#i would only ever believe ghosts under extremely specific circumstances that would include me leaving my own house LMAO

[mbat]

i think its really funny that with every other ghost hunting channel ever, a good chunk of the appeal is 'woah are they gonna find real ghosts?' or whatever and they make these really over the top videos about it acting like every single thing is definitively ghosts and cant possibly be any other thing (or they completely faked it themselves) and they dont really shine as people quite as much and theyre probably trying to appeal to kids with this style of video, or just make it exciting so it doesnt feel like its just people in an empty old house blah blah

but then we have shane and ryan who have literally never found proof, they dont really pretend theyve ever found proof (ryan has thought so a few times but he doesnt exactly sit around going 'holy shit remember that piece of proof we found one time that totally proved we found ghosts!' which a lot of channels do in my experience)

no we just all kinda stick around cause we love the dynamic. the shenanigans. if they ever proved ghosts were real it probably would be overshadowed by some funny thing they did they episode aside from that lol

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 16

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 4234

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated, and I’d love if you reblogged and left a comment if you enjoyed this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16: Get You the Moon

Michael’s gone by the time that you wake up, and you’re mildly impressed at how skilled he is at disentangling himself from your mess of limbs without managing to wake you up. You sit up in the large bed, eyes scanning across the room and cataloguing the mess that you left last night. The clothes strewn across the floor are reduced to nothing more than ripped pieces of fabric, and you cringe at the prevalent smell of sex that still wafts through the air. Falling back against the pillows, you notice a note sitting on Michael’s pillow and grab it. It’s written on actual parchment and with a quill and ink, as if he would ever write on a lowly sheet of notebook paper with a regular pen.

My dearest (Y/N),

How difficult it was to leave your side this morning. I could not possibly bare to wake you when you were so peacefully sleeping, and could have stayed in bed with you for an eternity, but alas, the Underworld cannot run itself. When you do wake, Desa has placed some of your belongings in the wardrobe. I, along with my council, will be in the library for the entirety of the day as we attempt to form a plan on how to defeat Satan. Please join us when you are dressed and ready. I eagerly await getting to see your angelic smile again, and will not feel whole until you are once again in my arms.

Eternally yours,

Michael

Clutching the letter tightly in your hands, you try desperately to calm your racing heart as your cheeks burn pink. Your finger traces the smooth cursive handwriting while you imagine Michael sitting at his desk and crafting such poetry. “You smooth bastard,” you mutter, throwing the covers off of your body and stepping onto the cool floor.

Whether Desa has finally given into your stubborn fashion choices or if she is just so happy to have you back that this is her gift to you, it’s a welcome surprise to see comfortable pants and shirts hanging snugly alongside Michael’s fine suits and cloaks. You take a quick shower, working the tangles out of your hair before slipping into your clothes and grabbing the pair of tennis shoes that you arrived here in.

You hadn’t realized how familiar the daily routine of the Underworld had become to you until you were ripped away from it, and it’s nice to be back in the midst of that familiarity. Taking a slight detour through the kitchens, you snag some sort of muffin from a tray and sneak back out, knowing how upset the Eidolon would get if something was out of order in their neatly-organized lives. That’s made nearly impossible, though, when all of spirits are immediately attracted to your aura. If everyone had thought that your ‘lily-white’ aura was strong before, it must be radiant by now. Their eyes, sunken into their sockets, are glued to you from the moment that you enter the kitchens, to the second that the door closes behind you.

Your feet skitter to a stop along the carpeted hallway when a red rubber ball rolls past you. Stopping it with your foot, you pick it up with a grin. There’s only one group that this ball could belong to, and the small chorus of giggles confirms your suspicions. A translucent little girl with tight braids and a gap between her teeth who floats above the ground, another girl with deep red eyes and tiny horns poking out of the snakes that make up her hair, and a boy who looks completely human come rounding the corner and screech to a stop in front of you.

“Princess!” Samael, the small demon boy, exclaims. You crouch down, extending the hand that holds the ball towards him.

“I believe this belongs to you three?” The small ghost known as Desdemona snatches the ball from your hand, rolling it between her hands while she attempts to stifle a giggle.

