#very much exactly how the divine appears to me when he comes as Lover

[consul-valerius]

Show Me What Normal is for You

Donna’s voice trailed off, their eyes widening as they spoke. They glanced up at Valerius, seeking some sort of validation, some sort of recognization. They silently hoped he would be normal; neither upset nor happy. Just… normal.

An evening of drinking and story-weaving leads Vesuvia's most dysfunctional polycule into a discussion of the divine (which leads to discussions of the past and perhaps the present too). However, not everyone involved is as intrigued when a certain Arcana is mentioned. It is up to Valerius to encourage his lover to open up to him in a way they haven't: to tell the full truth of their murky upbringing.

Rating: T for discussions of past abuse & darker themes

WC: 7,401 split between two chapters

Characters & Relationships: Valerius, Donna, Nadia (all in their own traid lol) & Sam and Lucio

Content warnings: discussions of past childhood abuse, discussions of attempted infanticide, childhood trauma, negative self talk/self thinking (most of this appears exclusively in the second chapter), casual discussions of death, mentioned parental death, and very casual daddy dom language because Sam and Lucio are there lmao

A/N: after years.... i have finally sat down and made Donna actually talk about their childhood/upbringing lmao this is a pretty personal fic for me for a variety of reasons, and it's one that I'm fairly proud of but also deeply insecure about all the same LOL again, very dialogue heavy and introspective; please heed all content warnings!

First chapter preview undercut, with links to both chapters there as well! if darker themes aren't your jam, you can just avoid the second chapter and know there's a lot of hurt but also a lot of gay comfort lmfao

Part One // Part Two

“What do you mean by that?” Nadia asked. Gods, it was becoming grating to Sam how endearing she was behaving. 

“Well, let’s use the cards as an example. Anyone can read the cards. I know their assigned meanings, and if you paid me, I would do a card reading for you and may actually sell you on my sincerity. But that’s all it is: storytelling. I can twist any general reading to be specific toward you if you told me enough about yourself—that is why there are so many con artists when it comes to this. If you can tell a tale, you can read the cards. 

Donna, however, actually can hear the Arcane and interpret their messages. That isn't exactly standard practice, and certainly not one I can do anymore.”

“Any more?” Lucio prodded, snuggling closer. 

“I used to have… some connection to my patron, yes.” Sam paused to glance down at the hand Lucio was playing with; he seemed to be reflecting on what to say next. His shoulders straightened out before he sighed. “But she severed that tie long ago. It was my own doing, of course. The Arcana do not take kindly to those who break from their paths, and they especially do not enjoy feeling replaced by some mortal being.”

“Huh—"

“They can do that?” Nadia cut in, a sudden and uncommon anxiety now in her tone. “Break off a connection, that is.”

A bitter smile graced Sam’s features; he regarded Nadia up and down for a moment before nodding. 

“In my case, yes. Though perhaps it was for the best; breaking that tie broke off all of my connection to the arcane realms. I am much better at judging and denying earthly temptations than I would be magical.”

“Magical temptations? Like what, fairy circles or what have you?” Valerius piped up again, his focus now squarely on Donna’s hair. He thankfully did not seem aware of Sam’s giggle at his question. 

“Well, no, silly boy,” Sam sighed as Lucio snickered. “I mean much more divine intervention.”

“Do the Arcana… meddle in earthly affairs?” Nadia reclined further into her seat, getting more comfortable. 

“Obviously they do,” Sam said, mirroring her posture. “The fact that they choose humans to take under their wing says enough. But most patrons know not to directly interfere with this world; many will only tend to their flock in dreams or drug-induced stupors; whenever the veil is at its most thin or what have you.”

“And you are implying there are those who do more, are you not?”

“Well, yes.”

“Do you know which ones specifically—“

“The Devil.”

All eyes quickly snapped down to Donna. Their head was down, their shoulders hunched, and their fingers dug into their knees. Nadia tilted her head as she pushed forward slightly in her seat, readying herself to dart to the floor if need be. It seemed as if Sam was going to do the same, but he was stopped by Lucio grabbing his hand with a bruising grip.

“The Devil…?” Valerius prodded, the only one not fully aware of the tone shift. 

“The Devil represents an excess of indulgences,” Sam cut in, trying to keep his tone neutral while trying to focus his attention between Lucio and Donna. “Out of all of the arcana, it makes the most sense that He would be most interested in earthly affairs and getting entangled in them; to want more than the vast expanses of magical realms he can control is in line with what he represents. He is the one patron to meddle in the affairs of others, regardless of who their patron is, to a normally… detrimental effect.”

“Detrimental?” Nadia pushed, her own curiosity outweighing her concern momentarily. 

Sam shot Donna a concerned look, his lips sealing into a thin line. They slowly lifted their head, the pink in their hair gone and back to its normal blue. 

They only shrugged up at him, a small smile on their face. 

“Well…” Sam finally continued, pulling Lucio closer to him by the waist. “In my life, and in the type of work I used to do, I’ve seen people get… desperate . Desperate for a variety of things: money, power, friends, family, the love those people can give to you—we traversed in dark places, and it can lead to ravenous desires. I was lucky to have not just been disconnected from the magical realms but to have a mentor who knew too well the horrors that lurk there. 

Others do not. Even the faintest whispers of the divine can twist the noblest of people. And this world is often cruel and unforgiving: to be offered a lifeline, to be offered some notion of control, is sometimes far too captivating to ignore.”

“You’re speaking in riddles,” Valerius interjected, now annoyed. “Speak plainly.”

“The drunkard says to the master,” Sam finally laughed, though there was little joy there. Lucio and Donna had both, shockingly, fallen silent, neither quite looking at anything or anyone. “What I mean is that it is easy for The Devil to tempt and offer solutions . I once knew a woman—a good, strong woman, I might add—who lost her entire family to a group of highwaymen. A senseless tragedy that falls on many—she is not unique, and neither are the effects of grief. She sought out my mentor for guidance, but your fellow human can only do so much for you. She was desperate for answers and for justice, and this world marches to the beat of its own drum. It was just taking too damn long. 

So who better to come in than The Devil himself? Or what she thought was him. In exchange for something trivial, he can give you a name, a place they live, and even their weaknesses. But even more than that—what of power, what of strength? If you are to face your family’s slayers, should you not be prepared to dish out justice? She made deal after deal behind our backs, each one more complicated, each price growing steeper and steeper. By the time I or anyone had noticed a change, it was far too late. The Devil’s chains are… unbreakable. And the damage they do is far more than anyone can help.” 

A long, heavy silence filled up the space like a thick smog. Nadia averted her eyes entirely, lost in her own thoughts, unsure what question to ask next. Valerius sat up straighter, his hands still petting through Donna’s hair. He could not see their expression from where he was sitting. He could only see how Lucio glanced back to the doorway as if he was worried someone was there. Valerius couldn’t help but think the same thing. 

“But why go through that only to be… well.. ruined?” He asked without thinking. Sam only smiled sadly at him. 

“You are so lucky, my dear boy, to have never been in want of anything.” Sam patted Lucio’s hip as he spoke, soothing him absently as he regarded Valerius. “And I hope you never experience it—truly, I do. Anyone may fall victim to this—it is our nature, after all, to seek out temptations with no regard for ourselves or others. That is the essence of the card; it is neither good nor evil: The Devil just exists as a paradigm of our makeup. He cannot help himself to crave more from this world, and we, in turn, cannot help but be tempted by him. It is up to the person on what they choose to do or not do, on the vile acts they may commit, and on giving up everything to gain their single want. Had I any line of communication left, I am not so sure I would be here—“

“ Gods , this is grim!”

[premakalidasi]

Exquisite Nataraja (with Kali in the background) and Ardhanarishwara from the Gangaikondacholapuram temple, Tamil Nadu.

[waywardimpalawriter]

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

With Marcus Pike? Maybe BFFs to lovers because I want it to end happy? Thank you 🙏

Love of his life

Pairing: Marcus Pike x best friend!Female Reader

Characters: Marcus Pike,

Setting: five years after the last episode Marcus was in.

Rating: PG:13

Warnings: 2,774

Summary: Conversation overheard leads to feelings of regret at the chance not taken. Will he take that risk and go for who he wants or let it slide away just like the past?

Word count:

Notes: Written for the lovely @hnt-escape asking for the prompt “I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.” Will be in bold in the story. I hope you enjoy sweetie.

Tag List:

Forever tags: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Pedro Pascal tags: @evyiione

Staring into the caramel colored liquid ceramic mug warming your hands, thoughts clouded by a certain brown eyed man and how to handle the feelings you’ve harbored since grade school.

“Trying to divine this weeks lotta numbers from you coffee sweetie?” Soothing southern accented voice breaks through the fog smile in the sweet lilt.

Head snapping up to look towards the blonde, grin firmly in place over her ruby lips, “I wish, would donate at least half to research the antiquities we have that no one’s cataloged yet.”

“Wow devoted,” chuckling, walking over to the Keurig k-cup spinner to pluck the last Colombian dark roast pod. “What or should I say who’s on that gorgeous your mind that’s got your brow furrowed deeper than the Mariana Trench?”

Not wishing to discuss your thoughts right now, you deflect to ask, “Those things waste so much Donna and bad for the environment. Why don’t you just buy the bulk grounds?”

“Great way to keep from answering the true question,” baby blues lock, sincerity written deep and meaningful. Knowing she’s only trying to help having confided many times your dilemma those feelings you’ve held on to for so long brings about. “I don’t know why you haven’t told him sugar I mean you came to DC…”

“For this job Donna, Marcus turned up later… not much later,” last few words muttered into cooling coffee you try to hide behind while taking a sip. “I didn’t upheave my life for a man,” not sure who you’re trying to convince more yourself or Donna.

Established in your position at the museum a month before Marcus’s transfer and at the time he’s heavily invested with one Teresa Lisbon. Memories flood through like film reel before your eyes. Of that very night he comes to you heartbroken bags in hand with no one beside him and no real place to go. Promising yourself to shove your feelings aside and help him get back on steady legs. Even letting him stay till his place became ready to move in.

Loud snort greets your ears, breaking you from memory lane. “You keep telling yourself that and while you’re at it keeping him friend zoned when your clearly in love with him does neither one of you any good. He ain’t gonna wait around forever sugar trust me on that one,” hurt coloring her tone speaking volumes of her own pain. She looks away to watch the final drops of coffee land in her mug. You know exactly why she’s not looking at your right now, the hurt she tries to hide behind the bubbly personality. Fixing her coffee up just the way she likes to hide her own pain she’s shared a few times.

“How,” licking your lips slowly, mug placed beside you on the counter to clasp your hands in front of you. “I’m not even sure how or where to start Donna. He’s my best friend knows me inside and out I don’t…”

“Do you love him?” Simple question with no easy answer as grey blue eyes land on and pierce you with their intensity.

“I…” wringing those hands her question chases thoughts around your head. Finally giving the heart answer, “I love him, just unsure if he loves me in the same way. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to change the dynamics of our relationship and loose what we have for a what if.”

“Oh sweetheart I know it’s not easy to bank on what if’s but trust me when I say that man loves you in ways I’ve never seen and I’ve seen a lot.” Giving you a teasing wink then sobering, “Why do ya think I haven’t tried to snag him up myself?”

“Cause he’s not your type?” Joke sounding stupid to your own ears, glaze dropping to your shoes. “What if… what if I’m not his type? I mean you’ve seen the women he’s gone out with before. I’m hardly in the same league.”

“No your in a league of your own sugar.” Head nodding in understanding Donna comes over resting a hand on your bicep giving a gentle squeeze. “Compensating maybe even trying to replace the one he truly wants sweetheart. Don’t let a good man slip away especially since you love him.”

“I do, he’s,” head shaking at a loss for words to describe Marcus. “Amazing and sweet, the kind of man that’s so easy to love and care for. I’m lost truly without him.” Happy tears blur your vision for a moment thinking about him. How he’s always at your side just when you need him without notice at times. Sixth sense when you need those late night pancakes from the best diner in town. Watching old movies after a crappy break up, snuggled together with popcorn and beer, snacks of all kinds. Snap shot of his face filters across your vision, “I’m gonna tell him in fact,” glancing down at your watch finding end of day fast approaching. “Would you close down for me Donna I need to tell him now before loosing my nerve.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice sugar go get your man,” nodding towards the doorway you start for, coffee long forgotten in favor of someone more sweeter. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“There’s things you wouldn’t do?” Cheeky grin highlighting your features, the sound of crinkling plastic reaching your ears so you look down. Frown replacing the smile at finding a small bouquet of blue tipped carnations laying on the ground. Bending to scoop up the beautiful flowers knowing only one man would’ve brought these. “Shit,” curse flying from your mouth while your feet start to eat up the distance towards the back doors bouquet held firmly in your grasp.

Missing Donna yelling about your keys and belongings, to not forget about the storm rumbling in the background. Wide smile forming watching you go hoping you’ll catch Marcus just in time.

While you pray with each step taken you’ll catch him in time to explain. Thoughts running rampant wondering what he heard and didn’t. If the reason for the dropped flowers has to do with the fact he thinks you love someone else. That last thought spurs you on into a run, thankful for the flats you wore today instead of customary heels you normally wear. Eating up the distance you burst through the back doors into a curtain of rain meeting your eyes as more curses fly from your lips. You pause eyes narrowing through the gloom looking for Marcus’s car, his back, hair surely plastered to against his head. Something to point you in the right direction. At the right moment a flash of lighting illuminating the darken skies, makes you jump but press on determined to find him. While stepping out into the pouring rain, clothes soaked through low rumblings of thunder taking your calls out for Marcus away with the howling wind.

Tears form and slide down cool cheeks, still franticly looking around but coming up empty till you catch the flash of grey out of your periphery. Whipping around you head in the direction calling out his name praying there’s a break in the rain so your voice carries to his ears.

And for a moment that one split second he catches a sound other than the storm raging around him. Sweet desperate voice calling out his name, giving him pause in dragging footsteps. Looking around but seeing nothing but the driving rain, drops soaking his suit and blurring his vision. Before turning to resume his path the voice calls out again, nearer and stronger than the last time.

His doubts cloud the mind, accusing him of hearing things the wind brings from other parts of the parking lot. Till a vision dressed in black slacks, creamy silk blouse, hair and clothes plasters to your body appears in front of him. Hand raised in the vain attempt to keep the rain from your face as you search for him.

Eyes lock surprised deep chocolate orbs meet the relief in yours, “You’re gonna get sick sweetheart go back inside.”

“No,” single word yelled out as you near Marcus, gripping his bicep and moving closer to speak into his ear. Warm breath making him shiver despite the cold rain trying to drown the both of you. “Why’d you leave?”

“Saw you busy didn’t want…” shaking your head Marcus swallows catching sight of the flowers in your free hand.

“You dropped these why?” Hurt lacing the tone in your voice as you bring the small plastic wrapped bundle up between you. “Thank you.”

Eyes dart between the flowers and your eyes unsure how to answer your question as so many of his own chase around his mind. Wanting the truth Marcus gather’s his courage to ask, “Do you love him?”

Confusion coats your veins, drawing up your brows with the same emotion till it clicks. “Yes, very much in fact you just doesn’t know it.”

“I’m done,” pain etched into his voice heart aching behind its prison of bone and flesh. Misunderstanding the look in your eyes and the words your spoke. “I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction. I just can’t do it anymore it’s so much worse than any of the other.” Taking two steps back from your touch that sears the skin under heavy suit jacket and starch white cotton dress shirt. Gaze dropping to concrete unable to look into your eyes a second longer knowing he’s lost the chance. Internally cursing himself for waiting so long, letting other’s in his heart when the one woman he’s wanted all along stood by him through all life’s ups and downs.

Frowning at the loss of touch, his words sinking in you step forward he matches with one back. “Marcus,” soft achingly tender voice reaches out towards him. Heard now the rain has slowed to light drizzle. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you? Not as a brother or best friend, but in love with you.”

“What?” Single word choked off on a gasp, eyes reaching your smiling orbs trying to find the jest. Only seeing genuine love backed by worry and fear that he doesn’t truly have the same feelings. “You never told me.”

“You didn’t tell me either Pike so we’re kinda in the same boat,” carefully reaching out for his nearest hand tugging him back towards you. “So many times I’d try to tell you, to explain, to see if there’s a chance for us. Every time someone else got my shot. I gave up almost for good this time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Moving closer, warm palm coming up to cup your cheek from apple to jawline. Thump brushing slowly over soft delicate skin drowning in your eyes as you rubbing your cheek into his large palm. “Never would’ve guess you felt the same way.”

Not sure how to answer the first question, so you joke instead. “Not only good at picking out a fake piece of art but putting on a good show.” Trying to infuse a little lightheartedness into the tense moment. “Gonna call Oscar see if they’ll give me one of those little golden guys for my performance. Not Ingrid Bergman worthy but I can hold my own,” nervous little laugh leaving your lips that Marcus brushes his thumb over the bottom lip. Stuck dumb by the action breath shallow before held while trying to depict the emotions running through those sweet brown eyes. “Say some Marcus.”

The tremor in your voice shakes the shocked cobwebs from his mind to focus his thoughts. Picking up that you haven’t answered his first question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Which time?” Breathy sigh leaving your mouth as you try to gather the right words. “Not to mention your my best friend Marcus I didn’t want to fuck that up especially if you didn’t feel the same way,” taking a breath fresh rain mixes with the warm subtle cologne Marcus wears. “Couldn’t risk loosing you and changing our relationship for a what if.”

“And now?” Cupping the other side of your face, keeping your chin tilted upward, eyes searching the depths of yours. Finding the peace he’s missed out on with everyone who came before. Home written in your embrace, sweet light flora scent wrapping around his senses reminding him of just who he needs.

Swallowing, pink tongue coming out to wet your lips, a path he follows with rapt attention. “I recently became enlightened by a good friend reminding me sometimes you need to take those chances.” Both arms wrap around his neck, flowers still clutched tightly, free hand carding through rain soaked strands at the back of his head. Blunt nails scratching gently over Marcus’s neck receiving a shiver that vibrates through your body and has nothing to do with the cool air or wet clothing.

“And you want to take that leap with me?” Inching closer with barely a millimeter’s breath between your lips. Eyes still wide open assuring each other and finally showing the truth and need.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful love affair,” cheeky smile splitting your face at the crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. Knowing full well you’ve gotten the quote wrong on purpose.

“Here’s looking at you kid,” deepened voice sending tingles of excitement racing down your spine. Slightest brush of his chapped lips to yours bringing a sigh and parting your mouth that’s captured and devoured.

Angling your head just right as he licks into your sweet coffee tasting mouth mixing the minty freshness of his. Low groan whispers between your lips, which moves and changes. Nibbling his bottom lip, slipping your tongue over the bruised skin to sooth before sliding back into the warm cavern of his delectable mouth. Dreams having no merit on the real kiss that makes your toes curl a moan of your own existing to join with the groan he’s let loose. Air becoming much needed and you part to rest foreheads together.

“I love you to have for a long time,” admitting his feelings frees a part of him held back for so long. “I’m sorry for all the missed opportunities but if you’ll let me I’ll make them all up to you.”

“Start by taking me home to change then out for pancakes,” bright smile blooming over your lips that press into his. Unable to stop yourself from giving another tender kiss while wrapping your arms around his shoulders tighter. “And kisses lots more kisses,” mumbling the words into his mouth while initiating another kiss for emphasis.

Only breaking when someone clears their throat you both turn to see Donna standing there with your purse in hand. “No making out in the parking lot you two take it home,” grinning extending your purse towards you. “Just remember don’t do anything I would,” before turning to start back towards the museum. “Congratulations by the way took y’all long enough.”

“There’s things you’d do I wouldn’t Donna,” you call after her shaking your head before looking back up at Marcus. Catching the look burning in his eyes, “I’m guessing pancakes won’t happen tonight huh?”

Soft smirk slides over those kiss swollen lips, “Later but right now I have other plans.” Tugging you against his chest for one last deep drugging kiss that leaves you weak kneed and panting.

“Care to share those plans?” Snuggling into his arms as you both head the last short distance to his car.

Opening then crowding you into the corner of the door hands braced on either side to lean in placing a soft chase kiss to your cheek. “Making up for all the missed time and then later,” pausing to brush his lips over your ear. Whispering the last words with gentle puffs of air floating across your skin. “I’ll make you those pancakes and lick the syrup from your lips afterwards and any other place you’ll let me.”

“Only if you’ll let me return the flavor,” mischievous smile stretching across your lips, ducking under his arms to slide into the car. Finding him still standing there, you tug on his jacket gaining his attention.

Darken eyes meet yours, “I’ll even paint you like one of my French girls,” sending you a playful wink while closing the car door and running around to the drivers side. Marcus slides in, key slipping into ignition, simple flick of his wrist the car flares to life and he’s backing out heading for home and a new start filled with promise.

[alicemitch09writes]

the catastrophic history of us

PAIRING: ryoumen sukuna x reader

SUMMARY: This is a story of two people - one was destined to see all while the other was destined to be all-powerful.

They came from different factions of society, though not entirely different if you compare a humble hut versus the slums.

This is a love story.

But it is not a happy one.

A/N: This is a continuation and sort of prequel to 'written in the stars' which gives light on why exactly Sukuna killed the reader and what he meant by 'waited a thousand years for this'. It's been in my head for a while and was an idea I wanted to try.

From what I've researched, Ryoumen Sukuna is said to hail from royalty while some he was just there, so I kinda wanna explore more on his background and ended up crafting my own. I'm sorry if it's kinda cliche. I ended up using the already existing lore about him, but added a bit of my own to fit the story and the narrative I want.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

This is a story of two people - one was destined to see all while the other was destined to be all-powerful.

They came from different factions of society, though not entirely different if you compare a humble hut versus a grandiose palace, a benevolent being versus a power-hungry one, one who dances with the mystic arts versus one who challenges the fates, one royal highness and his royal spiritual advisor, - two very different beings destined to meet, destined to fall together, destined to be together.

This is a love story.

But it is not a happy one.

This is a story of two star-crossed lovers.

But again, to reiterate, this is not a happy story. There is no happy ending here.

Legends speak of a name, so feared and great that just the mention of it sent shivers down the spines of many – young, old, human, curses.

Just the mention of his name was akin to devastation and disaster, killing all forms of life regardless of status.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

Also known as ‘King of Curses’.

Call his name, and you are invoking yourself to a life of damnation, of no return, of death.

However, once upon a time, Ryoumen Sukuna was once a simple man.

A prince to be exact, son to the Great Emperor, heir to the throne, general commander of the royal army, and quite possibly, the strongest warrior in the land.

Once upon a time, Ryoumen Sukuna was a man of great power and privilege.

He could take soldiers with a swift blow of his sword, could conquer lands in a day, with only a swagger down the road that could bring the mightiest men quaking, could overpower just about anyone with only his presence - his menacing and great presence.

Wise beyond his years, versatile in combat, cynical, ambitious, and wicked – these were the traits of the soon-to-be Emperor? How unsettling. The kingdom would no sooner meet its demise and burn into flames than to shine brightly with a ruler with blood and warfare on his mind.

Many had thought so as well, yet did little.

For what can they do against someone who can promise dominion and power? They can all but kneel and acquiesce to his bidding.

He did possess a younger twin brother, but compared to his brother, he was passable at best. The brother doesn't talk much, says very little, but paid close attention to his surroundings, his companions, even to his older brother, whom he admired greatly.

It was sometime during his time as a prince when fate decided to play their hand.

But no one saw it coming.

Save for one.

The Emperor’s royal spiritual adviser, the kingdom’s revered onmyouji known only by the name (Y/N).

"That's quite the look on your pretty face, (Y/N)."

Sighing, the (h/c)-haired woman ever so carefully dipped her brush into the ink well before continuing her writing.

"Oya? No wisecracks this time?" the voice drew near, she could feel his hot breath beside her ear. "Is that any way to speak to your future king?"

Unfazed, she dipped her brush into the well again, careful strokes bleeding into the paper. "Truly not worth his royal highness' time if I even breathe or say a word."

Even without looking, she knows he's smirking. He knows he got what he wanted, ever the child.

Silence filled in. She, continuing on with her scrolls, and he, lazily perched himself awfully close to her side, sliding his gaze from her eyes, her face, to her kimono, to her nimble fingers.

From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he was fascinated by her very being. More so, when she revealed that she was to be the royal onmyouji with the ability to see all. 

Technically, her position was better suited for a man, especially a man from a renowned jujutsu family – for trivial reasons.

However, no man could ever compete with one with an all-seeing eye, with impressive control of her cursed energy other than this woman, this strange woman.

No one else but her.

He would like to think that he became a man no long sooner after their first verbal spat, after their second introduction – having differing ideals and morals, never backing from the other despite their status. He and his twin had just turned 18, a prime age for the king to be. It was what drew them together in the first place.

From the moment their eyes met, he had unwillingly declared this fascinating woman as his and only his.

When she was finished writing, just as she laid her brush aside, a hand slammed on the table. She didn’t flinch, even as the man effortlessly picking her up into his arms. "Surely you must be bored from all that gibberish writing, eh?"

Allowing herself a genial smile, (e/c) eyes alit with life, she draped her arms around his strong shoulders. 

"Must I remind you time and time again that they're readings?" Fingers slipped and carded through his locks, grabbing tufts of hair playfully. Tilting her head, she used her free hand to ghost over his strong jawline. “Your great kingdom would crumble would it not be for said readings. Lives would be lost. Blood will be shed. Your name tarnished and damned-”

"Blah, blah, blah, is all I can hear you say," pushing her against the wall, he welcomed himself between her legs, drawing himself ever so close to her. “Don’t you ever get tired of spouting bullshit?”

“Surely you would know,” she gasped as something hard pressed against her core. “that’s all your mouth is good for: running your filthy mouth.”

He met her smirk with his, hot breath fanning hers. “And here I thought you’d be this docile diviner.” Scoffing, he drew close. “Thank fuck I was wrong.”

Hot lips pressed against hers, just as the ink dried out and the shadows danced in the dark.

"We order you to join forces with us destroy Ryoumen Sukuna."

"I refuse."

Even she can't deny that the man she loved was a danger to everyone, probably to all of humanity. He was quick to be enamored with power, sadistic even in his means to achieve greater feats and exploit his foes.

Eventually, she saw how the man she came to love drastically turned into the cynical, malevolent King of Curses he was.

Mad with power, ambition, and glory, in order to achieve all and more he sought out the dark mystics that made him murder his younger twin brother granting him his grotesque figure - two faces, added appendages, and dark marks littering his body.

It started with a vision. Then came the prophecy.

Overnight, a brother was murdered in cold blood by his own, through his blood spawned the King of Curses.

Many months were soon bathed in more blood as he sought nothing more but destruction and chaos,

In the end, she knew what she had to do, what must be done, what must happen, what was foretold – even if it ends up breaking her heart.

"Could you do it?"

"...I have no choice."

This is it, she thought. The end.

The end of the beginning.

Fire licked throughout the field, soot rising from the ashes, craters, devastation lurked wherever the eye could see. There was even the occasional ice covered in blood, sometimes encasing 

It had been a long, treacherous, arborous, and exhausting battle – sorcerers and Imperial soldiers against fellow sorcerers and curses.

Jujutsu sorcerers – especially the high-ranking ones from esteemed clans, set aside their petty differences for this one battle, to put down the King of Curses.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

It was a hard-earned battle, as Ryoumen Sukuna had with him a rather interesting set of warriors to fend off against them.

