#being a creature who's only weakness is heat he got fire as a punishment a LOT

[malwarechips]

all of gummy's art is very silly but this thing has surprisingly serious lore

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH9

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 9: Resurrection Overture (IX)

{cw: threats of rape via beastiality (I’ve marked the worst of the content in question with  ↓ ↓ at the beginning and  ↑ ↑ at the end of those sections), brief transmisogyny}

This lesson caught him off guard, and Qi Leren was stunned for a while after the file was read before waking up as if from a trance.

Qi Leren, like many others, could easily let down his guard against his surroundings after the danger had passed, and such negligence was extremely fatal in terrible tasks.

"I’ve taken note," Qi Leren said gratefully.

Chen Baiqi snorted lightly and lit a cigarette: "Then let’s move on to the next item to test your physical fitness."

"How do we test it? Running?" With the last lesson of being blindfolded while avoiding throwing knives, Qi Leren’s heart was filled with worry.

Chen Baiqi blew out a smoke ring and sneered: "How can simply running force a person's limit?"

"..." Qi Leren felt that he was finished.

He saw Chen Baiqi insert a skill card into the card slot, and a heavy book appeared in her hand. She carelessly looked at the book as the pages turned automatically, suddenly brightened, and muttered to herself: "This is good, just right!"

As soon as the words “just right�� sounded, a three-headed hellhound half the height of a person appeared at Chen Baiqi's feet. The three ferocious heads roared together and its thick canine teeth and dripping tongue made its fearsomeness soar.

↓ ↓

This strong figure, this fierce expression, and that thing under its crotch... Qi Leren swallowed saliva, his face went white, and his legs were weak.　

"This child was caught when I was practicing near Purgatory. He’s still in heat, full of energy, and has a strong desire to mate, and he doesn't mind whether what he’s mating with has two legs or four. He really is a warm and good boy." Chen Baiqi touched its ears and the three-headed hellhound excitedly reared up and looked at Qi Leren eagerly.

Chen Baiqi touched her chin again: "When I first entered this world, there was a very popular saying on the Internet... Oh, ‘it'll chase you, and if it catches you, it will 'hehehe' with you’.”*

*{E/N: A joke by Fei Yu-ching. The general gist of goes something like this: This person wants to go to a shop that specifically helps you lose weight. The cashier offers some packages of different prices. He picks one, enters a room where a lady is waiting in a bikini. She offers, "Chase after me. If you catch me, I'll let you 'hehehe' me". Thank you to Miko for this explanation.}

Although Qi Leren wanted very much to spit on her, this sentence had been out of date for many years and only middle-aged and old people would make such an old joke. However, Chen Baiqi had smacked the three-headed hellhound on the ass and under, her command, the dog growled and rushed crazily toward Qi Leren. Its enthusiasm was like an old bachelor who had been single for forty years and had met his new wife. Qi Leren screamed and started to run. He swore he’d never run so fast in his life!

But even if he had run a new personal record, the three-headed hellhound was still slightly faster than him. Even if he didn't look back, Qi Leren could feel the monster behind him getting closer and closer! He could almost feel its stinking hot breath spraying on his back, causing his chrysanthemum to tighten!

No way! If you continue like this, it’ll soon catch up to you! You can't just run!

I don't want to be knocked up by a dog!

Qi Leren, who was extremely nervous, mechanically pumped his legs and ran hard, and his brain that was struggling to consume oxygen didn’t have enough to think properly. A skill card? Primary Fighting couldn't make him run faster. Devil Etiquette... Stop it, becoming a succubus could only add fuel to the fire right now—he had specifically learned about succubus' data. This demon type with such an exaggerated sexuality would only make a field day for a stick. It was the most unscrupulous creature in the demon world, and the three-headed hellhound would only be more excited to see a succubus. After all, it was also a creature that didn't care whether the mating target had two legs or four, or even if it had legs at all!

↑ ↑

It was coming! Qi Leren felt the wind behind him, but he had already reached the wall of this huge basement. His mind went blank and he instinctively made a sharp turn to the right to continue running. But the three-headed dog behind him was not as agile as he was. Without time to break, it collided with the wall, causing the strong wall to shake.

Qi Leren, who was still desperate to escape, had a flash of inspiration in his mind: Yes, the three-headed hellhound wasn’t as agile as he was when turning, so he could take advantage of this...

Qi Leren looked back. The three-headed hellhound’s middle head had fainted, but the left and right heads were still giving orders to the body. It got up from the ground and continued to chase after him.

Qi Leren, with this train of thought, was much calmer this time. He didn't run around the room like a headless fly. Whenever he felt that the distance between them was close to a certain range, he made a sharp turn, and each time he managed to gain seven or eight meters from his pursuer. Wait until the next turn, when he was about to be caught up with, then repeat this old trick.

The three-headed hellhound, who didn’t have a high IQ, failed to see through his tricks and ran after him blindly. One man and one dog competed for endurance in this bitter mutual torture. Qi Leren’s legs that had surpassed their potential were almost numb. He was afraid the three-headed dog wasn’t much better. When he looked back several times, the three-headed hellhound had its three tongues lolling from its mouths, panting.

This was completely a competition of willpower. It seemed that Qi Leren’s determination to protect his virginity was better than the three-headed hellhound’s determination to mate. When Chen Baiqi finished smoking a whole pack of cigarettes, she’d finally seen enough: "Okay, let's end it there."

One man and one dog fell to the ground, four heads and six legs going on strike together.

↓ ↓

Qi Leren couldn't help thinking that if he was tortured like this every day, maybe one day he would have the terrible idea of "giving up resistance and lying down to accept it", and he really didn't want to do it again.

The three-headed hellhound was summoned back into the book by Chen Baiqi. Qi Leren looked at where it had just been enviously. It could rest, but he still had to be tortured by the head demon here. Yes, Chen Baiqi has risen to be a terrible demon coach in his mind, and he was just like the protagonists in comics who were spurred on, spending each day drowning in their own sweat.

"It's a pity, I thought I could look at 'man and nature'," Chen Baiqi said with regret.

Once again, Qi Leren felt his chrysanthemum tighten.

↑ ↑

"Intuition is okay, reaction and adaptability are barely strong, and physical fitness is still poor. You will report to me every morning at my store’s entrance, run to the steel bridge to fetch me two breakfast servings, and then run back. I’ll give you a watch. If you’re late, you’ll be punished by having to take my dog for a walk outside," Chen Baiqi smiled, speaking demonic words with ease and pleasure.

The dying Qi Leren couldn't help feeling sad, looking at Chen Baiqi with eyes full of bitterness.

"Get up, you can go home and report on time tomorrow," Chen Baiqi said with a smile.

"Surely I’ll be too sore to move tomorrow... No, I can't move now," Qi Leren said breathlessly.

"Oh, really?" Chen Baiqi said. Blowing out a smokey sigh, she walked beside him and raised her foot—the slender high-heeled shoe stamped between Qi Leren’s legs while he was off guard!　

Qi Leren screamed "AH" and rolled, narrowly dodging the foot that would have made him childless. The crisp high-heeled blow behind him scared him into a cold sweat.　

"You missed an opportunity to be a cute girl," Chen Baiqi said regretfully.

Qi Leren struggled to get up from the ground: "Thank you, this opportunity is not needed."

Chen Baiqi raised her slender eyebrows and smiled charmingly: "You’ll regret it."

On the way home, Qi Leren had been stubbornly thinking about Chen Baiqi's smile. He’d almost forgotten to ask her about buying a confidentiality contract. Chen Baiqi raised her eyebrows and didn't ask anything. He readily paid the money for his goods.

As he walked into a roadside public toilet, Qi Leren thought of cherishing his little brother affectionately. He had paid a painful price to keep it.

Unexpectedly, when he pushed open the bathroom door, he was greeted by a beautiful acquaintance. Her long curly hair was draped over her exposed shoulders, her gorgeous red lips were slightly opened, and her eyes were blurred as she swept towards Qi Leren at the door. It was the Illusionist Qi Leren had seen in Chen Baiqi's shop before!

"Sorry, wrong one!" Qi Leren subconsciously flung himself out the door.

The moment the door closed, he suddenly remembered... That thing in front of the Illusionist ... Wasn’t it a urinal from the men's room?

And the Illusionist herself, standing in front of the urinal at that time, had naturally lifted a heavy skirt and put her hand into the skirt to release its inventory.

Qi Leren felt his worldview collapse.

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Editor’s Notes:

I’ve honestly been dreading reaching this and the next chapter ε-(~д~”)

I want to give some forewarning that the there does start to be some notable transmisogyny in the series starting with this chapter, primarily in the form of misgendering. I haven’t read Part 3 yet and thus can’t speak for it (I will mention it in an E/N once I have and likely edit this one as well), but in Part 2 it doesn’t come up tremendously often as the character it’s in relation to, the Illusionist, is relatively minor. 

However, the next chapter in particular is unfortunately entirely comprised of an extended joke centered on transmisogyny and sexual harassment. Nothing plot-significant happens in it and the chapter is entirely skippable if you do not want to read that.

As I stated before, as someone who is only working on a translation, I don’t feel that it’s my place to knowingly change or omit content. I do apologize for this. I will be providing the same sorts of warnings and skip-markers as I have previously in order to allow readers the best experience I can give under the circumstances.

As always, I encourage you to message me if you have any further questions or concerns about this or anything else.

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[dddainuhsoar]

witch guanshan x warrior hetian

a fic au inspired by a movie that came out recently. you have 3 guesses to guess which movie it is. anyway, incomplete so read at your own risk... ^^

~2k words

traditionally, witches have been women. witches are beautiful women who ensnare their prey, and transform into docile, innocent animals - a fox, a snake, a bird - to escape in times of trouble. rather than being feared for their prowess, witches were revered. their spells brought rain for crops, their charms brought luck (or disaster; it depends which you are looking for) and their ability to convene with creatures proved more useful than horrific.

schools were set up and young girls with talent in magic were sent there to become enchantresses, sorceresses or fairies. after their studies, they were either sent to the imperial city to be part of the emperor’s court or army, or, if they chose, continue their studies to become deities. boys with talent in magic do not exist… unless they do and are incredibly apt at disguisement.

illusion spells, in fact, were the only kind of spells guanshan was any good at. he managed to trick everyone at school that he was a girl, but for what? he was failing at every other category. his parents sent him to study despite their fears that he would be discovered because they believed it would be a waste of his talent if he hadn’t gone. at first, he had thought he had talent in it too. he thought he was special, then he started studying at a school and realised he had overestimated himself.

girls were natural spell-casters. he, even though able to use magic, struggled to conjure even a single droplet of water. some of the instructors were appalled at his lack of ability, even suspected he was not truly a witch, but none ever saw through his illusion. no matter how much he sweated under their watchful gaze, trembled under their inspecting spells, or stuttered under the pressure of their inquisition, they simply never found out. sometimes, guanshan wished they would hurry and expose him already so he could quit this and go home.

after the instructors gave up trying to figure out what was wrong with guanshan, they stopped caring about him. he was too weak to teach, but too unique to be thrown out. some of the girls took pity on him and tried to help, but most just sneered at him. they weren’t too fond of people who were different. the crueller girls would play pranks, casting hexes on him that took him ages to learn how to remove.

i deserve a worse punishment, guanshan thought. he was a boy who studied, ate and slept with girls. it was immoral and lecherous. it was blasphemous, because witches were gods-to-be. he had no dishonourable thoughts about his schoolmates (he swore his right hand to it), but he was sure to punish himself at least once a day. many times, he would not be able to bear the guilt of lying next to the girls, who were flowering into women day-by-day, that he would sleep outside in the courtyard, on the stone floor, unsheltered by a roof or walls.

when one has to often sleep in such conditions, it is no surprise that they are in no shape to be practising spells in the day. it was self-sabotage, guanshan knew, and sooner or later, the instructors would throw him out. it was on one of his poorer-faring days, when he was forced to crouch till dinner as punishment for setting a tortoise’s shell on fire while the tortoise was still in there, that he met hetian, the second son of the chief of the he tribe.

guanshan’s tribe was known to produce the most fearsome witches. most of them carry on to lead battalions in the imperial army. and if there were a warrior-parallel for guanshan’s tribe, that would be the he tribe. the men from the he tribe were the most brutal and cunning warriors. they were not averse to using underhanded strategies to win a war, which made them incredibly useful to the imperial army but also risky. they were loyal to a fault to the chief of their tribe, and even the emperor was careful when it came to dealing with him.

a few members of the he tribe were visiting to train with the witches. since many witches would end up serving in the imperial army along with the warriors of the he tribe, it was a natural idea to have the two groups get used to each other as part of their training. together, they were invincible.

initially, guanshan was determined to ignore the boy and focus on building a shelter for the tortoise he was tasked to protect from the blazing sun he himself was being scorched by. he was given a large wooden bucket to fill with water by his teachers. once he had it filled, he could then put his tortoise in so it would stay hydrated. they wanted him to practise his water conjuration spells, he understood that, but he couldn’t understand why at the expense of an innocent tortoise. when his fingers ached from snapping and his throat parched from muttering the spell, he finally looked up at hetian, who had been staring at him the entire time from under his paper umbrella.

it was nice of hetian to shade guanshan from the sun (even though guanshan desperately wished he would go away before his teachers came to check on him) so he decided it was possible the young visitor would be willing to help him get water from the well in the neighbouring courtyard.

“you’ll have to show me,” hetian said. “this place is huge, i think i’ll get lost.”

guanshan glared at him. “just take that path to the left. it’s in that courtyard. i cannot leave this spot.”

“why not?”

“what do you mean ‘why not’? i’m being punished!”

“you’ll suffer a worse punishment if you let me get lost in this maze of an institution,” hetian said. “as it is, i’m already lost. i can’t find my way back to my hall.”

for a moment, guanshan wanted to throw the bucket at him. but they were too close to each other and guanshan was crouching so if he wanted to throw it, he had to throw upwards, which meant when it dropped back down, it might hit him in its trajectory. with a growl, he got to his feet. he carefully placed the tortoise in the bucket. it was barely moving, and he wondered if it was dead already.

“i’ll lead you back to your rooms after i fetch water for my tortoise,” guanshan offered, proud of his valiance. he could use the guest as an excuse if he bumped into one of his instructors.

the young man was handsome. unlike his tribe, hetian had pale skin and a lean build. he was taller than guanshan but he didn’t look much bigger, and guanshan was supposed to be a girl. hetian had his long raven hair half-up, tied with a red cloth ribbon. his cheeks were pink from walking under the heat of the sun, and his face glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. when he smiled, his gratefulness reached his eyes. it was the first time anyone had given guanshan a genuine smile since he stepped into this school. maybe that fact, coupled with the angry rays of the sun cooking his brain and that he hadn’t slept a wink last night, caused the skip in guanshan’s heartbeat.

“my name is hetian,” the young man introduced himself as they made their way to the well. “second son of the chief of the he tribe.”

“i know who you are,” guanshan said, grimacing. “you are our esteemed guest.”

“so you knew that and yet you made me wait to have your attention,” hetian mock-scolded. “is your tortoise an esteemed guest as well, then?”

guanshan nearly smiled at the quip. “this tortoise is hundreds and hundreds of years old, it is our senior in many ways.”

hetian gave him a studying look. “i have heard that witches feel an affinity to creatures, but i imagined more glamorous animals.”

“well, even though i cannot conjure up a lick of water and i have red hair,” guanshan said, gesturing airily to his head, “i have always communicated better with aquatic animals.”

the young chief-son laughed. “what does the colour of your hair have to do with the animals you commune with?”

“red,” guanshan shrugged. “it is the colour of flames, the opposite of water.”

“much of you is the opposite,” hetian said, helping guanshan lift the bucket onto the lip of the well.

“of what?” guanshan asked as he tied a secure knot to the handle of the bucket with the rope.

at the exact same time hetian answered, “of a witch,” guanshan yelped, “wait, my tortoise!” as hetian had already begun to lower the bucket into the well.

guanshan stretched into the well to reach for the bucket, which was ridiculously thoughtless because hetian could have simply pulled the bucket up again. doubtlessly, he lost his balance, was lifted off the ground by the off-balance and started a nosedive into the well. at least his desperation to save the tortoise forced a spell that levitated the tortoise safely into his arms out of him. mid-way in his descent, he felt two arms envelope him and immediately after, they plunged into the icy water.

water was coming out of his nose, eyes and mouth when guanshan resurfaced. he coughed and sputtered and hugged the struggling tortoise tightly to his chest with one arm. when he kicked his legs, he hit hetian who was behind him.

“are you all right?” he demanded. his voice bounced off the walls of the well as he finally let go of the tortoise to spin around in the water and face his unfortunate companion.

much to guanshan’s surprise, hetian laughed. it, too, bounced off the walls of the well. it sounded like magic. guanshan could feel the tortoise swim out from between them to scrabble at the opposite wall.

“well, seducer,” hetian proclaimed in between laughter, “you better get us out of this well.”

it was dark all the way down here and guanshan could barely see the face he desperately wished to see. he wanted to see what hetian looked like when he laughed till he could not speak, wanted to see how his long dark hair must be plastered to his face like seaweed, wanted to see the look on his face to know what he meant by putting his hands on guanshan’s waist. guanshan murmured a spell and despite there being too much moisture in the air to summon a flame, a ball of fire burst into existence above their heads. guanshan could see now. hetian could see now. or at least guanshan hoped he could.

“this is inappropriate,” guanshan muttered. “i mean,” he gulped as he studied hetian’s face. “a girl and a boy, who are almost of age, alone in a tight space together… it’s… scandalous…” even as he said it, he could feel the thin material of his clothes cling to the straight lines of his body, he could feel how his chest was flat against hetian’s own.

“we’re not alone,” hetian whispered. the fire above them casted the structure of hetian’s sharp features in stark relief. “we have an esteemed guest in our midst. right behind you. trying to climb the walls.” the scratching of the tortoise’s claws against stone suddenly became louder to guanshan, who laughed in response.

hetian still believed he was a girl. that meant even though he was caught off-guard by the fall and drenched to the bone, his illusion hadn’t wavered. his disguise was more powerful than he could ever imagine, and yet he half-wished it wasn’t.

guanshan pushed away from hetian and waded to his tortoise. he held the reptile gently, whispering something to it. it soon calmed down and waded closer to guanshan’s chest.

“i don’t have magic that can get us out of here,” guanshan explained sheepishly. “but i can send my flame up and hopefully someone will pass by and see it.”

“you mean you cannot turn into a bird or something that can fly?” hetian asked.

“no,” guanshan blushed, ashamed of his lacking abilities. “i have never been successful at full transfiguration.” even his disguise as a woman was enabled by a spell of illusion, not transfiguration.

hetian didn’t say anything. and later guanshan would wonder what he did or said to trigger it, but now hetian floated over, took guanshan’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. it took the person outside the well above them three tries to get their attention. when they were finally lifted out of the well by levitation spells casted by two separate instructors, hetian was immediately herded away to dry off in his rooms, and guanshan was ordered to return to the students’ quarters and stay there for the rest of the day without food.

with the hefty tortoise resting on his chest, and his clothes drying off by his trusty fire-light, guanshan lay on his bed and replayed the kiss over and over again in his mind.

[jeranasblog]

Starker Kink Advent Calendar - Day 4

Summary: Peter marries Tony because he wants to keep working. Tony marries Peter because he doesn’t want the boy’s brilliance to go to waste. Neither one of them expects an overwhelming attraction to unfold between them. Feelings, insecurities, and doubts tangle together until they find themselves inextricably linked. And what happens when a surprise turns everything upside down?

24 days, 24 chapters, 24 kinks

Pairing:  Peter Parker/Tony Stark

Rating: E

Notes:  Hey guys. I’ve decided to write a “Starker Kink Advent Calendar” this year, so 24 chapters with 24 different kinks. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Check all the sex tags on Ao3

Read on Ao3

~⭐~

Day 4 - Cock Warming @sinditia​ and Jess <3

Tony had known Peter was a gorgeous Omega, but he hadn’t known how perfect the boy could be for him. Peter looked gorgeous taking his cock, begging for more even though Tony was already filling him to the brim. It was astounding what a size whore Peter was for him, and Tony had to confess it did stroke his ego a lot.

 He had to confess that he spent more time fucking Peter than he had planned. Sex was a huge part of a marriage, but he didn’t want to give Peter the impression Tony had only married him for his body. Unfortunately, Tony lost it every time his husband wore pretty little panties around him. And Peter wore them a lot. 

 Once the Omega got a taste of how a cock felt inside of him, he got addicted. Tony watched with a smirk how often Peter begged the Alpha to be filled, or at least whimpered until Tony let the boy suckle on his cock for a while. It was maddening, and Tony didn’t know how he would ever get work done if such a beautiful Omega was waiting for him at home. Their week off would be over soon. 

 Still, when they sat together in front of the TV, dressed in nothing but boxers and panties, Tony couldn’t think about anything but the gorgeous creature beside him. It didn’t matter that the week was over soon, his husband would stay. 

 “Alpha?” Tony’s cock twitched already. Peter only called him that when he was aroused. “Can I sit on your cock while we’re watching TV?”

 Tony groaned loudly, even though his cock was already hardening. Peter was a goddamn cock tease, and Tony would rather mock the boy with his neediness than admit how gone he already was on him. 

 “Again, baby? Didn’t I fill you up two hours ago?”

 The puppy dog eyes he got in return would have broken anyone. 

 “Alright. Hop on. But don’t you dare move or I’m going to turn your ass a pretty red.”

Was that excitement in Peter’s gaze? The thought was tempting, but Tony didn’t want to test it yet. They’ve only had sex for a few days now. Spanking could wait for later. 

 “I wouldn’t recommend provoking me, boy. There will come days you’re going to beg me to spank your pretty little ass but today, I want you seated on my cock. So be good, will you?”

 Tony got a smirk in response. “Yes, Daddy.” Shit, the boy would be trouble, and Tony had to close his eyes to stop himself from bending the brat over his knee.

 Maddeningly slowly, Peter stripped off his panties, giving Tony a good view of his plump little ass. Tony could still see the boy’s cheeks glistening, partly with slick and partly with Tony’s seed. Peter had refused to clean up after their last time, insisting on being marked up for a little longer. Tony had almost fucked him again. 

 “I’m still wet and stretched, Alpha,” Peter said innocently, batting his eyes at Tony, and even though the Alpha knew Peter wasn’t even half as innocent as he pretended, Tony fell for the trick.

 “Hurry up, brat. Back against my chest. Keep me warm. And don’t you dare move.”

 Peter wanted to counter, Tony could see it in the way his eyes sparkled, but before the boy got a chance to be punished, Tony pulled him into his lap, his cock thrusting into the wet heat in one go. 

 Both of them moaned at the same time. It was a tight fit, even though Peter was still stretched from last time, but Tony was too big to get used to that easily. His husband felt amazing. Soft walls that clung to Tony’s cock like they never wanted to let him go, and the overwhelming wetness that made Tony’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

 “Can’t believe you’re already dripping for me again, sweet thing. A week ago, you couldn’t take me without pain, even though I gave you a few fingers before. Now I don’t even have to prep you anymore.”  

 Keeping Peter still on his lap was a struggle, but Tony managed to control himself and fixate the boy’s hips in a tight grip.

 “Just watch TV, baby,” Tony whispered into Peter’s ears, savoring the shudder that went through the Omega’s body. “A perfect slut like you has to learn to be patient. Keep me nice and warm.”

 Peter whimpered pathetically, a sound made to entice an Alpha to fuck an Omega properly, but Tony stood firm. He wanted Peter so desperate with desire that he couldn’t think anymore, and that was worth waiting, even though his own cock throbbed with the need to move.

 If someone had asked Tony afterward what the TV show they watched was about, he wouldn’t have an answer. Peter tried not to move, he really did, but his inner muscles fluttered around Tony once in a while, squeezing him, milking him, and keeping him on edge. It helped him not to lose the erection, but he was losing his control instead. Peter was a goddamn tease!

 Tony lasted twenty minutes. Twenty minutes filled with a panting Peter on top of him, whining, shifting, and moaning until Tony had enough. 

 “Would you sit still for a second, slut?” Tony was proud of himself to keep the arousal in his voice at bay. 

