#but damn dear god please change the prophecy

[this-love-is-delicate]

LET IT ONCE BE ME

[moonstonedrawsrandomly]

A Lamb and a Worm 7🟢

Leshy and Noelle have been living together for about a month now since Leshy returns from his “scavenge”. They both have picked up a routine.

Since Leshy doesn’t have many servants around him, Noelle is free to roam around his palace. They eat together, work together, and in a sense, sleep together. Leshy and Noelle were still trying to figure out this whole mystery behind Gaia and also Narinder’s energy behind the scenes.

“Mom, it doesn’t seem possible that Narinder got out, is someone else using his crown maybe?”

Leshy said to Noelle’s wings.

“No dear. That can’t be right. As I said, even if he was using someone else’s power, they would be obvious about it. Also, Noelle said that Moses can’t even use Fernilla’s power at 100%. It kill the host and Fernilla would be devastated by his death.”

She said. The two of them had to think.

“So we figured out it was his power, but how do we prove it?”

Noelle said, but then Leshy remembered something.

“Was he looking for a new host? One that can’t be touched by bishops…someone like…Noelle?”

He said. Noelle looked at Leshy confused. Even Gaia couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“Why Noelle? And why not Moses?”

Gaia asked. It sounded like Leshy wasn’t telling them something.

“I- Nevermind. I heard that there was a prophecy after we sealed Narinder. That after his sealing, the lamb of prophecy will come to free him. And…knowing the plight of the lambs right now…there are basically extinct. Minus you and Moses”

Noelle shook her head.

“It’s gotten that bad, huh? Damn”

“Noelle, do not lose faith my dear! When I am released, I will open an investigation into the matter, okay? We’ll find out what happened to your people”

Noelle nodded. Leshy was silent. He dreaded the day they find out what the bishops did to her people. And what Gaia will do when she finds out that it was her own Kin that did it. For the time being, it was getting late so Gaia let the two go for the night. Leshy moves his bed so Noelle could go in but this time, he goes in with her.

“Hey, can we talk?”

He said. Noelle nodded. He sits next to her on the bed. He runs his hands through her soft, cotton candy like hair.

“Um…I don’t want to upset you, but…I feel like if I don’t tell you something, you’ll hate me. And I don’t want you to hate me”

Noelle looked puzzled.

“Why would I hate you? You single handedly saved my life! I cannot be more grateful to you. Please, say what’s on your mind”

She said. He did tell her but he was very vague.

“I…something happened to your peoples that involved the prophecy. I believe some…gods got scared and went on a killing spree…on order to keep Narinder in there…I’m not sure of the other details”

Noelle looked shocked.

“What?!?”

“Yeah, it’s bad. I…don’t know that rest of the details, but you can tell Gaia what I told you, because I don’t think she knows either”

He said. Noelle thanked him.

“Thank you for telling me what you know, your very kind”

She said and she smiled at him. That smile melted his heart, but in embarrassment, he gets up quickly.

“A-alright. Goodbye-I mean good night!”

He said and he vacated the room. Noelle giggles.

“Ah, I remember my first love, it’s a wonderful feeling when they’re clueless!”

Gaia giggled as well. Noelle was flushed red

“Hey! You said you’d give me privacy!”

“I did, but it seems like you two are getting closer so soon. What changed?”

Gaia asked. Noelle blushes.

“I…I don’t know, really. I think…he’s very charming.”

Gaia smiles as she listens to Noelle talk about Leshy. What a wonderful young man he’s turned out to be. And what a woman he’s found.

“Well, I’m glad you two are getting along. Going back to the situation for the time being, we need to get more information. I believe Shamura has a secret library in the back of his own study in his palace. You would need Leshy to get there first, but I don’t think he’d be able to get there, his servants are very watchful of their Bishop”

She said. So Noelle had to tell Leshy that in the morning. Noelle looks up to the ceiling.

“My people…are all gone…”

She thought. She silently weeped as Gaia listened to her small cries.

“I promise you…we will get to the bottom of this…”

She said. Gaia sits in her chair, looking out in the dimension she was trapped in, wondering what the world looked like after she left.

TBC

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

──➤ Roronoa Zoro sent you a love letter to celebrate +400 followers, would you like to read it?

@newfriendjen sent a letter : ❝Hi Friend! Congrats again on your 400!! You definitely deserve many more! If you still have a spot open for you event (ignore if you filled them!), can I request: Smut Prompt #15 with Zoro 😏 please and thank you so much!❞ the author sent a letter : ❝dear jen, to say i got a bit carried while writing this is a bit of an understatement! but i hope you’ll like it as much as i liked writing it, all while cackling like a villain as i was writing this. thank you tons for the sweet words, you are such a sweetheart and i’m so lucky to know you! sending you lots of love! sealed with a kiss, nikki.❞

──➤ Prompt used : #15 “Look at what you’re doing to me.” ─➤ Genre : Smut. ➤ Warnings : MINORS DO NOT READ THIS, 18+ ONLY. Sexual intercourse, jealous sex, mild degradation, choking, biting, cunninlingus, penetration, spanking (once), sir kink.

The weather of the New World was often unforgiving, unpredictable, and at times, untamable. Sometimes, Mother Nature showed she was capable of crossing the limit of Nami’s extended knowledge regarding climate (and God knows her brain was severely infused with every secrets regarding the different kinds of weather, rendering her as a living, walking encyclopedia.) But alas, sometimes the rage of Mother Nature would be thrown upon any poor ship unready to face her wrath in the forms of undying tornados and waves that could reach the sky.

Hence why, every morning, Nami’s prediction on today’s weather was awaited by all, very much like a prophecy which was often set to come true— and if said prophecy announced any kind of weather gravitating around the lexical field of a natural catastrophe, one wouldn’t be surprised to perceive Usopp down on his knees in a praying position, diverse and unintelligible wishes to survive Mother Nature’s anger.

Much to the crew’s collective joy, the navigator had announced the most ideal weather— sunshine, a slight breeze and no cloud in sight, what appeared to be a regular weather in heaven. And, why of course, such a hot weather meant that both Nami and the local archeologist, Nico Robin, would bathe under the sun and relieve any kind of tension which had settled in after several fights (or just the exhaustion of having to deal with Luffy on a daily basis.)

And there you were, standing like a mannequin in the girls’ room in company of Nami and Robin, the latter throwing you an amused look at the way Nami was comparing which bikini would look better on you— the red one, an appeal for passion, or the black one, a statement of boldness? Her brows furrowed in unison at her poor attempt to make a decision, comparing how the colors married the shade of your skin.

« Robin, how are we feeling about the red bikini? It’s so cute, but I have a feeling something is missing… » The navigator wondered, her gaze falling on the taller woman next to her.

Robin couldn’t refrain from allowing a giggle from leaving her lips, surely it meant that she had her idea, an ill-intentioned one, that is. And, oh well, to say she had just a mere idea was an understatement : as she remained still, Robin summoned a couple of limbs to look for a green-colored bikini hidden in the drawers only to bring it to Nami’s attention. The two women shared a teasing glance, as if they communicated intentions filled with mischief through their eyes alone.

« I do believe something was missing, too. » Robin trailed off, bringing an index under her chin. « Something that might appeal to a certain swordsman. »

The evil cackle falling from Nami’s lips announced nothing good, and the sweet tone of her voice only deepened that sentiment. « You know how the saying goes : great minds think alike. »

« Hold on, what are you—… » You began, only to be cut off by the navigator, « Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to say, Y/N. We’re not fools, you know? You’re going to look like a real stunner with this bikini on, and I know that a certain someone won’t be able to resist. » She concluded her sentence with a wink sent your way, boy, sometimes you did understand why Zoro called her a witch at times.

« Join us when you’re ready, Y/N. I’m intrigued to see how this will go. » Concluded Robin, accompanying Nami towards the door to let you some privacy so you could change into the bikini, not that you have never changed in front of them and vice versa, but oh well.

You were now all alone, still haven’t moved an inch. Your thumb was brushing against the green fabric of the bikini over and over again until it had become some kind of obsession. But the more the motions continued, the more you realized that perhaps there was no other way to get out of this trap glamorously set by Robin and Nami. A sigh of despair left your lips, swearing to yourself that you’d have your payback sooner than later.

The door of the girls’ bedrooms slammed open, allowing your figure sculpted by the finest hands of the muses of beauty to be exposed to the kisses of the sun. The first sound to rip apart your thoughts was a squeal which left Nami’s mouth, the latter shaking Robin’s forearm with urgency to bring her attention onto you. « Robin, Robin! Look at her, isn’t she to die for? I’d bet all my money that Zoro is going to throw himself on her. I mean, just look at her! »

The same amused smile graced Robin’s facial traits, lowering her shades just a bit to have a good glance at how the oh so awaited green bikini embraced your body. « I must confess that it’s impossible to resist her. »

The words leaving her lips became clearer and clearer the more you approached them, a palette of rosy tones sitting proudly on top of your cheekbones at their compliments. « We saved you a seat, Miss I’m-too-sexy-for-my-own-good. Come with us! » Nami said, patting the empty spot next to her to which you wordlessly replied with a nod, sitting between her and Robin.

« You’re so evil, I kinda hate you for it. » A smile plastered upon your lips as the words died on your tongue.

« You love us and you know it. » Nami replied, letting her hand lingering on your forearm. « Ooh, would you look at that, Robin? The show is about to begin. » She concluded, taking a sip out of her cocktail with a gleam of mischief shining in her eyes.

And by show, the navigator undoubtedly meant the sudden appearance of the Sunny’s resident lover who had stormed out of the kitchen with a plate of different kinds of treats and cocktails for his ladies, spoiling them rotten on sunny days if it meant he could allow his eyes to linger a bit on your bodies in bikinis.

The first act of the show had begun in a flashy manner, as soon as Sanji closed the door leading to the kitchen behind him, the plate he was holding had fell onto the floor, a loud echo reasoning into the swordsman’s ears who was stuck in a deep state of slumber… Until now.

« I must have saved a country in my previous life to be worthy of such a privilege. » Sanji sobbed, falling onto his knees, « Y/N, you’re a goddess amongst us, we’re not worthy, I’m not worthy of your beauty. I will worship you everyday, I will cover you in love until my very last breath! » The cook continued, more and more praises falling from his lips in a continuous cascade as your cheeks were getting more and more red by the second. Alas, the more the blonde sang your praises, the more the swordsman was stirring awake— and if there was one thing Zoro hated with passion besides Sanji, it was waking up to loud noises.

Sanji had approached you, on one knee, the back of your hand pressed against his lips as the tears falling from his lips mixed with the blood leaking from his nose. « Thank you, my goddess, thank you for blessing my sore eyes. Words can’t describe how—… » And he went on and on again, his lips still traveling from the back of your hand to your forearm under Nami’s disgusted stare who yanked you away from him.

« My goddess—… »

« Oi! Do you ever shut up, stupid cook? » And despite the numerous occasions on which Zoro and Sanji have fought, Zoro’s words seemed intensely more acerbic, as sharp as the swords laying to his side, which even surprised Sanji.

« Were you talking to me, mosshead? » Sanji taunted.

« I don’t see anyone else here acting like a damn fool. » Zoro began, his sole eye conveying so much anger you could feel it. « Know your place. »

Nami elbowed Robin once more, the latter having long forgotten about the book sitting on her lap at this point. Sanji stepped towards the swordsman, dangerously reducing the space between the both of them until their foreheads were touching. There was no frown noticeable on Zoro’s face, but a blank expression which let through a pure anger. « She belongs to me, hands off what’s mine. » The swordsman spat, his shoulder hitting Sanji’s as he walked past him, leaving the cook in a stupor.

« Oi! You. » He said, pointing at your frame with his index. « Follow me. You and I are gonna’ have a word. »

He cursed himself for allowing his gaze to fall on your form, knowing damn well that with each second he spent looking at you in this green bikini (this damn color, he thought), the more he was falling under the spells casted by the muses of lust.

« Go get some! » Nami whispered, her tongue gracing her bottom lip.

« We expect all the details afterwards, my dear Y/N. » Robin giggled.

You had barely enough time to form any kind of response that you felt the foreign presence of Zoro’s digits snaking around your wrists and yanking you towards him. « Hey, I’m sure we can talk about this calmly, right? We can chat about it over a drink, I’ll ask Sanji to—… » Alas, your sentence never found its end, your mind going numb at the death glare Zoro sent your way as you mentioned Sanji’s name. But, paradoxically enough, it only fueled your arousal even more.

Zoro led you to the crow’s nest, trapping you and him both inside the same room. And as the silence grew heavier and heavier, until becoming asphyxiating, Zoro’s snicker broke the silence in the most mischievous way. A look of confusion was painted on your face, and you were quick to point at it. « W-What are you laughing at? »

« Do you think I’m fucking stupid? » Zoro half-asked.

You tilted your head to the side, slowly backing away until your back met the unforgiving surface of the wooden wall. « Answer me. » He demanded, one of his hand grabbing both of your wrists in one hold pinned above your head whilst his other hand cradled your jaw so you had no choice but devote your attention onto him.

« I don’t know what you’re talking about. » You pleaded, cheeks burning under the rosy tone as you felt his uneven breaths crashing against the column of your neck.

Wrong answer, Zoro shoved his knee between your already trembling legs. « You like the attention, hah? You love it when that pervert of a cook was throwing himself on you, is that it? Tch. » He was feeding his lust off of the scared expression on your face, blood rushing in the tightest space possible by the second.

« No answer, huh? ‘Guess I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, because it looks like you forgot who you belong to. » And with that, he dug his teeth into the skin of your neck, alternating between biting and sucking motions to form the most ravishing love bite— a symbol of belonging if you will. You squealed at the sudden sensation of his pearly whites inking his name into your skin, giving him exactly the reaction he was anticipating.

You rocked your hips against the thigh settled between your legs, a desperate attempt at getting some friction for your poor and aching core in need for attention. Zoro clicked his tongue once more at your antics, choosing to hush you by continuing the trail of hickeys adorning your martyr of a neck. « Care to explain what you’re doing? Throwing yourself on my thigh because you couldn’t get the shit cook, hah? You’re so fucking desperate, it makes me want to leave you there all alone. »

« Zoro! Please don’t, don’t leave me! I just need you, I don’t need anyone else but you! I promise I’ll be good but please, please, don’t leave me. » You pleaded, a clear veil of despair covering your eyes under his impassible expression.

The façade worn off soon, letting a smirk throne amongst his facial features instead. « Who do you belong to? » Zoro demanded, gliding the hand that was under your chin to your throat and applied just enough pressure to make sure to earn absolute submissiveness out of you.

« Y-You… » You choked out, the lack of oxygen marrying so well with your growing arousal.

His smirk only grew wider, a real testimony of the sick thoughts implanted in his brain that would make a demon blush. Both of his hand retreated to his side, gaze falling on the unmissable erection showing through his dark pants. His eyes alternated between you and the bulge in his pants, your mouth going dry at the wordless order. « If you want to be a whore, then be a good whore and suck me off, yeah? Don’t give me those eyes, you want it. »

You sunk to your knees, tongue wetting your lips in anticipation for what was bound to come. And whilst your eyes were stuck on his form, your fingers were busy tugging down at his pants to reveal his grey underwear stained with pre-cum. The sight of this alone was enough to send yet another wave of arousal down to your core. And as his cock sprung free from the constriction of his boxers, his girth slapping against his exposed abdomen and the tip rouge from anticipation, you were convinced you could’ve come undone from the sight of this alone.

« Suck. » He ordered, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force your towards his aching cock and the veil of pre-cum coating the tip.

And thus it began. You flattened your tongue, drawing a large lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip where you finished with a few kitten licks, knowing damn well the head was where all the nerves devoted to pleasure were hidden. « Don’t tease and put your mouth to good use, whore. » Zoro said, almost betrayed by the groan threatening to be released.

Following the rules of performative language, you began to rock your head back and forth around his cock, making sure that your tongue was coating in a lustful love each inch of his girth whilst hums of pleasure were leaving your lips as you went. The hold of your hair in Zoro’s fist grew tighter and so did the metaphorical knots in his stomach as you went along, until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat— such enticing sensation earned a growl out of him. Fuck.

« F-Fuck. Look at what you’re doing to me… Ah! Shit. Enough! » He ordered, yanking your head away from his cock, and the sight of the corners of your mouth dripping with the sweet marriage of his pre-cum and your drool could have provoked an orgasm out of him at this very moment.

« It’s too soon, and it’d be giving you what you want, huh? Too fucking bad, I’m going to cum in that sweet pussy of yours and you’re gonna love it. Ya’ hear me? » He asked without really asking, and taken by a rush of lust, you could only nod in return. « Y-Yes. » You stuttered. « You’re missing something. » Zoro added. You swallowed thickly before adding « Yes, yes, sir. » Your response caused an ill-intentioned snicker to fall from his lips. « That’s right. Now get on your back, and make sure to be as loud as you can, I want everyone on this damn ship to hear how I can make you scream. »

Zoro’s glorious height forced you to lay back until your spine touched the mattress where all the sins would soon break free. The smirk on his face never left, a pure testimony of what all the sinful deeds he was bound to accomplish. You were now trapped between his forearms, hips circled by his knees— bending under his dominance. « Did you wear that for me? » Zoro asked, slapping the string of the bikini top against your skin.

« I d-did, it’s all for you because I’m all yours. » Your response caused a chuckle to break from his lips, sweet words feeding his ego some more. And in a flash, his fingers had ripped said bikini top in half (you made a mental note that you now owed a serious debt to Nami), and there you were, (almost) in all you bare glory. « Fuck, if only you knew the things you do to me. »

Zoro wasted no time and threw all caution out of the window as his mouth latched onto your breasts, the motions of his tongue around your bud causing your spine to pay homage to the moon from how arched it was. His pink muscle flickered around your nipple before he swallowed your breast whole, his drool covering your flesh in a sinful veil. And because he was such a giver for his pretty girl, he gave the same treatment to the other breast whilst gasps left your lips over and over again at the methodical motions of his tongue, your anatomy held no secret for him.

« Are you going shy on me now? Did you forget what I said? » He trailed off, reducing the space between his lips and your ear, « I said I want you to be fucking loud. »

And with that, he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your stomach before tearing apart (once more) your poor martyr of a bikini bottom under your desperate attempts to keep it intact. Were you challenging him? Oh well… Zoro has always been the type to face any challenge thrown his way. « Zoro—… Sir, please! » You pleaded, not knowing really why.

« You’re such a desperate little thing, huh? » He leaned down to face your core, glistening in its lustful glory for him and him only. Zoro pressed a finger against your folds, dragging it vertically to obtain a finger pad covered in your slicks. « So fucking wet for me already? ‘Bet that shit cook can’t make you as wet as me. » He stated, confidence embedded in his every word. « Only you can make me feel this way, sir. » You replied before he crashed his lips onto yours in an uncharacteristically sweet manner to cut you off. « And why’s that? » The swordsman asked, already knowing the answer. « Because… Because I belong to you. » He pressed yet another kiss against your lips for having given the answer that had been lingering on his mind. « Good girl. »

Your reward came in the form of his tongue brushing your folds, flickering motions against your sensitive bud sending you in overdrive as continuous waves of pleasure washed over you ceaselessly, the knots in your stomach tightening each time his tongue touched you. Two of his digits poked your entrance, teasing you to let your torture last before they penetrated you. The sudden sensation caused you to let out a dragged whimper accompanied by his name coated in a sinful tone. « S-Sir please, please just fuck me— I can’t take the teasing, ahh, fuck, fuck! Please, please! » You begged, eyelids shutting close under the pleasure.

But your pleas fell in deaf ears as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, sucking onto your sensitive bud to build an orgasm within you that he was bound to deny. He knew you were close by the way you were holding his green hair, tugging him ever closer to your core to amplify the inferno burning within you. But alas, to your greatest displeasure, all the motions ceased in one go under the hint of mischief glowing in his eye.

« You’re gonna cum on my terms, and when I say so. Got it? » He seethed, knowing damn well that his own end was going to arrive soon. He gave his girth a few experimental pumps, allowing the pre-cum to cover his length before shoving the entirety of his cock in one go inside you, barely leaving enough time for your cunt to stretch correctly— and saying that a elongated moan left your lips was an euphemism, the sick grin plastered upon his face grew more and more as the sounds of pleasure drowned in his eardrums. « You’re so fucking tight, shit! » He breathed out, « Look at your pretty cunt swallowing me whole. »

The rhythm of his hips followed the scheme of a crescendo, each slam of his hips against your derrière drew a clearer portrait of both Zoro’s end and your own climax. The nature of the rhythm itself indicated that he was chasing after his own end, and with his head thrown back and his irises dilated under the hunger to satiate the raging fires breaking loose in his abdomen by the second. « S-Sir, it feels— Ah! It feels so good! »

The tip of his cock kissed ever so precisely the roof of your cervix where a panel of nerves designed to draw a lustful reaction out of you every time he thrusted into you. Your vision became more and more blurry until a liquid veil covered your eyes as pearls of tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. Under the pressure of each of Zoro’s thrusts, your body bent to his will and soon you had no longer control over your legs that used to be around his waist, only to be picked up by the swordsman who threw your legs over his shoulder, thus allowing him to reach a deeper part in you and the cries leaving your lips were just the proof of how good he made you feel.

More and more cries echoed against the wooden walls of the room, your sounds of pleasure marrying the groans falling from his lips in a cascade. « Ah, fuck, fuck! R-Right there, please! Shit…! » You pleaded to fuel him some more. His nails were digging into the luscious flesh of your thighs, drawing rouge crescents in his wake.

« Who do you belong to? » He groaned out, his eye admiring the lustful look on your face.

« Y-You! I belong to you, fuck, you a-and no one else! » You attempted to reply mid-moan.

But as much as Zoro knew your anatomy, you also happened to be an expert of his— and the way he planted his nails into your skin, the raw groans loosing their chains to be set free and the way his thighs were shaking… Everything announced the beginning of his own end.

« Cum with me… Now! » He ordered, letting his hand crash against your buttcheek in the process. And there it was, the marriage of two lovers under the spell of lust. The rhythm of his thrusts reached their apex, all whilst he painted your walls with the white color of passion. His own cum was mixing with your own elixir of pleasure leaking from your throbbing core as your cunt was clenching around his cock in despair. The sounds of his hips slamming against yours were long gone now, the room was solely filled with heavy breaths and his name falling from your lips over and over again like a forbidden prayer.

Although Zoro’s stamina knew no bounds, he felt like the oxygen had been knocked off of his lungs. But perhaps it was the price to pay if it meant he could observe you in all your post-orgasm glory after holding it inside you for so long. God, he was so proud of you, proud of every mark he had left onto your skin, proud of the way your skin gleamed under the sweat, proud of being your lover.

« ’S alright, ’s alright. I’m going to pull out, breathe. » Zoro demanded, the sweet tone reserved for you only finding its way back around his words. His digits snaked around his girth to pull out of you, only to witness the satisfying marriage of your cum and his own. You were so good to him.

And whilst you remained unable to move, Zoro fell to your side, his arms quick to lock you into an embrace as your head rested on his chest, his frenetics heartbeats echoing in your eardrums. You loved the peace of the aftermath of any sexual activity involving Zoro, you loved how peace seemed to bend his facial features in the most enticing way.

He was the first one to break the silence, pressing his lips against your forehead whilst he tugged you impossibly closer to him like a reminder that you were indeed here, and would always be. « So whose plan was this, hah? » He asked, earning a giggle out of you in response. « It was Nami’s, although Robin helped too. She said I would one hundred percent ‘get laid’ if I wore this. » You answered, head tilting towards the poor green bikini torn in pieces.