But finally, they got him.

In the middle of all this madness and bloodshed, a victor was finally declared.

And it wasn’t him.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?" He screamed, binding spells forcing him to his knees, his whole body weakened and paralyzed by countless battles and countless spells against him. “(Y/N)!? HOW COULD YOU!?”

She forced herself to hold him down as the sorcerers around her continued their spells.

Amidst it all - the undeniable pain, the humiliation of being pinned, the utter betrayal - Ryoumen Sukuna turned to her and only her, red eyes burning her very being, as though ready to incinerate and devour her on the spot.

At the front line, that’s where she was to be – supposed to be, as she was their leverage to get close to the King of Curses.

She was leverage at best, the one thing that can keep Ryoumen Sukuna down - despite the countless claims that no one and nothing can do so.

"In this life, know that you were always the man I hold closest to my heart, the warmth on a cold winter's day, the joy from a day's tiresome work. There is no one but you, Ryoumen Sukuna," she was openly crying now, uncaring of anyone and anything. "But in this life, we cannot be."

The spell had been cast, paralyzing Sukuna, allowing the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers to attack.

With the final blow, she poured a bit of herself into her final, most powerful spell. Sealing him and vaporizing any memory of her in it, emptying his being until he was but an empty husk.

"YOU BITCH! YOU LIED TO ME!" Despite being in constant pain, his body slowly reddening and wax appearing all over, he found it in himself to spout angrily at her. "WAS EVERYTHING A LIE!?"

Memories upon memories - of their first meeting, their first verbal spat, their next meeting, him cornering into a corner, of their first kiss, of their first night, of their many nights, of promises under the sheets, of eyes searching, of eyes yearning, of eyes hurting - voided one after the other.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU DEAD, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He doesn't mean it, she tells herself, adding more spells that caused him to scream in even more pain.

"Y-YOU FUCKING BITCH! I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!" His eyes were blank, regarding her with all the hatred man could possess. "YOU'LL BE THE FIRST PERSON I KILL THE MOMENT I GET BACK!" choking on blood, he feels himself weaken. "I SWEAR IT! I'LL KILL YOU THE FIRST MOMENT I GET!"

A sob escaped her, as much as she tried to swallow it down. To no avail, she cannot fake her remorse, her pain. She knew it was the right thing to do, for the betterment of all – humans and sorcerers, but it cost her so much sorrow and pain.

"Nothing is a lie," she croaked, feeling the last of her energy leave her, tearfully gazing into the eyes of her beloved. "But I have to say goodbye."

And just like that, the King of Curses was no more.

And when the fighting was over, the Seer vanished without a trace.

It came abruptly.

Without warning, without a sound, without a whisper, without a call.

The end of the beginning.

Of when fate decided to try its hand with life, changing the course of all.

For a thousand years ago, the jujutsu society was at its high boasting about great families within their ranks and a seer to guide them all.

The seer, who were specialists in the mystics and great beyond, who helped build empires, defend against curses, win wars - the great seer revered, respected, and treasured. 

Alas, this seer fled, vanished, and doomed the jujutsu society.

For without her visions, how can the sorcerers ever know of the truth and lies that the future holds, to protect them from whatever threatens them? Of the corruption that would soon waste them away? Their arrogance and overdependency on her visions became their downfall, yet few could actually attest to that.

The jujutsu world was a strange, fickle, archaic, and destructive kind with an equally disturbing system. A system unwilling to change, unwilling to adapt, willing only to lead by example.

After her disappearance, they were left with crumbs to pick up, on where she'd be for their next life - for without her visions, how would they be able to secure safety for themselves?

(how selfish of them)

Lo and behold, a thousand years later, and she would appear again, outside of Japan and born half a Gojo! What tremendous luck they have!

Without wasting another second, they sent their best sorcerers to abduct the child and took her by force from her mother, bringing her all the way to Japan.

Only they could have their hands on this seer, one they've waited for thousands for years, one who remains theirs, rightfully theirs, one who has to atone for her sins of leaving the jujutsu society vulnerable all those years ago.

Yes, this child must bear the sins of her ancestors, must live a life for the future of the jujutsu sorcerers.

She is theirs.

Theirs and theirs alone!

But alas, Gojo Satoru caught wind of the other Gojo, singlehandedly took her from them and took her under his care.

How dare he!

So long as he was alive, no way would they ever get their hands on the seer, the great diviner, the all-seeing eye!

How dare he!

Gojo Satoru who manages to effortlessly insert himself in situations he shouldn't be, halting or stopping decisions entirely, establishing his presence as the strongest sorcerer - a title that many of them cannot deny, with much disdain, he, who is without a shred of doubt, a threat.

The Gojo seer continued to live her life, foolishly and blissfully unaware of her true value. Foolish little girl!

The past and present converged into one another, tightly wounding and bounding, meshing and mixing in between the seems, for a future nobody knows, a future nobody is prepared for, but a future nonetheless for all.

However, unbeknownst to all - even to the jujutsu higher-ups, the Great Gojo Satoru, and his beloved little sister, the future in store was not kind. No.

It's as though the past comes back to haunt, to call out for sins to be repented.

Strange as it seems, it all went according to plan - Gojo Satoru finding out about his sister, Fushiguro Megumi sent to Sendai, Miyagi to fetch a cursed object and meeting Itadori Yuuji, Itadori Yuuji ingesting said cursed object and hosting Ryoumen Sukuna, reviving the King of Curses after a thousand years. Yes. Marvelous. All according to plan. 

The characters were set, ties looming into each other. Glorious.

It was inevitable, that these characters had special ties connecting them with each other, keeping their lives intertwined, for such was the plan for the grander scheme of things.

There was nothing.

A sea of nothing.

Endless nothing.

It went on and on and on and on and on and on.

It was a nothing that comforting, a nothing where nothing existed, a nothing where nothing was felt.

It was a nothing with that - nothing.

The perfect word for it would be void, however, voids can still have something in them.

And there was red.

A field of red spread across, going on forever and ever and ever.

Curious, she got to her knees to inspect. A flower, it was a red flower with six umbels and a long stamen, blooming outward, as though seeking life. Fingering through its petals, her eyes followed along millions of them spread.

Suddenly, a cold chill ran down her. For some reason, she looked up, meeting nothing.

And yet, she remembered the feeling dwelling in her in a sea of nothing.

Yes, she remembered this feeling.

She knows that feeling.

"Where am I?" a voice cut through the nothing.

In front of her stood someone who looked exactly like her, except, one pair of her eyes had the trademark Six Eyes of the Gojo clan, there was a streak of white running down the right side of her hair, and she was dressed in clothing much different from hers.

Recognition fell upon her, blinking calmly as a faint smile graced her lips.

“Who are you?” asked the girl.

Her smile turned sad as she approached, crushing the flowers under her feet.

The same recognition fell unto her mismatched eyes, but probably not the same kind of recognition she had.

With the gentleness akin to a mother, she eyed the girl before her.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice echoing in the dark. “I’m sorry to have cursed you – all of you,” confusion crosses her face, it hurts her even more. “to have you all carry my burden." The red all around them seemed to glow, a vibrant, blinding red. "I’m sorry.”

Confusion continued to riddle her features, which makes this meeting just more bittersweet.

And then came rain, pouring down on them.

It washed over them, over the flowers.

And then nothing.

Come a thousand years later, and there they were.

A promise foretold, enacted finally.

He, a man resurrected from the dead, free from the curses that kept him away, taking what was rightfully his with her beating heart in his.

And she, a shell of a woman in the form of her now empty descendent.

At last, he had his comeuppance, at last, he got his revenge.

As he devoured her heart, feeling the remaining pieces of his powers return, as did the memories. What a cruel twist of fate.

Suddenly, his mind felt like a rush of water downstream. He could feel his immeasurable power returning, could feel in pumping his veins, yet at the same time, there were tears.

Elsewhere was Fushiguro Megumi, screaming over and over the name of the woman he had just killed – a scream of desperation, anguish, and pain. Why did it sound so familiar?

Finding a blackened uniform, hovering over a body laid in her own pool of blood, the boy continued to scream and scream.

Fushiguro Megumi was a man he couldn’t wait to see at his full potential for battle, another in his list of to-kills, having shown great potential as a jujutsu sorcerer and as part of the wretched Zen’in. But this was far from the man he knew, all he saw was a weeping boy, a boy who lost his mind as he was grieving, begging over and over a corpse, the corpse of his beloved.

Satisfied, he should be, right? Yet, why doesn't he feel it? Why does a part of him feel a great loss? Why does a part of him feel as though he was the one with a ripped soul?

A flash of white came to view, standing next to the crying boy, his stance was rigid, apart from that nothing with his back turned.

Kneeling, Gojo Satoru let his fingers press against the dead girl's eyelids, closing them shut. His hands fell to her cheeks, engulfing them in his large fingers, lingering, thumbs caressing her ice-cold cheeks. Once filled with warmth and life.

"Megumi," says Gojo Satoru, cursed energy just radiating off him. "mind if ya take yourself and (Y/N) aside?" lowering his blindfold, his cursed energy increased in power, reeking of maliciousness. "Things are about to get messy."

He met Gojo Satoru's murderous look head-on, finally getting that fight he long promised him.

And yet, as he stood there, tears leaked from his eyes.

Even with all his powers returned, him being at his full glory, his heart felt more hollow than before.

[tundrainafrica]

hi do you accept fanfic requests? because imagine a love, rosie levihan au? the childhood friends to lovers slowburn? the angst in the middle but it gets resolved by the end?

Title: Lock and Key (1/2)

Summary:

"He thought back to the dingy small town, back to the dingy cage. Hange was just one canary who flew off. And Levi was the one left behind in the cage.

So he kept the lock in place. He held onto the key. Just in case, she did decide to come back."

Levi and Hange are childhood friends and Levi just can't bring himself to tell her how he feels.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: I'm sorry anon I did not follow the whole prompt. I took some liberties with it but I hope you still enjoy <3. Quick warning, it's a little angstier (maybe?)

It all started with a party. Years later, Levi was sure, during his off days, he would go back it---to the flashes of strobe lights, the guitar riffs, the beat music, the strong taste of alcohol burning at his throat.

Not for any of those sensations though. He felt like he was dying. They were painful,o verwhelming and Levi was frozen on his seat, cocktail glass between his shaking fingertips, the unnatural heat grazing his cheeks.

He didn’t want to be there.

But he would only be a high school student once. Soon enough they would be sending applications for college and he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the party scene with the thrill of ‘illegality.’

Soon, Levi had to admit, it wasn’t just about the experience. Who cared if it was illegal or legall. It was never just about the experience. He lived his whole high school life not engaging with that type of crowd.

It was Hange who got him just breaking past that comfort bubble he set up for himself, for just that one night. And the experience came with a burning question.

When can we do it again?

Hange was submitting applications to colleges outside the country. Levi didn’t know the odds exactly, he had been too terrified to ask. Something was telling him though that Hange wouldn’t be going to college nearby. In a years time, she might not be next to him.

Hange. The Hange that had been such a constant in his life. And when he was counting down days while basking in uncertainties, he was just a little more open to very uncomfortable feelings.

Hange didn't seem so terrified."This might just be our last hurrah before entrance exams," she said, a cheeky smile on her face.

I know that. Levi said. And as he saw that intent look in her gaze, all for him he was sure. Did he look like he was enjoying? How could he be enjoying it though when the music was playing in time to his pounding head?

“Toilet,” Levi said.

“Okay, you want me to order something else?”

“Just order anything. It’s your birthday,” Levi said as he teetered just a little bit towards the bathroom stall. They had picked a corner table at least and fortunately, the walk to the bathroom didn’t feel like so much of a journey.

Levi stayed in the toilet for a while longer. There were two stalls but by some divine grace, the bathroom was empty and Levi had to act quickly if he wanted to get anything out.

He studied his features. He was bright pink under the white light. He was occasionally blurry. The bright lights that came with reflections got his head a little pounding. But he thought he was in a fairly decent position to at least try.

He had plans on how to do it. Subtly so it wouldn’t hurt. Smartly so he only elicited enough of a reaction to placate his own doubt. And smoothly, so it would end in a blink of an eye.

“Hange, there’s a post I found on Reddit…” Levi rehearsed. Well technically that part was true but he didn’t want her to think he actually rehearsed that.

“Hey Hange, with college exams coming up soon… and your plans…” Levi started. Did he seem just a little too stalkery then? Was he supposed to be thinking of her plans when she hadn’t even told him anything?”

Levi had rehearsed, but the answers came out a little too impromptu. “I have an idea…”

“An idea? That sounds interesting. Everytime we work together in groupworks you never have ideas…” Hange’s voice was slurring, she was a little too talkative and Levi was hesitating.

He cleared his throat. “An idea…” He tested it himself, just to make sure it wasn’t coming out faltered or stilted like Hange’s voice then. “A marriage pact?”

Hange’s eyes widened then. And for a second, there was a flash of sobriety in them. “A marriage pact? This sounds interesting…”

Levi was quick to amend it, scolding whatever hell ghost changed those words before he said it. “Dating pact. I meant a dating pact. We’re not gonna get married without dating of course... I saw this on Reddit but what if… When we’re twenty-eight, when you finish that PhD you’ve always wanted and we’re still single… What if we try dating? Don’t get me wrong… dating just feels weird but I think that I might be missing something here but maybe when I’m that old, that would be a good time to try it out.”

Hange hummed in thought. “That’s an idea. We’re probably still too young to be thinking about dating huh? And with college exams coming up…” The gears in her brain were moving, Levi was sure. “But, if let’s say you find someone… Or I find someone?”

If you find someone? Just imagining the phantom man had Levi catching something in his throat. He looked away as he felt the bile rise up his throat, a little shaken by that moment where his imagination went wild for just a second. But he wasn’t supposed to feel that way.

Or maybe he should be feeling that way. After all, how many drinks had he downed until that point. Hange was starting to be a little wild too. It wasn’t an all too uncharacteristic move. She had always been the loud one, the more extroverted one.

But she was always particularly studious too and just seeing Hange jumped out of her seat and navigate her way through the crowds and towards the dancefloor had Levi suspended in disbelief for a second.

But he followed suit.

The strobe lights were brighter. The music was louder and in a way, it had devolved into ringing in his ears. Those were only secondary.

The moment he caught up to Hange, he found himself holding her by the arm, navigating all the way until her hand, just for a better grip. She was an anchor to reality, an anchor to reasoning beyond the harrowing effects of the lights and sounds.

Her skin on his wasn’t an overwhelming outburst of sensations. It was warm, it was smooth. The pull as she danced to some rhythm was predictable.

He had known her for years. Hange had always embodied comfort for him.

Tipsy, overwhelmed and a little unhinged at that moment, Levi danced to her rhythm and he rode the dizzying trappings of his inebriated state.

Riding such feelings though had its own collection of surprises and soon Levi found himself on the rooftop of the bar, enjoying the feel of the concrete right below him and beneath it, the shaking from the bass of the music just on the floor below him. It was faint though and there were sounds and sensations more intimate at that moment.

Hange’s breaths and the laughs in between were shaky. Her grip on his hand was tighter, far from painless but he couldn’t complain. God forbid, it might just end.

“Levi, I thought about the dating pact. What happens if you find someone? Or I find someone?”

“Then we don’t push through with the pact. Simple as that,” Levi said.

“You’ll still be there right? Even if I find someone?”

Levi felt a wave relief rush through him and he let out a harsh breath, a product of his own tipsiness then and his own discomfort at their circumstances. “We’ve been best friends since before we could remember. What’s a few more decades?”

“We might lose touch… I dunno? Did I tell you? I applied for colleges abroad. This just isn’t the best environment for research.”

“Then I’ll visit you.”

“And if I find someone there?”

“Then I’ll be the cool uncle to your kids, if you ever have them.”

***

He didn’t have to think about it over the months. Or maybe he just chose not to think about it.

Work, responsibilities and life as a whole never gave him any breaks to think so much as the far future.

What was the point of thinking about a future when he wasn’t working on it? So Levi worked his part time job, he studied and he prepared for his own entrance exams. Even when entrance exams ended, Levi was at least able to focus on the hell weeks before graduation.

He didn’t expect at all to have to think about it again, in a coffee shop of all places after one of his own shifts. He was in the middle of organizing the tea bags at the front of the shop when the reminder presented itself.

The reminder of such musings came as a clang of wind chimes, some huffing and puffing and some rhythmically unhinged footsteps. Hange appeared out of the corner and into the empty cafe, letter in hand.

Her cheeks were flushed and Levi had to note that she was wearing too little layers.

Levi glanced at the clock. “Did you just run here from your house at nine in the evening?”

Hange nodded. “Yes, I did.” Her house wasn’t too far, a ten minute walk if they were taking a relaxing stroll. It was nine in the evening though and it didn’t look like Hange had even bothered to put on a coat. Excitement probably did those types of things to people. She waved the letter up in the air and her breaths were only getting quicker and more unpredictable.

As if she was struggling to speak. “Slow down,” Levi said.

He untied his apron, pulled it off and sat on one of the tables closest to the counter. He patted the table, just a simple gesture for her to sit. He could spare a few minutes, his shift was ending soon anyway and not many people would be entering a breakfast cafe an hour before closing.

Hange needed a few more minutes to gather herself but she at least had some courtesy to slip the letter in front of him. “Read.”

We are pleased to inform you…

Full scholarship. Research stipend.

“I passed!” Hange said. “I’m leaving this dingy town for college!”

Levi was happy. He was sure of it. Maybe he had spent just a little too much time thinking logistics that it hadn’t manifested so naturally as a smile. He had to force it. He had to widen his eyes and he had to nod his head to express any approval. But really Hange’s face then a mixture of surprise, joy, ecstasy had him excited too. It had him shaking.

But there were just some things he couldn't shake off even with the most natural movements. Hange seemed to notice. “It’s only a plane ride away.”

But to get to the plane, one would need to get through at least three local trains, then the airport express then the actual airport and just the idea of Hange standing behind the barriers of money, bureaucracy and time was overwhelming in itself. Since they were young, Hange had only ever been a few blocks away. That wasn’t something he would have wanted to tell her though. She might just think he was crazy. “You’re right… It isn’t too far.”

“Didn’t you apply too?”

“I wouldn’t be able to pay for the tuition but I tried for a scholarship. It’s a long shot but…”

“Well, I heard they consider grades, extracurriculars as well as part time jobs.”

Levi knew that. He had done the research way beforehand. But he averaged Bs and his own financial situation and the need for part time jobs meant he had little to no engagement with other extracurriculars.

Still, Levi found himself hoping. When the letter arrived, left on the counter by his mother. Levi was quick to open it, his heart was racing and maybe his fingers had faltered a bit as he ripped open the top of the envelope.

We regret to inform you…

At that moment, Levi almost regretted even applying for the scholarship. The school didn’t even consider him as a student.

“There are community colleges,” his mother had said.

Conditional Acceptance. Scholarship denied. He wasn’t the type to hide those things from Hange. And maybe Hange read the room, maybe it had her treading rough grounds, more than Levi would have liked.

Graduation loomed like a vulture ready to strike. The difference was he knew exactly when the vulture would strike. And sometimes it flew over them in moments where Levi could have sworn graduation was still a long time away.

Hange didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. Hange though was something special. She prattled on about college plans, about her dormitory preparation and even about her thesis topics which were still five years away.

Then suddenly, she just stopped. Suddenly conversation topics shifted to studies, to research paper topics, to the most interesting customers Levi would run into at the tea shop.

Hange was still excited. Levi had known her long enough to figure it out. When Hange wasn’t holding anything, she was twiddling her thumbs. When she was watching her words, she tended to speak slower, she tended to stutter and she tended to pick the most professional words that most high school students wouldn’t even consider vernacular.

Levi brought it up again over team, a few months after the rejection letter, a few weeks after he noticed that subtle change in her demeanor. “Hange, how are your plans for college? You’re gonna have to leave in a month right?” Hange was leaving a few weeks after graduation, to give herself time to adjust to the new city.

Hange’s mouth dropped open. “I mean, yes… I will be leaving in a month.” She had been in the middle of mentioning words like ‘diction,’ and ‘sovereign’ when describing her writing style for her final paper and it looked like she was still trying to adjust.

Maybe Levi had introduced the topic a little too suddenly. It was too late to go back though. “So, we have a week or two after graduation right?”

“In between packing… Yes,” Hange said with a shrug. How Hange had mellowed into something hesitant, almost lifeless had been a mystery to Levi. For only that split second though. Hange cleared her throat. “How do you feel about it?”

It turned out, there had always been an elephant in the room. And it bared its fangs then, hidden right under the trunk. The air turned heavy, making it almost difficult to breathe.

He was the only one though capable of finding his own breath again. “What can I say? I didn’t pass.” Levi dropped his shoulders and let out a weak sigh, not loud enough to make himself seem pathetic. Rejection letters had already left him feeling pathetic for months.

Hange responded with a wry smile. “I’m sorry about that. I should have realized earlier. I should have been more sensitive.” She was kind. She was empathetic. She was always striving to be better. And she always had been.

At that moment, in the cafe, tapping her fingers on the porcelain cup, Levi saw it. She was a kettle, a pot ready to burst, only covered by a stubbornly heavy lid.

A lid she had put just for him. That was the moment Levi realized, he might just be pulling her back.

***

There was another elephant in the room. An elephant that followed with heavy steps that shook the whole room.

At least to Levi it seemed that way.

Uncertainty was a very heavy thing. When he could barely see what would be at the end of the tunnel---the end being the day Hange lugs a lifetime worth of belongings and takes a train to the airport--- Levi felt the pressure of his whole life in front of him crammed into the next two weeks.

A day after graduating, when the countdown just became a little too clearer, Hange wasn’t next to him and he had to make do. A day-long trip to the capital to get some student visa shit sorted out.

She wouldn’t have called it ‘student visa shit,’ she had said something nicer definitely, something that embodied her life long dreams of a living outside of their ‘dingy old town.’ That ‘student visa thing’ had Levi uncertain, twiddling his thumbs like she did many times before, the student visa thing had him feeling like ‘shit.’

So he called it ‘shit,’ and he enjoyed the bitter venom in his mouth, the sweet release and the comfortable exhale that followed.

“Sounds hectic,” Farlan said. He hadn’t been looking at Levi’s way the entire time, too busy aiming for a headshot at the screen.

It was hectic. But it wasn’t shit to Levi for that reason.

“I guess that’s one good thing about getting into community college.”

“Yeah, it does sound hectic.” Levi had been secretive about applying. He let the subtle fact that he had applied to similar colleges to Hange simmer in the room, ebb at the guilt inside him. He wasn’t telling anyone about community college being a fall back. That was a secret he’d keep to his heart, only known by his mother, his uncle and Hange. Fortunately, Hange never brought it up. “That’s why I didn’t wanna bother her today.”

“She’s busy.”

“When you get into a really good college I guess...” The silence was heavy again. The elephant in the room plopped down right next to him and their conversation wasn’t making too much sense and as Levi quickly analyzed the shooting game in front of him, he understood why Farlan wouldn’t have the headspace for some slight drama.

So Levi sat quietly, politely ignoring the tension, instead focusing on bending forward while cross legged, letting his back stretch behind him. Stretching his aching muscles, undoing knots, allowed some lightness to settle, taking the space of whatever heaviness there had been a second ago.

The game ended soon after with a taut swear from Farlan. Then a question Levi hadn’t been ready for. “Are you gonna tell her?”

Levi almost spat out his response. “Tell her what?”

Farlan put the controller down. “It’s your last chance right? Once she leaves for the city, she’ll find new people… And she’s not ugly you know. A lot of people--- men and women---will go after her. ”

She was frumpy, plain especially right after a shower. Worry and stress would line her face right after a long night. Levi had to admit though that she was far from ugly. Her notably bright personality, her intelligence that ‘came once every decade’ according to the many conversations he had heard among teachers were painful reminders, the impending goodbye was just turning out to be more and more terrifying.

“I know that.” Levi couldn’t bring himself to say anymore, not about his feelings, not about the marriage pact. Articulating what he was thinking would only serve to make it more real.

“How you feel about her leaving?”

“Well, of course I’m sad about it, she’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, but don’t you wanna lock it… If you know what I mean,” Farlan said slowly, as if he were talking to someone either oblivious or someone below the age of five.

Levi was neither five nor oblivious. Still, obliviousness was a convenient trait. “Lock what?”

Farlan let out a mix between a sigh and a laugh. “Never mind.” He clicked ‘start a new game.’ The loading screen flashed in front of him and Farlan used as an opening to turn back. “It’s up to you but--- I know she means a lot to you and I just think if she means that much to you… you should take the risk.”

Levi decided on it a few minutes later but he saw no convenient opportunity to tell Farlan, the latter having been engrossed in a more challenging campaign since a while ago. So any attempt to articulate his decision died there.

And he had two weeks to come up with a final plan.

***

Less than 24 hours ago, Levi was determined to tell Hange. His confidence was a littles stronger than usual. He was no writer but he had a script. He was no actor but he had allowed himself time in front of the mirror to balance his tones, to time his rests.

It was stupid. He had known Hange for years but circumstances, and maybe Levi’s own fastidious personality, had him realizing confessions were a nuanced thing. Emphasizing the wrong words could have Hange getting the wrong message.

And when he didn’t even know whether he wanted her to leave or stay, he wasn’t even sure what the right message was.

He had dedicated at least three hours to the whole preparation process when a speed bump appeared.

In the form of a shopping trip with his mother and the young daughter of the family friend. Isabel was only a few years younger, but her innocence, her blind optimism at the state of the world and the fate of relationships was closer to that of a five year old.

Having spent the past few hours dealing with his own skeletons, Levi was a little envious, particularly when she had walked ahead “ooh”-ing and “aah”ing at everyday things. The streets have always been cobblestoned. Although the trinkets at the front of the shops, although the food sold at the streetcars varied by season, the big picture always seemed the same to Levi.

If he walked until the end of the main street, he would find the town church. If he walked along the alleys, he would find a few pubs that opened too late in the day and too early in the evening. And if he kept walking until the end of the alleys, he would find greens. And lots and lots of mountains.

It is a dingy little town. Those were Hange’s words. But it’s our dingy little town. He hadn’t been to the center of town in so long and when all he could think about was Hange, he was noticing the smallest things. Everything Hange hated about the town.

“Levi, let’s check out the pet shop!”

Kuchel had been busy looking at the spices displayed at the front of one of the shops and Isabel was starting to get a little restless.

“I’ll take her,” Levi said.

Kuchel nodded, still occupied with spices. “Sure I’ll meet you there.”

It was a weekday, the beginning of summer yet the heat was enough to have Levi a little uncomfortable in a shirt with sleeves past his elbows. It was the crowd he had to navigate through definitely. Humans were warm creatures and the crowds trapped the warmth, the sun above only contributed its share of warmth.

Warmth and warmth mixed together became unbearably hot and under it all, Levi was uncomfortable, he was finding a distraction. And he was still thinking of Hange.

“Look, it’s a canary.” Isabel was supposed to have been a distraction. When Levi looked back to stare at it, he felt it, Hange was still a nagging thought in the back of his mind. And inadvertently, he was projecting her into anything remotely Hange.

“Can we buy it, Levi?”

His mind wasn’t in the conversation. He was focused just a little too much on the yellow bird, clamoring the sides of the cage, only grasping by the thinner metal bars. “You wanna buy the canary?” Levi asked.

“I read in a book. Canaries are high energy birds and they can’t be kept inside the cage. They said it’s not healthy."

