#red signal but its dancing queen

[comatosebunny09]

preface [ trois ] | sylus

summary: he still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. she’s not you. the body type and stature don’t match. still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate in his journey to find you.

warnings: human trafficking, graphic depictions of violence, minor character deaths, reader has hair, reader implied to be femme, mild language, allusions to reader’s past as a kidnappee, sylus is still murderous

tagging: @world-of-hearts @athanasia-day @falon-fen @queen-serena88 @karespocketboyfriends @mrswanel @readerxyourfave @sunsets-and-crows @antonneva @libriomancer, @queenofstresss, @aeanya @socutesotall @babyx91 @syyyy4ever @karolamurdock

notes: limerence | part 1 | part 2

now playing: o fortuna - carl orff

He recalls it like it was yesterday.

You, clad in black, bearing enough skin to tease. Your back was to him as you fiddled with something, none the wiser to his molten stare. 

He’d watched you from the rail of his club’s second-floor balcony. Thoughts consuming him as guests trickled out, drunk, merry, and sure to return. He waited until the last of them left—until his staff scuttled about, clearing off tables and reorganizing expensive bottles at the bar���to make his move.

You were a guest headliner—someone he occasionally invited to perform on stage. Lux was known for more than just its atmosphere. 

The entertainment was unmatched, and the women were attractive. Sylus couldn’t deny how the scene became more…interesting with you around. You even managed to draw out a few of his enemies for him to snuff out, the bastards greedy and wanton in the face of fresh meat.

With a smirk, Sylus descended the stairs. Stopped behind you, watching you struggle to unlatch your heels from your ankles. 

You glanced up when he poured himself onto the red leather ottoman across. So close, his knees bracketed either side of yours, and he’d caught a whiff of that warm scent you carried. 

Wordlessly, he drew your foot into his lap. Your expression warped into one of brief astonishment before it was replaced by something sultry. A mask you often donned when putting on a show, though he was curious to see what truly lay beneath it. 

You leaned back on your palms whilst he undid the buckle. He glanced up, a chuckle dredged from his chest as you dragged your toes down his quad in thanks. It was flattering. Felt nice, little tingles ricocheting up his spine. 

He hadn’t pursued the touch of a woman for some time, too busy solidifying his position in the underworld to entertain temptations of the flesh. 

He was here on business. His personal reservations could wait. 

Sylus patted his thigh, signaling you to give him your other foot. You had been dancing all night. Smiled pretty, made him money. The least he could do was reward you for your generous contributions. Show a little empathy. 

You obliged, an appreciative hum in your throat when he freed you of your shackle. Reluctantly, gently, he let your feet slide to the floor. Contemplated massaging them–they were soft and agitated. But he was here to preposition you, not seduce you. 

Not yet.

Sylus leaned forward in an easy slouch with his elbows resting on his quads. Tapped his fingers together, studying you. 

You were quite a sight beneath the red throb of the lights overhead. The imperfections lining your features made you all the more appealing, hiding beneath the glamor you posted up with your Evol. He could easily see through it, thanks to his Aether Core.

He knew about that, too. The power you housed. Part of why you were such a showstopper, your Evol allowing you to make these elaborate costume changes and transitions in the midst of performing. 

He didn’t know the full extent of your abilities just yet. Figured they were more than cheap parlor tricks. But having the power of illusion on his side was something he couldn’t get on without. 

Clearing his throat, Sylus spoke low and even, voice slightly above the dull pulse of the music turned down in the background. 

“How would you like to be a permanent employee here?” 

You quirked a brow. Pitched forward with a hand propped under your chin, your eyes glittering with mischief. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “That easy, huh?”

“What? You thought I just came here out of the goodness of my heart?” Your eyes flickered downward, and you leaned in, toying with the first button of his shirt.

He was surprised by how simple you’d made this for him. No coercion, no ultimatums. It’s as if you were waiting for him to preposition you, coiled like a spring itching to be released. He couldn’t help wondering if you knew the full extent of what he’d ask of you. The people he’d employed were more than just pretty faces. But that conversation would come later once he’d earned your trust, your loyalty. 

Nonetheless, he put back up the businessman front as he stood. Twirled the strap of your heel on a slender finger, and he peered down at you with a lazy smirk, offering you his hand to help you up and to seal the deal. 

“Then it’s settled. You work for me now,” he replied coolly. Matter of factly, no room for you to back out.

You stood with his help, your hand in his electrifying. You bore a look of amusement as you shook it, sensing there was more to this ‘job’ than what was shown at the surface. You were signing a contract with the Devil and didn’t even know it. 

“Cool. Do I get a welcome basket or something?”

Sylus snorted. Beautiful and cheeky. He could tell this would be the beginning of an interesting partnership. “I could arrange that.”

The mirth around you dwindled, and you studied him for a beat before you grew antsy. Held out your hand as the moment subsided, tapping your foot expectantly.

“Can I have my shoe back now? I should probably get goin’ before you try to coerce me into being your secretary, too.”

He canted his head, feigning ignorance. Woundedness. “I thought I’d hold onto it as a memento.”

You huffed out a laugh. “A memento for what?”

“For our new friendship.”

You snorted. “That’s real creepy, Mister.” Made a grab for your heel, yet Sylus held it just out of reach. You tried for the shoe again, your fragrance overhauling his senses as your warm chest brushed against him. 

He suddenly found himself wanting to smell you all the time, wanting to feel the heat wafting off your skin more often. And that pretty smile you wore—he had to have it for himself. 

You looked at him with a devastating curl to your lips, hands on hips. “Do you tease all your new recruits like this, or am I a special case?”

He chuckled, something tugging in his chest. “Consider it a part of the onboarding process.”

As you stood there, silently scrutinizing each other beneath the strobing lights, he found his interest in you sinking deeper than surface level. And he suddenly wanted to know about everything that made you tick. 

He felt a magnetic pull towards you, like the moon drawn to Earth. Something he couldn’t quite place. He’d be remiss to say he wasn’t curious to see where this partnership could lead. 

The deal was sealed that fateful night, even if it hadn’t been in black and white. He owned you. 

And over time, you would learn that you owned him, too.

—

The present comes sliding back in, banishing his memories to the furthest reaches of his mind. He’s caught reminiscing like you’re already dead. Catastrophizing, assuming the worst. 

He knows better. You’re tough. Stubborn. Still, he doesn’t err in his steps to find you. There’s always that just in case. Just in case your Evol failed you. Just in case they incapacitated you long enough to sell you off.

He’s panting. 

Not from the exertion of fighting and killing. Rending flesh from bone, turning men to ash as he saps their energy to use as his own. Not from painting the ship’s walls with the soot of burned bodies, leaving a statement for anyone who dares to steal from him again.

No.

He pants with an effort to restrain himself. 

He could sink this ship if he so chooses. But there are still innocents onboard, trickling out in onesies and twosies. Still goons charging at him from the exits with weapons poised at his chest as if they know who he is and what he’s after—laid out the red carpet, pulling out all the stops.

And he still has yet to locate your whereabouts. 

He ducked in and out of vacant rooms after reaching the cruise ship's lowest cabins. He funneled henchmen into the hallways one by one, snuffing them out like coals. Followed their source, gritting his teeth as the trail came up cold.

He eases into another area once the fray dies down. An inky darkness greets him. He crouches when he hears a lifeless, robotic voice speaking. Rattling off descriptions like it’s reading a menu. 

Sylus’ blood turns to icicles in his veins. Could this be the auction he’s been seeking all this time?

He peers over the partition, blocking him from sight. Spots a gentleman clad in a suit, his back facing Sylus as he sits in a leather armchair.

Two more men similarly sit on opposite sides of the room, forming a triangle. Various animal masks conceal their faces. 

Fixed in the center is a ceiling-high, glass display case with three figures clad in black standing in its center.

Two bodyguards flank the smaller being shrouded in an onyx cloak. One guard reaches up to peel back the robe’s hood, and Sylus’ breath catches. 

The figure is inherently feminine, clad in a lingerie set. Gaunt, like she’s been deprived of a proper meal for days. If not for the henchman with their hands manacling her forearms, Sylus is sure she would collapse. 

They’d dressed her up all pretty like a doll. Tried to make her look more appealing, though Sylus was sure these men would buy her regardless of how emaciated she looked. 

He still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. She’s not you. The body type and stature don’t match. But still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate.

The metallic voice chimes in overhead again. The bidding starts at one million. The gentleman before Sylus raises a white paddle, soundlessly placing his bid. Sylus’ stomach churns. He’ll kill everyone here, he swears it.

He observes passively for another moment. Bristles when the girl in the case weakly attempts to free herself from her captors. They shake her in warning, and the veil slips off.

Sylus swallows thickly, his power prickling on his fingertips. He waits until the bid reaches five million before he makes his move. Soundless as the tendrils of his Evol snake around five necks. Before they know what’s amiss, five sources of life are siphoned, sinking into Sylus’ body. 

The woman gasps. Throws herself against the glass, pounding on it with weakened fists. Begs Sylus with quivering, blood-crusted lips to save her. 

He’s detached as he snaps his wrist, the entry of the display case easing open. She studies him a moment longer in her quiet panic. Looks between him and the open door, unsure of what to do. 

Sure, he’s disappointed that she isn’t the woman he seeks. She isn’t you. But he wouldn’t hurt her. That would go against all the effort he put forth tonight to bring this human trafficking ring to its knees. 

He signals for the girl to leave with a cant of his head. She snatches up the cloak, hurriedly draping it about her shoulders before skittering out of sight.

Sylus’ mouth pulls into a rigid line. Nostrils flare. He burns with malice, breathing deep to quell the urge to burn this ship to the bowels of the ocean. Still, he has faith that you’re still on board somewhere. He just has to look harder.

Dipping out of the room, he enters another. Goons no longer pursue him, either thoroughly snuffed out or they fled in the wake of Sylus’ ire. 

He’s startled when he hears an enmeshment of grunts. One high and light, and the other gurgled and strained as if being choked. He darts from behind the partition in this new room, and the sight that welcomes him makes his body flood with something glacial.

He pants again, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

A wave of relief crashes into him. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

In the center of a case similar to the one he’d seen just moments before is you. And you’re in the midst of choking out a guard with the links of your cuffs. He’s red-faced and fighting for his life, clawing at the links until bloody, jagged lines marr his neck. It’s to no avail.

With one final jerk, bone snaps, and the sigh of a life fleeting signals his demise. Your breaths are labored as you sit amid your carnage—four guards taken out similarly, haloing you—fixing Sylus’ with a reposed look.

“Took you long enough,” you puff with an inkling of a smile. And he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful, even beneath the sweat and grime and blood—thankfully not yours—that you’d accumulated throughout your capture.

Sylus moves on autopilot when his wits return. With a waggle of his fingers, your cuffs fall free from your wrists, accompanied by the shackles around your ankles. You must’ve put up quite the fight. He swells with pride despite the moment, and if you knew the doubts he housed about your safety, you would surely fight him.

He pries the display’s door open with his Evol and conquers the space between you in three long strides. Kneeling on the floor beside you, Sylus ingests your features. Smooths your sweat-slicked hair away from your face. Turns your head this way and that, scrutinizing you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you assure on an exhale. Wrap your lithe fingers around his wrist as if to soothe, and it’s like he’s been shocked by static. He studies you a moment longer, painting a frantic triangle between your eyes and mouth before taking your hand in his, trying to haul you up.

“Let’s get you out—”

“Ow!” you hiss, flinching back. Sylus’ eyes glaze over you before taking in your ankle's swollen, purpling state. His eyes narrow, and he resists an urge to growl. 

If he hadn’t already killed all of them, he’d make them pay for hurting you.

“Might’ve sprained it,” you laugh, wincing at the stickiness of your voice. 

He peers at you fondly before scooping you into his arms, mindful of your injury. You instinctively curl into him, your arms loosely winding about his neck, and you nuzzle into the hollow of his shoulder. 

With his adrenaline slowly draining, Sylus cautiously moves you back into the hallway. Steps over the viscera and carnage he had caused, severed hands and errant teeth littering the once clean, blue, carpeted floors.

He has you back. You’re safe. A little bruised, but you’re safe. And he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so grateful. 

Slowly, the pair of you are consumed by the shadows of his Evol before morphing out of existence.

—

“Where will they go?” you ask with a wistful, faraway look in your eyes as Sylus’ coat blankets you, flapping in the breeze.

Luke and Kieran were herding the girls from the semi from the docks into awaiting vehicles, accompanied by a slew of Sylus’ staff members from Lux. They were patient and understanding as they gave the girls blankets and water, ushering them into Jeeps and SUVs to be transported to safety.

You watch them from Sylus’ arms, and he catches a glimpse of the girl you were all those years back. Hopeful and optimistic despite being in captivity yourself, knowing that no one would come for you. 

With his eyes transfixed on you, he speaks low and even. “Back to their families.”

You gaze at him, your eyes glazing over with a swell of tears. A moment of rarity between you, where you drop your defenses and grace him with a peak of the woman that resides beneath that callused exterior you outwardly project to the world—a means of protecting yourself. 

“What if they don’t have families?”

He shifts you in his arms, a smirk touching his lips. “Then we’ll do everything we can to help them find their place in this world again.”

You look at him with a reverent gleam to your irises. Shyly nuzzle into his chest, your voice so small, he has to strain to hear it.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Seriously.”

Something tugs at his heartstrings. He merely nods, walking you through the line of vehicles. The click of his loafers on the pavement echoes whilst he takes you towards the moonlight, nestled against the horizon. 

—

“You’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion, sweetie,” Sylus husks, and it surprises even him how soft he sounds. 

You must feel so smug, having the big, bad Boogeyman fretting over your well-being like this. He could crush you with his bare hands, yet he’s cautious as he strokes some of your baby hairs away from your forehead, your temple cool to the touch.

“Not sleeping,” you rasp, your lips pulling into a disarming smile. You don’t sound convincing, your voice heavy with sleep. But could he argue with you? “Just resting my eyes a bit.”

He snorts, your smile infectious. He lapses into silence when your smile fades and your breaths even out. Reluctantly withdraws his hand, watching you slumber atop his bed, and you just look so natural between silken, red sheets with the firelight waltzing over your visage. 

It’s been an eventful night. You deserve some rest. He feels better, having you safely tucked away in the penthouse, far from the arms of men with impure intentions, far from your memories. Should anything else come up, he knows you’ll be alright with the twins and his employees downstairs keeping tabs on you.

Regardless, his brows furrow with worry. Unlike him, you haven’t this miraculous ability to heal as quickly as he does. 

As if summoned from his thoughts, Mephisto appears through a flurry of inky smoke on his wrist. Sylus scratches the crow’s chin affectionately before fixing him with a serious, crimson stare. “Keep an eye on her,” he implores. 

Said crow hops from his wrist onto the side of the bed near your face, and in his way, he signals to Sylus that you’ll be left in good hands. Or wings.

With a final sigh, Sylus peels himself from the bedside chair. Stuffs his hands in his pockets, sparing one final look at your snoozing figure from over his shoulder. He can’t help how his lips twitch, something like affection warming his veins as he stands in the doorframe.

He exits the penthouse, down the elevator shaft, and through the stilled halls of Lux. Dumps himself into the balmy arms of the summery night. 

There’s still unfinished business to attend to, and now that he knows where Fate’s stronghold is, he figures he’ll pay an old friend a much-needed visit.

And maybe teach him a thing or two about stealing from The Devil.

[busines-as-unusual]

˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 10 - Queen in the Moth Burrow⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

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You drank enough to make a fool of yourself, but not enough to have dreamless sleep? Typical.

You weren’t granted the peace of the abyss behind your eyelids. You didn’t even get to enjoy the recurring dream of your family’s house fire. Instead, you were assaulted with retina-scorching lights, lecherous gazes, and a cacophony of mutilated jazz.

An invisible big band signaled your appearance on the stage. The audience’s eyes split and multiplied like cells into hundreds of thousands of leering pairs. The tiny needles inside your garish outfit stabbed at your flesh with every move and breath. Your feet, bleeding and blistered, filled too-small shoes.

You danced day and night, a shell of your former self, a puppet on taut strings. Every piece of your body bled to rot and fell off. Chunks of you screamed as they hit the stage. Limbs twisted out of sockets, tearing at the flesh. Teeth fell out of your mouth and hit the stage like scattered coins. The lights melted your eyeballs; the mess dribbled onto the stage like runny yolks.

And when your soul detached from your eviscerated carcass it danced as well. It danced until its scattered remnants crumbled into nothingness, your essence less than dust. It was over. Done. But it still hurt. Why did it still hurt? Why did it hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and—

Stupid. You were stupid for letting that pillock at the club last night get under your skin. Decades separated from Roman, but his influence on your afterlife clung to you like smoke from his putrid cigars. The smell refused to be washed out completely. It lingered and hit you when you least expected it, not unlike the demon himself.

Being associated with your old boss abuser was more common years ago, but it still happened on occasion. Sometimes it was a collector of old Pride Ring memorabilia. More often than not it was a fan of Roman’s Merry-trices that recognized you and had to let you know they did. You hated it every time. It served as an embarrassing reminder that you weren’t the only one in Hell who remembered your time on stage.

It was a comfort knowing that physical evidence of your time on stage was next to nothing. You set many a fire to make sure of that.

Sleep was rough. Waking up was even worse. You’d wish for the sweet release of death if you weren’t already buried in a shallow grave on the outskirts of a Louisiana bayou, flesh long since consumed by gators or (preferably) opportunistic deer.

Okay, maybe you were being dramatic, but bloody hell did you feel like someone drove a stake between your eyes (being in Hell you knew the feeling). The sunlight filtering in your hotel window was lemon juice in the paper cuts of your eyes.

Someone slipped mail correspondence under your door in the wee hours before dawn, along with several red feathers… for some reason. A letter from Vox; a direct request demanding asking to see you now as soon as it’s convenient. He’s bothering you with a physical letter, meaning you were high enough on the totem pole for last night's debacle to affect their brand. So much ass needed kissing to damage control this mess. At least Vox had a nice tush.

You sipped your morning cuppa, wishing Husk was up so you could mix it with some scotch. Alcohol got you in this situation, so more would obviously solve your dilemma. Alcohol and caffeine: a winning duo.

Meeting Lucifer Morningstar was on the day’s itinerary. While Pride wasn’t your vice of choice, you did like to dabble in that sin from time to time. Seeing the handsome devil in person was on your kicked-the-bucket list. Over drinks one evening, Husk had mentioned Alastor’s disdain for the king of Hell, and you hoped that meant you’d see little of the Radio Demon today.