 “It’s just- You feel so good, Alpha. I can’t-” Peter wasn’t teasing anymore. His words sounded so desperate, so needy, that Tony took pity on him. 

 He lifted the Omega off his cock, ignoring the devastating sobs and the slick that dripped onto the couch. With a single movement, he turned them over until Peter was buried under him, face pressed into a pillow. He would buy a new couch tomorrow, there was no need to worry about it now. 

 As quickly as possible, Tony thrust back into the wet heat. It was like coming home. Peter was the best that could have happened to him, and he would protect what they had with his life if necessary.

 If Tony had thought he was already losing control, Peter was even worse. His legs gave in as soon as Tony entered him again, reducing him to a whimpering and sobbing mess. The Omega’s weakness fueled the fire burning through Tony’s veins even more. He was responsible that his husband couldn’t even talk anymore. 

 “Such a greedy whore. Begging and crying for me all day, but once I split you open on my cock, you get so stupid you’re nothing but a needy mess. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before.”

 Tony didn’t even know if Peter was still listening, but he couldn’t care less. Instead, he focused on keeping up the rhythm, shoving Peter over the couch while he buried himself again and again in his Omega. The boy gripped him so tightly that Tony felt like he was in heaven.

 He kept whispering things into the Omega’s ear while his thrusts didn’t lose their force. “Such a good boy, Peter. Taking me like the slut you’re born to be.” “So wet and opened, I can’t believe I’m the first one feeling you like this.” “You’re mine, gonna keep you spread open in my bed forever.”

 Peter wasn’t moving anymore except for the muscles that squeezed Tony again and again. If it wasn’t for the needy sounds the boy made, Tony wouldn’t even have noticed the boy was close. Seeing his boy losing himself so thoroughly to the pleasure, made Tony’s Alpha side preen. He had fucked his Omega stupid. This perfect creature was his.

 It didn’t take long until Tony noticed the first signs of Peter’s orgasm. The muscles tightened even more, the sounds got even higher, even more high-pitched. Eventually, Tony could feel the orgasm coursing through his husband’s body. 

 Peter sobbed as he came, his walls squeezing and milking Tony’s cock, begging him for his seed. It felt heavenly, and Tony knew he would last much longer. The little brat had teased him long enough. 

 With a few last thrusts, Tony buried himself in his Omega again, prolonging Peter’s orgasm until the boy was shaking in overstimulation. When he finally came, it hit him like a freight train, and his entire body shuddered while he pumped load after load into the boy’s hole. There was nothing better than claiming Peter, showing the world that this Omega was his. 

 None of them moved when Tony finally pulled out. It was quiet. Tony laid on the couch, his chest pressed against his husband’s side while he did his best not to crush Peter with his weight. He still couldn’t believe his luck. This perfect Omega had married him, even though Tony was older than the Alpha personally liked. 

 “Marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made, Peter.” The Omega stiffened for a second before he turned his head that was still buried in the pillow and gave Tony a smile. It was honest.

 “Same for me, Tony. You’re the perfect Alpha.”

 The words spread warmth through Tony’s body and he could feel his stomach fluttering. Maybe the boy would love him one day. Maybe this could be more than a lonely old Alpha saving a young talented Omega so that the Omega could show his brilliance to the world. Tony hadn’t dared to imagine he could be more than a savior, but maybe Peter could be what Tony had always dreamed about. 

 Suddenly, Tony had to make sure Peter knew how much he meant to Tony. “I don’t want you to think I’ve only married you for your body, baby. You’re brilliant, you’re kind. I just want you to be happy.”

 “Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate that.” Tony could see real gratitude in Peter’s eyes. “Even though my body is pretty amazing as well.”

 “Little brat.” Peter’s smirk made Tony smile. This is what he wanted. The small moments between them, and no one who wanted to limit Peter’s mind. 

 He brushed a curl out of Peter’s eyes and pressed a chaste kiss on the Omega’s lips. Maybe, he could be enough one day.

 “I’ll fight with you, Peter. I’ll fight until you get every right you deserve. I’ll fight so you’re allowed to work and I’ll fight until no one can hold you back.” And then I pray you’ll stay by my side. 

 The gratitude in Peter’s voice was everything. “Thank you, Tony. But as long as you’re with me, things will be fine.”

 Maybe there was truly a reason to hope. 

[z-iridest]

The Phoenix Queen:

A Pharaoh Atem x OC short story

Long ago, in the days when the Great Pyramids were still young, there were two children born. One, was a boy, born to the royal family of Egypt, the heir to the throne. The other, was a girl, born to a common family in a small village. Though they had nothing, their kindness and love were well known. The girl's father was a warrior, a royal guard who swore to always protect the Pharaoh. The girl's mother was a woman of great beauty, and her kind heart knew no bounds. Though the girl's parents were not royalty, the child was their own little princess. They named her... Asenath. They raised her to be as kind, and courageous as she was beautiful. But, when the child was merely eight years old, tragedy struck.....

The screams of the villagers filled the air as quickly as a fire began to spread. Bandits rode in on steeds as black as the night, many of the men remaining in the village taking up arms and beginning to fight back, trying to defend their home. Neith, Asenath's mother, ran through the crowds, carrying Asenath in her arms. Since her husband was at the palace, guarding the Pharaoh, he could not come to save them in time, even if she could warn him. The only thing she could think to do was to save their daughter. Neith hid Asenath in the shadows, the child's gold flecked, hazel eyes filled with fear. As Neith turned to face the enemy, she felt her daughter's small hand grasp her own. "Mama, don't leave me." Asenath whimpered. With tears in her eyes, Neith knelt and hugged her daughter one last time. Neith pulled away only slightly to look into her daughter's eyes, the eyes that were identical to her own. She tucked a stray, dark auburn hair behind Asenath's ear.

"My love, I will never leave you... Not truly. As long as you have courage, and be kind, I will be with you always." Neith promised before her hand slipped from Asenath's smaller one. Neith grabbed her sword, running into battle with the men, leading the bandits away from her daughter's hiding place......

By the time the sands had settled, no one was left alive in the village... Except one... As the smoke faded into the air, the fires dying out, little Asenath cried, shaking with the cold winds of the desert's cruel and harsh nights. A dim golden light began to glow, going unnoticed by the child. A sudden warmth spread out onto a small area on her back, a cloth wrapping around the child's shoulders. The warmth lulled Asenath to sleep, a soft voice whispering in her ear.

"You are safe, Asenath. Rest now."

In the years that followed, Asenath learned how to properly wield a sword, and to fight. As she grew, in her heart, she remained courageous and kind, though a power grew within her. You see, along with the time she lived in, were the great but terrible Shadow Games. These "games" involved shadow creatures great and small, sometimes the monsters being used in war.... Other times, the Shadow Games were used as strictly training. Deep within Asenath's heart, a creature grew stronger. Though most shadow creatures were thought to be malicious and led their hosts to commit horrible acts, the one within Asenath's heart was a benevolent force, feeding on the kindness in her heart. While Asenath's father worked at the palace, Asenath practiced her magic by healing those in need. By the time Asenath was fifteen, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, however, there was much more to the young woman.... The training with her father, both in sword and shadow magic, built her into the fiercest warrior in all Egypt... Even if she was a common girl... It was during these years of training that her father remarried to a woman. Pompous and vain, Asenath's stepmother Tiye had two daughters of her own: Maye and Nenet. Tiye, when Asenath's father was away at the Palace, was a cruel woman to Asenath... So much so, that the only place Asenath felt at home was healing the people of Egypt.

The day before her fifteenth birthday, Asenath left her home early in the morning, just as she had many times before. The clothing she wore that day was a scarlet cotton dress along with the necklace her father had given her (A/N: pictured below).

Over the dress was a cloak, the hood over her head to protect her from the scorching heat the Egyptian afternoon would bring. Asenath gave a kind smile to the sick and injured on the side of the road as she approached, cupping her hands together and focusing as she knelt. A scarlet golden glow began to shine in her hands, revealing a scarlet gold phoenix when the light dimmed. The bird itself was small, but it gave a caw and flew to rest on Asenath's shoulder as she began the healing process. The little phoenix, who she had named Bennu, stayed obediently on her shoulder, chirping as Asenath cared for the weak. Many grasped her hands in thanks once she had finished, to which Asenath only replied with a smile.

"Where were you?! You know better to run off while you still have chores to do!" Tiye shrieked the moment Asenath stepped into their home several hours later.

"Stepmother, as I have said several times before, someone must help the sick and injured. If not me, then who?" Asenath asked as she set the down the basket of freshly bought food down, removing her cloak.

"And as I have told you several times, I DO NOT CARE! You are forbidden from interacting with those... Those street rats ever again..."

"Or what, Stepmother? Father would never allow you to throw his own flesh and blood out on the streets, try as you might, and not a single one of them are street rats!" Asenath asked, facing her stepmother. Tiye growled in rage before the younger of her daughters, Nenet, entered the room.

"Mother, please, calm yourself. I think it is wonderful that Asenath's trying to help them with her magic." Nenet defended her stepsister. Tiye scoffed.

"The only magic a woman should be worried about is magic to make herself look younger and more beautiful. Who cares about caring for the weak when you can improve your own appearance. It is best for a lady to prepare to marry into power." Tiye commented, making Asenath roll her eyes.

"Women have every bit of a right to protect the Kingdom as men do, Stepmother, that is what Father says." Asenath replied as she began on the remaining chores she had left to do. Her father was due home any moment, having been away for several days at the Palace. Asenath smiled at the thought of seeing her father again. Her father, Osiris, was a kind man as well as one of the best warriors in all of Egypt. It broke Asenath's heart each time they were forced to be apart, but Asenath always held onto the hope that he would always return. But, she had no way of knowing that this time would be different. A knock sounded at the door just as Asenath finished lighting the oil lamps. The fourteen-year-old answered the door, the sight of her father's best friend at the door bringing a warmth to her heart.

"Amos, it is good to see you." Asenath greeted before her smile fell, noticing the grief stricken look on his face. "What is wrong?"

"It's your father, Asenath. There was an intruder at the palace... He tried attacking the Pharaoh, but your father got in the way and took the hit... He's gone." Amos revealed with Tiye standing behind Asenath. While Tiye covered her mouth in horror, tears gathered in Asenath's eyes as she bowed her head. "He left this for you, miss." Amos finished, holding out a small staff. The moment it was placed into Asenath's touch, the staff extended, revealing itself to be her father's spear. A sharp knife like blade on one side while the other side held a Kopesh blade. She willed it back to the small staff, holding it to her heart.

"Th-thank you for telling us... I-It must have been difficult for you to deliver such news." Asenath thanked him, barely holding her tears as she closed the door once more. As Tiye relayed the information to her daughters, Asenath put her back to the door, her entire body trembling with sorrow until she dissolved into tears and sobbed.

Beginning the day the news of her father's death had reached her, Asenath was treated like a slave by her stepsisters and stepmother, though Nenet was often times the one who advocated for her.... Or at least tried... The only possessions that Asenath had left and were allowed to keep was her mother's old gown, the red dress she had on, her father's spear and the scarab necklace her father had given her. Though the treatment at home had become harsh, Asenath remained kind, continuing to heal and help those in need. She had no way of knowing how things would begin to change....

The day of her sixteenth birthday, Asenath was healing the sick and injured just like everyday. However, this particular day, while Asenath tended to those in need, she was spotted by her Stepmother. Tiye, in a furied rage, grabbed Asenath by her hair, making the girl cry out in pain. "HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME!" She shrieked as she dragged Asenath up on her feet and away from those on the streets. Many stepped forward, but a burning glare from Tiye made them shrink back in fear. As soon as the women entered the home, Asenath was thrown painfully to the ground. "HAVE YOU NO SHAME?! DO YOU WANT US TO HAVE SEKHMET CURSE US WITH THE PLAUGES THEY CARRY! FOOLISH CHILD, YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR DISOBEDIENCE!" Tiye grabbed her whip while Maye laughed and began to beat Asenath, Nenet trying to get her sister to stop. Maye switched her focus on her sister long enough to push her to the ground before Tiye struck Asenath, making her scream in pain as she was whipped. When it finally stopped, Asenath had tears of pain cascading down her face and could just barely move because of the pain she was under. Maye and Tiye laughed hysterically as they watched Asenath struggle to stand before the young girl found her footing and ran to the stables to ride her father's horse, Asim. While Nenet yelled at her mother and sister for their actions, Asenath rode out of the kingdom, holding onto the reins as Asim galloped through the desert sands. Asenath hid her face in his mane as she cried, the bruises and whip marks sending shockwaves of pain through her. Asenath wanted a way for the suffering to end. She was a no one, a servant girl in her own father's home....

Asim suddenly reared, making Asenath scream as she clung to Asim's mane to prevent herself from being thrown off. Asim snorted as men surrounded them. Slave traders.... Asenath thought, her eyes spotting an opening, a hole in the men's formation. "Hyah!" Asenath urged Asim toward the opening, the men chasing after her. Asenath soon recognized the old ruins of her home village, but led the men to it. It would be the perfect place to unleash her Ka's battle form without harming anyone else. As soon as Asim set foot into the village, Asenath drew her spear and stuck out her arm, though it hurt her to do so. "Bennu Magician, come forth!" She called, a female spellcaster with a staff in her hand rising behind her. She was clad in scarlet gold armor, her hair a crimson red with gold streaks and amber colored eyes. She spun her staff, pointing it at the men coming toward them as Asenath dismounted from her horse, spinning her spear and standing in the clearing, ready to meet the men who would dare fight them. As soon as they were close enough, Asenath gave the order: "Bennu Magician, attack! Scolding Scepter Blast!" The spellcaster obeyed, a scarlet gold glow coming from the staff before it wiped out a majority of the men chasing Asenath, making them disappear. The three that remained, Asenath glared down as they dismounted, drawing swords. Asenath walked towards them as her Ka transformed into a phoenix. The men charged her, and with a battle cry, Asenath blocked an attack before countering with her own. The clang of metal upon metal rang through the air, young woman and men locked in a dance of a battle. Asenath was able to knock one out of the fight, left to fight the remaining two as the man ran away in cowardice. Asenath used her old village to her advantage, unaware of the reinforcements headed their way. As the three broke away from a lock, a shout was heard. Hearing it, the slave traders tried to run, but were caught by what looked like guards from the Palace... Guards like her father had once been.... Two men other than the guards were with them. One of the men, Asenath easily recognized as one of the priests, brown hair hiding under the headpiece he wore, his eyes a dark shade of purple that looked nearly azure blue in the light of the setting sun.... Eyes that were full of rage as he looked toward the slave traders. The other, however.....

The first thing Asenath noticed was the fact that his amethyst eyes were on her as he dismounted from his horse. He was wearing clothing made of the finest fabrics, fabrics Asenath concluded that only someone in the Palace could afford. His hair, however, was what was the most unique about him. His hair was tri-colored, black at the base, a dark magenta along the edges and gold bangs, three gold streaks were visible in the center of his hair. He wore no jewelry, but the way he carried himself spoke of authority and grace. Out of respect for him coming to her aid, she knelt with her left foot forward. She heard him chuckle before hearing a shift in the sands. "You do not have to bow to me." She felt the warmth of his hand under her chin, bringing her gold flecked, dark hazel eyes to his own.

"Is it not right to show respect to someone who has come to my aid?" Asenath asked.

"Perhaps, but it is not required. Please, rise." His hand left her chin to take her hand, helping her stand. As he did, the young man's eyes fell upon the bruises that lingered along her arms. "Did those men do this?" He asked, anger rising to his eyes.

"No, no, they did not get close enough." Asenath answered. "Please, do not worry yourself, I am nothing but a servant... No one worth worrying over."

"You are to me, I... Look out!" The young man pushed her out of the way as a snake, a venomous cobra struck, biting the young man in the arm.

"No! Bennu, attack the snake!" Asenath cried, the phoenix obeying and clawing the snake within it's talons, burning it to ashes as Asenath rushed to the young man's side. "Are you all right?"

"Do not worry about me." He answered her.

"Do not move." Asenath replied, gently taking his arm and bringing it to her lips, beginning to suck the poison out.

"No, you need not do this!" The young man exclaimed in horror. Asenath turned her head to the side and spat out the venom she had collected thus far.

"You were bitten, and I am going to get the poison out. Please, allow me to do this. You helped me, now it is my turn to help you." Asenath replied before returning to suck the venom out. Once she no longer tasted the venom , she turned her head to the side once more and spat out the remaining venom, wiping her mouth as the priest joined them. She held out her arm without moving her gaze from the snake bite. Now that the poison was out, she could seal the wound. "Bennu, come." The phoenix flew down and perched on her arm as she covered the snake bite with both her hands. "Lend me strength once again, my friend." She murmured to it before breathing out and closing her eyes, focusing her energy. As the priest and the young man watched, a scarlet golden glow emitted from her hands, illuminating the darkness around them for a brief moment. Soon, it dimmed once more, and when Asenath removed her hands, the mark of the snake bite was gone. "Thank you, Bennu." Asenath told the phoenix, the little bird ruffling its feathers before giving a coo toward the young man and disappearing.

"Thank you." The young man told her. Asenath merely smiled in reply.

"As I said, it was the least I could do. You helped me after all, it was only right that I returned the favor." Asenath replied as she rose from the sands and remounted her horse. He remounted his own. The priest took this time to speak.

"We should be heading back to the Palace. Young one, we can escort you back home for your efforts." The priest offered.

"Oh, no, it is..."

"Please, it is the least I can do. You helped me, it is only right that I return the favor." The young man interrupted, with a slight smug smile in his face. A chuckle left Asenath as she shook her head.

"Well then, I suppose I have no choice but to accept." Asenath replied, making the young man chuckle before they rode back home. The young man rode his horse at a gallop beside Asenath, the guards and the priest keeping pace with them.

"My lady, what do they call you?" He asked. Asenath shook her head.

"Never mind what they call me. I must thank you again for your help... What do they call you?" Asenath asked.

"You do not know who I am?" Upon seeing Asenath's confused look, he corrected himself. "That is... They call me Atem, or rather my father does... When he's in a good mood." This earned a chuckle between the two.

"You live in the Palace?" Asenath asked.

"Yes, with my father. My father is currently teaching me his trade, you might say." Atem answered.

"So, you're an apprentice?" Asenath asked.

"Of a sort." Atem responded with a smile.

"That's wonderful... Do they treat you well?" Asenath asked.

"Probably better than I deserve. And you?" Atem asked. Asenath looked away.

"They treat me as well as they're able." She answered.

"I am sorry." Atem apologized. Asenath shook her head.

"It is not your doing." She replied.

"Nor yours either, I am willing to bet." Atem responded, trying to look at her. As they reentered the bazaar, they all slowed to a trot.

"It is not so horrible... Others have it worse, I am sure. We must simply have courage and be kind... Must we not?" Asenath asked.

"Yes... We must..." Atem replied as he gazed at her. "You are quite right, and that is exactly how I feel." The two shared a smile, Asenath and Atem both coming to a stop.

"I am afraid this is where we part." Asenath told him as she dismounted once more, gently patting Asim's side as she took the reigns and looked up at Atem. "Thank you again, for everything."

"It was no trouble." Atem replied before the priest began to speak again.

"Your Hi-"

"It's Atem! Atem, I am Atem!" Atem interrupted the priest. "I am on my way!" Atem's outburst had Asenath covering up a giggle.

"Well, we'd better get a move on... Atem." The priest replied.

"As I said, Mahad, on my way." Atem told him before returning his gaze to Asenath. "I hope to see you again, my lady."

"And I, you, Atem." Asenath replied. A smile graced Atem's face before he rejoined Mahad and the guards, Asenath bringing Asim to the stables.

A few days later, a royal proclamation was made. To celebrate the young prince coming of age, a ball was to be held in his honor, a ball to which all eligible young ladies were required to attend in a couple weeks. Upon hearing the news, Asenath's stepsisters celebrated the chance to make an impression upon the future Pharaoh, at the chance to become his wife... "Just imagine: One of us, a princess!" Maye squealed in excitement.

"The Pharaoh's proclamation also means you can go too, Asenath." Nenet added with a big smile, grasping her step sister's hands.

"I think not." Tiye interjected with a cold sneer.

"Just imagine: her, dancing with the Prince!" Maye scoffed. "I'd be honored, Your Highness... Would you mind holding my broom?" She laughed hysterically as she made fun of Asenath.

"Stupid, stupid, Asenath." Maye snickered.

"Complete all your chores and find something suitable to wear, then we'll talk." Tiye replied. "Now, come girls, we must go to the seamstress." For the next two weeks, Asenath completed every chore in record time, fixing her mother's old dress in order to make it suitable for the ball. On the day of the ball, after Asenath had finished preparing her stepsisters, she placed the finishing touches on her mother's gown. It took a bit to complete the rest of the work on the dress, but she soon completed it. It was a green dress, old fashioned in design, but it was ultimately the perfect choice for Asenath, her mother's old dress fitting her perfectly. As she presented herself to her step family, she found all eyes in the room on her. While Nenet looked happy, Maye and Tiye looked angry. "Asenath..."

"I swear, it cost you nothing, Step Mother. It was my mother's old dress, so I took it up myself once my tasks were complete." Asenath told her.

"Ooh, la. Asenath at the ball." Maye commented.

"What is wrong with that?" Nenet asked her sister.

"No one wants a servant girl for a bride." Maye told her.

"After all I have done for you...." Tiye trailed off angrily.

"I do not want to ruin anything at all! I do not even wish to meet the prince..."

"Oh, you certainly will not... Because there is no question in your going." Tiye replied quite bitterly.

"Mother..." Nenet said softly.

"But, every maiden in the land is to attend, by order of the Pharaoh."

"It is, the Pharaoh I am thinking of. It would be an insult to the royal personage to take you to the palace in these.... Old rags." Tiye commented, gesturing with a finger to the dress Asenath wore. A stunned look crossed Asenath's face.

"Rags? This was my mother's."

"I am sorry to have tell you, my dear, but... Your mother had questionable taste. This... thing is so old fashioned, it's practically falling to pieces." Tiye said as she neared Asenath before pulling part of the dress, ripping it. "The shoulder's frayed." She gasped. Much to Asenath and Nenet's horror, Maye joined Tiye in tearing the dress apart until it was nothing but rags.

"It is a pitiful, old fashioned joke." Maye commented with Tiye chuckling. Asenath looked at her stepmother with tears in her eyes.

"How could you?" Asenath asked.

"How could I otherwise? I will not have anyone associate my daughters with you. It would ruin their prospects to be seen arriving with a ragged servant girl, because that is what you are, and that is what you will always be. Now, mark my words: You shall not go to the ball." Tiye snarled. "Come, girls, we will be late." With that, she left in a huff, Maye right behind her. Nenet looked at Asenath with tears in her eyes.

"I am so sorry, Asenath." Nenet told her.

"It is no fault of yours, Nenet. Please, go enjoy yourself at the ball. You deserve it." Asenath told her.

"So do you." Nenet replied before leaving for the ball. Asenath left the house, going into the back to the gardens her father had planted years prior. She collapsed at the fountain, sobbing. She was tired of being mistreated, tired of being walked on...

"Mother, Father, what do I do now?" Asenath sobbed. She wished she could have one last moment with her parents, one last moment of happiness...

"Excuse me, dear child..." Asenath's head was brought up at the deep voice to see an old man. He was frail, and despite Asenath's own sorrow, she wiped her tears and turned her attention to him.

"How can I help you, good sir?" Asenath asked.

"Water... Please..." The old man begged.

"Of course. Come and rest your weary heart." Asenath invited.

"Oh, thank you, my dear." The old man told her as she came to his side and helped him to one of the stone benches. "Thank you very much indeed." Once he was seated, she picked up one of the bowls, wiping more stray tears away. Despite her best hopes to have hidden it from the old man, he noticed anyway. "Why are you crying, my dear?"

"I-It is nothing, you need not worry." Asenath answered, her back to him as she filled the bowl with fresh cold water.

"Nothing.... What is a bowl of cold water? Nothing...." The old man rattled on as she brought the bowl to him. "But kindness, my dear... Kindess makes it everything." He raised the bowl slightly in a toast before drinking all of it. "Now, Asenath, I am afraid we do not have much time if you are to go to the ball." The old man added as he stood up. Asenath's eyebrows went upward.

"How do you know my name?" Asenath asked. The old man merely chuckled.

