#I was given the prompt 'Gods don't die' and just went with my gut. which turned out to be the ancient Greek gods??

[tumblingxelian]

Oh I have been looking FORWARD to this!!!

Excellent in media res opening, you get us into Fu's insecurities & head-space so smoothly and his ensuing logic, along with setting up Trixx's gambit which I am super curious about to say the least!

As before, more excellent in media res, flashbacks are hard to use but you set it up so smoothly without disrupting the frantic nature of the fight or how off balance Marinette is without a partner this early in her career. It makes sense Marinette's just been low key happy but also not noticing Chloe's absence from her life and is only keying in now, the little details are nice touches as Marinette is a very detail oriented person but one with a heavy reliance on her gut.  Chloe's continuing meltdown outside of the façade Purrge allows her to keep up came off really well, the "I know, I suck!" aspect was especially telling, I like Bustier making an effort though clearly being out of her depth given the circumstances. Also gosh, Chloe hissing XD

Adrien: So the Cat Miraculous does make us behave more like cats! Plagg: No, no I do not, don't pin this on me kid. Chloe: (Climbing to the highest place to hiss at people more)

Also nice to see the rest of the class showing some agency and activity on their own without prompting from the MCs, and that whole bit with Marinette nominating Alya only to realize Alya wasn't gonna nominate her was great, I loved their dialogue exchange they are so witty and fun and oooh the confused ball of Adrien feelings, I love it!

Solid break out from the flashback too, and a very smooth introduction with Fu, I love her not realizing his age due to the Miraculous mask effect and his dialogue. I dunno, I just really like how you write his manner of speech. Also more Adrien feels! Fu's method of just leaving Miraculous with people who's vibes are right may come back to bite him XD

"That which was not known could not be pursued, much less caught."

As before I love the distinct manner in which he comes off with, everyone has their own voices, but Fu's is perhaps the most distinct which makes sense given his age and life experience. Sewer Hat Boy, another victim of the Miraculous mask effect and I love the manner in which Chloe is described, very much feels like a feline in human form. The fight itself was awesome, Fu's general nervousness really did not serve him well (Overall) in this fight, constantly over-thinking and fretting and then losing himself in a flashback while Chloe's turned off everything but fight mode. The swapping of the Cataclysm was an inspired idea and gods:

“Five minutes left to show you just how big of a mistake you’ve made.”

Is such a badass line and mental image!!!

Great intro with Adrien's scene, smoothly setting up Nino's upcoming presence and I love the Marinette ramble slipping out as Ladybug! Also gosh his minimal self worth and wow, thinking he can get the Black Cat back even without a Miraculous of his own, optimism bordering on delusion there I'm afraid.

Very swift intro with the Snake and Aspik, it makes sense to skip it even if I was curious, also love Marinette oscillating between her LB person and Marinette vibes. Also oh dear, he went with the bald cap again and aaaah you fools why did you separate, that didn't work out last time now did it!?

Holy fuck that was brutal, easily her most heartbreaking Adrien chapter, this whole experience is borderline cosmic horror in terms of vibes as a thousand truths overlay and his perceptions crumble, heavy stuff! "Would that have been what made her give it back?" That is still your focus my boi?!

Nino is such a ride or die guy, I love him, great sensation work for Adrien and oooh setting up a future conversation that I really wanna see!

& Trixx is here, to make us all cheer, because oh so many questions now rear! I lost the rhyming scheme but suffice to say excellent lead out location, loved all of this! 

Crossing Blades: An ML Fanfic Chapter 1 of 3

Next installment in my Chloe goes back in time AU! Link to AO3, then full text of the chapter below the cut.

Crossing Blades

The warning continued to blare on the ancient radio. It almost overrode the sounds of panic coming through the thin windows and walls of the backroom apartment. Wang Fu paced like a caged animal, twisting the bracelet on his wrist over and over. Beside him Wayzz hung in the air, concerned but silent.

Master Fu stopped in place, eyes narrowed at some unseen ghosts of the past, or future. “I must act. Wayzz, shell on!”

In a flash of green, casual clothing was replaced with armor and mask. Jade Turtle stepped up to the gramophone with determination in his manner. Tap, taptap, tap. Out came the miracle box.

Ignoring the two that remained on the top layer, he reached into a side drawer and took out the snake miraculous. He paused only once, turning away with the green band in hand. Is this the correct path? A life of running had not prepared him for a fight.

Without looking back, Jade Turtle closed the miracle box. The snap of the lid renewed his flagging conviction. This was right. He could bring things back under control and set them in balance once more.

If only he had looked back, he might have seen the fox tail necklace judder and bounce. He might have seen it hop from the box and hook itself to the back of his belt. He might have seen the little fox kwami blinking into existence, the culprit behind the jewelry’s odd behavior, then blink out again.

But, he did not.

-----------------

Ladybug ducked between two buildings. She had no idea if the narrow alleyway was a dead end, she just needed breathing room. Squads of black armored knights marched up and down the streets, attacking anyone caught outside at will. Dark clouds painted the sky, casting everything into deep shadows.

She believed the source to be at city hall, a new akuma -of course- but she needed more to go on. She also needed a partner. She was *this* close to wishing for the Miraculous thief to show up, just to have someone watch her back against the legion of minions this akuma commanded.

To think, this morning had seemed like such a big deal only a few hours ago.

“Good morning everyone. Before we start for today, it’s time to elect your class representative.” Ms. Bustier had spoken in a chipper but uncertain tone. She gestured to Chloé in the front seat, “Chloé, I haven’t heard from Sabrina yet, but can we count on the two of you again this year?”

“What?” a muddled reply came, “No, ugh. I don’t want to be stupid representative anymore. Someone else do it.”

That had brought Marinette out of her own thoughts. Chloé had been weird lately, but Marinette had had her own problems to deal with. However, passing up prestige, not being the bigwig in the room? That was something else entirely. Marinette looked down at the back of Chloé’s head. Was the ponytail frizzed today? There was body language there that felt off, the set of her shoulders wasn’t right. Marinette had gotten good at reading Chloé’s moods in self defense.