« That witch can go to hell. » Zoro groaned, but the raw tone of his voice was betrayed by the sweet caresses of his digits down your forearm.

« I mean, her plan did happen so I think it’s a win for her. It’s not like you regret what happened, mhm? » Alas, nothing but silence in return. « Zoro? » You called him, but an angel passed. « Zoro! » You repeated more sternly, and this time you were met with the sound of his snores— of course, typical Zoro fashion.

Well, you knew who you were going to thank now.

[writersmorgue]

Nightmare Material

15+ for graphic descriptions of violence, blood, and gore

can be read as slash or platonic

not proofread

-

“SHUT UP DEKU! OH MY GOD, CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?!”

The common room goes silent.

“Woah, Bakubro, he just asked if you were busy,” Kirishima chuckles nervously.

Katsuki looks over to Deku who, as expected, already has tears welling in his eyes.

“Shitty crybaby, of course I’m busy can’t you fuckin’ see? Go bother someone who cares.”

Deku sniffles like the pathetic little child that he is, and nods, “Ok Kacchan.”

“Fuckin’ annoying ass-” Katsuki mutters, ignoring the glares as he stomps out of the room. Taking the stairs two at a time before slamming the door shut behind him, imagining the flinches of his classmates as he does so.

Fuck that fucking nerd, always looking down at him. Asking him for help on math of all things, when he fuckin’ knows that’s Katsuki’s worst subject. Fuck him.

The little shit shouldn’t even be here, he’s not on Katsuki’s level. Just gonna get himself killed.

After a few minutes of grumbling into his pillow, there’s a knock at Katsuki’s door, followed by a meek, “Blasty?”

He groans dramatically and flops over onto his back, propelling himself up with a few controlled explosions.

“Fuckin’ what-” He swings the door open and comes face to face with the entire idiot squad.

Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari all stand in front of him, Sero nervously wringing his hands, Kaminari avoiding eye contact, and Kirishima giving him a look.

Mina steps to the front of them, patting Kirishima’s shoulder as she does so.

“Blasty, you really gotta stop.” She stares him straight in the eyes, not backing down no matter how hard he glares.

“Stop fuckin’ what.”

Kirishima places a hand on Mina’s chest, stalling her step forward into Katsuki’s space. “You know what, Bakugo.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “Oh please, like the little shit can’t handle some yelling. I’ve seen discount hot topic make his ears bleed-”

“This isn’t about Jirou. This is about you. You need to sort your shit out.” Sero’s frowning, a rare sight.

“Oh?” Katsuki quirks an eyebrow, “Or what?”

There’s a tense silence before Kaminari sniffs. “Or- or we won’t be your friends anymore!!” He stutters, bottom lip wobbling.

The rest of the group nods, one by one giving him a last glance.

Katsuki stands there for a few minutes, mainly thinking, but also fuming

How dare they treat him like that, like trash. He’s not trash, and he’s not the bad guy. He’s just trying to save Deku before it’s too late. Stupid idiot won’t last a day in the hero business, even with his new freak quirk. All it’s good for is hurting the nerd.

“Stupid Deku and his stupid protection squad, fuckin’ blind idiots.” He grumbles, slamming the door and returning to his lair.

He changes his clothes, resigning himself to finishing his weekend at the gym instead of on next week’s homework.

Bakugo stomps through the common room on the way to their practice room, a few of his classmates shoot him glares but he’s ignored for the most part. Something noticeably purposeful since he’s not exactly being quiet. Even Kirishima refuses to acknowledge his presence.

Yeah, that hurts.

He runs for two hours, lifts for one, and finishes with core for thirty minutes before his post-workout cooldown ritual. Thoroughly satiated and tired to the bone, he heads back to his dorm. Ignored this way too, he doesn’t bother saying goodnight to anyone. Not that he would usually. Not that he misses Ashido’s “Night blasty!!” on his way up the stairs.

He doesn’t give a shit.

He scrubs at his body with his last bits of energy and brushes his teeth half dead on his feet. Exhausted, he flops down on his bed and passes out almost immediately.

…

Someone’s screaming.

Katsuki lunges toward Shigaraki, whose hand barely grazes Izuku’s neck.

Izuku? When did he ever call the nerd something other than-

“DEKU!!!” Oh, he was the one screaming. He blasts himself forward and pushes Izuku out of the way, his dusted skin flaking off into the breeze as green hair skids to a stop on the ground below.

“Damn BRAT-” Shigaraki mutters, angrily scrunching his hand in mid-air before turning his attention to Katsuki. “YOU.” He points a cracked, pointed finger at Katsuki.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it old man?” He snorts, preparing his arms to blast again, he can feel the resistance from his last jump.

“You saved the little shit,” Shigaraki mutters to himself, nails dragging roughly down his neck, “must have a relationship, must be close to my enemy. Must die-”

Katsuki raises his hand, palms crackling in defiance, but he’s geared to go anyway.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck goddamnit!” His one fucking chance to get a drop on the guy and he’s out of juice? Fucking really?!

He’s so caught up in his fury he doesn’t notice the mad glint in the enemy’s eye. The way he smiles brokenly, bloody tongue barely peeking out.

“Poor little hero.” He mutters.

Katsuki jerks his head up just in time to see five fingers inches away from his face.

Well, this was fun.

“KATSUKI-” There’s pressure on his side and he falls, belatedly realizing he was pushed out of the way.

He looks hits the ground hard, hearing the reverberated snap of his ankle as it breaks.

“FALL HERO!! FALL BEFORE ME! YOUR NEW GO-”

Shigaraki falls to the ground as Todoroki whacks him over the head with a piece of rebar.

HIs normally stoic expression is frantic, he’s got fresh tears streaking down his face, and his forehead is covered in dried blood.

He tears his eyes away from the downed villain as Kirishima comes to cuff him, and screams in anguish at the sight of Izuku- Something Katsuki is still trying to wrap his head around.

A startled, almost pained sound escapes Katsuki as he half limps, half runs towards his best friend.

...best friend?

“IZUKU!”

Izuku has long since crumbled to his knees, clutching what remains of the left side of his face. Still slowly crumbling away. Blood pours down his arm and neck, making it difficult to see, but the sight of his eye frantically widening as Katsuki sits next to him is enough.

He removes his hand and sobs, throwing himself onto Katsuki.

“Eih- hgo-” He chokes, blood soaking Katsuki’s own suit as he rocks them both.

“Shh, it’s okay, Izuku.” He whispers, making eye contact with a sobbing Todoroki, who nods in approval.

“Izuku you’re gonna be fine.” The shock has yet to remove itself from Katsuki’s voice, and his words are filled with cracks and sobs, but he hopes it’s what Izuku needs.

“Aa- aah” Izuku’s broken kacchan followed by a fresh flow of blood down Katuski’s neck.

“I love you, Izuku. It’s gonna be alright.”

Izuku whimpers, clutching onto the blond’s neck for dear life.

And then he goes limp.

Katsuki’s eyes bug out, and he pulls Izuku arm’s length away. The gruesome sight that greets him is one he’ll never forget.

Izuku’s left eye hangs loosely down the side of his mangled cheekbone and jaw. Katsuki can see teeth starting to crumble as the decay works its way through his face. His nose is completely exposed, with no flesh left. No cute freckles. No scrunch when he smiles. And his other eye, possibly the worst part, stares lifelessly at Katsuki. The last remnants of tears make their way down his face.

He looks… terrified.

He died scared in the arms of his abuser. Someone who never even apologized to him. For fucking anything. Some vile part of Katsuki reminds him.

He saved me because I couldn’t do my fucking job.

He thrusts Izuku’s lifeless body into Shouto’s arms, who lets out a heartwrenching sob. Katsuki scrambles back, and can vaguely register the sound of pink cheeks vomiting behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-” becoming increasingly more desperate with each utterance of the word, “FUCK!” Kirishima comes up behind him, picking him off the dust-covered ground and holding him to his chest. “This is all my fault!!!” He wails, “He fucking saved me, I couldn’t- this isn’t right no no NO-”

“Shhhh Katsuki-” Eijirou soothes him through his own tears, always the constant in Katsuki’s life. Well, after Deku.

Deku Deku Deku.

Dead Deku.

Because of you.

Katsuki takes another good look at Deku’s face where Shouto had freaked and discarded him on the ground. The unnatural bend of his arms, the bloody drool escaping his parted- if you can even call that a mouth anymore, his eyes.

And he screams.

He screams and he screams and he screams until someone shakes him so hard he wakes up.

Wait-

“BAKUGO!!! WAKE UP PLEASE-” Shitty hair screams at him, shaking his shoulders desperately as he thrashes in his sheets.

He stills, staring up at Kirishima with a shocked expression.

“Wh-”

“You were having a nightmare,” Kirishima explains, gasping for breath like he just ran a marathon.

Katsuki looks to the doorway where half of the boys in their class stand, expressions varying from worried to shocked.

He looks back at Kirishima, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat, “It- it wasn’t real?”

Katsuki looks to the door, half expecting to see Izuku there.

Missing an ear, you can see his tongue through his cheek.

Katsuki gulps, “Where’s Izuku?” He murmurs into the quiet room.

“Izuku?” Someone in the hallway mutters.

“Uh,” Kirishima catches himself before he can say something dumb, “Izu?- Uh- Midoriya is probably in his room. Didn’t think you’d want him here, but he knows. You kinda woke up the whole dorm.”

Kirishima has barely finished the sentence before he’s jumping out of bed, pajamas be damned, and sprinting toward the stairs. When he gets to Izuku’s floor he makes a hard right, Icyhot shouting something about being nice behind him.

Katsuki can yell at him later.

Running gives him time to think, and the more Katsuki thinks the more he realizes that his nightmare might as well have been a prophecy. Izuku would pull some martyr shit like that, but it was only Katsuki’s fault in the first place that he was put in that situation. He’s the only one to blame. Izuku had done everything right, and Katsuki managed to fuck it up.

Hollow socket, tendons hanging, blood turning his green suit a muddied brown.

Katsuki knocks on the door frantically, scared about what he’ll see when Izuku answers.

There’s some rustling from inside before Izuku peeks out, green curls messy from sleep.

“Wh- I thought Aoyama said you were having a nightmare.” His eyebrows furrow.

“I was,” Katsuki breathes, taking in how whole his rival is. “But it wasn’t real.”

He reaches out hesitantly and brushes an unruly lock of green out of Izuku’s left eye.

“Everything’s where it should be-” He chuckles almost in bewilderment.

He drags his fingers gently down Izuku’s cheek, tracing where the decay had rotted away skin, now whole.

A few of the classmates who followed him gasp in surprise when Katsuki clutches Izuku’s shoulders and buries his face in soft green hair. Completely breaking down as he sobs.

Izuku freezes, terrified of ruining the moment, even though he really wants to ask someone what the fuck is happening.

He gives Kirishima a questioning look as he hesitantly rubs along Katsuki’s back.

The redhead just shrugs.

“I’m sorry Izuku.”

Aaaand the damn breaks.

Izuku sobs as Katsuki clutches him tighter, their friends begin to awkwardly back out of the hallway after witnessing whatever that was.

“Wh- Kacchan?” He pulls away reluctantly, but he needs to see Katsuki’s face.

The blond’s eyes are red and puffy, same as his cheeks, but he’s dead serious.

“I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, you’re a really good guy.” He heaves in a breath, “And- I know you’ll be a great hero someday.”

“Kacchan… why?”

Katsuki looks away, “I just- thought about some things,” He doesn’t mention that the thinking involved seeing his classmate’s bloodied corpse, “realized how full of myself I am. You really did just want help on that math homework, huh?” He huffs, shaking his head at his past self.

“I did. What else would I have wanted?”

Katsuki sniffs, angrily rubbing at his eyes, “I don’t know, Izuku. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Izuku smiles sadly, “All I’ve ever wanted is to be your friend, Kacchan.

The blond nods, “Yeah, I think I see that now. Can- can we still do that? Be friends?”

Izuku beams, rubbing his own tears away and pulling Katsuki into another tight hug.

“There’s nothing I want more, Katsuki.”

[valkyriesryde]

Release the Hounds {6/?}

Chapter Six: Am I Supposed to Fight?

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: Both sides are preparing but the question of whether they will actually have to fight is still standing. And everyone has an opinion.

Word Count: ...2,000ish lol

A/N: Sooooo I’m a slack human being but I’m not giving up on this story! Just have a bit of a busy life at the moment hahah here you go fambam please forgive me. I’m going to try and smash out several chapters in the next week before I go on holiday/school starts back up.

Series Masterlist ~ Masterlist

As Hades stepped into the home of her brother she slipped off her coat and threw it over the back of the couch in the first living room. 

“Where art thou my dear brother?” She called through the house and a sweet whistle sounded down the stairs and around her. She dressed and presented herself much more casual than when she met with Thor. She no longer adorned her business attire, dressed in black jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her boots hitting the marble as she climbed the stairs. 

Loki’s house is extravagant. The outside something like a greek temple with its decorated ionic columns and statues. The inside much the same in its sense of power. But Loki likes to be comfortable.  His home has a, well, homely feel to it. Art adorns every wall, in every corner but the blanket is thrown lazily over the couch, there’s a pile of books on the coffee table and as she walks down the hallway she can smell the sea salt as if they were right next to the ocean. She can hear the horses in his backyard through the open windows. Hades always enjoyed coming to Loki’s home because thats what it was. A home. It wasn’t a place of work, apart from his office, his children come and go as they please, there’s always dishes to be washed and laundry to be folded. She felt welcomed here.

“Since when do you work this late?” She leaned on the doorframe of his office as Loki looked up from his piles of paper, his long black hair disheveled from running his fingers through it.

“I’m a very hard worker excuse you,” he smiled and offered her the seat in front of his desk, reaching into a draw next to him and bringing out two glasses and a bottle of nectar in a beautifully adorned glass bottle. Hades’ eyes lingered on the bottle as she ached for him to just hand the thing to her so she could pour it down her throat. Lord she needed a drink after this week.

“And I’m beloved by all,” her voice was sarcastic and she drooled as he handed her the glass and raised his eyebrows.

“By me especially,” he winked. Loki, forever the cheeky bastard.

“My biggest supporter,” she smiled and they clinked their glasses. 

Loki looked back down at his work, his forehead crinkled and his lip pulled between his teeth, she had an inkling to rip out the paper from under him but knew better to disturb him while he thought. It could be important afterall. 

So instead her eyes wandered, they moved to the ceiling tall bookcase to his right, spotting some of her favourites amongst his collection. She stood and walked towards the giant fish tank he had to his left and peered in, watching the exotic fish minding their business.

“Why can’t people be more like you,” she muttered under her breath and the red and blue fish with a tail that looked like it belonged to a feather dancer stared blankly back at her.

“They don’t like being stared at,” Loki chimed from his desk, his attention still on his papers. She sighed and fell back into the seat.

“Perhaps if you joined me for dinner and a drink or two I wouldn’t. Why are you working, work is off limits on our nights.” She was getting agitated, her entire week had been filled with work, forgetting about the normal stuff, the addition of the council and that damn god of spring was starting to give her a headache. “I’m sick of work! I just want a night off, please Loki.” 

“Well I’m sick of you being treated poorly by assholes who think they’re better.” His voice was stern and she leaned back for a second in shock at it. Loki was not often passionate about things. Unless someone had spoken poorly against him or, in Odysseus’ case injured his son and was just a “lying good for nothing asshole!” Loki fought when it was his reputation on the line, but this, this was different, the last time Hades had seen Loki fight for someone other than himself was when he went by Poseidon and they fought side by side with Thor, then Zeus, against their father. Hades prayed a war would not come of this strife that was forming between the Olympians.

“Thor told me what you’re doing, why didn’t you come to me about this? I would have told y-“

“You would have told me to stop, that it’s for nothing but I’m sorry to say Hades, you’re wrong.”  

Steve had his nose buried in his notebook while his mother went on about her campaign to “keep that wicked witch of the Underworld from getting her death grip on the council.” He sketched out the cornucopia from the gates, the flowers that had adorned it. The pages were covered in those sketches, one of her crown, how it was burned into his memory but he didn’t dare draw her face. Currently his pencil shaded a hand, with a vine twisted around it, the thorns piercing its skin and Steve couldn’t help but feel the prickle of the thorns in his own hand.

“Steve!” He jumped at the sound of his mother’s voice. The book slammed shut and he slid into his pocket as she dropped a clipboard into his hands. “Go around the council’s homes, get their signature. Thor needs proof that we will not stand for her to sit with us. We must band together in a time like this. I have no doubt the olympians will agree.” He dropped the clipboard onto the table and shook his head. She paid no attention to him, instead continuing her work as she wrote notes for the debate. “Sing your name too, we can’t forget about ourselves.”

He picked up the clipboard and walked out the door making his way out of the house towards Bucky’s home first. 

Bucky’s house always confused Steve, the interior and furniture changed every couple millennia but the outside, the general idea of it was always the same and it was never extravagant. Most homes in Olympus didn’t change much, they just added things to keep up with the times. Bucky’s home was basically a shack. A cabin in the woods. A beach house with the lake view to match. Made of dark wood with a porch that stretched around the entire front of the house. Bucky’s home was one that matched its owner in its entirety. Bucky was a relaxed man, he took things as they came and he was never very serious. It was one of the reasons Steve enjoyed his company so much because when his mother was up his ass or his work was being exceptionally hard Bucky was there with a pat on the back and a drink in his hand inviting him to watch the sunset over the water. 

They were best friends, could always count on one another no matter what, Steve knew that Bucky had his back always, and so he knew now that no matter how much Bucky disapproved of the situation he would still back Steve. 

“You’re mother is going to kill you.” Bucky sat leaning on his knees on the couch, his beer long forgotten about on the coffee table as he held the clipboard in one hand shaking his head at Steve. 

“Pretty sure she always kind of wants to kill me.”

“Never. You’re her special little boy, her one perfect creation,” Bucky cocked a smile at his friend who rolled his eyes back. 

“Shut up,” Steve leaned back and sipped at his own beer, watching it spin in his hands. It was a solid plan, if he went to the right people it would work, he could go behind his mother and her campaign and plead Hades’ case. Maybe even talk to Loki, though he wasn’t sure if Loki would believe him. He wasn’t overly sure if anyone would believe him. 

“You already know I’m on your side Steve. I know Hades, I remember the last time she sat on the council. She’s smart, she has the knowledge and the authority, she deserves to be there, but the younger gods, the once who have forgotten what she did, the ones that have never worked with her. They don’t know. They eat out of Demeter’s hands with all her bullshit about satan and how we ‘don’t need the dead in the business of the living’,” Bucky mocked Demeter, he was never afraid to do that in front of Steve, at first he felt slightly weird about it, like his mother would know if he ever spoke a bad word about her but he soon realised the Bucky was safe, he could be himself and say what he wanted without consequences, well, with little consequences. 

Steve thought about what Bucky had said, he knew that Bucky would be on his side, Bucky had never not shown support for Hades herself, just, ya know, the stupid shit Steve did in Hades…

But something stayed with Steve. ‘the ones that have never worked with her’, had Bucky worked with Hades? When would Bucky have to work with her? Bucky worked with the sun, he worked with prophecies and medicine, none of which concerned the dead.

“Start with Becca, she and I are one of the same, Pallas-Nat, she’ll be on your side too, I know she’s already talked to Loki about it. That’s who you should go to after, to him, if he knows, if he has confirmation from Nat, I know they hate each other because of Athens and Odysseus but he trusts her word, he trusts that she’ll choose the winning side.” Bucky went on and on about who Steve should see, who he knew that would be on his side.

He listened intently, took note and made a plan of what he should say to each. To Becca, goddess of the hunt, the best way was to talk to her about Bucky, they always fought side by side. To Natasha, goddess of wisdom, it was going to be harder. But if Bucky was right then she already agreed with Steve, they just needed to join forces.  

Hades,

I don’t know when you’ll get this, I plan on giving it to Peter to pass on, I know I can trust him to get this to you safely. There’s five days before the council debates and I thought you would appreciate an update as to what is happening in Olympus.

I imagine you have your own ways, maybe spies, Loki has probably discussed matters with you also. He said he had told you he would fight whether you liked it or not, how you told him that he was stubborn. You said I was stubborn as well, I guess I am, but I can’t help fighting for what I believe in. I believe in you. I believe that you should have a say and so do many of the others, Loki, Becca, Natasha, and Jane all agree with me. I think we actually have a shot but Loki thinks it will take your appearance to convince Thor and the lesser gods and nymphs that will be present.

I hope to see you there, please. 

Yours,

Steve 

Hades and Sam sat side by side on the balcony that overlooked the gates. They watched as night engulfed them and there was an eery silence between the two. A fresh argument still sitting between them, two sides of the same fight. 

Hades’ mind was fighting with itself, her guard was being torn down brick by brick as Loki and Steve tried to convince her to stand before the twelve Olympians. But Sam wasn’t a fan of the idea.

“What if it’s a trap,” he argued, “we don’t know what Demeter has up her sleeve,” he said, “we don’t need them!” He raised his voice and she let him get it all out.

“Are you finished yet?” She brushed her hand over her dress and looked at him as Sam nodded. “You’re right.” 

Sam was shocked at what she said, he expected her to rationalise her reasons, he expected her to tell him to mind his own business, to tell him that she would stand up for the Underworld. But she didn’t.

“I’m what now?”

“You’re right Sam. Everything about this is stupid. The living and the dead shouldn’t be mixed, bad things happen, bad things like husbands wanting to resurrect their wives, like people thinking they can make deals in order to mess with what is natural. They don’t respect us or what we do here, you’re right, it could be a trap. Demeter will make it a living hell for myself and the rest of you here if she can. You’re right, we don’t need them, we run things differently here, our systems aren’t the same.”

“Then what…” Sam looked at Hades in awe, there was fire in her eyes and he knew that look, she was sick of being undermined, she was angry, she was determined and if he knew her as well as he thought he did he knew what that look meant. She had a plan. “Then why are you considering it?”

“Because they need us.”

Chapter Seven: Here Comes Trouble

Permanent Taglist {27/50}: @witch-of-letters​​ @buckysmischief​​ @momobaby227​​@marvelsangels​​@weirdlyokaywithit​​ @disgustangg​​ @bucky-blogs​​ @sebbbystaaan​​ @geeksareunique​​@stuckonjbbarnes​​ @ellieisgae​​@mushyjellybeans​​ @lovesmesomehiddles​​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​​ @itsunclebucky​​@kitkatd7​​ @lokisironthrone​​@supraveng​​ @thinkoutsidethebex​​ @binkysteebnpewter​​ @starbxcks​​ @agent-barnes40​​ @theannoyingnightmarecollector​​ @starkerhowlter​​ @fckdeusername​​ @murdermornings​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​@wonderlandfandomkingdom​​

Release the Hounds Taglist {23/50}: @little-dark-empress @matsumama @anasteas @anjali750@brastrangled@moonchild-stark @kaithezaftig @fafulous @sucker-for-my-fandoms @truly-insatiable @nerdamongnerds@henderwhore4life @the-girl-of-many-fandoms1414 @brooklyn-1918 @elsasshole@powerful-vixen@dramaqueenarg @princess-evans-addict @lexy9716 @megzdoodle @majorcurious007 @king-seb @whenescapingdinosaurs​ @aikeia​

[spac3bar7end3r]

The Times Aziraphale Realized He Had Fallen (in love with a demon)

2128 words

Read on Ao3

1 Time Right After They Get on That Bus

Aziraphale feels too giddy to realize that he didn’t only grab the demon’s hand but is also cradling it in his hands, talking happily about their dinner.