"Now, who do you think blessed you with that little Phoenix ka? I've been watching over you since the day you were born, my child. Besides, how would I be the God of Creation if I knew not the names of all of my creations?" The old man spoke before smiling at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Allow me to slip into something more comfortable. Slifer, Obelisk, come!" The old man stood straight up, throwing a diadhank into the air as a golden light swirled around him. Asenath watched as the diadhank extended before a man's arm emerged from the light, the diadhank latching onto it as the light dispersed, revealing a man dressed in gold armor. He looked to be around his early 30s, with gold hair and red eyes, a diadem with a lapis lazuli jewel in the center of his forehead. Blinking, Asenath dropped into a bow, her left foot forward. She heard him chuckle before he felt a familiar warmth on her shoulder. "Now, now, there is no need or time for that. There is work to be done." Ra told her as he helped her rise. "Speaking of which, my brothers should be here as well.... Late as usual... Slifer, Obelisk, come forth at once!"

"Geeze, we heard you the first time, old man!" Asenath jumped as two more men appeared beside Ra. One was dressed in red armor, with red hair and blue eyes, while the other was dressed in blue armor with blue hair and red eyes.

"Do not call me an old man! I am only 30 years old!" Ra shouted.

"Yeah, you are 30 all right... 30 centuries old!" The man in red armor argued back.

"Ra, Slifer, may I remind you that we are here to assist Asenath?" The man in blue armor reminded them, placing a hand on Asenath's shoulder as he effectively cut off the argument all together. Ra cleared his throat.

"My apologies. Slifer, you create a transport for her, I will remake her dress." Ra ordered.

"As you wish... Your Geezerness." Slifer replied. Before Ra could even think about getting back at Slifer for the comment, Slifer had disappeared.

"Surely we are not sending her to the ball alone, are we?" Obelisk asked, his brow furrowed.

"Of course not. That is why you are going to escort her." Ra answered. Obelisk looked in shock.

"Me? Why? Have you something better to do, Your Excellency?" Obelisk asked. "Why can't you or Slifer do it?"

"Listen, Slifer won't keep an eye on her, he would be too busy flirting all night. If I go, my weakness for wine would leave her wide open. You are the most responsible of us all, Obelisk." Ra answered. Obelisk glanced at Asenath before sighing.

"Fine, I'll escort her." Obelisk replied, sounding defeated.

"Wonderful! Now, Asenath, let us change up this ragged dress." Ra told Asenath as he led her to a private spot.

"Can you not mend it?" Asenath asked.

"No, no, I shall turn it into something new." Ra answered.

"No, please. This was my mother's dress, you see... If I wear it to the ball... It would feel like a piece of her is going with me." Asenath pleaded. Ra's eyes softened.

"Of course. Do you think she would mind if I changed it a little?" Ra asked. Asenath smiled softly as she shook her head in response. With a smile, Ra closed his eyes, his hands glowing gold before he willed the magic to swirl around Asenath. Asenath looked down at the golden glow as it transformed her mother's dress into a beautiful gown, made especially for her, though it felt like her mother was still with her (A/N: pictured below).

She felt her hair be braided and pinned back, a bronze crown adorning her head (A/N: hair and crown pictured below)

Ra smiled once the transformation was complete, Obelisk joining them in that moment. "Heavens above...." Obelisk commented. Asenath blushed.

"Does it look all right?" Asenath asked.

"More than all right, you look beautiful!" Obelisk exclaimed, making a smile come to Asenath's face along with a blush. "Not even the prince himself will be able to look away from you." Ra looked proud of himself, but before he could voice his thoughts, Slifer joined them. He grinned and bowed to Asenath.

"A lovely vision, milday. Your chariot awaits." Slifer told her. Asenath bowed to both Ra and Slifer.

"Thank you both." She told them.

"Go on, have fun." Ra encouraged her. Obelisk was surrounded in a blue light, dressed as a nobleman. Asenath noticed, having to hold back tears, that the appearance he had chosen was remarkably similar to her father. He offered his arm.

"Come, my dear." He told her. She placed her arm over his, her hand draping over his own, and they began to walk. Slifer opened the door of the chariot before Obelisk and Ra assisted her inside. As Slifer closed the door, Ra turned to Asenath.

"Remember, child, with the moon's midnight light, the spell will be broken, and everything will be as it was before." Ra warned her.

"Ra... What about my stepmother and the girls?" Asenath asked. Ra smiled.

"Don't worry. The dress I made comes with a spell that prevents them from recognizing you." Ra answered. "Obelisk, protect the child. No harm must come to her."

"How stupid do you think I am? I know what being her escort means." Obelisk retorted, making Asenath giggle. With a last farewell, Obelisk and Asenath were on their way.

The Palace was grander than Asenath could have imagined it. It made her nervous. When the chariot finally came to a stop, Obelisk, or rather, Rashid as he had told her to call him, stepped out before extending a hand to Asenath. Asenath placed her hand in his before he helped her down from the chariot. Noticing Asenath's nervous state, he bent to her ear. "Be calm, child. I will allow no harm to come to you. The only job you have is enjoy this night." His words soothed her, and she gave him a grateful smile before he escorted her in. They were later than the other guests, but Rashid couldn't help but crack a grin at how in awe of the Palace Asenath seemed to be. He chuckled as they entered the ballroom, Rashid entering first and stepping to the side while bowing a bit to her. Asenath cautiously entered the room, finding all eyes on her. She blushed under the attention, not used to it. Whispers arose from the people around them, mainly questions as to who the young girl before them even was before all of the whispers died out, a sound silencing them all.

Footsteps soon echoed through the quiet room, the crowd making way as a young man walked toward Asenath. He was dressed in the finest of clothes, a purple cape at his back, and yet, he bowed low to the ground when he was right in front of her. Asenath returned the bow, recognizing the young man who had escorted her home after she had healed him, though the look on Rashid's face told her that he was more important to the kingdom than a mere apprentice. His hair was tricolored, black at the base, a dark magenta around the edges and gold bangs with 3 gold streaks standing up. When they both looked up, Asenath found her gold flecked hazel eyes locked in the gaze of a familiar pair of amethyst eyes. (A/N: Sorry to interrupt! But the fanart I used for Atem, I do not own! If u know the original artist, pleeeeease dm me!)

As easy smile spread across both faces. "It's you..." Atem trailed off in awe, Asenath merely smiling at him in reply before he continued. "My lady," When he spoke, his voice was deep, reminding Asenath of the power and authority he possessed as the Crown Prince of Egypt, but his tone was kind, just as it had been the day they first met. "If it pleases you, will you join me in this, the first dance of the night?" He asked. Asenath nodded once.

"It would an honor and a pleasure." She answered. Atem before her smiled before offering his hand. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his, feeling a familiar surge of power run through her upon the touch of his skin upon her own. Rashid straightened, having felt it as well. What had Ra done? Had his brother known that the man that now held Asenath was her soulmate?

As the two stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, the young man kept one of her hands in his while the other wrapped around her waist. As the ballroom filled with music, the two began to dance, unaware of the audience that was watching them. Included among them was Rashid and the Pharaoh himself, along with his council. Asenath didn't know why, but she felt safe in the young man's arms.... The two never looked away from each other, lost in each other's gaze. Asenath noticed the number of eyes that were on them. "They are all looking at you." Asenath whispered.

"Believe me, my lady, it is you they are gazing upon." Atem whispered back to her. The two danced together with the crowd watching them. As the music faded into a different song, Atem clasped both of Asenath's hands, coming to a stop in the middle of the dancefloor. "Come with me." He whispered to her before letting go of one of her hands to lead her out of the ballroom. Asenath glanced back at Rashid as she followed Atem. Rashid nodded once, silently confirming that it was indeed someone she could trust.

"So, you are the Prince." Asenath commented as she followed him. Atem chuckled, letting go if her hands to shut the doors behind them.

"I am merely a Prince, there are many other princes in the world."

"But... Your name is not really Atem... Is it?" Asenath asked.

"Sadly, it is, and my father still calls me that when he is especially unpeeved at me."

"But, you are no apprentice."

"I am technically... An apprentice monarch, I still am learning my trade, after all." Atem commented, which made Asenath laugh.

"Oh, gosh." Asenath commented as she continued to walk. Atem walked beside her.

"Please, forgive me, I thought you might treat me differently if you knew. I mistook you for a good, honest country girl, and now I see you did not want to... Overawe a plain soldier." Atem commented, walking ahead of her.

"Little chance of that happening." Asenath giggled. Atem stopped in place and turned to her, extending his hand for hers.

"No more surprises?" He asked as if making a deal with her. Asenath smiled and walked toward him, taking his hand.

"No more surprises." She agreed. He smiled and continued to lead her out of the Palace, ending up on a path in the courtyard. "They will miss you at the ball, will they not?" She asked.

"Perhaps, but let us not go back just yet..." Atem told her. Seeing the look on his face, she spoke up.

"What is it?" Asenath asked, her worry for him showing. Atem sighed.

"When I go back, they will try to pair me up with a lady of their choosing. I am expected to marry for advantage." Atem answered.

"Oh... Well, for whose advantage?"

"That, is a very good question." The two chuckled before they stopped, Asenath looking up at him.

"Surely, you have a right to your own heart." She told him.

"And I must weigh that against the Pharaoh's wishes. He is a wise ruler... and a loving father."

"Perhaps, he will change his mind." Asenath replied.

"I fear he does not have much time to do so." Atem answered, Asenath's eyes softening with empathy.

"I am sorry." He shook his head.

"It is all right." He smiled. "Though, I am quite curious as to know how a beautiful princess such as yourself learned to wield magic and a spear with such grace and mastery." A sad smile crossed Asenath's face.

"My own father taught me how to fight, my Prince." Asenath told him, looking away to hide the sadness that had crossed her face in that moment. She felt Atem squeeze her hand in gentle comfort.

"I would say you learned well, and to you, it is just Atem." Asenath blushed, Atem smiling with a chuckle before he led her to a garden of some kind, her hand still in his. She looked around the garden. Palm trees stood high above them, all kinds of flowers in full bloom... Asenath even recognized a moon flower.

"It's beautiful." She breathed.

"My mother used to love it here... But, since she passed, my father could not bring himself to visit the gardens." He responded, and Asenath could hear the sadness in his voice. She looked down.

"My own mother is in the Afterlife as well, along with my father..." She replied, her voice betraying her own sadness before she looked up at him again. "Do you think they know each other?" This brought a small smile to the young man's face, as well as a small chuckle past his lips.

"I believe they might. I certainly do not see why they could not." He answered.

"I would like to think that legends about the Afterlife being open to everyone, rich and poor, are true... Just like the ball was tonight." Asenath replied.

"In truth, the ball was only open to everyone because of you." Atem told her, his words bringing Asenath to a halt, the young man standing before her. "I made sure everyone could come because I had hoped to see you again." He confessed. Asenath smiled up at him.

"And I came to see Atem." Asenath replied.

"Not the prince?" Atem asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Asenath shook her head in reply.

"The prince is far too grand... What could I ever mean to him anyway?" Asenath asked, beginning to continue walking when she felt Atem take her hand, making her stop and face him. This time, however, he interlaced their fingers, a look of seriousness in his eyes.

"A lot more than you could ever know." He murmured, though Asenath heard his words. Atem's free hand came up, gently tucking some stray hairs behind her ear before his hand gently cupped her cheek. Asenath leaned her head into his touch, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she reopened her eyes, she blushed upon finding Atem gazing at her, a very adoring look in his eyes. He drew slightly closer to her, his thumb caressing her cheek. "May I kiss you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Asenath blushed darker with his words, but nodded all the same. Atem wrapped his free arm around her as he leaned down, both pairs of eyes closing before Asenath felt the warmth of his lips against her own. Asenath kissed him back, feeling Atem pull her closer to him. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck, causing him to hold her closer in his embrace. When he finally pulled away, it was slow, as if that first kiss would be the last. He rested his forehead on her own, both pairs of eyes remaining closed. "That was..."

"Wonderful." Asenath finished as they both opened their eyes and exchanged smiles. They pressed their foreheads together, unaware that they were being watched by a friend of Atem's. Atem took her hands again, leading her down another path.

"I have never shown this place to anyone before." Atem told her before opening a wooden door that creaked slightly as out swung open. A gasp of awe left Asenath as Atem led her through the wooden door.

"A secret garden!" She breathed. Bushes of flowers were everywhere, a tall tree standing proudly in a small corner. Atem smiled as he watched her look around the secret garden, in awe of everything she was seeing. Asenath looked back at him. "I love it." She smiled, causing Atem to smile back.

"I'm glad you like it." Atem told her as he walked toward her again, picking a lotus flower and placing it in her hair as she giggled. Asenath closed her eyes as his warm, gentle touch once again came to her face. But, just as their lips went to touch once more, a rush of pain caused Asenath to move back a few steps. The magic is fading.... She thought. Atem's brow furrowed in worry as he stepped toward her, gently taking her arms.

"Are you all right?" Atem asked. Asenath looked up at him.

"I have to go... I am sorry." Asenath slipped from Atem's hold as she hurried to the gate of the secret garden before stopping, turning back around to face Atem. "Thank you, Atem. You have been wonderfully kind to me, and tonight had been fun. I truly loved it... Every second." She thanked him before running back through the Palace, retracing her steps. Despite the feeling of shock he felt at her running off, Atem chased after the girl. He had finally found the woman of his dreams... He'd have to be a fool to let her go that easily...

In no time at all, she reached Rashid, who caught her arms. "What is wrong?" He asked her.

"The magic is fading, I can feel it. We do not have much time left." Asenath answered. Without another word, Rashid wrapped a protecting arm around her and began to escort her out of the palace. "Keep running and don't turn back, I'll get the chariot!" Rashid told her as they were about to reach the main doors, running faster and heading out the doors. Atem followed his true love through the palace and down the palace steps, watching as one of Asenath's slippers slipped off her foot. Asenath turned back around to grab it, but Rashid had arrived with the carriage, his shout preventing her from grabbing it.

"Leave it, there is no time!" Rashid warned Asenath before he helped her into the chariot and held on as the chariot took off. Atem stopped on the steps and knelt to pick up the slipper, watching as the chariot that carried the woman he fell in love with disappeared into the night. The priest, Mahad, and Atem's childhood friend, Mana soon joined him, Mahad ordering some of the guards to search for her. Mana stood beside Atem with her hands on her hips.

"Out of all the girls in that ballroom, and you just had to choose her." Mana stated with an eyebrow raised. Atem smiled as he remembered the kiss he and Asenath had shared.

"Yes, I did." He answered before his eye caught something glittering gold in the moonlight. He bent and picked it up, only to find the scarab necklace the girl had been wearing both when he first met her as well as that night. His thumb smoothed over it. "I will find you again, my love... Even if it will be the last thing I ever do." He swore to himself, looking up at the stars as he prayed to the gods to keep his future bride safe until he could find her.

Meanwhile, just as Asenath neared her home, everything touched by the gods' magic went back to what it was before, including Asenath's gown, and Obelisk reappearing as a man in blue armor. It was then that Asenath realized the scarab necklace was missing. She looked around in a frantic panic before feeling the lotus flower still in her hair. She took it out and held it, praying that Atem was keeping the necklace safe for her. Obelisk dusted himself off before noticing the smile that graced Asenath's face as she held a Lotus flower in her hand. "I take it you had a fun time?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, a smile gracing his features. Asenath nodded, smiling up at him.

"It was so much more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you... Will you thank Ra and Slifer for me as well?" Asenath asked in response. Obelisk smiled back and nodded.

"I shall." Obelisk promised, watching Asenath retreat inside the house before he disappeared into the night, rejoining his brothers. The next morning, the old Pharaoh passed away with his son beside him. When it was announced throughout the kingdom, Asenath's heart broke for Atem, knowing the pain he was suffering through.

When the time for mourning had passed, it was announced that the new Pharaoh declared his love for the young woman he was with at the ball. It was decreed that the kingdom be searched for her using the slipper she had left behind. If found, she would be brought to the Palace and if she would have him, he would marry her. The news came as a surprise to Asenath, but it was proof to her that he cared for her as much as she cared for him. She hurried back home to prepare, but found her stepmother awaiting her in her room, holding the slipper that had been left to her by the gods. "This must have quite a story behind it... Care to tell me?" Tiye asked her. Asenath remained where she was, her eyes remaining on her stepmother in that moment. "No? Then you will answer my questions. Did you steal it?" Asenath shook her head.

"It was given to me."

"Given to you?" Tiye scoffed. "Nothing is ever given, for everything we must pay and pay..."

"That is not true. Kindness is free, love is free..."

"Love is not free, do not be naive. Now, here is how you will pay me... If you are to have what you desire. No one will believe you, a dirty servant girl without a family, if you lay claim to the Prince's heart. But, with a respectable gentlewoman to put you forward, you will not be ignored. When you are married, you will make me head of the royal household. Maye and Nenet we will pair off with wealthy lords, and I shall manage that... boy." Tiye's last words brought a flare of anger to Asenath.

"He is not a boy." She told her stepmother. Her stepmother glared at her, unaware that Nenet was on the other side of the door, able to hear her mother's every word.

"And who are you? How would you rule a kingdom? Best to leave it to me, that way we all get what we want." Tiye told her before turning to leave the room, believing she had trapped Asenath into agreeing. Asenath's mind raced, tears forming in her eyes before a determined look crossed her face. She couldn't allow her stepmother to even have the chance to control Atem. She loved him too much for that...

"No." Asenath definently answered, making Tiye stop in her tracks. Tiye slowly turned around, her anger rising.

"No?" Tiye asked. Through a shaking breath, Asenath continued.

"I failed to protect my beloved father from you, but I will protect the Prince and the kingdom, from you... No matter what will become of me." Asenath vowed as tears fell down her face.

"Well... That is a mistake!" Tiye shouted before swinging open the door and looking at Asenath. "It is time your defiant tongue is silenced, Asenath!" Leaving the room, Tiye slammed the door shut despite Asenath's best attempts to stop her, and locked it behind her. Tiye ignored the screams and shouts of her stepdaughter, unknowing that her own daughter had witnessed everything. Nenet's own emerald eyes filled with tears, looking at the door of her stepsister's room. She had to do something.... She had to... But, she couldn't free Asenath without the key from her mother...

Over the next couple days, a battalion of guards and three priests searched the kingdom far and wide to find the young woman. But, no matter how many girls they tried the slipper on, the slipper's magic prevented anyone but its true owner from fitting it... No matter how eligible..... Before long, the time came for Tiye's daughters to be tried, being the last girls in the kingdom to try on the slipper. Locked in her room, Asenath didn't know who had come, nor did she care. She closed her eyes as she fondly remembered the ball, and the kiss Atem had given her. She knew that eventually, the moments with Atem at the ball would fade to memory, just as the moments of her parents and her childhood. Nenet was the first to be tried, and the second the slipper was found not to fit, Maye shoved her out of the way to try on the slipper. After several failed attempts, she too, couldn't make the slipper fit. The younger of the priests, a young man with striking blue eyes, turned to Tiye. "Madam, is there no other girl we may try?" He asked.

"No one else, my lord." Tiye answered, lying through her teeth. Nenet noticed this, and it certainly didn't go unnoticed by one of the priests either, something around his neck giving off a golden glow.

"Seto, I sense she is lying." Mahad brought up to the younger priest.

"Nonsense. I sense no ill intent from this woman." The other priest spoke, an adviser to the old Pharaoh. As the men argued, Nenet knew what she had to do. Closing her eyes, Nenet spoke up.

"My mother is indeed lying to you, my lords." Nenet told them, making the argument come to a halt and Tiye to look at her with a piercing look.

"Nenet, I suggest you watch your tongue..."

"Enough, Mother!" Nenet's emerald eyes snapped open, glaring at her own mother. "I am sick and tired of your lies, and it is about time someone in this family stood up for her because she has done everything she could for everyone else. She deserves the chance at a better life, you have done nothing but be cruel to her since you first married Osiris, may the gods allow him eternal peace and rest!" Suprised by her own daughter's outburst, Tiye stood still in shock.

"Who is this other girl you speak of?" Mahad asked. Nenet bowed her head.

"My stepsister, my lord. My mother married her father a few years ago. He died 2 years ago protecting our Pharaoh, and my mother and sister have been cruel to his daughter ever since." Nenet answered.

"Where is she?" Seto asked.

"My mother locked her away in her room." Nenet answered. Tiye glared at her own daughter's betrayal.

"Madam, you will open that door and allow the girl to try on the slipper, or you will be tried for treason." A hooded figure interrupted Tiye. Tiye turned to the hooded figure in rage.

"How dare you give orders to me! Who do you think..." Tiye was cut short when the hooded figure revealed himself to be the young Pharaoh, Atem. With a pale face, Tiye dropped low to the ground with her left foot forward, her daughters following her example. Atem looked at Nenet.

"I can see it took great courage for you to speak up. You will be rewarded for your honesty." Atem told Nenet. "What is your name?"

"My name is Nenet, Your Majesty, and I seek no reward but to see my stepsister happy once again." Nenet answered. Atem smiled at her before turning to Tiye with a stern expression.

"Now, I command that you unlock the room at once." He commanded.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Tiye responded.

"Mahad, will you investigate?" Atem murmured.

"It shall be my pleasure, my Pharaoh." Mahad replied before following Tiye to Asenath's room.

When the door was unlocked and opened, Asenath stood, watching as the priest from when she had first met Atem entered the room behind her stepmother. "There! You see, I told you, it is no one of any importance!" Tiye exclaimed.

"We shall see about that." Mahad told her before bowing his head in respect to Asenath, gaining a respectful bow in return. "Miss, you are requested and required to present yourself to the Prince." Tiye rushed forward.

"I forbid you to do this."

"And I forbid you to forbid her. Who are you to stop a Priest in the Pharaoh's court? Are you an empress? A saint? A deity?" Mahad asked. Tiye looked at Asenath.

"I am her mother." She lied once again.

"You never have been, nor ever will be, my mother." Asenath told her stepmother. Mahad's gaze shifted from Tiye to Asenath.

"Come now, miss." Mahad told her before turning to leave the room, unknowing of Tiye harshly grabbing Asenath by the arm, making her stop for a brief moment.

"Just remember who you are, you wretch." Tiye snarled in her ear before letting Asenath go, the younger woman behind her stepmother as they walked back into the main room. Asenath was uncertain of how Atem would react to seeing her as nothing but a common girl, but the words her father had once told her rang in her mind once more, drowning out her stepmother's words and renewing her courage. She entered the room Mahad had gestured for her to go in, seeing Atem turn around the same moment she entered the room. For the third time, their eyes once again met. A smile spread across Atem's face as he recognized the face of his true love, of his princess.... His smile caused Asenath to smile back as she bowed to him.

"Who are you?" He asked, knowing that this time, he would finally know the name of his true love.

"I am Asenath. My Pharaoh, I am no princess... I have no carriage, no parents, no dowry, I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit... But, if it does, will you take me as I am? An honest country girl who loves you?" She asked. Atem smiled.

"Of course, I will... But only if you will take me as I am... An apprentice still learning his trade." Atem answered, the smile never wavering from his face. Asenath smiled back, fighting back the happy tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Atem stepped to her, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye as Mahad and Seto watched. Once she was seated, he knelt in front of her and placed the slipper on her foot... It was a perfect fit. He took both of her hands and helped her stand. Atem smiled down at Asenath before holding up the scarab necklace. Asenath gasped when she saw it.

"You kept it safe for me." She stated as she looked up at him before lifting up her hair as Atem returned it to her neck.

"Of course, my love." Atem replied before holding out his arm for her to take. "Shall we?" She smiled and with a nod, left her childhood home behind.

Within days, due to wedding preparations needing to be complete, Atem and Asenath were married. Together, they accomplished great things until the day they paid the ultamite sacrifice for their country, leaving a brave and powerful princess in their place to carry on their legacy....

But that, my readers, is another story ;)

5000 Years Later....

"All right, class, settle down. We have a new student today." The teacher told the class, having to shout over the students talking. Yugi smiled a bit as he glanced at Joey and Tristan talking excitedly, Tèa rolling her eyes at the two's antics. Next to him in spirit form was the Nameless Pharaoh, the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle who he had named Yami. Yami chuckled as he watched his modern day friends before a sudden hush fell over the room. Yami watched, stunned and frozen in place, as a young girl with gold flecked hazel eyes and dark auburn hair entered the room. As she introduced herself, Yami noticed the spirit beside her... Why did the spirit look so familiar?

