#misery loves company. || visage

[detectice]

tags !!

[willkatfanfromasia]

My very first fic publication. Credit to all the fanfic authors on this site who've inspired me and special thanks to @thelekhikawrites for encouraging me☺️

A Matter of Chance-1

Nandini shyly smiled up at her man. He was always kind to her. His affections didn’t waver even after so many decades.  He trusted her beyond anything and not once intentionally patronized her like his uptight younger sister.

The cheering of the public and the gentle force of many small petals on her visage did nothing to lessen her awe of the situation.

In her mind, she knew her life and what path it may take. She dutifully cared for the temple, prayed regularly and minded her own business.

“Life has it’s own ideas, I suppose “ she mused.

“Come front, dearest” bidded Aditha’s voice. She smiled and walked forth, reminiscing the roller coaster ride that her life has been.

--------------_---_----------_------_---------_----_-------

She was invited, like other common children, to the palace to offer company to the young royals- to benefit from the palace education and facilities .

All that changed when he first laid eyes on her…  The shy smile, playful curiosity and genuineness slowly chipped away the wall around her heart. The same wall she built from the disappointment of being an orphan, the hurt of abandonment.

 She knew she mustn’t hope, that she was meant for a humble life in  holy service. That everyone around, even her own mind, accused her of reaching above her means by merely accepting the affections of the boy she liked.

He gave her hope, that she could be willfully chosen (as  willfully as she abandoned), that she was worthy of fine things – even queenship. That she was no less than pushy kundhavai. He was her comfort and joy through her trying teenage years.

 

Her heart had shattered when her family was ousted by the palace residents. What would they know of her misery? Her foster family who cared for her without any warranting- is this how her life had repaid them? Oh The shame of it!

  Subsequent days were full of doom and misery- smaller hut in an unknown place, having to beg for everything.

Years of misery and doubts faded her life into a gray haze. Her foster parents and siblings all established a living for themselves.

She understood the silent message asking her to remain only a visitor. Besides she no longer found town life charming anymore.

Moving to her foster parents’ old hut in the woods seemed like her only chance at peace. She offered to care for the small  temple at the forest boundary and the villagers were happy to give a small compensation as no one wished to settle in the forest.

 ............................

@thelekhikawrites @vibishalakshman @nspwriteups @thatacademic @vidhurvrika

@kovaipaavai @hollogramhallucination @love-ps1ff @whippersnappersbookworm @chiyaanvikram

Pls DM if anyone wants to be tagged

[pontevoix]

“ you look tired. ” when she speaks features work to hide concern / moving the scar stretched upon her visage. the smell of smoke use to tickle senses, but she's grown use to it through the years. the way it lingers in her hair, the threads of a lab coat or a turtle neck. it turns out misery loves company as they stand outside the morgue, two bodies laying on cold metal. “ do you need anything? ” * uta to shoko.

she  likes  the  layout  of  her  workspace.  she  likes  the  angles.  the  sharpness.  the  cold  comfort.  the morgue is for cold, & it  is hers.  she  chooses  it  repeatedly;  it  is  ritual  as  much  as  it  is  an  intimacy  —  an  intimacy  that  shows  in  the  way  that  she  straightens  piles  of  papers  on  her  desk,  drums  her  fingers  against  the  metal  of  the  tables  when  she’s  thinking,  listens  to  her  own  voice  echo  when  she  records  her  notes  &  research. 

the  morgue  is  for  cold,  &  it  is  hers.  its  fluorescent  lights  seem  to  be  a  good  enough  approximation  for  the  sun.  this  life  feels  natural,  &  it  feels  good,  &  she  likes  what  she  does.

it  still  makes  her  squint  when  she  steps  outside.  she  stares  a  little  belligerently  at  the  sun.  fluorescent  lights  are  harsh,  but  the  sun  feels  unforgiving.

so  she  slides  sideways  until  she’s  shadowed  a  little  beneath  a  tree  —  shoko  thinks  of  it  as  her  tree.  she  thinks  of  this  as  her  routine.  her  fingers  dance  into  her  jacket  pocket,  pluck  a  cigarette  from  its  case.  her  routine  means  that  she  promises  that  tomorrow  will  be  the  day  that  she  quits.

it’s  the  truth,  too.  she  promises  truth. 

tomorrow  she’ll  quit,  &  she’ll  abstain  for  twelve  hours.  that's  how  long  it  will  take  for  her  to  snag  a  cigarette  from  a  businessman  on  the  bus  home.  then,  she’ll  pick  up  a  pack  from  the  convenience  store  three  buildings  west  of  her  apartment.  then  she’ll  find  her  routine  again  —  shaded  beneath  a  little  tree  with  two  bodies  waiting  on  her  tables.

the  deceased  are  non-sorcerers,  but  they  carry  scars  born  from  a  same  cursed  energy.  they  carry  a  shared  killer.  utahime  had  told  her  on  the  phone  that  there  are  four  others  with  similar  injuries.  all  four  had  lived  in  kyoto.  the  two  on  her  table,  however,  are  tokyo-born.

shoko  has  agreed  to  examine  them.  to  look  at  the  nature  of  their  deaths,  the  way  that  cursed  energy  has  fried  some  organs  &  left  others’  looking  spotted.

there  is  no  healing  death.  but  when  she  performs  autopsies,  she  has  found  that  gentle  use  of  positive  cursed  energy  can  provide  showcase imprints  of  past  life,  past  injury,  past  hurt,  past  curse.

the  body  has  a  lot  etched  into  it.  the  body  has  a  lot  that  it  wants  to  tell.

by  listening,  shoko  can  discern  information  about  the  cursed  technique  of  the  killer,  anyway.

the morgue is for cold, & it  is hers.

shoko  supposes  that  utahime ( @deiikara  ) is  tracking  the  killer,  that  she  had  followed  the  thing  from  kyoto  to  tokyo.  she  joins  shoko  now,  beneath  the  little  tree.  specks  of  golden  sun  make  their  way  through  the  tree’s  leaves  to  highlight  the  curve  at  her  cheeks  &  the  elegance  of  her  posture.

shoko  studies  her  from  the  side  of  her  eye,  takes  quick  little  drags  of  her  cigarette,  feels  nicotine  bite  her  awake.  she’s  tired,  but  no  more  so  than  she  has  been.she’s  tired,  but  not  enough  to  start  feeling  it  like  an  impairment.

so  she  exhales  —  a  languid  sound  that  drifts  east  with  the  breeze.  ‘  that's  sweet  of  you.  i  need  to  start  taking  off  my  mascara  in  the  evening.  or  morning.  it  keeps  crumbling  throughout  the  day.  you  know,  you’re  the  third  person  to  tell  me  that  i  look  tired  today  ?  ‘

it’s  a  lie.  no  one  else  has  said  anything.  but  it’s  a  harmless  lie.

‘  all  three  of  you  will  age  me  making  comments  like  that.  &  you’ll  have  nothing  but  yourselves  to  blame,  ‘  she  tuts.  the  sun  is  unforgiving,  but  her  lips  curl  upwards  in  a  smile.  ‘  besides.  you  don’t  look  well-rested,  exactly.  is  it  the  trip  from  kyoto  to  here  ?  travel’s  a  real  bore  sometimes.  ‘

things  are  a  real  bore  sometimes.

she  feels  it  ache  in  her  chest,  &  she  drops  her  head  back  against  the  wall  behind  her.

she  feels  it  ache  in  her  chest,  &  she  drops  her  head  back  against  the  wall  behind  her.

a  real  bore.  &  still,  she  savors  unforgiving  moments  like  these. to  do  so  makes  her  feel  a  little  bit  at  peace. 

[cartoon-buffoon]

I'm bored so random ramble about a Wednesday's Infidelity AU thing I made. Introducing: Felix Het, Het Cat!

First off: I commissioned someone I'm mutuals with on discord to draw this for me so shout out to them as they are a way better artist than I (idk if they want me to link their DeviantArt or something, I don't think they give a damn either way tho). They also agreed to do some more art for this AU whenever they have the time.

Second off: This skull face bastard's design and name is based on that Russian bootleg Felix game where clicking "нет" (aka the "no" option) on the continue screen you'd be met with a game over screen showcasing Felix ripping his face off to reveal a bloody skull underneath it and a weird button stitched onto his right eye.

Oh and one final thing I wanna mention before going into Het's lore: his lore is intertwined with some lore I made for the AU involving Euthenasia Rabbit (WI's version of Oswald) with the two having a history together and the main focus of the AU is their dynamic and relationship. The AU title I got going is "Misery Loves Company" and I'm in the process of making a side blog focusing on writing stories for the two. The story and the AU is also a enemies to lovers (rivals to lovers? I'm still not sure) story so that's also a thing to keep in mind. The two don't get along at first... And probably won't for a long while.