“It’s already late. All the stores are gonna close soon and you don’t like pubs that much.” Crowley says, looking down at their intertwining hands but says nothing about them. Now that he takes notice, Aziraphale also glances down at them. He cannot see past the sunglasses, so he assumes Crowley doesn’t think much about it.

He feels his heart beats weirdly. Is this the effect of the Antichrist bringing his body back? He doesn’t think so. He felt like this from time to time since... well, he never takes note, but now it’s stronger than before.

“Angel?” Crowley calls him when he notices Aziraphale spacing out.

“Oh, well, I prefer a quiet place.” Aziraphale answers and Crowley acknowledges it with some kind of noise from his throat. 

“I was thinking maybe we can cook? Unless you don’t like cooking at your place then I totally under--”

“Yeah, we can.” Crowley quickly answers. “I’ve never used my kitchen before but you’re welcome to use it.”

Crowley’s kitchen is spotlessly clean. Well, it’s not like the demon needs to cook. They don’t even need to eat. However, Aziraphale appreciates the kitchen. He’s not sure why Crowley bothered to build it since he won’t ever use it anyway.

“Hey Angel, do you normally sleep? I have a spare room and I can miracle a bed for you.” Crowley’s head appears on the doorway. He takes off his glasses and Aziraphale is really glad for that. He really likes Crowley’s eyes.

“I don’t sleep but I lie on it sometimes. You don’t have to do that though, I can read some books in the living room. We’ve spent a lot of our power during the day.”

“Nah, It’s not that hard to miracle a bed, or if you want to spare my power we can sleep on the same bed.” Crowley grins.

Aziraphale blushes. He doesn’t know why. Although he likes the look on Crowley’s face. Although Crowley smiles a lot, most of the time it should be counted as sneering instead. But here in Crowley’s home, he smiles with eyes glinting and mouth spreading widely. Crowley’s being playful and he loves that.

He loves Crowley’s smile.

He loves Crowley.

…

..

.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s stupid. He’s an angel. He’s supposed to detect the feeling of love, but he can’t even recognize it when it comes from himself. 

“What?” Crowley’s eyebrows raising when he sees Aziraphale blushing.

“No, no, nothing at all.”

They had dinner later that evening (mostly Aziraphale’s part and Crowley just drank and stared). They talked about what ‘changing face’ from Agnes’s prophecy could be before they decide yes, literally changing face it is. Why not?

So that’s why he looks like Crowley, staring dazedly in Crowley’s bathroom mirror the morning after, waiting for what may come after.

“I’ll be damn.”

Aziraphale is not sure whether he cannot cope with the thought that Gabriel might come and get him or the thought of him falling in love with his best friend.

1 Time When Crowley Gives Him His Plant

“What’s this?”

“Mint,” Crowley answers curtly.

“And what do I do with it? Eat?”

Crowley rolls his eyes, pointing his hands at the pot in Aziraphale’s hands. “Angel, it’s in a bloody pot. You grow it.”

“Who? Me?” Aziraphale pointed at himself in a confused manner. Why would Crowley suddenly give him mint? Aziraphale doesn’t have something you would call a green thumb.

“Yesss! I’m giving it to you. A gift!” Crowley’s voice gets higher.

“A gift! Dear, thank you. What’s the occasion?” Aziraphale smiles brightly. He lowers his head to smell the fresh scent of the leaves.

“Ughhh…. Housewarming? You didn’t move but it’s technically a new home. Uh, since that Adam kid built it back and stuff.” Crowley mumbles.

“Oh, you’re so sweet.” Aziraphale smiles at Crowley, his heart feels warm. He tries to control it. He doesn’t know if Crowley still feels love like an angel or not but he’s not gonna risk it and make it weird.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m gonna put it in the book shop. Can’t wait to see it grow!” Aziraphale says chirpily.

“I will come and see it from time to time to make sure that it grows alright.” Crowley stares intensely at the plant in the pot. Its leaves shake lightly.

“Please do. I know you’re good at taking care of plants.” And I want you to visit me more often. Aziraphale didn’t say that out loud. He stares at the plant. It doesn’t look keen to meet Crowley often. Aziraphale wants to pity the poor plant, but he wants to see Crowley more.

1 Time When He Wants What Anathema and Newt Have

One Saturday morning Crowley decides to drive Aziraphale to Tadfield to visit Anathema. Anathema told them about Agnes’ book and how they decided to burn it while Newt is looking busy in the kitchen.

“I know it’s the best for them but a little part of me wants to know what Agnes wrote.”

“Probably something nice, and accurate,” Crowley says nonchalantly. Aziraphale gazes fondly at Crowley being Crowley. He knows it the same gaze Anathema used to look at Newt.

The only difference is they have each other while Aziraphale doesn’t have Crowley.

Ouch. That’s hurt a bit. Aziraphale doesn’t know where it hurts but still.

He has Crowley. Crowley is everywhere when he needs him. He always has dinner with Aziraphale. He even gave him plant! But Aziraphale wants more. He craves. He craves the longing look and the touching, the thing that humans do.

A part of him wishes Crowley would notice it but another part of him knows it would be a terrible idea.

“I want to know about something.” Like his future with Crowley. Did Agnes know about how Aziraphale would fall in love with a demon? He believes she did, but what would happen after this though?

“What? What do you want to know?” Crowley raises his left eyebrow, looking curious.

“Just...stuff,” Aziraphale answers. His gaze shifts to the window. “Oh look, the them are here! Let’s greet them.”

Aziraphale stands up abruptly and walks to the front door. Crowley knows the Angel is hiding something but he doesn’t know what it is.

1 Time When Crowley Realizes Aziraphale Has a Secret And Discover What It is

“This place has a lot of plants.” Crowley looks around, scrutinizing leaves and flowers of the plants inside the restaurant. It might be Aziraphale’s imagination but he feels the plants’ nervousness, or maybe that feeling is oozing from himself. He wants to make sure that Crowley likes it here.

“They do.” Aziraphale nods. “I think you would find it more interesting if there’s a place you can enjoy too.”

“What? I always enjoy myself every time I’m with you,” Crowley says easily and Aziraphale wants to smile. He knows Crowley doesn’t mean it like that but still, it’s good to hear that Crowley enjoy being with him.

“But you just always sit and stare. Well, and drink occasionally.”

“That’s how I enjoy myself.” Crowley takes a sip out of his glass. Aziraphale looks at the demon from under his lashes and smiles.

“But sometimes I enjoy talking too, you know.” Crowley interrupts the meal suddenly as if he’s been keeping to himself for a  while and wants to let it out.

“Yeah, dear, me too.” Aziraphale nods.

“Well, then…” Crowley shifts himself in his seat. He leans back and looks at Aziraphale’s face seriously before asking, “What’s with you lately? You’re keeping something from me. I can feel it.”

What?  This fast? Aziraphale thinks to himself.

“What do you mean?” The angel feigns casualness. He raises one of his eyebrows at Crowley.

“Angel, lately you’ve been...spacing out when we’re together. What are you thinking? Did those guys from Up There say something to you?” Crowley’s eyebrows knitting. He looks concerned and Aziraphale is beginning to panic.

Should he tell Crowley or should he not?

“Well, It’s been six thousand years, I ought to have a secret or two, don't I?” Aziraphale coughs lightly. He feigns ignorance as he picking vegetables on the plate. Crowley hums lightly.

“Secrets? I love secrets.”

And I love you. Aziraphale thinks to himself while looking at Crowley from under his eyelashes, blushing.

“What is it, angel? We don’t need to have secrets anymore, you know?”

“Erm--I will tell you, dear, when the time is right.” Aziraphale wipes the sweat on his forehead nervously (He has been living in this body for a long time, well, except that time with Madame Tracy, but he’s never realized he could sweat like this. Not even the time when God asked about her sword, not Armageddon, but this).

Crowley squints his eyes, looking like a snake, well he is a snake after all.

“When is the right time? Time is stupid,” Crowley says and Aziraphale shrugs.

Crowley is going to say something again but Aziraphale secretly signalled a waiter to come to their table and the conversation is interrupted.

- - -

Crowley’s fingers are lightly knocking at the steering wheel while they’re driving back to the city. Aziraphale can see that there’s something inside his best friend’s mind but he doesn’t want to speak it out. In case the demon still wants to know about his secret.

“That meal was so delightful, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale tries to change the subject, for the fourth time since they got inside the Bently.

“Yeah, I guess.” Crowley nods and looks outside the window.

“I noticed they had the same plants you have back in your pl--”

“Angel, what is your secret?” Crowley asks again. He doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about plants. At all.

Aziraphale knows that he likes--or even loves Crowley, but he’s never thought liking someone would be this hard to keep it to himself, even though he’s an angel, for god’s sake.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”

“I just want to know in case I can do something about it. I believe I can do something about it.” Crowley steps on the brake pedal before he turns his head completely to Aziraphale.

That’s it. He doesn’t care anymore if the demon knows or not.

“Fine! If you must know, Crowley, I’ve fallen!” Aziraphale lets his frustration out.

“What? Who told you? Gabriel?” Crowley looks around then looks at Aziraphale as if he’s expecting a pair of black wings coming out of his Angel’s back.

“No, I’ve fallen...in love…. with you.” Aziraphale sighs dramatically.

“Oh well, angel.” Crowley sighs, shaking his head.

Aziraphale swallows. Is this where Crowley says Aziraphale is spending too much time on earth and thinks too much like a human?

“Took you long enough.” Crowley smiles. He steps on the gas pedal and before Aziraphale knows it, they’re already parking in front of the book shop.

And The Time When Crowley Confesses That He Has Fallen Twice

“You expect me to fall? I mean--to fall in love with you?”

“Well, yes! It’s normal to want the feelings to be reciprocated, isn’t it?”

“Reci--Crowley, are you saying what I’m thinking?”

Crowley rolls his eyes, “Yes, Aziraphale, I am hopelessly, stupidly, in love with you,” Crowley says, leaning back on his seat.

“But I--”

“I hope you would fall for me. Well, not literally fall like me but being romantically in love with me. I’ve been hoping that for years.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley then look at the world outside the Bentley, to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating.

“You know...I’ve fallen twice.”

Aziraphale tilts his head. He doesn’t understand what the demon means.

“First time was up there and the second one was with you.” Crowley nods his head to Aziraphale’s direction. “I fell in love with a bloody angel, a stupid one,” Crowley complains. “I mean, I think I was pretty obvious--I knew I was pretty obvious, with all the invitations, gifts, dates--”

“Those were dates?”

“Oh my god, Aziraphale, YES.”

“Gifts? I thought you were just generous.”

“Have you ever seen me being generous elsewhere?”

“I thought it was because we’ve known each other for a really long time!”

Crowley rolls his eyes again. Aziraphale thinks Crowley’s mannerisms remind him of the them (but more adorable). But before he can tell his remark to Crowley, the demon moves closer and lightly kisses Aziraphale mouth, then softly brushes his mouth to the angel’s nose.

“Still not convinced?”

Aziraphale folds his lips and looks at the amber eyes in front of him, “I may need more of your persuasion.”

[latina4rmbx]

Purpose Driven Life...

Before you get in a huff, I know the title above is the title to a Religious Diary.  I have one, someone very dear to me gave me. However, this is not totally religious.  Now, notice I said “NOT TOTALLY?”  Well, when it comes to living your purpose or finding your purpose in life, it’s kind of difficult to ask those questions without mentioning a higher power driving you.  Get it?  No?  You will.

I will admit, I am a person who is random.  I will randomly reach out to people I haven’t communicated with in years, just because they were on my mind.  I will randomly sing a song because it’s stuck in my head and I will randomly ask a question, because this is what I do.

What if I tell you, my randomness isn’t..well, for lack of a better term...random?  What if there is a rhyme and reason for everything I do (I can’t speak on anyone else BUT myself) even if I don’t know it at the time I do it?  You may think I’m talking about a higher power controlling me or the universe or the spirits that guide me.  Whatever you call it, I’ve realized, my randomness is NOT random.

For the record, I will say, not every time I want to reach out to someone I do it.  I think of them, wonder how they’re doing, pray for them - hoping they’re well - and then go about my life.  There are some doors that need to remain closed, and for the most part, I’m good on maintaining this level of closure.

Yesterday I reached out to a dear friend of mine.  Mind you, we probably converse once every few months.  Not because there isn’t love there, there is an abundance, but life being what it is.  You know the story.  I reached out as I was driving, because she was on my mind heavy.

SIDE NOTE:  This is the little sister of an ex of mine.  He passed away a couple of years ago.  His death anniversary and his birthday are days apart.  So whenever August/September rolls around I think of her very much.  She was my rock during this ordeal and I hope I was hers.

I reach out to her on some “what’s up? how you doin’?” type but something compelled me to ask a simple question:  “Are you happy?”  Now, it may be an innocent question however, I know this womans life story.  I know her parents, her brothers, he children, her love and her heart break.  Without getting into detail, she has suffered a lot of constant heartbreak.  When I say “constant,” I mean, it was one thing after another after another and she didn’t get a break from it.  Me, being witness to part of her heartbreak, I had to ask.  She has recently taken control of her life and I am so proud of the woman she IS and has always been.

SIDE NOTE:  I am a very honest person.  Honest to a fault.  Don’t get me wrong I have lied, here and there, but when it really counts, I will be honest because it’s what I expect from those around me.  Those who can be honest with me, regardless of how it makes them look (honest about themselves) or how it will make me feel (honest about me) are those who I treasure most.  But I digress...

Her response was a very short and appropriate one:  “  Wow that’s pretty deep!  It’s okay that you didn’t to text me.  He was definitely on my mind.  Am I happy....I’m not where I want to be but I’m nowhere near where I was in the dark.  I’m on the right track to my happiness.  What made you ask me that?  How about you?  Are you happy??

Well, didn’t she just lob that question right back at me?  “I am happy.  Very.  I had to choose to be.”

Now, here is where things take a very meaningful turn.

This is something I have been vocal about, but not really on social because frankly it’s no ones business, until I allow it to be someone’s business.  Again, without getting into too much detail, Bebesito and I had been going through a really rough patch.  At the end of the day, I allowed my insecurities override my happiness.  More on that in another blog...MAYBE

HER:  “So you worked things out with your boyfriend?  Last time we spoke there was some things going on.”

Since I was driving, I sent her a series of audio texts, explaining myself.  

EXCERPT:  “Since I forgave him, and he’s really trying, I decided to change my attitude.  I had to change the way I was approaching him and life because everything was getting me down.  I depressed.  I was crying all the time.  I was hurt all the time and we were arguing all the time.  Something just clicked.  I don’t know why, I don’t know how.  I thank God that it happened.  I didn’t want to feel that way anymore.  I didn’t feel hopeless, but I felt worthless.  I decided to be happy and it’s working.  Just for your knowledge (and I guess the knowledge of my 4 readers) I really want to be with him and I knew the way I was approaching him was not going to give me that end result.  He was going to leave me.”

MIND YOU:  He has never said if I don’t change he’s going to leave.  However, there is but so much badgering a person can take.  

EXCERPT CONT:  “It was like I was fulfilling a prophecy I didn’t want to come true.  The change has been recent.  I decided - this is who he is.   There are things I don’t like about him, but I also think it’s a man thing.  You have to sometimes tell them.”

Then I go into a quick example - here’s what happened:  I went on vacation for a week.  When I returned home, a fuse blew at the apartment and all of my food in the fridge spoiled.  I mean it was hot and bugs were growing, so the fuse tripped probably at the start of my trip.  Anywho, I tell my boyfriend because he’s my best friend and I tell him everything. His replies to me were “that’s crazy.  I’m so sorry.  damn babe..”  Etc.  But he never offered help.  THAT incensed me, because I’m like dude, you eat here practically every day, why don’t you offer to help me?  I had made up my mind that if he didn’t offer to help, I was going to leave him.

FELLAS:  This is really how women think and you never know how close you come to being left on a daily.  I’m not saying it’s your fault.  I’m just saying, pay better attention.

I don’t think me wanting to leave him because he didn’t offer to help me was fair to him.  Mind you, I am a woman who always gets shit done.  I don’t know how but I figure out a way, always.  He knows this.  So in his mind, I don’t think he would even think to offer help, because I always figure it out.  Not saying it’s right, just saying that’s what it is.  

Then I thought about unfair it was to him.  Also, I was so stressed out and probably wasn’t thinking clearly on the verge of tears.  So I asked him, listen, can you give me money for groceries.  Actually what I said was:  I feel weird asking this, however if I don’t ask, I won’t know.  Can you give me money for groceries?  And his response was “of course.”  

To think, a few minutes prior, I was thinking about leaving him.    I am learning that I can’t assume someone knows my situation, and this includes him.

I couldn’t continue trying to have him live up to this expectation, when he had no clue what I was expecting of him.  There I vowed to change.  I feel lighter and easier.  I feel better, Our relationship is better.  We talk more. We talk to each other which is one of the reasons why I am able to choose to be happy.  

I ended the messages to her saying:  I feel proud of how far we’ve come.  He and I, we’ve come far and we’re both willing to make it work...regardless of the mistakes.

Let me remind you, I haven’t spoken to her in a few months.  I knew her situation and how she was getting away from it.  I understood where she was coming from and knew what she felt she had to do to get to happy.  However, I didn’t know that my story about my rotten food was going to make her tear up.

IN A NUTSHELL:  Women who have had to be strong their entire lives, have a hard time relying on anyone.  And when someone wants to help, genuinely help, we always think there’s an underlying reason and we are leery.  This is the toxicity of women that we refuse to discuss.  We take on so much that we don’t let men be men and then wonder why they leave us.  Well, we show them time and again we don’t need them and men need to feel needed.  It’s the Masculine/Feminine that we have give and get.  Men need to be needed and women need to be wanted.  Not through any fault of their own.  This is where Daddy issues and generational curses come into play.  But this is where we are in this story.

So she explains to me what’s been happening in her life and the fact that I am choosing to be happy and letting the past be the past and forgiving and allowing myself to be forgiven, all to be happy, she had some giving up of herself to do too.  

Mind you, when I asked “Are you happy?”  I had no idea what was happening in her life.  I just knew she was starting a new one.  I was genuinely curious to know if she was happy with the choices she made.  I mean, I am nosy that way.  I didn’t know how deep of an impact those words can have on another human.  Especially, when one has been so unhappy for a long time.  You sometimes have to sit back and really think about what’s being asked.  Something as simple as asking, “Are you happy?” can cause a person to reevaluate their lives.

I ended up telling her, I guess this is MY purpose in your life.  To push you forward.  To check in from time to time and make sure you get to happy.  Whether it’s uprooting your family and moving to another state.  Saying YES to that man, because you’ve been hurt so many times before.  Saying NO to someone you love because they hurt you, etc.  

I don’t know if this is my purpose in life.  To tell the stories from my perspective and my experiences.  Maybe someone is going through something similar and needs to know they aren’t alone.  Please note, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  

From the bottom of my heart, I hope my blog, at the very least helps someone feel like they are not alone.  We are all human and go through things in our lives that make us question “What is my purpose?”  Maybe your purpose is to guide someone else.  This doesn’t have to be literal in response.  I hope you all live your purpose.

Thanks for reading.

XOXO

[zephyrbcll]

The Love Notes, part 1

February 15th

Good morning, baby.

Except maybe it won’t be morning when you read this, I don’t know, but right now it’s morning and you’re beside me suffering a truly terrible (okay, yes, adorable) case of bedhead. I think you’re also drooling, but it’s okay, you’re still cute.

Last night you said love notes would make you swoon and I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how to write a swoon worthy love note. For all I know, I could hand this to you and you could give it back with my spelling mistakes corrected (In my defense, American doesn’t love the letter ‘u’ as much as the UK). I haven’t looked up collections of love notes for tips, but I figure the general point is to write about your affection, right? So I should be able to manage that.

You’re a revelation, you know that?

No of course you don’t. And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you that. Or maybe you would after last night, I don’t know, but I know that I didn’t expect you. I know I wouldn’t be nearly as happy without you. Hell, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling anything at all, I had my head shoved pretty far up my own ass until you walked by.

And you know, I don’t really remember what first caught my attention about you? I think I heard more about you than anything else in the beginning and I just started noticing you and then it was like I couldn’t look away.

I didn’t expect to like you. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you, but I did, and now I’m going to write it down in note after note for you and I’m going to give them all to you on your birthday so you’ll have a reminder for exactly how I feel about you even when I’m not there.

Good morning, baby. I love you.

February 19

It’s really cute sometimes how you wonder what I’m telling my family about you. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s why you asked about what I’m writing, it’s not my fault if you assume I’m writing to my family and not to you.

They adore you, by the way.  Or at least my dad does, he thinks you sound charming and like a ‘calming influence’, which is both annoying and accurate. Yes, you keep me calm, we all know that, but does he have to call me out on it?

My grandma apparently sniffed and said that at least you’re not a gypsy, but she’s withholding judgement for now. Considering that he didn’t approve of my dad until I was a toddler, I think this means that she likes you, but doesn’t want to admit it. Besides, her family recipes are staying alive thanks to you, so I’m sure she’s a little grateful.

My point is, you’ve won my entire family over and they’ve never even met you. Maybe they just see how fondly I write about you and they adore you for that, they love you because I love you, or maybe you’re so damn charming that your appeal crosses oceans. 

I think they’re glad I found you, and I am, too. You don’t need to ever worry about what I’m writing about you because everything I’ve ever said about you has only made them know how completely and utterly gone I am for you.

Every time I hear from them now, they want me to tell you hello. Maybe one day they can say it themselves.

February 23

I’m pretty sure that your coworkers think that any time I show up, I’m going to drag you off somewhere to have my wicked way with you. I’m not entirely sure if they like me or not.

But I like you, so there we go. I like seeing if I can spot you through the windows first, I like seeing the way you change when you see me come in. Not trying to sound too egotistical here, but it’s like you light up and it’s a good feeling to know that I can do that to you. 

Do that for you.

I don’t come in just to feel you up, by the way. The truth is that seeing you lights up my day, too. I can’t think of why it should matter so much, but I like hearing about whatever book you may have picked up on a whim, I like seeing how animated you get if there’s a customer you want to complain about. I like seeing you opinionated and alive with how much you feel. Maybe that’s why you made me more appreciate of what’s around me, it’s because you care so much about everything that it just bleeds out.

You don’t always have to be like that. I know you have bad days and sometimes you’re going to be tired, you’re not going to have something to talk about and that’s okay. 

I’m not going to get bored. I’m not going to get offended on the days you don’t light up. Days like that are for pulling you aside and wrapping you up in my arms. They’re for naps and staying in if we can. 

They’re for chocolate, too.

Have you gotten tired of getting chocolate every day yet? I doubt it, not with the way you love it. I actually didn’t buy as much as I expected and it was on sale, I want to remind you, so no fussing. Besides, I like being able to surprise you with gifts, even if it’s just small things. 

Actually, I like surprising you with small things more, I think.

I hope you like this surprise when you get it. You deserve a novel and god knows I could fill a book with everything I want to say about you, so don’t think these letters are going to stop, not as long as my heart still beats.

February 25 

This letter is a cheat.

I haven’t see you today and I don’t see you right now, but dear fucking god, I do when I close my eyes.

I’ve been writing about you when I’m with you or after I see you, I want to explain to you what I like about you around the time it happens so that you know it’s real and you know what I think about you. The reason I’m writing to you now isn’t real, not unless I’ve suddenly become skilled in divination and had a prophecy. In which case, dear god, are you going to make my dick happy. 

Cancel that, you already make my dick happy.

If you haven’t guessed you, I dreamed about you tonight. Congratulation. You, Remus John Lupin, are literally the man of my dreams.

You don’t even need to be here in order to get me off, because I woke up hard and aching and so goddamn certain you were real that I was confused when I felt only bed sheets, but I didn’t hesitate to jerk myself off when I realized you weren’t here to touch. 

