#I can practically hear Hera's voice lol

[anakinskywalkerog]

The Jedi and the Loth Rat (Episode 1)

Kanan Jarrus x Padawan!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of hunger/small body types (she's a street rat! she's going to thicken up soon)

Summary: This is a Star Wars Rebels AU where you, a young (over 18) female, are the street orphan discovered by the ghost crew on Lothal. The romance stuff will develop in later episodes—this one just sets up the premise. Some of these will loosely follow Rebels plots, but most will not. Also, in this AU there is nothing romantic between Hera and Kanan, and Hera is a lesbian lol (as much as I love Kanera, I also love the idea of her having queer vibes). Real talk, I wrote this because I wanted to read it. It's my own fun little innocent fantasy, and I hope you enjoy it. If you stick around until Episodes 3, 4, and 5...there's quite a bit of fluffy romantic angst coming your way :)

Word count: 4.4k

The sun shone down on you as you breathed in the fresh air of Lothal. You felt the hum of life beneath you, perched as you were, hidden on the roof of one of the homes in the outskirts of Capital City. You listened to snippets of conversation, closing your eyes, hearing the distant sounds of Loth-cats rummaging through garbage bins, feeling the vibrations created by the speeders transporting morning shipments. The hunger gnawed at your insides, but you didn't mind. You were used to it by now, the aching pangs pulling your torso apart, your tongue salivating from the thirst you had grown all too familiar with.

       "You need a permit to sell here," you heard a deep, monotone voice say below. "New imperial rules."

       You crouched, hiding, hanging your head over the side of the roof to peer at the spectacle below. Three imperial generals surrounded the street vendor, and you identified the one who spoke as the same one now hoisting a basket of fruit into his arms.

       "These now belong to us," the general said, greedily taking a piece of fruit in his hand and biting into it, the juice slopping down his uniform.

       "But—you can't—" the street vendor protested, looking at his crop mournfully.

       "Oh, we can," one of the other imperials said, picking up a piece of fruit and examining it. You'd seen enough. Descending from your perch into the adjacent alley, you walked forward, keeping your head down.

       "Hey, mister, spare a yogan?" you asked, pretending to accidentally bump into the imperial.

       "Get out of here, Loth rat!" the general said, pushing you off him with revulsion.

       "Sorry, sorry sir," you said, feigning remorse as you scampered away, back into the alley, out of earshot. Raising the comm unit you'd just stolen off the imperial officer to your mouth with a grin, you pressed the broadcast button. "All officers to the main square immediately," you said into the comm, throwing your voice into a lower register. You had a particular talent for manipulating the sounds that came out of your mouth. "This is a code red!"

       "I guess it's your lucky day, Lothal scum," you heard the imperial say from the square. You peeked around the side of a building and watched as the officer dropped the large basket of fruit, taking one regretful look at it before hurrying away with his associates.

       You rushed forward to help the older vendor, who was reaching for his fruit.

       "Hey, what are you doing?" the vendor asked, watching you pocket several yogans. You waved the stolen comm in his face, smirking at his look of surprise and awe.

       "A Loth rat's gotta eat," you said, and with that, you inconspicuously dropped the comm unit into a passing speeder, running back to the alley to climb to your safe perch above the city.

       Looking down at Lothal, you took your first bite of fruit. The feeling of the sweetness and the moisture touching your tongue was both heaven and agony, the feeling of the quench combining with the burn of your out-of-practice salivary glands. You finished the fruit quickly, your stomach feeling almost satisfied, your body feeling energized. Abruptly, a current rocked through your body. You straightened. It was as if you had been pulled up by an invisible string, as if every muscle in your whole body had twitched at the same time. You felt an odd quiet that didn't fit your surroundings. You tried to listen for sounds on the wind, but heard only one—the sound of someone breathing. The string pulled your head to look to your right, and beneath you, in the square, you saw a man standing very still, as if he were waiting for something. You watched him, confused by this feeling, this tug you felt in your body. As you looked, you felt before it happened that he was about to turn around, and you quickly dropped to your stomach, peering out over the side of the roof's railing.

You stopped breathing. He was tall, older than you by a few years, but still in many ways a young man, his brown hair pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were the color of the sea in clouds, green with a hint of blue. His face was beautiful, but it wasn't any of these features that gave you pause. Looking at this stranger's face gave you the oddest feeling. It was as if this was a face you were intimately familiar with, as if your body, your psyche knew this man, but your mind had forgotten. You saw him looking around, wondering how he had felt your stare on the back of his head. You watched as he turned to a passerby and tapped his leg twice.

Kanan, being well-versed in the ways of the Force, felt an odd current in the air as he walked the streets of Lothal, getting into position. The sensation made him cautious, but not fearful—this was a routine mission, after all, and he'd faced far worse threats than a few stormtroopers guarding a shipment of weapons. Still, as he waited for the imperials to move, waited to send his signal, he felt different. He breathed in deeply, allowing the Force to guide him, and suddenly, as he stood at the street corner, everything went quiet.

       All Kanan could hear was the sound of his own breath. He felt a presence behind him, a presence in the Force that seemed almost to be reaching out to him, calling his name. He turned, suspicious, and though in his mind he thought he felt movement, he saw nothing. He looked across the rooftops of the city, and felt as if there were someone sitting behind one of the pillars, calling to him. Whether friend or foe, he didn't know. But this was impossible—no unfamiliar presence had reached out to him through the Force since...

       He pushed the thought from his mind. He needed to focus on the mission. Sensing that the stormtroopers had begun their trek with the shipment, Kanan signaled to Sabine, who signaled to Zeb. They were in position. Sabine dropped the explosive casually, walking away as the device decimated the first group of troopers. On cue, Kanan jumped into a speeder, blocking off the second group with the shipment, using his blaster to shoot the stormtroopers from their seats.

       Just then, out of nowhere, Kanan saw a girl jumping down from the rooftops, swiftly and gracefully, moving as if she slowed the air around her. Kanan sucked in his breath in surprise. The girl, who looked to be around Sabine's age, was thin, rugged-looking, and dirty. Though it seemed that she was severely underfed, her wiry muscles stood out in the Lothal sun as she adeptly hopped aboard one of the speeder bikes abandoned by the unconscious troopers. She looked up at him and smiled, a mischievous grin, and Kanan, though his mind was still on the mission, lost himself for a moment. It wasn't just that the girl's face was striking, wasn't just that he felt captivated, watching her—it was as if the universe itself had been leading him to this very moment, the moment when he would look upon the face of this girl. It felt as if he were, finally, after all these years, coming home.

       "Thanks for these!" the girl said impishly, her grin widening as she sped away with one of the crates.

       "Blasts, who was that?" Kanan heard Zeb yell through the comm.

       "No...idea," Kanan replied, quickly gathering the rest of the crates in the shipment into the speeders. "But I'm going to find out." He waited for Sabine to jump into the other speeder.

       "Get these to Hera!" Kanan told Sabine, before taking off after the girl.

Though this mysterious young thief had a head start, Kanan knew his speeder was faster than the speeder bike of a stormtrooper, and once he saw the familiar route the bike in front of him followed, he pulled off onto a shortcut.

You sped away from the city, gleeful at the day's haul, your wrists pushing at the handlebar controls of the speeder bike, willing it to go faster. You didn't think you were being pursued, but you could never be too careful, and you wanted to get this crate hidden as soon as you could. You thought of everything you'd be able to buy with the credits this steal would earn you on the black market—a whole feast, new boots, maybe even your own speeder, depending on what was in these crates—but suddenly, unexpectedly, your vision was blocked by a figure, fast approaching in your path.

       "Aghh," you let slip as you clumsily skidded to a stop, your quick reflexes saving you from crashing into the figure standing by his speeder. You looked at the man in front of you, feeling, finally, a twinge of fear.

       "I believe that belongs to me," the man from the square said, his brown hair and sea green eyes overwhelming you for a moment as you took in the sight of him.

       "Hey, I stole this. It was mine first," you told him defiantly, setting your lip in a stubborn pout. He reacted to the sound of your voice, his features softening for a moment, but brushed it off quickly, composing his face into a glare. This confused you, but you stood your ground. "Must be pretty valuable, if you came all this way after me."

       "It's not about who has something first," the man said, laughing. “It’s about who has it last." Suddenly, you had no idea how, but suddenly your crate had moved from the back of your speeder bike, and was hovering in front of this man.

       "Look, buddy, I don't know who you—" the sound of blasts behind you cut off your words, as you turned to see two tie-fighters shooting at you. You took advantage of the distraction and jumped toward the crate, pushing it with your weight as you tried to run away from the blasts.

       "Are you seriously going to try to run away from tie-fighters on foot?" the man asked, watching you, exasperated, as he fired his blaster at the incoming ships. "Spectre 2, I need a pick up. Ties in pursuit."

       "Copy that," said a voice through the comm link in the man's hand. You yanked at the crate, trying still to pull it away from him, but he was too quick for you. He jumped over the crate, jumped higher than most people were able, and landed in your path, putting his hands on the other side of the crate, lowering his face to meet yours, grinning in victory.

       "This. is. MINE." You argued obstinately, growing pink in the face with effort as you pushed. Unfortunately, you hadn't had anything to eat but fruit in days, and you felt your muscles strain, the lack of protein weakening them. The ties had come back around. The ground shook with more blasts.

       "I suggest you come with me," the man said, holding the crate against your efforts with ease. "If you want to live."

       You heard the sound of missile hitting metal, the explosion above you almost knocking you off your feet. The man grabbed you by the arm, keeping you upright. One of the tie-fighters had been destroyed—you could see it crashing to the ground in front of you—but by what? By whom?

The large, unfamiliar ship sped into view from behind you, the sound deafening. It lowered in front of you, and you put your hands over your head.

       "Jump!" the man yelled back to you, jumping onto the opening ramp of the ship, lowered for him to enter. You turned back, running for the crate as the ship began to rise into the air.

       "Leave the crate, you'll never make it!" The man yelled again, and you heard fear in his voice. You were determined. Allowing the crate to hover in your arms, you ran and leapt, higher than most humans were capable, and thrust the crate onto the rising ramp, clinging to it for dear life.

       "Woah," the man said, surprised, reaching around the crate to grab onto your hand and pull you to safety.

Kanan pulled you onto the ship, your thin frame sturdier and tougher than he had expected. Much like her personality, he thought, laughing to himself. Hearing you speak had solidified the odd pull he'd felt in the Force when he'd first looked at you. Your voice was musical, yes, but more than that, Kanan felt your speech ring with a power he'd only known in a previous life, when he was surrounded by force-wielding warriors. When you spoke, you commanded more than the sound of your airways. It was thrilling, and confusing to him. He wasn't sure what it meant, this Force tug he felt from you. He wanted to find out.

Kanan looked you over, collapsed on the floor next to you, taking in your size, your obvious lack of care, lack of nutrients, lack of a safe place to sleep, to bathe. Where had you come from? How had you bested him during the mission? How had you jumped so high? He was unwilling to form to any conclusions as of yet. You looked so small, so weak, and yet you had already done more than enough to prove that appearances can be deceiving.

       "I'm Kanan, Kanan Jarrus," he said, reaching out his hand to shake yours. You sat, huffing, glancing at him warily, looking suspiciously at your surroundings. "And this is the Ghost," Kanan continued, still holding his hand out in front of you, daring you to rebuff him after he had just saved your life.

       "I'm Y/N," you responded, reluctantly taking his hand to shake. The moment your palms touched, you both felt within you that odd quiet, that hum, that feeling of thread pulling you toward one another. Kanan quickly pulled his hand back from yours.

       "Kanan, who's the stray?" Zeb asked, rubbing his hand behind his neck, looking at you with a judgmental expression.

       "Kanan, what's that stench?" you countered, looking the Lasat in the eyes, the tiniest of smirks glancing over your mouth. Kanan couldn't help but laugh at your expression.

       "Are you saying I stink?" Zeb asked with a growl.

       "I don’t see any other smelly Lasats in here," you replied, casually looking around the ship's main hull.

       "I think I like this one," Sabine said, coming into the hull behind Zeb. "Kanan, can we keep her?"

       "Guys, this is Y/N," Kanan replied, smiling at your bemused look. "She so very kindly helped me acquire the rest of OUR shipment from the imperials." You glared at him, looking between Kanan, Zeb, Sabine, and the crate, as if trying to decide if you could take all three of them. Kanan laughed again.

       "Well, Y/N, we are grateful for your service," Hera said, walking into the hull behind Chopper. "I'm Hera. The captain of this ship." Hera turned to the others. "We're safely in hyperspace."

       "Hyperspace?!" you shrieked, looking around you wildly, like you were trying to find an exit. "Wait, you need to take me back to Lothal."

       "We will," Hera said, taking in this reaction with curious eyes. "We just have to leave the system first, and come back when they won't be expecting us." Chopper beeped.

       "Yeah, Chop, she does look like she could use a bath," Zeb said, laughing. "Bit bold, to comment on my odor."

       Kanan waited, expecting another snarky reply, but it didn't come. Where'd you gone? "Y/N?" he asked, turning to see your back as you walked toward the cockpit.

       "Hey, not so fast," Hera said, rushing after you. Kanan followed.

       They found you at the cockpit's entrance, standing behind the captain's seat, your hands on the headrest, gazing with wonder at the flashing blue lights in front of you out of the viewport. Kanan stopped behind Hera, watching.

       "It's just," you said, unable to take your eyes away from the viewport. "I've never been to space."

       Hera looked at Kanan, and he saw concern flit across her eyes.

       "We'll get you home. Your parents must be worried sick," Hera said in a calming tone. At this, you turned around to face them.

       "I don't have parents," you replied, your face impassive. "And I'm older than I look." Kanan watched emotions cross your face, and felt you mask them through the Force, blocking him out. "But I would appreciate the ride home," you continued.

       Kanan hadn't felt someone so young wield the Force as you did since...since the time of many Jedi. He didn't know what to make of it.

       "We'll return soon," he said. But there's something I want to see, first, he thought.

You sat in the ship's lower deck, arms folded around your knees. It wasn't that you were hiding from the Ghost's crew—you trusted them, at least as far as not attacking you went—but you were so used to being on your own that being in their constant company made you anxious. You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself, reminding yourself that you'd be back home on Lothal soon.

       Yeah, you thought bitterly, hungry and alone.

       As you dwelled in your unhappiness, the supernatural quiet came over you again. This time, you heard no breathing, but rather, a sound like a swinging, an electric kind of sound, coming from above you. You stood up, wanting to follow the sound, to follow the direction you felt in your gut.

       Climbing the ladder and making sure no one was around, you followed the feeling to a closed door. You wanted to knock, but thought better of it. Somehow, some way, you knew no one was inside. You pressed the button to open the door and entered what seemed to be sleeping quarters. Kanan's sleeping quarters, you intuited, and this thought made you apprehensive. The last thing you wanted was for this striking and intimidating man to find you snooping around his bedroom. Still, the pull of the thread pushed you forward, and you closed the door quietly behind you.

       The first thing you noticed was how clean the room was—how few possessions there were. It didn't look like anyone slept here on a regular basis. There were no signs of personality, no trinkets, no photos littering the walls. This confused you. Still, the string tugged you toward a drawer underneath the bunk, and you pulled it open hastily.

       Inside the drawer you found two objects. The first was long, cylindrical, and as you took it into your hands, you felt inside you a feeling of wind. Of pressure against your insides. A feeling of hope. Mesmerized, you knew instinctively to press the button near the top, and to your amazement, a long, blue light beam cut through the middle of the cabin. This was a laser sword. A lightsaber. The weapon of a Jedi, you thought.

       You had heard of the Jedi, of course. Your parents had told you childhood bedtime stories about the great warriors of old who once kept peace and order in the galaxy. You learned from them that Jedi were brave fighters, and also mystics, philosophers in life and battle. Was Kanan such a warrior? But the Jedi were thought to be extinct, years ago. Surely Kanan wasn't old enough to be one. You felt yourself blush at this thought, and you pushed it aside quickly. You swung the lightsaber around, and heard the swishing sound you'd felt earlier. You pressed the button again, and the blue beam faded.

       The second object was square, hard, and you took this up in your hands, confused as to what it was. It didn't look to have any seams to open, but you knew it wasn't just a trinket, not here, in this spot, next to the weapon of a Jedi Knight. You pulled on it, pleaded with it, but it remained hard, immobile. Frustrated, you held it in your hands and closed your eyes, breathing deeply.

       You felt the movement before it happened. The square object broke apart, and before you'd opened your eyes, you heard a voice.

       This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your eyes opened in surprise, seeing the hologram figure rising from the pieces of the square object, now floating and orbiting each other. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. 