“Princess, we thought you weren’t able to come back.” You ignore the part where Desdemona calls you ‘princess,’ indulging the children in their fantasies.

“Hmm, everyone has a bit of magic to help them, don’t they?”

“You used magic to get back here?” Euryale asks.

“Something like that.”

“Can you play with us, Princess?” Desdemona changes the subject, obviously not pleased with such ‘boring’ subjects.

“I wish I could, but I’m actually on my way to meet King Hades.” The three gasp, all grinning widely.

“Are you two in love?” “Will you get married?” “Can we come?” “Are you gonna be the queen?” The three start shooting questions your way, all jumbling together in a cacophony of high-pitched, childlike glee.

“You know, I can’t understand you when you’re all speaking at the same time,” you tease, the three groaning as you stand. “I’ll see you guys later, okay? Stay out of trouble.”

“Will you play with us later, Princess?” Euryale asks.

“Of course. I can’t let you guys beat me at hide-and-go-seek again.”

“Goodbye, Princess!” The three chorus, waving at you as you turn and walk away.

The library door looms at the end of the hallway, but your pace slows down the closer that you get as you think. The questions that Euryale, Samael, and Desdemona threw at you all blended together as each child competed to be the loudest, but one manages to stick with you: “Are you gonna be the queen?”

Are you going to be the queen?

Your mind flashes back to the day that your health went downhill. Before you had been placed on bedrest, before you had even passed out at the foot of Michael’s throne. The day of your first judgment session, Michael had made a joke when you asked if there was somewhere for you to sit:

“Once you agree to take your place as my queen, then you can have a throne of your own.”

Was becoming queen the official moment that you take your place as co-ruler of the Underworld? Is it only upon the placing of a crown on your head that the prophecy is fulfilled? You chew on your bottom lip, introspective. For once, though, it’s not the idea of becoming a queen that has your mind whirring. Instead, you find yourself thinking of Satan and, more specifically, his plans.

From what you can recall, the reason that Michael is unable to leave the Underworld is because Satan hasn’t been able to be located. If Michael leaves, Satan would take the throne, both literally and figuratively. However, the wrench in all of this being’s plans is you. You’re what would prevent the apocalypse from happening; the moment you accept your position is the moment that the crisis of the end of the world is averted. Satan is determined to either kill you himself or somehow prevent you from taking your own throne. Surely he knows that you’re back in the Underworld, a creature like himself should easily be able to sense such things. Slowly, yet surely, an idea starts to form.

“Michael?” You call out, pleased at how you can use your telekinesis to open the heavy door just like everyone else does. The four members of Michael’s council, Michael included, stand upon your entrance. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s no worry,” a very large man, at least seven feet tall, with gaping sockets where his eyes should be makes his way over to you and takes your hand. “I am Thanatos. It’s a pleasure to meet you under better circumstances than last, Lady (Y/N).”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” you allow him to lead you towards the table, pulling out a seat for you next to Michael. He’s beaming at you, not bothering to hide his feelings around Zoe, Madison, and Thanatos, his closest friends.

“I trust you slept well, my love?” Michael inquires, sliding his hand into yours under the table.

“I did, thank you.” Madison and Zoe smirk at each other, the identical blushes on yours and Michael’s cheeks making it clear what happened last night.

“So, (Y/N), what was it that made your tone sound so urgent when you first came through the doors?” Zoe, taking pity on you, changes the subject.

“Oh! I think I may have a plan to defeat Satan.” Everything, even the fire itself, seems to fall silent at your statement. Three sets of eyes and one set of empty eye sockets stare at you, all looking shocked.

“Did I hear you right? You have been back for not even a full day, and you already have a plan?” Madison asks incredulously.

“I said that I ‘may’ have a plan. I’m honestly not sure if it’s going to sound stupid or not.”

“Well, tell us your plan, then.”

“As far as I’m aware, you haven’t been able to locate him yet. Is that correct?” You look to Michael, who nods, before continuing. “He obviously wants to either kill me or prevent me from taking the throne with Michael, that way he can take the throne himself. What if, in order to lure him here, we fake a coronation? Once we have him here, then we can defeat him.”