Now Het's personality actually originates from a certain fic of mine (not advertising that here) yet I honestly loved his character so much I thought "hay lets do something more with this!". For the most part he's a selfish, sadistic, and cruel faceless cat toon who believes the world has scorned him thus giving him the right to commit senseless acts of cruelty and slaughter under the delsuion of "it's just karma!". He's based off of Felix's classical self which was extremely violent and insane, however in the old cartoons there's always some virtuous traits that Felix shows however Het has none of that virtue. Lore wise he is inspired by the name of the stolen T-shirt design used for the "нет" image which is "Felix The Cat unmasked". The lore I came up with (that may be subject to change) is: he was a toon who was originally named Felix and was rejected and constantly ridiculed all his life for his grotesque appearance, to make up for his creepy face he often wore masks to hide his visage and would be a street performer and made up for what he lacked in looks with talent. Eventually Felix managed to pull the attention of company's with his acting skills and when hired he was commanded to wear a mask that would make him more family friendly and was told to never ever take it off. After some stuff happened he was inevitably fired for a toon who didn't need a mask and thought to be the perfect replacement. With his life spiraling and the only ever type of fame he had stolen away Felix decided to take back what was his by force. After brutally tormenting and torturing his successor (ripping off his face and wearing it) he fled the country, went under a new alias, and become a whole lot more unhinged only to resurface when he ran into his old "friend" Oswald (otherwise known as Euthenasia rabbit).

Uhh I also don't know how to end this ramble so for a final thing I added to the lore of this AU: Het's replacement didn't die from the torture, he was severely maimed however he did live. This replacement is the explanation for the character "Hysteria Cat" who is the background version of Felix from the Leak Ma Balls song. After numerous surgeries his face was fixed yet Het's actions left a lasting impact which explains Hysteria's name (he can't remember his old one) and his blank thousand yard stare (this dude is mentally not there anymore).

[microwave-core]

Bounding Through Memories

Cogita x Fem! Reader

Cogita reflects on just about every aspect of her life day in and day out. After all, there’s only so much to do when left in complete isolation. It just so happens that the thoughts that haunt her the most are the ones that fracture her heart the most.

The somber stillness of the morning never ceased to enrapture Cogita. The dew clinging to blades of grass, the dull drone of pokemon in the distance, the gentle gurgling of the nearby stream, the sun kissing the earth as it ascends into the sky to illuminate the land with light, but selfishly hoarding its warmth to itself.

What more was there for an old lady to do in the morning but admire it, knowing that someone, somewhere was gazing up upon the same sky? The sunrise was her favorite time of day, rivaled only by the sun’s eclipse at its end. She loathes watching every day pass by, each more painstaking than the last, but at least she could enjoy nature as she waits for her tea to brew. 

She tends to her monotonous tasks of the day-preparing tea, cooking with her favorite strangely pink cutting board, and getting fully dressed-as quickly as she can in order to take advantage of the early solstice. The sleepiness of the morning was perfect for tending to her garden along with admiration.

It was mandatory to tend to her plants in order to remain self-sufficient, but a part of her does resent planting so much. Her bones just aren’t what they used to be. In her younger years, it was much easier to tend to, both with her more youthful visage as well as the additional set of hands…

…Regardless, she weeds and waters and harvests while being as careful as she can, else she’ll end up injured again. To think, at one point in her life she was able to tend to this garden and so much more with ease. How long has it been? She stopped keeping track years ago. 

After all, what was the point of keeping track of how long you’ve been alone for? Why relish in misery anymore than she needed to? She pulled away from the greater, wider world willingly to better fulfill the task bestowed upon her at random, because she didn’t need other people, other pokemon, in her life. Because two is a company, and anymore is a bother.

She wasn’t alone… she couldn’t be. But in her selfish desire to remain attached to one woman and no one else, she landed herself into almost complete isolation, left to live out each boring, monotonous day alone until her purpose could be fulfilled. Oh, how she longs for the day her reason for existence would come, because once it comes to pass she can be reunited with her beloved…

With the garden taken care of, she returns to her table, accompanied by nothing but her tea, prepared to wait for someone, anyone to stumble upon her abode. She would never admit to being fond of the strange merchant who uses her wisdom as an excuse to slack off his work, but he, at the very least, provided a warm body to speak with. It’s not like she does anything else, not anymore, anyway.

There was a point in time where she would pass her days with poetry, the only hobby, other than gardening, distracting her from the drag of the day, but she forced her hand to still. What was the point of continuing her work when they would just end up hidden beneath miscellaneous surfaces? When she was younger, more active, she could at least burrow them within the vastness of Hisui. She could rid herself of them, bury the pain they brought about, as if she wasn’t the one to birthed them into existence.

She misses the days where her poetry were lathered and honey and lavender, coated in such sweetness that would make even the most mature individuals gag. They were the embodiment of scattered rose petals, so romantic and fluffy that they never failed to make her beloved blush… Poems that would be cherished by another person to be slathered in even more love. Poems that would eventually end up in an ornate container to be hidden from view.

But those days are gone, and they will never come back. The thought twists the knife already buried deep within her chest even deeper, having weaved through her heart and drilling into the bone. It makes her eyes glisten with fondness and tears, perpetually stuck between reminiscing and crying. It makes her want to curl up within the grave she should have been buried in ages ago, the one by her wife’s side.

Cogita is lucky the only task related to her beloved that haunts her to this day was writing, else she would have perished long ago. Her dear wife aided her everyday in cooking and gardening and sewing. She loved to sit by the campfire and the table and admire the morning and everything Cogita does to this day, but now she does it alone and that will never change. 

She lost the art of poetry because her thoughts would drift to her departed, and suddenly her hand would start channeling all that pain into words, desecrating the page until was as tormented as her, and if that wasn’t bad enough it would suffer for eternity stuffed between two surfaces never to be seen again. If she were to allow her thoughts to drift when working through the day she would already be dead, long since starved because the garden would make her see apparitions and cooking would burn her hands.

She hates the life given to her, the wisdom and knowledge and the unimaginable pain, but what was she to do? She hates being alone, taunted by the fact that the one person she truly cared for is gone, but she can’t reenter society, either. She can barely stand her own misery as is, if she were forced to watch young couples happy and in love and just being together in the present she would die a miserable, painful death from heartache. 

But Hisui is cruel and the Almighty is crueler. And so she awaits for some young body, thrown headfirst into a world they don’t fully understand for no fault of their own, to bestow her wisdom upon. And then, and only then, could she shut her eyes to the miserably cruel world and finally drift into the stream of unconsciousness with her beloved.

[deamare]

♡ ˚· @anruraiocht asked:

Cookie Decorating - Cookies and biscuits of all shapes and sizes, fresh from the oven and ready for your own artistic flair. Will you make a custom tableau in gingerbread and royal icing, or dot shortbread with chocolate kisses, or smoosh jam into a linzer? Careful not to make too much of a mess! The two of them could ignore each other, pretend they didn't see each other like they always had. They have no real reason to interact, no reason to get any further involved in each other's lives. But misery loves company and like a moth seeks a flame, a familiar face that Miranda detests is better than one she doesn't know at all. She already told Ishtar that she had no sympathy to spare her, but seeing her seated with someone else's family, perhaps she sees herself reflected in that miserable visage. "Have one," she says, holding out a store bought cookie like a peace offering. She has no earthly clue how to make cookies herself, but luckily someone already brought some pre-prepared. "They aren't as good as the ones your cooks used to make, but they're serviceable, I suppose."

She had thought perhaps that Miranda would rather not see her at all. Admittedly, that hasn't been entirely disproved. Ishtar thinks she ought to be confused (concerned, perhaps) by the girl's sudden willingness to gaze upon her with something other than disdain.

But she is neither. She can bring herself to be nothing other than grateful.

With fingers that know far too well how to disguise their tremble, Ishtar accepts the offering. It is neither warm nor particularly soft, but when she brings it to her nose there is a sweetness that neither fact has changed.

Miranda is right, they are nowhere near what she had the luxury of considering common back home, but Ishtar doesn't much mind. Comparable or not, these are a delicacy to her now.

No less than the kindness of the girl who had offered it.

"Thank you," she murmurs, though whether for the cookie or the moment Ishtar does not specify.

[ofthestcrs]

@bloodthirsty-hero

The expression upon Marcus's face had seemed to remain the same once the woman had explained their situation.

Puzzled, tired and somewhat Grouchy. A visage he had seemed to carry a lot recently.

The biker was used to travelling, and never staying in one place for long, therefore communication wasn't particularly his best traits. But nonetheless, she seemed to be honest enough for an response.

"Alright well..." Words finally slipped his mouth as he arched a brow at her, brown hues scanned her down before he shifted upon his bike

"Where do you wanna go? - If your basically lost then I guess I could help you out a little" Marcus didn't know if the girl would see the invitation he made for her to join him, giving the indications he did were subtle and slightly intimidating at times too.

Blissfully unaware was a life Bee usually navigated through. Most people were jealous of her bubbly demeanor -- unphased by the evil eyes directed her way by those who might wish her harm. Misery loved company, but Bee was too distracted to even know it had been knocking at her door. Her ignorance was a defense unable to be tainted, even by the grumpy-looking guy to who she was speaking to.

