant, 'If you have a message you want to sent to hell, give it to me, and I'll carry it!'"

The Dragon Witch dropped her performative expression and beamed at Virgil, who couldn't help a small chuckle at her antics.  The quote had a certain edgy flair he could appreciate, not to mention the strong sticking it to the man vibes.  And the story kind of fit the Dragon Witch, her villainy blown way out of proportion for someone else's entertainment.

“So... are you going to tell me or-”

“Lavinia!”

The name burst out and warmed the air around them.  She was grinning like a loon, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and in that moment reminded him of no one more than Patton.

“That's a great name.”

Virgil grinned as Lavinia threw herself at him, tackling him in a hug.

“Thank you!  I never would have found it without you.”

“No big deal,” Virgil said, hugging his new friend back.

It was a couple days later when Roman lead the sides on an adventure through his kingdom, and once more, the Dragon Witch was their villain.  This time, the Dragon Witch and her minions had cast a spell on the local villagers, making them sing their honest thoughts and feelings and the four of them had to stop the curse.  When Logan pointed out that forcing people to sing about their honest emotions was less evil and more morally questionable Roman visibly flinched and muttered something about uncooperative ideas.

It was a fairly simple mission: sneak into the Dragon Witch's lair, steal a magic orb, and reverse the spell.  It should have been fine.  No one should have gotten hurt.  Except Patton had tripped an alarm spell and it had come to a confrontation, minions pouring down the passageway to fight them.  Virgil had knocked a couple out with his shield but shied away from doing real damage.  They were Lavinia's companions after all, and some of them were closer to pets.

Then Lavinia had decided to 'kidnap' Virgil.  She'd snuck out from a crevice behind him grabbed his arm and starling him slightly.  A small wink from the witch had Virgil hiding a smile, and Virgil went along with it, feigning alarm as the Dragon Witch dragged him down the corridor, covertly assisting her in dragging him away. Logan, Patton, and Roman were not amused. They didn't know Lavinia, they thought it was real.

Logan managed to shoot Lavinia with an arrow in her side, making her drop Virgil who was quickly grabbed by Patton and made to run.  Virgil watched over his shoulder, horrified as Roman charged at Lavinia, attacking her with his sword as Logan and Patton grabbed the orb and dragged Virgil out of the cave with them.

When Roman joined them outside there was blood on his blade.

It took hours of reassuring the others that he was fine and feigning exhaustion before Virgil could sneak away from them and into Roman's kingdom without being noticed.  As soon as he was past Roman's bedroom he ran, heart hammering towards her cave.  His mind was screaming about all the things that could have happened to her, all the things he should have done differently to protect her.  

He ran to the cave opening, slipping and stumbling on loose stones.

“Lavinia!”

Virgil called as he ran through the caves, heedless of traps or other dangers.  

“Lavinia!”

He was running towards where he had last seen her, praying to all the power's Roman's kingdom possessed that his friend was okay.  He slid in a puddle on the damp cave floor and barely kept himself upright, and still he ran.

He found her on the ground being poorly tended by her monstrous minions.  They had done their best to make her comfortable, a dragon-like creature curled by her side to help keep her warm.  Their claws were too sharp and awkward to be of much help tending delicate wounded flesh.  They moved to attack Virgil and defend their mistress when they saw him, but his hands raised in surrender and the medical supplies he carried made them back down, giving him room to help, but growling warningly.

Virgil checked her pulse and breathing, weak but present.  He cleaned her wounds, all fairly superficial, but she'd lost so much blood, bandaging them and stitching them as needed.  As he worked, he talked to her, making sure to use her name frequently.  He reminded her of all their friend dates and told her how good her minions were, trying to protect her, and going over things they could do when she got better.  He barely heard himself, unsure if he made sense or not, but the words soothed him, and he wanted her to now she was safe if she could hear him.

When he finished dressing her wounds, a goblin helped Virgil carry her to a section of the cave that must be where she slept.  It was cold and eerie, but dry, unlike some sections of the cave.  It was desolate save for a pile of animal skins on the floor and, besides it, a row of keepsakes.  There were plushies from their first visit to the fair, a photo of them from the time they crashed a masquerade, a skipping stone, and a board with her name carved into it.  

Virgil couldn't bear to leave Lavinia like this.  It was too cold and lonesome for her to wake up in alone, and he'd have to leave before morning.  Virgil considered, Roman's room was part of the mindscape, he had some control here.  Virgil snapped his fingers and Lavinia's room had a bed, a fireplace, a comfy chair, and a shelf for her keepsakes.  Virgil carefully laid her on the bed and gently tucked her in.  As he turned to leave, the goblin that had helped him bowed their head in silent thanks.  Virgil nodded at the creature, mouthing 'take care of her' before he left.

Several days later, and Virgil had been sneaking into Roman's kingdom every night when the other sides were sleeping to see Lavinia.  She was always awake when he came to visit, though she still wasn't able to get out of bed much. Virgil brought her painkillers, soup, a change of bandages, anything he could think of to help her recover.  Her minions all knew to let him in by now, and she seemed to be getting better.

He was on his way back from one of his nightly visits when Roman appeared from the edge of the forest beside him.

“What are you doing here, Virgil?”

Shit, Roman knew he was here, but that didn't mean he knew everything.  Virgil shrugged and tried to play it off.

“Nothing, just needed to stretch my legs and your room is the only one big enough.”

Roman didn't blink.

“Who is Lavinia?”

Virgil felt the color drain from his face.  How did Roman know that name?  How much did he know?

“No one, Roman.  Go back to sleep, you're starting to hallucinate.”

Virgil started to walk away, only to be stopped by Princey's voice.

“I thought we were friends now, Virgil,” Virgil turned to face him and Roman actually looked a bit hurt, “You come into my kingdom night after night, sneaking in as if I wouldn't let you in if you'd asked.  You named someone here, Virgil.  I've felt you alter things here, in my room!”

Roman walked closer and his voice got louder as he spoke.

“So, I will ask you again, who is Lavinia?”

