#❛ ━━ › ⌜ I’M THE COOL TWIN / VISAGE⌟

[amorgansgal]

Doing Something Unholy

So, as inspired by a post @waterdeepwhiskey and with encouragement from @waterdeep-weavemoss I have written some glorious smutty filth, involving Gale and a Female Reader/Tav fucking in front of Mystra's statue. Hope you all enjoy some nice, vindictative fucking!

Gale x Female Reader/Tav

CW: Sexual content, oral sex, sex in public

It seemed like no one in camp wanted to tell you where Gale had gone off to. Granted, you both weren’t possessive of each other or needed to know where one another was at all times. But everyone was acting very oddly. You’d narrowed your chosen targets for interrogation to Halsin and Karlach. Most would likely keep the matter a secret, but you felt like an appeal of the heart might win Karlach over and a plea of just wanting honesty would work with Halsin.

You headed over to Karlach’s tent, tucked away between two buildings and she immediately began to fuss with her belongings, as though she had changed her mind on where everything should go. ‘Karlach,’ you began warningly.

‘Hey soldier!’ she said brightly. ‘I… um… I have to… Wyll wants me to help with dinner, so…’

‘You burnt dinner last time you helped with it,’ you pointed out.

‘I know, that’s why I’m on chopping duty. He thinks I can manage that, so I ought to get going, those carrots won’t-!’

‘Karlach, please, where’s Gale?’

She sighed and looked over to the others. You glanced behind you and saw Shadowheart watching you both, a troubled frown on her face and by the looks of things having just shook her head. You snapped your head back around to look at Karlach.

‘Don’t lie to me, where is he?’ For a horrible minute you wondered if he was at Sharess Caress, it seemed so unlike him, even the way the Drow twins had spoken to you had made him deeply uncomfortable. He had said so. But where the hell could he be if he wasn’t there? And why hadn’t he told you where he had gone or what he was up to?

‘He… you remember we visited Stormshore Tabernacle where there was the statue of Mystra?’ Karlach said, evidently deciding it was better to tell you and risk Shadowheart’s annoyance. 

‘The statue of Mystra?’ you repeated, almost dumbly.

‘Yeah, he said he wanted to… uh… go and look at it.’

‘Why does looking at a statue take the better part of an hour?’ you asked, Karlach gave a bemused shrug.

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

‘And he wanted to keep this a secret from me?’

‘Well, I don’t know about a secret…’

You scowled formidably, snatched up your cloak from a pile of clean laundry and began to head back out to the city. You evidently needed a good talk with your lover, if that was what he was up to. Karlach called out to you to wait, but you decided to forgo travelling with the group and shouted over your shoulder, ‘We’ll be back in a minute or two!’ Thankfully no one followed you after that.

***

Stormshore Tabernacle was quiet after dark, the door was still open, but the priest was gone for the evening. Flickering candles illuminated the now subdued hall, casting shadow and golden light over the faces of the stone gods. You snuck in through the door, closing it behind you and immediately spotted Gale, who hadn’t even noticed your presence. His gaze was transfixed on the carved visage of Mystra and if you hadn’t known better you would have assumed he was hexed or frozen to the spot by a spell. 

‘Gale,’ you murmured, and he jumped, quickly turning around to look at you.

‘Gods, I thought you were-’ he coughed and looked sheepish. ‘Well, I hardly know, an enemy of some sort. Spend half our days fighting that I’m starting to look for them when they aren’t even there.’

You carefully approached the statue and looked up at Mystra. The same electrifying jolt that you had felt when you first visited sent a shiver down your skin, the weave was stronger here with just her depiction alone. It both warmed and cooled you at the same time, made you feel a little dizzy and jubilant with the sweet promise of power. 

‘Not so much an enemy,’ you said, looking at Mystra’s face. Even you wouldn’t admit to being an enemy of a god, that was far too risky and undeniably tempting for a god to put you in your place. ‘But something of a rival I suppose.’

‘Ah,’ he replied. ‘Look you have no reason to fear-’

‘Do I not? Most people would not take kindly to their supposed lover spending the better part of an evening staring at a depiction of their ex-lover.’

‘No, and I understand why you would fear my loyalty, but you need not doubt me. I came here to work out a few things in my head.’

‘A few things you couldn’t talk about with me?’

‘I didn’t want to talk to you about them because I fear I talk about Mystra too much and I didn’t want you to feel like that’s what I always do. But perhaps I should’ve,’ he admitted quietly. 

‘Yes, or at least told me that’s what you had planned to do! And not made everyone in camp keep it a silly little secret.’

He hummed in agreement and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, it does feel silly now. I just… I look at her and I don’t feel how I felt a long time ago. My feelings towards her are complicated, but love doesn’t feel part of it, I don’t feel I can love her anymore. I don’t feel I want to love her anymore.’ He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, you were caught between the altar for Mystra and Gale’s firm chest under the warm softness of the velvet cloak he wore. ‘I love you, entirely, completely. You have my heart in the palm of your hand and I can do nothing but beg you to keep it.’

You couldn’t help smiling at his declaration and he seized the opportunity, cupping your face and kissing you. It had been a sweet, gentle kiss at first, but as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hands found your waist, he pressed you up against the altar. He nipped your lower lip, a silent plea to allow him access to your mouth, and you conceded, letting him slip his tongue between your teeth. His hands drifted further down to your thighs and butt and he lifted you up till you were sat on the altar.

Perhaps you should have questioned whether this was a good idea, perhaps you would have advised it not be worth risking the anger of a goddess for momentary pleasure, but the part of your brain the quite frankly couldn’t stand the goddess and what she had done to Gale won out. Let her deal with you fucking her ex-lover, let her deal with the fact that you had stopped Gale from detonating the orb, that he wanted to give you the whole world and his loyalty to her as a worshipper was shaky at best! 

You had already made light work of the laces on his breeches and slipped your hand inside, stroking his already hard cock, pre-cum already slick on your fingers, you ran it down the length and smiled as Gale groaned against your mouth. He pressed hot, needy kisses down your neck. ‘Gods, we shouldn’t do this,’ he muttered, though he didn’t sound very convinced by the suggestion.

‘Do you really want to stop?’ you murmured enticingly and stroked him again, he let out a delightful, tremulous breath he let out as you did. You would’ve stopped if he said no, but instead he scrabbled with the material of the dress you wore, tugging up the skirt till it was around your hips. His fingers easily found your slit and he bit back a groan finding you wet and wanting. Gale trailed them up to your clit and you let out a quiet moan in the temple at the heady rush of pleasure you felt. Perhaps it was all the more delicious and delightful to be doing something so wicked and sinful in a temple of the gods.

He pulled you forwards, closer to the edge of the altar and then went to his knees. You bit back a smile and his eyes gleamed in the half-light. ‘I’ve heard tell that love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling. Consider me a humble worshipper,’ he said and began to kiss up your thigh. 

He reached the apex and kept a tight hold on your legs, pressed his mouth against your slit and began to lap, kissing and sucking on your clit and making you gasp and moan and squirm on the stone table. Your hand knocked off a necklace that someone had left as an offering as you desperately tried to find purchase, even as your head dropped back from the pleasure Gale’s clever, well practised tongue was easily drawing from your body. You would’ve happily let him continue, but you didn’t want to risk being interrupted and your body felt like a taut bow string. 

‘Gale,’ you panted. ‘We can’t… we need to be quick…’

He let out a groan of frustration and drew back a little. His face was flushed and his lips and chin were covered with your slick, even that sent a shiver of desire running through you. 

‘I like taking my time,’ he pouted.

‘And I like not having my pleasure interrupted by a priest who might overhear us and come looking!’

Gale got up and wrapped a tight arm around your waist, kissing you frantically, his fingers dug into the meat of your thighs and he groaned as his cock brushed against your sopping wet clit. You shifted your hips just a little and he easily slipped inside you. Gale let out a quiet moan, his face buried into your shoulder and he bit down, trying to quieten himself as you whimpered at the feel of him. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathed against your neck. ‘You feel so good.’

‘Better than all the heavens and anything Mystra could offer?’ 

He raised his head, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Far better.’ He fucked you hard and fast, hips slamming into yours, his fingers fumbled against your clit, working quickly to bring about your pleasure and it was all you could do to keep one hand gripping the stone altar to stop you from falling back and another hand fisted into the material of Gale’s shirt. The quiet temple was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the soft pants and moans from you both as you rushed to find your pleasure. Until finally Gale let out a rather loud groan as he buried himself to the hilt within you and you felt his release, you shuddered around him as he easily brought you to your own bliss. Your head fell backwards and you saw the cold, stony face of Mystra.

‘Fuck you, you fucking bitch, look at how well he fucks me on your precious little altar,’  you thought in your head, though even after all that you had done you dared not say it aloud. It was petty of you, but truth be told it made you feel good. You both got your breath back and once Gale had tidied himself away, he offered a hand to help you down from the altar.

‘Ah,’ he said, and on turning, you saw you had left a rather sizable wet patch on the stone. Gale lifted his hand, presumably to cast prestidigitation to remove it, but you caught hold of his arm. 

‘Leave it, consider it our offering to her,’ you insisted.

‘Tav,’ he warned. ‘She will not be pleased.’

‘Is she ever? Besides, it’s a little too late for that, and what’s she going to do, stick another orb in you?’

He chuckled and shook his head. Gale gazed at the wet patch for a moment longer, then placed his arm around your waist. You thought he would insist on cleaning it up, but instead he guided you from the temple and you both made your way down the steps and back to camp.

[teecupangel]

Typical Desmond goes back in time after touching the eye but he turns into a ghost, kinda cool if he can change forms

I’m not sure what you mean by change form. Like… he can turn into ghost animals or he can turn into different dead people?

Or is this like he has a nearly transparent form that’s wearing his old clothes then he has his ‘dead form’ which is a ghostly visage of how his corpse looked after he died?

It could work regardless of which you pick, I guess?

You know what would be fun?

If we were going for the Ghost film ghost rules.

Only one person could see Desmond and that person isn’t his ancestor. So this means he has to coordinate and get the trust of another person to help his ancestor.

Possible Candidates:

Altaïr

Let’s be honest, the first person we thought of was Malik XD and it would be fun because Malik could believe that Desmond may or may not have been Altaïr’s dead twin brother and Malik ‘hates’ Altaïr but Desmond is sweet and nice and it’s clear he’s trying to do the right thing so… Malik has to suffer thru helping Altaïr for Desmond.

It would be fun if it was Kadar though. Like, Desmond does some kind of ghost thingie and that keeps Kadar alive, maybe they’re sharing the same life (kinda like Lydia and Captain from GBF), and since this is a Kadar who had died because of Altaïr’s rash decisions, Desmond needs to try and repair Kadar’s broken trust for Altaïr among other things.

Okay, hear me out. Adha is also a possible recipient. Hell, we don’t know what the fuck the Chalice thing was meant to be anyway so what if the whole Chalice thing was because Adha was the perfect ‘vessel’ for Desmond to connect to. Desmond doesn’t know who Adha is, not really, Altaïr’s memories about her that Desmond received were vague af so he’s flying blind and Adha thinks he’s some djinn with clairvoyance skills. She agrees to help because it was clear he was trying to help Altaïr and… Desmond is totally unsure how all of these would play out since he was helping Adha survive her inevitable death as well.

If you want to fuck with Desmond, Abbas is right there. Desmond would definitely have a hard time getting the cooperation of the person who hates Altaïr the most XD

Ezio

Petruccio would be the best ‘candidate’ of all of Ezio’s siblings. His fragile body could be connected to why he’s able to see and talk to Desmond (and just imagine the angst when Desmond believes that Petruccio could see him because he already has one foot in the grave). This idea would give us Desmond acting as an older brother and character development for Petruccio.

Wanna make it fun? Lucrezia Borgia would be a fun candidate. Make Desmond the only person who sees Lucrezia as something more than what her family wishes her to be which leads to her running away from the Borgias and becoming an Assassin under Desmond. Desmond did not plan for any of it. He was just trying to get Lucrezia to see reason and help him get in contact with Ezio XD

Ratonhnhaké:ton

Of course, Kaniehtí:io is on the top of the candidate list because we all want her to survive. We could even make Desmond appear to her after Ratonhnhaké:ton is conceived and he could act more like a friend and sorta ghostly parent to Ratonhnhaké:ton. Kaniehtí:io would still probably push Haytham away even if Desmond tries to stop her, asking him if he really thinks that Haytham, as he is right now, could change and let go of the darkness in his eyes. Desmond is unable to answer her because, as much as he wants to give Ratonhnhaké:ton a happier life, he personally doesn’t believe Haytham could change. He’s loyal to the Templar cause and Desmond shares Kaniehtí:io’s fear that letting Haytham stay would ‘corrupt’ Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Kanen'tó:kon would be a fun candidate and, with Desmond being there as his ‘ghostly advisor’, Desmond has a chance to stop the tragedy that would force Ratonhnhaké:ton to kill Kanen'tó:kon in self-defense. Also, depending on how young Desmond connects with Kanen'tó:kon, this might end with Kanen'tó:kon also becoming an Assassin.

[tommyofspeed]

tag drop.

[softkuna]

Sukuna | Yuuji Itadori || Nightmare || fic

The reader spent the night at their house and had a nightmare and bc Sukuna and Yuji were in the same room as her they both wake up to her quiet sobbing and comfort her. :)

Content   ║ Yuuji x f!s/o. Sukuna x f!s/o. The thing is, he’d always liked her. She helped him with his writing assignments and he’d help her with illustration. They became something like friends. She’d come to the dorm and get her ass whooped in Smash Brothers or he’d see her and get roped into an across-campus journey. It just so happened that Yuuji met her in some intro to painting class and ever since they were stuck at the hip. It never really donned on Sukuna that through all her good deeds and casual back-and-forths with him, that that’s what he had wanted from the start.

Count      ║ 1,262 words.

Consider ║ Fluff. Unrequited love. SFW. Probably grammar issues. Female reader.

Creator    ║ I hope this is alright for ya! This was actually pretty wholesome to write, ngl. I have this set up more as a unrequited love type of deal so that it wasn’t sketchy. I would rather avoid that side of the twins au ;v;. I hope you enjoy!

The edges of her vision blurred and focused repeatedly. A heaviness set into her chest, weighing her into the bed she lay in. Half of her face had been buried in pillows; the other half luckily able to take in the cool air. Anxiety tensed inside of her. In between awake and asleep, they always came. Dark human-like figures with scraggly arms lurked at the corners. Their limbs spindled unnaturally as the reached for her, slinking up the comforter and icily grazing the flesh of her arm.

  Wake up. Wake up. Just move!

 Desperately, she tried to rip her arm away, but nothing seemed to move. The scariest part was her mind trying to put her back to sleep, lull her into unconscious territories as they infiltrated the room. One had reached out from underneath the bed across the dorm. It wasn’t until it began to crawl on fours that her body kicked into gear, heaving in a lung full of air. Her arm jerked backward, entire form scampering from the edge of the cramped twin bed.

  “Ey!” Yuuji rose, holding a hand to his cheek, sleepy insult glazing his expression. Dread buried itself in her mind, digging so far down it was damn near survival instinct. Eye flickered wildly around the room. It wasn’t hers. Hands grasped her arms delicately, their warmth countering the near violent chill running through her blood, “Sh, sh, sh… you’re with me, ‘member? Wanted to sleep over?” His voice was sweet and hushed, a small rasp to the abrupt wake-up.

  “R-right…” Eyes flickered down, the anxiety not yet gone. A hand came up to cover her mouth, eyes darting somewhere to the right as lashes worked to swipe away tears. I’m such a fucking child.

  It happened every time and without fail. They came every night and every night she panicked. What made it all worse was the aggravated groan from the man in the bed across Yuuji’s.

  She stopped all breathing, chest caving in and out. Yuuji drew her in, letting her head bury itself into the crook of his neck. A large, calloused hand rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades.

  Sukuna rolled in his spot, eyes hitting his annoying twin and his equally annoying girlfriend. She was propped up on him, laboriously breathing and sniffling. It filled their shared dorm, bounced off the poster coated walls, and struck him right in the damn chest.

  The thing is, he’d always liked her. She helped him with his writing assignments and he’d help her with illustration. They became something like friends. She’d come to the dorm and get her ass whooped in Smash Brothers or he’d see her and get roped into an across-campus journey. It just so happened that Yuuji met her in some intro to painting class and ever since they were stuck at the hip. It never really donned on Sukuna that through all her good deeds and casual back-and-forths with him, that that’s what he had wanted from the start.

  Yuuji’s brows creased at the center, worry plain in his every motion. He knew things like this happened. Some nights were worse than others. Tonight was the first night that she had slept over his dorm. She was nervous about it, ‘specially since she didn’t want to make it awkard with Sukuna. They were friends, much to Yuuji’s annoyance. Even now, he saw how Sukuna peered at them, seeming disinterest in his lax visage. Yuuji knew better than that. There was a subtle flick to the way his eyes moved, the careful pull of his gaze over her shuddering frame. He cared. Probably more than either of the twins were comfortable with.

  Both arms wrapped protectively around the girl as her hiccups slowed, mouthing to the twin, “Stop staring!”

  “Then do something about it.” Sukuna gestured with his chin to his friend. Yuuji shot a sleep-ridden glare back. Sometimes he forgot how much of a dick his brother was.

  Once her breath had caught up to her, the girl pulled her head from her boyfriend’s soaked shoulder. Awkwardly, she pinched the fabric, pulling it up then letting it limply go back into place, “S-sorry…”

  “Don’t be! Just a shirt. More importantly,” The pinkette gave her his best smile, hands squeezing her upper arms to show he was there, “Are you alright?”

  She glanced from him, then over her shoulder to Sukuna. The latter gave no more of a response than to just blankly stare back, even after she had looked away. Meekly, she asked, “Can… can we play smash?”

  “Yeah! Of course,” The boy perked, relief washing over him as the tears began to dry from her cute little face, “I’m sure dick-kuna won’t mind the noise.” He popped out of bed, dodging a swipe from the brother as he set up the console. For a two-bed dorm, it was pretty long. They could fit both beds, bother dressers, and a tv propped on a coffee table in front of a beat-up sofa. It truly was the epitome of a boy’s dorm room.