"Does that mean I can ride your bike?" Bee questioned, gesturing toward the motorbike the man had. She was fascinated. "I've never been on one before. Mostly because my dad wouldn't let me even look at boys." Perhaps her father's protection had kept her safe for so long, but now that she was well into adulthood and her father's hand only reached so far, it seemed unlikely.

"We can go wherever! I just love a good view and a fun time!"

[prettydeada]

LAURIE STRODE TAG DROP

* feel free to blog my tag drop tag, theres gonna be a bunch of these. Every time i finish a character page I’m dropping there tags.’

( DROP IT LIKE IT’S HOT  | tag drop )

WAS THAT THE BOOGEYMAN? | laurie strode

MISERY LOVES COMPANY | laurie strode ( interactions )

DEAD GIRL WALKING | laurie strode ( visage )

I’M A SURVIVOR | laurie strode ( musings )

I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY’S WATCHING ME | laurie strode ( mannerisms )

[seraphias]

character tags.

✧ ╱ canon div. — ❛ there is a hell，believe me i’ve seen it.

✧ ╱ hc. — ❛ all we know of heaven，all we need of hell.

✧ ╱ aes. — ❛ darling i’m a nightmare，dressed like a daydream.

✧ ╱ musings. — ❛ give me a boost over heaven’s gate.

✧ ╱ ic. — ❛ heaven’s full，hell won’t have me.

✧ ╱ character study. — ❛ she wore her scars like wings.

✧ ╱ visage. — ❛ all the glamour，and the trauma.

✧ ╱ oracion seis. — ❛ misery loves company.

✧ ╱ crime sorciere. — ❛ true friends stab you in the front.

✧ ╱ behavior. — ❛ baddest do what the baddest do.

✧ ╱ meta. — ❛ don’t need you to tell me: i’m so cynical.

✧ ╱ text. — ❛ fresh out of fucks.

✧ ╱ crack. — ❛ seductively crawls out of hell.

[cuelebres]

character tags.

» ╱ canon div : six feet under.

» ╱ hc : my demons beg me to write them.

» ╱ aes : i’d rather be a real nightmare.

» ╱ musings : my ears are ringing of this.

» ╱ ic : spare me the pleasure of your company.

» ╱ character study : alone in a glass house.

» ╱ visage : serpent king.

» ╱ oracion seis : misery loves company.

» ╱ crime sorciere : true friends stab you in the front.

» ╱ behavior : i may be bad，but i’m perfectly good at it.

» ╱ meta : the price of freedom is high.

» ╱ crack : i simply do not vibe with the law.

» ╱ text : and the snakes start to sing.

[deltarisen]

— i. i didn't ask to lead this group // visage.  — i. he's my dad and i love him // larry. — i. you are just like him // clementine. — i. we're lucky to have you // lee. — i. i know you're not above murder // kenny. — ii. interaction // ask. — ii. interaction // thread. — ii. interaction // dash comm. — ii. never had a valentine // ooc. — ii. if it's bad news maybe save it // memes. — iii. i don't have anything left // musings. — iii. i was trying to protect all of us // about. — iii. i'm a fucking mess right now but i'm not stupid // headcanon. — iii. all i want is a week of peace; of not hearing it // music. — iii. do we need any more evidence than this // queue.  — iii. misery loves company // self-promo. — iii. new recruits // promo.   — iv. season one // main verse. — iv. season four // main verse. — iv. i found this tossed into the garbage // crack verse. — v. aesthetic.  — v. edit. — v. saved.

[darin-nidk]

One-shot ft. Scaramouche x Reader.

Content: Angst with no comfort because misery loves company.

"Is that all you have to say?", your voice was unexpectedly cold, and your visage showed a painful expression yet your shoulders were trembling, hands turning into fists and nails digging into your palm. The pain grounding you. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, but you refused to let them spill, swallowing the lump in your throat because you needed an answer. One that made sense. One that justified all of this, all the misery and pain that you are currently going through.

"What? You want me to spell it out or speak slower to you in order to understand? Leave my sight before I order for you to get dragged away". Scaramouche replied a little too fast, too quickly as if he had practiced this exact same scenario playing in his mind, or maybe all of the potential consequences way ahead before they took place. It was necessary, he tried to convince himself over and over, everyone who had entered his life had only left him picking up the pieces of a broken doll unable to return to its original state. Once something is broken even if later on it gets fixed... It will never be the same. It will never be enough. He wasn't enough, that's why he was left behind.

"I know that all of this, all we have... or had", adding that last bit made the aching in your chest increase but you had to get your point across. "It was real, it was the truth. I don't understand why you keep insisting on pushing me away — I don't care if you have flaws, or whatever you need to do to fulfill your objectives. I accepted you for who you are, I am already past the feeling of being worried for my well being when I know you protect me, you do send people to watch over me, I am not fucking stupid. I know your ruthless nature and sharp tongue, I have seen the hate in your eyes and not even once you looked at me like that, so please tell me". Taking a deep breath to compose yourself and trying to supress the burning feeling of your throat closing up as well as the inhuman efforts to not break down crying right there and then, you mentally prepared yourself for words that you hoped wouldn't make you feel any more sick than this. "Tell me that you want me out of your life, tell me I was a mistake and the worst thing to ever happen to you... If, if you do so then I will leave. I will leave and never look back".

Don't. "You are." Don't say things that will hurt him more than it'd hurt you. How could you, of all people he met, be thinking such a thing? You, who could see glimpses of Kunikuzushi that he thought he had erased entirely for being pathetic; you, who could bring back hope and make him feel alive and with a purpose. You who made being alive somewhat worthy, you who turned all those haunting betrayals in his mind fade away with your sole presence. You who could make the whispers dripping with hatered and demons mocking, taunting his mind go quiet, as you smiled in his direction, your eyes reflecting him. Your eyes with so much love and devotion no matter how many times he'd show his fangs in order for you to run. "You are the most disgusting and horrible existence that I had the disgrace of crossing paths with", the crushing expression on your face made it almost impossible for him to continue, the desperate need to close the space between the two of you and apologize was tempting, to say this was all an elaborated lie to keep you safe from the future events that will take place. Almost. "You seriously thought I was in love with you? That shows how naive and stupid you are, don't flatter yourself. You truly are a brainless idiot, fine, I will say it: I wish we had never even met".

If you could die at that right moment, you would have done so. All air left your lungs and you could no longer contain the tears that blurred your sight, it was hard to breath, it was hard to feel anything at all. If it wasn't for the massive headache this situation was giving you, or the piercing pain in your chest, in your heart, either caused by Scaramouche himself or how you weren't breathing that made it feel like you were about to die, you would have felt numbness. Nails now digging further into your palms, now drawing blood. It was the only thing grounding you, the only thing confirming how all of this was real.

If you like my stories, consider donating to my Ko-Fi! Even cents are plenty of help!

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2020

Prompt #14 - Until Next We Meet

Part - ‘to go apart from or leave one another, as persons’

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“So…eveyrthing sorted?” Alisaie stared at the Warrior of Light pointedly as she asked this. They stood at the gangplank before the Misery, preparing for their voyage across the Sirensong Sea to the distant lands of Hingashi and Doma. Tataru, Alphinaud, and Lyse stood just a little ways away from them speaking with the captain to make sure all arrangements were in order.

Katsum nodded in response to her question, though she was unsure what she was meaning by it, “Of course, why do you ask?”

The young Elezen girl narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms, “You did tell him where we were going, right?”

“Who do you mean?”

“Katsum, please. You know who I mean.”

The blonde Miqo’te’s ears fell slightly as she looked away. Yes, she knew, but she was not sure how Alisaie did. She hadn’t told any of the Scions about her and Aymeric’s relationship, and he had promised he wouldn’t say anything either, and she trusted that promise. Perhaps they had been too transparent or something around each other? Perhaps spoken to each other in a far more familiar way then they realized in front of them? She was not sure, yet to ask would confirm any thoughts of it, and that maybe all this was, Alisaie prying for an answer she wasn’t sure of. With this thought, Katsum blinked and met her gaze again and answered evenly, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Alisaie narrowed her eyes, “Really? Very well, you don’t have to confirm what I already know.”

“Alisaie, what are you-”

“Ah, don’t worry,” She smiled and waved her hand, “Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone.”

Katsum opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Urianger’s approach. She sighed internally, her eyes more downcast than usual as she was afraid to meet anyone’s gaze straight on in fear of giving anything else away. Still, she listened in to Alisae and Urianger’s conversation, happy to blend in with the background, even for just a moment.

The truth was, she hadn't told Aymeric she was leaving for Hingashi today…and while the guilt set heavily on her heart, the thought of saying “goodbye” pained her even more. She had been trying all week, visiting him at his office one afternoon, joining him for dinner again another, and each time she gathered the courage to speak up and say it, he would stop her…and tell her how beautiful she was, or how happy he was to be getting to know her better. And then he would smile his most charming smile that just turned her mind off entirely…And she would fall silent, unable to bring a frown to that handsome visage. Perhaps she could send a letter once she was across the sea or something? Send him a gift to make up for it? Yet even those things did not help the guilt she felt, her heart falling at the very thought.