“I-I didn't...” Virgil fought his stutter.  Roman was powerful in here, and angry, making Virgil's fight or flight instinct react strongly in favor of flight. Virgil took a deep breath and Roman seemed to realize how threatening he seemed, raising his hands and taking a step backward.

“I d-didn't name her. She, she named herself.”

Roman paused, thinking it over, and cocked an eyebrow, “Who has enough agency in my kingdom to name themselves?”

Virgil began twisting the sleeves of his hoodie, “She's my friend, Roman.”

“Who is she, Virgil?”

“She's my friend, Roman!”

Virgil repeated louder and insistently.  

“She's a citizen of my kingdom, she's not even real!”

“She's real enough to name herself!  She's real enough to think and feel and chose to be my friend!”

Virgil felt himself losing it. He was scared for Lavinia, scared of Roman, and angry.  Angry at himself for getting caught, angry at Roman for confronting him like this, and some emotions and thoughts half-formed that he couldn't begin to name.

“Who is Lavinia!?”  Roman bellowed, shocking both of them.

“The... the Dragon Witch,” Virgil replied quietly.

Roman's face went white.

“Oh no, Virgil...” he whispered, “tell me you're kidding.”

Virgil shook his head, unable to look the creative side in the eyes.  There was silence hanging like a heavy drape between them before Virgil spoke.

“She's sentient, Roman. She's my friend, and she's not evil.  I know she's not real, but...”

Virgil trailed off.  He couldn't continue because, to him, Lavinia was real.  He'd seen her, spent time with her, held her hand and patched her wounds. Over time, she'd even developed a scent, something mossy and fresh like Spring rain.

Roman took several deep breaths, but his eyes welled and tears began to run freely down his cheeks.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know.  She wasn't supposed to be sentient.  Most of them aren't, but she was... and I hurt her.”

“She's okay,” Virgil said, finding his voice again, “She's just, a little rough right now.”

Roman struggled to compose himself, visibly searching for words.

“Virgil, she's real.”

“What?”

“She has a name now, Virgil.  She has agency and will.  She's not a side, like us, but she's real in a different way.”

Roman swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, “You know how some writers say their characters refuse to cooperate, that they have a mind of their own?  The Dra-, Lavinia is a character now.  She's not under my direct control anymore.  I can influence her some, but she's her own person.”

Roman looked miserable.

“I have to share my room now.”

“Roman!” Virgil snapped, “Focus!  Are you going to keep attacking her?”

“No!  Although, we're going to have to come to some kind of truce.  I can't have her trying to take over and usurp me.”

Tag List: @sanspie122 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @aikogumi @justanotherpurplebutterfly @anxietyisahufflepuff @tinysidestrashcaptain @logan-must-be-serious @myspace-anxiety @andy-the-anon

[tipsycad147]

The Wolf as in Animal Magick, Spirit Animal and Totem – The Keeper of Time

By  RADIANA PIȚ

In my introductory article: Totems, familiars, power animals and where to find them, I’ve briefly mentioned the Wolf in regards to the symbiotic relationship it has with Corvus (Raven/Crow) in nature. I’ve repeated that in my The Crow and the Raven as Spirit Animals article, with regards to how my native totem, Corvus, has bonded with the totem of my Daco-Thracian ancestors, the Wolf as is represented on the cover of my book “Yearning for Spirit”.

While this is a bonding on a more personal level, perhaps only significant to me, it is generally true that the Crow and the Wolf work together splendidly both in nature and on the metaphysical/astral plane. The reason why I am sharing this brief personal account of the bond between the Crow and the Wolf is because I hope that it can serve your work in this direction and help you find your own totemic extension and symbiotic relationship.

In learning about the Wolf and other totems, you not only get to know the metaphysical and natural world of the animals, but you get to extend yourself and become deeply connected with nature and all of its fantastic beasts. The Wolf is the best animal to help you develop a deep connection with your instincts. He is a solar symbol, as well as a devourer of celestial bodies, he is a warrior hero, as well as a mythical ancestor.

He guides us in the darkness of the underworld on an initiatory path to the light of the wisdom of the ages. He is a keeper of time and his dark mouth (“Gura lupului” in Romanian) is a symbol of death and rebirth. The stability of his protective and reproductive behaviour has been preserved and unchanged throughout time, which pretty much confirms the Romanian saying: The wolf changes his coat but not his nature, from the Latin proverb: Lupus pilum mutat, non mentem.

However, this is often used and interpreted negatively, but it still has the positive component of a preserved nature and strong determination. The wolf’s dignity survives throughout time and it is reflected by man’s inability to train the wolf into a circus dog.

Sigil made by Radiana Piț on the cover of her book, Yearning for Spirit. Her native totem, the Crow-Raven and that of her Daco-Thracian ancestors, the Wolf, are depicted together in order to represent the symbiotic relationship between the two totems | Instagram: @crowhag

Wolf is the keeper of time, he is a symbol of death and rebirth, as well as a loyal protector. As a totem, the Wolf will always help you stand your ground in the face of adversity. Photo: Flickr.

The Wolf as Spirit Animal

The wolf is a universal symbol of personal power, freedom, and autonomy. In Romanian lore, the Wolf is the only creature who can see demons no matter how hard they try to conceal themselves. Interestingly enough, wolves have also been observed to have a highly developed “sixth sense”.

The wolf may appear to you in order to warn you about something you are not able to see coming or in order to help you sharpen your intuition. Because it is also an independent and strong social character, the wolf can help you reduce your social anxiety and become more confident. In challenging times, he is also a reminder that everything you need to overcome misfortune with is already within you.

Contrary to popular belief, wolves don’t attack unless they need to or are provoked. However, they do stand their ground and can be quite intimidating. That is why the Wolf will always help you stand firm in the face of opposition. He is also extremely protective and his territory, pups, and proteges are sacred to him. In this sense, if he appears in your dreams or as a symbol around you, he may convey that your home needs protecting and you may rely on his protection.

The wolf also appears when you feel lost… his howl will help you find your tribe of kindred souls. As a totem, the wolf helps you develop your instincts, intuition, and connection with nature. If you’ve worked with this totem for a while, you probably crave or have found freedom and made a significant progress in developing your agility and vigilance.