       You felt that it would happen before it did, and you moved quickly to conceal the lightsaber in your boot, tripping and sending the pieces of the mystery object back into itself, back into an imperfect square shape. The door opened.

       "What are you doing in here?" Kanan asked as he stepped into the room. He spoke as if he didn't need an answer. His voice was calm, serene.

       "I—" you blushed, not knowing what to tell him, embarrassment overpowering you at being caught in his chambers, looking through his things. He waited for you to continue, his calm in great contrast to your sputtering.

       "I know this is going to sound crazy, but—it's like that thing wanted me to open it," you said, gesturing toward the object. Kanan nodded, his face politely curious. You looked down, avoiding his gaze.

       "That's called a holocron," Kanan told you, still standing causally in the door, his presence exuding calm.

       "Oh," you replied, still embarrassed. A loaded silence passed between the two of you, and though you had no explanation for it, you felt as if you and Kanan were communicating, as if you were conversing without words.

       "What happened to your parents?" Kanan asked, speaking aloud. You reminded yourself that mindreading was impossible—you must need sleep. You shook your head to clear the delusion.

       "I don't know," you told him honestly, looking at the floor.

       "How long have they been..." Kanan tried to ask, trailing off.

       "I've been on my own since I was seven," you answered, still looking at your feet, a bit of defiance entering your voice. You knew how to take care of yourself. You'd been doing it almost your whole life.

"Well, we've arrived back at Lothal," Kanan said. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but as you waited, he only reached out his hand for the holocron. You gave it to him. "We can drop you outside the city, if you'd like." You nodded, your cheeks still burning. Kanan reached out with his other hand, offering you a large package filled with freeze-dried Yala meat and dehydrated bread. You took it, your eyes widening. You hadn't ever had this much food in your possession all at once. Not since you were small, and someone else fed you. You breathed deeply.

       "Thank you," you told him, looking him in the eye. He nodded. "On the southeastern side, if possible," you said quietly.

       "Of course."

You walked back to your abandoned communications tower, alone, feeling dejected, hopeless, and confused. You were used to being on your own. While on the Ghost, you had felt on edge, the unfamiliar closing in around you. But now that you were back in a familiar place—now that you were walking through the grass of Lothal, and climbing back into your tower, back into the life you knew—you felt as if something had changed. You pulled yourself up from the ladder, opening the door to the interior of the tower and taking in the familiar surroundings: your trinkets, your drawings, random value-less objects you had collected over your years as an orphan. A Loth rat, you corrected in your head. Suddenly, it all felt meaningless to you, the objects having lost their charm, their power. You kneeled and pulled the lightsaber out of your boot. You sensed the presence immediately, but somehow, you weren't afraid. It was as if you knew he would come.

       "What's the Force?" you asked without turning back to regard him, as Kanan Jarrus stepped through the door behind you.

       "The Force is the collective nature of all things," Kanan replied. "It is everywhere. It binds everything together. It gives all of us life. It strikes a balance. And it's very strong with you, Y/N."

       You nodded, understanding, but only a little, as you turned to face him.

       "Why are you here?" you asked, looking up into his sea green eyes.

       "To give you a choice," Kanan said. "You've taken something that belongs to me." He gestured to the lightsaber in your hand, and you blushed again, but held his gaze fiercely. "If you'd like, you can keep it, and stay here, letting it become one of your dusty souvenirs," he said, looking around at your collection. "Or, you can give it back, come join our crew—our family—and I can teach you the ways of the Force." Your mouth parted open in shock at this offer. You'd been alone for so long. You couldn't comprehend what he was offering, what it might mean for you, and for your future.

       "It's up to you to decide," Kanan said, and with that, he turned away and descended the ladder, leaving you alone.

Kanan Jarrus sat on the Ghost's open ramp, looking out in the direction of your communication tower, deep in thought. He knew that his life was forever changed—that something, maybe the will of the Force, had rippled in his life, that meeting you was no coincidence. Still, he didn't have any confidence in you, in what you would choose. You, a skinny, scrappy orphan, only just an adult, stealing and scavenging to eat, to survive. He didn't know how long you'd been alone, or how long you'd been fighting for the simplest necessities on this occupied planet.

       "Well, she passed the test," Hera said from behind him. "She opened the holocron." Kanan turned to regard his friend.

       "She did," Kanan replied. "And now we wait."

       "She'll come." Hera smiled down at Kanan, a knowing sparkle in her eye, and he felt his face growing hot, his stomach turning. He was thankful that she was not Force sensitive enough to know what he was thinking right then. He didn't want to admit it even to himself.

       "How do you know?" Kanan asked genuinely.

       "Because I can see her coming," Hera replied with a laugh.

       Kanan stood up on the ramp and turned to see your figure walking through the haze rising from the long grass. He ran out to meet you, and you saw him, stopping in front of him, holding his lightsaber out in front of you. He smiled, took it, and put his hand on your shoulder. His Padawan you now would be.

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LINK TO Episode 2 :)

The Jedi and the Loth Rat Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6 Episode 7 Episode 8

gif credit to @foxtrovert

dividers by @djarrex

[roger-that-cap]

doubt comes in

orpheus!bucky barnes x fem!eurydice!reader

summary: a retelling of orpheus and eurydice for an extremely late entry for a mythology challenge!!

warnings: uh- yeah i was not playing with this myth lol… fluffy beginning, uh, that’s all imma say about that and ALSO i haven’t edited this so haha, i am running on fumes but had to post this jeez 

word count: 11.3k good god

There were gods that were unexplainably strong. There were some that could bend fire and metal to their will, some that could string up love and cast it upon others, and others that knew more of war and how to win more than they even knew themselves. Others were the faces of glory, like Zeus and Hera and the sun god Apollo and so many others. There were many that were worshipped by humans every day of every week, and others that were forgotten until they were desperately needed. There were some that lived immortal lives and demanded respect from humans and gods alike, and then there were the ones invested in their art, in themselves, in the beauty of life itself.

That was Bucky. He was so immersed in song, in the gift that he had inherited from his mother, Calliope, that it was all he could think about. It was what made him different, it was what made him stand out from the boys that he grew up with that were just plain old strong. He had a talent, he had a mother that was a myth and a legend alike, and he had a lyre. He had a lyre, a lute, his voice, and a bit of speed, and that was all that he would ever need in life. That, and a pretty landscape to look at while he strummed his golden strings. But that was all he ever thought he would need- which was why he was knocked right off of his planted feet when he saw you walk by.

You were a human. You were a beautiful girl, probably the most beautiful being he had ever seen in his entire life. He had met goddesses and nymphs and princesses alike, but never had he met someone who had such a sweet face, such a gentle aura, and even more, a beautiful voice. You had only said a few words to someone else that were delivered with a gentle smile, but he could have sworn that your words were a melody. Before he knew it, your entire being was stamped into his mind, and he knew that he would never be able to forget you.

It was by complete chance that the next day, he decided to wallow in his sadness by a fountain in public, strumming his lyre too quietly for anyone else to hear. Anyone who knew him knew that he was devastatingly off. And coincidentally, the only ones who truly did know Bucky were Steve and Sam, two forest nymphs that had been his best friends since he taught them the ways of the lute years and years ago. They were sitting by him in silence on the marbled fountain, waiting next to him for the second shoe that they doubted would ever drop. But then, like Bucky was a sunflower following the sun itself, his back straightened, his head perked up, and his mouth dropped, his eyes wide and swirling with admiration as he watched you- the same human woman he was enamoured with- walk through the square again, a woven basket full of fresh fruits on your arm and your lilac dress swishing in the wind.

“No way,” he heard Sam mutter, and Steve poked his side.

“You were always such a doubter,” Steve mumbled, but the smile on his face was audible through his tone. “There she is, in the flesh.”

Bucky could hardly hear anything but the soft melody stirring up in his mind, louder than his racing heart, and just as tender as the feelings swirling inside of him. He saw you wave to the older woman you were talking to and then start to walk away, and he knew that he couldn’t let you go, not when the Fates so obviously gave him a second chance. Without a second thought, he slid off of the fountain, leaving his friends and his lyre, striding towards you with the brightest smile, trying to cover the fact that he was nervous.

His clumsy feet were carrying him a little too quickly, and he could hear the snickers of Steve and Sam from behind him. He craned his head backwards to look at them and laugh too, but he tripped over his own left foot, barreling right into you and knocking you flat onto the ground. His half immortal heart beat heavy and hard in his chest as he watched you wince under him. He scrambled up, cheeks flushed and hand shaking as he watched you sit up and brush the dirt off of your dress. He was looking down at you with a look that he prayed wasn’t as desperate as he felt. But he had to know you.

“I’m Orpheus,” he started, and when you turned your bright eyes to him with your brows furrowed, he shook his head like he was trying to get water from his hair. “No, I meant that I was sorry- I’m so sorry. For knocking you over, miss.” He extended his hand to you again, and he swore that he saw your lips quirk up a bit at him. You took his hand and stood up, brushing the fabric of your dress once again. He caught a trail of your scent, and he was immediately overtaken by the scent of fresh flowers and lavender.

That was when he really got a good look at you for the first time. The first time he saw you had been brief. You weren’t even looking anywhere near his way, and he only caught a look at your stunning side profile before you walked away. His vision had been practically blurred from excitement while he walked up to you, and he was so embarrassed about crashing into you that he was subtly trying not to look in your eyes. But… damn, he had been missing out.

He swore that time stopped. His own heart stopped beating, even the sluggish beat leaving for a few moments. The noises from the town square were so dull that they seemed muted. The stares of Steve and Sam felt so far off that he didn’t even notice them. All he knew was that he was utterly entranced by you, and for a second, he could have sworn that by the look in your eyes, you felt the same way. But like the blaring of an alarm, something knocked you both out of it, putting you in the present, with present problems.

“Oh, the fruits,” you muttered, looking at the peaches and apples that tumbled right out of your basket, bending over quickly to collect them despite the fact that they had gotten bruised. Bucky’s heart jumped to his throat with guilt when he realized he had ruined the fruit you had either picked or paid for, and then he was rushing to get them even faster, praying to the gods that you didn’t automatically hate him.

After looking into your eyes, he doubted he could live with himself if you even so much as disliked him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I don’t have the best footing,” he apologized again, gently placing the fruits back into your basket.

“It’s okay,” you said, and your eyes trailed behind him to look at his friends that were howling with laughter, holding onto each other. He saw your displeasure, and his heart dropped when he understood that you probably thought they had sent him over just to mess with you. Your eyes whipped back to Bucky, and he blushed something fierce. He felt his cheeks warm up under your scrutiny, and then there was a smile creeping back onto your face. “I'm Eurydice.”

Oh, Gods. Eurydice. He swore that he had never heard something so beautiful in his life. He had grown up with the Muses, even had a mother as one, and was surrounded by music and poetry and epics every second of his childhood. Music was imprinted in his mind, every note embedded in his everyday life, yet still it was the most beautiful- “But I go by Y/N.” No. Eurydice was now second. But your name, the one he knew you had chosen for yourself, was the most beautiful thing that life had ever offered him to hear.

His brain was going many miles a minute, as quick as Hermes on a mission, but all he could do in the end was blink and offer his true name first, like politeness called for. “I’m Orpheus,” he extended his arm again to you, and you shook it twice. Your hand was soft, so soft that he didn’t want to let go of it. He would never forget the feeling of your hand in his, and the way he swore that the nerves under his skin were alight with the gentlest and sweetest of fires. “You can call me Eurydic- I mean, Bucky. I’m Bucky.”

You could both hear the laughter coming from Bucky’s friends, and while you were cracking a small smile, Bucky was dying on the inside. “You like to be called by other people's names?”

“I wouldn't mind being called by yours,” he blurted softly, his words coming out as a quick and uncalculated slur. He blinked abruptly when he realized that he was truly having the worst first introduction he had ever had in his life, and it was the one that somehow meant the most to him. “I- only because Eurydice is such a pretty- so is Y/N- I… I’m sorry.” He shook his head, knowing that he was so close to just having to walk away. Instead of embarrassing himself further, he just gave you a short smile and waved, turning on his heel.

“I’m Orpheus, then. Maybe Bucky, too.” He slowly turned back around, a shocked look on his face. Had you really spoken to him again with your own free will?

Bucky knew that he wasn’t ugly. No god or demigod was ever ugly, other than poor Hephaestus. He knew that he had his own sort of charm and that he could bring the roughest of people to tears and the saddest of people to joy with his music, but he didn’t know anything else. He had three redeeming qualities that swirled in his head constantly- he was pretty, he had music, and he had a famous mother.

“Are you a singer?”

“Huh?” So much for eloquence.

You bit your lip. “You speak… you speak like you have a song in your heart. Are you a singer?”

He was stumped. Most knew at least of his music if nothing else. He was the most famed god or man to ever strum a lute besides maybe Apollo. Most knew nothing of his personality and nothing about him other than the fact that he was born to play and sing, and you didn’t? Where had you been living? “Well, I’m Orpheus.”

There was a grin on your face, and Bucky knew that he never wanted to see anything other than that for the rest of his life. “And that makes you a singer?”

He opened his mouth again, ready to talk about who he was born from and where he learned to play and who taught him, but when he looked deeper and saw the spark of mischief in your eyes, he leaned back and held back a small smile of his own. His heart fluttered and grew two sizes. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Maybe I don’t,” you said, obvious teasing in your voice, and somehow it still stayed kind. “Maybe I do, and just wanted a free song out of you.”

She knows me, he thought, and his heart may as well have let out a lovesick sigh from within the confines of his chest. She has never heard me sing before, but she will. I’ll sing her a thousand songs.

“I’ll sing you all the songs you desire if you marry me,” he blurted, and while his mind was scolding him for uttering those words so quickly, his heart was steady on beating and so sure of itself that he told his mind off.

To his subtle surprise, you didn’t look shocked. You weren’t disgusted by his rather bold approach and most importantly, you weren’t laughing at him. He held onto your silence in limbo, waiting for you to say something that would either crush him to bits or send his soul rising so high that he reached the cloudy gates of Olympus.

“If you can make me a song that can make the skies open up and weep without singing a word, then I’ll marry you.”

His heart soared. His hands shook. He could have sworn that even his toes clenched. But all you could see were his wide, boyish eyes, and the hopeful look that dawned across his face. He nodded quickly. “I’ll do anything.”

He saw your lips pull up into a smile, genuine and even a little shy, and he couldn’t help but want to step closer. But he knew he had already been up front and abrupt, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

“Okay,” you said, nodding your own head slowly. “I’ll see you soon, then, Bucky.” You took a step back, eyes still connected to his blue ones until you finally turned around and walked away with the same basket on your arm, same dress swaying with the tuneless song of the wind.

The three of them stood in silence, watching you walk away, taking pieces of Bucky’s heart with you in your cradled arms. The bustling of the town was loud, moving about like nothing of significance had happened right where they were all standing, and Bucky found it nothing short of insane. Did no one else just see how the world stopped turning for that one girl? How the Fates put a pause on the clock just so that they could meet?

Steve’s voice brought him out of it. “Did you just ask for her hand in marriage?”

He didn’t even have the energy to shrug. All the swirled in his mind was love, passion, music, and you. You, you, you. “I had to.”

“How will you even find her again?” Steve asked, his logic once again being the only thing that held Bucky down to the ground.

“I know the work of Eros when I see it,” Sam said to Steve, shaking his head somewhat fondly at the pale boy with brunette hair who was still staring off in the direction you left in, like you would miraculously appear again. “They’ll find each other again soon enough.”

The hours went by and then the daylight turned into night and back to day again, and Sam’s words couldn’t have been truer. Your spirit and your face and your voice found Bucky with every few seconds that passed by. He couldn’t blink without seeing you. He couldn’t listen to anyone without hearing you. He couldn’t breathe without smelling your beautiful scent. Everything tasted bland, looked plain, and sounded like white noise after he met you. He knew that until his last (and unlikely) breath, his heart would ache for nothing more than to be yours. He wanted his ring to be on your finger, and yours to be on his.

So he began to make a song.

§§§

He worked tirelessly. The hours below the sun that used to be spent laughing and playing with Steve and Sam were exchanged for hours of composing. His normally perfect posture was hunched over as he tried to find the melody that had stirred in his heart when he first saw you- because he knew that was it.

By the end of twelve days of pure struggling, most of the song was finished. He was a fast worker, so fast that it made everyone else’s heads spin, but he felt it was going too slowly. But then again, he was fast at everything. The melody was as stuck with him as his skin was to his body. He was sure that it would never leave him, even if he wrote a thousand more songs. And part of him never wanted it to go, because it was so you.