"Not healthy?"

"I wanna set it free.”

Isabel was tugging at him but Levi was frozen in place. He had pulled out from the crowds and he was in a better position definitely. One discomfort had been replaced with another though.

The crowds came and left, soon replaced by thoughts of Hange once again. That had Levi stiffening up.

“Levi, let’s check the store!”

The poor poor canary.

“I wanna buy the canary!”

Kuchel wouldn’t allow it. Isabel’s parents wouldn’t allow it. Did they even have the money for it? They barely even made ends meet.

Levi was certain never before had he even given caged animals more than one glance but the canary had taken up more space in his mind, more than he was willing to have given from the start.

He stared longer. He stared deeper into those eyes. Then he figured it out, there was one bright eyed, high energy bird much closer to him. Before the thoughts could form into something else, Levi attempted to look away, surveying his surroundings instead.

The bright sweltering sun only served to magnify the black, rotting among the corners in the alleys and the houses. If he focused on the outdated grills and the peeling paint, he noticed it.. Hange was right, the small town was dingy.

When he looked beyond it, squinting just a little bit, he saw more. Just past the buildings and the alleys though were trees, greens, there were mountains. The next town was a good long train ride away. The next city was a much longer train ride away. The raw sensation of rejection letter on hand only served to build the bars for him.

The small town was a dingy cage. And two weeks later, he saw it in her. The bright yellow. The talons that clambered up, foraging for some opening in the cage.

And he saw it clearly completely at the gate to immigration, just a few minutes after check in.

Hange wasn’t crying. Hange didn’t curl her lips down into a grimace. In fact, everything was the other way around. It was as if she wasn’t leaving him and he wasn’t leaving her.

Levi spoke up. “Send a message before you take off.”

“Will do,” Hange replied.

“And when you arrive there,” Levi added.

“You know I will,” Hange said calmly. A big smile played at her lips. “You’ll visit right?”

“I’ll save up for it.” Levi had done the calculations. One year of saving, one year of cutting down on any luxuries and he could afford the plane ticket at least.

The train ticket. Then the plane ticket. The whole journey there. The weight of the effort seemed surreal and it would only become a reality when he lets her go, through the immigration doors.

Only passengers beyond this point. Levi stared at the sign for a little longer. Once Hange crossed that, the next time he would see her would be after he paid the ridiculous ticket prices, put in the long painstaking hours on the plane

“Hey, I’ll make sure to call, maybe every day, maybe once a week. Depending on how busy we both get,” Hange said gently.

Levi wondered what face he was making to receive such comforts. Hange’s voice wasn’t gentle by nature. She had only summoned it herself through careful thought, through some sustained effort for sure.

And he became more aware of the prickle at the back of his eyes and the inclination to just stand there for as long as he could. Maybe in another world that would have been enough to freeze time.

Then, suddenly he felt guilty for even hoping for some power over time. Hange had been calm, maybe wistful but she was also excited. “I might miss my flight if we stay here any longer.” Her tone was lighter than a while ago. She could have been making a joke.

Levi at least tried to adopt the same demeanor. HIs mind though had been elsewhere. Maybe he had managed a smile, a nod.

Hange turned her back slowly. With one wave of her hand, she went between the gates. She was still waving, past on the other side of the glass. She wasn’t looking at him anymore though.

Acceptance dawned on him more quickly than he expected. Maybe because Hange wasn’t just Hange anymore. Seeing her had been some catalyst to a quick recall.

To the canary long ago, stuck in the cage. The canary who had climbed to the top, in pursuit of some way out of that dingy metal cage.

Before Hange turned the corner towards the gates, she had looked at him one more time. Levi ran towards the glass wall, phone in hand. He held it in front of him and mouthed one word. “Text.”

Hange put one hand on the glass and nodded. She said something else, something he couldn’t tell. But it had fogged the glass just in front of them.

Dingy metal cage. Glass barriers. Two different materials but they did the same thing. They separated people. They kept some in. They kept others out.

Then Levi thought back to the cage, back to the canary and he thought back to the lock that blended too well to the cage. The canary would never have learned to open it alone.

Hange's own education. Her own wit had gotten her out of the cage.

And who was he to stop her? Hange had found the key. She had unlocked it herself.

“I love you. I wish you’d stay.” Would he have been able to call her back in with just one a few words? He said it as a whisper, enough to fog his side of the glass and the haze blended with hers.

By the time he said it the second time, then the third time, enough to cover Hange’s own fog, she had turned back already. She turned the corner, then towards the gate number.

Gate 23. Levi had been fixated enough to memorize the flight number and the gate number.

He stared for a few seconds longer, watching as the fog on the other side disappeared into nothing, leaving scratches and almost invisible specks of dust. For a second longer, he wondered if that had been anything Hange left behind.

He watched his own fog waste into nothing. He thought back to the dingy small town, then back to the dingy cage. Hange was just one canary who flew off.

And Levi was the one left behind in the cage. So he kept the lock in place. He held onto the key. Just in case, she decided to come back.

[thegeneralguy]

The Champion of Olympus - Ares’s Arrogance

By thegeneralguy

Revised by @amalianetwork​

The chariot of the sun was finishing its daily round over Mount Olympus, leaving a crimson trail in its path. The beautiful sky was painted red, the golden rooftops of the monumental temples and lavish palaces reflecting the majestic sunset´s light. In the inner circle of heaven, the faint sound of metal clashes resonated through the cloudy hills, where all the Olympian´s residences stood proudly watching over the vast extent of the celestial realm. The furious battle cries were coming from the dominion of the god of war. The magnificent mansion stood out of the rest of the buildings due to the dark marble composing its solemn columns, along with a vibrant bronze rooftop that illuminated the surroundings in a permanent hue of carmine.

The aggressive cacophony was coming from the inner courtyard, which occupied the biggest part of the palace. Ares was in the middle of a fierce battle against two other gods, wielding his giant golden spear to strike them with fury over and over again. His extremely muscular body did not impede his battle prowess, as he gracefully danced with the spear as an extension of his limbs. Both lesser gods brandished two identical golden swords, masterfully avoiding and countering the bigger deity's attacks. With the might of his enormous arm, the god of war planted his weapon on the ground propelling himself into a somersault and successfully jumping over the two surprised beings. Suspended on the air he then knocked down both his foes with a fast sweep of his powerful leg, landing gracefully on top of them.

"Again."

He said in a gruff bass voice, his fiery crimson eyes glaring down at the two defeated gods struggling to get back on their feet. Just as they were getting ready to clash weapons again, a bright pink flash replaced the bloody red atmosphere for an instant, leaving behind the most beautiful woman in existence. Ares put down his spear and walked towards his past lover, Aphrodite. She stared seductively at her forbidden object for desire. After all the eons resisting the urge to touch again, the mighty god of war still looked as imposing as the first time they fell for each other. His white robe was perched over one shoulder, exposing one half of his titanic chest. The enormous arms he once used to crack the skulls of his enemies rippled with power, thick veins pumping the holy ichor inside of them. His legs looked stronger than the dark marble columns supporting the palace. Many mementos from his previous battles decorated his bronze skin in the form of many little marks left by the few weapons that were able to harm him.

His brutish face was half concealed by a dense black beard and had a big scar that ran across from his hanging brow, through his eye, and got lost in the hair on his square chin. His intimidating appearance was only accentuated by his bald head, along with the piercing red eyes that flared with the rage of a thousand wars underneath. He approached the goddess, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her close, only to be pushed back by her slender arm.

"You know how he gets when he knows we're together, Ares."

The beautiful deity could barely hold her urge to make love with the masculine god in front of her, but the fear was greater than any other primal instinct she could feel. Ares grunted annoyed, and let the woman out of his embrace.

"I could take on him you know, and you would be finally free. Free to be with me for the rest of eternity."

Aphrodite looked at her former lover with a deep-rooted sadness behind her dark pink eyes and raised her elegant hand to caress the god's rough cheek. Ares took her hand delicately, like a gorilla grabbing the most delicate of a rose's petals, and planted a kiss full of passion and nostalgia of an immemorial time, when they were together, on her palm. They both stood still for a moment, and then Aphrodite removed her hand from his grip and took a step back.

"You know that can't be. Even though you're the god of war and combat, you're still no match for Hephaestus's might. Remember what happened last time."

Ares's winced for a moment, his melancholic visage quickly returning to its natural angry sneer. Of course, he remembered the humiliation his brother put his own wife and him through, exposing their affair to the rest of the gods. The animosity both of his parents felt for him only increased, making the god even more of an outcast than he already was. Only his desire for the goddess of beauty was stronger than his undying loyalty for his father, trying desperately to gain his favor in every conflict. But all his attempts failed miserably, especially when his sister Athena was involved. Zeus, although prideful and violent, was a brilliant strategist and he always sided with his wiser and more intelligent daughter, often leaving the god of war hurt in his pride. He looked back at Aphrodite reproachingly, wondering what the goddess's visit truly meant.

"What are you looking for Aphrodite? If you know Hephaestus doesn't like to see you with me, what is it that brings you to interrupt my training?"

"I know how these situations tend to put you under too much pressure. I just wanted to ask what you were planning to do concerning the trial of the Champion."

"It's been a long time since father has put a challenge on all of us. This might be my opportunity to prove once and for all that I'm the one he should be turning to in troubling times, not Athena."

The god of war was a force to be reckoned with. His prowess in battle was matched by no one in Mount Olympus, and his sheer force was only rivaled by few other deities. But although he was a fearsome opponent for whoever dared in challenging him, he had one fatal flaw: his arrogance. His thirst for blood and violence, when combined with his superiority complex, bred poor choices in and out of battle, often resulting in the mighty god being ridiculed. All the emotions from defeat were only magnified by his enormous ego, creating a bitter outcast who was often ignored by the rest of his fellow deities. Aphrodite knew that deep inside that glorious body and arrogant demeanor was a deep sadness product of rejection from his own family.

"I know how you feel Ares, but I would advise you not to waste too much energy in this affair. You know how Zeus can be when it comes to a world-ending crisis. I don't want you to get more hurt…"

She then took a step forward to put her hand on his gargantuan chest. Ares quickly turned his back towards Aphrodite, unable to keep the emotions from projecting on his face.

"What do you, the goddess of beauty, know about rejection? Father is completely blind to my superior power, and it's my duty to show him he has the most mighty ally for whatever challenge he might face. I have to eclipse the other competitors to take my rightful place on his side. Especially Athena."

The rivalry between the god of war and the goddess of wisdom was not unheard of in Mount Olympus. Even the epic tales from the terrestrial plane depicted the many victories Athena had against Ares. The big scar on the god's face was an eternal reminder of the goddess's superior abilities, often fueling the god's rage in battle every time he caught a glimpse of it in the reflection of a shield. Aphrodite wasn't very keen on Athena either, often clashing with her because of their separate views on vices and virtues, but it was nothing compared to the strong hatred Ares felt for her. The goddess of beauty then took a few steps forward to stand next to the strong deity.

"I guess there is no point in trying to stop you. I would advise you to be careful though. I don't know if you noticed, but Zeus's demeanor seemed very strange during the reunion. You'd be deceiving yourself if you didn't think the ascension of a new champion is not something out of the ordinary."

The god of war stood quiet for some time, reflecting on Aphrodite's words. It was true that the ritual of ascension was a holy ceremony, reserved for heroic acts of celebration instead of an emergency of this type. The last time he tried to gift a mortal with the divine essence, he watched helplessly as his devotee was consumed by its power, obliterating him. He couldn't even remember when was the last time the ritual was successful. But all these concerns were of little meaning for Ares. Before he stood a perfect opportunity to demonstrate his power and to show his abnegation for his father.

"I already made up my mind, Aphrodite. I will personally descend to the Earth and create the best Champion there is. No one will be able to stand against him, for he will be forged by my superior power."

Aphrodite let out a frustrated sigh, knowing her attempts of dissuading the god from taking part in this ridiculous plan were pointless. This whole plot seemed very suspicious for her, but she couldn't exactly point out what was going on. If Ares wasn't going to help her find out, she'll have to resort to other more extreme means. She then looked at the two godlings standing firmly waiting for Ares's command. Both looked practically identical, standing tall and strong like their father, but their handsome faces devoid of their progenitor's magnificent beard. They also had heads full of thick dark brown curls, encasing their more youthful faces. Their muscular bodies were also covered by numerous scars, mostly done by their father's spear.

"Look at my poor children. What have you done to them, Ares?"

Phobos and Deimos were the twin children of beauty and war, born out of human's innermost primal instinct: fear. Both godlings owed an undying loyalty to their father, often accompanying him in each of his affairs. Ares walked towards them, inspecting every inch of his two soldiers, who stood there firmly in silence awaiting their father's command.

"I made them into what they're right now. Two war weapons capable of sowing despair out of mortal hearts. And it seems I'll make use of their service once again. I'm going to make use of a couple of tricks you've shown me."

"If you already made your decision, it is useless to remain here and try to convince you otherwise. Just a word of advice Ares, don't let your pride be your downfall once again."

The goddess disappeared then with a flash, leaving Ares and the two godlings alone once again. The god of war then pondered on the goddess's words, wondering if he should change his mind and challenge his father, like many members of his family were going to. He remembered an ancient saying from another mortal cult: pride goes before the fall. But he quickly dismissed any doubt circling his mind. An opportunity to gain Zeus's grace wasn't going to present itself that easily again. It was his chance to demonstrate his superior existence, and take Athena's place right next to their father. His rugged face was drawn with a sinister smile. He was going to reap a human from his sister's flock, proving once and for all who the most powerful warrior of Olympus was.

It was an unusually agitated day for Athens High. The days before summer vacation were always received with enthusiasm by the students, and relief by the faculty members. Colorful school banners announcing the graduation ceremony for the seniors decorated the hallways, proudly signifying another school year's death. Every student was filled to the brim of school spirit, enthusiastically signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and joking with their soon to be former teachers. All except one. Leon Machiavelli sat quietly at his desk, tapping his feet nervously while he waited for the ultimate call for freedom that was the ringing of the bell on the last school day.

High school could be harsh for someone like Leon. The 19-year-old always felt like a fish out of water when it came to socializing with his classmates, most of his time spent on furthering his knowledge and improving his chances of getting into an Ivy League college, finally ridding himself of the shackles that an upbringing in a small rural town in the middle of nowhere could bring. The few friendships he managed to make over the course of his years through school were few and far too insignificant to regret his choice in moving to the other side of the country and never hearing from them again. Not to mention his troubled relationship with his parents, who were concerned by their son's more hermit nature. His family had been living in that town for a few generations, owning some small businesses in the surrounding area and establishing itself as one of the most aristocratic families in the county.

The swan song of the school year chimed in the form of the bell's ring, causing excited screams and cheers from all students. Notebooks were propelled into the air, paper falling everywhere painting the floor with white. Girls exchanged teary hugs, immortalizing their last moments in the classroom with their smartphones and guys hollered and smashed against each other in fraternal hugs. Leon swiftly picked up his backpack and made a beeline towards the exit, already feeling claustrophobic in the middle of the chaos. He made his way through the sea of students, already feeling the scorching hot summer air blowing at his face. When he was just a step away from freedom, he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder pulling him back inside. He turned around with an exasperated look on his face, only to find out the hand belonged to Kevin Volker, the varsity football captain.

"Leon, bro, what's up? I haven't seen you all day."

The relationship between the hunky jock and the hermit bookworm was, to say the least, complicated. Both boys practically grew up together, their families living next to each other and going to the same school from kindergarten all through to high school. Childish wonder pushed them to form a very good friendship in their first years of development. Family barbeques, playdates, camping trips, both boys had all the necessary qualities to become the best of friends. The fact that their parents were also friends and business partners was also a good advantage for them to keep interacting almost like brothers. All their years of primary school were spent joyfully carefree, with both boys enjoying the wonder of practically living together and embarking on whichever childish adventure they wanted.

But things got different once Kevin's biological clock sent him spiraling into puberty. The gorgeous blonde boy became an athletic teenager, and his energetic nature combined with his newly acquired physical prowess turned him into a social sensation in school. The allure of the childish fantasies he used to share with his best friend was slowly replaced by the enjoyment a real-life circle of friends could bring. Kevin naturally went up the ladder of the monstrous social scale that was high school. The sports teams didn't waste any time in hunting him down, but it was the school's most prided one that caught him in the end: the football team. After just four years the cute teen had developed into a strapping young man, with an all-American jock face and a body to die for.

Watching his best friend turn into the king of school wasn't easy for Leon. The slow abandonment combined with his frustrations over his very delayed development slowly bittered him. Instead of growing up big and strong like Kevin, Leon just gained a few inches in height, but a lot of pounds in weight. He resented his friend for getting the attention of their peers and leaving him alone to fuel their fantasy world on his own. He resented his friend for gaining the grace of other students, and soon cut all ties to him. The chubby red-head grew up alone in the darkness of his bedroom, while the blonde stud dwelled in the sunlight. His natural curiosity pushed him into pursuing knowledge, far prioritizing the cultivation of the mind instead of the body. His academic achievements mixed in with his hidden frustrations bred an arrogance delusion. Leon convinced himself that he was too good for other people, shielding himself from the pain of rejection. Completely dismissing any attempt of remaining active took a toll on his body, turning the chubby teen into an overweight young man with a disheveled appearance. Every time he saw Kevin, he remembered their lost childhood and caught a glimpse of his true reality. The muscular jock served as a window of truth in Leon's arrogant delusion: his loneliness was a product of his own doing.

"I was just busy getting my things ready for tomorrow's speech. Can I help you with anything?"

He bitterly stared into the jock's blue eyes and saw exactly the look that he hated. Even though Kevin grew dismissive towards him, he never once participated in the occasional bullying red-head suffered, often offering to help out with whatever he needed. His usual cocky gaze hid a deep-set sympathy for the lonely nerd, and Leon hated that. He didn't need the sympathy of someone he considered inferior.

"No, it's all good thanks. I'm going to drive home first to pick up my gym bag, and I wanted to offer you a ride. It's too fucking hot out there, man,” said Kevin with a burst of awkward laughter. His deep voice vibrated on his chest, which twitched playfully from time to time. Leon scanned his former friend with a resentful gaze. The heavily muscled jock was encased in the trendiest designer clothes, his bulging arms threatening to rip his polo's sleeves apart, and the tree trunks he had for legs wrapped in skin-tight chinos, showcasing the deep definition within the heavy muscles. He tried his best not to stare too much into the body and kept his apathetic frown fixed on his piercing blue eyes.

"Thank you, but I'm gonna take the bus. There's some stuff in town I need to sort out first."

"That's ok, guess I'll see you tomorrow in the graduation ceremony then,” said Kevin with a subdued sigh. Leon turned around without saying anything and headed outside towards the searing sunlight. Even though he kept a straight face during the exchange with his former friend, his fists were clenched due to the anger he felt. Even after all those years, Leon's heart still skipped a beat every time the jock was nearby. No matter how much he tried to deceive himself into thinking he was the superior of the two, he couldn't get rid of the feelings he had for his former friend.

"Congratulations on the valedictorian thing by the way!"

He managed to scream before Leon was outside the door. The chubby red-head barely turned around, and with a weak thanks, he was lost in the blinding light.

The little town's main street was buzzing with activity on the hot summer afternoon. Families paraded themselves on the sidewalk, eating ice cream and letting the kids play on the numerous water fountains around the place. Little restaurants and boutiques decorated the sides of the street, offering a colorful option of both local and imported goods to the town's small population. The Machiavelli family owned many of those businesses and almost every convenience store in town. Leon was heading to the family's favored tailor to meet his mother to get his outfit for the graduation ready. After all, the son of one of the town's most important families couldn't show up in his usual disheveled state to his high school graduation. Leon always thought things like fashion and social status were frivolities, intellectually inferior people used to feel better about themselves, so he gave little importance to them. Even now on the threshold of the rest of his life, he could care less about how he looked, but his mother insisted so much that he gave in to her requests to keep her from nagging him any longer.

The little bell on top of the door chimed in when he entered the door, attracting the attention of his mother, who was enthusiastically discussing ties and bows with the tailor.

"Honey, you made it! Step in front of the mirror please, Mr. Schneider will take your final measurements."

No one would think the chubby teenager was related to the elegant woman standing next to the counter. She looked flawless despite her age and dressed impeccably no matter if she was at a charity ball or going to the supermarket. The only trait that tied both of them to each other was their fiery red hair, which she kept in a perfect updo fully solidifying her upper-class status. Without saying a word, Leon stepped up to the little platform surrounded by three body-sized mirrors. The tailor approached him, fully armed with his measuring tape and a set of pins to hold the seams and folds in place.

"What do you think of this tie honey? I think the green would highlight your…"

The excited chatter of his mother soon faded away, as Leon focused more and more on his reflection of the three pieced mirrors. It looked like puberty forgot about him in the middle of the way. He never really grew that much in height, topping at a shorter 5'5. The prominent curve of his stomach was visible through the simple black t-shirt he was wearing, deforming The legend of Zelda's Triforce symbol together with his sagging chest. His stubby arms laid powerless on his sides, and his chubby legs were hidden under a pair of oversized jeans. His pale freckled face was covered by pimples, accentuating his unclean appearance, and it still sported the signs of infancy he never outgrew, with chubby cheeks and a small nose. The most prominent feature on him was his bright green eyes, courtesy of his mother's Irish heritage, along with his unkempt red curls. He had convinced himself long ago that an unkept body was not a problem as long as the mind flourished, so he gave up on any attempt in bettering his appearance. Dwelling in his thoughts he didn't realize the tailor was done measuring and was discussing the suit's finishing touches with his mother, who didn't wait for her son's approval on the rest of the accessories.

"Is that all mom?"

He asked a bit annoyed whilst grabbing his belongings and heading to the door.

"Yes honey, I'll arrange the rest with Mr. Schneider. You will look so handsome tomorrow. I'll see you at home later."

She answered without even looking at him. Leon sighed and headed outside, not wanting to spend another second thinking in tomorrow's ceremony, and made his way towards his house.

The Machiavelli family's estate consisted of a big two-story house, a big garden with a swimming pool, and a small guest house. There was no doubt that it belonged to very affluent people. The mansion's pearl white walls reflected the afternoon sunlight, almost giving it an incandescent glow. Leon entered through the massive oak doors and headed straight for his room. On his way there he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the massive family portrait in the house's foyer. A younger Leon smiled faintly back at him; his chubby body encased in a black suit just like his father. The elegant man looked imposing with his strong physique and masculine features. The only common thing Leon and his father had was their last name because no one would say the pale red-head was related to the mature Italian stud that was his father. His mom looked perfect as usual, leaving Leon sticking out like a sore thumb between his two impressive progenitors. He tried his best to ignore the picture like he always did and enclosed himself in his private sanctuary.

His room was decorated with posters of antique temples, beautiful palaces, and imposing sculptures. Leon's love for fantasy had slowly driven him into researching the origin of human imagination itself, and therefore human's creative history. His ultimate goal was to become erudite of anthropology, teaching and researching in the most lauded institutions on the field and finally gaining the recognition of better people than the small-town folk he loved to look down upon. He sat down on his desk to revise his prepared speech for the graduation ceremony one last time. Despite his parent's best effort to dissuade him, Leon was willing to perform a bitter soliloquy expressing his frustrations against his classmates and solidifying his status as the class' arrogant intellectual. Beneath the snarky remarks and morality lectures written on paper, laid a profound pain product of his loneliness. His train of thought slowly brought the image of Kevin into his head again. Leon was going to finally be free of watching him blossom more and more every day. But even if he moved across the country, he was still unsure he would ever be able to forget the handsome jock. After all, despite the endless hours he spent convincing himself Kevin abandoned him out of malice, he was the only person Leon ever loved.

The chubby red-head barely gave any thought to his sexuality. He considered any kind of lust as a distraction, a primal burden that impeded the full growth of the human psyche. Unlike practically all of his classmates, he wore his virginity as a badge of honor, his mind completely clean of the stain of sex. But despite trying his best to suppress his natural urges, the thought of Kevin always came through inside his head. The connection they shared when they were children still transcended the barriers Leon tried to put up to elevate himself. And the fact that the handsome jock looked like a classical Greek sculpture come to life didn't help the lascivious thoughts leave the nerd's mind. Leon tried to hate Kevin as much as he could because if he didn't, he would become the ultimate shackles preventing him from breaking free from his small-town life once and for all. The last golden rays of sunset light came into the room through the big windows, illuminating the red-head's face. His gaze was glued to the sheet of paper in front of him. This speech was an ode to intellectual growth, and a farewell to the life Leon chose to leave behind. He went into bed exhausted, nervous about the events coming up the next day. It was going to be the last time Leon Machiavelli graced his classmates with his thoughts. Afterward, the only way they could catch a glimpse of his brilliant mind was either buying his future publications or listening to his TED talks.

It was past midnight when Leon was woken up by a shiver down his spine. The pale moonlight illuminated his bedroom, casting out gruesome shadows out of every corner. The nerd had the feeling something was staring at him from the darkness. The entire room was scorching hot, despite the cold night air flowing through an open window. A low animal growl attracted Leon's attention towards the darkest corner in the bedroom. His face went pale with fear when he discovered the two big glowing red eyes staring at him maliciously. A black figure slowly crept out of the shadows, making itself visible thanks to the white moonlight. Leon stared speechless at the giant black dog growling at him menacingly from the other side of the room. His big snout was curled up into an angry snarl, making the dagger sized fangs visible. The terrified nerd was petrified in his bed, unable to muster the minimal courage to even scream for help. Without taking his eyes off of him, the black dog spoke with a deep man's voice.

"When the time comes, follow me. I will give you what you want"

And as soon as it appeared, it melted into the shadows, leaving the red-head alone to faint out of the fear he just experienced.

  The golden rays of sunlight in the late morning woke Leon up, who groggily rubbed his eyes and got up. Despite sleeping through the night, he felt exhausted. He was unsure if what he saw in the darkness had been real or just a product of the stress before graduation. He looked at the clock on his nightstand, only to realize he had slept through his alarm and was already running late.

"Damn it"

He yelled exasperated as he jumped out of bed to get ready for his ceremony. He splashed some water face and combed his red curls a little bit just to hide the mark the pillow had left on his head. One of the maids brought up the finished suit his mother had bought the previous day. It was a beautiful dark grey suit, Italian cut, with an emerald green tie and a handkerchief to match. He quickly put it on, feeling it snug against his body. Despite the suit being tailored to his exact fit, the outward curve of his prominent stomach was still visible, putting a slight strain on the buttons. The emerald green tie did highlight his eyes, just like his mother told him before buying it. He took the cards for his upcoming speech and made sure he had everything ready for the ceremony. On his way out, he looked at his reflection on the big mirror in the hallway. Even after neglecting his appearance today, the beauty of the suit made him look almost distinguished. He felt strong, ready to sever his ties to this town and his past. It was going to be a memorable day, marking the beginning of his new life.

He arrived at the ground floor of the mansion, only to find it empty. A small note was laying on top of the little table next to the entrance.

"Your father and I went to the club for a quick workout. We'll see you later at school. Tell Charlie to drive you there if you don't want to take one of the cars."

He crushed the little note on his hands, feeling a pang of pain due to his parents' absence. It wasn't unusual for his mother to delegate accompanying him to the chauffeur, but Leon thought the day of his high school graduation was going to be different. He quickly dismissed any sorrow from his head, replacing it with a fiery determination. His speech today was also inspired by his aloof parents, who barely gave their only son a second thought. He looked at the big family portrait one last time. With this suit, he might have looked a bit like he belonged, but he knew the truth. His destiny was far away from this little town, which was below his expectations.