The predatory nature of the wolf might often be misunderstood by those working with this totem. It is important to channel this predatory energy into a scholar, professional, or magical ambition, rather than a social or personal ambition that might end up hurting other people who are weaker than the wolf. As a power animal, the wolf will always appear when summoned.

Unlike the Raven-Crow who only appears to the worthy, the Wolf appears to anyone who needs protection and strength. If you howl, he’ll come to you. But be sure you can handle his intense energy that will start flowing through you for the time he’ll be present. It can come out more aggressively than desired unless measures are taken beforehand.

Illustration 1: Artwork by Radiana Piț of the Dacian Wolf, Draco. The red, yellow, and blue are associated with the 3 colors of a flame, and they would’ve been used by Dacians on the Draco banner. The current Romanian flag is inspired by the three colors of the Dacian banner. | Instagram @crowhag

Wolf Lore

Daco-Thracian Wolf-Cults

The most prominent Wolf Cult in history was that of the my Daco-Thracians ancestors. The other peoples of Antiquity often called Dacia (the current territory of Romania) “the land of the wolves”. The Dacian people believed that they were descended from wolves, which is why the wolf was their totem and protector of the Dacian Army.

The Dacian Draco, the dragon with the head of a wolf was the banner they carried into battle and it can be seen in the depictions of the battle scenes from the Daco-Roman Wars (101-102 and 105-106) on Trajan’s Column in Rome. The banner had the body of a snake prolonged into a tail made of fabric and the head of wolf that had multiple metal tongues. The head was mounted on a pillar that the horse-rider carried into battle and when it was held in the wind, it would make fierce howling sounds that intimidated the enemy army.

Draco was alive in the minds of the Daco-Thracian army just as much as it seemed alive to their enemies. The word Draco (Latin) or Drakon (Greek) means “dragon”, but the origin of the word comes from the Greek “derkesthai”, often referred to as the “Dragon’s Eye” and it can be translated as “the one with the (deadly) glance.”

In his book, From Zalmoxis to Genghis Khan, the Romanian philosopher and historian, Mircea Eliade, suggests that the Dacians were a warrior breed under the sign of the wolf. Strabo names the Dacians as “Daoi” (from the word “daos” which originates in the Illyric word for wolf, “dhaunos”). The Daoi were worshipers of Kandaon, the Daco-Thracian god of war often associated with Mars. More specifically, the Daoi were also seen as a distinct brotherhood of Dacian warriors who believed their dragon-wolf banner was a manifestation of their supreme god, Zalmoxis, also known as the “Sky Dragon”.

It is said that Zalmoxis’ favourite animal was the wolf (“daoi” or “daos” in Thraco-Phrygian dialect) and the god was often associated with a white wolf. Romanian legends speak of the Great White Wolf with great respect. One of the oldest legends says that Zalmoxis turned one of his priests into a great white wolf which protected the land and people against enemy invasions. The ancestral Wolf would join the Dacian armies and with his howl, he summoned the wolves of the land into battle.

The wolf played an important role in the spiritual life of the Dacian people and this importance of the wolf was passed down from generation to generation. Saint Andrew was a witness to this in the old days and he found himself associated with the Wolf Cult. One legend says that it is the Great Wolf that welcomed the Saint into our lands.

Wooden sculptures of the Dacian Wolf at the salt mine in Prahova, Romania. The Dacian Wolf had the body of a serpent and the head of a wolf. Photo: Flickr.

Romanian Wolf-Cult and Lore

Remnants of this Wolf Cult still survive today. Originating in the solar symbol of the Great White Wolf associated with Zalmoxis, the wolf in Romanian mythology becomes a psychopomp. He guides the souls of the dead in the underworld and he is often invoked in funeral laments. In the old days, Romanians would baptize their weak children with the name “Lup” (“wolf” in Romanian) so that they would take the strength of the powerful beast.

Nowadays, Romanians celebrate the Wolf Sabbat or the ancient Dacian New Year, throughout the period of death and rebirth. It starts with “Filipii de toamnă” (Autumn’s Phillips) on November 10th – 14th and it ends approximately 80 days later, at “Filipii de iarnă” (Winter’s Phillips) on January 29th – February 2nd, when the long period of wolf breeding ends.

Each of the 7 days of celebration is called a “Filip”, which are wolf patrons, zoomorphic divinities ruled by the Great Phillip (overlapped with Saint Phillip the Apostle). There are multiple traditions and magical celebrations associated with each of these days, many of them borrowing the might of the wolf, asking for its protection, and favour.

However, the most important celebration that marks the transition between the old and the new year is the Night of the Wolf, which is now celebrated alongside St. Andrew’s Day – the Patron of Romania and Wolves – on November 30th. You can learn more about this celebration and its origins in my article The Night of the Wolf: The Romanian Celebration When Evil Spirits and Fearsome Wolves Roam the Earth.

Capitoline Wolf Statue in Cluj-Napoca, Romania – the Capitoline Wolf is the most famous depiction of the mythical she-wolf, Lupa, and twins Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome. It stands today as the symbol of ancient Rome and it is a testimony to the importance and age of the Wolf Totem. Photo by Radiana Piț, Instagram @crowhag

Wolf-Cults Around the World

Much like the Dacians, the Romans also associated wolves with war and even with their god of war and agriculture, Mars. His sons, Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were nurtured by the mythical She-Wolf Lupa (from the Latin word for wolf, “lupus”), as depicted by the Capitoline Wolf. The Greeks also associated the wolf with one of their gods, the same god that they associated the Raven with, Apollo.

Just like the Dacians, the Turks, Mongols, and Ainu people also believed that they’ve descended from wolves. To Mongols especially, the wolf was a symbol of luck and it was even involved in Mongolian folk medicine. They believed that eating the intestines of a wolf could alleviate chronic indigestion. To the Native American Pawnee, the wolf was a symbol of luck and strength as well. According to their creation myth which is similar to the myth of Pandora’s Box, the wolf was the first creature to experience death.