“Honored guests!” The voice of Captain Carvallain caught her attention and she raised an ear to listen, “Say your farewells, for the moment of our parting draws nigh! A fair wind blows, and I mean to follow it!”

Katsum took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she nodded her farewell to Urianger with the others and turned towards the great ship.

“Wait!!”

At the sound of the voice, she froze. No, surely…surely that wasn’t-

“Ser Aymeric!” Alisaie called out surprise, side-eyeing Katsum as she did, “What a surprise to see you here in Limsa.”

Katsum spun on her heel, watching him approach. Ser Aymeric de Borel sprinted down through the gates and onto the dock, stopping just a few feet from the group and huffing as he breathed heavily, his eyes locked on Katsum’s.

“Forgive me…I would have been here sooner, but…I did not know that…” Katsum’s ears fell back in shame as she moved to step up to him. He watched her every movement, reaching out to take her hands as she neared, speaking lowly so that only she could hear, “Was this what you’ve been trying to tell me? When you visited the Congregation…and at dinner last night…?”

Katsum looked down at their hands, feeling tears form in the corner of her eyes as she nodded, “Yes…” She shook her head as her hands started shaking, “I’m sorry, Aymeric, I’m so sorry…I just couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. Even now, it hurts so much to say it…” She watched his hand move to tilt her chin so that her eyes met his again, a tear falling as she looked at the sadness she found there, “I’m sorry…”

Aymeric took a deep breath, his frown turning into a sad smile as he wiped the tear from her eye, “My dear Katsum, such a soft heart you truly have. Think not of us ‘saying goodbye’, but rather ‘we will see each other again soon’. Then it is not parting forever, just for a little while, yes?”

Katsum sniffed, trying to smile and failing as she nodded.

“Smile for me, Kat,” She took a breath to calm herself, a small smile spreading across her lips.

“There we are.” His sad smile faded into a warm one as he let go of her hand and reached into his cloak, “Close your eyes, please.” She looked at him questioningly but obeyed. She felt him clip something into her hair carefully before stepping back, “Alright, now open them.”

Katsum opened her eyes to see him holding a handmirror towards her where she could see the beautiful, dragon-shaped hairpin she now wore. Her eyes widened in surprise, admiring the golden metal and the details of the scales and wings pressed into it, all the way down to the tail of it where a small, teardrop-shaped, red gem hung sparkling in the sunlight.

“Oh, Aymeric, it's beautiful!” She raised a hand to feel the designs and tap the dangling gem to admire its sparkle.

“I had it made for you a few weeks back after the Dragonsong War ended, yet it was not finished until just a few days ago. I meant to give it to you last night at dinner, but when you left so suddenly…I forgot. So I went to Fortemps Manor to give to you, and that’s where I learned of your departure…”

Katsum looked up to meet his eyes as she frowned, “I’m…I’m so sorry, Aymeric…Here you are, giving me this gift I do not deserve, and I only offer you sadness and selfishness in not telling you that I was leaving…”

He shook his head, pocketing the mirror as he cupped her face, “You needn’t apologize, my lady. I understand your reasons, I do.” He moved closer as if to kiss her forehead, but then remembering the company around them, he stopped and instead took her hand again and raised it to his lips to kiss the back of it, “Until next we meet, my lady. My love. Please, be safe. Promise me that you will be.”

Katsum’s tail twitched at a thought, and before she knew what she was doing, she reached up to the collar of his cloak, pulling him down to her lips as she kissed him. She could tell by his stiffness that he was shocked considering they were standing in front of the Scions still, yet he did not pull away until she did. Katsum of course had not forgotten them, yet she could not help herself as her love for the Ishgardian poured out from her heart and bid her draw him in and seal his lips with hers. When she pulled away, she kept him close so they pressed their foreheads against one another.

“Consider that my promise to return to you safely. I shall be looking to take that back when I return.” She gazed deeply into his eyes as he smiled warmly.

“I look forward to it, my lady,” She smiled back, the guilt and weight on her shoulders lifting as her heavy heart lightened just a little. She let him go and stepped back as he straightened. Hold his hands and squeezing them gently as she stepped away.

“I will see you soon. Until then…I shall miss you dearly.” Katsum mused, letting go when she stepped out of his reach.

“As I will miss you, Katsum. Be safe on your journey, and write when you can. Tell me all about your adventures.”

She smiled and nodded, lifting a hand to turn towards the ship…only to see the Scions with happy and relieved smiles on their face, with Alisaie grinning knowingly at her.

“Haven’t a clue who I was talking about, eh?”

Katsum turned red as her ears stood up and her tail fluffed up, all gathered to chuckle at her embarrassing reaction, Aymeric included. She would surely never hear the end of this one…

[eternal-love-song]

Show Me Power, I’ll Gift You Love

The Lord of the Dead, Katsuki, has been miserable ever since he gained his dominion. When his brother, Denki, orders him to be happy, Katsuki does the only thing he can think of. He steals himself some company. This goes better than expected.

[Bakugo/Momo, Kaminari/Ochako]

[Alternate Universe, Hades/Persephone AU, Introspection, Character Study]

The underworld was a stifling place. The air was thick with sadness and sorrow, the regrets of the dead as audible as a song, and their anger and resentment coloring the air. It was a dark place, cold and uncomfortable.

Except for this day. On this day, there was a visitor to the usually dark domain of the dead. Lightning struck beside the throne, clearing the air and unnaturally brightening the room. A storm stirred in the room, swirling swiftly into the smiling form of the lord of the sky.

"You dare intrude upon me here, Denki?" Katsuki had not moved an inch from his throne. The cloak that covered half his form, leaving half of him enshrouded in shadows, had not been stirred either. He glowered at the other lord's smiling visage, but received neither the scorn nor the fear he was accustomed to from others. As he never had and should have rightly expected not to still.

"This place is almost as gloomy as you are, Katsuki," Denki remarked as he glanced around. The blonde god had a light and presence that overtook most of the room, but battled the shadows of the throne, still working to cover Katsuki's presence, and lost. Denki tilted his head as he noted this, watching the darkness around the room ripple and outline his brother's presence thickly.

"Did you think you could come here and exert yourself so completely?" Katsuki questioned, voice harsh and angry as it had been ever since his lot had been drawn and the underworld had become his domain. "You rule the skies, leave me to my graves and be done with me."

Denki frowned then, looking through the thick shadows to find Katsuki's eyes. "Katsuki, no! That's not what this is. Being lord of the dead does not make you one of them."

"Doesn't it?" Katsuki asked. "And what have you come down here for, if not to lay flowers on my grave and push my coffin out to sea?"

"I'd never," Denki began, only to be interrupted by Katsuki.

"No, of course not. That's Deku's job." He snorted. "Lord of the oceans and seas, still somehow with a higher domain than me."

"You know he'd despair to hear you think that of him," Katsuki scolded firmly. "And you know I would never want anything bad to happen to you." Denki took a step closer to the throne, watching as the blackness deepened around it, as if it could be a physical barrier between the two. And perhaps it could. Denki didn't know what all powers his brother had gained from his domain and Katsuki had never been forthcoming with such things, only demonstrative when angered.

"And what do you call this?" Katsuki raged, leaping from his throne and allowing his voice to explode with anger, eyes bright as hot flames. "You do not call this a fate worse than death? Being among them day in and out and yet never being... among them?"

With a determined gleam in his eye, Denki crossed the barrier of shadow, feeling only minimal resistance, to stand before Katsuki. "This place is bitter and rotting, just like you," Denki told him. "That's why I came here, to see what has happened to you to make you so miserable. But I see that it's only yourself doing this to you."

Katsuki scoffed again and turned away.

Denki stepped closer still. "Izuku told me he came to visit you, told me what he'd seen. You haven't been to the surface in years. We invite you to Olympus, invite you to leave this place when you please."

"And who will do the work here if I am gone?" Katsuki asked. "And what is there for me up there when I know I will only have to return here in short order?"

Denki risked getting close enough to touch the lord of the dead, laying hands on his shoulder and risking the blonde's explosive temper. "You are my brother and I tell you this out of love. You are the coldness in this place. You are the stagnant air and the sorrowful wails. You are the festering regret and the hate of the living. The dead, they echo you. This place feeds off you. 

"Do you remember the sky before it became my domain?" Denki demanded, giving his brother a shake when his gaze refused to meet him. "It was bleak and black. It was oppressive and gloomy. Now it's bright! It's free because I am free."

"This place is a cage and you expect me to rejoice in it?" Katsuki questioned.

"I expect you to behave like one of the living, which you still are despite what you seem determined to make yourself believe." Denki let his hands slip from Katsuki's shoulders, an action which did earn him the other lord's attention, gaze shifting from Denki's dropped hands to his face. "I wanted to leave you room to do as you please, but I see that was the wrong decision. 