He had only held one conversation with you, and it wasn’t long enough, but he felt like he had known you for years. He felt like he had sung to you hundreds of times and danced with you a hundred times more. Your soul felt so familiar yet so foreign that he had to chase after you, and had to discover anything that he could have missed. He knew that you were his destiny, and he had a feeling that you knew he was yours.

The song he was writing wasn’t sad, but it brought tears to his eyes all the same. It wasn’t about longing or loss or chasing after something that would never come to you, but it made Steve and Sam wipe their eyes all the same. It was about your beauty, your inherent wit and kindness, and the way that you set his soul free from chains he didn’t even know of. It was about a love he had never dreamed of finding or even thought to be true, and that was enough to make the three of them weep.

“I think it’s finished, Buck.” This came from Steve after he wiped his eyes again, sitting through the full song again even though his heart aches for a love he had never felt before. “Sam thought it was done days ago.”

Sam had left the two of them alone days ago, claiming that he couldn’t stand to hear the melody and cry each time, claiming that it was beautiful but too much. It made sense. Even Bucky himself was starting to feel the effects of it. But Steve was a stubborn thing, and he would sit through it for as long as Bucky would play it.

“You think it’s enough to make the skies open and cry?” Bucky breathed out, loosely quoting the words he had heard from you not too long ago.

“Even if it’s not, it will surely win her over,” Steve said. “She was already wooed by you, you’re a fool not to see it. She was excited enough that you even agreed to make the song in the first place, anyway.”

Bucky sat there for a few minutes as his fingers tingled, expecting to be used again to pluck the magnificent strings. But he set his instrument down on the log he sat on, sighing and placing a hand under his chin, his thoughts trailing over to you for the thousandth time. “I hope she accepts it.”

Steve just looked at him. “I think that if you came empty handed and told her half of the words you tell me and Sam, she’d follow you anywhere.”

Steve was right. Steve had to have been right, or he was going to wilt right in front of you. He had to be. The brunet nodded, biting his pink lip before opening his mouth again. “Where do you think I’ll find her?”

§§§

It didn’t take long to find you at all. Bucky went to find you alone, finding you because something inside of him told him to search the flowering fields nearby, and there you were. There was a hat made of straw over your head to cover your eyes and face from the sun, and you had the same basket on your arm that you had the other days. It was empty this time, and he had no doubt that you were looking at the flowers for fun before going to look for fruit. He couldn't help but smile fondly at you from across the field, and then he was gripping his lyre and taking a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice full of emotion instead of being the strong sound he wanted it to be. Nonetheless, it caught your attention, and then your pretty eyes were wide on him. Immediately, your feet turned in his direction and you made your way across the meadow, and he followed suit. He met you in the middle, so nervous that the grin that was deep inside of him wasn’t coming out at all.

You were both at a loss for words as you stood close to each other. His hands shook at his sides, aching to hold your hands in his. He wondered if they were as soft as your voice, or as smooth as the petals flowers you admired. “You came?”

He blinked. Of course he did. It was all he could think of doing. “My only regret is not coming sooner,” he admitted, and he watched you angle your eyes downwards, and he smiled at your shyness. “Would you like to hear it?”

Your eyes were connecting with his again, and he could have sworn that your smile could have put him in an early grave. He was momentarily stunned by you and your brightness, so stunned that he hardly even heard what you said. “Of course I would.”

“So then you’ll hear it,” he said softly, his heart and mind completely taken over by you in your presence. He fixed his lyre into position, his fingers already fixed into the correct spots as he began to play your song.

His eyes were shut as he strummed just as he had practiced thousands of times, but he knew it felt different. His body was buzzing with excitement and something else he couldn’t identify, but he loved it. It made him play stronger. His eyes shut even more as he felt the music, swaying side to side a bit as he felt his heart open up to you, finally content with you hearing the song.

He didn’t even realize that he was done until all he could hear was quiet sniffles. He pried his left eye open, almost too scared to look for your reaction, but when he saw that you were just looking up at him with watery eyes and a wobbly smile, he opened his other eye, ready to spring into action.

The only thought going through his mind was that it was impossible that you liked it. The way you were looking at him reminded him of the way people looked at sculptures of ancient monsters— a muted type of awe, but also a sense of discomfort. He brought you to tears, and not in the way he wanted to. He ruined it.

“I- was it bad?” He blurted out, and he cursed himself at ruining his own chance. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t like it-”

“How long have you been playing that song?”

You were too beautiful. Too gentle. You were melting his brain into mush, and he doubted that he would be able to pick up his lyre for another round even if you begged him. “I… I just made it. For you, I made it with you in mind.”

Your facial expression didn’t change. “Where’s the ring?”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The rings we’re going to wear when we wed,” you said, almost teasing. “Do you have them?”

His eyes widened. “You want to marry me?” He asked, leaning forward a bit in shock. “The sky didn’t- the rain never came.”

“I cried,” you said, a small smile on your face. You still hadn’t wiped your tears, and he watched them frozen on your face, stuck in time. “I didn’t expect the work of the gods. I just wanted you to play for me.”

He was bewildered. He had half of the mind to ask you if you truly meant it again, but he took his excitement and ran with it. “And you… you feel this too?”

You took his right hand into yours, and he swore that his souls ascended to the gates of Olympus and waltzed right in. “I felt it the second I saw you, Bucky.”

He blushed something fierce before looking down at the ground, shame overtaking his sheer admiration for you. “There’s something I should tell you before you say you want to be with me.”

“Tell me anything,” you encouraged softly, one of your hands coming up to brush his warm cheek.

“I don’t have much.”

And he didn’t. He had Sam and Steve and a nomadic lifestyle. He never stayed in the same place for long, and he didn’t have a roof over his head. He didn’t need one. Rain and wind and fire didn’t bother him. He preferred to live under the canopy of trees and the protection of nature. But he knew humans didn’t. He knew humans— especially women— liked when their partners brought things to the table, and he had nothing but strings and whistles. He had nothing materialistic. He had no gems, no coins, no house, and fancy clothes— nothing money could buy. But he looked at you and saw that you deserved it all, and even more he saw that he had no way to even provide it for you.

“I live in many different places, I don’t have a home. I don’t have money. I don’t have… I can’t buy you dresses or shoes or any of the stuff you would probably like… and I’m sorry. I know that will probably change everything, but I just wanted you to know.”

You took a step forward, strong and secure, and then your chin was tilted upwards. “Like I said, where are the rings?”

Bucky grinned.

§§§

The day of your wedding was blessed by the gods, whether they admitted it or not. You married each other in the meadow Bucky found you in with a small crowd of people, and when you kissed as man and wife, peace washed over the both of you, and it felt like your marriage had been approved by all far and wide. The kiss that you shared to make the wedding official was short and sweet and full of the most innocent of passion, and he felt so adored by the soft touch of your lips that he felt a singular tear cross the terrain of his pale face for the first time in years.

He didn’t even deny it.

He didn’t deny the way that you danced together was perfect. He had never guided you, had hardly even danced with another woman, but it was perfect. It was like he had practiced with you before a hundred times, and the feel of your hands in his was what kept him sane. He was convinced that you could do anything new with him and it would feel like you had done it before, just because you were so familiar to him as a whole.

He had known you for what felt like seconds in the grand scheme of things, but you knew him inside out and he knew you better than he knew himself. He could find you in the dark, you could identify him with just a whisper of his voice, and he could fall in love with you over and over without even touching you. He would perform the Sisyphean task of falling in love with you over and over again if it meant that he could be next to you.

And luckily, it turned out that you didn’t need the things that Bucky was sure you were going to. He got you a small house just for the two of you to come back to, and he still roamed around in the area. Steve and Sam would walk off and come back weeks later, just like they used to when it was the three of them together. And there would Bucky be, at the house he made possible for you, and happier than ever.

Bucky lived an extremely modest life with you, and he liked it. Farming and getting water from wells and working for the food that was on your tables, cutting wood to feed the flames in the pit in the middle of your main room. Life was somewhat repetitive, so repetitive that he was scared he would lose you to your wild imagination and beautiful, adventurous heart. But it had never been as fulfilling as it was with you.

The little things were what made his day. It was waking up with you at his side, tucked into his arms and still sleeping soundly while he made songs up in his head dedicated to you that made him smile. It was listening to you hum to yourself while you washed corn and peaches and squash in the buckets of water you had carried down the hill that served as your property. It was the way you would pull him out of a funk by taking his hand and leading him out of his chair, dancing to music that didn’t exist, or the way you would coax him to sing to the moon because you wanted a longer night. A longer night meant more time spent with each other.

When you woke up after your long nights, sometimes you would coax him out of bed for some daily challenge, a challenge that usually he would end up beating you at. Part of him believed that you just wanted him to show off, but you always said otherwise. You would challenge him in singing only to have him go first and not even sing, claiming you had already lost. You would tell him you wanted to race him to the stream and back, knowing that you would lose by a long shot. He could run circles around you if he hardly tried, and that was just in his godly blood. But there was never any jealousy, never any animosity, never any bitterness. It was all just sweet, it felt.

You were just so magical. It was so simple, the things that made him happy, but he knew that just one call from your soul to his was more than just communication. He craved it. He knew from the moment that he met you that his soul would always seek yours, even into the afterlife. He knew that every day with you would be as beautiful as you were on your wedding day, shining brighter than any gem or any star in the night sky. And none of it would ever change.

§§

Things changed. Just as the sun rose and set, so did time. It cranked on without a single hint of Bucky aging, and you were still as youthful as you were the three years prior. Life was still beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

You had traveled around the world with him, kissed in so many different cities with different kings and different cultures and different music. You had met so many different people, lived so many different lives, just to go back home and settle there. It was wonderful. He loved you, and you loved him. It was the kind of love that was never at risk of fading or thawing away. It was the kind of love that was only spurned on as the years crawled by, the days acting as twigs added to an already strong fire. It was such a beautiful thing that he had with you, and every day with you felt like one that was blessed by the gods themselves.

Until it didn’t.

Bucky had never felt fear in his heart like he did when he heard your scream travel across the meadow. He didn’t even put on his shoes before tearing off to find you, torn between begging you to make another sound so that he could hear you or pleading the gods to make the sound of your distress stop and never happen again. His chest rose and fell with the exertion, and he knew that he had never been so afraid in his life.

The scream was all that echoed in his mind when he ran through the woods, and as he stumbled upon fallen fruits and flowers that he just knew were yours. He realized he was at the end of a ravine almost too late, and when he looked down, following the steep curve of the slope with wary and partially-knowing eyes, he immediately doubled over.

There you were in all your fallen glory, legs bent unnaturally and neck twisted even worse. The light yellow of your dress was stained with brown and dark green, and in some places a deep red that made him sick to his stomach. Your eyes were looking up at the sky, staring right into the sun as it shone down on your figure, taunting him just like the breeze that began to make your dress look so lively.

Bucky fell to his knees right on the edge of the ravine, his heart not even lurching when he lost his balance. An arm reached out to you, like it was stuck in the moment before you fell and he could reach you. Tears were coming down his face slowly, steadily as he fought to get breaths in. He called your name.

He didn’t know how many times he called your name, or how far the sadness in it traveled. It must have been loud and long enough, because before he knew it, there were hands on his shoulders. They were warm and familiar and even the smallest bit comforting in that moment, but not enough. He wanted your hands.

“Let’s get away from the edge, Buck.” It was Steve’s voice, strong and gentle and the backbone of the situation. Bucky’s eyes pried open at the feeling of Steve’s sturdy hands pulling him backwards, and he retched in his mouth at the sight of your broken, soulless body at the bottom. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten so close to it himself.

“I’ll go down to…” Sam started, trailing off with a soft and distraught look on his face when he caught sight of Bucky again, and Steve nodded at him.

“Let’s get you up, Buck. Up and Washed off.” He hadn't even realized he was dirty at all. His hands were covered in dirt and under his fingernails were the same earthy brown he was used to. He had been pulling up grass from where he grieved without even noticing.

His sobs were so loud that they hurt Steve’s ears. His dragging steps were causing such a disturbance to the land around him that animals seemed to crane their necks at him and cast their glances his way, as if wondering how on earth a person could be that distressed. His mouth was moving, but it looked and sounded more like babbling and trembling as waterfalls came down the canvas of his pale skin.

“Buck, you have to calm down. You’re about to have an attack.”

He didn’t know if he meant heart attack or a panic attack, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were dead, all twisted up at the bottom of a ravine. Your soul had left the earth, left your body, and you were just laying there like you had never been alive. Like you had never held his hand, or kissed his cheek, or wore his ring or laughed or sang or read fine poetry while eating the fruits you had picked. Seeing you down there with your open and dim eyes felt like you had never lived at all.

“Keep walking with me, buddy. You’re going to be just fine.”

But he wasn’t. Every step he took away from you made bile come up in his throat. He wanted to be as far away from your lifeless body as possible, but he didn’t want to ever let you go. He wanted to hold you close to him until it felt like you were alive again. But as his heart beat seemed to freeze up but race like a horse all the same, he realized that you would never be alive again. You were only as alive as your last few moments, whether they were filled with the joy and freedom of having the wind on your face or the fear of falling. He could do nothing to change it.

But he would try to do everything.

§§

He spoke to everything and nothing. Steve and Sam would take turns coming to him after they celebrated your life. It reminded Bucky of the way that his mothers friends used to come watch him while his mother was off and away somewhere, and how it felt like they thought of him as a cute little burden. He knew deep down that his friends cared for him more than anything and that he cared about them just as much, but he couldn’t think about anything but you. He wouldn’t.

It was a service that made the skies open just like you said they would for his voice. The day lilies that surrounded you and Bucky seemed to be weeping with him. The wind came from east to west and west to east, spinning around and throwing in the scent of the flower with the smell of oncoming rain, reflecting the turmoil he was feeling on the inside. He could have sworn that the earth had trembled just like his hands that held your cold and still ones. But if the world had caved down under him at that moment, he wouldn’t have moved. He wouldn’t have opened his mouth to scream, or even say a word. He would have only held your hand tighter.

He spoke to the moon more often than he did Steve and Sam. They hovered, but it was the kind of hovering that Bucky felt he would appreciate sooner or later. He would sit every night and talk to the moon with his legs pulled into his chest, small and in such a vulnerable position that it would have made him feel uncomfortable at any other time. But he was vulnerable. He had been knocked off of his feet and winded. The world kicked him while he was down more times than he could count, and they had opened his chest and peeked right into his heart before seeing it was unworthy and walking away from him. It left him bleeding out in the forest while he listened to the birds eventually go on back to chirping, and watched the flowers push through and grow, and people laugh and smile and talk like nothing changed.

He was doing just that. He was lying in the flowering fields that he would always swear belonged to you, the both of you, when he heard soft footsteps. He didn’t care to look up. He knew it wasn’t Steve or Sam, but why would he care? He had nothing to be scared of now that you were gone.

“You’re Orpheus.” It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t even blink, but an annoyance he couldn’t shake bubbled up inside of him at hearing the name his mother granted him coming from a stranger. As much as he wanted complete silence, he couldn’t help but say- “Bu- sure. I’m Orpheus.”

“Everyone heard, you know.” The voice was of an old, frail woman. Bucky knew that without even looking, He ignored the fact that pity was strong in her voice, and that he knew exactly what she was talking about. He ignored the way he knew that she thought that she had the right to talk about his wife, about the way he had lost you far too soon. She knew nothing. But he let her speak. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say a word. He didn't even recognize words as an option. He would stay silent and wait until she left. Maybe if he was quiet enough or stared up at the sky in such a still manner that it scared her, she would leave him. If he pretended to be as dead as he felt, he was sure she would leave.

“There hasn’t been a good song since you’ve stopped playing.” He heard rustling, and then he dared to look off to the side to see the old woman struggling to sit, cane wobbling in her hand as she finally plopped her frail bones onto the ground near him. He sighed heavily and looked back up to the sky. “You know, you’ve gotta be the most moving musician to ever walk the earth, from both god and man.”

It was a compliment that would have had him blushing years ago. It would have had his young mind fumbling for his lute or lyre and clearing his godly voice, asking if she wanted to sing with him or just listen. Now, it incited nothing. It meant nothing. “I doubt I’ll ever play again.”

“You pleased god and man,” the old woman carried on, almost like she had never heard him open to speak with that raspy voice of his that was so uncharacteristic of him that it hurt to hear. “Anyone would have done anything to hear your music.”

He finally turned to the side to look the old woman in her face, and he blinked at her. “I’m grieving.”

“You could persuade anyone with seven strings and five notes, don’t you understand that?” Her voice was almost angry. It was hard and nearly pleading, so different from her previous tone that Bucky snapped his head her way. “If I were you, I would have been at Death’s gates.”