It is said that the Wolf Star was not invited to participate in the discussion on how the Earth will be created. Enraged by this, he sent a wolf to steal “the whirlwind bag of The Storm that Comes out of the West”. The bag contained the very first humans. When the Wolf Star opened the bag, the humans killed him and brought death into our world. The Pawnee associate Sirius with the Wolf Star and the Milky Way with the Wolf Road. The coming and going down the Milky Way of Sirius is a reflection of the birth and death of the Wolf Star.

The Wolf in Norse Mythology

The wolf was a prominent figure in Norse mythology as well. However, the wolf in Norse mythology is more dangerous and destructive. While Odin’s faithful pets, the wolves Geri and Freki were considered good omens, Loki’s eldest son and his offspring were quite the opposite.

According to legend, the malevolent wolf Fenrir, the eldest son of Loki, was bound by the gods. It is said that he will grow so large that his upper jaw will touch the sky while his lower jaw will touch the earth. His chains will no longer bound him, he will break free, and he will devour Odin during Ragnarok. His offspring, Skoll, and Hati will also devour the Sun and the Moon. Fenrir is a symbol of the end of times.

On the same note, the Zoroastrian, Japanese, Indian, and Finnic mythologies associate the wolf with death and destruction. The wolf has always been particularly hated and feared in Finland. Even the Finnish word for wolf, “hukka”, means “perdition”. Sadly, the wolf has been mercilessly hunted and killed by the Finns, as it was considered a malicious predator that killed more than it needed to.

Mythical Lycanthropy

The idea that man could transform into a wolf is present among the ancient people throughout the world and in Proto-Indo-European mythology, the wolves were associated with warriors who could transform themselves into wolves. Many believe that lycanthropy is a medieval concept, but it is much older than that. While the common European idea was that humans can turn into wolves, Virgil noted that the spirits of the forest were those that turned themselves into werewolves.

Unlike wolves, who can be seen as zoomorphic divinities, werewolves are always seen as evil and cursed. In Romanian mythology, the werewolf devours the Sun and the Moon and according to tradition, someone can be turned into a werewolf if they are not baptised, they disrespect tradition, kill their brother, or if they are bitten by an impure animal on the Night of the Wolf.

The Wolf, often perceived as a dangerous creature of the night, has inspired the belief in mythical lycanthropy, in which the keeper of time becomes the devourer of the celestial bodies, the Sun and the Moon.

It is said that such a thing leads to a transformation that can cut the soul from their body and their soul can be lost forever. To the Native American people, however, skin-changing into a wolf is considered an honour. In Greek mythology, Lycaon, the king of Arcadia who established the cult of Zeus, was turned into a werewolf after sacrificing a child to the god.

However, “mythical lycanthropy” is a primordial totemic and shamanic tradition that symbolises metamorphosis and which has entered the realm of rituals in order to help humans attain the power of the wolf. This primordial tradition of attaining such power became a curse, especially in the Middle Ages. In the Middle Ages, pathological lycanthropy was explained through witchcraft and demonic possession and it was believed that committing a sacrilege would attract it as divine punishment.

That is why witches who were believed to be able to turn themselves into wolves to join the Sabbat were considered to be cursed and that a chance encounter with them on a moonlit night would pass the curse onto you.

Lycanthropy aside, the old relationship between man and wolf has surfaced once again thanks to the recent and well-deserved popularity of G.R.R.M.’s “A Song of Ice and Fire”. While werewolves were all the rage for a long time, now the man and wolf in a magical bond seem to be more popular. We see this in the House of Stark, where each of the Stark children is given a dire wolf that throughout the story accomplish various significant roles in the lives of each of the children.

It is suggested that all of them can warg into their wolves in their dreams, but more notably we see Bran before he becomes the Three-Eyed-Crow developing his warg and greenseer abilities through his wolf, Summer. With Jon Snow, we see a slight representation of the “death and rebirth” myth of the wolf and his role as a psychopomp.

In the books, just before he receives the final stab that kills him, Jon Snow whispers “Ghost”, which is the name of his wolf. That suggests that he might’ve warged into Ghost. In the television series, Jon’s dead body was left alone in a room, only with Ghost sleeping by his side. And just before he resurrects, Ghost flinches and looks towards him. On this note, I’ll leave with the words of Lord Eddard Stark: “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.”

www.Nettlesgarden.com – The Old Craft

https://www.nettlesgarden.com/2018/05/03/the-wolf-as-in-animal-magick-spirit-animal-and-totem-the-keeper-of-time/

[paris-mystere]

o fortuna: chapter thirteen

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Content Warning: the fight scene in this chapter is pretty brutal. violence, gore, body horror, dark thematic material. Summary: “So, Tikki. You want to tell me why you share a name with an ancient Greek goddess?”

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

AO3 | FF.net

xiii. o hateful life

"You already know why, Marinette," she says. There is no tenderness in her voice.

Tikki looks up to meet Marinette's gaze. Those bright blue eyes used to seem so innocent and guileless, but now Marinette can only think that they look old. She had always thought that Tikki was cute—big-eyed and cuddly, more like a cartoonish stuffed animal than a real ladybug. But now that all melts away, a pierced glamour that can no longer sustain itself. The Tikki that she sees now is a monstrous creature, ancient beyond human comprehension, caught halfway between bug and fairy. There is nothing cute about those gauzy wings, protruding mandibles, uncannily human eyes.

Her kwami isn't a benevolent sprite or a guardian angel. It isn't even a person. Tikki is Good Luck itself—dispassionate, indiscriminate, unsentimental.

"Tikki, Tykki," the kwami says slowly, each word heavy in its mouth. "Tykkeh, Tukka, Dukka. Human languages are as changeable and inconstant as humans themselves. I have had many names, Marinette. Is it really such a surprise that I shared one of them with a goddess?"

In retrospect, it seems obvious.

"Was she named after you?" Marinette asks, voice hard. "Or were you named after her?"

Tikki stares at her, unblinking. "Does it matter?"

No, Marinette thinks. It really doesn't.

"You lied to me," Marinette says. Tikki looks unbothered by the accusations, and it makes Marinette's heart clench. "I asked you directly, and you told me that Alya was wrong."

"I told you that you didn't need to worry about it," Tikki says flatly. "That was the truth."

