#I don’t…… like going ‘it’s vessel’s altar’ cause while that is what it is it’s very much so a fictional one. probably from my fics.

[foxgloveinspace]

Finally figured out how to save pics from procreate haha.

Headcanon sleep altar.

[deviltoys]

― this is my first time requesting so let's hope i don't fuck this up [lmao].

taking tobio's [who's the pastor's son] virginity and watching him ask for forgiveness for doing something so inappropriate in the church but then you proceed to degrade him. 🙇

— ‘𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗼𝗹𝘆 𝘃𝗼𝘄𝘀.’

tobio kageyama x top!male reader. (wc; ?)

#a/n: stop. this is my favorite request, ever. virginity loss ‘n blasphemy??? hello? too fuckin’ good, been cravin’ a good virgin tobio. thank you fer’ this, it was perfect!

warings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, virginity loss, sacrilege, taboo acts, incest, age gap (18-30), pastor!reader, exhibitionism, sex in a church, misusage of the bible, religious speak, little to no prep, dumbification, creampie, degrading, manipulation, corruption, belly bulge, daddy k.

juvenile ministry took up a huge chunk of the church you operated. being the father to tobio kageyama, it was only natural that he was a frequent volunteer for the group of children who'd visit you both to be taught the righteous laws of god.

your boy was so doting with kids, it lay a smile across your lips to see him so devoted as you'd help demonstrate an array of practices to the youth. he was an apprentice of some sort— you two had a closely knit relationship when it came to chruch work.

almost a little too close.

nobody would ever suspect a thing, right? their nurturing pastor and his passionate son; they wouldn't dream of commiting any corrupt acts against the lord they so dearly fawned about.

the children certainly wouldn't know, such mindless followers. that's why during youth hours the two of you would mysteriously ‘disappear’ while everyone else contributed holy related activities to do while father y/n and tobio went to assist the lord.

you had be fighting the urge to take your son aside and tear his tiny body in half right there inside the sacred haven. but poor little tobio was a virgin, nobody would dare attempt to be the one who would strip the priest’s son of his innocence. you and the younger male had only gone as far as sucking on each others lips or caressing one another in sensual ways that would surely be forbidden by the church.

it was unethical practice to do anything under sexual pretense inside the chapel; with your offspring no less. you were already commiting unforgivable acts unbeknownst to your fellow ministers— what was one more? just another sin strewn onto the pile of ones you had been collecting throughout the years.

the line between faith and abandonment finally blurred out when you caught your little kageyama with pants a size to small for his waist. the fabric rode up, perfectly rounding out and drawing scrutiny to his chubby ass. you were well aware of the scandalous gestures he would send your way while he kept his attention on the children. wiggling his ass out every so often was his main form of communicating his intentions.

he was at last ready to make his daddy proud, giving his body to him as though you were christ himself; submitting to you.

all of his coherent brain function was corrupt by you a long time past, the degenerate acts you two would shun from the eye of society had finally caught up to him. he needed the embrace of his dad, his loving, heavenly father that would fill his holes up with the holy spirit.

“tobio, follow me for a second please? i need to speak with you privately for awhile.” a forged grin took reign of your lips, softly signalling for your son as you escorted him through the barren temple halls. after he had finished passing out coloring activities for the group to engross in, he swiftly followed your lead.

“yes father, what is it that-” you barely gave kageyama a warning before slipping your forearms under his thighs, entangling the remainder of his limbs around your lower and upper body. you lifted his smaller from with ease, hot breath tickling the shell of his ear as your tone dropped to a deep whisper.

“are you ready to give your body to our savior, tobio?”

“yes father y/n, yes i am.”

that was all the confirmation you needed to proceed with blessing him. abandoning your clothes at the altar of god, you began to strip the boy attached to your body. steadily yanking down his suit pants, your cock already springing to life as his own came into view.

it was insatiably erect, you forbid your son from even being curious when it came to exploring his hormones. you knew one day keeping him fresh, unexposed to lewd activity would come in handy.

and it did, oh god it did.

his body was sensitive to the touch, you were concerned he was going to cum without you even putting a hand near his bulge. much less before the fun started. it was like caressing a rock, he was so stiff, the tip already dribbling a tiny bit of pre by the time you were able to finish your first stroke to the hilt.

after giving a few more measly flicks to the head of his cock; you guided tobio’s naked body towards the bible you had prepped specifically for this occasion. the oak pulpit stood tall amongst the various rows of seats— at the head of the stand was kageyama; exposed, ass out, and face burried deep inside the open book sprawled out for easy reading.

he could barely squeak out the first few passages as your lube coated fingers spread his cheeks and stretched his virgin hole to a worthy size; able to fit your fat cock.

it burned and ached, the agony of your fingers poking around his walls overthrew any noticable pleasure that may have slipped in unnoticed; it was torture. he thought intimacy was supposed to feel good. he should've listened when you told him it wasn't fun, how it was a crime against god and how he'd be severely punished for doing as such until he was proposed to by the right man.

but you were the right man, at least that's what you would tell him. so why was it so discomforting, so harsh? you weren't purposefully harming him were you? the paranoia was getting to him, it was so overwhelming, the thought of the man he adored so dearly causing him pain. hot, salty tears pricked his eyes, lashes catching any access fluid as they could meanwhile the clear streaks dusted his cheeks with red.

his hole was still barely twitching with anticipation, and would be for awhile; throwing your head back, you painfully fed kageyama’s rim your length. every inch that ventured just as deep as the last forced strained hiccups to seethe from behind his teeth. he was unbearably tight, his guts sucked you in while his walls showed heavy resistance— pushing you in and out of your trembling son.

“fucking hell.. dumb bitch, you’re so tight. ease up, i thought you'd serve me better- maybe i was wrong.”

no no, you were wrong, right? he was great, such an obedient little cocksleeve just for you, all for you. all he ever did was to please you; the man who he chased after for years, claiming he wasn't as nice as he predicted? panick only settle into him more, ruthlessly he began bucking his hips to match your unenthusiastic thrusts. attempting to appease you wasn't an easy feat, but he was so utterly devoted to you that the condition of his vessel meant nothing if it meant you were proud of him.

he attempted to slur out a form of quivering tongue with a few biblical quotes shoved in-between. whatever he was reciting wasn't human, infact you couldn't tell if he was fucked out or just anxious. whatever it was, your words had preformed their purpose; you were far too impatient to fully prepare him for the world of sex. forcing him to mature on the other hand seemed to run it's course— he was the one himself impelling himself onto at the end of the day.

your arms snaked around his tiny waist, hoisting his feet up and off the ground. the entirety of his lower half no longer met with the floor, steamy tears teased eyes while the remainder of his efforts worked into engulfing you whole. the stimulation of being carried off the ground just like that was unimaginable; only to have his pussy pounded mercilessly into the wooden podium.

“ack! ah.. mm. daddy, pl- please i can do better! m’promise, don't hold back- i want to feel every inch of you!” so vulgar, you weren't aware of tobio’s filthy mouth.

angling your hips to perfectly kiss his prostate with every shift in your pace, you plowed repeatedly into the spongy skin until he was no longer babbling on about anything coherent. whatever bible quote he was now listing off was lost within euphoria; his hole was loosening up more and more with each thrust you planted deep inside of his stomach.

he know knew how desperately he craved seeing your cum gush right out of his gaping ass. more than anything in the world.

“hah, what a stupid whore, letting your father fill up your belly like this? no wonder you can't do anything but flatter me.”

“m’not a stupid whore, daddy i promise!”

the way his cunt squelched around you told otherwise, you didn’t let up on the insults; constantly bombarding the male with word after word. his trembling thighs and drool stained expression prompted you to continue the vile humiliation.

“oh-ho yes you are, you're lucky i’m even taking the time to fuck you like this. the lord wouldn't dare touch you, so why should i? you're charity work kageyama, nothing but pity.”

giving his plump rear a deathly tight squeeze, you ramped up the vigor in your movements. aching breaths escape your nose as you send forth more shivers down the length of his spine— as much as he wants to keep you satisfied he can only withstand so much. this is his first time being lost within the rapturous waves of an orgasm. religious words still on the tip of his tongue as your name bounces off the empty church hull.

there's a puddle of semen beneath you at his feet, he's cum far too many times for you to count and he's just now; once again fighting for release. his limp, shaking shaft all swollen as it spurts out the umpteenth load that session.

you swiftly follow behind, using the last bit of strength in your twitching thigh muscles— you sent your hips forward, fully submerging your fat cock down his rectum. he yelps almost violently, but he adores it. the way you use up his spent hole. the amusement in his moans fizzle once he finally comes to his senses, realizing there's no cum sliding down his guts and into his tummy. the expected feeling of warm, sticky fluid staining his intestines was the big prize he was looking forward to.

“don’t you remember, your only use is to please me tobio. and you couldn't even do that, that's why you don't get daddy's cum. understand?” a disappointed glare forms on your face, once he's luckily unable to see.

he implores like you've never heard from anyone before, you've had your fair share of sexual favours under the church’s nose. but the dark haired male in particular was one of a kind, he was begging you for your seed like his life was dependant on whether or not you fufilled his lustful desires. he needed your cum, right there, right now.

even attempting to guide your entirely hard cock right back into his enormous asshole, which you allowed. your composure was iron-willed, you knew you could cum on command if need be. giving into his sinful fantasies, you pistoned yourself balls deep once more— your hands moving his hips for him as he pleaded for the sweet release of your fluids.

“please daddy, m’such a good cum dump! i promise, please just cum inside of me. i need it, i’ll do anything! anything!”

anything indeed, you had just the thing in mind. and you were sure tobio wouldn't refute, how could he? there wasn't any other choice, it was your cum or no cum. simple as that.

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 55: Disclosure

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty-Five: Disclosure

Note: I know you’ve been waiting a long time for the answers, and now you’ve got them. This is the beginning of the end in regards to the secrets surrounding Belial’s Arc and what he hopes to gain. Enjoy… if you can.

(-~-)

It didn’t take long for everyone present in the house to make their way to the living room, especially once it was revealed that information pertaining to them had been unearthed. Despite the fact that Brenowin and Morgan hadn’t known Sirrus for more than about a day, the fact that everyone else seemed to know or otherwise welcome him was really all that it took for them to be willing to at least listen to him. And from what they could tell, he had no compelling reason to lie to them about anything.

Making the executive decision that it was probably best that they all know about what was going on, Dante called Lady and Trish, both of whom were luckily not far away, and seemed to have just finished a job a few hours prior. They agreed to come over and see what was going on despite the fact that it was probably a bit too early for them. They both sounded like they had just woken up when they’d answered the phone. That would surely get him shot in the head later on.

But what was more of a surprise to anyone that knew him was the fact that Vergil had actually made a similar decision. Taking a moment to step aside and make a phone call, Vergil had subsequently disappeared for several minutes to go and fetch Magnolia, something that had gone completely unnoticed until they had come back through the front door together just a short while after. It wasn’t a new notion that Vergil was capable of benign stealthy, but none of them had realized until then that he was able to dip out of a crowded room and just disappear from everyone’s consciousness. Perhaps they had spent too much time actively tuning him out until now? Even Dante hadn’t noticed at the time, more than likely because he’d been talking to Lady on the phone.

Within a few minutes of their return, Lady and Trish came around, and they had brought along Morrison. According to them, they had run into him as they were leaving, the middle man presumably interested in getting in contact with them to offer a job. Or, at the very least curious as to how well the last job they had been on together had gone for them. Dante wouldn’t have been surprised if Morrison had been the one to provide them with whatever work they had been doing lately. He was resourceful like that.

As was Ludwig family tradition at that point, Flora made a fresh pot of tea that everyone was welcome to share. If she was going to sit there and listen to Sirrus talk for goodness knew how long, she wasn’t going to do it without a cup of tea in her hands, especially since Magnolia had brought a tray of macaroons with her when she’d arrived. Vergil’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect, in her opinion.

“Ok, so what’s up?” Nero said nonchalantly as he sat down on the couch next to V. Considering everything that had happened recently, he was pretty sure that nothing Sirrus could say would be particularly shocking to him, and he was hoping that he wouldn’t be proven wrong in that regard. “You said that you had something to tell us?”

Sirrus nodded, watching as everyone settled in and made themselves comfortable. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about repeating himself. The only person who wasn’t there was Nico, but it would have taken several hours for her to reach their location. Or perhaps it wouldn’t, considering her driving skills... 

“First, I’d like to start by making it clear that I have obtained some of this information from Aluta and Willow, so if you’d like more in-depth information, you will have to contact them. I’m just the messenger in that regard.”

Various members of the team either shrugged or nodded in response, silently indicating that they would like for him to continue. He leaned back against the corner of the wall nearest to the window, the warmth from the fireplace licking his subconscious as he tuned its presence out, for the most part, noting its existence, but not sparing much in the way of attention to it. He drew a long breath before proceeding, sure that he was about to ruin several people’s day in the process. Oh, how he hated that sort of thing. Being the bearer of bad news was never pleasant, but in cases like this, it was a necessary evil. One way or another, someone was going to have to tell them. It might as well be him.

Gesturing for him to continue, Vergil sat down in one of the armchairs nearest to the couch. He wasn’t quite sitting next to V, but he was as close to doing to as it was possible to be without actually doing it. The young summoner seemed to silently note this for a moment, allowing his gaze to travel towards how father, but otherwise not reacting. He was clearly anticipating bad news, and considering everything that was going on and the fact that he was locked in a losing battle against a devil prince, that was more than understandable.

“Now that we have that out of the way, I’d like to say that I’m genuinely sorry to always be the bearer of bad news in these instances. What am I, the wild hunt?” Sirrus scoffed and shook his head before realizing that that at least half of the people in the room didn’t have any idea what that even was. He then sighed and folded his arms around himself. “Would you prefer that I get straight to the point, or go into a bit more detail?”

“Considering the implications of what I assume you are here to tell us, I would prefer the former and then the latter,” V said softly, rubbing his arm absentmindedly in an attempt to soothe it. Just thinking about what was going on was enough to make the malevolent ink that coursed his veins tingle from excitement, something that the rest of his biological composition didn’t approve of or appreciate very much.

Putting his arm behind his back, Sirrus nodded in a manner more akin to that of a curtsy than anything else. He glanced over at Morgan who in turn nodded in agreement. She didn’t need him to ask for her to be able to tell that he was awaiting her permission to continue. He then cleared his throat before leaning over and pouring a few sips of wine that he summarily gulped down in the least refined manner possible. He hadn’t spoken a word yet, and he already hated this conversation.

“Fair enough. I suppose nothing worthwhile is accomplished by beating around the bush all day, is there? We all have things to do and places to be.” He went in for another topped-off glass, indirectly signifying to everyone in the room that he almost certainly didn’t want to be here talking about this right now. “The Ludwin family sent some of their family members to go and investigate Belial’s activities and they have found an almost definitive answer as to what he wants with both Morgan and V. I trust that you don’t need me to tell you it’s not to simply spread the good word.”

“No, I suppose you do not.” Vergil wasn’t amused, but he was also keenly aware of the fact that Sirrus hadn’t exactly meant that in a humorous way. He’d clearly been using his cynicism and sarcasm as a coping device. “Continue.”

With a casual shrug, Sirrus turned his attention back to V and Morgan. “V, do you recall what you said about the attack that destroyed Lympha about three years ago?”

To the surprise of no one, they both nodded. Morgan looked as though she would become sick to her stomach at the mention of that place, but she did remember. There was no way that she would ever forget. V looked down at the floor for a moment in discomfort, considering the possibility of speaking. But when he finally did, it wasn’t about the town. “How did you hear about that, Sirrus? You were outside.”

Sirrus nodded in agreement, reaching for another glass of wine but finding that the bottle was a bit too close to being empty for his liking. “Your quite right. I was with Nico. But I have very good hearing, and I am not at all ashamed to admit that I did, in fact, eavesdrop on you. I can see why you’d find that strange, however. My apologies if I’ve upset you or caused you undue confusion.”

V seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, brushing his concerns aside. He had done nothing to offend him. He would know if he’d done something to cause V any distress to the young summoner. That made sense. After all, Sirrus was not exactly a normal person, and he had several abilities that he knew very little about. “Think nothing of it. But please, what does this have to do with what happened in… that place?”

Leaning back again, Sirrus adjusted his shoulders. “It seems that before Belial disbanded his cult and destroyed just about every trace of it, he had tasked them to take care of something important. And that “something important” was in Lympha.” He turned to Morgan, his focus lingering on her for a moment as he attempted to find a tactful way to put into words what he wanted to say. “You made mention of an old story. Something about a prophecy?”

Morgan nodded. “Yea, it was something about how some settlers were run out of the area a few hundred years back on suspicion of being witches, and the leader of the coven’s son was killed before he could be used as a vessel of sorts of a ritual to bring back their fallen leader. She cursed the town or something like that. I think it was… “ she stopped, clearly unable to remember what all she was supposed to remember in that situation.

“And onto this land, I lay a binding of blood and bone. For never again shall the shadow depart. And the snow shall run red with the blood of the self-righteous until upon the altar of the Lord of the Disquieting the flesh of the so chosen repository is offered and the blood is spilled, melding their beings into one. And so he shall walk the damned soil again and hold dominion over the dominion of humanity as the storm holds dominion over the sky.” Sirrus looked displeased to have had to even speak those words. He didn’t like curses at the best of times, but full-on generational damnation? That was going several layers too far into the depths of insanity. “That is the first half of the actual prophecy. It was quite the thing to translate from Enochian, but I managed to do it on short notice once it was discovered in the Ludwig trove. Aluta deduced from what I shared with her about your story that it was relevant.”

Nodding in consideration, Dante seemed to linger on the words for a while. He clearly understood them, at least for the most part, but he was still at the end of his rope in regards to what that was related to in their exact circumstance. “Yea, that’s pretty metal and all, but what precisely does it have to do with V and Morgan?”

Realizing that he could stand to be a bit more transparent about it, Sirrus looked over at Morgan, displeased about what he needed to say. “The curse was created by a woman named Atropa Lundwick nearly exactly 500 years ago. She was the only survivor of a heinous attack by locals, and she was cursed herself at the time by those same townspeople after the deaths of her family. They apparently enchanted their crops to help them through the hard winter as an act of kindness, and they all nearly starved to death as a direct result of refusing to eat food that was “tainted by unnatural forces.” She was the matriarch of what you now know as the Ludwig family. That curse is the reason that members of the Ludwig family only ever have daughters. The locals incorrectly assumed that that would be a disadvantage to her. Fools.”

Flora and Magnolia both looked visibly horrified by the statement, but not at all angry. A sort of deep sorrow seemed to overtake them as they collectively realized the unintended butterfly effect that this still had on things in so many of their lives even to this day. It was a tragedy that had borne more tragedy, and no one had really emerged the winner in the situation. What a painful and shameful legacy for their ancestor to have left behind. “What does this have to do with V and Morgan, Sirrus.”

