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art-from-within · 8 months ago

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ER hc: Demigods in Love

(TW its long. Long.)

If they had a big fat crush on you and fell in love with you, they wouldn't say it outright at first but there would be signs

Morgott:

He becomes more catty-chatty. He usually cloaks his feelings of extreme self loathing(leading him to believe he deserves nothing and distance himself from things that bring joy, fear of rejection etc) with a rain of sour quips and old age scoldings, a technique he would definitely utilize all the same(and fail horribly) to suppress new trifling emotions arising within him, feelings he dare not indulge in for his own sake and everyone else's.

But despite his harsh words and taunts, the fact is not missed on you, that he is there. He is there, and for all his talk of finding you so lowly, he bothers to address you and your 'meager flame'

"I see thee little tarnished," he will say "smould'ring with that wretched flame of ambition" he will repeat this often, but the emphasis on 'little' changes with time. It is those little things, those minute slip ups, that itches a part of your brain.

Malenia:

She becomes more stiff around you. She is already taciturn enough, but around you she becomes stiffer than every statue in haligtree combined. But in those rare moments when she does address you, her voice becomes more softer than usual. Sometimes you catch her head nodding towards you gently. Other times you find her standing guard outside your door, though she will refuse to admit it was nothing else but that. Keeping you safe is her love language.

She will also make sure to always have the most fresh med needles stuck in her before she ever steps foot into your vicinity. Anything to make sure you don't get even the slightest WHIFF of her rot...poor valkyrie. She really tries.

Mohg:

He becomes more...clingy. And by clingy I meant he stalks you (a mogh classic).

He isn't audaciously obvious with it, no he is never obvious with anything. But as I said, there are signs. Bushes and trees seem to rustle more than usual. Warm beverages left on your table with no owner in sight, roses blooming during the wrong seasons and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT??? Somebody who is TOTALLY NOT MOHG just healed your student rune debts?? Ahh! Good heavens!!! Who could have done this??? Definitely not the rich demigod omen who lives 2 broken buildings away that seemingly always knows when you need a heat pad hmmmm

Despite all this though, it seems this amount of clinginess is inversely proportional to the lines of dialogue he will spare you i.e. the harder he falls for you, the more he stalks and the less he talks (tldr of another hc post, that welcome guest speech of his is totally scripted and he can’t function outside said script). His confidence leaves him when he sees someone he cannot risk losing. He also love bombs you, with all intentions meant. Anything material, you have it. Its almost like he can read your mind (he is in your bloodstream).

He functions on the mindset that nothing in this world is selfless, and that love can only be bought and not earned. He 'bought' the love of his sanguine nobles through promise of power...he straight up kidnaps his 'doctors', who now love him(they are all mad with bloodlust). The albinaurics are there (for miquella). He is truly convinced that he cannot be loved without reason, so he does all this extra crap to cook up said reasons. Local omen has yet to discover consent out of the shunning grounds. Maybe u can change him 👍or make him worse.

Godwyn:

He gives you golden privileges….Godwyn wouldn’t outright confess his love for you on first sight, but I imagine he would be the SECOND (Rykard being first) most forthright man in this sea of bashful tsundere personages. Aside from his flirtiness increasing by 10 folds, He will let you ride Fortisaxx. Must I even elaborate further? There are noble men in Leyndell who would sell their cock and balls for that opportunity, but he straight up goes “hey you wanna ride my dragon” wink. Fortisaxx is best wingman, drops hints to help his brother/friend/(lover?😏) out. Considering he has a whole lineage, and i really doubt the omen twins received any action in the lore, he is the most experienced when it comes to love, and he has learned the best way to deal with it is just be chill.

Bonus points if you catch him drunk, the comedy you would play witness to would be legendary.

Godrick:

He will let you touch him. …

Pre grafted Godrick:

would be a total tsundere straight up. He has 0 confidence in himself, and his old and wrinkly ass has only known rejection by that point to not have any qualms about confessing. Throw in an odd sense of aristocratic pride into the mix and you have got a noble who looks and acts like he is competing his way into a guillotine. He is quite rude, and if he is got a single talent up his sleeve, it is without a doubt his ability to drive anyone into a frenzy(no three fingers needed) with his snarky quips alone. He is physically not up there, but by words alone he could burn bridges (and he has). Perhaps he gets this talent from his great great great great great great great great great grand uncle who, rumors say, also rules over Leyndell! He is a small crooked paranoid little freekle frackle that clings onto what we would call Ancien régime mindset and lifestyle

Given this context, the first sign that something is awry is that he lets you be near his viscinty. He is still snarky, with all the thou-s and thee-s sprinkled in. But he lets you near him. Hmm that’s odd. You thought Ettiquette 6600038 stated no non royal was allowed to walk beside him-OH and he is staring right into your soul. Thats also weird. You thought he hated the commonfolk? Did he just hold your hand? Granted he was terrified by the lightening, but still…hm… and he just tried cooking for the first time?? Ended terribly he burnt the kitchen down. He did all that for himself he says…you hear a “yea right” from a very brave soldier of godrick, never to be seen again. He gives you a suspiciously customized hankerchief, embroidery of (insert your fav flower here) when you catch a cold. Never asks for it back.

Post grafted Godrick is mostly the same, but more crazy with a 10% increase in confidence. For one, its been 24 hours and he has yet to tear you apart from limb to limb which is something. “Unfit for grafting” he says. yea right.

...

He also shows you his gore Godfrey goon shrine, your quality of life depends on the tone of your laugh. He lets you bathe him (wow you touched him…or some dude’s entire torso which he stole.) and Gostoc doesn’t fuck with you like he does with others. Good. Good. He trusts you enough to complain abt some tantalizing trespasser omen loitering infront of his castle named ‘Margit’. Which sounds awful lot like Morgott. He hasn’t clicked the dots and he most likely never will.

Radahn:

He lets you ride Leonard.

Radahn is the type of guy who is beyond friendly with anyone, so when he does something which would so obviously be labelled affectionate coming from others, it is generally dismissed as an act of friendship. He remembers your birthday and holds a surprise party which is VERY COOL, but he also hosts birthday parties for everyone else….which is also cool… He suffers through the friendzone for a while with grace.

But when he offers you a ride on his dear Leonard, that darling steed of his that he treats like his heir apparent? Yup, that very horse, is when the gears in your mind unclog. His highness Prince Leonard has always been a boundary none dare cross, but here he is granting you a safe passage to jump right through. He lifts you up with ease, and places you on the saddle. And when you smile, he smiles even wider. Signs eventually bubble up to the surface. He laughs more often around you, completely at ease. When drunk he regails you with tales of bygone heroes and his own aspirations to be one. Reply with “but you already are one” and you will catch him lag for 5 seconds.

He keeps you close by during expeditions, and even during social gatherings. He uses his gravity magic to help you/your siblings indulge in some 0 gravity fun. And during less crowded evenings, he arranges fun getaways with friends, except its just you two this time...and here on out. Oddly enough though, the closer he gets to you the more you find yourself isolated at your job etc. You start finding your posts more empty. Which is odd since you did remember there were 2 other people assigned at this pla- AND its general Radahn with 2 roasted exalted flesh in hand! Wonderful.

One can only speculate how he uses his powers as head general...

Bonus point if you like cats. He will bring his cats for a wash to your house (another excuse to see you)

Ranni:

She spills tea.

This one is easy since we have in game canon content as reference. At first she is secretive. She introduces herself as "renna", and maintains a professional distance. But as time passes and she comes to warm up to you, that distance is chipped away by her own doing. She confesses to her many well hidden secrets, dark secrets like how she played a hand in the night of black knives or her more lesser secrets like stealing her mom's books, giving young Radahn a bobcut in his sleep, mischiefs with Rykard etc. Her trust in you, that you will keep her word between you two, is the sign. Anytime the topic steers towards anything remotely romantic though, she transforms into a bashful tsundere

"Noooo don't open that box from that chamber in this location you don't want to marry me noooo" (gives you the key to that box). Also "take not the ring from this place, the solitude beyond the night is better mine alone." Is code word for "please marry me I am very lonely".

Rykard:

ОНОНОНО

Pre Snake Rykard:

He shows you his sex dungeon

Yea. The most forthright admirer award goes to! PRAETOR RYKARD! Rykard seems like the type of guy who has this very thick professional exterior, that betrays his true perverse nature. You sit down with him and think

"wow, what a well rounded individual! Yes he is rough around the edges, but he dresses nice, he speaks well, he looks lordly enough albeit dark circles, he is good with machines (he doesn’t tell you that he names them 'abductor virgins' 💀) hmm surely he isn't some perverted freak with dungeons and torture rooms in his house"

and then he offers you a tour of his house and peels off his skin like a snake fresh out of hibernation and every fibre of your being tells you to run as fast as u can. Think Tywin Lannister but it's obvious somebody's been slipping drops of mercury into his coffee. His stern facade hides a lecherous mind

It would go something like this. He is wearing his tywin lannister inspired drip, while riding his very high horse. He bothers to look down from his very high horse at which point he sees you. Double take. He approaches you with the confidence of an absolute slut, but its coated with enough regal varnish to make them barely acceptable in public. Something like "Good evening Fair lady/good sir, I see thou art unchaperoned this low in the evening. May we escort you somewhere safe?". You don't really understand what he is getting at first, until he offers to give you a tour of his beautiful rich and lavish manor. And like, he isn't lying. It's beautiful. It's rich. It's lavish. On top of a fucking volcano? It’s always the fucked up bitches with tastes like look at Mohg?! 10/10 (I had rank him second to Mohg in dripmaxxing). But the deeper you venture into his abode, the crazier the tour becomes. And then you watch this man peel his layers of civility strata by strata, with each new chamber easing him into his true self until ultimately what is left is a crazed man with a crazed look pointing at a literal dungeon with very suggestive toys. Tanith is there.

The pros though is that he is a good lover, and father. Stressing on Father, because you are gonna make him one. (Magic world if you are a male reader. Anything is possible)

Post Snake Rykard:

Ooooohhh togethhhaaaaaa we prossspeeerrr untuu eterniteeeeeeeee become fameeelee?

( he is giving you a choice which is a show of love. Choose your next words very carefully)

Godfrey:

He lets you dress his scars.

He recognizes that familiar feeling of love, and his age and experience has taught him that fighting it will be more painful, so he just lets it be instead. Despite his bloodlust and barbarism, which resurfaces here and there, he is surprisingly courteous in casual settings. Being married to a goddess you find out, is a lonely existence. Is there any love between the two? Questions that will storm your mind as you do good on the honor of dressing his wounds. You can feel the eyes of his golden beast watching over you. Such an act had intimate undertones back in his homeland. Do you understand?

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Miquella:

He doesn't 'slip' up any 'signs' no he LITERALLY stabs you with it(out of desperation), but you are still oblivious because he looks like your 8 yrs old baby cousin with a bug addiction(Those wings are real y/n)!He tries to appear his real age by snatching every opportunity provided to show the vastness of his mind and wisdom, but ends up giving young Sheldon vibes. He tells you straight to your face that he loves you like "no other", but he just gets swaddled in your lap like a baby. Not enjoying this experience.

Messmer: Don't know anything about him to write 3 paras (for obv) but the vibes he is giving right now is that he is less pookie bear than imagined, and impaling isn't just a hobby but his way of life. Going off of the trailer, I had say if he had a crush on you, he would be as straight forward as Godwyn, but with a more sinister bent. He would let you play with his snakes...maybe burn you deep to leave his mark...?

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ultimatebethylficlist · 4 years ago

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Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82 started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so.

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

#bethyl fanfiction #veteran author of the month

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1111twinflames · 5 years ago

Video

The True Stages of a Twin Flame Union

John Rumary

is with

Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson

and

3 others

July 3, 2015 ·

Shared with Public

KATY CATS Shared on Google+ · 2 days ago ¯`v´¯) `.¸.´ ¸.•´¸.•*¨`. ¸.•¨*.¸¸.•*¨`*• (¸¸¸.•*¨`•.•´.¸.•´* .•´*¸¸.•*¨`*• Miracles of Light on your way Category Education License Standard YouTube License KATY PERRY HITS: https://youtu.be/t5Sd5c4o9UM?list=PLA908D6C2BA16BF88 · KatyCat Hudson is this a Dream shared? Shared on Google+ · 1 year ago · This meditation is a short, eyes-open guide to help you to still your mind and connect with your higher self: to experience yourself as the Dreamer who exists beyond the 'Dream'. When we detach from the 'dream' of our thoughts, emotions and personalities, we 'wake up' to our true self - universal consciousness, beyond the illusory world of duality. The Dreamer is the Creator, the infinite space within which all forms manifest... YOU are the DREAMER... and so am I!! Love x "There is another Path to embrace after your Awakening, and one that if you choose, can lift and raise you up and out of the limitation of human strife, raising you into the highest vibration of Light & Love, a path of Higher Consciousness ...it is called "The Path of Becoming your True Self" on Earth, also known as "The Path of Resurrection". As you embrace this path, a great raising & expanding activity unfolds within your mind and your feelings, your consciousness, and ultimately your physical garments. You are wide awake, your Life calls upon you to rise now & become on Earth your True Glorious Self 'I AM' individualized of Mother/Father God. It is a path in which there begins to be experienced by you the second birth, lightning flashes of sudden Light within your mind, great outpourings of Love within your being, all that prepares you in the centre of your consciousness to enter into The Secret Heart of your God Nature, and to pass through 'The Door of Everything' where you will drink of the Waters of Life, the greatest Love of all, The Mother's Love, the Love of the Heavenly Mother that individualizes as your Soul. When that Love begins to express through you it will reveal its Presence and it will nurture and fulfils all that your mind dares to conceive. Your Soul is the Sacred Womb of The Divine Mother of our Universe, Individualized, just as the Christ is the Individualized Mind of The Father." And just before I went under for the final time Jesus wondered why his Katy love had reappeared and he said to himself because I was denied the MOMs love for so long, so serious was his disgust at himself for thinking it was not there it was always there but Katy is busy and you must let ISIS sleep and John pouring ‘Wide Awake’ Powder down his throat night after night never sleeping and always demanding the attention of MOM it just appeared in John’s desperate drug riddled brain that it had disappeared. Her Love is there forever a shining beacon in John’s heart but if one will ‘circle the drain’ expect turbulence then he realized he had been actually opening up the mind of God and his higher consciousness that he had beaten absolutely every thinking thing into submission with his self-belief of proven invincibility as he took on the world and even the Universe to tame it then control it; 1) Anymore thinking would not even leave a gap in the door for a cat to pass through, John’s mind is slightly overloaded with toxins built up by lack of sleep. 2) Jesus dumped his love for Katy on Sunday night, jettisoned for the spiritual battle Vs Satan but John needed the Warlords’ mind on not posting red hearts to Katy and glittering cards for her calling her ‘duckie babe’. 3) She would get it back for John once the battle is lost and won. 4) As expected John won and his Love heart returned in this moment and stays there no harm done as Katy will not admonish him for the struggles he faces when he is called into battle and her advice is given for a reason as yet untold but John continues with his lessons and homework and every new day he has learnt more. John believes that when he awoke from the path of his true self that he had taken Katy under with him and they both surfaced and as John had drunk at the love of ISIS for so long he was convinced that she could actually be the Mother of the Universe and John knew now that he had become the heavenly Father of the Universe. So, Katy here announce this: ~The Incoming Seventh Golden Age ~The arrival of Super humans called "The Untouchables" ~And the enforcement of a New era of Spiritual Enlistment upon the Earth. ~The Emperor and The Empressa of The Holy Roman Empire RULE THE WAVES and STRINGS and QUARKS of the WORLD & THE UNIVERSE THEY OWN THE EVER-EXPANDING UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING INIT. BECAUSE THE EMPEROR IS JESUS CHRIST THE SAVIOR=GOD AND THE EMPRESSA IS EARTH MOTHER QUEEN ISIS=MARY MAGDALENA. THE DREAMTEAM. There you are Katy XXX spelt out what you gonna do? As the love of the heavenly Mother had nurtured his mind to believe he could be the Emperor of the Universe so as the Christ he was able to take it over but without armed force but by magical willpowers called ‘THE FORCE’ and although Katy has gone very silent on him John knew that his soul was still shared by Katy as the divine Mother because how else could he have achieved the unachievable without it? AND JOHN WOULD LIKE TO THANK KATY SO HE HAS POSTED THIS FOR HER THE EMPRESSA OF THE WORLD TO ADD TO HER MISS EVER EXPANDING UNIVERSE TITLE AS KATY REMAINS JOHN’S FAVE EVEN THOUGH HE BROKE THE MAGIC SPELL CAST UPON HIM BY THE GALLOPING DARK HORSE OF ‘BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT’!:)J HE RETURNS TO KATY/ISIS VICTORIOUS NEVER BEATEN IN BATTLE AS THE EMPEROR OF THE UNIVERSE OF HIS OWN FREE WILL TO DRINK AT HER WATERS OF LOVE/LIFE Top of Form SO HERE IS GODS PRAYER FOR ISIS TO CONJURE HERSELF UP WHEN JOHN CALLS AND IT IS UP TO KATY/ISIS TO RESPOND AS JOHN HAS MADE HIS INTENTIONS PLAINLY HOT. A SMALL (PROBABLY TOO SMALL TO FIT) GOLDEN RING WITH ‘SISTER’ WRITTEN ON IT WILL BE DISPATCHED RECORDED DELIVERY TO KATY’S MELROSE AVE OFFICE IN 3 HOURS TIME AND ALTHOUGH SHE IS PROBABLY IN ARGENTINA HE KNOWS NOT WHERE, THERE WILL BE A MAGIC +VINTAGE ALHAMBRA JEWELLERY GIFT SET INC A BLACK ONYX BRACELET AND CORNELIA EYE OF THE TIGER WITH GREY MOTHER OF PEARL MOTIF ENGAGEMENT RING WAITING FOR HER AT VAN CLEEF & ARPLES 300 N Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills +1-310-276-1161 WHERE IT WILL BE FITTING JUST RIGHT AS SOON AS SHE HAS A MOMENT TO INDULGE HERSELF- I AM INVESTING THE INTEREST ON MY $1million ON YOU. Bottom of Form ENJOY. JESUS AND ISIS AS MARY: OUR SONG: https://youtu.be/lp-EO5I60KA?list=RDlp-EO5I60KA ISIS, glorious Goddess. Let your instrument sound Hailing you with all homage, ISIS, glorious Goddess. To the candlewick the fire I raise on the altar set to you, ISIS, glorious Goddess. And the night time incense rises, sweetly mixed, to put me in the mind of perceiving you, ISIS, glorious Goddess. Who rises behind me like a flame of Gold and Brushes my back with her deft wings? #GODSLOVE ☼ℒℴѵe ƸӜƷ ¸. ´´¯`•.¸¸. . ☼•* *• I am Isis. The Restored Eden, the Supernal Mother, the Second Eve. I am the new heaven and the new earth for the first heaven and the first earth are passed away; I am the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. I am the mighty Mother Isis; most powerful of all the world. I am she who fights not, but is always victorious. I am that Sleeping Beauty who men have sought, for all time; and the paths which lead to my castle are beset with dangers and illusions. Such as fail to find me sleep; or may ever rush after the Fata Morgana leading astray all who feel that illusory influence I am lifted up on high, and I do draw men unto me, I am the worlds' desire, but few there be who find me. When my secret is told, it is the secret of the Holy Grail. It is love. I have plucked out my heart and have given it to the world; that is my strength. Love is the mother of the Man-God, giving the Quintessence of her life to save mankind from destruction, and to show forth the path to life eternal. Love is the mother of Christ... Spirit, and this Christ is the highest love Christ is the heart of love, the heart of the Great Mother Isis the Isis of Nature. He is the expression of her power she is the Holy Grail, and He is the life of blood of spirit, that is found in this cup. Isis am I, and from my life are fed all showers and suns, all moons that wax and wane, all stars and streams, the living and the dead, the mystery of pleasure and of pain. I am the Mother. I the speaking sea. I am the Earth in its fertility. Life, death, love, hatred, light, darkness, return to me. All glories of the Universe bow down, the blossom and the mountain and the dawn. Fruits blush and women are creations crowned. I am the priest, the sacrifice, the shrine. I am the love and life of the Divine. Life, death, love, hatred, light, darkness, are surely mine. Isis am I, the love and light of Earth, the wealth of kisses, the delight of tears, the pleasure never come to birth, the endless infinite desire of years. I am the shrine at which thy long desire devoured thee with intolerable fire. I was sung music, passion, death upon thy lyre, I am the grail and I the glory now. I am the flame and fuel of thy breath. I am thy queen enraptured and possessed. I am the star of God upon thy brow. #ISISLOVE ☼ℒℴѵe ƸӜƷ ¸. ´´¯`•.¸¸. . ☼•* *• I AM THAT I AM JESUS CHRIST THE MESSIAH THE HIGHEST LOVE, THE HEART OF LOVE OF THE FATHER, THE MOTHER, THE SON AND THE HOLY GHOST. MY FATHER OF THE UNIVERSE IS HERE WITH ME GEORGAS ZEUS, EARTHWORKER AS MY MOTHER IS HERE WITH ME ISIS THE QUEEN OF NATURE, SHE IS MY HOLY GRAIL WHOSE GREAT DEEP AND WONDEROUS LOVE BRINGS ME BACK TO LIFE EACHTIME I FALTER AND FALL OR TAKE A BOW FOR A REBIRTH BUT IN HONOR I CARRY ISIS’S BACKBONE OF STRENGTH AND LOVE, WORSHIPING AT HER TEMPLES OF DIVINE LOVE OFFERING AWARDS AND EPITHATS AND ABOVE ALL PRICELESS TITLES UPON HER ALTER SET UP FOR HER. #JESUSHEALS #JESUSLOVES #JESUSSAVES #JESUSTHEJUDGEMENT #JESUSISMANKINDSANSWER ☼ℒℴѵe ƸӜƷ ¸. ´´¯`•.¸¸. . ☼•* *• SHARE AND REJOICE FOR I OFFER ALL WHO BELIEVE IN ME ETERNAL LIFE THE HOLY GRAIL MANIFESTED. KATY PERRY HITS: https://youtu.be/t5Sd5c4o9UM?list=PLA908D6C2BA16BF88

LIGHT: The nature of light has the character of a wave motion (interference phenomena) _ See Newton’s rings, alternating darkness and light-the point is you are only cuming thru in waves the light goes on so bright but you shut me into the darkness. A consistent theory of electromagnetism was determined in 1873 by James Clark Maxwell the velocity of light therefore the ‘light’ is electromagnetic waves as being oscillations in an all-pervading elastic medium, ‘ether’. Katy/Isis you are ether to me-unreal- but if you would just communicate with me in the darkness then you could illuminate me by passing the waves through a prism, your prism then straight coloured lines of light would appear and then the negative charge I carry as the atom are electrons but I could, I could be your ‘plum pudding model’; you could pass the balancing positive charge evenly threw the atom my electrons being the ‘plum’ and the positive charge the ‘pudding’. The spectral frequencies should then correspond to the various ways in which the electrons might oscillate within the positively-charged ‘pudding’. I.E. making me better as you are my MOM who radiates love but I get it in waves leaving me with the feeling I am loved then not loved [Hot n Cold] then I heal and all is ok again. It is your bipolar love, love. Up and down that affects me as I am Unipolar all one way high never depressed but when we shared the same soul-come back you tart you are missed-your love as radiation oozed continuously in and out of my black darkness riddled body like water in and out of a sponge. If you spent some time with me then your radiation of love you give me in the heavens would be emitted then I could absorb it in packets of energy of a definite size. Then my dear, the energy content of one of these packets would be a quanta proportional to the frequency of the radiation of love you emit. (Are you with me so far?) The constant of proportionality was taken to be a Universal constant of nature, Planks constant. Now cos of this I can only absorb your love, and you only emit it during events involving a single quantum of significantly high energy-which as you have felt I can be the highest form of energy anywhere but I can’t keep it up 24/7 and you seem to be only attracted by my high energy periods and you only spare me a few minutes if I am relaxed as in ‘gotta go to bed bye’ and you only string a few words together, I want to listen, to read. Do you know what it feels like to love someone who seems to be constantly pushing you away? YESS YOU DO. Anyway, that’s why I blow hot n cold = YOU.