Marinette shakes her head slowly, still unable to reconcile the creature before her with the compassionate friend and confidant that had always been by her side. It's like she doesn't even know Tikki anymore.

"You were misleading me on purpose," Marinette says, feeling stung. "You know how I feel about lying, Tikki. Why would you..."

She trails off, and Tikki's eyes soften sympathetically. "Oh, Marinette," the kwami says gently, its entire demeanor shifted. "Sometimes you lie too. You know that sometimes we need to lie. I was only trying to protect you."

For a moment, Marinette almost believes her.

"Protect me from what?" Marinette asks coldly. "The truth?"

"You are young," Tikki says, as if that is enough answer in and of itself.

"But old enough to save a city, apparently!" Marinette shoots back.

"You are more a child than you realize." Marinette takes half a step back, feeling strangely wounded, and Tikki looks away. "I take no joy in lying to you, Marinette. But there are some truths that are best left untold."

Marinette stares at her kwami, disbelieving. Then she falls back heavily onto her chaise.

"We don't mean anything to you, do we?" she says. It is not a question.

"I care," Tikki says. It is not an answer.

"You didn't want me to learn about past Ladybugs," Marinette says. "Why? What happened to them?" When Tikki remains silent, Marinette scoffs. "Do you even remember?"

"Of course I remember," Tikki says softly. "I remember all of my humans."

"Did they die? Is that why you didn't want me digging around?"

"All humans die eventually, Marinette."

Marinette clenches her teeth together. "How many of them got killed because of you?"

Tikki's eyes flit over towards Marinette, then away again. A few long moments pass as the kwami composes its thoughts, tapping one jointed leg against Marinette's desk.

"Many of them," it admits calmly. "Some wielded their Miraculous for decades. Others only a few days."

The worst part, Marinette thinks, is how apathetic her kwami sounds about it. Like none of their deaths upset Tikki at all.

"Now that you know this," Tikki continues, in the same smooth monotone, "does it change your decision? Would you give the Miraculous to someone else?"

"Of course not," Marinette says, scoffing. "Papillon is still out there."

"So you have made your choice," Tikki says. "Jeanne made her choice too. So did Nizam, and Calliope, and Jezebel.

"You knew from the start, Marinette, that this was dangerous work. But you decided to do it anyway. There was no need to burden you with the knowledge of what happened to your predecessors."

Marinette sits down heavily, crossing her arms over her chest.

Maybe none of this should be surprising to her. But she feels hurt. She'd trusted Tikki, and Tikki had repayed her trust with half-truths and lies by omission. All that sweetness, all those kind words...

Tikki sighs heavily. "Oh, Marinette. I do care, you know I do—"

"Don't," Marinette interrupts, her tone sharp. Tikki fall into silence. "You know how I feel about lying," she repeats.

After a pause, Tikki says, "Very well then."

Marinette quietly glowers at Tikki for a moment longer, not sure what she should think of the creature. Now that she can see the kwami for what it really is—both literally and metaphorically—she feels... somehow smaller. Humbled. How had she ever mistaken this centuries-old being for something humanlike?

A slight shiver runs up Marinette's spine as she sits. At first, she thinks nothing of it. But something in Tikki's expression shifts slightly, and Marinette feels a faint twinge of worry deep in her belly.

"An akuma?" she asks hesitantly. But even before she has finished asking the question, she knows what the answer will be.

Tikki locks eyes with Marinette.

"It's Chat Noir," Tikki says curtly. "He needs you."

Chat Noir stands in the shadows, perched delicately on an eave near the corner of Rue de Rivoli and

Avenue Victoria. This intersection, at the heart of Paris's 21st arrondissement, was once among the most crowded places in the city. Now it is deathly silent, empty save for a single black-armored man who strides purposefully down the center of the street.

The Chevalier Noir has reduced his usual arsenal for today, carrying with him only a single sword. The few passers-by who are out on the streets of Paris give him a wide berth, and refuse to meet his eye.

If this bothers the Chevalier, he shows no sign of it. He keeps walking, unperturbed, with an almost unsettling air of calm. Chat Noir follows him, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, for ten, twenty, thirty minutes. They cross the Seine and enter the Latin Quarter, where there are more people out on the streets, and Chat has to navigate more carefully to remain out of their sight. He almost loses the Chevalier twice, but at just the right moments the Chevalier slows down long enough for Chat to catch up to him again.

The Chevalier navigates carefully through parks and university campuses and residential areas, and at long last comes to a stop in from of a very ordinary looking building along Rue Monge. On his left is a tourist-trap of a restaurant. On his right, a hotel.

And, directly in front of him, an innocuous-looking arch. Dozens of native Parisians pass by every day without so much as glancing at it. The inscription at the top, engraved in pseudo-Roman capitals, reads: ARENES DE LVTECE.

The Chevalier passes under the arch, and Chat follows overhead. He lingers on the rooftops and watches the Chevalier enter the park that's hidden on the other side. Stretching out in front of him is a wide circle that has been cut into the earth, surrounded half by weathered ruins and half by recreated stone terraces.

Two thousand years ago, the Romans had used the Arènes de Lutèce to stage gladiatorial combats. Nowadays, it's just a public park, one of the dozens of lesser-known Parisian monuments. The ancient arena is home to sports games and small festivals, and despite its long history there were surprisingly few people in Paris who even knew that it existed...

The Chevalier meanders slowly towards the center of the amphitheater, the only person in the park, the moonlight glinting off his armor. His casts his eyes up towards the sky, but doesn't turn around.

"Why don't you come out of the shadows, Adrien?" he calls up.

Chat Noir takes a few running steps, and leaps down into the amphitheater. He lands on all fours, a safe distance away from the Chevalier, and straightens out slowly.

"How did you know?" he asks quietly.

There's a breath of laughter from the Chevalier, muffled by his helmet. "You wield your staff like a fencing sabre," he says, "and there aren't that many left-handed sabreurs in Paris. Even fewer with your skill."

The Chevalier hesitates a moment, then reaches up to remove his helmet. He tosses the helmet aside, and it rolls across the arena, eventually settling at the bottom of the terraces. He turns around slowly to face Adrien, and it only confirms what he'd already known.