In spirit form, Asenath looked around her host's new classroom, trying to calm the girl's nerves through the mind link. 5000 years in locked away in her Millennium Item meant that her memories of her past other than her name were erased, and it was something her sweet hikari, Yuka, was trying to help her uncover. However, she stopped looking around the room when she spotted a pair of amethyst eyes that seemed familiar to her. Why did he look so familiar? The two, however, couldn't deny the strong connection they felt. While they didn't know who they were to each other in the past, they knew one thing.....

They wouldn't have to uncover their past alone anymore....

(A/N: That's it for this one! XD would have been longer, but, I've hit the max limit! Like, reblog and comment down below if you would want a continuation of Atem and Asenath's days as Pharaoh and Queen. A big big thank you to @vivinightingale for helping me edit and write this story ^.^)

[skzluvs]

Gods and monsters; Lee Felix

Genre: Demon Au! Lots of Angst

Warnings: Suggestive, Mentions of blood, Mentions of Death

Word count: 1.5K

Song recommendation: Lana del Rey gods and monsters

In the land of gods and monsters I was an angel and he was pure evil.

You were a beaming light in a darker valley, walking the streets in between creatures and monsters you had defied all laws the moment you came down to secretly meet him in the shadows.

You were still the purest angel of them all but he had driven you insane making you take such a life risk. If you were to be caught right now the gates of heaven would close immediately and you would become a fallen angel thrown into the burning flames of hell.

But here you were not giving a care as long as you kissed his lips. As long as you got a taste of the underworld from his mouth.

" Its been a while since you came to visit me angel" he whispered in your head.

With Red burning hair he was standing there at the end of alleyway hands on his pockets a cigarette on his mouth, you found it endearing the way he lit it up with his own hands just for you. He knew how much you loved the fire only he was able to create. Only he was able to ignited the fire in your veins. 

Hand in hand you both walked inside your usual secret spot.

"I've missed you" you said wrapping your arms around his neck.

And when he places his strong hands around your waist softly that's the moment heaven and hell became one.

"My sweet Angel I was dying to see your divine face again" He said as he held you tighter than ever.

"Felix this isn't right " You replied preoccupied sighing.

You knew this not so innocent encounter could cause trouble. Not only the heavens would never be able forgive you but also the demons that were after your holy blood.

" Shh..." He placed his finger on your lips. " I'm here to protect you, no one dares to get even get close to my angel"

He knew all your worries and understood them like they were his own. He could read your mind anytime with the ability of his Psychokinesis.

Felix was an extremely powerful demon. You had heard so much about him in heaven even before you actually met him.

All the angels he had killed, all the places he had burned with his bare hands. He was known as nothing but perversion.

The amount of times angels warned you about him were countless. They knew you were naive enough to fall into his trap. They said once you drink poison you become foul.

And perhaps they were right and you were just denying the truth. Blindfolded with his touch. Felix was your corruption and you knew.

" I'm no longer scared if I'm with you" You assured him trying to make all your concerns disappeared as he began to place wet kisses on your neck.

"We don't have much time Angel" He said seductively against your ear.

Lustful eyes, hunger bodies, a collision between pureness and peccancy. You were only a devotee when he devoured your lips.

You saw the stars when his hands went in between your thighs. Burning your wet core and you weren't as angelic as you produced loud moans.

Felix taught you how sweet sin tasted. Like cherries on top a bourbon cocktail.

"give it to me, this is heaven, what I truly want

It's innocence lost" You said feeling sparkles inside you when he released.

His burnt hair dripping in sweat, he was lying beside you. You caressed his cheek and placed a soft kiss on his temples, His eyes began to close but before he had fallen asleep completely he said.

" I'll cross heaven and hell just for you angel" 

Head resting on his bare chest after setting fire with your bodies exhaustion took over you and you drift off to sleep next to your beloved demon.

When the morning came coldness wash over you

Opening your eyes in confusion your first instinct was to searched for Felix missing his warm heat.

But all your eyes meet was your penitence.

A room filled with Archangels all of them looking at you with shame.

And on the throne God rested looking directly into your soul.

"WHERE IS HE" You screamed falling onto your knees.

Pleading praying that he was not hurt anywhere.

" Look at how blatant she is, worrying about a demon even during her own trial" One of them said with a disgusted tone. And everyone started whispering unpleasant things about you.

" Y/N you have ridiculed the whole heavenly kingdom by infringing the rules, you had adulterer a dreadful sin that transgress all human morality but you as an Angel has gone beyond all boundaries by having intercourse with an evil being" God's most powerful Archangel spoke to you.

His words making you shiver in your place unable to speak, your mind was going crazy you couldn't even think about the situation you were caught in right now all you could think of was Felix.

" Therefore according to the sacred gods deed you will be exiled of the promised land and thrown into the burning oven underneath, your life from this moment will become your punishment suffering and misery will be all you get to experience" That was it you had caused this nonetheless you had no regrets.

"Remove her wings"  He yelled.

A multitude of angels came over to you pulling and tearing your plumes one way one.

You were unable to feel pain it was like your body was numb. When they finished the doors opened and you jumped into a free fall.

The earth opened and you went right through the Core of it

When your body touched the floor all bruised up you were surprised you hadn't broken any bones. You remained intact trying to stand up.

You walked the streets naked with blood dripping from your back. The absence of your wings made you feel empty somehow now you had to walked bared feet.

No angel was allowed in hell but now you were here cause you no longer belonged to heaven. A true fallen angel you became.

Your priority was to find Felix as soon as possible but you were disorientated, you had never been here before. Where should you begin your search?

As you were trying to come up with a plan a group of demons approached.

" Look what we have here a true angel" one of them said looking at you.

" It was easier than we thought, you came earlier than we expected" The tall black haired said making you confused.

" What are you talking about?" You asked in fear.

" Why don't you tell her Jeongin" Who seemed to be the leader talked referring to the youngest.

" I will Chan" He stepped in front of you and began to talk "we cause this, we told on you and Felix" He said smiling with those fiercely shaped eyes.

" You did what" You said lowly more like a whisper to yourself.

" It's our vengeance Felix didn't deserved the tittle of most powerful demon he didn't deserved to rank higher than any of us" The leader said with an authoritative tone.

" But we are not done yet are we Minho" Jeongin said his eyes shining in pure pernicious.

" No we are not, You are the most precious thing Felix has, so beautiful I can see how your Angelic charm makes him so weak" Minho said running his fingers through your strands of hair.

"Your blood surely has a sweet taste" The pretty face tall boy spoke again. His words making your stomach to flip.

" DON'T TOUCH ME WHERE'S FELIX" You yelled smacking his hand.

" Oh your boyfriend is not here to protect you anymore he's paying for your own sins down in the dungeon" Chan told you laughing at your terrified face.

You started to scream for his name desperately, you wanted Felix to come and save you but he wasn't even able to save himself.

" There's no worth in fighting beautiful angel, he is not going to come and there's nothing you can to stop this" Minho pulled you down on the floor. And they all surrounded you.

Your cries were heard through the whole underground.

Felix was trapped but he sensed it he felt his own soul leaving his body when he heard you scream. When he smelled your sweet blood from miles away.

He shout in pain. Bursting into tears infuriated he started a fire that began to grow rapidly on his palms.

You loved him you truly love him and now you were about to die for him and you guess that's how it's supposed to be that's only fair that a love like this couldn't last for the eternity.

Felix had lost all sanity when he lost his angel.

The fire calcined his own body leaving nothing but the ashes.

That's how the love of an angel and a devil  consummated into the incandescent blaze.

Unstoppable like the flames but certainly just as destructive.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Robin’s Requirements Summary: The name’s Robin,” the kid said with Dick’s smirk and Jason’s accent. Bruce felt ice crawl up his veins. He was going to throw up.Robin number three wasn’t human and Bruce didn’t know how keep going after Jason’s death. They make it work (after a rough start). AN: I decided to put up all the chapters I’ve posted of this story so far in proper order on tumblr since some people prefer reading here. Here’s the AO3 link to the story! I update weekly!

Chapter 1

Summer in Gotham was almost unbearable. The smoke and ashes lingering in the air mixed with the heat radiated from the asphalt to create an atmosphere that made it difficult to breathe or even just move in. In-between the tall skyscrapers and the houses squished into spaces much too small for them, you got the closest you could be to the experience of boiling to death without actually dying.

Winter may freeze your limbs, break away one finger after another, but summer’s heat, similar to the blast of an explosion, burned away your skin.

The summer nights appeared to be the much kinder, softer counterpart to the day time for the poor creatures who had to make their way through dark alleys.

It was a farce.

Gotham wasn’t kind, she hadn’t been in a long time.

The coolness of the darkness lulled you into a false sense of security. You were exhausted already, scared of the shadows too maybe if you weren’t used to them, or if you knew what lingered beyond them, but at least death didn’t await you in the sun’s divine punishment.

A logical but wrong assumption.

Grim hunters stalked the dark, waiting for you to slip up, to make a mistake.

Or at least, they used to be there to sink their teeth into you.

For the longest time Gotham had been protected by three guardians, predators, but nowadays you only ever spotted one of them, and if you did, you were better off to slice your own throat, or so they said.

Nobody had ever attempted to deny that meetings with the Bat could get bloody, especially if you provoked him. Still, they didn’t used to look like a war zone, entrails spread over the grey asphalt as empty eyes judged you for all the horrors you committed. The Bat used to be kinder, more forgiving, more understanding.

He wasn’t anymore. He had broken like Gotham had so many decades ago.

He still protected the weak, the needy, the helpless, but he no longer fought for the damned.

Instead of being their ferryman, he brought them directly to hell. It wasn’t death, not yet, but by the time he was done, you would wish for it.

People wondered what had changed right up until the Joker nearly choked on his acid laughter in the Bat’s arms, laughing about little songbirds cut up so badly you couldn’t tell the red of their feather coat from their blood.

It made sense then that the Bat would start to lose control. Everybody knew that the little Robin was off-limits. You try to could hurt and maim him, or break him for sure, these were the rules of the streets, and if he wanted to fly through them, he had to acknowledge them, but only ever as long as the Bat was your actual target.

You did not target Robin, Gotham loved him.

(There was a price to be paid for his death.)

X

“Duke, honey, it’s time for bed!”

“I know, Mom! Just five more minutes!”

Duke Thomas considered himself to be a regular ten-year-old. He loved video games, Star Wars, his Mom’s cooking, his Dad’s jokes, and, above everything, Robin Spotting. It was so much fun to stay up late, hoping to catch a glimpse of that colorful uniform or hear the joyful laughter.

Duke had actually seen Robin once too, on his fire escape. The hero had smiled at him and then put his index finger on his lips, indicating for Duke to be silent. Caught up in his excitement, Duke hadn’t even been able to speak to the hero or do anything but stand at his window, jumping up and down. He had watched as Batman caught up with Robin and the duo had flown away, Robin pretty much glued to Batman’s side.

The alley beneath Duke’s window was dark and dirty, but the heroes had been able to light it up.

And now Robin was gone.

Duke couldn’t believe it.

The police hadn’t said anything about Robin’s disappearance. Duke checked the news every day when his parents weren’t watching him too closely, lest they start thinking he wanted to watch those instead of his cartoons, hoping to hear about something interesting that wasn’t economics. However, the papers had plenty to say about Robin. His Mom called them ‘gossip rags Duke was better off not paying too much attention to’, but he had read them regardless.

The papers claimed Robin was dead, said that the Joker had killed him.

Duke was sure they were lying.

Robin was magical, Robin couldn’t die.

(But the Joker rarely appeared to be human either.)

Maybe somebody just had to remind Robin that he was still needed here. Duke sometimes got so caught up in his thoughts, he forgot to do his homework. It was probably something similar for Robin

“Duke, lights out!” His Dad said when he passed by Duke’s room.

“Just one more minute!” Duke pleaded, not even looking up from his desk.

“Alright, alright.” Dad laughed. “But you have to tell me what you’re writing.”

He entered the room and stepped closer to take a look at the sheet of paper Duke had been writing on, but Duke quickly pulled it to his chest to hide his scribbles.

“No! You can’t see it! It will take away the magic.”

You didn’t show your parents the letter for Santa either, or it wouldn’t get to Santa. Of course, the latter wasn’t real, but Robin was. And honestly, there were rules about this kind of magic – his parents should know them.

Dad just raised his hands in defeat, still smiling in amusement.

“Okay, buddy, but tomorrow you have to share with the class.”

Duke frowned, unsure whether that would be enough time for Robin to get his letter.

“Later,” Duke yielded. “Once I know it worked.”

Dad’s smile softened and he patted Duke’s shoulder.

“Only one more minute, then bedtime. You have school tomorrow and I don’t want to get another call about you falling asleep in class.”

Duke huffed, but couldn’t hide his happy smile. “That was only once!”

“Once enough. Sleep well, kid.”

“Night, Dad.”

Dad walked out of Duke’s room, closing the door behind him so that Duke was staring at the Justice League poster pinned to the wood. Batman needed Robin, so Duke would remind the short hero that he had to come home.

He quickly finished his letter, packed it in transparent cover, and hid it away in his Super Secret Special box. It was actually just a shoebox he had painted yellow and orange and decorated with plastic gemstones, but Duke loved it. Then he turned off the light and crawled into his bed. Duke took his alarm clock from the nightstand and set the alarm for a few minutes before midnight. He wasn’t sure whether twelve o’clock really was the right time, but it seemed very important in a lot of movies, so Duke figured if he had to choose, he might as well go with this time. If he succeeded, he’d maybe write to the police as well, tell them how to contact Robin since the Bat-signal only worked for Batman.

Falling asleep when he was so nervous turned out to be a chore. It felt just like the evenings before his birthday when he could hear the blood rushing through his ears and it kept him awake for as long as possible.

Duke managed to sink into sleep sometime after his parents had gone to bed as well. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d drifted off right until his alarm rang again and Duke woke up startled. Tiredly, Duke crawled out of his bed and put on his socks to minimize the sound he made. He picked put the box and began tonight’s journey.

When he opened the door, he winced at the jarring sound. Even if he tried to be as slow as possible, the door refused to stay silent. Duke halted to listen if his parents still slept. His father’s snoring turned out to be a rather practical way of measuring it. Thankfully, his parents also didn’t wake when Duke stole the house keys out of his mother’s purse. With his box in hand, Duke sneaked out of the apartment and headed towards the stairs leading up to the rooftop.

The air inside the staircase was stuffy, receiving no circulation whatsoever. On tiptoes, Duke walked past the doors of his neighbors, being exceptionally careful when he passed the apartment of Ms. Norrington. She was, in the words of his usually calm and kind mother, a mean old witch, except she hadn’t said witch, but another word starting with a ‘b’ that Duke was too frightful to repeat. The old lady and her ugly little dog always watched Duke and his friend with her mean big blue eyes, especially when they were carrying toys. In Ms. Norrington’s opinion, there was nothing more terrible than children playing and having fun. One of these days, she wouldn’t even wait until Duke had made a sound, she’d just snatch his football away as soon as she would spot him. Therefore Duke needed to pass her without alarming her.

One step, another, a third and a fourth and Duke had done it. Victoriously, he rushed up the remaining staircases to the rooftop. If his parents knew that he was up here, they’d ground him for sure. None of the kids in the apartment block were supposed to go upstairs because the fence surrounding the roof hadn’t been fixed in ages and someone could get hurt or, even worse, fall off the roof when playing.

Duke thought it was stupid. He wouldn’t ever be dumb enough to fall off a house. However, that hadn’t stopped the adults from locking the door between Duke and his goal. But for that purpose, Duke had snatched his mother’s keys. His own keyring only had the keys for the front and backdoor, one for his bike and one for his Cousin’s home. His mother, on the other hand, did possess a key for the top door.

The lock was rusty and the key wouldn’t turn properly when Duke tried to open it. Duke bit on his tongue in concentration as he twisted the key multiple times until finally, after what felt like ages, the door clicked and opened.

Duke slowly closed it behind himself again, as to avoid the wind pushing it into the lock again with a loud BAM! Certainly, old Ms. Norrington would wake from that. Duke would just have to hurry and be finished before she managed to get out of bed, put on her pink shoes, ugly old and gray bathrobe and made it to the door.

Gotham was an ugly city according to the news, but Duke had long since learned not to trust them. Sure, the city could be a bit cleaner, but monuments like the shining WE building or the green Robinson park in the distance were signs that Gotham wasn’t as shitty as people claimed. The breeze here up on the rooftop was quite enjoyable too. They should tell their landlord to repair the fence quickly so that Duke could play Batman and Robin with his friends up here. That would be way cooler than going to the playground. Here they would be up on a real rooftop and didn’t have to pretend the monkey bars were the top of the Crystal Palace. Thinking of his two heroes, Duke reminded himself of his mission.

He looked around for the best spot to put his letter and settled on the water tank. A short ladder was leading up to it and so, with his box secured under his arms, Duke began to climb. He slipped nearly once or twice, but always managed to catch himself at the last second.

Once he reached the top, he allowed himself to sit down just to catch a quick breath. He was working on a schedule after all.

Duke set his box down next to him and took off the cover, revealing his letter to Robin and his most prized possession: a Batarang.

He’d found it in the trash a while ago and ever since he had the supreme right to always play Batman if he wanted to. He hadn’t told his parents about it because he knew they’d take it away, even if Duke didn’t take it outside his room usually. Why would he? He didn’t want it to get stolen by others!

Duke reached for the Batarang and then traced its edges with his fingers. It was still sharp, if he wasn’t careful he’d cut himself.

Duke didn’t have a Bat-signal, but he also didn’t want to attract that much attention. He was sure that if he just scratched something in the wooden surface of the water tank, Robin would spot it sooner or later. With the sharp side of the weapon, Duke began to scratch a big R into the wood. He made sure his carvings were deep enough that they’d be seen from above.

Then, with as much might as Duke could measure up, he rammed the Batarang through his letter into the wood so that it wouldn’t just fly away when left unsupervised.

There, his work was done.

Content with himself, Duke allowed himself to observe Gotham for a little while longer, forgetting Ms. Norrington for a moment. He wouldn’t get a sight as neat as this one again in a long while.

Duke climbed down from the water tank and returned inside. He made it past Ms. Norrington’s door and slipped into his apartment and room, his parents still sound asleep and none the wiser of Duke’s little adventure.

Yawning, Duke pulled his blanket over his head. It was sad that he had to give up his Batarang, but maybe he’d get a new one once Robin returned. And Duke didn’t mind playing other heroes.

After all, now it was really just a question of time.

X

Beneath him, the city was wide awake, even during such late hours. He should probably return to the Cave for tonight, he didn’t have any supplies besides the one lone Batarang. While he was sure that his wit alone would suffice to support Batman, a utility belt filled with all kinds of tricky equipment would be immense support, never mind much more fun.

He was already on the move, heading home for the first time, when Gotham started screaming for help. Her shouts spoke of fear, of a terrified mother scared for her children’s safety.

Somebody was threatening her - who?

Batman wouldn’t approve of it, he was sure, but generally speaking, it wasn’t his job to listen to Batman. He was there to support the Bat and, more importantly, keep Gotham safe. He couldn’t do that from the Cave.

With a wild grin, he jumped from the rooftop, executing a perfect landing on the balcony of the next house. Quickly he moved forward, making his way through the cold September air to come to Gotham’s aid.

He was Robin.

He had been born for this.

[lo-lynx]

Masculine embodiment in ASOIAF- aka, what’s up with the eunuchs?

CW: Sexism, cissexism, rape, sex, description of genitalia and bodily functions.

Spoilers: All of A Song of Ice and Fire, and a tiny spoiler from Game of Thrones season 8.

“’I hold the man’s balls in the palm of my hand.’ He cupped his fingers, smiling. ‘Or would, if he were a man, or had any balls.’” (Martin 1996/2011, 194) Ah, classic Littlefinger burn about Varys. In George RR Martin’s world of ASOIAF such jokes are frequent, but when last time when I re-read A Game of Thrones this one joke in Ned’s fourth chapter stuck out. Perhaps it was because I had recently watched the last season of Game of Thrones where Varys comments on Tyrion’s ever-present jokes about Varys being a eunuch (Game of Thrones 2019, 04:27). Perhaps it’s because issues of gender and sexuality interest me in general (see: all of this blog). Regardless, it got me interested at seeing how eunuchs are described in the books. I soon found that the connection between a man’s genitals and masculinity seemed to be very strong. Now, before I go any further, I feel like two disclaimers are in order. 1: I’m not saying that having a penis is necessary to be a man, I’m saying that both our society and the world of ASOIAF seems to think so. 2: I’m not saying that GRRM thinks this either, I have no idea what his personal stance on these things are, but I’m saying that he seems to have transferred these views from our world into his world. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, why focus on this aspect of masculine embodiment in ASOIAF? Well, as I intend to show in this analysis, by analysing how eunuchs are portrayed in the books, I think one can infer quite a bit of how men and masculinity is conceived of in Westeros and beyond. So, firstly I want to give a brief overview of how sex/gender was conceived of in our medieval world (mostly to show how this DOES NOT seem to match ASOIAF), and secondly how these things are conceived of in more modern times and compare this to ASOIAF.

So, before the 18th century or so, European conception sex/gender relied on what has afterwards been called a “one-sex model” (Mottier 2008, 33). This model was very influenced by the Greek philosophical idea that men’s bodies were active, hot and strong; women’s bodies being passive, weak, damp and cold (ibid, 5).

As the historian Thomas Laqueur has pointed out, the classical model of gender involved a ‘one-sex model’: since gender was fluid, men risked becoming more feminized if they lost heat, while women could become more like men if their bodies heated up. The psychological consequences of such beliefs was [sic] that gender did not appear as a stable, biological characteristic, but as an identity that was potentially under threat. (Mottier 2008, 6)

That is to say, during this time sex/gender was seen as fluid, and not a biological fact. As mentioned, this view didn’t really change until the 18th century. Mottier describes that shift like this:

From the 18th century, the traditional idea of the ‘one-sex’ body, which conceptualized women’s bodies as similar but inferior versions of male bodies (with female genitals being thought of as internal, much smaller versions of male genitals) started to be replaced with the idea of a clear biological differentiation between men and women. Male and female bodies came to be seen as fundamentally, biological different, not as part of the same hierarchical continuum. The gender hierarchy remained, however. (Mottier 2008, 33)

From this we can infer then, that during the medieval period in Europe, female bodies were perceived as sort of defect versions of male bodies, not fundamentally biologically different. It was after this model was replaced with the ‘two-sex model’ that men and women were seen as biologically different creatures. This biological difference also began being used as a justification for social difference (and inequality) between men and women. That is not to say that such social difference didn’t exist before that, but it wasn’t though to be the result of biological differences in the same way. In my view, this later conceptualisation of sex/gender is much more in line with how sex/gender seems to be perceived in ASOIAF. Throughout the books there are several references of women being of the gentle/weaker sex, or similar descriptions. One such is in Catelyn’s last chapter in A Game of Thrones when Catelyn tries to persuade Robb’s lords to sue for peace with the Lannisters. The Greatjon then says that because she is a woman she does not understand such things, while Lord Karstark says: “You are the gentle sex (…) a man has a need for vengeance.” (Martin 2011, 770) Such a view, seeing the female sex as gentler/weaker than the male sex, seems much more in line with a “two-sex model” than the “one-sex model” that would’ve existed in Medieval Europe. I shall therefore proceed to explain the male body has been conceived in more modern times.