Ms. Bustier’s lips made a surprised ‘oh’ and she looked up,”Well does anyone else want to run for the position?”

The kind of absolute silence that can only come from asking for a volunteer echoed back at her.

Ms. Bustier clasped her hands and tried again, “Chloé, why not be representative again this year? You know the most about it. You’re right here at the front of the room too. If things are a bit hectic, I’m sure we can work something out…”

“I said No!” Chloé slammed her palms down on the desk and stood up so fast Sabrina fell off the bench as it moved. “If being at the front means I have to do it, FINE!”

She grabbed her bag and stalked back to the rear of the room. All eyes followed her but no one dared say a word. Rose scooted closer to Juleka. Ivan’s brows lowered as she passed. Nathaniel’s eyes began to widen as she approached his desk.

*Thump* She shoved her bag onto it. Nathaniel’s eyes darted, he seemed paralyzed. Chloé’s face flushed for a moment then she grabbed his sketchbook from the desk.”You sit in the front now!”

The hurled sketchbook opened in mid-flight like a wounded bird, flapping and spinning until it landed on the front desk then skittered off the other side to the floor. Ms. Bustier’s eyes tracked its entire flight. There was one more beat of silence then she looked up.

“Ms. Bourgeois, that is no way to-”

“I know I know. I suck, whatever. Shut up. I’m in the back now, I can’t be the rep. Someone else do it.” Chloé dropped herself onto the bench beside Nathaniel, who fell off the other side, scrambling to escape.

He scuttled down to the front. Ms. Bustier met him and handed him his sketchbook with a gentle, ”Please put this away during the lesson, Nathaniel.” before looking up to the back. “Ms. Bourgeois, see me after class.”

An honest to God hiss was her answer to that.

Ms. Bustier quickly replaced the serene mask she normally wore, “So, it appears the field is indeed wide open. Would no one else like to take the reins and lead our class to the future?”

Alya’s elbow dug lightly into Marinette’s side. “You should do it,” her friend whispered.

Marinette bit her lip. It would be work, more work on top of Ladybug. She didn’t want to let anyone down either. She was always late, even before the miraculous. Surely someone else could do it, right?

“I don’t have time. Why don’t you try it?” Marinette whispered back.

“La-dy Blog,” Alya sing-songed. “Come on, maybe you could get Adrien to be your assistant.”

That sparked a whole ball of feelings. Imagined black cat ears popped into being atop Adrien’s head in Marinette’s mind. Adrien, Cat Noir, a chance to be partners again?

“Mylene!” Alix broke the silence that had settled again.

The redhead gave the girl beside her a friendly shove.

“You’re always into political stuff. Why don’t you do it?”

Mylene smiled for a second before shrinking in her seat. “I umm, don’t know. I’ve never actually been in charge of anything before.”

Alix leaned grinned down at Ms. Bustier, “I nominate Mylene! We can do that, right?”

The relief was clear on the teacher’s face, “Yes! Yes of course, nominations are allowed, though they need to be accepted.”

“Cool. Then that. I nominate. Come on, Mylene. Show us what you got.”

After a look towards Ivan, and another downcast fidget in her seat, Mylene finally nodded.

Marinette sagged with relief. That was taken care-

Alya’s voice, “Well, I nomi-”

A storm of images hit Marinette. Pressure, uncertainty, working with Adrien, not working with Adrien. Mylene working with Adrien, of all the oddball things.

She shot to her feet, “I nominate Alya!”

There was a general classwide blink.

Ms. Bustier nodded, “Alya, would you accept?”

Alya missed a beat, but recovered. “Yeah, sure. That way we get an election, right?” She leaned around Marinette, “We’ll highlight important issues with our speeches, right Mylene?”

Mylene brightened, “Yes, of course!”

There was a general murmur of excitement. Marinette took her seat again, giving Alya a smug look before whispering, “Beat you to it.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Girl, I was gonna nominate Adrien. You already said you didn’t want to. I figured it could work the other way too.”

Marinette’s triumphant smile melted into sadness. She slumped face first onto the desk. Alya patted her gently on the back.

“I dunno what about Mr. Modelpants does it for you, but I was trying to help.”

Marinette mumbled against the wood, “You got my vote.” She pushed herself upright and looked down to the row in front of them. “He just seems… nice. I think he deserves a chance.”

Alya’s snort was anything but subtle, “A chance with you, that is quite a reward.”

Marinette went instantly red. “I didn’t- I mean-”

Alya laid a hand on her shoulder, “Relax, girl. I got you.”

“You can speak at my funeral when I die of embarrassment,” Marinette groused.

“I will move the crowds to tears.” Alya nodded solemnly.

Much needed giggles slipped from Marinette’s lips. A sharply cleared throat cut her reply short though.

“Miss Cesaire, you will be ready to deliver your speech in the morning?” Ms. Bustier asked pointedly.

Alya saluted. “Yes Ma’am.”

At the time it had all seemed so important.

Breather over, Ladybug considered her options. She wasn’t even sure where the akuma was. City Hall seemed a good bet. The roving packs of armored warriors were a risk. One on one, she trusted her miraculous enhanced reflexes, but five on one? Ten? She wished for Cat Noir. In a moment of weakness she even felt she would settle for the thief. She needed someone to watch her back. She needed a partner.

A flash of motion -above!- Ladybug lashed out and dodged.

Spang!

Her yo-yo rebounded off the wide-brimmed metal hat of a green glad warrior. “Hold, Ladybug! I am ally, not foe!”

Ladybug kept her yo-yo at the ready. “Ally? Who are you?”

He raised his head, revealing the green mask and a smile. “I am the Guardian of the Miraculous. You may call me Jade Turtle.”

She sized him up quickly. Her height, her age? It was impossible to tell much from behind a mask. He held himself with poise, but also hunched like his namesake, as if awaiting a blow. “Guardian? What is that? Do you know what’s going on?”

He bowed his head a fraction, “I do, and I will share what I can with you once the crisis has passed. I have brought you the means to garner an ally in this battle.”

He unhooked a small box from his belt and opened it. Inside lay an unassuming bracelet of Jade.