Taking note of the pain in Magnolia’s voice as she asked him that question, he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head in deep dissatisfaction. “For a cause to have any bearing, it has to have a source of anchoring, a natural or unnatural force to draw from. The Ludwin family at that time had dealing with several powerful demons as a result of their somewhat Umbran ancestry. One of the demons they guarded against was Belial, but once tragedy struck, Atropa sought the tutelage of the very devil she had sought to destroy, her grief gaining the upper hand as she mourned the death of her only son. She formed a pack with him, and that pact led to the enforcement of the curse. She used the power he lent her to see forward into a time that had not yet occurred for him, and the prophecy was borne of the outcome that favored him. She promised him everything if he succeeded, and ever since then, his influence strengthened by her curse has allowed him dominion for one season of the year over the town of Lympha to seek out his vessel. Her coven had never intended to sacrifice her son to him, but he had requested as much as he would have been a powerful asset to a devil prince who was physically incapable of crossing over into the human world.”

Morgan looked horrified. “So that’s what was wrong with all the people in the town? They were being subconsciously influenced by a curse and a demon all at once? That’s why the animals and anything else that ventured into the woods disappeared into the darkness? Because he was taking them to the underworld?”

Sirrus made a gesture to indicate that she was half right. “You’re mostly correct. Belial could not bring them into the underworld due to the fact that he could not open a gate, and there were no existing ones in the area. But he fed off of their fear, and he warped them into the horrible creatures that were sometimes seen around the town. Like in the story about the dog that you told V. At night his corruptive darkness changed those weak enough to be changed, and assimilated those who would not bend to his will, making the forest stronger. And it construed in a cycle unending until the day that his cult came to the city… looking for both of you.”

It was Nero’s turn to ask a question now, the young devil hunter clearly displeased by everything he had just learned. “But what did they want with V and Morgan as opposed to literally everyone else in that cursed hellhole of a town?”

The red-haired man gave him a sad smirk. “What did the Order of the Sword want with you in the grand scheme of their master plan?”

Nero seemed to think about the question for a moment before he visibly paled and felt the breath leave his lungs. Oh. Oh no. He didn’t mean that… He couldn’t mean that… 

“On their 20th birthday, every one of the young men in the town was compelled to enter the woods. This was a test on Belial’s part. He is the Lord of Disquieting from the prophecy. Apparently, he was testing the mental resolve of each of the potential vessels in the town. The one who could resist the incredibly powerful and increasingly strong pull of his influence would be the one he would pick. And that is how he located V. V was basically entirely resistant to all but the very strongest of his mental barrages, save for the one occasion with the full moon which was literally the anniversary of the curse being placed from what I can tell. And more importantly, why his cult descended upon the town that day. Their master specifically wanted V. And he wants him alive. But there was another half to that prophesy.”

Brenowin looked ill suddenly. He shared a concerned look with Sirrus and then at his sister, clearly realizing something that none of the rest of them did. But he couldn’t speak of it, and he had a feeling that Sirrus would do so for him anyway. “You don’t mean…”

Much to his displeasure, he nodded. “Unfortunately, I do. I can tell from the ill look on your face that you know of what I speak. The cult must have made mention to it, then?” He watched as Bren nodded and then looked over at his sister, a look of immense concern on his face. He then continued, wanting to get this off of his chest. “And upon the twin thrones of darkness shall sit the vessel of darkness and the eyes of prophecy, she who will be gifted future sight as I was and who shall make material the brood of the machinations of the lord of shadows, Insanity made physical. For only through the union of darkness and foresight can be brought true retribution to cleanse humanity of their petty mortality.”

Everyone in the room seemed to linger on those words for a few moments before slowly coming to the realization of what they implied. And each one of them looked varying degrees of physically ill as they all came to the same unanimously horrifying conclusion. And V especially was mentally kicking himself. Why had he not considered the fact that Belial’s cult could have been the same cult that had killed the people of Lympha a few years ago? Perhaps the devil prince’s dark influence had been what had made him feel compelled to stay in the first place. The demonic part of him could have been drawn to the aura that his influence provided… 

“So you’re saying that… Belial wants to use V as a vessel that he can, what, possess so that he can come to the human world and take everything over, and then he wants Morgan to… so they can… and she’d be… That’s…” Dante looked between his nephews and his brother, noting their stunned silence and the will to live exit V’s body with silent indignation. He’d actually prefer dying to a fate like that.

“Quite literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Nero said breathlessly, looking over at his brother and the horrified shivering young teen girl sitting next to him. He couldn’t tell which of those options was the worse fate. Being used as a meat puppet for darkness incarnate was bad, but the idea of being stuck with him to create descendants of his bloodline purely for the purpose of helping to subjugate the rest of the world was literally too vile for him to comprehend properly.

And with the will of a Devil Lord in the body of a descendant of the great dark knight Sparda, he could undo every safeguard and protective ward your father placed with enough time and the proper know-how. And he could easily gain access to both… after all, who would stand a chance against that kind of power…” Lucia looked mournful and horrified. She couldn’t imagine something so dark coming to pass. No one deserved that, but V? No one could deserved that fate less. And Morgan… 

… Our father’s spell stops the possibility of a demon as powerful as Belial crossing over into the human world, but possession of the movement of power and consciousness into another living being. Only his essence needs to pass over… and in that respect, his horrific and contrite plan is actually entirely possible. And I loathe that.”

“Over my dead body,” Magnolia said, genuinely angry. She didn’t even bother to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. “I will not allow the momentary hubris of my one forebearers to lead to the damnation of two children, and by proxy, the entirety of humanity, over the mistakes of a few people nearly a millennium ago. This dies with her, as it damn well should have back then.”

Sirrus nodded in agreement. “And that is why I am here today. To propose the idea of stopping that before it starts. We need to go on a little road trip. And we need to do it now. I need you to see the conduit. And I need you to see it now.”

(-~-)

And there it is, Belial’s horrible plan finally revealed! Let me know what you think in the comments! I had a blast writing this when I got back from grocery shopping today. You all take care. I’ll see you next week on Wedsnday! And for those of you who dropped in on my Tumblr account during DMC OC Week, thanks for the love and support! See you in the comment section, and stay safe out there! Enjoy the nightmare fuel! Bye Bye!

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH58

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 58: Witchcraft Sacrifice (XXVII)

Ning Zhou quickly went to Lu Youxin's phantom and looked at her in shock.

Lu Youxin's phantom was like a written program that ran smoothly: "Ning Zhou, or Qi Leren, or you two, the phantom you see now is an ability I got from the swamp tower. It will convey my will to the designated person after I die for a period of time. You are really lucky. In addition, there are several points to remind you that she has been completely strengthened now, and both strength and speed reaction ability are far beyond the scope of normal people. When she suddenly challenged me, I couldn’t resist at all, but it was strange that she spared me. After I took the opportunity to make a sneak attack on her successfully, she and I suddenly exchanged bodies, and then I died because of the injury caused by my own sneak attack. Therefore, I suspect that her soul transfer skills should be greatly limited. To complete the soul transfer, she may have needed to beat me once, and then let me sneak up on her, causing her serious injuries. If you meet her, be careful. "

"Time’s running out..." Liu Youxin's phantom gradually dimmed, like a television with a bad signal, and even the voice became intermittent. "There’s one thing I want to tell you, but forget it, don't worry, it won't affect your completion of the task, and you’ll know it naturally. Although it's a pity to die with regret, looking back, life is always like this. Without knowing what page you’re looking at, the book will suddenly close. Therefore, we must live happily at any time."

Lu Youxin's phantom smiled in the direction where the two were standing, just like an ordinary pretty girl. The cold voice said mechanically: "Now I am going home, goodbye... I wish you good luck."

The image became blurred, and finally in the cold air, the door of the hall was empty, as if no one had ever appeared.

In the silence, Qi Leren watched Ning Zhou standing at the door, slowly clenching her hand at her side, and exerting herself until the veins stood out.

"Ning Zhou..." Qi Leren’s heart was heavy. He didn't know how to comfort Ning Zhou, who had just lost a friend, but if he just watched her fall into grief and blame herself…

He came to Ning Zhou’s side, stretched out his hand and took Ning Zhou’s clenched hand. In the moment they first touched, Ning Zhou’s clenched fist relaxed to hold his hand tightly instead, as if to confirm his presence.

The warmth from the palm of his hand ran all the way to his core along the nerves and blood vessels, brewing into a sweet affection in his beating heart.

For a moment, Qi Leren felt that Ning Zhou also liked him, just as he loved her quietly. Perhaps, as the "Ye Xia" in the dreamland said, liking a person always showed in one’s eyes. Maybe after leaving this instance world, Ning Zhou, who liked girls, would be disappointed to find that he is not a girl. And then, he’ll become a stranger to him. He was uneasy about it.

But at least for now, he could hold Ning Zhou's hand.

He never wanted to let go, he wanted to share this burden with her.

"Here she comes." Stopped on the stone, the blackbird suddenly said.

Accompanied by its words, a figure came up the long corridor outside the temple where candlelight flickered in the distance.

She didn't walk fast, she didn't hurry, and her footsteps approached in a leisurely and undisguised way.

Ning Zhou's hand was pressed on the handle of the short knife, and the cold light in her blue eyes was like a killing weapon about to be drawn.

She stopped, more than ten meters away from the door.

"It seems that you already know." Ye Xia, who occupied Lu Youxin's body, looked at Ning Zhou and smiled arrogantly. "Then you should also know that now I have far exceeded the limits of the human body. No matter the speed, strength or agility, ordinary people can no longer resist it. Confronting me is just like a grasshopper in front of a car."

Ning Zhou didn't speak, the two blades out of the scabbards were her answer.

Something was wrong. Why did she say so much nonsense? Why not just kill them? Qi Leren looked at the explosive atmosphere of the two people, and his doubts lingered.

"Don't worry, there is still a game of cat and mouse to be finished. After killing you, I’ll continue to serve the Lord, and you will stay in this cold underground palace forever." Ye Xia’s smile was slightly mocking, while walking towards them.

When she stepped into the temple gate, the system prompt appeared again.

[ Witchcraft Sacrifice Step 2: Sacrifice in the underground palace, 7/7 witches have been killed so far, and the remaining witch candidates are 4. Unlock the third step: bloody sacrifice. ]

[ Task background: You have found that every time a witch candidate is killed, all attributes can be greatly improved (it will become invalid after leaving the underground palace), and the survivor of the last sacrifice and the witch who served the Lord of Fraud once again came to this underground palace. Kill her, the altar will appear, and after the sacrifice is completed, all the surviving players will be regarded as completing the task. ]

[ All surviving witch candidates will be randomly teleported. Teleportation countdown: ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Teleportation complete. ]

Qi Leren once again appeared in a strange corridor, and the candlelight around him was weak, swaying in the wind passing through the corridor, together with his shadow.

There were too many thoughts to be sorted out, and it was too easy to be found just standing in the corridor. He simply ducked into the nearest room and closed the door.

It seems that the task had reached the last part, which was also the most difficult part.

Have to say, this time the quest difficulty was not something a new person can deal with. He practically spent eight lifetimes’ of his unluckiness to trigger this abnormal quest. The biggest BOSS turned out to be a witch who survived the sacrifice in the task three years ago. As someone who knew everything inside out, she simply struck first, she killed four people in the underground palace, and her ability increased to a level that was difficult to compete with. This increase would not disappear because she changed her body, and it was completely bound to her soul. They now had only three people in total. Even if one of them killed the other two, they couldn’t beat her either.

The system prompt said that there are only four witch candidates left, that is to say, the Ellie sisters were dead …

Qi Leren's mood was even heavier.

Now they had solved Isabel's memory and learned that Ye Xia was a witch who survived three years ago, which should be a necessary condition for clearance. If they didn't know Ye Xia's true identity, they may not have been as vigilant. Finally, they’d die. But it was probably too late to know now. Ye Xia had already killed four people earlier... Because she was a player and not an NPC controlled by the system, wasn't she? So as someone who knew the process of the quest, she wouldn't give them a chance to turn the situation around.

Could he only wait to die? There must be some way…

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Qi Leren’s heart pounding, he suddenly took a step back, afraid to cling to the door.

There was silence all around, and he looked at the closed door as if there was a monster standing outside, a wandering soul wandering in the underground palace, or…

But nothing happened outside.

Was the sensing wrong? This skill did have the probability of inducing errors. And the underground was so big, he just finished teleporting, so he shouldn't be so unlucky as to meet Ye Xia already? Even if Ye Xia was really around here, how did she know he was hiding in this room? He didn't hear the sound of opening the door to check the surrounding rooms. It didn't make sense. She just stared at the room where he was hiding.

Holding the last miniature bomb in his palm, a layer of sweat broke out, and Qi Leren stared at the door motionless, until his crazy heartbeat calmed again. He took a deep breath and took the first step stiffly, ready to open the door.

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 1/3.]

With a crunch, Qi Leren, who suddenly took a step back at the sensing prompt, and watched the sharp blade stab through the fragile wood board, spraying out fine sawdust, and went straight to his throat with overwhelming murder intent.

Just a moment slower and it would have pierced his throat.

Just like in the dreamworld, when she almost pierced his head under the bed.

It turned out it was no coincidence that she could sense where he was.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[uozlulu]

Black Clover chapter 267 reaction and spoilers

Asta took a moment to thank the devil for everything the devil’s done for him so far. I love how Nacht’s like ^_^ and the devil’s like “wat.”

Anti-Magic Devil: I knew it... You really are a total idiot. That's why I'm about to kill you!! Asta: I CAN’T LET YOU DO THAT!!!!

lakfdsjalkdfj loooool ilu Asta

Nacht’s like “Oh yeah hey. If you don’t fight to win you’ll turn into the devil and I’ll have to put your bones with all these other bones in the altar,” and Asta’s like “Is this a ritual we’re not supposed to be doing?” aldfklsdfj ASTA. He just jumped in here like the moron he is and now he’s asking questions.

That said, I kind of want to see Asta win over his demon through something other than brute force because this is also a test of his political philosophy that parties can come to an understanding especially since Asta seems to have abandoned this when dealing with Dante. So it’ll be interesting to see how that philosophy has evolved during the time skip.

”Just because you’re a devil, doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a bad guy!!!” Good we’re going to delve back into this philosophy. I hope it’ll also shed more light on why Asta has abandoned it when dealing with Dante, though we can extrapolate quite a bit from the brief scenes with Spade’s citizens.

If you look at the hair and the collar of the woman’s clothing, you can tell this is a match for the person who used the phrase “most beloved son” several chapters ago. She looks a lot like Asta so I’m inclined to believe she’s his mother given that Noelle and Yuno both look like their mothers and so far, the theme for all three of them is the absence of the father. We’ve only seen Lord Silva briefly without much detail and while Ralph said Yuno looks like Ciel we never actually saw Ciel so far to know what he looks like or who he was as a person.

Now it’s possible that the Anti-Magic Devil is Asta’s father, which would go in line with a theory that Asta has no magic because he was created or perhaps his mana was stolen as a baby. It’s also possible that whiel the Anti-Magic Demon is not Asta’s father, he was still friends with Asta’s mother. Since we haven’t seen Ciel or Lord Silva definitively yet, I’m leaning towards perhaps the devil isn’t Asta’s father.

Another thing to consider is that when we saw the figures hanging from a tree during some of the Dark Triad flashbacks, there were four figures, one much smaller than the others. So it’s possible, if Asta is the smallest body, that whatever caused the Dark Triad to revive also revived him and in turn this could be a Youko Kurama kind of situation in which the person/creature/what have you that was hung became what is now Asta. Asta would in some ways fit in with the Dark Triad in that by having no mana he’s possibly the perfect kind of vessel because his own personal mana can’t interfere with any devil inhabiting him. Because that would give them blood (Vanica), bone (Zenon), and body (Dante), so add Asta in and that could represent a soul or perhaps containment to combine those three magic together or something.

Although if the Anti-Magic devil is part of how Asta came into the world, that would strengthen the potential for Asta to be judged by Magic Parliament for death. Yet, it also could open us up for an exploration of Asta’s political philosophy especially since Damnatio started us off with “We can never negotiate with a devil.” Can they come to an understanding? Will there be a tragedy? Does Asta have to die to preserve Clover Kingdom or if Asta lives, can Clover Kingdom evolve into something more positive and productive?

Also if Asta is a child of a devil, then that offers a bridge between the devils and the humans, a means to possibly reach an understanding if one can even be made. It’ll be interesting to see how this all plays out as we go. I’m not sure which option I’m rooting for yet.

[jihyuncompass]

In A Dream

Jihyun Week 2020 Day Five

Dream

Jihyun Kim x MC

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: In a delirium, V dreams about what he did, and what he wants. 

The elixir did bad things to his head. V knew that. From the moment that bottle touched his lips he knew that there was nothing good that could come from it. What he couldn’t have expected was how immediate the effects of the drug were on his body. 

Within seconds he had been in agony, dizzy and disoriented. His limbs felt like lead and every moment caused aching pain to spread throughout his whole body. His heart beat so hard he thought it was going to beat right out of his chest and shatter his ribs. The pain continued for a while, until for a moment he found less pain. 

This must have been the temporary paradise that Saeran, no Ray. Had spoken of. Although his body still felt heavy he also felt calm, almost blissful. He laid on the floor of his prison and felt at ease. The calmest he’d been in the past six months. 

Too quickly though, he came crashing back down. Then the pain was back, his head no longer felt light but now throbbed painfully. Every twitch every movement felt like lava in his blood vessels and caused agonizing pain in his muscles. 

His brain felt fuzzy and confused when he was laying down on the floor of the basement of Magenta. In the few moments of clarity he could grasp he would try to think of how to get out, how to help them, and how to possibly even save Rika. But as quickly as those thoughts surfaced they would get muddled up in his confused state. 

The only relief he could get, was in the moments where he was able to fall asleep.  Even if only for a few moments just being able to sleep made it feel so much less painful. 

He dreamt often when he was asleep,the dreams were often vivid. Only the slighted bits of unreality reminding him that he was dreaming. 

In one of his dreams he was at the cathedral. The same one he’d go to with Rika regularly, after he’d decided to convert for her. Religion had never held a huge part of his heart, but seeing Rika’s love and her dedication to her faith? He wanted that too, and he wanted to make her happy. 

He walked out of the altar and into the large courtyard garden. The flowers were expertly taken care of. Each one standing tall and bright. The sweet smells of the flowers surrounded V. 

Wandering through the garden he came across the sight of a child sitting on the ground. Admiring the flowers, his bright red hair a stark contrast to the boy’s pale skin. His hands were close to his chest, like he was scared of touching anything. 