#jesuschrist #jesus #jesusislord #katherynhudson #katheryn elizabeth hudson #katy perry #katyperry #katyperrysexy #katyperrycollections #katy #katycats #god #isis #queen

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zeusdemetertwinflames · 5 years ago

Video

The True Stages of a Twin Flame Union

John Rumary

is with

Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson

and

3 others

July 3, 2015 ·

Shared with Public

#follow jesus #jesuscalling #god #katherynhudson #katy perry #katheryn elizabeth hudson #katyperry #katyperrysexy #katyperrycollections #katy #katyc #katycats

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zeusaulim · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

Zeus: The Supreme God of Greek Mythology - The Olympianas - See U in His...

@zeusfuckedmymom

ON THIS DAY5 years agoJohn Rumary is with Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson and 3 others.July 3, 2015 · Shared with PublicKATY CATS Shared on Google+ · 2 days ago ¯`v´¯) `.¸.´ ¸.•´¸.•*¨`. ¸.•¨*.¸¸.•*¨`*• (¸¸¸.•*¨`•.•´.¸.•´* .•´*¸¸.•*¨`*• Miracles of Light on your way Category Education License Standard YouTube License KATY PERRY HITS: https://youtu.be/t5Sd5c4o9UM?list=PLA908D6C2BA16BF88 · KatyCat Hudson is this a Dream shared? Shared on Google+ · 1 year ago · This meditation is a short, eyes-open guide to help you to still your mind and connect with your higher self: to experience yourself as the Dreamer who exists beyond the 'Dream'. When we detach from the 'dream' of our thoughts, emotions and personalities, we 'wake up' to our true self - universal consciousness, beyond the illusory world of duality. The Dreamer is the Creator, the infinite space within which all forms manifest... YOU are the DREAMER... and so am I!! Love x "There is another Path to embrace after your Awakening, and one that if you choose, can lift and raise you up and out of the limitation of human strife, raising you into the highest vibration of Light & Love, a path of Higher Consciousness ...it is called "The Path of Becoming your True Self" on Earth, also known as "The Path of Resurrection". As you embrace this path, a great raising & expanding activity unfolds within your mind and your feelings, your consciousness, and ultimately your physical garments. You are awake, your Life calls upon you to rise now & become on Earth your True Glorious Self 'I AM' individualized of Mother/Father God. It is a path in which there begins to be experienced by you the second birth, lightning flashes of sudden Light within your mind, great outpourings of Love within your being, all that prepares you in the centre of your consciousness to enter into The Secret Heart of your God Nature, and to pass through 'The Door of Everything' where you will drink of the Waters of Life, the greatest Love of all, The Mother's Love, the Love of the Heavenly Mother that individualizes as your Soul. When that Love begins to express through you it will reveal its Presence and it will nurture and fulfills all that your mind dares to conceive. Your Soul is the Sacred Womb of The Divine Mother of our Universe, Individualized, just as the Christ is the Individualized Mind of The Father." And just before I went under for the final time Jesus wondered why his Katy love had reappeared and he said to himself because I was denied the MOMs love for so long, so serious was his disgust at himself for thinking it was not there it was always there but Katy is busy and you must let ISIS sleep and John pouring ‘Wide Awake’ Powder down his throat night after night never sleeping and always demanding the attention of MOM it just appeared in John’s desperate drug riddled brain that it had disappeared. Her Love is there forever a shining beacon in John’s heart but if one will ‘circle the drain’ expect turbulence then he realized he had been actually opening up the mind of God and his higher consciousness that he had beaten absolutely every thinking thing into submission with his self-belief of proven invincibility as he took on the world and even the Universe to tame it then control it; 1) Anymore thinking would not even leave a gap in the door for a cat to pass through, John’s mind is slightly overloaded with toxins built up by lack of sleep. 2) Jesus dumped his love for Katy on Sunday night, jettisoned for the spiritual battle Vs Satan but John needed the Warlords’ mind on not posting red hearts to Katy and glittering cards for her calling her ‘duckie babe’. 3) She would get it back for John once the battle is lost and won. 4) As expected John won and his Love heart returned in this moment and stays there no harm done as Katy will not admonish him for the struggles he faces when he is called into battle and her advice is given for a reason as yet untold but John continues with his lessons and homework and every new day he has learnt more. John believes that when he awoke from the path of his true self that he had taken Katy under with him and they both surfaced and as John had drunk at the love of ISIS for so long he was convinced that she could actually be the Mother of the Universe and John knew now that he had become the heavenly Father of the Universe. So Katy here announce this: ~The Incoming Seventh Golden Age ~The arrival of Super humans called "The Untouchables" ~And the enforcement of a New era of Spiritual Enlistment upon the Earth. ~The Emperor and The Empressa of The Holy Roman Empire RULE THE WAVES and STRINGS and QUARKS of the WORLD & THE UNIVERSE THEY OWN THE EVER EXPANDING UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING INIT. BECAUSE THE EMPEROR IS JESUS CHRIST THE SAVIOR=GOD AND THE EMPRESSA IS EARTH MOTHER QUEEN ISIS=MARY MAGDALENA. THE DREAMTEAM. There you are Katy XXX spelt out what you gonna do? As the love of the heavenly Mother had nurtured his mind to believe he could be the Emperor of the Universe so as the Christ he was able to take it over but without armed force but by magical willpowers called ‘THE FORCE’ and although Katy has gone very silent on him John knew that his soul was still shared by Katy as the divine Mother because how else could he have achieved the unachievable without it? AND JOHN WOULD LIKE TO THANK KATY SO HE HAS POSTED THIS FOR HER THE EMPRESSA OF THE WORLD TO ADD TO HER MISS EVER EXPANDING UNIVERSE TITLE AS KATY REMAINS JOHN’S FAVE EVEN THOUGH HE BROKE THE MAGIC SPELL CAST UPON HIM BY THE GALLOPING DARK HORSE OF ‘BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT’!:)J HE RETURNS TO KATY/ISIS VICTORIOUS NEVER BEATEN IN BATTLE AS THE EMPEROR OF THE UNIVERSE OF HIS OWN FREE WILL TO DRINK AT HER WATERS OF LOVE/LIFE Top of Form SO HERE IS GODS PRAYER FOR ISIS TO CONJURE HERSELF UP WHEN JOHN CALLS AND IT IS UP TO KATY/ISIS TO RESPOND AS JOHN HAS MADE HIS INTENTIONS PLAINLY HOT. A SMALL (PROBABLY TOO SMALL TO FIT) GOLDEN RING WITH ‘SISTER’ WRITTEN ON IT WILL BE DISPATCHED RECORDED DELIVERY TO KATY’S MELROSE AVE OFFICE IN 3 HOURS TIME AND ALTHOUGH SHE IS PROBABLY IN ARGENTINA HE KNOWS NOT WHERE, THERE WILL BE A MAGIC +VINTAGE ALHAMBRA JEWELLERY GIFT SET INC A BLACK ONYX BRACELET AND CORNELIA EYE OF THE TIGER WITH GREY MOTHER OF PEARL MOTIF ENGAGEMENT RING WAITING FOR HER AT VAN CLEEF & ARPLES 300 N Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills +1-310-276-1161 WHERE IT WILL BE FITTING JUST RIGHT AS SOON AS SHE HAS A MOMENT TO INDULGE HERSELF- I AM INVESTING THE INTEREST ON MY $1million ON YOU. Bottom of Form ENJOY. JESUS AND ISIS AS MARY: OUR SONG: https://youtu.be/lp-EO5I60KA?list=RDlp-EO5I60KA ISIS, glorious Goddess. Let your instrument sound Hailing you with all homage, ISIS, glorious Goddess. To the candlewick the fire I raise on the altar set to you, ISIS, glorious Goddess. And the night time incense rises, sweetly mixed, To put me in the mind of perceiving you, ISIS, glorious Goddess. Who rises behind me like a flame of Gold and Brushes my back with her deft wings. #GODSLOVE ☼ℒℴѵe ƸӜƷ ¸. ´´¯`•.¸¸. . ☼•* *• I am Isis. The Restored Eden, the Supernal Mother, the Second Eve. I am the new heaven and the new earth for the first heaven and the first earth are passed away; I am the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. I am the mighty Mother Isis; most powerful of all the world. I am she who fights not, but is always victorious. I am that Sleeping Beauty who men have sought, for all time; and the paths which lead to my castle are beset with dangers and illusions. Such as fail to find me sleep; or may ever rush after the Fata Morgana leading astray all who feel that illusory influence I am lifted up on high, and I do draw men unto me, I am the worlds' desire, but few there be who find me. When my secret is told, it is the secret of the Holy Grail. It is love. I have plucked out my heart and have given it to the world; that is my strength. Love is the mother of the Man-God, giving the Quintessence of her life to save mankind from destruction, and to show forth the path to life eternal. Love is the mother of Christ... Spirit, and this Christ is the highest love Christ is the heart of love, the heart of the Great Mother Isis the Isis of Nature. He is the expression of her power she is the Holy Grail, and He is the life of blood of spirit, that is found in this cup. Isis am I, and from my life are fed all showers and suns, all moons that wax and wane, all stars and streams, the living and the dead, the mystery of pleasure and of pain. I am the Mother. I the speaking sea. I am the Earth in its fertility. Life, death, love, hatred, light, darkness, return to me. All glories of the Universe bow down, the blossom and the mountain and the dawn. Fruits blush and women are creations crowned. I am the priest, the sacrifice, the shrine. I am the love and life of the Divine. Life, death, love, hatred, light, darkness, are surely mine. Isis am I, the love and light of Earth, the wealth of kisses, the delight of tears, the pleasure never come to birth, the endless infinite desire of years. I am the shrine at which thy long desire devoured thee with intolerable fire. I was sung music, passion, death upon thy lyre, I am the grail and I the glory now. I am the flame and fuel of thy breath. I am thy queen enraptured and possessed. I am the star of God upon thy brow. #ISISLOVE ☼ℒℴѵe ƸӜƷ ¸. ´´¯`•.¸¸. . ☼•* *• I AM THAT I AM JESUS CHRIST THE MESSIAH THE HIGHEST LOVE, THE HEART OF LOVE OF THE FATHER, THE MOTHER, THE SON AND THE HOLY GHOST. MY FATHER OF THE UNIVERSE IS HERE WITH ME GEORGAS ZEUS, EARTHWORKER AS MY MOTHER IS HERE WITH ME ISIS THE QUEEN OF NATURE, SHE IS MY HOLY GRAIL WHOSE GREAT DEEP AND WONDEROUS LOVE BRINGS ME BACK TO LIFE EACHTIME I FALTER AND FALL OR TAKE A BOW FOR A REBIRTH BUT IN HONOR I CARRY ISIS’S BACKBONE OF STRENGTH AND LOVE, WORSHIPING AT HER TEMPLES OF DIVINE LOVE OFFERING AWARDS AND EPITHATS AND ABOVE ALL PRICELESS TITLES UPON HER ALTER SET UP FOR HER. #JESUSHEALS #JESUSLOVES #JESUSSAVES #JESUSTHEJUDGEMENT #JESUSISMANKINDSANSWER ☼ℒℴѵe ƸӜƷ ¸. ´´¯`•.¸¸. . ☼•* *• SHARE AND REJOICE FOR I OFFER ALL WHO BELIEVE IN ME ETERNAL LIFE THE HOLY GRAIL MANIFESTED. KATY PERRY HITS: https://youtu.be/t5Sd5c4o9UM?list=PLA908D6C2BA16BF88LIGHT: The nature of light has the character of a wave motion (interference phenomena)_ See Newton’s rings, alternating darkness and light-the point is you are only cuming thru in waves the light goes on so bright but you shut me into the darkness. A consistent theory of electromagnetism was determined in 1873 by James Clark Maxwell the velocity of light therefore the ‘light’ is electromagnetic waves as being oscillations in an all-pervading elastic medium, ‘ether’. Katy/Isis you are ether to me-unreal- but if you would just communicate with me in the darkness then you could illuminate me by passing the waves through a prism, your prism then straight coloured lines of light would appear and then the negative charge I carry as the atom are electrons but I could, I could be your ‘plum pudding model’; you could pass the balancing positive charge evenly threw the atom my electrons being the ‘plum’ and the positive charge the ‘pudding’. The spectral frequencies should then correspond to the various ways in which the electrons might oscillate within the positively-charged ‘pudding’. I.E. making me better as you are my MOM who radiates love but I get it in waves leaving me with the feeling I am loved then not loved [Hot n Cold] then I heal and all is ok again. It is your bipolar love, love. Up and down that affects me as I am Unipolar all one way high never depressed but when we shared the same soul-come back you tart you are missed-your love as radiation oozed continuously in and out of my black darkness riddled body like water in and out of a sponge. If you spent some time with me then your radiation of love you give me in the heavens would be emitted then I could absorb it in packets of energy of a definite size. Then my dear, the energy content of one of these packets would be a quanta proportional to the frequency of the radiation of love you emit. (Are you with me so far?) The constant of proportionality was taken to be a Universal constant of nature, Planks constant. Now cos of this I can only absorb your love, and you only emit it during events involving a single quantum of significantly high energy-which as you have felt I can be the highest form of energy anywhere but I can’t keep it up 24/7 and you seem to be only attracted by my high energy periods and you only spare me a few minutes if I am relaxed as in ‘gotta go to bed bye’ and you only string a few words together, I want to listen, to read. Do you know what it feels like to love someone who seems to be constantly pushing you away? YESS YOU DO. Anyway that’s why I blow hot n cold = YOU.Diana M G updated her cover photo.June 19, 2014 · mi mayor anhelo See Translation5Catherine Waithira and 4 othersShareON THIS DAY5 years ago @apolloandkaty1111 @katyperry-blog1 @katyperrylicious-blog@katyperryblog @1111twinflames @1111jesusandmarytwinflames

#almighty zeus #zeus greek mythology #katheryn elizabeth hudson #katyperry #katherynhudson #katy perry #katyperrysexy #katyperrycollections #katy #katycats #jesusislord #jesuslovesyou #jesusisking #jesuschrist #isis ishtar #isis #katyc

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ruwithmeguys · 6 years ago

Text

I was asked recently: do you enjoy writing for ll as much as you do for Felicity? You write Felicity like you can hear her thoughts. But then you go and write ll’s character and you manage to keep her IN character without making her bitchy and without pulling her to bits. Do you like writing for her?

Beyond being hugely flattered – SO FLATTERED, MY GOODNESS – and mildly sceptical – I’ve never thought I was anything special in terms of writing ability but I do love keeping characters IN character whilst placing them in new situations – I can answer with complete confidence that, yes. I like writing for LL’s character.

I like knowing just how skewed her perception is. I enjoy writing that perception because in many ways, it’s incredibly indulgent. In reality, no one who wants to be loved and who wants a family should think like LL does. It’s a point of view that’s singular and therefore, interesting. But after writing for her, I truly don’t think the writers knew what to do with their creation, and she was a creation. Just because her name is LL doesn’t make her any less of a creation than Sara. Comic LL? Well, she’s married to a cop; ergo the name Lance. This cop is abusive. Her personality is also very different and she isn’t a lawyer. The writers tried very hard to make LL morally perfect but destroyed it when they realised she’d have to compromise said morals to love Oliver. So they gave her a set of standards that no one could reach and yet had her break them every time Oliver was mentioned. However instead of showing real guilt or shame or SOMETHING that would enable her some character progression, they replaced it wit superiority. It made her a selfish character who were supposed to believe is the opposite.

But you see, well written characters – characters with substance, who aren’t there for a plot purpose but as a defined personality on a show – can be selfless and still do selfish things. They can compromise their integrity and still be morally righteous. They can be good and yet see the virtue in violence.

I give thee Felicity Smoak.

Now KC did her own damage to LL in S1 – she was very determined to make her into something she wasn’t too fast because she clearly believed this show had been created to turn her into a mask wielding superhero who’s better than everyone. But the writers are the main problem – them and the exec’s at CW who threw an actress at the show because she had a contract with them. She was SO not right for the character, but they didn’t care. She’d starred in Supernatural so her name had merit.

(just a hypothetical: if Emily had been cast as LL, would she have possessed the skill to portray the character in a way that could make us like her? I think so, though the writers made this obscenely hard with their contradictory writing. Most would have a lot of difficulty. Still, I’m almost certain that if she HAD been, Oliver would have married the BC: a BC a foot shorter with pretty blue eyes… you know like in the comics *eye roll* Her COMIC BOOK fans ignore even the comic book details.)

ANYWAY!

It’s kind of fascinating really: I made sure to watch the episodes and ingest everything about the characters I write. I don’t always do this and it’s been a while so it’s time for a re-watch (any excuse really) but a few things became incredibly clear once I started. I have a few of Felicity’s habits: I talk to myself in tangents of weirdness and get flustered/blush super easily. I’m not a genius by any definition (mostly I'm a gigantic dumbass) but I wear glasses with my hair in a ponytail and I’m not generally the first person seen in a crowded room so to speak, plus I overthink/second guess everything I say. Like Oliver, I blame myself for everything and worry too much. I’m more solitary than most. I want to save everyone but have no idea how to. I love deeply.

I don’t love easily.

I’m not like Olicity. But when I write, I sort of become them. Or I attempt to. I feel my way through each scene and it becomes quite personal, which would explain the sentence breaks where I intermingle thought and movement with descriptions and speech.

Then I started writing for ll… now, I like to remain unbiased when I analyse a character. I don’t like ll. I don’t appreciate the way she was written in any season – I’m referring to E1 LL, E2 I’ll talk about later – nor did I enjoy KC’s horrific portrayal. It’s no secret, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be fair to her character.

I came up with three literary explanations of her character and this is one of them: the medium between the other two, from ll's point of view (please remember I am at work and therefore cannot write as well as I would like) -

She’s ordinary. Totally ordinary. A normal person who lives, works, eats, sleeps. We can empathise.

She’s part of a nuclear family and she knows her family loves her. She loves them. They’re not a perfect family but they are a good one.

She has an over exaggerated sense of how attractive and intelligent she is, exacerbated by how many people have told her that she’s smart and beautiful. She knows because she’s been told: she’s never questioned her looks or her intelligence and it’s the start of all the bad really. It was reinforced by becoming friends with the two richest kids in the city.

So she’s never had a reason to doubt herself. Not ever. There’s nothing in the world that ever could.

As for how this affects the story:

Through illogical and extremely unlikely circumstances – never explained for two reasons: it wasn’t important enough to the writers and they wrote themselves into many a corner with ll’s character as they tried to fit her into a universe that didn’t want to house their forced creation – she became good friends with Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen.