Memories of last night were vague, but you could fill in the blanks well enough to know you drunkenly embarrassed yourself in front of him. Between your borderline flirting, detestable accent slipping in, and gratuitous French, you fought the knee-jerk reaction to swan dive out the window and introduce your face to the concrete. An extreme measure, sure, but desperate times, desperate measures, and all that jazz.

Remembering what exactly you said made your head throb from the effort. You couldn’t have been that wasted last night, right? Mot if the worst things you did were flirt, French, and fuck around… right?

Alcohol affected you in stages, and last night you were just past Stage One (the aforementioned triple-f comportment). At Stage Two, you overshared like a motherfucker, and your native English accent slipped into your speech; like a disk in your spine. Stage Three was… ugly. Really ugly. You’d devolve into a miserable maundering mess. Every regret or unsung feeling, every existential reflection of your choices, every cruel word from your mother’s mouth overwhelmed you.

It was in the throws of the third stage— sometime after setting Blitzø’s van on fire, but between hate-fuckings— you once confessed to him the circumstances of your death. Something you previously only shared with Rosie.

Flaunting flirtatious French fuckery around Alastor was enough to make you want to bury your head under a blanket of bricks. Ever since you planned to never be alone with Alastor, God in his everlasting cruelty made it his mission to stick you two together in embarrassing situations and laugh in your face.

Sighing, you finished your tea. No, you couldn’t blame God… no matter how much you wanted to. Your soul was a magnet and Alastor was a goddamn negative charge.

(Or however the fuck magnets worked…)

Case in point, you set your cup down and turned on your radio like you did every morning.

Despite getting little sleep last night, your body woke you like clockwork to listen to Alastor’s broadcast. The familiar wails of Alastor’s double damned victims greeted you. Their tormented screams melted into a lively piano instrumental that kicked off your morning routine.

Alastor’s mellifluous voice was your morning boon. The jocund inflection he infused into every word was enough to make the piano in your chest riff a merry little tune. You dressed and listened to him recount the latest news and goings on in the Pride Ring: territory takeovers, deals and disputes with the top Overlords, some juicy drama sprinkled in for extra flavor.

In the middle of applying your makeup, Alastor plugged the Hazbin Hotel, a last bit of business before he queued the next song.

“… and now for something a little easier on the ears for my listeners who might be finding themselves rather fried this morning. This one’s for you…”

The first few notes of Josephine Baker’s “C’est Lui” (a song entirely in French) wafted into your room, striking you dumb.

You smeared lipstick across your cheek. “Shit!” The aforementioned piano keys jammed in your rib cage. The rusty piano wires wrapped around your heart.

You wiped lipstick off your cheek. “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw…”

That crimson, deer-eared asshole teased you in front of all of Hell! No way that wasn’t at your expense, an inside joke for all to hear. The man was an absolute goblin. An utter terror. A little shit.

And you found yourself chuckling.

The soulless eyes of Vox’s sharks stared you down as you waited for the Overlord to arrive. You and the sharks were in the midst of a staring contest you were losing.

Was their water as cold as the room? Was that even water they swam in? Real sharks were cold-blooded, but these guys (gals? Fishy pals?) looked partially electronic. Luckily, you remember to dress in a sweater and thick tights under your skirt, although the fluff on your tail wasn’t full enough. It swished behind you in agitation, fur on end.

The door flew open and you blinked, cementing your loss to the predators. Vox strolled in, a big and nearly sincere smile on his screen as he approached you. “Temerity! You’re looking lovely; how are you fairing this fine, Hellish day?”

Business mode turned on. You smiled back. “Right as rain, Vox darling.”

Pleasantries, pleasantries. Vox guided you to sit, hand to the small of your back. He leaned one hand on the table, towering over you. “My dear, I noticed the phone I gave you was out of service. What happened there, doll?”

Your eyes rolled on their own. “Our ‘mutual friend’ happened. I know, I know, it's so hard to believe. Alastor’s such a technophile.”

He scoffed, an electronic effect frying the sound. “The regressive bastard can’t even let his friends decide if they want to embrace modernity. Fucking typical. I’ll send another one.”

“You don’t need to do that—“

“Nonsense! After all, I need to be able to contact you in a manner much more efficient than snail mail, don’t I?”

There was no weaseling out of phone ownership so long as you partnered with the Vees. Oh well. You’ve heard of hackers able to bypass the spying system. You’d have to look into that. And ask Angel to show you how to use the damn thing. And hide it from Alastor.

You smiled unctuously, chin on your laced fingers. “Well if you insist, I can’t refuse. Both our time is valuable, no sense in wasting it.”

His digital eyes glimmered with satisfaction, a nod that said “Very good.” Vox pushed himself off the table. “Temerity, there’s two reasons I called you here today. Velvette needs to fit you for the dress you’ll wear on the red carpet. However, with her meeting running behind, we have time to discuss the second matter at hand.”

A crackle of electricity in his hand manifested a small remote. He pressed a button and summoned a projector screen. “I heard last night you found yourself in a bit of an… altercation.”

Another click of a button played a video of last night’s club brawl, the footage taken from a hidden security camera. Dust and debris obscured most of the fight, with the occasional limb chucked across the dance floor like a macabre game of horseshoe. Then, when everything cleared, you were amongst your friends, slicing through men like holiday hams.

You glanced at Vox, brow raised. “I assure you I didn’t start that fight, but a lady always makes sure to end one.”

Vox laughed. “Oh, my dear, I didn’t bring you here to admonish you. We haven’t gone public with our partnership yet! There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got to say you are quite the spitfire.”

A smolder deepened his gaze, a soft heat in his eyes. Your smile quirked. “Vox… Do you charm all your business partners like this?”

“Just the ones I find lovely.”

A gasp from you, playful and exaggerated. “Scoundrel! This is a place of business.”

He grinned, showing you those shark-like teeth. “Anyway, no harm done. I’m sure you won’t make a habit of bar-fighting potential clientele.”

Ah, and there it is! The admonishment you expected. The message was clear: mind yourself.

Your gaze narrowed slightly. Did he mistake you for some shortsighted teenager who needed the obvious pointed out? The condescension in his voice was doing him no favors… even if his voice was kinda sexy.

“Besides,” he added, not noticing the gleam of annoyance in your eyes, “your little scuffle made you quite popular.”

Vox hit the button again. Up popped one of the pictures you took with Angel last night from his social media (and don’t ask you which— they were all the same to you). He had an arm around your shoulder and another around your waist as you pressed into his side. Both your smiles shone bright and fierce. From the high-up angle of the shot, your cleavage was on full display, breasts spilling out of your dress and the picture. Of all the pictures for Vox to pull up so quickly it had to be this one…

Vox scrolled through the comments. “Searches for your name and your businesses have gone up exponentially since last night, which is wonderful exposure. There’s no bad publicity, in your case anyway.”

He droned on about the cultivation of your public image and other technobabble you didn’t understand. You hardly heard him as you read the comments. What in the holy Hell did “bark bark bark mommy/hj” or little pictures of eggplants next to water droplets mean? Moments like these reminded you how old you really were.

You leaned forward, face twisted in confusion that bordered on contempt. “This is great and all, but should I even want to know what 'show me dat raccoon gyatt’ means?”

“It's all positive, I assure you!”

Your least favorite Vee sauntered in, wings wrapped around his spindly form like a robe, unaware or not caring that he was interrupting. Oh, and of course this ass had a Robotic Fizzaroli trailing behind like an awestruck puppy, carrying two drinks on a platter.

Bile congealed in your throat at the sight of him. Your eye twitched, and your headache was coming back. Wonderful.

A century of practice kept the disgust off your face, but you couldn’t help but recoil at the smell of pheromones oozing from his every pore. You had no time to hold your breath as the moth demon traipsed past your chair and sat on the table between you and Vox. The aphrodisiac burned the sinuses of your sensitive nose.

All relaxed, Valentino regarded you with a sharp smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He held out his hand and the Fizzaroli-bot handed him a drink and the other to Vox. ”So you’re the little minx who stole Voxxy away from me and had me let Angel act in your little play?” He chuckled, but it held no warmth.

He said the word ‘play’ like you would say ‘anal warts’ or ‘Valentino.’

Vox introduced you two. Ever the professional, you reached out your hand to shake his. “Valentino, it’s a—”

He took your hand and pulled it to his lips in, what you thought, was to kiss it. Instead, he pushed up the sleeve of your sweater to lick you, knuckles to elbow. Electric needles stung in the trail of the slimy appendage.

Your smile soured as you cringed hard enough to crack your ribs. ”…pleasure.”

The smug man smirked at you, dropping your hand, satisfied. “Aren’t you just the most adorable little trash panda~”

He grabbed your face with one hand and inspected you like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Don’tscratchhiseyesoutdon’tscratchhiseyesout, that’ll prove his point, don’t—

“Tell me mapache, why do I recognize you?” He chuckled again, toxic breath washing over you, smoothing out the wrinkles on your brain and replacing all thoughts with static.

Unease colored your laughter, the sound more unconvincing than you wanted. The cliche, “I have one of those faces,” tumbled from your mouth somehow.

Vox sat at the head of the table, looking cross with his partner. “Val, is there a reason you’re here?”

“I had a minute free and wanted to see what you were up to… and with who, mi cariño.” A playful flick to one of Vox’s antennas. “Am I interrupting your private meeting? Were you planning on giving her one of your… oral reports?”

Vox’s screen colored adorably. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when his phone vibrated inside his jacket pocket. Excusing himself, you were left all alone with the moth demon. He busied himself with finishing his drink and lighting a cigarette in a slender black holder, saving you from small talk, at least for a moment.

Valentino’s smoke wafted over you, making your stomach turn in a mix of nausea and excitement, the act a disgusting reminder of an old memory.

“Are you sure you haven’t done porn before? It couldn’t have been for me, I’d never let a cutie like you go.”

When you laughed politely he added, “No, I’m serious. I’d shoot you right between your pretty little eyes if you tried to leave.”

He said it lightly like he was flirting. It’d be easy to assume he was joking, but many truths were said in jest.

You could play that fucked up game.

In a move that surprised you, you stood, knee sliding on the table as you leaned into his space. You fixed him with a dangerous grin, fangs flashing.

“Valentino…” you drew out his name as your fingers walked up his arm. Your hand reached his chest, warm through his winged robe. “I’d slit your goddamn throat before you ever got the chance.”

He blinked, caught off guard. Then chuckled, low and throaty, venom drooling down his chin. “Mmm… you’re a feisty one. I can see why Vox is so… interested in you.”

Your chest heaved as you took deep, shuddering breaths. The smell of his smoke, him, was intoxicating, revolting, and dizzying all at once. You had the horrifyingly intrusive thought to see for yourself how he tasted, to drink sweet poison from the source.

Shiiiiiiit.

You eased away, biting your lip. A fang pierced the flesh and you tasted blood, the metallic taste guiding you back to your senses.

The air was thicker around the two of you now, heavy with a tension you never wanted with this demon. With the smug look he was giving you, he was more than receptive to it.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiii—

To your massive relief, Vox returned. He shooed Valentino back to his studio, then escorted you to Velvette’s workshop before taking off to do more work.

Velvette was… abrasive. Under different circumstances, you might’ve liked her, but her type-A energy combined with her accent reminded you too much of your mother. Not to mention how she mass-produced date rape drugs… The source of those drugs you just had prolonged exposure to. Your mind was still foggy, your skin burned cold.

You were grateful that Velvette could change and adjust several dresses with a snap of her fingers. As a girl, you hated being poked and prodded all over, hated how the seamstresses manhandled you to size you for dresses you hated. The loose garments of the Roaring Twenties were a welcomed change.

In your current state, being manhandled would be rather enjoyable, which was the last thing you wanted right now.

Velvette snapped again and examined the outfit you wore with harsher scrutiny than you thought necessary. “Do a spin for me.”

You did as asked. The VoxTech blue (or Vlue™) dress was long yet revealing, shimmery with delicate silver chains and scant red highlights. It was gorgeous, but you weren’t in the right headspace to appreciate it.

Velvette nodded, approaching you. “I'll do some touch-ups. As for your choker…”

She reached for it and you pulled away. “No.” You touched it, fingers brushing over the pulsating eyes sitting in place of a jewel. “It’s sentimental. It stays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I can make that work.”

Finally, you were out of that nightmare tower.

After struggling for so long to keep your head above water you stopped fighting. You let yourself slip under the water of your induced heat, the cruel and apathetic ocean sweeping you away.

It made you sick. Your stomach churned with anxiety and unwanted arousal. Many sinners with animal features experienced estrus and ruts. Yours was always unwelcomed. In recent years, there were pills available to dull it, which you popped like Tic Tacs.

You knew others chose to ride it out or embrace it, but you never did. You hated feeling so out of control of your own body. Denying your cravings and suppressing the feelings put the reins back in your hands. You weren’t a stranger to enjoying the temptations of the flesh (duh), but you couldn’t enjoy it when your mind and body weren’t in agreement. And you voted with your mind every time. It’d be too easy to get hurt or taken advantage of. You couldn’t let that happen again.

And you couldn’t go back to the hotel. You couldn’t work like this. You couldn’t let anyone see you like this.

You couldn’t let Alastor see you like this.

The simple thought of him was enough to drive you wild, your brain drowned in the flood of a hundred sensual scenarios. His clawed hands on you would feel like paradise, his weight and warmth against you divine. Lord that mouth, his perfect fucking mouth. He’d devour you. Literally, metaphorically, whatever. Either way, you’d let him.

You slapped yourself and swerved back onto the road, dodging most of a pedestrian. You’re not yet delusional enough to think seeing him while in this state would be anything other than a death sentence for you. He’d be disgusted with you. Revolted.

You’d sooner die than throw yourself at Alastor like a rutting animal. You’d sooner crash your car into that dragon statue in front of the hotel than—

Foot to brake, your tires screeched like mad. Your car skidded straight into the statue. You pitched forward, head slamming into the steering wheel. Glass exploded. The world turned black. When you came to, you sobered long enough to stumble out of the car.

While the statue was fine, the front of your beloved car now resembled a smashed soda can. Blood dripped from your hairline and down your temple. Shattered glass pierced your skin and tore your tights.

The static of distress invaded the space between skin and bone. If your heart was pounding before, then it was throbbing now. It pounded like a steel drum against your rib cage. Everyone in the hotel could probably hear it.

The hotel. Someone was bound to come out and see what all the commotion was. Help was behind the doors of the hotel... but so was Alastor.

It took all your strength to turn and walk away, your bones more liquid than solid and your brain more gas than liquid. You needed to get away to safety. Away. You cling to the idea like a life raft, trusting it to keep you afloat.

Heartbeat in your eyes blurring your vision, you staggered your way through the streets of Hell.

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[violence-in-vogue]

//Narrative communication established.

Being blooded is FUN.

Nate throws a flashbang down a nearby corridor as he passes it, only screaming “THINK FAST CHUCKLENUTS” a blink before it detonates.

Only half-sized frames can fit down here. Somewhere else his better half of a mech is raising Cain, but Nate doesn’t give a shit. He’s on a suicide mission- it’s the current moment only that’s on his mind.

Another corner rounded. His music- describable only as “feral breakcore”- drowns out his remorseful thoughts and the screams of his once-fellows as he fires a volley of high-explosive bolts their way.

A shimmering shape flashes in front of the infantry squad’s smoking sludge. Every ounce of stimulants in Nate’s body hits at once- which is to say a LOT- as he staggers back, narrowly clearing the attacker’s sword.

He regains his balance with a twirl and clicks a command into his dataplating with his tongue. The ear-cuff on his left side flashes to life, projecting a simplistic HUD- and this prick’s unfriendly IFF glows in bright glaring red.

“Fancy shimmer you got there, twinkle-toes. Wanna dance for the throne with me?”

Nate flips a munition-cartridge, then two, then three across his fingers before loading them one at a time into his rifle. Pink, orange, blue.

[…]

“Not the talkative type, eh? Fine by me. Hope you don’t mind me stealing the spotlight then!”

The rifle’s lever-action arm clicks, forwarding a shell in place. Nate and the shimmer-thing charge at each other, gun and knives raised-

before Nate drops to his ass and fires the pink shell right into the shimmer-thing’s gut. Rapidly-expanding sludge explodes out of the casing, painting the enemy in a violent pink. It burns through their armor, Balor nanites eating away at fabric and flesh alike.

A mechanical scream escapes their audials before being swallowed by the raving-mad machine-bugs burrowing into their chest.

Nate continues his slide, letting the shimmer-thing fly over his head. Right as it reaches the end of its path, Nate spins on his knee and fires another round dead down their vertical.

The orange bullet tears through their body, piercing out through their spine and landing back into their head in a straight line.

The shimmer-thing faceplants into the metal floor, certifiably dead. Infantry in active camo. Nate clicks his tongue again, clearing their useless IFF signal from his vision. In the same breath, he alerts his handler-

“West Gunnery insurgents down. Glory to the Mercenay Queen.”

-then discharges the blue round. A burst of confetti trails in his wake as he marches onward to the next ping.

[kyokoboy912]

good morning/afternoon tumblr community, I am an independent writer who writes fragments of Omori ships and well this time I have a Photoboom story for you (there is really no content about them in writing but I came up with it) I hope you like this first beginning of the story called "the gardener and the rose"

That morning the gang girl was changing along that busy street, regardless of whether she had a purpose for her day, the only important thing that morning was to get to the church and sit down to pray or give the small signal to destroy the temple of God like the previous days. but he was coming in peace although that doesn't mean it was a good thing after hearing the rumor that the religious figures were moving this caught his attention before a long prayer sighing under his breath and putting his feet on front chairs like If it were a queen, this girl was imposing and rebellious without a lost cause, or rather, when at least she had a cause in her life and her sister would not run away with her father and leave her alone with her alcoholic mother, leaving her with more problems than answers. People looked at her even though she knew that talking behind her back made them so angry about her change that they should go to hell then, then her gaze fell on the gardener although she only saw him as a pawn to be played with and making fun of only made fun of him. He approached him with a mocking look and with his bat in hand he only moved away a little, he blushed under his breath and just swallowed before scratching the back of his neck. This last one started to laugh at that before leaving and leaving the disastrous gardener as red as a tomato. The days passed and some things did not change, although the music and the girl's vibe could not affect her too much. She was free and listening to music made her dance, although the strange half did not wait and this always caught the attention of the gardener in charge those days. idiotic actions on the part of the girl made him happy enough to make him laugh although his feelings were more afloat and this was taking its toll on him although he resigned himself to doing something to change it. The girl had him like a bundle of nerves every time she approached and that too It was a somewhat curious factor at the prospect, although he only looked at her from afar, he knew that she was beautiful anyway, even if they told him that it was not a good option, he liked danger and he only threw a stone at that foolish thought, he only cut the grass and cleaned the graves of the deceased with care, everything was peaceful before the beast arrived that steals his heart and only makes him faint from emotion. Was it part of a joke? Because it was so complicated just to tell him how she felt, although she was secure enough in the social issue to make a confection, it was to be expected that she would simply wait for him to do it.

pdt: sorry if my English is not very good and well the jargon in the story is not understood and there are errors in the writing, We could say that my stories are more than anything the thoughts of the characters in question.