You were gorgeous, you know. And maybe you think it was just a dream, of course I’d enjoy a dream, but I think you’re gorgeous all the time. I know how pink your mouth turns after I kiss you again and again, I know the way you moan when I slide my fingers inside you. I know the way you shudder when I pin you down and how your back arches when you can’t hold on anymore.

There are still some things I don’t know, but I’ll find out one day. We’ll see if you like sex face to face, your legs wrapped around my waist while I keep your arms pinned over your head or if you’d rather have your face pressed into the sheets, muffling your moans while I ram into you from behind. It would be so easy to spank you like that, watch your ass turn red and see it swallow up my cock.

That’s not what I dreamed about, if you were wondering. I still need to find the right chair for your reading room, but that’s where we were and you were beginning, you were being so sweet and saying please while I pulled your hair, your body clamping down around me while I marked up your neck and you were so pretty, baby, you were so good for me.

But you always are, aren’t you? My good boy.

Mine.

February 28

I can’t believe I’ve never noticed you chewing on a pen before, but goddamn. Ever since that dream, it’s like every fucking thing you do turns into a porn situation inside my mind. You bend over and those tight pants pull across your ass and I think about how loud you’d get if I yanked your jeans down your legs and licked you open. You rub at your neck and I think about how I need to put more hickeys on you, how you should be wearing bitemarks and bruises everywhere.

The jut of your hips, the curve of your jaw, across your rib cage and on your thighs. And your neck, of course. I like the idea of them hiding under your clothes, knowing it would be so simple for someone to see one, that all that needs to happen is for your warm, soft sweater to slip to one side and show off the slope where your neck becomes your shoulder to put my teeth marks on display. It would be a blatant sign that you belong to someone and I love it.

Yes, I belong to you, too.

That’s why you’re going home with me tonight. Or I’m going with you, I don’t care, I just want to be around you. 

And not for orgasms, I want to wrap around you in bed and listen to the little noises you make when I rub your back while you fall asleep. I want to wake up wrapped around you and make you tea after you finally wake up and frown because it’s morning.

It’s sappy, I know, but I’ve told you since the beginning that I don’t want just sex. I want you. I want special days like holidays and normal days like lazy weekends, I want big moments and small moments and I didn’t expect it, but what I’m saying is I want everything with you.

Maybe that wedding made me sentimental, I don’t think I’d even blame you for calling me a romantic right now. You know something funny? Everyone always talks about how pretty the bride looks, but I don’t really remember her dress, I guess I wasn’t paying attention. 

I can close my eyes and picture you perfectly.

March 1 

Are you still worried about your nightmares scaring me off, Remus? 

Nothing about you scares me, not your dreams and not your monthly mood swings, but sometimes I get scared for you. I get worried when you go on missions sometimes and come back bruised, I don’t like it, but that’s normal, I think. 

Worrying about you, but the bruising, too, likely. 

And this isn’t some big thing where I think you can’t take care of yourself or I think you’re fragile or incapable or some shit like that. I know you’re strong, I know you’re a survivor, so it has nothing to do with doubting you and everything with just wanting you to be okay.

Admit it, you wouldn’t be happy if I showed up bloody and bruised. You don’t even like when I get Howlers and those don’t hurt.

You seem like you’re sleeping peacefully, but I can’t right now. I don’t know why, but I can’t sleep. It’s okay, it just means I can watch over you for when your dreams turn troubled. I’ll be right here, baby, I’ll fight off anything that comes for you. I’ll keep the demons at bay.

I promise.

March 2

Bore da.

I’ve been practicing, do you like it?

Not that I’ve actually said it out loud to you yet. I don’t know if I’d actually say it right, but I’m trying to learn at least a few Welsh phrases. You’d probably appreciate if I learned something other than good morning, right? Diolch is thanks, I think. Croeso is welcome.

It’s not much, but it’s something. You’re asleep again right now and honestly, you look terrible, but that’s what happens after the moon, so it’s not unexpected, but the point is that you’re asleep and we’re in your flat and I guess technically I am home with you, but one day you’re going to take me home to Wales and I’m going to play tourist and send pictures back home to America. 

Home. Funny word, isn’t it? Is Wales home or is your flat home? Can you have more than one home?

America is my childhood home now, I guess. It’s home, but a home I’ve grown out of and left. I don’t know if my flat is home yet, but I think it’s getting there and I think that’s happening because of you.

Or who knows, maybe you’re my home.

March 6

I’m going to take up knitting. I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided it would be a good activity for me. I can knit you new sweaters and fill your bedroom up with them and you’ll always have something new to wear that I made you and I, in return, wouldn’t feel the need to set all your roommate’s shirts on fire to keep you from grabbing one of them by accident.

I can picturing you frowning right now, but stop it. I know you didn’t put it on. You stopped the moment I noticed, and you put on exactly what I wanted you to. You were so goddamn good for me. I’m not really sure if you understand why this matters to me, but it does and having you listen has never stopped being a rush.

Plus, you look fucking good in my Ilvermorny shirt.

Not that you didn’t look good at the dinner party tonight. You looked far more edible than any of the food and it would have been a shame to have you change into something more comfortable if it didn’t mean seeing you naked.

Plus, as already mentioned, I like you in my clothes. And getting into something comfortable means cuddle time. I’m tempted to say that you might be right that I’m the teddy bear between us.

If any of those words up there are hard to read and look like I temporarily forgot how to write, it’s your fault. You keep squirming and you make a terrible writing desk even if it is nice to be able to reach down and pet you while I think or try to tickle you with the end of the quill. 

Pens are better, by the way.

And I just got distracted playing with your hair, so now I’ve lost my train of thought. I can’t help it, I like having you sprawled across my lap, but I need to finish this before you get bored.

Thank you for inviting me. Yes, I know, I’m the suitable person to invite and all that, you told me already, but you didn’t have to. Tonight felt like being invited into part of your life I haven’t been in yet and it mattered. 

It was nice, your friends are nice, and I’ll go out to a dinner party with you any time. 

Quickies in the bathroom are even optional.

March 10

You said not to make a fuss on your birthday and I haven’t. A few bookshelves, nothing fancy. A cupcake instead of a cake, one candle instead of many. The only other thing I have for you is the book I’m giving you with the letters I’ve written over the past few weeks. They’re supposed to be love letters, but they all feel like they fall short of that title. 

It’s early and I know you won’t wake up yet, so I have one more chance to write you a love note worth swooning over, so here it goes. Please try not to laugh.

I wasn’t planning on liking you. I didn’t even care too much if I made you feel better than first time we spoke, but the more I talked to you… I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how you did it, but I started caring about something besides my own anger and pain for the first time since I showed up in this country. You got past all my defenses and I never even noticed because I was too busy wanting more of you.

More of your story, more of your anger, more of your quick fucking wit that could cut anyone if you let it. I wanted any and all of it, just as long as it meant I got more of your time, too. 

I didn’t really think about what that meant. I didn’t care about why because it was just good to find someone interesting, someone that made all of the buzzing stop until I was calm for the first time in what felt like forever. You shouldn’t have been able to do that, not when you were as upset as you were, but you still did.

Even on your bad days, you’re good for me, Remus, you don’t even need to try.

I was self-destructing and you were the only thing that made me stop. You worried even if you didn’t care and I couldn’t have that, I cleaned up my act and you became my top concern. I wanted to see you happy, I wanted to see you smile. I wanted you to be okay. I still want that, I just want it more now, and maybe a little differently.

I guess what I mean is it’s personal now. I want to be the one that gets to take care of you, not someone else.

When I think about my future, you’re in every day I can imagine.

I don’t believe in perfect people, you have flaws and so do I, but somehow they’ve left us with jagged edges that fit together like pieces of a puzzle and if such a thing is possible, then just maybe you’re perfect for me. 

I want so many things with you. I want to finish your reading room and I want to take you on spontaneous adventures that would have thrilled the kid you used to be. I want to buy you books and close them when you fall asleep reading and I want to kiss you good morning even when you fuss about tea.

The fact I even like you when you kick me out of bed shows how whipped I am, doesn’t it?

But I think we both know by now that I more than like you. I think it was true before I ever realized it and I never noticed how I felt because I never thought about it. It was the most natural thing in the world for me to want to give you everything. I won’t try to call it a gift, but I hope you know that you have all of me.

Happy birthday, baby. I love you.

April 18, 1980

I think I may surprise you with lunch today.

Well, I say surprise, but it’s not much of a surprise since I told you, is it? But this day seems to keep dragging on and I want to see you and I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t see you if I want to.

Have you even had breakfast yet? Have you crawled out of bed? Maybe I should just bring lunch to you and curl up behind you for a nap afterwards, it doesn’t really matter to me.

I know this month has been rough on you. You’ve lost more than anyone would want to imagine and no amount of looking on the bright side is going to get rid of that pain yet, but I love you. I’m here even when it hurts and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going away, I’m just going to come closer to you. 

My baby, my good boy, my love, you’re all those and more and there’s no way I could give you up without a fight now. The days are difficult, but what we have is stronger than diamonds.

That was supposed to sound kinda poetic, but that’s probably not my best skill. The point is this. Sometimes life sucks. Sometimes we’re going to be mad at the world and sometimes we’ll be mad at each other, but it doesn’t mean I’m not still yours at the end of the day and you’re not still mine. Life sucks, but we’re going to make it through it together.

And we’re going to start. I’ll even bring you fish and chips with goddamned vinegar if that’s what gets you to smile.

God, your smile kills me. I don’t think I can see you smile without smiling back. I just can’t do it.

Only a few more hours, baby. I’ll see you soon.

April 19, 1980

The last time I wrote you one of these love notes was yesterday, but it feels like the entire world has changed since then. 

Not the way I feel about you, of course, but dear god, I think I've found something new to love you for and at this point, I think it's best I just give up and accept the fact that I'm never going to have any clue how fucking deep I really am for you because I never could have pictured this moment. Then again, I never pictured having kids at all, you know? 

I swear to you, Remus, I never knew about Katie. I never even suspected. She is one of a kind and I wouldn't have blamed you at all for wanting to walk. It would have broken my heart, but come on, you didn't see this coming, either, did you?

Have you ever pictured it? Waking up one day and hearing the sound of feet running around a house, kids giggling and calling you dad? i don't know if you've ever secretly imagined being a parent, but it's something I always figured I wasn't cut out for. I still might not be, but right now I know that I want to be. Right now, you're asleep next to me and Katie is curled up next to you, she's holding onto your finger and drooling and I'm so in love with this image that my heart fucking hearts.

I know neither of us give a fuck about our ages, no matter what I say about me being an old man. I know you're not a kid, I know you're smarter and more mature than I am, but christ, I have to admit, when I was holding Katie alone, I remember thinking that fuck, you're so young. You just turned twenty (your birthday may or may not have been one of the best days of my life) and and part of my brain thinks that's too young to have a kid, but then again, my parents were old when they had me.

But then I thought about it. Twenty is young to be in a war, isn't it? Twenty is young to lose a parent, but if you compare it to Katie, it's old. So fuck that. It's your choice, it's your life, you're an adult and you decide what you're ready for and what you want.

And right now, looking at the two of you? That's what I want. I want you and her, I want to be able to call you both mine, you're my family. And I love you. I loved you yesterday and I love you now, just like I'm going to love you tomorrow.

I hope you and Katie enjoy your nap, baby. Sleep well and sweet dreams, we're in for a hell of a ride.

May 16, 1980

I've decided you and I need a date night.

Before you start trying to figure things out and schedule, don't. We're going out tomorrow night and I already arranged for someone to keep Katie all night. We don't have to worry about if we get drunk, we don't need to worry about getting home at a certain time or if she gets upset, it's just going to be you and be and we can sleep in the morning after, too. It will be good, I promise.

And if you're wondering what's brought this on, I'll tell you. I don't want you to forget that you're special or loved. We may have a kid, but that doesn't mean letting the spark die.

I don't know when it will happen, but tomorrow night, at some point, I'm going to press against you from behind and make it a point to murmur against your ear that you're my favorite guy in the world, that you're my important person and the goddamn love of my life. You deserve to be made to feel like it night after night, but I'm going to make a special amount of effort tomorrow. 

I'm going to make you feel so good. I'm going to make sure you know how much I appreciate you and make sure you know you're still going to have nights all to yourself as well as little moments stolen during Katie's nap time. 

Well, if you're not napping, too. It's fucking adorable when you nap together, you know. Might want to think about a nap, actually, because I don't know how much sleep you'll be getting tomorrow.

May 22, 1980

I'm sorry I'm such an asshole.

I love you, I need you to remember that.

I fucked up.

I've tried three times to start this letter and I don't know which part I'm supposed to say first. I know we've already talked about our fight, but I want you to have a written record of things, too. Next time we have a fight, I want you to be able to come back and read this because yes, we're probably going to fight again. Hopefully not about the same subject and hopefully for a long time, but I think it will happen.

We're not perfect, Remus, I know this. I've always known we'd fight, but i didn't think it would be like that. I shouldn't have yelled. I know that, I shouldn't have yelled and I'm sorry. I never want to scare you and I never want to wonder if something is going to happen that will result in you getting hurt. I'm going to work on that, baby, I promise you.

We're not always going to agree and that's okay, we'll figure it out. We'll talk it out and we'll try to figure out the problem and look, I'm not going to lie, our fight hurt. We wouldn't have been fighting so much if it didn't hurt. But that doesn't stop me from loving you. I love you more than our fights and our arguments. We'll work on our problems and we'll get through it, we'll learn how to deal with it together.

I'm an asshole and you're a sarcastic little shit. Maybe it should be a surprise that it took so long for us to fight, but it happened and I'm sorry for upsetting you. I love you and I'll give you a list of reasons why if I need to.

Maybe you should do that. Ask me, Remus. Ask me all the ways you make me fall in love with you.

May 28, 1980

It's weird coming home to an empty house.

It's not really empty. Katie's here and so is Firebolt, but she's asleep and the cat probably is, too. You're not here, and maybe it means I'm spoiled, but you're nice to come home to.

I thought of asking you about moving to Bulgaria once, I don't think I ever told you that. After they invited creatures to immigrate there because of that idiot political candidate, I thought maybe life would easier for you there, but it's not about easy. I know you and I know me, neither of us are really going to leave here with everything going on right now, not forever. Maybe one day we'll live in Wales or France or Spain, but we're needed here right now.

I"m not going to run away from that. Not from the war and not from you. When you come back, I want you to remember that you're stuck with me. No receipts, no returns.

I think Katie misses you, I know I do. I miss your smart mouth, sassing off at me when you're feeling like a brat or spouting off some fact that no one else knows because you're the smartest guy in the room. It's your mouth I noticed first, and for completely innocent reasons, so don't even think I don't like your attitude. And yeah, sometimes I enjoy getting onto you for your attitude, too, but I like to think you enjoy it.

You know what, I'm going to keep going.

I enjoy the way you get under my skin, the way that you make me reaction ways that no one else does and how you get me to come alive. I feel like you make me learn and grown as a person and let me tell you, there's a school full of teachers that tried that for years and you've got them all beat. Yes, including my History teacher. Feel smug. 

I love the way your face lights up when you laugh. But a specific laugh. I can picture it in my head, it's carefree and makes you look like you stopped worrying for a minutes and it gives you these little wrinkles while your eyes shine. I can't believe you have me so wrapped around your finger that I"m weak for a laugh, but I knew I was doomed to that months ago. You should come with a warning sigh, Remus Lupin, making stomachs flip with just a sound.

And I love you for opening up to me. I love you for trusting me even when I screw up. I love you for messing up with me and that fact that you and I are learning and improving together because I don't know if I've ever had that with someone else. Even if I have, I know it wouldn't be the same because no one else is you.

Come home safely.

June 19, 1980

I know you and Katie are out doing bonding errands or something like that right now, but you missed the post and we just got a letter about Katie's one year check up. You probably have no idea why I'm writing you a letter about a check up reminder (yes, I wrote it in the calendar on the fridge, it's fine), but it made me think of something. It seems weird that she's already going to be a year old, she wasn't that grown up when she came here, right? 

So, I consulted the calendar and you know what I realized? You and I have been parents for two months as of today. Two months doesn't seem like a long time, but that's longer than it feels. Didn't we just have that party to con diapers and baby wipes out of everyone? Aren't we still consulting baby books whenever anything seems odd with her? Okay, maybe you're not, maybe you have the milestones and worries for the next three months memorized, but I like to double check. My point is, when did it get to be two months?

I still end up with this weird feeling sometimes in my chest when I see the two of you curled up asleep. It's not exactly butterflies, more like bone deep contentment. A slow, calming reminder that yes, you are mine. You're my family and I"m going to take care of you. And I’m lucky to have you, you know? 

But it seems like I shouldn't be having moments like that still after two months, that I would have adjusted to it. But I hope that I always have them. Not every time, but every so often, after it's been weeks of temper tantrums and job schedules, when life has been busy or hectic or stressful or whatever negative term you want to attach to it. I hope I don't ever have a last time where I look at the pair of you and have everything go quiet because for one single, peaceful moment, I get to appreciate what I want. Because both of you deserve better than to be taken for granted.

I'll try not to be too mushy and sentimental when you get back, but if I kiss you hard as soon as you walk through the door, this letter will let you know where. Here's to two months as parents, baby, and a hell of a lot longer.

[parismemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM FRANKENSTEIN: A NEW MUSICAL (PART 1)

PRELUDE

“i am the innocent.” “i am the damned.” “i am not a madman!” “i can hear my name!” “his story is the prophecy of nightmares.”

A GOLDEN AGE

“life no more is mystery.” “the world’s at our command.” “a golden age is truly upon us.” “one man with knowledge can change the world.” “monumental things await.” “the future is a banquet and it’s time for us to dine.” “i think i’ve discovered something extraordinary.” “there’s no secret that mankind will not one day know.” “how will i manage without you?”

FIND YOUR WAY HOME / A GOLDEN AGE, PT. 2

“now you must leave us to follow your heart.” “let your spirit soar.” “know that if ever you fall, i will be there through it all.” “anywhere i go you will always be near.” “someday i’ll make you so proud.” “this golden age is yours for the taking.” “how can someone who was the light of our world be suddenly gone forever?” “i have discovered the secret of life.”

AMEN

“we find your ideas to be shocking, dangerous, and an affront to all that is moral.” “the dead have nothing to say to you.” “i curse the day that i was born into a world so black with hate.” “i had my sins, like any man.” “if it is i you choose to damn, innocent blood will stain your hands forevermore.” “your kind has no place but the grave.” “soon, you will know eternal pain.” “who dares to act as god?” “a heart is beating, then it’s done.” “what i have found was thought impossible.” “the very fate of all mankind is in this mind, and in these hands.” “if no man shall mourn for me, i’ll trust in you.”

BIRTH TO MY CREATION

“little minds have belittled my dream.” “i want the world to see where brave research and bold experiments have led.” “i could spare the world the anguish of loved ones taken in their prime.” “the glory of a brave new world will someday soon be mine.” “i’ll discover the secrets between the alchemists and god.” “my mission is this: to write a new tomorrow.” “the world will be forever changed.” “a new day has come.”

1:15 AM

“pulse: 56 beats for minute. weak, but steady.” “can you hear me?” “live, damn you.” “pulse: 32. barely measurable.” “it’ll likely be dead within the hour.”

DEAR VICTOR / BURN THE LABORATORY

“please know that we miss you.” “are you consumed with study?” “i only ask for compromise.” “my dream begins with you.” “it pains me so to have to keep this secret from you.” “i’m so ashamed that this is all my many months of work have come to.” “please answer.” “i have no words to soothe her.” “what is missing?” “why do i shut them out?” “without you, our house is not a home.” “you must never know.” “have i left my greatest work and all my dreams behind me burning?”

THE HANDS OF TIME

“won’t you allay our fears?” “such troubling news we’ve heard.” “yet from you, my trusted friend, there’s silence.” “could he not stay here at our side?” “could we change the world?” “what were you doing locked up in that laboratory?” “what if we never meet again?” “the silent bonds we share with family are those that shall endure.” “a young boy needs a brother’s hand to guide him.” “reverse the ever-twisting hands of time.”

YOUR FATHER’S EYES

“his father alone knows the pain in his heart.” “i know you are troubled today.” “as long as i breathe, you are never alone.” “there is always one person who believes in you.” “i strongly urge you to pursue a path that will not lead to further destruction.” “life can be hard.” “surely someone must know something.”

THE CREATURE’S TALE PT. 1

“you abandoned me--left me for dead.” “i’ve searched for you for a very long time.” “the time has come for you to answer for your sins.” “i will not hear you!” “it is you that is the author of my misery.”

THE WAKING NIGHTMARE

“you will listen to my tale.” “there were no dreams. only a silence eternal and blissfully deep.” “am i alive or in purgatory?” “what is this animal gnawing inside of my brain?” “am i condemned, though i cannot remember my sin?” “what have i done to deserve such a sentence in hell?” “i’m here in the waking nightmare.” “every moment tastes of death.”

THE CREATURE’S TALE PT. 2

“i hear like a ghost in my mind, echoes and fragments of memory.” “was i alive once before?” “was i once human like them?” “something is wrong about it.” “that is not a cause for mistrust.” “everything will be alright.”

THE MUSIC OF LOVE

“come away with me.” “we’ll keep you safe and warm.” “no tears will find you here.” “we have everything we need.” “there might be a place for me.” “the song of life is all we need.” “finally.. peace.”

THE CREATURE’S TALE PT. 3

“why do you stand before me today?” “what kind of monster kills the soul of kindness by embracing it with love?” “don’t leave me in this heartless world alone.” “i swore that i would have revenge.” “well.. perhaps some subjects are better left un-explored.”

[therkalexander]

Hey Rachel! Are you doing the director's cut thing still? If so, can you the scene with Aidon, Hecate, and Nyx in the garden in RoM? Right before Aidon and Persephone make up? Thank you so very much!

OK! Here we go…

I really wanted to have Hecate have a  moment to shine instead of waltzing on screen to be effusive and mysterious and then disappear the next. I also wanted to introduce Nyx in a big way and hint that there is a lot of prophecy at work and a line of succession and esoteric knowledge that has been passed along since Mother Chaos created the Universe. 

This was her last day as the Maiden. She stood taller, nearly flowered. Hecate could feel the impending shift to the Woman as surely as she had for a hundred aeons. She walked through the garden in her white peplos, her adolescent feet padding over the earth. She sensed the bursts of colorful blossoms at the garden’s edge before she could even see them, felt the warmth of breathing life radiating from the six trees. They had taken a little less than a moon’s cycle to bloom, their flowers vibrant red against the rich green leaves. Their brilliance stood like a beacon against the pallid grays and midnight-darkened evergreen of the Underworld.

Ducking under the branches, she stood in the middle of the small grove. Hecate walked to one of the flowers and peered at its petals, soft and translucent red, glowing as if the sun shone through them. She reached out and touched the waxy leaves, then drew her hand back in surprise. They were warm, as if they were basking in the daylight of the living world above. The red blossom would be unremarkable if it were growing above ground. But this was Chthonia. This sun didn’t shine here. Hecate pulled a single petal from a low hanging flower, examining it in her hand. As she did, the one beside it shook loose and floated to the barren ground below. She rolled the petal in her hand and smelled it, tasted it, closed her eyes and moved the energy of the ether through it, trying to find something, anything, unusual about it. She could find nothing that made these trees any different from those growing in the world above, other than how quickly they grew. Perhaps that was their only miracle.