The council members are all quiet, thinking over what you’ve said. Michael absentmindedly rubs circles on your hand with his thumb, and you anxiously study his face while you wait for someone to speak.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Zoe questions, removing her thumbnail from her mouth long enough to speak.

“Satan, for all of his powers and strengths, is extremely impulsive. It’s always been his biggest flaw. If he knows that (Y/N) is here, and that we will be ‘crowning’ her, he will act on his first impulse, which will be to strike.” Michael has the gift to make everybody hold their breath as he speaks, words coming out of his mouth like they were composed by the world’s finest composers.

“I’m not worried about getting him here. It’s what happens once he’s here that worries me.”

“Would the other Olympians be able to come and help?” You ask, wrinkling your nose when they all chuckle.

“We didn’t mean to offend you, (Y/N), but the Olympians refuse to come down here unless they’re forced to do so. The ball that you attended is the only regular event that they attend,” Madison says.

“Screw them, then! We don’t need them. You guys are all gods, and I’m supposedly now the most skilled witch. Surely the five of us would be able to take down one of him.”

“He can’t die, though. It’s impossible to kill a creature such as he,” Michael says.

“We could trap him in Cocytus?” It’s the first that Thanatos has spoken since he introduced himself to you.

“Sorry, but what’s Cocytus?” You ask, cheeks turning red at your ignorance.

“Cocytus is a frozen lake in which traitors and those who have committed heinous crimes of varying degrees are trapped,” Michael explains quickly before looking at Thanatos. “That’s...I’m trying to think of a reason why this would be a bad idea, but I can’t. We could lure Satan to the palace with the fake coronation, combine our powers to transmute to Cocytus with him, and then melt the lake enough to trap him inside of it before freezing it back around him. Nobody or nothing has ever escaped from Cocytus; their consciousness is frozen the minute their body is, too.”

The hope in the room seems to be renewed at Michael’s workup of your original plan. It’s not a sure victory, and there’s plenty of things that could go wrong, but it seems like it just might work. Michael shoots you a glance, smiling at you proudly before standing up from his chair.

“If there are no further points of discussion, then we shall put this to a vote of either ‘yay’ or ‘nay.’ Lady Hecate?” You forgot that this was an official council meeting, hence the need for their original names.

Madison stands, smoothing her dress out behind her. “Yay.”

“Lady Achlys?”

“Yay.”

“Lord Thanatos?”

“Yay.”

“Lady (Y/N)?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at Michael in confusion.

“Um, I’m not a member of the council,” you laugh awkwardly.

“In times of emergency, I am allowed to appoint temporary council members. I have appointed you. How do you vote, Lady (Y/N)?” You stand slowly, biting your lip while you try to hide your smile.

“Yay.”

“I, King Hades, Lord of the Underworld, God of the Dead, and Prince of Hell, vote ‘yay,’ and hereby confirm that this plan shall be set into motion tomorrow at the mortal time of high noon. Lady Achlys shall be in charge of planning all that happens in the palace and during the ‘coronation.’ Lady Hecate shall assist Lady Achlys with her duties, as well as making sure that the joint transmutation will go off without a hitch. Lord Thanatos, having come up with the idea to trap Satan in Cocytus, will ensure that this is a feasible option to keep him trapped for the rest of eternity. The council is now adjourned.”

The rest of the council stands, making quiet conversation as they make their way out of the library. You start to follow, but Michael snags your hand and pulls you back towards him. His strong arms wrap around you, but he remains silent until the door swings shut and everyone is gone. Once that acts as his ‘all-clear,’ he spins you around in his arms so that you’re facing him.

“You were absolutely brilliant just then,” he remarks, kissing you gratefully. “I couldn’t have asked for a better council meeting than the one we just had.”

“Are you kidding me? You were so--so strong, and you looked entirely like the king that you are,” you gush, beaming up at him.

“Your flattery is far too kind. Anyways, now that this meeting is done, and with your ‘coronation’ looming,” you roll your eyes, playfully pushing at his chest, “I was wondering if you would like to...uh, what’s it called? Dammit, I had this all planned out,” Michael hisses the last part to himself, but you still overhear.

“Describe it, maybe I can help you with this modern term that has you so confused.”