“Saeran?” V asked, stepping towards the boy. Kneeling down to be at eye level with him. Saeran was staring at the flowers, seemingly in complete awe. “These ones are beautiful, they take really good care of their flowers here.” V continued. Saeran wasn’t often one for words, but V still kept talking. “Maybe if it’s alright I know of this beautiful botanical garden not too far from here. Maybe I could take you there?” V looked at the flowers again, taking in the individual flowers. He waited for Saeran to speak but when he didn’t get an answer he looked back to the boy’s face. 

Except it wasn’t Saeran anymore, at least not the one he knew. Instead of the small redhead he was taller, though just as skinny. His once red hair now bleached a silver color with pink at the tips. He sat in the same position as before though now his hands were clenched together. 

“Liar.” Saeran said. Or was it Ray? He wasn’t sure. He stared at the boy, eyes wide. 

“Saeran-”

“Liar! Traitor!” Saeran screamed. 

V’s hands shook as he tried to reach out to the boy. “Saeran, I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” 

“Liar!” Saeran screamed. “You abandoned me!” V shook his head trying more desperately to reach out to Saeran only for the boy to push him away. The realization hit V making him stutter. 

“She wouldn't let me see you, please Saeran I would never abandon you. Rika told me you were at a school, that you were safe and happy I-” 

“Stop lying!” Saeran screamed louder. “Stop lying to me!” Saeran stood up and ran, going into the cathedral. V quickly stood up and followed him calling after him. 

V threw open the door to the Cathedral to instead be back in Saeran’s computer room at Magenta. As he looked down to himself he realized he was wearing the robes he had worn when he snuck in. At the end of the room was Saeran, holding desperately to you. 

“Saeran please let them go!” V shouted. “Please, let’s just talk about this.” 

“What if I don’t want to go?” You said. V stuttered for a moment, realizing that Saeran wasn’t holding you captive, in fact it seemed much closer than that. Much more intimate. 

V stared at you trying to find words, after a moment he snapped out of his haze and reached out his hand. “Please, this place is dangerous.” V begged. “Come with me.” You stared him down but only stayed close to Saeran, taking a bottle of elixir into your hand. 

“Dangerous? You must be mistaken, this place is paradise.” You said taking a swig of the elixir. His heart stopped at the sight. He wanted to run forward, get that bottle away from you, try and take you and run. Yet he felt stuck in his place. Unable to move an inch. 

“And there’s no room for traitors in our paradise.” A new voice said, from behind you and Saeran there was Rika. She stood beside you looking at V with a look of utter disdain. Rika wrapped her arms around you pressing her front into your back. 

V wanted to say something but he felt himself being pulled back. He looked back and saw two hooded figures pulling him back. Holding tightly to his arms, he looked back to you with begging eyes. 

“Please.” He said one more time, but to no avail. The last thing he saw was Rika and Saeran guiding you away, while he continued to beg. He screamed, begging and pleading for them to come back. Apologizing endlessly to no one. 

V woke up shaking. He was breathing heavily as he coughed. His chest spasming violently. His body ached from how badly he was coughing. He stared blankly into the darkness of the cell. He heard the sound of walking, seeing Saeran above him. 

He couldn’t hear what Saeran said he could only hear what he had asked. “Please, let me see them.” 

The next time he fell into a dream he wasn’t at Magenta anymore. He still wasn’t sure where he was. He just knew he was laying on a bed, and in a safe place with you and Luciel. He’d try to keep himself awake but with the effects of elixir still in his body he couldn’t keep himself awake. 

In this dream he was sitting on a balcony looking over the city. The sky was dark and the moon high in the sky. The lights of the city lighting up his surroundings.  

“V.” A voice said. V blinked, he tore his eyes away from the city skyline and to his friend next to him. Jumin had a glass of wine in his hand, staring at his friend. V looked down at the table between them, a glass of red wine on Jihyun’s side. 

“I’m sorry Jumin. I think I spaced out for a moment.” His friend was giving him a strange look but moved on quickly looking back at the skyline. “What were you saying?” 

“I was just telling you that I think you should consider the surgery again.” Jumin said. V sighed. Even in his dreams Jumin was trying to convince him to have his eyes operated on. V took a sip of his wine and looked away from Jumin. 

“I don’t want that surgery, Jumin.” V said. 

“Why not?” He said. 

V sighed. He didn’t like talking about his reasons but he also couldn’t brush Jumin off. “I don’t deserve to have my eyes fixed, this is my punishment and I should take it.” He hadn’t meant to say so much, almost regretting what he said instantly. 

“Don’t you find it ironic?” Jumin said. V turned to him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Your mother was a deaf musician, and now you’re becoming a blind photographer.” Jumin said, taking a longer drink from his glass. Nearly draining it. “I only find it ironic.” He said. V looked away. 

In real life, Jumin never mentioned V’s mother. Jumin is a reasonable man and he knows that V’s mother is a sensitive subject. In a dream though it seemed Jumin wasn’t so careful about the subject. 

“I’m not refusing because of my mother.” V said. 

“Then what’s the real reason?” Jumin asked him. The more Jumin asked the more uncomfortable V felt. He didn’t want to answer these questions.

V thought for a long time, he swirled his wine around his glass. He hated thinking on this question, he’d agonized over this for hours already, the last thing he needed was to think about it more. 

“I should have been able to save her. I should have been able to help her, but I couldn’t. I failed her, I couldn’t protect her.” V said finally after a while. Jumin was silent, then said only a single word. 

“Who?” V snapped his head up to look at his friend. 

“What do you mean ‘who’?”

“Are you talking about Rika? Or are you talking about your mother?” V stared for a while. His mind suddenly felt very unclear. Who had he been talking about? Had he actually been talking about his mother or? 

“I don’t understand.” V said. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Jumin spoke again, though V was hardly listening. “Your mother died protecting you did she not? You were trapped in that burning house, she got you out. Only to be consumed by the fire herself. You were her only son, so why couldn’t you have made sure she got out too?” V shook his head. 

“I- You don’t mean that.” V held his head in his hands. 

“Don’t I?” Jumin said, wait-

The voice was different this time. V looked up, sitting next to him now was himself. Only when he was a teenager. Wearing his old school uniform, holding a can of soda instead of a glass of wine. 

“We never even told her we loved her.” Jihyun said. “She died thinking we hated her.” V shook his head more, he wanted to throw his wine glass. He wanted to cry, scream, anything to make this end. “And maybe we did. Her and her artist’s delusions.” Jihyun crushed the empty soda can in his hand. 

“That’s not true.” V said. “I don’t hate her.” He cried to himself. His younger self was staring at him. “We couldn’t save mother. No matter how hard we could have tried.” V wiped his eyes, his fingers lingering on his eyelids. “But maybe, it’s not too late to save her.” Rika’s face came to him. 

Maybe, if he went back. He could actually save someone. 

That time he’d woken up to a stranger leaning over him. V didn’t recognize the person but he did recognize you next to them. You were looking into V’s eyes when he opened them. Although he was still delirious he stared at them, he kept his eyes on them. A single piece of clarity through the pain. 

He wasn’t sure when the dream began this time. The first thing he became aware of was the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. When he could see clearly the first thing he saw was the open window. The green trees that swayed outside. Bringing in a breeze to the room V was standing in. 

Slowly he became aware of the other things in the room. He noticed the furnishings, and then where he was standing against the wall. A paintbrush in one hand. A paint palette balanced on the table next to him, and a large canvas on an easel. The painting only half finished. In his dream he couldn’t make out the details of what he was seeing on the canvas. Looking at the brush in his hand he wondered what and why he was painting. 

Standing in front of the canvas he stared at it, even if he couldn’t make out the details he knew that the painting was something of his own creation. He hadn’t painted since he was in highschool, why would he be painting now? 

About the set down the brush he heard a knock coming from behind him. Turning around he saw the door open just a peek. 

“You’re still painting? You’ve been working for hours.” You said, walking into the room. you looked over the painting, your eyes lighting up. “Oh that’s beautiful.” You said. V stared at you, struggling to come up with words to say. His mind was still trying to figure out where he was, and what exactly was happening in this dream. 

“Thank you?” V said looking back to the painting. You walked to stand next to him. He glanced at you, then back at the painting. V set the paintbrush down carefully, looking closer at his hands he noticed the paint smeared on them. A variety of rainbow colors dried to his skin. 

“Gosh your hands are filthy.” You laughed. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up a little.” You slipped her hand in his slowly guiding him towards the door and away from his mysterious painting, and the open window. 

You led him down a hallway, they seemed to be in a house of some kind, but it wasn’t his home on the cliffside, or any other home he’d ever remembered being in. This place was entirely new to him. 

You opened a door at the end of the hallway into a bathroom, You turned the knobs to turn the water on. Taking his hands they brought them under the faucet, rinsing them. You squirted some soap onto his hands. Setting the bottle of soap aside you rubbed their hands against his. Carefully scrubbing the paint off of his hands and his fingernails. 

V glanced over at you, carefully washing his hands for him. He didn’t even know how to begin to process this, you were standing so close to him, acting so kindly to him. He thought he would have wanted to shrink away from your touch but he didn’t. He actually found himself reveling in it. Butterflies flew in his stomach every time you rubbed your hands against his. 

When you turned the water off he was almost sad. you helped him wipe his hands dry on a towel and turned back to look at him. After a moment you started laughing. 

“You have paint in your hair!” You said, reaching up to run your hands through his mint hair. “How did you even do something like that silly man?” V stared at you blankly. The way you were smiling at him, the softness in your expression was making his chest tighten with emotion. 

“I’m sorry I’m not sure how I did that.” V said finally. You just laughed and put your hands on his shoulder. 

“Aw, it’s alright. We’ll take care of it later, but you’re probably hungry right? You’ve been in your studio forever.” V didn’t even need to answer while you ushered him out of the bathroom and down the hallway again, into the kitchen. 

You stood at a counter pulling out two bowls. You began to pile food into them. V watched you, his mind still reeling. He found himself walking closer to you wanting to be near you. You glanced over at you finding himself only inches away from YOUR face. 

His hands shook as he held his arm out to you. You stepped forward and looked him in the eyes. V leaned forward closing his eyes slowly closing the gap between you. 

“Jihyun-” You whispered. He stopped and opened his eyes. “V.” You said. V was staring at your eyes looking into his. 

“Yes?” V asked you. 

“V.” You said again, their face starting to contort into a look of fear. “V, V, V! Jihyun!” 

V’s eyes shot open. His vision was blurred, he blinked trying to clear up his vision. Around him he heard distant voices, it almost sounded like he was underwater, everything sounded distant and distorted. He wasn’t in the safehouse anymore, was he in a car? Glancing around he realized he’s in Luciel’s car, but why? 

“V? V, look at me.” He heard, he turned his head and saw You above him looking at him. He kept his eyes on you, slowly he started to realize that he was in pain. He tried to look down to see what was hurting but you started speaking to him again. “V just keep on your eyes on me, just focus on me.” You brushed some of their hair out of their eyes. His eyes focused on a spot on your hand. Was that blood on your hand? Why was there blood? 

“We’re almost there!” V heard from the front seat of the car. Was that Luciel’s voice? V tried to look but stopped himself when he heard your voice again. 

“You’re going to be okay V, just hold on a little longer.” You said. “We’re almost at the hospital. You’re going to be just fine.” Feeling your hand on his chest V took what little energy he had was to reach his hand up, resting it on top of yours. You gently clutched his hand and gave him a tight smile. 

V’s eyes felt heavy, he wanted to close his eyes again he wanted to sleep again. Maybe he’d have another warm dream like the one before. While his eyes started to flutter closed You called to him again. His eyes slowly opened once again and looked back to you. 

“Just keep your eyes open V, just stay awake a little longer.” V stared at you, he wanted to sleep desperately but looking at your eyes he couldn’t. 

He felt confused and disoriented but looking at you, he wanted to stay awake just a little while longer. 

So much of it was a blur, one minute he was in the car and then he was dragged away from the car and carried into a loud and bright hospital setting. The brightness hurt his eyes, his eyes burned and as much as he tried to keep himself awake his eyes kept closing. 

The last thing he remembers is being brought into a room and hands quickly removing his shirt and holding a mask to his face. Within moments his eyes closed again and drifted away again. 

“Jihyun.” A voice said. V opened his eyes up and looked around, He must be dreaming again. 

Sitting up Jihyun was in his childhood home, more specifically he was in the annex of his childhood home. Where his mother lived. 

He looked for the source of the voice, his search interrupted by the sound of violin music floating through the air. As he stood he glanced around to try and find the source of it, opening one of the doors to listen to where the music was coming from. 

The music slowly grew louder in his ears, the notes being played becoming stronger, crisper. He stopped in front of a door, the one he knew led to his mother’s room. Waiting a moment he pushed the door open and walked inside. 

His mother stood in the center of the room, her violin against her chin, a bow held carefully in her small hands. Her eyes were trained on the music stand in front of her, eyes skimming the page to read the upcoming notes. The music she played was beautiful, unlike anything he had ever heard outside of the videos he’d seen of her. 

V stood in the doorway until she finished the song, ending on one long beautiful note. She removed the bow from the strings and took the violin away from her chin. Turning to the doorway to smile at him. 

“Jihyun.” She said, “How long have you been standing there?” He listened to her in shock, he’d never heard her voice like that. Clear and natural, not the struggling muddled voice he knew as a teenager. 

“Not long.” V said. He walked further into the room and closer to his mother. She turned around and set the violin down back into its case. She turned back towards him with a smile. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you Jihyun. You’re so big now.” V watched her and took a shaky breath. He’d seen his mother in his dreams but the sight of her made him emotional. “How are you Jihyun? You don’t look well.” She sat down on her bed, patting the spot next to her. He waited for a moment but did sit down next to her. 

“I’m scared, if I’m being honest.” V said. 

“And why’s that?” She asked. 

“I feel so lost.” V said. His mother put a hand on his knee and looked at him with kind eyes.

“That’s okay Jihyun.” She said. 

“How?” 

“It’s normal to feel lost, Jihyun. We all feel lost at times.” She said. He looked at her, seeing her he felt a wave of thoughts, of feelings, of things he wished he could have said. 

“I miss you.” He said. “I should have been kinder to you, I should have listened to you I should have-” 

His mother put her hands on her shoulders. “Jihyun.” He forced himself to look at her, despite his emotional state. “That’s in the past now, you can’t keep holding onto all of this hurt forever.” He sniffled and wiped at his eyes. 

“I love you, I’m sorry I never told you.” V said. His mother gave him the kindest of smiles. She reached towards him and didn't move, letting her pull him into an embrace. The feeling of being embraced brought tears to his eyes, he held onto her. 

“I love you too Jihyun. You were the greatest gift I was ever given.” He held her as tight as he could. Only wishing that this moment wasn’t a dream. However, even if it was a dream he held onto the moment. “Please, take care of yourself. It breaks my heart to know you don’t treasure yourself.” 

She moved away a bit, but V didn’t let her go. He wanted to hold her as long as possible. “I will. I promise.” He pressed his face into her shoulder, feeling the dream start to pull away. He tried to hold onto the dream for a little bit longer. The feeling of his mother’s embrace dissipated and left him in the dark again. 

For a while V was in the dark, he felt like he was floating somewhere in between waking and sleep. He couldn’t open his eyes but he thought he could hear Jumin’s voice. He tried to listen but couldn’t figure out exactly what he was saying. 

Other times there was just silence, a beeping of a monitor. At one point he thought he felt someone holding his hand. That small touch keeping him present and at least a little conscious. 

His mother’s voice stayed in his head, asking him to care for himself, and then he remembered the feeling of being near You in that one dream. He remembered the feeling of holding a paintbrush in his hand, of feeling you close by. 

That dream was so good, so comfortable. Being in that darkness he wondered, he thought and fantasized about what he wanted, who he wanted to become. The life he wanted to lead once he woke up. 

He wanted to learn about himself, he wanted to learn to treasure himself, and he wanted to learn to love again, and he wanted that love to be shared with you. 

V’s eyes opened slowly, taking a deep breath he looked around his surroundings. A hospital room, a bright window letting in some light. 

“V! You’re awake!” A voice said. He turned his head slowly to see you smiling at him. And he smiled back.

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

Chapter 8

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Book: TRH

A/N: Thanks @burnsoslow​ for the punctuation and grammar magic on the first half of this. The rest is all on me ... lol (Somehow, I got two college degrees with my shame). Also, @patriciaanchrist2019​ , who has begged me for two weeks to get this posted ... here ya go :)

**This chapter is, by far, my most favorite thing I have ever written. I don't care if everyone hates it, thinks it weird or whatevs. It’s so different that I can’t get enough of it. After the next chapter, I have no idea where this thing is heading, but damn if I can't wait to find out.

___________________________________________________________

Liam clenched his fist so tightly, he felt the burning sting of blown veins and vessels that had earlier been penetrated by a needle forcing fluids into his hot blood. These same two hands that squeezed together in murderous rage were the same ones he had envisioned moments ago being wrapped around the exposed neck of his wife's recently discovered killer, gripped so firmly and securely, there would be no doubt that not one drop of air would enter or depart from her immoral lips. He needed to watch her fearful eyes beg him for the compassion and mercy she so callously cheated Riley of  -- cheated him of. Instead, she had the audacity to stare back at him with an expression reminiscent of a blushing bride approaching her groom at the altar. 

She looked at him with love and admiration.

He looked at her with hatred and scorn.

Somehow, amid this face-off, Liam would make damn sure those bright brown eyes that mysteriously beamed in the darkness of her chilly hospital room would soon witness the long-awaited wrath and vengeance he had waiting for her.

Riley had a million thoughts racing through her head all at once. The man she had loved and given her heart to in life was standing before her. His appearance was weak and frail; he wasn't the same muscular, strong, and cheerful man she remembered. Her heart sank further into her chest, wanting to hold him and make the hurt all disappear. Riley could only assume this change in Liam was a result of her death, and if he only knew that she was right there waiting for him to take her into his loving arms, it could change everything. 

But how would she even begin to bring that up? Riley had never believed in such things, and Liam was far more realistic and pragmatic than even she. 

For the moment, all she could do was play along.

Liam casually shut and locked the door to Riley's room before inching further inside. The moonlight cascaded a bluish glow through the window of the room as Liam ran a menacing hand over the hard plastic footing of her bed.

"Your Majesty." She spoke with a guttural whisper and bowed her head to him. "It's kind of you to come … although I am somewhat surprised you would visit me -- and at this late of an hour."

Liam stroked the scruff on his chin, never once taking his blazing eyes away from her. "I bet you are, Miss Talbert," he replied derisively.

Riley sensed the peculiar tone in his voice and demeanor; she wasn't sure what to make of it, never having seen him this way. She shifted curiously in her bed.

"Sir?  Is there something --"

He raised his hand to stop her. "Never address me unless you are asked to. Are we clear?" The softness of her small, listless voice had no effect on him, nor did the gauze and bruises that blanketed her delicate skin.