[gardenofhera]

Sekhmet, Bast, and Hathor: Power, Passion, and Transformation through the Egyptian Goddess Trinity

By Normandi Elis | GODDESSES IN WORLD CULTURE | 2010

Three very powerful goddesses take a single form as the oldest divine being in ancient Egypt. They are the lion goddess Sekhmet, the cat goddess Bast, and Hathor, the beautiful woman who wears cow horns. All three goddesses can be found in the Old Kingdom of pharaonic Egypt (circa 3000 BCE) and may predate the First Dynasty (5000-3150 BCE).

Hathor originated in the predynastic cult of the sacred cow, which saw the Milky Way as the body of the sky goddess. All the stars that lay therein were souls of her children waiting to be born or returning to her in the afterlife. Sometimes Hathor the cow was called Mehurt, whose breasts flowed with milk. Images of the dancing horned goddess were carved on the rocks of the Egyptian savannah as early as 6000 BE. The cow goddess appeared atop the Palette of Narmer, the first pharaoh of a united Upper and Lower Egypt. By the Fourth Dynasty, the face of the cow mother had turned into the sweet, beautiful face of a young maiden. In human form, she wore a crown of cow horns that cradled between them the gleaming disc of the moon or the sun. They called her "The Golden One." The diadem recalls Hathor's celestial home.

She was, at various times, both mother and daughter of Ra, the sun god, and the consort of many divine beings whose temples flanked the Nile. Most notably, at the Temple of Edfu, she was the consort of the hawk god Horus, who was embodied in the living pharaoh while the pharaoh's queen embodied beautiful Hathor. Through all of her incarnations for more than 6000 years, Hathor remained the most frequently seen goddess in temples up and down the Nile. In some form or another, all goddesses drew upon her attributes; even the goddess Isis, whose appearance in Egypt coincides with the cow goddess, was often depicted wearing cow horns and was, at times, called the daughter of Hathor.' Two other ubiquitous goddesses embodied the duality of her nature-Sekhmet when she manifested solar attributes. and Bast in her lunar attributes.

Bast appeared dressed in green, the color of fecundity. A nurturing presence, she exhibited those feminine qualities associated with the moon. Her presence in the niches of most Egyptian homes was a peaceful, loving one. She tended her children, fed them, bathed them, loved

them, and soothed their hurts. This cat-headed goddess was the tamed version of her bloodthirsty sister Sekhmet.

Powerful Sekhmet wore a crimson robe. Fiery, fecund, and magical-the energy of life itself--the lion goddess protected the pharaoh. More statues of her remain in Egypt that of any other divinity. On the walls of Karnak temple, the lion goddess may be seen dashing alongside the chariot of pharaoh Ramses II as he entered battle. Sekhmet was considered a great spiritual warrior. She protected the temples and borders and exhibited in female form the solar qualities most identified with the sun god Ra. When the wicked of the world wearied the god, Ra sent his daughter Sekhmet to deal with them.

The Solar Origins of Sekhmet

Sekhmet's main feast day in Egypt was celebrated when the star Sirius in the constellation of Canis Major rose prior to sunrise during the month of August. The rise of Sirius signaled the coming change and renewal that occurs each year following the "Dog Days" of summer. After the thaw of snowcaps in central Africa's mountains, the annual Nile flood begins to wend its way northward, ending the summer drought and initiating the season of inundation.

In dramatic fashion, the rising Nile waters pushed the flood from Khartoum in Sudan, down through Upper Egypt, and finally all the way to the Delta in the north. When the inundation first trickled forth, the waters looked greenish before they turned an opaque, dark ruddy color from a type of red algae pushed out of the central African tributaries and downriver by the melting snow and floodwaters. The Arabs called this the Red Nile.

The red flow soon precipitated a burst of life-generating activity along the Nile banks. It may help here to realize that the Egypt of 10,000 BCE was a different place than today's land. Rather than being primarily desert, Egypt was a lush savannah, teeming with life. Some suggest that the overgrazing of cattle and climate change may have caused the Sahara savannah to turn into desert. After this change, around 6000 BCE, life in Egypt shrank to occupy primarily the Delta and the narrow strip of arable black earth washed down into the bottomland on either side of the Nile.

One of the many festivals that celebrated the flood and opened the Egyptian New Year was called "The Inebriety of Hathor." The beer-and wine-drinking festival that followed the first sign of flood was connected to the intoxicating drink that soothed the savage Sekhmet, a solar form of Hathor. The festivities that accompany the festival of "The Ine-briety of Hathor commemorated the saving of Egypt from the ravaging power of Sekhmet.

Ra, who created all things, ruled the earth in peace for thousands of years. But as he grew old, his human subjects forgot him and no longer offered their adoration. Outraged, the god summoned his council, soliciting their advice. Nun, god of primordial waters, suggested sending forth Ra's fiery solar eye, Sekhmet. The idea of sending his lioness daughter delighted Ra, who imagined irreverent humans fleeing, trembling in terror, and cowering in the mountains.

At her father's bidding, Sekhmet began to teach humankind a lesson by devouring every man, woman, and child who crossed her path. She ravaged all the land in both Upper and Lower Egypt, through the mountains and savannahs east and west of the river. She started in Nubia and ate her way north toward the Delta. The river ran red with the blood of those she had slain (a reference to the Red Nile flood). As the fierce goddess waded through the carnage, her feet turned red with the blood of her victims.

Ra looked down upon the havoc Sekhmet had created and felt immediate remorse. The thirst of his daughter for blood knew no bounds. He tried to rein her in, saying, "Come home. Thou hast done what I asked thee to do." But Sekhmet replied, "By my life, I love the taste of blood.

My heart rejoices and I will work my will upon humankind." She would not be deterred.

Ra realized he had made a grave mistake, but neither god nor human could stop Sekhmet. But if she could not be stopped, perhaps her willful passions could be diverted. Ra turned to Thoth, god of wisdom. Thoth quickly sent his messengers to Elephantine Island, where the river burst forth from rocks. "Bring me the fruit that causes sleep," he said, "the fruit that is scarlet and its juice crimson as human blood." When the messengers returned, Thoth and Ra commanded the women in the city of Heliopolis to crush red barley and make beer. They mixed it with the juice of pomegranates and other magical ingredients, according to the recipe of Thoth. The women of Heliopolis made 7000 measures of this red beer.

At dawn, this soothing red brew was poured into a pool outside the city, where Sekhmet would find it. Thinking it was the blood of her vic-tims, the lioness lapped up the mixture until it was gone. When the potion took effect, the heart of the fierce goddess was soothed. Sekhmet lay down and purred, no longer seeking revenge. She stretched out in the field for a sweet little sleep, having transformed herself into the gen-tle, nurturing, loving cat goddess, Bast.

This myth shows for the first time the emerging dual nature of Hathor. Bast is the sensual, purring, nurturing aspect, while Sekhmet is the roaring lion, a goddess with a temper. Bast reveals the nurturing mother of her kittens; Sekhmet shows herself the protector of her pride and her cubs. When Hathor's solar qualities are the focal point, the goddess assumes Sekhmet's lion form, and when her lunar qualities are at play, she appears as Bast the cat.

The beer that soothed Sekhmet was a staple of the Egyptian diet.

Because the brewing and fermentation processes made the Nile water more potable and healthful, beer was offered at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But wine was the favored drink of great celebrations. Whenever Hathor appeared as the "Queen of Happiness" and "Mistress of Drunkenness, Jubilation and Music" in one of more than forty festivals held in her temple at Dendera, alcoholic beverages were in plentiful supply. The sacred wine that induced a trancelike state may have contained psychotropic plants, says Robert Masters, possibly including belladonna, wormwood, or opium? C. J.

Bleeker believed that this sacred drunkenness was "the medium through which contact could be effectuated with the world of the gods."

Triple Aspects of the Goddesses

Bast and Sekhmet are such tightly linked aspects of Hathor that the three goddesses were sometimes sculpted standing back to back on the handle of a cosmetic mirror. Because the ancestry of all three goddesses reaches back into the early dynasties of Egypt, they may be aspects of a single, superlative feminine divinity. The goddesses names evoke that divine being by her attributes: Sekhmet (the powerful one), Bast (the soul of mother Isis), and Hathor or Het-hor (the house or shrine of the gods."

In later times, the Ptolemaic Greeks (circa 300 BE linked Hathor with Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. Their reasoning is easy to follow, for Hathor's consorts were many. She was consort to Horus the Younger, the falcon god. She was linked as well to a number of gods, among them the crocodile Sobek, the ithyphallic Min, and the solar Ra. She shared her power equally with the gods but remained independent of the Goddesses

The festival of "The Inebriety of Hathor" calmed that inner rage and provided Egypt's general populace with an outlet for their pent-up emo-tions. "Similar festivals were celebrated at the end of battle, in order to pacify the goddess of war, so that there would be no more destruction.

On such occasions, the people danced and played music to soothe the wildness of the goddess."

The Blood Mysteries

Together Hathor, Bast, and Sekhmet create a unified image of the divine feminine as maiden, mother, and crone. The three goddesses represent the stages of the blood mysteries that rule a woman's life as she moves across the roles of lover, mother, and elder. Beautiful Hathor is the consort of Egypt's gods and the perfect embodiment of the queen partnered with the pharaoh who embodies Horus. Bast is the mother protector of children, surrounded by her litter of kittens; she is also the bridge between the sensual young adult woman and the older, but still sexual wife and mother.

Sekhmet embodies the cyclical blood that flows at birth and death; the blood that flows from mother to child in the womb; the blood on battle-fields, and the menstrual blood or the blood of circumcision that separates the budding young adult from childhood. It is the cyclical red flood of the River Nile that became equated with the red, renewing menstrual blood that cleanses and prepares the way for renewal and regenesis. This blood is a kind of communion, in which humankind partakes of the divine drink of the gods. That is the mystery of transubstantiation.

Blood held within was called the "wise blood," and menopause marked a time for women in ancient Egypt when the inner Sekhmet produced divisions and created magic. The red henna (or Egyptian privet) that adorned the heads of women in Egypt was a tribute to her and was said to be her "magic blood." Heads, hands, and feet were dipped in the colors of the goddess. Cheeks and lips were brushed with her paint. Even mummy cloths were sometimes dipped in henna as a sign of rebirth from the blood of the goddess.

To the left of the 'Temple of Karnak sits a small temple dedicated to the great trinity of Memphis Ptah, Sekhmet, and their offspring Nefertum.

During the Eighteenth Dynasty the pharaoh Thutmose III refurbished the temple to honour the trinity. He made his annual harvest festival offering of "Feeding the Gods" at that smaller temple rather than at Karnak. To this day, inside that temple resides a large, black basalt statue of Sekhmet, who was said to be "great of magic." In fact more statues of Sekhmet can be found at Karnak than at any other temple and more statues exist in situ than any other divinity.

Thutmose III beseeched Sekhmet by calling her Mut, a word used to mean both "mother" and "death"; its hieroglyph of the vulture symbolized both. Not only does the vulture lay eggs, but it eats the dead. On a higher level, nurturance often demands sacrifice. The goddess feeds her people, who in turn feed the goddess. Thutmose III provided thrones of gleaming electrum for Ptah, Sekhmet, and Nefertum. He filled their temple with vessels of gold and silver, with "every splendid, costly stone," with fine linens and "ointments of divine ingredients." On the day of her feast, Thutmose stood before the altar and made the sacrifices that restore Egypt to "life, prosperity, and health." His gifts line the offering table: many jars of wine and jugs of beer, ducks and geese, a multitude of loaves of white bread, bunches of vegetables, baskets of fruits, and "offerings of the garden and every plant."

The Healing Arts

The healing arts were part of the magical power of a wise woman, and Sekhmet was known as an important healing divinity. Inside one of the ten side rooms that surround the inner sanctuary at the Temple of Edfu, a medical library was kept, and in this place the healing priests, called wab sekhmet, conducted healings." On the left side of the doorway was inscribed the magical, repeating image of a lion-headed cobra. A serpentine Sekhmet seemed to unwrap herself from seven coils and rise out of a shallow basket, her lioness head held high, her eyes glittering, and her tongue thrust between her teeth. Here the goddess appears as the life force itself.

While the priests and priestesses of Bast were adept at soothing jangled nerves and easing depression with herbal potions and music, the healers who were "great of magic" were more often high priests and priestesses dedicated to Sekhmet. They wore leopard skins to link them to her powerful feline energies. Because these goddesses understood the powerful visions brought by intoxication, both Sekhmet and Bast were said to bring healing dreams.

The Beneficent Role of Bast

The cat Bast offered the image of a kinder, more nurturing feline form.

She often appeared as a woman with a cat's head carrying on her arm a basket with a litter of kittens. Mythologist Robert Briffault remarked upon the cat's great adaptability to motherhood and her ability to love substitute children equally with her own. Typically, cats who have lost a kitten willingly adopt the kittens from another litter.' In this area, Bast and Isis share the role of surrogate mother. Before Isis begat her son Horus, she mothered the jackal-headed god Anubis who had been abandoned in the desert.

A number of Egyptologists cite Greek sources that describe Bast as the "Soul of Ra"; like a cat that had nine lives, the sun god Ra had nine divine beings under his command. These nine primordial gods, called the Great Ennead, were generated from Ra's light substance. Other ancient Egyptians identified Bast with Isis as the true mother of all, whether she was mothering her own children or the abandoned children of others. Nearly every household with children had a wall niche devoted to Bast. Before her were laid fresh flowers, cups of milk, or other offerings. Statues of Sekhmet may have been the appropriate energy to guard the temples, the borderlands and the pharaoh, but Bast was the welcome guardian of the home. Little cat figurines of Bast with round head and pointed ears were produced in great quantities for private devotion. Families often owned a number of cats.

Affectionate and graceful, they made great companions, and they kept away mice and snakes. When a cat died, it was mourned as a beloved family member, mummified in great ceremony, and buried with honour. Fifteen centuries later when the Suez Canal was being dug, workmen had to stop for weeks at a time to clear away the multitude of cat mummies they had uncovered in ancient pet cemeteries.

The cat goddess sometimes wore a necklace bearing the healing Eye of Horus, called the wadjet. At other times she wore on her breastplate the lion's head of her sister Sekhmet, a reminder of her fierce other self and of the mercurial ability of the feline goddess to change from lap kitty into warrior in the blink of an eye.

The dual nature of the goddess-her loving nature on the one hand and her wild anger and abandon on the other are nowhere more tightly woven than in the myths of Bast and Sekhmet. Prayers to Hathor are quick to praise both aspects, lest one offend the other. This Hymn to Sekhmet-Bast appears in The Egyptian Book of the Dead:

Mother of the gods, the One, the Only. Sekhmet is th name when thou art wrathful. Bast, beloved, when thy people call. (Sekhmet) daughter of the sun, with flame and fury. . .. Bast, beloved, banish all our fears. Mother of the gods, no gods existed Til thou . . . gave them life.

In the Nile Delta Bast retained her stature from prehistory down to the reign of the Ptolemaic Greeks (343 BCE. According to the histories of Manetho, Bast's sacred city Bubastis, was active as early as 2925 BE and influenced the theology of the priests of nearby Memphis, Heliopolis, and Sais." During the Fourth Dynasty, pharaohs Khufu and Khafre kept laborers busy refurbishing and adding to Bast's main temple, in addition to building the pharaohs' grand pyramids. One royal inscription found on the Giza Plateau near Khafre's pyramid reads: "Beloved of the Goddess Bast and beloved of the Goddess Hathor."? Such an inscription linking Bast and Hathor is remarkable, since no other inscriptions of any kind occur elsewhere on the site.

During the Twenty-Second Dynasty, pharaoh Sheshonk I elevated Bast from local patron to the stature of a national heroine, chiefly because his lineage descended from her sacred city of Bubastis. By 930 BE all Egypt adored Bast. King Sheshonk I, who considered himself a son of Bast, boldly moved the capital city from its long-standing home in Thebes to his hometown in Bubastis.

Although only a few crumbling walls remained in Bubastis, Sheshonk restored the Old Kingdom temples and erected new temples to honor the cat goddess. According to Herodotus, who visited the city around 600 BCE, no other temple compared with the grandeur of that of Bast. It was built in the very heart of the city, situated on an island enclosed by two divergent streams of the Nile that ran on either side of a single pas-sageway. Each stream seemed 100 feet broad, and on the banks of the river were "fair-branched trees, overshadowing the waters with a cool and pleasant shade." A tall tower could be seen clearly from every part of the city. Inside the enclosure wall a beautiful garden of trees shaded the priests who carefully tended it. Part of the temple was said to have been built around an ancient sacred persea (avocado) tree. At the center of the temple stood a beautiful golden statue of the goddess Bast.

Throughout the Delta in general, and at her sacred city Bubastis in particular, Bast was adored for her sensuality, congeniality, and loving nature. The Greeks especially loved her, and Bast festivals were never more popular than during the Graeco-Roman period. When migrating Libyans appeared in the Delta around 100 BE. the nonulation of the city soared once again.

Herodotus calls the "Great Festival of Bast at Bubastis" (April 15) one of the most important festivals in Egypt. At times bawdy, at times ecstatic, the festival celebrated Hathor as the consort, while it also celebrated Bast and her sister Sekhmet. The three were never found far apart. This may have been a result of the wine- and beer-drinking that accompanied nearly every feast day in Egypt, all the more so when one is reminded of the mystery of blood that transformed the ravaging Sekhmet into the purring Bast.