They were staring at each other. Bucky was looking at the decrepit woman with curly gray hair that looked like she had dodged a visit to the Gates of Death herself more than once with shocked eyes. His heart started to beat again, like her words were arousing some kind of vicious hope that he never even knew could exist.

“The gods blessed your union. They won’t ever say, but they did bless your marriage. What makes you think that if you beg, you won’t get a blessed reunion as well?”

She disappeared within seconds of her final words, leaving a revelation swirling around in his mind and haunting his every thought.

§§

His feet ached. His hands were beginning to blister from stroking the strings of his tired lyre, and his throat was even beginning to strain. He had been singing for hours, pouring his heart out at the hidden gates of the Underworld, begging for an audience. But above all the physical pain ranked the ache in his heart, the unbearable feeling of your death sitting on his shoulders and ripping him apart from the inside. His grief was destroying him.

Hades might as well have had ears plugged up with the same wax that was used by Odysseus and his men. Usually he went undisputed, because just as life was certain, so was death. There was no questioning the decision of it, or the Fates, or the rule of Hades and his acceptance of his dear Eurydice into his kingdom. Everyone was allowed to plead and beg, but no one ever went down to the gates of the Underworld to ask for the release of a loved one, whether they were man or god. But there he was, standing in dirtied pants with fingertips plucked pink, and tears running down his face.

He didn’t know if he would ever gain the strength to leave. He didn’t know what he would do if someone even bothered to humor him. He wasn’t going to be able to have you back. He was never going to be able to bring you back up above, have you under the sun and shining beautifully like you were born to do. What would he beg of them? For them to let him see that your soul ended up in the Asphodel Meadows? For them to let him hold you one last time before you drank from the Lethe and forgot everything that happened? What if you had already drank from it? Each thought made his stomach lurch more, and his music grew louder and more desperate, like the final battle cry of a warrior.

His back was up against a tree as he sang out again in the night, praying for someone to hear him and take pity on his poor soul. Strike me down and send me with her, if you cannot give me the gift of seeing her again. The same tears that had been steadily pouring down his face were gathered in a puddle at his unmoving feet, yet he didn’t mind. He couldn’t.

“You have woken my wife.”

Bucky’s playing stopped immediately. “What?”

The man before him was dark. He was tall and seemed to take up almost the entire space even though he was only a bit wider than Bucky. His shoulders were broad and his chin was strong, and his eyes were sharp even under the gloomy look they had to them. His cheekbones were sunken in and his eyes had a ring of black around them, like he hadn’t slept in a thousand years. His lips were set in a hard line, but he didn’t look displeased. Most notably, he had a dark aura surrounding him, even black most coming from behind him and nearly encasing him.

“I don’t repeat myself, and luckily, it looks like you heard me the first time.” His voice was deep, enthralling, like a song that Bucky would never dare write himself.

What was a man this terrifying, this powerful, doing in the forest? How had Bucky woken a soul when he was in soulless territory? He hadn’t seen houses for leagues.

Something inside of Bucky begged him to apologize. It begged him to get into his knees and look downwards towards the growing grass and hope to be spared. If this was before he lost you, maybe he would have listened to it. But what did he have to truly live for now that his darling was gone?

“I’m sorry to have brought you out of your dwellings because of my grieving.”

There was a certain kind of silence that would have made Bucky’s skin crawl if he even dared to look the being’s way. “Grieving?”

“My wife.” He breathed out, finally letting his arms loose as he let his trust lyre fall down to his side. “She… has fallen prey to death.”

“Ah,” the man said, his voice nearly a scoff. “I see. The circle of life.”

“And now my life shall go in circles, on and on and down the same miserable path without the woman I love,” Bucky stated, resting his head back against the tree. “I wish I knew a man that grieved. Me… I live amongst gods. We don’t grieve. We don’t die. I have never met a man who had an inch of grief in his heart. I feel like the first to ever feel it.”

“We can lose people in other ways than death,” the man said. “Death is the most absolute, but it seems to hurt a lot less than voluntary abandonment.”

“This is my first brush with death, and I have to admit that I’m not the biggest fan.” What an understatement.

“That’s a shame. My wife is quite the fan of you and your… grief. She says it’s the most moving thing she’s ever heard.” Bucky just nodded, eyes far off. “She wants to meet you.”

“I don’t really want to meet anyone.”

“You don’t want to see my wife? You don’t want a two way ticket to the world you’ve been singing about taking passage to for days now, Orpheus?”

His head turned slowly, eyes widening as he tried to piece thoughts and facts together with his sluggish mind. “What?” But he knew. He knew with another glance at this man that he was no man at all, but one of the original gods. He was Hades, in the divine flesh, standing right before him with a glint in his eyes that meant he was satisfied by Bucky’s shock. He went to his knees, kneeling as a sob piled up into his throat.

“Your Excellency,” he began to plead, recalling back to the times he was a young god, listening to his mother explaining the way that he should speak to all the gods who came before him- especially one as powerful as Hades. “I apologize. My mind is not set right— the loss of my wife has taken a toll on me. Please forgive me.”

“Your grief blinds you.”

There was no point in lying. “It does.”

“I, too, was blinded by grief. In fact, it happens every other six months, though I suppose you young gods and humans call it winter and fall. My wife would leave, gone with a stroke of wind and then come back only to wilt again. But she, just like your own wife, will learn that there is nothing we can do about the situations we are in. Destiny will have us where she has us, and your Eurydice’s path above has ended.”

Bucky wanted to scream at him. He wanted to refuse him and tell him that Destiny and the Fates would have to bend to his will, because there was no other way. He couldn’t last another day without you, let alone a lifetime. But the god he was speaking to was Hades, and Bucky was just Orpheus, a low level demigod.

“However, my wife still wants to meet you. She wants to hear your song clearly, where it’s not muffled by distance.” His heart began to race. His hands were shaking. His eyes were wide as he tried to take in a deep breath, waiting for the gloomy god’s next words. “If you agree to see her and play her that song of yours, I’ll let you see this wife you speak of. Does that sound fair?”

Nodding was all Bucky could do to stay awake.

§§

The Underworld was just as gloomy as it was in the stories. Black and grey ran together to create a shadowy world, dismal and dark. It was full of strange sounds, like the whistling of thick wind that almost sounded like wailing humans. The air was so heavy that Bucky was finding it hard to breathe, and there was a mist so hard to cut through that Bucky could hardly see more than three feet in front of him at a time. Hades led him, and the only reason he could see him was because of his true height showing, and the fact that his dark smoke was even darker than the mist.

His hands shook. Both of them held onto his lyre for dear life. It was close to his chest, strings facing away from him, but still it felt like he could feel the vibrations of it, like the air was mocking him back by playing a song of its own. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and fall to his knees, the environment putting him in near shock.

But he had to find you.

Hades stopped in his tracks, turning his sunken face towards Bucky, who had to fight to not flinch. “If you play for my wife and she likes it, I’ll take you to see yours.” He nodded his head quickly, putting his lyre into position, his arms trembling with anxiety. The double doors opened without the old god even touching them, and then Bucky was faced with an ancient throne room, elegant and dark all the same.

The first thing he did once he got near the sitting Queen of the Underworld was kneel. Tears were already swirling in his eyes, and his throat was lurching. If he were a human, he was sure that he would have been throwing up. He prayed silently to his mother, calling upon the strength of the Muses and their talents into his blood once more.

It was silent until the queen finally spoke. “So you’re the musician?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“I expected you to be much older,” she said, her soft voice a plain contrast from her husband’s, and the dark setting of the Underworld. And then, Bucky understood that the stories weren’t embellished. At first thought, she didn’t seem to belong down there, least of all with Hades. He didn’t dare look up at either of them. “Your grief seems to be centuries old.” It felt like it was. The hole in his heart felt older than he was.

“This is Orpheus, son of Calliope,” Hades explained. “He can’t be more than a few thousand years, if I remember correctly.”

“Young, very young.” Persephone mused, the tone of her voice almost curious. “And what causes you to play this song?”

He explained it. He explained all of it. Your death, his need to see you, his stupid hope of bringing you back home where you belonged. He left it all on the table for them both to hear, even though he knew that the odds were unlikely for him. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if he got ridiculed or thrown back out of the gate, all that mattered to him was that he tried his hardest to get you. And that you knew, deep down in your forgotten mind, that he tried.

“Your music has moved me so, truly.” Persephone said, and then Bucky looked up. She was beautiful, flowers all over her body. She was the brightest thing down there, no doubt, and she still had that godly glow that all the other gods had, a golden rim around her body. She turned her face toward her husband without taking her eyes off of Bucky. “And I want to give you a chance.”

Bucky’s heart stopped. “Your Excellency?”

She was facing Hades now. “Give him a condition.” She muttered, her hands gripping the arms of the throne she sat on. “But let him try.”

Hades frowned. “If I let her go, how many humans do you think will hear of this tale and try to do the same?”

“None.” The goddess answered quickly. “They’re afraid of you. This boy is not. And unlike gods, humans accept death. They know that it is a part of the cycle, and they wouldn’t dare dispute it. This is just a confused young god. He hasn’t seen death before. This will be the only time anyone will ever ask this of you, Hades.”

It was pure silence. It seemed to stretch on for eons as Hades contemplated his wife’s words. The lyre had fallen to the ground minutes before, and Bucky felt himself reaching for it. Tears were streaming down his face now. “I’ll play for you again. I’ll play for you for a decade straight if you let me take her home at the end, if you let her remember me.” He added desperately, body trembling with anticipation.

Hades had dark eyes, and those dark eyes were full of uncertainty and something close to anger while he stared at Bucky, with a look on his face that was so blank that it frightened him. His wife’s hand was on his chest as she pleaded with him on Bucky’s behalf, yet he only stared Bucky down.

“If you can walk your way out of my domain without turning back to look at her, you can take her with you above ground.” Bucky sobbed. “If you look back, boy, she stays in the Asphodel Meadows.”

Bucky sobbed again.

§§

His back faced everything. He couldn’t hear anything except for the beating of his own heart, the heartbeat that seemed to extend all the way down to the fingertips that gripped the infamous lyre in his hand. He shook with every breath, and every blink was harsh on his eyes as he tried not to cry.

He wished he could hear you. He wished he could hear your soft voice reassure him, tell him that you remembered everything, that you were right behind him and that you would follow him everywhere, just like he would follow you. Just like he had followed you. He wished he could hear you.

He wished he could feel you. If your warm hands could just ghost over his shoulders and push him forward without quite letting go, he would have made the trek a thousand times. If he could feel your hands brushing away the hair out of his line of sight, he would have been walking before Hades even gave permission. He wished he could feel you.

He couldn’t. But he would walk anyway.

He hardly heard Hades give permission, his ominous tone echoing through the otherwise empty cavernous area, or the sound of Persephone’s whispers. But he could feel it in the air, suffocating and burying him.

Every lift of his foot was agonizing, every step far heavier than he ever imagined he could bear. But he would do it for you. He would push. Every whisper of doubt that crossed his mind, he would throw away.

It didn’t matter that at times, he wasn’t sure if you got what you needed from him. It didn’t matter that he felt like you weren’t fulfilled by the life you had with him. He had faith. It dwindled with every step, but he had faith. He would keep it and nurture it with every breath he had inside of him on the long journey back home.

Seconds started to feel like minutes, and minutes started to feel like hours. He hated it. His throat was closing in on itself like his voice was his enemy, like the voice everyone thought was so golden was the voice that would be the final nail in his coffin.

His feet were still aching, but the ache had become dull. Louder and more painful was the feeling of the cold biting his skin, like it was a reminder to stay conscious, to stay alert and thinking. Thinking was his vice and virtue. The silence was too loud. His mind was in pain, his heart even worse as he started to feel like the cold was his antagonizer. It was cold up above. It was in the cold where you suffered the most, where you struggled to stay positive. It was in the cold where he could hardly provide for you. It was in the cold where he had to hold you so close to him that air didn’t stand a chance between the two of you because every other man had already chopped the good wood.

But at the same time, he began to feel warm. It felt so warm to his skin that it felt like he was about to step into Tartarus. And it was in the warmth that you dressed in that pretty, short dress that got you harassed by men without humanity. It was in the summer that he found he couldn’t defend you. It was in the summer that he had a flash of realization that he wasn’t strong enough. It was in the summer that he got an even more fleeting flash of the thought that he wasn’t enough at all.

It was in the spring, in the months where there was sun and soft breezes, that he realized again that he was of no help. He had gotten a job one spring that was honest work, but brought in a lot less for the household than you did. He was working with the hands that were already calloused over to help men far more experienced than him craft things to sell to the town. He worked hard to come home tired just to know deep down that for all his work, he had not much more than chump change and a positive outlook to his name.

It was one autumn that he realized how much he had failed you, and he swept it under the rug like he did every other season. One autumn, he walked in on you crying in the arms of your friend- the local plum vendor that Bucky always used to buy from- about how you were terrified of being pregnant. As he walked through the Underworld, he asked himself how he could have ever forgotten that moment. Because what you said had shaken his heart to the core.

“There’s no way I would be able to take care of it.”

It wasn’t the certain doubt that was plants in your mind. It wasn’t the fact that neither of you had noticed Bucky hovering in the door because you were sobbing so hard. It wasn’t the way the woman comforted you better than he thought he was ever able to- because with him, you just never addressed the bad. It was as swept under the rug as dirt was. It was the way you said “I”. Alone. By yourself. Him and his contributions weren’t even in the picture. Were they even contributions?

It was never his voice that was his greatest feature and his worst. It was his mind. His mind was his killer. His mind was a killer, his poison and his weapon, and he was turning it right onto himself. His legs trembled as he fought the urge to look, to crane his neck and get his disappointment over with. Were you following him? Did you even remember him- or had you already drank from the river that would steal all of the life that you had before? Had Hades tricked him into leaving quietly?

And if you did remember him, why on earth would you follow him? You would be following him back to a land that was full of struggle and making it through day by day. You would be trudging after him this time only for him to bring up the rear in everything else. He would be the one smiling at you after you came from working to the bone, providing for him and yourself. That was all he ever had to offer, a smile and a song. What could he truly trade for a smile and a song? What could he get you?

Nothing.

What could he do if you got hurt again?

Nothing.

What could he do with his life when he surfaced and found you not there, far behind in the Underworld?

Nothing.

The doubt piled up. It replaced the faith like the faith was a forest and doubt was a wildfire. Every footstep added to it. He was convinced. He was sure that the result of him turning around at that one moment could be no worse than him turning around when he got to be above ground and away from the suffocating death. You weren’t going to be there. Whether he turned right then or in a hundred years, you weren’t going to be there. If you were in your right, beautiful mind, you would have seen him begging and turned your eyes from him and pretended like you hadn't known him.

He couldn’t tell where he was. His breathing was too shaky for him to think about anything else but breathing and thinking about you. It was too dark. His feet hadn’t touched grass yet and he knew he had to try to keep pushing, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He was bursting at the seams to confirm something that he already knew was coming for him.

His feet dragged. His steps sped up but it felt like he was fighting quicksand. He was struggling to walk through it, fighting to take breaths in it. The shallow breaths were somehow pitched high, bouncing off of the rocky, cavernous walls he began to hate. The only thing on his mind was doubt, doubt, doubt. It was a fever he couldn’t sweat out. A tremor he couldn’t shake away. A dark color he couldn’t paint over. A shadow he couldn’t run from. And just when he couldn’t fight it anymore, he saw light.

He never ran so fast in his entire life. He wanted to escape the feeling clawing at his throat and chest, the dread and preparation for pure disappointment. He wanted to step into the light, step into something he knew, before he allowed himself to collapse in grief again. It felt like the light was getting closer, and then it would fade again and come back lighter. He didn’t register the sound of sobbing until the sound faded out and stopped echoing, and then he was aware that his feet were touching the grass.

His feet were touching grass.

His hands shook as he raised them to his face, cupping his cheeks as he came to the realization that he was out of the nightmare that was the Underworld. Emotions were rushing into him faster than he could understand what they were, and then his mind stopped. His face was dry. His head whipped around.

Your eyes were wide and watery. Your dress was torn and bloody, just like it was when you had died. Your hair was a mess, and you were shaking from crying so hard. You stood there like a ghost, transparent and out of place, but crying real tears all the same. The sobs he had been hearing weren’t his own. They were yours. And you were still encased by the shadows of the Underworld.

You had been trying to catch up to him.