In general, one can say that the male subject is expected to embody strength, toughness, and have a capability to exercise power over a space (Whitehead 2002, 189). This expectation also carries through to expectations of men’s sexuality, which is why many aging men might start to lose confidence in their sexuality when they can’t live up to this expectation (ibid, 200). This connection between masculinity and strength, virility etc. also impacts the importance being put on having “normal” genitalia. As Fausto-Sterling writes about the male body, from a medical point of view, the existence of a “functional” penis is often considered crucial for manhood (1995, 130). This is taken to the extreme that children born with a penis that is considered too small (even though the size of the penis at birth doesn’t seem to be a good indicator of adult size) will have their genitalia surgically changed into a vagina (for more on surgery on intersex children see for example: Amnesty 2017). Presumably this is partly because the sexual act of penetration is so closely linked to masculinity, that having a penis that is considered “too small” for this is inconceivable (as someone who works with sex education, I just want to add SIZE DOESN’T MATTER THAT MUCH. Just communicate with your partner and figure out what works for you!) Other studies have also analysed the way testicles are perceived in modern society and found that those seem to be closely connected to masculinity as well (Karioris & Allan 2017). The most obvious example of this is of course the phrase “grow a pair”, said when wanting someone to toughen up. Kaioris and Allan also write that fear of castration is often linked with a fear of losing one’s masculinity. This is all to say, that in our society genitalia seems to be very important to manhood and being “a real man”. Now, is this also the case in ASOIAF?

Short answer, yes. One example is of course the quote with which I started this text, when Littlefinger seems to equate Varys’ lack of testicles with his lack of manhood. Another example comes from A Clash of Kings when Tyrion expresses a similar sentiment when comparing himself to Varys: “Yet I’m still a man.” (Martin 1999/2011, 120). But the linking of lack of genitals with lack of masculinity doesn’t stop with Varys, it is also something we see with Theon after his torture by Ramsey. He himself thinks that he is no man (Martin 2011/2012, 566). Later, when Ramsey forces him to be a part of raping Jeyne Poole, he jokes about Theon (not) getting an erection by seeing Jeyne, and then says that Theon is: “Not even a man, in truth.” (Martin 2011d, 582). This equating of (lack of) a penis and testicles with (a lack of) masculinity/manhood isn’t contained to Westeros, however. Daenerys thinks a similar thing when describing the unsullied in A Storm of Swords: “(…) they were no men at all. The Unsullied were eunuchs, every one of them.” (Martin 2000/2011, 314). Speaking of Daenerys, in A Game of Thrones we learn from her chapters that in Dothraki culture, the only ones who ride in carts are those with a disability, women giving birth, the very old and the very old. Oh, and eunuchs (Martin 1996/2011, 373). Here it becomes very clear that eunuchs are seen as weak and unmanly when they are grouped together with pregnant women, old people and those with disabilities. How disability is portrayed in ASOIAF is not something I will go into further here, but I recommend the text “Power and Punishment in Game of Thrones” by Mia Harrison that does explore that. However, it seems clear that those with disabilities are not seen as “real men” either.

So, based on this, we can see that the Westerosi (and Essosi) view of what a man is seems to presume that he is strong, active and virile. It is apparently also very important to have functioning genitalia (whatever that even means). Therefore, those who cannot live up to that, such as eunuchs, are not real men. This is a very narrow definition of masculinity and manhood, yet it unfortunately rings true in our world as well. Not only does it exclude trans folx completely, it also limits people of all genders. We see the consequences of that in ASOIAF when Brianne is excluded from knighthood based on her gender, and in the way people of Westeros treat all of its “imperfect” men. And we can most definitely see it in our own world.

  References

Amnesty International. (2017). “First, do no harm: ensuring the rights of children born intersex.” Accessed 1 December, 2019. https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2017/05/intersex-rights/

Game of Thrones. (2019) Winterfell. [TV-show]

Harrison, Mia. (2018). “Power and Punishment in Game of Thrones”, pp. 28-43 in Schatz, J L & Amber E George (Eds.), The Image of Disability: Essays on Media Representations. North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc.

Fausto-Sterling, Anne (1995). “How to build a man”, pp. 127-134 in Berger, Maurice, Brian Wallis and Simon Watson (eds.) (1995). Constructing Masculinity, Routledge, New York

Martin, George RR. (1996/2011). A Game of Thrones. Harper Voyager: London

Martin, George RR. (1998/2011). A Clash of Kings. Harper Voyager: London

Martin, George RR. (2000/2011). A Storm of Swords 1: Steel and Snow. Harper Voyager: London

Martin, George RR. (2011/2012). A Dance with Dragons. Harper Voyager: London

Mottier, Véronique. (2008). Sexuality: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press

Whitehead, Stephen M. (2002). Men and Masculinities, Cambridge and Malden: Polity, pp. 181-204

[theangrypokemaniac]

Baby Vulpix are born with a solitary white tail, which reddens and splits as it grows.

Given the conversion to Ice we must forgive the lack of colour, but the ends sticking together is inexplicable.

Perhaps it's tangled with perspiration, as a furry fox embellished with fluffy pouffes is not best equipped to deal with a simmering climate.

When Fire, and thus possessed of an inner furnace, such outer decoration is easily borne, but losing his type means it's nothing but a burden for these endless summer days.

If he became Ice to cope, why not shed such bothersome apparel? What benefit is there in retaining a fur coat?

Perhaps the transformation is yet to reach fruition, and we are witnessing merely a stage midway, before it drops off.

The correct crown plumage is three tight little curls above a small fringe, but here we find a most dishevelled appearance.

It smacks of a want of propriety.

Why any creature should don a toupee of albino pubes shall remain a mystery. Clearly they are no longer of sound mind.

I blame the diabolical influence of those wicked polyps sprouting from his ears.

Polyps grow in the cavities of a cat's head like the toadstools of Satan.

If they aren't removed they bore into its brain!

Are you blind? What's that there then?

I thought Ninetales had nine tails.

A matted bush with seven straggling ends wafting in the breeze.

The lack of separation is less of a concern when one realises the billowing quality equates to having no solid form.

He's lost his bloody tail bones, man! That bastard sun butchered him!

Like Parasect, the parasitic colonisation is complete, with polyps responsible for Ninetales's degradation from vindictive lunatic to feeble-fannied pacifist.

Remember Normal Ninetales? The regal reincarnation of nine noble saints who, were he offended, delivered eternal curses upon the perpetrator?

And it wasn't just a temporary punishment? It wasn't even for your lifetime?

It doomed generation after generation of your descendants, lasting ONE THOUSAND YEARS!!!

How does Alola Ninetales compete?

He'll douse you cold water.

No! The last thing I need is a cool down!

Well, if he's annoyed, if he's really, really, thoroughly ticked off, you'll be frozen.

And instantly thaw.

He's got that skin. Or fur even.

Meowth don't brown in sunlight. He greys. What was brown bleached to white.

Last year, when Sadism and Masochism still ran, I was up to me teef in posts praising Velma's mutant pussy, because Team Rocket can do no wrong, apparently.

A creature of alien grey, with a smug, squashed mush and Betty Spaghetti limbs, carved from the rubberiest lump of Kraken ever washed up on the shores of Siberia, was treated like a treasure, a faultless jewel we are honoured to behold.

However, as the S & M sesssion finished, I discovered that approval of Alolan Meowth is an extreme minority view.

Well yer could've fooled me!

What did we learn?

A. T.A.P. is in the majority at last!

B. Tumblr gives a really skewed idea of the wider fandom.

This hot stuff's a bitch eh?

Soon as touching the innocuous cat, it dived in his back and reorganised his spinal column, bipedal abilities serving as such a fine defence against sunburn, which is why fat-headed Persian loses it again.

I hope Game Freak did remember that our Meowth is the exception, and the breed aren't meant to walk upright.

It's very sloppy record-keeping otherwise.

Forget silly notions of black felines browned by prolonged sunbathing, what really goes down is cream darkening to grey, whilst any ruby gemstones they may possess becomes royal blue, obviously.

Persian was drawn in an identical stance to the real one to assist identification. I can't say I'd know without that visual clue.

Grey and blue? Has Persian, playing by his own rules, developed hypothermia?

He's a maverick, man! Petty laws of nature are meaningless to this cool cat!

As for his unfortunate face, it has swelled to painful proportions in the sizzling environment, like a woman's lower extremities.

It shows why a certain representative of the race lashed out by beating up Litten, besides intentions to eat or mount Popplio.

His features group together under the gravitation pull of the Ultra Wormhole secreted inside his skull, caused no doubt by baleful polyps.

Yer gotta watch 'em!

Ah, and where is the ambulance service striving to cure every Persian of this double malady?

There isn't one, 'cause they don't care.

Yeah, well he'll have the last laugh. That loaf is still a-growing, and one day will explode, unleashing said cosmic damnation upon the heartless savages, atomising all before it.

Sandshrew mate, yer getting hefty.

And then they'll be sorry!

I'll have you know I'm retaining water to survive.

Retaining pies more like.

Sandshrew can't abide damp, choosing to reside in dry areas well away from any substantial precipitation.

How exactly it crossed the sea to small series of islands surrounded by more sea is a mystery, but happen it did.

A creature of such taste should head inland, far from the shore, to a dusty landscape, the sort found on Akala Island.

What did it do?

He clambered the peaks, where much moisture awaits, snow being water, and stayed until ice colonised his person.

And got ears like an igloo.

Makes total sense for a Pokémon with an aversion to anything cold and wet to rush straight for the source.

Plus, that girth suggests piling on the fat to cope with a habitat it selected.

Oh no, that's a coat of steel. Definitely not ice. It's just bluish white and shimmering, like ice.

On an Ice Pokémon. But no ice here.

Shivering in a blizzard compelled it to develop a thick metal hide? That'll be useful when Alola goes to war and needs ammunition for the cannons.

A freezing, inflexible suit of armour not only works wonders against frostbite, but Sandshrew will sweat to death should it descend to the places it used to live.

The eyes are partly on its old face, but now overlap onto the ridge, meaning his eyeballs are bent in half.

One does expect sand and sand-related features from a Sandslash, such as Ground powers.

But a pangolin's gotta avoid the Chinese somehow, and so up he went, climbing them thar hills, whereupon his spikes, previously a natural fibre, transformed into steel stalagmites, and over that came an icy epidermis.

Trap up there forever, and blind!

Roasting conditions suffice to make mischief by melting rocks, so what befalls types weak to heat?

If Sandslash goes to sea level, his back will vaporise in the first blast of said dread inferno, leaving him vulnerable, just as the wet markets like 'em.

Worse, his upper limbs are not affixed to his body. Via the flimsiest joint, they're glued to the ice thanks to its adhesive effects.

It's as one often sees when scamps, walking to school, lick a lamppost upon a winter morn.

And soon regret.

Whence comes the thaw, his arms is gonna fall off, and then what defence can be mustered against the People's Republic?

AND, given his head is also majority cone, as it breaks, his skull will crack open and his brains tip out!

No wonder they're goin' extinct!

[allyvampirelass29]

Painting the Fire

A Vampire Diaries Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

Niklaus Mikaelson smirked to himself, the paintbrush poised in his slender fingers, as if he were conducting an orchestra, coaxing the lyrical likeness from the canvas, his determined hand roving in brave strokes, ending in a slow wisp of a tenderly crafted raven curl.

"Really Nick, are you seriously painting that irksome assassin yet again?"

Klaus winced, reluctant to move the brush from the canvas. Ah, and how the notes have soured......

He turned slowly to look over his shoulder, clearly perturbed. Ironic for his little sister to have used the term, "irksome," being, herself, the very personification of the word, sighing in a huff, arms crossed, as she leaned forward, her face crinkled in harsh scrutiny.

"Come now, Rebekah, don't be nasty, not in the face of such...….. untamed loveliness."

His raspy voice got very quiet then, touching his fingertip to the mocha coloured cheek of his fiercely exotic subject, a gentleness stealing over his features, as the fiery dark eyes looked back, gleaming with danger and desire.

"Tal."

"Ever the poet, aren't you, Brother? Untamed, oh most definitely but lovely?" Rebekah scoffed tossing her long, straight blonde hair back, her impudent face continuing to frown. "You should have made her angrier, more inaccessible, with her signature "bite my ass," expression."

Klaus' lips curled into a fond grin, his usual piercing blue eyes, playfully dancing, knowing that expression his sister had so eloquently described all too well.

"What is it about this one, Nick? She can be so horrid to you, say the most frightful things! She supposedly works for you, is sired by you, and yet still defies you at every turn!! Why ever would you desire a creature that runs so hot and cold on you!? Is it just because she gives you something to chase? Poet and Predator, of course, I should have guessed. All the women in the world fall at the feet of the Great and Terrible Niklaus, but this one fights back, makes you play her game, and you're all too happy for it!!!

Rebekah threw her arms out exasperated as she spoke, mocking him, turning her head from his raven-haired masterwork, as though it pained her to look at it.

"Rebekah, if you're going to be dramatic, I'm going to need another scotch," He simpered coolly, dipping his brush into the blood red paint, his tongue pressing against his bottom lip, as he put the finishing touches on her own sassy Spanish lips, and the ruffles of her off the shoulder dress.

"Why this one, she asks...…" He spoke aloud leisurely, more to his painting than the frustrated petite blond being difficult. "Shall we enlighten her, Darling?" He asked Tal's flirty eyes in a hushed rasp, brushing the blood red paint over her shoulder, watching the satin form around her skin, the answer hot on his lips.

"The Fire...….." He whispered with a harsher, more hungry edge, swooping the crimson ruffle around the small of her open back. "Natalia..... My Spanish Rose...… From the moment I found her, picked her up, broken, I felt it. The fire, the delicious potential, burning inside of her. She's my Masterpiece, Rebekah, not just in artform, but in body, in flesh. I've stoked that fire, both starved and fed it into an unstoppable force. My femme fatale, as flawless a killer, as she is breathtaking a beauty. I want to taste that fire, become...… one with it."

"How very lovely of you, Nick," Rebekah chortled back, placing her hand on his shoulder, and he bristled, not trusting her overly zealous smile. "It's too bad. I feel sorry for you, I really do."

Klaus seethed as she squeezed his shoulder in feigned comfort. "Whatever do you mean, dear, dear, Sister?" He managed through clenched teeth in careful threat.

"It's too bad," Rebekah continued, smiling even more charming, leaning down to look him in the eyes, her brandished blade finding its mark. "That she's madly in love with Damon Salvatore...…."

Klaus leapt up from his seated place at his easel, shoulders heaving, and his eyes snapped furiously, flashing gold and glowing. "What the HELL did you just say!?!?"

"Oh c'mon, Nicky, it's disgustingly obvious. Your Spanish Rose has already been plucked by your worst enemy.......... You want to talk about flesh? His hands know every inch of her caramel skin, while the only thing you're caressing of her, is that cold, rough canvas. Of course....... there's our answer, the rub for your sick little obsession. You're only drawn to her flame because it burns so hot for someone else. Paint the fire, Brother, but by your own foolishness be prepared to PERISH in it!!!!

"How DARE you!!!!" Klaus roared, murder in his glowing gaze. "Aughhhhhhhh!!!!" He let out a thundering yell, flinging his arm out, knocking several glass jars of paint to the ground, each of them smashing against the white marble floor, red, black, yellow, and blue paint bleeding into each other in a chaos of colour. He stepped forward, and gripped Rebekah's throat, his thumb pressing hard against her jaw, and to his utmost frustration, she continued to smile.

"My, my, jealousy is not a colour I often see you dripping with, Nick, but please, don't claw the messenger. Trifle with your angry, difficult, sour-faced little tart all you wish, but don't forget who first tasted her fire."

"SILENCE," Klaus roared again, his grip tightening on his sister's throat, leaning in dangerously, trying and failing to hide his catching hatred. "Be careful, Little Sister, or I'm going to have to be very unpleasant, and that shan't be fun for either of us."

"I'm only protecting you, you braggart, preventing you from wasting your time on something that's long been won. You'll never have her, Nick, not while Damon Salvatore remains in existence!!!!"

Klaus rubbed his lips together furiously, mischief glinting in his harsh glare.

"Well there's an obvious solution then, isn't there...…..?"

"Please, don't tease. She's not worth it, Nick. If you're going to finally off a Salvatore, and nearly get yourself killed in the process, it should be over something that matters."

"She is the ONLY thing that matters, you spiteful, ridiculous girl!!!"

"I'm being ridiculous? And yet you're the one swooning, and moaning over her, painting and drawing her over and over again like she's the Venus de Milo, all when she could NEVER love you the way she loves him!!!! She'll always choose him, Nicky, always, and I think a part of you already knows that. You hold onto her, like she's your last human breath, but she's not holding you back, now is she? In fact....... You are the ONLY thing keeping her from what she wants most in this world........ HOW can you call those chains anything akin to love!?"

Klaus clamped onto Rebekah's wrist painfully, his hybrid claws emerging, his lip furled with his rising fury, his golden eyes narrowed. "You're REALLY starting to piss me off, Rebekah, and we both know what happens when you upset Big Brother...…"

"Bite me." She seethed, the black veins dancing about her eyes.

"Tempting........ But there are just so many more appealing ways to punish you, Sweetie, beginning with your darling blonde errand boy. Shall I bite him instead? Or is it your old tortured flame that tempts you more these days?" Klaus laughed cruelly, tilting his light-coloured auburn curls, already knowing the answer. "Talk about loving a lost cause....... How does it feel, Sister, to always be the second choice, the consolation prize?"

"YOU tell me!!!! Go on, you preening narcissist!!! Tell me she loves you with all of her thorny heart!!!! Tell me I'm wrong!!!!!" She shot back, trying to get loose of him, but he grabbed her other wrist too, his scruffy angular jaw raised in defiance, his claws holding her in place, and there was a part of him that wanted to mirror what her words had done to him, and rip her heart right out.

"You're. Wrong," He seethed, his jaw clenching, as he moved in closer, the violent heat of his anger, scorching. "Damon Salvatore is her EX, as in EXPELLED from her heart, her mind, her immortal life. She's MINE, now, do you understand? If I asked her to kill him for me, surround him in her fire, she'd DO it, let him burn, for all that damn smart ass Casanova has done, is hurt her something most cruel. Oh yes, she blames Katherine for the slaughter of her family, but it's Damon's hands that drip with their blood, having hurtled her in Katherine's warpath. He brought this devastation down on her, he REJECTED her for that conniving attention whore, and even now he suspects he can win her back with only a smile and a wink, believing with such hubris that's all it takes, when she deserves to be fought for, BLED for!!!!"

Rebekah struggled in his grasp, leaning forward, glaring back. "And you, Brother...… Is it YOU who must bleed for her? She's a weakness, Nick, a bad habit, a lethal dose, and if you don't stop indulging, she's going to get you KILLED!!!!"

"What's this? Rough housing again? Really, what am I going to do with the both of you? Rebekah, whatever nasty thing you've clearly just spat at Niklaus, say you're sorry, and stop pestering him. Niklaus, we've only got the one sister, and being down two brothers, we'd best not end her just yet...…" Elijah swept into the lavish room, the picture of serenity, that is, until he saw the paint smearing the pristine marble floor.

"That's Italian Marble!!!! Oh Brother, what a MESS you've made!"

"He has NO idea," Rebekah smarted back, and Klaus released her with a shove, his once again blue eyes following her coldly as she left the room in a huff.

"Go on, Elijah, swoop in and be the good one, the saintly brother, go comfort our poor sister's hurt feelings like you always do."

"My God, Klaus, Don't be-"

"What? Beastly? Can't help it, Brother, it's in the genes, I'm afraid."

It was then Elijah's calm brown eyes, caught sight of Klaus' fiery rendition of Natalia.

"Oh......... You've painted another one, I see."

Klaus chuckled, shaking his head, not the least bit surprised. Typical Elijah. Predictable to the point of exasperated boredom. "Oh, not you too!!! And here I thought you liked Tal."

"I-I do," Elijah managed, feeling unsettled by the striking eyes in the painting, that seemed to follow him as he paced in the other direction, making a show of fretting over the floor.

"Whatever you're not saying, Elijah, it's deafening." Klaus snarked, snatching up one of his brushes, whisking it furiously in a cup of water.

"You're too close to this one, Niklaus, she's a dire distraction. She has consumed you, tempted your very soul."

"How kind of you, Elijah, to assume I have one," Klaus smiled resentfully, cleansing his brushes with even more fervor.

"Be careful, Niklaus, take measure. She's dangerous, to you, to herself, and to the survival of this world. She threatens us all...... Killing openly in crowds, dissolving like shadow, but the most egregious act thus committed, is how deeply she has rooted herself in your heart, taking hold, stolen her way past your usually sound defenses."

"Calm your fears, Brother, I LIVE for her danger, ache for those comely shadows, and as for the world...…. I'll happily destroy it right alongside her, should she be so inclined. Make no mistake....... I'VE rooted her there, Elijah, that her bloom may flourish, entangled our hearts so neither can be withdrawn without harm to the other. She's right where I want her," He chuckled, caressing his palm along the side of the canvas, marveling at his masterwork. Of all the pieces he'd done featuring Natalia, this one was his favourite. Devil red becomes you, My Spanish Rose.

"You don't mean that!" Elijah insisted vehemently, his unease all the more evident, as he watched his little brother gaze into the danger he loved, the danger he would die for.

"I do. I mean it, Elijah, Tal isn't going anywhere, so you best get comfortable having her around. And Rebekah should learn to play nice with my paramour, else I'll have her grounded, quite literally, in the ground, tucked away warm and safe in her coffin. Now, if you'll excuse me, there was an original Matisse with a gold plated, pearl inlay frame, that might just be far more suited to my own artistry."

Elijah watched with an austere countenance as Klaus collected his portrait, smirking sneakily, and disappeared up the winding spiral staircase. Once he was sure he had gone, Elijah turned heel, and hastened to meet his younger sister in the foyer, attempting to keep his composure to little, practically no avail.

"Oh good. You haven't killed each other yet. How marvelous," Rebekah drawled lazily leaning up against the wall, rubbing her wrist with accusing disdain.

"What ARE you thinking, Rebekah, I said TALK to him, seed doubt of her allegiance, assuage him off her, NOT knowingly bait him, rile him up, get him foaming at the mouth!!!! Have you not been listening!? If you're petulant about Natalia, you'll only drive them closer together."

"I can't help it, I don't like her, and I don't like who he is with her, and I really don't care for your scolding when I've been generous enough to help you."

"You're not helping me, I've already told you, WE'RE helping him."

Rebekah chuckled, running a hand through her long, straight blonde hair, looking amused.

"What? By taking away Niklaus' favourite toy? Really, Elijah, you'd have better luck getting her to fall back in love with Damon Salvatore. Let's say it outright, shall we? You're not helping him, you're helping you. You want him to be a good little soldier, and you know she could do it, get him to leave us, corrupt him in ways the world's not yet ready for, never mind what he'd do to her...… Imagine the power they'd have between them, if he actually got his way. They'd bring the world to its knees, and us along with it.

"It's not altogether a terrible idea...… Throwing Tal at Damon...….. She did love him once, some part of her still must," Elijah mused, his thumb and forefinger resting underneath his chin.

"Oh BRILLIANT, Elijah, My God, you've solved the thing proper this time!!!!!!" Rebekah exclaimed in false praise, her shrill voice rife with sarcasm. "We play Vampire Matchmaker, hurl Natalia into Damon's greedy, skeevy arms, watch our brother drown his sorrows in the blood of everyone living and undead, before staking us both into eternity, perfection, SO happy we worked that up!"

"Well, what method precisely, would you suggest?"

Rebekah smiled with her own glamour and mischief, giving Elijah a knowing look. "You see, that's your problem, Dear Brother, you always go for the noble play, the right way out, when there are far more devious, yet desperately effective options. You want Niklaus to give up his saucy little assassin for good? Well, it's deliciously simple. Turn him against her, convince him she's betrayed him, that she's never loved him. Nothing gets him quite worked up like opening up his miserable heart, only to realize he's being used."

Elijah stared at her aghast. "No. We can't do that to him. Rebekah, really, that's diabolical, even by your standards, to break our brother, thus, just when he's at last learnt to love!"

"You want to buy our brother's loyalty away from that scheming woman, you have to be willing to pay up, Elijah. He'll never choose us over her, unless...… we choose for him."

[monstersdownthepath]

Milestone Monster: Mhar, the World Thunder

CR 26

Chaotic Evil Titanic Aberration

Pathfinder Adventure Path: Return of the Runelords: Rise of New Thassilon, pg. 86~87

IT’S TIIIIIIIME! please ignore the travesty of the ‘editing’ on the banner.