Oliver Queen makes her do the one thing she’s never done: doubt herself.

Surely she’s pretty enough for him to choose her. Smart enough. Good enough. Strong enough. Enough. She’s ENOUGH for him. They fit each other. He’s the Romeo to her Juliette. She’s aiming high and look, he’s right there: her partner along the way to the top. Her partner and her WAY. Her financer. Her ego boost. Her meal ticket. Her proof that she’s ENOUGH. Her proof that she’s relevant. That she’s BETTER-

THAN. HER. SISTER.

Because, gosh: LL’s world is dictated, her entire sense of self validated, by the existence of Sara Lance. I kid you not. I found this in the show… and it should make you feel sympathy for her. Should make you care. But she destroys our ability to give a crap because of how she handles everything with her sister.

Sara, who is daddy’s girl.

Sara who Oliver keeps leering over and not the older, better sister.

Sara who her mother sides with all the time.

Sara with the multitude of friends.

Sara with the better body.

Sara. Sara. Sara.

Why? Laurel does everything right: she follows the rules, does as she’s told, has become the role model. How does Sara keep BEATING her?

Is it… because Sara takes what she wants and gets away with it? She takes other people’s boyfriends - Laurel’s seen her do this (Arrow S1.5 comics) - she swindles her father for more allowance, her mother gives her free reign over the phone line… she’s selfish.

Well then, so shall LL be.

Suddenly Sara’s grounded-

And it WAS the right thing to do, Sara was too young and she didn’t want her heralded as a slut so soon. Ollie wouldn’t want anything to do with her anyway, but the way she throws herself at him is embarrassing, right?

-And the ‘Ollie Express’ is open season. He says yes. They have sex. Now she has him. She’s wanted by Ollie Queen and he’s settling down for HER. No one else and certainly not Sara. She’s beaten Sara and she’s assured a future for herself. His mother adores her. She fits in.

She can breathe freely again.

And Oliver, he’s so much more than people think: he’s sweet and kind- so what if he’s not that smart, she’s smart enough for the both of them. He’s reliable and honest. He makes her feels beautiful and wanted. All is right in the world. No matter what happens, she’ll always be the one who became Oliver’s first real girlfriend, because she’s special to him. She’s SPECIAL. She’s what he-

Except he’s having an affair behind her back.

With Sara.

Sara who she’d beaten.

Sara who isn’t as smart or as pretty or as EVERYTHING as LL.

Sara who’d gotten on a boat with her boyfriend.

She’s humiliated, but more than that… she’s confused. It’s nonsensical.

She’s everything. She’s perfect. She’s the ONE so… Oliver was happy. He was ready to move forwards with her. Why did he do this? Why does Sara keep beating her? She’s BETTER than Sara.

She’s better than all of them.

If they can't see that, see her... then why do they matter?

And then the realisation: she’s hard done to. She’s the scorned woman. She’s the one betrayed. She’s the one who’s grieving. She’s the one who deals with it in the best way. She’s the one who’ll walk out of this on top.

Oliver and Sara lost at sea? That’s nothing. NOTHING. She’s the one who got hurt and she never deserved it. They should have respected her. Should have loved her more. Ollie deserved to die at sea.

And so… an impetus is born: it generates into an unbreakable mind-set, separated from reality, one that we have to put up with until she dies. Literally.

Narcissism. It’s almost a disorder.

And it’s in the most impossible form: she sets a deliberately high standard for the world to attempt to reach and she gets to watch from up high as everyone tries to touch her seat. A standard that everyone must follow EXCEPT her. If anyone fails to meet it for whatever reason (and they always do), then they fail her expectations and therefore they fail her (this was admitted by KC herself, just fyi). They’re no longer good enough.

But she is though. She’s the ONLY one good enough. She loves her family, but she’s better than them. They’re all liars and stealers and selfish – Sara – betrayers – mom – neglecters – dad – cheaters and disappointments – Ollie – and unworthy – Tommy.

She doesn’t need them, not ever. How could she when she’s better? How could they ever meet her wavelength? How could they ever understand her mission, her heart, when they can’t meet her at the top?

But then her father, who can’t appreciate her because he isn’t capable of seeing her the way he should, makes her feel GUILT about her choice to be a DA.

Uh oh. Suddenly; she doesn’t sound righteous. She sounds like she’s becoming a lawyer for money-

NO. no, LL doesn’t do that, right? She’s better, so she can’t. She can’t fall beneath her FATHER’S set of standards because her own are so much better and she doesn’t have to meet her own because they’re for everyone else on the planet who are undeserving and have yet to face her justice. No one can outrun her justice, her standards.

Except herself.

But her father’s seen something in her, something twisted. The call of money and power and status and it’s a filthy thing isn’t it? Greed. Lust. Covetous.

She becomes the expert at coveting what others have, even as she judges them.

But she has to hide the filth: she’s better than her demons because she judges even them. Her father knows nothing. He doesn’t see her, so how could he? She’ll help him see her.

She joins CNRI to prove him wrong. She’s the pure one again whilst her father’s the alcoholic who can’t get over the daughter who left instead of adoring the daughter who stayed. The daughter who fights.

She sleeps with Tommy because she can, because she’s needy, because he’s Ollie’s best friend; the closest thing to the man she loves and hates and no one need ever know the notch she tied that night to her bed post.

Ollie did it with Sara after all. He could have had the bed post instead of just the notch. He died before he could realise that.

But it happens again and again for months and she has to admit, it’s thrilling aiming down. Obeying an urge for once and she needs the release: getting a job with CNRI immediately after law school instead of the requisite two years in a firm is impossible, but not for LL. Still, it’s tiring and it feels unrewarding, which is why she also needs the ego boost. She needs the validation, that it isn't all for nothing.

This way, she’s both fucking her past goodbye and giving it the finger.

She stops once she gets the job. Stepping stones, all of it. She doesn’t need Tommy, doesn’t need her father, doesn’t need law school anymore because she doesn’t obey the rules like everyone else HAS to.

When Oliver returns, she ignores him. He should have died: it was his punishment for forsaking their happiness.

He can’t touch her anymore; he can only watch from afar. She likes him watching. Likes him seeing exactly what he lost and can never have, what he destroyed.

Sara died because of him.

Her father became a drunk because of him.

Her mother left because of him.

She had to sleep with Tommy because of him.

All whilst he sunbathed on some island somewhere. And look, he doesn’t have to work to earn a living: he’s loaded. He doesn’t have to fight for anything, doesn’t have to strive or push like she does-

She’s envious. And she misses him. And if she misses him, he must miss her. They used to be so happy-

Wait… He suffered on the island?

He was punished?

If he suffered… does that mean he learned from his mistakes and that’s why he apologised?

He earned his stay on the island so maybe… he’s earned the right to forgiveness?

Suddenly he’s too tempting. She could have him again: he’s telling her she could. Oliver Queen, playboy billionaire, learned his lesson and wants her.

Of course he does.

She’s the best woman alive.

It’s the biggest ego boost of her life; a wave of chemicals that carries her away, that makes her kiss him. That scares her because she thought she was strong enough to not ant him again. EXCITEDLY because if he’s also the vigilante who went to HER for help-

But then… he reveals that he’s damaged and still a playboy and she has to retract once he fails her standards again.

A damaged man who won’t pursue her? Not her problem. She’s not interested. That man isn’t her Ollie. She'll check in again when he isn't quite so damaged.

Yet, even as Tommy worms into her, she keeps Oliver in mind.

It truly stuns her when he gives them his blessing. He… he was supposed to want her, to show reluctance.

Why does he look happy for them? She’s not.

He’s giving up the chance of them, and he’s SMILING?

How can he be? Doesn’t it torture him? She’s choosing his best friend over him, FEEL SOMETHING. FIGHT.

But he doesn't.

And he is changing, improving. Making waves - she’s taking notice.

So let him date lesser women, they won’t last and they DON’T.

HAH.

In the meantime, she’s fighting crime. The vigilante NEEDS her – he hasn’t asked anyone else for help: there’s only her. Tommy loves HER. Ollie loves her. Her father keeps butting in because he’s afraid for her safety and he’s realised just how prominent a figure she’s becoming, how important she is, but he’s too late to have a say in her life and he must watch her advance.

It all revolves around her now, as it should have before. She's the lead of her own story. They’re all realising how right she was, how they never should have put her second and not first. How they should have never made her feel less, and it’s ridiculous how she ever let them. They were all wrong.

She was made for greatness.

And then Ollie tells her everything she already knew about herself and it’s a king-size aphrodisiac: he thinks the same way she does. He knows she was always the best, always the ONE. He’s reached her level. And together they can soar above all others. They’re in love and will evolve and will lead the city into the future together. It's all slotting into place.

But he’s not her; he’s not righteous so she can ignore him when he gives her solid advice about staying out of the Glades. He’ll learn that she knows better, is better. That the world makes way for her and not the other way around-

Tommy dies.

It’s not because of the way she thinks. It's not because she was wrong. It’s NOT.

It was his choice, not hers. She doesn’t have to listen, but he should have. She never wanted him to come get her, she was waiting for Oliver.

And Oliver does come to her apartment: they reminisce. They’re together and that’s all that matters, so she starts planning. He’ll move in with her, there’ll be a marriage and move into the mansion-

Ollie leaves.

Again.

He left. He LEFT. HE-

No, she IS his ONE and ONLY. SHE IS. But the Hood and Malcolm ruined everything. It’s their fault Tommy died, that Ollie left. It wasn't because she was wrong or that she wasn't/isn't enough.

Their fault, not hers.

So why… does she feel guilty?

She knows really, but she pushes it back, away. Admitting to it would irrevocably damage her belief system.

And… she’s always right. And because she’s right, she leads a righteous charge against the hood, because it’s all his fault. Tommy died, ollie left, she’s feeling guilty and she keeps drinking- it’s all someone else’s fault!

Except it’s not.

It’s hers.

She'd been wrong.

Her world view crashes in on itself.

Nothing happened the way it was supposed to. She has no defence because she should have never needed one. That’s what being superior means.

Drugs and alcohol. How the mighty have fallen. No one can know… but even if they do, it doesn’t matter because she’s allowed to grieve like this. It’s grieving. Not shame. She's allowed to drink and change and be self-destructive. And everyone else doesn’t get it, they aren’t being fair.

Tommy dies.

Ollie left again.

She loses her job.

Her best friend gets a position as DA, well she’s not her best friend anymore: how dare she achieve greater. Johanna was supposed to help her, not step past her. Instead, LL is left behind and if her friend won't help her, then what good is she? She doesn’t need Johanna; she doesn’t need anyone.

She’s stronger. Better.

But then Sara comes back…

Sara died. It was her punishment. She’s not serving her punishment anymore. And she's come back, looking like she'd been on a six year pleasure cruise. That isn't fair at all. She’s unworthy. She ruined LL’s life. Her death was justice. How can the source of all her problems be alive…

And beautiful

Vibrant

Intelligent

Attractive to Oliver

Beloved by her father- her father who turned against her again in favour of Sara

Sara who went through the worst and resurfaced out untouched. Clean. As if SHE IS stronger, better. More.

How can I be like that?

She can’t.

Somewhere, deep down… she knows she can’t.

And she’s humbled by Sara who made her see how much she’d fallen… and for now, Sara can be the better of the two. She can pick up the slack and LL can watch, proud of her baby sister. She can give herself a break and compare others to her sister. Measure them by Sara’s measuring stick.

But it won’t be long at all until she’s BACK. Until she’s just as bright.

Until she’s better than Sara.

Until Sara needs her.

Until her father needs her.

Until Oliver needs her, because he stopped looking at her when she fell from on high.

She wants to return, to be part of that world.

But Sara is killed before she can become as beautiful. And it’s so clear that becoming as beautiful is impossible for LL. It too hard to digest that Sara is gone: Sara, the perfect fruition of a Lance daughter. The perfect her. The version of her that LL wished she'd been. So she’ll take on the mantle to honour Sara…

And in becoming Sara, she’s able to be more again. Be better again. Get back on that high saddle once more and she’s missed it up there. It feels right. It feels REALLY good. She’s been watching and learning… and her covetous nature had never died. She can’t be as bright as Sara.

So she’ll just become darker. A better Canary, never mind that canaries aren't dark.

She’ll wear Sara’s suit but she’ll be more. She’ll own it and make it her own, because this was always meant to be. It was never supposed to be Sara.

SHE is the justice you can’t run from.

This is the world she was made for. Oliver’s world. It was meant to be. So what if he’s angry at her presence: it’s because he cares about her, because he loves her. She'll fight him for a spot. He let Sara fight with him because he didn’t love her as much, but he loves LL too much. That’s why they aren’t together. Sometimes it’s just too painful to risk.

And it’s the best therapy. No more drugs. It’s addictive and it’s painful, but it’s better than anything else- in fact, it’s better than sex. Better than Oliver-

Oliver… Left?

With Felicity?

Because… he just wants her. HER. Out of everyone. He’s casting aside the hood… for another woman.

He and ll: they're supposed to fighting together, THAT’S how this works.

Then it’s just a phase. He’ll return and fight and realise he can’t live without the hood. He can’t without LL.

Except it’s not working, her fighting. She’s not changing the city so much as watching over it. She’s not moving forward. There’s a void.

There’s no more Sara.

She needs Sara. She needs Sara more than Ollie. The world made more sense with Sara. She might be the BC but Sara showed her the way. Her compass is gone. Her light is gone. And now LL is lost. If Sara’s back, she’ll feel better. There’ll no more void. No more emptiness. And maybe her life can WORK again.

And it’s okay, because she needs it. It’s okay to use Thea, because they’re friends and LL is loved by all. It's okay if disturbing the dead because, she wants it badly enough. It’s okay that Sara kills someone because it’s for the greater good: it’s for LL.

And with Sara alive somewhere, Oliver being with someone else doesn’t feel so bad. They’re soul mates after all, maybe one day…

And then he and Felicity break up and it’s PERFECT: no more Felicity in the basement, they don’t need her for him to stare at and Sara is alive. Oliver is TRAINING her. HE needs HER. Trusts her. LOVES her. WANTS HER.

So she suggests sex and-

He… is totally unreceptive. Isn’t… remotely interested… isn’t even remotely forward.

But… he’s in love with her and no longer tied down to Felicity. This should work. It’s been leading to this, right?

She has it all: she’s queen of the basement, Felicity is elsewhere and it doesn’t matter – so what if Thea isn’t talking to her, if Sara is out of the country. She and Oliver will fight crime together and maybe he’ll learn to love her again. Maybe he’ll-

Never. Love. Her. Not the way she loves him.

Because there’s just NOTHING there for him with her. He's alone even when he's with her and she knows what that's like.

Maybe he never could reach high enough to her again.

Maybe he knows he’ll never be good enough…

Or maybe... she’s just that conceited and Felicity… Felicity is just THAT wonderful, that necessary to him because she is, isn’t she? She was there when LL wasn’t:

Felicity believed when LL didn’t

Felicity cared when LL didn’t

Felicity led him to places LL couldn’t

Felicity is, in many ways, stronger than LL and Sara combined and that truth stings

Felicity changed him without trying to

Felicity made him better… and ll can already see the cracks in him where Felicity’s absence has hurt him.

Without Felicity, Oliver will fall: LL's presence won't stop that.

Without Felicity, the city will crumble… because in the end, ll’s just a tiny pawn in a huge movement that she hasn’t contributed much to and she admits this finally to herself and to Oliver. The dirty truth.

It was all to feel alive, not to SAVE lives. It was all for her. But that doesn’t mean she’ll just let Oliver live without her because it’s thanks to her that he got on that boat: she helped create him! She’s responsible. She’s the ALBATROSS and she will never leave him. She changed his life forever: she left her indelible hand-print: SHE IS IMPORTANT DAMMIT.

The most important.

FLATLINE.

The end.

O_O

Yeah.

There's a less harsh explanation for LL:

She’s defensive due to the bad way she was treated after believing that her life was perfect, to her own detriment. She doesn’t have the kind of personality others can enjoy and rather than try to gain friends, she decides to simply be herself no matter how she comes across.

And there’s a much harsher explanation:

LL, at heart, isn’t a very nice person. She knows this so she builds an image that opposes the inner her. Addictions make her feel better about who and what she is, but they also help her to manage the stress of being, inside, the kind of person who doesn’t feel the empathy she should. There's an image to maintain so that no one knows the truth. Becoming a vigilante is more about how it feels to break rules and gain the kind of power only a mask can provide, than it is about helping people. In the end, she’s able to gain that vindictive pleasure of knowing that Oliver will never be without her. And every version of a canary has caused Oliver nothing but grief which is fine… because he broke her. Deep down, she just wants to be bad without being judged for it. Without facing consequences, which is why black siren fit the bill so much more than E1 LL ever did.

Again, this is just an opinion and a bit of fun when writing fanfic-

Anyway, Jessica's shutting up now because that’s enough out of me for one day. Back to work.

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writeforself · 6 years ago

Text

Elysium Dream

Alexios x Adonis

A/N: It’s been a while. Extra note in the end.

To Adonis, Elysium is a prison.

He never has a voice in the decision, to be shared between two deities, and to be separated from his love, love itself, for one-third of a year. He never gave much thought to it. Like most of the mortals, he just accepted his fate.

During his time in Elysium, all he could think of is Aphrodite from above. The grandeur and tranquility of her palace, their time together as they tread across the most magnificent field he has ever seen, the charming words of the most alluring voice in the world, the affectionate touches between the exhilarating embraces. After all, what more could you ask when you’re loved by beauty itself? All he ever asked is to be returned back to her.

His mind wanders while he saunters across the field of Elysium. Persephone’s sweet praises sounds like nothing but the tedious autumn winds, her touch like the burning chain that gashes his glowing skin. A prisoner receives no love from his captor. Love justifies all behaviours; love deceives all. However, indulging himself in melancholy merely enriches suffering.

His time in Elysium provides him with some ideas. As he walks among the mortals and eavesdropping their conversation, he has learned the idea of rebellion. Freedom is not given but something to fight for, so he has heard. If he wants to spend more time with his love, he has to find a way to do it, even if it defies the will of gods.

His has set his goal. But how to achieve it? Although he might have some knowledge in hunting, or even fighting, he knows no arts of conspiracy, strategy, nor war. Not to mention the mortal in Elysium would ever think of defying its ruler. From the conversation he heard, he couldn’t distinguish if other mortals were afraid of the deity, moreover dare to defy her. He has no ally nor help, all he has is his stubborn self.

Adonis has a dream, to escape.

***

He only just notices the solitary branch of an apple tree creeping along the desolate wall. The white flowers glitter under the eternal sunshine. Faint fragrance of the tiny blossoms travels into his nasal with the gentle wind sneaking through the crack of the room. Chatters and laughters flies into his ears as the grasses around him rustling in the breeze.

He wakes up from a light slumber, and climbs up to the top of the ruined building for the panoramic view of their camp. It has grown so fast since Alexios’ arrival in Elysium. Until now, he still couldn’t believe that Alexios is not here to act as a spy of the gods, but solely here to help.

Nevertheless, he still has doubts that Alexios is sent by gods, without conscious, to evaluate Adonis’ loyalty to Aphrodite. He is not easily fooled. That’s what they do best, trickery. He won’t fall for it. No matter how Alexios possesses a different beauty compared to Aphrodite; no matter how honourable Alexios has been acting so far; no matter how his heart fluttered when Alexios first clumsily winked at him with those silly words. Although they have been flirting for a while he wants to fight against the temptation. He believes only belongs with one being. Gods are not fond of sharing. If this be a test, so be it. But a little spice to add up difficulties would be exciting.

Out of the corner of his eye he glimpses a familiar shadow moving between the rebels. He can hear a clear voice among the clamour of them calling his name. Then he remembers his dream from the slumber. His fingers dig into the gritty walls. Standing still, he watches and holds his breathes, as the person looks up to the ruins and meets with his eyes. He turns, running into the shade of the building.

He quivers.

He is certain that there’s something in those chestnut eyes under those rugged eyebrows calling for him, luring something resting deep inside him. But he has Aphrodite.

“Ah there you are, Adonis.”

He saw him climbing into the room from the broken wall. He always finds a direct way. When he speaks, his expression seems to light up the room. The sun in Elysium has never been so ablaze before he arrives. No, banish these thoughts Adonis.

“Alexios! Back already?” He puts on a smile to welcome Alexios back. It doesn’t matter who Alexios might be. He has been a great assistance so far. “Your task was simple. I figured you would want it done as soon as possible. Plus, your presence brighten up this place.”

Alexios’ body shakes as he chuckles. The blood clinging onto his bare chest has already dried up. Adonis can see the splashed blood tangled with the chest hair, those strings of dark fibre looks even clear under the dark crimson. They rise and fall along the wave of soft laughter.

“A warrior bathed in blood is not a bad sight as well. Anyway, we have more urgent task at hand. Meet me at the collapse tower later.”

He smiles as he replies. Yet the muscle around his lips feels rigid. He turns his head to another side to concentrate. It is a great place to get a bird’s-eye view of Elysium. Butterflies drift in the warm breeze around them aimlessly.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

Alexios leaves without asking further questions. Adonis is unsure whether he would like to hear more from Alexios. But there are formal matters at hand, no time for idle words.

He presses down his desire and ventures on his quest.