In case anyone had forgotten that the flowers had started blooming on the trees after Aidon and Persephone really had started communicating with each other, and the following morning when everything had broken down. I wanted to showcase it through her point of view, because she has seen so many visions about them and views them as a prophecy. I also wanted to hint at the creation of Elysion without actually saying “and this was a portent for the Elysian Fields to be created.

Hecate tucked the single petal into the neckline of her peplos, and reached for the one that had fallen to the ground. When she picked it up, she cupped her hand to her mouth in shock and stumbled back, falling hard on her rump. She stood again, feeling her heart beating out of her chest, and dusted off the back of her peplos, staring closely at the place from where she’d picked up the fallen blossom. Hecate’s fingers feathered over a small tuft of light green grass. It grew in the exact shape, in the exact place of the flower that had fallen to the infertile ground. She leaned over, her breath teasing the fragile blades. “It can’t be…”

She stood up again and looked at the trees all around her, breathing shallowly. “It can’t be!”

Hecate turned her eyes upward and called out to the mists above. “Nyx!! Mother Nyx, you must see this!”

She waited.

“Nyx?”

“Your mother was Asteria— daughter of Phiobe, daughter of Gaia— who pledged you as my acolyte, young one,” a lilting voice said behind her. Hecate turned to meet the silver rimmed eyes of her mentor, the Goddess of Night, aged as many centuries as Hecate could count years. Darkness wrapped around the curves of her body like an unbound, thin himation, clinging to her and flowing around her as though she were underwater. Her jet-black hair waved about her weightlessly, and her bare white feet stuck out below the cover of darkness, hovering above the ground. She smiled at Hecate. “And after all these millennia, Hecate, we are more friends now than teacher and student, no?”

Again with the trying to show without telling here. I wanted to allude to a chain that stretched back to the creation of the universe itself, with one woman teaching the next about the dance of creation. I also wanted to give a real sense to just how ancient Nyx really is.

“Yes, my lady,” she smiled.

“What troubles you, young one?” Nyx looked around at the red flowers and answered her own question. “Is it the trees? They are no doubt the work of your student.”

“His hands couldn’t grow this orchard. Not his two alone,” Hecate said, walking over to the tree and brushing her fingers over the leaves.

“Which is why I first hesitated when you told me you had chosen Aidoneus,” she said. “The line of our sacred knowledge has always been passed from goddess to goddess— never to a male.”

So everyone takes the hieros gamos and puts their own spin on it. It’s a rite that speaks to creation, but as it goes forward it’s like a book into which everyone writes their own interpretation. I’m sure that Nyx did it differently than Mother Chaos, and Hecate does things differently than Nyx.

“And that sacred stream had never flowed to an avowed virgin before me. The world has its seasons, and sometimes we have to change with them. True, there is still much for him to learn. But please trust me, as I have asked and you have done before. Your favorite proved herself unworthy, after all,” Hecate replied. “Simple passions ruled her, not the call of wisdom. Her decisions may undo us all one day.”

The her is Demeter in case anyone wasn’t clear on that.

“Sooner than you think, young one. My dear son Thanatos walks the earth above too often. The Fates will cut too many threads from the Cloth of Life before this ends. Perhaps it’s best for all if we send the little queen back…”

“We cannot, Nyx,” Hecate said, returning to where the flower had fallen on the barren ground. “The soil itself tells us why. Look…”

When I wrote the story I wanted to make damn sure to create a situation in which Persephone was in the Underworld but that she wasn’t trapped in the Underworld. Nyx thought of sending her back and could have easily convinced Aidoneus that that was the right things to do. Of course, we see later in this scene that he had the same idea but for different reasons. 

Ok and coming up, I kind of love the idea of Nyx being bound not only to her husband and consort eternally, but that he actually is her very clothing. My inspiration for this was thinking about a woman wound up in yards of black georgette or silk and moving underwater. Nyx isn’t affected by gravity. She is older than gravity.

The Goddess of Night tipped forward as though she were swimming through the air, her hair gently waving behind her. The shroud of darkness followed after, falling away from one breast before it rushed up on its own to cover her once more. Nyx leaned down and looked at the tuft of grass. She listened intently to a silent voice above her and moved her hand along the darkness shrouding her body, caressing it and looking lovingly up to where it swept up and faded away from her form. A slow smile spread across her face. “I knew there was a reason my husband liked her so much.”

Hecate looked at her, perplexed, before it dawned on her. “I knew they first coupled before they reached the lands below, but I hadn’t imagined it could have been while they were—”

“Erebus said he was honored. He told me he bore witness to the Goddess mating with her thrice-chosen Consort in the ancient manner, the way it was done before the Tyrant.” Nyx spat the last word, refusing to say Kronos’s name. She rose, righting herself. “Chaos mated with the Void in kind to create the cosmos. It was the original hieros gamos, before my generation perfected it. The true Sacred Marriage of the gods— not the pantomime your Lampades engage in with the mortals.”

Ok, so I had some fun with this idea. I mean, Erebus is a person and a place, and he became the shadow way before the Titanomachy for reasons I will get into when I write the prologue for that particular book. But I kind of had an inward laugh at how Erebus would have reacted, seeing his prophesied queen and his wife’s adopted heir gettin’ it on in a rapidly descending chariot. Also, Nyx has more than a bit of snark about the spread of the hieros gamos to more than just one person at a time.

“Aidoneus’s eyes saw their union differently,” Hecate said, ignoring her teacher’s slight against her nymph acolytes. “And a mere moon’s cycle learning her thoughts gives me much doubt that Persephone would see it your way either.”

“You know better than most that things are not always what they seem,” Nyx said as she moved back to the trees. “The narcissus I had Gaia plant in the center of Persephone’s sacred grove was what drew her here. When she plucked it, she laid aside her old life and chose us and our ways. She chose him as her mate in that moment, whether she knew or not.”

“The divine purpose of that flower is unlikely to bring peace to either of their hearts.”

“Our ways are not the ways of the world above. Aidoneus has only begun to realize that. And she will see that one day as well.”

“They have not yet performed the Rite. Perhaps then—”

“All in due time. Be patient with them, young one.”

“My lady,” Hecate said, pointing at the small tuft of grass, “if these blades carry the meaning we suspect, and the true purpose of their union comes to pass— will you join your consort, and become the night as he became the shadow?”

Erebus had not always been the encompassing darkness that separated Chthonia from the world above. Before Kronos enslaved the entire House of Nyx and imprisoned them in the Underworld, all the Protogenoi walked the earth in forms made flesh. Erebus was a tall man with silver hair and midnight blue eyes. Every shadow cast in the daylight stretched forth from his raven black wings— the Lord of Shadows was a fitting consort for his wife, the Goddess of Night. After the war, one by one, they had chosen to fade from their tangible forms into their respective domains. Hemera grew more luminous until she was the daylight itself, Gaia took root and melded with the earth, and Erebus faded into the darkness. Slowly, others among the old gods followed in their stead, including Hecate’s beloved mother. Of the Protogenoi, Nyx was the last to retain her original form.

I love the idea of old gods, of generations of gods with the Olympians just being the latest iteration. And I think that the grandparents of the gods decided that maybe millions of years was enough time to oversee everything and decided to become the things they watched over, or the stars in the sky like Asteria did, etc. Also is it clear that I have lots of feelings about Erebus?

The goddess of night smiled as Hecate ruminated on their fate, what would someday be the fate of all the immortals. “Truth be told, Erebus likes holding me this way,” she said, brushing her hand over the wavering shroud of darkness surrounding her. “He says it makes him feel young when he touches me. I’ll keep this form for now. If our ambitions are realized— then we’ll see. I’m allowed to change my mind.”

Hecate sighed. “I thought to sow the seed of our future when we sealed the betrothal of Hades and Persephone at the river so many ages ago,” she said, running her fingers along the sun-warmed leaves. “Now, infinitely more hangs in the balance, and their sapling already twists in a storm.”

“They will find a way to weather it.”

“The aeons have passed us by, and only this and the next remain.”

I would tell you what I mean by this but I can’t. Like I still can’t. This isn’t a Chekov’s gun here. It’s a Chekov’s cannon.

“Patience.”

Hecate and Nyx turned simultaneously to see Aidoneus step out through the palace portico, walking slowly toward the grove. His arms were folded across his chest.

“Do they know?” Nyx asked.

“That these are their creation? Perhaps not. They have both seen how they flourish here. Persephone carried her husband to the grove’s heart when she found her own path through the ether, and both are led here in dreams. Aidoneus knows as well as I that creating them is beyond his wisdom, and Persephone is thwarted when she tries to grow even asphodel in the fields of its namesake, much less leaves soaked in sunlight.”

“How long since they spoke to each other?”

“Three days,” Hecate said, lowering her voice as Aidon approached.

“Have faith in them,” Nyx returned.

Enter Mr. Mopey.

They silently watched Aidoneus walk into the grove, the gravel crunching under his leather sandals. He touched the warm leaves, and then thinned his lips once he realized he was not alone.

“Hecate. Lady Nyx.” He nodded grimly to them in acknowledgement.

Nyx floated toward him. “What troubles you, little one?”

It was his least favorite sobriquet, and one she always managed to use when his frustration was greatest. Aidoneus said nothing; the Goddess of Night was a thousand aeons older than he, and with Erebus, had once ruled both the Underworld and the night sky. He was too tired to challenge her anyway, his body and soul weary from lack of sleep.

“You dislike it,” Nyx said, effortlessly reading him, “but our other name for you, Liberator, seems to fit poorly right now.”

He was the one who freed Nyx and her family from Tartarus, killing Kampe to do so. ‘Liberator’ is the highest title that Nyx has for him, and I got to use the word sobriquet in that paragraph too. Liberator is also a name for another character that has yet to appear and I debated using it an an epithet since it’s more associated with that character, but I think that both applications are appropriate here, especially considering what’s to come in the series.

Aidoneus merely circled the grove, his arms crossed behind his back.

“Ever as taciturn as you were before. Before her, at least. This isn’t about your new queen, is it?”

He clenched his teeth and looked away from her.

Hecate followed closely behind Nyx, who tried again to draw an answer from him. “Aidoneus, you can greet the rest of your subjects behind a mask of solemnity—”

“—but you can see through it, my lady; I know. I don’t wish to talk about it,” he paused, glancing at their expectant faces, and scowled before dryly continuing. “But clearly I’m to be pestered by both of you until I say something. I’ll be brief: I’m taking Persephone back to Demeter.”

Hecate shook her head. “Tilling the shoots under so soon?”

“Soon?!” he flared. “She has been here nearly a month! And as soon as there was a glimmer of hope that this could work, I destroyed it. I’ve ruined everything, Hecate. She will never find it in her heart to love me after what we did— after what I said. I’ve agonized over this for three days and I’m just going to do what is best for all.”

“And what does she have to say about this?” Nyx said.

“I cannot bring myself to speak to her, nor would she want me to. Not after we—” he walked away from Nyx and looked out above the twined branches of the trees, the waterfall in the distance cascading upward to the world above. “The mortals are suffering in her absence, thanks to her mother. After what happened between us, Persephone cannot possibly still wish to remain with me. We will still be married in name and title. She will live in the world above where she belongs, where she’s happiest, and my life can go back to the way it was.”

Here we see him returning to the comfort of who he once was. Before Persephone awakened him to emotions and love, he would of course have sent her back. The world above was dying and it would have been hypocritical of him not to. But that’s obviously not what he wants.

“There is no going back, Aidoneus,” Hecate replied, “And neither can she. What was done cannot be undone. You cannot build a new tree with those boards.”

“This is my marriage!” he said, turning back to them. “It’s my decision to make.”

“So,” Nyx said, “you will leave this realm without a Queen? Or do you have plans to take a concubine? Many of the nymphs who reside here would be willing…”

“No.” He felt bile well up in his throat as he contemplated any kind of intimacy with anyone but her.

“Would you stop her if she took a lover?”

His jaw and fingers clenched shut and he closed his eyes so Nyx could not see the fire that lit them. For all the nausea he felt at the idea of laying with another woman, the thought of his wife being touched by another man filled him with a rage so potent it could lay waste to the earth. The Olympian men had no qualms about seducing a woman once she was unbound from her vows of chastity. Unbidden images of Persephone’s body being dragged underneath Apollo or Ares tore at him until he thought he would scream.

Yeah, for all the progressive that Hades is, there isn’t anything that would cause him to become completely irrational like anyone else touching his wife.

“Did you think you could push her away so easily,” Hecate chided with a smirk, her eyes narrowed at him, “when you hold so tight?”

Aidoneus slammed his fist into the trunk of a tree next to him, feeling his skin break open on its rough bark. His wrist smarted at the impact. He looked at his abraded knuckles, then flexed his fingers outward and felt the wounds knit back together. The branches above dropped delicate red petals to the ground all around them.

“Do not presume that I came to this decision lightly.” His voice rasped and he forced his anger to subside. He wouldn’t let any of them— not Hecate or Nyx, nor his wife— destroy his hard-won peace of mind ever again. It had taken him aeons after the war to bury anything that could touch him. Now the wounds were open again. She needed to go back; he saw no reason why she wouldn’t want to go back. It was the right thing to do for both of them. Once she was with her mother, he would pay a visit to Olympus with a stern warning for each of the male gods. Their fear of him would keep her safe.

“Look around you, Hades. Our world is dark and deep and hidden— an eternal tangle of flowing rivers that surrounds and protects the souls waiting to be reborn to the world above. This is a realm that needs a Queen. We have been without one for too long.” The Goddess of Night moved toward him. “Setting me and my children free, drawing the shortest twig when Lachesis held out those three fateful lots for you and your brothers… Those pale beside the real reason the Fates chose you. The gifts and curses of ruling Chthonia were never meant to be your sole burden.”

“I have judiciously ruled this kingdom alone for thousands of years. Three and a half weeks are not—”

“And for those thousands of years we waited. We waited for the Queen to find you. To seek you out. And seek you out she did, beckoning you, before you were thrice chosen by her. First when you appeared in her dreams, second when she entered your sacred grove wearing a wreath of laurel and olive, and lastly when she plucked the flower that drew you to her from the depths.”

He shook his head. “That’s not how it happened, Nyx. I went to her father for permission to take Persephone as my bride, as it is done in the world above. I invaded her dreams; I chased her from her home, I rapt her away in my chariot and took her maidenhead in the dark.”

“Thousands of years, and still you think like an Olympian.” Hecate said. “Theirs is a different world, and ours are different ways.”

“Hecate, if I never hear you say that again, it will be too soon.” He turned to leave the grove again. “Please— both of you— just leave me in peace with my decision.”

“Hades…” Nyx breathed.

He turned, slowly and deliberately, to her once more. Aidoneus watched as she raised her hand and looked at the ground. Nyx splayed out her fingers and turned her palm upward. The red flowers lifted, hovering in midair as languidly as she did. They circled her and spiraled into a tight ball hovering weightless above her outstretched palm before bursting into flames, the embers shining like stars before vanishing into the darkness that shrouded her.

Ok I admit, this was a bit superfluous, but oh shit was it fun to imagine and write. Besides. One little tuft of grass is one thing, but when all of a sudden there are things growing in a place that’s supposed to be dead and still and unchanging... I had to herald it with something fun.

“Tell me, little one…” she said to him, “at what point should these be factored into your decision?”

Aidon looked down to where Nyx pointed her long fingers. On the gray, lifeless soil were scattered tufts of vibrant green, lying in the exact places the petals had been knocked to the ground. Making sure not to step on any of them, he walked carefully over to one, and crouched low to examine it. Aidon squinted at it and gingerly brushed his fingers along the soft blades of grass. “What in Tartarus…?” he whispered under his breath.

Hecate met his confusion with her placid gaze. “You are not the first lovers to quarrel, Aidoneus. But you are the first to create anything like this.”

“I did not… I cannot—”

Foreshadow, foreshadow...

“No, you cannot,” Hecate said. “Not you alone.”

“How are Persephone and I able to do this?” he said, his eyes wide with confusion.

Nyx and Hecate looked at each other. The Goddess of Night spoke. “My son said you came to him seeking an answer— that you’ve seen these in your dreams, and she as well…”

“Morpheus knew nothing about these,” he said. “They don’t appear in the dream world.”

“When you first went to Persephone, my son brought you together,” Nyx said. “To dream of another or ask that another dream of you is one thing…”

Aidoneus thought about their first meeting. How full of confusion he had been when he discovered himself pressed against her skin. How natural it felt to be with her.

“…But to bring two together in the same dream, to unite them— has only ever been asked of my son once.”

“Remember how you appeared to each other in the dream,” Hecate said. “And consider that it was her dream.”

He looked at Hecate, dumbfounded.

I love how all this time, Aidon thought that he was the one who subconsciously decided that they would meet each other for the first time in the nude and mid make out, but Hecate is all ‘guess what dum dum...’

“Is it so hard to believe, Aidoneus?” she continued. “You dreamed you met her in her own shrine, and so did she. She dreamed of her future husband that night, the night you walked into her dream to announce your betrothal. How you appeared to her was her idea. Your name a mystery, your realm unknown to her, she still grew your sacred bloom from the earth where she slept and dreamed of you.”

“You are her chosen Consort. And just as was done in that first dream, you, Aidoneus, provided the seed to create these. Together you have dreamed the pomegranate trees into existence, little one,” Nyx said, softly motioning to the leaves and flowers hanging above them.

“But what does it mean?”

“That is knowledge I cannot pass to you,” Hecate said.

“Of course it isn’t!” he said sarcastically. “Because the day I get a straight answer out of either of you, the Styx will flow backwards!”

In more news of drawing parallels with Persephone and Hades, I figured that of course he would get annoyed as all hell if they’re not telling him everything. And I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has happened. I’m pretty sure that Hades thinks that Nyx and Hecate knew how his “courtship” would go all along and gave him zero information about it since he was convinced it would be a well orchestrated, planned out, very simple thing.

Hecate and Nyx stared back at him. Aidoneus turned once more to leave.

“I don’t think you understand Hecate’s meaning,” Nyx began, stopping him. “We cannot pass this knowledge onto you because we don’t know what these mean. There are possibilities, but that is all they are.”

He looked at them somberly. “A shame they will remain just that, then.”

“Aidon,” Hecate said, “do you love her?”

“You know that I do,” he said softly.

I just felt so bad for him here. Because here he is, he’s quietly loved this woman for thousands of years, got a taste of what love was, and then thought he had completely fucked it all up to the moon and back. This is sort of the middle interlude for him, between that kind of ‘white light’ realization moment during their fight and when he says to Persephone in complete terms exactly how long he has loved her and will love her.

“You fought each other with hard words— and you both chose how to end that fight,” she said, folding her arms. “Neither could have happened unless she loved you just as fiercely. You believe your love compels you to send her back, and you are willing to sacrifice your every desire for her happiness, Aidoneus. But one more offering is required— your pride. Go to her.”

He loved her. Throughout all this, he loved her terribly, achingly— his passion undiminished. Since their argument he’d barely slept, not even spending time in his own bedroom, instead electing to nod off in the evening for an hour or so, slumped on his throne between the increasing number of judgments. He swiped a hand over his unshaven face. It was a marvelous contradiction. Thoughts of her tormented his waking moments relentlessly, yet he couldn’t be at peace unless she was with him. His knew his needs, but what of her? Nyx, as she was wont to do, spoke of the metaphysical, the unsubstantiated. Her revelations were about a kind of love that Persephone wouldn’t understand— Aidon could barely wrap his mind around the imagery Nyx used, most of its meaning lost to the ages.

But he knew from the moment Persephone started tracing the scars of his past, healing him far deeper than the shallow marks on his skin, that she loved him as well. For that one sublime act, Aidon was eager to spend eternity returning that affection to her. How much would they miss, how many more perfect moments would lie cold and dormant if he released her back to Demeter? He stood at the precipice, fear flooding back into him once more. What if his wife wanted to leave him, and this was all for naught? Could he convince her to stay?

And here begins the second act of the book. And once he decides to get his shit together and face Persephone, that’s when Nyx calls him Liberator again.

Aidoneus plucked a single red flower, cradling it in his hand. It was bright and warm. He nodded and carefully tucked its red petals into the folds of his himation. Pointing at solemn Nyx and a wide-grinning Hecate, he said, “I’m not doing this for either of you,” and purposefully turned on his heels to leave the grove. “Or whatever you think may come of these.”

“We should be the least of your concerns. All you see here is mutable and inconsequential,” Nyx said, sweeping her hands out at the trees. She spoke quietly to herself as Aidon walked back toward the palace. “But your beloved queen is not, Liberator. Nearly anything can be forgiven, if one is willing to open their heart completely.”

[moonraccoon-exe]

Oh boy, I just had an idea for a Harry-Potter-style kind of plot twist/AU. How about... not Noctis is the Chosen King. It's Prompto. Prompto, who is a descendant of Ardyn's- just that Ardyn never knew he had a kid once, so he had no idea, and nobody ever found out, because the kid's mother didn't want to be associated with Ardyn in the long run. So now Prompto is suddenly the Crystal's Chosen one. Cue to everyone's reactions upon that reveal.

*PUNCHES THROUGH THE WALL*

YES

*FLIP-KICKS DESK*

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES.

*ROARING*

IMAGINE HOW CHAOTIC AND HORRIBLE THAT WOULD BE, I LOVE IT.

Hnhnfngf, all the possibilities of ANGST, holy my, I’m DYING, this damn scenario is GREAT and I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

Imagine all the possibilities.

Imagine everyone knew since the beginning that the Chosen King is meant to die. Ever since the gods announced it was Noctis. Well, the kinds didn’t announce it was Noctis; when he was five, the gods merely announced that the Chosen King “was born five years ago, son of the bloodline of Lucis”.

And the only king alive is, of course, Regis. There’s no way king Mors could have a little unknown bastard son, because it’s been more than five years since he passed. So the only possibility is this, right? It’s Noctis. It’s him the only creature on all Eos that covers such description.

So Regis mourns for him. His friends and Noctis himself grow up knowing he’s the Chosen, and they all grow up being mentalized to know he’s meant to die one day. Noctis grows up in a constant state of sadness, I guess, and it’s hard and difficult, but he’s pretty much resigned to it. Sometimes, Gladio and Ignis even ruin their own fun when they’re having a good time with Noctis because they suddenly remember that one day he’ll be gone.

And then they meet Prompto. He grew up without a dad, they learn from him later, because mom said that dad was a Glaive that died in the line of duty. Noct feels a little guilty about it because the Glaives serve to protect the throne family so he feels a bit responsible that Prommy is fatherless, but Prommy doesn’t really mind or struggle with it. Mom treats him well and he can’t miss someone he never knew, it’s okay.

So there’s all four chocobros together finally. They spend the years together, having fun, hanging out, eating together, training together, and everyone giving their best to serve Noct when the time comes. Everyone is aware that Noct is meant to die at some point, so everyone through the years gets mentalized and slowly prepare themselves for the goodbye.

The bros always try their best to make every day of Noct’s life happy and good. Sometimes they even surprise him with gifts, whether material or not, just to make him happy. The kind of “Let’s make him super happy because he doesn’t have much time left”, and Noctis is aware, but he doesn’t mind. He treasures and cherishes all the moments they live together, and treasures and values that his friends want to make him so happy and show him how much they love him. It something he’ll carry with himself dearly for however long he can still live.

And then they set out on the road. The journey begins; the attack to Insomnia (though maybe Regis survives), the Imperial aggression, the journey throughout all Lucis. And the bros know that the moment is closer, that this is what they were prepared for their whole lives, that the prophecy is happening. That, once they win, Noctis will die. 