“Oh!” His exclamation was more of a dying moan than anything else. His trembling hands cupped his mouth again as he watched you cry again, crying even harder than that one time where the leaves were falling. He uttered your name once, and then once turned into four times, and as your cries got louder, his muttering turned into a shout, your name the one word he was calling out over and over again.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” He watched as you opened and shut your mouth over and over, shaking your head as silence was all you could produce. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He was drawing blood from how his fists were clenched. “Baby, my sweet love, my darling,” the names were dripping from his tongue like honey, like it was a balm that could soothe the both of you. His apologies were just as tender, as quiet and disbelieving as the language his eyes were speaking. He couldn’t help but reach out to you with a dying apology on his lips, his foot crossing the barrier you would be stuck behind forever, and just before he touched what must have been your cold skin, there was nothing but air.

Nothing but your lingering presence and his poisonous mind.

§§

He never thought that life could be so meaningless. Even before he met you, he felt like he had a purpose. He was an entertainer, a traveling man, a man who brought joy and music with him effortlessly wherever he went. Not anymore.

He was empty, and he felt like an empty glass jar. He wasn’t even an empty box— he was something anyone that had eyes could see right through. Everyone saw him and knew he was the one who had lost a wife and in turn given up all his divine talent. They looked at him through lenses that were wet with pity. He hated it.

He hated himself for doing the same to the humans who had lost loved ones. He felt horrible for giving them those looks, for telling Steve and Sam their stories without really knowing it. Now he was going through the unimaginable.

Nothing mattered, he learned. He thought that thought over and over again every time he woke up and every time he was going to sleep. He thought it while he sat in the cold on one winter night with no fire in the fireplace. It was something that would have made him worry a bit, or made him irritated at himself. Nothing really caused him to get angry or sad anymore. He was just there. It was like he was living yet another death by extension. The world gave him his cards and he played them in the worst way possible. But that’s what he did. He couldn’t change it.

He couldn’t change anything. All he could do was pray that you forgot the way that he failed you time and time again, and then where it was most important.

He would remember enough for the both of you.

****

hi guys! i feel like i literally have come back from the dead with all the time i’ve been in and out of here. it’s been so hectic and busy that i’m proud i got this out so soon lmao- i worked hard on this, so if you were feeling it please like and reblog!!

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

The Demons Hidden in Sleep

@megatraven and @catlovingwitch and @aallotarenunelma

OKAY SO!! This little story is about Aphrodite and Elpis! Their background isn't completely mentioned because I still wanted to explain it in the story, but I reallly wanted to write this. I wanted to show another side of Aphrodite other than the supporting friend. And I also am working on one for Zeus, Hades, and Hera. Hera's still on the edge, but I might make one for her! Not sure yet but hope you enjoy!! I like feedback >:). Tell me about the emotions lol.

Also, there's some proofreading, but not to much, so sorry if something is wrong!

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A divine being's days would pass in a blur. It would never make any of them blink twice. There was never any reason to think about passing days or feel regret when you're immortal. However, there were some divine beings who had days that felt agonizing.

Dear Aphrodite was one of them.

She loved living, seeing her friends on Olympus, and loved watching some of the humans down below, but this certain day made her feel weak. It made her feel like everything was crashing down around her, even if it was meant to be a normal day. It was supposed to be normal and just another day, but this day was an anniversary of a tragic accident. One she would never forget it. She remembered it every day, but today was the hardest.

It was a curse to remember it, but also a blessing. She would never ask to forget the accident, to never forget the person. She was grateful for this pain, yet tired of it. Yet she knew she would bear with it, she would hold onto it with her life, and she would never forget.

Never forget.

"That's what I promised you," she whispered to herself.

It was late in the night and many were asleep, but Aphrodite couldn't bring herself to. She was in her bed, wearing her nightwear, and doing her best to sleep. However, the nights embrace would not take her. She tossed and turned, but nothing worked. When a few hours passed, she knew it was useless.

She sighed and got up. "I might as well just stay awake for awhile," she said with a small laugh. She put on a red robe and walked to the balcony that was near her bed. She opened the door and let out a deep breath when she felt the cool air against her skin. She rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm herself, but her head soon forgot about the cold.

She walked to the railing and looked out into Olympus. She saw many other Olympians homes, the beautiful sights of her domain, and the gorgeous night sky. She looked up at it and smiled. "You would love this night, Elpis," she said to no one. Her voice was soft with pain. "The stars are shining so bright tonight. It's something you always loved, wasn't it?" Her eyes traced the stars and she found herself lost in them.

"I would practically drag you to see them, wouldn't I?" A voice said beside her.

Aphrodite gasped and looked to her side to see Elpis. She looked like she did the last time she saw her, and it made her heart ache. She sighed and looked back out into Olympus with a small smile. "Yeah, you would. I didn't appreciate them like I do now," she said with regret.

"They are beautiful. I always hoped that you'd see that," Elpis said with her voice steady and comforting, unlike Aphrodite's.

Aphrodite nodded and held back her tears. "I do now, Elpis. I see many things I didn't see before," she admitted. Her voice was slowly going wavy.

Elpis let out a hum. "What kind of things?" Her tone was curious just like it always was.

"I've learned that the night sky is beautiful when you really look at it. All the stars coming together. I learned that the moon looks beautiful at night, too."

"What else did you learn long ago when I died?" Her voice no longer was sweet and kind, it was now monotone.

Aphrodite squeezed the railing against her hands and bit her lip. "I learned what it truly meant to love."

"You learned what it felt like to lose something, didn't you? You learned the burden but blessing of what love truly is." Elpis's voice was the same, but the words were harsh and felt like knives in Aphrodite's heart.

To make it worse was the fact that it was true. She always believed love was sweet, amazing, and a blessing. She never felt any other thing, but now she understood that every divine being learns their place and what it truly means to be them. She lost Elpis, her dear friend, someone she held so close to her heart, and she learned the other side of love. She felt the heartache, the guilt, the loneliness, the fear, and all the darkness that hid in the meaning of Love. She learned that loving was something beautiful yet terrifying.

She licked her lips and did her best to speak past the knot in her throat. "Yes, I did. I still feel it everyday."

Elpis laughed. "Good. You should. You didn't pay attention, none of you did, and look what happened." Her voice was lighter again and had a playful tone, even if the words were far from it. "You remember the incident, don't you? Not just the day or the time, but what happened. You remember it, right?"

Aphrodite let out a small whimper at her words, but didn't respond.

"You remember finding me, don't you? You remember me wandering out of Olympus, not even saying goodbye, and then not coming back?"

Aphrodite slammed her fists against the railing. "YES!" She yelled out. Her voice was broken from the pain and she couldn't stop the tears anymore. They ran down her face and she didn't try to stop them. "I remember everything, Elpis," she said through her soft cries. "I remember losing you, I remember seeing everyone lose you."

"Yes, you lost me, and you've never found out what truly happened, have you?"

"No, I haven't." Aphrodite wiped her tears away, doing her best to put herself back together.

"Wouldn't you like to? Wouldn't you like to put demons like me to rest?"

"You're already resting."

"Am I? Or am I just hiding?" She played with Aphrodite like a kid would play with their food. Messy.

That question made Aphrodite pause. She never considered that idea. The possibility that Elpis was hiding from Olympus, hiding from her friends because of how they failed her. She let out a shuttering breath. "Would she really hide from us?"

"Hmm, who knows. I am a complicated woman."

"You're not her," Aphrodite said with venom. She could take many things, but could not take the mere statement of a monster being her dear friend. A monster of her own mind.

"Yes, that's right. I'm not her. I'm just your own little demons hiding inside of you. But look at me."

Aphrodite hesitated for a moment, but she deep down wanted to look. She knew it would be painful, but she always would look. She turned her head slowly and looked to her side to see Elpis. It looked just like her, all the way down to the small freckles on her cheeks.

Aphrodite looked away when 'Elpis' laughed. She closed her eyes as her head hanged down. "But you will never be her."

"No. I never will be. You can imagine her, but you can't be her, or even make her in your own mind. Isn't that a funny thing about death? You remember the person, but slowly they disappear. If you saw her, you'd know it was her, but you can't see her in your mind. You can't imagine her smile, can't see the way her hair looked, you can't see the way she looked at you, and you can't see the way she really existed."

Aphrodite's hands regained their hold on the railing. "I can still see her. I can still hear her. You're here, aren't you? You're from me. If I couldn't still see her or hear her, then you wouldn't be here."

"Oh, that's right! I can't come and see you without you! Without your guilt, we wouldn't be here. But I'm here to always remind you of that guilt and to pull those painful memories back to the surface." Her voice was soft, but her words were like poison.

"Yes," Aphrodite said firmly. She tried to stop the conversation, tried to send the figure away, but it didn't work. It still stood there, taking the form of someone she loved.

However, after a few moments of silence, she felt a hand gently touch her shoulder. It didn't feel cold like it should've, it felt warm, and she felt peace for a moment. She closed her eyes and basked in it.

"Wait for me," the figure said. However, it didn't sound fake anymore. It didn't sound forced and it didn't make her afraid.

Aphrodite opened her eyes and turned to her side, hand reached out ready to hold her friends cheek, but when she looked, she was gone. Her hand met nothing but cold air. She closed her eyes and felt the pain of loneliness go through her again.

"Elpis," she whispered out.

She gasped and opened her eyes to see the ceiling of her room. It was all a nightmare. A nightmare full of the demons that haunted her, the ones always waiting for her in the darkness of sleep.

She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, those tears fell down her cheeks again and they felt real this time. She could really feel them, and she could really feel the pain in her heart.

"I'll wait for you, Elpis. I always will," she promised. She didn't know if she would hear her or even know she was thinking of her, but she still promised.

She would at least keep this one promise.

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OKAY SO!!! I kinda like this!! I kept thinking of this idea, but it was more wholesome and sad. But like always my mind went down a different road. It didn't make sense for a spirit to visit her, so I didn't turn it into a ghost. I turned it into a nightmare >:). I hope you like it and feedback is always appreciated! I'd like to know how my writing is going or improving! But yeah that's it!

[betawithablog]

Headcanons for the greek gods as omegas?

(I assume you mean as Omegaverse and not for them all to be Omegas cus there’s no way Ares is Omega lol)

This is gonna be the 12(.5) Olympians and the royal couple of the underworld

Zeus: Alpha, a very obvious Alpha. Leader of the Olympian pack. If we're going with the personality he has in the myths then he's the kind of douchebag Alpha who thinks it's his right to go around knotting whoever he fancies; I imagine his pheromones are pretty powerful too. Like, send-you-into-an-surprise-heat kind of powerful. If we're going with how the ancient Greeks actually saw Zeus though he's the absolute best provider. Big dad vibes towards everyone who's even a little bit younger than him (which... y’know, given that he's a god is almost everyone).

Hera: Omega. The kind of Omega that has a dominant, leader's streak; the kind born to be the leader's mate. She has that Omega's need for love and attention (which Zeus really needs to work on giving her smh) and likes to pamper her body (see: pool that she bathes in every night that somehow magically makes her not a virgin anymore... yeah idk either, blame the ancient Greeks). She does, however, lack a natural maternal instinct (see: yeeting baby Hephaestus off of mt. Olympus), so I feel like she could potentially also be a Beta.

Poseidon: Alpha. Originally he was actually the leader of the Olympian pack (no that's not a headcanon - the Macedonians actually considered Poseidon to be the head of the Olympians). I imagine him to be a kind of rugged-looking Alpha - like an strong old fisherman with rough palms and speckled grey hair - with an air of calm and control that can switch to chaotic and aggressive in an instant's notice - like the ocean itself.

Hestia: Omega. Absolutely 100% Omega. The kind of Omega who's very presence makes you feel soothed, her hugs are warm and soft (not just because she always wears fluffy cardigans), her nest is absolute perfection - beautiful, calming to be in, and cosy - and she's always got something divine (if you'll excuse the pun) in the oven. Always purring kin the kitchen. Absolute biggest mama vibes. She smells like a bakery; chocolate and pastry. Holy shit I love Hestia.

Demeter: Alpha. Considered her, perhaps, as an Omega on account of her being a fertility agriculture goddess but she just doesn't strike me as the placating, gentle type. Quite the opposite. She fought stubbornly for her daughter to remain at her side, and she's the goddess of law too - she's not the rolling-over-showing-her-neck type at all. I picture her as an absolute Unit; muscles for days from all the years harvesting crops. The no-nonsense kind of Alpha.

Aphrodite: Omega. The hypersexual kind of Omega. I believe I've seen them called 'Pack Omegas' - the type that do best when they're in a relationship with lots of people, practically (or literally) a whole pack. Also the beauty-obsessed kind of Omega. Takes ten hours to get her clothes, hair, and makeup done yet somehow she turns the whole process into a mesmerising dance. She turns everything into a mesmerising dance. Another I imagine with knock-out strong pheromones that have Alphas falling to their knees for her. She smells like roses.

Athena: Alpha. Another leader-type Alpha - literally has Athens named after her, and she's very proud of her people... despite some of the absolute nonsense she's had to witness from them throughout the ancient years. A very adept and skilled fighter and strategist - likes to know everything about a situation before rushing in. She's an incredibly supportive and wise lead Alpha, the kind that the pack feels they can go to with whatever problem they might have. I feel like she could also easily be a Beta, but she's got such a strong sense of being dominant and in charge it's hard to see her as anything but an Alpha.

Ares: Alpha. Less of a leader-type Alpha, lbr, more of a team player. The kind of Alpha that runs into things without thinking, relying on instinct and, on the battlefield, pure rage. Your average Aggressive Type Alpha who's ready to kill for anyone in his pack. Can come across as a bit of a meat head... and can be a bit of a meat head at times... Yet I imagine him as a really loving, doting mate, which initially surprises a lot of people; seeing this big burly 6ft< Alpha who smells like fire and blood smiling dopily as picks out the perfect dainty jewellery for Aphrodite.

Hephaestus: Beta. My poor poor bastard boy. Very crafty and creative (see: trapping his mother in a beautiful trick throne he built as revenge for yeeting him off the mountain as a baby). Likes to think his creations through and plan genius contraptions. He could very easily also be an Alpha, what with the fact he's a blacksmith, which is a rather Alpha job. But I guess I lean towards Beta because, even though he's a bit of a social outcast on account of his leg and general appearance, he's clearly desperate to be more socially involved with the pack and doesn't want to be a lone wolf.

Artemis: Alpha. Surprisingly nonsexual for an Alpha. Very much a lone wolf. Loves spending her days out in the forest. You wouldn't think she's an Alpha to look at her, but she'd surprise you with how strong she is. Also very good at using her opponent's strength against them. Because of her build, she's considered the protector of Omegas; most Omegas would feel very safe in her presence. She's got this mysterious edge to her that just uncontrollably draws you in... like the moon.

Apollo: Omega. Ah, sweet darling disaster bisexual... I just imagine him being very soft and sensitive (not that he can't kick ass on a battlefield, see: his involvement in the battles of the Iliad). He has an artist's soul and an angel's voice. His serenades are totally his courting gifts. I imagine him revelling in being doted on, and always eager for fuss and attention. He has a beautiful Omegan frame, and he loves decorating himself in luxurious garb and crowns of flowers and leaves. He smells like laurel and somehow also sunshine. No one knows how this is possible but he does.

Hermes: Beta. And nooo I'm not just saying that because he's my favourite and that's the dynamic I best identify with (>_>) He really is such a Beta though. I've a headcanon that Beta's love travelling and exploring and he's literally the God of that so y'know. He's also so quick thinking and witty: represented himself in a what was basically a godly court case where he was guilty of thievery and won when he was literally a baby. He's hardly ever submissive to anyone but he hardly ever uses aggression or physical force to get his way/get out of trouble. He smells like ripe strawberries and the metallic tinge of coins.

Dionysus: Beta. The eccentric, outgoing, party type Beta; wants to be surrounded by friends having a good time all the time. He smells like booze; in the morning it's a little off-putting, but in the evening its literally intoxicating. I imagine his mortal Maenads needing only his scent to drive them into a frenzy. Not the kind of Beta you'd expect to also have the Supportive Beta streak, but he absolutely does; he lives to support his friends and gives the kind of advice you don't realise is advice at first and later hits you like an epiphany, and it was exactly what you needed to hear.

Persephone: Beta. Difficult one, but I had to go with Beta because she strikes me as a very gentle, delicate goddess of spring that could easily have her classified as Omega, but in winter she's the no-nonsense, dominant queen of the underworld that could have her classified as an Alpha. Overall, I think this shows her adaptability, which is a very Beta trait. Also, she's not really as needy and dependent as an Omega traditionally is. Things might have happened to her beyond her control, but she very much took back control and has both Hades and Demeter wrapped around her little finger. Of course, she smells like pomegranates, and spring blossom.