***

With the clear evidence in hand, he still could not assimilate the truth. He has been betrayed by the love of his life, the only motivation pushing him to escape from this place. Now he finds out that her love was as hollow as this paradise, her love as vain as Persephone’s.

He has sent Alexios away on a trifle. He wants to be alone… needs to be alone. Doubts rise inside him, battering against his commitment. He needs to think, but what’s there to think about when the naked truth rips him apart like executioner’s bloody axe?

He retreats himself to a cottage located high on the peak north of Iapeto’s Ruins. Usually there’s only Leonidas who wanders around here, but right now he’s training the rebels. Therefore, Adonis can claim this place as his own, for now.

Little does he know, someone has arrived before him.

“Alexios? What are you doing here?”

Next to the tree lies Alexios. His dusty armours scatters around him, lying around as if he just took them off in a hurry. There’s nothing on him but a dark fabric hanging around his waist. He beams at Adonis as he approaches.

“Adonis! What a pleasant surprise!”

Alexios pulls himself up to make a seat for Adonis. Then he pushes the armour out of their sight, until the only thing left in front of them is the bonfire quietly grilling sticks of fishes and the small cottage standing beneath the blue sky. Elysium has never seemed so peaceful.

“What are you doing here?” Adonis questions again, still confused. “Having some fish of course. What does it look like?” Alexios laughs as he stirs the burning wood to make the fire stronger. “I mean HERE. What are you doing HERE?” “Oh, right… You see, this is actually my home. Well, my grandfather’s… this is where I grew up. Not here, back in Sparta. Actually I grew up in another island, it’s a long story. Anyway, this is the only place in Elysium I can feel somewhat relaxed.” He rambles on while he turns around the fishes. “It’s funny they have my home here, in Elysium. Maybe it’s because my grandfather was a great warrior. Well, still is…”

Adonis has stopped listening when Alexios started to ramble. He merely stares into the bonfire and Alexios. The dream from before comes back to him as he watches Alexios’ bare back shines beneath the sun. He gazes at how the muscles tense and soften with Alexios’ every move, trying to remember how his hands wandered across that glowing skin in his hazy dream.

He realises that he doesn’t care about anything right now. Looking at Alexios is all he needed. To hell with the god of love. He is sick of the flimsy promises and grievous betrayal. Two can play this game.

When Alexios is done with the fire, Adonis throws himself on him without a second thought. He buries Alexios with kisses that could take one’s breath away. Pinning down Alexios on the ground, he feels the coolness of the grass in shade contrasting the heat radiating from Alexios flesh. It reminds him of war, of quarrel, of violence. In the end, all things seem to be the same for him, delight, hatred, devotion, nonchalance… all are the two sides of the same coin. At the moment he just wants to detach himself from everything but Alexios.

Alexios remains still as he takes in Adonis’ unexpected action. His hands hang in the air, afraid to repay this affection. Then he gently lays his hands on Adonis’ back, like he is trying to provide consolations for a wounded child. He can taste salt in his mouth; drips of tears struggle to slide down those silky cheeks.

There are no transition of seasons in Elysium, yet Alexios could taste the essence of four seasons in an instant. The blossoms had fallen, tore down from the tree. Leaves had lost their chance to revive before desolation devoured all. It reminds him of the snowy peak of mount Taygetos. All lives kneel before thee, almighty oblivion, sweet despair. There is no hope in paradise.

Eyes closed, face twisted, breathes shortened, Adonis finally pulls himself away from Alexios as he trembles.

Alexios says nothing. He holds Adonis in his arms while caressing that his dark lustrous curly hair. His silent weeps ripple Alexios’ heart, nourish his faith.

“I will take you out of here.” He whispers into Adonis’ ears, as the burnt wood cracks inside the blazing flames. A voice like the soft west wind Adonis has never experienced. “I promise.”

p.s. If there be a sequel, the mechanic canon will be out of the window. I can’t write much with just simulation. :)

#adonis #alexios #alexios x adonis #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed odyssey #Assassin's Creed #ac oddysey

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beauvoyr · 6 years ago

Text

My Friend, Mr Noctgar | 3

EPISODE III | vendetta

Pairings: Noctis/Reader vs Ravus/Reader Genre: Romance Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Alpha/Beta/Omega, no beta we die like men, Humour, Angst, Fluff, Size Kink, Size Difference, Short Reader, Self-Indulgent Characters: Older Noctis, Older Chocobros, 30-year-old Ravus Nox Fleuret, Ardyn Izunia, Aranea, Loqi Tummelt, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Homeless (?) Noctis Chapter Rating: T Crossposted on: ao3 Summary: Transferring from Gralea to Insomnia’s already hard enough for an Omega like you. Luckily your new friend Mr Noctgar, a homeless Alpha who’s always skulking around Sagefire, is there to brighten your dreary days ahead. And he’s always there to teach you the best spots in Insomnia, among other things.

“—which is why Ghorovas’ Rift is what it is today,” Noctgar ends his tale, flattening the top half of his vanilla soft serve with an agile tongue. At your wide-eyed stare, he swipes a few more licks to the cone, blunt fingernails absently scratching his scruff. “Told you Ifrit was an ass.”

“B-b-but that’s not what the Cosmogonies say?” you sputter, well aware that you sound like an utter imbecile for believing in half the garbage printed. Noctgar regards you with sympathetic understanding how a parent breaks to a child that Shiva Claus isn’t real, and you could only cover your burning cheeks by blaming the dastardly cunning ways of the Insomnian sun. “I mean—they should totally fire their writer for coming up with that fanfic-level stuff and—“

“I don’t get why they tried to make it romantic too,” Noctgar offers his thought, hacking off another solid chunk of vanilla with that sinful muscle of his. “Ifrit’s ego is the size of Ravatogh; unless he apologises to Shiva for messing up Solheim, I don’t think she’s going to lift the curse on Ghorovas. Of course,” his side-glance comes with a playful twinkle, “they tried to tone it down for the kids, I guess. No evil curses, just straight-up romance. Easier for them to digest that stuff.”

Serves you right for being such a gullible child, now Noctgar’s going to think you’re such a baby for believing in that load of junk. When you get back to Gralea, you’re putting up your limited edition copies on nBay. You’re so selling them. Bitterly, too bitterly, you mutter, “Should’ve known Shiva and Ifrit weren’t just Astrals immortalizing their love in Ghorovas. Ice and fire, duh, polar opposites. And polar opposites just don’t get along with each other.”

“Really?” Noctgar bites out a stifled chuckle, now nibbling around the rim of his cone. “Why’d you say that?”

“My superior, Ravus, is what I’d call my polar opposite. The Ghorovas’ Rift to my Leide Desert, if I’m trying to be poetic,” you answer as your thoughts turn to the flaxen-haired prince charming fairing from Tenebrae, substituting black chocobo and polished armour for a Bentley too big in a six-digit suit daily. “He’s a Sonnet 18 kind of guy that could quote ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’ right down to ‘So long lives this, and this gives life to thee’, and then there’s me, rapping Monster’s ‘You could be the King but watch the Queen conquer.’” You pause at the affable agreement from Noctgar, who’s taking it in with his cream-stained lips twisting into a smile. “See what I mean? We could totally work together but beyond that? Yeah, it’s the original version of Shiva and Ifrit right here, now that I stand corrected—”

The corners of Noctgar’s mouth twitch wider. “Your soft serve’s melting.”

—and you’re flailing at the way vanilla oozes down your flaccid cone, sticky fingers and a veiny trickle down the back of your hand. Any second later and it would’ve stained your cuff. “Oh sh—“ With no napkins left, you lapped at the mess in alternating waves of broad licks, the tip of your tongue erasing all whiteness. You transfer the soft serve to your free hand just so you could suck off all stickiness from your fingers, taking each digit into your mouth and releasing them with a salacious pop, glistening wet yet thankfully free from all stickiness. Thank Astrals for this good head on your shoulders. “There, saved.”

When you turn to Noctgar once more, proudly showing him your handiwork, it is indeed news to you that Noctgar is also susceptible to the ways of the Insomnian sun, despite having lived here for a while.

5.48 p.m. comes as a heady perfume of melancholy and lovesickness. It has Ravus jabbing the keyboard a bit too hard when the scent draws closer and closer, like the metaphorical smog wafting in those inane morning cartoons Luna enjoyed. He knows what this is. Clack, clack, clack goes his keyboard when click click click ends at his doorway, bringing forth a scent that corrupts all Alphas into beasts, a scent that has his jaw set taut, teeth clenched.

“Hey sir,” you chime, your handbag shouldered, eyes a starry concerto when you seek his. By the Gods, he hates that glassy sheen, especially the hint of your teeth hiding behind the pink of your lips. “I’m about to head back.”

So leave already, he wants to snarl.

Get out of my sight, he wants to growl.

“Very well, you may leave,” is what he says, ignoring your questing eyes in favour of the bulleted list he’s been typing since five. Seven pages in, charts and tables drawn, paragraphs elaborated and red-tabbed notes highlighting key points in the report, and yet it is still far from complete to him. From the looks of it, a few more hours will be a worthwhile investment in order to achieve the level of perfection he’s after.

Something must’ve crossed his face when he returned to his work, for your keen eyes are still riveted on him. “You’re…not going home?”

Fingers skating across the keys stop. Your innocent concern is a forgery most Omegas have mastered; a species designed to captivate and fascinate those around them, unhesitant to delve their fingers into the stickiest of pies, only to draw them back, licking and sucking off cherry-reddened digits one by one. Viciously coy to those they want to enrapture, cunningly demure to those they want to seduce, Omegas are disgusting creatures willingly spreading their legs for any and all Alphas to conquer. Once they’ve conquered the body, they will conquer the world. Such is the reality Ravus is acquainted with, considering the multitude of Omegas who have crossed his path and tried to make him theirs.

And you could be one of them.

Another one of them, seeking wealth and riches only a prince could satisfy.

Ravus skips over your gaze, knowing he’ll find nothing. Clack clack clack on his keyboard again, this time in a measured pace. “No.” By right, he could’ve left it at no and watch you leave his room with one of your feigned sympathy, but professionalism has a say over prejudice. Work is work, and you are but an Omega stationed under him. He keys in the last period and skims over the sentence twice more. “I am preparing an outline for tomorrow’s briefing, as we will be hosting a corporate event on C3 involving both CC and NT in the near future.”

“Ohhhh…” You’re nodding—which, in Ravus’ dictionary, is not a good sign. The moment you’re adjusting your shoulder strap absently, Ravus regrets every word leaving your mouth: “Anything I can do to help out?”

This is what he doesn’t need. Help. An excuse following an excuse, Omegas are good at conjuring a thousand and one more excuses to spend more time within the proximity of those they’re trying to capture; How low will they stoop? Low enough until they crawl, Ravus supposes. And crawling is what Omegas do best.

His words are clipped, underlined with brutal intent. “No. Leave.”

Unfortunately, you are dafter than most. Where others would scurry along and never look back at the sight of his darkening expression, your stupidity takes you places others wouldn’t dream of venturing. Now, you are waltzing into the territories of Ravus’ restraint with a quiet, “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, let me help you out.” Again, you are the obnoxious Omega pushing every button on the console as if to trigger his wrath, fond eyes juxtaposing narrowed ones. “The sooner we get this done, the faster you can go home, right? So let’s get to it.”

Foolish, selfish Omega.

Fingers lacing together, Ravus leans into his backrest, tipping his chin ever so slightly at the sight of the disobedient Omega toeing his doorway. What do you seek to gain from testing his patience? His affection? Hah, hardly. A one-night stand much like the cheap paperbacks Luna enjoyed? Never in his lifetime. Winning his attention? On the negative spectrum, you will. What about monetary expenses? Surely you’ll benefit from overtime, making the most of your meagre salary to support your luxurious lifestyle. Omegas and their petty needs of pretty collars for every outfit, polished nails done in salons, nauseating perfumes in crystal bottles—everything as an excuse to waste money. Ravus considers this train of thought twice more before he comes to a conclusion.

“You won’t be paid for your overtime,” he breathes his verdict.

It's a variable thrown into the mix for the sake of observing your reaction. If he’s right, he should be receiving the expected reaction right about—

You straighten up, nodding once. “Okay yep, bye.”

Click, click, click is the sound that follows, the very sound of victory proving his statement. Ravus smirks to himself, knowing he is not wrong and he will never be wrong. A typical Omega you are, lured by the lavish prospects of making more money through whatever means you could get. Laughable. Your desperation is disgusting and he detests your very presence. He should be very careful in deflecting any future advances from your end, knowing how adamant Omegas can be once they settle on a target to devour. You may have given up tonight, but you will return sooner or later. With that warning planted in his head, Ravus rests his fingers on his keyboard, gliding over them in ease.

Click, click, click is also the sound of defeat when you backtrack into his doorway again, flashing a cheeky grin that belongs only on primates in zoos. “Just kidding, sir, I’m not that heartless. Back in Gralea, Aranea used to stay back with the rest of the team when we worked on something. And because NTG was extra broke at one point because they keep siphoning the money to different politicians, I’m used to not getting paid by now.” You do a one-shoulder shrug, rattling about a paper bag. “As long as I can trade those OTs for credit leaves, I’m cool with that.”

Foolish, selfish, and annoying Omega.

If Ravus were a slighter man, his door would have answered your statement in seconds. However, he is the Prince of Tenebrae, and so he returns your imprudent gallantry with a frown. More minutes are wasted on entertaining your stupidity, minutes that Ravus could have spent on bettering his outline, minutes that Ravus would have clocked in at least two more pages to his text. Here you stand, awaiting his response, and here he sits, awaiting your departure.

No such luck.

Such trifling matters to be handled; yet it niggles his head all the same. He could only tear his eyes away from your unblinking stare, resuming his work once more. “…do whatever you want.” Yes, you could do whatever you want; after all, you may have won the fight, but you have yet to win the war. Ravus taps away at his keyboard, finding more satisfaction in punching in the alphabets than staring you down. “And while you’re at it, get me some coffee.”

“Great! I still have some bread from Sagefire this afternoon so we can totally share that.” You’re all but bouncing away as your voice drifts from a distance, filling in the click click click of your heels. “Gonna be in the pantry for a sec, ‘scuse me.”

He does not want any bread from Sagefire, not when Scientia owns it. But your return brings two mugs of coffee, setting them with noiseless experience of a waiter on his table. In a creamy caramel colour, Ravus glowers at the consistency of your coffee. “What’s this?”

“Coffee!” you cheer, rolling out a chair to make yourself comfortable as you unpack the paper bag to reveal an assortment of diabetes inducing treats on a ceramic platter. “And here’s some bread too—I totally recommend having their strawberry danish because it’s so good.”

With an upturned nose, Ravus angles his face away from your weak craft. “I only take mine black.”

Your head bobs rapidly like a storm-wrecked buoy, a certain light illuminating your face. “Well! More for me then!” The moment your offending hand begins its advance for his mug, he grits his teeth at your impudence and swats off the intruder. “Ow!” You rub the back of your reddening hand, pouting—Gods, the thing an Omega loves to do most, pouting. “Okay, okay, I get it, sheesh…I’ll make yours black next time.”

Ravus only hikes a brow at your impertinent words and merely answers your sulk with a sip.

It’s not black coffee, but at least you make a decent one for a screw-up.

2.39 a.m.

You could barely even control the yawn escaping your mouth, what more controlling your appearance in front of him. Two mugs, one rimmed in nude lip prints, both equally drained to the dregs. The back of your hand sports a smudge of brown and black, courtesy of an accidental rubbing of your eye to fight your sleep. Roughly thirty minutes earlier, you splashed cold water on your face, effectively erasing every last inch of powder on your haggard face. Only three days in and your superior is already treated to the sight of your bare face, no lipstick, no eyeliner, not even a cushion powder to fix up your appearance. That’s a record, considering how Aranea only saw your pillow face three months in when you first started; now Ravus has seen it all, and you think he’ll start seeing more the longer you work with him.

How could one thing escalate to another, a briefing outline on tomorrow’s meeting turning into an impromptu planning session for NTI’s charity event on C3 grounds anyway?

The answer?

Well, that’s work for you.

With another disgruntled yawn, you rub the bridge of your nose. Only, Ravus looks up from his copy of the document, pen paused. In his normal state, Ravus is considered crabby. Past midnight, stuck here for hours and hours on end with you, he’s the crabbiest ever. You could only manage an apologetic sigh, hoping you don’t add on to his irritation. “Sorry, Ravus…I’m just extra tired lately.”

“Aren’t we all?” is his acerbic response, utterly lacking sympathy.

You don’t expect him to properly channel human emotions since he appears to be a counterpart of Andronicus, but he least he could do is to understand where you’re coming from. You click your pen close, setting it parallel to your lipstick-ridden mug. “Emphasise on the extra tired, sir.” Your lips twitch at his merciless dour. “I didn’t even get to unpack my stuffs yet. So many boxes and so many things are missing in my new apartment. Hooks, locks, curtains, sheets, pillows, everything. I can’t use the stove because I haven’t bought induction pans yet, I haven’t hanged my clothes in the closet because I don’t have time to iron everything, I need to call the landlord to call the plumber to fix the heater because it’s already broken by the time I moved in—Shiva, the best I have is the bed because it’s the only thing I managed to set up. Just throw on my scarf and bundle my sweater and boom, that’s my bedsheet and pillow.”

Of course, you hadn’t intended to shoot him with your rant but it is what it is. While your problems are your own, and a prince wouldn’t necessarily come equipped with generous understanding of how hard moving from one place to another while being dead broke can be, your mild outburst is intended as a plea for him to remove his feet from his fancy, hard leather oxfords for once and slip on your ratty morning office slippers instead. If you had all the money in the world, hiring people to furbish your rented apartment would be as easy as waving your black card on the scanner, go to work in Louboutins while riding a Maserati, and come back to a five-star chef having prepared fresh fish air-flown from Altissia for your dinner. All of that is easily within Ravus’ command if he desires, but you? You’re just an Omega making a measly 3.8k a month and a good chunk of that money is going to your rent, meals, supporting your parents back in Gralea, and public transportation fees.

However, for the strangest moment, Ravus is silent.

When it comes to your sporadic verbal machine gun going rat-tat-tat-tat for a conversation, Ravus keeps to himself most of the time—or downright ignores it. Granted, he could’ve unloaded a scathing bazooka of, “Silence, vermin,” on you, or a derisive variant of, “You asinine whelp,” on your sorry ass just to keep you silenced once more. But this time, there is none of that. Ravus leans into his seat, briskly capping his fountain pen closed. Heterochromatic eyes are back on you again, appraising your paltry worth under fluorescent tubes. Being probed by a man like him, wholly, unabashedly, with lips set in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed, everything just burns an uncomfortable bonfire in your tummy.

‘Oh gods, just stop staring already,’ you internally shake your hands skywards, begging the Astrals on your knees to spare you because Ravus can’t seriously be doing this now.

Your blouse is rumpled from all the active moving you’ve been doing throughout the day, you’re sure you’re shitfaced because your makeup is gone, nada, zilch—and the worst part is, he’s not even saying anything about it! Not even a degrading remark! Comparing your dishevelled self to him, his three-piece suit still remains impeccable even if it had been hours since his arrival at office, his face is a marble statue of cool composure an Alpha commands, and he does not look haggard (unlike you, you weak ass Omega). The longer he stares, the more you feel your cheeks burning with the intensity of a wildfire scorching Leiden desert.

Heck, anyone and everyone getting picked to pieces by a hot guy would probably feel the same way too, just that said hot guy happens to be the punishing Prince of Tenebrae.

And said Prince of Tenebrae so happens to be your superior.

Three seconds later, the Alpha comes to a decision. “Let us stop here for now.”

That’s so unexpected until you blink at the surprise. Did that sympathetic node in his brain finally function?

Apparently, Ravus isn’t finished with his train of thought. “I find that working when one is demotivated is akin to pushing a dead mule. Ineffective and inefficient.” And, for the slightest moment, the edges of his lips curl. “Like you.”

—so maybe you were too hasty in your conclusion.

If it were up to your fighting spirit, you would’ve spat fire in his face, fuelled by your fatigue and fury from his relentless barrage of insults. But, Gods above, this guy’s your superior and you’re going to be stuck with him for a long, long time. It’s only been three days, three days! Biggs and Wedge once tested your patience with repeated pranking in office and you only snapped after finding your car painted in Post-its after the second month. Just because this goddamn Prince of Tenebrae doesn’t understand the hardships a broke ass Omega needs to endure in a new environment, it doesn’t mean he should be getting under your skin this easily—and that doesn’t mean you should jeopardise your sole work source of income thanks to him.

Because, hey, this isn’t a girly manga where the main character quarrels with a filthy hot, fucking rich dude and winds up in a twisted relationship with the man, yeah?

Yeah, so let’s roll with that.

You stomach his insults in hopes you’d digest his assholery and turn it into diarrhoea by tomorrow morning. At least you made some progress into his work and you can’t say you shirked out your duty as a senior exec. The smile on your face is positively simpering. “Thanks, Ravus, I really appreciate it.”

Translation: Go fuck yourself.