"So I'm commanding you now, as King of Olympus, as head of the gods, I give you this command: find something that pleases you, that makes you happy, whatever that thing may be, and make it yours. I will not stop you or hinder you. I will not object or sabotage you. If you decide to knock me from my throne, so be it. If you decide to wage a war upon the surface, upon the mortals, upon the gods, so be it. If you decide to abandon your post, so be it. But I can't stand to see one of my brothers labor so miserably."

Katsuki sighed, deep and tired, and allowed himself to fall back onto his throne. "I don't know what could make me happy in this place."

"Then search for it, Katsuki!" Denki glared at him for a few seconds before turning his back and stepping away. "And if you don't find anything, I'll send Izuku back down here and command him not to leave until he helps you find it." With that announcement and a loud boom of thunder, Denki turned to lightning and faded in a flash. The brightened atmosphere faded with him.

Katsuki slumped down in his throne more, watching the light slowly disappear, feeling the fear seep back into the air, hearing the song of melancholy return. "Bastard," he grumbled under his breath and forced himself to think of how to solve an abstract problem. 

The problem, as Katsuki saw it, was that he didn't actually know what he wanted. He was the lord of the dead, he already had power and riches that did nothing for him. He could steal the sky from his younger brother, steal the sea from his youngest brother, but what good would that do? What good would it do him to have the sky, the sea, the earth?

His brothers were both happy, content. What did they have that he didn't? It wasn't the sky and the sea that made them smile. Izuku had spent a week down here with Katsuki and he managed to keep smiling the entire time. 

Katsuki spent some time watching the earth, searching for something to ease his misery. Denki had celebrations on Mount Olympus, had playful fights with his wife, had sunshine and thunder and rolling storms that he brought with him wherever he went. Izuku had competitions at sea, races on the waves, created creatures with his wife, and stayed mostly at his underwater palace. There was only one thing they had in common, one thing that Katsuki could want. 

He called upon one of his guards, eyes still focused on the earth. "I have a task for you to perform."

There was one thing that he could want and he only had one shot at getting it. Denki might forgive him for stealing twice, but he didn't want to risk being wrong. He had to take something that could be useful even if things didn't work out the way that he wanted them to. Denki had the sea. Izuku had the sky. Katsuki, therefore, would have the earth, no matter if he had to steal it to make it his.

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

The air was stale. Before she even opened her eyes, she could tell that something was wrong. She couldn't feel the sun on her skin, couldn't feel the grass beneath her, couldn't smell the flowers or earth. She was dizzy and weak, and she struggled to open her eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked, blinking her eyes against the dark. One moment she was under the sun, surrounded by the flowers of her favorite meadow and her fondest companions, and the next she found herself here, sprawled out on cold, hard stone. Slowly, she pushed herself up on her knees.

Her eyes widened as she saw the man standing before her. Her eyes hadn’t fully adjusted, but one thing stood out clearly. Sharp red eyes, hard and cold, that caused her to jump and backwards with a gasp.

“Momo.” His voice was rough and frightening, raspy as if he didn't spend much time speaking. “Fruit of the earth, bounty of the summer, right? A fitting name, I guess.”

As her eyes adjusted, she could make out more and more details. He was wearing a dark cloak that shrouded most of his form, his hair was wild and spiky, more vibrant than anything else in her immediate sight, and his face was… she couldn’t say handsome, not with such a cold look on his face, but it felt… tempting, all the same.

“Who are you?” she asked. There was a tremble in her limbs and she couldn't tell if it was from cold or fright.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned. He leaned down, reaching out to take her face in his hands, gripping her chin and tilting her face upward. “Goddess of spring, do you really not know me?”

A shiver went through her and the answer was suddenly clear as day. She didn’t make the decision to name him, but it came to her lips all the same. “Katsuki, lord of the dead.”

He smiled, wicked and wild. “The one and only.”

She moved away from him, pushing backwards on the stone and watching his hand as it slowly fell away from her face. "Why am I here?" she asked him. "Why have you..."

Katsuki stood up to his full height, towering over her where she was still on the ground. The scowl of his expression was almost a blow to her, his eyes like blood and fire and the promise of pain, the shadows that rolled over him as if seeking to swallow him whole; it was nearly too powerful to withstand. She felt small and helpless as he gazed down at her. Then his eyes slipped away from hers, he walked past her a few paces, and she felt as if she could breathe again. 

"A long time ago, when the earth and planes were newly free, when the ground was soaked in blood and the rivers ran red, when the cage was closed on the newly defeated kings of the land, a pact was made. The world needed kings anew and three brothers had won the right of rule. 

"The world was large and there were no lines yet drawn to tally out what portions go where or who should have what. It was suggested that the world be divided in layers. One would have the sky, one would have the oceans, and one would have the underworld. The brothers agreed, they drew lots, and the oldest brother was stuck with the dead. And he languished, and he suffered, while his brothers thrived. But he labored as he was meant to labor, and he remained silent as he was meant to be, and his brother's grew discontent.

"The youngest brother begged him to leave his work behind. He offered to hide him in the seas, to protect him from the backlash of abandoning his post, to forget the burden that he had been given. But the oldest brother did not. What would the world become, if there was no one to tend to the dead? What would be lost? He couldn't risk it. So the middle brother came and commanded that he take something for himself, that he have something more than his realm and his power and his solitude."

Katsuki paused in his story telling to look over his shoulder at her. "That's where you come in. You are to be an end to my solitude, the opposite of the decay and darkness of this place. You are free to roam and anything you require can be provided, but you are not allowed to leave this place."

Momo wasn't sure what to say to this and in the end, Katsuki left her before she had the chance to say anything at all.

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

It only took an hour in the underworld for Momo to fiercely miss the sun. In that time she had been given a room, offered platters of sweets and food, and watched as she walked through the halls. Being used to open fields and rolling skies, the dark halls felt nearly claustrophobic. Her room felt even more so for being big but empty. She was used to the company of nymphs and nereids, but now she'd spent more hours than she could count alone.

She cried at first, lonely and alone and missing everything that she knew. She spent days languishing in this misery, refusing to eat, to sleep, to speak even. She felt like she was wilting.

And then, at the end of the week, the lord of the dead came to visit her. He held out a hand to her, half of his body still hidden in his cloak, and commanded, "Come with me."

She hesitated and he waited, hand out stretched, eyes watching her closely. She placed a hand in his and he pulled her forward, leading her out of her room.

"It didn't occur to me that this is your first time in the underworld," he told her. "You don't know where anything is. That's why you've been staying in your room, right?"

Momo didn't bother to correct him. It wasn't worth breaking her silence just to tell him that he was wrong. Exploring hadn't even occurred her. She hadn't thought of what she might find when her mind was so stuck on what she wouldn't find. Her thought constantly circling around her own loss. 

He didn't seem bothered by her silence. Katsuki wasn't very talkative, but he explained the things that he showed her. The architecture, elaborate in little ways she hadn't noticed, the entrance guarded by the frightening and friendly beast Eijirou, the dinning chamber and throne room. So many more places that she hadn't expected, along with the first one to really claim her attention.

"This is the river Lethe," Katsuki explained. "Those who drink from this river can forget all that they are. When spirits are to be reincarnated, they are made to bathe in the river to leave all that they once were behind."

Momo's eyes widened as she walked forward, dropping his hand as she stared into the river. It was a mesmerizing sight. She swore she could watch the dreams of the dead swirling beneath the surface, read their words on the waves. She peered into it, wandering if she would ever see herself for all the cloudy thoughts that lingered within.

Katsuki caught her hand again, pulling her back a step and it was only then that she realized she had bent down and was poised to reach into it. "Careful, Momo," he cautioned. "If you fall in, you could come out a different goddess."

And wasn't that something she had never considered. Becoming a different goddess. What would she be, what could she become, if she wasn't the Goddess of Spring? Would she be something less? Could she be something more?

Momo turned to him, a light returning to her eyes as she spoke for the first time in a week. "Show me more?"

Katsuki smiled at her, squeezed her hand. "Wherever you want to go," he promised her. And for the first time since descending, she believed him.

He showed her the river of fire, which flowed into Tartarus, let her peer into the depths of the prison, and she had a realization. This man, leading her by the hand, was one of the few to win them the world. He fought with bloodied hands to beat back the strongest beings to walk their land, and yet he was stronger. He watched the history of the world as it flowed and unfurled and withered into dust. He was the keeper of all things that were eventually brought low by decay. And when he thought of what he did not have, what he could want, what he was missing in this devastating and wondrous land, he thought of her.

Katsuki was watching her closely now, attentive and silent as if waiting for her to voice her thoughts. There was something exciting in that look, in the power it implied. The lord of the dead, one of the most feared gods, was waiting on her. Her word, her whim, and she felt something foreign and powerful unfurling within her.

"I want more," she told him. "I want to know more."