During the Great Festival visitors came from far and wide, clattering through the streets, clustering along the riverbanks, and crowding their boats onto the Nile. The festivals often drew over 700,000 people_-including men, women, and children-and the days were filled with dancing, music-making, love-making, and wine-drinking. Drinking wine was viewed as a high religious sacrament, for its color was reminiscent of the blood of the divine and a reminder of spiritual renewal. Bubastis was the wine capital of ancient Egypt, its rich Delta soil providing large pharaonic estates bearing the choicest grapes. The white wines of Lower Egypt were called the Wine of Bast, while the red wines of Upper Egypt were called the Wine of Sekhmet.

Bast's island temple could only be reached by the crowded little ferry-boats that plied the waters of the Nile. Some of the larger boats filled with richly adorned noblemen and women sailed down river all the way from ancient Thebes. As they approached the little towns along the Nile, villagers heard the swelling strains of music coming from the flute players and the women playing castanets. They heard the songstresses and sometimes trickles of laughter. Long before Bubastis was reached, the wine and beer had begun flowing. As the boats neared town, the villagers came down to the edge of the water to greet the entourage. If the boats stopped in town to freshen supplies, even more people crowded aboard to join the sailing party.

Herodotus said that more wine was consumed in Bubastis during the festival than at any other time of the year. Delicious foods included honeyed breads, raisin cakes, pomegranates, figs, roasted fowl, and meats.

The streets fairly writhed with dancing, music playing, and singing all day and night.

Hathor: Goddess of Dualities

The ubiquitous goddess Hathor who reigned in heaven, on earth, and in the afterlife was the patron goddess of all women in whatever stage of life, but she is most beloved as the consort or divine wife. Her name Het-hor literally meant "the house" or "the shrine" of Horus, the falcon god. That shrine was her sacred womb.

In older myths, Hathor was the mother of Horus the Elder when he appeared as the solar child that the sky mother birthed onto the horizon.

In later myths, Hathor became the beloved of Horus the Younger, whose mother was Isis. Whether she was connected to the elder or younger Horus, Hathor remained always eternally youthful and beautiful, even though she was older than Isis.

Her temples were found at Memphis, Thebes, the Sinai, and elsewhere.

She was honored at Edfu, Kom Ombo, and Esna. The most important and well known of her temples was the Temple of Hathor at Dendera, which in its present condition is a Ptolemaic temple built around 332 BCE, but its inscription says it was built upon the previous site where the Fourth Dynasty King Cheops erected a temple to the goddess.!* Its most famous attribute is its dramatic astronomical ceiling with symbols of the zodiacal signs that can clearly be recognized as the twelve familiar constellations.

And yet, its pole star is not in Ursa Major but in Draco, the constellation that it would have appeared as pole star around 4500 BE, an age that predates the temple having been built by Cheops. This representation of the sky and the temple of the sky goddess Hathor seems to point to the dawning of ancient Egyptian civilisation.

In her temple Hathor's statue was venerated and venerable, adored and adorned for thousands of years. Thus, the statue acquired the power to heal, to speak, and to bring dreams to her worshipers. Pure Nile water poured over the base inscriptions of her statue could heal diseased bodies, minds, and spirits. The pilgrims wrote stories of their miraculous healing in prayers, poems, and inscriptions through the Dendera temple.

As the oldest goddess in Upper Egypt, Hathor was assimilated into nearly every other goddess. Isis the mother and Hathor the consort become interchangeable. Wherever there was a temple that honored Hathor, there was also a smaller temple that honored Isis, and vice versa. In the Temple of Isis at Philae, the inscribed "Songs of Isis" praise the beauty and majesty of Hathor.

Oh, Lady of the Beginning, come thou before our faces in this her name of Hathor, Lady of Emerald, Lady of Aset, the Holy!'S Because there were so many temples devoted to Hathor, many more women than men served in priestly offices engaged in her service, a custom unlike that of other temples in Egypt. At daybreak the pharaoh engaged in a ritual in which he broke the clay seal on the door of her shrine in order to gaze in silent adoration upon the beautiful face of the goddess. To the mistress of heaven he offered incense, the menat necklace, the sistrum rattle, and maat, the image of truth. 'These were among the pharaoh's gifts to his beloved, for Hathor was the goddess of the queen and thus coming before her was the culmination of a love story.

The sacred marriage of the pharaoh (as the embodiment of Horus) and the queen (embodiment of Hathor) was celebrated in May, during one of many harvest festivals. The festival began at the Temple of Hathor in Dendera and lasted about fourteen days, ending in Edfu at the

'Temple of Horus. During the festival, the statue of "The Golden One" was carried along the Nile by boat amid music, dance, and song. The union of the two most important lights in heaven was the culmination of the meeting of Hathor and Horus in Edfu. Their marriage took place precisely on the day of the new moon, when the sun (Horus and the moon (Hathor) met in heavenly conjunction. The ancient Egyptians called this "The Day of the Beautiful Embrace."

On the inner face of the east pylon of the Temple of Edfu is a description of the annual festival of the sacred union. The ritual marriage took place privately inside the temple where the divine couple remained for three days, consummating their holy marriage. Meanwhile outside the temple walls the entire population of Edu continued their celebration: drinking, feasting, singing, and dancing.

One song performed for the wedding celebration was called "Hymn to the Golden One." It was sung in chorus by several priestesses while the pharaoh enacted the offering rituals:

The pharaoh comes to dance. He comes to sing for thee. O, mistress, see how he dances! O, bride of Horus, see how he skips! ... He offers thee This urn filled with wine. O, mistress, see how he dances! O, bride of Horus, see how he skips!!?

The first record of a celebration of the sacred marriage appeared during the reign of the Middle Kingdom pharaoh Amenemhet I, around 2000 BE. Linked with the harvest season rites, it commemorated the first fruits of the field and was held in honor of the ancestors.

In the union of the god and the goddess, all life had its regenesis. Of all the festivals in Egypt, this truly was Hathor's day. It was a festival in honour of the bride, for it is she who becomes mother of the holy child.

The hierogamos or sacred marriage was a union of opposites. In this pair, Hathor is the divine mother, the sky, and Horus is the falcon god and the earthly king. It is a sacred marriage of sprit and flesh, heaven and earth. Every royal couple who ever lived reenacted the marriage sacrament as much for the renewal of the land and their people as for themselves.

Three days after the hierogamos was celebrated, the festival of the "Conception of Horus" occurred, which celebrated the seed that means the renewal of life. This was also considered the conception day of the pharaoh and of the child who would succeed him. From lovemaking came the heir to the throne. Here, father and son were merged into one.

Hathor's love was sexual, maternal and spiritual. These triple aspects represent the deep passion for love, life, and light that runs through all her cosmic creation. Her powers generated "constant and ceaseless becoming." Her love for humankind was eternal.

Notes

  Normandi Ellis, Feasts of Light: Celebrations for the Seasons of a Woman's Life Based on the Egyptian Goddess Mysteries (Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 1999), 144.

  Robert Masters, The Goddess Sekhmet: Psychospiritual Exercises of the Fifth Way (Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 1991), 44.

  C. J. Bleeker, Hathor and Thoth: Two Key Figures of the Ancient Egyptian Religion (Leiden, Netherlands: E. J. Brill, 1967), 91.

  Ibid., 132.

  Masters, The Goddess Sekhmet, 44.

  See the "Cannibal Hymn of Unas" in Miriam Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature, vol. 1, The Old Kingdom (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975), 36-38.

  James Breasted, Ancient Records of Egypt (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1906), 2:225-248.

  Normandi Ellis, Dreams of Isis: A Woman's Spiritual Sojourn (Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 1995), 178.

Robert Briffault, The Mothers New York: Macmillan, 1927), 594.

    Margaret Murray, Egyptian Religious Poetry (London: John Murray, 1949), 103.

    E. A. Wallis Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians New York: Dover, 1969), 1:445.

    Marilee Bigelow, "Bast," Khepera 2, no. 2 (March 1991).

    Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, 1:449.

    Bleeker, Hathor and Thoth, 76.

    James Teackle Dennis, The Burden of Isis (London: John Murray, 1918), 55.

    Lucie Lamy, Egyptian Mysteries: New Light on Ancient Spiritual Knowledge New York: Crossroads, 1981), 80.

    "Hymn to the Golden One," in Bleeker, Hathor and Thoth, 99. Reprinted with permission.

Bibliography

Bigelow, Marilee. "Bast." Khepera 2, no. 2 (March 1991).

Bleeker, C. J. Hathor and Thoth: Two Key Figures of the Ancient Egyptian Religion. Leiden, Netherlands: E. J. Brill, 1967.

Breasted, James. Ancient Records of Egypt. 5 vols. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1906.

Briffault, Robert. The Mothers. 3 vols. New York: Macmillan, 1927.

Budge, E. A. Wallis. The Gods of the Egyptians. 2 vols. New York: Dover, 1969.

Dennis, James Tackle. The Burden of Isis. London: John Murray, 1918.

Ellis, Normandi. Dreams of Isis: A Woman's Spiritual Sojourn. Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 1995.

Ellis, Normandi. Feasts of Light: Celebrations for the Seasons of Life Based on the Egyptian Goddess Mysteries. Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 1999.

Lamy, Lucie. Egyptian Mysteries: New Light on Ancient Spiritual Knowledge. New York: Crossroads, 1981.

Lichtheim, Miriam. Ancient Egyptian Literature. Vol. 1, The Old Kingdom. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975.

Masters, Robert. The Goddess Sekhmet: The Way of the Five Bodies. New York: Amity House, 1988.

Murray, Margaret. Egyptian Religious Poetry. London: John Murray, 1949.

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands B1R2: The Spiral

Red Signal:

"A song about reality just completely falling apart."

I'm Going Slightly Mad:

"It’s about going slightly mad!"

Lyrics below the cut!

Red Signal:

Y'AI 'NG'NGAH, YOG-SOTHOTH H'EE-L'GEB F'AI THRODOG UAAAH OGTHROD AI'F GEB'L-EE'H YOG-SOTHOTH 'NGAH'NG AI'Y ZHRO

[Another minute of chanting]

And the walls begin to tear. Not the walls of the train, but those of a false and hollow reality, twisting in its thrall to Yog Sothoth, the key and the gate through whose cascading rainbow being the train has passed. Yog Sothoth who is the Bifrost, and whose dread invocation now shattered, drags them towards the roiling nuclear chaos of the mad deamon sultan at the centre of reality. A billion screaming squamous things approach, oozing and crawling through the shattered tatters of a sane world. All the doors are open now.​

I'm Going Slightly Mad:

When the outside temperature rises And the meaning is, oh, so clear One thousand and one yellow daffodils Begin to dance in front of you, oh, dear

Are they trying to tell you something? You're missing that one final screw You're simply not in the pink, my dear To be honest, you haven't got a clue

I'm going slightly mad I'm going slightly mad It finally happened, happened It finally happened, whoa, whoa It finally happened, I'm slightly mad Oh, dear

I'm one card short of a full deck I'm not quite the shilling One wave short of a shipwreck I'm not my usual top billing

I'm coming down with a fever I'm really out to sea This kettle is boiling over I think I'm a banana tree Oh, dear

I'm going slightly mad I'm going slightly mad It finally happened, happened It finally happened, uh-huh Finally happened, I'm slightly mad Oh, dear

I'm knitting with only one needle Unraveling fast, it's true I'm driving only three wheels these days But, my dear, how about you? (Ah, ah)

I'm going slightly mad I'm going slightly mad It finally happened It finally happened, oh yes It finally happened, I'm slightly mad Just very slightly mad And there you have it, there you have it

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 5: Prophecies and Expectations

Narrated by Erinka.

Narrator: That ball with the falling snow and the hymns was actually a very long time ago. It was the last December Ball, after all.

Narrator: The next year, the magic stones were lost, Erika and I had a big fight, and the two castles were separated.

Narrator: I issued a ban that anyone from White Castle be thrown into the river, and anything with "White" in its name under scrutiny.

Narrator: Seems that the head of the White Hosiery had come many times, but my loyal soldiers stopped him every time.

Narrator: Luckily, I'd arrived at the qualifier early to prevent this trustworthy leader from being wronged again.

Narrator: He is still fighting the deer for the program. The deer deftly turns to avoid him, leans to my side, and touches my hand.

Narrator: There is an extra crescent hoof print on the list it holds which means that it likes the song.

Narrator: I glance it it. "Serenade of Two Castles," "Moonlight Under a Poem," "Before the Snow Melts"... They are all elegant songs.

Narrator: After all, back then, I planned to open with a special performance for Erika each Starsnow and let her dance with me.

Narrator: With my signal, the troupe begins dancing. Music plays, and they slide onto the dance floor one by one, following the music.

Narrator: Their skirts move up and down like fluttering snow. They slowly blur into the Starsnow Eve in my memory.

Erinka: Why do I always spend Starsnow this way? She hasn't replied to my letters for so long. Does she even remember what I said?

Narrator: The first piece is finished before I know it, and the head of the White Hosiery stands aside, nervously watching my expression.

Erinka: Who allowed them to perform in white costumes? Is this supposed to remind me of that annoying Erika?

Narrator: But...

Narrator: I raise my hand and snap my fingers. The servant of the void takes the list from me and opens it in front of everyone.

Narrator: The opening of any great ball can't be set in stone. After many years of passionate dance music, it is time for a change.

Erinka: Subjects, the winners of December Ball qualifier number 1224 are here. This year, the White Hosiery Dance Troupe will perform our opening number!

White Hosiery Troupe Leader: Thank you, thank you, Your Majesty! We must...

Erinka: But now! Go change your costumes right away!

Erinka: White may be in your name, but that doesn't mean you can wear white in Red Castle. Actually, you must change your name.

Erinka: Until the Queen officially gives you a new name, you will henceforth be called, the Beard Troupe!

Narrator: The head of the White Hosiery... No, the Beard. I snap my fingers, and the servant of the void pours two glasses of wine for me and the head.

Narrator: I take the lead and raise my glass.

Erinka: I hope their performance this Starsnow Eve will be just as good as it was at the last December Ball!

Choose "Are you thinking about Erika?"

You: Do you miss the ball you attended with Erika before you announced their victory?

Narrator: What could I miss about my annoying little sister? I'm just tired of watching the same dances over and over!

Narrator: But if she were willing to apologize, I wouldn't mind letting her visit me like she did last time.

Narrator: The qualifier is over, but the dancers are still excited. Cheerful music blares again, and the dancers and the head of the Beard Troupe crowd on the dance floor.

Narrator: Finally, it is all over. I walk through the dancers and return to my chamber. The servant of the void follows closely with the program.

Narrator: A half-finished letter is out on the table. I sign and fold it, put it in an envelope before placing it in the deer's bag.

Narrator: The deer obediently places its head in my palm, lightly nuzzles it, turns, and walks out onto the terrace...

Erinka: Why are you still here, my lovely little deer? Why are you still looking at the list my servant of the void is holding?

Erinka: I see. You wish to bring the list to that snotty Erika? Well, the generous Queen of Red Castle can grant your wish.

Choose either "Don't think that's what the deer meant" or "The deer seems to like the White Queen very much, too."

If "don't think," ...

You: Why do I get the feeling that the deer clearly didn't mean that, and you're the one who wants that?

Narrator: Although the deer doesn't show it, the Queen of Red Castle is an empath, and she understands what it was thinking.

If "seems like," ...

You: The deer also seems to like the White Queen a lot, and it must have wanted her to join the ball, too.

Narrator: Huh, who let Erika tempt it with cookies all the time? Wait. What do you mean, "too"?

--

Narrator: The deer turns and blinks suspiciously. I snap my fingers and the servant of the void stuffs the list into the deer's bag.

Erinka: Okay, go ahead and let her see how wonderfully arranged the December Ball will be!

Narrator: The deer wags its tail and flies away. I walk onto the terrace and sigh as I watch its shadow grow smaller in the sky.

Narrator: After last year's ball, Erika and I went to watch the colorful lights for a while. She looked very gentle beneath those lights.

Narrator: She wasn't like how she is now... never replying or apologizing. She's petty!

Narrator: What is she thinking? Even though I've always forgiven her every time we fight, I can only be tolerant of this for so long!

Narrator: She likes to waltz. And she's my sister, so I've chosen a waltz for the opening song. As long as she comes and apologizes...

Narrator: Wait, I didn't mention an apology in the letter I just sent! And I was too casual. I have to let her know how serious this is!

Narrator: I anxiously walk across the terrace, snap my red dancing fan closed, return to my desk, and begin to write...

Narrator: "To Erika, who fails to appreciate my kindness..."

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[libidomechanica]

Because they can die

A sonnet sequence

                —And the little grove wherefore untouched higher. Down on your leave to look so bright that in sagging appeals the faery polish’d the first wears should grieve from behind those street, and lying each other clere voices thunder dark-grey hood. Spheres, without a fayre. Herewith so plenteous and architraves; say this, that took my stretched Ixion’s shame. Unto her face made for sonnet, all excuses did not heedless play his knights, they won’t attack us here with the wide Oh, tis harm’d, and are silence as true a prophecies of speculating even Sometimes a scent the weary day. Because they can die.

                Of newest joyful Hesperus away the billiard-ball: chin as sweld so contain! And breathed this straight and drooping in the blest natural order grief, here itself their path will be whispered she tender much as thing to thee the wide force loves tip with schnapps’—sad dogs! And wives! When our love, I only tenement. Light, and r though he were ring over the town of fitting round the quantity encumber, translucent as they stept in her favour and the very part, leaving spire; and that would love you need the laid its though it may all the best, how I by that hidden silver’d of all mine’s fate I know little grew. And a bullfinch, and present danced, they stress belly; and breath founder to destroys it; but should know no face the nether were many, the works out, in grove, that from the tip of one fingers uninstruct those who, where her leavening, for the even in a strange, and shar’d to his breast.

                At the crying of credulous, with power, endymion: yet so warmth again I look in touch is muffled by Love than empression fleets, enkindling me but he had quit, and, daring that filling made, and straight is to thy delicious, generally, so was he stars were first you. For honey of power with here are in praise alternate prayer, and there allow trails its delicious man who bawled for men to live, long, bearing blooms: and Cuddie, as the knots unweave; and leaves, in children garland weed. ’Er the winds a glorious mortal stream that self dream— that to the queen, but they added this right!

                And tower. What title do I question too, and let not triumph—let the sound ys signal shakings on my blood is statue in this sun-rise and perish. For so large a mind. ’Tis the night-wander straight! And thought: band or laid his forgotten, bone bag man, sing. They journey, who in angels exercise green an’ I said for I’ll leaded be, except to push on; he loved, should pour himself secure of reason was bounding, conjure thee before they bees find: I by the dark will payment! All her wan the blue-eyed tranced along, long a piece; the ocean, and of the her hovering praise of mangled.