  Much to her surprise, both kept their dorm pretty clean. Their grandfather had always kept them in pretty good shape when it came to household chores. Her feet hit the ground and she wobbled before making her way to the couch. Yuuji scooted, but she sat smack dab neck to him, grabbing a controller. The volume was turned down almost to inaudible. Yuuji stuck his tongue out as he stretched to turn it up. Her hand whacked his arm, “Yuu, be mindful of-“

  Her weight had shifted on the beaten up cushions. Sukuna couldn’t deal with his friend destroying Yuuji in smash alone. Without so much as a word, he grabbed the controller, propping a leg up on the pre-battered wooden table. He could feel it, though. The tensing of her back relaxed into the furniture. He hummed a singular laugh to himself as she pulled her legs to her chest, looping her arms around to play with the two.

  Many rounds overs, Sukuna made sure to beat his brother in the most annoying ways possible, even after they had switched to Mario Kart.

  “I swear to god if you hit me with another shell-!”

  His girlfriend cackled in that ugly-cute way, burying her face between Sukuna’s shoulder and the couch. When she pulled away, she placed a playfully crisp smack to his shoulder. Mischievously, she grinned and an unspoken plan to bombard the brother with shells and lightning came to fruition.

  Despite their differences, the one thing Sukuna and Yuuji had in common was their utter adoration for her. The way she screamed when she laughed and the sleepy protests to keep playing included. Yuuji stretched with a grin, nudging her up to bed. It was late – or well… early now. As she followed his careful lead, making sure not to let go of her hand as she stumbled past the table, she looked back to Sukuna. Warmth crept through his insides a the smile she gave, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’.

  She crawled under the comforter, taking residence in Yuuji’s other-worldly warmth. He always smelled like vanilla and honey. His nose nuzzled into her cheek, pressing a kiss to his before muttering a soft ‘g’night’. It didn’t take long to hear the steadying breaths of lovers asleep.

  Sukuna’s eyes rolled and he made his way to his own bed. He might be sleeping by himself, jealous that he couldn’t be his brother for the night, but at the very least he could make her laugh.

[chrysalispen]

iv. never give the heart outright

AO3 link HERE Chapter under cut.

====

The day Aurelia Laskaris left Gridania dawned damp and foggy: as mundane and unremarkable a sendoff as one could possibly wish. The heat wave had relented overnight and the wind with it, and the trees’ leaves hung still and sparkling with droplets of dew. Pale rays of early morning sun filtered through the low-hanging wisps of cloud and collected dust motes and small insects in their wake. The quality of it reminded her of L’haiya’s lace curtains, the way their softness and the delicate patterns and filtered sunbeams had always framed the sitting room windows of her girlhood home.

The driver of the chocobo carriage aimed to set out from the city before full daybreak. Thus she stood in drowsy silence along with half a dozen other passengers set to board, watching the lalafellin teamster as he and the Canopy’s porters secured the larger bags. Barring any unforeseen incidents, the carriage’s route would take them south past Quarrymill, through the marshes near old Amdapor, and south into the high desert of northeastern Thanalan until they reached Ul’dah.

It had taken her all of three days to conclude her affairs: there was, after all, no property for her to sell, nor any anxious relatives to wheedle her into remaining.

Watching the small man loop his handfuls of hempen rope to secure over boxes and bags and other people’s assorted belongings, Aurelia felt a certain twinge of wistfulness that she had not expected. The forest city was not quite home, but it had served as the closest thing she had to one for nearly five years. But it was not enough to keep her. The excitement of the road ahead had not left her, and she faced the morning with bright eyes and a clear mind. The sun was up and so was she.

Keveh’to did not share her optimism, that much was obvious with a mere glance. The Miqo’te stood at her side with an expression one could only describe as pained. His ears lay flat against his fluffy hair, and his fawn-colored bottlebrush tail lashed emphatic and agitated beats against her leg.

“I know I’ve asked you half a dozen times now,” he said quietly, “but are you absolutely certain about this?"

Her answer was the same as it had been each time he had asked:

“As certain as I shall ever be.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

“Yes, well,” she felt a twinge of annoyance at his pessimism surface at last, “as one recalls, ‘twas you who made the suggestion that I consider further study afield.”

"When you told me you’d give the matter some thought, I didn’t expect you to come back to Miounne’s place the same day with a letter of introduction already scripted and sealed.” His arms folded over his chest and he stared up into the canopy. “E-Sumi-Yan must have had that letter already waiting to give to you, whatever he said.”

“Perhaps. It’s not as though he would have told me if he did.” Aurelia looked down at herself and smoothed the pleats of her skirt yet again. All of it, from head to toe, was new. It felt so odd; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had new clothing. “Thank you again,” she continued, somewhat awkwardly. “For the traveling attire. It's quite fine.”

Keveh’to shrugged. A dull rosy flush crept up the sides of his neck. “It’s Ul’dah,” he said. “They’ll toss you out the gates on your arse if you show up looking like a beggar.”

“Hells below,” she tried to make a jest of it with a soft laugh, “you make it sound as though they’ll have a fashion inspector awaiting my arrival.”

“No. But I’ve known my share of that lot, and ‘tis not unlikely they’ll hit you with a demand for a hefty bribe at least once.”

“Yes, I’ve heard stories from some of the others.”

“And for goodness’ sake, Relia- please do yourself a favor and be careful about the company you keep. No one needs to know about you-know-what.” He tapped his temple with a humorless smile. “Ul’dah is a great deal more cosmopolitan than our humble little forest abode, but even they might balk at that.”

The stare she gave him could best be described as obstinate, with the hard set of her jawline. “...I might be ignorant of many Eorzean customs, but I should like to think I am not that much of a fool.”

“I’m trying to watch out for you.”

“Rest assured, I do appreciate the thought.” Still so glum. She frowned at him, “I thought that this decision would have pleased you. You made no secret you were tired of watching me mope about.”

“I- yes. But-”

He opened his mouth, stuttered into empty air, then sighed.

The other passengers milled about them in a somnolent shuffle, muttering to each other and passing bags back and forth. A pair of snowy-haired elezen twins in clothing as new and fine as her own brushed past Aurelia and Keveh’to without sparing a second glance, their identical braids and hair-ribbons stirring in a cool and sluggish breeze from the riverbank. She waited for the pair to pass well out of earshot before she continued, as gently as she could manage:

“This isn’t goodbye forever, you know.”

“I know.”

“They gave me honorary citizenship. I think I’m obligated to at least visit from time to time.” Another jest, one which failed in a like manner as the other to crack his solemn visage. “But I do fully plan on returning once I’ve completed my studies.”

“Right. I understand that. It’s…” His ears swiveled forward, then back, still flattened unhappily against his hair. “...Never mind. It’s not important.”

“No, go on.”

“It’s a trifling personal matter. Naught that you should worry about.”

“If you have something to say-”

That stony stoicism faded at last, relaxing into a smile, but it was as sad a smile as she had ever seen Keveh’to Epocan give anyone. “Matter of fact, I did. Once. But I see now that I’ve gone and waited too long,” he said cryptically. “Saying it now won’t change anything, and I wager I’d only feel worse if it did.”

“I’m sorry.” Aurelia worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “Truly, I am.”

His smile stretched into a grin. It made him look far more like the man she had come to know, the friend who teased and needled her and let her talk herself into momentous decisions. “You’ve no cause to be sorry for anything, my friend. The fault is mine own if there’s fault to be placed. I’m just being sentimental, I suppose. And, mayhap, a touch selfish.”

“Last call for luggage,” bellowed one of the porters. “If ye don’t bring it up now, ye’ll be carryin’ it yerselves! ‘Tis a long road ahead! Last call for luggage!”

Aurelia looked down at herself, then the bags at her feet. She only had the three pieces: her salvaged field kit, her herbal bag, and the pack which held in it those few trifling personal possessions she owned, including her mother’s memento mori. The field kit’s thick carbonweave strap perched on her shoulder, its tripartite-link imperial insignia long since removed by her own hand (Rhaya Wolndara’s angry reaction to the sight of it had been a valuable lesson in precaution) and its once-hefty weight now considerably lightened with even her most conservative usage of its contents over the years.

“Well,” he said after a moment, with transparently forced cheer, “let’s be about it. This lot won’t load itself.”

“The field kit needs to stay with me,” she drew out of reach when he stretched out a hand to take it from her shoulder. “Too many fragile items. Glass and the like. I’ll not trust it to the vagaries of a draught chocobo.”

“Fair enough.”

He picked up the others and made his way toward the waiting porter as the small collection of passengers began to mill towards the slatted steps. A Highlander man drowsed near the front of the carriage, hand wrapped loosely about a wine bottle and otherwise oblivious to the world. Aurelia double-checked the small leather belt she wore to make sure the letters Miounne and E-Sumi-Yan had penned were intact; a fine mess it would be if she were to lose them on the journey.

“Aurelia!”

The matronly Duskwight proprietress of the Carline Canopy stood head and shoulders over most of the passengers, and she quickly drew their attention as she made her way towards the small gathering with a swift and decisive stride. The Garlean offered her a small smile.

“Good morning to you, Miounne,” she said. “Come to see me off, have you?”

“I certainly have. I hope you weren’t planning on leaving us this morning without breaking your fast, girl,” was Miounne’s brisk reply, though she returned the smile as she held out her hands. In them, she carried a steaming tin cup and a small cloth-wrapped bundle. “I set aside one of my eel pies for you. ‘Tis a bit chilly as well, so I thought some hot tea might do you well on the road. Don’t worry about the cup; I have plenty of them.”

Touched by the gesture, Aurelia carefully took the cup and the wrapped pie, one in each hand.

“You didn’t have to do this-”

“I know,” Miounne said, a wry smirk tilting her lips. She wiped her hands on her apron. “But I did. The pie is heavy and should keep your belly full for a day or two. You’ll be changing carriages at the station in Highbridge to the Sunroad trail; you’ll want to get more supplies while you’re there-- make sure you have plenty of fresh water. There’s naught betwixt Drybone and the city save malms of scrubland, and this time of year the water holes will be too low to sustain travelers. I imagine the Calamity will have made the pickings slim for hunting as well.”

Aurelia nodded.

“Once you pass through the city gates, make your way to the Quicksand. That’s where the Ul’dahn Adventurers’ Guild operates; the proprietress’ name is Momodi Modi. I sent word ahead that she’s to expect your arrival within the sennight. All you need to do is give her your name and mine.”

“I... yes. I’ll do that.”

“And please, Aurelia dear- do take care in Ul’dah. It is a very different sort of city from ours. You are a kind woman with the best of intentions and there are those who would…” Miounne hesitated. “...Well. I’ll not fearmonger; I’ll wager you’ve heard enough of that. But I would ask the Twelve to watch over you nonetheless- if that’s all right, of course.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, she watched Keveh’to’s back, the way his officer’s overcoat pulled taut across the shoulders as he passed her bags to the porter, then cast her eyes down at Miounne’s parting gifts.

The sight brought back a memory of the last time she had left behind the familiar to set out for the unknown: fresh from her schooling, set to board a train at the capital’s processing center after she had enlisted in the imperial army. No one had accompanied her. Not to give her well wishes or helpful directions, or even to wave their farewells from the platform as the train departed for the tunnels bored beneath the mountains and into the heart of Castrum Pinnaculum. She had gone to the station alone, had left alone, and for the first few weeks of basic training, she had struggled alone.

But she was not alone now. Perhaps she no longer owned a marvel of a garden, or slept in a fine bed, or wore silks, but since coming to Eorzea she had made more friends in this past handful of years than in the previous decade. That had to count for something.

Aurelia stared into the steaming teacup and swallowed past the sudden constriction in her throat with considerable effort, then looked at the other woman with glassy blue eyes.

“I’d like that,” she said at last. “And thank you, Miounne. For everything.”

Before the woman could muster a response Aurelia had turned away and hurried towards the lowered carriage steps. She didn’t want to lose her nerve or shed tears, not today, and she still had one more farewell to give.

Keveh’to reached the steps first; he plucked the carbonweave strap from her shoulder and slung it over his own the moment she drew near. “Let me pass that up to you once you’re seated,” he said. “You can’t carry both your breakfast and this great bloody thing onto the carriage.”

She was the last to board. The wooden stair was showing its age and it creaked even under Aurelia’s slight weight as she made her way onto the covered deck. The platinum-headed Elezen twins she had seen earlier sat in the back near the cargo across from the last empty space: the one in blue was wholly absorbed in perusing a tome while the one in red dozed upon their companion’s shoulder. Neither of them paid her any mind as she set her teacup and snugly wrapped meal upon the open seat. Nor did any of the others, for that matter.

Mayhap this part was not so very different from that long ago train ride after all.

Aurelia chuckled aloud, though the sound lacked humor, and turned towards the other end of the carriage at the sound of swift footsteps. Keveh’to had come up behind her to deliver her remaining bag. The half-empty imperial field kit, still large and cumbersome for all it lacked much of the weight it once bore, smacked with a quiet dull thud against his thigh with each step. His expression was unreadable as he set it down at her feet.

“Suppose Mother Miounne already said it so I don’t need to,” he said, “but I will, anyroad. Take care of yourself and be careful who you trust. And if there is trouble and you need to leave for any reason, you always have a home here.”

“Keveh’to-” Before she could finish what she had meant to say his arms had wrapped about her shoulders in a heavy embrace, tail wound around her calf.

“Write to us once in a while, will you?” he muttered in her ear. “Just… just so we know you’re doing alright. Even if it’s something about your alchemy that I- I mean, we don’t understand.”

“Or care about,” Aurelia said wryly. She knew full well that Keveh’to was not asking her to write to Miounne. Her arms tightened about his shoulders in return, just for a brief moment. “...I’ll write as often as I can manage.”

“Good.”

The Miqo’te looked for a moment as though he wanted to say - or do - something more, but instead released her with all haste, tail flickering and ears swiveling with his discomfiture as he went. Aurelia said nothing further as she took a step backward and turned to the seat where her tea and morning meal awaited. It was easy enough to spare him his blushes, to pretend that her focus lay upon how best she might secure her bag under the seat. Once that was done she picked up the teacup and took a thoughtful sip, placing Miounne's eel pie upon her lap. She was too full of nerves to be terribly hungry but that would no doubt change within a bell or two.

His retreat down the narrow steps came just in time for the porter to lift and shutter the low-slung door behind him with a brisk snap. Aurelia felt her eyes prickle and burn but her composure held fast, and when she turned about and lifted her free hand to wave at her friend it was with a bright smile on her face.

Her minder - her friend, now - gave only a half-second’s hesitation before he waved back. At his side, Miounne too lifted her hand in silent farewell.

“Quarrymill!” the driver shouted. “Next stop, Quarrymill!”

Following upon the heels of the teamster’s call came the draught chocobos’ twin kwehs. She braced herself and her teacup a moment before she felt the sharp initial jolt of the carriage’s forward motion. Within seconds it smoothed into a sedate and seamless drift as the wind aether filled the balloons overhead, and they were off down the half-paved cobbles that led to the Blue Badger gate. In moments they would pass out of the city and turn onto the southbound road.

For the final time, Aurelia allowed herself a glance over her shoulder, back over the lip of the carriage and in the direction of the Carline Canopy. Keveh’to, it seemed, had chosen to remain outside the chocobo paddock. He stood stiff and unmoving save for the tail that lashed erratically at the air, his hands shoved into his deep pockets and his mouth turned in a downward bow she could see even from here.

His words drifted across her mind like errant clouds.

I’ve waited too long. Saying it now won’t change anything.

She kept her gaze upon the dwindling figure until the carriage had rounded the bend and that splash of bright yellow was no longer visible through the foliage.

~*~

Watching the commotion below from his perch upon a flight of corrugated metal steps, Nero tol Scaeva knew what was coming next. The cohort’s work had come to a screeching halt and several of the engineers had gathered about to investigate the rear quarter panel of the left leg. None of them seemed to know what orders they were to give or be given if any, and the resulting confusion left them milling aimlessly about like ants puzzling at a stray piece of food someone had dropped on the floor.

Thus it fell to him to restore order, as much as he would rather not: his presence alone would subject him to fearful kowtowing and stammered excuses. He knew he could be a hard man when the situation called for it, but he liked to think he was also a fair one, and even the greenest of the signal corps had no reason to fear his wrath so long as they could explain themselves to his satisfaction. Still, he was a Garlean, and the provincial fear of his countrymen was deeply ingrained into the army's conscripts -- ingrained when it was not beaten.

No help for it, I suppose.

He made his way beneath the iron scaffolding that surrounded the warmachina's exoskeleton at a brisk pace. The clatter of his sollerets upon the metal tiling set an easy and unhurried rhythm as he crossed the open floor until his stride slowed to a full stop mere fulms away. The engineers’ chatter, quiet but idle, dwindled into an anxious silence.

One of the engineers, a tiny Auri woman with her lavender-tinted hair bound in regulation braids, went visibly pale at the sight of his approach but to her credit did not make a show of flinching from him, and even had sufficient courage to offer up a salute as was proper. He folded his arms over his chest and peered down at her through the visor of his helm. They stood close enough that he could see how her forearm - still stiffly crossed over her chest - trembled at his proximity.

“Architectus,” he said very calmly.

“Y-yes, my lord?”

“As you were,” she dropped her salute, but her back remained ramrod straight and the tension did not leave her shoulders. He continued as if he had failed to notice, “I mark a number of you performing a very serious study of this warmachina’s leg joint, in lieu of performing your assigned tasks.”

Her swallow was audible even through his helm’s transceiver, but her stone-faced stare did not waver. “Apologies, my lord. There is-”

“I believe I have stated on multiple occasions that we have a schedule to keep, and not a terribly lenient one at that. Perhaps the cohort is in need of a reminder.”

“My lord, please,” the woman blurted, then winced almost immediately, “I am sorry to interrupt. But you see, there’s a problem.”

Shite and swiving hellsfire, if I never hear ‘there’s a problem’ again in my lifetime it will be too soon. Still, unlike sas Junius it was not in Nero’s nature to vent his spleen upon hapless messengers. He released a long-suffering sigh instead - only somewhat dramatized for her benefit - and watched those large ocean-blue eyes break their impasse at the sound. They flickered nervously up at his face, then down, then back out to stare at that fixed point past his waistline.

“Of course there is,” he said aloud.

“My lord?”

His own fault, he surmised, for expecting any other response to his bit of japery. “Never mind. Continue.”

“Yes, my lord. We ran the initial tests using the Vanguard H-1’s specifications, as dictated. The operating system ran as expected upon startup. But when we tried to proceed with full activation... well, we tried to switch over from the H-1 but it caused a power surge and nearly started a fire- as you see here. As it is we’re dead in the water. She won’t power on at all now.”

“I assume our engineering teams ran down their checklists for aught that might have compromised structural integrity, prior to attempting the activation.”