"Once I realized who you were," D'Argencourt continues, "it suddenly seemed so obvious. Of course you were Adrien. Your face, your mannerisms, your technique... I wondered how I could have missed it for so long. But I suppose that's part of the magic, isn't it?"

Chat doesn't answer.

D'Argencourt cracks a small, self-deprecating smile. "People can stare right at you and still not recognize who you are. Much more convenient than disguising yourself in a suit of armor."

He takes a few steps, then sets one hand lightly on his sword. It's a small gesture, but the threat is clear.

"I always liked you, Adrien," he says sincerely. "I don't want to hurt you. So why don't you give me that ring of yours?"

That's what it's always been about, hasn't it?

What could you do, with the power of destruction at your fingertips? How much could you accomplish as the vessel for the god of bad luck?

Chat Noir is a nice enough boy, of course. But his heart is too soft. He's just a child. Wouldn't the power of destruction be much more potent in the hands of somebody who is willing to use it?

Papillon is not the only one with a thirst for power, you know.

Chat Noir doesn't refuse outright. He hesitates, giving the question a moment's consideration. D'Argencourt's expression grows strained.

Finally, Chat speaks. "Why?" he asks softly.

D'Argencourt scoffs. "Adrien, you cannot be serious—"

"Why?" Chat asks again, louder this time.

D'Argencourt seems taken aback. His frown deepens, and he steps back slightly. But he does explain.

"You are fourteen years old," he says. "You are not old enough to vote, or buy alcohol, or drive a car. You cannot expect that I would allow you to keep gallivanting about as you are."

"Most of Paris doesn't seem to have a problem with it."

"Because they're afraid," D'Argencourt says, eyes flashing, "and selfish, and ignorant. Bourgeois is too much of a coward to deal with Papillon himself, so he has children do his dirty work for him. But things cannot go on this way. It's been nearly a year now, and you're no closer to stopping Papillon. All you've managed so far is damage control. Let me take the ring, Adrien, and I will be able to fight him better than you can."

Chat would be lying if he said the offer wasn't tempting. But he shakes his head slowly.

"You would kill them," he says. "The akuma victims."

D'Argencourt forces a tight-lipped smile. "Adrien," he says kindly, "you have to understand. Those people are not innocent. I don't wish them any harm, but when they succumb to their dark temptations, there are going to be consequences. You can't save everyone."

"Ladybug can," Chat counters, a little petulantly. "She always has."

"Ladybug is a child!" D'Argencourt snaps, his composure beginning to slip away. "It's naive to think you can go on fighting that way."

"It's compassion," Chat says sharply.

"It's weakness!"

D'Argencourt's words echo slightly around the park. Chat Noir is silent for a moment, contemplative, as his eyes flit around the darkened arena. It is completely empty, save for them. If anyone overheard D'Argencourt's outburst, they didn't come to investigate it.

After a pause, Chat speaks softly. "I want to believe you," he says, because he does. "But I'm afraid that you would use these powers for evil."

Anger flashes in D'Argencourt's eyes. "I would use it to rid Paris of monsters."

"They're people," Chat says. "Human beings."

D'Argencourt shakes his head slowly, lips curling into a sneer. "I should have known that you would be too naive to understand," he says coldly. "I am not asking anymore. If you will not hand that ring over to me I will take it from you."

D'Argencourt has hardly finished the sentence before he launches into his first attack. Chat Noir parries it easily with his staff, more out of habit than conscious thought, knocking the blade away. D'Argencourt attacks twice more, feints low, then makes an honest attempt to bury his sword in Chat Noir's chest.

Chat manages to evade the attack, dodging backwards, but it's a bit of a startle nonetheless.

This is nothing like fencing practice. For one thing, D'Argencourt isn't usually trying to actually hurt him. For another, his staff makes a poor substitute for a real sword. The balance is wrong, and his grip is off—he'd never really realized until now that he had no idea how to use this thing.

"Can't we talk about this?" Chat tries desperately, barely managing to keep up with the pace of the battle.

"We already have," D'Argencourt says, taking another swing at him.

This time, Chat is just a hair too slow. He raises his staff to block D'Argencourt's blade, but doesn't quite manage to stop it before it draws blood, grazing across his left thigh. Chat swears under his breath and tries to back away, but D'Argencourt presses on, each strike coming quicker than the last.

Another slice catches him in the bicep. The next, a barely-there nick along his gut. A third attack knocks his weapon out of his hands, and his staff clatters as it rolls away.

Cursing under his breath, Chat Noir ducks under the next attack, and D'Argencourt's sword swings through the empty air above his head. Chat Noir rolls away, tumbling gracefully towards the far side of the ancient arena, and once he's on his feet again, he makes a dash for the tiered seating that surrounds them.

"You can't run!" D'Argencourt calls out. Chat dodges to the right, and D'Argencourt's sword rings noisily as it hits stone. "I know who you are now! I will be able to find you, wherever you go!"

Well, that sounds delightful.

Running might not be a viable long-term plan, but Chat Noir keeps running anyway. The added agility from his transformation is to keep him just barely ahead of the armor-laden D'Argencourt, leading him in a game of cat and mouse as they climb up and down the aging stonework of the Arènes. When Chat has finally managed to circle back around to his fallen staff, he dives to the ground, scooping it up and whirling back around the face D'Argencourt.

D'Argencourt pauses a moment, breathing heavily.

"Give it up, Adrien," he says. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Then stop," Chat Noir says.

D'Argencourt swings again, and this time Chat Noir raises up his staff in a steady two-handed grip to deflect the blow. D'Argencourt feints high and Chat sidesteps him, twirling his staff between his hands to swipe D'Argencourt's legs out from underneath him.

My some miracle, it actually works. D'Argencourt topples, bested by a move that would definitely be illegal in sabre fencing, and his sword falls to the ground. Chat Noir kicks it away.

On the ground, D'Argencourt is laughing dryly.

"Congratulations," he says, in a way that doesn't sound congratulatory at all. "You've defeated me."