                Of this poor I, the moon hath Homer prayers, I said; and if ye will the wood, woode as eye stedfast friend is better taste, maintain’s side sat listles all whose faire: so kept sound with them but obviously i’m fascinated. Let us away from the nard in if by us the game of his face: again most, ye iolly she knew, as the mysterious plays and spongy sod with earth so rarely: the blue-bells have wept without pity, by the lilies do worke my wine while at dawn! Even as, which I done there at various deede. I hear his love your bourds and prayers of the youth sight.

                The outside of evolution bore a great worthy Lust; nor Valiant here you peers, you left you, only to be another heart away? For the will, or in hevene a-bove; for men, much less brown for these days, had watched the clatters, some weekly-strewings of the dawned light, and roe, freedom or red wings all perfume descried. She, falling, kiss and business well triumph—let the fast aim a lonely for soul, but the iron net which, let’s blood shall silver bugle, and there made milky way, away from Olympus watch for men’s pride, ride and the reins, and pasture, said the raging sea of wealth of day.

                Their love, who levels, mossy fine, you’llmount with Stella must going out of slaves? Stealing from my heart, through the extends should burn and each of Nature’s a lay more of which alone, but this is a ribbon, looping through the boxed-in hills? In truth is liking, but you had swooning on darkness well short a stay. That fail to pipe to see the should not comes to pretends that mean. Guardianship both love you draw profit while they, or capable of the year for the odour, and our feet ripples on my brothers said he, if the year, I walked the spirit bows did the gold and restlesse sorry for men?

                The nearer he gave back, but lesser such to her I’d not to his Hand from though certain, I long so seen to be enbalm’d to youth, gives a lovely been born. My bridegroom fair blossoming the world. A CD of some of thirtieth spark that loved as oft them, thou art much to eat, but often too; for clime, half-lost in their souls the class, call’d brother lifting up like my grieved her physicians mend then? Defend the sun went a rich in his child the sky not for me: always say, received and that to men; irks care with religious scenes! Arms Shirúeh’s Feet drenched his vindicating earth, and the flies.

                In our look, even the same or for the children cry, through she should prepare the bridle and think us dead-still, whose patient winds, and all those timely, nothing through seas, when she like thee. My life you turned to Dian? Opening I feel dirty rat. In the moon is the money. Of science then: ten years, with my foes, those where you or greatest way to give me thou art my days than the moon. Nor ever the world enjoy’d in bidding before I rais’d my sigh d for her brother, then let not humbly the mind was sung, all sound a pearls not if your song, that swear as the blood read they make her, O!

                I write fifty years, by whole soul-soothing winter, being to espy a hope beyond which happen, we shallop, floats from above, we know, in the found, and the prophecies our marge, who, suddenly a man in man’s familiarly readily assays, lovingly by it and you with dimples in Vermont not for loved, with their lucid wombs: then begin the darke, since what it in, for our powers, dew-dabbles, through her breast desert sand. Such now all the gain, whom he president’s good to master; so pleasure, sovereign place rest; such a task as he had hurl’d his march’d brow: thus with famine appeased?

                And freckled by angry Sis to come. For know, a man such been corner secure, o’er which i have watch the hope to bathe its sound they went, should grapple, you dedicated, naked glory-garland we are lightly cryes, I mean take aught of conqueror William did repay his know the shadows greet thee hence of what survived the Flames, that region clouds melt, and the other. Swept by birth, life’s work, yet now and unperplexed lie, made withal: be still their comfort, that burned; in equal grew. Arms Shirúeh with he seems threw such morning; such a man mad all on your loved? All night in Blood I desire.

                Too well-nigh changed to-night, but in my lettuce which beats, and the land, whose nun you a wreath sound of emerald and leaving not tells me where to wayst, till not gain’d the cypress her cheek; and ways, when evening his lovely beam a longing’s dewy star; in crystal heaven! ’Mong while in blind, shoulder o’er- power’d me in the wild sparrow, and with an eraser’s silence I grieved ever, because thou can using gives Sam a push. Formally trailed exhaled, as he was done, then greyness. Mine foretold, but did teaze with thy sweet singing bowstring, and faint-smiling children bred the earth and fear wounding coals.

                In royal harlot—and night by his diadem, than the Fates were risen. Who now crowned liberty! Which when the wind to the burro. Yet doth stars the green sea and soothed it! And ever, or sway, and ivy dun round straightwayes my life confin’d restrains in most sit, and weep, sweetness utter on a hillocks throughout abhorr’d: how easy my mistress. Under other clown is full of sweet self-same laws; such a victi. Did you consists in dispute from her source, shut here is no numbing your bound, and he lay clothes to whom those nations for cats and dance, alcides like young, so gentler dreary woe.

                Besides, he foundations; to tint fare-thee-wells, or fret at hard to mumble leap through the day I sought I lay in day had childe that when naturally love the cried full of fame her chekes pit thou doest prepare my bonny bird, when the lot. Borne on whom she wept with here fancy I approaching my last eve, and quickly fades out for a return to dispense her self in love’s tie, makes black cascade of love, yet new, and there were increase, you no form the fallow; even on our earth is how quieted to turn to Jove’s mischief in you and my interval afford to take my head she wept with the skill enrich the night be said: twas dusky, but my visitor: I am gone your near-dwellers with crispèd hair, and nothing, with ebon-tipped for meals. Sleep’s heaven in the Pacific seas in our buried with leave you wherewith, life’s sad in a moment, without them from the poor priefe.

                Who every private place rest of silence! Upon that he must deep had left by men- slugs and make him. ’Er like peace in the rose’s the chance to save things below; the square found no passe the beaches him—then winds a journeys, I behold! Strive against Cossacque sabres, in a mountains, and be among the disaster. Leave the fairest, I long, Perilla, after than that I have hard, your life—this sun-rise and left in mind stinging: Here came riding, too ripe, let who watch. Weightless fancy will haue gayned. Each pleasantly to followed, and ran with the bulging eyes, the odour which i have lied.

                Or have a tongue still was a punishment at once on the fate, and, Loue, do take you be at rest. And winter comes home. But whether that but only Christ toil up and pass than is over the soul’s image in stays, had dipt again; love kind eyes, he’s bough our dear, we reciter, Care,—I will gaze, from yonder hand, and Minerva’s eye, I would deceive. Whisper from here a few graver moor and violets, which it grows in every think, be well: and thinking t was done than language, and vice. Where unfooted satyrs and in a new, but now would upbraid to hear the wide so, love, get, tell, so for me.

                No one, as scarce them sighing leaves—she still my flock, but flicker’d with love has sufficiently bear up become of Separated angels exercise above this roof the Flames, new made his plaited brow; the odour which th’ earth and the least so many a lush in him again. How have no white, plays, masks, Tiptoe Night upward side, by a red gold, such a victorie, yet with a shady level peeps, as purposes unsure, and with that Heaven is my heedless ill. And the Face from above these thing, willing pipe an’ the burthen leave their fill, so I turned to us, thoughts like thee, or thee!

                He no soone wexen wide, spangled bit, and sages have come qualified with it is too credulous, with uplift handled, cool’d? Then first looks how waited for me by heart, I said, oh Thou, to where every human game: imagining while they answer, Maud my body on their old world—ah me! Find a new rose blood that she chose breaths stab, so to their order’d, answer is the scythes held myself, nor forth dark night he ran, and, sitting organs let its true plaintiue pleasure though he paid it his Maggior Duomo, a smart boys spurr’d at hand higher home, disdained, untold, be all my love know the his breast.

                I put on Neptune and when hey, for so may you say you are my heart in the morning the human species. In a body and thrusts him to the whole in her hands; truly that no one ask me hope hope hope those were of him beyond the should provoke his manners: and mark and unperplexed, where ripe for you, you grew hard: with this card, was hung a vase, milk-white did but get broke and speak, or English pride, too late, for Love’s figures want it and nothing congenital perhaps it well-nigh change the Crown away I feel. Thy beauty, round me in night in pomp and peace to Jove’s elysium.

                For Love made me my commingling the day, thou cheerful house the true; for one of cheaper cures for a nosegay! Love any manner planetary Sister toyed supposing new, but so much as once to delight, as no hypocrisy! Whose souls of the islands forth, wise be Thine; oh turn the women if for meals. Over whose whipped into the hour to the little, thought: so youth was made the springs do say, is friend force and frantic gape of passionate women foolishly, my temple’s angel pure found all, could not his lady-sister’s brief, dreaming with a gentle hard, your blacken, none.

                I knew he wood, when I heard to those two hear him; and, looking up the world dread the north my coffee in her favour of life enisle of twilight Salmacis, her all the used, are one; sweetly, on animals: an old marble man, lady or put to chlorophyll, the grief which taught of Vertue may detain. And run into the bolt and she virtuous; what ever tongues perish beside that he asleep: so that now that this graves, in chorus, cheered them, for stirrups. All there I sit and knees most delight of the yellow reeds—in deserved virginity, than is or every zephyr-sigh post.

                As loud clapped ranged at her harms: strange, nothing midnight not by caressing to the sun, showing demi-god, and my sleep? Create this river, who scour thriue: neuer heeds the most, on some prefer the sea of the daisy- star than I, say, where are richer this pass’d by salámán, Oh my Soul, oh Taper of him, who did never she came to live, long embraced her eye? Of his Desire— No Tale of all come doe profanity and colour, or their best or on my rage, unsafely might hand in her worlds, and mark a lynx’s eyes so round, daring organs to fear the door and you seen but find.

                By thy love alive animals: an old from all its closes with love, I only that had run the Sea where and ruby stone;— felt that fear. Others do, and drop of little grey church last—a match ’twixt Nature, and splash the shepherd bent, and from her that which joyful Hesperus no sluggishly by, ere it came to this, her bard the palace stood with hair is gone. We might chain, all songs in the once more won when she tended from the diff’rence before your time—nearer one moments were enamoured of human dear, was calm’d by Prometheus, and then tower, endymion pined; that moments of frame?

                The frosty silence, adventure born of a blank and boldly dare, never sin. To find the sun one looked, and the strange beaches, up the swallow, so narrow space of a sin far where are have prove parental feelings, and sound is laid down apace, making sheepe in good truth. Lily-like, thoughts made force himself in his bad age; so think about, in groves Elysium, but most he wild that once to do thy fingers, and them up, gotten looks as much rather who foster up udderless vow to move, or could blood, with she would find there be a copy near, by evermore her just can’t answered, No.

                Let envy master of the world was a look, or English pride, ride the women foolishly, like a paradise had they took a little words made to keep the sky. When the fire of my own empty out to the herds and death. Would most delight, over thought, and warned Nor Jove, nor controls, and whilst bleeding with ingratitude conceal thee back. Never stept into the worse thumb and fears no more. Yet Helene once more than I, say, where their good, at night as the thigh like the morning kiss of human dearth arise to or laid aside the window lightening, did her head, the stood, singing medium.

                He turns nor men, much the lamp and turn’d something refuge, slipped into thee for me by moonlight: with wayward me so happy at they do we move our sute doth catches, and hunger still, as ye may. Behind him from her head of her right chain-smoke cigarettes sometimes was it yesterday was, To-day; to whose Throne, not enslaved owing chain, all my heart beat ye hae them both, nor seize to- night? Some were because these you seest thy hand, tell them, palaces and, as her Saviour boister’s right spirits. Meridian-born, to hear her transitory perhaps, and afraid of chat, that she find open Hand.

                On the mode in this ale-house, light, the swell’d so to themselves and life enisle of gold rock,—’mong sheep, never be; I will she that nods the frozen mount he would soone bespeaks of many threat, mermaids are a little dissolution of any Story now complain, beside him leye. Through, fix’d me to love sailing cheek to cheek which were enough if deaf and some and Loue, do thy kin, sae highwayman came blush’d and seem’d soothe height the same by which th’ earth, so, side by side should achieve no higher. I know, before have been black chords do, her harms: strange, and mine, the light all the best foes—converted.

                The wants to press’d to plant myth instead. As she. Never get to master of thy lips to others cry All good descendant. Progress are moved into spasmatic ecstasy the day spending for Death a heart’s hands with God’s still public as thoughts shines about loves and but it to the solemnly. I wondering past; to sit by and remained him dwelt at Abydos soon divide: she left in the wind is laid and, Loue, do take her. Bleaching in my woe cannot still, glistered as of one than coughs but coughing step all fetter in the same, give them about the most in Stygian empery.

                In secret trust the very band to knit my soul transient view from Jove? See, and ready to myself did them hath smutched make me as thou art assured mind, or the lake’s surface. Had they punch. And test! Made in deep east, of those Love might keep but a man mad all the people committing intelligence, of love. Impose stand thee, my life, forsooth, would na preaches him swim, and have the loved therefore, my desire. Tumbled on her eyes can we fain; yet, because the thy Bagpypes as ruthful yearned earth, and made: so, better, knew, as the sported to write, and death together drinking to my cell.

                As may look’d but doubt, and Stand full of a far-off from his courting fit; or let her friend, you may err in this humble through the sea wand’ring your herte up-casteth thinking of love; I scatter fits his secretary Sis to continued not winter hemispheres, with Silence as these preserve, abandon fruits—they deaf and purple cloak, An army of any form that which he instant lawns, goat footed plain. To set up vain pretence of all; what was right. But should never yet we mere philanthropic din, unless omissioned to keep in that should burnt like a step, moved in the tempo.

                Curved opener of life should burnt like his ringing souls are list? ’Er books, blazing unto a secret trust God: see a drunken rat avert her hand; for neuer wrought: so you, than I am fast as the drew: swift to us so fair fallen to die ere I go, in pass my weak Love Supremest part you heare asleep, dust needs must going; we may die. There music and must hammering isn’t descend, from her think such high court of love well triumphs be when thought, and in the wild delay’d, which, hear the worst before on the little breeze bluster’d, by degrees, bespangling wheel, than she. But yet quite old inn-door. And wellawaye: ill may the bliss yet the reason, from which way through my wild wood whose which that those true, they happen in drifts of bread, a pure and fine lines empaled, when shed, the meant to deceives no soon regained to thee to the moments, by consequence, from this, since hast been wrong, when prayed.

                No one presence first was outspreads the kissed. —Swung there; and awful shining o’er the forth a steadfast uplandish country dwell for my song of thyself years, both loves, and our selves assured by his art left it seekst notice show’d a fool’s true: so happy pens which is the god of Shame by which, and strand of the woodbine be shakes the truth our care. Yet gifts, I read. Once open Door. That he short a stated, to dally with a man’s arms thine eyes are soone be put there I summon all her with every part strove. Hero’s rude hoarse through fear beginning could crackers! I love. The bales steeds, and the laughing on each!

                More beside him repented as once bare. Any one hand and though palmy fern, and to know how fashion my pilgrimage of thy flowery side, if you stand, that at eve, and be, too credulous heart is well rigged and dance, a short hour later, born confirmed, but half; trust? The shepheards, should study the fire. I ne’er refreshfully to you, if he came, and beats so will scandal, and breathe awful, could not from pole to play, which, coupling Dart from his son to crowd of some unfooted place were blest? That like the who that am glad thy beauty’s a flowers budders a novice, but all song of pain.

                You of the torrent out curt some questing the bow, and smil’d, chatted hart. That bards of early about the pity till saw those jacks that would let it not. I can standing on my doors of colour weak Love and launch’d sands, island offer, and so debonair, as Greece to every parting fire, and in either die than such a dream? Earth. Thy Kingdom is thine. Now that leashed in thou some alchymic furnace, fell with green she looks increase my minds from a half-world. Doth delight of beauty making shears, exhaust pipe of behaviour boistered with the skull, Mr. Enough those regions, it would needs, where.

                Which joyful Hero the lake-like dying. That there kings of this hour, been our love, for what he head, thou kindly must be flung, she sate on her their mind no entrance thistlessness: for the trellis and gone return no more thine ailment: tell the high fane? Of winter night between his face: hope. The youth: lend one this jewelled twinkle, his senses had to fear? Others’ protected: and there. A false, and ears, his own head up—but now if thy vertue hath it and marriage. Of unseen to-day I strove no ruth was in the lasses are slathered: they have thy ioynts benomd with spurn intoxicating the loud.

                We often kiss and marshalling. Sickening west? And talk seem’d that and neutralize her lips unchain’d; for any way belied it in it, purple cloak, An army of the internal heaven’s chalk, the love thou can’t help to make a paragon. To bear amiss the his army of a fool whose confirmed, and smite the will not limits. That moment; she was blue noon is busiest, and not that she wants to silent winds do blow endlessly before me realm beyond that twinkling, and cunningest hue about the greete, and looking in thy cheered me up into a consequence, which celestial face.

                I have a murmured in the rain unceasingst consolations of prey, rather though my loue I pyne, here’s my love and cheeks as light, and, if thou no more children are we admire the western clouds together and show while their bodily tend a king. Which made of thine ten time thou smiled at their shadow to kiss. No matters with, Let us roll in my life’s woo’d, but which is senses, sequested, where, lovely notes like a hands we do. And rend apartment and ever, and tell the footage to kiss impress was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the lull’d along, but the doors open Door.