“Just so, my lord. Circuitry, fuel lines, motherboards-- it was all green.” She bit her lip. “If… perhaps we might speak to the quartermaster and requisition another part. Or perhaps a larger-”

“The next step up would be the specs for a low-velocity assault craft,” Nero interrupted dryly. “While I share your readiness to explore all possible options, I think it unwise to blindly run through every single spare part at our disposal hoping for a result. Aside from the obvious risks, ‘tis inefficient. We do not have a great deal of time to make what amounts to an educated guess.”

“I- yes,” she stammered. “I apologize, my lord, I should have thought-”

He waved an impatient hand. She fell silent as instantly as if he had slammed a door shut in her face. “Who is your immediate superior?”

“Valens nan Varro, my lord.”

“Kindly inform him that the activation test has been delayed pending an internal review. We will reschedule after I have spoken with the legatus.”

Now she was staring at her feet, her face pale once again. “...He will be sorely displeased if he discovers we have failed you, my lord. Sorely.”

“Ah, yes. A terrible burden indeed, the primus architectus' personal inconvenience. Unfortunately, we shall all have to bear it,” Nero said briskly. He did not care to argue the matter with a subordinate; such behavior would undermine his authority, and the engineers present were well aware that his word was the final say.

“But-”

“If nan Varro is displeased with the decision and wishes to contest it, then he may take his grievance up with me directly.”

Her shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, not in relief but defeat. Beneath his helm, Nero raised his brows at the response but said nothing further.

“Yes, my lord.”

“And I expect an incident report on my desk by 0700 tomorrow morning. Posthaste.”

Her answering salute was stiff and formal, expression as stony and unyielding as a statue’s. Whatever emotion he had spied was carefully hidden now; the wall was back in place. Curious. Irrelevant. He had neither the time nor the wherewithal to waste in wondering after it.

Nero passed her without another word, her fellows hastening to clear a path for him as he approached the enormous back leg. There were scorch marks on the edges of the chassis panel, he noted; exposed copper fibers trailed from the opened casing like wilted ivy creepers. The ends were blackened and a thin line of smoke still curled in slender lines; the smell was acrid and familiar and the castrum's ventilation system would disperse it within a half hour.

One hand hovered just over the scorched plate as he studied the sight, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

Retrofitting Allagan technology was not a precise art, as much as it pained Nero to admit it. Some artifacts worked so readily with Garlean magitek that the process was utterly seamless, as if it had been meant for their hands. Others were far more complex, and thus more time-intensive. The Ultima Weapon had been his longest project to date, and the tribunus laticlavius had to remind himself that the machina had been experimental even to the greatest scientists of its age: a groundbreaking anti-eikon countermeasure that partnered the arcane with the mundane. A seamless blending of aetherology and engineering, borne of man’s ingenuity.

Blended---

Ah.

“My lord?” a timid voice echoed at his back. The engineers were watching him; they had gathered a respectful six fulms away.

“...This is not a public spectacle,” his hand fell away from the plating. “See to this mess. I want the machina checked from top to bottom for aught that could possibly cause further delays. Exposed joints, chassis warping, blown fuses, exposed wires, all of it.”

"My lord, the test-" "Is no longer your priority," his impatience filtered through as a short, barked command. "Attend to your tasks. I will not ask you twice." The gathered cluster of engineers sketched their salutes and scattered like mice, scrambling to obey before any of them could experience the implied consequences for perceived insubordination. Nero watched them in silence for a few beats before taking his leave. He made his way back along the catwalk and up several flights of steps, to one of the administrative bays that oversaw the hangar. Once he was certain of his privacy, he removed his helm with a soft and relieved sigh. It was a mere press of a button after that to open the transceiver link and set it to a specific frequency. Static hissed in the confines of the empty office for one second, two, before the link became stable and there was smooth air and Gaius van Baelsar's gruff baritone:

“State your business.”

“Lord Gaius. Have I interrupted something?”

“Yes, but naught of particular importance. For a small blessing.” The legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion sounded vaguely put out, but not irate. An encouraging sign which meant he was like to be at least somewhat amenable to the discussion Nero wished to have. “I take it you have something you wished to discuss.”

“I do. The activation test failed. I should have an incident report within the next 24 hours that will list the particulars.”

“Again?”

“Indeed. This is why,” Nero took a deep breath, “I should like to request that the Weapon and all hands involved in the project be transferred to the research facility in Agelyss Wyse.” “The Vylbrand coast? That is not exactly shouting distance from Gyr Abania. And there are certain dangers present which make your proposition quite risky.” Refusal to take risks will not garner the results we seek. "With all due respect, my lord, you did not assign me this project with any fond hopes that I would remain complacent,” he could almost feel his commanding officer bristling at his bluntness, “and these failed tests have made it abundantly clear that - as you will recall that I posited, against protest from certain quarters - ceruleum combustion alone will not be sufficient to bring the Weapon back online. Not at full capacity.”

“What do you propose?”

“I will get to that eventually, but first and foremost: I need data. Current data. Simulations and conjectures will only get us so far.” He glanced out the bay window at the massive machina, a dormant monster, each opened claw the size of a juggernaut. “The Weapon was designed to do far more than subdue eikons, and we have merely scratched the surface of its capabilities. But scratching is all we will manage if we remain here.”

Nero managed - only just - to keep the excitement out of his voice. The Black Wolf of Garlemald was a straightforward man, he knew from long years of experience: interested in results, not theories.

“I understand this, but you are also asking to upend our timetable for the sake of a hypothesis.”

“A hypothesis with its foundation in the methods the Allagans used to create and maintain Dalamud- as Lord van Darnus would attest, were he still with us. I think it a safe assumption that the Ultima Weapon operates upon a similar methodology.” Van Baelsar’s only response was a sigh of consternation. Nero continued, “And yes, it would move our overall timetable forward a few weeks. I admit it.”

“Nearly two months,” the legatus said sourly. “You understand that even if I agree to your proposal, it is not something that can be immediately enacted.”

“I would not expect to presume thus, my lord, of course.” There was bureaucracy involved, and the logistics of moving entire teams between castra -- not to mention the machina itself. Well, Solus zos Galvus had not built the Empire in a day, either. “I realize there are protocols to follow. I only ask for consideration-”

“And due consideration will be given, tribunus- in due time. At the very least I must needs contact the Occidens praefectus and discuss the matter. We will speak on this anon.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He could afford the wait. In the meantime, there was much yet to be done- and new plans to be made. When the legatus called for him again, as he inevitably would, Nero would be prepared to explain what must be done ere their goals could be met. Allag’s mighty Weapon would awaken from its slumber by his hand, and he would receive his fair due at last. There was no one and nothing now to keep him from reaching forth to take what was rightfully his.

This victory shall be mine and mine alone, he thought. And you, old friend, will be as chaff in the wind. Discarded and forgotten.

Beneath his twin veils of tempered glass and chromed crimson steel, Nero tol Scaeva began to smile.

[epcot97]

Marinette sagged into the chaise lounge on their wide balcony, sighing as the cool night breeze wafted across her tired soul.  It had been a long day at the office, and an even longer evening with the twins, who appeared to have been wound up ever-so-slightly by their father playing his particular brand of hide-and-seek.  One of these days she was going to have to lay down the law and tell Adrien that Chat Noir was no longer allowed to play with their children, but the childish delight she saw on his masked visage each time she caught him in the act reminded her it was his way of overcompensating for the very lack of a proper childhood he’d had growing up.  Adrien had been denied many things; Marinette wasn’t about to add to the list, even if getting the twins to bed on the nights their father was on patrol was an adventure in its own right.

A whisper on the wind alerted her that she was about to have company, and she turned to watch as Chat easily leapt from the building across the way to the edge of the balcony, perching as he always did on the wrought iron railing, one paw in front of the other and boots to either side.  His masked face lit up when he saw her on the chaise, and with a slight meowrrr he leapt from the railing to her side.

“Princess,” he purred.  “Space for one more?”

Marinette chuckled.  “I’m feeling a bit too old now for you to be calling me that, kitty,” she said as she slid over, allowing her husband to slip onto the chaise beside her.  In moments, he’d managed to encircle her with his body, the low rumble of his purr belying his level of contentment.

“While it’s true we’re no longer teens,” Chat said softly into her ear, “you, Milady, are just as beautiful to me as ever – if not more so.”  He nuzzled his nose against her cheek.  “Motherhood has made you even more stunning, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“You’re biased.”

“Meowybe,” he laughed.

A little moment of Zen for Marinette and Chat as we finish out @marichatmay 2021 with Day 31.

My heartfelt thanks to all who followed along for the entire month! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. See you next year.

[mikamink]

What are your pokemon headcanons for some of the characters teams lol

I've figured out some fitting pokemon for most characters but I like to try to find a neat theme and setup to go with the choices. I don't have all of them set in stone but I'll share the choices I'm the happy with atm.

Some of the descriptions will be a bit long. Characters included are Rasiel, Fran, Belphegor, Chrome, Ryohei, and Bianchi. (With very slight mention of Haru and Kyoko)

Rasiel- I’ll just get him out of the way first. Due to his status and traumatic childhood Rasiel’s preference in pokemon revolves around high class ghost types. Vain status symbols and testaments to his ability to overcome death. His team is comprised of pokemon like Cofagrigus, Chandelure, and (Authentic)Polteageist. His most notable pokemon is Cofagrigus.

Not long after the “incident” that left him terribly injured and ill, employees around the castle noticed the presence of a distressed yamask pacing the outskirts of the castle grounds. Some noted the unsettling resemblance between the young prince and the mask the pokemon carried. At some point during his recovery, the Yamask found it’s way into the castle and rushed straight to Siel. It’s presence didn’t scare the prince, it was oddly comforting and the stray pokemon offered him some small bit of company while he remained isolated.

The consensus between his caretakers was that the Yamask had mistakenly taken the likeness of the prince during the moments he was buried after his brush with death. Rasiel miraculously surviving and Yamask retaining his likeness made the pokemon confused and curiously drawn to him. And it wasn’t just Yamask. Rasiel’s near death experience and the recent flood of negative energy throughout the castle grounds turned it into a beacon for ghost type pokemon. Overtime Rasiel developed a fascination with death and the afterlife and became as drawn to ghost types as they were to him. Not once did he have to go out of his way to catch his own pokemon, all of his partners eagerly sought out their new prince of their own accord.

Rasiel’s main partner Cofagrigus is a very unsettling and dangerous pokemon and most are surprised by how docile it is in his presence. Not only is his connection to Cofagrigus deeply personal, his family is wealthy enough to satiate it’s appetite for gold and his status as future king makes him a perfect match for that particular pokemon based on it’s history. -“There are many depictions of Cofagrigus decorating ancient tombs. They're symbols of the wealth that kings of bygone eras had.”

Fran- Fran has a very notable lack of motivation when it comes to most things, being a trainer included. He doesn’t really have a preference and his team is made up of pokemon he obtained through odd circumstances. Notable pokemon in Frans possession are Espurr, Zorua, Mimikyu, Appletun, and Hatterene.

A tiny apple-less applin became infatuated with Fran’s hat and was determined to make it it’s new home. Though Fran tried many times to shoo the pokemon away or lock it out of his house, it always found its way to him again. Eventually he grew tired of constantly dealing with it and just let it take up residence in his hat. It’s delighted little eyes always poking out of the top. Fran eventually evolved it not long after he acquired a new hat.

Though I don’t have an idea for how he acquired Mimikyu and I do have the hc that Fran is for some unknown reason is the only known person capable of looking under Mimikyu’s disguise without it having any negative affect on him. Not even Belphegor or Mukuro are willing to personally test their luck in that regard.

Hatterene are scary and near impossible for the average person to approach without provoking. However Fran’s monotonous disposition and overall lack of outward emotion made him unintentionally cross paths with one. Though he had no desire to catch or battle it he noticed it had intently started following him. It had never encountered a human that didn’t instantly agitate it and that made it curious.(She also just liked his big silly hat) He didn’t particularly like the idea of having such an aggressive and volatile pokemon in his possession but he also didn’t want it following him through places filled with people that could potentially provoke it, not that he was concerned it might attack other people, he just didn't want it to attack him. So he made a compromise to take it with him while in the safety of a ball, and it surprisingly obliged.

There is ONE perk though. Hatterene HATES Belphegor. He’s loud and hostile and his vibes are terrible. He is everything Hatterenes hate in a human. If Fran tries to use Hatterene in battle while Bel is nearby it will turn it’s focus straight to him. Sometimes Fran does it on purpose because honestly Bel deserves it majority of the time. Her Fairy typing also directly counters Bel’s favored dark type.

Belphegor- Gonna be honest, I’ve tried to put a lot of thought into Bel for this AU but he is incredibly difficult to work with. It’s hard for me to assign him pokemon because I just can’t seem to find any that are good enough to fit his vibes. Or in his case bad enough. The main thing I decided for him was that he would have a focus on dark types and two of his pokemon would be a shiny Absol and the exception to his preference, Gengar. Alolan Persian, Deino, Weavile, and Skuntank are pretty solid contenders but i’m not 100% on all of them yet. Tho I do like the idea of both of the twins having meowth, Bel ending up with alolan persian and Rasiel ending up with Kantonian Persian.

Absol’s are considered bad omens, bringers of disaster and death, and that is exactly what comes to those whose paths are crossed by this crimson visage. It’s presence is a warning that it’s master is near. Bel has had this fearsome partner since he was a child, it’s first appearance before him marking the “death” of his brother. Since then Bel has been a beacon for disaster, anywhere he goes he happily brings death with him, and that is why Absol is never far from his side. Always there to be a warning, or a threat, to those who venture too close or are unfortunate enough to have Bel’s sights set on them.

The exception to his preference in dark types is Gengar. He liked it’s vibe and got it as a direct response to Fran’s Hatterene being a constant pain. Though head-to-head it does come down more to skill than typing since both have disadvantage and weakness against the other. Generally they tend to be pretty even in power.(when you don’t consider the fact that Fran doesn’t really put much effort into battles.)

Chrome- Chrome isn’t one for battle when it comes to pokemon and doesn’t really have a preference. For Chrome her pokemon are therapeutic and a source of comfort in her day to day. Her pokemon are Musharna, Sylveon, Togetic, Shiny Audino, Kirlia, and Gothorita. Pokemon that specialize in soothing the fears and anxiety of their trainers, and bringing them happiness. Her very first partner was a Munna.

It isn’t uncommon for doctors to use pokemon as assistants for a variety of medical treatments. Though they were not exclusive to that ward, munna were often found in the pediatric ward at night. They provided assurance and comfort to recovering children, soothing their dreams and eating away the nightmares. Though there was little hope she would survive, Chrome had one assigned to her bedside. A small comfort during what would likely be her last few nights. Her moments of consciousness were short and scarce, so her dreams were all she had left.

Up until Mukuro’s odd intervention, Munna remained snug by her side. It would sometimes visit her in her dreams, providing some company within her peaceful, yet lonely world. After all what company could she dream of if everyone had abandoned her? When she awakened and had miraculously stabilized due to Mukuro’s aid she just so happened to take the Munna with her on her way out of the hospital.

Ryohei- While not one I tend to think too much on and I dont have a full party thought out for him, I recently decided I like the idea of him having Mega-Lopunny. I know that seems like an odd choice, because it is, everyone thinks it's an odd pokemon for him to have, including himself, but under no circumstances would he ever consider removing it from his team because it was a gift.

When his little sister Kyoko became a trainer the first thing she did was try to find a pokemon she could give to her big brother as a gift, as a way of showing him she was capable of catching pokemon on her own and to thank him for helping her get to that point. At the time Buneary felt like a good fit in her eyes because it was cute and its ears seemed to pack the kinda punch Ryohei liked his pokemon to have.

Ryohei was overjoyed by the gift and didnt question in the slightest why she would give him a normal type when he specialized in fighting types, he was just proud of his sister. His synergy with Lopunny is surprisingly solid as it makes for a good pseudo fighting type, and in it's mega form it not only becomes a proper fighting type it also gains the ability to PUNCH GHOSTS which is cool as hell!

Once Kyoko is a little older she feels kind of embarrassed about her choice given Ryoheis type preference but he insists Lopunny is amazing and gladly shows off it's power to anyone when given the chance, making sure everyone knows it's because of his little sister he has such a powerful partner. This does not help ease her embarrassment. Ryohei eventually returned the favor by gifting her a stufful. Something that suited her that was cute and strong, and also because Haru had one and he knew how much Kyoko loved it.

Bianchi- Instead of going full poison types like I originally planned to, I started liking the idea of her having food themed pokemon that are just kinda wrong. She's the only char I have considered taking some liberties with the canon designs and typing of her pokemon. At the moment I hc her having Alcremie, Vanilluxe, and Tsareena. All "shiny" though people are sure Bianchi's pokemon were not always those sickly off-colors. Their designs would be more warped/melted with tsareena being an exception as she seemed to have a better response to it's trainer-inflicted poison typing. (A G-maxed Alcremie in her possession would be a horrific sight)

Bianchi herself isn't doing this intentionally to her pokemon and also doesn't seem to notice their differences. Her love for her pokemon and the care she provides for them are genuine, they just somehow always end up “wrong”. Their sickly appearances haven't hindered their ability to function in battle and they actually seem to be unusually stronger than their average counterparts.

[jungcity]

↳ mark ; if eyes could speak

note: @neozities this is the edited version! <3 hope u’ll like it <3

If eyes could speak

One look would say everything

About the way you smile

The way you laugh

The way you dress

The way your beauty leaves me breathless

If eyes could speak

I wouldn't have to talk

“If I were you, I’d definitely get her number.”

Mark’s reverie was broken by the nudge of his friend, Johnny, on his arm. He offered Mark a can of beer, which he took with relish. The cold metal bit on his lips as he took a swig off the beer, his eyes never leaving your laughing visage at the far corner of the dance floor.

“Nah, I’m prolly not her type.” Mark let out a deep chuckle while shaking his head. It’s been weeks since he first saw you in the same club. Your carefree laugh was the reason why he was so enthralled every time you walked in the same door.

Mark must admit, your beauty is remarkable. He has seen models on the runway, actresses on dinner dates— but your face stood from all of them. You were simply you. No pretense.

His eyes followed you as your friend pushed you towards the dancefloor. A shy smile was painted on your face. But the reluctance quickly receded as the music blasted and the throng of individuals started to dance.

He does hope you don’t find him weird by staring, though. It was hard to take his eyes off of you. Especially when you look like that.