“This is the Miraculous of the snake, which holds the power of intuition. It will allow the wearer to loop time, up to five minutes, to find the correct path to victory. Give it to one you trust.”

Adrien. The name popped instantly into Ladybug’s mind. She could have her partner back. She reached for the box but paused. “Will you be fighting with us too?”

Jade Turtle shook his head, “I am here to reclaim what is lost. I expect the black cat will make an appearance, and I will be ready. It is vital the miraculous not fall into the wrong hands.”

Ladybug took the box. Something nagged the back of her mind, but it didn’t translate properly and only, “Are you sure?” left her lips.

Jade Turtle nodded and ran his fingers along the brim of his metal hat. “Yes, almost as sure as I was in choosing you to be Ladybug.”

With that he turned and vaulted up out of the alley to the rooftops.

The box was heavy in Ladybug’s hand as her eyes lingered after the only person with any answers to her questions. Adrien. I can get this to Adrien. No rooftops for me though. I can’t risk being seen and followed.

Ladybug checked the end of the alleyway and then scurried back towards school, and she hoped, an ally.

--------------------------------------

Jade Turtle moved quickly as possible, keeping to the shadows. Avoiding being seen was still an ingrained habit. That which was not known could not be pursued, much less caught. The city swarmed with units of armored knights marching in formations. They were a concern, but also, he suspected, the perfect bait. His instincts proved correct. Commotion, running soldiers, and sounds of battle drew him to his quarry. 

The new holder of the black cat stood in a swath of carnage. Fallen knights littered the ground like leaves, but there was a lull. Only one knight still stood, sword held robotically en garde against her.

Jade Turtle's eyes scanned the scene quickly. He broke cover, “No! Wait!”

Too late. The black cat moved, slipping the knight's stiff guard and lashing out. Claws tore metal and everything beneath with equal ease. The knight crumpled into the pile.

“You! You! They are being controlled by the akuma! They are innocent people!”

She seemed to register only slowly. Feline disinterest painted across her sharp features. “Who are you supposed to be? Sewer Hat Boy?”

He raised his own guard as he approached. He knew better than to trust the languid curiosity in those mismatched eyes. “My name is unimportant. My purpose is to reclaim the black cat from you. You are not the one destined to hold it.” He directed a pointed glance down to the fallen bodies. “And you paint yourself unworthy by deed as well.”

She tilted her head slowly, then kicked the body at her feet. “They’ll be fine once stupid Ladybug does her thing. As for my miraculous, oh just you try to take it.”

Jade Turtle steeled himself and dropped into a fighting stance. “As you wish. These bones may be old, but they know many secrets.”

With the moment at hand Jade Turtle hesitated, how best to attack? He must strip the ring from her hand. Protection would be the key. He cou-

There was no warning in her eyes, no tension in her stance, none of the things he had learned to look for. She dropped into a hunched run, legs powering her into a lurching drunken charge that devoured the space between them.

Jade turtle jerked backwards. A clawed swipe slashed through the air where his throat had been. Another lunged for his eyes.

Block. Block. Redirect. Turn. Clear roo- no she was on him again. Catch. Twist. Her whole body moved as bonelessly as her namesake, spinning her whole body in the air around the pivot of his wristlock. Her claw toed boot scored lines in his metal hat.

Jade Turtle tried to disengage. He just needed space, time. She dogged his every move. He was being chased again, chased across the street just as he had been chased his whole life. Flashbacks warred with reality. His foe lunged and it wasn’t a child, it was a grown man in a black leather uniform with a very different meaning. Jade Turtle had been helpless then, he wasn’t now.

He lashed out and struck the man a deeply deserved killing blow to the sternum. Contact evaporated the memory. The child collapsed the ground in its place, but rebounded impossibly.

“So that’s how it is…” She gritted through clenched fangs. “Cataclysm!”

He’d lost control! Dodge. Dodge. Stagger. Dodge. Dodge. Backpedal. Something in that heterochromic gaze dredged up every fear from his two centuries of running. He couldn’t- he needed- She wouldn’t give him room.

“Protection!”

Instinct took over when reason fled. He met her next swipe and caught her just inside the wrist. The turtle Miraculous did the rest. A bubble of Green around that black death-clad hand.

He panted, keeping her wrist held firmly. ”Now… I’ve got you. Surrender. You can not-”

The Cataclysm vanished.

Motion.

Jade Turtle flinched and it saved his life.

Her free hand came around, sparking with destruction. It met the dipping edge of his shield hat and blasted it apart in an instant. The feedback robbed him of his senses and strength. Jade turtle fell. He sensed more than saw the shadow looming over him.

“Five minutes left to show you just how big of a mistake you’ve made.”

----------------------------------------------------------

The difference five minutes could make; a million times over.

“Adrien!”

Adrien skidded to a stop at the sound of that voice. He cast a quick glance back over his shoulder, it looked like he had finally lost them. He turns his gaze skyward just as Ladybug landed beside him.

She unclipped a small box from her hip as she straightened up, holding it out.  “Am I glad to see you! I looked at your house first and you weren’t there, so then I checked the school. You weren't there either, so I tried all the streets in between and-”

She paused, withdrawing the box slightly.

“What are you doing out here?”

Adrien looked down, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I thought, I mean I hoped, maybe I might still be useful. If I could, maybe at least find the akuma and report back.”

Or find Chloé and get the cat back. Or anything just to not be a disappointment. Well, not a disappointment to her. He was pretty sure Alya and Nino wouldn’t be happy with him for running off. He had glimpsed Nino running after him, even.

Ladybug made a soft sound in her throat, “Adrien, you’re amazing,” his heart swelled, “I don’t want you to be running around without a miraculous though. It’s dangerous out here. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught and turned into one of these knight-zombie things. That’s why-”

Adrien looked up, sure the axe would fall now. He couldn’t account for the color on Ladybug’s cheeks, or the softness when she held the box out again.

“That’s why I’ve got something for you. It’s the snake Miraculous. With it you can help me again. We can defeat this akuma, get back your miraculous, and stop Hawkmoth!”