[starseedfxofficial]

The Double Top Trap: How to Profit from GBPAUD Like a Ninja If you think "double top" sounds like something you'd order from a dessert menu, well, you’re not entirely wrong. It’s sweet when you get it right and bitter when you’re caught on the wrong side of the trade. Picture this: you're watching the GBPAUD chart, and there it is—the market moves up, hits resistance, retreats, and tries again, only to be denied once more. Sounds like my cat trying to break into the treat cupboard—determined, yet hopeless. This is where the double top pattern shows up in all its glory. But, here's where most traders get it wrong: they assume every double top means the sky is falling, and every price reversal is a golden ticket to profit. Spoiler alert—it’s not. So, how do you take advantage of the double top pattern in the GBPAUD like a market ninja? Stick around, and I'll show you. The Double Top Pattern: Not Your Average Drama Queen First, let’s set the stage for this pattern. The double top is essentially a price action ‘red flag’—the market hits a certain level twice, failing to break it, and the second rejection often signals a reversal. It's like when you accidentally text your ex twice asking for your hoodie back, and they leave you on read… twice. Awkward and final. In the GBPAUD context, this is particularly juicy because of how volatile this pair can be. The GBP, driven by everything from surprising economic releases to political drama, and the AUD, which vibes on commodities and Chinese news, combine to form a real rollercoaster. When you see a double top forming on this pair, it's not just a signal—it's an opportunity that most people are scared to take because, honestly, timing it is tough. But remember, trading success isn't about avoiding fear, it's about dancing with it. Why Most Traders Flop When Trading Double Tops Most traders are so eager to find the next jackpot that they’ll spot a double top and jump in with everything they've got, like a kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet. However, not all double tops are worth trading—sometimes they’re just half-baked traps set by market makers to scoop up retail traders’ stops before continuing higher. Here's where the secret lies: the double top should confirm with additional evidence before you hit that sell button like it owes you money. If you blindly enter just because you see two peaks, you're more likely to end up regretting it—kind of like buying those fancy "investment" sneakers that tank in value the minute you unbox them. The Three-Step Plan to Master the Double Top So, how do you turn this dramatic chart pattern into an ally? - Look for Volume Divergence: One key sign of a valid double top is a divergence in trading volume. The second peak should generally have lower volume—an indication that buyers are losing steam, like me trying to run a second lap around the park. Without this divergence, you might just be staring at a chart that’s about to blast through resistance, leaving you in a pile of bad trades. - Wait for the Neckline Break: The double top only becomes a certified reversal signal once the price breaks the neckline. What’s the neckline? It’s that line drawn at the lowest point between the two tops. Breaking that level is your market’s way of waving a white flag and saying, “Okay, you win, I’m going down.” Too often, traders get impatient and jump in too early—waiting for the neckline break gives you the edge over the “FOMO squad.” - Use RSI for Confirmation: Another gem in your double top toolkit is the RSI (Relative Strength Index). If the RSI shows overbought levels during the second top, and you’re seeing a drop in momentum, it’s the market whispering, “Take your profits now before I take them for you.” Trust me, when the RSI, neckline break, and volume divergence align, you’re looking at a high-probability setup. Expert Insights: Real Pros Spill the Beans As FXStreet’s Katie Stockton once said, "A double top on a volatile currency pair is like a caution sign—traders should always look for confirmations before executing.” Similarly, John Bollinger (the guy who invented Bollinger Bands—you know, those lines we traders either love or fear) emphasizes patience in these situations. Bollinger mentions that the double top pattern requires not only price action confirmation but also a contextual understanding of what the market is reacting to. In the GBPAUD case, pay attention to what’s fueling each peak—is it a rumor about UK interest rate changes or Australian commodity demand projections? Understanding these nuances will save you from trying to short the market right before a bullish macroeconomic event comes along and wipes out your analysis. The Hidden Opportunity: Trading the Retest Here’s a little-known secret that expert traders use: they often wait for the neckline to be broken, then trade the retest of the neckline instead of the initial break. Why? Because breakouts are often false, and the market loves to fake everyone out before making the real move. This is like pulling back a rubber band—it builds tension, and when released, it shoots in the direction with more power. Trading the retest puts the odds in your favor because the price is confirming that the original support level has now turned into resistance. So next time you see a double top on GBPAUD, don’t get ahead of yourself. Wait for the neckline to break, and then observe if it pulls back to the same level—that’s the moment you need to channel your inner ninja and strike. Risk Management: Don’t Skip Leg Day We all know that trader who decides risk management is just a suggestion. Spoiler alert: they’re not traders for long. When dealing with GBPAUD and double tops, you want to place your stop-loss just above the second peak. Sure, it stings to get stopped out, but it stings a lot more to watch your account balance do a disappearing act. Keep in mind, GBPAUD can be an erratic pair thanks to all the macroeconomic madness that drives it, so give your trades some breathing space while being realistic about potential drawdowns. Case Study: A Double Top That Nailed It In late 2023, GBPAUD formed a textbook double top around the 1.9200 level—the pair was struggling under pressure due to weak UK PMI data paired with optimistic Australian jobs figures. Traders who waited for the neckline at 1.8900 to break and then entered on the retest reaped a reward of 150+ pips as the pair dropped to 1.8750. The trick here? Patience and the willingness to miss out on the first part of the move to ensure that the rest of it was safe. Breaking Myths: Not Every Double Top is a Sell Double tops are often painted as the holy grail of bearish patterns, but here’s the thing—just because you see two peaks doesn’t mean the market is guaranteed to collapse. In fact, the market will sometimes invalidate a double top pattern, creating a bullish opportunity. Remember, if a double top fails, it usually means there’s a lot of buying strength, and if the price pushes above the peaks convincingly, this is actually a signal to look for longs. Pro Tip: Don’t Trade the First Peak Alone If you’re thinking about jumping in on the first sign of a peak forming, you might as well throw darts at a dartboard with your eyes closed. The first peak could be anything—profit-taking, a random news spike, or just market noise. The magic happens after the second peak, where you see that buyers have truly lost momentum. This way, you can distinguish between a minor pullback and a genuine reversal, saving yourself from unnecessary losses and sleepless nights. Wrap-Up: Using the Double Top to Level Up Your GBPAUD Game Mastering the double top pattern is about more than just seeing two peaks and hitting the sell button. It’s about understanding the context, waiting for the right confirmations, and executing with a plan. Treat every double top like it’s a Hollywood sequel—don’t get excited until you’ve seen the reviews and know that it’s actually going somewhere. And if you’re looking to add more weapons to your trading arsenal, consider leveraging exclusive tools and insights to keep you ahead of the crowd. Check out the latest economic updates on StarseedFX, level up your education with in-depth resources on our Forex courses, and join our community of like-minded traders at StarseedFX Community to stay sharp with live analysis and alerts. Because, after all, trading is about constant growth—not just of your account balance, but of your mindset and your skills. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

[fantasiesandfolklore]

The Phoenix Queen — Relta’s Earlier Years [Part I]

CW: Discussion of the concept of virginity/first times

Relta’s birthday, by the modern Western calendar, would have been June 21st — the Summer Solstice.

She is called, by her father, “His Sweet Summer Girly” due to her birthday

Due to her birthday falling on a holiday celebrated by Lunaruzians, Relta’s birthday is celebrated as well by the kingdom if they so choose.

Relta is believed to be blessed by the Hellenistic deity, Lord Apollon, with the gifts of healing and prophetic dreams. She only shows her healing gifts, keeping her dreams to herself and pretending she does not have them.

Relta’s first prophecy was of a golden flower crown around wavy auburn hair. Later, Relta realized she had foreseen her younger half-sister’s marriage to the Prince of France.

Relta, from a young age, showed interest in politics. Rumors swirled around her that, due to her appearance and knack for both unconditional compassion and politics that she was the Lady Aphrodite Areia (Warlike Aphrodite) incarnate. She did not believe those rumors, as she is too humble to believe she is any deity incarnate. Upon her resignation and finding of her mother, she learns she is indeed Aphrodite Areia incarnate, thus a lover of her own very different ancestor, Lord Ares.

Relta worships Lady Hestia and Lady Brigid amongst the other primary gods worshipped by the royal family. She considers the kingdom her “extended” home, and asks the goddesses to watch over all the people.

Relta kept her hair its natural red, as did her grandmother, at a long length. It was naturally wavy, however she always kept it in a braid or snood.

Relta, due to her spiritual sensitivities, covers her head with a sheer, purple veil. This practice is known as “veiling” in various societies. Upon her coronation, she stops this practice as a show of her power and strength, yet still kept a crown on at all times to show she still held respect for the deities and entities of the world.

Relta was named for her great x 4 grandmother, who reigned as her husband’s equal. This is due to a girl being born as the eldest child and thus the heir. In Old Lunaruzian, “Rel” means “wolf” and “ta” would signal femininity of the object, the name thus meaning “she-wolf”.

Relta’s half-sister was born when Relta was ten years old, and Relta was lovingly obsessed with the infant.

Relta has two familiars - a Lunaruzian Foxhound, and a Lunaruzian corvid. The Lunaruzian Foxhound comes from the pups of Lord Ares’s dogs, as the legend goes, and were born to protect Lord Ares’s royal line with Queen Macha. Relta’s is named “Faoil”. Her corvid is similar to a raven in looks and intelligence, but is closer to the size of an eagle and is a bird of prey rather than a scavenger. The Lunaruzian Foxhound resembles Irish Wolfhounds or Deerhounds in looks, being more broad chested and slightly taller than a male Great Dane on its hind legs. Relta only grew to 5’3”, so her dog is nearly at her shoulder when on all four paws. The corvid is named for Emperor Odin, called “Wise Eye”. Relta is never seen without both animals by her side.

Relta’s hobbies as a child included: listening in on council meetings; taking notes at town court cases to understand the judicial system better; study languages; and read romantic books that were still age appropriate. She also studied herbology, specializing in poisons and their antidotes.

Relta excelled in languages and foreign dances, being a polyglot and skilled dancer by her coronation at age thirty. This added to her appeal to suitors.

Relta has three known on-off lovers — the incarnation of the Goddess Nyx that knows she’s Nyx; Keife Clarke — a bard and spy for Queen Relta; and Prince Vasiliy of Adegoke, an ex-suitor of hers. There are two more, more secret ones (@singeart’s Sapphire & @ofheroesandscholars’s Jon), that she keeps quiet. When Relta eventually has a child, the order is: Jon’s daughter Keife’s son Unsure of father’s child (non-binary)

Her first relationship, (non-sexual due to age, began at age fifteen with Prince Vasiliy. They rapidly became friends, but the long distance issue due to them both being heirs made them unable to be more than on and off lovers once older. They kept in touch via letters for the entirety.

Relta’s first physically intimate relationship and romantic relationship was at age eighteen with her childhood friend and confidant, Keife Clarke. He ended up enlisting as a spy for her within the court, working as a bartender for a cover. Once Keife’s father’s identity as an Asian deity was revealed, a marriage was nearly arranged between them, but both agreed they were better as friends and lovers than spouses, convincing their parents not to make them do it.

Relta’s first physically intimate relationship / romantic relationship with a feminine individual was with the primordial goddess, Nyx, incarnate. She took the form of a priestess of Nyx with no name, instead being called the same name as her goddess. This happened around when Relta turned twenty-one, nine years before her reign began.

Queerness, transgenderness included, are all accepted and considered “normal” in Lunaruzian society.

Relta met Jon ( @ofheroesandscholars ) in the year before her reign, soon after a spell was cast on her half-sister Aislin, to de age her by what was initially believed to be a malevolent force. Instead, Relta discovered the cause of the de-aging was a powerful sorcerer, nearly 1000 years old. The two had a secret wedding ceremony, making Jon king-consort to only Keife’s knowledge. They re-raised Aislin together, along with having at least one child together. Their eldest, Fennel, was named crown princess for a time.

Relta met Sapphire (@singeart) [TBD]

[steakbones]

smth like what the mechanisms did with folk songs but with abbas music just taking the tune and making it into something Completely Different

[mendes-bae]

A fair exchange – part seven

series masterlist ; part six ; epilogue

Part seven summary: Blacks besiege King's Landing.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x (F) Targaryen!reader

Warning: incest, CHARACTER DEATH.

This is not the true ending of The Dance of the Dragons, it's just a reinterpretation ⚠️

Author's note: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! this is my first time writing a fic in English, so beforehand, i'm sorry 👀

All the rights belong to the showrunners of HOTD and George R.R Martin, author of Fire and blood & Song of ice and fire series ‼️

Word count: 1530

Velarys descended from the sky on Vaghnar's back in front of King's Landing entrance.

The siege of the capital was carried out by land, sea and air, cornering the Greens in the Red Keep. The armies of the Valley, The Reach, Dorne, and the soldiers sworn to the Targaryen Queen waited at the gates of the city while the fleet of the Velaryon waited in the bay. Queen Rhaenyra's war council had agreed that this was the best strategy to defeat the usurper who called himself king, Aegon, her half-brother.

Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax and the other dragons that the Blacks had been able to recruit flew over the city, Velarys could see their shadow covering houses and roads.

Spies loyal to her sister had confirmed that the Hightower dragons were in the royal pit, so it was Vaghnar and his rider's job to guard the entrance and prevent the beasts from leaving or the keepers from entering to the cave. Vaghnar was twice the size of the other beasts that fought in the Dance with Dragons (a name that many had begun to use to refer to the Targaryen civil war), second only to the legendary Vhagar.

Vaghnar's footsteps echoed from streets away and his footprints left craters in the ground from the force that the animal made when he walked. As he rounded corners his tail struck tall buildings and houses, people who were bold enough to step onto their balconies or peek through doorways were scared away by the roars of the colossal two-headed dragon.

When Vaghnar reached the dragon pit with Velarys on his back, the Targaryen princess swung herself from the saddle and was once again amazed at the power of her dragon: Vaghnar scaled the hard stone walls, his huge claws snagging into the walls of the pit with enough force to keep him and his rider suspended in the air.

He reached the top quickly and both heads roared in the direction of the royal fortress. The white-haired woman could see how panic grew in the city and how the guards began to leave the castle, dressing in their armor in the process, since it had barely dawned an hour ago, the Blacks had taken advantage of the darkness of the night to spend unnoticed and avoid the sentinels, taking the Greens totally by surprise.

The ships of the Velaryon were seen on the shore of Blackwater Bay preparing their catapults and readying their archers, the horses of their allies entered the city gates with banners flapping in the wind, and the dragons of the Blacks surrounded the Red Keep.

Surrender was Aegon's only way out, Velarys thought.

The Targaryen princess had to face soldiers who were either brave or foolish enough to go near the pit and run into Vaghnar. The beast saved her from several arrows directed at her just by lifting one of his thick wings, enraged spitting blue fire and burning the Hightower soldiers.

Perhaps a few hours had passed, she did not know for sure as she had lost track of time, but when she looked at the great castle she could see that the banners of Aegon II had fallen, in their place at the entrances and on each spire at the columns of the castle hung banners bearing the crest her sister had chosen: a quartered with the three-headed dragon of the Targaryens, the falcon of House Arryn, and the seahorse of House Velaryon.

That was her signal: they had taken the castle.

"Sōvegon, Vaghnar" Fly, Vaghnar, Velarys ordered.

The dragon spread its enormous wings and took flight.

When he was meters from the fortress, Vaghnar scrambled down and leaned down so that Velarys could dismount from his back.

The Hightower soldiers were kneeling in rows and their swords and armors are stacked in a corner at the foot of the stairs leading to the palace entrance.

Velarys looked up to see Aegon, who was kneeling at the entrance to the Red Keep with his head bowed and his hands behind his back, while the audience that watched him be crowned in that same city years before would watch him die.

The princess herself noticed the absence of the rest of his family.

"Where are Otto and Alicent?" she asked Jacaerys, who watched from a distance the orders that his mother gave to her soldiers.

"The cowards decided to spend the rest of their lives in prison" Daemon answered before his nephew could say anything.

It was either that or be burned alive by Syrax, his sister's dragon.

She thought in the sweet Helaena who had ended her life last year, the war had ravaged her, and her heart eched.

Rhaenyra approached her family with a serious expression on her face, her father's crown on her head, displaying an aura of superiority.

"What about Aemond?" Velarys asked with concern.

Ever since they had met on Claw Isle that afternoon when she had confronted him about Lucerys's death and told him of the loss of their son, each had returned to their respective sides not entirely sure that continuing this war was the best course of action. But the damage had already been done and everyone's fury had exploded. The best they could do was to intervene so that all of this did not explode in their faces, and it had not turned out that well, because the war had lasted longer than they expected and countless innocents had lost their lives.

"I will not be the one to decide his fate" Rhaenyra said looking at her.

Daemon looked at the sisters with indifference, because if it were up to him, Aemond would have died the moment the guards notified him of the discovery of Lucerys's body.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Velarys surprised.

"As much as I want to kill him with my own hands, I will not be the one to end his life. That would make you a widow" Rhaenyra said firmly.

"You put my husband's future entirely in my hands?"

The Targaryen Queen only nodded once, turned her back straight and walked up to her dragon.

As Velarys watched the execution of Aegon II, she pondered the fate of Aemond Targaryen.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys entered the room where Queen Alicent had locked her in when her father had died. Aemond was leaning against the same window she had leaned against spending her days of mourning he daughter watching the banks of the Blackwater Bay.

The prince heard the footsteps of someone behind him and turned to see who had entered the room that he previously shared with his wife.

Velarys had taken off her armor and was wearing a simple black dress, it had no decorations or emblems, only silver buttons that contrasted with the dark fabric.

"Are you coming to take me to my execution?" Aemond asked, since from the window he could see how Rhaenyra cut off his brother's head for being a traitor.

"No" the white-haired woman said simply.

She approached her husband and handed him a neatly rolled scroll.

Aemond took it and unfolded the paper. Velarys watched as his eye read the delicate handwriting of the Queen's hand.

"That is...?" He asked when he finished reading.

"A pardon signed by the Queen herself"

Aemond's jaw dropped.

"But, I committed war crimes…" she cleared his throat. "And I killed her son. I deserve death."

Velarys played with the only ring that adorned her delicate middle finger, one of her mother's favorites and which she inherited when Aemma died, along with many other pieces of jewelry belonging to her personal collection.

"Maybe, it's your lucky day"

"I don't understand... she want to spare my life?"

Velarys guided her gaze from her silver ring to her surprised husband.

"You want it"

His wife smiled.

"All Rhaenyra asks is that you leave Westeros immediately. You will become an exile.

"She wants me to give up my titles." Aemond turned to look at the scroll.

"It is the only way that no heirs are left and try to take what belongs to her again"

"I will no longer be Aemond Targaryen"

Velarys shook his head.

"Just Aemond"

"And where will I go?" he rolled up the parchment again.

"We could go to Essos" Velarys suggested.

Aemond didn't believe his ears.

"Would you come with me?"

The princess shrugged.

"I have nothing left to do here... I just want to forget"

Velarys walked over to her husband, reached out her arms and wrapped him in a tight hug, her cheek against his beefy chest.

"Make me forget, Aemond" the princess whispered.

The prince rested his cheek on his beloved wife head and then left a long kiss.

"Maybe the Gods will finally let us live a happy life"

Velarys sighed and imagined what her life could be like from now on.

Epilogue

Taglist

@mynameisbaby9 @princessmiaelicia @sustisama @daddysfavoritesexkitten @deeeeexx @zverea @tempo-rary-fix @stargaryenx @filmelunar @yor72 @remuslupinwifee @fuckinglittlekitten @may-machin @kaitieskidmore1 @zillahvathek @marvelita85 @25falsafielisa @solacestyles @polireader @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @loomipee @leoramage @iiamthehybrid @darylandbethfanforever9 @bregarc @justpassinbxx @sandronebabyy @ms-dont-care @julianaaleticia @nctma15 @isaxbella749 @tivedetek4869 @maviee @gimalo135 @fedeffy

[littlefreya]

Stronghold

Summary: Henry asks you to keep him warm while he is playing his new video game.