"My apologies, sir. I … I was only trying --" she scrambled nervously, attempting to make sense of his bitter tone and attitude until he abruptly shouted an array of expletives and shoved her hospital tray across the room. Riley startled, and her eyes widened in panic as he whipped around to the side of her bed and placed his hands in the crook of her neck. "Liam! What are you doing?"

"You fucking bitch! Did you honestly think you could get away with it?"

"I don't understand! Away with what?" she wailed frightfully. Her tiny hands gripped both of his wrists in a desperate struggle to loosen his hold while her feet burrowed desperately into the mattress. This was not her kind, gentle Liam; this man's venomous glare could have pierced daggers straight through her.

"Don't you dare give me that bullshit! They found the cyanide. They know about your fake name … Victoria! Your relation to Amalas!  We know it was you who killed Riley! I just don't know why … so I will give you exactly 30 seconds to spill your guts or so help me, I will do it for you!"

Riley's shaky hands left Liam's wrist and stretched over her gaping mouth. "It was … Amanda?" she muttered through shock and growing nausea that spontaneously transformed into her own personal anger and betrayal. There was literally no time to dwell on it or even think it through because Liam was mere seconds away from killing her. She knew how much he loved her. She knew he had every intention of doing so.

"You have 30 seconds, Amanda, to tell me why … why you took her away from our baby and me…" Liam's tone grew more somber, and his jaw began to quake. "She was … the best wife … the best mother … my best friend and queen …  my love … and you … you took all of that away, and I just want … no … I need to know … why?"

Tears flowed heavily down Riley's cheeks at his poignant words, but the hurt and pain this woman had caused him were so tremendous and profound that she was appalled by it all. 

And she was the cause of it.

"ANSWER ME! WHY?"

Her breathing was strained as she struggled for a response that would not only satisfy him but also keep her alive. 

She decided to take a gamble.

"I know this is going to sound crazy --"

"I don't want crazy; I want the truth!" he snapped back.

Riley's glistening eyes gazed deeply into his harsh ones as she steadied her breaths. "Liam, I'm asking you to listen carefully to what I am about to tell you. If you will give me a chance, I can prove everything to you … I think."

Liam furrowed his brow; there was something oddly familiar about the way she spoke and looked at him. "I already have proof. There is nothing more you could possibly prove to me that will prevent you from your fate."

"I know you. I know your hopes … your dreams … your fears. Do you remember being on the balcony at Valtoria during the Lantern Lighting Festival? You asked what part of yourself you should let go of before you released it into the sky. You released your fears about being a good ruler. You questioned it so frequently that … it just made sense."

"How the hell did you know that? Did my wife tell you?"

Riley smiled affectionately. "I assure you … your wife would never betray your confidence like that."

Liam released his hands from her neck, more so out of curiosity over this new game he felt she was playing than thinking there was something more to her words. He glared at her with intrigue and crossed his arms. "What are you doing?"

"You have a tiny scar on your left elbow that you got from Leo when you were six years old. He pushed you into an armchair after you told your dad he swiped a questionable magazine from the former Duke of Karlington's chambers. You never told your wife about that."

Liam faked an amused laugh while he clapped his hands deliberately and with emphasis. "Thank you for taking me down this little road of memories. Did you wish to continue telling me private things about myself, or did you want to tell me what I ate for dinner the night before I married Riley?" he asked with a sardonic tone. 

"You snuck into my room at the palace after the rehearsal dinner, and we had pasta with tomato sauce, just as we did during our first date at the Beaumonts' when you told me your greatest dream was to one day have a family."

"Shut up!"

"Liam … I know what Amanda did, but I need you to look past that right now and see who I really am."

"I said, shut the fuck up! You are not her! This is all just some terribly-planned scheme to play on my emotions, and it's not going to work."

"You hated the annual Regatta because the boat you and Drake snuck out onto when you were kids collapsed and you nearly drowned. Applewood was the only place you ever felt normal as a kid. You chucked a blackened salade Nicoise into a vase in Paris --"

"I'm warning you! Stop!"

"-- The combination to the wall safe in our bedroom is your mother's birth date backward, and the passcode to the arsenal is 20 numbers long, and only three people know it, but I can recite them for you right now if you wish … "

Liam stood silent and expressionless, but inside, his heart was thundering out of his chest, his mind cluttered with so many questions, he couldn't make sense of any of it. There is no way she can know all of this stuff.

Riley, however, knew that stoic expression all too well; it was the look he had when he was nervous and deliberating deeply in his thoughts. If she ever had the chance to at least have him seriously consider what she was trying to tell him, it was now.

"I know it's crazy … I know …  but please look at me, and you will know. Amanda died in that park, Liam. I heard you this morning in our bedroom, begging me to come back to you before you collapsed, and I know it sounds completely and utterly ridiculous, but it's me, Liam! It's me … Riley."

__________________

Liam was discharged the following morning but couldn't get the words Amanda had thrown at him late last night out of his mind. As he rode in the limo back to the palace, he fumbled with the hospital bracelet that was still taped around his wrist and gazed thoughtfully out the window. He wanted to believe, yet at the same time, he didn't. Believing meant getting hurt by something so outrageous and unbelievable that he couldn't allow himself to go there.

After she made her final declaration stating she was Riley, he destroyed her room in a fit of rage, and guards had to break through her door to stop the destruction. Liam heard her terrified cries and pleas for him to stop before he hurt himself, but nothing could have upset him more than this woman trying to pass herself off as his late wife.

He couldn't help but wonder how she knew all of those things. Maybe Riley mentioned them to her during their short time working together; however, his wife would never tell this woman -- or anyone else for that matter -- their closely guarded secrets. Liam twisted his arm and glanced down at the tiny scar he had long forgotten on his elbow. He rubbed a finger gingerly over the nearly invisible mark, knowing he had never mentioned it to Riley. He didn't recall Leo sharing it with her during their brief encounters together, either. 

She knew he collapsed yesterday while calling out for his wife. Amanda was found beaten in the park around that same time.

The only thing Liam knew for sure at this moment was that one of the questions that had haunted him for weeks had finally been answered: Amanda murdered his wife. 

Liam walked through the door of his quarters and was immediately met with the sound of his daughter's hearty cackles and what he believed to be Maxwell blowing raspberries on her tummy. He rounded the corner and entered the living room suite, where he saw Maxwell holding Ellie in front of his face, tickling her belly with his nose. Drake was seated on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table watching X-treme Cordonian Monster Trucks and absentmindedly twirling Ellie's pacifier on one of his fingers. 

Liam chuckled to himself. "It appears I'm missing one hell of a party."

Both Maxwell and Drake perked up at the sight of their friend looking at least somewhat healthier than he did yesterday and greeted him.

Liam lifted Ellie from Maxwell's grasp and sat on the sofa to snuggle her into his neck. Nothing felt better than holding her so tightly, smelling the scent of her lavender baby lotion, and hearing her excitement over being held and talked to by her daddy. He sat her down on his lap to face him and reached one hand around her back for support while he fussed over her. 

Drake and Maxwell were surprised by his calm demeanor; they both knew Amanda had been named the killer. That was the only thing they knew. They gave Liam time to play with his daughter, knowing how much the two of them had missed one another. Ellie had become a daddy's girl in every sense of the word, and Liam didn't mind one bit spoiling the brightest spot in his life. She watched his face intently as he made silly faces at her, which in turn caused her to let out a quick giggle and for her chubby arms to flap wildly. Liam couldn't help but notice her eyes had that same familiar gleam he saw in Amanda's last night. Please look at me, and you will know. 

Drake noticed the change in Liam's crestfallen face and cleared his throat. "What's wrong, Li?"

"Yeah, I noticed it too, Drake. Baby E always makes you happier, so what's up?" Maxwell asked as he passed Liam a fresh bottle. 

Liam was reluctant to share what happened last night with anyone, but at the same time, it was all he could think about, and he really wanted the advice of his closest friends. With a deep breath, Liam told them about dropping by Amanda's room at the hospital. Both guys questioned why he would do that to himself after everything he had gone through yesterday -- and then finding out she was the one who took Riley's life. 

Liam leaned back into the cushions of the sofa; Ellie was still feeding on the bottle he held for her. "I just … I needed to know why. I wanted to find out who she was working for."

"Did she tell you anything?" Drake asked.

Liam scoffed and nodded. "You could say that. She claimed she was … Riley."

Maxwell scurried over to Liam and placed his hands gently on Ellie's tiny ears, knowing what was about to be said.

"What the fuck?!" Drake remarked and clenched his fist. "I'll kill her myself."

Maxwell lifted his hands from Ellie's ears and scratched the edge of his brow. "She claimed she was Riley? What … I mean, why? Is it from her head injury?"

"Maybe … I don't know." Liam stood with Ellie still in his arms and walked to the fireplace. He glanced up at the picture of him and Riley that had been taken on their first trip to the Eiffel Tower during the Engagement Tour. "She knew things about our life … very personal, private things that no one else knew."

"Riley must have told her. Or, you were spied on." Drake countered.

Liam continued to study the picture, more specifically, Riley's flashing smile and sparkling eyes in it. He turned to face Drake and Maxwell with a thoughtful expression. "Let me ask you something, guys. Did Riley ever tell you what I wished for during the Lantern Festival, or … hell, even the combination to our safe?"

Both men were surprised by the oddity of his questions but answered together with a resounding no.

"If Riley didn't tell her closest friends … why would she share that information with a woman she barely knew?"

"Then you were spied on," Drake retorted.

Liam reflected for a moment, then twisted back around to study her face in the photo again. "She knew things that were said only to Riley in so many different places and different occasions throughout our relationship that there is no way it could have been incidents of spying. They were little, insignificant things ..." He closed his eyes and felt the first trickle of a tear roll down his cheek. "It just felt ... so real." 

Visibly shaken, and noticing Ellie's eyes beginning to roll with heaviness, Liam insisted he was fine, excusing himself to put Ellie down for her nap and get himself cleaned up.

Drake reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his car keys before he eyed Maxwell. "What do you say about paying our little friend a visit?"

___________________

That morning, Riley was visited by another trauma counselor who wanted to discuss her feelings about the previous day's assault. Everyone, including Liam, wanted answers from her that she didn't have, and, most likely, never would. While sifting through a tray of cold scrambled eggs, she mulled over the betrayal by someone she thought of as a friend, and how it had so profoundly affected her husband. Riley was in an impossible position that she had no clue how to get out of. If last night was any indication, she was a trigger for Liam. Enemy number one. If she were to somehow get him to believe her, how would she face the onslaught of backlash from a country that was sure to want her punished severely for the murder of their queen? 

For every question lobbed at her, Riley had her own.

Riley took a sip of her water. Over the small, plastic cup, she caught a glimpse of two familiar faces whose scowls implied they were no longer friendly. She placed her cup on the stand beside her and tucked a strand of her now golden-brown hair behind her ear. As she watched a timid Maxwell lean up against the wall closest to the door, Drake moved in closer to her with a look that suggested he was not there to catch up on old times.  

She glanced between the two men who were like her brothers and plastered on a nervous smile. "Drake … Maxwell," she acknowledged.

Drake lowered himself into an exaggerated bow before rising again to his fullest posture. "Your Majesty … that is who you are, right? Or have you decided you're someone else now? Perhaps you can be my late dad or Maxwell's mother. Whatever gets you the most sympathy from someone -- am I right …  Amanda?"

Riley closed her eyes, concern clouded on her features, and she turned her head away from him. "How is he, Drake?"

Drake scratched his neck and replied sarcastically, "Oh, he's just peachy. Got a lot to do, you know, with planning your execution and all."

Riley's hand shot to her mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape. She didn't want to piss him off anymore than he already was, yet at the same time, she really did. "Since when did you start saying 'peachy,' Walker? 'Oh, he's just peachy,'" she mocked jokingly in his husky voice. "God, Drake … I love you sometimes, you big marshmallow."

Maxwell let out an uproarious guffaw and clutched his stomach. "You are a big marshmallow, Drake!"

Drake glared back at him. "Maxwell!" he shouted. "Who the fuck's side are you on?"

"Don't listen to him, Max," Riley goaded while she casually smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket that covered her. "He knows you'd take a bullet for him." Realizing what she just said, Riley, cut her eyes to Drake and chortled. "I know, Drake. You actually did."

Drake furrowed his brows and felt a twinge in his shoulder. "Everyone knows that. It's public knowledge. Gonna have to try a little harder there, lady. Next thing you know you'll be telling me I drink whiskey." 

Riley smirked. "Try a little hard, huh?" She perched her lips and nodded, not sure if she really wanted to bring the subject up after so long, but it was her best shot. "I can tell you something that no one knows about except you … and I."

Drake crossed his arms. "Try me."

"Tell me, Drake … what did you say to me after Tariq left my room at Applewood?"

Drake scoffed. "I didn't tell you, shit."

Riley tapped her chin playfully. "Hmm, I think you did. And again in the Beaumont Ballroom when we were arranging the flowers in preparations to host the court."

Drake remained silent, but Maxwell's ears perked up. "What'd you say, Drake?"

Riley raised her brows and motioned for him to answer.

Drake rolled a doctor's stool out and squatted down on it and dragged his feet closer to her. "Listen here! You are not, Riley Brooks. You are just some con-woman who somehow managed to weasel her way into working for her before you murdered her. Now … you're just some has-been, who is about to be blown out of existence. You're going to leave Liam alone, Amanda. He's been through enough already."

"You said, and I quote ... 'The way you look at me sometimes, Brooks, if we're alone together, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop myself from doing something stupid.'"

Maxwell's jaw dropped, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Drake?"

Riley snickered when she noticed the red hot glow on Drake's neck, spread into his face. "My, my, Walker! I thought Olivia was the only one who could get your face that red."

Drake started to say something, then stopped himself. So many thoughts and feelings hit him all at once, and he didn't know what to make of them. What she was trying to assert was impossible, not to mention, absolutely insane. Drake felt like he was having a conversation with Riley. She had the same mannerisms, the same pattern of speech, the same way of annoying him, yet carried no resemblance to her. He stood from the stool and walked out of her room.

Maxwell stared at the closed door that Drake had just exited. He placed one hand on the door handle and let it linger there for a moment before he pulled it open. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. "I found something on the streets in Paris once. It was during the Engagement Tour, and something I really wanted but gave it to Riley instead. We were on the train …'

"...and Bertrand said, no. It was Chance, Maxwell … it was, Chance," 

With his hand still gripped loosely to the door, he turned slightly more to face her with a smile. "Maybe that's what I'm giving you again," Maxwell replied with a wink before he left.

____________

It had been one week exactly since Riley was admitted to the hospital. One week since she came back to this realm of life and found herself in a predicament she hadn't anticipated. Each day, she was questioned by the King's Guards relentlessly, in regards to the poisoning, and each day she continued to tell them she honestly didn't know what happened that night. 

No one had visited, not even Maxwell, who she thought might stop in. Riley knew she had planted the seeds in Liam, Drake and Maxwell's mind, but wasn't sure if she was doing more harm than good. If Amanda was indeed the one who took her life, then she was confident that no amount of evidence she could provide would lift the need for revenge, Liam so desperately craved.

After seven days in the hospital, Riley was released into the custody of the Crown and placed in a cell.

Liam wanted a quick trial, and to end her charade rather quickly. He had spent several sleepless nights contemplating her words, as well as, the one's Drake and Maxwell shared with him during their visit with her. Maxwell was somewhat open to the concept of Riley somehow being present in the body of this woman, while Drake claimed he just didn't know. Neither one of them pressed the issue too hard, both stating it was something he had to figure out on his own. If she was telling the truth, and he doubted highly that she was, he felt as if he would know.

He didn't.

Liam sat in his office, glancing studiously over transcripts of the guard's conversations with Amanda the past several days. Every single discussion was nothing but her telling them she didn't know anything. He had grown tired of what appeared to be her failure to cooperate with this investigation. What struck him the most was her lack of ability to provide them with answers that had nothing to do with her case. Something as simple as her birthdate couldn't be provided, and she didn't even have a response to why she was in the park during her own attack. Doctors assured him the blow to her head was not damaging enough to cause memory loss, but perhaps the emotional trauma was enough for her to want those memories repressed.

Liam's cell pinged, and he read the message from Bastien stating that Amanda had just been placed in one of the palace cells. After directing Bastien to meet him in the interrogation room with her, he gathered the transcripts and put them in a manila folder to take with him.

Riley sat at a small table with Bastien sitting opposite of her. One-by-one, he went over the evidence they had accumulated against Amanda; it wasn't much, but enough to strongly suggest she was the one who poisoned Riley. 

Liam stood in the corner of the room, his arms folded in front of him, listening to her give the same canned non-answers she had been spewing since the beginning. She didn't admit or acknowledge her part in the murder, but astoundingly, did not deny it either. He paced across the floor behind Bastien, listening intently to every word she said, hoping for a hint or clue that could be used against her. The room became cold, and an electrifying chill spread throughout his body as he felt her eyes following his every movement.  He paused for a moment to collect himself and quell the burning ache that for a reason he couldn't explain, awakened in his stomach.

Liam placed his hands on the table between Riley and Bastien and leaned onto them. Beads of sweat collected around his brows, and the pounding in his chest could be heard by everyone in that room. He asked his head guard to stop his questioning and looked directly at the lustrous face of the woman who sat before him. His voice shook lowly as he glowered at her. "You are not my wife."

"Liam." Riley raised her hand to touch his face, but he grabbed her wrist before she made contact.

"I am the King of Cordonia, and you will address me as such!"

She quickly rose to her feet with her wrist still gripped tightly by his grasp. "Look at me, Liam! You know who I am … I can see it on your face!"

Liam clenched his teeth and shirked her arm away from him. "You're right, I know exactly who you are! You're the woman who took my whole world away from me!"

Riley shook her head and waved an arm up and down the length of her body. "Yes! This is the body of the woman who took that away from you, but she's gone, Liam. She's gone!" Riley swallowed hard and tried to steady her nerves. "I heard every word you spoke to me! The blame and anger over leaving you alone. The lingering questions of how I was doing, if I was with your mother, how you would tell Ellie about me …  I heard every damn word you whispered to me every single day and I fought like hell to come back to you … to our daughter! I'm here, Liam!"

"Goddamn, you!!" Liam turned and jerked Bastien's gun from his side holster and placed the tip of its sharp barrel against Riley's temple. "Bastien! Get the fuck out of here now!"

Riley froze where she stood while Bastien questioned frantically, what his boss was doing. 

"I said, get out!" he seethed.

Bastien feared more for Liam's mental state than he did for what he assumed was about to be the execution of the woman who killed his Queen. The King was teetering on the edge again, and he questioned to himself whether Liam was thinking this method of justice through. At that moment, he had received his orders and exited with great hesitation. 

Liam shot a look to Riley, his breathing was erratic, and his hands trembled. "I want your confession now!"

Riley didn't know for certain whether Amanda was guilty; she more than likely was, but seeing Liam like this was more than she could bear. If killing her right now brought him closure … gave him the chance to move on … took just a tiny amount of his pain away,  then she would give him what he wanted.