She’d laid out the snake’s powers. Sass had been more reserved than Plagg, but polite. When Adrien had transformed into Aspik he’d thought he’d caught Ladybug giggling behind her hand, but she flashed him a big smile nonetheless. She even rubbed his new costume’s smooth head ‘for Luck’. The plan was simple, split up and circle City Hall north and south. See what could be seen and meet up on the other side.

That had been less than ten minutes ago.

It had been months ago.

Aspik had spotted Chloé midway through his sweep. She ran on rooftops, wielding the power of the black cat, his power. The power he’d lost. He had the perfect chance to get it back, as many chances as needed. Aspik had activated Second Chance and altered his course. He couldn’t fail.

Reset. Come from the right. Reset. Try the left. Reset. Try reasoning. Reset. Threatening. Reset. Bargaining. Reset. Fight. Reset. Angry. Reset. Screaming. Reset. Go for the ring. Reset. Go for a knockout. Reset. Try to call Ladybug. Reset. Ladybug arrives on her own and catches a cataclysm. Reset. Reveal who he is. Reset. Again. Reset. Again. Reset. Reset. Reset. He’s hanging over the edge of a roof, danglinging from her grip on his wrist. The last light is blinking on the bracelet. He can’t reach- She smirks and twists the bracelet for him. Reset. Reset. Reset. Something is happening. Reset. The world feels thin. Reset. Spots at the edges of his vision. Reset. No, spots in the sky. Reset. Destruction. Reset. Cataclysm lingering. Reset. Wearing away these five minutes like a thread pulled back and forth through the eye of a needle too many times. Reset. He can’t fail! Reset. He has to prove- Reset. To Ladybug. Reset. He is-

Falling…

He can’t remember what he said this time. He can’t remember who threw the first punch. A thousand thousand truths overlap and spill out, covering his senses.  There’s only one consistency. He lost, again.

Aspik hits the pavement hard. A storm of black lightning tears at the sky for three, two, one. The snake Miraculous chirps one last warning and powers down. The storm vanishes. Time, no longer abused, marches on. It leaves him behind again. Chloé didn’t even spare him the benefit of a backward glance this time. Would it have even mattered if she did? Would seeing him defeated by her hand again have been the right or wrong thing to do? Would it have made her pause? Would that have been what made her give it back?

He feels numb. The street is a too-hard bed but he feels like he could sleep for a decade if he just closed his eyes. The overcast clouds no longer threaten the end, but are still a reminder of the akuma at large.

“Adrien!” Nino’s voice is so out of place it takes a moment for Adrien to recognize it.

Adrien turns his head, still not ready to move beyond that, to watch his friend rushing headlong down the empty street. Nino? Why are you here? It’s dangerous. Too dangerous.

“Dude! Are you okay? Can you stand?” Nino drops to one knee and tries to haul Adrien to his feet.

The answers quickly present themselves. No, and No. Adrien is beyond exhausted. His legs won’t hold him. He stumbles into Nino. His throat feels like sandpaper. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, dude.” Nino loops Adrien’s arm over his shoulders and tries to take on more of the weight. Adrien’s legs still aren’t cooperating.

Ha. Hero saved by a civilian. But then, what’s the difference? Adrien found the strength to push Nino off gently, but not the strength to keep standing once he had. He sat down hard, but pulled the Snake Miraculous off his wrist.  A weary Sass sprang into being, hovering low in the air.

Nino blinked, ”Dude?”

Adrien waved him off with a floppy hand. “No time. Ladybug needs help. Defeat the Akuma. Tell Sass ‘Scales Slither.’ Bracelet resets things. Five minutes tops. Help Ladybug.”

Nino’s eyes darted between Sass and the bracelet Adrien was holding out in a trembling hand. Shock and fear each had a turn, but determination was right on their heels. He took the bracelet from Adrien’s hand, “I’ll try.”

Adrien remembered, “Get the cat back for Ladybug, if you can.”

Sass managed to perk some, and the transformation worked. Snake-clad Nino turned in the direction Adrien pointed, but before leaping away called back over his shoulder, “You have so much explaining to do, dude.”

And with that, he was gone.

Adrien fell back onto his back, ready to let the darkness of sleep take him, hopefully before more knights showed up.  Instead a new, high pitched, scratchy voice reached his ears.

“Hey. Hey you. I’ve got a proposition for you. We can both help each other out.”

[power-of-ages-writeblr]

Gods Don’t Die

(this is a piece I wrote on my old blog as part of a 50 followers celebration - tweaked and re-uploaded! :3)

-

-

“Gods don’t die.” He protested, no longer Aetius, nowhere near Zeus. “They-! They don’t!”

The nameless being before him only laughed.

o0O0o

“Gods don’t die” is something that the whole world believes. Humans and monsters and magical creatures, bound together by this one understanding; this one law of creation. You could destroy a god, tear up their essence, break them into a thousand tiny pieces and cast them into Tartarus – it would rid you of them, but it would not kill them. They would not die. They couldn’t.

The only ones who know differently are the gods themselves. They are not immortal, as is believed by the rest of the world. As they themselves had previously believed. No – they are each the latest in a long line, selected by chance beyond even the fates.

And just as their powers were once given, so too they must eventually be given away.

o0O0o

“Gods don’t die” becomes a mantra that each one repeats to themselves as time begins to run out. That belief, held by the entire rest of the world, is one that they force themselves to indulge in. They must fool themselves. They must block out the truth. Gods don’t die, they can’t, they mustn’t-!

They won’t.

o0O0o

Gods don’t die, they agree as they gather. They are sitting in their chambers on top of Mount Olympus, overlooking the wretched world, as they have always done. And they have a plan. Because somewhere down there are their successors. Still mortal, and still unknowingly awaiting their mantles and destinies. But if the Gods can take the initiative, and strike them down before that happens… they will not have to give it all up. They will not have to cede their thrones, nor their power, nor their identities – all that they have come to claim as their own, after so long.

“It is cruel.” Cautions Hestia.

“It is dishonourable.” Admits Ares.

“It is selfish.” Explains Dionysus.

“It is childish.” Chides Hera.