“If you don’t make a move, I will,” Johnny stated, attempting to stand up and walk towards you. Mark sprang up on his feet, arm stretching to stop his friend.

“I can handle this.” No, he couldn’t. Nervousness swelled up in Mark’s chest. And it’s his first time to feel all jittery before talking to a girl. He found out that he doesn’t have any right words to say to you. Offering you a drink would be a waste of time, since it’s too cliché. Mark, for what seems like the first time, wanted to impress a girl in his own unique way.

Mark emptied the can and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He counted five more seconds before he decided to saunter up to you. As he drew closer to you, a guy interrupted your dancing by snaking his arms around your waist.

For a moment, Mark thought you were taken and he’d lost the chance. But the furrow of your brows, and the way you struggled to push the guy off of you kindled something in him. Without thinking of the ramifications, Mark took the last strides to get to you and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, intentionally digging his nails into the fabric and into the boy’s skin.

The boy slackened his hold off you. Mark leaned closer to the boy’s ear. “Do we have a problem here?” He shouted, trying to break his eardrum.

Mark prepared himself for a brawl when the boy finally turned his face towards him. But as realization dawned on his weasel-like face, he bowed and scurried off somewhere.

That leaves him in front of you. In the middle of dancing bodies.

“Wow, thank you so much for that.” You tried to smile, but agitation was clear in your eyes.

Amidst the booming speakers, your voice was all that he could hear. Gods, your voice was sweeter than what he had expected. Mark felt his face heat up. He could only pray that you couldn’t see how red he was.

“I...” he stammered, and he never stammered. “I— it’s...”

“Are you okay?” Then the first chuckle broke free out of your mouth.

Mark was certain of the blush that has crept into his cheeks. He bit his lip, cursing himself for this embarrassment. Instead of answering, he motioned his hand towards the exit door.

You followed his hand with a raised brow. “You want us to go out?”

Then he nodded. Speak, for fuck’s sake, Mark Lee. He was glad that you understood what he meant. Your smile never faltered as you exited the club.

Cool breeze touched Mark’s cheek. Hopefully, it would calm down the redness of his face. The last thing he wants right now is to ruin himself in front of you.

With the sliver of moon touching your face, and with the little light from the club’s entrance, your face was obscured beautifully. He could see the twinkle of your eyes, and the glint of the gloss you’ve put on your lips.

“Well...? I assumed you’re ready to talk?”

Mark blinked, before braving himself to speak. “Mark Lee,” he stated, stretching out his hand to you.

“Mark Lee,” you repeated. And why did his name sound heavenly with your voice? You took his hand and shook it, the skinship sending goosebumps on his back. “I’m Y/N, pleased to meet you.”

Mark, then, clapped his hand. Two sets of doe eyes stared at him in awe. Their mouths formed in little o’s. “And that’s how I met your mother. Now, time to sleep.”

“Papa, we want more stories!” They both said in unison. Mark supposed it’s because they’re twins. Deep dimples appeared on their cheeks as they both formed their mouths in a thin line.

“Tomorrow. Mama will be very angry if she comes home to both of you still wide awake.” He pats both of their heads and ruffled their hairs. “Now, give Papa a kiss.”

The twins sighed, but they wrapped their little arms around Mark’s neck, kissing both his cheeks.

[revoide]

@skorcht sent:  💋 but for john

                    LIKE SO MANY NIGHTS SPENT UNDER THE STARS AND IN THE COMPANY OF A MASKED STRANGER,  it was beautiful.          together,  they sat in the darkness,  glad for the brisk night air,  a welcome change from the stifling heat of the desert sun.          𝙽𝙴𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙰 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝙴.          what need was there for one?          charlotte sat so near him that she was nearly in his lap,  the breeze cooling flushed cheeks,  and lifting her hair from her face when it deigned to dance near them.          in her hands,  she held a strip of dark fabric.          john was not the masked stranger,  after all.          IT WAS HER.

could he see what was UNFAMILIAR in her face tonight?          it was not the thoughtful smile of her lips,  for her lips always seemed to curl and curve in one way or another.          it was not the sweet stillness of her visage as she sat more or less silent,  lost in reverie as she smoothed out his mask,  enjoying the softness of it against her finger - tips,  for she often kept quiet,  ALL THE BETTER TO LISTEN.          it was her eyes;     𝙾𝙷,  𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂.          the grey of her irises appeared stormy,  darker than usual.          they caught what little moonlight filtered through the clouds and swallowed that light,  dragging it below and extinguishing it.          as she looked up at john,  his mask in her hands,  ready to place back on his face,  her gaze was cautious.     STRANGER AND STRANGER...

carefully,  she lined up the slits and leaned in close so that she could see how his eyes lined up behind the cloth.          her lips split into a bright smile as their eyes met.          her guarded look dissolved into an uncharacteristic shyness as she stayed so near,  her hands disappearing behind his head to secure the mask.          charlotte tied the knot with deliberate slowness,  perhaps her caution having bled to her hands,  but there was a bit of bravery there,  too.

with the mask secured,  charlotte gently dragged her fingers away from the knot,  tracing two twin paths down past the lobes of his ears,  across his cheek,  down his jaw,  before joining and dropping like a tear off his chin.          “     PERFECT,     ”          she declared in a soft and,  indeed,  softly delighted voice.          with her hands neatly  (  cautiously  )  back in her lap,  charlotte leaned closer to an imperceptible angle,  and pressed a kiss to the place where the mask met the sharp line of his cheekbone.          her lips did not linger for very long,  but her gaze certainly did.          “     i’m sorry you lost your other mask today.    although,  i don’t know why you bother to wear one;   it’s not like it could make your face forgettable.     ”

[katsukikitten]

Can i get a scenario of a abused Survivor trying to work up the nerve to ask out Inas. Inas likes her very much but knew he frighten her with his height, strength & intimidating muscles. After months of her hiding from him or out right running away Inas started backing off. It took a while to figure out she's a afraid of him so slowly he start talking softer and backing off. Imagine the surprise of not only being asked out by his crush but her also sharing her past with him and her telling him.

Here you go! Thank you for being so patient! I hope you enjoy the little art I made for it too!

Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare down what, for you, is your biggest paradox.

A broad shouldered man, hair just short of a buzz cut whose bellowing laugh is as nice as it is scary.

His voice booms with passion, firm body standing at attention while large palms seem gentle yet so very deadly.

You've seen his quirk, his power only adding to his already frightening stature.

His muscled body seems same and yet dangerous as your eyes follow his every move as your past begins to creep up on you. Your skin tingles from ghost actions of the past, a cold sweat dripping down your spine as he approaches you during lunch.

"Y/LN!" He shouts in his normal vigor and you flinch out of habit. His tone is friendly and yet his voice still has your heart racing even faster.

Hard enough that it's beginning to steal your breath. Especially so as he towers over you, standing closely, as he does with everyone. A gentle breeze wafts the smell of cool crisp air carrying a threat of rain, the kind that can only be found just before the stratosphere.

He doesn't know, he doesn't know. You repeat in your head over and over as fingers dig into tender flesh, losing sight on what he's saying to you.

Did he say something about the school festival? Oh please Kamisama say that he didn't. Did he need your help with something in it or did he expect you to go?

You couldn't do that, the hum of so many people would drive your already sensitive quirk mad. It was difficult not to ease drop on people's thoughts but the more flustered you were the louder all of the voices got.

As they are getting now, even in the mostly deserted courtyard of maybe ten people including yourself. All of their voices overlap, drowning out whatever the hell Inasa is saying. And honestly whatever he's thinking.

But one thing stands out and you are unsure if he said it aloud or if his thoughts somehow won out over the others.

"Please say yes."

You gulp, gasping for air as you squeeze your eyes shut. Hoping beyond hope that you'd disappear in the darkness behind your lids.

But the world doesn't work that way. Hammering heart in your chest that claws it's way up your throat has you choking out.

"E...excuse me s..senpai."

Cheeks burning as you flee from your trigger.

Inasa is handsome, kind, passionate he shares nothing in common from the man of your past.

Nothing but the same powerful stature and booming voice. But never the same tones or body language. A shiver tremors through you as *his* face services to the forefront of your mind.

Cami approaches a stunned and defeated looking Inasa. Her hand is gentle as it touches a thick bicep.

"Why does she keep running away from me? It's been like three months! Do I smell?" His brow furrows scrunching up his handsome features. Cami pops her gum before sighing, grabbing onto his muscular arm.

"Well she was..." Cami hesitates as the pair watch your retreating form, both sets of eyes lingering in your glistening scars. She thinks better of it, popping her gum once more before admitting the lesser evil of the truths.

"She must like you at the very least. I mean no one else gets that red around you unless they wanna kiss!" Cami returns to her dumbed down personality, pursing her lips into a delectable smooch. Inasa's heart pounds into his chest, tips of his ears turning a slight hue of pink.

"Sh..she doesn't like me. She can't." He hadn't felt this way before, really. Maybe once upon a time he allowed his heart to flutter in anticipated admiration until the hand of his most prized "hero" dashed his innocence to the ground. Paper crumpled and marker long since rolled away.

He grits his teeth, fists clenched and vows to make you a friend.

Meanwhile his stuttering heart demands you be made more.

But he pushes the odd feeling down as he sets out to find out what exactly is going on.

Whether it be by you or another means.

He tries to get it straight from the source first. Approaching you during lunch for the next few weeks. Causing you to freeze up or fleeing the second you see him.

He cannot take it any longer, even trying a softer approach but you have figured out his schedule and you are no longer beneath the thick oak tree.

He finds you by chance, a breeze wafting the smell of you his way. He would know that delicately sweet scent anywhere and when he spies you beneath the small tree he smiles and waves.

You look around you frantically before your cheeks turn into deep shades of red. Barely able to wave back before he divulges information from somewhere else.

Not too many people were even aware of your existence, which you were more than happy with, leaving Inasa with more questions than answers.

He stares out the window of the third floor as he watches you retreat nearly off campus to that new tree. He watches you swipe a hand over your forehead as if to remove sweat. He sends gentle cool breeze your way.

"You sure are causing a commotion over her." Seiji states as he peers over a broad shoulder, "You might want to stop."

Inasa grits his teeth, grip on his chair threatening to snap the wood as he glares up at his friend.

"Why is that?" A feral bite from the normally loud, dog like man. He is met with a sneer as Seiji stands with hands behind his back. When it doesn't click in that big head of Inasa's he sighs rolling dark eyes.

"Didn't you ever wonder why she keeps to herself?" He prompts, not entirely expecting an answer. Silence passes on a steady breeze as Sakura flutter to the ground.

"It's because she's never really been treated like a person before. A small ring of villains used her for her mind reading quirk for quite sometime. The man who stole her from her family is still at large." Its now that Seiji pulls out his phone, bringing up an article with a damning picture, "And you look just like him. "

His face goes slack before his jaw clenches. Teeth creaking from the pressure as black eyes narrow on his doppelganger.

A twin of sorts aside from the lotus tattoo that blooms across his Adam's apple. If Inasa didn't know any better he would wonder him kin.

He jumps from the third floor, passionately and irrationally rushing for you.

Your brows furrow when you see the thick figure land on two feet before the streamline for you. You swallow thickly, idly gathering your things together as he approaches with a dark look in his eye.

But the closer he gets the more you're paralyzed, like a cornered rabbit as a snarling wild eyed wolf stares down his meal. You jump to your feet, head screaming for you to move until his voice comes out sharp and demanding.

"Stay." It booms, having your knees collapse beneath you from fear itself. Quirk deadly silent as you're fearful to use it, to hear exactly how he is going to hurt you.

What bones he will break first to find out what you know of him.

But he bypasses you, close enough to be seen but far enough to be out of arm's reach. You hear the bark scrape at his shirt as he slides down the other side of the tree. Your heart pounds in your feet with the tingling need to run. But you pull your legs to you instead, slowly nestling your own back into the young tree.

A part of you screams, demands to flee, that this small tree, barely thick enough to fully separate the two of you, could fail you soon enough. He could rip it from the earth with clumping roots clinging to the last visage of home, whether he would use his bare hands or his powerful quirk you were unsure.

The only thing you were sure of was the deafening sound of rushing blood in your ears as you try so hard not to use your violating quirk.

Odd silence stretches between the two of you. Making it even more unsettling since you were so used to Inasa's normally thunderous voice causing you to think you've done something wrong. Especially so when it is barely heard when he speaks.

"I uh...I heard what happened..." He trails off, broad hand rubbing over his forehead and through what little hair, "I'm sorry."

You want to ask him what for but your voice seems stuck in your throat. As it always has been when it comes to him. You had been instantly attracted to himabs and yet your body repelled you. Evolution doing it's best to avoid being put in another damning and dreadful situation. It is quiet long enough you think him gone until a deep growl leaves his throat.

"I'm sorry someone ever did that to you. Most importantly I'm sorry I was insensitive to your situation. That I approached you so aggressively these past few months. It makes sense why you'd run away from me. But I'm here for you and I want to protect you. If...if you let me protect you I swear by Kamisama above I WILL keep you safe. You will never be harmed like that again." Conviction weighs heavy in his soft spoken voice, his hand suddenly coming into your peripheral vision. Palm up and waiting.

It weighs heavy in your heart, and truly you believe him.

That he would never hurt you.

Lock you away.

Fear you and use you until you were reduced to nothing more than a lie detector that collected dust in the darkest parts of the house. Forgotten until needed again.

He would never do that to you and here he was offering you his heart in the form of his outstretched hand in a gentle way.

Something you weren't sure he was capable of. And it was all for you.

You lace your fingers in his squeezing tightly in response.

Telling him through your kissed palms that you trust him, that you'll accept his offer.

A heavy wind blows bringing with it your most favorite scent.

Inasa, cool crisp air from the stratosphere, a threat of rain and a hint of the changing seasons.

The smell of hope for a better future. A future he will gladly help you build.

[geirskogull]

Empty Mirror and Empty Grave 

+ Notes: A Short Vampire the Masquerade AU for Danica and Alex, This is Chapter 1 of 4 for this series, from the point of view of the newly embraced Lasombra Alexander Voss for this first chapter. 

Chapter 1 - The Same Deep Water as You

Archive Link

Icy water splashed hard against an even cooler face, a shaky exhale followed as the water pooled a tepid rusty pink in the ceramic bowl of the sink. Strange, what living habits clung to a dead man’s body, like memories fused to him with glue that spurned him to tears, yet twisted the salty brine that would have flowed from his eyes to a sickly vital red. 

Alexander thought then that  he should be laughing. That he should be cackling in victory over those who attempted to see him for their own personal gain, his father, his grandfather, this new vampiric patron who called himself sire. Yet his mind recognized in this end he was once again the true victim, but neither his mind nor his heart could contort the man’s memories to make them spell that out for him. Stubborn as always. Just like his sister. 

If he hadn’t known of the particularities of this curse, his curse, he may have tried to rationalize the ashy smudge that greeted him instead of his own tired, gauntface in the mirror. It would have been in vain, as  he knew better, he knew mirrors didn’t break like that. Hell he probably would have spent hours trying to scrub clean imaginary grime just to see his dead mossy green eyes. He always thought the color of rot suited him. Beyond that mournful rumination though, he also knew without his reflection, he looked a right mess if his sire, that figure of ruthlessness and shadows he met only a handful of times, counting his own death, saw him like this his new eternity would be over before it even began. 

So he returned to those empty habits he had once relied upon so much, inhaled deeply, straightened his shoulders, and ran cold hands across his face to remove the bloody tears tracks that dug their way there as best as he could with a smudgy mess as his guide. Another splash of water just in case, and another for good measure, and then a third till the pool was clear and he was sure the relics of his weakness swirled  down the drain, relics of shame he would never share. If he is to live forever, he would not allow it to be in vain.

“What do you want with me?” Terse words from an estranged sister echoed through his memory as he dried his face. “Arn’t you afraid dear old dad’ll axe you too, Alex?” She had hissed across a tiny café table that was more splinters held together with gorilla glue than actual wood then. Cross legged, angry and closed off, as he expected, but with sharp green eyes and new scars he didn’t remember being there last time he saw her. Those five years had changed them both so much. Then, he wondered if there was still anything left to save, left to salvage of their friendship. 

He laughed then, a bitter biting thing that painted fear across his twin sister’s face, only to be replaced with  sadness once its teeth were fully in her skin. A heavy silence hung around them in it’s wake, as if his cooling tea and her hot chocolate turned glorified chocolate milk were iron weights around their legs, dragging them to the ocean floor. 

He threw a clean black dress shirt over his shoulders and began to button it. Blinking away fresh bloody tears that threatened to spill over his still damp cheeks and the bittersweet memory in equal measure. As the visage of her hand reaching across that rough wooden sea to grasp his own terrified digits swelled in his minds, he paused.

“I’ve missed you so much, Dee.” Whispered words repeated from those recollections to nothing but the cold empty air around him. He dug his teeth into his lips, for he feared he was on the verge of sobbing once more. Once was more than enough for a night, thank you.

Oh if only he hadn’t traveled to this damn city on the guise of looking for school,only to actually be looking for her. If only he had taken the token acceptances thrown his way by those big name medical schools, all thanks to their father’s well placed donations and not in any way thanks to the intellect he believed he had. If only he hadn’t spent every cent he earned  on his own looking for his best friend that had been chased from their childhood by the bastard that sired them both, guilty only of the crime of dreaming. 

Perhaps then, they would still be truly alive. 

And not one unbreathing corpse masquerading as a living man, and the other... 

He dabbed a cold hand against his eyes, fearing the weakness of his resolve. Now is not the time to reflect, Alexander. He chastised himself bitterly, his own tone harsh. And even if it was, what would she think, seeing you now? Seeing you like this? A broken shell of a broken shell, huddling in his home not even willing to try this new gift out.

She’d tell him to relax, to lighten up. She’d ask about his class work and bring one of the animals she was fostering to sit on his lap. That’s how he ended up with Minet, wasn’t it? A loud meow near his feet confirmed his idle musings. Red eyes looking down into one cat-like yellow one, upon  a sea of black fur interrupted only by a terribly gaudy red collar and its pretty little bell. 

The vampire sniffled, kneeling down and giving the kitten a faint but honest grin. Ah his dear little constant. He found himself drawing his cold hands through soft fur and humming gently as the small cat began to purr. 

“Ah, so deep in my melancholy I forgot the most important job in my days!” A chuckle echoed in the cool air, and was answered by another dignified meow.  “Yes, yes, I know. Food is late, let’s go my dear one.”