Chat doesn't answer that. His thoughts are all a jumble right now, and they are not helped by the faint sting of pain from the wounds that D'Argencourt managed to inflict on him. His mind is racing as he tries to figure out what he's going to do next. And what is he going to tell Ladybug?

D'Argencourt grows visibly impatient at Chat's silence. "Well, don't just stand there," he says gruffly. "You know there's only one way this fight can end."

Chat hesitates. "I don't understand," he says slowly.

D'Argencourt's eyes darken.

"You do understand," he says quietly.

The worst part, Adrien thinks, is that he does understand.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he tries, extending one hand out plaintively towards D'Argencourt. "We don't have to fight. We could—"

In a surprisingly quick motion, D'Argencourt leaps up to his feet and lunges at him, reaching for his right hand. Reaching for the ring. Chat Noir draws back, but that hardly seems to deter D'Argencourt. Caught off guard, D'Argencourt manages to tackle the Chat Noir to the ground, relying on his heavier weight against the superhero's greater strength, and pins him down.

"Stop it!" Chat Noir says, even as D'Argencourt keeps scrabbling for the ring. "Stop—"

D'Argencourt's fingers finally managed to lock around the ring, and just as Chat begins to feel it sliding down his finger, he clocks D'Argencourt solidly in the jaw with his left fist.

D'Argencourt hisses in pain, drawing back, and Chat Noir manages to find the leverage to push him off.

But D'Argencourt isn't holding back. Even weaponless, he's in this fight to the bitter end. Before Chat can get back onto his feet, D'Argencourt throws himself at the boy again, hands curled into fists.

After the first blow, Adrien feels like he's spinning. After the second, he's back on the ground.

D'Argencourt steps over to where he's fallen, and reaches for the ring. Chat snatches his right hand back and makes a half-hearted swipe at D'Argencourt with the other. His claws catch him just under his chin, leaving four thin, red lines of blood across the side of his neck. D'Argencourt hisses and draws slightly back. He reaches for a fistful of hair instead, and Chat hisses as D'Argencourt drags his head back roughly.

D'Argencourt seems to have forgotten about the ring now. Instead of reaching for Chat's unguarded hand, he slams his fist into Chat's face, again and again. Spots of blackness flash across his vision. Chat weakly tries to fight him off, scrabbling desperately against his arms, but D'Argencourt hardly seems to notice. He draws back his hand again, landing another heavy blow against his jaw, and this time Chat Noir feels something shatter.

Maybe this fight had started over the Miraculous. But now, in the heat of battle, D'Argencourt is interested in only one thing: proving a point.

Adrien doesn't know if he's going to be able to survive another hit.

The whole world seems to move in slow motion. D'Argencourt is pulling his fist back again. Chat Noir reaches out and grabs at one of his arms, claws scratching into metallic armor.

"CATACLYSM!" he shrieks desperately.

And then for a moment everything goes very, very quiet.

D'Argencourt staggers backwards. Chat Noir sits up slightly, watching him with huge, horror-struck eyes. His entire left arm and a sizable portion of his chest have been obliterated entirely out of existence. Blood wells up along the seams to fill the empty space where they used to be, coating his armor in dark red and splattering softly onto the ground below.

"Shit," D'Argencourt says blankly. "I didn't think you had that in you."

Then he collapses, falling first to his knees and then flopping forward onto his face. He hits the ground with a sickening thud, and lies motionless in the dust.

Ladybug sees Chat Noir first. He's dragged himself out of the pit of the amphitheater and is sitting on one of the weathered stone terraces, covered in blood. It's on his hands, in his hair, streaked at the corner of his mouth where he tried to wipe it away. His suit is damaged, sliced open in some places and torn in others, and there's a lump on his jaw that has swollen so large it might be comedic if it didn't hurt so badly.

"Oh my god," she breathes out, rushing to his side. At her words, Chat shifts slightly to face her, and she can see that his eyes are nearly swollen shut, covered in inky black bruises. "What happened to you?"

Healing magic is flowing out of her hands before she even reaches him. Pink light wraps around him, soft and warm, and Chat Noir breathes out heavily as her cure begins to take effect. Bruises fade, broken bones knit themselves back together, and his shattered jaw realigns itself. Even his suit is fixed, the fabric joining seamlessly back together.

He still feels sick to his stomach, but he guesses that isn't really something she can fix.

"Chat Noir?" she asks softly, reaching out to him. Her fingers brush against his arm, tentative, and Chat leans in toward her, resting his head against her collarbone. Ladybug holds him, arms wrapped lightly around his shoulders, rubbing her thumb in circles on his back. She's trembling slightly, but her voice is smooth. "What happened, chaton?"

"The Chevalier," he whispers hoarsely.

Ladybug takes half a step back, looking stricken. "Where is he?" she asks, her voice gone low and dangerous.

At that, Chat Noir finds himself laughing. Once he starts, he can't stop. Each rumble of laughter, harsh and bitter, feels heavy and painful somewhere in his chest but the laughter keeps coming, and Chat realizes that he's slipping into shock or hysteria or something equally as concerning. Ladybug's brow furrows in confusion.

When the laughter finally dies away, Chat shakes his head slowly. "Oh, Ladybug," he says softly, half-delirious. "Ma coccinelle. I messed up. I messed up bad."

Ladybug's confusion grows, lines creasing her forehead. She takes another step away from him, eyes scanning the arena until finally she spots the body, lying half-submerged in a pool of blood.

She takes a few steps towards it, looking dazed.

"Miraculous Cure," she whispers, holding her hands out towards the body. As healing light engulfs D'Argencourt's corpse, his body is restored—his armor scrubbed clean of blood, his missing limb restored. Even the scratches on his neck fade into nothing.

But he remains quite thoroughly dead.

"Miraculous Cure," Ladybug repeats, her voice stronger this time. She wavers slightly from the exertion of her magic, but nothing changes.

"Ladybug..." Chat says.

"MIRACULOUS CURE!" she shouts, growing slightly desperate.

Chat Noir grabs her lightly by the wrist. "It's no use," he says. "You can't..."