The school was buzzing with activity, with teachers running everywhere getting every last detail prepared, and students getting their graduation robes ready for the ceremony. Colorful banners decorated the main courtyard, where a scenario with a podium and a line of seats was built. The many rows of chairs in front of it were already filling themselves up with enthusiastic families, readying their cameras for their children's special moments. Leon scoffed at the scene, thinking how sad it was that this was going to be the only highlight in their offspring's life. He picked up his robe and valedictorian sash and headed towards his seat. In the distance, he saw Kevin arrive with both of his parents. The gorgeous stud was impeccably dressed in a beautiful sapphire blue suit. Every muscle was perfectly framed and enveloped in the expensive fabric, accentuating the dramatic angles his body formed. His dirty blond hair was perfectly styled in his usual messy style, and his white smile beamed stronger than the sun itself. Leon couldn't take his eyes off from his former friend, making an inhumane effort to remain focused on his goal. This day was going to be about him for the first time, not about Kevin.

The ceremony began after all the attendants took their seats, with the principal opening the day with a generic speech about school spirit and class fraternity. Leon fiddled with his cards nervously, the pressure of his big moment slowly starting to overcome him. He couldn't help but ask himself if he was willing to pull through it. After all, his classmates were still people deserving of respect, even if he considered them intellectually inferior. But then the memory of Kevin laughing with all of them, sharing the fabled fraternal bond the principal was talking about, and excluding Leon from their circle solidified his decision. The words he was going to say could be harsh, but it was something he felt entitled to share.

"And now, please welcome the Athens High class of 2019 valedictorian, Leon Machiavelli."

The sound of the applause woke Leon up from his daze, as he stood up and made his way to the podium. All the eyes in the audience were for the first time focused on him. The scorching sunlight made him feel a little light-headed, his hair matted with sweat, and his body sticking uncomfortably to his suit. He looked at the seats below him, squinting his eyes due to the sun's intense shine. All of the chairs were occupied, except two, very close to the front rows. Leon let out a sorrowful sigh, the last ember of hope of sharing this moment with his parents dying. He put his cards down, took a big breath, and started speaking.

"My fellow students of Athens High. The promised day is finally upon us, the day when we will finally take flight and begin the rest of our lives. Most of you don't even know who I am, but after today you will never forget my name. When I was writing this speech, I couldn't help but notice a few ironic facts that I would like to share with you. It is fitting that our school mascot is an owl because that is how I've felt all these years. I've dedicated countless hours to quietly observing your behavior, your desires, and every intricate social structure in our school, and I can't help but feel immense gratitude. Thanks to all of you, I've blossomed into the epitome of human intelligence and wisdom that I am today. And let me tell you why. After a long analysis, I've come up with the conclusion that my greatest fear is becoming as simple as one of you…."

Something beyond the sun's glare caught his attention. At first, he thought it might be a mirage caused by the burning heat, but the more he focused on it, the clearer it became. A shadow beneath a far tree looked eerily familiar. Leon's hands started to tremble in fear, as he recognized the black dog from last night staring at him from the distance, its glowing red eyes visible through the blinding sunlight. His entire speech suddenly vanished from his mind, together with the fleeting empowerment he was feeling moments ago. He fumbled nervously with the cards, only to drop them by accident.

"You….uh…..I…"

The echoes of his nervous words coming from the speakers resonated through the courtyard. Curious eyes focused on Leon, who quickly turned into a sweaty mess. He looked at Kevin in the front row, who had a worried look on his face. He felt a shame he had never felt before. Being humiliated in front of half the town was the last thing Leon wanted. He searched for the dog again, only for it to vanish without a trace. He looked at the public in defeat and managed to scavenge some last words to minimize the embarrassment.

"I want to thank you all for coming. Enjoy the rest of the ceremony."

With those last words, Leon left the podium and sank into his seat, wishing for the earth to swallow him. The principal took the microphone again and followed through with the protocol.

"Thank you, Leon, for those, uh, inspiring words. And now, we will present the students with their diplomas."

Leon sat in his place quietly, staring at the green grass. In his mind, the only thing that was present was the horrible feeling of embarrassment. Everything he had planned; all the preparation and previous excitement had been for nothing. The muffled sound of pomp and circumstance blasting out of the speakers was all he could hear, as the principal went through the line of students calling each of them to the podium and shaking hands with them. One face still stood out from the rest: Kevin's. One thing was failing in front of his classmates, but failing in the presence of the person he wanted to impress the most made everything worse. Now Kevin would never find out how well-off Leon thought he was despite being abandoned by the handsome jock. Somewhere inside the cacophony governing the courtyard, he heard his name, and without taking his gaze off the ground he stood up and picked up his diploma. He gave the principal a weak handshake and quickly slid back into his chair. This moment was indeed immortalized in his mind, but not in the way he intended.

Once all students got their respective acknowledgments, the ceremony ended with Oxford caps decorating the sky accompanied by deafening applause. Families reunited in the whole courtyard, hugging and blasting pictures everywhere. Leon was still in his seat when he saw both his parents approaching him.

"Honey, sorry we're late. How was your speech,” asked his mother without any hint of remorse in her voice. Leon was used to being left behind by his family, but this time he felt actual pain. If his parents were there, the only people with whom he shared some kind of superficial connection, he wouldn't have felt so helpless in the aftermath of his speech debacle. He looked up at his parents with cold wrath in his eyes, tears starting to slowly well up inside them.

"I don't ask much of you. I don't mind when you hide me at your parties, or when you go on extravagant trips without me. I just asked for your presence for one day. One day."

His reproaches were met by the unchanging poised faces of his progenitors. His mother was the first one to speak.

"Honey, not here. People are looking,” She said with a simulated smile.

"I don't care about your deluded picture of perfection, mother. You ruined the last time we were going to connect as a family. And for what? A sauna bath in your pretentious club."

His father's petrified face showed a glimpse of anger. The Machiavelli patriarch had never been very fond of his only child, considering him a nuisance and a liability for their public image. Leon just didn't fit well as the heir of the family's fortune, completely lacking charisma and skill to lead. In his eyes, the only thing his son did was cower behind his infinite collection of books in his room.

"Quit whining, Leon. You should be thankful your mother and I made time to come and congratulate you. Now, let's take a picture. We will discuss this back at home."

Leon's last hope of acceptance from his family died as soon as the flash from the camera was gone, his young heart completely overtaken by the coldness of rejection. His aloof parents then proceeded to greet the rest of the attendants. The young nerd felt completely lost inside the crowd. All he wanted to do was to get back home, pack his bags and leave on the next bus out of town. While he was analyzing the best way to scurry out of there, a sapphire flash caught his attention. He then looked towards it, only to find out the colorful splash of light came from Kevin, who was heading into the school through a side entrance. At first, he didn't pay too much attention to it, but then he saw the black dog from earlier following the handsome jock. After some consideration, Leon managed to conjure the courage to follow Kevin into the building, worried about what that black creature could do to his former friend. He pushed the door and entered the school's auditorium, only to find it dark and empty. The light to the locker rooms was on, so he made his way through the big hall towards it.

"Kevin? Are you in here?"

His nervous voice echoed through the rows of metal lockers. The air in the room felt damp and heavy, the lingering musky smell of sweaty athletes permanently staining the atmosphere. Something else was mixed in the aromas, a metallic scent, like rusted metal. He hesitantly stepped further into the locker room, his only companion being the sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor. The cold lights flickered from time to time, giving the entire scene a very ominous appearance. He turned around the corner and finally found Kevin in front of the sinks. He was staring emptily into the mirror, completely unaware of Leon's presence. The young nerd was terrified but kept approaching the young jock.

"Hey Kevin, are you alright?"

He said as he put a sweaty hand on Kevin's shoulder. He was able to perceive a red flicker on the jock's icy blue eyes, and then Kevin reacted to his touch.

"Leon, what's up? You look scared bro, are you alright?"

He said casually beaming his celebrity smile towards Leon, who just stared completely puzzled at the handsome jock.

"I saw a black dog follow you into the auditorium. Have you seen it?"

"Black dog? Bro, I really think the heat has started to affect you. I just came inside to freshen up a bit, but I haven't seen any black dog."

"But I swear I saw it come inside, I was a bit concerned it would attack you or anything. That thing has been roaming around school premises since the ceremony. I saw it during my...."

He made a pause, remembering the events that had just taken place moments before during the ceremony. The rage product of his humiliation returned to him.

"During my speech. Never mind, I can't say I'm surprised you're unable to notice even the most obvious things."

Kevin's smile faded from his face, his gorgeous gaze gaining the depth that bothered Leon so much because it made him care for a person he had convinced himself was below him.

"Leon, bro, I know things haven't been okay between us for a while. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad or something. I was just going with the flow, I never intended to hurt you. But I can't keep myself away anymore. If today is about a cycle, then there is something I need to set straight between us."

Leon's cold gaze lightened up a bit, curious about what he was talking about. He had never seen Kevin this nervous before. The young jock stared at the floor and fiddled nervously with his hands. The words came out a bit forced out of his mouth like someone was making him recite a memorized confession.

"I need to tell you something, but not here. Come to my place tonight for the party. Everyone will be there."

"I don't know Kevin. Parties aren't really my cup of tea…."

The handsome jock put his strong hand on Leon's shoulder and gave him a mischievous smile that not even the nerd's toughest defenses could resist.

"I promise to make it worth your while."

Leon hesitated for a second, completely incredulous for what he was hearing. He had already decided not to go to the party, but the day was not going according to plan. He could feel his heart beating almost out of his chest, excited and intrigued for whatever the jock was going to tell him.

"Sure, I'll see you there."

An eerie spark lit up behind Kevin's blue eyes, but Leon was so dumbstruck he completely missed it.

"Sweet bro, I'll see you later then. Nice clothes by the way."

Kevin then pulled the smaller man up for a hug, smothering him with his strong body. Leon could feel the hardness of his muscles through the expensive blue fabric. The jock then made his way towards the exit, leaving Leon in a disoriented haze. For a moment he completely forgot about the gruesome black dog and his failed speech, all he could see in his mind was Kevin's gorgeous smile.

  The sun was already setting when Leon arrived at the Volker residence. Many groups of his fellow students were approaching the mansion through the extensive courtyard, already with some drinks on their hands. The young nerd hesitated, his social anxiety crippling him for a moment. He still despised the rest of his class and saw no point in trying to interact with them. If he was going to this party, it was for Kevin only. Maybe something good would come out of this terrible day after all. When he crossed through the house's massive portal, he was immediately assaulted by an explosion of light and sound completely overwhelming his senses. A sea of young adults covered the big parlor and the adjacent rooms, drinking and dancing like there was no tomorrow. The big chandelier hanging from the ceiling was adapted to flash beams of light of different colors in all directions, and a DJ booth was installed on the far end of the formal living room, blasting some modern music Leon couldn't recognize. He was an absolute amateur when it came to partying, so he felt lost and scared inside the crowd. He tried looking for Kevin everywhere, but due to his short height, he wasn't able to look past a few heads before him.

Leon approached the drinking table and ordered a soda. He tried to find a quiet corner to drink in peace before resuming his search for his former friend, but everywhere he looked was swarmed by the inebriated guests. He was quickly losing his patience, as he was pushed around by the dancing crowd over and over again. Somehow, he found his way to the big spiral staircase leading to the upper floors and jumping over the barrier to keep attendants on the ground floor, he quickly went up a few steps to get a better overview. Despite gaining the higher ground, his attempts in finding his friend proved unsuccessful. He was about to give up and head back home defeated when something caught his attention through the mahogany banister. The monstrous-looking black dog was staring at him from above, its glowing red eyes visible despite the chaotic party atmosphere. After making sure the nerd saw it, it walked further up the stairs into the second floor.

Leon remembered what the beast had told him the night before, and followed it into the higher level of the mansion. Once he made it to the upper floor, he saw the dog walking through a long hallway and entering the furthest room. The young nerd continued his pursuit and found himself in what he assumed was Kevin's room. The lavish bedroom was decorated with all sorts of trophies and medals, as well as an entertainment system appropriate for an active teenager. Leon's attention was drawn to the row of portraits on the big bookshelf. Pictures of young Kevin in all sorts of family trips and sports events were displayed in delicate frames. One picture, in particular, stood out from the rest. Leon couldn't believe his eyes as he took the silver frame in his hands and stared at the photograph. A young Kevin had his arm wrapped around a young Leon, both sitting on top of a rock next to a river. They were laughing, radiating genuine happiness through the picture. Leon couldn't believe that after all those years, Kevin kept memories from their childhood so close to him. The young man the nerd considered his bitter rival and enemy never antagonized him.

The big glass door to the balcony opened suddenly, letting a warm gust of wind into the room. Leon put the picture back in its place and headed outside. The stunning twilight sky was painted in different shades of red, showering the scenery with crimson rays of light. The hot summer breeze rustled the leaves on the trees surrounding the properties, producing a serene sound that drowned the music from downstairs. The nerd stepped on the balcony, and finally found what he was looking for. Kevin was standing on the edge of the marble banister, watching the beautiful sunset.

"Kevin?"

The handsome jock turned around to face Leon. The only thing the young nerd could see were the icy blue eyes inside his former friend's shadow, his silhouette completely encased in a red halo product of the dying sunset.

"I knew you would come. Come here, I want you to look at this."

Leon stepped forward, taking place right next to the handsome jock. Kevin flashed his regular charming smile at the nerd, who instantly turned red as a beet. For an instant, he was thankful for this unusually bright sunset that hid the blush on his cheeks.

"I wanted this evening to go perfectly. And now that you're here it's finally complete."

"Just tell me what you want Kevin. We haven't talked in years and suddenly you take interest in me. I just want to know why."

Kevin diverted his gaze into the sunset, suddenly turning serious. Leon could see the distress in his eyes.

"I never lost interest in you Leon. It was you who pushed me away. You were the one that decided to stop hanging out with me."

Leon clenched his fists in anger, the painful memories of his friend exchanging him for more popular friends still poisoning his mind.

"How dare you say that! You were the one that went away, that grew into…."

He made a nervous pause, uncertain about what he was about to say. The wrath inside of him made him spill out the words without thinking.

"Into a mindless meathead. Look at us, Kevin. Your physical prowess is unparalleled, that's a fact. But I got what truly matters: a brilliant mind. I have preserved my psyche in the best way possible. I've resisted the allure of petty teenage necessities. And now, I'm in the way of becoming one of the most brilliant thinkers in recent years!"

Kevin turned around to face the angry nerd, who was on the brink of tears due to the pent-up rage he was feeling.

"Is that what you truly want bro? It sounds very lonely to me."

"I don't need anyone. Soon, I'll be where I'm supposed to. I don't mind being alone."

Kevin grabbed Leon's arm, pulling him closer. The nerd could feel the intense heat radiating from the hunk's body. He stared directly into his former friend's blue eyes.

"Are you sure you want to be alone? I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I got all the attention I want, from anyone. When you look like me, it's an easy task."

He said flexing his meaty arm, straining the soft blue fabric on the sleeves of his suit. Leon couldn't take his eyes off of Kevin's body, completely mesmerized by the jock's posing show. He failed to notice his friend's eyes shining in a dark red shade from time to time. The jock's voice turned from warm and concerned, into cold and aggressive.

"No matter how much you lie to yourself Leon, you want to be like me. To finally be accepted by everyone, including your parents. Picture it for a second. Finally, be worthy of being called your father's son. What use is your intelligence to the Machiavelli family, when you lack the courage to destroy your fears? Truth is, you're no more than a resentful dweeb."

Kevin continued flexing, taking off his suit's jacket, his movements starting to take on a seductive flair.

"Stop it. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I know. I know everything about you bro, including your darkest secret."

Leon suddenly opened his eyes like plates, completely incredulous for what was coming out of the jock's mouth. It was impossible anyone knew how he felt about Kevin, he didn't tell anyone. Kevin smiled with a hint of malice, knowing he had Leon right where he wanted him. His blue eyes now shone in a permanent crimson hue.

"That's right, I know that you like me. Your mind is indeed a complex maze, but no psyche cannot be cracked open. I could feel the fear of being discovered practically pouring out of your pores."

Leon looked down in defeat, feeling the embarrassment bubble out of him. He knew this was too good to be true. Kevin approached Leon once again, taking his chubby face with his hands and pulling it up to face him. The nerd's green eyes were pooled with tears.

"There's no reason to be miserable. The reason I called you here tonight was to tell you I feel the same way about you."

Leon couldn't help but open his mouth incredulously, his mind still registering the words that just came out of the jock's mouth.

"Wha—what?"

"I've also never connected with anyone the way I connected with you. You know the real me, buried beneath this sculptural body. That means I also know the real you. You don't have to be alone."

The young nerd's sad frown slowly turned into a smile. His face was inches away from his friend's, feeling the jock's hot breath on his skin. And then he smelled it. The same metallic smelled he caught in the locker room back at school, only this time it was much more intense. He also took notice of Kevin's glowing red eyes.

"Wait, this is not right. What's happened to you?"

Kevin's grip on Leon's face tightened, his face gaining a sinister flair.

"I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be. The question here is: are you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you who you are supposed to be? I know the real you is buried beneath this intellectual façade. We just gotta pull him out."

Kevin started caressing Leon's overweight body, rubbing his torso over the suit's jacket. The young nerd was giving in to the moment, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of his friend's strong hands on his body. One last glimmer of resistance made him suddenly pull away.

"No. I don't want this. I'm above these carnal sensations. I've never done anything with anyone."

Kevin smiled, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, exposing the ripped divide of his upper chest.

"I know you're a virgin, I don't have any problems with that."

"But I do. I don't want it to be this way. If it ever comes to it, I want it to be special."

Kevin's confident smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a displeased scowl.

"Look at this Leon. The sunset, the balcony, the hot summer air. You said it yourself, this is the end of one phase of our lives. Isn't this special enough for you?"

"I don't know Kevin; this doesn't feel right."

"Look, it's very simple. I want to be with you, and I know you want to be with me. I just need you to renounce this ridiculous virtuous perception of your virginity. Give in to your flesh, and your body will become what you truly desire."

"My body is okay as it is."

Said Leon embarrassed by the remark of the increasingly impatient jock.

"You know it isn't. All these years you have deceived yourself in thinking you value the brilliance of your mind when in reality it's what has alienated you from everyone. Relinquish that notion, and you shall have everything you desire."

The nerd looked at his friend nervously, completely unsure about what he wanted. He thought he was sure about who he was, but what Kevin said was true. What's the point of intelligence if all you need to be accepted is purely physical? Was brilliant wisdom worth the loneliness? While Leon dwelled in his thoughts, a shadow materialized on the corner behind him. What first looked like a black dog slowly grew into a human form, taking the appearance of an extremely muscular young man, his body full of scars. He planted his crimson red eyes on Kevin, who nodded in agreement as his face grew more sinister.

"I'll make it easy for you. Kiss me. If you do, I'll know you're ready to take the next step and leave your old self behind. You'll finally be better than anyone else, just like you wish. Be warned though, there will be no turning back."

Leon was then assaulted by all the painful memories of his past. The loneliness of growing up as an outcast, the abandonment of his parents, and the disconnection from everything and everyone started crushing him. He had an opportunity to have what he truly wanted, not what he convinced himself he wanted. Hypnotized by the jock's supernatural gaze, he approached his friend with determination. Standing on the tip of his feet, he placed his lips on his. Black smoke started enveloping them, completely encasing the entire balcony and isolating it from the world. Leon felt butterflies in his stomach, as the kiss continued to gain intensity. A scorching hot feeling started seeping into his being, product of Kevin's mouth. When he realized what he had done, it was too late. He was completely under the control of the handsome jock, who started to take on a dominant role, aggressively pushing his tongue into the nerd's mouth. The last thing he consciously realized was what that taste in Kevin's mouth was: blood.

Energy started seeping into Leon's body, slowly impregnating his being. He was lost in the intense feeling his connection with Kevin was causing. The waves of power-hitting his body started making his blood boil, turning his body into an incandescent mass. He was sweating profusely, as the energy coursing through his veins unleashed different chain reactions in his cells, resulting in a vastly increased metabolic rate. The fatty deposits inside of him started to melt away, vaporized to fuel the nerd's body's incredible energy demand. His pants fell, as the rest of the suit started to hang loosely from his body. The formerly chubby red-head was left practically only in skin and bones. Kevin broke the kiss and looked at what his friend had become. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, and his formerly round face was left looking severely malnourished. He smiled victorious, knowing the spell was doing its job. He needed the man in the back to complete the transference, so he called him forward to participate in the passionate scene.

Kevin took his finger, rubbing it on his friend's lips seductively, as the muscular man in the back slowly pushed down the shoulders of the now skinny nerd to the ground. In one swift motion, the handsome jock ripped his pants off his legs, exposing a menacing bulge that was quickly gaining size in front of Leon's entranced gaze.

"Is this what you wanted? To serve and pleasure me?"

Asked Kevin dominantly, looking down at his friend. Even though Leon was still watching everything going on, the sensations in his body were driving him like an automaton. A part of his consciousness still resisted, yelling desperately that he was better than what he was becoming, but it was slowly getting smaller as if it were burned away by the divine energy coursing through his veins. He answered in a stupefied voice, unable to resist the temptation

"Yes."

"Wrong answer."

Said Kevin fishing out his manhood from his briefs and putting it on the nerd's open mouth. The same metallic taste accompanied by other muskier aromas immediately assaulted Leon's senses. He licked and tasted the meaty tube inside of him, desperately worshipping it with his tongue. The scarred man behind him then pushed his head further into the jock's crotch, making him swallow the entire seven thick inches at once. Kevin then proceeded to drill inside his friend's mouth with aggressive thrusts back and forth. Each time the phallus penetrated the nerd's mouth, the pressure inside of him caused his bones to elongate. Each limb stretched several inches, along with his spine, leaving the nerd with over a foot and a half extra height. The hands holding the jock's legs cracked and grew, along with his formerly small feet. Once his skeleton stopped breaking, the scarred man pulled Leon to his feet, his pants staying on the floor. There was a fight between bliss and misery inside of him, causing a blast of emotions that quickly flooded his head. It was like his mind was inside a pressurized pot ready to explode.

"You are the one that has to be served and pleasured. You have to conquer fear."

Kevin lifted the now taller red-head with supernatural strength and flipped him around, exposing his naked rear. Leon fell forward, grabbing on to the scarred man to remain on his feet, and felt the scorching hot head of his friend's member rub menacingly on his crack. He desired him more than anything in the world, his carnal passion completely overtaking his puritanical nature.

"Once we finally break your mind, you'll be able to become the god you were chosen to be."

And with those last words, Kevin impaled his friend mercilessly, getting one last howl of agony out of the nerd. Leon felt as if a dam had broken inside his head, flooding his mind and washing his old self away. Kevin's thrusts started pumping more divine energy into the red-head, which traveled inside his body filling out his newfound emptiness. Pure pleasure caused him to moan loudly. His blood pumped new power into his whole body, causing his muscles to twitch and ripple responding to the strength. His glutes were the first part of his body to expand. The handsome jock's phallus was quickly being swallowed further by two inflating globes of muscle. It looked like he was humping a pair of overgrown watermelons. The growth spread down his legs, filling out his quads and hamstrings with thick columns of muscle, growing as thick as two oak trees. Deep cuts were etched painfully on them, the skin stretched to its limits over the massive muscles. His calves grew to match the upper legs, gaining enough size to rival a football. His feet expanded to accommodate the still coming weight.

The pumped energy seeped simultaneously into his core muscles. Veins started gaining thickness the more power flowed in them, changing the muscle underneath. His lower back took the form of a large spearhead, two pillars of muscle slowly crawling up his back. His lower abs popped into existence, framed by two increasingly large obliques. First two, then four, then six, and ending in eight grenade-sized bumps on his stomach. The muscular pillars on his back started flaring like two flags, spreading growth into the red-head's lat muscles. The suit's jacket couldn't resist the growth for long, shredding itself to pieces revealing the sweaty skin underneath. Kevin grabbed the growing back with lust, feeling the searing hot muscle underneath move and inflate. The man's lats spread wide like a fighter plane, the muscle fibers fighting to fit into the already large frame. Mountains and valleys decorated the expanse of the magnificent back before the thrusting jock.

His chest was the next to grow as if gravity was pulling the muscle downwards. Two massive slabs of flesh etched themselves in Leon's upper torso, increasing his weight and making him widen his stance to find his new balance. The inflating pecs rose higher too like they were trying to reach his chin, while the lower parts expanded themselves reaching the limit of the red-head's anatomy. Once the veins reached his shoulders, these exploded in growth, reaching the size of an ancient Grecian helmet. Divine blood pumped into his arms, his biceps swelling to the size of big cannonballs. His triceps expanded underneath his arms, quickly adding girth to the now powerful limbs, reaching the size of a Howitzer cannon. His lower arms etched themselves with strong sinews, growing as wide as baseball bats. His hands hardened and swelled with new strength, gaining the power to crush the hardest skull with ease.

Thick veins traveled up his neck, followed by thick muscle cords making it seem more like a bull's neck than a human's. Once his Adam's apple finished its transformation, his high moans of pleasure slowly turned into a low manly grunt. Muscle piled into the squaring jaw, giving him a cartoonishly hyper-masculine look. His cheekbones rose higher, and his nose grew and broke, filling in with thick tissue. His forehead expanded further, hooding his eyes and giving him a menacing look. Kevin accelerated the rhythm, reaching the mortal limits of his body.

"Taste true power brother, and take your place above those beings you always deemed inferior."

With one final thrust, he emptied his burning load into the titan in front of him. The divine seed seeped into every tissue, making his body gain even more thickness than before. The muscles gained the strength and prowess of the best warrior the world had ever seen. The essence then corrupted what was left of his being, turning him into a new deity. Blood flowed out of his pupils, forever turning the former green eyes to an intense crimson hue. A new personality engraved itself in his head, growing increasingly aggressive the more he became aware of his existence. His puritanical nature was replaced with an insatiable lust for flesh, either in sex or in battle. His enviable knowledge was replaced by a killer instinct that made him a fearsome foe for whoever was misfortunate enough to challenge him. Eons of battle techniques and combat prowess flourished inside of him, aging him into a man in his masculine prime. The former erudite was reborn in the form of the fiercest warrior in the world. And as such, his nature turned dominant, making him displeased about the situation he was in. He stood up, now much larger than the two other men next to him.

"That's more like it,” He said in a deep voice, flexing his new muscles. Kevin and the other man stared triumphantly at their creation, watching the giant relish in his raw strength. They both felt a psychic bond form with the titan, now that he gained dominion over them. The former Leon turned to face them, his glowing red eyes staring at the scarred man with lust.

"I'm still not quite there yet. Come, brother. It's your time to serve me."