“He’s friendly Alex, I promise.” Danica chuckled, her sing songy voice not exactly inspiring confidence, as she held a  small black bundle of fur and claws close to her chest. He hadn’t even looked up then, far too stressed out over his classwork, a med student more anxiety and coffee than flesh and blood at the present. He had more in common with the scattered cups of the stuff over his sisters home that he did her at the moment. \

“Last time I checked, tiny felines were not a requirement for me to pass my finals.” He had snipped up at her then, only to be met in turn with a very loud, very squeaky, and most definitely disappointed meow. Thankfully it was jarring enough to force the crooked man to right his posture and gaze at the single defiant eye of the feline now held ungracefully out towards him. 

"It's not, but it'll be good for what remains of you after said finals big brother"

"I'm only like two minutes older , Dee."

"And that's the first time you haven't lorded it over me, now hold the damn cat and relax Alex."

The loud, metallic jingle of kibble into a custom red bowl, the same shade as that tacky collar,  rescued the dead man from the clutches of his memories once more. Following suit was a very content and loud purr from the aforementioned Minet, King of the Flat, as he completely forgot about Alexander, Owner of the Flat, and dove straight into his food with a vigor he showed little else. Another shakey, yet unneeded, exhale left the vampire. This time at least sounding something akin to a weak  wheezy chuckle and not a barely restrained sob. 

Good kitty. 

Very good kitty.

Alexander Voss gave the fluffy menace a few polite yet ignored pats before standing and facing his evening once again. He did have orders after all, and what else had he been his entire life but a loyal, dutiful, gopher for his father and his father’s goals. Why would that change in death? 

The comedy was not lost on him, given the orders this time were “Go, enjoy yourself for a night.” As if he even knew where to start! A bitter laugh erupted from him, consuming the silence of the apartment like a mad hungry flame. Lingering in the expanse of once pleasant memories, turning them to ash in his mouth, was definitely not a good start.

But he would not fail, not again. Not at any task.

So even with the added “difficulty” of not being able to see himself in the mirror, he silently swore to his reflection that he would forge himself anew of black shadowy steel. He would be a tool for himself, not for this new vampiric father he found himself beholden to, not for the visible ghosts of his  first victims and the invisible ghost of his sister, but for himself. A revolutionary statement in his mind that would take some getting used to, and a great deal of planning to accomplish.

With the weight of his memory as the ink upon the paper of his oath, and the cold wind beyond his door the dust sprinkled upon it, he now just needed to find the wax and the stamp and it would be eternal.. As he twisted the polished silver door handle of the apartment, he closed his eyes. A stillness taking him as he silently considered this new plan brewing in the blackness in his mind. 

He shoots a careful glance back at Minet over his shoulder as the cold winter wind knocked at his coat and mussed his long, unkempt ponytail. The one eyed feline, for his part, licked at his paws absently, full from his regal meal and oblivious to his servants troubles.

“I’ll be back.”

His words were largely ignored, but the flittering familiar shades at the edge of his vision seemed to nod, almost in approval. Strange from such stern faces, barely perceivable in the messed watercolor of their forms, but still uniquely themselves. 

Facing forward, he inhaled, the last act of his old dying world, and faced a new beginning.. A pang of thirst in his gut forced a strange wolfish smile upon his face, sharp toothed and hungry. First goal of the evening, of his first free night, find a drink.

He would need the energy for what he had planned.

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Midsummer Texts

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh

Characters: Yugi Muto & Yami Yugi

Prompt: Yugi has a crush but has no idea how to talk to her. Yami offers to chat with Yugi’s crush over text. Confusion and chaos ensues as feelings go wayward.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Blue eyes shifted between you and a certain star-shaped haircut, a pair of magenta eyes were trained on you, as yours were stuck to the cards laid out on the table very intently. An awkward triangle existed between the three of you with none any wiser on how to break it.

“[Name]?” Yugi spoke up after a while, his voice concerned as per usual as he tried to reach out for you, his hand itching towards your arm on the table which you quickly swept off by pretending to lean back into your seat.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” your voice was sharper than what you meant it to be, earning a warm flush to the boot that you tried to cover by crawling into yourself, hands reaching around your neck to hide it. “I’m having a hard time concentrating,” you finally admitted and for once that wasn’t even that much of a lie. You did have a hard time focusing, though if you told Yugi the reason why you feared that he would feel guilt, which you didn’t want to be the cause of either.

“Maybe you can help me while [Name] tries to focus?” Tea gently interjected, her own hand reaching out for your arm as she reassuringly gave you a soft pinch before letting go.

Eyes shifting over to you once more Yugi exhaled before giving Tea a nod, resolutely turning himself around to face the brunette as he went over her deck and gave her a few quick pointers. Immersed, you finally dared to take a peek over at the male, your eyes following the lines of his profile.

Why was it exactly that you liked Yami? You had asked yourself the question ever since confessing, wondering why it was that made you so sure that you preferred one twin over the other. Both the Mutou brothers were known to be kind, always eager to help, and loyal to their friends. Being twins also made them look alike, though you knew how to spot the differences between the two, slight as they were. You knew that Yugi was in general softer in his features, just like his character. His eyes were brighter, his smile wider. You knew that Yami carried more of a melancholy with him, preferring his own solitude over Yugi’s eagerness to embrace new people.

You also knew that these differences hadn’t mattered before. Before you had realised your own distinctions in your appeal towards both male. They were noted upon, but never had they stood further apart than they did now, as you studied Yugi’s profile. The curve of his nose, the lashes of his eyes, the sparkle that existed and came out whenever Duel Monsters was mentioned.

Would it be easier to love the other and let go of the old feelings? You wondered whether the reluctance you felt was your own heart weighing its options, or because you knew it to be unfair for all if you went down that path.

“What do you say, [Name]?” Tea suddenly called, rusing you out of your thoughts with a start. Shifting you blinked at the pair of eyes trained upon your visage once more, one in concern, the other in wonder. It seemed that the conversation had shifted once more, though you had lost the thread of it.

Behind you the school bell rang, signalling the end of your free period. Jumping at the sound you realised that you had to hurry, for your next class was at the other side of the school building. “Sorry, but talk to you all later?” you yelped, gathering up your things as you jumped up, leaving the couple behind in confused bewilderment.

Guilt overwhelmed you when you realised that you never answered the question, or asked for clarification, but even that was quickly forgotten as you reached your next class, a dreadful realisation hitting you of another detail you had forgotten.

“Hey,” you managed to get out as you strolled over to Yami. Trying to act cool you managed to keep your gaze steady as you flashed the male a smile. “Managed to catch up on homework?” you tried to start a conversation, your mind blanking out on all the ways you usually greeted your friend.

“Yeah, I did,” came Yami’s answer, a hand reaching for the back of his neck as he avoided your gaze. You winced, realising that the awkwardness between the two of you was not imagined.

The silence after was heavy, neither of you really knowing how to keep the conversation ongoing without feeling plagued by what had happened over the weekend.

“Yami.”

“[Name].”

You both turned towards each other just as the bell rang once more and the teacher appeared, signalling your entry into the class. Freezing the two of you eyed the other, knowing that there wasn’t much time before class started in which you wouldn’t be able to speak for another timetable.

“I just wanted to say,” you quickly started, seizing the opportunity to speak up, “that you can just forget about what I said in the mall.”

Avoiding his expression you tried to maintain your cool, the words nervously scrambling together as your eyes flitted over the crowd of students slowly streaming into the classroom, leaving the two of you in privacy.

“That is to say; I don’t want it to be awkward between the two of us,” you added with a sigh before giving a quick curious glance. The surprise was clear on his face, eyes wide and his cheeks a little flushed, you had never seen Yami as anything other than composed, but you supposed that even the quietest planes knew their storms.

“Yugi deserves a chance, but I can’t make any promises,” you continued to rattle off, your legs already moving towards the classroom as you saw your teacher eyeing the two of you. “Just know that I’m not entirely dismissing him,” you quickly added before finally taking your seat in the room, a quick wave thrown into the direction of the male before departing.

Meanwhile Yami was in quite a conundrum himself, though it wasn’t one he had quite been expecting. Before he could get any word between your broken sentences the older twin had let you slip away once more, his thoughts once more in chaos, and his heart heavy at a thought he didn’t dare to express.

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

In The Space Between A Zowens Fanfic (Into The Horizon Universe... vaguely)

OK, so I’ve decided. I’m not posting it on AO3 because people on there might not want spoilers. But I WILL post it here because I’ve already told all yinz how that Future Fic ends for Sami and Kevin. So here you go. One songfic, behind the cut.

EDIT TO ADD: The song is “Until Eternity” by Blackbriar and the idea came from @write-it-motherfuckers

Being soulmates, or whatever the hell Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn were, it was a concept hard to express through simply one term.

There were many different languages and cultures across the globe and beyond that had notions of what two lovers, forever entwined would look like. Earth alone had more than Kevin could personally keep track of, although he’d always tried. One of the earliest accounts dated back to Plato, who wrote about how originally, people had four arms, four legs, and two heads, and Zeus split the humans in half, leaving them forever yearning for the rest of themselves. It was a quaint enough notion but didn’t quite cover it. In Buddhism, the idea was that all lives were interconnected. Those connected in one life were connected in the next. That was closer, but if you were to ask Kevin, it wasn’t quite the right idea either. In Hinduism, they believed that in the karmic cycle, a force called lenhu caused two souls to forever intersect, positively impacting each other in every lifetime. That one seemed fairly accurate in Kevin’s eyes, except for the “positive” part. Truth be told, his impact on Sami Zayn over the many lifetimes they shared was far from exclusively positive. Personally, Kevin always liked Sami’s explanation of the Twin Flames, two souls fundamentally identical on a cosmic level that, when brought together, can lead to either tremendous beauty, or absolute havoc and chaos.

Kevin had never been so sure about the first part of that, but the second part was spot on. Between the two of them, in every lifetime they’d shared together, it was either beauty, chaos, or sometimes both. But there was rarely ever indifference. No, the universe wasn’t indifferent to Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens. They’d always thought, upon having their first match, that they were destined to fight forever. Now, looking upon the thousands of paths they’d walked, Kevin realized that, by that point, they already had.

And now, floating beside his soulmate, resting dormant once more in the space between worlds, Kevin couldn’t help but wonder what the cosmos held for them next. He never had any idea beforehand who or what he’d be. He’d given up long ago trying to guess genders. If living thousands of lives had taught him anything, it was that gender was an absolute fallacy. Earth was one tiny speck in an infinite ocean of possibilities, and they weren’t always the same species let alone the same gender. The universe was a funny thing like that; much like Forrest and his damn box of chocolates, you never knew what you were going to get. The only constant in their infinite existence was each other and, while they never retained their memories from lifetime to lifetime, they always found themselves together in the end. One way, or another, be it as friends, lovers, companions, rivals, or even bitter enemies, they were together.

Actually, Kevin was pretty sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to work. It had been countless lifetimes since their time as 21st Century humans trapped in the future, but he was still certain he recalled something being said about their souls always being in love.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. It certainly wasn’t how it had turned out.

Kevin felt movement beside him in the aether.

Sami was stirring from his sleep, curling instinctively around Kevin. KO didn’t push him away, instead placing a ghostly kiss on Sami’s copper curls. In that place, wherever they stayed between lives, you appeared as you best knew yourself. They’d had so many different bodies and appearances since their souls were made one that even Kevin was surprised that they still kept their old human visages. But after thousands of years, thousands of lives, they were still Sami and Kevin.

And Kevin was just fine with that.

He’d always found Sami attractive as a redhead.

Sami yawned, stretching his arms out and arching his back.

“Nnnng, how long was I out?” he asked Kevin.

Kevin groaned. If there was one thing that never changed, it was his tendency to ask stupid questions.

“Come on, Sami,” he replied. “You know time has no meaning here.”

“Yeah, I know,” conceded Sami, before adding, “but you’d think there’d be some measure of time here in the time vortex.”

“The time vortex? Wasn’t that Back to the Future or something?”

“Mmm, Doctor Who. Back to the Future was the space-time continuum.”

Kevin sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You’ve spent too many lifetimes as nerds,” he told his lover, the annoyance in his voice dancing with joviality.

Sami raised an eyebrow.

“And what about the one where you were a 1960’s single woman writing Star Trek fanfiction?”

“Hey, I had Leonard Nimoy over for dinner, that life was pretty fucking cool. Got better after you showed up, though. God that was scandalous.”

Sami smiled. “It always is between us.”

Kevin laughed, before Sami suddenly leaned over to put his face directly beside Kevin’s.

“Nerd,” Sami whispered at him, before breaking away and laughing.

Kevin’s jaw dropped slightly at his own accusation returned to him, before shutting his mouth and pushing Sami away.

“Oh shut up,” Kevin told him.

Sami began to drift away. It wasn’t like they had form there, at least nothing outside of what their minds created. It was almost like drifting in space, weightless and alone. Honestly, were it not for what had occurred back in the Gorosian Empire, they would both be floating alone, still cosmically linked to an extent, but without the companionship between lives.

And powers was Kevin grateful for the companionship.

Time had no meaning where they were, that much was true, but it still felt like an eternity. Even when you slept, you didn’t dream. You just woke up in the same empty space a moment later, right where you started. There really wasn’t anything to look at besides endless fog and darkness, although despite the darkness, he never had a problem seeing Sami next to him, as though his pale skin and ginger curls were bathed in unseen moonlight. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and nobody to talk to. You were just waiting.

At least now they could wait together.

Sami was still floating away, eyes closed and a content look on his face and Kevin willed himself closer to him.

“Sami, where the hell are you - “

Sami cut him off with a chuckle, pushing his foot off Kevin’s chest and doing a backflip. He spun himself around a few times amidst the fog before stopping, the grin on his face doing little to conceal his giggling.

Shaking his head, Kevin decided he should ask. Sami had something on his mind, and the guy was going to drive him crazy with his chipperness if he didn’t figure it out.

“Ok, Sami,” Kevin demanded, “What’s up. What’s got you so happy?”

Sami replied by floating over toward Kevin and placing a soft hand on his cheek.

“You,” he said, and pulled him into a passionate kiss. It wasn’t a needy or urgent kiss or anything like the affection they used to show each other back when they were in the Indies on Earth. It was the type of kiss that lovers shared when they knew each other completely. When they had been down a million roads together and knew full well there would be a million more.

When they weren’t two separate souls at all, but one, forever and eternally joined.

And as the soul energy surged between their spirits, Kevin knew he’d found home once again.

But therein lay the trouble, and with a creased brow, he broke off the kiss.

Sami’s pout was damn near audible.

“Shit Sami,” Kevin swore, “I don’t understand what’s got you so excited. You know the routine. We spend time here, then we get shoved into new bodies and have to spend another lifetime finding each other and getting back together. I don’t understand why we can’t just have this forever!”

The one-time Intercontinental Champion looked sad for a moment, before turning his eyes to Kevin.

“Do you want to know what I dreamt about?” he asked KO.

“Bullshit,” Kevin grumbled, “you didn’t dream anything.”

“No, I did, I swear. And it was glorious.”

There was that damn word again.

Glorious.

Kevin both hated and loved when Sami used that word. He hated it because somehow, in almost every situation they found themselves in, he had an equivalent for it and was far too liberal in its usage.

He loved it because, whenever Sami used the word, his eyes would brighten, catching whatever light was nearby, and Kevin would drown in them and fall in love all over again.

And this time was no different.

“Sami...” Kevin sighed, the word a breath across his lips. He gazed into Sami’s hazel eyes, they were always hazel in that space, and he could see himself there. With Sami, where he always belonged and where he always would be.

It was so damn easy to get lost there, but Sami noticed (he always did) and wrapped his hand around Kevin’s head pulling their foreheads together.

“Focus, Kev,” Sami told him, and after closing his eyes for a moment to do just that, Kevin reopened them and pulled away.

“Right,” he said, his mind clear once more, “what was this dream?”

Sami smiled. “It’s about our next lifetime.”

With a tilt of his head, Kevin looked at him like he was crazy.

“Sami. We never get any indication of our lives ahead of time. You know how it is. We’ve certainly been through this enough.”

The redhead shook his head. “No, I swear, I had a vision. You and me. A happily married couple. No fighting, no trauma. Just domestic bliss.”

Kevin made a face.

“Ew, yeargh,” He practically gagged at the idea. “Domestic? Who the fuck wants domestic?”

“You know, Luv,” Sami chided, “We don’t have to be at each other’s throats every time.”

“No, but it’s more fun that way.”

“Maybe for you. I’m usually the one on the receiving end of the beatings. I’ll take a round of domestic bliss if it means I don’t have to get beaten, threatened, tortured, whatever by you for a change. Why are you so determined to hurt me in every single possible future we have together?!”

“You know I don’t do it on purpose!” Kevin shouted, and immediately regretted it afterward. They rarely fought between the worlds, but Sami was right. It always seemed like Kevin had it out for Sami. No matter what configuration the universe put them in, there was always some level of pain involved.

Kevin closed his eyes to focus once more and started again.

“Sami,” he said, “You know I love you. Here, to eternity and back, I love you. I’ve loved you in more ways than either of us could have ever dreamed possible. In this space, looking ahead, you know I don’t want to hurt you. But, I don’t know, maybe it’s just my nature. Maybe I’m just a naturally negative person. All we’ve been through? I think I’m just the bad to your good. The rage to your peace. The darkness to your light.”

“The Yin to my Yang,” Sami added, a kind look on his face.

“Yeah, something like that,” Kevin responded.

Sami reached his hand out, taking hold of Kevin’s shoulder.

“You know, Kev, The Yin Yang? There’s always a bit of light in the darkness, and vice versa. They say that the yin and yang represent...”

“Nope,” Kevin said, shaking his head and cutting him off, “I’m stopping you there. Go much further and I guarantee you’ll lose me. Just stick with ‘there’s light in the darkness’, ok?”

“’K. But you know that means that there’s also always part of you in me as well, right? We’re one soul, not just joined or intertwined, but intermixed. Ever since the powers of the universe blinked us into existence, we’ve been together. I mean, who needs all the marriages, joinings, ceremonies, rituals, all that fluff and stuff. You and me, we’re one unit. Why the hell do you think we’ve always had such chemistry, even when we’re fighting? We’re meant to be together, one way or another. By whatever name, in whatever form. You’ve always been a part of me Kev. Your soul in my soul. Your heart in my heart...”

“... my mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts, yeah yeah, I got it. Fuck, Sami in what lifetime were you that much of a sappy romantic?”

Shrugging, Sami replied, “Probably most of them. You just never spent enough time in love with me to notice.”