Katsuki graced her with a smile, wicked and hungry, as he brought her hand to his lips and whispered, "Anything you desire."

There was a power that Momo had always had. On the surface, beneath the skies and the stars, she had brought bounties. Anything the earth could yield would be at her fingertips with a thought. Fruits and flowers and riches and gems. She could conjure wealth aplenty, no matter how it was counted. In coin, in treasure, in food, she was the earth's bounty.

But Momo had never felt powerful before. Not like she did now.

"Anything?" she repeated breathlessly. 

Katsuki took to one knee before her, eyes never leaving her, lips still hovering above her skin. "Anything."

Momo took slow steps toward him, enjoying how much she towered over him, how avidly he watched her. "Make me fall in love with this place," she commanded softly.

The smile slipped from his lips then as he watched her. "I don't know how to do that."

"You have to learn," she told him. "I don't want to stay here if you're miserable. I don't want to fall in love alone."

Katsuki scoffed. "In love? With this place?"

She allowed her other hand to reach out to him, caressing the side of his face. "Perhaps not just this place."

And with that, Katsuki's lips twisted back up into a smirk. "It's a challenge," he told her. And she knew that he would be rise to the occasion. She just wondered what she would do when she did.

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

"I can't believe you, Denki! Do you ever think about your actions?" Ochako scolded as she followed her husband down the halls.

"Well, of course I was thinking," Denki answered with a frown. "I was thinking that I wanted to make my big brother happy."

"By letting him kidnap a goddess!" Ochako yelled. 

"I didn't tell him to," he grumbled.

"No, you just lied to her mother about where she'd disappeared to for months and let the mortal world decay!"

"Jirou's the one that let all the crops wither! That has nothing to do with me," he answered, finally rising to meet her anger. Good. She hated fighting with him when he wasn't fighting back. It made her feel unseasonable even when she knew he'd done something foolish.

"Did you even ask what he'd done? What he was going to do?"

They were coming up on the throne room now. Ochako assumed that he decided to have them walk instead of just appearing in the throne room to let them bleed out the argument first. That was clever, more clever than most gave him credit for, but she was too upset to thank him for it.

"Let's just get this over with before Jirou destroys the world with her grieving," Ochako sighed.

The underworld looked different than she remembered it. It had been barren before, she was sure, but now there were strange twisted plants creeping along the walls and fighting their way through cracks in the stone. There was a servant in the entryway that began shouting introductions once he saw them approach.

"Approaching! Denki, Lord of the Skies, with his wife Ochako, Goddess of marriage. Seeking audience with the Lord of the Dead and his Dread Queen."

Ochako paused in her steps as she reached the threshold, turning to the page. "Dread Queen?"

"That would be me," a sultry voice called out to them.

Ochako's head spun around to face the throne, her eyes widening at the sight that she saw there. Katsuki was the one on the throne, but standing beside him was a familiar looking stranger. She had a crown of the dark and twisted plants that Ochako had been seeing since entering the underworld, a low cut dress with gems and jewels decorating it, and one hand resting possessively on the back of the throne. She looked very little like the Goddess of Spring that Ochako remembered, despite having the same features, and very much like what could be described as a "Dead Queen."

"Well met, Lord and Lady of Olympus."

"Well met, Momo!" Denki greeted with a smile, eyes traveling between the goddess and his brother with increasing excitement. "I see you two are getting along?"

Momo's wicked expression morphed into a sweeter smile, one that Ochako recognized and that put her a little more at ease. "Remarkably, we have. We are. I am in love with this place." She shared a smile with Katsuki, and Ochako almost tripped and fell face first trying to remember when she'd last time seen Katsuki smile.

"That's great! I'm so happy to hear that!" Denki exclaimed.

"But unfortunately," Ochako spoke up before her husband could forget himself in his happiness. "We have come to take you home."

"I am home," Momo answered immediately, expression hardening once more. 

Ochako forced herself to continue undeterred. "Your mother is in mourning and it's destroying the mortal world. Nothing will grow and everything is withering. There's a desolate chill falling further and further over the earth, and if it continues--"

"I am not going to be controlled by my mother," Momo replied with a smile. "Not any longer. Tell her where I am, tell her who I am, and if she wants to see me, tell her that she must come here to do so."

"But Momo--"

"Ochako," Katsuki spoke up for the first time. "You who can read the center of two souls, the bond between hearts, the gravity that holds us to one another. Look at us and tell me that she is not my family, my wife, the keeper of my soul, and I will let her go."

Ochako pressed her lips together as she studied them, studied their bond, and didn't know how to say what she could see. Denki was watching her with tilted head, sensing her discomfort, but he wouldn't help her here. All he wanted was to see Katsuki happy. Ochako wanted that too, but not more than she wanted to keep the mortals from dying.

"I see that she is your wife," Ochako answered hesitantly. "Your center, your soul. But I do not see that the same is true for her."

Momo's eyes hardened at that pronouncement and her hand tightened where it rested on the back of Katsuki's throne. "You dare..." she growled.

"Momo," Denki interrupted with a frown. "I am glad that you make my brother happy, but you will not threaten my wife."

Dutifully, reluctantly, with much visible restraint, Momo bit her tongue. This was not like the goddess that Ochako remembered. What had happened to her here?

"I did not say that she needed to love me," Katsuki said. "Only that if I was not centered by her, I would let her go. But you have not proven my words false and so neither have you refuted my claim."

"Katsuki, be reasonable!" Ochako yelled! "Everything is dying!"

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "You stand before the lord of the dead and complain about death?"

Momo took a step forward, letting her hand drop from the throne to Katsuki's hand as she moved to stand partially before him. "I have never felt more fulfilled than I do here," she told them. "I have never felt more powerful, more in control, more excited than I do now! This place is amazing and Katsuki is a worthy companion. Maybe I do not love him yet, but he had helped me fall in love with so much of this place, it's only a matter of time." She looked to Denki, meeting his eyes as she whispered, "Give me time."

Denki moved forward, smiling at them both gently and placing a hand their shoulders. "You cannot hide here forever. But I promised my brother that I would not take anything from him once he chose his prize, and I'm holding to my world. No one will force you from this place, and I proclaim here and now that no one shall have the power to do so."

Momo smiled again, reaching out for Katsuki and wrapping her arms around him as she fell into his lap. It happened so naturally that it much have been an often performed move. Katsuki did not look at all started, and adjusted to accept her weight before she'd even dropped herself completely in his lap.

"But," Denki added with a stern look, "You cannot let the world above die. Jirou's not the most reasonable goddess and I'm not going to tell you how to deal with her, but the world mustn't wither. I don't care how long or little you spend to reverse Jirou's blight, but I command that you will do so."

Momo nodded. "I understand. When mother's blight becomes to much, I'll rise to smooth out the effects. But never for too long. I won't stand it."

"It's a deal," Denki agreed.

"If you're going to do this," Ochako added, "I demand the right to perform the wedding! It's terrible of you to deny me this. Both of you!" She glared, hands on her hips.

Kastuki smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile in return. "As you wish, Ochako." His eyes went to Momo as he added, "Whatever my queen desires."

Ochako couldn't help how wide her grin was. She closed her eyes a took a deep breath, marveling for the first time at how clear the air smelled. It wasn't the unimpeded freshness of the surface, but it was exhilarating and wild. It was probably worth it, allowing Jirou's rage, if it meant these two could find such happiness.

[fuwafuwamedb]

Mudi Kuno (Seer! Hakuno, Archer Gilgamesh, Enkidu)

“You should take care not to eat that,” Hakuno warned the old woman sitting near the medic’s home, “your ailment is one of hunger, not of spirit.”

The woman looked up, smiling softly as she guzzled down the strange brew from the medic. “Perhaps it is, but I like the taste.”

To each their own, but she wouldn’t be seeing that woman around here soon enough.

Hakuno sighed a little, pulling her steed onwards to the typical corner of her little world. The rain was just a slight drizzle, making it easier to get her horse to relax and linger under the overhang she put into place at the side of her wagon. She pulled the steps down from her wagon next, taking just a moment to put the wedges under her wagon wheels to keep her wagon from coasting off while she worked.

A hammer to them would ensure any movement of them would notify her immediately. Someone would have to really hit them out from under her wheels.

She turned her little sign.

She pulled her veil into place over her face.

And thus, the great Mudi Kuno was available for business.

For the sake of her business though, she tossed more of those gifts from satisfied customers to the side of her cart, waiting as the usual scurrying folk came and went with goodies to sell to those traveling through.

She hoped they earned their money.

A young maiden came to her first.

She was small and foolish.

In her mind’s eye, she could see how the woman had been pining after another woman’s betrothed. She could see how the woman lingered over the man, soothing his brow after plowing the fields and bathing closer and closer in the nearby river to where the man often bathed.

“I love a man,” the girl whispered. “My parents wish to sell me to another. I do not know him though. I can’t just give up my love, can I?”

Hakuno pressed her hand to the girl’s own.