Hades: Omega. I have such a soft spot for soft!Hades. But he's kind of the reverse of Artemis in that you would not think to look at him that he's an Omega, you'd assume he's an Alpha, especially considering his position as ruler of the underworld. But he's a softy at heart, and adores material possessions (which I consider a bit of an Omegan trait). He mopes all the way through spring and summer at the lack of Persephone's presence, cooped up in his nest the whole time until autumn rolls around and she comes back into his life. He has a very earthy scent.

bonus:

Hermaphrodite: All three! Thought I'd include Hermaphrodite because they flashed through my mind and I wondered what might be classified as intersex in a/b/o. Of course, that depends on how you hc biology for the dynamics but I thought what would perhaps make Hermaphrodite an outcast/outlier could be their body, scent, and instincts being a mix of all three dynamics.

thanks for the ask 💞

[silverlightqueen]

Olympus - Jeon Jungkook

Hermes, God of boundaries, travel, communication, trade, language, thieves and writing, and Hemera, Goddess of day

(greekgod!au - Hermes!Jungkook x Hemera)

Summary - High up in the clouds of Mount Olympus, the tallest of its kind in the ancient country of Greece, live a community of the most powerful beings to exist on this Earth. Their communities are not unlike those that they watch over, those of the humans. A clear political, economic and social hierarchy exists between the beings, some ruling over the others, some more wealthy than the others, some more powerful than the others. Their lives are much like those of humans, all of them working and living in homes with their families, normal names, normal jobs, normal lives. Some could even be considered ordinary. But those that are considered ordinary… our stories do not focus on those. Our stories focus on those that are positively extraordinary, to say the least. Our stories focus on seven Gods and seven Goddesses, powerful and strong, learning the most basic and human thing to exist; love. 

Word Count: 5.7k+

a/n: finally part two !! I hope y’all like this, lmk what you think, hmu if you wanna be tagged in the next part, and make sure you read the first part before this one !! x

Disclaimer: This is no way accurate to Greek Mythology, so please don’t come in my asks correcting me lmao

Warnings: a lil bit of profanity I think and discussion of sex but no actual sex lol

Character List:

Kim Seokjin – Dionysus

Min Yoongi – Hades

Jung Hoseok – Hephaestus

Kim Namjoon – Apollo

Park Jimin – Poseidon

Kim Taehyung – Ares

Jeon Jungkook – Hermes 

Three weeks after Dionysus and Hestia’s wedding, and Olympus is back to usual, everyone working from dawn ‘til dusk every day. Dionysus has changed, it is clear to see, the God of chaos tamed and laidback, and Hestia has changed too, the Goddess of the hearth and home out and about much more. One morning, a particularly ordinary morning of a particularly out-of-the-ordinary day, the Gods of Olympus make their way to the biannual meeting, held by Zeus at the town hall. The seven Gods that our stories focus on walk up the long road to the town hall together, six out of the seven exhausted. Hermes, though, is positively energetic. ‘Herm, can you tone down the enthusiasm a bit? I’m getting tired just watching you,’ Hades complains. ‘What’s gotten into you recently? You’re never usually this bright and bubbly, you’re always worse than the rest of us in mornings,’ Apollo asks. ‘Are you getting laid?’ Ares enquires, and Hermes laughs. ‘No, I’m not, Ares,’ he replies with a roll of his eyes. ‘What is it then? Because something must have changed,’ Dionysus asks. ‘Nothing, really. I’ve just been getting more sleep, I guess,’ he replies as they reach the entrance of the town hall. They each sign their names in the signing-in book before heading into the main room, taking their usual seats in the front row. ‘How’s Tia?’ Poseidon asks Dionysus gently. ‘She’s good, she’s good. She usually comes with the girls, and I come with you lot, so we thought we’d continue on like that,’ Dionysus says, explaining why he and his wife aren’t together. Hestia arrives then with her six friends, sitting in the other half of the front row. They all wave to each other, close friends after the events of the wedding, before going back to their own conversations. 

Zeus appears on the stage then, his wife, Hera, stood beside him. Hera, the Goddess of marriage, officiated Dionysus and Hestia’s wedding, so he waves at her, getting a kind smile in return. ‘Good morning, Olympians. It’s been a fantastic half-year, and I’m sure we can keep this going for the rest of the year,’ Zeus begins, before droning on about different statistics over the year, very few in the room paying attention, especially our main characters in the front row who believe they’re above it all. The meeting ends eventually, everyone practically running to escape, but being in the front row means it’s not so easy to leave without being cornered by Zeus. ‘Hermes!’ Zeus’ voice booms from behind the group of men, Hermes groaning before turning with a smile. ‘Yes, your grace?’ he asks, polite as ever, burning on the inside. ‘I’m very impressed with the way you’ve been getting through your work during the past few weeks. I thought I’d check your workload for today before the meeting, and you have around twenty minutes work, max. Take the day off and do that work tomorrow,’ Zeus says, the other men’s eyes wide at his benevolence. Zeus wasn’t a dictator or tyrant, but he worked them all hard, so for him to give a day off is somewhat a big deal. ‘I… really?’ Hermes asks, lost for words, and Zeus nods, ‘You’ve earned it, my boy.’ ‘Thank you for your kindness, my grace,’ Hermes says, bowing his head. ‘Thank you for your hard work,’ Zeus replies before turning to his wife.

‘Has Hekate been up to something?’ Ares asks, looking around for the Goddess of magic. ‘I doubt it, don’t you remember the consequences last time she cast a spell on Zeus?’ Apollo says, thinking back to what happened to the poor girl. ‘How have you been getting through your work so fast, Herm? it doesn’t make sense,’ Dionysus asks Hermes, who shrugs. ‘Hasn’t anything changed?’ Hades asks, and Hermes ponders this for a moment as they head towards the exit. ‘I guess…’ he says, and the other men prompt him for a proper answer. ‘The days seem to last longer when I’m down on Earth, so I can get more done on one day than I normally would. And then night seems a little longer too, so it feels like I get more sleep,’ Hermes explains. Gods like Hermes, whose work focuses down on Earth, rarely spend more than a few days at a time on Olympus. Sometimes for weeks at a time, he’ll be down on Earth doing work. And for Gods, time works differently down on Earth. Where an hour has passed for humans, for Gods, it could be seconds, or days. Depending on the God of time, and the Goddesses of night and day. ‘That’s suspicious,’ Apollo says. ‘It’s just a coincidence,’ Hermes says, waving it off, and Dionysus laughs. ‘I doubt that, Herm. I have a feeling Nyx has something to do with it. She’s obviously dragging out the night, and making Hemera make the days longer too,’ he says. ‘Ooooh, does someone have a crush on our little Herm?’ Hephaestus teases, putting his arm around Hermes’ shoulder, the latter trying to push him off. ‘No, she doesn’t,’ he says, frowning.

‘Go speak to her, Herm. The girls are all at Tia’s; they’re having a girls’ day,’ Dionysus says, with a roll of his eyes. ‘Haven’t they, like, got work?’ Ares asks in annoyance. ‘None of them have urgent work like we do. Nyx and Hemera have schedules set in place for day and night. Athena only needs to work when there’s conflict. Nemesis works part time to cause conflict. Tia has schedules and spells set up already and only has to check on them every now and then. Demeter’s like Poll, only gets called up when needed by Zeus. It’s only Aphrodite that has to work every day like us, but apparently she’s been allowed to take a day off,’ Dionysus explains, and Ares rolls his eyes. ‘Zeus has always had a soft spot for A, it’s not fair,’ he complains. ‘Anyone with a brain would have a soft spot for A,’ Poseidon says, speaking for the first time. ‘Why’s that, P?’ Hades asks, all of the other men falling silent to listen. Poseidon doesn’t join their conversations very often, opting to stay quiet and listen, so when he does contribute, they all naturally want to know what he has to say. ‘Have you met her? Have you seen her face?’ Poseidon says matter-of-factly. ‘Have you seen her ass, more like?’ Ares jokes, laughing with Hephaestus and Hades. ‘Don’t be disrespectful,’ Apollo says, launching into a speech about not treating women like objects and Aphrodite being an amazing woman besides her looks and body. ‘Listen, Herm, speak to Nyx, find out what’s going on,’ Dionysus says to Hermes, who nods.

The group of friends split up as they exit the town hall, heading to their different workplaces, promising to meet at Dionysus and Hestia’s house after work. ‘Go now, Herm,’ Dionysus instructs over his shoulder, and Hermes nods, heading towards Hestia’s house. The walk there, he wonders what he’s going to say to Nyx, nervous about sounding like a fool. When he reaches the front door, he knocks tentatively, hearing female voices inside. The door flies open a few seconds later, Nemesis stood in the doorway. ‘Hey, it’s Herm. Come in,’ she says, moving aside to let him in. Hermes is definitely terrified of Nemesis; the girl may be much shorter than him, but her presence is twice the size. Her hair, falling to her waist in big, bouncy waves, is a bright red, and her face is always set in a determined look. The God steps in, Nemesis leading him through the living room, where the girls sit in comfy clothes, glasses of wine in hands, the fire roaring. ‘Hey, Herm,’ Hestia says with a smile, patting the empty seat beside her. ‘How did you guys get back so quickly? We left a little after you,’ Hermes says confused. ‘A has somehow managed to get her hands on some winged horses, so we flew back,’ Hestia explains as Hermes sits down, Aphrodite smiling at him angelically. Poseidon was right; she really is beautiful. Her long black hair falls to her waist and her tan skin is clear and smooth, her eyes round and dark, and her lips plump, almost always stretched into a smile, revealing pearly white teeth. But she’s intimidatingly beautiful, like one of those queen bees at high school. Always kind to the weird kids, popular and loved, everyone wants to be her or be with her. But obviously she isn’t the perfect angel everyone makes her out to be, Herm thinks, now that he knows she has a multitude of human lovers. Not that that’s anything to frown upon, of course. Just… not the norm.

‘What’s up, Herm? Why have we been blessed with your presence?’ Nemesis says sarcastically, leaning against the door frame. ‘Um, I actually came to speak to Nyx,’ he stutters, Nyx’s eyes widening in surprise. ‘Me?’ she asks, and he nods. ‘Um, okay. Come into the kitchen,’ she says, leading him through into the other room. ‘What’s up?’ she asks curiously, the volume suspiciously low in the living room. ‘Zeus praised me today, for having gotten so much work done in the past few weeks, and the boys were asking me how I did it. I said that the days were longer, so I had more time to do my work, and the nights were longer, so I was getting more sleep. Di said that you were probably the one doing so he made me come ask you why,’ Hermes explains, Nyx’s face becoming more and more amused by the moment. ‘Ah, Herm. How do I explain this? It’s not me doing it,’ she says, and Hermes becomes even more confused. ‘Who is then?’ he asks, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘Come on, you’re a clever boy. Work it out. If it’s not the Goddess of night…’ she trails off, and the sentence finishes itself in Hermes’ head. It’s the Goddess of day. ‘Hemera?’ he whispers, and Nyx nods with a small smile. Hemera hadn’t even crossed his mind; the small timid girl that hid behind her blonde hair all the time is not someone he would’ve ever guessed.

‘Why?’ he asks, and Nyx grins. ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the girl has a bit of a soft spot for you, if you know what I mean,’ she says. ‘Oh. Ohh,’ Hermes says, realising that Hemera has a crush on him. ‘What does she achieve from it though?’ he asks. ‘Nothing, Herm. It makes you happier, though, right? And I guess that’s what she wants,’ Nyx shrugs. ‘Oh. Do you think I should speak to her?’ he asks the girl. ‘Obviously, you idiot! The girl likes you, for God’s sake, of course you should speak to her,’ Nyx says exasperatedly. ‘What do I say?’ he asks, panicked. ‘You don’t have to ask her to marry you straight away, Herm! Just make general conversation, small talk, get to know her first, you moron,’ Nyx says, and Hermes nods, hanging on her every word. ‘Oh, and don’t do it in front of everyone because she’ll get super embarrassed and clam up. Do it when everyone else is talking between themselves, or involve her in a conversation with other people, okay?’ Nyx advises, Hermes making mental notes. ‘Come on,’ Nyx says, the two heading back into the living room. ‘Are you staying, Herm?’ Athena asks, her kind eyes on the God. ‘No, I should probably get going,’ Hermes says. ‘Do you have work today?’ Hestia asks, her eyes narrowed at him. ‘I… no, Zeus gave me the day off,’ he admits. ‘So, have you got plans?’ she asks, her eyes even narrower now. ‘Um, no, I don’t,’ he says, scratching his neck. ‘So, you’re staying then,’ she decides, and Hermes gives in, knowing there’s no point arguing against Hestia; she may be kind but she’s the most stubborn Goddess he’s met.

He sinks into the seat beside Hestia, instantly being handed a glass of wine, as the girls launch into gossiping about who’s doing what, or rather, who’s doing who. Hermes listens dutifully, getting caught up in the gossip himself, hanging on every word, gasping in all the right places. It’s almost as though he belongs there with the girls, the group of them speaking about almost everybody on Olympus through the course of the day, getting through bottles (upon bottles) of Dionysus’ wine, becoming more and more relaxed. Until they begin speaking about relationships. ‘I just don’t know what to do anymore,’ Aphrodite slurs, having had more wine than the rest of them put together. If Hermes had had the same amount of wine she’d had, he’s sure he’d have passed out around an hour ago. ‘It’s just not fair. I’m the Goddess of love, and I’ve never even been in love myself! It’s like I’m destined to just be a matchmaker, nothing more. No one’s even ever loved me!’ she wails, eyes beginning to water, and Hermes becomes alarmed at the thought that she might start crying.

‘Aphrodite, you are kidding, right?’ Hermes asks without even thinking, the group turning to look at him. ‘What do you mean?’ she sniffs, still looking ethereal despite the tears dripping down her face. ‘I think at least 90% of the Gods on Olympus have been in love with you. And even some Goddesses,’ Hermes says. ‘But they don’t love me! They just think I’m pretty! They don’t care about what’s beneath! No one’s ever loved me for me! Do you know how that makes me feel? So inadequate, and never good enough! They just want to get me into bed, so they can say they’ve slept with me! That’s it! And even then, they probably won’t be able to fulfil my needs!’ she wails, Hermes’ cheeks being tinged with red at the mention of Aphrodite’s needs not being fulfilled. ‘Okay, A, that’s enough wine for you, babe,’ Hestia says gently, taking the glass from the other Goddess’ hand. ‘Who do you know that’s been in love with her?’ Hemera asks Hermes, speaking to the God directly for the first time as the others comfort Aphrodite. ‘I… um… well, I’m pretty sure Ares had the biggest crush on her, for years. Apollo did, too. And I think Hephaestus as well. Just look at Zeus! He has the biggest soft spot for her! If he weren’t married, I think he would’ve tried to get with her by now,’ Hermes says, opting not to mention his own crush on the Goddess a long while ago. ‘He already has,’ Hemera says dryly, Hermes laughing at the girl’s bluntness.

‘See, that’s the worst thing; we can’t even comfort her, and tell her it’s not true, because it is. She’s right. No one has ever loved her for her. They’ve only ever loved her for her appearance, and for the reputation that comes along with her being the Goddess of love. It’s hard for us to see her go through this,’ Hemera says, Hermes watching the Goddess with interest as she speaks. Hemera has always been timid and quiet, but watching her speak about her friend, the confidence and conviction comes out. She clearly feels strongly about Aphrodite’s situation, as her passion comes through in her words. The hard set of her jaw and the way her small hands run through her bright blonde hair makes his heart contract, realising with a jolt how gorgeous she is, the fire in her blue eyes beautiful. ‘She’ll find someone, some day. If she can’t, where’s the hope for the rest of us? I’m absolutely doomed if she can’t,’ Hermes jokes, Hemera not really laughing along with him. ‘Don’t be silly, Hermes. There’s plenty of Goddesses out there who find you attractive,’ Hemera says stiffly, Hermes becoming embarrassed.