He pushed the muscular man on the banister and grabbed his own still tiny penis. He could barely hold it with his massive hands, the 4 inches stuck out barely enough for his fingers to grab. With inhuman strength he pulled the muscular man's ass apart, exposing the coveted goal for his manhood. He managed to penetrate the scarred man, and another wave of pleasure assaulted him, making him roar in bliss. He started thrusting into the man with such force it started cracking the solid banister underneath. The lesser deity moaned delighted, as he felt the member inside of him grow further, pushing deeper into his body. The titan's phallus grew to heroic proportions, gaining almost 8 inches in length and resembling a thick torpedo. The balls slapping the man's muscular thighs expanded as well, dropping lower to bovine proportions. New hormones started pumping into the giant, altering its appearance even further. Kevin watched smiling as his red curls receded a bit on his head and turned pitch black, along with his eyebrows, which grew thick and arched themselves upwards. His face started taking on a more exotic look, his lips thickening and his nose growing a bit more. The black bubble around the fornicating gods started breaking, dark smoke seeping into every pore of the giant. His pale skin darkened to a light brown, and dark follicles started popping out of his entire body. His manly jaw was quickly covered by a shadow, which grew into a magnificent black beard. The hair was so thick the skin underneath was not visible. A carpet of black hair covered his body, growing thicker on his crotch and under his arms. He kept thrusting with increased fury, feeling his own divine seed churn in his balls. He was drenched in sweat, a manly aroma quickly surrounding him. He smelled like old iron, like burnt gunpowder, like a warrior in his prime. With a powerful roar, he exploded inside the scarred man, fully cementing his new birth as Assad, the king of war.

The scarred man dropped to the ground completely exhausted, leaving Assad standing naked under the crepuscular sky. The jock scanned the titan from top to bottom, savoring every aspect of the new god before him. Assad barely gave him a second look, his old knowledge and memories gone.

"Father will be very pleased."

"Indeed I am."

A bone-chilling voice came out of the shadows in front of them. Assad watched as the god of war emerged from the darkness in his full glory. Ares rarely smiled, but he couldn't help to curl his lips up a little bit once he saw his sons' creation. He was right in delegating his power and the transference to them. Assad immediately fell on one knee, bowing respectfully before his master.

"You bred it into a full warrior, well done."

Kevin just smiled solemnly, accepting the god's compliments. Ares suspected the chosen one had to renounce voluntarily to his virtue to achieve its fullest potential. That is why he let the natural lust do his task for him. He provided the essence; the rest came from the new champion.

"Ready to serve milord.” Said Assad without lifting his gaze.

"And you will. I gave you a new life as a descendant of humanity's most powerful warriors, and in exchange, I own you now. There's something I need you to do. If you succeed, you will be allowed to take a place next to me as a worthy god. I want you to destroy the goddess Athena."

Ares then took his spear and cut his arm open. Ichor fell to the ground, taking the shape of a golden sword. Assad took the weapon in his hand, feeling its power course through him. A shining bronze armor formed around his torso, along with a helmet and a red cape. Ares was satisfied by the look of his new pawn.

"Meet me in Greece, by the feet of Mount Olympus the night of the next full moon."

"Yes, milord. I won't fail you."

With a powerful kick of his legs, the giant leaped into the sky, disappearing in the red horizon. Ares approached the banister and stood next to his sons, watching his creation advance towards his destiny.

"You can get off that meat suit now, Phobos."

Kevin's face produced one last sinister smile, as a dark shadow stepped out of him, his body falling to the ground completely unconscious. The black mass took the form of another overly muscular scared man, identical to the one still laying on the ground.

"This was way too easy, father."

"Don't be arrogant. Influencing a mortal's free will is no easy task. It's different than just persuading them with fear, as you might know."

"I didn't have to do much. This mortal in particular had very strong feelings for the champion. I just had to break his self-control barrier a bit. And I admit I let him feel some of the pleasure too, although I'm sure Deimos there had way more enjoyment."

Ares stood silently staring into the sunset. He made sure he created the best warrior of them all. He proved that the virtues so dearly preached by his stuck-up sister were vulnerable to his raw strength. He chose to let the champion be corrupted by his own desire. This was going to be his opportunity to eclipse his siblings and get his father's acceptance. He looked at his son, able to see the beauty underneath the godling's intimidating appearance. Aphrodite's image came back to him, remembering the unbreakable bond both gods possessed. He wondered if she would be capable of moving against Zeus. The goddess of beauty was not to be underestimated, so Ares spared no effort in creating the best Champion he could to compete.

"So, you interfered with the mortal's love interest. Your mother wouldn't approve."

[airgetlamhh]

Thoughts on Lostbelt 2

Longpost ahead.

So.

Lostbelt 2. Finally played it after so long, and this will contain spoilers.

To make sure everyone knows what they’re getting into, I’ll give the thesis statement right here: Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

The entire time I played through the story, I kept waiting for it to pick up. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor pacing, the deus ex machinas, the random things just happening for the convenience of the plot. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor characterization, the constant telling instead of showing, the moral myopia. It never did. 

From nearly the very start to finish, Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

We start off fairly fine! A desperate ploy to sneak through the Lostbelt to meet up with the allies we’ve learned about, the Wandering Sea, interrupted by a Lostbelt Servant attacking us with the intent of stealing the Paper Moon that allows us to perform Zero Sails. All of that is a decent setup!

And then we’re told how strong this Saber is. How incredible they are. How their swordplay surpasses anything else they’ve ever seen, how they desperately wish that Musashi was there, how no no, he didn’t use his sword, he only parried! Things that Sherlock Holmes observes, not Mashu, not the one who’s actually been fighting for two years now, so Mashu seems borderline useless. Holmes figures out it’s Sigurd because...he uses a sword in a Scandinavian Lostbelt, and he figured out that Holmes used magic because Holmes fire magic lasers at him. From this, Holmes is able to pinpoint Sigurd’s identity, and that’s just the setup for the rest of the chapter, really. 

To be specific, what I mean is that we will constantly be told how incredible someone is with very little evidence, and the plot will bend and warp to make certain things happen. 

The scene does exactly one good thing, which is the foreshadowing of Surtr. Coming into it knowing that aspect allowed me to appreciate little bits like Surtr talking about Heroic Spirits like he wasn’t one, and Surtr not being able to kill Mashu because Sigurd resisted it. But that’s about all that was good in the scene, and all it really does is set up a consistent thing of Surtr being one of the only good parts - until he isn’t, of course.

I’m going to shift here from specifics to characters, because otherwise I’d be rehashing the entire story and I don’t have the time or effort required for that. That being said, it is difficult to decide where to start, so I’ll go right to the very building blocks of the story, the themes. 

Lostbelt 2 is, very obviously, attempting to have a theme of different kinds of love throughout the story. Part of this is because it’s very much set up like an otome game that the author Hikaru Sakurai would write, with Ophelia in the center, but it’s a more general theme too, with Skadi and the others all building up towards it. Now, love is an absolutely wonderful thing to build your themes around, exploring and examining it can be great for stories. Beasts themselves do that, examining different varieties of genuine, but toxic love that allow them to be well-meaning monsters.

The problem is that Lostbelt 2 does not engage with these themes on anything but a surface level. Skadi represents maternal love, so she constantly talks about how everyone is her children and how she’s their mother. No examination of the desire to see her children grow, the pain she feels when they fight, the struggle of forcing herself to cling so tightly knowing that it’s suffocating them and going to kill them before they reach 26. 

Napoleon represents passionate love, so he flirts with every woman he sees. No examination of why he’s so passionate or what drives him to burn so brightly, beyond a token mention that for some reason when he’s summoned he’s driven to seek out a lover, another aspect of things happening to serve the plot. 

Sigurd and Brynhildr represent true, romantic love, so they act mushy the entire chapter from the moment the real Sigurd appears. Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked their scenes a lot and I’m happy that they chose that portrayal instead of the one I was afraid of where it was yandere jokes day in day out. But there’s no engagement with the fundamentals of their love, nothing that tests it, even the existing complications with Brynhildr’s tragic summoning are swept away with a single line of “I can resist them better now maybe because my saint graph is broken”, so ultimately there’s no conflict whatsoever. And sure, that’s nice, but it’s not very good if you’re trying to build your story around a theme of love. 

Next, Surtr, who represents obsessive, dangerous love. I honestly actually think Surtr’s done well, even if the love he happens to represent is the least positive one. Surtr is capable of only one thing, destruction, and when he fell for Ophelia in that moment where she saw him and he saw her, he decided that if he ever had the chance, he would repay her the only way he knew how: allowing her to watch as he destroyed everything. When he’s summoned, he acts basically like the possessive one in an otome game, constantly talking about how Ophelia is his woman, getting angry when Napoleon flirts with her, spending most of his time pushing things between them as far as they can go etc. etc. I’m not particularly a fan of how his desire to repay Ophelia battling against his singular purpose transformed him into a typical possessive bastard boyfriend, but it’s at least engaged with on a deeper level.

Finally, Ophelia. She’s the otome game protagonist here, born into an controlling family and finally freed, hiding a secret special power, beloved by almost all the men involved in the chapter while she’s harboring feelings for someone else, even has the typical friendship route with Mashu going on. Her love is a love that she doesn’t acknowledge, but that’s all it is. It’s never engaged with beyond the fact that she clearly loves Kirschtaria but insists she doesn’t, and her final scene as she dies is Mashu telling her that yes, she did love Kirschtaria. That’s all. 

For a theme of love that’s supposedly woven into the Lostbelt, it’s barely examined at all. It’s not well written, and in comparison to Lostbelt 1′s theme of what it means to live in a world where the strong devour the weak and how deeply it examined and engaged with that, it’s a genuine disappointment.

Now, to move onto the plot, it’s...in the abstract, it’s fine. Chaldea is intercepted and forced to fight in the Lostbelt and ends up dragged into the overarching ploy by Surtr to release himself and burn everything. That’s a perfectly fine story, but the problem is that when you get to the moment-to-moment stuff, it falls apart completely. 

Skadi is constantly talked up as this incredibly powerful true goddess, not merely a Divine Spirit, and we know she can see and hear our every move because of her snow. How does the story work around this borderline omniscience within her Lostbelt? Skadi just decides not to do anything about Chaldea with zero rhyme or reason. We need to sneak into the palace and avoid alerting the guards, except Skadi already knows exactly where we are, except that doesn’t matter because we need to sneak in for some reason. We get captured with no plan to escape, and it just so happens that not only was Skadi keeping a Divine Spirit amalgamation locked in the dungeons too, but that she can piggyback on you making a contract with Napoleon (pure dumb luck you hadn’t done it before) and force a connection with you too, and then cast spells to hide you while you escape. Skadi knows we’re trying to free Brynhildr, who is the sole threat to Sigurd and Skadi’s own Valkyries in the entire Lostbelt? She just decides to do nothing at all. 

So much of the plot happens because either Skadi makes terrible decisions to do nothing, even though she knows Chaldea is there to destroy her entire world, or it happens because random shit goes on that couldn’t have been planned for like Sitonai. Shit like Surtr suddenly becoming Fafnir and being able to use the Evil Dragon Phenomenon to brainwash Ophelia somehow, like Ophelia’s Mystic Eye being able to do anything the plot demands, even when it explicitly goes against its existing capabilities like rewinding time on Sigurd’s wounds, like Bryn and Surtr somehow being able to resist the effects of her eye with no buildup or explanation. It’s poorly written in terms of the exact events that happen, and that all culminates in Skadi’s one cool moment, where she declares she’s going to kill the seven billion we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand...and then right after, it reveals that Skadi was going easy on us and refused to use her runes of instant death for no reason even though she was fighting for the survival of her entire world. The moment to moment plot is not good, and neither is what comes next, the worldbuilding.

In Skadi’s Lostbelt, half the world is covered in Surtr’s flames, while the other half is blanketed in Skadi’s snow. Where the two areas meet are the only places where life can grow, and so Skadi set up villages there. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough food for everyone, so she enforces strict population control: if you are not the mother or father of a child by 15, you are sent away to be killed by the giants. If you are the mother or father of a child, you are sent away to be killed at 25 instead. Through this tragic method, Skadi enforces a limit of 100 villages with 100 people, a total population of 10000. This is all fine. 

But take a closer look at what we actually see, and this falls apart. First, the giants. The giants are immortal and never need to eat. They do nothing but sleep all day and attack any human that comes close to them. Later, it’s revealed that they’ll attack any heat source including Valkyries, except we know that’s not true. Giants never attack each other, they never attack and destroy any of the plant life around them, they never attack the Lostbelt tree seeds, they even fight alongside mass-produced Valkyries before it’s revealed that Skadi and the three originals can mind-control them! They exist only to destroy, but Skadi can control them with her masks and indeed uses them as labour, keeping them chained up in her castle to be brought out and controlled as needed, or using them to guard Brynhildr’s castle. 

Worst of all, the first time we meet anyone in the chapter, it’s Gerda, who is sneaking out of her village to go to the massive liveable area close to Village 23. This area happens to be the only place she can go to get medicinal herbs that she needs or one of the people in her village will die in childbirth. This area is also full of giants, who have not destroyed it despite being fertile and full of life and heat, and who are allowed to take this place that could be used to grow more food for humans who need it, and simply stay there doing nothing. 

Now, this is where I thought the game would engage with things. How Skadi, in professing her love for all her children, is actually being cruel and unfair. They certainly set it up in the conversations she has, where she casually mentions how humans must die for her coexistence to continue. Skadi chooses to keep the giants alive despite the fact that they are all braindead and can do nothing but kill and destroy the moment their masks are removed. She chooses to keep them alive even though it comes at the expense of the humans who must die when the giants never make that same sacrifice. She chooses to allow them fertile land even though they cannot farm nor do they need food, and in doing so deprive the humans of potentially living longer, having more supplies to do so. She makes these strange choices and then later reveals she can control the giants to do her bidding, and it all seems to fall into place. 

What we see from how she’s characterized early on is that the system is unfair and Skadi is unwilling to change, because it benefits her tremendously. Gerda’s village didn’t have enough herbs to save the children forced to breed by 15, and despite Skadi’s omniscience letting her know that Gerda had snuck out and was trying to save a life, she did nothing. There was no system in place to beg a Valkyrie to get these herbs, and no indication whatsoever that Skadi would use her powers to control the giants to save Gerda’s life. The picture painted is someone who cares about humanity not out of true care, but simply out of obligation. Those who disobey her rules, even for good reasons, are left to die by the engines of destruction she keeps alive.

That’s not the story it tells later on, though. Skadi, portrayed from the start as this all-powerful goddess with complete control over everything, is revealed to be far weaker than we thought, and far less monstrous. Ignore all the times she did control the giants, she actually can’t do it all that well. Ignore all the times she declared she would not allow anyone she loved to be killed, but chose not to act to tell her Valkyries or her giants or anything else to save either Chaldea or Gerda. Ignore the evidence we see on screen that there’s more land that’s simply taken over by the giants, Skadi can only make those initial 100 villages and can’t make any more. Skadi is not bad. Skadi did the best she could. Skadi is morally right. 

Please love Skadi, there’s no complicated moral quandary here, she’s just Good.

Comparisons to Lostbelt 1 are impossible to avoid. Both have the same basic cause, a calamity that was impossible to predict and impossible to avert. The stagnation that dooms a Lostbelt created by the kings in question in their desperation to survive. Ivan turned humanity into the Yaga and created a world of strength, where progress is impossible because everyone in his new world was too busy devouring each other to work together. Skadi created a world of weakness, where progress is impossible because she limited the population to avoid everyone dying out. There is, however, one crucial difference between the two. Not in terms of story, not in terms of characters, not in terms of themes. 

“Your existence itself has already become a grave sin.”

That one line, spoken to Ivan, is the biggest difference between how the story engages things. In both Lostbelts, Ivan and Skadi did horrible things and made horrible choices because they had to, for the sake of survival. Ivan twisted humanity into monsters that lost capacity for mercy or empathy, while Skadi forced brutal population control and careless death on humanity because of her refusal to allow the giants to be destroyed. Both of them did horrible things, but only one is held to account by the story.

What Ivan did was evil, and the story recognises it. It doesn’t accept the excuse that it was all necessary for survival, because that’s irrelevant. It’s evil regardless. This same sentiment should have been expressed with Skadi, but it’s not. Ivan is condemned, but Skadi is absolved. She had no choice. She did the best she could. After building her up as all-powerful, the end of the story instead destroys her agency and power in its haste to prevent any kind of responsibility falling on Skadi’s head. Even to the very end, where she declares that she’ll kill all seven billion lives we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand, she holds back and allows us to win, despite how it butchers her character.

The biggest irony in all this is that Ivan’s world was worse than hers in ways. There was no way for the blizzards to stop, no meat besides for the demonic beasts. Crops couldn’t grow, and instead of living in peace, the Yaga were constantly tormented and killed by the Oprichniki. There were no liveable areas like there are in Lostbelt 2, no merciful ruler that sees all, and controls the greatest threats, no peaceful villages where food can be grown. There’s far more justification for Ivan to claim he had no choice and that he did all he did for survival, because it’s hard to see what his choices were. But Skadi? Skadi intentionally does not act and intentionally allows suffering and pain to come to her children, both actively by not saving Gerda, and passively by allowing the giants to take land they don’t need. Despite this, Skadi is absolved, because the story desperately wants her to be a tragic waifu that you love.

There’s lots more I could talk about. How Sitonai was pointless and existed only for a pathetic FSN reference. How Gerda was a cowardly and manipulative piece of writing compared to Patxi. How Ophelia’s story of always being told what to do is resolved not by her taking the step to freedom herself, but being told to free herself by someone else. The constant repetition that plagues the chapter, the weirdly prevalent sexism that everyone gets in on when it comes to Ophelia’s love life, the nonsense of the final battle itself, the absolute nonsense of Skadi being Scáthach-Skadi. I could even talk about how I’d fix the chapter, because boy howdy there’s a lot there. 

There’s lots more I could talk about, but this is already very long, and I think it speaks for itself. Obviously asks are available if anyone wants me to examine them in more detail, but for now, I’ll finish off with one last reminder.

Lostbelt 2 is bad.  

[wide-eyedscottishlass]

Scarlett and the Professor - a lazy Sunday morn

[continued from]

moodboard by @strangelock221b​ 💙  

Scarlett flipped onto her side, instinctively turning away from the sunlight filtering through her closed lids. The silk sheets cocooning her were slick and cool, but the sun had warmed her face enough to awaken her senses. In moments more, she breathed deeply--taking in the heady scent of all that sex, that astonishing, wicked, glorious sex--and gave out a purr of satisfaction. She was smiling before she even opened her eyes, remembering herself--happy and sappy and deeply in love.

“Ah, at last,” he chuckled; she heard not only his genuine amusement, but the crinkle and flip of some large pieces of paper. Newsprint? A newspaper than. Scarlett smiled into her pillow; of course he would prefer paper over the digital version. True hedonist that he was, Hennessy would always opt for the most tactile sensations.

“There’s my little sleepyhead,” he added with true affection, so that she popped one eye open and then the other. Hennessy sat up against the headboard, a couple of pillows propped behind him, bare to the waist. His long legs stretched out before him, covered in a pair of dark grey, silk pajama bottoms, and his feet were also bare. Scarlett sighed softly; when even his feet appeared to her as sexy, it must certainly mean there was no saving her from the beautiful fall she was taking.

She reached up to check the tangle of her hair, blinking at the strong sunlight filling the room. “Mmmmm...why didn’t you wake me?”

He flicked the top of his newspaper down to the crease, favoring her above his reading glasses with indulgent mirth. “My darling Scarlett, you needed your rest, of course. My fault too, as you were rather spent by the time I finally let you sleep uninterrupted.” His grin was smug, yet still she saw his genuine fondness for her, weakening her heart all over again.

“I’m not spent now,” she urged him, shimmying close enough to lay her hand on his bicep.

He pursed his lips, his eyes widening, “Well, haven’t you learned your lessons well! And now looking for extra credit...”

Scarlett batted her lashes and replied breathily, “Extra, extra...Hennessy.” She had already come to love how he looked when she dared call him by name.

His mouth dropped open as if to respond, but he was interrupted by the loud buzz of a text alert on his mobile. “Hold that thought, little lamb,” he commanded, “And I promise to give you all the attention you so deserve.” Hennessy took a perfunctory look at his phone, them jumped up from the bed, taking giant strides to the door. He turned back her way, eyeing her as though he saw right through the sheets, while his smile grew salacious. “Mmmm...mmmm...mmmm! You could almost make a man forgo his other hungers, Scarlett. But we don’t want out breakfast growing cold now, do we?” He dashed from the room.

Perplexed and a bit stymied--god, how perfectly divine he’d looked framed in the doorway, all firm, warm flesh, so srtong and long and lanky, that all she wanted was to mold her body to his as she lay beneath him--Scarlett turned onto her back and gave a long, languorous stretch, waiting upon his return. She heard his heavy front doors close and then imagined him taking two steps at a time back up to his bedroom suite. The mouthwatering scents of fresh pancakes and bacon preceded him into the room.

“Voila! Here’s my version of breakfast in bed.” Hennessy seemed very pleased with himself and with surprising her, crossing to the bed and setting down two plastic sacks filled with cardboard containers. He put a smaller paper bag on his bedside table, which turned out to hold coffee and orange juice.

Scarlett’s stomach had begun to rumble the moment the aromas reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything in over twelve hours. She scooted up against the headboard, keeping the sheet decorously across her breasts, while Hennessy took his place beside her and began to dole out their meal. “There’s bacon and sausage, darling. Wasn’t sure you had a preference, but there’s more than enough of both.” There was plenty of syrup and butter, too, and a container of sliced and sugared strawberries, along with whipped cream, to top the pancakes. And a heaping serving of cheese-topped scrambled eggs.

She tucked in with relish, and Hennessy laughed good-naturedly at the evidence of her hunger, the smile lines beside his pale blue eyes (Scarlett sighed inwardly; they always look so astonishingly pale in strong sunlight!) grown dearer than ever to her heart. Since the moment that he’d taken her in full, she’d already stopped herself from saying that she loved him a half dozen times--and he was making it very hard for her to continue to suppress that urge.

“What?” He asked, around a forkful of pancakes and eggs. He must’ve have seen a flicker of that thought cross her face.

“Oh...ah...nothing...really,” she fibbed, lowering her eyes so he wouldn’t read more, “I’d been hoping to make some scones this morning---but this...this is so much better...”

“It is, isn’t it!” He hummed a jaunty tune as he set himself a second serving of everything. “But please don’t be too disappointed about your scones, love. The morning paper and breakfast takeaway in bed is a Sunday ritual I will never go without, come hell or high water.”

“Of course...” The danger of him guessing how soft she was for him seemed to have passed for the moment.

“But if it would make you happy, we can have them with tea this afternoon. Or failing that, another breakfast morning. Would that work for you?”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded, happier at the implication that there were further breakfasts together in their future, than for the promise of the scones themselves. “Whatever you want...darling.” His smile was pure sunshine as he leaned in and kissed her mouth, before returning to his meal.

After they broke their fast, he had her in the shower, amid a thick wall of steam created by the dual showerheads--taking her with such a stunning ferocity that he left her filled with speechless bliss, and legs shaking so badly that she had to lean on him for several minutes until she felt strong enough to support herself. Though he was both amused---his low rumbles of laughter at her very flattering reaction had echoed all around them---and highly satisfied, he also became the soft, solicitous lover in the aftermath, smoothing gentle hands upon her wet hair and scattering loving kisses on her face, murmuring endearments against her skin.

’My darling...my angel...my lovely, little lamb. My sweet, sweet Scarlett...’ Spurring her to ask herself: how can he see to my needs this way and still not know he owns my heart?

Why, he’d even stepped from the shower first--telling her to just hold on a tic--grabbing a thick, thirsty towel to swaddle her in before he wrapped one around himself, and then had guided her to sit on the padded vanity stool next to the long bathroom counter. Never having observed a grown man in his morning ablutions, Scarlett found herself fascinated watching him run gel through his thick, dark hair, trying to get it to behave as he preferred, and then lather up and shave. Shaving with meticulous care, the quiet scrape of the razor against his skin reminding her that this was all very real. That this complicated, brilliant, perpetual temptation of a man had welcomed her not only into his bed, but into the privacy of his home and the rhythm of his life. 

The air was soon rich with his scent--Bleu de Chanel--as he applied a generous dose of aftershave. When he grabbed his toothbrush, he turned to her with a grin, “I’m almost all set, love. Then you can have the room to yourself to do...whatever it is you do to keep yourself looking so...hmmm...scrumptious.”

Scarlett nodded, though she would have been just as content to simply watch her magnificent lover--her private Hennessy--in the domain which reflected exactly who he was, going about even his most ordinary tasks. Her heart was so entranced now that she wanted to memorize his every detail. 

He gave her another toothy grin, then strode over to deposit his towel in the hamper, casually revealing the full glory of the form she had come to worship. He flashed her a wink when he caught her staring-- she just couldn’t help herself, and odds were he knew that. “You might want to suit up, darling. It looks to be the perfect day for a swim.” Then he was out the door, leaving Scarlett to daydream her way through her own morning toilette, wondering what new lessons Hennessy might have in store for her. Eager to learn--and even more eager to please.

               ____________________________________________

Scarlett had plaited her damp hair into a Dutch braid, draped across her shoulder, hoping to keep her hair tidy if they did end up taking a swim. She slipped into a modest tankini with her denim capris over that, and then grabbed her rucksack before she headed downstairs. If Hennessy was busy--she’d noted he had taken his newspaper to wherever he’d gone off to--she had a bit of actual course work to do. Sketches for a study of the natural world, prep for an end of term project--a large, landscape painting in the artist’s choice of medium, along with a portfolio of drawings and any other work she did towards the completion of the final piece. She’d found the seeds of inspiration in Hennessy’s wild-grown garden, as well as in his serene shingle of private beach, and she was keen to make a start. 

She found him with his paper beneath the patio umbrella, with an iced pitcher of lemonade, one empty glass and one half-full, upon the wrought iron table. As he had advised her, he was clad in swim trunks and a matching, athletic fit surf tee. In blues and sea greens of course, the hues that not only dominated his casual color palette, but flattered him perfectly. 

Scarlett set her bag on one of the spare chairs, poured herself some lemonade and then topped off Hennessy’s glass. He thanked her before turning his attention back to the crossword puzzle he was working on. “You do them in pen?” she observed.

“Is there any other way?” he had narrowed his eyes while he was trying to work out a clue, rhythmically tapping his ball point pen on the glass table top. “Six letter word ending in k-a...an exclamation...hmmmmm...” 

She couldn’t resist chiming in, ‘eureka’ just as she began to set out her supplies, then pulled her sketchpad from her rucksack. 

“Eureka, indeed,” he chuckled, glancing over to watch her preparations. “And what’s this, little lambkin? Another hidden talent?” 

“Depends on what you would consider talent, Professor,” she stated modestly, “I draw a little, I paint a little. Always looking to improve.” She opened up to the middle of her sketchpad, several pages past the drawing she had indulged in the previous afternoon, meaning to avoid him catching sight of it. 

“And what sort of things give you inspiration, my dear? People, places...things, mayhap?” Hennessy’s curiosity had been piqued, and he was craning his neck to get at least a little peek. 

”Well, yes, of course,” she teased innocently, not ready to volunteer a thing, while setting the edge of her pencil onto the rough surface of the blank page. There was the scrape of chair legs dragged across the calypso coral stone beneath their feet as he drew nearer, and soon he’d made it impossible for her not to acknowledge that he was leaning in close, laying his hand on the back of her neck, toying with the few stray hairs that had escaped her braid. Scarlett turned her head slightly, just enough to see Hennessy from the corner of her eye, catching enough of him to recognize the mischievous glint in his. “What,” she asked quietly, realizing that she would accomplish nothing until she had at least humored him.

“Just curious, darling.” He ran a single finger across her bare shoulder and down her arm, a sure and pleasant distraction, softening her resolve. “I think you’d like to show me your work. Wouldn’t you, Scarlett?”