For untold millennia, Mhar has slumbered near the core of Golarion, nestled in the warmth of the planet’s heart. Born from a calamitous intersection of the Elemental Planes of Fire and Earth, Mhar is agonized by the sensation of its molten flesh cooling and hardening to the point it would do anything to escape the pain. Its current magma bath within Golarion is its latest attempt to keep warm, Or, rather, warm enough to remain sane long enough to gather the power it needs to enact its true plan: breaching into the Elemental Plane of Fire to forever bathe in the stone-melting heat.

A soft-hearted person like myself (Just look at its face in the picture! It’s crying!) may hear of Mhar’s plight and wish to aid it. All it wants to do is get into the Plane of Fire, right? Unfortunately, Mhar’s truly tremendous size (that green stuff beneath it? That’s an entire forest and lake) prevents it from traveling through a typical Gate spell, and most tragically of all is very specifically immune to the Plane Shift spell, an immunity no other Great Old One has. Dick move, Paizo, but I can understand why you did it. If a player manages to get past the communication barrier--Mhar speaks Aklo, Terran, and Ignan only, and its telepathy range is so small that you risk death by proximity--solving the encounter immediately by coaxing the critter into failing its save versus Plane Shift does not for a climactic encounter make. Sure, getting to Mhar is difficult, but having such a simple solution to its entire motivation can take the wind out of a battle.

... Or it may decide to crush you anyways. Who’s to say if it’s Chaotic Evil because it’s in incalculable pain, or if it’s alignment is separate from the agony? Whatever the case may be, awakening Mhar is an apocalyptic event as it madly lashes out against a world not meant for it. What does the World Thunder’s attack on a world look like? Lets see...

Though Mhar’s picture reveals creature is mountain-sized, players couldn’t reasonably attack such a thing without needing an entire kitchen floor as a space (artistic interpretation). Instead, combat with Mhar takes place against a cluster of its legs, which take up 50ft of space and have 50ft of reach. Mhar itself is so enormous that it benefits/is punished by the Massive rule, meaning it mercifully cannot make Attacks of Opportunity against creatures who are smaller than Huge size, and such creatures can clamber around on the Great Old One’s body... if they don’t mind the fact that being in physical contact with Mhar counts as being submerged in lava, dealing 20d6 Fire damage per round to whatever idiot thought grappling with/climbing on an active volcano was a good idea.

Side note on the thought of grappling: Mhar’s CMD is 69. Nice.

Though small folk might be safe from Attacks of Opportunity, they still have to contend with Mhar’s normal natural attacks! Another weakness of being so huge is that it can only manage to coordinate four of its legs against small targets, slamming them for 4d12+16 plus 2d6 Fire damage each time, which can be further augmented by Greater Vital Strike. It’s certainly not fun to get hit by all four, but spread out, that damage isn’t too bad... for melee characters,and their 30-ft pile of HP anyway. Squishies might want to stay back, though you don’t really get much of a choice in the matter since Mhar can cast both Wall of Fire and Wall of Stone at will, creating entire labyrinths in a single action that, of course, it can easily step over and even attack around due to its size.

Making melee even worse is that like all other Great Old Ones, Mhar has an Unspeakable Presence, and it’s one of the spookier ones out there at first glance: failing a DC 35 Will save (which must be made every single round) even once means you cannot breathe while you remain within 300ft of Mhar, even if you succeed on your save next round. LITERALLY a presence that prevents speaking! But I say “spooky at first glance” because the big beefy Fighter with his 25 Con can hold his breath for 50 rounds, which ticks down by 1 each round passively, and down by another 1 each time he takes a standard or full-round action. Still no problem for him! But what about the casters or Dex-based characters who dumped Con? For one, don’t dump Con. For another, suffocation instantly knocks your character to unconsciousness and 0 HP regardless of whatever invulnerability you may have in place, and more importantly, if you open your mouth to speak (such as to use verbal components for a spell), your remaining rounds of held breath plummet.

Getting close to Mhar opens the victim to a world of breathless pain, but staying at a range to strike it might be a fruitless endeavor. I know I’ve hammered on about its size for a while, but Mhar is surrounded on all sides by a 30ft thick Cloak of Ash that grants it concealment. Yes, despite being several hundred feet tall, it’s possible to miss Mhar entirely with ranged attacks due to the Cloak of Ash. At least there’s no mechanical downside to hiding out in the cloak yourself, though its enormous Blindsight and Tremorsense range (120ft and 600ft, respective) means it has no trouble finding you.

Though Mhar may not even bother with attacking such small creatures until they prove to be a menace. No, Mhar is angry at the entirety of the cosmos, and it takes this fury out on entire countrysides at a time. Thrice per day, it can rock the world with Earthquake, which is downright devastating when used in tandem with its Volcanic Tempest, a power it can unleash once every 1d6 rounds, blasting a 60ft area around it with choking ash (as Stinking Cloud) and a hail of molten earth that deals 8d6 bludgeoning and 8d6 Fire damage to all in the area. What makes this ability truly dangerous, though, and why it pairs so well with Earthquake, is that Mhar sprays the area of the Volcanic Tempest with lingering molten rock, which deals 20d6 Fire damage to everything standing in it each round if they can’t clamber out of it, which Earthquake can prevent by knocking everyone prone and right into the lava. Though this magma cools to harmless temperatures after 1 minute (or sooner if exposed to Cold magic), Mhar can unleash a new torrent every 1d6 rounds and will do so as early and as often as possible until everything around it becomes a charred hellscape. 

Even dying, Mhar leaves a charred hellscape behind. Immunity to Plane Shift isn’t the only unique quality Mhar has when compared to other Great Old Ones. It also has full on Regeneration instead of Fast Healing like every other GoO, and its Regeneration 20 is only suppressed by Electricity damage, of all things. With Electricity Resistance 30, it’s stupidly hard to hurt Mhar in a way that matters. Thankfully, its Earthen Regeneration only functions if it’s burrowed or otherwise submerged in stone or magma, shutting off if it surfaces… after a minute. Popping Mhar out of its magma bath still means it has 1 full minute of Regeneration that’s only bypassed by a specific elemental type it already has high resistance to, and its 120ft burrow speed means it can reactivate its healing each time it has access to the bare ground.

But lets say you get past that little caveat! When you finally triumph and finally slay Mhar, the entire mountain-beast explodes, spraying everything within 30ft of it with a crushing shower of stone and magma, dealing a jaw-dropping 30d6 bludgeoning and 30d6 Fire damage, making it one of the--if not The--hardest hitting single abilities in the game. And before you go ‘only 30ft? pah,’ remember that battling Mhar is just engaging portion of the thing at a time. It’s quite likely that the entire landscape gets blown to Kingdom Come once the molten mountain falls and the party ‘only’ has to worry about their 30ft patch because tracking that much damage across that big of a distance is a logistical nightmare.

Besides, if Mhar didn’t destroy the country then, it will in a year. Mhar’s Immortality has no real condition to it, as many do; it merely resurrects on the spot of its death one year after it dies as if restored with True Resurrection. According to its lore, Mhar actually comes back because being dead is even more painful than being alive once it passes a certain point, so the thing just wills itself back to life, which is EXACTLY the kind of Great Old One shenanigans I’m here for! I mean... Poor Mhar, but just willing yourself back to life in perfect health is pretty stellar.

Fun fact, Mhar only found out what death was like because someone else decided to use Golarion as a prison for another world-destroying abomination. Once Sarenrae tore open a hole in the planet and flung Rovagug into it, Rovagug accidentally clocked Mhar across the head and destroyed it instantly. It got better, but also got angrier, especially since the whole ‘tearing a hole in the world and throwing a god into it’ thing ruined its hibernation. It could have gotten a whole ‘nother six or seven millennia of peace out of Golarion’s core if that hadn’t happened! Mhar was SO upset by that, in fact, that its scream of anguish caused an entire mountain range to form!

Poor thing :( is it really any wonder it why it’s so cranky once it reaches the surface? At the very least, it knows what it has to do in order to finally achieve true peace: Get to the Plane of Fire. Unfortunately, its chosen path involves flooding Golarion with magma and using the magma as a focus to open a planet-sized portal to the Plane of Fire, which would destabilize the Material Plane and cause the entire thing to fall into the elemental plane, destroying everything as we know it.

But hey, at least Mhar will finally be able to sleep peacefully and without pain. And immunity to fire is pretty easy to get! Maybe living in the Plane of Fire won’t be so bad...

You can read more about him here.

[xambedox]

the boy with the bread; a drabble

     it was a dreary day, the kind where the cold chilled you to your bones, the kind where even the steady hot & golden glow of the ovens couldn’t keep the chill out, not truly. peeta’s warmed by the fiery oven but just to look out & past the window, he’s left with a melancholy unbefitting of a child. the rain itself looked steady, like it was ice cold & unforgiving to those caught in it.

     but peeta did his best not to dwell on it, instead focusing his attention on the tasks at hand & on the surprisingly good mood of his family as they all worked around him. even his mother, who was more often that not, just as cold as the rainstorm outside. she liked to see people miserable, struggling. he often wonders how she can be so cruel, especially to the family she raised & whom she claims to love.

     then there’s the far off clatter & rustle as he hears the garbage can at the curb & it seems he wasn’t the only one. the look in his mother’s eye changes, & he worries. already his mind is going through all the things he must remember not to do for fear of evoking her wrath & turning it towards him. but peeta’s curious, & though timid, he follows his mother out, thinking how large of a contrast between the pleasant tone of the bell at their door & the loud, ugly words he soon hears leave his mother’s lips. he can’t see her face the way he cowers behind her, but there’s no struggle for him to picture the expression he’s seen time & time again.

     so he stares out past his mother’s skirt, eyes finding the face of a girl he’d known well enough. katniss everdeen  —  the girl with a voice as soothing & lovely as he looked in that red dress from his memories. but the girl he sees now seems a shell of the girl he knew. they were in the same year at school & saw her only in passing, but now he’s able to see her clearly & the sight pains him. it looked like katniss had been starving for days. deep set dark circles, hollowed cheeks & tired eyes, glazed over with a somber acceptance of the insults being spit in her direction. she was soaked as could be, her shins & boots muddied from her uncareful steps & peeta was at a loss. she looked as though she was on deaths door & had no rebuttal for his mother’s more than displeased words. he wanted to help, to do something. but he’s still only a child — a child with no say & a deeply ingrained fear of his mother’s hand.

     katniss replaced the lid where it belonged, backing away. while still unhappy & her mood ruined, peeta’s mother turns on her heel, moving swiftly back into the bakery, grumbling about how awful it was to have hideous beggars coming to them for scraps, & how unpleasant the goosebumps now raised on her arms were from the chill, so uncaring of the girl who felt it tenfold over. with his mother back inside & the bell chime fading, he watches katniss moved onward & around the side of the bakery, though not far. she found herself leaning against the old apple tree & peeta knew there was no mistaking the bitter look of defeat in her face. he felt selfish for it, but he turned away from her, guilt squeezing his heart uncomfortably tight. he’s left wondering how he could help her, if he could help her.

    starvation was no stranger to district 12. though the seam was far worse than the merchant area, there were still those of the town kids that had to take out tesserae. peeta’s family included. their bakery was popular, full of good hearty food that was always in demand, but they went through food supplies dangerously fast, taking out tesserae made their lives that much easier. still, they struggled at times, a fact well hidden among merchants for fear it might affect their business. the culmination of which being that he’d seen first hand the effect starvation had on the people of the district, there was no avoiding it even within the safeties of the merchant section.

     now back in the bakery, the room feels warm, too warm. & he wants to focus on the tasks he’d been given but he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl outside, a girl he’d loved from afar for so long & yet he’s unable to help her when she needs it most. his mother snaps at him, spitting cruel words to him now that her anger had been redirected & he nods, his shoulders hunched as he cowers next to the oven, worried about the risk of her ire escalating further, but as he reaches to pull the bread from the oven, an idea strikes him, & he forces himself to comply before he has the chance to change his mind. he’s caught, being yanked away from the oven by the back of his shirt as his older brother pulls the burning bread from where it fell in the fire. now retrieved, the charred bread sits on the counter top in front of his mother & the entire bakery is quiet as they wait on his mothers response. she takes a few moments for her to collect herself, taking that pent up after from a few minutes ago & molding it together with the scolding peeta knew was coming. but he stood his ground, silently awaiting his punishment & fighting the tears in his eyes. he was stronger than this, only the weak cried, & he couldn’t be weak, not in front of his mother.

     then the punishment came & for a split second he saw white. she’d swung the rolling pin at him, a weapon she was well practiced with, but this particular blow was harder than most. as much as he wanted to stand strong & take it like a man, he was still just an 11 year old boy. so he lets out a small cry, equal parts pain & surprise as he finds himself falling to the ground. his father rushes forward to his mother, trying to calm her down while peeta’s eldest brother helps him up, trying to assess the damage but already peeta’s wincing at the touch.

     he’s sure it will bruise, & he hears his brother mutter quietly under his breath.  ❝ what’s wrong with you? you’ve just made it harder on the rest of us. ❞ the words harsh as were most in their family, but there was still some concern in his tone.  ❝ you’re normally better than this. ❞ peeta swallows the tears threatening to spill over, insisting to himself over & over again that this was nothing, he’d received far worse.

     but his mother’s screaming continues & peeta’s shoved towards the side door, bread still almost painfully hot in his hands.  ❝ feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! ❞ his mother roars, chasing him out the door.  ❝ why not? no one decent will buy burned bread! ❞ peeta finds it hard still to hold back the tears. so he sniffles, feet half dragging through the mud on his way to the pig pen. he can see katniss out the corner of his eye, but he’s still afraid, terribly so, & feels her eyes trained on him as he halfheartedly tears bits off the bread. he can see bits of raisins & nuts poking through the more he tears. then he hears their front door bell chime once more, & his mother rushes back inside to meet the customer, & he can picture all too well the change in her voice to a cheery tone as if nothing had gone wrong at all.

     his cheek stung & ached & he’s sure the heat of the oven will only hurt it more, but he had to deal with the pain without complaint, god knows what more would happen if he were to whine even in the slightest. but soon peeta finds himself glancing back over his shoulder at the bakery, hoping desperately no one would appear to make sure he finished the job. & it seemed clear, so peeta wastes no time tossing the partially torn loaf of bread to katniss’ feet, followed by the second almost immediately & he made his way back inside as quickly as he could, careful to close the door tightly behind him.

     he was right. the heat of the room only strengthened the ache of his cheek & eye & he hopes he made the right decision. he hopes she takes the bread, & he feels guilty he felt like he had to toss it at her, condescendingly, instead of walking over to her & handing it over directly. but already he was scared, so scared he’d burned the bread, & further scared still his motives would be found out.

     later that night, he’d been forced to sit at the dinner table, his plate empty while those of his family members were full. ❝ you shouldn’t have burned the bread, peeta. ❞ his mother’s tone was sickeningly sweet, smug tone as if she couldn’t be more proud of her punishments for the day.  ❝ if you’re going to ruin perfectly good food then i see no reason why you should be allowed to eat some. ❞ peeta’s only response is to nod silently in his seat, staring down at his empty plate. but somewhere in the back of his mind, he tells himself he learned a lesson. giving something up so someone else can have it ( no matter the pain of the scolding he might receive ) was worth it. he went to bed, stomach painfully empty, but his heart full knowing he might have made a world of difference to a girl he cared about.

     when peeta awoke the next morning, it was to the face of his younger brother leaning over him, a grimace contorting the other boy’s face. ❝ you’ve got a black eye, ❞ he states plainly as if peeta couldn’t feel the familiar pain of it. ❝ she wanted to let you go to school without breakfast again today, ❞ he adds. ❝ dad convinced her otherwise but you’ve gotta be careful the next few days. ❞ peeta sighs. oh how he tires of this life of carefully treading around his family, the constant fear he won’t measure up to his brothers, or that he was always just one small thing away from another blow & his eye stings further at the mere thought.

     the next time he sees katniss, it’s at the end of the school day. her face is still tired, on the verge of looking malnourished but she at least seems refreshed, her expression happier than before. then peeta catches her eyes, only for a moment before he finds himself too embarrassed to look any longer. if only he could have gone to her, placed the bread in her hand & treated her like a human being rather than a dog begging for scraps.

     & it’s like that that peeta falls back into his habit of finding himself staring after her during school, but now she catches his eye before he has the chance to flit away & go unnoticed. he hopes she’s doing well, better than before. & he resolves himself, making a promise to his ears alone that if she’s ever wanting for food again, as desperate as she was that day while searching through garbage for scarps, he tells himself he’ll give her bread again & he’ll look her in the eye when he does it.

[ograndebatata]

Fiero headcanons

So... these are another first of me as far as Elena of Avalor headcanons are concerned. 

The ones I posted for Doña Paloma were my first attempt at headcanons for a questionable character.

These are the first I post for an actual villain. And I admit I’m a bit nervous.

As I have said before, I don’t think character writing is my strongest trait, and that’s all the more true when it comes to villains. Hitting that right balance of ‘realistic and not one-dimensional, but still clearly evil’ is something I’m not the best at. 

And I may have let some personal biases get in the way here, as I admit I like Fiero, both as a villain and for what I believe is his relative potential for redemption. I also admit to have grown a bit too attached to the Fiero x Prisma ship. 

I hope I still managed to come up with an unbiased headcanons post that doesn’t turn a blind eye to the fact Fiero is a villain... but I’ll let you be the judges. 

On a different note... for headcanons about a villain, these are actually relatively light in nature, but you still find darkness in them, such as dealing with the deaths of loved ones and struggles with personal darkness. As such, reader discretion may be advised here. 

With that said, please check below for my headcanons on Fiero, with references to Alacazar, Zuzo, Chief Zephyr, and Shuriki.

Fiero

Starting out at the circus

For much of his life, Fiero would reside in Avalor and harbor bitterness over the fact he hadn’t become its royal wizard, but to the surprise of all but the few who knew him, he was not born there.

He was born in Tangu, but not to locals. Instead, he was born in a circus, the Circo Arcobaleno, which was owned by a Corinthian family. His parents were Ferdelance, a snake charmer from Paraiso (known to audiences as Ferdelance el Fantástico), and Flama, a fire wielder from Cordoba (known to audiences as Flama la Fogosa). Both had already been well versed in their arts before joining the circus, and both joined the circus when it was doing a tour through their kingdoms.

Their romance was a simple case of them spending time together as two ‘relative outsiders’ at the circus and hitting it off. And while some were put off by their scary names, Ferdelance was nowhere near as dangerous as the snake he was named after, despite his fondness for using black snakes in his acts. And while Flama could be feisty, she wasn’t out of control or deranged or destructive by any stretch of the imagination.

Both of them were loving and supportive parents to Fiero, though the boy managed to be a touch upsetting at times. By and large, he was a well behaved boy, and though not exactly nice, he was compassionate, despite what his literally fierce name would suggest. He also took the moral standards his parents taught him to heart. But he could hold a grudge as fast as he could hold a friendship, and even at a young age he could already apply his cleverness to being patient and determining the best punishment to those he felt wronged him or someone else he cared about.

Not helping matters, Fiero had a disconcerting amount of natural talent for magic, greater than his parents’ put together. While Ferdelance could do little more than talk to snakes, and Flama could ‘only’ generate fire, manipulate it, and touch it without being hurt, Fiero could already do much more even at a young age and without proper training.

His natural talent enabled him to join his parents’ circus acts at a young age, but many of the performers were worried about what kind of havoc such a child could bring about, while others were jealous such a child had more success than them.

His parents tried their best to keep an eye on him, but both knew the sad truth: despite their best intentions, a parent can’t keep an eye on their child forever.

Unfortunately, the moment they stopped being able to do so arrived much sooner than they had expected.

A heated act

When Fiero was eight years old, the Circo Arcobaleno had stopped at Avalor during a tour, and after the tepid reception their act had gotten at Paraiso, Ferdelance and Flama were devising a new number to bring into being. Like many of their acts, it was to have Ferdelance’s black cobras combined with Flama’s white flames, but they figured that by combining those with a few more exotic snakes, asking them to make more complicated maneuvers around the fire, and make the fire itself more spectacular, perhaps their reception in Avalor would be warmer.

As it turned out, things got quite heated up when Flama, in her frustration at not producing the proper act, shot a jet of flames that set fire to a nearby bush. Both them and the snakes got scared, and many of the snakes ended up biting Ferdelance and Flama in their fright after being accidentally stepped on. Thankfully, the couple managed to sound the alarm, and the circus crew tried to contain the fire.

The nearby villagers did their best to help, but something about that magical fire seemed to make it more difficult to put out than a regular one. Fiero did his best to try to help by using his magic to put out the fire, but not only did he lack formal training, the fire had grown vast enough that he could never make it vanish alone.

As they tried to find out ways to put out fire, someone mentioned that if the wind changed directions the fire would just burn itself out. Inspired by the comment, Fiero instead generated enough wind to push the fire back where it came from. His magic was still too weak to properly do so, but he managed to slow down its spread enough for the circus people and the villagers to put it out.

To everyone’s relief, no casualties ensued from the actual fire, although there was heavy damage to the circus tent. But worse, Ferdelance and Flama had already been killed by the snakes’ venom, having been left unattended in the midst of the chaos.

Upon seeing what had happened, Fiero broke down in tears.

A new family

Reactions to Fiero’s stunt were very much mixed. Some lauded him as a hero, others were worried that such a young child already displayed this level of magical prowess, and a few even suggested he might have deliberately murdered his parents.

The circus crew had a gathering, and decided that although they didn’t believe Fiero had started the fire and he had done well by putting it out, he was too dangerous for them to manage. He needed actual magical training, and they couldn’t afford to give it to him at the circus.

The villagers told them of Wocketio and Zumba, a skilled couple of magic practitioners who didn’t live all that far away, and who would tutor Fiero for sure. The circus crew accepted, but they did not know how to take him there. Thankfully, a trio of jaquins that had shown up to see the circus (only to see it burned down) offered to take the boy there.

Upon arriving at the couple’s home, the jaquin who had carried him, a gray-furred one named Zephyr, explained the situation to the best of his ability to Wocketio, while Zumba tried her best to comfort Fiero. He said that indeed he could take the boy under his wing and teach him magic, and he wouldn’t even charge for the services, but he would need to sort out the details with those who were responsible for him.

As it happened, there was very little to sort out. Besides those worried for how dangerous Fiero could be, there were those worried for how much he might steal their thunder after having full magical training, which had already been happening before. Those had little problem spreading their philosophies to the others, and as a result, the circus people just wanted Fiero gone. When Wocketio came to work things out, he found the ruins of the tent left behind and any trace of them gone, with them having only left a message about how if the wizard wanted to keep Fiero, he could do so for free. If not, then the boy was not their problem anymore anyway, for it had been decided he had no place in the circus.

Wocketio was beyond outraged that they would simply throw the boy out like trash, but he made the decision then and there that he wouldn’t let him go back to that circus anyway.

As a result, Fiero stayed with Wocketio’s family. There was one person not very happy with the deal at first - Wocketio’s son, Alacazar, who had never had to share his parents with anybody. But Alacazar did feel sorry for him, and soon ended up defending him when Fiero joined him at their school and was ridiculed by others due to his circus origins and due to his rather introverted and insecure nature, not to mention his fear of what might happen if he lost his temper, never quite fought back.

But Alacazar did defend him, much to Fiero’s surprise, as those kids were Alacazar’s friends. And he kept doing so even as his friendship with Fiero’s bullies became strained at best or ended at worst.

In the end, despite the troubles of the adaptation period, the two boys became as close as if they had been brothers their whole lives.

Edge into bitterness

As they grew older and learned more and more advanced forms of magic, both boys kept proving just how skilled they were. However, Alacazar always remained just a tiny edge better in many areas. Nothing too special - no outside observer would notice, and even Wocketio and Zumba had to make an effort to notice the difference, but it was still there, and it was enough to plant a tiny seed of doubt in Fiero’s mind, which sometimes tried to grow into something more. Perhaps those who said he was ‘inherently less’ were right after all.

Both his adoptive parents and adoptive brother kept trying to dissuade him from such notions, and it mostly worked. Alacazar and Fiero kept practicing and studying magic together, having a wonderful time doing it, and even going into adventures in the meantime. The first crack in their friendship only appeared when Alacazar was eighteen years old, and the time came for him to summon his chanul and find out what kind of creature had been assigned to him, which it turned out to be a fox named Zuzo.