"I just want you to be happy. It's all I ever wanted. And I can't tell you whether or not Amanda did this, but … I will confess on her behalf anyway."

Liam flipped the safety from the gun and affixed his finger firmly on the trigger. "Any last words?"

Riley clasped her hands over her stomach and put on a brave face. Her teary eyes looked at him resolutely and peace he hadn't expected. This woman was prepared to sacrifice herself for him, and it was quite obvious, she was perfectly content to do so. She smiled softly with a sincere flash of faith and love in her eyes. "I love you, my King. I always have …'

Liam's eyes swelled with a flood of tears as the gun dropped to his side. 

 "And I always will, my love ...  Riley?"

[all-my-friends-were-glorious]

INFINITI GENEVIEVE LYONS

CW: IMAGE OF SPIDER

The Vain Priestess

“When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but with creatures bristling with prejudice and motivated by pride and vanity.” ― Dale Carnegie

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Infiniti Genevieve Lyons

Nicknames: Fifi, Fini

Faceclaim: Emma Stone

Age: 24

Gender: Cis Female

Sexuality: Bisexual Biromantic Polygamous

Height: 5′7″

Weight: 121lbs

Birthday: March 29th

Sign: Aries

Occupation: Hooters Waitress; College Student; Satanic Priestess

Q45t “QT”

QT is Infiniti’s familiar, a Huntsman spider from Israel. She’s very sardonic like her master, and likes to throw fits from time to time. While she has a major attitude, she’s dutiful and will do what is asked of her. She has had to both kill and die in the name of their cause. She sounds like Fran Drescher in The Nanny.

QUICK FACTS

Infiniti has a distaste for most animals, and the sentiment is typically returned. She is fond of spiders, however, and will feed ones she finds in her house.

She is very vain and puts herself before every priority except one.

In order to preserve her good looks, as well as get whatever she wanted, she made a deal with Satan in high school. The frequent use of said deal brought her to become a Priestess for Satan.

As Stan is Satan’s vessel, Infiniti has a set of skills to help with him. She is able to maintain Satan’s (or Nalkyra’s) possession of Stan for longer than normal, and has access to things necessary for healing them should they get hurt. She can make the blackness on his arms recede, provided she is with him, if safety is a concern. She is skilled at spellwork and healing salves, as well as maintaining an altar.

She’s known for sitting out and not getting her nails dirty, but when she does eventually step in, all Hell will break loose.

She’s still close to her girl friends from Raisins, and spends a lot of time with Mercedes and Porsche. They hang out frequently.

Her generosity and patience are limited and usually vented into other people. However, she can be kind, even if she mostly weaponizes it.

Headcanon Masterlist

TAGS LIST

Move A Little Closer Now (Infiniti Lyons)

I'mma Be That Bitch (Infiniti Musings)

Don't Care If You Think I'm Dumb I Don't Care At All (Infiniti Aesthetic)

I Don’t Go To Parties And I Don’t Smoke Pot (Infiniti Closet)

Now I Don’t Use The Lord’s Name In Vain A Lot But When I Do It’s The Only Goddamn Thing That He’s Good For (Infiniti Headcanons)

The Only Goddamn Thing That I Regret (Infiniti Journal Entries)

I Don’t Know How To Love (QT)

VERSES

TBD

MAINS AND SHIPS

MAINS

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Michael - Big Man On Campus  (Infiniti and Michael - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Kyle - I Know Exactly What I Want And Who I Want To Be (Infiniti and Kyle - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@throughxthexmist​ - Kenny - They Move Right Through You Just Like Your Breath (Infiniti and Kenny - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Larshett - Behind Every Successful Man (Infiniti and Larshett - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Jimmy - People They Don’t Mean A Thing To You (Infiniti and Jimmy - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Stan - Nothing’s Gonna Harm You  (Infiniti and Stan - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Satan - Let’s Play Master And Servant  (Infiniti and Satan - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Nalkyra - It’s Always A Good Time  (Infiniti and Nalkyra - ThroughxThexMist)

@south-park-saints-and-sinners​ - Scott - You’re A Sugar Rush (Infiniti and Scott - South-Park-Saints-And-Sinners)

SHIPS

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Kyle - She'll Use Your Corpse As A Catwalk (Kyle x Infiniti - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

[thismasterpieceofmine]

Breaking the Rules

Rated T; Spoilers for seasons 4-15.18

Regardless of what Heaven thinks, Cas was not doomed the moment he touched Dean's soul in Hell. He was saved.

Or: a look at all the rules Castiel broke as he sided with the Winchesters, and the one rule he surprisingly kept.

Michael had been absolutely clear in his instructions: “Grab the Righteous Man’s soul from the Pit and return it to it’s body so I may have my vessel to defeat Lucifer.” Towering above the seraph, Michael’s cold eyes do not leave Castiel, as if waiting to find a crack or some indication this particular angel before him would fail him. “Do you understand your task?”

Castiel nodded, as one does not disobey an Archangel. “Yes sir.”

“Good. It doesn’t matter the casualties, don’t stop until you grab it,” Michael added, making it clear the task was to obtain his vessel. 

It did not matter how many angels died in the process and if Castiel had been introduced to humanity, to doubt and other emotions at the time, perhaps he would’ve seen the flaws in thinking like that. But he had not, and such forth does not question Michael’s word. After all, Michael was the eldest of all angels. He was one of the few who their Father spoke to, and knowing His word, Castiel knows Michael’s own word must be almost as important as God’s. Besides, Castiel is old enough to know what happens to angels who disobey or question orders - they fall. 

So Castiel, the good soldier, nods again and leads his garrison to Hell. They storm the gates as Michael has commanded, and in the midst of the fighting, Castiel flies to the Pit and retrieves the Righteous Man’s soul from the Rack. 

 “Oh, and Castiel?” Michael’s voice rang through his head as he reached for the soul, the final parting words the Archangel had told him before leaving. “Do not get attached to it.”

Such a silly warning, one might think, for angels are not able to get attached or form connections with things. Especially those below the Archangels in rank. Emotions had been deemed dangerous, tricky things that had caused the Fall, caused the Rebellion, and the remaining Archangels had made it clear how bad those were. And those who forgot, Naomi reminded. 

Angels do not feel.

Angels do not get attached.

And yet, when Castiel’s hand meets the soul’s shoulder, a shudder passes through his grace. The soul is damaged, and has faced the harsh nature of Hell --  it has been torn and ripped at, all sharp edges and weeping wounds, and as Castiel touches it, it's emotions seep into his own grace. But still, despite this, he can feel it's strength, it's resilience and Castiel lets some of his grace seep into the soul to ease it's emotions, to patch it's wounds. Without realizing it, the angel mends most of the damage done to the Righteous Man’s soul, before returning it to it’s body, and that’s when Castiel breaks the first rule: don’t get attached.

Of course, Castiel doesn't realize this at the time.  It becomes such a gradual thing, forming bit by bit, strengthening as time passes. After the Righteous Man --  Dean, his name is Dean. A name Michael does not use. All the angels view Dean has the Righteous Man, the Michael Sword. Castiel views him as Dean --  is resurrected, Castiel tries to reach out to him. It’s purely to keep an eye on him, much like he had been told to, after having delivered the news to Michael. 

Michael had told him to ensure Lucifer’s agents did not weaken his vessel before the battle could commence -- and Castiel had understood his next command. Keep the Righteous Man safe to ensure Heaven wins, whatever the cost. So, as a loyal soldier of Heaven, he does. He allows himself to aid the Righteous Man and the vessel of Lucifer time and time again, and each time he returns to them, he finds himself growing intrigued by them. Dean especially. Up until this point, Castiel has only observed humans from afar, but now, seeing them up close, helping them, he feels like he’s truly begun to understand them. He can see the similarities between Dean and Michael too, but where the angels only see the similarities, Castiel sees the differences too. 

Unlike Michael, Dean does not see the apocalypse as a war for paradise, of Heaven triumphing over Hell. Rather, he sees how it will affect humans, all those who will die and suffer for some useless battle -- and hearing it that way makes Castiel pause and think. 

Because despite being told this battle will rid the world of evil and temptation, that Michael will use him to destroy Lucifer, the Serpent, the Fallen Angel of the Pit, the Father of Lies, Dean does not care for that. Instead, as the demons work to break the seals, him, and the vess--- Sam work to counteract it.  They go against everything Castiel knows and believes, and as Castiel continues to offer his help, he finds himself doing the unthinkable: he asks questions. 

Not out loud, no, he knows the consequences of that. But being around Dean, around the Winchesters, he thinks about what they tell him. He thinks about how his superiors and the angels around him seem less and less concerned as more seals break. They are all certain that Lucifer will be sprung from the Cage, Michael himself, and Castiel can’t understand what happened once to their dedication to preventing that. Why is it only the Winchesters that don’t want the war to happen?

It’s being at Dean’s side that Castiel truly learns Heaven and Hell aren’t so different -- they both want their war. They both want their victories over the other, and neither cares about humans if they don’t serve them for their tasks. Heaven especially. Perhaps Castiel should’ve figured this, as angels were soldiers first, not guardians, but he also remembers his Father telling them to love and protect humans. 

And if Michael and Heaven can’t understand that, then Castiel will do it himself.

With this, he breaks two more rules: He doubts Heaven, and he disobeys his superiors, ignoring the mission they gave him. 

An angel shouldn’t be able to turn its back on Heaven, not without falling, not with all the effort Michael has put in to keep them loyal, but Dean fascinates Castiel. It’s his willingness to not give up,  to keep fighting even when the odds are stacked against him, and Castiel follows him wherever he goes. He helps the Winchesters try to stop the seals from breaking, he joins them on hunts, sits in the back of their car, and acts very unangelic. 

He turns his back against Heaven again and again and again. 

He kills angels for Sam and Dean, he talks back and asks questions, and allows himself to willingly fall further and further from God’s Grace. 

Castiel lets Dean (and Sam) call him Cas, removing the suffix that ties him to Heaven, to God. No longer is the shield of God. He’s just Cas, and while the butchering of a Heavenly name should warrant the two hunters facing the wrath of heaven, Cas welcomes it with a smile. After all, Cas has made it clear at this point, that he will not serve Heaven anymore, will not listen to Michael’s orders, putting himself instead on the side of Humanity. Cas, the angel formerly known as Castiel, does not quite saunter from Heaven’s light, or take a thousand-year-free-fall to Hell, takes a conscious step off the edge of Heaven right into Humanity’s arms with a grin. 

After stopping the showdown at Stull Cemetery, Cas begins breaking rules like it’s a checklist. 

He rebels against Raphael, the only remaining Archangel.

He starts a rebellion in Heaven and then kills Raphael.

He kills angels -- old friends, new enemies, all those who were his brothers and sisters -- for the sake of two humans. 

Cas questions God’s plan and then calls himself the new God in Raphael’s place.

He works with demons, he falls, he betrays Sam and Dean, his friends, all fo Heaven.

He lets himself get attached, feel emotions and care about other humans, picking humanity over his siblings each time.

Regardless of the chances he’s been given to come back, Cas turns his back on his angelic mission, on what the angels say is God’s plan, and no amount of threats and brainwashing and words can stop him. (Even death does not stick for Cas, who comes back as often as the Winchesters.)

In twelve years of being on Earth, of being in the presence of Dean, there is one final rule that he breaks. 

Now, this isn’t a spoken rule that he was told by his superiors, but it’s a rule passed by mouth from those in his garrison and others he trained with. A rule made way back after the angels fell, when Nephilim first sprouted up - never fall in love with humans. Taboo, a rule that when broken was as good as death, as good as falling, as good as betrayal against Heaven. Angels were not allowed to fall in love. 

Cas breaks that rule too. For how could one look at Dean Winchester and not fall in love? How could he not care so deeply about this one human who taught him everything, who shared his passions and showed him kindness and called him family when Heaven deemed him broken? How could he not love this human whose soul he patched up in Hell, who watched time in and time out, put himself so selflessly on the line for his brother, for their friends, for all of the world, expecting nothing in return? How was Cas expected to not care about him after all of that?

Chuck and a great deal of Heaven had pointed out time and time again that Castiel had come out wrong, a bit broken, a crack in his chassey, and perhaps they were right. Maybe he was broken, maybe he had fallen the moment he lay hands on Dean’s soul in Hell, or had shattered himself at the altar of Dean Winchester, but he was okay with that. Because Dean cared for him back, and Cas easily could say these last few years by the hunter’s side were some of the best, regardless of the good, bad and ugly that came with it. 

“I love you,” he says with a smile. It’s not the way he planned this to go, and Dean looks confused and heartbroken, but Cas does not regret the words. He does not regret the rules he has broken to get here, even as Billie threatens to break down the door and kill them both. Nothing could ever stop Cas from breaking those rules again if given the chance -- because Dean Winchester had been saved when Cas had pulled him from Hell, and Cas had been saved the moment he met Dean on earth. 

(and perhaps, for all that the grief he had been given over the rules he had broken, he should be given some credit for the one he had kept: Keep the Righteous Man safe. Maybe not without getting attached, but, as the Empty swallows him and Billie up, he likes to believe that that little detail hardly matters. He still kept the most important one.)

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Seventeen

"Yes, we're finally here!" Prompto cheered as Cid docked the boat in Altissia's harbor. Once the vessel came to a complete halt, the group disembarked and headed toward the city.

Noctis was leading his companions but was stopped when the man guarding the entrance to Altissia called out to him. "Sir! What is the purpose of your visit?"

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of an excuse without giving away who he truly was. "Purpose? Uh..." He looked toward his friends and Cid before deciding to entrust the situation to Pestilence. "(Y/n), a little help."

The ivory-haired girl stepped past Noctis and leaned over the counter, whispering in the man's ear. The boys exchanged glances when they wondered what she could possibly be whispering to the stranger.

Then, a smile blossomed on the gatekeeper's face as the girl pulled away. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Ma'am. I hope you have a wonderful time." He opened the gate, allowing everyone through. They waved farewell to Cid as they entered Altissia.

Gladio asked the one question that was on his and the other boys' minds. "What'd you tell him?"

(Y/n) spun around and faced the boys with a grin. "Oh, just a harmless lie."

She went to turn her back and walk further into the city, but the shield grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. He was itching to know the whole truth. "Oh, no. You're not getting away that easily. Tell us what you told him."

"Your curiosity will not let this rest?" She folded her arms across her chest, tapping her finger against her upper arm.

Gladio smirked. "Nope."

"A shame, really," she sighed. "Because my lips are sealed. Your curiosity shall never be quelled."

"What?" Prompto gasped. "I want to know!"

"As I said, my lips are sealed."

Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio groaned in disbelief while Ignis was amused at their reactions. He wanted to know just as much as the others, but he remained silent as he continued to watch (Y/n) torture the others with silence.

<-----------<<<<<

After exploring a small portion of Altissia and eating a proper meal, Gladio suggested searching for the man Cid mentioned on the boat. "You wanna check Weskham's place out?"

"Yeah. "Let's all go to Maagho!"" Prompto responded cheerfully.

"Perhaps we'll even make it in time for tea," Ignis comments.

"Oh," (Y/n) gasped excitedly. "I hope we do. Altissia has quite a selection of flavorful teas. That is one thing I do remember from my first trip here."

"So, Iggy likes coffee and (Y/n) likes tea. What a match," Prompto snorts with laughter.

"Match made in heaven," Gladio snickered, eyeing the couple. "When's the date?"

Pestilence stopped and faced him with a hand on her hip. "Date?"

The shield stared down at the shorter girl. "Heard you and Iggy talkin' about it on the boat."

"Eavesdropping," Ignis corrects the brute.

"So you were listening," (Y/n) sighed. "Regardless if you overheard or eavesdropped, our private affairs are only for our ears."

Gladio looked over at the advisor, nudging him in the side with his elbow. "Think you can handle the lady?"

The tactician adjusted his glasses with a faint sigh, choosing to remain silent. The Horseman glowered weakly at the tattooed man. "What kind of question is that?"

"You're Iggy's first girlfriend."

The snowy-haired girl sighed in disbelief, looking away from Gladio. "Are you insisting Ignis doesn't know how to treat me to a proper date?"

"Far from it. He knows how to handle the ladies, but I don't think he realizes his true potential."

Pestilence placed a hand against the side of her head, heaving another sigh. "What company we keep..."

"Indeed..." Ignis added with his own exasperated sigh.

Gladio didn't hear their mumbling and gestures to an empty awaiting gondola. "Better make this quick so the lovebirds can go on a date."

"Then we better start looking now," Noctis said after a prolonged silence.

<-----------<<<<<

After a lengthy, peaceful gondola ride, the group successfully located Maagho. They stepped off the gondola and entered the bar, immediately being spotted and greeted by the man behind the counter. "Welcome to Accordo, lads and lass. Cid mentioned you'd be dropping in. Weskham Armaugh, as you've gathered." His eyes traveled over to Noctis and smirked lightly. "My word, you've grown, little prince."

Noctis hums in confusion, the man behind the bar ringing no bells in his head. Weskham chuckled at seeing the boy's confused expression. "Ah, but of course-you were only a babe at the time."

The five head over to the bar. (Y/n) sat down directly in front of Weskham, offering the man a gentle smile. "May I ask for your finest cup of tea?"

The man bowed his head slightly. "Right away, M'lady." Weskham disappeared for a couple minutes before reappearing with a hot cup of tea. "Here you are. It's on the house."

She thanked him, blew on the tea, and took a small sip. When she tasted a hint of cinnamon and vanilla, she smiled in delight. "What an exquisite, delectable taste."

Prompto guffawed at her comment. "You sound like Iggy."

"It's a blend I made myself," Weskham proclaims. "I only provide the best for one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

(Y/n) took another sip before setting the porcelain cup onto the matching plate. "I must have a tag with my name and status on it somewhere."

The man shook his head with an amused smirk. "Not at all. Cid gladly informed me of who you were. It's an honor to meet you, Pestilence. The Four Horsemen is one of my favorite stories to tell."

The Horseman looked up from her cup of tea. "I pray such a tale does not frighten away your customers."

"You'd be surprised how many of my customers enjoy the tale as much as myself." He looked toward the others, who sat in the chairs beside Pestilence. "So, this is your maiden visit. Enjoying it so far? You doubtless have many questions, so ask away."

Noctis' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "This country is a part of the empire, isn't it?"

"Morosely, yes..." (Y/n) muttered from in between Noctis and Ignis, her comment going unnoticed by all.

Weskham chuckles at his cautionary question. "You're wary, I understand. But there's no need to jump at every shadow. Just be aware that the terms of our independence grant the empire free reign to come and go as they please."

"We'll bear that in mind," Ignis replied.

"It's admittedly a one-sided arrangement," Weskham confesses. "Most everything we do requires Niflheim's permission, and they wouldn't knowingly permit the Oracle to appear before the public. How our government spun that is quite a mystery. Is there anything else?"