“I suppose,” she replied with a sigh, though she remained uneasy about how he would react to the liberty she had taken, of sketching him. 

“Always my good girl.” He brushed a quiet kiss upon her cheek and then rested his hand on the center of her back, waiting patiently as she flipped back to the opening page. 

“Some of these are incomplete,” she noted, “Mostly just for practice, or because I haven’t decided yet what other elements should be part of the composition.” Scarlett could feel his eyes study the page she had revealed, a very flawed study of the little cottage of her youth. “And of course, there’s a lot of trials and error.” 

“That’s home,” he observed, sounding more fascinated than such a simple thing usually allowed for. 

“Uh-huh.” Encouraged by that sign of his sincere interest, she turned a few pages more, where her work depicted rustic exteriors of her native Scotland, and several sketches of the village-side inlet that she would forever think of as her own. Next came several studies of a sunny, seaside bay, ringed to the beach’s edge with one and two story buildings set very close together. To the last of these, she’d chalked in traces of color--vivid blue for the water, pale pastels on random buildings--and had treated the sketch with a fixative to keep the chalk from rubbing off.

“These are lovely, Scarlett,” he exclaimed, absentmindedly massaging the stretch of skin between her shoulder blades. His touch felt blessedly cool on her sun warmed flesh.

“You needn’t sound so surprised, Professor,” she replied coyly, so that he chuckled and laid a kiss on her shoulder.

“I’m not, darling. Truly, I’m not.” He drew a deep breath, then added, “Though I’m curious about where these are from.”

Scarlett paused a moment, recalling those endless, sunny days and balmy, starlit nights. “They’re from my time in Mykonos, at the end of my gap year.”

“Clearly, you found the place enchanting, my dear. Why, it nearly leaps off the page!”

She watched his profile as he leaned in for a closer look. “Do you really think so?” How happy it made her to see his enthusiastic response!

“Absolutely,” he assured her, giving a low whistle of appreciation, “And if I had to guess, I’d say that you were at least a little bit in love with the place.”

“I...I was...” she breathed softly. And with a beautiful young man there. My dear Benedicktos.

Inevitably, the next series of sketches raised Hennessy’s curiosity even further. “And who’s this?” Scarlett heard a trace of judginess creep into his voice.

“Oh...um...an artist I met while I was there...” Artist, sculptor--and if only our stars had aligned properly, he would have been my first. My first lover.

“I see...” And surely Hennessy could see her true feelings for her Bene, pictured in the loving way she had drawn his lines and angles. One page was filled with thumbnail sketches of just his face in profile. She had worked a couple of those into larger versions, and chalked color onto them as well. They showed a thick, unruly crown of dark, windswept curls. Smooth, well tanned skin and a sensuous looking mouth. And eyes of pure sea green.

“I think you were at least a little bit in love with this boy, too,” he observed quietly, and he gave her a beat to respond, though she could not for the lump in her throat. “Weren’t you, Scarlett?”

She took a deep breath, gathering her composure as well as her wits; she would not share that golden time with Hennessy. Not yet, anyway. “I suppose I was, at least a little bit...but then, it’s easy to fall in love in a place like that...”

“I suppose it is, little lamb. And lucky boy he must’ve been.” To her wonder, his smile felt a little false. He couldn’t possibly be jealous, she told herself; doesn’t he realize I’m his completely? 

She tried to turn rapidly over the following pages, but Hennessy stayed her hand, determined to see the full story. Scarlett had draw Benedicktos sitting shirtless and cross-legged at the water’s edge. Standing and gazing out at sea, watching the sun set. Smiling vibrantly, cheeks creased with rows of dimples, while he appeared to be laughing. The last sketch showed him shirtless again, his smile softer but no less dazzling, as he stood in the prow of a fishing boat, a tall line of verdant cliff tops in the distance, the blue of the sky just a little lighter than that of the Mediterranean. 

Her teacher had gone silent as she flipped past the last page in that series and put the pad down. “Hennessy?” She placed her hand on his, where it rested on the table. “That was years ago. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime--once I got home, my mother fell ill for some time, and...and we fell out of touch right away.” He nodded and smiled, but she felt she needed to offer more. “That’s how holiday romances go, right? Golden but fleeting...” And now my heart belongs to you. Forever, by the feel of it. 

“Yes,” he nodded again, and she wondered if he caught the flavor of that thought, for he raised her hand to brush his lips against her fingers. He studied her face a moment, and his sunshine smile returned. “But I want to see them all, darling. You do have quite a talent.” 

And so they continued. Hennessy laughed genially at her studies of her little black kitten, Chaucer, ranging across her book shelves, warming himself on her laptop keyboard, and curled into a fluffy little ball upon her bed pillow. “I swear, he really did all those things,” she confided, glowing a little in the face of her lover’s generous regard, “It’s like he owns the place now, and I’m just the guest.” 

Hennessy clucked his tongue. “Bosh. We’ll see who runs the place when I come to visit. My will is certainly far stronger than his.” 

A little thunderstruck, she asked him breathlessly, “You’d come to see me at my flat?” 

“I don’t see why not,” he grinned, and then seeing what it meant to her, he issued a hasty disclaimer. “Of course, that’s no promise it’ll be any time soon, my dear. Timetable to be determined.” 

“Oh, absolutely,” Scarlett nodded, doing her best not to seem disappointed. It was too much, too soon to have expected, anyway. 

At last they arrived at the sketch, the one over which her anxiety had been gradually growing. The moment of truth. She averted her eyes at his sound of surprise, as he stood up and took the pad right out of her hand, to finally exclaim, “Well, I’ll be damned!” In the brief silence that followed, she could hear the thump of her own heart, hoping against hope that he had meant that in a good way. “Scarlett...darling...when did you do this?” 

She finally raised her eyes, to find such an open, soft expression on his features that her heart just about skipped a beat. “Yesterday. After I...left you in the study...”

Hennessy crooked his trademark, honest half-smile her way. “This...this is really good, my dear. And I have to say...quite...flattering.” 

Scarlett was memorizing the look of genuine wonder in those eyes that had the power to command her and cajole her. Frighten her for breathless moments, and just as effortlessly mesmerize her. Fancying that someday soon she’d capture the chameleon beauty of those eyes in this particular moment, in charcoal and in chalk, so to frame them and keep them well beyond the days when his interest in her finally waned. “I just drew the truth, my jo,” she shrugged, “Exactly as I saw it.” 

His mouth hung open as he reached to brush back some strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead, then stroked his thumb across her cheek. “You have a true artist’s eye, love.” His voice was the velvet caress she had come to crave. “And your romantic nature shines through in...all of these pieces. I am both flattered and honored by this...gentle version of me. By the beauty you’ve rendered to even my most...jarring...defects.” 

She bit her lip, and could only bow her head in thanks, else her voice might break with the tenderness he stirred her to. Jarring defects. His mysterious scars. How she ached to know their origin, and to give him comfort for whatever pain he’d suffered from them--though she knew she could not, should not, ask. But at least she knew she’d touched his heart in their regard, and that would have to be enough for now. 

Still tracing her cheek, Hennessy moved into a crouch beside her. The heat had brought a ruddiness to his face and the bright sunlight allowed her to study the soft smattering of freckles across his skin. Scarlett had a moment to think about how very much she’d like to capture this look on him, deciding that her Prismacolors colored pencils might be best, before he moved in close enough for kissing. “Would it be too vain of me to say that sketch is my favorite, darling?” 

“No. Not at all,” she breathed, contemplating how she might express on paper, the perfection of his cupid’s bow, the temptation of his tender lower lip. Even unto the wee scar that couldn’t mar it’s beauty, and which she had already tasted countless times, and hoped to taste countless more.

“Perhaps someday you’ll sketch me with the passion you expended on your Greek boy.” He was teasing her, of course; he had to be. He couldn’t know she was thinking exactly that. “In fact, I would enjoy that very much, Scarlett. To have you ply your...talent...on me.” 

Hennessy’s breath was on her lips now, the promise of his kiss achingly close. She shut her eyes, panting in anticipation. “Yes...on me, sweet Scarlett. On me, and me alone.” She whimpered beneath the searing power of his kiss, as though by accepting it, she’d made some sort of Faustian bargain--and thus he had claimed yet another piece of her soul. 

          _________________________________________________

tagging: @strangelock221b​  @ben-locked​  @ben-c-group-therapy​  @thelostsmiles​  @splunge4me2art​  @humanbornarchangel​  @tsukuyomi011​  @ravencatart​  @doctor-stephenstrange​  @letterstosherlock​  @emilyinnj4real​  @aeterna-auroral-avenger​  @frowerssx2​  @groovyfluxie​  @candie-girl22 

(And yes, my friends, I promise there will be watery fun to come in the next installment *grinning wickedly*.)

[ikeromantic]

Making A Tragedie

An Ikevamp Leonardo story - Shakespeare’s POV chapter. This scene occurs in Chapter 17 of Leonardo’s main route. Approx. 1900 words.

First: That First Night

Previous: Good Times

Will looked up at the bright-lit mansion. Soft music floated on the cool breeze, and the murmur of laughter and conversation. It was like a scene from one of his plays. The calm before a storm. He could not help but imagine the turns such a scene might take. A vengeful murder spree. A lovers’ tryst interrupted by a betrayed husband. Or perhaps, a fateful moment when two eyes meet across a crowded room and the spark of love bursts into flame. 

Parties like these could begin and end dynasties. Perfect fodder for his plays. Shakespeare went in. 

The city’s elite were gathered here. Will saw Felix Faure having a quiet talk with Comte to one side. Zola and Cezanne drinking wine, and Loie Fuller dancing with some fortunate soul. And more. Anyone who was Tout-Paris would be somewhere on this estate tonight. Not that Shakespeare cared much about the weight a name carried. He knew the servants had dramas as exquisite as the wealthiest patron. Sometimes moreso, for desperation added a seasoning the affluent did not know.

Will wasn’t here for any of them tonight though. He had the players in this spectacle determined. His mismatched gaze swept the room. After a moment, he found them. The ordinary girl and the legend. They were waltzing, eyes locked on each other, brimming with unspoken intimacy. They looked like a painting in motion. True Love would be the title, Will thought. And laughed. 

To capture Leonardo so completely, the girl couldn’t simply be mundane. There had to be more to her, even if she was no artist or great mind. 

She was, Shakespeare decided, quite lovely. The composition of her face, the softness of her hair, the rising swell of her bosom and the gentle curve of her hips. The makings of a leading lady, but it took more than beauty to be a star. 

He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing servant, and let himself observe. After watching them dance and chat, he realized at a distance he could not divine her esoteric qualities. He would need to get closer. Much closer.

Will’s chance came when Leonardo stepped away. The artist was quickly surrounded by interested party-goers and the girl was all alone.

“Pardon?” Will gave her a polite notice of his approach. It wouldn’t do to frighten her.

The girl turned to face him. She was more beautiful up close, he thought. And she smelled sweet - a fragrance that made him suddenly thirsty. 

“What man leaves a beautiful flower to bloom alone by the wall? A gentleman in name only?” Shakespeare smiled at her and gave a slight bow. “Or perhaps the Fates have blinded all eyes so that I would be given this chance to speak with you alone. I pray thee, what does my lady think?”

She studied his face a moment and then frowned. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Monsieur . . .” 

“Indeed, the folly was mine own! Allow me to remedy my rudeness by introducing myself.” He put a hand to his heart and smiled. “My name is Shakespeare. William Shakespeare.” He could not help but wait expectantly for her reaction. Comte was quite clear that even in the far flung future, his writings were well-known. Would this girl know his name? His plays?

He was not disappointed. Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide. “You. You’re - you’re William Shakespeare? THE William Shakespeare?” Despite her surprise, the question was asked in a quiet voice - one that would not travel to the ears of other guests easily. She looked caught in a battle with herself, struggling between curiosity and disbelief.

Will suppressed a chuckle. He leaned forward, closing the polite distance between them to one reserved for lovers and conspirators. “Though it is a private matter,” he said softly, “I’m another who bears life’s twice-given gift, after accepting le Comte de Saint-Germain’s conditions.”

She did not step away, but looked almost as if she wanted to poke him to make sure he was no phantasm. “So. You really are THAT Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet? Hamlet? A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” 

“I see you are familiar with my work.”

She nodded. “But, le Comte never mentioned you- and, and you don’t have a room in the mansion.” Her brows lowered in confusion.

“I expect the good Comte didn’t wish to mention my name, lest he confuse you more. Your arrival in this time and place must have been most disconcerting without the addition of more . . . notable personages.”

She nodded again. Her eyes were so wide. Her cheeks were flush from dancing and laughter. And there was an energy to her that Will could feel from this distance, as if she were a storm hidden behind a lovely face. 

He was beginning to see her appeal to Comte and his friend. There was something in her - a passion most uncommon. It drew one in. As moths to a flame, some might say. He took her elbow in a friendly gesture and guided her toward one of the colonnades where they might be away from so many prying eyes. 

“Yes, It was my choice to leave the mansion. I needed more privacy than could be had with so many roommates.” Will smiled at her as if they shared this secret. “So, now I reside on the outskirts of Paris.”

They stopped beside one of the narrow columns, still within sight of the besieged Italian. 

“Master Shakespeare, how did you know I was familiar with le Comte’s secrets?” She pulled her arm away from him and fussed with the skirt of her dress. Clearly, the girl was nervous. And by all rights, of course. There was little about Will that was reassuring.

He allowed himself a long look at the girl, letting his eyes travel over her. She blushed quite deeply, and would not meet his red and amber gaze when he arrived back at her face. “Truly, one look at you, the moment you arrived in the mansion - and my heart was much beguiled by your beauty. I have been watching closely ever since.”

“P-pardon?”

Will laughed softly. So easy to discomfit. “A jest, Mademoiselle. You are, perhaps, a more recently bloomed flower than I anticipated.” She didn’t seem to pickup on his subtext, or if she did, she was quite good at dissembling. He decided to aim another comment, a truthful one. 

“Verily, I received a summons to attend last month’s banquet, the night you arrived. I caught sight of you with the other residents of Comte’s mansion as I approached the door.” He paused, considering how much to say. That he’d been unsure of le Comte’s goal in bringing her to the mansion? Suspicious? No. Will shrugged. “I would have greatly enjoyed dining in thy company but unfortunately, matters of such great urgency came to my notice that I had need to depart in unseemly haste.”

His lengthy response seemed to calm her nerves. She held out her hand to him. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to meet you before this. Please - allow me to introduce myself.” She gave him her name with a smile.

Shakespeare took her hand in his own cool fingers, and placed a kiss on her wrist. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse under his lips. The softness of her skin. “Your name is as lovely and pure as you are. It is no wonder Leonardo holds you dear.” He let her hand go reluctantly.

“I’m not certain what you mean.” Her tone went cold again, nerves covered by a veil of polite distance.

“I saw the two of you dancing.” Will raised an eyebrow as if to question what he knew. 

She didn’t reply, so he continued.

“Leonardo looked upon you as one would admire his priceless treasure.” His lips turned up at the edges in a narrow smile. “As a fellow man and a dramatist, I can say in confidence - it is you that holds the highest favor in Leonardo’s heart of hearts. Love, dear beauty. Love such as the stars would burn for.”

This time the girl did step back from him. “L-leonardo? In love with me?” She shook her head. “No. No - I’m the one in love with him!” 

The words escaped her lips and she was so aghast at the slip that she put her hands over them as if to prevent herself from saying anything else. Will found this gesture precious. Passion burned brightly in her. Even she could not gainsay her heart. 

He laughed and patted her arm. “There is naught to hide, beauty. Yours would prove a most fascinating union.” Will felt her stiffen and pull away from his touch but this did not deter him. Her discomfort only sweetened the anticipation he felt at his final reveal. “What end,” he asked quietly, “would come to the love of she, a mere mortal, and he -” Shakespeare gestured toward Leonardo. “Who has never tasted the fruit of fragile mortality?”

“Mortality?” Her lips thinned with displeasure. “You’re referring to the fact that he’s a vampire? Leonardo may be one now but that doesn’t erase the life he lived as a human before he was turned.”

And there it was. Fodder for a drama that would bring even a heart of stone to tears. Will let his own eyes go wide, his voice thready with disbelief. “You don’t know?” 

Her hands went to her hips, a display of irritation as endearing as her previous gestures. “What are you implying exactly?”

Will made a calming motion to her, enjoying his role in this scene more than he ought. “Lend no room in your heart for such alarm, beauty! If you’ll allow me to explain . . .” He took a step closer to her again, voice pitched low. “Leonardo isn’t like the rest of us. Leonardo is -”

And as if on cue, the very subject of their whispered conversation appeared. “Get away from her.” Leo pulled Shakespeare back by his coat.

“Leonardo?” The girl looked at her compagno with surprise. Will hoped it was also with a touch of chagrin, but he couldn’t tell with the hulking Italian blocking his view.

Will wriggled out of Leo’s grasped and smoothed his jacket as he greeted the artist. “Leonardo! It’s been too long ere last we spoke. It pleases me to see you well.”

This did little to mollify Leonardo. In fact, Shakespeare’s politeness only seemed to irritate him further. “You heard me. Get away from her.”

It was difficult to ignore the demands of a pure blood vampire. Especially when their golden eyes took on that special shine. Still, it would not be the first time Will defied one, nor the last he hoped. “So fierce a face ill suits thy pleasant countenance.” He gave them both a saucy grin. “With such a storied cast at the tip of my pen, you can’t expect me to not show an interest in their ends, surely?”

Leonardo snorted. “If you want to write plays, then do it. You can even use me as inspiration if you wish. But you will leave her out of it. Do not involved anyone else.”

“Involve . . . anyone else? When you’re the one that has taken her into your story and yet withheld pertinent details?” William made sure to catch her eye as he said this. He saw there the sprouting seeds of uncertainty, and the glimmer of fear. 

Should nothing else be accomplished this night, he’d done what he came to do and more. The girl’s measure was his and he’d ensured the passion betwixt the two would come soon to a boil. He wished he could say how this piece might end, but the unflappable da Vinci was unpredictable as well. There was nothing now for the evening but to enjoy himself. It was with glee that Shakespeare pursued his taunts until le Comte arrived to pour water on the fire.

Next: Good Advice

[mrsbhandari]

10 pm

a/n: hello!! this idea just popped into my head so I hope you enjoy it! i know i always love me some soft ethan ❤️

words: 2k

warnings: soft smut, nsfw

summary: It was 10 pm when he walked through the door of his apartment, his feet aching and his ears uncomfortable with the silence.

tagging(also i completely lost my tag list when i went mia so i apologize if i forgot to tag you): @anotherbeingsworld @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine

#

It was 10 pm when he walked through the door of his apartment, his feet aching and his ears uncomfortable with the silence. Dalia was supposed to be through with her own shift in half an hour, which meant she would be home in forty-five minutes. He ran through the timeline in his head and decided to wait twenty minutes for dinner, giving him twenty minutes to throw his bag down and take a quick shower to wash off the stress of the day. There was so much incompetent sandwhiched into his shift that he really felt the only way to get rid of it was to wash it all down the drain. 

He was about 75% of the way through dinner when he heard her key in the door, Dalia’s face appearing for a flash just before shutting the door. Whenever she came home to him cooking, she would always say, “Mm! Smells good.”

“Mm! Smells good.” He smiled. “Hello, Chef Ramsey,” she teased, placing her own bag next to his. He smiled even bigger and looked towards her, grin bright as she started to take off her shoes. 

“Hello,” was his simple greeting, more communicated in the single word than most can put in a ten minute speech. She soaked in the underlying layers and walked towards him, finally barefoot. 

“How was work?”

“How is it that so much ineptitude can still exist in someone who went to school for eight years?”

She winced and placed a hand on his cheek. “That bad, huh?” He only hummed his response and leaned into her touch. “Well, I’m going to shower, so I’ll be right out, yeah?” He nodded and watched her go before turning back to the pasta. 

When she returned, he’d made two bowls with a fork sticking out of each. She grabbed the bowl that said DR. RAMSEY across the front while he grabbed the one that said DR. BLAESE, each a Christmas gift from their coworkers that they had since switched after spending so much time at Ethan’s place. He watched her fondly as she hopped up on the counter to eat hers, playfully straightening her back since it made her just an inch taller than him. 

“Haha!” she said, slurping down a forkful of noodles. 

“You’re a real giant,” he deadpanned, gracefully eating his own food in stark contrast to her messy approach. 

“Meanie.” He only offered a sly smile in response, eyeing her bare legs as she kicked them out childishly. He was always amazed at her optimism and how she hadn’t completely broken down at this point in her career after seeing so many horrible things. She always stood tall (but never taller than him) and rolled with the punches, turning them into opportunities at every turn. He must have been staring, because she cocked her head. “Ethan?”

“Hm?” He was pulled out of his thoughts by her concerned gaze, running over his eyes, his nose, his lips, his stubble before returning back to his eyes. 

“Are you alright?”

“No,” he admitted, still feeling weighed down by the day. “But I feel better with you here.” He was trying to be more honest about his feelings lately, unwilling to live through any more misunderstandings or pining that came with him shutting Dalia out; he decided that he would write down every thought that crossed his mind for the rest of his life if he got to see the way her face lit up at his confession, a slight red forming on her cheeks at his unexpected straightforwardness concerning his emotions. She looked away and then back at him almost bashfully, as if she were confronting a boy she had a crush on instead of a man she was dating. 

“Thank you.” Finished, they both placed their bowls in the sink and Ethan wrapped his arm around Dalia’s waist to help her down. She didn’t really need it, but the warmth of his skin on hers was something she couldn’t find within herself to reject. Dalia takes her place in front of the sink to wash, comfortable with Ethan’s elbow brushing hers as he dried each dish she handed off to him. 

It was a routine that never had a set time with their erratic shift schedules, but the overall domesticity of it all still made Dalia’s heart beat faster in her chest. She was sure that she and Ethan were meant to be together, and she had no doubt that she would scream yes to the heavens if he asked her to marry him right then and there, but even without those thoughts swirling in her mind, she knew she was happy. Even if they didn’t get married or have kids or go through the normal path of life, she knew she was happy with coming home to a very sexy and very secretly sweet man cooking her dinner, and she knew she was happy with washing the dishes and flicking water on him to tease him. 

“Hey!” he whined, his deep voice and tone mismatched. She let out a loud laugh and threw her head back, leaving herself vulnerable for his own spritz of water that he showered her with. It evolved into a mini water fight, both lovers giggling like school children on either side of their makeshift war, using washcloths and sponges to increase their damage. Finally, Dalia found a white rag and raised it high, waving it with two fingers. 

“I surrender!” 

Delighted, Ethan yelled victoriously, “The Ramsey Army prevails!” before sweeping her up in his arms, pressing his wet body to her own as he lifted her small frame. Used to the strength he loved to exhibit for her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, locking her ankles to keep her steady despite knowing he would never let her fall. “What’s my reward?” 

She knew what he wanted, but she still leaned back and tapped her chin. “Hmm…” Her long hum faltered when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “Seems you’re already taking it.”

“So you’re my reward?”

“Is it suitable?” She took his face in her hands and squeezed his cheeks once before letting him speak. 

“Is it suitable? I believe this is the best reward I’ve ever received in my life.”

“Well, you’ve lived a long time; I wouldn’t go around saying hyperbolic things like that,” she teased, her joke prompting his fingers to dig into her sides. She squirmed and giggled, laughs reverberating in his ears and stored in his mind for later. 

“Keep in mind that this old man is currently carrying you. Effortlessly, I might add.” 

“You’re the one who brought up the ‘o’ word,” Dalia reminded, raising her palms and eyebrows. He quieted her with a soft kiss to her lips, easily moving against her as if he’d been doing it since the beginning of time. Honestly, that’s how he felt with Dalia; with her, time seemed to stretch and fly by at the same time, brought on by her quick wit and his praying for each moment with her to last forever. The kiss melted the tension in his shoulders and cleared his mind, and it quickly turned more and more passionate with each movement of her body against his. 

“I want you, Dalia.”

“I’m yours to take, Ethan.” Each word wasn’t hurried or whispered; they knew they had all the time in the world that night. He hugged her closer without the urgency of a time constraint or the panic of being caught by a coworker. Tonight, it was just Ethan and Dalia together in an apartment, living for each other and stretching each moment ‘til it was a lifetime. He walked them both to the couch and sat heavily on it, relaxing immediately with her in his arms and pressed to him. He briefly pulled away from her and placed two thumbs on her cheeks, rubbing the hill of the bone there. 

“I love you, Dalia.”

She offered a dopey smile that was all teeth, her mind hazy and drunk off his kisses. “I love you, too, Ethan.” 

#

At 11:30 pm, he thrust up into her for the first time of the night but surely not the last. She was tight around him and he moaned at the feeling of how easily she swallowed his cock, her nails digging into his bare shoulders and her breasts perky in front of his face. He took advantage of his position and wrapped his mouth around the pretty bud, holding her bare back when she gasped. 

He had always loved her back; the way her muscles would flex under her warm skin was so hypnotizing. He also was reminded of the many mornings he would wake up to her naked back facing him as she slept next to him, a firm reminder that even though she was turned away, it wasn’t because she was leaving. 

Despite his fascination with the back of her body, he had to say that his favorite side was her front. Her features distort with the pleasure he was giving her; the firm flesh of her breasts in his hands and mouth; the way his cock slid in and out of her like they were made for each other. All of it was a testament to how she was real in his arms and around him and in front of him and everywhere, which is exactly where he wanted her to be. 

He bit a trail of hickeys up the swell of her breast to her throat, biting the places he knew would make her yelp and wail. The moment he placed a thumb wet with his spit onto her clit, she was pushed over the edge with a moan of his name, sounding every bit divine as it reached his ears. 

He looked up at her when she did cum, her eyes rolling back and her mouth wide to let the sounds fall unobstructed. She’d been good about that recently; she never used to be loud until he seemed to make it his personal mission to draw out the most sinful noises with just his fingers or mouth. He enjoyed being the one to collapse her to that state of complete and utter uncaringness of her din, instead being only focused on drawing out her pleasure because it, in turn, prolonged his. 

“Dalia!” he groaned, fingers tightening on her hips as he drove his own up into her. She sat on his cock and ground down when he released into her, keeping him sheathed as he painted her walls white. She was shuddering and trembling with the feeling of being so full of him, resting her head on his shoulder to somehow be even closer than she already was. Her breath was hot on his neck and he clasped his hands behind her, just holding her as they both calmed down from their highs. 

A hand came up to rub at his stubble, nails gently running over the coarse hair that covered the lower half of his face and gave him the rugged look she loved so much. She had teased him endlessly when he cut it after coming back from the Amazon since it had only taken a simple comment from her to get him to shave it down. Despite him swearing up and down that he wasn’t ‘whipped’ for her, they both knew it couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

“Want to go to bed?”

“You’re so warm, though.” She shifted on him and he hummed, leaning his head on hers. 

“I can stay inside.”

“We’ll be gross in the morning.” He grabbed her face in his hand and gently turned it to face him. 

“All the more reason to shower together.”

She smiled, the picture slightly deformed because of her cheeks being held. “Dr. Ramsey, you are a genius.”

[rexcoatlarchive]

Mictlan

An angsty story, with a happy ending

It wasn't supposed to happen, it should've never happened. But it did, during a fight in a lostbelt, Rex had died.