Of all of them, it is Hades who ultimately casts the deciding vote. Thanatos himself stands behind him and nods approval.

“There is nothing cruel or dishonourable or selfish or childish,” he says, “about not wanting to die.”

Nobody argues.

o0O0o

Gods don’t die, Demeter believes as she moves to bring about the destruction of the girl slated to succeed her seat of power. At the very least, she believes as such until the moment where the plants she had snaked around the mortal to crush her are blasted apart. Splinters fly. Leaves crumble into ash. Even as she watches, fresh greenery sprouts up around the girl – but their curls are protective, not constrictive, and the spears of thorns they form are pointed in Demeter’s direction. Faced with her own power, she feels vulnerable in a way she has not throughout her entire Godly existence. She feels vincible.

“You, girl.” She is forced to put effort into keeping the tremor out of her voice. “What is your name?”

The girl stands up straighter upon realising she is being addressed. The terror is still apparent in her eyes – being smote by a God is just about the worst fear of every mortal in the world. But she still holds her head high.

“Ianthe.” She says, boldly. “My name is Ianthe.”

It is at this moment that Demeter can see her successor’s spirit. The girl is young and strong, and so very afraid, but she is also idealistic. No weathering through age, no nagging belief that loss is inevitable. And Demeter herself realises the truth of her own existence. She is not infinite. Much like the plantlife that she knows so well, she is seasonal. She is clonal. And she is only prolonging the inevitable.

“No, it isn’t.” She responds.

o0O0o

“Gods don’t die” is a phrase that Athena is infinitely familiar with. She knows full well that it is a lie, as well as all that that lie entails – and that knowledge weighs on her as she fights. At least, she assumes it must be affecting her, or she would not be losing at all.

Her chosen “successor” is a mortal named Gaia (and she almost laughs at the irony of being named for one goddess and usurping another), who possesses none of the cool intellect or strategical knowledge that she does. Instead, she fights with her fists. And her legs. And occasionally her head. She’d initially struck Athena as the female counterpart of Ares, and her resolve to not lose her seat to this cretin had been strengthened.

And yet, trap after trap, and feint after strike after feint after strike, are all blown through as though they’re nothing. Athena uses every battle technique that she has been blessed with the knowledge of, and the girl breathes in and out and clenches her fists and outmanoeuvres her at every turn, almost as if by accident. She raises her shield, Aegis, and the mortal closes her eyes and leaps into the air and strikes the shield so hard that it buckles under the weight of her fist. Athena is thrown backwards by the weight of the strike, and rolls against the ground for a long time before coming to a stop, weapons and body both broken.

She opens her mouth to say something – to ask how – but the girl speaks first.

“Why?” She pleads, sounding so distraught and so horrified and so very mortal, even though she is something far beyond that now. “Why did you do this?”

Athena doesn’t know what to say.

“Why did you attack me?” The girl demands. “What did I do to you?”

It wasn’t what you did, Athena wants to say. It was what you were going to do. What you were going to become. But the words die in her throat as she considers them. War is many things. It is bloody. It is necessary. It takes and it takes and it takes, and it rocks the world. And so rarely is it righteous to anyone other than the aggressor. War is the home of courage and cowardice both, and all she has done today is fight to preserve herself – to remove someone else from the equation before they know that they are a part of it, all so that she may cling to what she knows.

If a goddess of war does not stop and ask why she is declaring it, Athena thinks as her vision darkens, then perhaps her title is best lost to her after all.

o0O0o

“Gods… don’t die.” Rasps Zeus, though his mortal wounds suggest otherwise.

Looking down on him, foot planted on his chest, is… some mortal. A young man called Theophrastus who has just inherited his parent’s farm, and never strove for anything more, never will strive for anything more, despite now possessing all the powers of the lord of the skies.

The farm is now embers around them, the flames and the heat long snuffed out by the rain.

Zeus tries to move, but cannot. It is clear what will happen next.

At least, he reckons to himself, he did not go quietly. The battle between Theophrastus and himself had lasted for two straight days. The lightning had split the sky open, and the thunder had shaken the earth. In the end, it had been an old war wound that had caused his downfall – his tendons had never been the same since Typhon, and his reflexes were not what they had once been. And, after so many hours of constant fighting, he had faltered, and been unable to avoid the final bolt of lightning that Theophrastus had hurled at his chest. And so, he had fallen.

He looks up at the sky, blinking, wishing that he could shield his eyes from the rain. At the end of all things, it is all just poetry on top of poetry. The universe emphasising over and over and over again that his time is over, that he is no longer fit to be himself. To be Zeus.

“If Gods don’t die,” Theophrastus asks coldly (his parents were inside the farmhouse when Zeus blew it to pieces), “then how have I killed you?”

It is suitable that as he dies, Zeus finally understands.

“You did not kill Zeus.” Says the old God remembering what his name had been so long ago. “You killed Aetius.”

o0O0o

“But… but Gods don’t die.” Stammers the young man at the foot of Hades’ throne.

Hades rises and removes his helm. “No,” he agrees, “they don’t.”

He throws it. It rolls down the steps in front of the throne, coming to a stop as the knees of his successor. The man can only look up at him in bewilderment.

Yes, Hades muses, there is nothing cruel or dishonourable or selfish or childish about a fear of death. But there is nothing about it that is anything other than futile, either. If there’s one thing that being lord of the Underworld has taught him, it is that your feelings for death are irrelevant. It will always claim you anyway.

And yet, it is not always the end of the story.

“Gods don’t die.” Says Hades, accepting his fate with a heavy breath and a light heart. “But Gods are not what you think.”

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 7 - meet ugly

thank you to @ianandmickeygallavich for the inspo // @gallavichthings

Prompt: Ian and Mickey are neighbors in an apartment complex. They haven’t ever interacted, but one day they get stuck the elevator. One of them doesn’t like confined spaces but doesn’t share this so the other one assumes he is freaking out for no reason.

Words: 3.5k

--

"I'm going out tonight, dickbreath!" Mandy announced, popping her head out of the bathroom. She was wearing a short sequined dress, fitted tightly to her body and only halfway zipped up so it slipped part way down her shoulders.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't!" Mickey called from his recliner in the living room with an Old Style in hand. Work has been absolutely kicking his ass this week and he wanted nothing more than a chill night in.