She could see the other man.

Young, hot blooded; he pined as she pined, having seen her bathing and followed her home to ensure her safety.

With a sigh, Hakuno smiled softly.

“Surrender the man you love. He grows a wrinkled brow and a lumpy dick. He cannot please a woman as your betrothed can.”

The woman stared at her, stunned.

“I speak of only what I see,” Hakuno told her. “The man you love is doomed… under…” Oh boy, what were these Sumerian gods again? “Ishtar. He thought himself arrogant and she has cursed him to be difficult and unpleasant for a woman. See to the one your parents feel strongly of. You will find that, unlike many women, you fall for him quite easily.”

“But-“

“I will not force you into this decision, but think upon this: When you go to wipe the man’s brow, has he ever smiled to you? Wipe your betrothed’s brow. You will see what I mean.”

Her future changed immediately.

Hakuno smiled as the girl scurried off to investigate these truths.

“Do all your company run from you?”

Hakuno glanced over to her sign, noting the two waiting to be attended to. The two men were bundled under fabrics, nice fabrics at that.

“I see one person at a time.”

The longer haired one moved forward.

“Tough break, my friend. I will begin first.”

As per usual, Hakuno offered a hand to help them up.

Her feet came out from under her the moment that they placed their hand in hers. The sights before her, the pain that racked her system, the sight of the rainfall coming down hard.

The other caught her, but she just…

“Mudi.”

The other figure moved forward, scowling around his veil and low hanging turban.

“What did you see?” The man… the best of friend to this creature, demanded.

Death.

Her eyes drifted up to the figure holding her, to those calm clay colored eyes. She could see the concern, the questions burning just beyond reach.

“…You have a difficult time ahead.”

The two snorted at her.

As though her response was some theatric rather than a serious warning about killing bulls and irate goddesses and death underneath pouring rain; these two were laughing at her. She could see the man wipe at his eye.

“Funny,” he told her, “but we were informed that you were giving accurate and detailed descriptions of the future, not teasing remarks about trials and tribulations.”

“I say what I see,” Hakuno growled. “And there’s nothing to find funny, King Gilgamesh. Protect your friend if you do not want them to die. Don’t piss off your gods.”

The two paused.

She could see the other lowering his veil, revealing the places of a face so smooth and so chistled that any of the starving artisans she had seen in her travels would have wept at the look of it. Their hands would have traced the man’s visage for hours on end, begging to be able to memorialize it.

There was no doubt that someone must have done so already.

“So you are aware of who we are.”

Hakuno gave a nod.

“Then what do you see in my future?”

She reached out a tentative hand, finding the other rolling his eyes a moment before he gave her his own.

The roughened and large hands held hers, allowing her the insight.

A young blond stood before her, with nothing to do. The young boy changed into a young man, turning away company in lieu of fighting. Then there was the man who had allowed her to hold his hand, preparing to fight and become friends, strangely enough, with this clay being near her. And then…

Then there was a man holding her, standing before his throne with his arms around her person and his lips pressing to her temple. There was an edge to his face, something akin to fear forming in his eyes as he glanced over to his friend…

She had to let go.

“Well?”

I like this man?!

No, she just found him aesthetically pleasing. She couldn’t hang around for that misery. She couldn’t linger when…

Gods, but she’d known lingering near the kingdom of Uruk had been unwise. She’d known and she’d allowed herself to linger anyway.

“Well?” The king moved in closer. “You have held my hand. What have you seen, Mudi?”

“You should remain inside tomorrow. What you seek will not be available to you.”

The man scowled. “And what is it that I’m seeking, Mudi Kuno?”

A companion for his bed.

They both knew what he was seeking. Using women as he did, entertaining himself with the clay being in his rooms and throwing deflowered virgin after deflowered virgin from his bed; the man was still holding onto a string of hope for a companion. That string was impossible to see, impossible to discern, but it was there.

His grip on it was unerring.

“I suppose that is for you to decide. I merely know that you go seeking something tomorrow and are unsuccessful in your search of it.”

“Can I find it today?”

Hakuno shrugged. “I merely know that my visions tend to always happen. Unless the person themselves make the conscious choice to seek change, nothing can be done.”

“So tell me what I seek,” Gilgamesh insisted.

“I cannot.”

“Then what good is your guess at my future? You tell me I will be unsuccessful and that my friend will face conflict, but you give nothing in terms of detail.”

Hakuno shook her head. “I suppose I am not the clairvoyant that you seek then.”

Now leave.

Go back to your palace.

But the two didn’t leave. In fact, the king glanced at his friend a moment before holding his hand out.

She blinked.

“I allowed you to hold my hand for a moment and look into my spirit, you must do the same,” he argued. “Give me your hand.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Mudi, I will not ask again.”

This was a bad idea.

This was an incredibly bad idea.

Hakuno bolstered what energy she had, reaching out slowly only to find the man stealing her hand halfway. Their fingers laced together a moment before she felt something slam into her senses. It was like a headache was coming into fruition, like her mind was trying to replay some memory, but she kept clearing her head. She noted the dirt on the ground, the chill to the air, the scent of rain in the air-

“Stop blocking.”

He had a face. Yep. Two eyes. A nose. A mouth. He had jewelry tucked under the bottom of his turban fabric. She could see blond hair poking out a bit from the top of his turban.

Gilgamesh released her.

Hakuno sighed in relief.

Only a fool would let themselves be found out like that.

The man had slept with every woman from Uruk. His dick had sailed farther in a sea of women than any vagabond upon the river Euphrates had ever gone. There was no way in hell she was giving up her freedom for being used and abused like that. She wouldn’t be tossed aside.

“Gil,” the clay being called, drawing the king’s mounting interest away. “We should get back.”

“I will come again tomorrow,” the king warned her.

Hakuno smiled softly. “I fear I may have indigestion then.”

She would leave tonight. Once she gathered food and water, she’d venture to the north. The cold weather was nothing for her and her horse, Nag.

Watching the two leave her, Hakuno bounced from her wagon and over to her steed.

“I think I found someone with a worse attitude than you,” she told her beast. “Let’s get moving soon.”

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The French Connection - Chapter 2

A HardyxMiller AU

Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony.  Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.

They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun. Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective  

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday.  Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

Masterlist  |  AO3

---

Ellie washed her face, grateful she’d forgone makeup that morning in her misery.  Her face was still splotchy from crying, though the cold flannel helped ease the contrast.

After wasting a minute or two thoroughly examining the tiny bathroom she gave up, steeling herself to open the door and leave the relative safety of her hideaway.  It’s just Hardy, she scolded herself, trying to make her hand reach for the doorknob.  Stop being so weird.  You invited him on this trip.  He’s not going to expect anything.  You both just had traumatic breakups.

Finally her hand obeyed, and she stepped out into the main area.  The first thing that caught her attention was his attempts to remove the romantic elements – the rose petals were gone and the candles were off, which eased some of the pressure.

“Champagne?” Hardy offered, holding a full flute out towards her, and after a moment, she accepted.

“Thanks.”

They clinked the glasses together, and Ellie drank the whole thing in one go, lowering the flute only to see that Hardy had merely sipped at his, and was watching her with raised eyebrows.

Thankfully, he didn’t comment, merely refilled her glass and asked, “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Wander the streets, whatever catches our fancy?”

“Sure.  D’you want to head out now and walk around, or stay in and unpack?”

Ellie checked her watch; five o’clock.  Far too early for dinner, especially in Paris.  But to stay in or go out?  She felt a bit antsy, like she needed to move, but it had been such a long day she didn’t want to fall asleep halfway through dinner.  I did sleep on the train…

“Walk around?”

“Sure,” Hardy nodded, moving towards his suitcase, “just give me a couple minutes.”

Ellie shifted to let him squeeze past, noting they were both careful to avoid touching.  “Take your time.”  Drifting towards the far side of the bed, she noticed a door flush to the wall; opening it, she found a dozen steps leading up.  At the top was another door, and upon opening it, she gasped to find herself on the roof of the hotel, a small semi-private balcony area that was gated in.  In reality it was one space divided in four, so it wasn’t terribly private, but it gave such a wonderful view of the river and the Ile across from them that she didn’t care.

“Miller?”

Footsteps on the stairs behind her said he’d followed her up, and a moment later, he joined her with a wide-eyed look of his own.

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day,��� he murmured, looking positively enchanted, and Ellie’s heart twinged with grief.

It was the kind of view you shared with someone you loved, the kind of view you kissed in front of and made plans for the future.

Joe should be here, she thought, hating herself for it.  She missed him, or at least the man she’d thought he was.  As a detective, as a cop, it was her job to protect the public, and she had no time or patience for abusers and perverts.  In that sense, she’d immediately and irrevocably cut Joe out of her heart, ending their relationship and refusing to see him even when he asked.

But the man she’d known, who she’d thought he was… that was the Joe she wanted with her.  Kind, sweet Joe, who cooked her dinner and made her laugh and wanted to share his day, his dreams, his life with her.