He’s suddenly aware of a pair of eyes on him, and looks around to see Aphrodite watching him keenly, her eyes narrowed with a small grin on her lips. The other Goddesses are still trying to give her a pep talk, but Aphrodite looks much better now, smiling at the God slyly. Her eyes flit to Hemera before meeting his again, her smile growing slightly before she juts out her chin. Hermes suddenly feels a wave of confidence hit him, and he turns back to Hemera, saying the first thing that comes into his head; ‘Are you one of them?’ He’s taken aback at his own brazenness, the low confidence and arrogance in his voice nothing he’d ever heard before. But Hemera’s reaction, a slight blush appearing on her small face, fingers beginning to twirl her hair, eggs him on further. ‘Because I’ll be ecstatic if you are. Nyx told me you’ve been making the days longer, and asking her to lengthen the nights whilst I’m on earth, and I really appreciate that. Maybe you can make the days even longer for me, so I have time to come back and see you sometimes,’ he says, not even realising that these words he was speaking had been thoughts, but as they come out, he realises they were. That he’d been thinking them as he’d watched Hemera throughout the day, realising that maybe he has a little crush on her too. ‘I… why?’ she asks timidly, and he smiles gently. ‘Because you’re really quite beautiful, Hemera, both inside and out, and it’d make me the happiest God on Olympus if you agreed to let me take you on a date one night,’ he says, and her mouth drops open. Hermes suddenly realises that the room is silent, the other six Goddesses in the room staring at them, and Nemesis finally breaks the silence. ‘Did you just ask her out?’ she demands, and Hermes nods confidently. ‘About time,’ Nyx huffs, Hemera still staring at the God. ‘Is that a yes, Hemera?’ Hestia prompts. ‘Yes! Yes, it is. I’d love to,’ Hemera stutters nervously, the other Goddesses cheering.

They hear a knock at the door then, all looking up out of the window to realise that it’s dark, and they’d been gossiping all day. Hestia waves her hand and the front door clicks open, Dionysus’ jovial voice booming through the house. Seconds later, the six Gods troop through the door, taking seats around the room. Ares sits as far away from Athena as possible, the Goddess regarding him with an amused grin. Dionysus makes a beeline for the floor beside Hestia’s seat, resting his head against her knee as one hand of hers comes to rest on his shoulder. Apollo also makes a beeline, but for Demeter, the two instantly beginning to speak about work. Hades takes a seat beside Ares, he and Nemesis eyeing each other with frowns. Hephaestus takes the seat beside Hermes, trying to avoid Nyx’s watchful gaze. Poseidon stands beside the door, leaning against the doorframe broodily, no seats left for him. Loud conversations break out, Hephaestus asking Hermes how his day was, but the God is completely unfocused, thinking about the events that had just occurred. Only when he spots Aphrodite’s inky locks disappearing around the corner does he excuse himself, following her into the garden.

‘Aphrodite!’ he calls into the darkness, the Goddess stopping in her tracks, and walking back towards him with a small grin. ‘What did you do?’ he demands, fists balled up at his sides. ‘What do you mean?’ she asks amusedly, her raised eyebrow and crossed arms making her look more like the high school queen bee than ever. ‘What was that spell you cast on me? Making me ask Hemera out like that?’ he asks. ‘I didn’t cast a spell on you. I read your mind and then gave you the confidence to do what you wanted to do,’ she smiles serenely, Hermes being caught at a loss for words. ‘Wait, what? You can do that?’ he asks. ‘Yes, I can, Herm. I’ve known for a while that you’ve had a bit of thing for Hemera, ever since you saw her at the wedding, even if you didn’t know it yourself, and I knew that she had a thing for you, so I made what you both wanted to happen, happen,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘Oh, right,’ Hermes says, slightly embarrassed. ‘So you should really be thanking me,’ she says with a grin, and he begins to stutter out his gratitude. ‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Just remember, I only ever want to make people happy, okay? Tenfold for my friends. So if I ever do anything, I do it to make you happy,’ Aphrodite smiles, a slight sadness to her tone, before turning away. That’s when he spots a flash of blue hair at the bottom of the garden but, before he registers it, he hears a cough behind him. He turns to see Hemera stood there, the Goddess smiling. ‘So,’ she asks, ‘when’s our date?’ 

-

‘You can open your eyes in 3… 2… 1… now!’ Hermes says, Hemera instantly opening her eyes. She gasps instinctively, looking around in wonder. ‘Oh, my God,’ she whispers. ‘Do you like it?’ he asks shyly. ‘I… I love it, Herm. It’s beautiful,’ she replies, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Hermes and Hemera had already been on two dates, those both on Olympus, and they’d got on like a house on fire. The hours had flown by, and the two had been counting down the time until they could see each other again. For this date, Hermes had decided he wanted to surprise Hemera. He decided to take her down to Earth for the first time. Deciding not to show her the stereotypical tourist places like Paris or Venice or Tokyo, or the popular picturesque places like the northern lights in Iceland, or the fjords in Norway, or the Niagara Falls in Canada, he took her to a place he’d stumbled across once. ‘These are the Rainbow Mountains of Zhangye Danxia, in China,’ he says with a small smile, watching as Hemera’s eyes scan the colourful peaks with vigour. ‘I thought I’d take you somewhere unique for your first time on Earth. Somewhere unique, like you,’ he says embarrassedly, scratching the back of his neck, and Hemera meets his eyes with a small smile. She pulls him up against her, and tilts her head up, closing her eyes. Hermes gets the message and gently presses his lips against her. Within seconds, their hands are roaming over one another, mouths passionately moving against each other.

Hemera breaks away after a few minutes, both of them breathing heavily. Looking at him, Hemera realises that she’s ready. She’s ready to let him in, more than she’d ever let anyone in before. ‘Are we going back to Olympus after?’ she asks, and Hermes shakes his head with a smile. ‘I found us a beautiful house to stay in, in the woods. I think it’s some sort of place that can be hired, but no one’s there at the moment, so…’ Hermes trails off, Hemera nodding. ‘Is there, um, any chance we can go there first? And then come back here tomorrow?’ Hemera asks, and Hermes looks at her in confusion. ‘Do you not like it?’ he asks. ‘It’s, um, it’s not that, Hermes,’ she says, waiting for him to understand, thinking he’ll be embarrassed once he does. But the smirk that spreads across his face surprises her. ‘Why do you want to go then?’ he asks, tongue rolling in his cheek amusedly, and Hemera looks up at him in embarrassment. ‘You know why,’ she says, blushing, and Hermes pulls her up against him. ‘I want to hear you say it, babe,’ he says lowly, looking down at her with a smirk, and Hemera blushes again. ‘I… I want you, Herm,’ she says quietly, Hermes’ eyes darkening at her words. Their surroundings change instantly, a result of Hermes’ powers, the two suddenly stood in the middle of a big rustic bedroom, one wall windows revealing the darkening woods outside. He regards her with a dark and lustful gaze, Hemera’s eyes wide and innocent as he speaks; ‘That’s all I needed to hear.’ 

-

‘Sit your ass down and tell us everything,’ Nyx commands the second Hemera walks into the living room of Dionysus and Hestia’s house. The Goddess of day takes a seat between Demeter and Nyx, all of the other Goddesses watching her intently. ‘It was amazing. I never knew Earth was that beautiful,’ Hemera says, and Nemesis huffs impatiently. ‘We can talk about the boring humans and their boring Earth after. I wanna hear the juicy details about little Herm,’ she says, Demeter and Athena rolling their eyes, Hestia looking amused as Nyx nods in agreement with Nemesis. Aphrodite sits in the corner with a smug, knowing look on her face, grinning at Hemera. ‘I had a really good time with him. I really like him, a lot.’ ‘Did you guys… do anything?’ Nyx asks, wiggling her eyebrows at Hemera, who promptly blushes. ‘Oh, my God, you did!’ Nemesis exclaims. ‘We don’t have any virgins in the friendship group anymore!’ Athena exclaims, just as Dionysus steps into the room. ‘Did not need to hear that. Pretending I didn’t hear that. Going to the bar with the boys. Goodbye,’ he says, promptly leaving without looking at any of the girls. ‘Was he any good?’ Hestia asks, getting caught up in the gossip too. ‘Well, it’s not like I have any experience to compare him with but, yeah, I think so. It… it felt good,’ Hemera stammers out, the other girls squealing save for the love Goddess.

‘Aphrodite, you’re awfully quiet,’ Demeter observes, and the girl grins. ‘You guys do know that I already knew this was going to happen? I knew about Hestia and Di, and I knew about this. I know about what’s going to happen to all of you. And, no, don’t even bother asking me what, because I can’t tell you or it won’t happen,’ she says, the revelation a shock to the other girls. ‘Why did we not know that you know the fate of our love lives?’ Nemesis demands, and the girl shrugs elegantly. ‘It never came up in conversation. That’s my job. I know what’s going to happen to everyone’s love lives, and I just help to speed things up. I’m a catalyst,’ she says, the girls listening attentively. ‘So you know how we’re all going to end up?’ Nyx asks, and Aphrodite nods. ‘I know all the boys’ fates too. Except Poseidon. He’s hard to read. But anyway, that’s why I’m so quiet. I knew all this was gonna happen. I knew exactly what Hemera and Hermes were gonna get up to in that house in the woods,’ she says with a knowing smirk, Hemera burying her head in her hands as the other girls shriek.

‘Why is it I always walk in on you all screaming?’ Hephaestus says as he enters the room, the other boys behind him. ‘We’re just excited to see you,’ Nyx says with a grin shot his way, the God grumbling under his breath as he takes a seat beside Hestia. ‘What happened to the bar?’ Hestia asks as Dionysus pulls her up from her seat, and sits down in it, pulling her back down into his lap. ‘Ares started to a fight,’ Apollo says as he squishes into the armchair with Nemesis who complains, but makes space for him anyway. ‘Seriously? You were there for, what, five minutes?’ Athena says, and Ares scowls at her. Hades throws himself down onto the floor beside Athena as Ares squashes up between Nyx and Hemera. ‘Guess I’m better at war and conflict than you are,’ he says, Dionysus shushing him before a fight begins. Poseidon loiters at the door as he always does, and Hermes loiters there beside him. ‘Come sit, Herm,’ Ares says with a sly grin, and Hermes dithers. ‘Where?’ Hemera looks over to Aphrodite who sits quietly in the corner, observing the scene, and the girl juts her chin out to the Goddess of day, who promptly stands up, despite not recalling wanting to do so. ‘You can sit here,’ Hemera says, Hermes turning slightly red in the face. ‘Where will you sit?’ he asks, and she laughs. ‘Well, on your lap. If you don’t mind,’ she says, and Aphrodite interferes once more, Hermes smirking. ‘I don’t mind at all,’ he replies, everyone, even Poseidon, looking shocked at the exchange. Hermes sits down between Demeter and Ares, and Hemera sits on his lap, leaning back into his chest.

‘Well, I’m guessing you two enjoyed your little trip to Earth,’ Apollo says amusedly, and a laugh ripples around the group. ‘Maybe we should look into a little holiday,’ Dionysus says to Hestia who nods in agreement. ‘Yeah, you definitely should. I know some great places on Earth you can go,’ Hermes says, Hemera nodding. ‘It’s true. He took me to this amazing place,’ she begins, but is cut off by Ares. ‘Let me guess; Paris?’ he says, and she shakes her head. ‘Venice?’ Hephaestus asks, and she shakes her head again. Everyone begins guessing at this point, naming all the romantic places on Earth they’ve heard of. ‘Santorini?’ ‘Hawaii?’ ‘Bruges?’ ‘Bora Bora?’ ‘The Maldives?’ ‘The Amalfi Coast?’ As the room is distracted listening to Hemera explaining where they went, Dionysus turns to speak to Poseidon. ‘Sit down, P, have a drink or something,’ he suggests quietly, but the blue-haired man shakes his head. ‘I should head home. I’ve got a long way to go,’ he says, just as Hemera finishes speaking.

‘That sounds amazing, Hemera,’ Poseidon says, obviously not wanting to take the attention from the newest couple in the group. ‘Don’t try to change the subject, P. We’ve been telling you to move to Olympus permanently for ages now. Why don’t you just do it? It’d save you all the hassle,’ Hermes says, and Poseidon shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes. He looks like he wants the floor to swallow him up, hating being the centre of attention. ‘I have to be near the sea, you know that,’ he says quietly. ‘Doesn’t mean you have to live in it, miles and miles away from the rest of us, P. You know Olympus is short journey from the nearest ocean on Earth,’ Apollo says, and Poseidon shakes his head again. ‘I have a castle there now. I can’t just abandon it. And I like it there. It’s my home,’ he says, Ares scoffing. ‘Bullshit. You just like living where you can get to all those nymphs easily, without any of us seeing,’ Ares says, tension quickly descending on the room. Poseidon’s face sets with anger, but he doesn’t say anything, opting to turn and leave the room instead, and the Gods and Goddesses can hear the sound of the front door opening and closing a few seconds later. ‘Good job, Ares,’ Apollo says angrily, Ares shrugging with a roll of his eyes, though the guilt in his face is plain. ‘Go after him, Di. Or Hades,’ Nemesis prompts, but Dionysus shakes his head. ‘Aphrodite, you should go,’ Dionysus says, Aphrodite looking startled, and the boys only just notice her sat in quietly in the corner.

‘Me?’ she asks. ‘Yeah. You’re good at things like this,’ Dionysus says, and they all know it’s true; she’s definitely the mother figure of the group, the mediator in moments like this. ‘And it doesn’t hurt to see a pretty face when you’re angry,’ Hestia says, a laugh running around the room. ‘I’ll go in that case,’ Hades says, prompting more laughter as Aphrodite rises from her seat and leaves, going after Poseidon. The conversation soon moves back to Hermes and Hemera, Poseidon and Ares’ little argument completely forgotten about. ‘So are you guys dating now?’ Nyx asks, and Hemera and Hermes exchange a glance. ‘We haven’t actually discussed it,’ Hemera says, eyes still locked with Hermes’. ‘But we can discuss it now. Do you wanna be my girlfriend?’ Hermes asks, a shock running through Hemera at the words. She looks into his big brown doe eyes, shining like the stars, and he smiles his endearing little bunny smile, his face crinkling adorably. ‘I’d love to,’ she replies, their friends all bursting into cheers. ‘God, I really need a man,’ Nemesis says a few moments later, everyone bursting into laughter. ‘What about Tartarus?’ Hephaestus suggests, more laughter rippling around the room. ‘Oh, yeah, the God of the pits of the underworld seems like a right laugh,’ she says sarcastically, and Hemera takes the chance to go after Aphrodite whilst everyone’s distracted, quickly whispering where she’s going to Hermes before she sneaks off.

When she steps outside, she’s surprised to see that the sky is dark, time having gone extremely fast since she arrived. Poseidon is sat atop his winged horse at the bottom of their front garden and Aphrodite stands beside him, the two speaking in hushed tones. Poseidon is visibly more relaxed, and looks as though he is about to crack a smile before he spots Hemera. Aphrodite follows his gaze and instantly heads up the front garden path. ‘Hey, Hemera, you okay?’ Aphrodite asks, and Hemera nods. ‘I just… wanted to ask what you did to me,’ she says, and Aphrodite smiles. ‘You needed a prompt to do what you wanted to do. I gave you that prompt. Now go back inside and join your lover boy,’ she says, still smiling, but Hemera can’t help but focus on her eyes, and the sadness that seems to be in them. ‘It’s cold out here. Make sure you guys come back in soon,’ Hemera says, and Aphrodite nods. ‘Um, we’ll be inside in a few,’ she says, and Hemera goes to enter the house once more before she stops. ‘Are you okay, A? You don’t seem yourself,’ she says, and the Goddess of love smiles an inexplicably sad smile. ‘Don’t you worry about me, I’m fine. Now go, be happy,’ she says, shooing Hemera back inside, and Hemera shuts the door beside her. Her heart nearly breaks when she spies through the peephole and sees the smile slide from Aphrodite’s face, her eyes filling with tears.

[geejaysmith]

Kat and I have amazing conversations sometimes and I felt they had to be shared. Also, alienfuckers, dad jokes, Maxwell’s alternative lifestyle and other headcanons, and Ace Attorney: Doug Eiffel edition. Full transcript under the cut.

Gill [Yesterday at 6:05 PM]: On an Unrelated topic: after the finale the crew remembers "OH YEAH, EIFFEL ACTUALLY HAD A FACE-TO-FACE CONVERSATION WITH ALIENS" and now in addition to all the other reasons to want him to Remember they're really freakin' curious to know how that went

Kat [Yesterday at 6:11 PM]: Minkowski: so what did they look like Eiffel: me (They do seem to like his body, they had a few models to choose from when talking to Cutter.)

Gill [Yesterday at 6:13 PM]: Eiffel, probably: at least the aliens think I'm cool I know what was meant by that but your phrasing made me think "In a shocking turn of events, it is the aliens who are attracted to the human." The aliens... are alienfuckers

Kat [Yesterday at 6:17 PM]: I don't think that's their jam but that WOULD be just his luck

Gill [Yesterday at 6:18 PM]: It is unlikely, but also: it would be hilarious

Kat [Yesterday at 6:21 PM]: the aliens keep sending me mental sexts and i crave death

Gill [Yesterday at 6:22 PM]: And lo another shitpost transforms into a fanfic concept, like a humble irradiated lizard becoming Godzilla: "would you fuck your clone?"