Noctis decided to ask about Lady Lunafreya first. "You really think Luna will make an address?"

Weskham nodded, resting his hands on the countertop. "If every recent radio broadcast is to be trusted, absolutely."

"Where is Lady Lunafreya?" Ignis inquired.

"In the city somewhere, but no one has caught so much as a glimpse of her. The media has been conspicuous in its silence on the matter, which speaks volumes of government intervention. That'd certainly explain the rumors of disgruntled imperial officers leaving the city."

"How suspicious," (Y/n) comments before taking another sip of her tea.

"I'll say..." Noctis muttered in agreement before asking his next question. "So you see lots of Niffs around here?"

"We do," the bar owner answered. "Sometimes even at my place. Theirs is a familiar presence, and the citizens don't think much of it. Though, the high commander did cause a stir when he showed up the other day."

"Ravus..." The soon-to-be king mumbled under his breath.

"Friend of yours?" (Y/n) asked.

"Far from it..."

"The elder brother of Lady Lunafreya," Ignis stated in a slightly hostile tone.

It didn't go unnoticed by the girl. "Not an admirer, I see."

"Hell no," Noctis scoffed.

Weskham continued once the others were silent. "So soon after they felled the Archaean in Lucis, his arrival fuels rumors that they will next come to Altissia. The empire's not content ruling all the land-they want the heavens as well."

"If one tastes the blood of sovereignty, such a thirst shall never be quenched 'til all is conquered," (Y/n) said. "King Aeshema knows such subjugation all too well."

"The daemon king?" The tactician questioned with a tone of bewilderment.

Pestilence nodded. "Yes. The reason why daemons wander Eos at night is to prevent an uprising. King Aeshema forged a contract with his subjects to keep them in check. If the daemons were to ever overthrow His Majesty, the netherworld would crumble and daemons would flock to Eos day and night."

"Couldn't he help us take down the empire? I mean, he's a powerful immortal, too," Prompto chimed in.

The Horseman shook her head with a small frown. "Unfortunately, no. If King Aeshema were to leave Hell, the daemons would run rampant. While they posses a certain level of intelligence, their thirst for control overthrows such perception. The only time the daemon king could possibly leave is when his subjects roam the land of the living, but even that is risky."

"Guess we're on our own then," Noctis sighed. He leant his arms on the countertop, asking his final question. "Is anything changed with Leviathan?"

"For now, it's business as usual at port, but word is the government will soon open the Altar of the Tidemother," Weskham explains.

"In preparation for the rite," Gladio added.

"Ah, but on the other hand, they're scrambling to stockpile emergency provisions. This begs the question: if they're anticipating that the Hydraean will wreak havoc, why would they allow the rite to proceed?"

"If knowing summoning and receiving Leviathan's power would aid in the downfall of the empire, many in governmental affairs would risk all," (Y/n) replied. "Even wrecking the city is a viable option."

"Yeah, but what about the people who live here?" Prompto asked.

"Even knowing the possible outcome of the rite, the government officials will protect their people at any costs."

"Indeed, we would," a person stated calmly. The group and Weskham turned their heads in order to see the owner of the voice.

The bar owner chortled lightly. "My dear Camelia, it's been a while."

Camelia's eyes trailed over to the four boys and girl. "I heard about your distinguished guests."

"Ah, you've an ear for gossip."

"Lady, gentlemen," Camelia rounded the bar, wishing to chat with them. "I won't waste your time nor the time of an immortal. My name is Camelia Claustra."

Ignis knew the woman's status all too well. "First secretary of the Accordo Protectorate."

The first secretary's gaze focused on Noctis. "You should know we have Lady Lunafreya in our care. And the empire demands we surrender her."

The raven-haired boy's eyes widen at the news. "What?"

"Yet I am loath to acquiesce unless we stand to profit. Hence I've come to discuss terms...with the King of Lucis. If you've a mind to talk, come to my estate." With those final words, Camelia left.

Weskham watched the elder woman walk away with a sigh. "She can be oblique at the best of times, but I assure you her heart is in the right place."

"Oh. Okay," the gunslinger muttered.

"At any rate, you must be weary from your journey. Might I suggest you seek your beds for now and ponder matters anew in the morning?"

Noctis nodded in agreement. "Yeah, think we'll do just that."

"Then, to the Leville." (Y/n) finished her tea and led the boys out of Maagho. While the city has changed since her last visit, she still was able to navigate the streets with ease and find the Leville without asking for directions. She stood in front of the hotel with her hands on her hips, the four boys lined up behind her. "Here we are, gentlemen."

"Guess the city hasn't changed much if you were able to find this place without asking for help," Noctis comments.

"There are an abundance of new buildings and businesses, but the street layout is nearly the same as it was a century ago," she explained. "The Leville is where Raiden and I spent our nights after we exhausted ourselves exploring the city. Also, it seems you've a guest, Noctis."

Noctis looked into the lobby and spotted a familiar figure. He entered the Leville as he eyed the woman. "Gentiana."

With sealed eyes, the messenger delivered her cryptic message. "Ahead lies a future uncertain, yet sure is the astral memory, wherein the King may walk." Before the boy could react, she vanished.

Noctis stared at the spot Gentiana once stood as the others stood behind him. Prompto was the first to break the silence. "Well, that was...sudden."

"I expect no less from a divine being," (Y/n) stated.

Noctis turned around to face the girl. "You know Gentiana?"

"She has visited the Inner Sanctum countless of times. We'd chat for hours over tea," Pestilence smiles. "Her wisdom is vast and I find joy in conversing with her."

"I never can understand what she says," Prompto confesses under his breath.

"No need to linger on the subject," (Y/n) said, deciding to change the subject once she heard a small growl from the blonde's stomach. "You four must be famished. Shall we search for an eatery?"

"Definitely," Noctis agreed in a heartbeat. "I'm starving."

"But shouldn't we go and talk to Camelia first?" The gunslinger questioned.

"Yeah, like we have any other option," Gladio stated.

Ignis, on the other hand, opposed visiting the first secretary so soon. "There's no telling how events will unfold. Let us prepare before making our way. I also suggest we find an eatery."

"Yeah, she can sit tight a while. My stomach can't," Noctis said, leaving the Leville lobby with the others in tow.

<-----------<<<<<

After a lengthy, peaceful meal, (Y/n) stood up from the table and wandered over to the edge of the nearby canal. She stared down at the glistening water, watching the sun bounce off the surface.

When she heard a group of scrambling footsteps, she turned around and saw Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio rushing off. She blinked owlishly as she watched them vanish into the streets of Altissia without her or Ignis. She crossed her arms as the advisor sauntered over to her. "My, they seem to be in a hurry."

"It appears so," Ignis sighed in exasperation.

The Horseman offered him an innocent smile, knowing what the three boys had in mind and decided to not waste the time they were graciously given. "Since those three scampered off, we've time for ourselves. Shall we explore?"

"Let's," Ignis simply replied.

The two departed from the eatery and began exploring what all Altissia had to offer.

[amyrichy]

Ok don’t get me wrong. All I want is a Tony and Ziva reunion onscreen. I’ll be over the moon and sob like a BABY when/if it happens 

but

Just imagine if Tiva actually got together while Michael and Cote where both regulars on the show and didn’t spend 8 years TORTURING US??????

We could have had...

-All their feelings boiling over during an argument or standoff and both of them just ripping each other’s clothes off.

-So much awkwardness after waking up the next morning both wondering about what it meant.

-Tony being the one to take the bull by the horns and telling her he’s done messing around and he loves her and it’s on his Bucket List goddamit he wants a relationship with her!

-Tiva keeping it a secret from the rest of the team with secret glances, touches, stolen kisses in the elevator and texts amongst an oblivious McGee.

-One by one the team all accidentally finding out in different ways starting with Palmer (who almost bursts a blood vessel when they ask him to keep it from the team - especially Gibbs).

-McGee being the last one to find out and his reaction being like Ross from Friends - first having a hilarious meltdown and being furious that he was the last to know but then being overjoyed and happy for them.

-Tony dreading Gibbs reaction and avoiding him for days, hiding under desks and even coming from a crime scene in the back of the ME van with a body to avoid him. 

-Gibbs finally catching up to Tony and saying he already knew and giving Tony and Ziva a head slap for not telling him and telling them to make it work but keep it out of the office.

-Despite their attempts, Tony and Ziva not being able to stop with their flirting in the workplace resulting in many eye rolls from McGee and headslaps from Gibbs.

-People commenting how happier they both are.

-Suspects/interviewees commenting on how cute they are together and how obvious it is they are a couple and they are made for each other etc.

-Suspects/interviewees flirting with one of them and the other getting hilariously jealous and insisting they’re guilty.

-Their first argument causing all sorts of awkwardness in the workplace resulting in Gibbs and McGee talking to both of them and telling them separately not to throw away what they have because it’s special

-“my boyfriend/girlfriend”

-Casual displays of affection - hugs, kisses touches

-Heart to hearts about their pasts, issues, demons, problems etc and both of them supporting each other

-One of them being hurt/kidnapped and the other being able to fully express their pain and worry because their feelings are not a secret anymore

-Their second fight being a more serious one with lots of angst and resulting in an almost break-up

-Both of them making up with a heart to heart where they both admit they love each other so much and they’re scared of messing it up.

-Domestic Tiva - lying in bed talking, play fighting, Ziva giving Tony a massage because his back is playing up, her cooking while he sets the table, both of them sat on the couch with him watching a movie while she’s reading a book cuddled up to him.

-Tony proposing - him telling Abby what he’s planning and her telling everyone else who all give him a million different ideas stressing him out. Tony almost having a heart attack when Palmer walks into the bullpen one day with a bridal magazine for Ziva from Breena before he’s even had chance to propose and a confused Ziva never finding out why Tony raced across the room and tackled him to the ground.

-Tony’s large as life extravagant proposal complete with ponies, dancers, fireworks and fire eaters going spectacularly wrong

- Him being really downcast about it until Ziva encourages him to continue and he makes a beautiful speech and they both cry and it turns into the most beautiful proposal ever

-”My fiance/fiancee”

-The Wedding - Gibbs walking Ziva down the aisle and giving Tony a head slap at the altar. Abby crying. Their vows being funny and moving. Both of them reminiscing on their past and everything they’ve been through with lots of emotional stuff and declarations of love as well as jokes and banter.

-”My husband/wife”

-Ziva finding out she’s pregnant. Both of them being shit scared and excited.

-Both of them expressing their fears of being like their fathers and reassuring each other they’ll be great parents.

-Ziva being pregnant - Ziva being fed up of being put on desk duty, Tony being overprotective and not letting her move a muscle.

-Ziva giving birth with half of NCIS in the corridors much to the frustration of the hospital staff. It gets to the point that the receptionist just directs all NCIS staff to the maternity wing without even asking why they are there.

-Their family - Ima Ziva and Daddy Tony 

-Their extended family - McUncle Tim and Aunt Abby and Grandpa Gibbs

And of course 

-Us finding out what happened in Paris

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Children of The Gods

This is a gift for my amazing friend @lesbabe6, who is also the creator of this AU! Sorry it took so long to write, babes, but I hope you like it!!

Also, note: I know jackshit about Greek mythology and the personality of the gods/goddesses, so please don’t kill me if I got their characterizations wrong. I didn’t go through That Phase, so I’m going off of what I was told and the limited research I did.

That being said, enjoy the Six demigod AU!

[Tour!verse]

———————

Pale slivers of sunlight bleed in through the high window at the center of the church hall, casting shadows that reach like long black needles across the floor. There, beneath the rays, Aragon kneels in front of the altar. In the light, she truly feels divine, clean, holy- the way God intended her to be. However, that feeling is snatched away the moment she steps out of the soothing, warm glow.

No matter how much she prayed, she would never be a child of God, as the Lord was not her creator. Nay, the blood that flowed through her veins was not like the people she was desperate to be kin with.

From behind, there is a loud beating of wings and the fluttering of feathers. Catherine of Aragon, daughter of Nemesis, goddess of revenge, squares her shoulders, but does not turn around.

“Still bowing in these musty buildings I see,” Says her mother, “My child, your wishes for complete mortality are foolish. When will you realize how blessed you are?”

“This is ANYTHING but a bless-” Aragon stopped, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, “I did not call you to fight. I need your help.”

“Oh?” Nemesis quirks a brow. She folds her white wings neatly against her back, intrigued enough to stay. “And what might that be?”

“I want to get back at the whore who ruined my marriage.” Aragon states. Her tone is bitter and the anger flickering in her eyes amuses her mother. “I want that bastard to suffer the way she’s made me suffer. That is what I request, mother.”

Nemesis hums, thoroughly entertained by the offer. She taps her chin, gliding over to her demi-spawn, who she gazes down on with sharp eyes.

“An interesting proposition.” She says, “You are quite upset, yes?”

“Yes.” Aragon nods.

“Then I shall do it.” Nemesis says, noting how Aragon perks slightly at her agreement. “However,” She halts her daughter’s upcoming celebration, “You know my conditions.”

“An eye for an eye,” Aragon murmurs. Her body tenses. “You’re holding me to that? Even though I’m your daughter?”

“Of course,” Nemesis says, “They’re my rules.”

“I am NOT giving you one of my eyes!”

“I never said it had to be an eye,” Nemesis points out, “I just need something in return for helping you.” She opens her wings, “Or you could always do it yourself. You are a demigod. Use that clever brain of yours, child.”

“The extent of my powers is in no comparison to yours!” Aragon says, desperation oozing into her voice, “Please, mother, you-” She sets a hand on the small bump on her stomach. “You can take my child.”

For a moment, what looks like shock flits across Nemesis’ face before she calms her features. However, her feathers remain moderately ruffled.

“Your...baby?”

Aragon takes a deep breath.

“Yes.”

Nemesis is silent for a long moment.

“If that’s what you truly offer,” She says, “then you have a deal.”

With a wave of her mother’s hand, a sharp pain struck Aragon in the stomach, causing her to gasp and stagger. Nemesis leapt forward and steadies her daughter, who is clutching tightly at her midsection.

“Is it…”

“It has been done.”

——————

“Are you scared?’

Hermes has never been the most fearsome of gods, what with those strange little wings he wears and him being one of the youngest, so Anne wasn’t too worried about facing him in her prison cell in the tower.

“Not exactly.” Answers the daughter of the merchant and herald god.

“You brought it upon yourself,” Hermes chides, as if his child didn’t already know, “I mean- using your powers to run around and sleep with other men before you could get caught!”

“I really am your daughter.” Anne smirked.

Hermes’ crossed arms tense over his chest. Then, he clicks his tongue, shook his head, and laughed.

“That you are.” He says, “However, I am unable to do anything about your current predicament. Your fate is now set in the stone.”

“So this is really it?”

“I’m afraid so.” Hermes frowns, “For now, at least.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Soon, child. Soon.”

——————

Being the daughter of the god of healing, medicine, music, and poetry, Jane was always very confident in her healing powers. She remembers once how she fixed the broken leg of a small fawn when she was just a little girl, earning a pleased hum from not only her father, but also her father’s twin sister.

Since then, helping others has always been at the top of Jane Seymour’s mind. Discreetly, she would mend the scraped knees of fallen children, regenerate the worst of a wounded soldier’s injuries, soothe the burns on a servant’s hand after they accidentally touched the hot metal of a steaming kettle.

That being said, she wasn’t really that scared of her pregnancy. Yes, she heard about the mortality rates of child birth, but she had faith in her powers. She was constantly using the magic on her baby to keep them healthy inside of her womb, and she could always heal herself if something went wrong. The fear was quelled.

And yet...

The birth was painful. More painful than Joan had been expecting. She was so focused on pushing and breathing that she barely had any chances to use her magic to keep her health stable. And when an opportunity did come about, she either filtered the healing sensation into the baby she was worried for or used it to fix the hand of the poor, young lady in waiting she was grasping onto so tightly the bones may have broken.

Hours passed. Then days. Even after the baby is born- a beautiful, bouncing boy named Edward- Jane struggles between the lines of life and death. If she isn't unconscious, then she’s struggling to breathe over the pain or begging to see her son. Her pleading requests are always shut down.

Her magic is but a faint flicker within her. She has tried to mend any damaged flesh (the nurses were saying her vagina badly tore down to her rectum) but the power is either very weak or not working at all.

The latter seemed more likely.

“Am I dying?”

At first, it seemed like Jane is talking to no one, as the only person in the room with her is the young lady in waiting she had been clinging to while giving birth, who was asleep in a chair in the corner of the room.

But then a beam of sun cut through the thick grey storm clouds outside, bathing the bedroom in the glow. A man appears before her very eyes.

“I'm afraid so, my dear,” Apollo frowns, “You overused your magic on your son. Keeping him alive and safe.”

“Is be okay?” Jane asks, “Is he-”

“He's fine, sweeting,” Apollo soothes her. He crosses over to the bed and takes one of her frail hands, using the other to stroke back her sweaty bangs. “Perfectly healthy.”

Jane nodded weakly. A fresh wave of pain hits her and she screwed her eyes shut.

“Can I hold him?” She wheezes out, “My son... Please...please let me hold Edward once...”

Apollo frowned. He gently strokes his thumb over her knuckles.”

“I'm sorry, my sweet. I can't do that.” He says.

“But-”

“Rest... Rest...”

——————

“What you have done is quite foolish.”

Cleves laughed and splatters of blood come out of her mouth. She looks up at her father, Mars, and grinned, despite the gash in her stomach.

“You are my father.” She says.

“That I am,” Mars says, “But you have ruined your mortal vessel. You're going to die.”

Cleves grunted and tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but is halted by the pain. Mars presses her back down into the damp grass, his hands surprisingly gentle.

“Do you hate me, father?” Asked the dying woman.

Mars pursed his lips and brushed Cleves' blood-spattered cheek with a tender finger. For a moment, he almost doesn’t seem like the god of war.

“I could never hate such a great warrior,” He says, “You have made me very proud, Anna. And now, you die an honored death.”

Cleves smiled up at her father. She feels him ease the sword clenched tightly in her fingers out of her hand and she breathes a shuddering, but relieved breath.

“I'm glad.” She whispers. Her eyelids grow heavy.

“One day, you will raise your sword again.” She hears Mars say. His voice is fading out. “But now is not the time.”

——————

Katherine opens her hand and watches a small rainbow weave and flow around her fingers. Watching the colors sparkle and flit around in the air became one of the only things that bring her comfort ever since she was wed to the king.

Well, there was one other things...

“Is this what you wanted for me?”

Iris, goddess of rainbows, appears in a veil of colorful sparkles. Her beautiful features are creased with worry as she crosses over and kneels beside her young daughter.

“I’ve always imagined you being royalty,” She says, “But this treatment you get? Never.”

Katherine sniffles softly. “Wh-why is this happening to me? I-I...”