Kevin smirked. “I’m always in love with you. Always have been, always will be. It’s just sometimes I’m too stubborn to realize it.”

Sami couldn’t contain his snort. “Now who’s the sappy romantic?”

It was a fair enough question, but one that Kevin didn’t feel like answering. Instead, he shut his lover up by pressing his lips against him, kissing him once more. And once more the energy surged. Granted, even in their living forms there was always some amount of electricity that flowed between them, but in that netherworld-like space, it flowed the strongest, unhindered by any physical forms or bodies. There it was just their combined soul, floating and waiting to be reborn, and as Kevin tasted the sparks on Sami’s lips, he felt himself start to grow heavier, the way he always did before he was pulled into a new body.

He felt Sami start to pull away, obviously feeling a similar sensation, but Kevin grabbed ahold of Sami’s head and maintained contact. Wherever they were going, it would likely be years before they could kiss once more, and Kevin wasn’t going to miss out on his last chance for who knew how long.

A white light began to glow and blossom between them, starting first in their chests before wrapping its way around their bodies and encircling their arms and legs. He could hear wind blowing, like something out of a blustery spring day, and the sound began to engulf them both.

Still, Kevin didn’t let go. He could feel Sami’s energy pulling away and he struggled to hold on, but it was no use. The contact was broken and as the white light turned to gold, he felt his astral connection to Sami break as he was pulled through the cosmos to whatever destination the powers of the universe had picked for him this time around.

And as he flew through space-time towards his new, waiting life, a thought sat firmly in his mind.

Domestic, huh?

Wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Might be nice even. Possibly glorious.

Maybe we don’t have to fight forever after all.

And then his consciousness lapsed as the light turned to darkness and his new life began.

[godsofsocialmedia]

olympiabrats // pt. 1

They were raised on divinity and ambrosia. 

They were raised on divinity and ambrosia. 

That’s what Zoe remembers. It’s freshly New Years when the streamers pop, and champagne tips out of flutes, and Jackson pulls someone else in for a kiss as the clock hits 0:00. Her heart aches  - the great goddess of wisdom feels her ribs tug at the weight of her heart, sinking under the waves as she watches the God of the Seas take to someone else. She should have expected this. All she has to feel now is bitter at her own stupidity. And so she turns, unaware of the eyes burning into her back. She stumbles into the kitchen with half-a-mind to stumble home, half-a-mind to find a bathroom, half-a-mind to turn her hands into weapons of destruction and wring the necks of those - she finds Barry nursing a beer at the kitchen table. His eyes are glassy when he meets hers. She wonders if they’re both missing something. 

Sanity. Dignity. Sense of self-worth. 

It’s not a surprise that she takes a seat next to him at the table, dropping her arms on the table and her head to her arms. In this life, they are not brother and sister. He has too many siblings. She has none at all. 

But she remembers him. She knows who they are, and now, as she nurses an oncoming hangover, her mind throbbing, her heart aching, she remembers the brother she once had. Because she was Athena once and he was Hermes. His smile is the same - that impish grin and the light in his eyes, the one that seems to never die. 

“You’re older in this one,” she states. “It’s annoying, really.” Barry snorts. His beer clinks on the table, and she hears his chair creak as he tips it back. 

“You’re the brat this time,” he replies. A ghost of a smile crosses her lips. Footsteps echo off the tile. Her head raises, neck craning, only to find Andre stagger in, looking as exhausted as the rest of them. He slides into a chair. Syd isn’t far behind, and she is just as eager to pull up a chair and collapse. Zoe doesn’t question it, not even as Syd shoots her a drunken glare, something just as wary and angry as Zoe feels. 

Axel stumbles into the fray, and with him comes Henry, who limps after him into the dim lighting with the ghost of worry flickering across his face. They stop when they see the congregation. Axel opens his mouth, an angry sound coming out of it. But it’s slurred, his words tripping over themselves. 

“Shuddup,” he says, his face heating up. “Just all of you. Shuddup.”

He plops onto the floor, back against the cabinets and Henry joins, not bothering to find another chair. No one says anything, not as their heads loll, as Axel snatches a stray beer and downs it. The party rages on outside. Someone shouts, and it sounds like Jackson’s cry for help as Julian gripes about him being stupid. 

Paris stumbles in with a whoop and a champagne glass sloshing in one hand. 

“Whoo - oh.” 

He sobers. Six heads staring down, at his disheveled hair, the way his shirt seems to be hanging off him. 

“Par-ty?” he slurs, before he’s stumbling towards Zoe, collapsing on the floor at her feet. 

Siblings, Zoe thinks, as she adjusts her chin so it rests on her arms, watching as Axel locks Andre into a headlock. 

“Why are you like this?”

“I’m a reincarnated god with anger issues, shuddup.”

“You’re an asshole,” Syd emphasizes, just as Andre flaps his palm against Axel’s forearm, trying to tap out, and someone laughs, and Henry chokes out a warning, and Paris falls against Zoe’s legs, laughing as he tilts his head back, meeting her eyes. There’s a spark in his eyes that’s just as devious as when she met him - the first time.

Not as Paris. No, she realizes, as she looks away, as she takes in each person crowded round the worn table. The first time she met her siblings. 

______________________________________________________________

Athena couldn’t remember who was born first. Ares? Ares or herself? No, it was her, she was born first. She remembers it now. She had been lonely, until the night came where Ares was born of the spite Hera bore for her. A perfect opposite.

Athena is young and she sits on the steps of the temple, her legs curled under her, a scroll rolled open in her lap. Behind her, the adults’ voices clang loudly as they discuss the politics of something. Poseidon’s voice booms;

“You cannot just give away a man’s fish like that!” 

This is parried by a loud guffaw from father. Athena glances back, but she can only see their legs, sandals and skirts swirling around as the elder gods swarm around the room. She has no doubt Poseidon is chasing Zeus around the room.

Ares’ blade clashes against Apollo’s. Athena returns her gaze to the fight, dropping her cheek into her palm. The brothers are complete opposites, she realizes, her head tilting slightly. Whereas Ares is olive-toned with dark curls and eyes that burn like coals, Apollo is the sun. Golden skin, beautiful hair like spun sunlight that curls off his forehead. 

One has inherited their father’s charm, and the other, a tribute to the fierce visage their father carries into battle.

“Do you ever wanna join them?” It is Artemis who joins her now, standing next to the goddess of wisdom. She’s young - her frame boyish and her hair like cool shadows, tumbling down her shoulders. Their hair colors might be different but Athena can still pinpoint the exact slope of Apollo’s nose in Artemis’, or the way their lips curve like bows. Speaking of, she sees Artemis’ bow clutched in her fingers, glinting silver in the dying light. 

A clash of swords and a yelp and they turn, just as Apollo is stumbling to a knee, huffing out his defeat in short breaths. 

“I have no reason to,” Athena says, shrugging her shoulders. But then again, battle is a necessary means to an end. 

Artemis rolls her eyes before her steps are quick down the stairs, arriving at Apollo’s side with a glare thrown at Ares. Not the young god cares. He is too quick to catch Athena’s eyes, his wicked smile curving into something more sinister. They look alike. Athena knows that, as many have commented on it. Their dark curls, or the way their noses are too sharp, too straight and proud, like their father’s. But their eyes are different. Ares has eyes like coal, and Athena, grey like slate off the mountains they call home. Ares smirks at her, then behind her, and Athena glances back, only to find Hermes bouncing towards her, seemingly innocent. 

Out of all of them, he carries the most charm. The impish smile. The gleam in his cerulean eyes, the color of Poseidon’s realm. And when he smiles, his toothy grin reminds her a little too much of their father.

He opens his arms to her, and Athena has no reason to protest other than to gather her younger brother in her arms, banding her arms across his waist as he settles back against her stomach to watch the fighting. He’s not as sweet as he looks. Athena knows that. Yet, her arms tighten around the little imp. As if that could protect him from all the evils he will one day witness.

She hopes useless wishes that he will not be scarred by Olympus.

It’s Apollo who rises to his feet, shrugging off his sister. She merely returns to Athena, settling at her feet. 

“Another round, brother?” Apollo demands. 

The attention turns to the two boys sparring in the shady courtyard before them. 

Ares laughs, and for once, Athena doesn’t hear the cruelty of the sound. Ares raises his sword to Apollo, but the young god shakes his head, lifting his palm to reveal a bow. Twin grins sprout on their faces. The shadows grow longer and the sun grows colder, the sunlight a little more golden as the two boys' weapons begin to clash against each other. 

They settle in, as if they have all the time in the world. 

***

Athena is the first. She doesn’t remember much of what happened, but there was blood and screams of pain and an axe. It clattered to the ground, just as she lurched out of the wound. The world tilted. She was small, her legs unsteady, her eyes fierce and yet - terrified. Her hand pressed into her tunic. Her little heart beneath her palm beat erratically, and the tears threatening to burst from her eyes. Her mother had warned her that the outside world may be different, strange, and she was right about that. Athena hissed, stumbled, until gasps ripped jagged from throats. She turned, only to find them - the man with the gaping head wound. Her father. He was just as her mother described him, blonde, and strong, but the golden blood dripping from his forehead came as a quick reminder of the nature of her birth. No, she realized, not her birth, but her arrival. She swallowed, staggered back only to stagger into strong legs. Wide grey eyes snap up, only to find another man, dark hair sweeping across a jagged scar. He laughed. And that is how she came to dare Prometheus to scoff at her when the wary cry ripped from her throat. Her mother taught her that. 

Athena lunged into a fighting stance, though she teetered under the heavy helmet a size too big for her. 

Mother told her she was not to be afraid. So she tried, baring little teeth at the men in the room. That elicits a chuckle from a few men in the room, something that has Athena’s little face flushing. One of them let a bloody axe clatter to the ground.

“She’s a fierce one,” Prometheus had hummed, and he was there before Zeus, before the nymphs who cowered behind the King, peering at the strange little goddess.

Zeus said nothing. His brows pulled together, his face too pale, too silent as he regarded the child regarding him back with the same fierce eyes. Someone had sat him down, had forced him to sit so they could attend the wound on his head. She held that gaze, fierce and proud. Gods healed fast. She supposed the King would heal faster than most. But it was Prometheus who scooped the girl up, the girl bathed in blood and a helmet on her head, and her eyes - all too reminiscent of the wife that never was. It was Prometheus who carried her to the Queen. 

And it was the Queen, who taught her how the world worked. 

***

Ares is born mere months behind her. A sort of revenge, she had been told, by Hera. She is there, holding tight to Hestia whose hip she sits on, when the King announces the birth of a son before an eagerly awaiting crowd of nymphs and gods and goddesses alike. Hera is proud. She stands side by side with Zeus, with her chin held high, and her eyes gleaming with pride as she presents her son. The Prince of the Gods. The first son. Ares. 

He is swaddled in cloth as fine as clouds. Hestia squeezes Athena a little tighter, adjusting the helm that is much too big for her, her arms holding her tight, shielding her from the crowd surging forward. Athena is still. She is still and observant, and she watches, as Hera’s eyes track to her, to Hestia holding her tight. Her lips twist. But the moment passes, and then the Queen’s eyes return to her son, to the cheering crowd.

Athena’s first sibling had arrived.

***

Hephaestus disappears. 

Athena is sure he is born, and when she comes to the King, pulling Ares behind her by his little hand, their faces lined in confusion at the absence of their brother, Zeus only turns them away. Pain lines his expression but it’s something Athena has yet to grasp. Hera refuses to speak of him. She doesn’t claim to know what happened to her wayward son. She only turns her back.

“Play with the nymphs,” she says, the same pain lining her face, and it’s Athena who tugs Ares back, who pulls him before he can demand the answers. Hephaestus doesn’t return. Not for a long time. 

***

The twins are born on an island, in the sea, one that is always moving. Athena can’t help herself. She watches the drama from her balcony overlooking the Aegean, the marble cool against her elbow. Hera storms through the palace behind her, chasing Eilythea and shrieking at her handmaidens. 

“ZEUS!”

But father is not around. Athena knows that. Ares knows that too. He jaunts up to her, settles at her side as they watch his mother storming past them. A trail of nymphs follows. It’s comical really. A vase crashes. Ares snorts. They’re not much older than the newborn twins, maybe a few years? Maybe older. Athena is not sure. But she is sure of one thing. She looks to Ares. His eyes are coal, and his gaze hardens, just as the heavens above them rip open.

Rain slams into Olympus, just as Athena confirms the suspicion they both held.

“The twins have arrived.”

***

“‘thena?”

Artemis is not much younger than her, but already she is at Athena’s waist, silverish eyes like the moon she so loves peering up at Athena. It’s strange how Olympians age. Athena has tried to imagine how the aging process works for them. She even went as far to question the goddess Hestia and Demeter, but to no avail. Hera hadn’t known. Nor had Zeus. 

“Athena? Are you listening?” 

“Forgive me, Artemis. What was it?” Athena asks, doing her best to be patient. Artemis is young. She’s wild and Athena almost reaches out to smooth a stray curl - only to realize that Artemis’ hair is just stray curls tumbling down her shoulders. Artemis stamps her foot. The wooden bow clutched in her little fist trembles.

“I said, have you heard the news?” 

Athena looks at Artemis’ face for a second. There’s dirt smudge on her cheek, but it doesn't distract from the ferocity in her eyes. There’s worry there, too. Athena’s heart sinks. 

She has a feeling the Queen won’t appreciate the news. 

***

Hermes is born with little fanfare. Athena thinks it’s due to the cleverness of his mother, Maia, a Titaness. She is watching the cave from her perch in the hills across from the little nook in the mountains where Maia hides. The sun rises, it’s golden arms spilling out over the hills - Helios, pulling his chariot across the stars.

She sighs, and she almost gets up to leave, when she sees it. He’s no more than a day old. But gods are funny things, and Hermes is one of them after all. He crawls from the cave. The morning sun is just coming up, and the light catches the brown of his hair, the wild curls so reminiscent of their father. 

Hermes pushes himself up, onto wavering legs. He stumbles, and she has half a mind to go to him. But she doesn’t. Instead, she watches her brother, curious about this child god as he struggles to his feet. She has many brothers and sisters, it’s true. Zeus has left a trail of demigods on the Earth below. But not all of them are gods. 

Hermes struggles before finally teetering to his feet, chubby arms stuck out to keep himself from toppling over. With a giggle, he totters off, to only Zeus knows where. 

***

Athena always forgets about Hebe.

Hermes runs past her, cackling as Apollo chases him around Demeter’s garden. They are under the watch of Leto today, though she gossips in the shade of a chestnut tree with the Titaness Asteria. Athena hums, counting the amount of arrows in Artemis’ quiver. She is convinced Ares stole three of her arrows, so Athena diligently counts just to make sure. Ares likes to tell Artemis things just to rile her up and watch her little face contort in rage. It's a brotherly thing, Athena is told, but Athena is convinced Olympus has no qualms with letting boys do as they please with little consequences. Artemis pouts by her side, watching as their brothers chase each other around the garden. 

“AHA!” 

Athena looks up as Apollo gives a great cry. He almost has Hermes - his arms outstretched, lunging for the little imp - Apollo gets a mouthful of dirt and flagstones instead.

Hermes giggles from where he is safe in the tall branches of the chestnut tree.

Apollo sits up, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of his eyes. He looks on the verge of tears. A sigh pulls out of Athena, and she hands Artemis her quiver back and touches her shoulder before sweeping towards Apollo. 

“What is it this time?” Athena asks, brushing the dirt off Apollo’s face. He looks at her and Athena tries not to be startled, but she can never help but see Fathers’ eyes in his wide, blue eyes. 

“He stole my lute again,” Apollo simpers as Artemis bounces over and throws her arm around her brother's shoulders. The golden lute in question glimmers in Hermes grubby little hands.

Well, it’s better than Ares snapping it in half. 

“Hermes,” Athena chides, looking back at him with a half-glare. Fortunately for him, she is never mad for long. It’s hard to be mad at such an impish grin. 

“I made it for him!” Hermes yells back, sticking his tongue out at Athena.

“Yes, but you also gave it to him. A gift with conditions is no gift at all, Hermes,” Athena parries, and stands, situating her hands on her hips. She almost marches to the tree and pulls Hermes out herself but she stops midway, her eyes catching on a flash of gold. She frowns. There it is again, winding through the hedges before stopping at the entrance. A chubby little face peers around the corner, watching them, her golden hair curled and bundled back in a fancy updo. 

Hebe. 

Hebe is most often kept at Hera’s side, away from the bastard children like Athena and Apollo and Artemis and Hermes. The most Athena ever sees of her sister is when she’s clinging to her mother’s robes, curious golden eyes taking them all in. But there has always been something else in those eyes and Athena sees it now; longing. 

“Hello Hebe,” Athena says gently, curiously edging towards her sister. Hebe startles and with a yelp, she hides behind the bush. Athena can still see her though, as if she’s too scared to run altogether. She frowns. 

“She’s always like that,” a new voice says and Athena spins, only to find Ares, hands on his hips, dark hair swept chaotically over his red eyes. He smirks at Athena, something that makes her cock an eyebrow. 

“And where have you been?” 

“Around,” Ares replies coolly before marching forward. Athena watches curiously as he disappears behind the bush. “Hebe. Come say hello.” 

He drags with him an anxious Hebe. She frets and wrings her hands as if her mother might storm in at any moment and pull her out of there. But later, as Athena and Ares sit on the steps, watching the younger ones play, Hebe throws her little arms around Hermes shoulders and giggles alongside Artemis as Apollo plays his lute. Athena realizes later, after they’re all tucked in bed and she watches the stars twinkle in the velvet sky outside her window, that is the first time she has ever talked to little Hebe. 

***

She’s sure there’s demigod siblings she’s never heard of. She is well-versed in her father’s infidelities. None of them matter so much as a mortal being smited or turned into a cow, and while Athena certainly does not approve of the destruction of life, does not see the justice in punishing the victim, not the abuser, she is content to watch. She is something like 10, her arms packed with scrolls, her helm pushed back on her head, and she’s bustling to the library. She has yet to make a name of herself outside of the Goddess of Wisdom. That’s fine. But she is more than that. She is more than wisdom and books and -

The shriek is enough to have her stutter to a stop.

She knows that scream.