But they go on; they grew up mentalized to do this, and they’ll carry on no matter what. They fight bravely, they stand strong, they make their way through the difficulties; they share a lot of funny moments together, each bro takes a day to make Noctis happy in their own way, the other days they spend all four together spoiling and attending to him, if he gets distracted with something, they’ll go get it even if they’re late for their duties, they go on through the road fighting while still having fun and trying to make Noct happy, to try to make the parting as less rough as possible, try to make him feel his life is complete.

And then, one day, after the fight with Leviathan, Ignis doesn’t put the ring on; all four bros manage to gather together, and the ring suddenly activates; the Kings of Yore all appear around the bros, now that all thirteen royal weapons are together and now that all but 1 pact with the Six is forged.

And the kings tell them what’s to come.

The Chosen must travel to the lands of Niflheim. He will find the Ice Goddess there, Shiva, to forge the last pact with her. He and his friends will fight through the enemy lands to get to the Crystal that was stolen. The Chosen will claim it back. That way, the Chosen will gather the strength and power necessary to clean the world from the darkness and bring peace and light back to it…in exchange, of course, of his own life. Many have sacrificed for their king, so the king must sacrifice all for them. 

And Noctis stands there, proud, destiny accepted, chest out, chin up, and soul finally at peace with his near death. 

“May you go with the strength of the kings and the royal arms, Chosen.”

And Noctis lifts the head and looks at the spirits one by one, and nods, firm, confident, majestic, finally the king that he was supposed to be.

And, then, the spirit of The Mystic looks away from him. Towards his friends behind him. Towards one in specific.

“Prompto Lucis Caelum.”

Hence everyone’s reaction to this revelation.

[Under the cut, of course]

At first nobody understands and everyone’s frozen.

“You’re mistaken” Noctis says, Prompto says, everyone insist across the conversation that the kings are mistaken. “It’s Noct who is royal blood. He’s the Chosen”   “It’s me. I’m the Chosen. I’m the prince of Lucis.”

But no. The kings explain, as if it didn’t matter, as if they were prepared to just accept this like it’s nothing.

“Prompto Lucis Caelum. Son of the “king that couldn’t be”, the “king who wasn’t”; son of who was meant to be the First King; son, hence, of the line of Lucis.”

“You said it was the son of a king of Lucis, born 20 years ago!”

“We said a son of the bloodline of Lucis. No king mentioned.”

And he’s 20. Exactly his age, Noct realized. 

“But…that who was meant to be the first king? He can’t be alive” Ignis chimes in.

And so, the kings explain who Ardyn is; why he has lived for so long, for how many years he’s lived. They explain it’s him; the missing father that Prompto never knew. The one mom never talked about, the one mom lied about. 

“…Ardyn?” Prompto asks, in barely a thread of a voice. Ardyn? From among all people…the villain, the bad guy, the man that’s the dark side of the prophecy, that’s…his dad?

And still, the kings continue to explain like they’re accepting this like it’s nothing.

“He was consumed by darkness. He’s the darkness that wants to swallow the world. You carry his genes; you hold the same darkness. Hence, to eradicate the darkness, so.the world must be freed of it, both darknesses must destroy each other.”

The chocobros don’t take the news really good. They need to be explained multiple times in different ways to understand this sudden change in plans, to understand that Noctis was never the Chosen.

That it’s Prompto. He’s the hero of the prophecy, but he’s not the prince of light everyone thought Noctis was; he’s a prince born from darkness, and hence, unnecessary in this world. Unwanted. It was never meant to be a sacrifice of a hero to use light against the darkness, it’s only a martyr born of the darkness having to kill himself so the rest of the world can be free from all that he represents.

“It’s not fair!” Noctis is, of course, the first to oppose.

Noctis tries arguing, tries to find any holes in this madness, tries to convince the kings that it’s him, it’s Noct who’s meant to be the Chosen and that this is nonsense.

But they eventually accept it. Accept this is the truth.

Gladio is shocked, of course, but he’s also the one that accepts it faster, not because he doesn’t care, but because he’s the most mature, and the one that’s most prepared for anything death related; they all battle, sure, but Gladio is the one in the riskiest job and position. He’s always known he can die any day, he’s grown up hyper aware that Clarus could die any day,that he can die any day, that Cor can die any day. So he’s sort of…mentally prepared to accept this.

It’s not easy, of course it’s not. Gladio grew very attached to Prompto; sees him as a little brother. So while he accepts this, Gladio still whispers quiet ‘No’es at first, and then he can do but stay quiet, trying to control himself and not snap out, and forces himself to be ready in case Noctis or Prompto,maybe even Ignis need of him; all four can enter into panic or shock or hysteria, Gladio could be near that too, but he knows that that’s not what they need, and he tries to force himself to stay calm in case any of his friends need his help.

Ignis is quite a case. He’s shocked at first, like all of them, but he processes it rather quickly too. Maybe not as fast as Gladio, but still grasps this change of plans. 

Ignis, ashamedly, disgustingly (to himself), felt relief. Noctis would not have to die; his dear little brother and dearest person doesn’t have to die, after all. He won’t have the bad ending he thought he would have. Which is good…but Ignis also feels sickened and brokenhearted at the idea that the price for Noct’s wellbeing is Prompto’s death. 

Ignis feels guilty; he asked for many days, many weeks, during many months of many years, he asked and prayed and begged to the Astrals to please not let Noctis die, prayed for the Astrals to find another answer to this. But Ignis never imagined it would happen, and even less did he ever imagine that it would be at this cost…

Relief has never tasted so horrible. Ignis is dealing with being sickened at himself, but mostly worried and a bit in panic, only staring at Prompto, and not sure what to think or how he will look at Prompto to the eyes after this.

Prompto, on his part, is the one that stays shocked most of the time. To know who his father is, the tangled mess of this story, his origins, to know the weight of the world is literally on him, to suddenly become the Chosen…to suddenly become what he had always thought his friend was…to suddenly switch from over five years preparing to be the friend of the Chosen, to being the Chosen…

To suddenly switch from being prepared for his friend’s death, to it being him the one to die…

Needless to say, Prompto hears only most of the conversation; when Noct starts arguing with the kings, Prompto stops listening. He’s in shock; he can’t move; his whole body is tense and trembling and frozen. He can’t blink; forgets how to breathe; stares at nowhere at all with terrified, wide eyes. Heart breaking, heart dying, heart racing madly and heavily in his chest. Mind in denial; soul not prepared; body frozen and shocked. 

It’s after the kings disappear back into the ring, not having accepted any of Noctis’ complaints, that Prompto tries to react a little. It takes long, awfully long.

Noctis, who had been complaining and arguing and yelling at the kings, is now kicking stuff and punching things and growling and cursing, all while Prompto tries to come out of the shock, and while Ignis and Gladio look at him, waiting for a reaction.

Long, long minutes go by. Noctis even tires from his rage and is now just down on his knees, staring at nowhere. 

Prompto is aware that his friends are looking at him. And Prompto doesn’t know how to react; he knows this is terrible, no one is more terrified than he is, but he doesn’t want to react that way. He doesn’t want the others to see him cry or watch his shock because he doesn’t want to worry the others. It’s irrational, he knows; they all know this is horrible and there’s no hiding his terror. But it’s simply how Prompto reacts.

He tries to force a chuckle and a smile. He tries to pull a joke out of it.

“W-what a twist, huh?” he tries with a forced laugh, but unable to hide his terror. Ignis just puts the head down, and Gladio looks at him as if though it’s today his last day on earth. Prompto can’t bare with it and still tries to lighten the mood, as much as he knows he can’t. “Well. I uhm…that’s- that means it’s good I came along, huh? Haha!” back to quiet and upset for a second, still trembling, still pale and in shock. “Imagine if I hadn’t, you all would have had to go all the way back to pick me up….”

Nobody laughs. Nobody looks at him. Gladio gives him the stare that sort of says “it’s okay to let it go”, but Prompto doesn’t. It would be like accepting it and he doesn’t want to.

So he goes over to Noct, who hasn’t said anything, and is just thrown on his knees, shoulders and head down.

“Hey, Noct! Come on, dude, get up! We can’t stay here all day, you know? Let’s go!”

But Noct doesn’t react. He stays there, doing nothing, staring at the ground. Prommy tries poking him, pushing him, tries more jokes and pushing him, but everyone is still quiet and waiting for him to realize it’s fine, and to just let it go.

Prompto, half accepting it, and trying to make it less real by making of it a joke, then tells to Noct,

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous that I’m the Chosen and not you? See, at least now you don’t have to die!”

Prompto’s laughing at first. Then no one laughs…and, realizing what he says, he stops laughing too, and his eyes start to water.

Prompto…always said he would willingly die instead of Noctis if that could save him, and most of him really is relieved that it did happen…but part of him, a great part, is still terrified.

He’s not ready.

Prompto doesn’t want to die.

So while the weight of everything finallys tarts dawning on him, Noctis looks back at him. He’s crying; two quiet path of tears mark his cheeks and a pair of silent but horribly pained tears roll down through them.

And Noctis, who struggled for all his life since he has memory with accepting his fate, who always complained that it was not fair, who lived a life of depression because he never wanted this fate, looks at him, and he whispers,

“…I’d rather it was me.”

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki, Illusions - Chapter 10

(Chapter 9)

Your P.O.V.

The next morning, Frigga asked me to join her for tea. I hadn't received a lot of sleep so I was quite tired as I woke up in the glamorous room. The sun was shining brightly and it lit up even the darkest corners inside. I stretched my limbs and yawned deeply before I went to the bathroom. I took a warm bath and I used some well-scented oils to wash my body. My hair felt soft as silk as I dried it. I put on a little bit of make-up that they had here on Asgard; blush, something black that worked as mascara and even something to make my brows look better.

A maid had put a clean dress on the bed for me. It was absolutely stunning! The dress was soft green with a slit in the front, revealing a golden lace fabric. It had a lot of gorgeous patterns and it was overall gorgeous. I got dressed quickly and I put on the same shoes I had used yesterday. That's when I heard a knock on the door and Frigga walked in, looking elegant as heck.

''Hi'' I greeted the woman who seemed like a nice mother. ''Good morning'' She smiled and looked at the dress I was wearing. I couldn't help but to feel a little strange, suddenly living the Asgardian life. Something made her eyes sparkle but she didn't say anything about me. ''Are you ready?'' Frigga wanted to know and she met my eyes again. I nodded and that's how we left my room.

I followed Frigga through Odin's throne hall to a balcony with a full view of Asgard. There was a round table there with tea already ready for us. It even had some baked goods that seemed delicious. Frigga and I sat down and that's when my nerves began to grow tense. Why did she want to speak with me? Had I done something bad already?

''As they grew up, I noticed that Loki had always been interested in your story. He wanted me to read it again and again'' Frigga started a conversation with a smile as she gazed down the castle's balcony. I wasn't sure what to feel as she told me that but it made me happy. ''I'm flattered'' I shrugged shyly and sipped my tea. It was hot but it didn't burn my tongue. It tasted a lot like lemon tea.

''I was convinced that he knew you were real. I knew you existed but I couldn't just blurt it out'' She then admitted more seriously. She woke up my curiosity each second that passed. ''When I look at you, I see something significant. You're going to fulfil a prophecy and..'' Frigga stopped in her tracks and she grabbed her porcelain cup. I wanted to know what she was going to say but I didn't care to ask her.

''I know you visited Loki last night'' She changed the topic. There was a hint of pain in her voice and it was sad. ''I couldn't control myself'' I sighed quietly, remembering the scary feeling last night as my powers seemed to overflow. ''That's why Loki should get out of prison, to help you'' She spoke surely. My eyes widened and I nearly choked on my tea.

''I thought Odin put him there..'' I mumbled in confusion. Frigga shushed me as a guard walked past us. We sat in silence for a while until we were sure no one was listening. ''Odin is stubborn but he can be controlled. Trust me, I've known him for centuries'' Frigga spoke warmly. I began to understand why Loki adored her so much. It filled me with pure joy that she wanted Loki to get out as well.

''You must have questions, dear'' Frigga said after a while. She was right. Ever since I came here, I had been filled with thoughts that so far had been left unanswered. ''Do you know who my true parents were?'' I asked Frigga as I held the warm cup in my hands. For some reason, my heart began to beat harder again.

The look on Frigga's face was compassionate. ''I can show you their memorials'' She promised me kindly. I nodded and then took a deep, refreshing breath. Finally, someone was answering my questions and I was building a bond with the Goddess in front of me. Loki and Thor's mother seemed like an amazing woman and I could understand why Loki cared about her so much.

***

Frigga and I had finished out tea moment and she had to go to do her daily duties. Luckily, I was allowed to explore the castle. I roamed the huge halls, eyeing the paintings and the beautiful yet odd things that were on display. Soon I would face Odin again and attempt to speak some sense into the king's head. Naturally, I was really scared. The last time I spoke to him, my powers got the best of me.

''Hi!'' I heard a cheerful voice. I turned around and saw a woman behind me. She had a golden armour on and dark brown hair in a ponytail. She had walked up to me and I didn't even notice her. ''Hello'' I answered and cleared my dry throat. That's when I saw Thor not so far away. I guess this woman was his friend since I knew what Jane looked like and she was most likely on earth.

''I'm lady Sif. It's a pleasure to meet you'' She reached out her hand. I grabbed it and shook it shyly. ''It's nice to meet you, I'm Y/N'' I said as politely as I could. We let go of each other and Thor walked over. ''Now that you know each other, we can go'' He declared happily. My eyes widened.

''W-Where?'' I stuttered and followed the two of them. ''Come on, you'll see'' He told me mysteriously. I really wanted to stay until I'd get a chance to see Odin but I was really curious as well. So I sighed and kept walking behind Thor and Sif. We walked through the halls and I noticed the smell of beer and roasted meat lingering in the air.

As we finally stopped, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. We were in a fancy dining room with a few Asgardians. They were chatting happily with drinks in their hands as tasty look waited on the long tables. ''Consider it a pre-welcome home party'' Thor explained shortly. That's when I faced him and raised my eyebrow. ''Pre?'' I wanted to know. Sif and Thor exchanged excited looks. I couldn't help but notice how happy Sif seemed around Thor. If I wouldn't have known about Jane, I'd believe they were a couple.

''Father is going to celebrate you soon. Many people on Asgard grew up hearing your story. We're going to celebrate a prophecy!'' Thor let me know like it was absolutely amazing. I wasn't sure what to think. My body grew tense and I felt a little nauseous. How could I celebrate when Loki was still in prison? I couldn't deny that the food smelled incredible but I didn't really have an appetite.

''Um-'' I hesitated my words. Before I could say anything, Thor grabbed a beer and handed it to me. I grabbed the huge glass with a fake smile and realized it would be rude to leave. ''Cheers?'' I attempted to sound happy. Thor raised his glass and everyone in the room cheered. I didn't feel so great about this but I played along, getting drunk as I got to know some more Asgardians.

The hours passed rather quickly and as the food was gone, people left. It was only me and Thor here if we didn't count Sif who had fallen asleep on a red couch. The sky had turned dark and I hated myself that I didn't leave earlier. Loki was still in that cell as I was getting drunk and partying. It wasn't my plan for today but it just happened.

''I have to go'' I excused myself, standing up slowly in hopes I could keep my balance. ''Why?'' Thor wondered curiously, not letting me go that easily. Since I was drunk, I didn't really think before I opened up my big mouth. ''I need to..to save Loki'' I slurred drunkenly and then I nearly stumbled on my own feet. I squealed and hit the wall, wincing in pain but I was glad I didn't fall on the hard floor.

''Maybe you should do that tomorrow'' Thor suggested with good intentions but I was determined to free Loki from his cell. ''No'' I barked sharply and kept walking. Thor didn't follow me anymore which was good. He let me walk through these halls alone. I tried to make my way to the throne, this time letting Odin hear everything I had to say.

Finally, I saw the bearded man sitting on his golden throne. There were only two guards beside him and even they looked tired. I let go of the wall, trusting my own balance as I made my way in front of him. Odin looked at me coldly, almost like he predicted what I was going to say. The alcohol banished my fear and I was pretty confident this time.

''King Odin, may I have a..a word with you?'' I asked him seriously. He raised his eyebrow and I felt like he examined my actions closely. ''Do you feel like discussing serious topics in such a state?'' He asked me straight, putting a great question in my mind. ''Damn sure I am'' I replied sternly but a part of me regretted the way I spoke. The guards seemed weirded out by my odd behaviour and that's when I giggled.

''Sorry, I forgot this was Asgard'' I whispered quietly and laughed at my dumb behaviour. Odin sighed before he stood up, walking down to me once again. This felt awfully much like yesterday. ''I know why you're here'' He let me know rather calmly. I nodded and looked into his eyes, ignoring my bad balance.  Had Odin thought about things?

''Good'' I smiled at the God right in front of my face. I felt light and bubbly although this situation was serious. ''But I'll speak with you tomorrow. Let some sleep rub off your fun you had with your new friends'' Odin disappointed me with his words. I pouted and tried to think of what I could say to make him tell me everything now. A quick burden clenched my heart and the bubbly feeling vanished.

''Please-'' I tried to change his mind but it was rather difficult. A guard grabbed my arm and began walking me away from the throne towards my room. That's when I stopped fighting it, walking along with an annoying feeling taking over me. Just as the innocent guard stopped behind my door, I pushed him off of me.

I only intended to make him let go and be gentle but my powers disagreed with me. A purple light flashed in the dark halls and I sent the guard to the other end of it. My eyes widened and I gasped as he hit the floor with a painful grunt. ''Oh my god'' I breathed out, suddenly afraid I'd get punished from such behaviour.

The guard didn't move as he lied on the ground. It filled me with panic and I got beside him as fast as I could. I fell down on my knees and then I took off his golden helmet. ''I'm so sorry'' I apologized sadly and cupped his face. He gritted his teeth together as he seemed to get back to his senses.

That's when I saw his face well for the first time. The strong guard had beautiful hazel eyes, dark eyelashes and dark brown hair. His pained look disappeared as he sat up on the floor beside me. I couldn't help but to stare and my drunken state made it worse. ''It's okay'' He let me know although it didn't make me feel less guilty.

''I didn't mean to. I-It's just that..ever since I began using my powers, they've tried to control me. It's crazy'' I admitted and then ran my hands through my hair. My head was beginning to ache. ''Don't worry lady Y/N. What good would I be as a guard if I couldn't handle that?'' The man tried to lighten up the mood. A smile spread on my face and I nodded.

He got up and helped me on my feet as well. ''What's your name?''  I asked curiously before he'd leave and I'd be alone all night once more. The guard seemed surprised by my question. He fixed his yellow cape and put on his helmet again. ''I'm Aibi'' He told me his name. It sounded very Asgardian. ''It's nice to meet you'' I let him know in a friendly matter.

Another guard interrupted us by clearing his throat. He had probably noticed me using my powers. Aibi nodded to me and then he walked off with his friend. I looked after them until they both disappeared from my sight. That's when I walked into my room and undressed myself, too tired to do it nicely so I let the beautiful dress lay on the floor. Thanks to some kind of witchcraft, the dress levitated by itself as if an invisible mannequin was wearing it.

I crawled in my bed and took a deep breath. The alcohol was rubbing off and I wanted to sleep before I'd feel nauseous. This day hadn't been the worst. I had made new friends and even Frigga seemed to like me. But I didn't do the one thing I should've done. I hadn't done much to help Loki and it made me feel bad.

***

''I'm so sorry I didn't come yesterday'' I apologized as soon as I saw Loki. Thor had taken me to the prison right in the morning and I had literally run all the way to Loki's cell. He looked at me silently without answering. Of course, it worried me. The guard allowed me to walk inside the cell, probably because of Thor's demands.

Loki didn't budge much as he saw me. ''Are you okay?'' I wanted to know and sat down on a blue chair, not sure if he'd let me on his bed. ''I'm brilliant'' He offered me a fake smile before grabbing his old looking book. Was he angry at me? I felt like someone stabbed my back as I pondered of what I had possibly done wrong.

''Don't lie to me Loki, I know something's wrong'' I dared to pardon his words. Loki didn't move his eyes from the book but he wasn't reading either. He was simply ignoring me. ''Loki!'' I said his name loudly, probably catching other prisoners attention.  ''I'm just surprised you came at all'' He admitted with a sigh.

''What do you mean?'' I wanted to know more. I still had a hangover and my mind processed things slowly. Odin was on my mind as well and it was making me crazy that he wasn't by the throne in the morning. So I had to wait all day to see him. ''You smell like alcohol'' He noticed and looked at me closely. Maybe my hair was a little messy but at least I wore a clean, golden dress.

I felt a little guilty. Loki was rotting in a cell with some dirty clothes as I wore the finest Asgard had to offer. He had been here for most of his life and I was basically a newcomer. It should be the other way around. ''Come here'' He demanded after a small, awkward silence. I did as told and moved my arse from the chair to his bed.

Loki narrowed his eyes and looked at me closely. He was probably doing some mind tricks to me but I didn't really mind. As he stared at me, I noticed how the anger transformed into pain. I wasn't sure what he saw but I didn't like it. ''I'm glad to know that she's by my side'' He murmured underneath his breath. I figured he talked about Frigga who discussed Loki's freedom with me yesterday behind her husband's back.

''I was going to visit you but Thor dragged me to this pre-welcome home party'' I admitted which made me feel wretched. Loki chuckled and he stared at the snow white floor. ''Of course, it's fine. I was worried your powers had done something to you'' Loki let me know and he finally put the book away. Could that explain why he was so tense earlier?

''I'm sorry'' I apologized softly. He was quick to answer. ''Don't be. I would've asked you if I had an opportunity but here I am'' He looked around the boring room. I was surprised he still hadn't lost his mind inside here. I couldn't even imagine being alone in such an oppressive space. Other prisoners could see right into your cell as well which made it worse.

''Odin said he'd speak to me today, about you'' I told Loki seriously. It was obvious that I was nervous about meeting Odin later. ''He's probably trying to make you see the bad in me that he sees'' Loki feared the worst. I watched as he rested his tired head in his hands. Seeing him like that was heartbreaking. A man as great as him didn't belong here.

I hesitated whether I should comfort him or not but I decided it was worth a shot. So I placed my hand on his back and scootched closer to him. ''Don't you dare forget my promise'' I whispered and leaned against him. Loki tilted his head so he could face me. ''You know, I thought that once we'd get here, you'd give up on me'', he said like it was no big deal. But for me, it sounded really sad. My eyes widened and my body froze for a while.

''Why on earth would you think such things?'' I gasped and looked at him straight in the eye. He looked like he was in pain as I got a chance to see his eyes well. ''Everyone does'' Loki said mysteriously and looked away. His sadness reminded me of the conversation we never got to finish back on earth. My soul felt trapped now. I couldn't get peace unless I had even attempted to listen to Loki.

''Do you want to continue where we left our conversation on Midgard?'' I wondered nervously, hoping that I didn't make him push me away. Loki took a deep breath and looked behind me, probably at the guards. As his eyes widened, I grew curious as well. I turned around and saw plenty of guards walking straight towards this cell. Among them, I saw Aibi.

''By the orders of King Odin, you shall be freed by his terms and conditions. You must come with us to the throne where you will be told what you shall know'' One of them spoke very seriously, almost like he read the words from paper but he sounded like a man you wouldn't want to mess with. My heart jolted to my throat from excitement and joy even shock. Loki stood up and I saw the shock on his face as well. His blue-green eyes widened and unwillingly the corners of his mouth curved into a tiny smile. Our eyes met for a while and that small moment was all I needed to feel his happiness. Loki was beyond glad to get out of here.

The golden light that kept the prisoners in the cells disappeared and Loki was able to leave. We both walked out of the cell but sadly, he was surrounded by guards immediately. This all happened so suddenly that I didn't feel like it was real but it astonished me that it was as real as it could get. One second we were locked in his cell and now he was going to face his father, the king of Asgard who had planned terms behalf of his freedom.