It hurt to know that Joe had never existed, not really.

“Oi.”  Hardy jostled her with his elbow.  “Look.”  He pointed, and she followed his finger to the street along the riverbank.  A mime stood on a box, performing, and she couldn’t help a reluctant smile.

“Right, well, that’s what I came to see,” she joked, grinning up at him.  “We can go home now.”

Hardy shook his head, giving her a mock scowl, the effect somewhat ruined by madly twinkling eyes.  “Now, hold on!  I came to Paris to see the Moulin Rouge.  We can’t leave yet!”

“Can we at least leave for a walk?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Ellie took a moment in the bathroom for herself, dusting on just enough makeup to not look like a ghost, and changing into something a little dressier.  Just because she wasn’t here with someone she loved didn’t mean she could look like a savage.

“Ready,” she announced, stepping out and right into Hardy’s chest, drawing a loud ‘oof!’ from both of them.  “Sorry.”

“S’alright,” he said, steadying her with his hands on her biceps.  “You good?”

“Uh huh.”

Once out on the street they walked side by side, taking in the ambiance and beauty.  They took turns pointing out various items of interest, and gradually Ellie relaxed.  To her surprise she was actually having fun, enjoying Hardy’s company, and wasn’t that strange?

Maybe he’s not as terrible as I always thought.

-

Sticking his hands in his pockets, even Hardy had to admit that wandering the streets of Paris was relaxing and, dare he say, almost enjoyable.  It was a beautiful late spring day, warm enough to be comfortable but not too hot, the slowly-sinking sun a brilliant orange.

Casting his eyes to the side, he tried not to frown at the distant look in Ellie’s eye.  Arms folded across her stomach, she seemed to be watching without seeing anything.

She just found out she almost married a predator, the little voice in the back of his head scoffed.  Of course she’s in a tailspin.  Setting his jaw, he decided it was up to him to save her trip.  She already spent all this money to be here, he rationalized, she ought to get something out of it.

“Here,” he said abruptly, noticing a street cart and grabbing her arm, tugging Ellie over to it while ignoring her yelp.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, voice smaller than it should have been, but he ignored her to place his order and pay.  Within a minute he had his prize in hand, and turned back to her, offering it out.

“We’ve been in Paris too long not to have a crepe,” he explained patiently when she just stared at him with a blank look.  “Go on, have a bite.”

Ellie took the treat, biting carefully before her eyes closed and she let out a moan.  “Oh, that’s good.”  She took another bite, then scrunched her nose.  “Of course you ruined it.”

“Bananas and chocolate are a natural pairing,” he argued, taking the folded crepe back for a bite of his own.  It was too sweet for him, but the way she was now watching it like a predator with prey in its sights said it had been the right call.  “And I’m sure you’re hungry.  You haven’t eaten since your sad breakfast.”

She practically snatched it away when he offered it back to her, taking a ridiculously large bite.  “Piss off.”

They started walking again, and he was pleased to see some of the liveliness return to her eyes, as she pointed out things to him again.

When’s the last time anyone took care of her, instead of her taking care of them? he wondered, even as they traded light-hearted barbs.  I doubt her family’s changed.  Did her fiancé?  Obviously not, in the long run.

She didn’t have to invite me, could’ve gone on her own, or somewhere else.  A surprising swell of pride surged through him.  

She trusts me.

-

Ellie laughed, watching Hardy study the menu.  He was making absolutely no effort to disguise his disgust for the rich French food, but the restaurant had been his suggestion, so she felt no sympathy for him.

“You could get fish,” she finally suggested, stomach rumbling.

Two dark eyes peered at her over the menu, and despite being all she could see of his face, she knew he was scowling.  “You’re not helping.” Not waiting for a reply, he turned and caught the waiter’s attention.

“Oui?”

Ellie smiled up sweetly, ordering in French, “Good evening, I would like the bouillabaisse.”

“Merci.  Et vous, monsieur?”

“Uh… chicken,” Hardy muttered, also in French, pointing to a specific dish.  “Merci.  Oh- vin.  Plus de vin.”

The waiter nodded, taking their menus and disappearing.  Before they even had time to speak, a sommelier appeared with a bottle of red, and Hardy gestured in her direction.

“How’s this?”

Ellie carefully inspected the bottle for just long enough to make him think she knew what she was looking for, before nodding.  The sommelier poured them both a taste, and when Hardy nodded, filled their glasses and left the bottle.

Once they were alone Hardy leaned forward, reaching out with his wine glass, and Ellie matched his pose.

“Are we toasting?”

Pursing his lips, he glanced out the window behind her before turning his gaze on her, dark eyes full of emotion despite his iron-glad grip on them otherwise.

“To… second chances,” he offered, tilting the glass.  “To old friendships. To lucky escapes.”

Ellie considered him.  Running into him had, at first glance, seemed like the only thing that could make her day worse, but in truth, it had been the first good thing to happen to her since Joe’s arrest.  “To running away.”

“Hear, hear.”

They sipped moderately from their glasses, setting them down at the same time, and opened their mouths.

“So-”

Stopping, Ellie laughed softly, shaking her head.  “The more things change…”

Hardy chuckled in agreement, a smile flitting across his usually stern visage.  “Go ahead.”

“I was just going to say… thank you.  You’ve always had a way of making a shitty day better.  I mean, usually by being a git and pissing me off, but still.”

“It always worked, didn’t it?” he arched an eyebrow, taking another mouthful of wine.  “Distracted you.”

Ellie hummed.  “To be honest, was a hell of a lot more fun being enemies with you than friends with any of the other tossers in our class.”

To her surprise, a flash of hurt blinked across his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.”  His eyes fixed on something outside the window for a long moment before he continued, almost reluctantly, “I never considered us enemies.”

“We constantly fought!” she protested, even as a little part of her was glad to hear it.  “We were voted two most likely to kill each other, remember?  I can remember on one hand the number of times we actually agreed on something!”

Hardy snorted, expression easing.  “One, we agreed more than it seemed.  Not on methods, maybe, but on general topics?  Absolutely. I think the term most of our classmates used was ‘bickering’, rather than fighting.  People who are fighting don’t have that much fun doing so.  And besides…”

“What?  ‘Besides’ what?”

He lifted his glass to his lips, obscuring all but his eyes but unable to hide the mirth pooling there.  “They certainly voted us ‘most likely to something each other’, and it was a four-letter word, but it wasn’t kill.”

Ellie choked on her wine, spluttering as she tried to process that.  “You’re lying!”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“You said it wasn’t see-through!”

That made him laugh.  “Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, “but other than that?  They all thought we were together.”

“How come I didn’t know about this?”

“I asked once, why I got all of their shit.  Apparently they thought you were the scary one of the two of us.”

“What?!”  Ellie tried to picture that.  At school, he’d been the broody Scot, always wearing a suit and tie to class and snarling at anyone who irritated him.  In stark contrast she had been the embodiment of light and happiness, wearing pastels and bringing baked goods in every other week.  “I was the scary one?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he nodded like he agreed with the assessment.  “I would bark and snarl, but that’s my default – or so I’ve been told.  Meanwhile you were, I dunno, Snow-bloody-White.  Sweet as could be, but when someone crossed you-”

“Usually you,” she interrupted.

He waved a hand in vague acknowledgement.  “-you could yell.  No one ever forgot that bollocksing you gave Murray over that joke.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Ellie mumbled, sinking down in her chair.

“Course not, he was a plonker,” he shook his head.

Ellie pursed her lips.  “Most of those boys were, even you occasionally.”

Hardy’s expression fell slightly, taking on a more serious quality.  “I never apologized for that, did I?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant.  “No.”  The moment was burned into her memory, one of the more awful experiences she’d had.  As only one of two women in a class of thirty, the testosterone had been unbearable.  The other girl had dropped out halfway through their third term, abandoning Ellie to their occasional juvenile pranks.

In this particular case, the entire class was at a police training facility getting in some practice, as every one of them were intending to go onto the force.  The uniform had been khakis and a white dress shirt.

One of the tasks had been to help each other up over a wall; if they fell, it was into a pool of water.  One of the others, she forgot who now, had purposely dropped her.  She’d landed on her back, which had hurt her pride more than anything, but had also soaked her.

Hardy had been the one to help her up, and when she’d worried about the state of her shirt, had promised it didn’t show anything.

It wasn’t until two hours later, after lunch in the cafeteria and walking past hundreds of people, that she caught sight of her reflection and realized it was entirely see-through, and her modesty wouldn’t have been much more impacted had she gone entirely topless – which would have probably been far more comfortable than wet, clingy cotton.

That was the first- and last- time she cried over her classmates.

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.  “It wasn’t right.”

“Thank you.”  After a moment, Ellie pushed the memory away.  “Besides, I can’t really blame you.”

“Because I didn’t push you?”

She smirked, raising her glass of wine.  “No, ‘cause my tits never looked better than they did then.  They deserved to be seen by someone.”

Hardy was still laughing when their food arrived.