Swiftly withdrawing all papers and clutter from his desk to be stuffed into a folder, taking off the mugs and dumping them in the sink for washing tomorrow morning, you return to his room to grab both your handbag and work bag, slinging them over your shoulder once more. In a couple more hours you’d be back in this dreaded place again, enduring yet another hellish torture from 8.00 a.m. to 7 p.m. and you can’t say you’re looking forward to it. A glance to your wristwatch tells you it’s 3.04 a.m. and you’ve got only four hours of sleep maximum if you’re looking to arrive at work on time, but the bigger problem here is this:

“What the fuck.” You blink at your wristwatch’s guiltless face. Then turned to Ravus’ cocked eyebrow at your uncharacteristic cuss. “Sorry about that. I missed the last train.”

If possible, Ravus’ eyebrow climbs higher. One day, you’ll ask him the secret to his condescending eyebrow ascension, but not today. Not when you’re stranded here with nary a cheap cab to haul your pathetic ass home. ‘Great job, (y/n), great job. You done fucked up now.’

The curled edges to Ravus’ lips are still there when he questions, “And where do you live?”

“Somewhere on the – uh,” you squint at the foggy memory of sienna walls and bricked roads, vivid playground and a kindergarten nearby, “I think it’s called Kore? Not sure where that is.” Considering it’s only been four days since you landed in Insomnia, it’s a miracle your overworked brain could recall a fragment of the location. “But it’s got a kindergarten and some swings and it’s a pretty cheap and quiet neighbourhood kind of thing—safe, hopefully.”

“That’s quite some distance from here,” he hums. “I suppose you walk to the train daily then?”

Chatty, isn’t he? You shift your weight on the other foot, rubbing your nape as your head sifts through possibilities of Moogling up a 24-Hour cab service and risk getting conned for thousands of Credits, or grab Uber instead and risk getting into a car with a potentially frisky Alpha. The choices are clearly endless. “Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. If I stay close to NTI, I’m gonna be even more broke than I am now. Need to make the best of my pay.” Not that it changes anything in your current situation; you probably should start thinking of alternatives now. Cab it is. “Yeah, anyway, I gotta go now. Gonna call a cab, ‘nite.”

Granite and amethyst are sharply narrowed your way once again, this time with an ever-familiar scowl. “Don’t be asinine—“

You sigh. ‘Yep, there it is, he’s gonna chew me out again for my life decisions. Stay out of my life, dad, I’m an adult.’

“—I’ll send you home,” Ravus finishes, already striding past your stunned figure to switch off the lights to his office. “Come along now, we don’t have all day.”

Your head whips around so fast you could’ve risked cracking your neck.

Holy shit. Did you hear that right?

Is your life really starting to turn into that girly manga route where the cold bastard finally takes an interest in the protagonist and the protagonist falls helplessly in love with him and it culminates into—‘Okay, no, calm down, self, calm down. It’s just Ravus being a sensible guy—he’s a human being and he’s got to have some sort of kind bone in him somewhere. Don’t overthink this and don’t end up making it more awkward than it already is. Ifrit and Shiva, Ifrit and Shiva, gotta remember that.’

That’s your pep talk for the day, but your traitorous heart’s palpitating loud enough for your eardrums to beat along. Tugging your bags closer as you tailed Ravus on your way out, you crane your neck to look up at him in gratitude. Because, seriously, all girly manga clichés aside, he’s the real MVP for wanting to send you back home. “Thanks, Ravus, seriously. I really appreciate this.” And no, not a hint of sarcasm this time. For real. “Seriously seriously. Thanks man.”

Ravus allows himself a sidelong glance at your expectant gaze, almost haughty in his disdain. “If you were to be murdered, I will end up losing more manpower in this office. I simply cannot let that happen.”

Or so he says, yet as your shoulders sag at his incriminating statement, half-lidded eyes are lingering far too long on you.

It is rare occasion for one to find oneself riding his car. It is rarer occasion for one to ride with him twice in a single lifetime.

Strangely, you defy all norms with your brutish pig-headedness, barrelling past all barricades he’s strategically set up to deter those coming his way. Riding in his car twice, and having the gall to fall asleep at that. Foolhardy, insolent, never quick to rise to the baits he dangled right under your nose. There should be a specific category for people like you, those who teeter along the fine line dividing the charlatan and the frank, though he can’t quite find a box befitting your nature. At most, you rebuffed his mockery with a snide smile, knowing your place underneath him, playing by the unspoken political hierarchy in the office.

Chancing a glance at his side rewards him with a vexing view of your lolling head. Shoulders softly rising and falling in tune with your breathing, guiltless in your slumber. Never once stirring from your sleep, hands politely folded over your thighs, both bags sitting by your feet. Street lamps flashing over your skin hardly bothers you, though Ravus supposes sloths are heavy sleepers. While it is indeed a blessing that you are silent for once, it is also infuriating that you dared to sleep in his presence, rendering him akin to your personal driver. An incredibly incensing thought, one that almost makes him want to shake you awake just to see your disgruntled face upon being rudely woken up.

The sooner he deposits you, the better.

A finger to the blinker, he smoothly swerves left and exits the highway.

Stalagmite skyscrapers gradually disappear from the distance, consumed by the miles separating them from the heart of Insomnia as Ravus drives on. Kore, miles from the heart of Insomnia, is a suburb for the penniless. Unfortunately, it’s one of Luna’s favourite spots for her charity charades, or what Ravus thinks it is. Visiting orphanages with trolleys of toys and wheeling around gap-toothed children in wheelchairs, her actions earned the love of locals easily. A gentle beauty who is no stranger to TV shows and radio podcasts, his gentle sister preaches to the masses. What Ravus saw as cunningly crafted manipulation of the media to bolster Niflheim’s extensive efforts in positive politics, Luna would wage a war with words against him—or what she calls pessimistic derision.

Whatever it may be, Ravus isn’t keen on correcting her altruism at the expense of their familial ties; as long as she’s safe, their views may continue to differ, so long as it contributes to the same cause.

His foot eases off the gas pedal as the traffic lights transition from amber to red. The quiet outskirts of the city are obviously dead at this hour with no cars whirring across the road. Waiting for a full minute at the intersection when he’s all alone would’ve sounded ridiculous to many, but rules are not meant to be broken. At the inopportune moment presenting itself, Ravus chances another glimpse at your visage, catching your head still lolling softly as though you are headbanging in your dreams. The sight of your unashamed barefaced slumber whisks an irritation he deems it can be solved once he swats you awake.

Foolish, selfish, annoying, and audacious Omega.

As though the traffic lights sensed his malicious intent, they immediately popped green.

Thus, Ravus is thwarted for the night.

Much later on, miles and miles away from the junction, stopping by the cracked sidewalk leading up to a rundown two-storey apartment with an exposed stairwell and walls as thin as a single brick, he watches as you stumble out of his ride with half a heel worn and the other stuck somewhere underneath the seat. You yawn open-mouthed when you’ve fished the abominable needle-heeled shoe from ruining his ride, slurring a sleepy good night with that idiotic slant slacking your lips to reveal a hint of teeth in a coy smile.

Shutting his door, you totter off into the distance as darkness warps your body until you are no more.

Ravus stares at nothing.

And then he leaves.

8.35 a.m.

Oh shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

You’re speed-walking through the thronging crowd at four oh shits per second, in which an interspersed oh fuck gives you an extra boost when you glance at your wristwatch. You are so dead—oh, you wish you were already dead because at least you don’t have to step into office and get physically dismembered by your boss. While you would’ve preferred your phone to be pinging nonstop with a barrage of assaulting messages from Ravus, the eerie silence speaks volumes for your current situation. Nothing’s scarier when a boss says nothing about your tardiness—in which it’s already a code red for your life.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you chant to the crowded escalator as your heart goes oh shit, oh shit, oh shit in tandem, pushing past the slow-motion bystanders—or are you actually on fast-forward? No matter, same difference, just that you need to get the hell out of the station to run to your office.

Emerging from the subway, your heart’s pumping like you’re about to undergo a cardiac arrest as you reorientate yourself with your surroundings. In the distance, NTI gleams like a silver stake ready to be spiked through your body. Just imagining the things Ravus would do to you the moment you step past the office doors gets you doubting yourself for a second there longer—oh Astrals, would it be better if you just stop by a Starbucks somewhere and tender your resignation to HR via email just so you’d spare yourself? Or would it be better if you just hightail it back home and never show up until they just terminate you? Either way, anything sounds like a good choice—far better than going in there unarmed against your boss.

With a nervous twitch, you withdraw your phone to check the notifications.

Nothing.

Not even an insult?

Or even something vaguely derogatory?

Good gods, you’re really done for, aren’t you?

All because you decided to spend your OT in office with him until three in the morning.

‘If anything, he should be grateful to me because I helped him out,’ you huffily try to justify should ragnarok come hurling home. Stuffing your phone once more, it is with a heavy heart and heavier feet that you drag yourself to your office, slowing down to one and a half oh shit at a time. ‘But then again, it’s not like I was helping out much. He got his shit together while I was sitting there like a moron watching him work.’

As a senior executive, whatever your boss tasked you with, you were supposed to execute it with the aid of fellow execs under you. Growing into this new role of yours gets challenging without a guiding hand showing you the ropes—you suppose all you could do is to imitate whatever Aranea had done and replicate it in your own unique way. Just like yesterday, when experience poured from the tip of Ravus’ fountain pen whilst he scribbled ideas on a scrap of paper. Planning charity events requires budgeting; that much you knew from your years with Aranea. NTG had to ration their budget expenditure spread over a financial year and NTI isn’t any different—except, NTI had a wealth of money at their expense, apparently. Ravus had kindly set aside close to a hundred thousand for media buys pertaining to social media ads, and that’s not even including billboards and traditional media. You had dumbly stared at the 1.5 million Credits parked under production costs as you mentally contrasted it with NTG’s measly 30k—to which the prince haughtily declared, “Did you think this will be just like Gralea?”

As snotty as he sounded, you couldn’t admit yes.

The scale of the events NTI organized shouldn’t be a surprise to you; Ravus had shown you that whatever NTG did, NTI would execute it on a grander note. That’s because it’s not for Niflheim anymore; it’ll be the talk of the kingdom if NT scrimped out on their political campaign by delivering less than what is expected. None of them would like to lose face in front of the king, would they? From the guest lists to the caterers, he shared his thoughts and views on contracted vendors and agencies that would be setting up the event site. Coordinating their locations, standardizing the colours, ensuring all corporate identities are prominently displayed via buntings, it’s almost everything you’ve ever done in NTG amplified threefold. With every snip of his tongue lashing, you are forced to reorganize your bearings and fulfil his wishes according to his ideals.

It’s overwhelming. Exhausting. Demanding.

Yet, as you think about your boss’ solemn profile as he worked tirelessly through the night, it pops a funny little bubble in your tummy.

Ravus Nox Fleuret is a pain in the ass, sure, but at least he taught you something.

And how are you supposed to support him as a senior exec if you’re going to get fired today? Well, better get your feet moving faster than one oh shit at a time if you still want a job by tomorrow.

Picking up your speed, you allow the ocean of humans to suck you into waves. Everywhere you looked, the morning zombies of Insomnia were in the same state: Dragging their feet to their workplaces. You can’t say you’re proud to be one of them, especially when your body’s in a state of disarray. That lack of sleep manifests by way of a throbbing headache and tunnel vision as you weave through the crowd, making your way to the stab of silver in the distance. Except, along the way, you didn’t expect a familiarly antique scent to come sidling up your strides.

“Hey, morning,” Noctgar offers a rumbling greeting, scruff twitching along his words.

What could possibly improve your disastrous morning to be better? None other than your favourite homeless Alpha, that’s who.

In all honesty, you wanted to slow down and have a good chat with him before you head to your funeral—but it’s not easy being the star of your own beheading, so you can’t really show up late. Flashing him your most genuine smile, you keep an even pace. And it certainly helps when you’re short, for you would never wind up outpacing him.

“G’morning, Noctgar! So sorry I can’t stop and chat, I actually shouldn’t be alive right now!” you chirp. At his stunned silence welcoming your shocking statement, you laugh a little. “Just kidding—well,” you sober up at the reality of the situation, “half kidding. I’m just really late right now, so I’m trying to make the most of my last moments on Eos before my boss decides how he wants me done today. Grilled, charbroiled, steamed, everything on the menu is possible.”

Even with the bustling Insomnians talking in dissonant murmurs, Noctgar’s low whistle couldn't be missed. “Sounds rough, I’m sorry to hear that, old friend. Take care.”

“Take care!?” you squeak your disbelief, chortling at the way Noctgar’s ever-expressive eyes twinkle with mischief when he knows you hadn’t missed out on the joke. “Such support, much wow. Wait ‘til you receive my e-invite for my funeral today, free lunch provided.”

Noctgar chuckles at your dark humour, easily sidestepping a passing Beta before rejoining your side like velcro. “Yeah, wouldn’t miss out on free lunch. Hope he cooks you good.”

“Me too,” you lightly punch him in the bicep as he returns his revenge by messing up your hair, trading blows.

Somewhere down the street, Starbuck’s open doors wafted bitter notes of coffee among the herd of creamy Omegas, subtle Betas, and masculine Alphas. Cabbies and Ubers are honking at the building traffic, tyres screeching on asphalt. Just like this, it feels good to have someone with you. Walking together through the slow drift of chilly breeze, making jokes over your misfortune when the going gets tough.

Noctgar’s the same as ever, dressed in a humble jacket, hands pocketed in drab jeans. Still looking like he hadn’t a decent night’s sleep, always in need for a good shaver and mirror. Who knows what he’s doing out here anyway? Insomnia’s probably his turf, so it makes sense why he’d just pop up near the subway by accident if he had been napping nearby—and boy, it’s an excellent accident to happen first thing in the morning. Alas, all good things have to come to an end, marked by the way NTI’s glass lobby looms all too soon into view with lively Techies swarming in by the second.

You instinctively slow down, turning to your Alpha friend with a grimace. “Well, we’ve come to the end of the line.”

“Any last words?” Noctgar teases, leaning back with his head tilted aside.

It takes you a moment to search the Merriam-Webster Dictionary preinstalled in your brain when the image just assaults you like this. With creamy light spilling over pale skin, the wild arrangement of tousled hair, sharp Alpha characteristics of a defined jawline following a cocky, self-assured smirk; yeah, this homeless friend of yours is definitely something, why didn’t you realize it earlier? With a little snip of his scruff, a tidying of his locks, and some fitting garment, Astrals, you could’ve transformed him into a model! Or at least you could do a joint venture where you could pitch his existence to modelling agencies as his self-appointed manager and rake in thousands by the end of the month—

—yeah, too bad you have to die today.

“Eh, well,” you do an unenthused shrug, already accepting your inevitable death at the hands of your boss because no amount of active imagination could spare you from Ravus, “thanks for being a pal, Noctgar. You made my short stay in Insomnia a luxury vacation, really. Five stars on TripAdvisor as best tour guide.”

At this, Noctgar’s lips twist oddly—like absent fondness and Something More™, but who knows what Something More™ could mean when you obviously won’t live long enough to find out. “I’ll make sure they bury you with your phone so that you can still text me an invite in the coffin. Can’t miss out free lunch and five stars on TripAdvisor.”

How morbidly charming. You really like this guy. Holding out a fist, you flash him the kind of smile when Brave Legends Go Off To Meet Their Impending Demise. “See you on the other side, pal.”

Noctgar only returns your brofist with unwavering confidence. “Yeah, see you.”

As you heroically march right up the entrance sans epic background music, too lost in the moment where the highlight reel of your life is on playback before your eyes, you’ve most certainly missed out a blurry reflection of Noctgar withdrawing a cellphone from his back pocket, snapping a picture of you.

“Ah, Your Highness, to what do I owe this pleasure of a phone call while I’m in the middle of a meeting with my board members, who are coincidentally very peeved at this ongoing interruption?”

“Sorry, not sorry. Do you wanna owe me something real quick?”

“An intriguing offer! Go on, I’m listening.”

“Great. There’s this girl, (y/n), coming up from NTI’s lobby now. She’s new, Omega, black collar, and reports to Ravus—I’ll send you her pic in a sec. Think you can see that bastard and make up some excuse on why she’s late?”

“Pray tell, what benefits will I reap from this ad hoc liaison?”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“Debt is the slavery of the free, after all.”

“…fine, I’ll go to that damn charity event on C3.”

“What an intriguing offer indeed.”

NOTES:

Thanks for all the support during my absence! Going through a bit of a rough patch in life at the moment, but I'll try my darnest best to keep writing and keep updating! ❤ Stay safe everyone, stay hydrated, and may 2019 go well for all of you!

THE TRAGEDY CONTINUES: Great. Great, great, great, great great great, just great. The way you punched in the fullstop a bit too hard resounds like a bullet through metal before you rise to your feet, already feeling cold sweat collecting under your boobs. Because fuck sweating profusely through your armpits when that’s too mainstream, since the way you’ll get fired is already premium with how Ravus stands before his room like a headmaster catching his students sniffing glue in the school’s backyard. As if things can’t get any worse, everyone within vicinity are pretending they’re focused on their work—but you catch their sneaky eyes hovering above iMacs, ears subtly angled Ravus’ way. Absolutely fabulous, it’s barely your first week here and you’ve already fucked up ten ways up Ravus’ ass, and judging from how hairy things are getting, you suspect he hasn’t shaved his crack for a long, long time.

(Or maybe he’s never shaved at all.)

(But you haven’t considered if he’s naturally hairless, did you?)

#noctis x reader #noctis/reader #Noctis Lucis Caelum #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv fanfic #ffxv #older noctis #mr noctgar #fanfic #ravus/reader #ravus x reader #i can't believe i forgot to update this here #i'm completely trash #mr noctgar is such a huge thing for me and i forgot about it #smh raon #hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!#and ravus too!

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sineluce-velius-tristitia · 6 years ago

Text

a touch of darkness makes it more interesting

[Dark!CinnamonRoll!Newt Scamander; Grindlenewt]

Newton Artemis Fido Scamander would never ever in his life choose to hurt anyone.

There was no lesson, no major life experience that taught him that. Newt remembers clinging to his mummy and fervently wishing her good things because she is so nice and Newt loves her very much, remembers Thee reading him a bed time story when mummy and daddy couldn't, remembers daddy patting his head in a way that makes warmth bloom in his stomach. He remembers family dinners spent in silent comfort because everyone but him and Theseus are so very tired after a day's work.

The thing is; Newt grew up in the loving embrace of his family. And he knew, just as he knew he loved Theseus even though his brother spent a lot of time teasing him, that hurting anyone just wasn't something he could ever choose to do.

Oh, he can hurt them (as much as they can and have done, too) but Newt just wouldn't go for that option. Especially not after mummy made him promise.

(Newt tries not to remember the cruel words, the painful blows, and the utter fear and helplessness that still made him wake up in cold sweat. He buries that feeling of triumph when his magic surged to protect him. Tries and tries to forget the satisfaction that curled in his gut at the fear in their eyes. Newt isn't helpless and weak and those muggles deserve--

But he can't.)

Creatures, Newt thinks, share his belief.

They are driven by their instincts, yes, but it isn't in their nature to hurt other beings. When they do, it's for food or when they are feeling threatened or when someone is being bad. These are bare necessities; not something they choose to do but something they had to do.

Newt feels that they are kindred spirits. Maybe in the loosest, most basic definition of the term but it is in the company of the creatures that freely run through the forest that Newt feels drawn to.

More so when people (children his age, children Theseus's age, mummy and daddy's friends from the ministry) proved, time and time again, that creatures are better company than them.

In the forest with the creatures, there's no cruel, condescending words. In the forest, there's only the peaceful hum of the winds, the chirps and whistles of creatures of the wind and land, the distant sound of elks grazing in the nearby clearing.

It's where Newt felt more at home in.

He loves mummy and daddy and Theseus but they are the few exceptions to Newt's passive distance to human contact. He didn't think he'd ever feel comfortable around other people.

Newt had always been a curious child.

Before he was old enough to be left alone for a few hours, he'd frolic around the gardens, getting mud and dirt all over himself.

On a memorable occasion, Newt had befriend--or rather, made himself tolerable to--a garden gnome by talking to it like he would another child and giving it the flower petals he had collected from under a particularly thorny bush.

Naturally, as he grew up, Newt's curiosity only grew with him and developed into something more focused and organized though still unrefined. He started taking notes, writing down anything and everything he found out, even going so far as to drawing them even with his less than stellar skills (he would get better, Newt promises to himself).

He would sit on a tree branch for hours just to observe everything. Of course it was hard keeping track of everything all at once. And so Newt started focusing on smaller and smaller details. Like how the red-breasted pigeon would ruffle its feathers in a certain way to call another of its kind, how the small garden snake would hide the moment something disturbs it, how all animals seem to be fine with his presence but not with other humans.

It was exciting and wonderful. Even at a young age, Newt knew this is what he would prefer to do for years and years. (And he wouldn't be wrong. Just that he hadn't quite grasped the implication what this would actually do to him and for the Wizardng World in general.)

With his attention so focused on his discoveries, Newt almost didn't notice the change taking place.

Too occupied with his excitement, Newt barely noticed the way his mum's affection and fondness turned into a few pats on the head before hurrying off to the fireplace. Gone too long in the forests with his creatures that Newt didn't even notice he barely saw his father's face.

But, well, Theseus was there. Theseus listened to his stories patiently, complemented his drawings, pointed out mistakes on his notes (or just rewriting it for him because Newt's handwriting is not entirely legible yet). Theseus took care of the wounds Newt gets whenever he became too careless and fell off his branch (or got too near a frightened creature), consoled him when Newt was unable to save an injured creature in time.