"Oh, c'mon, now that's no fun. You don't do anything," she accused.

"That's not true!" Mickey grumbled, remote in hand and flicking past some news channels onto some good shit -- finally. Rerun of Jurassic Park.

"What're your plans for the evening then, hot shot?" Mandy teased as she applied yet another layer of mascara on her already blackened eyelashes, "Dinosaur movies all night?"

"Might go to the corner store for some smokes."

"Please get something to eat while you're at it. We have like nothing in here." She waltzed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and grimaced. He could admit that a grocery run was, in fact, long overdue.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Serious, Mick." Mandy gave him the look. The Look being the same Look that his mother used to give him when he was being a little shit.

Fine. "Got it. I'll eat something." She smiled at that.

"Thank youuu," Mandy dragged the word out as she leaned over to kiss his forehead.

"Gross."

"Ditto. Zip me up?"

--

Mandy had headed out awhile ago -- long enough ago that Mickey was now halfway through his second 'dinosaur movie.' He should really visit his dinosaur guy again soon, he's probably got some cool new shit. Mickey sighed and got up, idling over to the kitchen.

He downed a full glass of water and opened the fridge. Yeah, unless he wanted to eat a pickle with ketchup and beer, he needed to go out. He debated ordering in, but he needed to go to the corner store anyways. Two birds one stone kind of situation.

Mickey threw on his favorite pair of sweatpants and his Davie Bowie tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. It was a good shirt. Mickey thought Bowie was hot -- fuckin' alien-looking, but hot, nonetheless.

Mickey shoved his wallet and phone in his pockets and locked up his apartment. Maybe Ernie would have the good roast beef sandwiches today.

His thoughts about dinner plans subsided as he noticed the guy waiting for the elevator.

Mickey had seen the ginger around. He was hard to miss -- fuckin' tall, always going out for runs early in the morning in short shorts and coming back all sweaty, always had a million fucking people coming and going from his apartment. They lived on opposite ends of the hall, but Mickey had never actually spoken to him before.

Mandy had given her brother lots of shit for acting so goddamn unapproachable and that's why he has no friends. Mickey didn't want to be friends with everyone, but he wouldn't mind spending some time with the hot red-head down the hall... eventually.

But he was waiting for the elevator with him right now. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact in fear that it would lead to small talk which would then lead Mickey to inevitably embarrass himself. He couldn't blow his shot. Mandy did the small talk, not him. He took out his phone and scrolled through Instagram even though none of the photos were loading.

He hardly looked up when the elevator arrived and he stepped into it, leaving plenty of space between the two of them. Maybe it was an unreasonable amount of space, but it still wasn't enough for Mickey. He could still smell the guy's cologne. And it was infuriatingly attractive.

"Ground floor?" The man's voice practically sent heat down Mickey's spine. This was going to be a long ride.

"Uh, yeah." Nice, Mick. Not embarrassing at all.

"Great." It hung in the air, a tinge of awkwardness to it.

Out of the corner of his eye Mickey could see the the man leaning against the elevator wall, crossing his ankles as he not-so-subtly stared Mickey's direction.

Mickey was running out of things to check on the his phone and he was about to give in and finally make eye contact when he felt a shift. Then an ungodly clanging of metal. And a stop.

Fuck.

He glanced up at the dial. Sure enough they were stopped between floors, and not at all near the ground.

"The fuck?"

"What?" The red-head locked confused eyes with Mickey's.

"We're stopped. Why the fuck are we stopped?"

"Hm," The guy poked around at the open doors button and nothing happened. "I don't know."

All hopes of positive small talk was out the window as Mickey went into full panic mode. He did not like small, confined spaces -- which happened to be exactly what his current predicament entailed.

"You open the doors!" Mickey practically shrieked.

"Why me!?" The attractive guy spit back.

"You work out and shit -- do I look like I could pry those fuckers apart?"

"Well..." The red-head took a moment to size up Mickey's smaller form. "Yes, you do actually- but these doors are heavy as fuck. We don't have like super strength."

"Fuck you."

"Uh, fuck me!?"

"Yeah, fuck you. Not even tryin' and now we're both going to fuckin' die in here. Any last words, Red?"

He rolled his eyes. "We're not going to die. Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"Don't you think you're being a little too calm considering we're stuck?"

"Oh. You're freaking out."

"No shit I'm freaking out, Sherlock." Mickey ran his hands down his face. This was not fucking happening to him right now.

"Hey, take deep breaths."

"Can't. Gonna die." Mickey gasped.

"Well, if you can't breathe, you're definitely going to pass out."

Mickey shot him panicked eyes.

"Hey, hey it's okay. Just look at me."

Mickey could do that.

"Copy me. In-" He inhaled, chest expanding.

"Out-" Mickey felt his breath on his face. In any circumstance, a stranger breathing on him would warrant a punch in the gut, but now it was more grounding than anything else. They repeated that motion a few times.

"Good. See, you can breath."

"What are you? A fuckin' doctor?" Mickey huffed a laugh in disbelief.

"Been to enough," he chuckled.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. But, uh- look, see, I'll hit the emergency button and someone will come get us soon. It'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive. Got stuck in one of these with my sister when I was little, kinda scary at first but we were out in practically no time. She sang to me to pass the time, but I take it you don't want me to sing to you?"

That earned a full-bellied laugh from Mickey, "Not yet."

The man grinned goofily like a golden retriever.

They were silent for a moment.

"So, uh, what's your name?" The red-head asked, gazing curiously at Mickey.

Mickey just stared back at him.

"Your name?" He repeated gently.

"Mickey."

"Mickey," He said it so soft like a prayer. "I like it. I'm Ian."

He had no idea what he expected, but it wasn't Ian. Ian was fitting, though. Ian was good.

--

Ian had hit the emergency button a few times for good measure while Mickey had tried to call Mandy to no success. They settled onto the floor, leaning against opposite walls, feet nearly colliding in the center. Neither made a move to completely avoid that.