“It’s when two people who are in a courtship go out and do activities in order to connect and learn more abou--dating! That’s what it is!” You giggle at his excitement. “Would you like to go on a date with me, (Y/N)?”

“I feel like we’re pretty far past the first date stage, but yes, I would love to go on a date with you, Michael. What do you have planned?”

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but I will tell you that it should help alleviate some of the longing that you get for certain aspects of your homeland,” Michael smirks. “Meet me at the front entrance of the palace in twenty minutes?”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” Your question comes out as a whine, but the pouty smile on your face tells a different story.

“Well, I would suggest wearing a sundress or something akin to that. I assume it will be warm where we end up.”

////////////

When you had agreed to letting Michael take you on a date, being ferried across a river by the terrifying Charon was not what you had expected. Michael had promised you that the journey wouldn’t be long, but minutes seemed to stretch for hours whenever one was in Charon’s overwhelming presence. To distract yourself, you observe the scenery around you, starting with the sky. Considering you’ve never been farther than the castle grounds, almost everything that you see is completely new to you. You’re most pleased to find that, the moment you boarded Charon’s ferry and sailed off on the River Styx, the sky turned from the eternal dark you’re so familiar with to a normal, albeit overcast, sky.

“Why is it always dark at the palace if the sky changes normally everywhere else?” You ask, leaning back in the boat to watch the clouds float by.

“I prefer it dark. Besides, it’s a complicated illusion spell, might as well make it to my liking,” Michael says simply.

“Would you maybe consider allowing it to be daytime at home? I think I miss the sun most of all when I’m down here.”

“Well...for you, yes.” You grin, kissing him thankfully.

“Thank you, Michael! It doesn’t have to be all of the time, but maybe just some of the time?”

“You called the palace your ‘home,’” Michael points out, avoiding eye contact with you. You freeze, thinking back to what you just said before nodding.

“I mean, it kind of is my home now. When I’m here, that’s home. You’re home.”

Michael wants to say something, but is stopped by the boat pushing up against the banks of the river. He stands, extending his hand to you to help you up. You keep your eyes cast towards the ground, reluctant to meet the fiery coals that make up Charon’s eyes, but Michael stares at him with an unflinching gaze.

“Thank you, Charon. Your skills are much appreciated.”

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” Michael still has his hand tightly holding yours as he leads you through a field of grass, the green turning brown and dead with every step he takes.

“Do you remember when I explained to you the different levels of the Underworld?”

“Tartarus, the Asphodel Meadows, the Mourning Fields, and Elysium,” you recite.

“Very good. Elysium, if you will recall, is the afterlife for the especially distinguished. While those who have committed unspeakable evils or have sold their souls spend eternity in their own personal hell, the souls that occupy Elysium get to live in their own personal heavens. I remembered a dream that you had quite frequently your first few days here, when you were keeping yourself locked in your room?”

“You were reading my thoughts?” You accuse teasingly.

“I was worried, wanted to make sure that you weren’t going mad or something equally as terrifying. You slept often during that time, and had a lot of recurring dreams, including this one. It...it was the only time that I felt that you were at peace, and happy.”

“The meadow dream? How did you…?”

“It’s always stuck with me. How alive you felt when you were laying in the sun, one hand holding a book and the other hand dipped in the running stream. I don’t know if it was just a dream, or a memory that you held dear to your heart, but I wanted to recreate it for you, even if for this short amount of time.”

Michael waves his hand in the air, and the empty field changes to the meadow that you had dreamed about so many times before. You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes scanning the scene ahead of you as your mind tries to discern if this is all really happening. Michael’s smiling slightly, watching the range of emotions that cross your face: joy, disbelief, shock, happiness.

“My parents used to take me to this spot all the time when I was younger, before everything went to shit,” you mutter, stepping ahead of him and further into the meadow. “It was one of their favorite spots, and my dad almost proposed to my mom here.”

“You’ve never talked about your family before.”

“Never seen a need to,” you shrug, tilting your head back and letting the rays of the sun warm your skin. “C’mon, let’s see just how well Elysium recreated this place.”