Newt didn't notice the distance and tension blooming in their once close family.

Until the time came that Theseus had to attend Hogwarts.

Continue reading here.

Dudes, I dislike formatting in tumblr. Go on and open the link lmao. It’s actually up to two chapters already. Like, this is self-indulgent self-advertisement.

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #newt scamander #grindelnewt #fanfiction #fantastic beasts and where to find them fanfiction #slowburn #ao3 #archive of our own #dark newt #cinnamon roll newt scamander

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matchstickwords · 6 years ago

Text

a/b/o Masterlist

Read the tags/warnings once you click on the link. Includes Heat/Mpreg adjacent stuff and playmating stuff (of the real and fake type)

IN: incomplete CO: complete

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

Small town blues series by Rhiw (21,781 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Nancy and Steve break up before Tina's party. Steve finds himself on the rebound, damned and determined to have some fun. Billy just wants to get laid.

Aka: The ABO of Stranger Things no one asked for. Written while drunk, with drunk characters, and lots of angst and smut and shit. Enjoy.

Don’t belong to anyone (else) by Sparkleeye (11443 words. IN) Alpha Steve

And he does, just Billy’s fucking luck, because Harrington licks his lips and hoarsely goes, “I fucking knew it, fuck Hargrove, you’re in heat.”

He shudders as Harrington takes a step towards him. The tangy, warm scent of alpha has him struggling to stand upright, already slipping into the too far gone state and it’s fucking Harrington’s fault because he still won’t leave.

Better yet, he knows, he can smell the sweetness of omega, particularly herbal and saccharine like lavender and vanilla - Billy knows he smells like a girly little candle, okay - flooding the air between them. He could push Billy over and take him there, on the floor, push his face down onto the cracked, dusty concrete and fuck him stupid.

aka -- Billy is a stubborn idiot and goes to school during his heat.

More than instincts by Morganadelacour ( 2022 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Billy is looking for his sister but instead finds Steve Harrington in full heat, so he helps him out. However, things get more complicated afterwards.

This spell I’m under might last by Universealternating (1810 words. CO) Alpha Billy

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here!” Tommy exclaimed, jerking the door open. He didn’t say anything after that, probably sizing Steve up and trying to figure things out.

“I’m in heat.” Steve admitted, not looking at Tommy.

“Aw, jeez.” Tommy said with a sigh. “Alright, alright. Guess I can just call and try to explain it to Carol from your place?” Tommy grinned but it didn’t really reach his eyes.

What a wicked game(s) series by ToAStranger, Brawlite (125,823 words. IN) Alpha Billy, Alpha Steve.

Billy knew Steve Harrington would ruin him. Steve knew Billy Hargrove was nothing but trouble.

They never expected it to end up like this.

Oh to be young (and greek) series by Hoppnhorn (9771 words. IN) Omega Billy, Omega Steve

Billy rushes Steve's fraternity and gets in, which sucks, only when it doesn't. Drunk Steve has a hard time staying away from what isn't good for him.

Turn me loose by Hoppnhorn (3321 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Billy is a dominant, powerful alpha with a slew of omegas dying to win his affection. He loves it, lives for it, except when he’s in rut. Steve is an omega and fights it every damn day. But when his body goes into heat, needs to breed, he can’t do anything to stop it. Billy is in rut and Steve is in heat when a freak heatwave knocks out the air conditioning in their shared apartment complex. Open windows and rampant hormones? What could go wrong?

High demand by Underthegrave (13,256 words. IN) Alpha Billy

In a dystopian society where the vast majority of people are betas unable to reproduce, alphas and omegas are kept as second-class breeding stock.

Billy and Steve are the most anticipated pairing of the year... but they aren't quite getting along as planned.

Don’t threaten me with a good time by Oop (7508 words. IN) Alpha Steve

Billy doesn't keep it a secret. He doesn’t use suppressants, doesn’t chase other omegas around like he’s lead by the nose, doesn’t do anything too particular that screams alpha, but that’s what people seem to hear anyway.

"Hey," Steve says, exhaling smoke at the sky. "This is gonna sound weird, but... What cologne are you wearing?"

Heaven by femmesteve (219 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Something short about a very horny, omega Steve basically.

Suppressants by femmesteve (12,430 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Billy finds out about Steve

Steve Forgets by femmesteve (1,242 words. CO) Alpha Billy

Steve forgets his heat and Billy is there to be a jerk and fuck him how he needs.

Heatstroke by Hobbitspacecase (8022 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy is out of suppressants and going into Heat. Steve finds him. It's too bad Billy can't have this every time.

First part / Second part by Lipgallagher (5712 words. IN)

“You’re leaking, Harrington. It’s gross.”

“You’re gross.” Steve’s head hurts, his entire body is just aching, and he is so fucking horny that it’s goddamn embarrassing. This is a heat, he knows that, but he also knows that the first day isn’t ever the worst one.

One by eightiesboys (390 words. CO) Alpha Billy

steve’s heat starts up during basketball practice without him noticing the telltale signs (excessive sweating, added body temperature) because he’s too focused on trying to keep the ball away from billy

One by Snow (515 words. CO) Alpha Billy

“Billy, hey…Billy? C'mon, man, wake up already…” Steve murmured, starting to frown. Billy always slept like a dead, and while at one times it was kind of adorable, at the other times, like this, it was annoying.

Hawkins happy day daycare by Chiefette (4584 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve is just an omega daycare teacher stuck in a tree.

Billy is just an alpha firefighter that helps him down.

It's obvious to the 6 kids of Hawkins Happy Day Daycare that they need to get the two to fall in love, and how do you know when two people are in love? They have a baby of course!

Not that Steve and Billy need much help.

Short looks into an extremely self-indulgent daycare AU

Mind over matter series by Hati_skoll (4358 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve gets wet for Billy.

(Less porn inside than implied.)

Heat of the moment by Akayn (2614 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve crouched down to grab the shampoo when he felt it. That warm heat curling low in his belly. Steve froze. His heat shouldn’t be here this early, there was no way. He had been on suppressants since he’d presented two years ago. Under a strict regime that controlled when his heats struck. And he was six weeks early.

Sweet scent that has me fallin’ to my knees by sens8tional (1253 words. IN) Alpha Billy

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Billy growls as he cornered Steve in the empty hallway. “Do we have ourselves an omega in dear ol’ Hawkins?”

Steve has been hiding the fact that he's an omega for a few years now, ever since he had his first heat and his parents put him on suppressants but everything comes falling apart when new boy Billy Hargrove comes into town and corners Steve in a hallway, leaving the omega confused and desperate to keep himself far away from the Alpha no matter what his biology wants.

Learning each other by Poisonousflower3 (1358 words. IN) Alpha Billy

"Billy hated being an alpha. He hated how it made his sense of smell stronger and smell the despair that always seemed to linger in this town. He hated how he was always so angry, though he knew that part of it was the abuse from his dad and his temper.

What he didn’t hate was how it let him get a good whiff of Steve whenever he was around."

In which case home starts to include Steve Harrington for Billy.

I never injured thee by Sachanpwns (812 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy should have known the second Steve’s teeth broke through his scent glands that shit was going to go down at school. He should have known that coming off his suppressants and presenting to King Steve as an omega would end up causing fucking drama. He should have known.

I don’t need you (but I do) by Sachanpwns (1274 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy's in heat, and he doesn't need Steve.

Except he does.

Not done until I say so by Sachanpwns (1132 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Steve likes that, even as an Omega, Billy has the bite and bark of an alpha.

My status (I hate it) by Sachanpwns (774 words. CO) Alpha Steve

Billy does everything he can against his natural instincts as on omega.

Collision course by Cherryfleash (7835 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Takes place just after season 2. Billy struggles with his aggressive alpha nature, made worse by the abuse at the hands of his father. Steve leaves the hospital with a diagnose of his own. In a world with little to no correct information of this mystical medical phenomena, can two teenage boys navigate that rocky path on their own?

‘Cause We Feel Young and Wild by beautyinchains (1515 words CO) Alpha Steve

Soon, is Steve’s best guess. Soon like the subtle itch beneath his skin that intensifies with each passing day. Soon like the voracity of his appetite as his body begins to prepare itself for the upcoming marathon. Soon like the aggression that continues to build and threaten to spill whenever another Alpha so much as glances Billy’s way. Soon like the way he’s been tenting his sheets, his slacks, his gym shorts at so much as a gentle breeze.

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

Adjacent stuff

Bound by Luv_haze ( 38544 words. IN) Alpha Billy

Steve's high school sociology class suddenly becomes the focal point of his dreary winter in Hawkins when the teacher assigns a semester long project that makes absolutely no sense but apparently counts for his entire grade.

The class assignment reads: "This semester we will be understanding social roles in a pack or clan like dynamic through the wonderful world of Alpha, Beta and Omega personalities!"

And Steve's individual assignment is a string of several words that coil deep in his gut and might as well be in Klingon. "You are Omega #1. Mated to Alpha #1."

He hopes his "alpha" partner is anyone but that jackass Billy Hargrove, but then this just hasn't been Steve's year, has it?

Build it better by Anonymous (29853 words. CO) Mpreg Steve

“Congratulations, Steve. You’re having a baby.”

Your tongue is sharp, but I miss the taste of it by Thecopperkid (7683 words. CO) Fuck or die Billy

Billy looks sweaty as fuck. Abandoned his denim jacket, drenched through his thin t-shirt. He’s like, unbuckled, rolling around in the seat, all hunched in fetal position. Grabbing the crotch of his fucking pants.

Then he really fucks with Steve’s shit.

Says, “I need to come, I think.”

Billy had one job -- don't take off the scarf. / Science is probably not Steve's strong suit, but he's really trying to make sense of why Billy's suddenly found him so appealing.

Put a baby in me, baby by femmesteve (353 words. CO)

Billy and Steve play with Steve’s pregnancy kink

The real stranger things by femmesteve (1025 words IN)

My AU where Billy is an alien and Steve is a human who loves him dearly.

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

09/2018 (if you want to send me your faves fics, head canons or anything to update this I’ll add it when I get the time again)

#harringrove #masterlist #a/b/o #fic rec #mpreg #heat sex #fuck or die #alpha billy #alpha steve #hello im a trash goblin nice to meet you #fic rec master list

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isisosiris1111twinflames · 5 years ago

Video

The True Stages of a Twin Flame Union

John Rumary

is with

Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson

and

3 others

July 3, 2015 ·

Shared with Public

#katherynhudson #katheryn elizabeth hudson #katyperry #katy perry #katyperrysexy #katyperrycollections #katy #katycats

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araitsume · 3 years ago

Text

The Acts of the Apostles, pp. 309-322: Chapter (30) Called to Reach a Higher Standard

This chapter is based on the First Epistle to the Corinthians.

In the hope of impressing vividly upon the minds of the Corinthian believers the importance of firm self-control, strict temperance, and unflagging zeal in the service of Christ, Paul in his letter to them made a striking comparison between the Christian warfare and the celebrated foot races held at stated intervals near Corinth. Of all the games instituted among the Greeks and the Romans, the foot races were the most ancient and the most highly esteemed. They were witnessed by kings, nobles, and statesmen. Young men of rank and wealth took part in them and shrank from no effort or discipline necessary to obtain the prize.

The contests were governed by strict regulations, from which there was no appeal. Those who desired their names entered as competitors for the prize had first to undergo a severe preparatory training. Harmful indulgence of appetite, or any other gratification that would lower mental or physical vigor, was strictly forbidden. For one to have any hope of success in these trials of strength and speed, the muscles must be strong and supple, and the nerves well under control. Every movement must be certain, every step swift and unswerving; the physical powers must reach the highest mark.

As the contestants in the race made their appearance before the waiting multitude, their names were heralded, and the rules of the race were distinctly stated. Then they all started together, the fixed attention of the spectators inspiring them with a determination to win. The judges were seated near the goal, that they might watch the race from its beginning to its close and give the prize to the true victor. If a man reached the goal first by taking an unlawful advantage, he was not awarded the prize.

In these contests great risks were run. Some never recovered from the terrible physical strain. It was not unusual for men to fall on the course, bleeding at the mouth and nose, and sometimes a contestant would drop dead when about to seize the prize. But the possibility of lifelong injury or of death was not looked upon as too great a risk to run for the sake of the honor awarded the successful contestant.

As the winner reached the goal, the applause of the vast multitude of onlookers rent the air and awoke the echoes of the surrounding hills and mountains. In full view of the spectators, the judge presented him with the emblems of victory—a laurel crown and a palm branch to carry in his right hand. His praise was sung throughout the land; his parents received their share of honor; and even the city in which he lived was held in high esteem for having produced so great an athlete.

In referring to these races as a figure of the Christian warfare, Paul emphasized the preparation necessary to the success of the contestants in the race—the preliminary discipline, the abstemious diet, the necessity for temperance. “Every man that striveth for the mastery,” he declared, “is temperate in all things.” The runners put aside every indulgence that would tend to weaken the physical powers, and by severe and continuous discipline trained their muscles to strength and endurance, that when the day of the contest should arrive, they might put the heaviest tax upon their powers. How much more important that the Christian, whose eternal interests are at stake, bring appetite and passion under subjection to reason and the will of God! Never must he allow his attention to be diverted by amusements, luxuries, or ease. All his habits and passions must be brought under the strictest discipline. Reason, enlightened by the teachings of God's word and guided by His Spirit, must hold the reins of control.

And after this has been done, the Christian must put forth the utmost exertion in order to gain the victory. In the Corinthian games the last few strides of the contestants in the race were made with agonizing effort to keep up undiminished speed. So the Christian, as he nears the goal, will press onward with even more zeal and determination than at the first of his course.

Paul presents the contrast between the chaplet of fading laurel received by the victor in the foot races, and the crown of immortal glory that will be given to him who runs with triumph the Christian race. “They do it,” he declares, “to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible.” To win a perishable prize, the Grecian runners spared themselves no toil or discipline. We are striving for a prize infinitely more valuable, even the crown of everlasting life. How much more careful should be our striving, how much more willing our sacrifice and self-denial!

In the epistle to the Hebrews is pointed out the single-hearted purpose that should characterize the Christian's race for eternal life: “Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith.” Hebrews 12:1, 2. Envy, malice, evil thinking, evilspeaking, covetousness—these are weights that the Christian must lay aside if he would run successfully the race for immortality. Every habit or practice that leads into sin and brings dishonor upon Christ must be put away, whatever the sacrifice. The blessing of heaven cannot attend any man in violating the eternal principles of right. One sin cherished is sufficient to work degradation of character and to mislead others.

“If thy hand cause thee to stumble,” the Saviour said, “Cut it off: it is good for thee to enter into life maimed, rather than having thy two hands to go into hell, into the unquenchable fire. And if thy foot cause thee to stumble, cut it off: it is good for thee to enter into life halt, rather than having thy two feet to be cast into hell.” Mark 9:43-45, R.V. If to save the body from death, the foot or the hand should be cut off, or even the eye plucked out, how much more earnest should the Christian be to put away sin, which brings death to the soul!

The competitors in the ancient games, after they had submitted to self-denial and rigid discipline, were not even then sure of the victory. “Know ye not,” Paul asked, “that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize?” However eagerly and earnestly the runners might strive, the prize could be awarded to but one. One hand only could grasp the coveted garland. Some might put forth the utmost effort to obtain the prize, but as they reached forth the hand to secure it, another, an instant before them, might grasp the coveted treasure.

Such is not the case in the Christian warfare. Not one who complies with the conditions will be disappointed at the end of the race. Not one who is earnest and persevering will fail of success. The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. The weakest saint, as well as the strongest, may wear the crown of immortal glory. All may win who, through the power of divine grace, bring their lives into conformity to the will of Christ. The practice, in the details of life, of the principles laid down in God's word, is too often looked upon as unimportant—a matter too trivial to demand attention. But in view of the issue at stake, nothing is small that will help or hinder. Every act casts its weight into the scale that determines life's victory or defeat. And the reward given to those who win will be in proportion to the energy and earnestness with which they have striven.

The apostle compared himself to a man running in a race, straining every nerve to win the prize. “I therefore so run,” he says, “not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air: but I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.” That he might not run uncertainly or at random in the Christian race, Paul subjected himself to severe training. The words, “I keep under my body,” literally mean to beat back by severe discipline the desires, impulses, and passions.

Paul feared lest, having preached to others, he himself should be a castaway. He realized that if he did not carry out in his life the principles he believed and preached, his labors in behalf of others would avail him nothing. His conversation, his influence, his refusal to yield to self-gratification, must show that his religion was not a profession merely, but a daily, living connection with God. One goal he kept ever before him, and strove earnestly to reach—“the righteousness which is of God by faith.” Philippians 3:9.

Paul knew that his warfare against evil would not end so long as life should last. Ever he realized the need of putting a strict guard upon himself, that earthly desires might not overcome spiritual zeal. With all his power he continued to strive against natural inclinations. Ever he kept before him the ideal to be attained, and this ideal he strove to reach by willing obedience to the law of God. His words, his practices, his passions—all were brought under the control of the Spirit of God.

It was this singlehearted purpose to win the race for eternal life that Paul longed to see revealed in the lives of the Corinthian believers. He knew that in order to reach Christ's ideal for them, they had before them a life struggle from which there would be no release. He entreated them to strive lawfully, day by day seeking for piety and moral excellence. He pleaded with them to lay aside every weight and to press forward to the goal of perfection in Christ.

Paul pointed the Corinthians to the experience of ancient Israel, to the blessings that rewarded their obedience, and to the judgments that followed their transgressions. He reminded them of the miraculous way in which the Hebrews were led from Egypt under the protection of the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. Thus they were safely conducted through the Red Sea, while the Egyptians, essaying to cross in like manner, were all drowned. By these acts God had acknowledged Israel as His church. They “did all eat the same spiritual meat; and did all drink the same spiritual drink: for they drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them: and that Rock was Christ.” The Hebrews, in all their travels, had Christ as a leader. The smitten rock typified Christ, who was to be wounded for men's transgressions, that the stream of salvation might flow to all.

Notwithstanding the favor that God showed to the Hebrews, yet because of their lust for the luxuries left behind in Egypt, and because of their sin and rebellion, the judgments of God came upon them. The apostle enjoined the Corinthian believers to heed the lesson contained in Israel's experience. “Now these things were our examples,” he declared, “to the intent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted.” He showed how love of ease and pleasure had prepared the way for sins that called forth the signal vengeance of God. It was when the children of Israel sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play, that they threw off the fear of God, which they had felt as they listened to the giving of the law; and, making a golden calf to represent God, they worshiped it. And it was after enjoying a luxurious feast connected with the worship of Baalpeor, that many of the Hebrews fell through licentiousness. The anger of God was aroused, and at His command “three and twenty thousand” were slain by the plague in one day.

The apostle adjured the Corinthians, “Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.” Should they become boastful and self-confident, neglecting to watch and pray, they would fall into grievous sin, calling down upon themselves the wrath of God. Yet Paul would not have them yield to despondency or discouragement. He gave them the assurance: “God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way of escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”

Paul urged his brethren to ask themselves what influence their words and deeds would have upon others and to do nothing, however innocent in itself, that would seem to sanction idolatry or offend the scruples of those who might be weak in the faith. “Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. Give none offense, neither to the Jews, nor to the Gentiles, nor to the church of God.”

The apostle's words of warning to the Corinthian church are applicable to all time and are especially adapted to our day. By idolatry he meant not only the worship of idols, but self-serving, love of ease, the gratification of appetite and passion. A mere profession of faith in Christ, a boastful knowledge of the truth, does not make a man a Christian. A religion that seeks only to gratify the eye, the ear, and the taste, or that sanctions self-indulgence, is not the religion of Christ.

By a comparison of the church with the human body, the apostle aptly illustrated the close and harmonious relationship that should exist among all members of the church of Christ. “By one Spirit,” he wrote, “are we all baptized into one body, whether we be Jews or Gentiles, whether we be bond or free; and have been all made to drink into one Spirit. For the body is not one member, but many. If the foot shall say, Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear shall say, Because I am not the eye, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where were the smelling? But now hath God set the members every one of them in the body, as it hath pleased Him. And if they were all one member, where were the body? But now are they many members, yet but one body. And the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you.... God hath tempered the body together, having given more abundant honor to that part which lacked: that there should be no schism in the body; but that the members should have the same care one for another. And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honored, all the members rejoice with it. Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular.”

And then, in words which from that day to this have been to men and women a source of inspiration and encouragement, Paul set forth the importance of that love which should be cherished by the followers of Christ: “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.”

No matter how high the profession, he whose heart is not filled with love for God and his fellow men is not a true disciple of Christ. Though he should possess great faith and have power even to work miracles, yet without love his faith would be worthless. He might display great liberality; but should he, from some other motive than genuine love, bestow all his goods to feed the poor, the act would not commend him to the favor of God. In his zeal he might even meet a martyr's death, yet if not actuated by love, he would be regarded by God as a deluded enthusiast or an ambitious hypocrite.

“Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up.” The purest joy springs from the deepest humiliation. The strongest and noblest characters are built on the foundation of patience, love, and submission to God's will.

Charity “doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil.” Christ-like love places the most favorable construction on the motives and acts of others. It does not needlessly expose their faults; it does not listen eagerly to unfavorable reports, but seeks rather to bring to mind the good qualities of others.

Love “rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.” This love “never faileth.” It can never lose its value; it is a heavenly attribute. As a precious treasure, it will be carried by its possessor through the portals of the city of God.