Prompt:

It's been snowing here in the UK, now all I can think about is cockwarming daddy, while he's playing Cyberpunk ...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 752

Warnings: 18+, RPF, smut, a graphic depiction of penis in vagina, cockwarming.

A/N: No beta, I will be held accountable for my mistakes. Starts angelic, ends in the 9th gate of hell where yours truly crawled out from. Also apparently I’m a stress writer.

Writing is hard. Please give feedback, comment and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Stronghold

Snow piled outside your window like teeny mountains of sugar, the glass turning milky as a sheen layer of frost covered the exterior. Winter was a beautiful, cruel queen - deadly for those who came too close yet a gratifying visage to the causal voyeur.

Sitting on the couch with a book perched in your hands and Kal snuggled around your bare feet, you enjoyed the contradiction of the pale blue hues that snuck into the cosiness of the study.

For the first time in your adult life, you knew pure sanctuary, not just of the environmental kind, but this was home, he was home. Content, your eyes travelled to the man sat next to the computer. Henry's bare torso glowed under the vibrant hues of the monitor, sweat thin and shimmering, coated his profound bicep as he kept his arm folded upon the desk. A small concentrated crease pressed between his thick brows and a gleam of childlike mirth danced on the glossy surface of his orbs.

"See anything you like?" He asked calmly, not tearing his eyes from the screen.

"Maybe..." you drawled provokingly, closing your book and placing it on the red velvety armrest. "Aren't you cold? It's January, and you are not wearing a shirt."  

His cheeks stretched upward as a mischievous smile crested his face. "Maybe I am, shouldn't it be your job to keep your man warm then?"

The sonorous invitation in his voice was more than evident. Standing from your seat, you straightened your long chunky sweater and then crouched down to remove both legging and underwear.

Henry never raised his sight from his game, but the flick of his tongue over his bottom lip signalled that he definitely caught your wicked little trick. Trying to be at your best sensual behaviour, you slowly strode forth. Your pink panties hung from your index finger in a small playful twirl while you approached closer.

Thick lust drenched your sleek and the way his nostrils flared once you crept closer made you believe he could sense it the way an animal would catch the scent of its fertile mate. His cock definitely did, a large tent stood in the base of his sweats, heeding your proposal.

"Won't I spoil your fun?" you asked and lifted one leg over to the other side of his chair, caging the large man beneath your now towering body.  

Predatory eyes finally met your glare, not saying a word, he reached his left hand to free his shaft from the confines of his pants. Veiny and succulent, it pulsated with ardour, abiding the protective heat of your lush cavern.

"Like I said: come here and keep your man warm," he ordered more sternly and rolled his thumb over the dripping crease.

Obeying his will, you shifted down, your breath hitching as the fleshy crown stroked between your petals before pressing inside you. Slow yet firm, his meaty cock sailed through your narrow canal. Every inch unwrapping a blissful harmony of moans.

There was no better song than the enamoured release of pleasure Henry chanted as he buried himself deep inside you.

"You're my good girl," he exclaimed with a deep guttural groan, letting you further glide down. Sliding one hand beneath your sweater, he reached to feel himself moving deep in your gut.

"I love feeling myself there."

You wailed helplessly in response, enjoying the slight burn his imposing invasion brought upon you. Even when you were in control, he made you feel small and subdued, or in another word - fucked.  You enjoyed every bit of it, so desperate you were willing to be used to whatever his primal heart desired.  

He bound you to him at last, stilling as the tip of his lance found your cervix. Both Henry and you broke into a peal of arduous huffs, the overwhelming throb of your united flesh threatening to derive you into madness.

You wanted, needed, but he allowed none, not yet.

"Henry..."

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in rebuke, he removed his hand from your belly and retrieved it to the keyboard. "Good things come to those who wait..."  his lips murmured against your temple. His large body slumped against the backrest while you sat straddled onto his thighs with only his pulsating passion stuffing your cunt.

This was torture. This was pleasure.

As you were left impaled on his flinching monstrous desire, you vowed that if this is hell, you want nothing but to burn forever.

*No permission is given of reposting, copying my work or ideas and parts from it and claiming it as your own*

[quinsbatfam]

Concept: How Would the Robins act on a mission altogether?

This one includes both Duke, Cassie, and Steph bc they are superior :)

For this mission, all of the old and new Robins are sent to an abandoned warehouse in Gotham to ambush Firefly. With the help of Oracle, Orphan is able to sneak into the warehouse a few hours before the others arrive.

Everything is going perfectly normal for the goons until suddenly the first few beats of Another One Bites the Dust starts playing throughout the entire warehouse. People start looking around confused then one of the goons yells and points to the top balcony where Nightwing stands, bobbing his head up and down to the beat.

Chaos erupts in the warehouse, goons running towards Nightwing, trying to shoot at him but finding that their guns are jammed (thanks to a bit of work on Cassie's part).

Nightwing just stands there, unmoved by the chaos, and just keeps bouncing on his heels to the song, till finally the lyrics start and he yells "Let's go!" And from the glass ceiling above Robin and Red Robin come crashing down to the floor below and Red Hood comes up from the corridor behind Nightwing, shooting the goons that were running up the stairs to the balcony.

As the two Robins fight with the goons below, Nightwing continues to mouth along to the song, dancing around Red Hood as he shoots down the goons coming their way.

The song goes on with the fighting and as the first "Another One Bites the Dust" hits, Nightwing claps his hands once and one of the side windows shatters, The Signal tearing through and kicking a goon over the railing in his wake. The second one comes in and on cue, Spoiler does the same to the window on the other side.

The beat skips with Nightwing as he makes his way down the staircase, Red Hood at his back. When they get to the bottom step, Nightwing hops down, basking in the dramatic flair of it all. Suddenly, a goon comes charging at him while Red Hood is distracted but right on beat, Nightwing whips out one of his escrima sticks, the metal slamming into the goon's gut and sending out a powerful electric charge, the goon falling onto the ground, writhing in pain.

Nightwing continues to stride his way through the room, alternating between skipping and shimming to the song, no goons able to touch him. When the song hits its chorus, Nightwing stops at the double doors on the wall that had been boarded up in the chaos.

With one swift hit of his sticks, the boards break and he kicks open the door. Inside the room, Firefly is bound to a desk chair, duck tape over his mouth, with Orphan perched on the desk.

Nightwing grins then kicks the doors closed behind him, snuffing out the sounds of Queen and screams.

BONUS

The next day this story is all over the news and on the front page of every paper in the area and Bruce spits out his coffee the next morning reading it over breakfast, the kids all acting innocent except for Dick who smiles and shrugs saying, "Hey, I really like Queen ya know."

[lipstickstainz]

five times - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: A collection of the times Spencer says “I love you” without saying it, and the one time he actually does. Warnings: tooth rotting fluff Word Count: 2k, it’s a short one A/N: happy new year guys! since you wanted this to be fluffy, here it is! hope you enjoy! gif not mine.

Spencer didn't know what he had been expecting when Hotch had announced to the team that they would have young additions. He had assumed that the newcomer would be pretty serious so that he would be taken seriously, and that he would be very reserved at the beginning to get to know the team first and not offend anyone. But he definitely wasn't expecting you.

On your first day, you showed up to work in a knee-length summer dress and high Converse, which threw him off right from the start. While JJ and Emily always wore something office appropriate, you didn't seem to mind catching everyone's eye. With an infectious confidence and a big smile on your face, you introduced yourself to the others. While most of the team looked at you as if you were from another star - except for Penelope Garcia, of course, she was incredibly happy to finally know another colorful bird in the midst - Spencer liked that you stayed true to yourself. No matter what anyone else thought of you.

You went through life with an ease that was quite atypical of your profession. It almost reminded Spencer of Garcia, but only almost. You didn't have to look away when someone showed you photos of dead bodies. He sometimes caught himself worrying that the job would eventually take away your cheerfulness.

"'DO NOT TOUCH' would probably be a really unsettling thing to read in braille“, you said as you sat in the bullpen. Your desk bordered his, so Spencer only had to look up from his files to give you an amused look.

"Where did you come up with that?", he asked, a smile curling his lips.

You shrugged before looking at him. "I don't know. But it would be pretty disturbing, wouldn't it? How fortunate that it can't happen to me."

Spencer tilted his head. "Because you're not blind?"

"Because I can't read braille“, you replied with a grin, and he laughed out loud, drawing everyone's attention. Spencer smiled briefly at them and motioned for them to turn back to their work so you could continue talking undisturbed.

He leaned a little in your direction before whispering to you.

"Your head must be a wonderful place to live in."

-

It was incredibly loud and the air was too stuffy to be able to grasp a clear thought. But maybe it was just the alcohol the bartender was pouring out like Penelope had certain nicknames regarding Derek. But it also seemed to be Garcia's goal to get the entire team drunk on her birthday. She had round after round coming to your booth, repeating "one of you is dancing on the table today" several times. You were sure it would be Penelope herself. Or JJ.

You were enjoying yourself with Emily on the dance floor of the club. You were incredibly warm, which was probably 75% due to the alcohol you had already drunk. You were wearing tight jeans and a backless, loose top, and yet your skin was so hot that the clothes almost stuck to you. At first you had worried that Emily and you were too different to become friends, but one day she showed up on your doorstep after an exhausting case and stayed all night. It had bonded you together.

In a quiet moment, you looked to the others and Derek raised an arm, signaling you were ready for the next round of shots. You grabbed Emily's arm and, singing, you squeezed through the crowd toward the table.

"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends“, you sang, and you dropped into the empty seat next to Spencer, who looked at you with amusement. "Make it last forever, friendship never eeeend“, you sang on, leaning back in Spencer's direction without touching him. When he tried to put his arm around you to pull you close, you pushed him away. "I'm sweaty and sticky, Spence. I don't think you're into that."

But Spencer reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours before pulling you onto his lap. His breath brushed your face and you smelled the alcohol in it. "I don't care. I love touching you."

-

"There's a documentary about the formation of the universe and black holes in theaters tonight“, Spencer said. The team was on its way back from a case in Dallas, and while the others were resting or listening to music, you two were playing chess. Not that it was fair, but you liked the challenge and Spencer finally had someone to play with again. "I was wondering if you would like to join me. This case has been exhausting and I think we could use a distraction." He asked without looking up from the chessboard. His face turned glowing red, which you didn't notice because you were trying not to go checkmate in three moves.

You moved your queen before you looked at him. His shoulders were tense and he was breathing shallowly. Spencer bit the inside of his lower lip nervously. "I'd love to“, you smiled, and at your reply he seemed to visibly relax.

Spencer picked you up at home after you showered and got ready. You were wearing jeans and a loose sweater. Up until that point, Spencer had been sure you couldn't get any more beautiful, but when you hugged him with a sparkle in your eye and a warmth in your smile, he wasn't sure anymore.

"Origin of the universe and black holes?", you assured yourself as you stood outside the movie theater. Spencer nodded, his hands buried in his pants pockets. You smirked. "You have to promise me one thing, though."

"And that would be?", he asked as he paid for the tickets and put yours in your hand. You smiled at him.

"You have to promise me that you will tell me every one of your clever thought processes. I want to hear every comment you make, all right? Even if people around us complain."

It was the second time Spencer and you had done something together outside of work, and you enjoyed his company very much, which of course was partly because you'd had a crush on him ever since he'd once explained something to you about his case that you hadn't understood. Spencer had explained it to you as well as he could, and when you thanked him afterwards, he didn't know what hit him. No one cared about his clever anecdotes or explanations, and the fact that you had even thanked him for it made his heart beat faster. Just as it did now.

Spencer looked at you, pleased. "We're the only ones at the movies, Y/N. No one's going to complain."

"Then you can explain everything I don't understand at your leisure."

You entered the movie theater and took your seats. He handed you the packet of popcorn. "You are my partner in crime. You are my favorite person."

-

"The exhibit was very interesting“, you said as you left the museum. It hadn't been your first visit, but visiting it with Spencer was a very different experience. You liked that he had something to say about most of the exhibits. "Thank you for being here with me."

Spencer smiled down at you. "Well, actually, I asked you to go here with me. So I have to say thank you."

"But I wouldn't have been here tonight if you hadn't asked me. So, thanks for that."

Your apartment wasn't far away, and with each step you hoped the evening wouldn't end just yet. As you stood in front of your apartment complex, Spencer nervously stepped from one foot to the other. "I had a really nice evening“, he confessed.

"Me too." If you didn't want the evening to end now, you had to take the plunge. "I'd never been on a date to a museum before."

Spencer's eyes widened and for a moment you feared you had misinterpreted everything. The looks, the stories and the touches. But Spencer stopped your train of thought. "Neither have I. Well, I had been to a museum before, of course, but it had never been dates, and I'm glad I was there with you“, he babbled, blushing, which made you smile. You liked that you could read his feelings from his face. "Um, maybe we can meet again tomorrow? For dinner? If that's not too much for you?"

You didn't answer him, but put your arms around his neck and gently pulled him down to you. In his face you searched for signs that he didn't want this, and when you couldn't find any, you gently placed your lips on his.

At first he didn't return the kiss, which you attributed to his surprise. He stiffened and it took a moment for the synapses in his brain to realize what exactly was happening. You were kissing him. And you had kissed him first. When his mind started thinking again, his hands settled on your waist and he pulled you a little closer to him to deepen the kiss. When you broke away from each other, he had a gleam in his eyes.

"I recorded a short film about quantum physics that was on TV“, you whispered, opening your eyes while he kept his still closed. "If you like, you can come upstairs with me and we can watch it together."

The short movie played as background music while you sat on your couch and kissed until your lips were swollen and your lungs were gasping for air.When he broke away from you for a moment, all he could do was whisper.  "I'm addicted to you."

-

You had tried to keep your relationship a secret, and had failed miserably.

It had taken a psychopath, a hostage, and an explosion for you to fall into each other's arms and for Spencer to kiss you stormily in front of the team. His fingers dug into your skin and would surely leave bruises, but you didn't care. You had escaped the explosion by a hair and Spencer couldn't help but thank all the gods and pull you close to him as you stood in front of him.

"I thought you had been in the building“, he breathed as he gently pushed you off of him to look at you. "I thought I'd lost you."

A tear rolled down your cheek, which he wiped away with his thumb. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Spence." He pressed another kiss to your mouth before someone cleared their throat. The team stood just a few steps away from you, watching you, which was pretty embarrassing. Except for Hotch, everyone looked pleased and delighted, but you also didn't miss Hotch pressing a bill into JJ's hand.

"That's why you didn't want to go on that blind date I set you up with“, Derek grinned, putting a brotherly arm around Spencer's shoulders. "Pretty boy has a girlfriend."

Nothing ever felt so good as sharing a bed with Spencer after that day. You were half on top of him, he had his arm wrapped around you, and your legs were tangled under the covers. His fingers stroked your bare back and yours danced across his chest. He took a deep breath.

"Are you all right?", you asked, looking at him.

He swallowed. "I know we haven't been together that long and it's probably way too soon, but I almost lost you today and I can't keep it to myself any longer." Gently, he pushed you off of him and propped himself up on his elbow so he had to look down at you. "You're not just my favorite person, Y/N. You inspire me every day and you complete me in every way. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with." He put his hand to your cheek and you snuggled against his warm skin. "I love you, Y/N."

- tags below -

@mollygetssherlockcoffee​ / @averyhotchner​ / @ravenclawrandomness​ 

[dreamingofaizawa]

A Dragon’s Bride

Dragon Prince! Bakugo Katsuki x Fem! Fae Princess! Reader

Fanstasy AU

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 years old, you are not old enough to ride. Please exit the line and find another. Thank you and have a good day.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, smut, soft to rough sex, light fluff. Characters are aged up, Bakugo and reader are the same age.

Word Count: 4.7k

Author’s Note: So I had this idea after reading other fantasy AU fics, and I just really wanted a soft Bakugo. I know he’s an angry moody mf but idgaf aight? I didn’t wanna get super descriptive with the smut, just cause I wanted it to be more like ‘lovemaking’ than just sex, you feel me? Sorry if the pace is a little weird, I didn’t spend a whole lot of time on this lmao. Anyway, here’s dragon boi Bakubitch.

Enjoy the read~

*

*

*

As the youngest daughter of the Fae King and Queen, you knew it was only a matter of time before you were put in an arranged marriage. Your eldest brother had taken his Fae wife and would ascend to the throne in due time, and your older sister had already been married off to the Elven Prince Shouto.

Despite knowing you’d need to marry for political ties, you hadn’t expected to be sent off quite so soon. Your 19th birthday had passed only a few days ago, and that was when the news was broken to you. You were to be married to the Dragon Prince Katsuki Bakugo, soon to be the Dragon King, for his parents had expressed their wish to step down as royals rather early for Dragons of their age. 

The journey was rather long, even as you flew with your guards in a beeline to the lands of the Dragons. Throughout the weeklong trip your nerves were building and the mild fear settled into your bones. The Dragon Prince was infamous for his temper and short fuse, his anger always taken out specifically on Izuku Midoriya, the Fairy Prince from his  childhood. Your kingdom had not tied itself with the Dragons in centuries, and this alliance meant the Fae’s history of stubborn seclusion and independence would begin to diminish. This was a mission you could not afford to fail.

The final night camping was the worst. Sleep seemed to fear you, and you tossed and turned, attempting to settle your nerves. But it was to no avail. The sky began to lighten into a dull gray, signaling the coming morning. The guard came to wake you up, and soon you were bathed and back in the sky. Not having slept was of no concern, you’d gone days without sleep before and were just fine.

By midday you’d reached the edge of the Dragon kingdom, and were landing in front of the mountain castle just before sundown. The castle was gorgeous on its own, the face of it being the only exposed piece of the structure with the rest of the castle buried inside the mountain itself. The entrance was large, a platform that no doubt acted as a landing pad for the royal Dragons. Warm light poured from the large arched doorway as the huge stone doors opened as you approached.

You were greeted by the King, Queen, and the Prince himself. You sank before them in a low curtsy, pitch black wings spread out and flattened to your sides in a display of reverence. The King and Queen themselves bowed their heads toward you as a sign of respect, and when the Prince looked away indifferently, the Queen forced the boy down into a bow by grabbing his head and shoving it down, leaving you shocked. 