After Mickey had calmed down a bit, they fell into bouts of comfortable conversation and comfortable silence.

"I thought you just hated me." Ian mumbled after a bit.

"What I hate is being trapped here." Mickey stared at the walls threatening to enclose around them. He closed his eyes so he didn't start to panic again.

"Even before this."

"Oh?" That was news to Mickey. That was never his intent.

"Yeah, I always see you around, but you never seem to see me." Ian looked to the ground when he said it.

"I've seen ya plenty. You're the dork with the short ass shorts."

Ian smirked, "I guess I am."

"Hard to miss, man."

"You too. I've wanted to say hi for like months, but you always looked like you were ready to snap me in half or something. I kinda like my limbs in tact."

Mickey swiped his thumb against his nose and sniffed, embarrassed, "Sister says I scare everyone away. Used to be a good thing."

"Sister... wait, wait, wait, hold up. You're Mandy's brother, aren't you?"

"You know Mandy? Oh god, you're not banging her, are you?" That would throw a wrench in his plans.

"Oh god, no!" Ian threw his hands up in a mock surrender like that was the most repulsive thing he's ever heard.

"Something wrong with my sister?" Mickey grew defensive. She may be a lot to handle at times, but she was still his sister.

"No, no, she's great! 'm just not into... well, uh- I'm- let's just say that if you had a brother, maybe I'd be banging him." He grimaced.

Watching Ian stumble over his words after being so confident about everything else was a bit amusing.

"Oh -- cool." Mickey wasn't used to such obvious disclosures about sexuality with strangers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mickey avoided all eye contact.

"So?"

Ian paused until Mickey was able to look at him again.

"So, what?"

"Do you have any brothers?" A playful flicker in Ian's eyes made it obvious that he was just being a little shit now.

"You're an idiot."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't answer my question still."

"Yeah, I have brothers, but they'd uh- let's just say definitely not be into that."

"And you're... not not into that?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. His lack of denial was basically a confession and they both knew it.

Ian smirked and knocked the toes of their shoes together.

--

Help announced itself to be coming soon over the tiny intercom embedded in the elevator. Sometime shortly after that, Ian had made his way over to the wall next to Mickey's, rather than across.

"Where were you going tonight?" Ian asked, turning to fully face Mickey.

"Nowhere." Nowhere interesting at least.

"Really? So you just take an elevator down to nowhere?"

"Alright, smart ass, I needed to get dinner. Gonna be a late dinner now that's for sure, fuckin' starving."

"Shit."

"What about you? Got a hot date or something?" Mickey eyed him up and down. Ian's outfit wasn't fancy by any means, but he still looked damn good in it.

"Oh, I wish," he winked, "Just going on a walk to clear my head. But this is working just as well."

"Good for you, man. My head is fuller than ever."

"What're you thinking about?" Ian's heavy breath practically bounced off his face. His gaze flickered to Ian's pouting lips. This was ridiculous.

Kissing you. Kissing you. Kissing you. "Nothing."

"Riiiight." Ian's eyes mimicked the same trail that Mickey's had just followed.

"Yup."

Ian scooted closer to Mickey and he swore his heart was beating so loud that even Ian could hear it. If he could, he made no indication. Instead, he eyed Mickey's hand resting on the floor. Gently, careful not to spook him, he caressed Mickey's fingers, nearing his tattooed knuckles.

Mickey fought the urge to yank his hand away. No one ever touched him so delicately, so sweetly. He figured that Ian would have guessed that, seeing his crude tattoos, but he wasn't acting like this was strange. So Mickey let him.

"Fuckin' hate them." Mickey murmured, watching Ian's fingertips tracing over the back of his hand.

Ian frowned.

"The tattoos."

"They're you. I'm sure they have a story."

"Wish I could forget it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have a pair of tits on my shoulder."

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?!" Mickey pictured literal tits growing out of the man's back.

"Here, look," Ian turned, pulling his shirt up, revealing an insanely toned and insanely freckled back. Surely he was not about to be flashed in an elevator. But sure enough, tattooed on his shoulder was a pair of double-D's.

"Shit! Dude, what the fuck is up with that?" Mickey laughed.

Yeah, this made him feel better. At least he didn't have fucking titties tattooed on his knuckles, though he was sure someone in his family must have something like that. They're fucking idiots like that. Like Ian, apparently. But Ian was good.

"It was supposed to be my mom." Ian winced, pulling his shirt back down to cover it again.

"Mom must've been a banger." Mickey joked, still hardly containing his laughter.

"Ugh," Ian groaned dramatically. "Never gonna live that one down."

He threw his hands back on the ground, near Mickey's but not touching this time.

Experimentally and slowly, so slowly, Mickey hooked his fingers with Ian's and rubbed his thumb against Ian's hand. It was calloused, but so soft. It was a movement so gentle he hardly recognized himself, completely contradictory to the message literally written across his hands.

He was practically holding hands with a man in an elevator. Oh, if dear dad could see him now.

Moving out of his hell house with Mandy had been a good step, but it had taken Mickey years to unlearn his self-hate, allow himself to be. He still wasn't perfect, and he still felt years behind. But with Ian, it felt normal. It felt right and warm.

Right then, he felt the elevator shift again. He tightened his grip on Ian's hand. Ian returned the hold. If he was going to die, at least he wasn't going to die alone.

Mickey realized that they weren't falling down, but rather moving upwards.

They released their hands and leapt up to their feet as the door dinged open, revealing a small staff of maintenance personnel, not looking at all concerned that two men had just been trapped inside for an unspecified amount of time.

"Fuckin' finally!" Mickey ran out. He resisted the urge to drop to the floor and kiss the ground. He was dramatic, but he wasn't that dramatic.

Ian thanked the maintenance people then hurried along beside Mickey. They weren't on their floor, but they sure as hell weren't about to take the elevator again after all that.

"Hey, Mickey, wanna come back to my place? I think I still have some leftover lasagna if you're still hungry."

Mickey checked the time. Yeah, Ernie's place was definitely closed by now. Plus he really did just want to go back to Ian's. He glanced up to see Ian in almost full puppy-dog eyes. The dork was needlessly persuasive, he'd give him that.