“And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”

In the lowering of the moral standard among the Corinthian believers, there were those who had given up some of the fundamental features of their faith. Some had gone so far as to deny the doctrine of the resurrection. Paul met this heresy with a very plain testimony regarding the unmistakable evidence of the resurrection of Christ. He declared that Christ, after His death, “rose again the third day according to the Scriptures,” after which “He was seen of Cephas, then of the Twelve: after that, He was seen of above five hundred brethren at once; of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are fallen asleep. After that, He was seen of James; then of all the apostles. And last of all He was seen of me also.”

With convincing power the apostle set forth the great truth of the resurrection. “If there be no resurrection of the dead,” he argued, “then is Christ not risen: and if Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain. Yea, and we are found false witnesses of God; because we have testified of God that He raised up Christ: whom He raised not up, if so be that the dead rise not. For if the dead rise not, then is not Christ raised: and if Christ be not raised, your faith is vain; ye are yet in your sins. Then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished. If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable. But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the first fruits of them that slept.”

The apostle carried the minds of the Corinthian brethren forward to the triumphs of the resurrection morn, when all the sleeping saints are to be raised, henceforth to live forever with their Lord. “Behold,” the apostle declared, “I show you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? ... Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Glorious is the triumph awaiting the faithful. The apostle, realizing the possibilities before the Corinthian believers, sought to set before them that which uplifts from the selfish and the sensual, and glorifies life with the hope of immortality. Earnestly he exhorted them to be true to their high calling in Christ. “My beloved brethren,” he pleaded, “be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.”

Thus the apostle, in the most decided and impressive manner, endeavored to correct the false and dangerous ideas and practices that were prevailing in the Corinthian church. He spoke plainly, yet in love for their souls. In his warnings and reproofs, light from the throne of God was shining upon them, to reveal the hidden sins that were defiling their lives. How would it be received?

After the letter had been dispatched, Paul feared lest that which he had written might wound too deeply those whom he desired to benefit. He keenly dreaded a further alienation and sometimes longed to recall his words. Those who, like the apostle, have felt a responsibility for beloved churches or institutions, can best appreciate his depression of spirit and self-accusing. The servants of God who bear the burden of His work for this time know something of the same experience of labor, conflict, and anxious care that fell to the lot of the great apostle. Burdened by divisions in the church, meeting with ingratitude and betrayal from some to whom he looked for sympathy and support, realizing the peril of the churches that harbored iniquity, compelled to bear a close, searching testimony in reproof of sin, he was at the same time weighed down with fear that he might have dealt with too great severity. With trembling anxiety he waited to receive some tidings as to the reception of his message.

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thegoodvirginqueen · 7 years ago

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Love Rekindled.

INVOLVED: Queen Margery & Earl of Leicester. TIME FRAME: 1600s. LOCATION: Royal Palace; Greenwich, England. NOTES: Margery awaits the return of her beloved Earl, the rekindled relationship sparks the indulgence of two souls.

Margery sat before her councilmen, after hearing the same topic repeatedly you tend not to listen nor care an ounce when it is brought up again. Her hand moved to the crown that leaned ever so slightly on her head, she’d been leaning to one side hands splayed against the table's top as she listened on absentmindedly. Her focus was past Secretary of State as he spoke, she was gazing upon the green pastures through the window behind his head of hair. She blinked slowly adjusting her crown, however her eyes never left the green grounds even as her hand moved back down to the table and rested there. She inhaled slowly, her stomach was churning in disagreement to whatever she had consumed that morning. She tugged at the collar of her exquisite gown, she felt like she was being burned alive in the clothing she wore and she hadn’t known why.

“Your highness?” Cecil said as he stopped rambling on. “Your highness?” he asked again a bit of worry in his voice as he watched her, she hadn’t made a sound since she was escorted in and it was so unlike her not to give even the smallest bit of commentary to what the council pulled her into the meeting for. “Your majesty…” he breathed softly looking to her with worry “has thee fallen ill?” he asked her curiously.

Margery barely heard a word she was so engrossed with the garden right in her line of vision. There was a lot on her mind of course how could there not be? She was the Queen, her whole existence revolved around her constantly having to think and make decisions rather for herself or others. However, this matter had nothing to do with the nation, it was much deeper than that. As she heard finally, Cecil ask her if she were ill she snapped out of her on self-induced trance and she looked to the man. “Brought to council, men” she stopped short. “Men who find me no spring chicken” she said wittily. “Men, who stop at nothing to see me marry” she breathed out slowly. “That makes me very ill. Twas it not you Lord Chancellor that waited until you were merely forty-six in age to marry someone that could have been your daughter?” she asked looking to him. “Chickens aren’t for springing, they are eating gentlemen. And we all know your royal highness loves a great feast” she said with a smirk.

Robert’s hand idly pulled at his neck, there was good lace there, his best in fact. A man needed a bit of lace about him. A lot if he meant to make a good impression. He slid his hand down to the clasp holding the ornate velvet cloak in place. In one flourishing motion, he removed the garment, twirling it a bit, until it came to rest over his arm. It was a bit of a nuance there but it left his sword exposed. Even here people needed to be reminded he was no easy meat. The brisk pace he set through the halls of the castle brought many eyes his way. ‘Let them stare.’ He had been far too long from these gilded halls from her side. Two things he sought to rectify, forthwith. He slowed his pace as he approached the chamber doors and his face broke into a wiry smile as he heard her address the hall. There would be no quiet reentry for Robert. He threw the doors of the chamber open, eyes falling directly on the one he sought so feverishly. “Wise and perfect words spoken by our most high sovereign” he announced, working his way towards the head of the table. “I wonder now who is truly the hen and who the rooster in this room.” Finally, at his queen’s feet he bowed low making a perfect leg. “Majesty.”

Cecil looked to the Queen again, her response sadden him greatly she could truly be stubborn when she wanted to be. He didn’t quite understand her fight against the things she knew had to be done, to ensure the wellbeing of their kingdom. At her witty remark, me looked at his quill and sighed softly, he wouldn’t have a successful day pressuring her again he foresaw. However, as the large wooden doors shutting them off from the outside World flung open in a haste he looked up to see the one person he hardly ever liked to see around the palace. He was a nuisance and a distraction to the most high. He bothered him so, but he had no true authority over his presence. “Earl of Leicester” he said in a gruff voice. “Pleasantries; who summon thee? On account that the council can handle the likes of the Kingdom despite the absence of thee...” he said giving the man a knowing look.

Margery looked to Cecil, before she daintily rested her head on the back of her hand, elbow pressed into the table she blinked, uninterested expressions gracing her face as she did. Upon the arrival of the man she daydreamed about she looked back, pleased to see him again in her graces. She hardly could contain the happiness as it wrote itself all over her face. Pale face, peachy toned it turned. Dull eyes, now bright and glowing hazelnut just for him. And suddenly like magic, her stomach no longer pained her instead butterflies twirled in delight of him. It was a breath of fresh air. As he knelt she smiled at him graciously “I” she responded back to Cecil as she raised her hand silencing anyone else before they could talk and annoy her further by ruining this moment for her, him, them both. Hand raised, her eyes were fixed on him and she raised his head with her other small hand, she wanted to look into the emerald eyes that reminded her so much of her gardens. The emerald eyes she gazed upon from across the room, from this very table, from above her in her chambers as he hoovered her at night for a kiss and other specialties she would never tell. “Earl” she breathed “at last, you grace thee with your valued presence” she said softly. “As if you felt the yearning of a wise man to sit before me, you appear” she said lovingly. “Welcome back Robin” she said with lust filled eyes.

The angry chatter that erupted in the room at Robert’s appearance only served to embolden him. He had been left with little in his life, and with is father’s disgraceful death, even less. He’d long since shrieked off the need to be loved by all, it was an appointment he would never receive. Yet, here before him, his eyes danced contemptuously over the only love that could or would ever sustain him. He only briefly entertained squat Cecil offering him the smallest of honors, “Lord Burghley.” he poured out, with exaggerated kindness. Robert smirked even in his bowed position when, with a syllable, the Queen brought any further trivial questions to an abrupt end. His body weakened at her simple touch, and he named himself fool for making such a spectacular entrance. His heart had ruled his feet hastening them and now bitterly other appendages showed him his error. To be not surrounded by the world., would have offered them a more personal reunion. Robert held her penetrating gaze, heat rising up his back. He took her hand and kissed the ring that decorated her fingers. “Is it not a servant desire to fulfil the request of his master, before the master knows of her own need? That I am what I am, your servant, Highest.” he said bowing low again. He needed a respite from her sweltering gaze. It would do no good to lose his wits here.

Her hand slowly lowered itself once she knew that the entire room knew very well what she wouldn’t allow on this day. Instead he grabbed it and kissed her ring, causing her eyes to roll shut from such a simple gesture. Maybe it was because in a more secretive place cut off from them all, it would have been her lips he graced and not her ring. As he began to talk she opened her eyes again, pulling herself out of her own thoughts “oh Robin” Margery chuckled affectionately as he gave her such kind words to hold on to. “Twas not a servant, I wrote. But a friend. Humbly, I graciously accept thee, for you waste not an ounce of time to return to me” she said resting her hand against her cleavage so delicately. “Lord Chancellor, I do believe my dear Cecil could use a companion on the right of him” she said gesturing him to rise and move from beside her. “My sweet Robin” she said standing to her feet for him, gesturing the taller man to stand “I could use you at mine” she said offering him a seat. “You’d be happy to give your thoughts on my courtship?” she said knowingly. “Maybe you can scowl these fools into accepting that their Queen is married to ENGLAND” she said ferociously as she stood before them. “Aren’t I enough woman and man for you?” she asked the men in the room as she leaned against the table, gazing at them. “Much work to be done, tis only the matter of who I bed and wed is gossiped here” she said rolling her eyes before she walked around the table slowly, her hands at her side. She stopped at a window and gazed at her beautiful gardens. “I shall not marry” she told them as she sighed heavily pulling herself from the window. “Tell them Robin” she added as she rounded his side of the table and moved to plop herself back down before them.

Robert eyes rose to meet hers. How do you love a word, yet despise it completely? Friend. This inner sanctum of her closes advisers, men who have pledged their life to her and yet even here the barest minimum could be called themselves friend. For that he bore the title as a medal of honor. However, it did him also a disservice. Friend mocked him as it would never be enough. Never hold the depth of completion that truly existed between them. But as it was so uttered here from her succulent lips his hand clutched his heart whispering her title breathily, "Majesty." He rose to his fullest height, dangerously close to the queen's person, his jaw clenched as he breathed her in, holding her gaze as he moved. He circled her and moved to his appoint space, while being ran through by deadly glares of contempt. He settled himself and met each man's gaze, a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. How her word ripped through them all, showing them to be the fools they were. He held off his smile, as to not corrupt the seriousness of her words. He tapped his finger on the tabletop, face that of a stern taskmaster. "Our monarchy has been plagued by marriages that have done little to nothing to truly serve the people of England. Why then would we seek to shackle our sovereign so? She has pledge her love and heart to our country solely. Can any other sovereign claim such? Nay... I implore you gentlemen, do your duties and love our country half as well. And be on about the true matters of state."

Cecil looked to the Earl, the disdain he shared for the man came with much purpose behind it. It was amusing watching the two most days, to see him like a lost puppy bowing and following her every word was comical. He was never a man with a mind of his own, and he wondered if the Earl had known. “Idle gossip does not concern the throne. Hath we not all bore witness to the King’s and Queen’s before thee not securing a marriage, and an heir, that lead to the Kingdom falling upon wrongful hands?” he argued back his hand gesturing to Margery, his voice raised which is something it hardly did. But he was upset now, his whole purpose for pressuring this very thing was constantly dismissed without even pondering. “We need an heir” he argued “to secure the Nation!” he told them all.

Margery looked to Cecil, she gazed upon him “I bow to no man Lord Cecil” she said lowly as she continued to gaze upon him. She never took to people raising their voices at her, quite frankly it made her a very vengeful woman when someone challenged her superiority. “A table separates, I from thee. But thou shalt not forget my wrath” she warned him. “A tongue so vicious as such shall be made silent” she told him as she moved to stand up from the chair. She walked away from the men “Earl of Leicester” she breathed looking over her shoulder. “Shall we talk amongst each other in my chambers?” she asked him “reacquaintance?” she told him as she moved to exit.

Robert loved to see Cecil become flustered, the outward disdain they had for one another was quite odd. Margery had chosen them both, appointing them to their positions. But how different the were in every conceivable way. Robert was a sports man, fond of wars and horse. Cecil, on the other hand, a lover of books. That alone shouldn't have separated them, on the contrary their bond should have been tighter for it. He dismissed the man, the Queen had spoken. Thus, the matter was closed. He past only half uninterested gazes on Cecil as he blew himself into a tizzy. “The hands of our Highest are most capable, let the matter of heirs be left to our sovereign as it is her actual burden to bare.” He wanted an heir for the country, for that matter he wanted Margery married. But not to a foreign dignitary. No man could love her better than he, as such no other man would ever be worth of her. Robert moved to his feet as he queen stood, he watched as she exited the room. Mind to follow even if he was not requested. Blessedly this was not to be the case, he inclined his head, at her request and wordlessly followed her from the hall.

“They’d see to it I marry a horse, if a horse and I could conceive a King” Margery said as she moved down the long hallway. “Robin” she said looking back to him “do you find me, unreasonable?” she asked him seriously. She knew she could be a hard ass at times and a bit uptight, however she would have thought by now that her council understood the importance, of pleasing her people, came first. She watched many marriages come and go, the likes of which never amused her. “You are a married man Robin” she said honestly to him, for he was she herself should know. She attended the longtime friend’s wedding herself. “Does marriage, appease you so?” she said a bit of a smirk on her face, she was toying with him. For heaven sakes if his married bed was well suited for him than he’d not have a reason to lay in hers. But he did, often. She licked her lips looking to him again. “Is she but a dream?” she breathed “or a dreary nightmare?” she questioned stopping short as she gazed up at him in the partially empty halls.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Robert mused walking at her side only a step behind. “They worry over your legacy and theirs. Their purses may be a sight less stout if they couldn’t oversee your successor.” He answered honestly. “Never.” He said easily. She had long since sworn off marriage, and he often wondered how truthful she was being as child. “You deserve some peace in the matter. They have cloaked your marriage suggestions since your coronation. They shall not force you to marry, so it is unreasonable for them to continue to harp on a dead topic.” Robert listened to her games, as continued there trek up the hall towards her rooms. He looked everywhere and nowhere then back to her, green eyes flashing. “You know me well my queen.” He said advancing on her person. “But you also know that my heart’s first love will always be England.” He finished close enough to feel her breath on his face.

“Hm” Margery said as she looked to the tall man judgingly, “funny I thought she were but a dark haired blue eyed ordinary towns woman” she said insultingly as she moved to walk once more. She licked her full lips reaching the large doors to her wing, they opened for her as she moved inside she looked to the ladies-in-waiting and looked to him. “Go” she said shooing them all off sternly, yet sweetly. She closed the doors behind them and she looked to him again. “At last alone” she said as she moved to sit down.

Robert's face was impassive as she openly insulted his wife. At once the quips might have angered him, but that time was past. His soul lay in front of him and if she wished to pummel him with insults to show her disdain, for the woman who had laid her claim to him. Good. The better for him, maybe she’d drop this pretense and claim him out right. He groaned and fell back into step with her. Entering her wing, he nodded admiringly at her ladies but kept his eyes fixed on her as they exited the room. Her heels clicked as she swept across the cobbled floors marking time til the chamber doors were closed behind them. “I’ve missed you.” He said lacking any flowery pretense and impregnated with true rich emotion.

Margery looked to him, like a little school girl she blushed at his words. They were simple but they meant a lot more than he’d imagine. “So, have I” she agreed as she looked back up, hiding her smile behind a bitten lip. “I dread you being far” she confessed as she crumbled beneath his glare, somehow, he made her do that. She began to fidget with her hands as she stood before him, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and be kissed. “I’ve been so alone Robin” she said quietly. She hated the fact that he wasn’t hers but she knew she had no right to be, she kept him away from his home far more for payback and then some. Plus, it was selfish of her, his wife probably didn’t deserve the toying she had on the man’s heart but she couldn’t help who she loved.

There was a time he might have believed her but now… She, in her anger, had exiled him. And for so long. Maybe her love had dwindled? Except the mirth in her voice and the heat in her eyes said different. He took measured steps across the floor, until he was level with her. His emerald eyes, piercing deep into her being. He could ask now to make it sound like a demand that she never send him away again. It was a fleeting thought as he brought his hand up brushing her face softly. “As have I. There is no other that touches…” His fingers slipped over her plump lips, remarking his territory. “The way you do.” He said eye going from her lips back to her eyes.

Looking at him as his hands moved in to touch her velvety skin, it warmed to his touch and it flashed a bright shade of red once more. Margery cheeks creased as she said, “a kiss upon my lips would be greatly cherished” to Robert as she gazed upon him, hers eyes piercing his. He wouldn’t do so without her permission that she knew, overstepping her wasn’t much of an option. Plus, she knew he would test the waters dangerously close before actually making any attempts, after having been sent away she couldn’t imagine him acting any other way.

Robert drew in a deep shaky breath. He’d been craving her lips since he he’d been sent away and now he gladly gave into her wishes. He gathered her in his arms, still holding her warm gaze with his eyes. “Would it?” He breathed close to her lips. “How can I be sure? A woman of your stature has only to take what she desires.” He quipped eyebrow raised.

Margery blinked slowly as he wrapped his arms around causing her to stand again delicately and gaze back into his eyes. “I would” she replied simply, she was straight to the point avoiding his antics.

Robert eyed only her lips as he spoke her short responds. The game was up, she’d won. She always would. The feel of her in his arms, so perfect, she had bent him to her will as it ever would. He closed the space between them claiming her full lips as his own. Even if that ownership was a fleeting hope. He kissed her with deliberants, a hunger that only long night apart could create.

A smirk graced her lips just as he kissed them, her eyes closed slowly basking in the feel of connecting with a dear friend. Margery tilted her head a bit, inhaling through her nose slowly as her hands moved to wrap around his body as well, the feel swelling her heart 10 times its current size. A strong willed and head strong woman currently melting like butter under his warmth and love.

She was alive in Robert’s arms, warm and soft against his hard angles. Again, permission must be requested, at least this last time for formality. He licked across her bottom lip tasting her sweet skin, as he asked for permission to deepen the kiss.

Margery opened her eyes slightly as the Earl simply swiped his tongue against her lip. She closed her eyes again and opened her mouth to him as he requested to deepen the kiss a little more. A soft moan leaving the back of her throat as she hugged him a little closer.

Robert’s tongue moved between the part of her lips. Eagerness had taken control over any finesse he had. His eyes flickered open. He needed to know this was real. That he was back where he believed he belong. One pass of tongue brushing against hers. Taste, confirming the knowledge his eyes and arms already possessed. But this was deeper, his very being exhaled relief. He rolled over her muscle again, drawing it into his mouth, gentling suckling at her flavor.

Margery body began to tingle all over the longer and the deeper they kissed, he had ignited something in her long ago. And though at times the flames burned out, she hated him so, some way or another the yearning crept up inside her and the smoke never seemed to clear. So, he’d end up right back in her arms, in the room, kissing her dear. She inhaled through her nose a little more, it was impossible to get in closer than they were right now, but she felt she melted into him. Fused as one. She pulled away as her lungs burn with the desire to be filled with air. “I loveth thee” she told him, with bright eyes hoping for nothing more than to hear him say it back.

“You are my heart’s beat. My very soul’s compass. To say I love you would be almost a lie, for it weakness and triviality. You love a friend. You love family. You love your pets. It pains me that no poet has penned words sweet enough for you.” Robert walked her back across the room, eyes blazing a hole into hers. He moved down the layers of royal dress. It would have been impossible to remove them all so he did the next best thing. “I do not have the words, yet if we focus on mean alone. Love is, by its truest design, action.” He ducked under her skirt. His rough hands caressing her overly pampered skin. He worshiped her leg, inching up toward the v of her thighs. As he tried to make his action prove what his words had failed to accomplish.

#samcedes rp #sam evans rp #mercedes jones rp #thread.#thread: love rekindled.#thread: earl.

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meditativeyoga · 5 years ago

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Have you heard of holy indifference?

The modern-day globe has provided us numerous things but not the one thing we require the most-- detachment. Both Jesus and Krishna instruct that product properties as well as sense-enjoyments will not provide just what the heart longs for-- the inner consistency without which male, with all his clinical explorations and proficiency over the pressures of nature, really feels depressing and also lonely as a lion in a cage.

Detachment is the secret of true life-- the life that is life. We are done in pursuit of joy: our disaster is that we seek it in the incorrect places. As well as in quest of happiness we move from kind to form, just to discover that the joy we construct in forms-- riches, setting, power, human love-- is passing, short lived, short-term. It is then that we become aware that the trick of real joy is not in collecting silver and gold, not in satisfaction of the detects, not also in building institutions and also organisations, yet in detachment.

To be detached is to be cost-free of the tyranny of yearning and also self-love-- of all ego-centric thinking, wishing and acting. The male of real detachment abandonments himself totally to the will of a higher power. He is removed from the vanity and also is untainted by the feeling of "I"- ness, of "me" as well as "mine". In this faith he expands from more to more. He accepts all that pertains to him as a present from deep space. He has actually risen to the phase of 'divine indifference'.