Everyone mourned the loss, many cried or were silent. They still had 2 other masters, so proper human history could still be saved. But someone wasn't going to take this lying down. Quetzalcoatl was livid, she refused to accept it, she couldn't accept it. Something had to be done

*in Rex and Quetz's room*

Jaguar warrior: *walks in to see how Quetz was doing* hey Kuku, everything alright?

Quetz: OF COURSE IT'S NOT ALRIGHT YOU FLEABAG!!! He's gone! He can't be gone! I refuse to accept it!

Jaguar warrior: but you have to, he died. There's nothing we can do

Quetz: there has to be something! Anything! I'd do anything to be together again!

Jaguar warrior: but there's nothing you can do!

Quetz: SHUT UP!!! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!!

Jaguar warrior: fine, but you need to accept the truth *she leaves the room*

Quetz: I can't, I can't. I need him

*after some time passes*

Ereshkigal: *decides to visit her fellow goddess alliance friend* hey there Quetz, just checking up on you.

Quetz: Ereshkigal! Just the goddess I wanted to see, I need you to take me to Kur

Eresh: I'm sorry what?!

Quetz: so we can get Rex back, he died so he probably went down to Kur.

Eresh: Quetzalcoatl I can't just take you down there and bring him back up. That violates the laws of nature!

Quetz: nature be damned! I just want him back! Please, you're my only hope!

Eresh: are you serious about this?

Quetz: YES! more then I've ever been

Eresh also missed Rex, whose been a good friend to her ever since she was summoned

Eresh: fine, I guess we can go look

Quetz: gracias my friend! You don't know how much this means to me!

Eresh: well let's get going, before anyone else sees

*later on, they're going down into Kur*

Eresh: even if we can get his soul, do you have a plan to bring him back to life properly?

Quetz: I can use my blood!

Eresh: eh?

Quetz: I've done it before, when the world was destroyed the 4th I went down to Mictlan took some human bones then dipped them in my blood and bam! Live humans again!

Eresh: alright, hope that turns out well

*they keep looking and looking, but they do not find his soul among the cages*

Quetz: I do not understand, why isn't he here?! Does that mean he's not dead?

Eresh: I know he was dead, I've known death for an eternity. It's unmistakable.

Quetz: then where could he be?

Eresh: this is a long shot, but maybe we need to look in a different underworld?

Quetz: you think he could end up in a different one?

Eresh: it's possible, he was closely associated with heroes and gods from all over. So maybe he was destined for another afterlife, but if so then which one

Quetz: there are countless afterlives out there! Hades, Valhalla, Heaven, where do we even begin?

Eresh: I don't know, but either way we need to go and maybe we can think of something back above

*once they leave Kur, Quetz sees an odd animal a nearby body of water*

Quetz: hello there! What are you doing here?

Eresh: hmm? What is it?

Quetz: an axolotl

Eresh: eh? All the way in Mesopotamia? Aren't they endemic to Mexico?

Quetz: si! So that must mean

Axolotl: *speaks in what can only be assumed to be a lost language*

Eresh: is it... talking?

Quetz: shhh, I need to hear this

Axolotl: *continues the message*

Quetz: *gasp*

Eresh: what is it?

Quetz: he's in Mictlan!

Eresh: wait what?! How'd you find out from that lil guy?

Quetz: the axolotl is an animal closely associated with my twin Xolotl, this is a message from them directly!

Eresh: that's amazing! So we can go down there and hopefully find him!

Quetz: si, but we'll have to deal with Mictlantecuhtli, and he won't be easy to deal with

Eresh: then this won't be easy

Quetz: but there is some solace, when I enter the heavenly and earthly realms of my domain, I can achieve my full divine power. If need be, I'll destroy the underworld to get him back!

*they eventually enter Mictlan, and meet with Mictlantecuhtli*

*Quetzalcoatl in her true divine form, appears very much like most depictions of her in aztec temples, a much more elaborate headdress adorns her, a beaked mask on her and more serpentine features are seen aswell, with feathered and clawed limbs, huge wings, and a mighty tail*

*the underworld king appears like a corpse himself, a skeletal figure with blood red flesh, many arms, and a large headdress*

Mictlantecuhtli: greetings Quetzalcoatl! It's been far too long!

Quetz: we saw you at the wedding, which was like 3 months ago

Mictlantecuhtli: details details. What brings you down to my realm?

Quetz: you know damn well why I'm here! Give me back my husband!

Mictlantecuhtli: oh that? Well of course! *picks up some bones* here you are

Eresh: no, those aren't his!

Mictlantecuhtli: *now annoyed* and how, pray tell, would you know?

Eresh: I too am and underworld God. I know his soul, and those bones do not contain it!

Mictlantecuhtli: *looks back towards Quetz* you've done well to bring another underworld god here. Since there is no point in trying to trick you again *picks up another set of bones* here they are

Quetz: hand them over!

Mictlantecuhtli: now now, no need to be hasty. It seems you would do anything to get these back? How far would you go?

Quetz: I'd destroy this entire realm to get him back!

Mictlantecuhtli: now no need to go that far! I have a better idea! A trade!

Eresh: a trade? What, a soul for a soul?

Mictlantecuhtli: exactly! But not just any soul! This soul is worth a lot more then most! A mere human who managed to befriend countless heroes and villains from throughout human history! He's helped saved the world and was working on doing it again before he perished! Quite impressive. And the metaphorical cherry on the cake: he managed to marry the goddess Quetzalcoatl! A goddess who never had any other lovers, was found to be smitten by this simple human. So much so she would go to such extremes to get him back!

Quetz: wth kind of soul do you want bastard?!

Mictlantecuhtli: obviously someone of comparable value! I contemplated asking for your very own soul Quetzalcoatl, but I knew you'd never agree

Quetz: of course not! Bring him back only to make is suffer is the last thing I want to do

Mictlantecuhtli: yes, but it would seem you have someone who can give me someone comparable!

Eresh: *knows he means she can give him a good soul* I assume you mean me, who would you want in exchange for his soul,

Mictlantecuhtli: why I thought it'd he obvious

Eresh: humor me

Mictlantecuhtli: why the king of heroes himself: Gilgamesh!

Eresh: you're asking for a lot

Mictlantecuhtli: so are you two

Quetz: it's up to you Eresh, if you decide not to I'm more then willing to destroy this realm

Eresh: it doesn't need to come to that *she pulls out a golden soul cage, and starts to speak to it*

Mictlantecuhtli: he even has a golden cage! How nice

Eresh: he's agreed, it matters not to him what realm of death he resides in. He's willing to go to another one to bring the master back

Mictlantecuhtli: excellent! *takes the cage and gives the bones* great doing business with you two. And do not worry Ereshkigal, the king of heroes will be treated well in my realm

Eresh: that's all I ask of you

*the two goddesses finally leave and end up at Quetz's temple of worship, what's left of it*

Quetz: *holding the bones* time to bring him back *lays them down*

Eresh: so you're going to bleed all over them?

Quetz: si! My divine blood can bring him back

*Quetz takes her Macuahuitl and uses to cut her palm, and allows the blood to fall on the skeleton*

*the blood poors all over the bones and it's seen forming flesh back onto them*

*before the process completes, Quetz returns to her normal sized servant form*

Rex: *now fully resurrected* *gasp!* where am I!? Why is it so cold? *notices the lack of clothes* why am I naked!?

Quetz: DARLING! * she hugs Rex* it's so good to see you again *starts crying tears of joy*

Rex: it's good to see you again too dear, but why am I naked

Eresh: *embarrassed and looking away* I would also like to know that!

Quetz: sorry, my divine blood brings back the flesh but not clothing. It's ok tho, nothing I haven't already seen!

Rex: but we're outdoors! And Eresh is here!

Eresh: yeah! And I feel very uncomfortable right now!

Quetz: ehehehe, sorry! *uses her cape to cover Rex's body* now let's get back home!

*on the way back home*

Rex: you two went to the underworld ti save me?

Quetz: of course! I'd do anytime for you darling!

Rex: *blushing* thanks, it's amazing knowing I have such an amazing wife!

Quetz: hahaha, dear you're making me blush!

Eresh: hey I helped too! If it wasn't for me, she would've destroyed that realm!

Rex: damn!

Quetz: I did say I'd do anything!

Eresh: upsetting the natural balance that much is too far tho!

Quetz: it's ok tho, since it didn't come to that

*at home, in Rex and Quetz's room*

Quetz: it's so great to be back with you darling! The past few days were too painful

Rex: I'm happy to back with you too Quetz!

Quetz: *thinking* I need to make sure this never happens again, maybe I can use a grail to do something?

Rex: hmm? Is something on your mind Quetz?

Quetz: hmm? Oh nada! Let's go to bed honey!

Rex: alright!

And there's the story, probably the most angsty I've gotten. Might follow it up later on

@panyum look at this angst

[brokenjardaantech]

absorbance of the deep (chapter 3: schemes and promises)

written for a mermay prompts challenge. my prompt is ‘monochromatic.’

previous chapter can be found here.

also on ao3

content warning for near-death experience.

---

Time passed. Simon grew closer to both Josh and North as they all grew up and going to school became much more isolating. Daniel grew increasingly rebellious now that North had shown him what life outside the village looked like for the average people, and although he never took out his anger on Simon and Simon knew that he didn’t mean it, the tension in the lighthouse did get suffocating a lot of the times. ‘I just want to get out, see the world a bit instead of trapped in this -’ Simon remembered watching his twin brother clutch his head as he paced their room, their room that seemed so small and constraining now that they were teenagers with their awkward limbs and stretching bodies - ‘this shithole! No offence to you, Si,’ the next sentence was spoken much quieter and calmer. ‘I know you like it here. It’s just not for everyone, you know?’

Simon could never understand the appeal of a noisy city, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t observe his surroundings and see how things had changed: the young moved out to explore the world and job opportunities, the old remained while their outdated and repetitive crafts would likely perish within the next generation, and even their parents were talking about leaving the lighthouse to Simon as soon as he was able to take up the job and then move to somewhere else, leaving him behind so that they wouldn’t be recognised for their embarrassing son who had a tendency to jump into the sea and return with a smile on his face and his cheeks flushed from mirth. Not everyone had someone like Markus. i - understand, he answered by flipping the dictionary. 

‘And it doesn’t even cost a thing to transfer schools,’ Daniel went on. ‘I can use my pocket money to take the bus, we’re in the same area so the syllabus is the exact same thing, our current school is looking for an excuse to expel me anyway, I fucking know it. It’ll save so much energy for all of us.’

Simon didn’t understand the concept of energy either because he could always retreat to the ocean to calm down if not even spending time with North and Josh on the beach could do the trick, but who was he to think that he could understand everyone? Not even his own parents bothered to know him as the person he was. is - there - any - way?

‘To transfer? Not that I know of. But getting myself kicked out, however…’ Daniel rubbed his hands together in a familiar gesture that always meant he had a plan. ‘North has been beating up so many people these days. Time for me to have a taste.’

Using me as bait? Simon wanted to ask, but he kind of placed the target on himself a long time ago so it wasn’t exactly his twin brother’s fault that he wanted to get some use out of it before his parents eventually pulled the two of them out of school. He had passed his junior secondary exams thanks to Josh; he was eligible for the job guarding the lighthouse. OK, he flipped to the page containing the exclamation, and Daniel dropped into his bed with a satisfied huff. ‘Just watch,’ he declared. ‘I’m not getting stuck in this damned village.’

Their parents must have heard Daniel’s side of the conversation, because when Simon woke up later still tired and dizzy, he could hear shouting from downstairs and the other bed in his bedroom was empty, his parents’ and twin brother’s voices so loud that the entire house was shaking. He didn’t like it when people shout because they hurt his ears. He also understood that Daniel had to talk to their parents, like it or not, and him being there would only force the conversation to cut short and therefore ruining everything. He wanted to get out, but that would mean going through the living room and therefore exposing himself, so there was only one way to escape from here.

He never tried to sneak out before because there was no need to, but if there was anything Daniel taught him that he could actually use, it was climbing out of the window of their bedroom and reaching the pier below safely. One day his twin brother approached him with a bundle of wooden planks asking Simon to decorate them, and he, wanting to create something to remind himself of Markus’ when they couldn’t see each other, accepted the offer immediately even though it took him three sleepless nights and an aching head by the end of his marathon painting session to complete it in a week, and he had watched as Daniel looked for suitable spots to place them in so that they could go out at night without alerting their parents. At that time, sitting on the warm wood of the pier with a pair of sunglasses protecting his eyes and a hat to shield his face from the sun, the only thing Simon had paid attention to was the tendril of seawater holding his hand through the pier and the presence of the sea in his mind observing his twin brother through his eyes. He had gone reluctantly to Daniel’s so-called climbing lessons, but now, as he climbed off the wall barefooted swiftly and silently, he tried to remember to thank his brother later for them. 

You’re late today, the sea said. Something went wrong?

Simon quickly padded to the edge of the pier and slid into the water so that he wouldn’t alert the people in the house. Not that they could hear anything other than themselves when they were making so many themselves, but he wasn’t going to risk it by underestimating his family, especially Daniel whose Simon-detection skill had been honed to an all-powerful form that even North was envious of, and it was when he was certain that the sea was supporting and guiding him towards his cave that he recalled the conversation he had with his twin brother and snippets of the argument he only vaguely heard so that the sea, the ocean, Markus - they were all the same for Simon - could understand his sudden call. 

Markus? he asked when the waves slowed down and the water grew darker from something other than the depth. What are you thinking about?

Later.

Okay.

Markus was waiting for him on the sand in the cave. Just like Simon, he had grown, except while the human grew more awkward and strange, the sea evolved to something more divine, more ethereal, his muscles more definite, his skin dark and glowing with power, his green eyes large and piercing as if he could see through Simon at any given moment. And when Markus stood up from where he had been sitting to greet him by holding his hand and kissing him, it was with the reverence between lovers on both ends, the smell of earth and the sea blending together into a unique musk that belonged to Markus and Markus alone, one that Simon had come to associate with devotion, with protection, with attraction. He knew that he would have the ocean’s total attention for the next few hours, and he couldn’t help but feel wasteful knowing that he would spend most of it sleeping and replenishing his own energy. It was then that Markus pulled away and placed a finger on Simon’s lips even though he wasn’t speaking, the gesture more symbolic than literally silencing the human.

‘Don’t be,’ Markus breathed into Simon’s knuckles. ‘I cherish your very presence on the planet no matter what you are doing.’ Then he tugged Simon’s hand so that the two of them could lie down on the sand and feel its warmth. He even slid a pillow of moss under Simon’s head, an addition that he made a long time ago after Simon told him that the people living on land sleep with one most of the times. ‘Now, tell me all about your brother’s plan.’

Simon projected the scene to Markus once more, this time with as many details as he could remember because they knew that there was little to lose at this proximity, and he did not like the frown appearing between the ocean’s brows. 

‘I don’t like his plan, starlight,’ there was a slight tremor in his voice. ‘He’s using you. What if he doesn’t get to you in time? What if you suffered through it for nothing? What if you get hurt? How can he promise to deliver you back to me safely?’

He doesn’t even know that you exist, Simon argued. Daniel and North saved me plenty of times before. Why should this time be different?

‘Before, it was your bullies who were in the wrong; this time, he will actively induce pain in you to achieve his goal. They are two very different things.’

But -

‘I’ll be on guard,’ Markus declared in the end, leaving no room for argument on Simon’s end. ‘Just speak my name when you need me.’ He leant forward until their foreheads touch. ‘I’ll be there for you.’

Okay.

A few minutes of silence during which they breathed the same air and Simon closed his eyes to block out some of the distractions that were preventing him from truly connecting with the ocean, with Markus. Markus’ heartbeat was the tide. Markus’ breaths were the slow return of the water after they kissed the shore. Markus was so powerful but still took the time to create this small safe haven for Simon, on isolated from the rest of the world and would never be contaminated by the outside world, and for that, he was grateful.

‘Watch the moon rise with me?’

Simon nodded, and they started floating upwards as if both of them were weightless beings in the vast universe heading towards their next location far, far away. Gliding across his skin smoothly, the seawater at this depth was cold regardless of the season, but Markus was holding him, guiding him slowly towards where they would go, and the contrast between Markus’ tenderness and the sea’s true power and warm versus cold sent a shiver down Simon’s spine. He knew Markus had something to do with all this because normally he would’ve died already at his current state. He placed his arm on the sea’s shoulder and buried his face in the crook of his neck, feeling his gills flutter along with the tempo of the ocean and being nuzzled by his nose, and he was reminded of a promise made many years ago. Almost ten years now, he realised.

‘Not yet,’ Markus’ chest rumbled. ‘Not until your suffering is over. And it comes with a price.’

Don’t care.

‘I do.’

And it was too close, too close to a vow that he wasn’t sure if either of them had the capacity to make yet, but it made him think of the future, a future with Markus, a future where there would be no longer stolen moments with the ocean he loved and cared for so much. There would only be the two of them. Maybe he could even bring Markus to the lighthouse, let him experience a bit of his life on the surface world. Markus had shown him so much of the sea; he should do something to pay him back or at least make it an equivalent exchange -

‘We’re here.’

They resurfaced in what seemed to be an endless expanse of sea. There was not a single piece of land in sight when Simon turned himself around which meant that when he finally looked up and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see every single star in the sky and the waning moon just peeking out from below the horizon. He had had a lot of opportunities to stargaze before but he never took them, either because he was easily tired from simply existing or because of the group nature of the event, but now, with only himself and the sea, he could take in everything at his own pace, focusing on one of them because of its colour and unpredictable twinkling. There was no one to recite astronomical facts to him, no one shouting in his ear to go to bed. He could enjoy the moment as it was.

Markus wrapped his arms around Simon from behind. ‘Sometimes, even I get lost in the vastness of the ocean,’ the words, although spoken right next to Simon’s ear, were neither loud nor intrusive like normal people’s speeches did. ‘I used to use the stars to guide myself back to where I should be. Now I have you, Simon. I’ve never gotten lost since I met you. You are my guide just like the polaris in the sky.’

Is that why you call me that? Your polaris?

‘Yes.’

Markus let go of him and helped him float on the water with miles of water underneath his back before floating next to Simon as well, intertwining their fingers so that wherever the current brought them, they would stick together, and as Simon drifted under the sea of stars with the other sea he loved with all his existence, he felt like nothing could tear them apart no matter how far they were, and that was why he willingly asked Markus to bring him back to the lighthouse when the edges of the horizon just turned a lighter shade as the first sign of dawn. Spending his time with Markus was nice, but he didn’t want to worry Daniel either, which meant he must return to his room before the time Daniel usually woke up, and this time, instead of ordering the waves to send Simon back, Markus accompanied him all the way back to the pier the sea usually placed him on. The sight of the representation of the ocean peeking his eyes out of the surface while his remaining body remained submerged was oddly adorable.

This is the first time I see where you live with my own eyes, he projects directly into Simon’s mind. I would like to say it’s a lovely home but… your parents and brother.

It will be lovelier with your presence, Simon replied. Though I suppose this isn’t the right time.

No, it isn’t.

In an act that surprised Simon, Markus emerged from the water until it was just enough for him to lay his arms flat on the wood of the pier and place his chin on the edge. His gills sealed themselves shut in scar-like slits on both sides of his neck. He placed his hand on Simon’s feet, and a cool sensation spread from the site over his body. Remember my promise, he said. Call for me when you need me. I’ll be watching over you.

Simon took his hand and kissed his knuckles just like the many times Markus did for him. I know.

Markus tilted his head and gave him one last frown before letting go of the pier and sliding into the water, the reflection of the sunlight on the sea meaning that Simon couldn’t see him as soon as he was beneath the surface. Markus belonged to the deep sea where everything was deep blue anyway, so he couldn’t imagine him liking to stick to shallow waters unless it was for something like they did just now. He got up, climbed into his room through the open window of his room, and managed to get about three hours of sleep before he was woken up again by Daniel to go to school.

It started off as usual. North and Josh were waiting for him at the front door and the four of them went in together, then Daniel broke off to his classroom while the rest went to another classroom, then they stayed there for both the first and second lesson because both of them were taught in their home class. North handed him the headphones again, and although reluctant, Simon put them on if not for North’s peace of mind. It indeed made the noises other students create more manageable, however, so he kept them on. Josh was the attentive student, North was the one who couldn’t help but make puns and snarky comments, and Simon was the one the teachers ignore which meant that he got to read about the sea again, this time about how tectonic activities could change the sea in all the different ways he couldn’t even fathom. Did Markus drink chemical soup from underwater volcanoes when he was young? Did he ever feel the temperature difference between the deep sea and right when an underwater volcano erupted, or was everything the same to him, or would the lava burn him before eventually cooling off into rocks? Had he ever been to the subduction trenches and watch the seabed disappear in front of his eyes? He wrote down all the questions he had for Markus with his oversized handwriting on a blank worksheet he would not return to the teacher anyway and put it into his backpack so that he could ask the sea all of them the next time they meet. Then the ground trembled so he looked up, and he saw most of the students pushing their chairs back and standing up while the teacher bolted out of the classroom so that she wouldn’t have to wait for dozens of students to get out before she could again. He stood up as well, wanting to find somewhere quiet in the school campus to cool down alone.

However, his classmates seemed to have other plans.

He only heard them after taking off his new headphones, but it was already too late. One moment he was beginning to relax his eyes by staring at the sea in the distance, and the other moment he was being tackled onto the ground painfully, his arms wrenched back, a heavy weight pushing onto his back and making it hard to breathe, and the noise - oh, the noise - piercing his eardrums and consuming his brain together with the harsh rub of soil on his cheek. Before he could even process what was happening, the weight on his back disappeared just to be replaced by the scratch of thick rope over his head, and that was when the panic set in. He wanted to struggle but he couldn’t move because his limbs were painfully held in place as someone else placed the noose around his neck before tightening it, there was more shouting, the pressure on his body was suddenly gone and transferred to the rope tightening around his neck, and his feet were swinging in midair, a familiar face that he couldn’t quite name because he was too busy clutching at the noose started speaking, something about how he was treated differently and given an easy way out while the rest of them suffered, but he wasn’t listening, his heartbeat was thundering and crashing in his ears like the coast at a stormy night, therefore the only thought he had before he felt his vision darkening was -

MARKUS!

[xaviersystem]

7 Day Prayer Miracle Review Amanda Ross (2020)

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Well, the course has:

1. Verified Techniques:

The big problem we’ve had with programs like “positive thinking” or “law of attraction” is that they remained vague on how to get to the desired state of mind. There was too much “pie-in-the-sky,” feel-good stuff that didn’t have a sufficient connection to the real world.

The 7 Day Prayer Miracle requires that you develop and exercise the ability to achieve the proper feelings for delivering prayers that match your conscious thoughts. The course shows you exactly how to do this with several, step-by-step exercises. This has been the area of disconnect in so many other programs

The exercises in this course raise your critical awareness of your environment and your own internal feelings so you can know when you’re aiming your prayer correctly.

2. Establishes Within You the Proper Skills:

The reason why the 7 Day Prayer Miracle works and has so many enthusiastic testimonials is because of the deep, spiritual understanding behind it — an understanding grounded in science and critical thinking.

No matter what your starting point, you will find yourself moving further from “lack” all the way to “abundance” — not merely physical abundance, but spiritual abundance of unconditional love, utter humility, perfect responsibility and fearless confidence. The map has been laid out. All you have to do is to walk the path.

The 7 Day Prayer Miracle is not only about wealth, health and relationships. It repairs the basic issues in your thinking and attitudes that would otherwise prevent effective prayer and, all too often, result in self-sabotaging behavior that spoils any gains you may make. All of these pitfalls have been handled.

Needless to say, the spiritual half of reality has its own rules and quite often doesn’t work at all like the physical half. This program is the manual for understanding what’s different and how to use those differences to your own benefit.

Because we each have our own set of bad habits, the course book covers a broad range of exercises to strengthen your awareness of your own thoughts, attitudes, intentions and — most importantly — your subconscious “feeling” attention. The 7 Day Prayer Miracle does these things far better than any book or program we’ve seen before.

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3. Proper Preparation:

No amount of thinking will ever accomplish anything truly worthwhile. Thought is a useful tool, but it’s only the starting point. And you can’t fix a great dinner in a dirty kitchen.

Bad habits and bad attitudes can cloud your spiritual vision and prevent your message from reaching heaven.

It’s a bit like 50 very loud people shouting while you’re trying to talk to someone on your cell phone. Sometimes, you can’t even hear yourself think.

The 7 Day Prayer Miracle helps you clear out not only bad habits, but also the daily garbage of stuck attention on little crimes we all commit from time to time — like being late for work, not taking out the garbage, forgetting about a commitment we’ve made, and more.

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4. Reliability and Dependability:

By having you acquaint yourself more thoroughly with your own mind, ego and spirit, you will find yourself capable of using every part of each prayer with precision skill and powerful, spiritual effect.

Like a ship finally allowed to leave sight of land, you will enter spiritual territory you never knew existed. You will come to think of your body as merely your current vessel. And the control switches of physical reality will seem as real and natural as any physical device you’ve ever mastered.

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The Course Contents of 7 Day Miracle

Learn how to Grabbing The Attention of Heaven ( The ebook that gives you a crash course on your relationship to the spiritual world, to God and to His angels, and how to exercise your ability to connect directly to heaven).

· A Prayer Journal (a PDF journal that includes 7 prayers for 7 days, designed to give you miracle results).·

  · Divine Hearing — How to Recognize Crucial Messages from Your Angels (The ebook that helps you recognize messages from your angels).

· Divine Numbers — How to Interpret Angelic Sequences and Unleash Their Blessings (ebook that helps you interpret sequences of numbers and individual numbers like 11:11, 555, etc).

· The Prayer of Daniel (a handy, 1-page reprint of the biblical prayer that Prophet Daniel was using to achieve his miraculous results. This is the template upon which all effective prayer is based).

· A Song of Shifts (MP3 file, angelic music, using the “miracle frequency.” If you like, this can be played while you are performing your own prayers to help enter the theta wave band of meditative thought — the prayerful state of mind)

· Chances are you would be quite amazed to have so much content included for such a reasonable price.

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Features of the 7 Day Prayer Miracle Course· 

When you have the power of prayer, you never have to be worried again.

· Once you learn how to pray, prosperity flows in to you from an infinite source

· The 7 Day Prayer Miracle shows you how to choose the right option

· You learn to cultivate the right feelings all the time. When you learn to have the right feeling, things seem to go very right.

· Life suddenly becomes perfect, almost all the time.

· With prayer you can invite better health and healing for your body

· Boost Your Love Life With Prayer

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7 Day Prayer Miracle Testimonials

From the website of 7 Day Prayer Miracle, here is a reproduction of the testimonials of some of the individuals:

“I was only 5 days away from being declared a bankrupt. Almost all my savings gone. I then stumbled on to Amanda’s teaching. Just 2 prayers later, the bank actually cancelled my debt. Holy smokes, this works!” — Leanne R.

“I had terrible, terrible fights with my husband and I was on the verge of leaving him… Then one day I stumbled on to Amanda’s writings. I consumed it, prayed the prayers and now not only has my marriage been restored — the relationship sizzles in a way not seen since the honeymoon.” — Jane A.

“I’d always wanted to connect to the divine and talk to angels, but I never could. After the 7 Day Prayer Miracle, it was almost a suffocating blanket was removed. I can even now feel the breath of God and delve into the secrets of the universe.” — May R.