"Yeah, sure. I could eat." He grinned like an idiot.

Ian nodded his head towards the stairwell, holding the door open for Mickey, who obediently followed up the steps.

--

Ian's apartment wasn't too different than Mickey and Mandy's, mirrored and maybe smaller, but it looked oddly inviting and definitely way more lived in -- almost too much décor and family photos hung up around the space.

"Uh, make yourself comfortable," Ian called as he rummaged through the cabinets, grabbing a couple plates to reheat some food for Mickey and himself.

Mickey was no stranger to feigning confidence in unfamiliar locations, but this felt different, more genuine. He actually respected Ian, the man having been kind and patient with him in a less than ideal situation.

He sat himself on the barstool at Ian's countertop and watched him. The gorgeous man who he had been eyeing in secret for months, who had helped him through a small panic attack, who had held his hand and traced his tattoos like they were art. Like Mickey was art.

"So, Bowie, huh?" Ian leaned against the counter, waiting out the timer on the microwave.

"What?"

"Your shirt," he pointed, and Mickey looked down.

"Oh, yeah. He's cool as fuck. Dope music."

"Got great hair, too."

"You would think so."

"Self-love, baby."

"Good for you." But there was no edge in his voice.

Ian smiled. The microwave beeped and they settled in, eating together with nothing but the awkward clanging of silverware and chewing. Mickey was too fucking starving and too fucking tired to care about formalities to give a shit at this point.

"Bet you didn't think you'd spend your night eating lasagna with a David Bowie look-alike, huh?" Ian teased over a mouthful of pasta.

"You wish, man."

"Hey, it's at least a little true."

"Yeah, you're both fuckin' aliens."

"Maybe so, but at least we're hot."

They both smiled around their forks, glancing over at each other a little too frequently with nothing but fondness.

--

Ian collected their plates when they were done, taking them over to the sink to wash them later. Mickey got up and followed him into the center of the kitchen, still sipping on his beer before setting it on the counter to his right.

In a move that shocked Ian, and even himself, Mickey moved into Ian's space and pressed his chest against Ian's back. He wrapped his arms around Ian's waist, feeling up the plains and softness of his stomach, feeling his breath hitch and his heart beat faster. Mickey's warm breath bounced off of Ian's neck and back onto his own face.

Ian sighed and placed his hands over Mickey's again. He leaned his head back onto Mickey's shoulder for a moment before wiggling free from Mickey's grip enough to turn around and face him, carding one of his hands through Mickey's dark hair.

"Mickey." He said it so soft. With so much admiration. Mickey couldn't take it anymore. He leaned up and pulled Ian's head down so they were the same height.

"Fuck, c'mere," he murmured, lips practically touching Ian's with the words.

Ian pressed their lips together. For all his gentle touches throughout the night, his kiss was anything but. Like he needed him to breathe.

Ian pushed him backwards towards the living room, stumbling over each others' feet in the process. Mickey greedily pulled down on Ian's neck, desperate not to let him go. Ian smiled into it and dropped backwards onto the couch cushions, pulling Mickey on top of him, making out like dumb teenagers.

--

Eventually, they settled and Mickey rested his head on Ian's chest while Ian rubbed his back and head comfortingly. Truthfully, he was beginning to panic a bit. He hadn't liked anyone in awhile, and Ian was very hard to not like.

"Are you good?"

Fuckin' mind reader.

"I don't know." Smooth, Mick.

"You don't know what?" Ian probed gently.

Mickey sighed, "How to do this," he answered honestly. There was no point in lying to Ian.

Ian kissed Mickey's forehead, "We can do this any way you want, alright? No rush, no pressure."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely," Ian scratched Mickey's head for a moment, "I've been waiting for you for awhile, Mick, I'll wait for however long you want."

Mickey leaned into his touch and then kissed his shoulder, "I want you, this."

"Me too." They smiled into each other. Safe together.

--

Neither made a move to push things further for the night. Ian had flicked on the tv to the same channel Mickey had on earlier, the Jurassic Park marathon still playing. After whatever movie was on now, Mickey decided he should head home. He was utterly exhausted after the day, and as much as he liked Ian, he didn't want to pass out in the guy's apartment -- though he was sure Ian wouldn't mind at this point, kind bastard.

After Ian had pulled Mickey into one last embrace, Mickey wretched open Ian's door, only to come face to face with his sister, makeup smudged and heels in hand after her night out.

She gasped way louder than fucking necessary, "You slut!"

"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled pushing past her to head back to his own apartment.

"See ya later, Mick!" Ian called down the hall. Mickey didn't respond, but Ian took no offense. To be fair, he had just been caught red-handed by his very dramatic bitch of a sister.

Mandy grinned and looked between Mickey's retreating form and Ian's blushing face. "Oh my god, Ian! I knew it!"

"Hi, Mands." He ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck.

She gave a cheeky, knowing wave goodbye and took off barefoot after Mickey, "You fucker! I want all the details!"

"You ain't gettin' 'em, bitch!" He stormed inside, but left the door open for her behind him.

Mandy threw her shoes on the floor and met up with him in the kitchen, punching his arm lazily so he spilled his newly-opened beer down his hand. "The fuck?!"

"I'm so proud of you!" She made grabby hands at Mickey in attempts to smush his cheeks, but he weaseled out of there quick enough to avoid her gross hands. She may be fuckin' drunk, but she was still quick.

"Yeah, will well ya stop screaming it from the rooftops. Ian's gonna think I'm a fuckin' loser."

"Awww," She chased after him as he headed down the hall, "You are a loser, but that's besides the point! I've been waiting for this for weeks!"

"Night!" Mickey shut his bedroom door in Mandy's face. She'd get over it in a minute. Hell she was probably well on her way to passing out already. Maybe she'd get some details out of him tomorrow.

But tonight -- he reveled in the fact that he spent the night making out with his very kind, very dorky, very hot red-headed neighbor.

--

And when Mandy eventually moved out from their apartment and in with her girlfriend, Mickey had absolutely no problem finding a new red-headed roommate.