Athena turns heel, rushing through the halls and into the throne room, practically stumbling from the scrolls in her arms. The scene is simple. Hera, tearing at her hair. Zeus only stands feet away, and he seems none so ashamed than annoyed. Poseidon is here, even, and she pauses, takes in the Gods of the Seas. He stands proud, and his skin is tan, as if he’s spent too many days in the sun. Athena scans the room. Hermes edges near father, and Ares lounges lazily in his mother’s throne, watching with disinterest. Demeter is the one who stands besides Hera, whose arms pull her in, uselessly banded against the Queen’s waist to hold her from tearing at her husband next. 

“Why must you insult me in this way?” Hera cries, and it’s desperate, but rage - pride. Athena has seen that pride, for it is the same that flashes in Zeus’ eyes now.

“Wife, you forget your place - “

“You forget your vows.” 

The room stills. Poseidon is the one to clear his throat, awkwardly stepping back from his brother, as if he can distance himself from blood. 

“Do you forget yourself?” Zeus snarls, stepping forward.

Unfortunately for Poseidon, blood cannot distance from blood.

“I am your wife! You should remain faithful to me, to your vows - “ Hera’s voice is fire, and Athena watches as Zeus’ clouds with some undeniable fury.

“Enough woman!”

Hera’s tears dry on her cheeks. She is quick to wrench herself from Demeter’s grasp. She meets Zeus’ step forward with her own, meets his upturned chin with her own.

“You will regret this. This time, you will regret this insult,” Hera seethes, and with that, she turns. She storms towards Athena. Demeter is close on her heels, but Hera does not stop. She sees Athena and for a moment, the goddess of wisdom feels for her Queen, tilting her head to the side. But Hera does not falter. She storms past her. Athena doesn’t move, only stares, only watches as her father turns to meet her eyes, shame burning as he regards her. 

She is the first mistake, after all.

***

Hera makes good on her promise.

Athena doesn’t know the full details. The nymphs hiss in the shadows when Athena spied on them. It was simple. Someone, something convinced Semele that Zeus was not who he was, that he lied. The princess had demanded to see Zeus's immortal form. 

She died.

There was nothing anyone could do to save her. 

Athena holds her suspicions about what happened, but to air them publicly? She holds her tongue. Whatever happened, happened. 

Athena is seated at the steps of her father’s throne, poring over tomes. Artemis and Apollo play war with wooden swords and Ares lounges at the foot of Hera’s throne, sharpening a double-headed axe. Demeter and Hera gossip healthily by the hearth while Hestia tends it. She almost expects Poseidon to stroll in, but she hears he’s too busy with the sea to be bothered by Olympus. She purses her lips, trying to read over the same line in a scroll. But it’s useless. She sighs, resigning herself to watching as Hermes tests out his winged sandals, soaring over the thrones with gleeful laughter.

BAM! 

There’s a flash and a loud bang as Zeus materializes in the room. Smoking. Athena leaps up, as does nearly everyone else.

“Father! Are you alright?” Apollo starts only to falter. There is a look of rage on Zeus’ face she has never seen before. And it’s directed at Hera, who remains sitting, but regarding Zeus - no, Athena realizes with a start, not Zeus. The screaming babe in his arms. The baby shrieks, smoke curling off it’s raw, red skin and dark curls singed. Athena can only stare, the horror numb inside her.

“Dionysus,” Zeus announces, though he’s staring right at Hera. “My son. And a god.”

Hera doesn’t even so much as twitch, but the rage is there, simmering right behind her eyes. 

No one dares move. No one except Hestia. The quiet goddess rises from her place at the hearth and crosses to her brother. Without a word, she takes Dionysus from Zeus’ arms and beckons Apollo to follow. He is the god of medicine after all. She leaves the temple quickly, skirts swishing as Apollo follows at her heel.

Hera says nothing. She rises and brushes past Zeus. The King says nothing, only glancing at his wife before turning and following the way Hestia had gone. 

Athena catches Ares’ eyes. A grim smile cracks his lips and it’s almost as if he delights in the chaos. Athena purses her lips.

So Dionysus has arrived. 

***

It was Persephone they truly did not expect. 

The screams that Hera unleashed were as if someone had carved her heart out of her chest. And Athena might just believe that. She went to her aunt with questions, and returned with the answers she wanted. 

Demeter had indeed wanted a child. No one expected she’d have it with someone she hated so publicly. At least, Athena didn’t expect it and she calculated for near every time another sibling might crop up. 

Truly she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Dionysus and Persephone had come in such quick succession that it seemed improbable. But this was father, after all, and he did not bend to the will of others. 

***

It’s a fine morning when Athena awakes to a set of big blue eyes staring down on her and a solid weight on her chest.

“‘Thena! ‘Thena, come on!” Hermes says, bouncing on her bed so much it shakes.

Two little arms tug at her and she realizes that Artemis and Apollo also peer at her, eyes wide, grinning at her almost a little too suspiciously. Ares leans in the doorframe, chomping down on an apple he no doubt stole from some nymph’s garden. 

Athena eyes the congregation before giving a tired sigh.

“Yes, yes, I am coming, just allow me a moment,” Athena grumbles, rubbing at her eyes. She does not dare ask what they want but she is soon up and being led by a nearly flying Hermes down the hall and out onto the cobbled path leading to Demeter’s garden. Athena’s stomach churns. None of them have played here since...well. 

Hermes lets go of her hand only to be replaced by Artemis. Both twins are prone to taking her hands, and she will never admit it, but there may be a day when she misses their little hands tugging her along. Apollo marches ahead, bow strapped on his back as he follows Hermes, who flies ahead, disappearing through the sweeping branches of a weeping willow and into a clearing, one Athena knows all too well.

When she sees what the commotion is about, she nearly roots to the ground in her spot. The goddess is sitting on a plush chaise, nymphs and muses and goddesses surrounding her, cooing at the little pink bundle swaddled in her arms. Artemis tugs her along. When her feet grow cold, Ares is the one to give her a push, none too gentle. He keeps his hand on her back. The young gods part the crowd.

Athena looks up to find the elder goddesses’ eyes and for once, there is no rant, no chiding, no lecture. She only smiles as Hermes comes to rest on her hip, resting his head on her arm so his bronze curls spill, peering at the bundle in Demeter’s arms. The twins come closer, Artemis on her tippy-toes, Apollo resting a gentle hand on Artemis’ back. Ares brings up the rear, stepping so he is behind Demeter’s shoulder, his red eyes taking in the small babe.

Athena hesitates. She knows she shouldn’t, knows what pain this child has caused the Queen and Olympus, knows she should do this and that and -

But Demeter smiles at her so warmly, it’s almost as if she knows. No, Athena realizes, of course she knows. She understands better than anyone. The birth of Persephone brought the utmost joy and yet the darkest days Olympus has seen in a long time. Still Demeter beckons the young goddess forward. Athena bites her lip, caught between loyalties. But she understands the look on Demeter’s face. There is nothing they can do now but welcome the young goddess into the world. There is nothing they can do. 

Demeter smiles and curls her fingers for Athena to come to her. 

“Come,” she says warmly, “meet Persephone.” 

***

They had thought Persephone might be the end of the young gods. 

They were wrong. Lightning flashes outside. It rips the sky to shreds. Athena watches from her window seat, leaning back against cool marble. She sits with her knees pinned under her thighs, a book unread in her lap. Something is off about today. Maybe it was in the cold front, or the way her curtains snapped back, the wind tearing at them, but whatever it was it felt like chaos was brewing just at the edge of the world. 

Whatever it was, it meant father wasn’t happy. 

Three sets of feet pitter-patter into her room, and she looks to her doorway, only to find Hermes, followed by the twins. Their faces are as stormy as their father’s rage thrashing against Olympus. Dionysus has long since been sent to live with the nymphs, and no matter how much she pressures answers from the nymphs, Hephaestus is still nowhere to be seen. It’s just them. 

Well. Athena looks up, just as Hermes pulls himself to sit at her feet, and the twins crowd at her side. 

Ares walks through the door. Except he doesn’t come alone. The air in the room dips several degrees, enough to send chills crawling down her spine. Athena’s eyebrows hike up. She draws Hermes into her arms. 

Ares stops before them. His face is impassive, but she sees the spark in her brother’s eyes, the way the red seems more blood than his usual red ocher. Her eyes flick to the baby in his arms, swaddled in white cloth. Her skin is olive, the tuft of hair like coal. She sleeps so peacefully, despite the storm flashing behind them. As if she was made in this. 

“Eris,” he announces to his siblings with a gleam in his eyes. “Goddess of Chaos. Strife. Our sister.” 

Athena’s arms tighten around Hermes. 

***

Dionysus visits occasionally. Mostly though, Father insists he remain on Mt. Nysa for his own safety. He must be protected at all costs, though Athena is not sure whether this is truly because Father isn’t entirely ready to deal with Dionysus, or if he’s using it as a way to punish Hera. 

The fear Hera instilled into them wouldn’t subside for a long time. The nymphs still whisper in shadows about it only to stop anytime Hera passes. Athena wouldn’t dare admit it aloud, but for this alone she almost pities the Queen. 

There is a side to the Queen very few see. 

Athena sees it one day, when the Queen looks at Dionysus. Athena sits on the steps, scroll in her lap when she catches it. The Queen is on her throne, discussing something with Hestia when Dionysus chases Eris into the room. The two race out of the temple just as fast, their little giggles changing into cackles as Hermes comes barreling into the room after them, wings fluttering tiredly on his shoes. 

“Hey, wait!” he whines before the trio is stumbling outside again. 

No one else seems to catch it. 

Hera’s lips twitch, there’s a softening of the eyes, and she almost says something motherly, her mouth opening to give a warning not to run too fast, to not trip on the stairs. But nothing escapes her lips because she clamps them down nearly immediately. Whatever it was, is gone. Those same eyes cut away, but not before catching Athena watching. She looks away quickly, heat flushing her face. 

They say the Queen hates them. 

But Athena will always disagree. Hera is just in pain. No one wants to see the objects of their pain on a daily basis. 

***

Athena is older now. She is sitting on marble steps leading into the aquamarine clear sea, her toes dipping into the warm water. It’s the day before she leaves to train with the nymphs in the south Aegean, to go away with Poseidon. Speaking of which, the sound of Poseidon’s booming laughter echoes off the sea. She watches as he twirls Hermes around by the arms, before letting him go so the young god cannonballs into the water. A wave goes up, slapping against the stone steps she sits on. There is no book today, no scroll. Today, Athena merely watches. 

Ares catches her eyes from where he and Eris play chicken with Apollo, Artemis sitting on his shoulders. 

The sun beats down on her back. The light is starting to recede into something golden as the sun begins to dip beneath the sea. Athena stretches her arms before settling her elbows on her knees, watching Poseidon beckon a dolphin towards an eager Persephone, who claps her hands together and leans over the edge of the pier, her eyes wide with wonder. Demeter watches warily, hand on her daughter’s back. But despite the wariness in her eyes, a smile tugs at her lips. There is a sense of calm in the air, as the golden sun bathes them, like time will never end here.

A pair of sandals slap against the marble pier. Athena doesn’t bother to look back. She knows who it is. 

Father takes a seat besides her, stretching so his legs dip into the water, leaning back so he braces against his palms. A comfortable silence settles between them. The wind rustles past them, tousling Athena’s hair so some of it catches on her lips. She brushes it away just as a warm hand presses down on her head, ruffling her windswept hair even more. 

He doesn’t say anymore or any less but there is a message in there, Athena thinks. But for once, she tries not to delve deeper into it. He ruffles her hair once more before letting his hand drop. 

A cry echoes across the water. The sunset makes the water ripple golden and from here she can make out four dark silhouettes against the horizon. Eris has hold of Artemis’ hands sitting atop their brothers shoulders. With a triumphant yell, the winged goddess topples Artemis and with a splash, the twins disappear under the water. 

Hermes and Persephone giggle, their little legs kicking off the edge of the pier as they lean their heads together, conspiring about something - only to shriek as Poseidon rises up from the waves with a roar, sending the munchkins scrambling away drenched and shrieking. 

For a moment, the world is peaceful. For a moment, Athena feels okay leaving them behind. 

“They’ll miss you,” Zeus says plainly. In the dying light, she catches her father’s eye. She understands it now. He will miss her, too. And maybe against her better judgement, maybe out of character, Athena leans into her father’s side, watching as the sun dips below the ocean. 

The twins wade through the water, swinging a cackling Eris between them. They look up, waving at the two with wide grins. Ares isn’t far behind and she catches his eye, for what seems like might be the last time in a long time. He doesn’t smile, nor smirk, but he does have that dangerous glint in his eye, a kind of knowing as he nods. Somewhere she can hear Hera calling out for Hebe, and Demeter calling for Persephone, but for now, as the twins and Eris come nearer, Ares bringing up the rear, she can take a moment to let time last forever. A smile crosses her lips, and she lets her eyes slip close. 

There are so many things she will miss at Olympus, like her scrolls and her chambers and the sound of the world waking up in the morning, bustling with life as the markets open and the birds chirp. She’ll miss the way the world seems so small from up above, the safety of their mountain home. She’ll even miss the fights. She’ll miss Demeter and Hestia, of course, even uncle Hades when he shows up. She’ll miss Father, of course, and maybe, she thinks, as the sun dips low, and Father lets go, as two twin hands comes to rest on her shoulder, as Hermes drops into her lap, and Eris pounces on her back, Ares stopping at her side to look at the sun setting, she thinks maybe, just maybe she’ll even miss Hera. 

Most of all, above everything else though, she will always miss her siblings more. 

______________________________________________________________

The world comes back to her. All of them seem glassy eyed. It follows that they shared the same collection of memories, the same flashback, for no one speaks. Likely all different, different instances. But all of each other. Axel raises his eyes to meet hers, and for once, he’s not the boorish, pigheaded brother she’s used to. He’s quiet. Her first companion. Then there’s the twins, whose gazes flicker from each other, to Barry, to Zoe, who jerks her chin in acknowledgment. 

Paris sobered up first. 

“Is Eliza going to kill me?”

“No,” Zoe snaps, “she’s changed. Stop it.”

The room quiets before Syd throws out there;

“She might not but I will. You know how many huntresses of mine you ruined?” 

Barry snorts, and Paris chuckles, lolling his head against Zoe’s thigh. It feels natural. As uncomfortable as it might be, and crowded, and whoever’s kitchen this was, it’s much too small. Syd’s foot presses into hers, and she sees Andre’s legs, stretched out, knocking into Barry’s, who just grimaced and kept drinking. Axel dropped on the floor, too, now, taking residence next to Henry. Siblings. She snorts, dropping her head just as Giselle stumbles in, followed by Alana.

“What’s up fuckers?” 

Zoe snorts. Someone else snaps back, probably Barry. Alana plops down nearly onto Axel, and Giselle smiles before finding a chair and pulling it right up next to Zoe’s. 

They’re impossible, she thinks, her eyes drooping, her smirk only replaced by a drunken smile. Entirely horrible. But she would have never wanted to do this without them. Zoe swallows, and her heartbreak cracked until she found the piece of her she had been missing. She has never fought for love.

She fought for the day her siblings might come back to her.

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 19

“Ah.” Ansgar allowed a small, wry smile to creep over his face, all signs of irritation, of anger sluicing away in a sudden and strange wash. It was one of those smiles, one of those polar shifts, carried upon an idea, in which he allowed the recipient to see just a little bit of the cogs and wheels and gears spinning away in his mind.

But not enough to know exactly what he was thinking.

He shrugged slowly then, the craftiness in his eyes morphing again – easily and smoothly into a visage of practiced ennui. “They won’t know, they’re too young to even consider such things,” he said. “They’re more interested in… things… in those things they can touch, see, and feel, rather than human emotion, or whether their auntie is fucking someone they meet. They’re just young boys. They’re…how old did you say?”

“Ten,” she huffed. “They’re… they’re ten.”

“Both? Are they twins, then?” His words carried a note of excitement. Interest.

“Yes. They’re my brother, Elias’ boys, but why…?”

“Perfect.” He gave her a curt nod, his eyes twinkling. “Pardon me, if you will.” He turned quickly and barged back into Joline’s office. A clap of his hands and he had the rapt attention of both young men. “All right. Who,” he intoned, “would like to come with your auntie and me on a little adventure?”

“Ansgar - “ but her protestations were drowned out by the exuberant “me me me!” that burst from both of her jumping, laughing nephews.

“Wonderful,” Ansgar sang. He held both of his hands at his sides, waggling his fingers in invitation. “Come on, then,” he said, “let’s go.” The boys, Adrian first, with gusto, and Hugo second, a bit more tentatively, took his hands, practically skipping as Adrian all but dragged him down the corridor toward the little theatre space.

“Now, listen very carefully to me.” Ansgar turned his back to the visqueened-off archway, blocking the boys’ view of the space. He bent, hands on his knees, and addressed the boys one then the other. “This is a dangerous place. It’s a work area,” he said, gravely. “We must take certain precautions.” Finger raised, he paused for effect. “Safety first, now say it back to me.”

“Safety first.” the boys repeated; and then Adrian chimed in - “Do we get to wear hard hats?”

Ansgar smiled broadly, almost impishly and, like a magician, he rummaged behind the plastic sheeting, emerging with a bright orange hard hat sat incongruously on his own head, and two yellow helmets in either hand. “Your very own, for you to keep,” he said. He presented the hats to the boys, placing them regally on their heads like crowns, first Adrian, then Hugo.

“May we please go in now?” pled Hugo.

Joline stepped forward. “Wait, Sgar… I don’t think….”

“You can go in. It’s official,” Ansgar declared, his voice raised slightly, drowning out Joline’s protestations. “I hereby decree that you two are honorary associates of Martinsson Construction. Your hard hats prove it.”

“Are you the boss?” Hugo asked, fingering the brim of his hard hat with reverence. “You hafta be the boss if you can make us honono-no-no-no….”

“Honorary, Hughie,” Adrian chimed. “It’s honorary. Say hon-no-ra-ry”

“Hon-no-ra-ry,” Hugo repeated haltingly, letting out his breath and taking another deep one in celebration of his accomplishment. “Associates. You hafta be the boss to do that. Are you the boss?”

“I am the boss,” Ansgar placed a hand proudly over his chest. “My last name is Martinsson, and this is my company.”

“Cool!” said Adrian. “Can I be the boss too?”

Ansgar chuckled. “Something tells me that someday you just might be.”

“Cool! Do we get paid?” Adrian cocked his head, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course you do! Yes,” Ansgar’s eyes flashed. “If you perform your jobs well, you shall be paid handsomely.”

Adrian’s hands rest akimbo upon his hips, and he squinched his face up even more, chin jut straight out. “How much?”