Could Loki actually be free now? Would everything be alright?

(chapter 11)

[fire-umbrem]

The Goddess’ Child

Hey! This was a short thing I wrote for the Kith and Kin zine! It's technically a spinoff of my fic Rude Awakening but due to the nature of zines is it's own self-contained thing. 

Also! The lovely Mythicat did some wonderful art to go with this! Go check it out!

The Goddess' Child

Naga sat atop her altar.

It was always quiet there. Serene, silent, peaceful. 

...But also boring.

She wished she could stretch her wings. But it was too much of a risk. The deadly disease that claimed all dragons who were dragons too long would take her. She couldn't let that happen. She was a god. 

Then she heard the pitter patter of little feet and her mood brightened.

"Ma-ma! Ma-ma!"

A little green-haired girl rushed in, jumping up and embracing Naga with a hug. Naga embraced her back. 

"Tiki! How are you?"

"I'm having fun ma-ma! The other dragons played games with me!" 

"That's great, dear."

"But..."

Tiki shifted a bit.

"What is it, sweetie?" said Naga.

Tiki pouted. "You said I couldn't play with some of the other dragons... Because they're sick... It's not fair."

Naga gave a worried frown. "Tiki... I... I don't want you to get sick too. That's why we look like humans."

"I know! But... But why can't we help them? The sick dragons?" Tiki jumped up and down. 

Naga shook her head. "I... We don't know how to help them, Tiki. The Divine Dragons like me have tried."

 Niki's head drooped. "It's not fair..."

 Naga nodded. "I know. I know. I wish it was fair too."

Tiki sighed and sulked off. Naga gazed forlornly after her.

She tried not to think about the plague. But it was always creeping ever closer.

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

"She did WHAT?" Naga's mouth gaped open in shock. 

"She - she - she tried to help one of the sick dragons. She was in human form, but there is still a possibility she got infected," said the other manakete to Naga.

Naga sputtered. "This... no... Is there any way we can stop it?"

The old Manakete put a hand to his chin. "It's possible since she was exposed as a human that putting her in periods of prolonged stasis will prevent the plauge from taking hold."

Naga's eyes narrowed. "So she needs... to sleep."

"Yes. She does."

Naga's face grew grave. "Then... Then I have no choice, Bantu. I must use the spell."

Bantu gave her a look of worry.  "What will you tell her?"

Naga's face fell further.

"I... I don't know."

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

Tiki gave Naga a look of despair. "Ma-ma, but why?"

Naga shook her head. "We have no choice. The plague will take hold otherwise."

Tiki's face grew grave. "I can't sleep for that long, mama... I can't play with my friends then..."

Naga tried to stay calm. "Your friends could get infected too..."

Tiki tried to perk herself up. "I... I'll be okay! They'll be okay!"

Naga shook her head. "Tiki, please... It's for the better..." Tiki's expression grew grave again. "But... But..."

"Tiki... I'm sorry... It's the only way... for you to not... not..." Naga started faltering. 

Tiki stopped, thought a bit, then nodded.

"...I... I'll do it."

Naga sighed. "Very well. Close your eyes..."

Tiki did. She grew sluggish, weary. Then curled up on the floor and fell asleep.

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

Naga was tending to plants when Tiki visited her again.

"Ma-ma! Ma-ma! I met the coolest person!" Tiki jumped up and down. 

Naga tilted her head. "Oh? Who was it, Tiki?"

Tiki grinned. "His name is Mar-Mar! He's got blue hair and a sword and a cape and he helps people and he fights bad guys and he's great!" Naga nodded. "Ah... Him..."

Tiki tilted her head. "You know Mar-Mar?"

Naga nodded. "Yes.... He has an important destiny."

Tiki pouted. "You know too much."

Naga scrunched up her face. "What do you mean?"

Tiki waved her hands around. "You always go on about prophecies and destinies and stuff. God things."

Naga chuckled. "It's my job after all."

Tiki pumped up her fists. "Well then, tell me Mar-mar's destiny! I wanna know!"

Naga gave a mischievous look. "You know I can't."

Tiki pouted again. "No fair."

Naga gave a wave of her hand. "Well, you should go and see him then. Find out his destiny for yourself."

Tiki perked up. "Oh! Oh! I can do that! Thanks Ma-ma!"

And Tiki ran off. Naga smiled.

"I am glad... you have a friend..."

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

It was raining. Even Naga's astral hideout needed rain. 

Naga was sitting with her eyes closed, letting it wash over her when she heard a noise. It was a sniffling, and footsteps. Very familiar ones. 

She opened her eyes to see Tiki, standing there, her head bowed, tears dripping down her cheeks. Naga's concern grew immensely.

"Tiki... what's wrong?"

"Mar mar... He's... gone..."

"Oh... Oh, dear, I understand..."

Tiki threw herself into Naga's arms and sobbed as Naga embraced her.

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

Tiki scoffed. "Ugh, mom, you don't understand."

Naga sighed. "Tiki please."

Tiki had grown older, and taller, and decidedly more rebellious. She was looking at Naga with a sneer. 

"You're so... cringe, mom," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

Naga raised an eyebrow. "And what does that even mean?"

Tiki rolled her eyes. "Like you're lame and I personally don't like you. That's enough."

Naga chuckled. "That's awfully petty."

"But you're so... traditional. With the whole deity business. You're taking advantage of all those people. You aren't even my real mom anymore. Just a reincarnation."

Naga frowned. "Tiki, this is all just part of my jo-" Tiki stomped a foot. "You also used that like, sleeping spell on me. I never get to experience like, anything before I fall asleep, wake up, and it's all gone. So that's like, even worse."

Naga's expression grew grave. "Tiki I- "

Tiki groaned. "Ugh. You're the worst."

Tiki stormed off. Naga sighed, sat down, and was quiet for a bit.

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

A now adult Tiki greeted Naga again.

"Mother! Mother!"

Naga pereked up. "Oh, Tiki! What is it!"

Tikii grinned. "I've joined up with these wonderful people... They're called the Shepherds! They have your exalts among them!"

"Is that so?" Naga said with a smirk.

Tiki rolled her eyes. "Yes. You knew didn't you."

Naga chuckled. "It's my job to know these things."

Tiki sighed and shook her head, "Oh, Mother."

She hesitated a bit before continuing.

"Their tactician. Robin. He's fascinating for some reason."

Naga froze.

"Him... I don't know what it is, but something is ominous about him. Be wary."

"I thought it was your job to know," said Tiki teasingly.

Naga shook her head. "Sometimes I do... Sometimes I just have a hunch."

Tiki laughed. "Don't worry, mother. I think I can handle him."

She skipped off. Naga wrung her hands. 

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

Tiki balked. "What do you mean I need to leave the Shepherds?"

Naga shook her head. "Things are getting too dangerous. He is getting involved."

Tiki scowled. "I'm not a child anymore, I can handle the danger!"

Naga clasped her hands together. "Please, Tiki, stay safe..."

Tiki pointed an accusatory finger. "You've always tried to hold me back mother, always!"

"Tiki, I-"

Tiki waved her hands wildly. "Thousands and thousands of years of the same damn things and you know what? I'm sick of it!"

"Tiki plea-"

Tears were streaming down Tiki's face. "I hate you mother! I hate you so much!"

She stormed off. Tiki slumped to the earth in shame.

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

The rain had come again. Pouring over Naga as she sat alone.

It was almost a welcome change since the skies had darkened from Grima's second coming. The Risen everywhere did not like the rain. They sought shelter, giving the remaining survivors a chance. 

Not that Tiki was among them. 

She had been claimed. Grima tore her asunder with his own jaws. She was gone. 

In all the untold millennia and reincarnations Naga had rarely been allowed to cry. But now she did, her sobs echoing as her tears were washed away by the rain. 

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

It was bright and sunny in Naga's domain. She breathed a sigh of relif, as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

As it pretty much was. Grima was gone. The Shepherds had dealt with him, with her help.

It was then Tiki approached.

"Mother... I'm sorry. You were right."

Naga sighed. "I forgive you, my dear. And in the end things worked out."

Tiki nodded. "Yes... Grima is gone. The Shepherds are safe The Robin we know did not succumb."

Naga nodded back. "And I in turn must apologize."

Tiki tilted her head. "For what?"

Naga hung her head. "Everything. Especially the sleeping spell."

Tiki sighed. "Mother... I understand. I am glad you apologized but I know why you did what you did."

Naga smiled. "Thank you."

Tiki grew pensive. "And perhaps without it... My mind would have succumbed to the disease. I would have never met all those people like Mar-Mar and Robin and all the others..."

She yawned. 

"Though... I could use a nap right now..."

Nagga beckoned. "Come... Rest on my shoulder."

Tiki smiled. "I think I will."

Tiki sat down and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Naga leaned in and did the same.

They stayed that way for a good long while. 

***

[mysamcedesmadness]

S.T.A.R.S. AU Samcedes Fanfiction Chapter 20

A/N: There have been a few folks who have asked me about this story and it’s truly one of my favorite ones and one of the ones that I’d actually love to transform into an original story, instead of an AU fanfiction. It’s been a couple of years since the last update. For that, I am sorry. But, this one honestly should be completed within the next few chapters. It’s not as long as some of my other stories.

Edit: I realized that I accidentally used the wrong name for Aphasia. Her name is actually Nthanda, not Jael..  So, if you read this before now, the name Jael is now gone and changed back to Nthanda for Aphasia.

Previously at S.T.A.R.S…

The team has not heard from Cassandra July, a concern that bothers them.  But, more importantly, the star children believe that they have figured out some semblance of a plan - a way out because their DNA remembers things from their history that had been suffocated.  Yet, Mercedes and Aphasia have gone through a portal… and nobody knows where to…

Baby, You’re a Star! 

Cassandra barely looked at Becky when she entered the office.  Becky gathered some things from her desk, into a box while Cassandra pretended not to notice her. When she stopped at the door, she mentioned, “They are going to destroy you if you move forward with all of this, and you might also ruin the rest of the world as we know it.”

“The fact that you’re still here immensely bothers me.” She waved her hand and two guards assisted Becky in leaving quickly.

***

It was becoming harder and harder for him.  Gaining the opportunity to leave was as hard as preparing everything which was needed!  And in the meantime, there she was, HIS wife, as beautiful as all of the stars combined, smiling and giving a portion of energy to Shihab for support...  Eosphorus clenched both of his fists and approached the table, “Make your selection,” he demanded and his eyes glared towards Danica.  She sighed and stepped away from the table...

Mercedes and Aphasia stumbled into the dark room and held onto each other, barely able to stay standing.  They heard voices and Mercedes quickly pulled her friend into a hiding space.  A light bounced into the room with the voices coming in, “There is no place in this palace that they won’t find out.  They have ears everywhere,” a woman’s voice said.

“They trust me.  Danica is my betrothed.  If anyone has a right to search for her, it is me.”

“We’ve BEEN searching, the woman’s voice said.  “We’ve searched with every power that we know of.  She’s just gone.  My advice?  Publicly mourn, and select another. I am leaving before her parents find out.”  Mercedes tried to get a glimpse of the woman, a small Asian with her hair in a bob.  She didn’t know her, but when the woman left, Shihab stuck around.  What was he waiting for?  

There were footsteps coming down the hall and he shuffled to hide.    Mercedes’ panicked.  He’d better not…  He went out of the room another way.  She sighed and the footsteps stopped.

“Danica?”  A voice said.  She grabbed Aphasia’s arm and backed further into the crevice.  “Is that you?”  The woman asked.

“Baby Nthanda  …  We need out of here,” Mercedes whispered.  “Please, please, please, please…”  Another portal opened and pulled them through, just as the door was opening and for a brief moment, Mercedes saw a face and felt a tremendous power as they returned.

All of the Starchildren were relieved to see them back, but Aphasia was shaken to her core and she looked at Mercedes. “Was that… real?” She wondered. “Did we really go home?”

Everyone gasped and reacted with shock and terror. Mercedes said, “I have to speak to Eosphorus.” 

He was with the inner circle whenever she and Aphasia walked in. Joe rushed to greet Aphasia and Mercedes went into the center of them, looking directly at Sam when she said it, “We went back. We were there. We were… home…” 

Everyone in the room was in complete silence for what seemed like forever, despite the fact that it was only for a few moments, then Jesse broke the silence by addressing the baby in the womb again. “Thank you, Friend.” To Tina and Mike he said, “We need to get started on tactical and logistics.” Sam and Mercedes both nodded in agreement and then dismissed the others to work or, in Aphasia and Joe’s case, relax.

Sam stared at her for a while and she awkwardly folded her arms and looked down. “I know. I know… I’ll have to play my part. I just… still don’t know how.”

“Ask the universe. All things must be revealed.”

.

The Universe. The Cosmos. God. Mother Earth. Father Time. Something, somewhere had the answers and the abilities. But damn it if Mercedes knew. Well… Danica… or even Cassiopeia reborn. That felt like blasphemy to her, for her to even think it. She wished for another visit. She wished for another prophecy. She prayed for it. But that was pretty hard when you didn't know who to pray to.

Well, even though it was taught to her in such an ugly place - the S.T.A.R.S. facility, she couldn't help but eventually turn to the old "Our Father prayer." 

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. On Earth, as it is in heaven… she gasped and "awakened" in Cassiopeia's throne room. "It's you!" She said.

"You begged me to speak."

"Are..  you "Our Father?" She asked, sheepishly. 

The woman smiled and came down from her throne, a brilliant sight, glowing and sparkling more than before, her face clearer than the previous vision, or else Mercedes just couldn't remember that one as clearly. "Father. Mother. These are earthly words. You didn't call me with your tongue. You called me with your spirit. Your energy. Your being. Your hope to do what the Universe needs. Your desire to be what the Universe created you to."

She touched her face and said, "Her will be done, on the planets, as it is with the stars. The number of translations never fully encompass the plan. As above, so below. On Earth, as it is in Heaven. Dear, Danica, you are one of the chosen ones. To come to Earth, from Heaven, to die, be reborn, and return to your home. This world will end. Worlds often do. Sometimes on their own, sometimes with a tool. Be that tool called the Devil, or the process called the Apocalypse. Be that tool called the Serpent or the process called the Fall of Man. Be that tool be called Lucifer and the process called the War in Heaven, all of this has happened before and it will happen again. In Heaven and on Earth. You served a great higher purpose. You came here to be the tool needed for the process of this world's end, and now, you will be able to go home."

"Wait. I'm the Devil, in this situation?" She clutched her heart.

"The devil is an earthly term for one of the Universe's tools. A child of Heaven, rebellious against their parents rules and will, cast down to Earth to destroy? When they taught you that story, it didn't resonate with you? In certain tongues, Danica means morning star and Eosphorus? Dawn bringer… you together was forseen ages ago. It had to happen."

"So WE are the devil?"

"You are obsessed with that title. You are no more the devil than I am God, and either way, the Universe controls these things. Much like the wicked king's game of wars."

"What do I do next?"

"Go home. Many stars have died for this world to exist. You aren't meant to die with it. You are meant to live in heaven." Cassiopeia leaned forward and kissed her descendent on the forehead. 

The sky opened and in the "twinkling of an eye" Danica woke up in her bed, home. What? Was that a dream? It couldn't have been! There was only one way to find out. She got out of bed and rushed through the castle. She saw members of her court, as they used to be, most of them looking just as confused as she felt, so she presumed that they knew and remembered the experience on Earth..  "Princess, you've been summoned by the King and Queen," Oracle Nashira told her. 

As nervous as she was, she decided to make her way there. "Find Nthanda for me and send her to me, at once!" She said as she went down the hallway. Where was Eosphorus? Where was Thuraya? 

As she approached her parents' chamber, she paused, took a deep breath and said a small prayer, "Thy will be done." 

"Princess Danica?" She heard. She turned to see Nthanda , thankfully still pregnant, though she was now adorned in one of her  dresses and some of her jewelry. "You sent for me?"

"Yes! My parents want to see me. I may need your help."

"This baby is resting. I think that he brought us all back here… but, I am willing to stand beside you anywhere."

They walked in together and Danica’s mother was seated on her throne, with Shihab in front of her. Both of them looked up to see her enter. “Danica… You shouldn’t bring one of your things into this place!” Her mother said, a vision, just like Danica, but older, with silver hair as luminous as stars and sparkling makeup and clothes. Nthanda had never seen the queen before and even now, averted her eyes, because she didn’t feel worthy to look  upon her.

“This is Nthanda . She isn’t my property. She is my friend.”

The Queen sighed and said, “Very well. Servants are sworn to silence, at any rate. You’ve been very busy, Danica. The state of that world that you crashed on has taken a drastic miserable turn.” The floor opened, much like it did whenever the king and queen would be about to watch a battle, but instead, they were all looking at Earth. 

Cassandra July was rounding up anyone who was thought to be a supporter of the starchildren, as she couldn’t find any of them. “That woman is going to kill a lot of people, if my oracle still has his talent, but it was good of you to not surrender. That shows weakness. A weakling could never sit in this throne. Only those of us strong enough and smart enough belong here… Where is the baby that you birthed there?”

Danica shook her head and said, “I don’t know… So… You saw me? You saw what was happening to me there and you just… did nothing?”

Her mother scoffed, “What could I do? You ran away from home and crashed in a place that we purposely avoid.”

“You could have found a portal opener. You could have tried to get us back, to rescue us!” Danica cried.

“It’s bad enough that you brought all of this riffraff back with you… Who ARE all of those people who reappeared with you?” She waved a hand to change the “channel” to the main courtyard and Nthanda and Danica watched as so many humans they sort of knew from Earth and babies and children appeared in the courtyard, while they appeared in their own rooms. 

“It’s like the 4400!” Nthanda cheered. Danica looked confused. “One of the shows that Auriga played when he took over the S.T.A.R.S. building!” She looked at a displeased queen and put her head down, embarrassed. 

“Auriga?” The Queen repeated, “The Wicked King’s descendant from the Enemy Prince’s kingdom?”

Nthanda nodded her head, “We were trapped on Earth together. He was our friend.”

“He was the doctor who made sure that you were docile enough to be raped and bred for human curiosity,” The Queen corrected.

“You saw all of that, and yet…” Danica looked around and wondered, “Where… Where is Father?”

The Queen sighed and said, “Unfortunately, his energy has returned to the well. But, since you were gone and Shihab was without partnership, he is now my king.” She gestured a hand to Danica’s former betrothed and both Danica and Nthanda were shocked (and Nthanda was a little bit grossed out. That Queen was centuries older than Shihab…)

“Wait. Father DIED, and you married my betrothed?” Danica said for clarification. “Shihab is now the KING of my kingdom?”

“You abandoned us,” Shihab said. 

Danica rushed to her mother’s feet and begged, “Mother, please… I don’t trust him. Someone tried to kill us and I don’t know that it wasn’t him…”

The Queen tilted her head and said, “You weren’t supposed to do what you did to this kingdom. You can’t do what it is that you mean to. Where is that baby, Danica?” 

“I told you that I don’t know! She didn’t reappear here with me!” The Queen nudged her head at her King and he tried to force Danica’s powers to search for Thuraya. She collapsed and Nthanda rushed to check on her. 

“She’s being honest. The baby is hidden from her, too.” Shihab said.

“Then, someone is hiding her. Post her image everywhere and comb the kingdom. We can’t let the forgotten queen return!” 

“You can’t what?” Danica asked. 

But, the Queen ignored her, to continue giving orders, “Round up every single person who came here with them, and reach out to the other kingdoms for whoever reappeared there too.” Shihab nodded once and left. The Queen said, “Whenever I was much younger than you, she showed herself to me, as well. She told me that my heir would rule this kingdom and that my child who bring to our world the reincarnation of the forgotten queen. I thought that she meant your brother. He was the heir, after all. It was a very difficult decision to smite the energy from his vessel. But, when we realized that it was you that she meant, you were fleeing with the enemy. It wasn’t as hard to make that decision…” She laughed, “And you lived. And I watched you die. I watched her die, but then you lived AGAIN. Well… I won’t have her return. I won’t have the world as we know it torn down!” She lifted her hands and soldiers emerged from the floor. Nthanda held on to Danica and the baby opened a portal to get them out of there, and to Eosphorus. 

Nthanda told him everything that they had just witnessed and everything that the Queen said. Danica was still in shock. 

“So… They think that Thuraya is Cassiopeia?” Eosphorus asked. “And they intend to do what to her? Kill her?” He wondered.

“Where IS she?” Danica wondered.

Nthanda said, “It seemed like everyone who was brought here was brought to a time and place that they were familiar with. Our castles, our chambers… The baby couldn’t have done that on his own. Does he know these things? He can’t, right? This was a group effort… So… Do we know where the other Pentalpha mommas are? Maybe…. That might lead us to Thuraya?” They quickly rushed to try to find their allies. 

In the streets of Eosphorus’ kingdom, images of Thuraya were already appearing all over town with hefty rewards promised. “It’s Auriga!” Nthanda said and pointed. He had his hands up, speaking with a guard in the courtyard, standing in between the guard and Rachel. “And Rachel!” she said. They rushed over and Eosphorus tried to speak to the guard while Rachel, Auriga, Nthanda and Danica spoke quietly to each other about what was happening.

“We were told that the Prince was dead. He crashed to the Earth, Lucifer’s Fall come to pass!”

“Look at me. Do you not recognize me? Contact my mother!” Eosphorous fussed and waved his friends away while this distraction was occurring. They rushed away during the argument, then Eosphorus vanished from the guard, to rendezvous with them around the corner.

Rachel shook her head and said, “So… no matter WHERE you go, you’re in hiding and being hunted?” 

Auriga scoffed and said, “I mean… Yeah, right now!”

“How are the humans here, too?” Nthanda wondered.

Rachel said, “Something happened to us. We aren’t human. I feel different…”

Auriga nodded and said, “Baby, you’re a star.”

“Wait… I’m… like one of you?”

“Not like one of us. Whenever you crossed over, you must have been given a vessel like ours, to hold your energy. Human bodies aren’t meant to exist up here. I mean… theoretically, we’re made of the same stuff, but we don’t have the same bodies.”

“Jesse…”

“Auriga. Jesse was a persona. One I hated. My name is Auriga, and we have to find our friends, and our family. I think all of them may be in danger.” 

Carmen had long since left from where the rest of the others reappeared. So, whenever they began to round them up, she wasn’t there, meaning that Thuraya wasn’t there, either. She couldn’t tell how she knew, but she felt like it was at least possible that the baby wouldn’t be safe, so whenever they appeared in this strange place, her with this strange body and a heap of babies crawling around at her feet, she searched for the one that she didn’t even know whether or not she would be there… But, she was. Thuraya appeared in the same place that the humans had. The starchildren? Carmen didn’t know. But, once she saw the images being put out to find the baby, she hid her in a basket, beneath another baby. “Please, don’t die,” she said. Hopefully, whoever that other baby was for would be okay for a while, until Carmen could get them back to their parents.

“You there! Woman!” Someone said. Carmen realized that even though her body was made differently, she had on her Earth clothes. “What’s in that basket? Looks like a baby!” 

“It is a baby,” She said and showed the dark brown baby that was on top of Thuraya. “My baby. We… just got here, from Earth. Funny story. I was sitting at home, then I was here, with a new body, Chile. Can you believe that?” The guard was trying to dig deeper into the basket, but Thuraya began to sing a song and the guard hypnotically backed away and let them go. Carmen sighed with relief, then got the hell out of dodge. 

She wondered where she could go in this place. Everything looked pretty shiny and new. Things seemed pristine, and here she was in old scrubs, covered in dirt and human stench… “What are you called?” A woman asked her. She turned to see a lady with an afro, selling clothes.