Fiero congratulated him, and said the choice seemed to fit, before he mused out loud about what his chanul would be like. Hearing him, Zuzo replied that he could tell him that right away. Or rather, he could tell Fiero that he wouldn’t get a chanul. While he did know the Maruvian ways of magic, he was not from Avalor and had no direct Maruvian ancestry (a seemingly freak event given that there were descendants of Maruvians in both Cordoba and Paraiso) so he would never get a chanul, period.

Zuzo did try to temper it by saying that nothing would prevent a friendly chanul from giving advice to him and that he could still summon chanuls to see if he could get advice, and Zuzo himself claimed he wouldn’t mind helping him if he needed it.

But to Fiero, that just wasn’t the same thing. It was still something that Alacazar happened to have by sheer circumstance of birth while Fiero himself could never achieve it.

Wizard to malvago

Despite his slight resentment, Fiero did not hold it against Alacazar, and the two remained friends. But over the course of time, more cracks would appear in their friendship.

A year later, when the evil wizard Morkemagi came and killed Alacazar’s parents, Alacazar and Fiero fought him together and defeated him together… but the credit went only to Alacazar. Fiero did recognize that Alacazar tried to make sure he was recognized also, but no one paid any mind. Fiero either had been negligible or not a factor at all.

And Fiero’s resentment grew over the following years as similar incidents happened. Whenever they dealt with any magical peril, the general populace only credited Alacazar. Whenever anyone showed up at their home in search of magical assistance, they only wanted Alacazar. And worse, whenever Fiero dealt with any magical peril on his own, everyone assumed either it couldn’t have been all that serious or that Fiero had been making it up for glory.

Granted, there were the fair ones willing to give Fiero due credit, but to him, the others were not only too numerous but spoke too loud.

In the end, Fiero made a decision: he would find the Scepter of Night and use it to vanquish any terrible and undefeated creature that still lay in Avalor and other realms. Once that happened, he would be recognized for his value, and more, he would be doing good things for everyone.

He did think about using the Scepter of Light, but not only did that artifact belong to the royal family, it needed Maruvian magic in the blood to be wielded. The Scepter of Night lay unclaimed, and had no such Maruvian limitations. So it was his only option.

Alacazar kept trying to dissuade him, but while Fiero did still appreciate his concern at that point in time, he was undeterred in his goal. However, he did promise to not use the Scepter if there were true hints it could lead to dangerous harm. He wanted to do good, not bring harm.

That said, a side effect of studying about the scepter was that he also started studying other dark magics… and once he started dabbling in them more often, he couldn’t help but take some comfort in knowing that at least this was something he was better at than Alacazar.

That said, he did feel it taking a small toll in his personality, so he did his best not to dabble all that much in it.

In the end, it turned out that his personality was intact enough that he could still fall in love, as he found out when he went to the Conjurers’ Conference and met a sorceress from Tangu named Amaya, in whom he got interested enough to ask out (to his mild amusement, Alacazar also met a sorceress he asked out at the same event). Amaya accepted, and over time they became a couple, although unlike Alacazar with his girlfriend, Malih, Fiero did not get married just yet. First he wanted to be someone Amaya could be prouder of. Someone with actual feats to put to his name and his name alone.

And his chance arrived when news came that Gregorio, the old royal wizard of Avalor, intended to retire and was looking for a successor. Hearing that, Fiero leapt at the chance, as it would give him two things he wanted. For one, he would be in a good place to do the good he wanted. For another, upon becoming royal wizard  he could get his hands on the Codex Maru, the old spell book that word of mouth said Avalor’s royal wizard had, and use it to find the Scepter of Night.

So he threw himself into practicing for the upcoming examination, with much help from Amaya. He was so touched by her support that he did his best to make time to be with her without neglecting his studies, and even put in the time and money required to buy a ring and pop the question, to which she said yes.

At last, things seemed back on track.

And a week later they went off course, during a battle with a fire demon that showed up unexpectedly in Avalor, and which ended up burning Amaya alive, causing someone else Fiero loved to be lost to flames.

Fiero was devastated, but he was undeterred. Amaya might not be around, but she had been helping so much and had been so supportive of him that he would not let her effort be for nothing. He would get what he had wanted to give her.

Such plans went away on the day of the examination. For the first time, Fiero was genuinely on top, and yet it still did him no good. The king had also summoned Alacazar for the examination, and he wanted Alacazar to be his royal wizard. When Fiero tried to protest, King Edmundo threw him wave after wave of insult… to the point Fiero snapped and started hurling his magic at anything and anyone in front of his eyes, not caring about anything else.

It lead to a duel with Alacazar, at the end of which he was defeated. More than that, Alacazar was given the honor to punish him.

At the end of the day, Fiero’s life was spared, as Alacazar, rather than sentencing him to death like the king and others had been expecting, pardoned him instead, even though his wife, Malih, had been among the victims.

But in some ways, being alive was a worse punishment for Fiero.

His tamborita had now become grey and with a snake stamped on it, symbolizing how he had fallen into a malvago, which Fiero had been trying to deny would ever happen to him

He had just become what he had tried to make people understand he was not.

He had become evil.

Dark years

Though Fiero had to move into an isolated cottage in the middle of the jungle, he stayed within Avalor’s borders, and managed to keep his files on magic. He might have not gotten the Codex Maru, but he was still determined to find the Scepter of Night. He knew he could no longer be recognized for any good he did - he had done too much evil already.

He even ended up changing his look in recognition of it. He grew out his hair and slicked it back, and started wearing black robes instead (although the blue cloak with black cobras in a white outline had already been part of his looks from long before he became a malvago, as a tribute to his birth parents). He also began studying dark magic only.

But he still wanted to at least achieve one goal: to vanquish threats to Avalor.

But without the Codex, he stood no chance… and any attempts of his at finding the Scepter failed thoroughly. And as he spent decades living alone, he could start to feel it taking a toll on him.

Perhaps it was the reason that, over fifty years later, when a woman named Shuriki came seeking him out, he let her in and even fell for her advances, though he could sense what kind of foul creature she was.

He paid for that dearly, as it was indirectly thanks to him that Shuriki learned enough about Alacazar to later send some of her cronies to fight him while she took care of the ruling couple, as he had opened his heart too much. And more, once she got the throne, one of the first things she did was banish from Avalor everyone who had magic but hadn’t gotten it from her. And Fiero was first on the list.

At a loss on what to do, he ended up going to Tangu, the land where he had been born, and stayed there for the following years, sometimes visiting other kingdoms for brief periods, and occasionally getting news from Avalor, such as those of the bounty Shuriki had put on Alacazar’s head. A bounty that he refused to try to claim. Alacazar had spared him, and they had been friends long enough that, though they were now enemies, Fiero could not bring himself to kill him or otherwise lead to his death.

Eventually, he also had news of Princess Elena’s return to the crown, upon which he decided to go back to Avalor, right on time to witness the proclamation of Alacazar’s grandson being appointed as new royal wizard.

He immediately decided to seize the chance to get the Codex Maru, and this time he was perfectly willing to resort to dirty means to get it. After all, he was already evil, and nothing he did could change that, so what were a few more nasty deeds along the way? And if he managed to cause Princess Elena some pain (her being the one meant to be more affected by all his deeds that night) all the better.  It might seem surprising to some given how Alacazar was the one picked for royal wizard instead of him, but Fiero had much less problems with the boy than he had with King Edmundo’s great-granddaughter.

His plan backfired when he ended up remaining a stone statue for over a year, but he was eventually released by Shuriki, who wanted to be lead into the royal treasury.

At first, Fiero agreed to help her in exchange for the Codex Maru, again planning to get it for his goal of finding the Scepter of Night. But when it became clear just how overpowered they were by Princess Elena, Fiero changed plans.

He would instead offer the Scepter to Shuriki under the cover of wanting the post of Royal Malvago, and put her in the direct path of Elena’s wrath. That way, if Elena won, he would have a greater chance of being out of the greater harm’s way. If Shuriki won, he would be able to seize the Scepter from her, kill her, and finally go about achieving his initial goal.

Sure, perhaps Princess Elena would be killed in the meantime… but he told himself he was past caring about that. After all, it was just another evil deed to add to the list.

All the same, for whatever reason, part of him always seemed to feel just a touch subconsciously uncomfortable with taking the most evil approach, to the point he would consistently go for the less dangerous and damaging spell during a battle, even when a more dangerous and damaging one would be better.

Perhaps that was part of the reason he ended up finding himself in a position to be defeated by Alacazar’s grandson and turned to stone yet again.

But it was not the end.

Fiero would come back once more… but where he would end up that time would be up to him more than anyone else.

[howdoyouspellepiphany]

The Prophecy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Park jimin (DemonAU)

Words: 5238 words

Summary: Long ago, the Divines and Fallens received a prophecy that promises their demise in the hands of a mortal that says:

Beautiful as the creature may be, fire doesn’t burn, ice doesn’t freeze, water doesn’t drown and lightning doesn’t destroy.

Now, the demon prince (Min Yoongi) meets a pink-haired waiter (Park Jimin) who looks like heaven and smells like sin. As their relationship blossom, the Divines and Fallens are beginning to wonder about the prophecy.

Warnings: Crude language, mention of weed and alcohol and violence and of course, ignorant author

Note: I kind of know how Tumblr works now. Yay

Previous chapters: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Yoongi glares at the ethereal vampire before him. He leans in forward to light a cigarette located in between his lips with the tip of his finger as his eyes never escape hers. There is a briefcase full of Korean Won that Styx had promised she’d convert his savings from Danakes to Won on the side of his foot while the two stares at each other. She has a flimsy outfit on and she clearly hadn’t been to Vivere Corp. today judging on the outfit she has on and the tiny droplets of fresh, ghoul blood on her blood red dress. The pale, much shorter vampire queen before him sits on her desk, cross-legged as she twirls her glass of human blood. Yoongi can tell the blood is expired by the smell but human blood is human blood. Expired or not, vampires still lunge at the opportunity of getting blessed by the exquisite taste.

“What do you say, Yoongi?” She asks, eyes shining red and Yoongi hates it when she thinks she can manipulate him. If Yoongi is agitated, he is doing a darn good job at masking it. He blows the grey smoke at her face and Suran makes a face. “Are you going?”

“You’re telling me that humans are selling mermaids in the underground and none of us knew about it?”

“That’s what my resource told me.” Yoongi makes a face. He doesnt know what Suran is planning but he isn’t playing along.

“Is your resource that dead ghoul’s blood on your dress, noona?” If Suran was nervous, it is evident when she quickly look down to her dress to find two patches of blood on it. 

“He’s not dead yet, Yoongi.” Suran rebuts as she stresses on the last word before his name. The ghoul is darn near that status and Yoongi is very much aware of it. “You don’t have to pretend to be so virtuous in this side of the world. What matters is that everything that belongs to you are being stolen away from you. One, by one.” Suran said, putting her glass down. “And imagine if I didn’t catch that ghoul who had committed treason to you.” Suran knows it’s futile trying to convince Yoongi but she has to at least try once. “One casuality is hardly any difference.”

“A life, is still a life, noona.” Yoongi exhales again before taking a much longer drag.

“Devour and live.” Suran spits it out like venom in her mouth. “That’s the Vescor motto. That’s the motto you build this organisation on. You can’t be sorry for every life taken.”

“What was his crime?” Yoongi mumbles. He really doesn’t want to deal with Suran. She doesn’t think much of other’s lives. To her, it’s all a game of chess. One pawn down, and she takes out her horse.

“He committed lese-majesty to you, Yoongi.”

“Proof?”

“He sided with the humans to capture those mermaids!” Suran tried to keep her tone as believable as possible. If Yoongi knows the real reason why she had caught the ghoul, she would be damned.

“Did he really? He’s a ghoul. Ghouls are hardly afraid of their own food. Can you really believe that a lion is petrified of a lamb?” Yoongi stands up in distaste and throws the cigarette stick on the floor before he stomps on it. Yoongi gives the black-haired woman a glance and makes his way to the door. He makes a mental note to drag Jeongguk to Stockholm (according to Suran) where a mermaid is rumoured to be auctioned off. Yoongi was willing to let the whole fiasco with the ghoul go because he got the information he needed out of it. Suran (as always) have gone out of her way and had done more than she should have. There are times when he appreciates it.

And then there are times like this… When he absolutely despises it. He hates it when she pushes his limits and forgets where she stands. Yoongi doesnt like putting her in her place. It’s usually Jeongguk or Namjoon’s job but at their absence, he has just got to get things done himself.

“You’ve become weak.” Suran said, pushing the glass off the table as it crashes on the ground loudly. Yoongi stares at the thick blood pooling on the brown cashmere carpet as it soaks in the material. “You disgust me. I might as well pledge my loyalty to the boy with green hair.” Yoongi’s eyes turn black at the mention of a certain boy with green hair. When Suran had noticed her little slip, she quickly turned to Yoongi with a naïve wish of it being left unheard.

But that isnt the case. 

Her punishment starts now.

Suran’s eyes are clouded and what she sees is no longer what she recognizes as her room in Vescor but her own personal hell. She recognizes the mansion anywhere as it crumbles down with a whip of the monster’s tail. All her senses are blocked and taken away from her. She is completely in Yoongi’s mercy and the only thing she seem to be able to hear, see and feel is the heat beneath her feet, the screams of her deceased mother, getting bitten to half; still alive by the monster Yoongi is taking the shape of.

The blackness in Yoongi’s eyes had seeped into his blood vessels around his eyes and face, turning them black too. Yoongi has never smiled before but in this form, but he’s smiling now. The smile serves as a goad to Suran, as he puts on a smile that looks eerily similar to a Glasgow smile - the one that is very much similar to how her severed little sister’s head had on. Yoongi’s tongue had turned to that of a snake as he hisses out in distaste. Yoongi’s pale, soft skin turns scaly and his horns had come out of his head. His hands had turned to claws and they are much bigger than his usual pair.

He had turned into her worst nightmare. The creature that resembles a dragon that once killed her mother in front of her when she was at a ripe and tender age of 14.

“Should I just kill you now before you commit lese-majesty to me, Shim Suran?” Even Yoongi’s voice doesn’t sound like him. It sounds cold, void of emotions – void of Yoongi.

“N-No. I would never. You know that.” Suran whispers as she chokes for air. She had royally fucked up and she knows it. “M-My loyalty is only for you.” Suran is running out of air and running out of time. Tears are welling in her eyes and her throat burns. The blood she was drinking are insanely loud thumping in her ears and if it gets any louder, she would really lose her ability to hear. When she blinks, tears stream down like waterfalls as her fingers numbly try to pry his grip from her throat but to no avail. She has never seen Yoongi so pissed before and now that she’s seen it, she’s very sure she doesn’t want to see it any time soon. She would have never thought Yoongi would use her weakness against her.

“What do you know about the green haired boy, Suran?”

“Nothing.” Yoongi tightens his grip. ‘Bullshit’, Yoongi thought. Suran rarely ever opens her mouth if she doesnt have a lead. “I’ve got a name.” She whispered before Yoongi lets his grip around her neck go. Suran drops to the floor, on the pile of blood and shards of glass. She can hardly feel the pain when the glass stuck in her skin as she cries in pain, in sadness and most of all, fear.

For the first time in her life, she fears Min Yoongi.

“Talk.” Yoongi said, in his normal voice as he crouches in front of Suran. He sees how she visibly shakes when he gets too close as she desperately tries to keep her hysteric cries in. Her vision is still clouded behind her tears as she tries to keep herself calm.

“H-He goes by many names.” Suran swallows, keeping her gaze down on the floor, fixated on the blood pooling beneath her. “What I know is that he calls himself Ji.”

Without anymore time to waste, Yoongi stands up as he straightens his jacket. “Clean yourself up and text me the location in Stockholm. I’m leaving with Jeongguk by tomorrow. And please keep in mind that I was being merciful on you. If you cross the line one more time, I won’t hesitate to kill you, Shim Suran.” Yoongi said as he left without a glance or a reply. Suran only lets out choked sobs. She knows she had fucked up and she’s scared. She’s so fucking scared.

One thing she knows is that sleeping is going to be a bitch now that she saw the creature biting her mother into half, all the while the woman was screaming to her for help.

By the time the mint-haired prince leaves Vescor, it was a little over twilight and notices how the moon has made its appearance. The stars were strewn across the vast darkening sky, forming constellations above his head. Yoongi knows what each star meant; he knew the story behind each star as he finds himself staring in disdain. Astraea, the goddess of the stars was once his history tutor. She had taught him the history of man-kind, the Divine and the Fallens. ‘The stars have seen so many things and have lived as long as I’, Yoongi remembers the silver haired goddess said as she continues unravelling the stories that Yoongi doubts are suitable for kids his age. But that’s just how Astraea has always been for the Goddess of the stars have never lied. She isnt one to sugar coat things which makes her the least favourite of all but she managed to become Yoongi’s favourite.

Other than being his tutor, Astraea had also become a story teller. Unbeknownst to those who lives under her stars or to those who lives around them, her stars tells stories differently every night. If he tried hard enough, he would have understood the story of the stars tonight but alas, the light pollution of Seoul had ruined it.

From where he is, he knew what each star is for and how they connect with each other to form shapes and figures like that stupid horse and human hybrid and the maiden, Virgo. Astraea also told him that humans, Divines and Fallens alike are all connected like the stars. They are all just stars in the vast universe, connected to form a constellation by an unseen line. It is similar to the popular Japanese belief – the red string of fate but rather than tangled threads, Yoongi prefers being another star in Astraea’s galaxy; another star to form a much more complicated constellation with a story behind it.

Despite that, the stars have never really stood out to him before for he doesn’t think they’re particularly any special. Rather than being amazed at the stars, it is Astraea whom they should be amazed at.

As Yoongi walks away from Vescor, he overheard a girl telling her lover that she has never understood the stars before until she meets her girlfriend, tracing the freckles on her lover’s cheeks. The other girl had giggled shyly, a warm pink surrounding the pair of lovers. “Your freckles have now formed the constellations of my love.” She said before giving her girlfriend a kiss on the lips. Yoongi doesn’t have anything against same sex lovers but if the lover claims that her girlfriend’s freckles form the constellations of her love, then her love resembles Cetus. He left the pair of lovers be and walks off.

He doesn’t understand the whole stars concept and why humans have the need to ‘fathom them’. They can barely see the stars with all this light pollution and neither can they make out constellations so how can the stars ever be fathomed? They are missing yet another extraordinary story Astraea is trying to tell them from above.  

They are but a ball of gas lightyears away from Earth. They could be scattered all the way around the 9 realms that surround them and he still thinks its shit.

Rather than the stars, the ruby earrings he’s going to buy for Jin as a gift of reconciling are much prettier.

And so, Yoongi had ended up buying the ruby earrings for Jin and a sapphire necklace for a particular boy whose smile makes his eye disappear into small crescent behind his cheeks.

But when the prince got home, he had changed his mind and gave the sapphire necklace to his little brother instead.

“You got me a gift?” Jeongguk asks, bewildered. It isnt like Yoongi had never spoiled him with gifts before. Instead, Yoongi had given Jeongguk mountains of jewellery – jewellery that came from the finest stones of Infernum some of which Yoongi doesn’t wear. It isnt a secret that his little brother likes being pretty. It isnt a secret that Yoongi likes watching his little brother being all pretty wearing the stones he gave him. But this time, it’s different for the mint-haired prince had bought Jeongguk a very expensive, very much not what Jeongguk would wear – a sapphire necklace. It freaked the younger out. Nevertheless, Yoongi knows that Jeongguk will keep it on anyways.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want to do with it. I don’t care.”

“For whom did you originally buy it for?” Yoongi keeps quiet as he hands the other box to Namjoon who is on his supercomputer with his glasses on.

“Give this to Jin-hyung wont you?” The prince said as he lays on the floor. Yoongi has been walking all around Seoul for the right type of stone and quality to buy for his best friend. He knows that if he were to buy Jin a pair of shitty quality ruby earrings, the latter would have thrown the gift away, thinking it was an insult on Yoongi’s side and that’s the last thing the prince wants.  

“Yoongi-hyung! Tell me!” Yoongi groans at the sparkly eyed Jeon jeongguk.

“Stop being a nosy brat and fuck off.” The oldest demon said without much venom to it. “Anyway, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’m obviously helping out at ‘Bunga’ tomorrow. Jesus knows how Hoseok-hyung has been putting up.” Jeongguk laughs mainly to himself as the younger disappears to the kitchen.

“Accompany me to Sweden tomorrow.”

“Why?” Jeongguk asks in the kitchen as he presses the button on the kettle and the sound of water boiling fills the house.

Namjoon stopped working for a while as he stares at the computer screen. “Guk-ah!”

“Yes, Namjoon-hyung?” The younger is rummaging the cabinet for some ramyeon. When the younger found it, he smiles in victory.

“Are you makng ramyeon?”

There is a small silence as the younger hesitated on answering. When he realises it’s futile to lie to his brothers, he answers with a dejected sigh. “Yes.”

“Make some for me.” Jeongguk stares at the 5 packet-ramyeon in his hands and frowns. He had planned to eat all 5 alone long before he had gone to the Mediterranean and long before the two came back from Infernum.

“No.”

“Come on, kid. Please.” Namjoon had resumed working as he got into the deep web, finding for information brokers that may help him and Jackson find a boy with green hair.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just make him the god damn ramyeon.” Yoongi had been listening quietly to the conversation and he was getting frustrated. He wants some too.

“Do you want one too?” Jeongguk grumbles from the kitchen, mumbling something incoherently under his breath.

“Not if you put in weird ass things.” Jeongguk was about to put in the liver of a human who has never drank or taken any drugs he bought at a high price on his way back from the Mediterranean. He wraps it properly and hid it in the back of the freezer, hopefully his elder brothers don’t realise it.

The first time the two older demons had asked the younger to make ramyeon for them, the younger had put in human teeth, eye balls, and a few other unidentified organs into the ramyeon for ‘extra flavour’.

‘Kid’s got issues.’ Yoongi said once to Namjoon, pushing the bowl away. Yoongi has never been one to be fond of organs. Especially not human organs.

‘We need to make him stop hanging out with Suran-noona.’ Namjoon thought, pushing the eyeball around in the ramyeon as they watch the younger gulp down his portion of the ramyeon. Namjoon had stabbed the eye out as he licks his lower lip in delight. The kid at least gave him a blue coloured eye.

“I won’t. I’m over that phase. Although I might put in those blue eyes Namjoon-hyung likes.” Yoongi stopped talking. He knows how much Namjoon likes the sweet blue eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to say no to even that.

Ah, Jeon jeongguk had truly grown. Much selfless now than when he was still a little brat.

“Gukkie, surely you’ve heard of a mermaid.” Yoongi answers, his arm over his eyes.

“It’s just a rumour, hyung. Surely you don’t believe it. How can humans capture the mermaid so easily? They swim fast and are stronger than 3 men combined.” Jeongguk asks from the kitchen. “They’ll get out on their own. They’re strong enough to bend steel. Even Jin-hyung aren’t strong enough to do that.”

“It isnt a rescue mission, Guk.” Yoongi said as he makes a face. That’s not what they’re going for. “Suran told me that the said kidnapped mermaid is the only eye witness to the huge massacre of the People of Poseidon a week ago.” Yoongi hears a soft ‘ah’ from the kitchen. Surely jeongguk must have caught up. His main goal isnt rescuing a damsel in distress. His main goal to find out who the little fuck who had gone out of his way to lay a hand on the People of Poseidon. And if the mermaid cooperates, he will let her go but if she refuses, then Yoongi has no business with her and what happens afterwards is free game.

“Yeah, okay. I can get it done.” Jeongguk said and almost immediately, Yoongi hears his little brother calling someone on the phone. The blonde young demon didn’t have to wait long. His call is picked up by the first ring and a sharp ‘yes’ is heard.

“It’s me. We’re coming.” Jeongguk said in Swedish fluently and he had hung up the same time the kettle went off.

Yoongi finds himself awake still awake on the floor of the living room where he had originally laid on as soon as he got home. He is aware of the water dripping noisily onto the dirty dishes jeongguk had promised to do after they had done eating a few hours ago. The said demon is deep asleep, still wearing the sapphire necklace Yoongi had given him earlier. Namjoon is snoring at this point, the light from his computer is the only light source in the room apart from Seoul’s light seeping into the room.