Kat [Yesterday at 6:28 PM]: leave him alone has the man not suffered enough

Gill [Yesterday at 6:28 PM]: No

Kat [Yesterday at 6:29 PM]: sigh

Gill [Yesterday at 6:29 PM]: Dance for my amusement, Douglas And also because I earnestly suspect that in the case of Eiffel and an interested alien-consciousness-in-the-form-of-a-Xerox-copy-of-him the answer would end up being "yes"

Kat [Yesterday at 6:34 PM]: idk i feel like it'd be more like "Oh what you spend two fucking years trying to drag us into the star because you can't be assed to make an appearance but you'll teleport across the galaxy for a booty call? Fuck you and I mean that figuratively" later sluts

Gill [Yesterday at 6:36 PM]: Bob is a bad datemate Is this entire train of thought brought on by the fact I still think of the person who expressed they shipped Bob/Eiffel in the tags of the "Take your double to Disneyland" post? Perhaps

Kat [Yesterday at 6:39 PM]: i don't know that you can have this at the same time as 'what if the aliens' bodies are still the people suppressed' without it getting Fucked Up but that's your perogative I guess as long as I don't have to hear about it family can't walk w me tonight so i need to hit the treadmill for a bit. ttyl

Gill [Yesterday at 6:41 PM]: See u in a bit! But ah yes, I hadn't thought of that til you brought it up Points at one explanation of Dear Listener manifestations for some ideas, points at a different explanation for ideas that would become unintentionally Pretty Fucked Up under the first explanation Although there is comedy potential to be found in Eiffel and Eiffel-2 having the "are we down with this" conversation In the /Justin McElroy voice, "someone just discovered they have ~the world's worst fetish~" sense

Kat [Yesterday at 7:33 PM]: a different terrible concept: eiffel with his pop culture references restored will likely be called upon to testify at the united nations

Gill [Yesterday at 7:37 PM]: O h  g o d Ace Attorney: Doug Eiffel edition

Kat [Yesterday at 7:46 PM]: i mean they're gonna have to tell the world SOMEHOW and i'd think the international court would want to know and he's the one with the subconscious recall implanted sidenote if the DL can do that mental transfer could they have just... asked them to reupload whatever their most recent scan of eiffel was there are so many ways around this that's why it failed to get much of an emotional rxn from me

Gill [Yesterday at 7:47 PM]: Minkowski and Lovelace trying to get him to practice his testimony bc if they hit enough subconscious recall triggers they can at LEAST get thru an explanation of the aliens without Eiffel going off into a tangent Once they're off the Dear Listeners' script though all bets are off

Kat [Yesterday at 7:48 PM]: here's a list of preplanned questions your honor we're not responsible if you ask anything else

Gill [Yesterday at 7:51 PM]: Eiffel, maybe: now Goddard didn't send up us there to bring home any xenomorphs but let me tell you, with the Decima project? They might as WELL have let a facehugger get up close and personal with me The translators rapidly swapping notes on late 70's sci-of cinema because a handful of them actually know what he's talking about

Kat [Yesterday at 7:54 PM]: Minkowski headdesking behind him Eiffel English isn't most of these people's first languages

Gill [Yesterday at 7:57 PM]: The news cameras are all dead-focused on Eiffel. He's hit his stride and is picking up steam. "And it was right around the time I was coughing up my liquefied respiratory system that I thought to myself, gee, I'd MUCH rather get a face of alien wing-wong than deal with this!" Minkowski is off to the side. She is visibly restraining herself. No poker face in the world can hide how hard she is longing for death. Whether it is hers or Eiffel's is a subject of contentious debate.

Kat [Yesterday at 7:58 PM]: someone at an elementary school: hey Garcia, is that your dad

Gill [Yesterday at 8:01 PM]: Anne, who was four the last time she saw her father in person, gets one look at the man weaving an intricate Star Wars metaphor out of crimes against humanity and recognizes him instantly, but signs back "I have never seen this guy before in my life."

Kat [Yesterday at 8:04 PM]: good call kiddo

============

Gill [Yesterday at 8:10 PM]: Honestly I love the concept that no matter how much Eiffel may drive them up the wall sometimes the rest of the crew would meet Anne and immediately be ready to kill a man for her sake

Kat [Yesterday at 8:15 PM]: as far as we know he's the only crewmember with kids women in the military... it wouldn't be easy even if you wanted one, which idk if any of them did

Gill [Yesterday at 8:15 PM]: Wait wait, brainwave: it is actually AMAZING that Minkowski had no idea Eiffel had a child because... does he seem like the kind of guy. Who would ever resist a Dad Joke.

Kat [Yesterday at 8:15 PM]: haha fair

Gill [Yesterday at 8:16 PM]: Eiffel: Actually, I have amazing self-restraint when I choose to exercise it. (Various noises of disbelief.) Eiffel: have you ever heard me tell a dad joke? No? I rest my case

Kat [Yesterday at 8:21 PM]: biggest plot hole of the series more like it was too painful a memory but still

Gill [Yesterday at 8:22 PM]: If he ever patches that connection it'll open the floodgates

Kat [Yesterday at 8:26 PM]: He'll become the Maes Hughes of the gang, except with fewer war crimes

Gill [Yesterday at 8:27 PM]: ...has anyone on this crew done war crimes? SI-5 excepted of course, they have obviously done war crimes

Kat [Yesterday at 8:32 PM]: yeah SI5 is war crime central I'm not sure about some of the other stuff executing a prisoner? idk about Minkowski

Gill [Yesterday at 8:32 PM]: Also my thought

Kat [Yesterday at 8:32 PM]: she wasn't a formal pow though it was an ongoing engagement I don't know the rules

Gill [Yesterday at 8:32 PM]: Minkowski Has Done One (1) War Crime (Goddard Futuristics attempts to bring that against her in the court case only for Maxwell to stroll in like lol what's up gang)

Kat [Yesterday at 8:37 PM]: does Goddard in its current incarnation last long enough to sue anyone i mean i think you could sue them for attempted genocide

Gill [Yesterday at 8:38 PM]: Look I have had one semester of business law You were the one who almost went to law school Also re: other characters being parents, the only one I could see going kiiiinda either way on the subject is Lovelace and it wouldn't have been terribly high on her priority list prior to the Hephaestus mission I can see characters having the opinion that they could see Minkowski as a mom but she and her husband both strike me as understanding themselves and one another as being more career-oriented

Kat [Yesterday at 8:44 PM]: yeah if she wanted to rise in the ranks of the military... that would probably be a strike against her

Gill [Yesterday at 8:44 PM] And the implication she's got a Complex about her parents having both left promising careers to raise her Also, Lovelace: Well I always said I could see myself settling down someday, maybe have a family if I met the right person, but when I took the job with Goddard it was legally dubious whether I could actually do that- Eiffel: Because you're an alien? Eiffel: Eiffel: ...wait a sec

Kat [Yesterday at 8:54 PM]: ha It's ok to be gay in space

Gill [Yesterday at 8:56 PM]: Alternatively it's Hera who said that bc didn't connect those dots right away, meanwhile Eiffel saw Lovelace in a flannel shirt once and Knew Immediately Eiffel may be dumb but somehow his Bi-Fi has yet to fail him

Kat [Yesterday at 8:59 PM]: Hera doesn't grasp  human sexuality nuances

Gill [Yesterday at 9:01 PM]: Funny addition to above thought: Eiffel put together that Jacobi was gay after like three days on the Urania, was the only one on the Hephaestus crew to do so, and just never felt it was relevant to bring up Hera, my child... you have much to learn (Also, Hera, probably: I'm experimenting at the moment, I'm looking for a torrent so I can download lesbianism)

Kat [Yesterday at 9:04 PM]: I don't know which option is funnier, that Jacobi is just Really Fucking Obvious but Eiffel was the only one paying attention or that it was super subtle and everyone's like How Did You Do That lovelace's righteous fury overwhelmed her gaydar, she was too mad to go 'same hat'

Gill [Yesterday at 9:07 PM]: Eiffel: I have something to confess to all of you... Jacobi: Eiffel literally not a single person on this ship is straight Eiffel: Oh I was just going to recount a PG version of my wild younger days, let's just say I know a thing or two because I've seen a thing or two.

Kat [Yesterday at 9:07 PM]: Jacobi on Earth: Just matched with myself on Grinder a-fucking-GAIN

Gill [Yesterday at 9:10 PM]: Jacobi: Oh I definitely picked up on it but who wants to go playing into stereotypes by speculating on what may or may not be a promiscuous history? Eiffel: Promiscuous? Look I've got notches in my belt but mostly I just ended up laying in somebody's bathtub at a house party while just conscious enough to nod along to someone else's relationship drama. Eiffel: to several sororities, I was the Gay Bathtub Wizard.

Kat [Yesterday at 9:11 PM]: Maxwell on day one of orientation: So if SI5 is paramilitary what's their stance on alternative lifestyles? Jacobi: I was recruited in a gay bar.

Gill [Yesterday at 9:12 PM]: Her asking the question has my brain going in several different directions

Kat [Yesterday at 9:13 PM]: I think she was recruited right after dadt was repealed... if obama exists in this universe fantasy obama

Gill [Yesterday at 9:15 PM]: One part of my brain: Maxwell is also gay Another part of my brain: Maxwell is exclusively attracted to nonhuman persons Yet another part of my brain, most adjacent to number #2: Maxwell voice, who in their right mind would build a robot that can't fuck? The 4th part of my brain: Maxwell wants to know how chill they'll be with her living exclusively off energy drinks and frozen yogurt for weeks at a time

Kat [Yesterday at 9:15 PM]: honestly I figured whatever it was it was MUCH weirder than just being gay

Gill [Yesterday at 9:15 PM]: Maxwell: I have plans to take over the world with my army of battle bots and rule as their robot queen.

Kat [Yesterday at 9:16 PM]: Maxwell: wait if you were recruited in a gay bar does that mean our boss frequents those or did he just go there to get you Jacobi: Believe me the question haunts me also Jacobi: sounds great i'm in

Gill [Yesterday at 9:16 PM]: Or, Maxwell: I am not joking for an instant when I say that I for one welcome our alien overlords "When I was 13 I tried to get myself abducted by aliens" except it's not a joke it's an actual minor headcanon of mine Also I almost typed "adopted" rather than "abducted" which shows you why Alana would probably want to do that

Kat [Yesterday at 9:19 PM]: she did say she's on bad terms with her family

Gill [Yesterday at 9:20 PM]: She grew up a pastor's kid in a tiny rural town in Montana, hearing that they don't get along is the furthest thing from a surprise to me. The surprise is that Maxwell has a restraining order against them

Kat [Yesterday at 9:21 PM]: tht implies the court found reasonable cause to issue one wack anyway i had a long day, i'm gonna call it a night

Gill [Yesterday at 9:21 PM]: o/ But yeah that Maxwell empathizes with nonhumans, apparently more than with most regular humans, that makes perfect sense to me I can see her frustration with the AI Ethics board in her last job Expressing Their Concerns and her suppressing flashbacks to many a Creationist rant, and trying to keep her eye from twitching visibly, and no I am not projecting I am just coloring in blank spaces in the narrative with my relevant life experience

[tarisilmarwen]

“Heroes of Mandalore” Liveblog

A little late, but hey.

I have been waiting for this for ages LET’S DO THIS PEOPLE!

Some familiar barren Mandalorian desert here.

AND RIGHT IN WITH MY BABIES BEING BATTLE COUPLE!

Aaah, this episode is going to spoil my filthy sabezra heart, I can tell.

I’m so proud of Sabine.  So, so proud.

Aww, Ezra is having problems adjusting to his jetpack.

You wanted one Ez, you don’t get to complain now.

Such banter.  Much cute.

Wooo Sabine!

Lol and Chopper was totally like, “Here we go again.

LOL, AWW EZRA!

Hnngh oh gosh the animation is so fluid and smooth.

Sabine and Ezra banter aaah it’s so good!

Noooo Sabine! D:

Ezra, the last time y’all were pinned down like this you went all Dark Side on the chicken walker, you’d better not--

Oh good, he’s learning.

Hi Bo-Katan!

Ha ha I love how Kanan isn’t even using a jetpack, he just Force Jumps.

So I imagine the Satine references are probably making some Clone Wars fans cry, but I never really cared for her so...

Awwwww, Ezra looking all concerned at Sabine.

And now they’re going to have a talk, good, good.  Feed my thirsty shipper heart.

(Sidenote: Holy cats this music cue ashlfakhsflakj--)

Chopper go away, they were having a moment!

Oh hi Mom Wren.  Hi Tristan.

Kanan and Hera are having marital bickering lol.  And it annoys Chopper.

Oh but Hera honey, slow down and stop being all, “BUT THE MISSION!”  You’re not Batman.

And back with my sabezra babies they are having more cute banter.  D’aww.

Can I just... sit here and watch them interact forever?

They’re so precious.

Oh no, “the weapon”.  Problem.

Oh, that’s a nifty use for those transport side pockets.

HNNGH THIS MUSIC.

Kevin Kiner have my children.

Lol Chopper.

Go Kanan.  Woo!

“Are you with Sabine?”  “Yeah I’m with her.  I mean--I’m not with her with her--”

SAKFSJHAKFJAH IS THIS HAPPENING?!

“I’m just friends... with her.”

Oh my gosh Ezra you dork.

I can die happy now.

Ho ho ho shit Ezra got awesome.

And there’s Sabine to grab him.

MY BABIES ARE SO CUTE.

Aww hugs.

Hey, Mom Wren’s helmet looks like it has cat ears, kinda.

Oh shoot, there’s the weapon.

And poor Sabine!

Just... ouch with Tiya’s voice-acting here.

That was one of her cousins probably.

I mean, that had better not have been Tristan.

Nope.  I refuse.

Sabine blaming herself naturally.

Ursa and Tristan are alive OH THANK FORCE.

Wrath of Sabine.  Wow.

Fang fighter to the rescue!

Or, wait... is that the Gauntlet we stole from Maul?

...It’s a Gauntlet at any rate.

Lol aww Ezra.  You sure you don’t wanna be a Mandalorian?

OH HI THRAWN.  HI HI HIIIIII.

Please go away.

Aaaand I was right.  The weapon targets Mando armor specifically and fries people inside it.  Yikes.

Heh.  Thrawn is thinking through the practical implications of threatening a Proud Warrior Race with a direct affront to their battle pride.

“I only have pieces of the prototype.”  Ha ha because Sabine wrecked it, didn’t she?

Thrawn does not like your lack of appreciation for “art”.

Awww Mom and Dad Wren!

Ezra moving to defend Sabine of course.

Ezra offering a very practical solution.  Unfortunately cultural pride is more important to Mandos than it is to Hera.  *cough*

Aaaand here we go with people giving Sabine grief again.

(Ezra’s so protective of her aaaah!)

Time for planning!

Sooo... Can Rau/Katan be a thing?

I bet they’d be cute.

Here we go, let’s get to the capitol.

The weapon is named after Satine?  Pfft--I’m sorry just--ha ha ha--that’s... that’s too perfect.

Lol-ing forever.

Noooo Sabine!  (Again.)

I see Saxon 2.0 is as arrogant and obnoxious as the first mode.

Go Ezra, save Sabine!

Such good action.  Much excite.

She turned it on the stormtroopers didn’t she?  Ha ha, and Saxon 2.0 is gonna flip the switch.

Nice.

Oh, careful!  Ezra’s scout helmet!

Sabine showing off her slightly bloodthirsty revenge side, as in “Protector of Concord Dawn”.

I see Ezra is not the only one going to be exploring the theme of How We Fight this season.

And I can already hear people kvetching about the schematics between Sabine turning the weapon on the stormtroopers versus them dying in the explosion she caused.

Look it’s really not that hard: there’s a distinct difference between actively murdering your enemies out of revenge (while they’re defenseless, after deliberately making them suffer to boot) and them dying incidentally as a side result of you performing your actual mission.

Motivation, people.

Anyway, glad Bo-Katan is there to be the voice of wisdom.

And she’s also stepping up to be Mandalore’s new leader awesome.

ASFDLKAHLFS WHAT IS THIS TENDER MEANINGFUL LOOK BETWEEN YOU AND EZRA, SABINE?!

And a lovely music cue to close us out.

So!  That wasn’t as much of an emotional wrecking ball as last season’s.  (Though let’s be honest there isn’t that much that can top the return of Kanan’s “I’ve got you.” at the most appropriately tearjerking moment of the episode.)

But very good!  The action was so fluid and dynamic and Tiya’s voice acting broke my heart in places and SO MUCH EZRA AND SABINE INTERACTION YES GOOD.

My only disappointment is that Ezra and Sabine never got a back-to-back saber fight.