“I know not.” Iris replies sadly.

She went to stand up, but Katherine clings tightly to her hand and her heart melts for her child. She pulls the girl into her lap and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“When you grow up,” She began, knowing stories usually cheered Katherine up, “You will be a beautiful young woman. Powerful, too.”

“Will I still have my powers?” Katherine asks.

“Well, of course, silly girl,” Iris chuckles, cuddling the girl closer and pressing a loving kiss to her cheek, making her giggle. “You powers will be even more amazing than they are now. You will even be able to shoot beams of light!”

“Woah!” Katherine lit up, her eyes glowing with wonder, “Really?”

“Really.” Iris confirms with a nod, “You will be so strong, my darling. The most amazing demigod the world has ever seen.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

A year later, Katherine believes she was lied to when she is executed. But little did she know...

—————

“As much as I love your passion for my art, all this work you’re doing cannot be good for the baby.”

Cathy perked up at the sound of the voice and twists around to see her mother standing there. She can’t help but smile a little.

“I’m free from Henry,” She says, “I’m going to write.” Her small smile twists up into a smirk, “You worry over me?”

Athena, goddess of wisdom, seems a little ruffled. “Of course,” She says, “I worry over you and the child.”

Cathy set one hand on her six-month-pregnant bump, chuckling lightly. Her mother crosses over and gently touches her belly, feeling the life flutter within her womb.

“What an energetic little one,” She muses.

“They love to kick me in the ribs,” Cathy laughs lightly, “Tell me: Will they have god blood?”

“I am unsure,” Athena admits. She sets her palm flat against the top of Cathy’s stomach, feeling a kick against her hand. “They may. But not half like you are. Less.”

Cathy nodded and turned back to her writing, but Athena grabs her shoulders.

“Ah-ah.” Athena tuts, “To bed with you.”

“But- Mother!”

“Come on,” Athena hauls Cathy to her feet and began guiding her to her bed, “You need to rest. You may continue tomorrow.”

Cathy huffed, but a small smile tugs on her lips as she climbs into bed. She gazes up at her mother, who is watching over her closely.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I need to make sure you don’t get up and go work whenever I leave.” Athena says, thinking one step ahead. “Just rest, my dear.”

With another small huff, Cathy closes her eyes and began to drift off. She feels her mother gently touch her belly and mutter something, then disappeared.

Thomas lays down beside her.

——————

Hermes watches his youngest child pace about her rooms with a pitiful look settled on his features. His worry ran deep- the girl has barely been sleeping ever since her sister was put in jail and tears seemed to be constantly flowing from her eyes.

“Can't you do something?!” Maggie suddenly exploded, startling Hermes slightly. He calms himself quickly.

“I'm sorry, Margaret,” He says sadly, “There is nothing to be done.”

“But- but you're a god !” Maggie cries, “You should you- should be able to do something! You can save her!”

“I cannot,” Hermes says, “I cannot interfere. She brought this upon herself.”

“Don't say that.” Maggie snarls, stalking up to her father, “Henry wasn’t treating her right! She had every right to do what she did!”

Hermes held a hand up. “You must calm yourself, little one.”

Maggie took a step back and sniffled. Fresh tears filled her eyes, making Hermes’ heart clench for his young daughter.

“I don’t wanna lose her,” Maggie whimpered, pressing into her father’s arms and sobbing into his chest, “I-I need her!”

“I know, little one, I know.” Hermes murmurs, stroking his daughter's hair to try and comfort her, “I don't want to lose your sister, either.”

Maggie shoved Hermes away, her eyes alight with rage and anguish.

“You are a GOD! You- you could save her! You could get someone else to save her! What- what about Hades?!”

“Absolutely not.” Hermes says instantly. He sighed sadly and gave Maggie a sympathetic look. “My child, I'm sorry. I cannot do anything for her. Your sister's soul now lies in Hades’ hands.“

Maggie stares at him in shock before gritting her teeth.

“You're useless.” She seethed before running out.

——————

Joan’s legs burned as she ran through London, spurred forward by the shouting of guards behind her. Their weapons were out, primed for her blood. It was only fair, they thought, since she had killed their queen.

It was a horrifying revelation. Sure, she had a problem with properly regulating her body temperature and the chill she naturally gave off, but had she really been so cold she froze Lady Jane Seymour to freeze to death?

“Run, little snow fox!” Her father cries in her ears, “Don't let them get you!”

Joan ran faster, desperate to get away. Behind her, the clack of a metal contraption cracks loudly- agony explodes in Joan’s right arm.

She howls in pain. She stumbles, falling down to one knee, scraping it against the cold asphalt, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the crossbow bolt sticking out of her arm.

A hoard of guards round the corner. Their swords and spears are up. Joan could already imagine her hot blood dripping from the gleaming blade.

She doesn’t want to die.

Joan thrust her hand out and a freezing ray of frost shoots out from her palm. The ice spreads across the ground and large, sharp icicles rise up to impale several guards through the stomachs and suspend their bodies in the air. Those who didn’t die scream in shock, rage, fear.

One man passes through the frozen spikes and rushed Joan with his sword raised, but he’s too slow. A chunk of ice nails straight through his throat.

People- not just guards, now- screech in terror. They cry in horror about the beast before them, the monster that was slaughtering them all like pigs.

That makes Joan freeze. She looks around and was sick with the fact that the ice has spread and menacing icicles gut people who weren’t even going after her.

She was killing innocents.

The spikes continue to grow at her output of distressed emotions that filter into her magic. She tries to get them to stop, but the frost doesn't listen. One woman cries out for God to save them all.

Her body is ripped by two icicles.

“Snow fox!” Her father yells, but Joan can't move. Scalding tears drip down her cold cheeks and she doesn't even realize it.

A daring soldier rushes at her. She doesn’t move. She craves the end of his blade.

But before her throat could be cut, a man lands in front of her in a freezing whirlwind that startles the guard away. A blizzard rages with just a mere beat of the mysterious man's huge purple wings.

Boreas, god of the north wind, now stands before them all.

Joan stares up at her father with tears in her eyes. He looks back at her pitifully before calling off the ice growing through the streets. The bodies they were lanced in the air fall to the floor into pools of blood and guts.

Boreas speaks no words to the terrified mortals. All he does is save them from the frost, then grabbed his daughter and flew away.

——————

The smell of ash hung heavy in the air. A grey haze leaks out of the mouth of the cave, whorls of smoke wreathing around the trees and twisting into the sky. Amidst all the heat, Maria wipes her brow, but sweat continued to stream down her face regardless of the action.

“Very good,” Hephaestus, god of the forge, hums, watching his daughter create a great, gleaming broadsword in the smith he conjured up in the cave. “Give it a bit more heat.”

Maria nods. After grinding her teeth to make friction in her mouth, she breathes out a bright golden plume of fire onto the blade. She watches the metal glow orange, then brought her hammer onto it, shaping the weapon into perfection.

“Wonderful!” Hephaestus cries, his deep, loud voice booming through the cavern. He plucks up the sword, not affected by the heat of the hot steel, and holds it up to his eyes, admiring it. “This is perfect, my girl!”

“Thank you, father,” Maria says, puffing out her chest in pride. Thin lines of smoke wind out from her nostrils when she breathes out. She laughs when the god ruffles the top of her unruly, ashy hair with one of his large hands. “And thank you for this. For taking time out of your ‘godly duties’ to come do this.”

Hephaestus chuckled deeply. “Anything for my only daughter.”

Maria smiles and then turned back to the forge.

“So, what’s next?”

——————

The deal Hecate and Aphrodite made was surprising to many gods, as they were the last two they expected to get together. However, Aphrodite was not one to back down, so she obliged to Hecate’s proposition. A mere two months later, the goddess of love and the goddess of magic had their hard work paid off.

“It’s a girl.” Aphrodite whispers. In her arms she cradled the newborn goddess- an absolutely tiny little girl with tufts of white hair and dark, gleaming eyes whenever they opened. “She’s got my looks.” Aphrodite adds with a chuckle.

Hecate snorts. She carefully lifts the small bundle that was her new daughter and her twin snakes slither down her shoulders to observe the little thing.

“Great magic runs in her blood.” She says proudly, “What a magnificent goddess she will be.”

Aphrodite takes the baby back, rocking her gently.

“Don’t get too attached.” Hecate reminds.

Aphrodite sighs. “I know.” She pauses, “We’ll have to send her to the mortal world soon, won’t we?”

“That was the plan,” Hecate says. “Name her, at least.”

Aphrodite gazes down at her daughter, who opens her dark eyes with an adorable little yawn. One of her tiny hands grabs onto her mother’s and she giggles softly.

“Elizabeth.”

——————

It’s over five hundred years later when the earth of London shifts with supernatural power.

England’s demigods rise from the Underworld once again.

And, among them, a young goddess who has long forgotten her power awakens from her deep slumber.

[birdlingstarot]

Hi :)) I was also wondering if you could tell me about my past life please 🥰 💗C💗

Hello  🌻 💗C💗!

A little birdie told me this 🕊

Who were you in your past life? 37 - The Moon

You were a strong lady who was interested in taboo things, such as occult. You could very well had been a witch in your past life. People view you as a confident and very capable person, which lead to you having many admirers in different aspects, while you might had thought otherwise.

You have intense emotions, which leads to you being very passionate. You were able to gather that and along with your positive and logical thinking and attitude, you were able to thrive in your work life.

However, you had felt alone in your past life despite how people view you. A strained smile frequently appeared on your face. You carry your burdens and some others’ as well yet you don’t allow others to help carry yours.

Whether it be you not wanting others to help you, such as you feel as though you shouldn’t annoy them with your issues when they have theirs to deal with, or others not picking up on your signals that you wanted help, you did not feel helped by others which lead to you feeling alone as you carry your burdens.

However, in your current life, you need to know that there are people around you that will help you. In the card, despite it being deemed the Moon, in the background, there’s a feeling of the sun rising. Whether or not you see it or is looking at it, it will be there. Call out for help, let others help you and you might just be surprised. 

You are not annoying others in any way with your issues. Imagine you were on the receiving end, just as you frequently were, how did you feel? It’s quite the same for them as well.

Other messages on your past life 48 - The Sorcerer; 25 - The Holy Mountain

This further solidifies the fact that you were a very capable and wise person in your past life. You could very well had been in a form of religion and thrived there as well. 

It seemed that you had led something of a double life, one who is very normal and led a normal work life and another who was held in high regards in your religion. You were not of the highest ranking but you were decently close to it. You might had been offered a higher position but you had refused for your own personal reasons and felt as though you were not capable enough for it as well as you had your own views that did not align with the religion in some aspects.

You were an empath. You were able to sense people’s emotions easily and have a very unbiased yet no bullsh*t method of doing things which aid you in achieving respect in your past life region.

There is a huge focus on your higher self, values and religion in your past life and it seemed that you had done very well in that regard. 

However, you had hold onto some self-centered fears that you had manifested which led to a misuse of your power in your past life and could very well had been moved forward into your current life. 

All is not lost. You should face your fears and accept them, that you had done these things that had cause harm to you and others around you. As you meet it with humility, this destructive power would turn into graceful energy which you can use to help others and yourself in this. 

You are called to go on a sacred pilgrimage to acquire vision and perspective. First, you must accept the present situation as an opportunity to discover higher understanding. Find a sacred altar where those who had came before you have prayed and found wisdom and make an offering there. Make a commitment to walk with courage, love and compassion until you see with clarity the perfection of all.

It’s time to be active. You do not need to hike any mountains though being near or in nature can very well help you clear your mind and think through things or achieve sudden inspiration or wisdom, so go on a nature walk or something similar. (Not now though, you can have one in your mind :D Imagine yourself walking through a path that is full of tall trees by the pathway and only you are there with the nature, in the sunlight) (ASMR??? Strolling ‘round the park with me??? Is there one like that?? Or you can find one video that brings you around one. I keep imaging a rainforest in the day, during or just after sunrise, though so you might want to check them out)

Do not let your doubts or fears deter you from starting or during this journey and keep you bound. This is the time to leap over challenges and to remember that from the top of the mountain, there are no obstacles, only beauty and an unobstructed view of the entire Earth. Though you should not forget about the little things that you would become unable to see from above. 

Keep a journal or something to help you keep track. Write down how you feel, how you view yourself, your strength, weaknesses and your fears as the current you. Through the journey, at some points and at the end, write down how you feel, how you view yourself, your strength, weaknesses and your fears again and look at what changes had been made to you and your views, How it affected others etc.

You already have all the tools and gears you need to embark on this journey. Overcome your obstacles. Lethargy, Indolence, and laziness, these are the real and only obstacles you have. 

What do you have to learn on your current journey? LXIX - The Vessel; LXVIII - The Mirror

The Sun and Moon had been appearing a lot in your reading. You might really want to check them out, their symbolism and in tarot etc. Or look into the sky, the sun, moon and stars, mainly the sun and moon (Don’t look directly into the Sun though) to see how you feel and if there are any messages that you get. 

In tarot, the Sun represents success, positivity, logical and masculinity while the Moon represents emotions, illusions and femininity. This is just a very general way of speaking, there’s more information if you look it up or you can try looking at the tarot cards of them and see if you get any feelings or messages. Waite Raider Tarot is the most common one and the one I keep seeing in my mind so you might want to look it up.

Back to the main topic. You are called to look at who you are. What are you hiding? Is the you the you you want to be or what others what you to be? What surrounds you or situation you are in that had build you to become the you now? Is it the pathway you truly wish to continue in?

You get affect by others and your surroundings easier and more than others. This allows you to become a reflection for them as you pick up on their habits and characteristics more than others. Although this is a good trait to help others as you can empathise or sympathise more with them, it is also easier for you to drown in them that you forget who you truly are. 

The mirror is also all about self-perception, therefore can easily contort. Don’t compare yourself to others or even your ‘ideal’ self. Understand who you truly are and be kind to yourself. Speak kindly to yourself. Look into the mirror and speak kindly to yourself, literally. It might feel awkward at first but it is a sure way to become friends with yourself. 

You might wan to read the poem “I am not I” by Juan Jiménez, Yoko Ono’s “Mirror Piece”, in Grapefruit, and Yayoi Kusama’s “Infinity Mirror Rooms”.

Take a step back and isolate yourself to think about yourself, for yourself. The moon is your mirror. (This sounds vague but it popped into my mind and it could very well speak to you. It feels like a message that is really only for you to listen to. I’m not getting anything on it and I’ll leave it at that. You have high potential to really get messages or you could very well be getting it already. If you need or want any further clarification or help, feel free to contact us, dm us or others👍)

The moon is your mirror in this case. Maybe do it at night? Look into the night sky, the moon?? (There’s this Chinese song called ‘The moon represents my heart’. It’s kinda old but it’s really good. Look up the lyrics. OMG?? IT COULD BE?? THE SONG MIGHT REALLY HAVE SOME MESSAGES FOR YOU TOO???? THIS IS SO EGGCITING!!!👀) 

Remember your base line, your values etc. Your root chakra mainly. You should look it up :D. Always remember to go back and review who you truly are as this will really help and heal you and in your journey especially. 

Assess what is being held together and how. You are a vessel in itself. Is it too tight? Too loose? Broken? Is there even one at all? It is natural for structures to have a lifespan - to be formed and eventually fall apart, and this lifespan and life cycle must be honoured. Is it time for you to build, break, or repair? You must find out. This ‘vessel’ is something we must pay particular attention to, both in ourselves and around us. Healing cannot be sustained without a strong container.

(There’s this Go Deeper section: “Loving Cup”, by the Rolling Stones that really caught my eyes, so it might be something you might want to look up 😊)

(Are you a creative person?? There seemed to be a lot of poems, songs etc. I’m getting attracted to 🤔)

Other Messages for you. 

13. Bastet of 174Hz; 

You’ve been moving so fast for so long that you’re not realising how wound up you’ve become. Gently unwind now, to drop into a deeper, slowly healing rhythm, and you will restore your body, mind and soul. Things which seem too difficult right now shall soon seem very manageable and even easy and/or pleasurable to accomplish.

Take the time to just have fun and let loose. Believe in the happiness and healing your heart can create and attract. Make an agreement with yourself to incorporate more pleasure into your life. Make a commitment that you will notice what happens in terms of your  own happiness and the quality of your interactions with others when you do this. 

Make a list of things or activities that makes you relaxed and happy. Nap time? Talking a stroll? Music? Reading something? Crystal arts? Whatever art you have to make yourself relaxed and happy. Indulge yourself moderately. What I mean is, work hard play hard. Don’t just work, work, work, ya’know.

Even if you are in some form of troubled situation now, relax and enjoy yourself before striking anything. It’s always better to see things and make decision from a more relaxed and calm place than a place of stress. 

16. The Sun of 417Hz; 

You are being healed from guilt and fear. Such emotions will no longer steal your personal power or dissuade you from confidence, happiness and realising your own worth. No matter how unlikely it may seem, you are going to emerge from a spiritual winter into light and life. The divinely ordained time for your liberation, healing and emergence is much closer than you realise. Abundant blessings are stirring and shall soon manifest.

Just like a phoenix. Even phoenix needs time to emerge from ashes.

So, don’t worry too much, alright? Relax and enjoy yourself. You’ve done great thus far! We’re so proud of you! (From the divine spirits guides and me) 

Keep it up but don’t overwork!!! Take care of yourself!!!!

29. Giraffe Spirit: See the Big Picture; 

You could very well be focusing on the few negative details. It’s time to look at the big picture tenderly, not with a critical or resentful eye. 

In all aspects of your life, it’s time to stretch your neck out and broaden your view, open your eyes to what others need or are experiencing, and see the big picture you fit into.

No matter how great your wisdom, knowledge, or experience, you don’t want to overlook the details and connections that will help you better understand yourself and your circumstances, so stretch yourself. Look beyond what catches your attention at eye level and know that not everything is as obvious as you might like it to be. Spirit bestows upon you a new perspective that might make all the difference.

Are you sticking your neck out too far, reaching too high instead of looking around you to see conditions on the ground? Your devotion to co-creating something new is admirable but the Giraffe Spirit is showing up to remind you that you have to look at the whole picture. Perspective is necessary now, and that means checking in with what is going on around you at your feet.

Or perhaps you are you ruminating over the worries of the world instead of paying attention to what you can do right now, where you are, to bring about changes you would like to see. Align with your highest good , and know that while perspective is important, transformation begins where you are. Do not get so far up iin the clouds thinking all about all the big problems that you lose perspective and forget to do your part, however small it may be, to start enacting change - for transformation begins with you.

In addition, giraffes live and work in herds. As you look out for others, others will look out for you. You can count on others to watch your back. Ask for help if you need, don’t worry too much about what they might think about you or otherwise because no matter what, you will be prioritised over the questions or favours you might ask.