“I was left destitute by my cheating husband. He left me with my 2 young kids and moved in with his mistress half his age. After going through the 7 Day Prosperity Miracle, cheques suddenly came in the mail. There was sudden mysterious deposits in my bank account. Now, I have more than enough for me and my children to live a good life.” — Miranda A.

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Conclusion

The 7 Day Prayer Miracle is a complete system that’s more comprehensive than virtually every other book in this genre… Of course, the number of pieces alone is not enough. Each piece needs to be valuable and worth your time.

7 Day Prayer Miracle takes control of your life to improve. It has already helped approximately 100,000 women and men to fulfill the purpose of their lives.

You have a great opportunity to take the first step of a new movement. It comes with a 100 percent money back guarantee.

If for some reason, you are not satisfied with this program, the money will be refunded immediately. This is the claim of the seller organization. You have nothing to lose except for problems.

So go ahead and place your order 7-day Prayer Miracle. Do not miss the opportunity to take advantage of the wonderful wonders of your life.

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7-day Prayer Miracle

SOURCE: https://youtu.be/iHEUgA_4eSA

[ellenripleysbelieveitornot]

AcuteAngleAziraphale Fics

Finally got around to making a directory of my Good Omens fics, with links to AO3 and Tumblr (including a fic by fic breakdown of the Chicken Soup for the Ineffable Soul drabble collection.)  A few at the top, everything else under the cut, since there’s like, 50+ fics here. (sorted by most hits on AO3)

Your Lips Are Poison; Your Taste Is Divine (Explicit)

He was beautiful, but in a ‘don’t touch’ sort of way, like the apple he was famous for- freedom and banishment all wrapped into one tantalizing fruit. Unfortunately, Aziraphale had never been particularly good at resisting temptation. So, of course, it started with a touch.

AO3 only

Chicken Soup for the Ineffable Soul (Collection)

Threadbare Heart (Gen)

For the last ten or so years, Crowley has felt an odd sort of affinity with Aziraphale’s waistcoat.

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Wanting (Gen)

Crowley was used to wanting. Answers from a god. A place to call home. For his love to be returned.

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Lucky (Gen)

“Angel,” Crowley said, draping his entire body across the desk where Aziraphale was reading. “Angel, let’s go somewhere.”

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Three Words (Gen)

Three words. Three simple, little words. That was all it took for Crowley's world to fall apart. "I'm in love," Azirphale had said, a soft smile gracing his lips.

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Free Fall (Gen)

Aziraphale fell in love slowly. That was probably for the best, since once he started, he just couldn't seem to stop.

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Anytime with You (Gen)

Aziraphale loved spending mornings with Crowley. He loved those early hours that he got to spend reading in bed with the demon curled up, asleep, by his side.

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Prayer (Gen)

Crowley is a prayer waiting to be answered, and Aziraphale is finally ready to let the hymns spill from his lips.

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To Love the Sky (Gen)

There once was an angel who loved the sky more than anything.

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Grace (Gen)

Crowley liked churches, and Aziraphale pretended that he didn’t know.

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Hymns (Gen)

Crowley sang hymns long forgotten to the choirs of heaven.

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I Choose You (Gen)

Some people believe in soul mates. Crowley was not one of those people.

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Unsaid (Gen)

Aziraphale could fill entire books with words he’s left unsaid. If he transcribed every utterance he’d bitten back on his tongue, he’d find that he had covered enough pages that he could line every bookshelf he owned. 

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Giggly (Gen)

Aziraphale had a problem, and that problem wore skinny jeans and strutted around like he was more limb than substance.

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Flicker (Teen+)

“Crowley,” Aziraphale mumbled into the demon’s lips as they kissed. “You’re doing it again.”

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Bigger Than These Bones (Teenish)

Crowley was most definitely not human. That fact must be made abundantly clear.

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Get Your Ducks in a Row (Gen)

The angel paid him no mind as he stopped in the middle of the path and turned around, forcing Crowley to stop, too. “Crowley, please, would you mind explaining the ducklings?!”

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A Sort of Wickedness (Teenish)

There’s a sort of wickedness to his smile, Crowley notices, and he wonders how he didn’t see it from the start. But that’s why they go together so well, isn’t it? Just as Crowley has a little of the light running through his veins, Aziraphale has just a lick of the dark, there below the surface.

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Not Made To Love (Gen)

Demons are not made to love. That is the only explanation Crowley can come up with for the way he feels ready to come apart at the seams. 

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Where Legends Are Born (Gen)

Crowley walked the streets of legend and saw the world unfold before him.

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Constellations (Gen)

Aziraphale had stars covering his skin.

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Paint the Sky (Teen)

Crowley used to paint. His brush was the cosmos and his canvas was the universe, infinite and vast. With just one stroke, he could bring the sky to life.

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I Love You (Gen)

It was unexpected, almost. Aziraphale wouldn't have thought it (though, that was more because he had never allowed himself to dwell on such things) but, despite all of Crowley's rough edges and walls he had built to protect himself from getting hurt, he loved incredibly freely and easily.

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Made To Love (Gen)

Crowley was made to love Aziraphale, he was sure of it.

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The Truth (Gen)

Fic request: Crowley gushing to The Them about Aziraphale

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Harmony (Gen)

Crowley’s love was a hurricane; wild and all-consuming, it surged within him until there was room for little else.

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Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before (Gen)

Crowley relaxed even further into his lover’s lap and closed his eyes. “Can you tell me a story?”

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Eden (Gen)

They met for the first time in the garden, but not atop the outer wall, on the day of the first rain.

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Me-ow! (Gen)

“Oh, good lord- I’m jealous of a cat.”

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*bang*bang* Tartan Love! Whoa! (Gen)

It’s ridiculous, really, the things Crowley will do for love. Walk across consecrated ground. Run inside a burning building. Change the upholstery in his Bentley to bloody tartan.

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First Kisses (Gen)

The first time Aziraphale had leaned forward and closed the six thousand year long distance between them to kiss Crowley, he had made a strangled sound much like a giraffe choking on a twig and promptly fallen to the floor.

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Call Me Angel (Gen)

Aziraphale still remembered the first time Crowley had called him ‘angel.’

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Warmth (Gen)

The lump of tartan blankets on the couch in the back room of Aziraphale’s shop appeared with the first snowfall after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t.

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Your Hand in Mine (Gen)

They held hands on the wall.

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Titus Anacondicus (Gen)

...and maybe Aziraphale had just confessed to six thousand years worth of longing to a snake that was not actually Crowley at all.

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An Absolute Angel (Gen)

In retrospect, Aziraphale probably could have avoided making an utter fool of himself if he had simply asked Crowley if they could meet up to compare disguises before making their way to the Dowling residence. As it was, he was lucky he didn’t blow the whole con by turning into a blushing mess during his job interview the moment Crowley stepped into kitchen as Nanny Ashtoreth.

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Companion (Gen)

Though he never talked about it, Aziraphale was ancient. One of the first angels.

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Sunrise (Gen)

[Aziraphale] had already filled this sky with his favorite colors (every shade of blue and the lightest yellows imaginable) but now the sunrise had him a bit stumped.

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He Loves You, Idiot (Gen)

If Crowley hadn't known any better, he would have thought that Aziraphale was in love with him.

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Treasure Beneath Gold (Gen)

Crowley, in the guise of Aziraphale, fidgeted nervously on the bench as he awaited the angel’s return from hell.

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Accidental Miracles (Gen)

It was too much. Aziraphale was in love and it was too much.

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Forgiveness (Gen)

“Forgive me,” Aziraphale whispers as he presses his lips to tear tracked cheeks.

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He Knows (Gen)

‘I love you,’ Crowley says, not with words, but with his actions...

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All This Time (Gen)

Aziraphale has a husband. This is news to Crowley.

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Nothing Rhymes With Aziraphale (Gen)

Crowley took to writing when the moments without Aziraphale seemed to stretch into infinity. There was something about the repetitive scratch of the quill against the parchment that seemed to calm him; maybe it was just the way it seemed to drown out the part of him that had (unforgivably) learned to miss someone.

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By Any Other Name (Gen)

Crowley wasn’t sure what exactly went wrong, but somehow, his lunch date with Aziraphale had ended with the angel acting like a complete nervous mess. OR the one where Crowley tries out various pet names.

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The Other Side of the Coin (Collection) (Role-Swap AU)

The Beginning (Gen)

An angel and a demon meet outside of Eden.

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Azra and the Antichrist (Gen)

Azra rides a bicycle and misplaces a baby. Raphael makes Gabriel drink coffee.

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On Being a Bastard (Teen)

The first time Raphael had called him ‘bastard’ Azra was, understandably, a little bit insulted.

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The Bentley (Gen)

"I still don't understand," Raphael said, as he maneuvered his Bentley at breakneck speed through the busy streets of London.

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From an Outside Perspective (Collection)

A Little Secret (Gen)

Brother Francis, during the course of his employment for the Dowlings, always seemed to be on the very cusp of being fired.

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Local Idiots Terrorize Ducks at St. James Park (Gen)

There was a small group of ducks at St. James park that were far more intelligent than any ducks had any right to be. This tended to happen when certain celestial beings were involved.

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Ducks! They’re what you practice proposals on. (Gen)

It wasn’t everyday you walked into St. James’ park to find a man down on one knee, ring box in hand, declaring his undying love to a duck, but it seemed today was a day of absurdities, because that was exactly what was happening.

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Snark (Snake Park)

As a spy, Agent [redacted] of the British Bureau of [redacted] had seen some, for lack of a more elegant word, shit. Which is why when the sunglasses wearing redhead in St. James’ Park turned into a massive snake in broad daylight, he didn’t bat an eye.

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Because I Love You (Gen)

This is too much. They barely survived the apocalypse, barely survived getting offed by their head officers, and now Crowley asks him for this?

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Mr. Fell and Mr. Fell (Gen)

Crowley once again changes his name.

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Allow Me (Teen for blood)

Heaven orders Aziraphale to kill a human. Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.

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Third Time’s the Charm (Gen)

For the prompt “please marry me.”

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Routine (Gen)

For the prompt “why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

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Sentimentality (Gen)

Aziraphale keeps his most treasured possession in a cigar box that finds its home nestled in the tea cupboard next to the angel’s favorite brand of earl grey.

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It’s Always Been You (Gen)

A love story told in reverse.  

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God Only Knows (what I'd be without you) (Teen) (4/8 chapters)

Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages, but each time they meet it is for the first time.

AO3 Only

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Exorcism (Gen)

Aziraphale and Crowley fake some exorcisms.

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An Unfortunate Lack of 'Wahoo's (Gen)

“–And then I finished my presentation, Angel, my really good presentation, I might add, you would have been proud, I used notecards and everything. Notecards, Angel!”

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On the Stars (Gen)

I hung the stars for you.

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I See You (Gen)

Crowley sees Aziraphale in the sunrise. He sees him in the light as it graces the sky with color and warmth.

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One, Two, Three (Four) (Gen)

Each time they meet, it's like a dance.

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Big Spooky Fan, Me (Collection)

Trick or Treat! (Gen)

Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis take Warlock Trick or Treating.

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A Dark and Spooky Night (Gen)

Aziraphale and Crowley tell scary stories.

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traditions, old and new ( winter fic collection)

Traditions (Gen)

And suddenly, it’s about traditions made together.

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[pikelansource]

Class AU part 2 Love Domain Pike

Pikelan day prompt: CLASS SWAP (part 1, Swashbuckler Scanlan)

inspired by fanart

When Scanlan Shorthalt heard the words “Grog’s sister the cleric,” not many ideas beyond Grog in a wig with a magical staff came to mind, so he was extraordinarily surprised to meet Pike Trickfoot, a very cute gnomish adept of Sehanine, patron of moonlight and illusions, the fey goddess of trickery and lovers trysts.

He could not believe his luck. 

Scanlan had never paid more attention to Sehanine more than any other god, even though she did sound, admittedly, right up his alley. Faith wasn’t really his thing. Devotion sounded even worse. And idea of giving himself wholly to not just someone but some thing in the cosmos made him laugh, except for a tiny space deep in his stomach that didn’t find it amusing at all, and in fact, found it just a bit infuriating megapowerful celestial beings leveraged magic for people’s love and how unfair that was. Since Scanlan didn’t like to think things like unfairness, he didn’t. He would scrounge for magic all on his own, thank you very much.

But the mischievous glint in the eyes of the black-haired cleric and the ever present waves of love she exuded really could be.

Except it didn’t take long to see that while Pike had a needed skill in healing, Pike and Scanlan’s specialties in magic overlapped a bit. She did things differently, her magic imbued with a strangely close, warm divine feeling that was totally foreign to want he knew. But the first time there was a witness not responding to questions and Scanlan prepared to charm him, Pike stepped in before him to do it herself.

He saw the soft warmth of her magic around her perform a charm that previously he’d never known anyone but himself to do. It was beautiful.

And he hated it. 

She could charm and inspire and make some illusions and heal. All the skills Scanlan had to offer, spread out in slightly different directions. Scanlan had worked with groups before, traveled around for fire to kill beasts or find treasure, but his time with them never lasted long. And he figured it would be the same this time. Why would they need two gnomes with similar magic, when she was a much stronger healer?

Scanlan decided to take the opportunity of The Shits arriving in a new bustling town to part ways with the group. Quick and easy, he snuck out of his shared room at the Inn, not even disturbing Grog’s heavy snoring. But Pike stopped him not more than three steps down the stairs that went down to the now mostly abandoned tavern of the late late night or early early morning.

She was just unnaturally there, sitting on the stairwell landing, under a window the moon shone through. There was a covered bench smelling faintly of stale beer and the ancient wooden planks off the inn wheezed beneath them whenever either of them moved, but she smiled serenely like she belonged there in her slinky red nightgown and lacy pink robe and the glittering pendant of Sehanine she always wore.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

He quickly ate the frown that had appeared on his face. It wasn’t good to let people know what you were thinking. “Goodbye, sugar. It was fun while it lasted. Give my regards to The Shits. If we ever cross paths in the future, I’ll be sure to skip town before I’m settled with another bar tab.”

He attempted to continue on his way, but her soft voice, reminiscent of some kind of frosted cookie he always felt for some reason, wafted across him like crowbar to the kneecap.

“Leaving us won’t make you less afraid.”

Once he could swallow the gorge of unexpected emotion back down to wherever he hid it normally, Scanlan turned to look at her. In a move of unexpected cruelty, her perfect gnomish face was a perfect composition of perfect kindness tinged with sadness.

“Who’s afraid of anything? Possessions? Gross necromancers? Hulking monsters? That’s the adventuring life and I’ve been doing it longer than any of you.”

“No, that’s true. I was a little surprised by that, but that’s not what you’re afraid of.”

Scanlan sighed, gratified by the annoyance. “Can the cryptic. I’m leaving because it doesn’t make any sense to have two people with the same skillset on a team.”

“I really don’t think overlap is the problem. Our methods are different enough. And Vex and Percy both deal ranged attacks. Vex and Vax are both sneaky. Redundancy isn’t bad.”

“Well, you’re not the one being made redundant so your opinion on the topic is of limited value to me,” Scanlan said, trying for an edge he normally didn’t have.

It may have succeeded, a sour little frown appeared on Pike’s face. Unless she was in battle, she always looked beatific as standard fare. So he felt a small degree of satisfaction in winging her on his way out, as it were.

“I don’t look at it that way. It’s fine that we can both rely on charms. It’s fine that we both have illusions and boons at our disposal. It’s great that we can both heal.”

“Except you can heal more than I can, and if you can cover all the other areas I’m situationally useful in, why would they need me?”

“Ah, so” she said knowingly. “It’s not just that you have to be special, you have to be useful too.” 

Terrifyingly, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There were plenty of times he had no plan for what he was going to say, but it was rare indeed that the well was ever empty. She continued to speak in his place and given the circumstances, he couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“Is that why you’ve left every other group you’ve been with? Someone else could do the things you can do?”

“We--we’re adventurers!” Scanlan said, raising his voice to a level he did, maybe once every five years. “Everyone has to be useful. Why are we even doing these things if not to succeed, get gold, or renown, or hell, even turn a good deed every once in a while. And you can’t do any of those things if everyone on the team doesn’t play their part. With you here, I don’t exactly have a part, do I?”

Pike’s face softened again with sympathy, that kindness within her blooming on her face again, in her cheeks and her eyes. And while it was lovely, it only made Scanlan angrier because that hadn’t been his goal at all. At least point, he wanted her mad, at least a portion as angry as he was, so he could leave feeling safe with a bridge burned behind him.

“Of course you still have a part, Scanlan. So what if we do some of the same things. We do them entirely differently. We think about illusions and charms differently. Just as Sehanine will, hopefully, continue to bless me with gifts no one else can understand, you use the arcane in a way none of us can understand either. And I’m surprised you never thought this worth mentioning considering how often I’ve heard you brag about it, but... Scanlan, you’re a bard! Just being that you can get us audiences with people we would have never otherwise. You’ve created stories about us that people know about Vox Machina before we’ve even met them. So, I’m sorry you felt like I was replacing you, but maybe you can understand that to me it seems at least a little bit like you’re fooling yourself so you don’t have to get any more comfortable with us than you already have.”

After waiting for a word from Scanlan that did not come, Pike continued, “Because that’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? Attachments. Real ones that really attach to you. Loving people, or letting people love you. Either or.”

He was laden down with his bags, pouches, bedroll, a lute, flute, and a shawm and they all felt like a hundredweight heavier. Still he shook his head.

“You obviously aren’t familiar with the legacy of Scanlan Shorthalt. I’ve loved many people. Probably hundreds,” he said, but even to him his voice was empty of the humor or bravado that gave him his usual panache. It was just empty. It had always been empty, only now he couldn’t pretend.

Pike touched her holy symbol, grasped her fingers around it reverently even though she must have been blindly intimate with it at this point. Yet still, reverent.

It made him think. He hated thinking.

“You can leave if you really want to, Scanlan,” she said. “But I wouldn’t be happy with myself if I let you leave thinking you needed to, or that you aren’t allowed to want something else.”

Scanlan looked down the stairs to the empty tavern and back at the moonlight spilling over Pike’s dark hair.

“Maybe I should give it more time. Think it over. If you’re... okay working together.”

Pike’s smile lit up the small tiny space deep in his stomach that, if normally anything at all, was dull and bitter and distant, now felt lighter and more present.

“Good.” She rose and stood shoulder to shoulder with him as they walked back towards the rooms Vox Machina had rented.

“But I should probably confess something.”

“Well, well, well, a cleric’s confession,” he said, with more humor than he felt, still reeling from all her words, but really, truthfully, “I definitely want to hear that.”

“You need to stay for your own reasons, that’s true, but I still have selfish reasons for wanting you to stay.“

“Oh?” Scanlan said casually, white-knuckling the strap for his lute around his chest.

“Sehanine loves music,” Pike said with a devilish smile.

Scanlan thought that was all she would say, but she paused, leaned into Scanlan’s space and kissed his cheek. Just a soft press of her lips that left a warm lingering pulse spread across his face.

“I love music.”

And with that, Pike left him.

For the first time in a long time, when he went back into his room, and put down his packs and supplies and bedroll, he was pretty sure it was a decision his heart made.

[godlydolans]

maybe you could concept the reader finding out about Grays feelings and what comes with that? I think your writing is stellar and don’t want you to feel like you have to- but this could be a different continuation than the Anya confrontation if you’re not feeling inspired for that?

Part 1

It was a beautiful night. Not one cloud could be seen in the sky, it was cristal clear. No moon, but filled with stars. Grayson didn’t remember when he had seen the stars look as clear and shining like diamonds of all colours and sizes, as they did tonight. It was truly magnificent.

She was sitting with her feet in the pool, leaning back on her hands as she watched the sky, smiling softly to herself.

And he watched her. He watched how her eyes, as dark as night, twinkled as she watched the stars above. He noticed how her long hair was flowing gently in the breeze, jet black and wavy, parted slightly to the right but not exactly. It always looked like a centre part, but it was just the tiniest bit to the right. You almost wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t paying attention.

Grayson did. He didn’t even know when exactly he paid so much attention to notice it. It feels like he always knew.

“You know what that is?” She suddenly spoke, her eyes still trained on the sky. Grayson just then realised that, sometime while he was busy looking at her, he had stopped backstroking. Standing in the pool, he looked at the star she was pointing at and frowned.

“Star?” He guessed, knowing his answer was pretty dumb and got his reward when she chuckled, shaking her head as she gazed down at him.

“Yeah, a star.” She was smiling with her teeth now and Grayson felt the thumping of his heart get louder. God, when she trained those midnight eyes on him, he lost the ability to think. “Vega.”

Sporting the golden grin that was notorious for leaving women and some men spellbound, Grayson swam to her. She leaned forward. Placing her elbows on her knees, she rested her chin on her intertwined hands. Grayson folded his own arms on the warm floor beside her.

“Vega?”

“Yes! It’s one of the stars that form the Summer Triangle, see?” Grayson turned and looked up, easily finding the triangle the three stars formed as she traced them with her pointer finger. “Vega is the brightest,” her finger moved down, down, down to the second star of the triangle, “Altair, the second brightest, and the last one, Deneb.”

She gave a sad little smile at the last name and Grayson looked back at the stars to understand why. Where Vega was the brightest, having a blue-ish glimmer to it, Altair was not too bad either with its gleaming white sheen. Deneb, though, not only was it dull in comparison to the other two, it also was smaller and overall, appeared lacklustre in front of Altair and Vega.

“Altair and Vega, those would be really cool baby names, huh?”

She laughed, causing him to smile. “I was just waiting for you to say that!”

Grayson grinned, “I’m too predictable for my own good.”

“I just know you, so I know babies are never far from your thoughts.” She fleshed him an amused grin, “but yeah, they are really cool names. There’s a story about Altair and Vega.”

“What is it.” Grayson pushed himself out of the pool and situated himself beside her, so close, their thighs were touching as his feet dangled in the water like hers did.

“Vega was a celestial princess, goddess of the sky. Because she was immortal, she feared she would whole life alone.” She stopped and gave Grayson a knowing smile. Like you, the words didn’t escape her lips, but he knew she was thinking them. Grayson blushed, looking away with a shy smile on his own lips. He usually didn’t get to spend anytime alone with her, and he didn’t know how to act around her when she smiled at him like that, spoke to his in that soft, intimate voice, sitting right next to him with nothing more than an oversized tee over her bikini. “Altair was a human. He had a great talent for playing the flute. Sure enough, one evening, he was practising an old love melody on his flute and Vega was listening from the sky. The melody was so beautiful that Vega couldn’t stop herself from coming down to Earth and know who was playing it. That is how she met Altair. From that day onwards, he used to play the flute every night and she used to come down for him every night. They would sit together, talk and he would teach her how to play the instrument. Slowly but surely, they fell in love.”

Grayson watched as she started to play with the water under her fingertips. She would gently sway her fingers from left to right, so softly, like the water was too fragile to take her touch. Then she would create tiny ripples in the water with the pads of her fingers before gliding her fingers on the surface of it. Grayson was getting breathless watching the simplest things she did. Her fingers, long and slender, looked so beautiful gleaming under the water, he wanted to take them and kiss every inch.

Jesus, he was so in love, it hurt.

“Vega’s father got wind of the affair and he was furious. He didn’t like the fact that his divine daughter was mingling with a mere mortal. He sent the Lady of the sky, his wife to bring Vega back. She went down to Earth and dragged a screaming and crying Vega back to the sky, away from Altair. Altair couldn’t handle this and he tried to search for a way through which he could see Vega. He had an old bull that used to belong to his late father. The bull had magical abilities and it told Altair to climb on its back and that it would take him to the sky. The lady of the sky noticed Altair coming and before he could reach Vega, she used her magic and created a river of stars in his path to separate them. We call that river of stars the Milky Way Galaxy.”

“Whoa!” Grayson, usually one of the loudest people in the room, murmured slowly, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the magical moment, “I wasn’t expecting that twist. What a fucking bitch? She destroyed her own daughter’s happiness.”

“Well, she didn’t know how serious Vega was about Altair. She just thought it was a fleeting attraction that would go away. But she understood that clearly wasn’t the case when months passed and Vega still didn’t get over Altair. Still heartbroken over being separated from the only man she could and would ever love. Finally, her father took pity on the two lovers and created a wide bridge of magpies across the river, hoping for them to fulfil their love.

“So each year, on the seventh night of the seventh moon, a bridge of magpies forms across the river and Altair dares to travel to his beloved. They wait for that one day out of the whole year where they can be together again, just to be torn apart again for another long and lonely year.”

The story ended and there was a beat of silence between the two. She gathered her hair and put it over one shoulder, looking at the ends like she was looking for damage. She did this often, when she was deep in thought. Grayson wondered how those glossy strands would feel between his fingers, how they would look against his pillow. Black silk shining against the stark white of his pillowcase. The image brought blood rushing to his face, and another area below his waist that he didn’t even want to think about at the moment.

If he got arroused, he’d just jump back into the pool, he decided.

“Why are the most beautiful love stories usually the tragic ones?” Grayson asked the question with no hope of getting an answer. It was a genuine thought, but he also voiced it to divert his mind from images of her in his bed. How could he expect her to give him an answer to that when the man she loved was married to someone else? To her own sister, no less. She didn’t know love, she only knew tragedy.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, giving him a half hearted chuckle that he easily saw past.

“Maybe true love is one that never ends in happiness.” Grayson mused, feeling his heart sink into the pit of his stomach at his own idea.

“Um, that’s a very negative way of looking at it.”

“Reality is usually always harsh.”

This brought a genuine laugh out of her, a head thrown back and eyes closed kind of laugh. Man, it was always a treat to see her laugh, especially when he was the reason behind it.

“Gray, you always sound like a spurned lover! Believe me, you won’t be alone forever.” Hadn’t he heard that a thousand times before? Coming from her mouth, the words did the opposite of making him feel better. The idea of being with anyone other than her brought a sour taste in his mouth. He hated it. She apparently took his less than happy expression for his disbelief at her words. “You don’t believe me now, but you’ll see that I’m right, one day. I mean, look at you! You’re every girl’s dream guy! You’re young, talented, hardworking, wealthy, gorgeous beyond words and one of the purest human beings I know.” Grayson’s heart skipped a few beats as he watched her say such sweet things about him, things that he always wanted her to say to him. But not in the context that she did.

You’re every girl’s dream guy.

Yeah, every girl but one. One that I truly want. One that is my dream girl.

“Look at me,” She lifted his chin to bring his eyes back to her hauntingly beautiful ones and his heart squeezed in his chest. Why couldn’t she have fallen for him instead of his brother? Why couldn’t it be him? Grayson loved his brother more than life itself, but he was cursing him in his mind for being the only man she could and would ever love. “You should have the universe, the sky and every star in it. And you will. One day, you will. You’ll see.”

He saw. He saw her and she was all he saw.

Only she didn’t see that she was the whole universe, the sky and all the stars for him.

Because she was too busy looking at the Summer Triangle and seeing Ethan in Altair and her sister, Anya in Vega. She was too busy seeing herself in Deneb. The star that nobody noticed in front of the other two’s beauty and shine.

The thing is, she had always thought she was the Vega to Ethan’s Altair, and her sister was just in the middle. Now, as she sat there gazing up at the stars while they were probably somewhere in Greece for their honeymoon, it was quite clear that for them, there was no triangle. They only ever saw each other. It was she would had created this triangle in her own mind.

Deneb can never compare to Vega.

It didn’t matter that she’d seen Ethan first, because her sister had seen him next.