In success as well as loss, in prosperity as well as difficulty, in enjoyment and discomfort, in health as well as health issues, in cold and heat, in praise and admonishment, he proclaims his Lord, and ever in his heart vibrates the one word: "Gratefulness! Gratitude! Gratitude to Thee, for every single thing that Thou dost send out. For in every point that takes place is a definition of Thy mercy!" The little candle light of self-will is extinguished: the Golden Sunlight of the Will Divine burns bright.

Witnesses to the Light of Krishna as well as Christ have appeared in all nations as well as ages.

I reviewed the various other day about one such true slave-- St. Frances. Her name is unknowned to several in India. She was born in Rome in the 14th century. Frances was birthed in a well-off family: her moms and dads belonged to the nobility of Rome. They loved her as couple of parents love their kids. She was their pet youngster. They desired to provide her all she desired. Sadly! they can not give her the just one point on which her heart was set.

From the start of her days, Frances was smitten with a hoping to commit her life to God, to invest her time in prayer and also contemplation. As she matured, she expanded in the realisation that domestic life can not make her delighted, that she would more than happy only if she became a reflective religious woman. This was the one point her parents can not provide her. She begged, she entreated, she urged, she dropped torrents of splits: but her moms and dads were adamant and also stubborn. And also they made hasty prep works to obtain her married in the idea that complications of wedded life would drive sense right into her 'insane' head.

In utter helplessness, Frances planned to flee from home. Before taking the essential action, nevertheless, she considered seeking advice from a guy of God: she felt sure he would certainly encourage her to leave her home as well as join some remote convent.

With tears in her eyes, she placed prior to him her difficulty. His solution shocked her. "Frances," he stated, "why are you preparing to do this? Do you wish to do God's Will or do you wish God to do your will?" And he proceeded to discuss to her that the specialized life was a life of self-denial as well as self-sacrifice. "It is not where you are and also what you have that really matters, but just what you do with just what you have," he stated to her. "So believe not of running away from your the home of this or that place. Think alone of pleasing God in every information of your life."

The words reverberated deep in the heart of Frances. She returned house determined to do the Will of God in every information of her day-to-day life. She voluntarily consented to wed the guy her parents had actually chosen for her-- a young noble named Lorenzo Ponziano. She offered him as a devoted spouse. She came to be the mommy of three children-- 2 kids as well as one lady. She liked them as the living, moving photos of her Master with whom she voluntarily would have communed in the undisturbed seclusion of a cloister. She went concerning her home, organizing things, cooking food, cleansing tools as well as doing the multifarious responsibilities every homemaker is contacted to do. And in everything she did, she breathed out the desire: "This be my offering to Thee, O Lord!"

The yearning in her heart grew for a life of prayer. However her daily round of job left her little time for silent meditation. And as the years passed, a profound realisation expanded upon her that to commit oneself to God one did not require to be in a specific place or adhere to a specific mode of living. To devote oneself to God, was to relinquish all self-indulgent ego-centred wishes and also to enjoy the Will of God.

Frances took care of her daily jobs in this spirit of utter commitment. Her work ended up being praise, for during her tedious tasks she did not forget God for a solitary moment. Once more and also again, she raised her heart to Christ and also said the basic petition: "Thou art my all. As well as having Thee, I need nothing!"

Disappointments came to her: she accepted them as His visits, and also enjoyed every scenario and circumstance of life. She did not fret: she did not fume. She did not stress-- so deep was her belief in God. All that the Beloved has actually done, all that the Beloved is doing, all that the Beloved will certainly do is for my great-- she claimed to herself.

Her job, her whole life, was a devotion to God. Did she dirt her house? It was as though she cleaned the dwelling-place of Jesus. Did she prepare a bed? It was as though the bed came from her Cherished. Did she operate in the kitchen? It was as though the Lord Himself strolled amongst her pots and also frying pans. She worked with her hands, however her mind and also heart relaxed on the Lord. Her action became a consideration: for in her activity, she was participated in communion with the One.

Frances functioned in harmony with the Divine Will. She abandons herself: she damaged the vanity of desires. She acted impersonally, non-egoistically. She worked, yet bore no ill-will to any individual. Her job was a praise to all. She worked: and also her activity was as deep as meditation as well as uplifting as music. "Unto Thee," her heart sang repeatedly, "Unto Thee could my life be a sacrifice!" Her sacrifice stands-- an inspiration to lots of. It was the sacrifice of a simple heart. Frances lived and died-- a witness to the Light of Christ.

#meditation

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 8 years ago

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Revelations and Truths

So it’s been building up to this moment, the first encounter between the Teen Titans and Mary Grayson the Talon. This story here is based upon “Mary the Talon”, “Mission” and “Investigation” so i highly recommend those stories before immediately going for this one.

WARNING: this story contains blood, gore and scenes unsuitable for little children. Parental Discretion is advised.

Also I would like to thank @lightdusk and @nightglider124 inspiring me to make this story come true. If you have requests and ideas for future story, please ask it would be very appreciated. :-)

Prologue: May 6th, Location: Unknown

“Arise.”

She was rose amongst the voice she had heard.

“You have shown excellent progress throughout the years…and yet we could not fully grasp your trust in us.”

“Master, if I may, my missions have been successful upon the first day I have taken my oath upon thee and further more…”

“Silence”

She fell into silence. The vision however began once more as the Master spoke. Words flew through her eyes, and deep into her mind, no her very soul.

“Mama, m-Mama d-d-Daddy? Please be okay. Please”

Mary unintentionally began breathing heavily. Her Little Robin was calling out to her. He needed his Mama and he needed her now. A crack bounced across the Labyrinth as the Master strikes his whip on the ground in order to gain her attention.

“Dear Madam, have you blocked your ears from hearing these graceful words of your trust in us?”

The owl dressed woman quickly nodded to the Master’s question as more of that young boy’s voice began to pierce her soul.

“Mama, are you hurt?”

“Mama, please be okay!”

“Just hang in there, Mama! The doctors are going to help you and Daddy!”

“Mama…I Love you”

“…Love is a weakness”, The Master concluded.

The Talon had realized whose Love was told by her Master was weak, her love for Richard, her love for her husband John….her love that comes with being a mother…was a sign of her being weak?

“It is not.” Mary speaks.

The master behind his Owl mask has his eyes widen “What WAS THAT?”

Mary raises her head with her glowing goggled eyes staring in spite towards the gathering of Owl masked men and women before her.

“Love builds strength, Love binds one’s soul with the souls of others, and Love should NOT be treated as weak.”

A much younger man with an Owl mask speaks right behind the Master jokingly, “It appears we have upset Mama Bird here”

That foolish man seals their fates however, for with those words uttered, a dagger that was on the top of Mary’s knife belt suddenly found itself into said man’s throat in a matter of seconds, with precious red fluid immediately leaking profusely. The other Owls couldn’t help but feel a sense of horror at the grisly sight.

“Why yes, Mama Bird is quite upset. My personal advice is….RUN.” Mary says this as the two mini swords strapped to her back suddenly became within her hands as she begins to dash towards the platform the rest of owls sit upon. Before Mary can climb the ledge however, a massive man dressed in similar albeit different owl-like uniform arises, knocking Mary on her feet.

“Mary Lloyd, the Masters have sentenced you to death.”

Mary with a tiny smirk coming on her masked face whereas the Owls flee simply responds, “You are talking to a dead woman so I’m afraid that sentence is rather moot.”

Jump City, about two days later.

It was a seemingly calm night for the city as children rushed to their beds and the parents prepared for the next day at work. The street crime was relatively low for the night as the villains hadn’t planned any major scheme threatening the city or even its banks. Nonetheless it was nights including this one in which even the slightest of criminal break-ins can happen.

This was a possibly one family in the city’s richer districts takes note of as they lock their doors with extra bolts hoping to prevent the criminal scum of the city from reaching their wallets or perhaps more importantly their daughter when they’re asleep. However, in the midst of locking the final bolt, two distinct eyes of their servants, the Talon, are seen in a relatively close distance. Obviously, the fellow Owls have sent the Talon as a messenger. With such both parents take their white Owl masks as the Talon enters their home.

Perfect, Mary thinks with her feet barely stepping unto this couple’s front door. They do not expect or even have the slightest clue of what had happened with the rest of Jump’s Owl Nest and how most either fled back to Gotham or more commonly met the nasty end of her blades, both short and long. Her new ‘mission’ was a simple one: let the Court know now of their precious talon has finally realized who she is, why she is the way she is, and takes into account of all the lives slain by her hand and all the other talons. Now she demands one simple choice to them: leave the innocents in this City and these supposed heroes called Titans alone or suffer the terrifying consequences with her blades. Now it was this family’s to see that first hand.

“What news from the Court?” the woman of the two asks.

The Talon at first remains utterly silent.

“Speak quickly” the woman’s husband asks.

“I must first ask”, Mary says while keeping her voice mostly subdued in which should make sure they do not recognize her, “is your daughter well informed of our ways?”

“Oh, most certainly Yes”, the woman says with utter glee in her voice, “she will be delighted to meet a fine servant to our cause like you.”

Mary couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disgust in that statement since during her indoctrination into the Court, many children, especially girls, cheered in joy as her torture in the Labyrinth played on, as if this whole thing was one giant game to them. Thank God almighty, Richard never was friends with these….monsters in his time at the circus. On a quick note, where is Richard at the moment? Mary can only pray that he’s safe, at least under police protection since it was a crime scene, not really an accident that happens on that one performance at Gotham.

But yes unto the matter at hand with these savages….

Meanwhile…

Robin had just completed his sixth turn around within the ghettos of Jump City. This city in which he had been living in since about 3 years ago has done much to him within that amount of time. From his first crook to catch robbing the banks, meeting Starfire and the others, and of course the ever looming presence of Slade in which he knows can exploit his feelings of self doubt and desire for absolute justice to once again attempt a hostile takeover of the criminal underground.

However, at the moment, Slade was not the one uber mysterious criminal not yet captured that currently holds Robin’s attention. That distinct honor goes to Chucky Sol’s murder whose electrum ‘blood’ sample has left him baffled to…what exactly it is. This especially becomes a forensic nightmare for Robin since he and Cyborg have recently discovered that Sol was NOT this mystery person’s only kill; far from it actually, that very same electrum has in fact been recorded with various crimes and unsolved murder cases that had been appearing since he was at least eight years old ranging from St Louis, New York, Boston, and most prominent of all Gotham. Yes, these were murder cases not even the Batman can solve and apparently they followed him all the way here. They needed to find this person and fast.

“Kid Flash, how goes your end?” Robin asks through his T Communicator to his old friend Wally West, the Kid Flash for he covered the ghettos outside of his range thanks to his trademark super speed.

“Wish I can say I found something Dude, but apparently the lack of pretty much anything here more apparent than my lack of dinner for today. That’s short for flat out nothing” Kid Flash shrugs rather sadly in reply to Robin’s call.

“Got nothing over here either” Beast Boy states on his end of the call

“Dead zoned over here, man” Cyborg mumbles tiredly

“Nada” Raven deadpans out for an answer.

Then however came in Starfire’s response, “I have found something, something flying through the air…like one of your Earth’s ‘birds’”

Robin immediately perked at that finding, “track it Star and send us the coordinates.” He ordered and immediately to every one of the other Titans, the address of Starfire’s latest location were sent; 1940 Bill Finger Drive. In one of the richer parts of the cities was this creep showing up. They needed to get there NOW.

And so, the Teen Titans all converge to that address and a mission they don’t know yet but will bring a new spin on the term ‘criminal’

1940 Bill Finger Drive, five minutes later…

Beast Boy arrive the last while everyone else has met at Starfire’s coordinates in which was in fact a luxurious building of a mansion of house in which pretty much only people of a $100,000 and above income can indulge within. Apparently the winged figure Starfire seen had entered into the building in seemingly friendly manner and she considered simply calling the area clear…at least until she heard the doors lock…and the screaming began. She immediately tried bursting into said doors to stop whatever was happening, only being met with a painful dosage of electric shock in which left her paralyzed for a brief bit, in which by the time she awoke the other Titans plus Kid Flash had arrived.

Now all seven Titans stood outside the beautifully crafted home with Owl shaped gargoyles hanging from its granite pillars with such prestige, as if the Owls themselves guard the very city they reside within. Come to think of it, a lot of today had seemed full of owls and other birds of prey being mentioned tonight. This type of coincidence reaches to Robin’s mind, in particular bringing to mind something from his childhood not only his ever favorite nickname ‘Little Robin’ but also of a certain lullaby he heard…

But these thoughts were brushed aside the second glass was broken inside the home, they needed to get in.

“Cyborg, blast open that door!”

With that, the locked marble doors were burst open with Cyborg’s trademark sonic canon and the Titans enter the home. Probably they should’ve brought barf bags inside given what they see next.

“P-p-ple—e-ease….h-h-help us” moaned the pale and weak female voice coming out of the mangled bodies filled with numerous cuts and slashes across their torsos, legs, with a bit of stab wounds going on both their genitals and their arms held with steel chains both surround and impaling the arms, holding the young couple to the wall with their blood leaking from all mentioned and then some. Frankly, even with Kid Flash and Robin immediately working to get them down, this gruesome sight makes even the toughest of soldiers most likely want to run away and cower into the corner. Believe it or not, it was only bound to grow worse from here, starting with a howling yet high pitched scream erupting from some other room of the mansion.

“We must search this place for that little girl IMMEDAITELY” roared Starfire as the screaming continued and did not let up in the slightest.

“Split up!” says Robin in an equal state of worry and panic for that little girl. Thus the searching begins.

Apparently the search across the house goes about as well as trying to urinate in a tiny glass cup while spinning around in a spinning top like manner, mainly it was near impossible. Each of the two preciously wasted minutes passed by with numerous rooms marked with a “Clear” from each of the Titans in their respective rooms. Even though Kid Flash provided a massive boot to progress, they still head that poor little girl’s screams echo through the mansion with no sign of her.

“Ok ok Ok! I’ll do what you want just please don’t hurt me!” the little girl screamed as the Talon throws her to the nearest wall after she was done shattering said girl’s fingers and toes.

“All need to do honey is say that you and your family will move out of this city and never come back.”

“Why would we do that? Why are you doing this?! You’re part of Daddy’s friends, they won’t do this!” wailed that girl through her sobs as she staggered to get away from this monster.

“It easy sweetie, because you wouldn’t leave anybody you didn’t like alone and only hurt other people for fun” The Talon coldly replied, “I’m simply here to put a stop to it.” She then grabs the girl by the collar of his PJs and lifts her into the air “I want you with your momma and daddy to know, no matter who comes in my way or the Titans all right behind our backs, you better start running, leave us alone and peaceful, or you’ll be expecting a visit from me.”

Talon stares fiercely then into the girl’s ever so scared eyes “Do I make myself CLEAR?”

“y-y-yes” sobbed the little girl.

“Good” replied the Talon. All the sudden however,

“Cyborg, blast it!” in that second a blue beam shot across the room with every Titan that had been searching the home from the better part of these few minutes entering in almost instantly. The horror in all of their eyes at the sight of this owl like creature holding a little girl mercilessly off the ground while said girl was full of tears and pain proves being an understatement. Also an understatement would be the anger that quickly consumed their horror as they draw out either their battles stances or weapons to combat this threat.

“Who…are you?!” asks Robin with a twinge of horror mixing with pure fiery rage at the psychopath who was harming this girl to no end. At least Slade target someone like Terra and him, individuals who can actually fight back against him and not target 6 year olds like her.

Talon simply remains silent in the presence of these teenagers, analyzing their technology, powers or talents they can posses against her. She had heard of their exploits amongst her missions here at Jump and their weaknesses which was how she was able to use two of her daggers with an electric charge to keep Starfire out the first time. While analyzing the group, Robin himself actually caught her attention the most. She knows that R on that red breasted vest anywhere.

“Mama, how come there’s an R on my shirt?”

“Easy Dick, it’s meant to be your full name Richard. And it’s also because you’re my Little Robin, flying through the air with little to care. Just like Mama and Daddy do.”

Now normally a brawl against all seven Titans will prove nearly futile right here given her situation and the simple matter of fact, Robin is at the same time her top priority target and the one person she NEVER wants to hurt.

“Answer me!” suddenly yelling Robin, tightening his grip on his bo-staff and snapping the Talon out of her thoughts.

With that Talon realizes, what’s use of hiding it? From what she can gather, Satan himself resurrected their arch nemesis in front of their eyes so maybe this won’t be too hard for them to get. With that, she silently throws that little girl into their direction, Kid Flash catching her in his arms, and without a single word, slowly begins to remove her mask.

As her features began to show, each of Titans found themselves widening their eyes once again as the noted not only the feminine curve of her lips but more prominently, the gray skin with covered her face right down to bone. Lightly blue glowing blood vessels also showed themselves, thus finally wrapping up where that black electrum had come from. The nail in the coffin though came with this woman letting loose a ponytail made with dark red hair, so dark one can easily mistake it for black from a distance. This beautiful woman would’ve been a general shock for every Titan there given her beauty. But the minute she opens her now golden tinted eyes and speaks, it went from just being a simple shock…

“Hi Richard, it’s nice to see you again.”

Robin nearly drops his staff at that statement, “m-m-Mama?”

“This woman…?” Starfire chirps out

“Is your mom?!” Kid Flash blurts

Raven’s hands began to glow with pure dark magic “Do you honestly think we’ll believe that statement?”

Beast Boy’s own hands began to morph into claws and he began snarling “Lady please tell us your talking out of your butt.”

Cyborg, however, scanning the electrum in her body and comparing to that one sample, nods “She isn’t lying y’all it’s really her. Her DNA matches the sample and since that DNA’s supposed to be dead…she’s really Robin’s long lost mother.”

Robin couldn’t help but gulp his throat as he processed all this information, “you’re really back?’

Mary nods slightly, with a rather…calm and affectionate smile on her face “In a manner of speaking, yes I’m really alive again Little Robin. Now before you ask there’s a lot more at stake here that you don’t realize is real and I don’t your friends getting hurt by it.” Her face then loses its smile, now somewhat resembling her “listen to me son” look “whatever happens from here on out, you will not get yourself caught in it, Mama’s just simply doing her work to make sure every one of you is safe and sound.”

Robin couldn’t help himself from gritting his teeth towards that last statement, especially given the sobbing girl in Kid Flash’s arms, “What do you mean? Why do…This? Who should be your problems and not ours mom?! Especially something SO BAD, it makes you into…THIS?!?”

Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson, the Talon of Jump City, the Rebel, the Romani, simply picks up her mask from the ground and in her most somber tone the Titans there had heard, as her eyes now glowed, her voice, now slightly made almost ghostly yet very firm, began to speak:

“Beware the Court of Owls,

That watches all the Time,”

“Ruling their nest from a shadowed perch,

Behind granite and lime,” Robin continues as he drops his staff in absolute terror. He knew that poem, that lullaby he heard as child.

“They watch you in your hearth,”

“They watch you in your bed,”

“Speak not…”

“…a whispered word about them.

They both say at the same time, “Or they’ll send a Talon for your head.”

With that, major puff of smoke erupts out of the blue, reeling back all the Titans and blinding them. By the time said smoke cleared, she was gone, leaving only a golden bracelet behind. Robin picks it up with his eyes in a dazed state; this was the bird themed bracelet he gave to her on the last birthday he spent with her.

Epilogue: Titans Tower, three hours later, Robin’s Room

Richard John Grayson Llodveski couldn’t help but sit on his bed in his sweat pants and loose t shirts cross legged as his bare feet began to feel dumb, making him curl his toes to keep on the blood flow. But his feet meant little to what was on his hands, his mother’s bracelet.

It was all there and yet he didn’t know until now. The files from Haley Circus were cracked open and the words in them couldn’t deny facts: the first ever home he had was in fact a training ground for living undead killing machines that harm all sort of people, criminals or not, for the urban legend that is the Court of owls, an urban legend meant to scare children into listening to their parents before bedtime. Now, his mother, the woman whose ‘accident’ had been the bear root of Robin himself, was a killer. More than that, she had been killing since he began as Robin, since he was that inexperienced but ever so quipping eight year old boy in a bright yellow cape and green pixie boots running across the rooftops of Gotham. While he made his new life from the circus saving lives, the woman he loves from birth until rebirth was taking them.

This truth cannot be any more devastating than some saying Hitler himself had came back to life was voted President of the USA. But then comes the fact…it his mother…

Tears started to build in his eyes, so Richard puts the bracelet back on his dresser before promptly grabbing his stuffed elephant Peanut and smacking his face in his pillows, muttering in his native Romani

“This is just (sob) wrong.”

Little did Robin know he wasn’t the only one left a sobbing wreck from tonight…

Meanwhile, at an unknown place in Jump’s waterfront district…

The now lone Mary Grayson, sitting on her own custom bed with her armor off, leaving only a bra, sweatpants and bare feet on the cushions, was glaring angrily and mournfully at her owl mask, the mask she had worn since her resurrection, the mask that had frightening so many innocent children both with and without her control…even her child was afraid now..

Mary throws the mask towards the wall and buries her face in her own pillows, muttering in her own native Romani

“This is just (sob) wrong.”

#mary grayson #court of owls #tt animated #dick grayson #koriand'r #wally west #my posts #fanfic #side note #I missed counted the Titans as seven instead of six #whoops

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