He doesn’t know why it feels very nostalgic to hear water dripping as he lays on the cold floor. It feels like he has been in this position for so many times it feels like his body is accustomed to feeling like that. And all of a sudden, his heart beat increases. It feels like someone is coming, someone is watching him and someone is out to hurt him.

But who?

He is the most powerful one. He is the prince of Infernum. Who dares to come up against the prince of darkness himself? He is Hades’s son. His very name elicits fear and his presence smother people.

Yoongi pulls himself into a sitting position and the first thing he sees is the brown piano next to the balcony. It feels like the moon is goading him for the shine on the run-down piano seems to be more prominent than any other surface in the area. He suddenly feels a sense of loss and want and things he doesn’t understand anymore. He has never felt this way before so why is he feeling all this gush of emotions all at once at a time like this.

He runs his fingers through his mint hair in frustration. “Ah fuck.” The demon gathers himself off the floor and makes his way to the door without his jacket.  He isnt sure what he wanted but he knows he needs to get out from the house. It makes him feel smothered to be in that house. The piano, the floor, the water dripping. Everything. It feels too real to be an imagination and too vague for it to be a memory.

Yoongi found himself buying some alcohol and some weed he had bought from a pusher at an incredibly high price for such a shitty grade for an equally shitty excuse of it being a weekend. He had rolled it himself and lighted it up as he walks towards the Hangang Park with the bottle in hand and a smoke in between his lips. He had wanted to just release some air and hopefully to be alone but what he find are couples snuggling into each other. It’s at least 2 in the morning and humans are still up and about. If only they know the other creatures lurking in the night, waiting to devour them.

He did find it, at a place where there’s hardly any lights around and away from the Han River. He had finished his second smoke and was rolling a third joint when he came across a remote area from the noisy park filled with light and sight pollution.

What he didn’t expect is to find a pink-haired boy with in a blue wool sweater on the bench, sitting with his legs near his chest as he stares up in the sky. Yoongi wants to approach him but how does he do that without looking like a creep? There isnt a better way to do so and he thought he’d just find another place. Besides, it’s not smart to be in a place where there isnt anyone around them as witness. Yoongi would have lost control at Jimin’s scent considering he hasn’t been sleeping around after Ken had turned to Jimin that night.

To Yoongi’s surprise, just as he was about to turn around and leave, a figure whose existence he hasn’t noticed coughed a tad bit loudly, meeting Yoongi’s steel blue eyes in fear before scrambling away. And this time, those deep blue eyes are swimming in fear when he notices that yoongi had noticed him in the same sweater from earlier and the spots of dark red only deepens. The boy with dark blue eyes only gave one look at the pink-haired boy before leaving his spot behind the thick bushes that the park provides. Yoongi couldn’t help but notice that the boy is paler than this morning. What happened to him in a short period of time? Why isnt he in Aphrodite?

Yoongi wanted to leave along with the boy when Jimin turns around to find the mint-haired prince with a surprised look before fading into a soft smile. Although the face he has on is a friendly one, his eyes are searching – wondering. When the pink-haired boy’s brown eyes finally meet his, he gave Yoongi a more honest smile – a smile that’s different from all the times he had on when he was in the café. It feels sincere, raw and Jimin. It didn’t meet his eyes but at least it reflects the emotions he was feeling. When his usual white turns to a melancholic blue, Yoongi replies his smile and clears his throat. What was Yoongi supposed to do? Leave? The prince lights the joint in between his lips using a lighter he brought around for show as he exhales out a puff of smoke.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Jimin said and Yoongi scoffs, sitting next to the pink-haired boy on the bench. He takes a deep drag and exhales away from Jimin and before he can throw it on the ground and stomp on it, Jimin had taken it from his grasp and places it in between his lips. “It’s puff, puff pass.” The boy mumbles as he takes a puff and exhales as he watches how the grey smoke fade into the night sky. The effects must have slowly kicked in after he finished the joint by himself whilst the prince watches with the corner of his eye. “Why are you here at this hour?”

“Wish I could ask you the same question.”

“Too bad I asked you first, right?” Jimin said teasingly as he takes in the final drag and throws it on the ground and stomps it with the heel of his Converse. Yoongi smirks at the reply as he shrugs.

“I couldn’t sleep. It feels smothering to be in the house.” The prince had leaned into the bench and looked up in the sky to find stars shining over their heads. It’s much easier now to see the stars without the artificial lights blinding it.

Jimin nods in response. When he opens his mouth, Yoongi prays that the younger doesn’t give his insight. He doesn’t want a reply or a response on how they’ve been there and try to make it better. He just couldn’t sleep. It’s not that deep. And his prayers must have been heard by someone because Jimin had replied the answer to his question. “I am waiting for someone.”

‘Ah, that’s why he was looking for someone when he saw me.’ Yoongi stays quiet, not wanting to press on the matter. If he wants to talk, he will.

“I used to have a best friend,” Jimin starts, staring into the sky too. “we used to meet each other here every night at 2. It was the time when it was the calmest and this is the only place in Seoul where the stars can be seen.” Yoongi wonders if the best friend Jimin was waiting for was already there but for some reason flee away when his cover was blown.

“Does he ever show up?” Yoongi asks and Jimin shakes his head.

“At this point, I’m just hoping. I mean I’ve been waiting for years. He never once showed up. I guess he thinks I’m mad.” Jimin chuckles before his lips form a thin, grim line. “I am still mad but he’s my best friend.” Yoongi stays quiet as he wonders what the best friend had done to make such a sweet person like Jimin mad. “Sorry, I’m rambling.” He apologises with an awkward laugh and Yoongi looks at him. He’s not sorry. The both of them knows it as the human boy reaches out for his cheek and strokes it backwards till his fingers find his nape.

“It’s fine. If there’s something you want to vent, let it out. The stars will keep them safe and I’ll remember it.”

“Stars.” He said, running his fingers through his pink locks. When he breathes out and the wind gently blows, Yoongi’s nose caught on an extra substance that he has been ignoring. The smell of booze. Jimin has been drinking. But of course, his scent masks it out easily. Yoongi had to control his breathing and not breathe in too much. He might get intoxicated in Jimin’s scent and that won’t be the wisest thing to let happen. “I guess that’s what he is.”

By the end of the night, Yoongi had concluded that Jimin is the sun, his ex-boyfriend is the moon and the best friend is the stars.

It was a tale of love, friendship and heart break.

The two couple are the sun and the moon that lights up everyone’s sky, who loves each other so dearly, their love blinds all; including themselves. They love hard and fast but fate had been cruel to the pair of lovers.

It is never up for debate that Jimin is the one who had given the moon its light – the warmth, the euphoria and love. In turn, before, the moon had reciprocated his feelings as well.

And then sun had given another gift to moon; one that he regrets forever.

He had given moon his stars.

He had introduced the moon to the stars and all of a sudden, the moon was seen with the stars and they’re the duo that lights everyone’s dark days.

And there’s no longer light and love in the moon’s gaze. Only burnt out love and a forgotten passion for the stars that had become his new sun.

Yoongi had watched how Astraea’s stars had moved according to the story and he knows at the back of his mind the goddess had accounted the story told by the boy next to him. It was a secret shared by only the three of them and the rest are being swept by the wind so no one will ever know.

It was dawn when Yoongi walk Jimin back home.

The younger had let Yoongi walk him home with his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, making the prince lose his grip on his thin thread of control a couple of times before he held onto it twice harder. Yoongi isnt sure why he refuses to just take what he wanted. He has always been good at that. He could have just kidnapped the pink-haired boy and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to him but for some reason, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to hurt Jimin. It may be because he reminds him of his best friend, Yaksoku or he makes great coffee. He doesn’t know which but he’s not going to hold back the moment Jimin asks for it.

“We’re here.” Yoongi mumbles, nudging the younger boy a little.

“Can we walk around the complex again?” Jimin asked and Yoongi really couldn’t say no despite walking around the complex and taking a few detours for the third time now.

“You need to sleep.”

“But I feel safe and warm with you. Besides, the necklace always showed me pretty colours when it’s around you.” Jimin whines.

“I thought it freaked you out.”

“It’s pretty.” Jimin yawns. “Can we please walk around one last time?”

“Alright, one more time and I’m leaving.”

“Okay.” Jimin wasn’t lying. He really thinks the colours the necklace shows are pretty. By this time, he already has a few favourite ones. Jimin isnt an idiot. He is far from that. He had been the class president throughout the years he was in high school and had always managed to get nothing less than 90% on his tests. He knows that no matter how weird it is, the necklace somehow is connected to Yoongi. It doesn’t make any sense to him and Science couldn’t be used to explain it but he remembers vaguely that Yaksoku had told him that the necklace was given to understand her friend better but when did Yoongi ever gave her the necklace? She had it on even before he stayed with her.

When Yoongi nudges him again, Jimin pouts and looks up to the male. “Keep your promise.” Yoongi said and Jimin stays quiet as he scans Yoongi’s features. The man before him couldn’t be a day over 30 so why is the necklace reacting so much with him? Maybe he was wrong and the necklace isnt reacting to Yoongi. It was probably someone else. “Jimin?” Yoongi calls out, frowning.

Jimin wanted to try the hypothesis but maybe later when they’re more acquainted with one another. “Will you be coming to the Promise Café today?” Jimin asks and Yoongi flashes the human his infamous gummy smile as he ruffles Jimin’s hair.

“I’ll drop by.” Yoongi promises and Jimin feels a nostalgic warmth creeping up in his heart.

“I’ll take that as a promise to make you a banana chocolate milkshake and a cup of coffee.” Jimin smiles as the prince mumbles an ‘ok’ as he stays put and watches the pink-haired boy walk into his meagre apartment.

Yoongi was about to leave when Jeongguk had called his phone.

“Hyung, we have a problem. Styx-noona had reached out to me in a hurry. The New Rule of Infernum had walked into the castle and he has an army with him.”

Chapter 6

[mystiika]

the boy with the bread

    it was a dreary day. the kind where the cold chilled him to his bones, the kind where even the steady hot & golden glow of the ovens couldn’t keep the chill out, not truly. peeta is warmed by the fiery oven but just to look out & past the window, he’s left with a melancholy unbefitting of a child. the rain itself looked steady, like it was ice cold & unforgiving to those caught in it.

    but peeta did his best not to dwell on it, instead focusing his attention on the tasks at hand & on the surprisingly good mood of his family as they all worked around him. even his mother, who was more often that not, just as cold as the rainstorm outside. she liked to see people miserable, struggling. he often wonders how she can be so cruel, especially to the family she raised & whom she claims to love.

    then there’s the far off clatter & rustle as he hears the garbage can at the curb & it seems he wasn’t the only one. the look in his mother’s eye changes, & he worries. already his mind is going through all the things he must remember not to do for fear of evoking her wrath & turning it towards him. but peeta’s curious, & though timid, he follows his mother out, thinking how large of a contrast between the pleasant tone of the bell at their door & the loud, ugly words he soon hears leave his mother’s lips. he can’t see her face the way he cowers behind her, but there’s no struggle for him to picture the expression he’s seen time & time again.

    so he stares out past his mother’s skirt, eyes finding the face of a girl he’d known well enough. katniss everdeen  —  the girl with a voice as soothing & lovely as she looked in that red dress from his memories. but the girl he sees now seems a shell of the girl he knew. they were in the same year at school & saw her only in passing, but now he’s able to see her clearly & the sight pains him. it looked like katniss had been starving for days. deep set dark circles, hollowed cheeks & tired eyes, glazed over with a sombre acceptance of the insults being spit in her direction. she was soaked as could be, her shins & boots muddied from her uncareful steps & peeta was at a loss. she looked as though she was on deaths door & had no rebuttal for his mother’s more than displeased words. he wanted to help, to do something. but he’s still only a child — a child with no say & a deeply ingrained fear of his mother’s hand.

    katniss replaced the lid where it belonged, backing away. while still unhappy & her mood ruined, peeta’s mother turns on her heel, moving swiftly back into the bakery, grumbling about how awful it was to have hideous beggars coming to them for scraps, & how unpleasant the goosebumps now raised on her arms were from the chill, so uncaring of the girl who felt it tenfold over. with his mother back inside & the bell chime fading, he watches katniss moved onward & around the side of the bakery, though not far. she found herself leaning against the old apple tree & peeta knew there was no mistaking the bitter look of defeat in her face. he felt selfish for it, but he turned away from her, guilt squeezing his heart uncomfortably tight. he’s left wondering how he could help her, if he could help her.

   starvation was no stranger to district 12. though the seam was far worse than the merchant area, there were still those of the town kids that had to take out tesserae. peeta’s family included. their bakery was popular, full of good hearty food that was always in demand, but they went through food supplies dangerously fast, taking out tesserae made their lives that much easier. still, they struggled at times, a fact well hidden among merchants for fear it might affect their business. the culmination of which being that he’d seen first hand the effect starvation had on the people of the district, there was no avoiding it even within the safeties of the merchant section.

    now back in the bakery, the room feels warm, too warm. & he wants to focus on the tasks he’d been given but he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl outside, a girl he’d loved from afar for so long & yet he’s unable to help her when she needs it most. his mother snaps at him, spitting cruel words to him now that her anger had been redirected & he nods, his shoulders hunched as he cowers next to the oven, worried about the risk of her ire escalating further, but as he reaches to pull the bread from the oven, an idea strikes him, & he forces himself to comply before he has the chance to change his mind. he’s caught, being yanked away from the oven by the back of his shirt as his older brother pulls the burning bread from where it fell in the fire. now retrieved, the charred bread sits on the counter top in front of his mother & the entire bakery is quiet as the group wait on his mothers response. she takes a few moments for her to collect herself, taking that pent up rage from a few minutes ago & molding it together with the scolding peeta knew was coming. but he stood his ground, silently awaiting his punishment & fighting the tears in his eyes. he was stronger than this, only the weak cried, & he couldn’t be weak, not in front of his mother.

    then the punishment came & for a split second he saw white. she’d swung the rolling pin at him, a weapon she was well practiced with, but this particular blow was harder than most. as much as he wanted to stand strong & take it like a man, he was still just an 11 year old boy. so he lets out a small cry, equal parts pain & surprise as he finds himself falling to the ground. his father rushes forward to his mother, trying to calm her down while peeta’s eldest brother helps him up, trying to assess the damage but already peeta’s wincing at the touch.

    he’s sure it will bruise, & he hears his brother mutter quietly under his breath.  ❝ what’s wrong with you? you’ve just made it harder on the rest of us. ❞ the words harsh as were most in their family, but there was still some concern in his tone.  ❝ you’re normally better than this. ❞ peeta swallows the tears threatening to spill over, insisting to himself over & over again that this was nothing, he’d received far worse.

    but his mother’s screaming continues & peeta’s shoved towards the side door, bread still almost painfully hot in his hands.  ❝ feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! ❞ his mother roars, chasing him out the door.  ❝ why not? no one decent will buy burned bread! ❞ peeta finds it harder still to hold back the tears. so he sniffles, feet half dragging through the mud on his way to the pig pen. he can see katniss out the corner of his eye, but he’s still afraid, terribly so, & feels her eyes trained on him as he halfheartedly tears bits off the bread. he can see bits of raisins & nuts poking through the more he tears. then he hears their front door bell chime once more, & his mother rushes back inside to meet the customer, & he can picture all too well the change in her voice to a cheery tone as if nothing had gone wrong at all.

    his skin stung & ached & he’s sure the heat of the oven will only hurt it more, but he had to deal with the pain without complaint, god knows what more would happen if he were to whine even in the slightest. but soon peeta finds himself glancing back over his shoulder at the bakery, hoping desperately no one would appear to make sure he finished the job. & it seemed clear, so peeta wastes no time tossing the partially torn loaf of bread to katniss’ feet, followed by the second almost immediately & he made his way back inside as quickly as he could, careful to close the door tightly behind him.

    he was right. the heat of the room only strengthened the ache of his cheek & eye & he hopes he made the right decision. he hopes she takes the bread, & he feels guilty he felt like he had to toss it at her, condescendingly, instead of walking over to her & handing it over directly. but already he was scared, so scared he’d burned the bread, & further scared still his motives would be found out.

    later that night, he’d been forced to sit at the dinner table, his plate empty while those of his family members were full. ❝ you shouldn’t have burned the bread, peeta. ❞ his mother’s tone was sickeningly sweet, smug tone as if she couldn’t be more proud of her punishments for the day. ❝ if you’re going to ruin perfectly good food then i see no reason why you should be allowed to eat some of ours. ❞ peeta’s only response is to nod silently in his seat, staring down at his empty plate. but somewhere in the back of his mind, he tells himself he learned a lesson. giving something up so someone else could have it instead ( no matter the pain of the scolding he might receive ) was worth it. he went to bed, stomach painfully empty, but his heart full knowing he might have made a world of difference to a girl he cared about.

    when peeta awoke the next morning, it was to the face of his younger brother leaning over him, a grimace contorting the other boy’s face. ❝ you’ve got a black eye, ❞ he states plainly as if peeta couldn’t feel the familiar pain of it. ❝ she wanted to let you go to school without breakfast again today, ❞ he adds. ❝ dad convinced her otherwise but you’ve gotta be careful the next few days. ❞ peeta sighs. oh how he tires of this life of carefully treading around his family, the constant fear he won’t measure up to his brothers, or that he was always just one small thing away from another blow & his eye stings further at the mere thought.

    the next time he sees katniss, it’s at the end of the school day. her face is still tired, on the verge of looking malnourished but she at least seems refreshed, her expression happier than before. then peeta catches her eyes, only for a moment before he finds himself too embarrassed to look any longer. if only he could have gone to her, placed the bread in her hand & treated her like a human being rather than a dog begging for scraps.

    & it’s like that that peeta falls back into his habit of finding himself staring after her during school, but now she catches his eye before he has the chance to flit away & go unnoticed. he hopes she’s doing well, better than before. & he resolves himself, making a promise to his ears alone that if she’s ever wanting for food again, as desperate as she was that day while searching through garbage for scarps, he tells himself he’ll give her bread again & he’ll look her in the eye when he does it.

[loverandservantoftheahlulbayt]

🍃🕊🍃 Prophet Ibrahim (as) 🍃🕊🍃

🍃🕊🍃And The Idol Worship🍃🕊🍃

During the olden times, people everywhere used to carve stones and make idols for worship. These statues were considered as gods, and people bowed and prayed before them. Namrud, the King of Babylonia, was once informed by his astrologers that someone was going to be born who would destroy his kingdom. He would teach people another religious concept: that of worshipping none but only one God.

On hearing that, Namrud gave orders that no woman would conceive, hence no child would be born in his kingdom. If any child was born, it would be killed immediately. The mother of Prophet Ibrahim became pregnant. But by the will of Allah, no sign of pregnancy was to be seen. When the time of birth of the child came nearer, she went out of the town and hid in a cave. There, Prophet Ibrahim was born. She then covered the child with a cloth, closed the mouth of the cave with stones and returned home without the child. She told nobody of what had happened.

The child was alone in the cave with no one to care for him. He was sucking the milk which flowed of his fingers - by the grace of Almighty God. The child grew up under Allah's protection. From time to time, his mother would come secretly to the cave to watch him. This went on for thirteen years. On one occasion when the mother visited the son, he beseeched her to take him out of the cave. The mother warned that he would be killed by the King it he came to know about him. But the child insisted that he be brought out of the cave as 13 years had been a long time.

Thus Prophet Ibrahim came out of the cave for the first time. It was late in the evening when the sun was setting. When the night grew dark, he saw a star and he said, “Is this my Lord?” But when it set, he said, “I love not the setting ones.” Then, when he saw the moon rising he said: “Is this my Lord?” But when it set, he said, “If my Lord had not guided me I would have certainly been among the mistaken ones. Then he saw the sun rising and said, “Is this my Lord?” Is this the greatest?”. But when it also set, he said, “O, my people! Surely. I am clear of what you set up with Allah. Surely, I have turned myself wholly to the One Who created the heavens and the earth. I am not of the ones who believe and worship anything else other than Allah - the one God.

The people, at that time were not only idol-worshippers but they were also worshipping the stars, the sun, the moon etc. All the time, he was making them realise their error in their choice of 'gods'. He was showing his people what they called a god, did not deserve to be called god and worshipped if it disappeared at times. So Prophet Ibrahim started preaching the belief of One God and persuading his people not to worship anything else but Allah, the one and only God.

Once, it was the time of annual festival in the town and according to their custom, Namrud, the King, went out of town with all his people to celebrate the day. Prophet Ibrahim did not accompany them but stayed behind. He went to the temple where all the idols were kept, and broke all of them one by one. He left the biggest idol untouched, but put the axe on its shoulder.

When the King and his people returned they were very angry to see their idols destroyed. He said that he would kill the person who had caused that damage. The people told him that it must be a young man, named Ibrahim who always preached against the worship of idols. He must have destroyed them.

When Prophet Ibrahim was asked if it was he who broke the idols. He replied, “Why do you not ask the chief (of the idols) who is standing safe. Perhaps he has done it, that is if your idol gods can speak, ask them as to who broke them.” Thus Prophet Ibrahim did not utter a lie denying what he had done. He only wanted the people to first ask their own idols as to who had done it?

Namrud got very angry and asked his people their opinion. Every one suggested that Prophet Ibrahim be punished by burning him alive in a big fire.

So, Prophet Ibrahim was jailed, while Namrud ordered that all available firewood in the forest be collected and be heaped up in one open place. When this was done, it was set alight. The fire burnt fiercely and widely for days and days. It had generated so much heat that no bird dared to fly nearby. At the appointed day on which Prophet Ibrahim was to be put in the fire and burnt, Namrud with his large army and followers came out to that place to watch.

On seeing the huge fire and the intense heat, he began to ponder as to how it would be possible to convey Prophet Ibrahim into the fire. Suddenly Satan, the devil, came and suggested that a type of a crane be prepared which could be used to hurl Prophet Ibrahim into the fire. This would cut out the need of any assistance of human hands to do the risky job of delivering the Prophet into the raging fire.

The crane was constructed and Prophet Ibrahim was lifted and readied to be dumped into the fire. On seeing this tragic happening. the angels in the heaven and all the creatures in the sky became deeply upset. Taking permission from Almighty Allah, one by one, they all came to Prophet Ibrahim to inquire if they could be of any help to him. The Prophet said that he was seeking help and protection from none of them. The one from whom he expected help (that is Almighty Allah), was fully aware of the dangerous situation in which he was and would help him if need be.

Just then, the angel, Jibrail came to the Prophet and gave him a ring on which the following was inscribed (written):

“There is no God but Allah”

“Muhammad is the Prophet of Allah”

“I depend and rely upon Allah”

“I submit my affair to the will of Allah.”

Prophet Ibrahim put the holy ring on his finger and the grace and blessing of Allah began to be showered upon him. Then came the command from Allah, “O fire! Be nothing but coolness and peace for Ibrahim.”

Thus the burning fire instantly lost its heat and no harm came to the Prophet.

It is related that when Prophet Ibrahim was being thrown into the fire, the angels in the heaven and the birds in the air cried in protest. One of them, a small weak bird decided to burn itself along with the Prophet. As it was flying towards the fire, the angel Jibrail was sent by Allah to inquire the reason why it was going to commit suicide! The angel stopped the bird on the ground and asked it to explain its strange action - that of trying to burn itself along with Prophet Ibrahim. The bird said: “Don't you know that the friend of God is to be burnt in the fire? As it is not within my strength to save him, I am showing my sorrow and sympathy by accompanying him into the fire!”

The angel conveyed this incident to Allah. Then came a command from Allah to tell the bird that it would be rewarded for its sincere feeling shown for the Prophet. It was asked what it wished to have so that the wish be fulfilled. The bird in reply said: “I do not wish to have anything from this world. All I wish is to constantly remember Allah in prayer. There are a thousand and one names of Allah. I know hardly a hundred names. I wish to be taught the remaining names. Almighty Allah fulfilled its desire. As it flew from tree to tree, it went on singing the names of Allah, thus remembering Him day and night.

To respect and sympathise with the friends of Allah; to remember Allah constantly in prayer is better than fulfilling worldly desires. This is what the little weak bird has shown to us. These are the acts of virtue which would one day undoubtedly earn great rewards from Allah.

🍃🕊🍃 Islamic Stories 🍃🕊🍃