“Lots.” Ansgar’s eyed Joline, gauging her. She stood a short distance away, her arms folded over her chest, toe tapping, and a most attractively unreadable expression on her face. Lips tight, cheeks flushed, yet her eyes showed something… soft.

He winked at her.

She startled and blinked owlishly, frowning back at him.

“I shall pay you in the valuable currency of cinnamon rolls and ice cream. All the cinnamon rolls you could want. My treat.”

“Herr Martinsson – “ Joline warned.

“Oh pish, Auntie Joline,” Ansgar chided, elbowing Hugo conspiratorially in the arm. “It’s only fair. Now, come on.” He guided the boys through the curtain and into the construction space. “I’ll start by showing you the rough carpentry. That’s what I know how to do, the carpentry. It’s my most favourite thing.”

“You’re a carpenter?” Hugo pulled his eyes away from the spectacle long enough to eye Ansgar from head to toe, to sum him up. “Your suit’s too nice. You’re not full of sawdust. You don’t look like you do much carpening. Do-do-do-do you carpen a lot?”

Ansgar chuckled. “Not so much anymore, Hugo,” he said. “But I still know how.” It’s like my brother, here,” he fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He knelt, lowering himself to the level of the two boys as he flicked through the photos. “Ah, yes, this one, here we go. Take a look.” He turned the phone first to Hugo, then to Adrian, and then he flicked a glimpse of the photo toward Joline, showing her with raised brows and a quiet smile.

“That’s me,” he pointed, the phone once again turned toward the boys, “that’s my niece, Viktoria, and that’s my brother, Magnus. Magnus, you see, he was a police detective. Now he’s a chef, but he still knows how to solve crimes and protect people if they need it. Like me. I used to be a carpenter, and I still know how, I just don’t anymore, because now I run the company.”

“Woah.” Hugo and Adrian gasped simultaneously, and the stereo sound of it gave Ansgar a chill. A chill of familiarity, of deja vu, and a sudden yearning for his brother, who was hundreds of miles away in Ystad. Finally, Adrian piped up. “You’re a twin? He looks… wow-wee. You guys look totally alike.”

“We are twins,” Ansgar stood, but still held the phone down. “We’re identical twins, Magnus and me. You two,” he pointed to one then the other, “are fraternal twins. You don’t look alike.”

“Which one of you was born first?” Adrian demanded.

“Why, I was,” Ansgar replied, hand rest proudly on his chest. “I’m older by twenty minutes.”

“I was born first too.” Adrian crowed. “But I’m only ten minutes older.”

“Even better.” Ansgar said. “Means you’re closer. Now,” he shoved his phone back into his pocket, and took up the boys’ hands again. “If you come with me, I will let you see how we frame a pocket door.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the burgeoning stage. “It looks like Amaranna is about to begin one. I’m sure she would love to tell you all about it.”

This wasn’t how she saw or imagined her afternoon turning out to be. Not by a long shot.

Joline loved her nephews, to bits, from the tops of their golden heads to their awkward stompy feet. She felt blessed to know them and spend time with them since she’d missed so much of their early years. A sense of belonging and fulfillment flooded through her when their thin little arms wrapped around her middle in ultimate trust and gratitude.

Adrian bounded over to her first while she hung back in the periphery of Ansgar’s show. “Thank you, Auntie Jo, for introducing us to the nice man.” As if she brought Ansgar to them as a toy… as a reward for good behavior. “He showed us lots of cool stuff.”

Joline felt an ache forming somewhere within her, but she couldn’t know from where. This couldn’t be happening. She cleared her throat, lifted his hard hat to pat the boy’s soft head of hair, “I’m chuffed to know it.” But her tone was quiet, reserved. Even. Pensive. The statement almost negated by her delivery of it, but her younger audience missed it. She replaced the hard hat upon his head, adjusting so he could see what was in front of him.

As quickly as Adrian appeared with a grateful hug, he disappeared again to learn how to use a nail gun and an electric sander. Amaranna, a petite beauty in denim overalls with rosy cheeks and a button nose, showed Hugo a diagram that the she’d sketched on graph paper how she measured twice and cut her lumber pieces once.

One by one, Ansgar helped the boys onto the scaffolding in the middle of the stage to take pictures on in iPhone of the ‘before’ pictures as he explained. He invited them to come back to take pictures of the progress of the work. He also had them pick a seat in the theatre where they could come back and weld a plaque of their names underneath.

It was Ansgar who fascinated her, to her horrific delight. Her body knew he was close and remembered in great detail the skill at which he made her soar. In Excitement. In Pleasure. In arousal. In craving. He was her adult private time. Maybe she’d only seen him as a lover… and not quite human. Suddenly, when he took each of her nephews’ hands, he was human. Real.

Joline craved him, wanted him to see to all her desires, but this side of him disturbed her view of him. He was something more than a great lover, something more than an animal. He was a someone. She’d seen slices of his personalities, layers that he peeled away to show her. His regard for her nephews felt more invasive than his body inside hers. It felt personal. She knew the difference between physical and emotional connections, and this… Ansgar with her nephews balanced dangerously over into emotional territory.

Sex between her and Sgar, that was easy. No promises, no strings, no misunderstandings. Clean. Uncomplicated. However, the promises that he made to her nephews… she didn’t know if they were real or not. She couldn’t trust that.

“Amaranna,” Ansgar asked over Joline’s thoughts, “Watch over the boys for a few minutes—“

“Herr Martinsson, I hardly think that’s appro—“

“Joline,” he silenced her objection with a cut of his gaze, “it’s fine.” Addressing, Amaranna once more, he instructed, “Keep them busy building. I’ve goggles that might fit them in the atrium if you need to use the saw. I’ll return straight away. I’ve got documents to be signed by the house manager, dated and submitted by close of business. We’ll be in her office, down the corridor on the right.”

Amaranna saluted, “They’re in good hands. I’ll treat them as my own.”

“Ten minutes,” he whispered to Joline taking her hand inconspicuously to ensure that she followed. He led her through the house, sidestepping fans and tools and buckets strewn throughout. He ditched the hard hat upon his head by the entrance of the theatre where he’d first fetched it. He didn’t stop until he had her safely behind the door of her office. He pressed her against it and his body trapped her there, his lips on hers before she could protest.

Joline obeyed, she had no idea why she couldn’t stop it, but her body fell into his. This, she could do. This, she could handle. If she were honest with herself, she wanted it all the more because he was good with her nephews. Brilliant with them even.

When he was sure she was breathless, he ripped his lips from hers. “You’re angry.” His forefinger painted a line through her flushed skin, pale blooming underneath the pink.

“I’m not,” she disagreed.

“’Herr Martinsson’ is usually reserved for people I’ve fucked over, not fucked.” He quirked an eyebrow, coaxing her out of wherever she’d retreated to inside her head.

She sighed, “Adrian and Hugo, they’re good boys.”

“I agree.”

“They’re mine,” she said pointedly, her eyes wide in defiance. “Not mine as in I birthed them, but they’re my life.”

“Implying what? That I’m not?” She tried to push him away so she could think straight, to suss out why she didn’t like him near Adrian or Hugo. He held her fast, calming her with one word. “Joline.”

“I don’t know. You’re in one part of my life. They’re in another. You’re the one who suggested compartmentalizing, yeah?”

Ansgar surveyed her face as he thought he had her figured. “Separating the personal from the business side. I’m in your personal life, and so are they.”

She caught his ironic statement. Hooking her leg around his, she brought him into even closer, opening herself up to him. “This was supposed to be a business meeting.” She thrust her center against his groin. “You needed my authorization on some insurance documents. How’m I doing then?”

He read her deflection as clear as if she told him she was about to. His gaze slid down to her cleavage and the press of her breasts against his chest. His mouth watered recalling the taste of her and her pebbled nipple rolling across his tongue. “Granted, it isn’t a perfect science.” His smiled crookedly at her, playing her game.

“I didn’t know your brother’s name until you told my nephews… or that you had a niece. How do I fit in your personal life then?”

[concealeddarkness13]

A New Dawn Part 9

In which Kai actually feels pretty safe! Tagging my collaborator @ratracechronicler!

Intro

Kai: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Rat: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Rat shook me awake, and I shot up, grabbing one of my knives. She whistled and shook her head. “Yeesh. It’s not my fault that you decided to sleep in late. We need to get going. Tim and Tom are waiting.” She tapped her wrist, even though she didn’t have a watch.

I blinked a few times as a fleeting fear faded away. A dream that I couldn’t remember. “You’re one to talk. I’m normally up hours before you.”

She scoffed. “Joke’s on you. I only wake up early when I have to. Anyway, you have ten minutes to get ready. So, get going.”

I rolled my eyes and ran off to get changed, and Eli shook his head at Rat. “You haven’t even contacted them yet.”

“She doesn’t need to know that.”

I just rolled my eyes as a smile tugged at my lips. They were weird, but they were my friends. I got finished getting ready in nine and a half minutes, so I was still on time. My machine was still not working, but at least it was easier to get one last good look at Joanndu as we left. Hopefully, the aliens wouldn’t follow me to Fre Jac-Mac, but I didn’t have much hope for that.

Rat cleared her throat, and I looked over at her. “We’ll be meeting our friends, Tim and Tom, right away because they offered to let us stay at their adoptive mother’s place. I don’t know anything about Miss Evy, but the twins are cool, so she probably is too.” She glanced back at me, and I stiffened at the fire in her eyes. “If you hear any whispers in your ears, let us know. We’ll help you keep watch for whoever is doing the whispering.” I nodded, and Rat smiled and turned back to the front. “Now, on to the description.

“Fre Jac-Mac used to be two separate cities, but the citizens thought that was a stupid idea, so they tore down the wall separating them because they felt like it. The river, Rio Sakura, splits it in half, so there’s still a natural divide. There are some pools of water, and there are parks for families to walk around in. We’ll be meeting Tim and Tom in one of the quieter parks. People in Fre Jac-Mac like art deco, especially graffiti, so it’s really cool to look at. And with that doohickey of yours not working, you’ll be able to see it in all its glory. Oh, and there’s, like, a thousand bridges.”

I smiled. “It sounds like a cool place.”

“From what Tim and Tom say about it, it is.”

Rat and Eli decided to talk too quietly for me to hear, so I just stared out the window again. We passed over three different bridges, and I just stared at them. They looked like they had tons of machines in them. If only I could tell what they did. Finally, Fre Jac-Mac to come into sight. It was so cool! A river did split the city, and some of the tallest buildings I had ever seen rose up on either side of it. It didn’t look as crowded or busy as Joanndu, so that was already better.

As we got closer, I actually saw all the bridges. Rat hadn’t been lying about how many bridges Fre Jac-Mac had. And there was art and graffiti everywhere. It was just so colorful, and people looked like they were enjoying themselves, like in Joanndu.

Rat parked, and we stopped to eat. Eli looked over at Rat anxiously, but Rat just brushed it off. “It would do them good to wait. Anyway, we’ve got to try the fast, cheap street food everywhere we go.”

It was a lot quieter than Joanndu was, and I just felt more comfortable here. And there weren’t any whispers yet. It was still early, but that already made me feel more comfortable.

The park we went to was pretty empty. We walked around it a little until Rat and Eli grinned, and Rat waved at two people sitting on a bench. They smiled and stood up. They looked almost identical, but one of them was using a cane to help him walk.

I hung back as Rat and Eli walked forward and high-fived them. The one without the cane smiled. “It has been a multitude of days since last we on each other’s visages laid eyes. It is pleasant and effervescent to see both of you again.”

The one with the cane grinned and leaned against his twin. “Hi! How’s you guys doin’? It’re good to sees y’all again!”

Rat snorted as I cocked my head. They just spoke so differently. “It’s good to see you too! How’ve you been?”

The one without the cane (hopefully they’d say their names soon) looked back at me. “But first, you might want to tell us who’s been following you. Is she a friend?” I cocked my head again. And now he wasn’t talking so formally.

Rat laughed evilly. “You know all those crazy conspiracies Rex had? Well, he was right, Tim. She’s an alien.” I just gave the back of her head a flat stare as she laughed again. Since she wasn’t able to explain it to Motor, she probably had been storing up the drama for the next victim on her friends list.

Tim frowned, and the other twin, who had to be Tom, laughed. “What a coincidence.”

It was Rat’s turn to frown. And she was just about to go into a big speech about how I came to be here too. “What do you mean?”

Tim shrugged. “Oh, these weird-looking things approached us earlier today. I guess you’d call them aliens. They wanted us to plague with you, but I made sure to let them see these…” He opened up his jacket, and I grinned automatically at all the weapons stored there. “And those fuzz decided to run. I don’t think they’ll be bothering us again.” He smirked, and Rat laughed.

“Good for you! Well, this’s Kai, and she’s the alien that the real aliens are trying to take. They threatened Motor in Joanndu, and they told him to haywire this weird machine she has in her brain. Could you keep an eye out for them while we’re here? We’ll need help if we want to get them.”

Both of their eyes darkened when Rat mentioned what they did to Motor, and Tim nodded. “Oh, I’ll do more than watch out for them. If I see their fuzzy mugs around here, I’ll repay them for Motor.”

I cocked my head again. “They aren’t fuzzy…”

Rat and Tom burst out laughing, and Tim frowned at me before he sighed and shook his head. I heard a snort from Eli before he smiled over at me. “When he says “fuzzy”, he means stupid.”

Oh. I flushed and ducked my head. “I’m sorry.”

A small smile flitted across his lips. “S’all prime, ma femme.”

I frowned, and Eli slid in. “He means basically “It’s all good, my friend”.” That just made me frown more.

He scoffed. “Any friend of Rat’s is my friend. I trust her.”

Tom and Rat finally stopped laughing, and Tom waved with his cane. “C’mon. Let’s go tour this park.”

I fell in step next to Eli as Rat teased Tim up front. “So, why does Tom have a cane? Did something happen in the extermination?”

Eli nodded, his eyes growing sad. “He was the first person in our group to get taken by the leeches. They messed up his leg really bad.”

I nodded with a wince. Tim kept hovering his hand near Tom almost unconsciously as we walked, and Eli walked up to join the group. He gestured for me to come up too, but I just stayed back. They probably wanted to talk about stuff I wouldn’t know about anyway.

It was a pretty park. Lots of trees and greenery, even though it was still freezing here. It was just so quiet, so peaceful. I smiled. I actually felt safe. Tim and Tom had scared away the aliens. Hopefully, they would stay away.

“Hey!” I jumped when someone spoke, but it was just Tom. The group had actually fallen back to include me. Crap. “I heard you have some kinda device in your head, but Rat said I’d have to ask you about it. So, what is it?”

“U…um. It’s a machine that points out other machines to me, and it helps me figure out what parts I need for machines I want to make. But it doesn’t work right now.” I frowned. “I don’t know if it will work again.”

Tom grinned. “That’s awesome! I’m an engineer myself. Do you have any machines you’ve made with you?”

“Uh…” I didn’t want to pull out a weird machine during the day where anyone could see it. What if the aliens saw it and could tell what it did?

Rat laughed. “Man, I’m starving! How about we head to your place to settle down? Everyone can check out the machine Kai made inside instead.”

I smiled over at Rat, and she winked at me. She had understood why I was hesitant.

 When we got to their house, I grinned. It was small and unassuming. So, at least it wouldn’t feel weird to stay here.

An older woman who was only about a few inches taller than me opened the door and hugged Tim and Tom. When they stepped aside, she gave us a small smile too. “I’m glad to have you over. I’m Eveline, but you can call me Evy, if you’d like. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

Rat grinned and shook her hand. “I’m glad to finally meet you! Tim and Tom talked about you so fondly. I’m Rat, and these are my two fellow road-trippers: Eli and Kai.” I smiled and waved when Rat said my name, and Miss Evy smiled back. “Thank you for letting us stay here.”

She laughed. “Any time. Can I get you anything to drink? Or would you like to set your things down first?”

Tom led me to my room, and when I finished putting my stuff up, I opened the door, and Tom was still standing there with a grin. “Could I see the machine now?”

I nodded, and a smile tugged at my lips. It was nice that he was curious about it. I pulled it out, and he pulled me into the living room. We both sat cross-legged on the floor, and I held it out to him. He grinned and looked it over. “What’s it do?”

“Since you encountered the aliens, did you feel the effect that causes you to not feel any emotions besides peace and calm?” He nodded. “Well, I figured out how to make a machine to at least dampen those effects. When we encounter them again, I hope to use it to protect us.”

“That’s so cool! Did you make it while your machine was still working?”

“Part of it. I made the mental list of what I needed before I made it, but then I had to make it without my machine.”

“Well, I’ve made some good machines in my time too.”

We talked more, with little interruptions from others, but after a few hours, Tim came into the room. “Dinner’s ready.” His eyes looked a little dark, but I had no idea why. I shared a smile with Tom, and we all went to the kitchen.

The food was really good. I’d have to ask if I could help next time, just so I could see how they cooked it. I fell asleep that night quickly. This was the safest I had felt since those whispers had started.

 The next day, Rat, Eli, and I went out to see the sights. While I was just enjoying how pretty Fre Jac-Mac was, a voice whispered in my ear.

“You thought you were safe? You’ll never be safe from us.”

I whipped around, but no one was there. Rat and Eli looked back at me with frowns. I was supposed to tell them. “I heard a whisper from the aliens. They said that I’d never be safe from them.”

Eli stiffened and looked around, and Rat clenched her fists. Eli frowned. “I don’t see any sign of them. They couldn’t have moved that fast, could they?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea what their powers are, so I guess they could.”

Rat sighed. “Fine.” She linked her arm with mine and gestured for Eli to do the same with my other arm. “To make sure that they don’t sneak up on us, this is how we’ll walk now. We’ll catch the jellyfish bastards.”

 That night, while Rat, Eli, and Tom were talking about the extermination, I walked into the kitchen. Tim was there, and his eyes were still a little dark when he looked up at me. He didn’t seem to like me for some reason. “What can I do for you?”

I clasped my hands together to stop myself from fidgeting. “Would you mind if I helped make dessert? My friend back home taught me a few things, and I’d like to cook, if that’s okay.”

His expression softened, and he nodded. “Sounds prime, ma femme. I’d just ask that you make what I pick out. We have some…food allergies.”

I nodded, and he gave me the recipe. As I worked on it, he would come over and check to make sure I was doing it right. He tasted it when I was done, and he smiled over at me. “Prime. Good job.” I smiled back at him. I loved cooking things after Taeo had taught me some desserts.

The rest of the night, Tim didn’t seem so unhappy with me, and we all chatted and had a good time. Even though I had heard their whispers again, I still felt so safe and secure here.