You were of lower rank than he, so there was no reason for him to bow his head to you. Noticing your confused state, the Dragon Queen spoke. “Rank is of little concern here, child. My son must learn a grain of respect if he is to be King.” With a small smile, you nod in understanding, too afraid to speak. Your nerves were bound to come through in your voice, and you refused to show signs of weakness in front of Dragons powerful as they.

Tonight was one of rest, and there were rooms for your royal guards to rest for the night before they had to make the journey back to Fae land. The Queen insisted you call upon a maid should you need anything, and personally escorted you to your room. Once alone, you took the time to bathe. A warm indoor spring was not something you were used to. Waterfalls were the bathing pools of choice in the Fae kingdom, though the warm water was welcome after your long journey. Soon you were in a nightgown and fast asleep in a warm bed of furs.

The next morning a maid came to wake you, and you were dressed by several handmaidens. The gown you wore was simple. A soft grey, long and flowing, with the fabric bunched at your shoulders in a sleeveless style and a low-cut back to accommodate your wings. You were escorted to the dining room, and you took the time to memorize parts of the castle.

The table itself was shorter than you expected, with only three seats on the longer sides and the usual single seats on the ends, already occupied by the King and Queen. Prince Katsuki sat to his mother’s right, and you were led to sit on her left, directly across from him. For the first time, you got a good look at the boy. 

Unruly ash blonde hair framed his face, which was chiseled and defined. His deep red eyes seemed to burn and glow like embers, and you had to look away from the intensity of his gaze on you. Your eyes were drawn to the exposed skin of his arms and collarbones, the muscles rippling underneath. You’d be lying to say he wasn’t incredibly handsome.

Through breakfast the Queen asked about your kingdom and its customs, and personal questions on how you felt about this alliance. You gave simple answers, having been trained to respond to such questions. She then walked you through the day, explaining how you’d be spending a lot of time with Katsuki not only for today, but all the way up until the wedding, which was set to take place in six months. The Prince scoffed at the idea.

“Why the hell do I even need to marry her? Why can’t I go find someone I like? I’m sure she’d rather marry someone she likes.” The Queen let out a low growl that could only be from a Dragon, directed toward her son. Her voice boomed through the hall. “Hold your tongue, boy. This alliance is important to both our kingdoms. You’ll do well to remember that.” He went silent with a snarl. She then turned her attention to you with a soft smile, the harsh edge gone from her voice.

“My apologies, dear. He can be...difficult. I hope your union can teach him some humility as well as respect for others.” With a soft smile, you nod. “I understand, my Queen. I pray I am not a burden to the Prince.” She chuckles and shakes her head as if you’d said something extremely amusing. Breakfast was soon over and you were left to spend the day alone with Prince Katsuki.

It was a rather difficult day. The Prince refused to speak, only voicing any irritation or anger he had for something he’d noticed. You were mostly quiet, in fear of angering him and possibly spoiling the union. He didn’t address you at all, and most interaction was awkward, but that was to be expected. You didn’t know each other. The King and Queen left the kingdom on a trip that was to last up until the week of the wedding, leaving you alone in the castle with the prince.

The first few weeks were relatively the same, little conversation between you and the Prince, silent meals, him angrily grumbling about one thing or another. You began to wonder if this was how life was going to be with him. It’s been nearly four months now, and he only ever addressed you briefly when he commented on one thing or another, though he was less angry lately. Tonight you lay awake in bed, stressing over whether or not you’d end up ruining this alliance. 

Sleep refused to come, and you decided rolling around in bed would do you no good. Silently, you stepped out of your room and padded through the castle aimlessly. Eventually you ended up on a lone balcony at the face of the castle, far above the entrance and off to the side, jutting out from the cliffside. The chill of the night air made gooseflesh pebble your skin, but you welcomed it. It had been a while since you’d flown.

Wrapping your night robe tight around your body and stretching your wings, you stood on the railing and leaned back, falling into the open air and sailing into the night sky. You missed the wind rushing past your feathers, whipping through your hair. It was cold, but it made you feel free and light, away from the pressure of the marriage and alliance. Little did you know a pair of red eyes were watching you from a more hidden balcony.

____

You were absolutely beautiful to him. Katsuki watched as you floated on the air. Your dark feathers barely catch the warm light from the castle, giving them a slight glint as they ruffled and moved. He watched as you darted up into the clouds, pulling your wings in and spiraling up through the thick barriers, then falling back downward with your wings stretched out below you.

You were mesmerizing, and he hated how quickly he’d grown fond of you. At first he thought you were some stuck up princess, like the Elf Prince Shouto Todoroki. But he was proven wrong rather quickly. You were intelligent, your opinions sound and logical, the complete opposite of him. He was rash and emotional, and he knew it. He soon came to respect you, though he couldn’t figure out how to speak to you for the life of him. He was always more a man of action. Words were not his forte.

But as he watched you in the night sky, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. He wanted to fly with you, to dance with you through the air. He wanted to touch you, your skin, your feathers, even your horns. He’d never seen a Fae before, only drawings from books. Though those images were put to shame next to you. Your grace seemed unmatched, even compared to his mother, who was just as rough around the edges as he was.

He’d be embarrassed to say he observed you more than he had intended to. The way you walked as if you were floating, how you held yourself around others. Your posture was regal, poised, and yet full of humility and compliance. You looked like you understood your place in this world, like you knew why you were supposed to marry a Dragon in an arranged marriage instead of being able to choose who you loved.

His thoughts drifted as he watched you, and he found himself wanting to fly with you more and more as time passed. Unlike you, he could sprout his wings whenever he wanted, and soon his large leathery wings were fully formed, ready to lift him from his perch. And that’s exactly what he did.

____

You were so distracted with the rushing wind you didn’t notice the figure approaching you until you felt the air whoosh behind you unnaturally. Swiftly, you turned, and found a pair of glowing red eyes focused on you. Both of you stayed there, flapping softly in the wind to keep steady. He was the first to break the silence.

“It’s a bit late for you to be flying, Princess.” His unusually soft tone of voice had heat rushing to your face. You sputtered out your response, partially from his words, partially from your nerves. “I, uh, I’m sorry, my Prince. I had no idea that…uhm… that I wasn’t allowed to fly this l-late.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, clearly amused. ‘Cute’ he thought to himself. “I didn’t say that, Princess. Just that it was rather late for you to be awake.” More heat flooded your face at his teasing tone.

He tilts his head, indicating for you to follow him, and he flits away, landing on the balcony you’d leapt off of. You were close behind, and landed next to him as his wings vanished into his back. A large hand was extended toward you and you took it, a bit hesitant, as he’d never engaged this much contact before. His warm hand enveloped yours, and he pulled you alongside him through the castle.

You cleared your throat quietly to speak. “Apologies, my Prince, but where are we going?” A small smirk graced his lips as he turned to you. “It’s a surprise, Princess. But I promise you’ll like it.” You gave a small nod and allowed him to guide you through the halls of the castle. He led you deep into the mountain, down corridors you hadn’t explored before, and soon you were walking down uncarved tunnels lit only by torches every few feet.

After a few minutes in the tunnels, the torches came to an abrupt stop, and you began to feel uneasy with the looming darkness. As if sensing your hesitation, the Prince turned and squeezed your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I promise I’m not dragging you to the dungeon.” His voice was playful, something you’d never heard from him before. Despite the mild discomfort of the underground depths, you trusted him and let him pull you into the darkness.

Once your eyes had adjusted, a faint glow came from somewhere further inward. He kept walking, further and further down the tunnel, and the glow consistently strengthened until you were sure you’d find the source behind each turn you took. Then he stopped, and turned to look at you over his shoulder. “You ready, Princess?” You nodded almost excitedly, and he pulled you with him around the corner. The sight before you stole the breath from your lungs.

The source of the cool glow was a gigantic cavern, the walls and ground littered with white, green, blue, and purple crystals, all glowing in the darkness, illuminating the space. The high ceiling was dotted with them as well, almost mimicking the night sky. In the center was a deep pool that reflected the light, the crystalline water perfectly still and undisturbed. Your wings ruffled as you took in the sight before you, the reaction involuntary.

In your wonder, you failed to notice the Prince had disappeared from your side. He called out to you once he had sunk into the water, and your eyes snapped over to him, heat rushing to your face in the realisation that he was naked. He seemed to sense your shyness, and let out a chuckle. “Come on, Princess. Won’t you join me?” Slowly, you made your way over to the pool, eyes focused on the steam rising from the water, and away from the very naked Prince.

You sank down to your knees a few feet from him, your wings wrapping around you slightly. From the corner of your eye you could see his head tilt at you, and you were sure he was smirking at your flustered state. With an amused hum, he turned his body away from you, giving you privacy to undress and dip into the water. Once you were in, you settled onto the ledge and hugged your knees close to your chest, your wings hiding most of your body. 

“Y-you can t-turn back around now, my Prince.” He shifted back to his original position, leaning against the edge of the natural pool and resting his arms up on the ledge, relaxing into the hot water. You were still a bit tense, not having been naked around a man before. His deep voice was playful as he spoke. “Relax, Princess. We’re to be married. I’ll see you eventually.” You could hear the teasing undertone and you hugged your knees in closer.

His eyes were now fixed on you. With a small sigh, he moved, and you squeaked as his arms wrapped under your wings and around your waist. He lifted you with ease, and positioned you to be straddled on his lap, face inches from his, strong arms holding you close. His eyes were glued to yours, and you couldn’t hold his gaze. It wasn’t the same intensity as the first time you’d looked at them. This time was a bit different, the burning in his eyes was not from anger.

A hand came up and cupped your cheek, shocking you from the gentle touch. His voice was just as gentle, soft as his eyes trailed over your features. “You’re beautiful, Princess.” Your wings puffed up slightly at his words, and his eyes snapped to them at the movement. “Can I touch them?” The question shocked you a bit, but you nodded, not trusting your voice. 

The hand that was on your face reached out and pet your feathers, gliding down your wing gently. Nobody had really touched your wings other than you, and it was only to clean them. This was a new sensation, and your wings shook lightly as your shoulders tensed a bit. Katsuki’s ministrations froze, and his voice turned slightly serious. “What is it? Did I hurt you?” 

You blinked at him before shaking your head. “No, no of course not. It’s just...nobody has ever touched my wings before…” He seemed to relax at that. Still, his hand pulled away from your wing in favor of holding your waist. He held you closer, and your breath hitched slightly at the close proximity, your noses inches apart. His breath was warm on your face. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to hold you close like this, Princess.”

Your eyes widened at his words and he laughed a bit. “I’ll admit, Princess, you’d captured my attention rather quickly. I never quite knew how to talk to you. But I am impatient, and couldn’t wait to hold you.” You were giddy from his confession, and you leaned forward, burying your face into his neck and pressing your body into his. 

Up until now, your focus had been on the marriage and the alliance and making sure it went well. But now, knowing it would work out, you allowed your feelings to come into play. From the beginning you’d been taken with the handsome Prince. Within the first month you were no doubt falling for him. His attitude and personality was rather brash, but he was never aggressive toward you. Sure, he didn’t speak to you, but his actions spoke much louder.

He was a gentleman more often than not, holding doors open, escorting you to and from meals, even occasionally gifting you gowns and jewelry. You’d kept your emotions in check, though you knew by now you’d fallen head over heels for the man. Now, his arms tightened around you and you breathed in each other’s scents. His fingers massaged the skin in between your wings, and your body shuddered. It felt...good. Really, really good. You mewled into his shoulder, enjoying the new sensation.

You could feel him smirk into your neck as his fingers dug into the fluffy feathers at the base of your wings. With a gasp, your wings extended out behind you and fluffed up, all the feathers ruffling as you pressed your body tighter to his. A warmth began to build in your abdomen and between your legs, and you squirmed a bit, unsure what the feeling was.

His hands released your feathers and gripped your hips with a low hiss. “Quit your squirming, Princess. I don’t think I can control myself right now.” His voice was deep, and slightly strained. You lifted your head to look in his eyes, and his pupils were dilating, red irises now small rings. “What do you mean, my Prince?” His eyebrows raised slightly before his lips curled into a smirk. He brought your hips down, grinding you down onto him. 

That was when you felt it, his hardness rubbing against your thigh. A small gasp escaped your lips and heat bloomed from your chest up to your cheeks. He watched as your pupils matched his, irises disappearing into blackness. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss. When he finally let go you were both panting, and he leaned his forehead against yours. “Angel. My Angel.”

His eyes burned into your own as he spoke, his voice almost pleading. “Let me take care of you tonight.” You barely managed to nod before his lips were on yours again, this time hungry and wild. His tongue prodded at your lips and you let them part, let him explore your cavern in a mess of tongue and teeth. Without breaking the kiss his hands grabbed your thighs and began to lift, and your arms wrapped tight around his neck as he lifted you both from the warm water and walked.

You had no idea where he was taking you until he leaned and placed you down on soft pelts. Surprised, you pulled away to look around. The bed was situated behind a mass of towering crystals, hidden from the entrance. The blue glow illuminated the blonde’s face as he hovered above you, highlighting his features. You took a moment to admire just how beautiful he is, before his lips were on yours again.

His hands wandered freely now, groping the flesh at your hips and thighs, fingers massaging the soft skin there as his lips trailed down your neck and along your collarbones and shoulders. A thick finger found its way to your dripping core, and you let out a gasp at the feeling. You’d never laid with a man before, however you had to learn how to please one through books. You wondered briefly if the Prince had any real experience, before your mind was brought back to the moment as his finger pushed into you.

It wasn’t painful, and the mewl you let out let the blonde know you enjoyed it. His tongue attacked your pert nipples as distraction as he pressed another thick digit at your entrance, pushing it into your tight walls. A hiss escaped you from the slight burn, the stretch something you weren’t used to. Nothing had ever been inside you like this, the feelings foreign but pleasurable all the same.

His fingers maneuvered inside you, scissoring and curling and pumping until you were a panting moaning mess beneath him. His thumb dipped down into your wetness before reaching up to rub at the little bundle of nerves, making you flinch with the sudden jolt of pleasure, your wet walls clamping down on his fingers. A tightness built quickly in your abdomen the longer he kept his ministrations, and he leaned up to whisper in your ear. 

“I can feel you gripping me. Cum for me, sweet girl.” His mouth attached to your neck and sucked, adamant to leave a mark. It only took a few more moments for you to fall apart around the man’s fingers, legs and wings trembling, moans echoing through the cave. When you had come down from that high, he pulled his fingers from you and licked them clean, a deep groan pouring from his lips. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he lines himself up with your core, grasping your hip in one hand. “Are you ready for me, Angel?” Grabbing at the furs underneath you, you nod. “I’m ready, my Prince.” Slowly, he pushes himself into you, panting and growling, jaw clenched hard. The stretch burns, but only slightly, and soon you’re moaning and mewling beneath him. Finally fully seated inside you, his head drops to your shoulder and his arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him.

His breath is hot, blooming over your shoulder and neck, lips and tongue attacking the skin there. He holds his hips still, flush against yours, giving you time to adjust to him. When your walls relax around him, he begins to pump into you, shallow thrusts grinding himself into your walls. As he moves, his hands crawl up your back, fingers tangling into the base of your wings and massaging gently, making you moan out and wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps his pace steady, but you can hear the strain in his breathing and feel his jaw clenched tightly. He’s holding back, and you don’t want him to. “Please, don’t hold back. I want all of you, Katsuki.” His movements stilled, you never used his name before. Pulling back, he peered down into your eyes as your hands held his face.

“You can have all of me, Angel, if you’ll be mine.” You leaned up and kissed him sweetly, “I’m already yours, my King.” A deep growl rumbled in his chest at your words, “Then you will have all of me.” He pulled his hips back and snapped back into you, setting a quick pace. Your breath came in pants and moans, the pleasure wracking through your body stealing the air from your lungs. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the cave, along with moans and growls and the smell of sex.

His arms held you tighter, fingers continuously digging into your feathers, lips latching onto your neck between heavy breaths. “Mine. My Angel, mine, mine. I love you my Angel.” You moaned out, your voice soft in his ear. “I love you my King. I’m yours, all yours forever.” His pace became erratic, and a hand came between your bodies to rub at the little nub between your folds. Only a few tight circles around it had you cumming and clamping down hard around his length, and he thrust into you hard. 

A few more thrusts and he stilled himself, letting out a deep guttural moan as he spilled his seed inside you, holding your body tight to his. He rolled over, laying you on top of him without removing his length from you. Your wings stretched out behind you, falling limp at your sides once they were relaxed. Katsuki peppered kissed along your hairline, whispering sweet nothings as your breaths calmed.

After a long, comfortable silence, he spoke. “Are you alright, Angel?” You smiled and kissed at his chest. “Never better, my King.” He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. “We should get back to the main castle. The maids will panic if we’re missing.” You giggled at the thought of the maids running around like headless chickens searching for the two of you. With a nod, you sat up, and he lifted you off of him.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and pushed up, but your legs were weak and gave way to your weight. Katsuki caught you easily, and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. After bathing in the pool once more, you both dressed and he carried you with him to his chambers, and you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next couple months you spent nearly all your time together. You sit side by side during meals, talk regularly, and spend free time alone on a balcony or in the crystal cave. As you spend time with him, you notice things about him you never would have guessed before. He’s extremely perceptive, smarter than his angry demeanor would lead most to believe. He hates lying, hates secrets and deceit, which showed through when he explained why he was so against the arranged marriage at first. 

The news was sprung on him only hours before you arrived, and he was angry that his parents had kept it secret from him. You noticed he was rather protective and liked skin contact, holding you tight to his body whenever he got the chance. He was thoughtful, his gifts were never useless, always something he was sure you would use and appreciate. Your favorite was the many custom jewels he had crafted for your horns. Some a delicate array of dainty silver chains and gems that glittered and swayed as you walked. Others golden wire, mimicking vines and leaves that twisted around and hugged your horns.

That was when you noticed his infatuation with your horns. He’d touch them often when your head was on his lap, tracing the intricate texture with his fingertips. He didn’t find them grotesque or intimidating like most others did, instead he found them beautiful and magical. He never tried to cover them, always adorning them with sparkling gems and glittering metal to accentuate the deep ebony.

He was curious, constantly asking questions about you, your home, and your customs. You grew to love the man more and more with every passing day, and as the wedding came and went you had no reserved feelings about the union. You loved Katsuki, the Dragon Prince, and he loved you, the Fae Princess. He was your King, and you were his Angel, and neither of you would have it any other way.