“Ummm… Whoopi,” Carmen said the first name that came to mind. If somebody found out about her, they might find out about the baby.

“Whoopi? This is funny, but pretty. You look like you need help.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine…” Carmen lied. 

The girl with the afro whispered, “I know who you are.” She pressed her finger over her lip and prepared a basket for her, “You need help. Remember me when the True Queen returns.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Sure… Who are you?”

“I am called Sadal Suud. The True Queen has friends in this kingdom.” Carmen had no idea what that meant, but she would remember Sadal Suud… if it ever came a time for remembering her, because when she looked into the basket, there were clothes, garments and jewelry for her and clothes for two baby girls. 

“Sadal… Is there some place that I might be able to wash up and maybe rest?” Carmen asked.

“Yes, Whoopi. I have a place.” She smiled and gestured to someone in her tent. Whenever he came out, Carmen gasped, happily, “Joe!”

He smiled and shook his head, “It’s Cygnus.” His smile faded and he said, “ Nthanda was summoned with Danica to the Queen, then they fled and now she’s looking for them and Thuraya. I left the castle and came here, to Nthanda ’s sister.”

“This is Aphasia’s sister?”

“ Nthanda was my princess. I was a handmaiden to her before our people were conquered. She calls me sister, because she lost her crown. But, she will get it back. Prophecies flood the streets about the forgotten queen’s return. Already, she is being spoken of for the first time in centuries.”

“Come in, Carmen,” Joe said and held the tent open for her. 

“It’s not Whoopi? I like Whoopi better.”

“By all means, call me Whoopi.” Carmen came into the tent and told Cynus, “We’ll have to find some place to go…” She took the first baby out of the basket and revealed Thuraya. Cynus gasped and the baby took his thumb, to show him something. 

“It’s her. This is… This is Cassiopeia…” He said. 

Sadal gasped too and kneeled before the baby, “True Queen. Thank you for allowing your servant to see your face!” Thuraya played in her hair and it became silver, a sign of wisdom. “She’s blessed me! The stars will someday say Sadal Suud had faith in the True Queen and she was the first to be blessed when she returned!” Sadal cried before the baby and Carmen swept her up.

“I’m going to get her and myself changed. I don’t know who’s baby THIS is,” she gestured at the other. 

“I think if we can find Nthanda that I may be able to connect with our baby and see if somehow he can show me something to explain what we’ve stepped into. He brought us here, I’m sure… but I don’t understand why he brought so many humans and I don’t understand how those humans became stars.” 

.

Shihab’s men marching through the kingdom gave Nashira thoughts of dejavu… Only, not from her own lifetime. She was the Oracle, after all. She had seen many things from many times, but one thing that she had never been allowed to see was the face of Casseiopeia, so that timeline was generally blocked from her mind. But, somehow, some way, she was having thoughts of her. Thoughts of the kingdom after her fall. These soldiers of Shihab were so much like those of Capricornus. Then again, the Queen was a descendant of the Wicked King. “Oracle!” Shihab called and she turned around and he asked her, “Where is that baby being hidden?”

“I promise, I don’t know.”

“You were one of the main oracles of the history of this kingdom,” he said. “You were even so on Earth.”

“On Earth, as it is in Heaven. A crash doesn’t change my destiny, Prince Shihab. But, I don’t know where Thuraya is. Perhaps she doesn’t want us to know.” He stared into her and he cringed in the pain of him trying to force her powers to see what he needed to see… Her dead looking eyes stared out ahead of her and she saw Thuraya, with Carmen, Joe, and Aphasia’s friend. “In the town, at a tent,” she said, unable to stop herself, but not forced to say more, thank goodness. He let her fall weakly to the floor and her nose bled from trying to fight him. 

Mindwhisper… Are you still able to hear me, here? Oracle wondered.

YES! Nashira! Yes, I can!!!

Thuraya is with Cynus and Carmen Thibodeaux, at Nthanda ’s sister’s tent. Shihab is headed into town to find her!

We’ll get them, then I’ll come to get you!

Don’t waste your time on me… But, Sadal Suud… She is my successor… Danica felt Oracle’s energy return to the well and she clutched her heart. “She’s gone.” She told the others. 

“Emma?” Rachel asked, horrified. Danica just nodded, instead of correcting her. It would take a while before she learned their old names… and now, there was no reason for her to know Nashira’s… But history would. 

“Lets go get our baby,” Danica said to Eosphorus. They held hands and then teleported into the town, near the particular tent. They were right in Shihab’s path and Eosphorus smirked at him. He had been waiting years for this face off. Danica released his hand and made her way to the tent while Shihab and Eosphorus, right in the middle of the town, charged directly at each other, prepared to fight.

[iamabax]

Seagull and Religion

Goodnight took dried green buds, a smidgen of purple, two pinches of white and brown, and laid them in fresh paper, licked it, rolled it to a perfect cylinder, and handed it over, lighting it for her from a lighter with a golden trumpet on it.

“You’re a musician?” she asked.

“Jazz, major. That’s my band- The Curiels,” he said with a nod in toward the music.

“You’re fantastic,” Bax said, the haze rising like a thick wool blanket, she thanked Goodnight with her hidden eyes and teetered backward and some minutes later on the totter she caught Seagull and Goodnight in conversation.

“How can you be such an atheist and think so highly of religion?” Goodnight asked.

“I’m not an atheist. I’m a salesman at a car lot, I have the keys to all the cars, porches and station wagons alike,” came her brother’s reply.

“Well, how can you have such a high opinion of the station wagon and never buy one?”

“Because it is no longer a station wagon, now it is a Subaru with paint that sparkles, and heated leather seats, and legions of them roam about city asphalt where they should be taking kids off road, fishing, camping. The prestige has replaced the function.”

“I think I lost you,” the top hat said.

Her brother broke in again, “Anyhow, it would take a lot of time - religion, although it certainly has a solid routine.”

I wonder how many men have been saved by mere formula? The spectacles asked.

“Anyhow, the best part of it is it’s solitude and the majority of it’s adherents are so damn needy, indulgent, vain, ego stroking - no rivers of living water in sight, and the greatest ego stroke of all is to allow yourself to be just mildly sinful enough to be mildly convicted, so then to resolve to be a better person but changing just enough to feel terribly pleased with ones self, every year growing infinitely more self satisfied at your gradual decline, growing into a self you’d have been horrified to meet at first grace. To meet a self satisfied rich man, a wicked man, is amusing. To meet a self satisfied Laodicean makes me want to vomit every word of gospel I ever heard.”

“But you have to respect our fruit.”

“That’s why I love you guys so much, your works are unparalleled. There are few things that terrify me more than a leper, but say you buy a suit, well you look in the mirror in the morning to get your tie right, but a few will stay peering into the mirror.  And so yes, the religious in the streets with their ministry, but really, they are grabbing for their reflections off of car windows, off of quiet waters even, and only make eye contact long enough to see themselves in other peoples eyes.”

“You can’t know that.”

“But you can, you’re closer, and you surely see it.”

“I see a mans’s effort but not his end.”

“I assure you, if you couldn’t see the effort, there would be a lot less of it.”

“But nevertheless the effort remains, the resolution to be better.”

“Oh, better? Really? Religion and its perpetual resolutions- why does anyone have to resolve to do anything but to fail. I wake up every morning and pick up my plow and dig deep furrows- Christians always resolving and always running in circles.”

“Lots of people run in circles. Harrison chief among them,” Goodnight said, indicating toward the young Dick Diver. “He’s been waiting for the upper class to implode probably since he was fourteen, and will when he gets married, when he has kids, when he’s writing his will, wondering if there will be anything left to leave anything for.”

“I, I, saw the warning signs as young as age twelve. Even then I began so suspect….”

Goodnight continued, “You have to admit the religious man at least is not spiraling downward with break neck speed."

“That’s just it. The religious man above all other men is content to hit cruise and settle for mediocre, he’s the most uninteresting man to write about and yet he loves to read stories about everyone else, living vicariously because at last he’s a coward. Yet, he takes the appearance of progress because he pays a mortgage, raises three kids, buys a new car and later on a newer one. But you take a monk, a good monk and not a bad one, take a good monk and at the end of his life he will have no progeny.”

“Unlike the bad monks,” Bax whispered giddily.

“No possessions, no fleet of patrons to eulogize him with sentiment, but he would have ascended higher than the religious man ever dreamed, that is if he were a good monk. And then they’ll put him in a pine box and put him in the dirt where he belongs.”

“I think they burn the monks,” the Top Hat corrected.

“Ever better,” Seagull said. 

Goodnight gave Seagull a long look. He was flustered but to Bax it seemed he enjoyed Seagull’s observation, his humor, his perspective, and finally settled on his own observation, “You process trauma different than the next man. You’re impervious to it.”

Bax’s face warmed because she not only knew this was true but she knew why it was so.

“No!” Seagull said, suddenly hot. “The next man clings to trauma mistaking it for life, taking the exhilaration of drama and the high it gives in place of an elevated and quiet character. No drugs are more potent than the reliving of trauma.”

“Did I mention charity?” Goodnight asked. 

“Your sect has just enough to stay in cruise, just enough to bring everyone up to cruise with him, and I tell you what, don’t be impressed by works, it takes all legions of works, as if they were treading water to keep men from sinking, to fight against entropy. Shouldn’t you play sometimes soon?”

Goodnight looked over at his band, and let out a sigh. He was having fun here and saw he could not win.

“Anyhow,” Seagull continued “it’s all very mediocre and too often sensational. But most of your sect are just a slip and a slide away from pathological appetite. Yes give a man CPR if he’s drowned, but once he’s resuscitated stop giving him CPR.

“You wouldn’t give a man CPR unless you were certain he was drowning,” the top hat said.

“Until he was positively blue in the face,” Bax added,” and they all laughed. 

“I’d wait till purple, just to be sure you know. But I got big lungs. I can bring a man back from purple. Besides, you didn’t need so much air back in the day. For the love of God…”

At the mention of God everyone in the glass arbor crossed themselves, it was their own inside joke every time ‘God’ crossed Seagull’s lips.

“Dammit,” Seagull said, hating to lose his composure. “Where was I?”

“My work is done here,” Goodnight said rising and turning to go.

“My own roll please, dear kind servant,” Seagull suddenly petitioned. 

Goodnight sat back down and indulged him.

“But, really, just that a handful would just take a good word and run with it. You only need a single good word to run a marathon. I met a girl once who ran the El camino de Santiago on nothing more than a phrase. Meanwhile, you have all legions of tongues and prophecies and stand perpetually exhausted, holding on for dear life to the treadmill as if it were real work, no longer treading, the belt of artificial motion flying by under your feet. Only the quiet ones have anything decent to offer, otherwise it’s all spitting in the wind and distraction.”

Goodnight gave the freshly rolled concoction to Seagull and lit it for him.

“You’re a Christian Bax asked?”

“Deeply so,” Goodnight said.

“A Christian drug dealer?”

Goodnight laughed. 

“I only deal the soft stuff.”

Seagull cut in, “And he sells everything for fair market value but he himself never indulges in anything other than tobacco.”

“Is that so?” Bax asked, she looked around and the other faces nodded with clear appreciation and respect.

“I like to remain sober minded,” Goodnight said.

“But he is merciful to the rest of us. He’s the most responsible men I know.”

“Tobacco’s a stimulant,” Bax said.

“I’m a jazz major West, Greek to the Greeks,” and Bax could not place the reference.

“Anyhow,” Seagull said, “I’ll trust your religion more once you graduate and test it in open waters, until then its all theory.”

“When we both graduate there will assuredly be a testing,” Goodnight said and this time, he and Seagull both rose. Seagull guided Bax upward and they followed Goodnight out of the arbor just in time to see the Goldfish being carried away by hands and feet,

“I’m having such a wonderful time,” she sang dreamily, an angry pirate leading the way.

“He’s interesting,” Bax said.

“He’s one of the few Christians I can trust,” Seagull said.

“Because he deals drugs?” Bax asked.

“Exactly.”

The aberration was essential in her brother’s vetting of friends.

[thekindmagic]

*-*rambling self-indulgent speculation fic thing*-* (in which I enjoy thinking about Ignis and Regis and their weird as hell relationship) (and also about how the whole Kingsglaive engagement announcement went down) (and also about Ignoct in general)

Ignis hasn’t been formally summoned by the king in years, much less in the middle of the night.

He squints at the alert on his phone, then sits up and puts on his glasses to read it. Meeting the king in his personal chambers? Has something happened?

He tries to stay calm as he gets out of bed. He sends off a quick message to Noctis, in the vain hope that he’s awake and can reassure Ignis that he’s alright. 

He keeps checking his phone as he dresses. No answer.

That’s no cause for concern by itself: it’s late, Noctis is probably asleep.

The Imperial envoy earlier today was probably nothing to worry about.

Everything’s probably fine.

…It’s too bad probably has never been a particularly comforting word for Ignis.

By the time he arrives at King Regis’s door, nodding his way past the guards and checking one more time to make sure his shirt is tucked in after dressing in the dark, Ignis has come up with no less than seven completely disastrous reasons he might have been called. None of them seem particularly likely, but it’s always important to be prepared for the worst.

“Come in, Ignis.”

Ignis does, closing the door quietly behind him.

King Regis is in his armchair, still dressed, his head resting on one hand. He looks exhausted.

Ignis bows in greeting.

No greeting is forthcoming  in return.

“I need your opinion.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

King Regis studies him with heavy, tired eyes. “If you were to select a personal retinue for Noctis, a Crownsguard, whom would it contain?”

A Crownsguard? There’s already a Crownsguard, one which has been carefully vetted and trained. Why would Noctis require a separate one? “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Ignis says carefully.

King Regis doesn’t seem surprised at his confusion. “I’m asking for a small group, perhaps three or four. People of balanced abilities, able to support Noctis in whatever situations may arise.”

Something is very wrong, here. But what? “Gladiolus Amicitia has trained all his life to protect His Highness,” Ignis says, giving the obvious answer to play for time.

King Regis motions for him to continue talking. “And you approve of the result?”

“I do. He is a fine warrior, and deeply loyal. He has been a close companion to His Highness, and I consider him a friend as well.” 

“Good,” King Regis nods. “I would have chosen him anyway. Who else?”

Ignis frowns, thinking. It’s difficult to choose given so little context. There are guards and attendants, people of ability, but their loyalty is to the crown first and foremost. Most of them have no relationship with Noctis as a person, and thus Ignis can’t in good conscience entrust Noctis to them. There honestly aren’t many people Noctis gets along with. 

Or-? Well… Why not? 

“Prompto Argentum.”

King Regis raises his eyebrows. “A name I would not have thought of.”

“His combat experience is… minimal,” Ignis admits. “But Your Majesty requested a balance of skills.”

“And what is Prompto’s skill in?”

“Lifting His Highness’s spirits.”

King Regis smiles. 

“There are few so adept,” Ignis says, feeling more confident in his choice by the second. “If Your Majesty suspects challenges ahead, I would not suggest passing him over.”

“Could he be trained?”

“I believe so.”

“Very well.” King Regis adjusts himself in his chair, sitting up straighter. “I notice you have not yet named yourself.”

…Oh. Like an imbecile, Ignis had considered himself a given. Whatever King Regis was planning for Noctis, Ignis hadn’t been able to envision being left out. Now, he’s envisioning it acutely. 

Is he expected to make a case for himself? Would it matter? Surely his qualifications are already known. “I would include myself, Your Majesty.”

King Regis sets his hands on his armrests, and Ignis suddenly feels like they’re in the throne room instead of a bedchamber. His heart rate picks up. He’s been preparing for disaster since he first got this message, and the change in the air indicates that his expectations may finally be fulfilled.

“Am I right in assuming,” King Regis says quietly, “that your feelings for Noctis are beyond those which duty requires?”

Seven potential disasters.

This one hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He thought he’d been so careful, never letting himself look too long, finding believable excuses for every visit and gift and touch. Drawing back whenever he had to, never giving Noctis the chance to notice his struggle or close the distance between them. Denying himself innocent moments, afraid of what the press might do even with too soft a smile.

He can’t do anything about the fact that his chest aches sometimes when Noctis says his name.

“His Highness has been- is-” damn it, damn it, “has always been… dear to me. As he is to many who know him, I have no doubt.”

King Regis hums, his face unreadable. “But perhaps not in the same way?”

Ignis will be removed from duty, that isn’t even a question. 

Is that what this has been? Was King Regis looking for Ignis’s input regarding his own replacement? People who could support Noctis until a new advisor could be arranged?

He’ll be sent away from the Citadel.

God. He’ll never see Noctis again.

“Your Majesty, please,” Ignis says, head swimming in desperation. “I have never acted out of accordance with my position, I swear it. I am a faithful steward to His Highness. I hope to have done well by him, and by you. I would never-”

“Peace,” King Regis says, looking genuinely surprised at Ignis’s outburst. “I did not call you here to condemn you.”

Then, why? Why? What has this been about? What need is there for a specialized guard? What does it matter whether Ignis is so pathetically in love that he could cry? 

Ignis prides himself on maintaining an understanding of both world politics and the affairs of Insomnia, but he’s lightheaded and his face is hot and he cannot figure out why he was called to this meeting.

“The Empire has called for a peace treaty. It requires a marriage between Noctis and Lady Lunafreya of Tenebrae.”

Oh.

Ignis has been choosing an escort. 

To Noctis’s wedding.

“The press will know, come morning,” King Regis says, almost gently.

So, this was a kindness. Ignis will be spared dealing with his shock in public. He’s grateful - or, as grateful as can be managed in his current state.

King Regis rubs at his eyes. “There is another provision, as well.”

Peace with Niflheim. Noctis engaged. And there’s more? Ignis stares at the far wall, clutching his hands behind his back, trying to school his expression.

“You have no interest?” The bitter tone is a surprise. Ignis looks at King Regis, who isn’t looking back at him. The king’s hand is still over his eyes. “As advisor to the crown,” he continues, voice distant and frustrated, “you have no opinion on this treaty?”

Ignis doesn’t know what his king expects from him. It’s all he can do to keep his face impassive. “I would not presume-”

“By all means, presume!” King Regis laughs, a sound as dry as paper tearing. “You have always been dutiful. Tell me, Ignis, remind me. What is my duty?”

Ignis cannot do this right now. Not when he’s already wondering what Noctis will look like on his wedding day. Not when he’s imagining a lifetime of training heirs to the throne in history and etiquette, children with their mother’s healing hands and Noctis’s beautiful eyes. He feels like someone’s carved a portion out of his chest, the part that dealt with breathing. “The line of Lucis protects the Crystal until the King of Light comes,” he recites numbly.

“The Crystal,” King Regis says, almost snaps. “The Prophecy. And my son? My people? Do I not have an obligation to them?”

“Your Majesty,” Ignis says slowly, fighting for competence, “I don’t know what choices you may be facing, nor do I expect you to confide in me. Your people trust you to fulfill your duties in the best way you know. As I will fulfill mine to your son.”

King Regis stares at him for a long moment, then seems to settle, fatigue draining the tension from his features once more. “We must all make our sacrifices. Is that what you mean to say?” He sighs and passes his hand over his face. “You have been good to him, Ignis. In ways I could never have hoped for. I pray that you will continue to stand by him in the days ahead.”

“Always,” Ignis says. “In all things.”

“A promise not made lightly now, with the future uncertain.”

“The future has never been certain. And I have never been one to take things lightly, Your Majesty.”

King Regis nods to him in gratitude. “You may go,” he says quietly.

As desperate as he is to leave, Ignis stops with one hand on the door. He turns back. It would be impertinent to ask, but… “Have you told him?”

“No,” King Regis says.

Ignis bristles invisibly. “Do you intend to?”

“If I don’t, you will, won’t you? Even if asked not to.”

Yes. Yes, he will. As much as Ignis has just panicked about being fired and thrown out… Noctis is not going to find out about his own engagement from the news. 

King Regis smiles sadly. “Don’t answer, please. I’d hate to have a member of the new Crownsguard penalized for misconduct.”

Even after the utter mess this conversation has been, at least Ignis still has his place by Noctis’s side. If sixteen years in the palace have earned him the leniency shown tonight, perhaps he can push it just a bit further. Just this once. “You should be the one to tell him, Your Majesty.”

King Regis knows this, surely. It still takes him a long time to nod. “Bring him to me.”

—

Ignis lets himself into Noctis’s apartment. It’s so familiar, the routine of it, the reassurance of having the key. He’s spent more of his waking life here than in his own rooms, these last few years. He knows every shelf and cupboard, knows the view from the balcony, knows the haphazard organization of the spare closet where his extra clothes are hung beside Noctis’s formal suits.

He doesn’t bother with the lights - he can find his way around in the dark.

It’s so strange to think this life is almost over.

Noctis is asleep, as Ignis had suspected, but he apparently didn’t make it to his bed. He’s curled up on the sofa like a cat, still in his clothes, the lights of the city casting shadows across his face.

Ignis kneels beside him. He’d like to smooth back Noctis’s hair from his forehead, or touch his cheek. He’d like to stave off waking him, to take a few moments and memorize how peaceful he looks.

Indulgences he won’t allow himself.

“Noct,” he says gently, one hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “Wake up, please.”

That won’t do it. It never has. At least Ignis can convince himself he’s trying, though.

“Noctis,” Ignis repeats, rubbing his hand up and down Noctis’s arm. “Your father wants to speak with you.”

Noctis blinks up at him through his messy hair, his eyes bleary. “Huh?”

Of course. The one time in their lives Ignis doesn’t want him to wake up.

How many more chances like this will he get? They’ll be few and far between after the wedding, surely.

“Hello,” Ignis whispers, his throat thick. He doesn’t pull his hand away.

Noctis frowns, pushing himself back against the sofa’s armrest. “Iggy?”

Ignis shuts his eyes. That ache in his chest, again. Does Noctis know? He has no idea. There have been moments, handfuls of heartbeats where he’s felt there might have been something…

Not that it matters now. Not that it ever did.

Noctis’s hand settles tentatively atop Ignis’s.

Ignis opens his eyes, grateful for the dark room, sure that his face is crumpling.

“You okay?” Noctis asks quietly. Still soft and half-asleep, but so sincere.

“Yes,” Ignis says. “Yes, of course.” He draws his hand back slowly, Noctis’s fingers trailing over his own as he pulls away. God, he wishes he could feel it. His damned gloves - never mind that this is precisely the sort of thing they’re meant to protect against. “You’ve been summoned.”

Noctis’s face goes tight. He rubs at his eyes. “You know why?”

“I do,” Ignis says, feeling horribly guilty. “But I think your father should be the one to tell you.”

Noctis looks like he wants to argue. “It’s bad, huh?”

Ignis has no idea whether Noctis will consider it ‘bad.’ Perhaps he’ll be perfectly content with the news. “I don’t have all the details.”

“It’s fine,” Noctis says, in a flat voice that means it isn’t. He sits up and starts scanning the room, presumably looking for his shoes. “I know you’d get in trouble.”

It’s not about that. Not at all. But Ignis can’t explain.

He finds Noctis’s shoes at the side of the sofa, where they always are. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly as he hands them over.

Noctis pauses before putting them on, staring at Ignis’s face. “It… really is bad.”

Ignis curses himself, forcing his expression back to neutrality. “I recommended Prompto for an official position.”

Noctis knows he’s changing the subject. It works anyway. His eyes brighten and the corners of his mouth turn up. “Yeah?”

“Do you suppose he’ll accept? He’ll have to be fitted for a uniform…” 

Noctis laughs, his face warm and bright and beautiful as he leans over to tie his shoes. “Oh, he’s gonna lose it.”

Despite everything, Ignis can’t help but smile back.