Ladybug jerks away from him. For a moment, Chat's afraid that she'll keep trying to heal him, that she'll run herself into exhaustion fighting a battle that she can never win. But instead she turns back to face him, pale white, mouth strained.

"What do we do?" she asks him, voice trembling.

She doesn't look like a superhero, not now. She looks like a child, frightened and desperate and helpless.

Maybe D'Argencourt was right after all, Adrien thinks bitterly.

Out loud, he says hoarsely, "I don't know."

[declanprettyman-blog]

Mental Health and wellness Articles.

Historical Classical hides were as eye-catching and also intriguing as the lifestyle from old Greece on its own. Whether this is actually the bride from ancient opportunity lugging cannabis to prevent evil spirits or even today's modern bride bring a brightly colour as well as complex created arrangement, the wedding event bouquet is actually one wedding practice that is actually destined to continue to be a part of our wedding ceremony practice. Learn about lifestyle in urban places and areas of a variety of cultures of the world at several attend their history.

The actual label bed mattress" is actually a form from an Arabic word implying to throw," showing many improvements beds have experienced within their current form. It was actually traditional in historical times for a beat overall to surrender his equine, so the emblematic gift of the horse appeared to trojan virus to become a notification of yielding off the Greeks. Today our company have hit a point where definition is associateded with a lot of flower petals, as well as rules and also policies within this practice are actually more significant compared to they ever before were. . Actually their power and also specialties were so much more than the best powerful tool these days's opportunities. This focuses on an amazing historical unit from prophecy that uses thrown the planet as manner of divining through carefully assessing its own plan and order accordinged to an individual's way of life, individual and also his past times, existing and also, potential celebrations. The old philosophers, however, possessed a various point of view on individual and nature. There is evidence from the burial place paintings that the ancient Egyptians at times brought cheetahs they had subjugated. Stonecutters, servants and also civil servants were paid off in a form of draft beer named 'kash' - which is where words 'cash' come from. This interior fact of lifestyle, as well as the understanding from how you can touching that spiritual area from pure imaginative cleverness deep within oneself and also utilize this, has been recognized and also kept through secluded Himalayan Vedic Expert given that the absolute most ancient of your time. Situation: That is actually why Contru Rampache, the outdated lama, has arrived right here to the historical town of Mustang. Marble sculptures, especially water fountain have a place in early Rome, frequently had their content off mythology or one thing with certain endorsement to the proprietor of the house. They possess reliable herbs as components in all of them, such as Ashwagandha and also Shilajit, which have been actually used due to the fact that early times to remedy lots of sex-related concerns. You are going to fine ancient scarabs, feline satues, bodies, mummybeads, chokers, all sort of jewelry. That science on the manner of which our dignity and fame in old times possessed enhanced surges as well as bounds was Concept Electricity. Several of today's approaches are actually a lot more intricate than the techniques of ancient opportunities. Today, individual attendant business have brought this ancient service to the modern-day world to ensure that currently everybody possesses access to all of them. I shall say the meaning from each, as is actually found in Rut as well as Wagnalls Standard Dictionary from the English Foreign language, International Edition. In ancient opportunities, the ascendants of the Tibetans stayed along the both edges of the Yarlung Tsanpo Waterway. By doing this, you may find out more concerning the definition as well as tale behind the many tribal tattoo designs and spot the tattoos from a certain culture that passion you even more. The Classical in old times utilized gorgeous containers to hold their fragrance, and also jewels were utilized due to the Roman people to keep and also hold their fragrances. In was during the 16th century that the dining table (derived from the Latin phrase tabula, which implies a board, a plank, or a flat item), truly came into its own, challenging table and also other kinds of tables have actually been around for practically ages. This manual is actually very beneficial if you would like to know where several of the rules our company possess today originated from. Baseding upon the old kabalistic text message, the technique of the 5 metals call success is that at the details opportunity of the production of the ring along with these 5 steels, Jupiter's influence is summoned on. If you have any inquiries about exactly where and how to use yellow pages uk jobs (weblink), you can make contact with us at our page. The origin from pizzas really began in historical opportunities, and also as stated previously, was actually more for functionality compared to fun. The old people used points like florals and weeds making top quality fragrances. The genuine title bed" is actually a kind from an Arabic term implying to toss," reflecting numerous changes beds have gone through in reaching their current type. It was actually traditional in historical times for a beat basic to relinquish his steed, so the symbolic gift of the steed seemed to be to trojans to become a notice of submission coming from the Greeks. In old times, opal had actually been deemed the luckiest and very most magical from all the gem's as a result of its' capacity to display a multitude of colours. The blue colour from turquoise was thought to have powerful esoteric residential properties by several ancient societies. Susinum was a particular favorite, and the affordable attribute reveals that in ancient times, some kind from sameness and also standard was actually expected. Definitely, the Pestilence all of a sudden faded away as soon as his word escalate (though some advise because draft beer was actually steamed in the making procedure, it would certainly possess been actually much safer than water, which had actually earlier spread the infection.) When St. Arnold perished in 640, the people of his home town brought his body system from Remiremont to Metz for reburial in their congregation. The early natural philosopher, Pliny the Elder, documents flower aromas such as iris, bitter almond and also lilies in his Nature as being actually made use of in abundance. Throughout various societies in old times, the human body and also making love was both marvelled at as well as motivated. Pliny the Senior illustrated an Egyptian cologne that retained its own fragrance after 8 years, as well as the historical Classical naturalist, Dioscorides, acknowledged that Egyptian perfume was actually far superior to that made through various other civilisations. If you wish to learn Mandarin foreign language, at that point tactic that naturally and also thoroughly as a bridge to certainly not merely communication with this spectacular heritage, however discover Mandarin foreign language to experience the historical past and also techniques of their planet too. Just what I really suched as concerning this manual was its own focus on constitutionals rights as well as just how previous and also existing rules aid or even hurt civils rights. Over recent millennia there were several methods of clairvoyancy carried out through individuals of old opportunities besides astrology, which was actually in the beginning crafted for this was actually the first accessible lorry or ways of clairvoyancy utilized through our ancient forefathers. Repeated pronouncing from a label possesses an effect on talents, traits, as well as impressions, as well as communication design.