Every detail, from the large trees that line the clearing to which patch of flowers grows where, is exactly how you remember it. Although you haven’t been to that spot in years, most likely since elementary school, being here makes it feel like you last stepped foot in this plush grass yesterday. Slipping your shoes off, you flex your toes as you feel the bare earth under your feet. Michael remains where he’s standing, choosing to watch as you take in everything that Elysium has to offer.

“How are you wearing a full suit out here?”

“The temperature doesn’t bother me like it does you,” Michael says, allowing you to take his hands and pull him along to a shady spot under a large tree.

“Would it bother you Above?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

You sit down against the oak tree, leaning your back against the coarse wood. Although you expect Michael to remain standing or, if you’re lucky, sit next to you, it’s a pleasant surprise when he lays his head in your lap. Michael’s curls fan out, forming an ironic halo around his head. Carding your fingers through his long hair, you hum a tune and watch as his eyes close in bliss.

“I can see why this place is so dear to your heart; we could stay here a thousand years and never be bothered,” Michael mutters, stifling a giggle as you start to trace his lips with your fingertips.

“When I was little, it all seemed so magical. I thought that fairies lived here, and that they were hiding in the trees. My mom helped me make houses for them, and I would make them tiny flower crowns in the hopes that they would finally reveal themselves to me,” you laugh lightly, shaking your head. “Ridiculous, right?”

“Not really. Need I remind you that you’re in the Underworld and currently holding the head of the God of the Dead in your lap?” You purse your lips, remaining silent at the realization that fairies aren’t all that crazy.

The flowers that surround you are too tempting to not make flower crowns out of, so you pick a few of different varieties and start to organize them.

“The flowers seemed to grow in the wake of every step I took which, looking back with what I know now, they probably did. My parents grew tired of me constantly asking them what each type of flower was, so they bought me a book that identified all different types of flowers. I memorized hundreds of them, based on the pictures that accompanied each name.”

Although it’s been a long time since you made such a crown, your hands easily remember the movements. The stems of the flowers seem to weave together of their own volition, the chain growing longer as you decide which flowers would look best next to each other.

“Larkspurs, right?” Michael asks, eyes open and staring up at you.

“Hmm,” you nod in agreement. “They can grow to be eight feet tall, but you only need the smallest of larkspur plants for making a flower crown.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know too much about flowers. I mean, look at what’s happening just because I’m in the same area as they are.” Michael’s right: the flowers are all wilted around his legs, dying from his mere proximity.

“You just don’t know how to care for them yet. I’ll teach you,” picking up another stem, you twirl it between your fingers before changing the subject. “Hydrangeas are one of my favorite flowers; I love the colors that they can change to.”

Michael watches silently, large blue eyes taking everything in. He looks almost enraptured by the movement of your hands, twisting and bending the stems of each flower until they start to form a crown. You tie the ends together with two longer stems, finishing the crown off by interloping some lily of the valley between the hydrangeas and larkspurs. Smirking at the idea that’s just formed, you quickly slip the crown on top of his head.

He sits up quickly, scowling, but you can’t help the gasp that slips out at his appearance. Michael can only be described as beautiful, the purple and blue hues complimenting his eyes perfectly. It’s a welcome splash of color to his dark wardrobe, including today’s black ensemble. Somehow, it almost makes the fearful Lord of the Underworld look softer.

“You’re beautiful, Michael.” You whisper, not wanting to interrupt the symphony that the mockingbirds are conducting in the trees above you.

“I believe that title belongs to you, my love,” Michael begins to take the crown off of his head, fully intending to place it on yours, but you stop him.

“Keep it. I can make another one for myself. Besides, this one suits you.”

“For you, anything,” Michael says finally, nodding and removing his hands from the crown. “But if you tell anyone about this, I’ll have to punish you.”

“How so?” Michael’s face gets closer to yours, your breath hitching at the feeling of his lips ghosting across yours.

“Kitchen duty with the Eidolon,” he mutters, laughing when you groan loudly.

“You, Michael, are truly an evil man,” you joke, kissing him quickly before standing.

“Hmm, so they tell me. Shall we make our way back to the palace? There is, after all, a coronation to be planned.” Your heart thumps at the reminder of the coronation, the relaxing time in the meadow helping you to forget about the dangerous plan that was to come. Now, there was no running away from the fact: this time tomorrow, you would either be victorious...or dead.

////////

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