Watch out for others and they will you, and vice versa. You know that, don’t you? 😊

41. Nightingale Spirit: Love is all around; 

In the darkness if night, Nightingale Spirit sings her song of love and hope, a harbinger of dawn to remind you that the sun will rise again soon. You are so loved, and the illumination song of the Nightingale Spirit calls you to a new level of self-awareness and connection with the Light. 

Yes, there is shadow and darkness, but love and prosperity exist everywhere, even in the seeming emptiness of space, darkness and a starless night. Hearken to the message, letting the Nightingale’s song remind you that love is all around. Feel it and trust in your ability to recognise that the spaces that appear empty are filled with love and abundance. (That includes people) Illumination will happen soon.

Sing now - put on some music or simply sing in the empty space, fir finding the light within and giving it voice will give rise to hope and help you begin to hear the call of another, who could be, like you, was begging to fear that the light would never come. Bring light into the darkness with love from within. Give it voice and know that daybreak will be here soon.

The world is in abundance. You are support no matter what you think. The people around you could very well be calling out to you to let them in - to listen and/or to help. However, nightingales are soft. You could very well had not heard them calling out to you from the noises you have around you and in your head, but they’re there.

You could very well be in a troubled situation now and this is calling you to let others in, to call for others. They could bring you help and support as well as let you reach and tap into a new perspective. You will get through this. In the future or even now, you could help others who might be in the same or similar position as you are or were in. 

Now and in the future. You will be supported. You will be able to overcome anything. With support from you, your divine spirit guides and others around you.

 60. Swan Spirit: Time for a deep dive; 

Straightforwardly, you shouldn’t fear your journey and start now. This could very well be referencing a situation you are in that you feel troubled in and had been avoiding and your journey to find yourself back. 

zyou may think you know what is best for you now, but take the plunge into the depths of your awareness, for there is knowledge you are not aware of and great treasures to be discovered. Deeper understanding awaits you and a perspective that comes from greater self-knowledge is what you need right now to better understand a situation or relationship.

As you come to know yourself more intimately, so too will you come to better know others, so Swan Spirit is asking you to go beyond the surface of what is happening between you and others and resists the temptation to judge by superficial appearances. 

Know that there is much deeper potential for loving connections and forgiveness, and mutual understanding. Choose to dive deep, into your Why. Asking the deeper questions of yourself, you are led by the grace of Swan Spirit.

Don’t talk yourself into diving deep just because you see the potential of things instead of what they really are now. Now is not a time to be selective, limited perception that can lead to misjudgment. Instead, this is a time for going deep and being honest with what you find as you explore the depths. Have no fear, for whatever you find below will help you love and understand yourself and others as well as make better choices.

Can you sense Swan Spirit calling you to dive deep and resurface to choose again?

It is not to say that you should stop enjoying yourself, referring back to 13. Bastet of 174Hz, it is to say to incorporate it into your life. Either you can have fun while working through it, finding pleasure on the journey and/or resolving the situation, or dedicate time to relax and work. Find the rhythm for yourself that includes both. 

Your journey will be a long one and it is something that you should dive deep into. To find more of yourself and get them back as ever. It will bring you confidence, pleasure and more. Don’t fear it, or even if you do, that’s okay, but do not walk away from it or stop going further.

You can do it!

All the best!!

You can ask for help if you need to! 

If you want guidance from us, worry not and speak to us. We’re always open.

59. Starfish Spirit: Open to infinite possibility

You might have an ideal vision on how you want things to go and end but you are called to release that. To be open to all the other possibilities and their pros and cons as well as your ideal vision’s, as well as even the better or seemingly unrealistic ones! 

If you remain open, you would see the benefits and beauty of things in your situation(s) that you could miss if you hold onto your ideal. 

Spirits want the best for you and will support you in achieving what you hold dear.

Relax and enjoy the ride.

Overall, you are called to realise your true self again, to learn to balance between being a mirror and being the true you. I’m sorry if this doesn’t seem like a past life reading as it seemed focused on other aspects but we believe that these are what you need to hear right now and maybe in the future if you were to come back to this. 

We hope this had helped you, 🌻 💗C💗 !

For now, the little birdie shall return home 🏡 ~ Ring our doorbell whenever!

Rest well 💤 ~

[revthepunchbear]

A Debt Owed, A Debt Paid

It had all started with a chill down her spine and a feeling of overwhelming dread, like death was peeling away at her. She’d nearly thrown up, right then and there, which wouldn’t have been the worst part of the night by far. There was a point that night were she was withering from the inside out as magic was sucked from her, those very forces that bound her together ripping away to see her hemorrhaging blood everywhere. 

At that point, she hadn’t even known why it was happening. She’d only known that she’d seen malevolent forces on the Other Side, spiraling around their safe house in Elwynn. The Harbinger had been there too and that terrified her more than anything. That desperate feeling that she had to do something surged through her as the body of Eilithe had been drug from the house, Xavier pushing himself to the limit to contain the madness within. 

Once, twice, three times Reveria tried to pull the soul back into Eilithe’s body only to find it harder and harder to do each time. The druid was panicking, Eilithe’s soul had never been so hard to guide. It had to be the malevolence around them, it had to be those spirits coming for her that were making it so hard. In her desperation, she’d called on the only one she thought could remedy the situation. Cut palms, brands traced in blood on the dirt and upon her face, the pleas for help sounding out in Zandali. 

“Mama, hear me. Your vessel needs you. I invoke the promise you made and bound to me. Mama, I have nothing else.... I have no offering of payment. My debt is yours. Please... Answer me Mama.”

Ghostly, spidery limbs had torn from Reveria’s mouth, searching for purchase anywhere they could as a flood of widow spiders poured from the druid’s mouth.  Those spiders formed together, weaving the shape of a trollish woman in a tattered ballroom gown. Eight spidery limbs jutted from her back as she looked down on the nearly crying Reveria. 

“What ya doin’ Zin’ulwembu? Can’t ya see she be castin’? Ya only hurtin’ her more, fightin’ her like ya is.” There’d been many more words, Reveria had begged Mama Zarenyen to help Eilithe and the loa had, in no small fashion. The insanity had been quelled, though Mama’s actions may have see An’Set hurt, it was still a small price to pay to end the insanity within the safe house. However...

Mama had come from the safe house and over to Reveria, cupping her chin in her hand. Her gaze had held a smile but there was the undeniable undercurrent of a threat. “I be comin’ tah collect ya debt. Ya best not hold out on Mama, Zin’ulwembu.” Those words haunted the druid, even as An’Set asked about them later. She’d brushed it off, offering an explanation. He’d chided her, and all she had to offer in return was “What else was I suppose to do? You were getting your ass beat.” He hadn’t been able to argue that. 

That night had ended in a much better place, Reveria and An’Set had snorted some of their favorite drugs, ran around acting like fools yelling at the top of their lungs, yodeling, bothering their friends, and more. The night didn’t truly even end there, as An’Set carried Reveria off into the teahouse, slung over his shoulder, where they rutted away the rest of the night and into the morning in drug fueled ecstasy, ringing in their new year in style. The thought of the debt that was owed, slipping from her mind in those moments.

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

A day or two passed, Reveria had managed to avoid anything too straining or stressful. Zelphryin had returned, which had been less than pleasing to her but she’d managed to coax him into taking her and Eilithe to the spa. They’d yet to go but she was in no particular rush. This night she sat up, alone, in the great room, sipping on bourbon as a fire crackled and flickered in the fireplace. An’Set was in bed, as were all her children. 

She was lost in thought, right up until the tapping of the glass of the floor to ceiling windows sounded out. So lost in thought was she that she nearly jumped out of her skin. She managed not to spill her drink, setting it down quickly as she looked with wide eyes at the window. Standing there, with that telltale grin of hers, was Mama Zarenyen, beckoning Reveria with a lone finger. 

There was a sense of relief, yet also a pang of anxiety as Reveria’s inky hues took the loa in. She stood, slowly, the long shirt of An’Set’s that she wore, flapping about her thighs as she walked to the rear door. There was no doubt in her mind that Mama would have been inside, were it not for the wards Eilithe had helped the druid place. Outside, Mama turned and began slowly walking through the large backyard as Reveria joined her.  A grin spread Mama’s lips, her short tusks popping out just a bit as her spidery limbs draped about Reveria’s figure. "Zin’ulwembu... Walk wit me...We be havin’ tings ta discuss.” The druid’s arms crossed against her chest as she walked along, not as though she had much of a choice in the matter. “What is it you want, Mama?” The loa chuckled, low and dark, canting her head as she slowly led Reveria along. “Ya sound so suspicious, Zin’ulwembu. Mama can’ jus’ want ta talk at ya? Spend some time wit her vessel?” 

Reveria narrowed her eyes and looked over to the woman, peering at her searchingly. She seriously doubted that Mama was just here to talk, the fresh debt springing to the forefront of her mind. Still, she was willing to try and play along. “Well, I just didn’t think you were here for that. What did you want to talk about?” Mama wiggled her fingers at Rysh’Vhek as the massive spider skittered from the jungle. “Ya chil’ren be lookin’ strong an’ hel’ty. Ya man, he be a surprise. Love be a surprise in general doh, so dat ain’ bein’ all dat strange. Ya life be prosperin’. I been seein’ ya wit ya trainin’ too. Zulfie got ya becomin’ quite dah little witchdoctah don’ she?” 

There wasn’t much for Reveria to say to all of that. It was clear that Mama had been watching her life of late, which hardly surprised Reveria. “Eilithe is a good shan’do. She teaches me well. It was rocky there for a bit but I stopped trying to do things on my own. The harder things at least.” Their path led them into the jungle, the scent and smells of it something Reveria recognized from a time long passed. The jungle slowly became strewn in the webs of large spiders, the telltale cocoons and husks of their prey laying about or hanging from trees. 

All the while the pair had talked until they arrived at the center, a circular wall of webbing that rose up to the ceiling of the jungle, with a circular altar of bones and stone laying in the middle. She’d been here before, long ago to strike a bargain that she’d regretted. Tonight though, there was no sense of ominous foreboding, just a loa that was acting almost motherly to the druid. Once they stood before the altar, Mama released Reveria and began to walk in a slow circle about her. “So now we come tah tha real biz’ness... Ya be owin’ Mama a debt zin’ulwembu. An’ Mama been tinkin’ real hard on what dat gonna be paid wit.” Reveria’s brow furrowed but she remained silent, ready to speak up if it had anything to do with her family. Both fortunately and unfortunately for her, it did not. 

“Ya be my vessel but ya don’t know nut’ting bout takin’ dat form, do ya? Ya had dreams of it doh, I know ya have. Mama seen dem dreams cuz she caused dem dreams. Ya dreamed ya was dah spidah... ya dreamed ya was dah eighth eye... it been comin’ for a long time. ya been feelin’ dat urge, dat pressure, when ya go tah shift. When ya tink ya shiftin’ tah dat lovely saber... Dere be a part ah ya dat tinkin’... In dah back ah ya mind... Dat da saber ain’ right no more.” She paused in her circling to lay a hand on Reveria’s left shoulder. 

“Dah time has come. Ya debt gonna be startin’ ya transformation intah Mama’s vessel more fully. I be takin’ ya saber. It gon take time but ya be findin’ soon dat ya gonna be stuck in dah middle, wit out a form like dat... until ya be masterin’ dah spidah. Dere gon come a day... Dere gon be times... Mama gon take ya vessel and use it for herself. Dat be dah price.” Reveria looked on, all but helpless as she processed the desire of Mama. She was about to become an actual vessel. She would lose control. Who knew what Mama would do? The thought terrified her, 

“Fine... Fine...” All she could do was keep telling herself it had been worth it, that her sister’s life and soul had been worth it. That her husband’s life had been worth it. “Dat’s alright, Zin’ulwembu. Every’ting gon be okay~” The way she said it, the way her voice carried a veiled malicious tone, Reveria had a sense of dread in her stomach but this was the price and she would pay it. Mama’s hand began to feel hot, so hot... Like a red hot cattle prod, leaving Reveria screaming in the jungle as a matching brand, another widow, formed on her left shoulder. The skin sizzled and cooked, the druid howled, and Mama Zarenyen laughed. 

“Dere, dere Zin’ulwembu... Mama takin’ care ah you like she always done...” 

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

Tagging @eilitheduskbringer​ @kurel-andiel​ @velerodra-valesinger​ @theshalthera​ @xavier-sunshadow​

Art by @kazeco1986​ 

[whelvenwings]

Another Mango in the Fruit Bowl

Destiel, 1.6k.

If ye seek the cause of this fic, turn thine eyes to @crxstalcas.

*********

Do not rush to judge someone unless … [their] fruits reveal the truth.

- Israelmore Ayivor

What is the worst thing that you can imagine happening to you? No, worse than that. Worse, still, than that. Whatever you are picturing, it isn’t bad enough.

Picture now your body shifting… compacting. Compressing.

Sweetening.

You struggle, but it’s in vain. Your body isn’t under your control. You’re hollering and screaming and no sound is being made, no one can hear you. They walk past you as though everything were completely normal. They ignore you. To them, you might as well be another brick in the wall.

Another… mango in the fruit bowl.

Picture it now, if you can. Close your eyes. No, open them, you need to read. I’m telling you to reopen them but we both know you never closed them for any prolonged amount of time in the first place, you anarchist, you absolute legend.

Imagine waking up as your own worst enemy.

Imagine waking up yucky.

Imagine waking up… as a gross gross gross groooooooooooooooooooss fruit.

***

“Dean,” said Castiel, “the worst has happened.”

“Oh god,” said Dean, “I know.”

They sat in their beds - and just for a moment, they were silent, as though all that was wrong and terrible could be hushed to nothing if they only did not speak.

Light filtered in through the motel window, soft and willowy light. It brushed tender fingers over the scene, an ethereally careful touch that seemed to make miracles of the dust on top of the chip-screened television, the brown shabbiness of the carpet, the dismal pattern of the wallpaper.

The shiny, shiny skin of two fruits, sitting with their tops poking out of the blankets on two twin beds.

On the left, a mango.

On the right, a banana.

“Dean,” said Castiel once more.

“Yeah.”

“Should we do something about this.”

Dean, who was a banana, thought carefully.

“I hate bananas,” he said.

“Bananas are delicious and I envy the sweet, delicious, angelic body in which you have become enveloped while maintaining the full power of speech and rational thought (besides your hatred for bananas!) for reasons unbeknownst to us,” Castiel said. “While I… O TEMPORA, O MORES… have become IMPRISONED, nay SHACKLED, within a BEFOULMENT… WHAT IS THIS CREEPING DEATH I FEEL COME OVER ME… LO, I AM BROUGHT DOWN, THUS IS THE ANGEL CASTIEL ENDED.”

“Shhh,” Dean said mildly. “Mangoes are like my favourite?”

“They suck,” Castiel said shortly. Much more shortly than usual. He was like one twentieth of his normal size because he was a mango. Yeah, I actually went and looked that up, and that’s about accurate if the mango is a large one (and you know it’s large (; ). And the first result I got when I typed “Mango size guide” was details on the clothing brand Mango’s sizes of jeans. Why won’t Google immediately cater to something more relatable like needing to know what proportion of his usual size a man would be if he changed into a sentient, well-spoken, angry fruit. You want to know the best part? I guessed it would be one twentieth and I was RIGHT. HAVE I BEEN A MANGO MATHS SAVANT THIS ENTIRE TIME.

“Anyway, enough of that,” Dean said, getting this story back on track.

“I hate being a mango,” said Castiel.

“I hate being a banana,” Dean said. “They’re icky. I should be more worried than I am, though. I’m like surprisingly zen about this whole experience.”

“It’s because bananas are good,” Castiel said.

“No,” said Dean. “Not that.”

“It’s because the high levels of potassium are making you feel K.”

“...” said Dean.

“K is short for OK, as some hip teens use it,” Castiel said. “And it is also the chemical symbol for potassium, which is found in bananas.”

“I hate everything about this,” Dean said, “but I accept that punning is a necessary evil.”

They sat some more, and thought about life.

“Oh,” said Castiel, “I weep for my old vessel.”

“Me too,” Dean said. “I mean, for my own. Not for yours. Obviously.”

“Bit harsh,” Castiel said. “I did just lose that. Show a bit of compassion, you acolyte who worships at the altar of cruel honesty.”

“I’m trying to be tough and not show you that I have feelings about you,” Dean explained helpfully.

“You have FEELINGS about me?” Castiel gasped.

“What - oh - oh DARN - oh NO,” Dean said. “I have blown my cover.”

The sun set. It had been a long day of sitting and talking about being fruit and having feelings. They were very much mid-conversation really but you know how it is when you gotta nap more than you gotta discuss the way you feel. They were both very tired. They slept.

***

“Good morning,” said Castiel. “The worst has still happened.”

“It’s like ongoing,” Dean agreed.

They were both still in their hated fruity bodies.

“You know what it is,” Dean said. “I know why I’m so chill about being a banana even though I hate bananas. It’s because I hate being myself all the time. So like, what’s changed.”

“Dean,” Castiel said. “I didn’t… I’ve never heard you say that before.”

My goddamn laptop just died because I didn’t bother plugging it in, since I thought this would be a short piece of writing and it’s now close to one thousand words. I just had to reboot my laptop and watch the swirling loading screen for three solid minutes, all while knowing that what I was waiting for was the opportunity to finish a fic in which Castiel is a mango and Dean is a banana. Like it’s not hugely ridiculous until you think about all the other things I could possibly be doing. I could be messaging a friend. Walking a dog. Baking some cookies in a pleasantly-coloured apron. Sprucing up my herb garden by planting out some mint. Watching a bit of TV. Napping. And yet here I am, six years after I first binge-watched this one American genre TV show, writing a story in which two of its principle characters are botanical freaking wonders who are about to confess their love to each other in a meaningful way. Oh yeah, I’m going there. Give me STRENGTH.

“It - well,” Dean said. “I’m not - I don’t like, usually talk about it. I think being a banana is kinda making me a little more chatty. But, uh, yeah.”

“Why would you hate yourself?” Castiel said.

“I mean, look at me, man,” Dean said.

There was a pause.

“I mean, OK, not right now,” Dean said. “Picture me as a human man and then look at me. I’m just… a guy. I’m just a dude, I’m just - I’m just some asshole, you know? But I’m the one who has to decide on the fate of the freaking universe every other day. I’ve killed so many things and made so many crappy decisions and screwed up the way things were supposed to go and I had no right. I’ve never had a right. It’s always been way too much on me. Even when it was just Sam who was my responsibility, I screwed that up often enough. I’ve never been good enough at anything I do and somehow it’s always still me who’s gotta do it.”

He fell silent.

Castiel didn’t say anything, letting the words settle. He knew the rawness, the carved-outness Dean would be feeling.

“Dean,” he said eventually, “Dean, you - you don’t get it at all, do you?”

“What?” Dean sounded strangely young in that single word, that little moment. Like a green banana.

“You don’t get it. You’re a person who’s been put into impossible situations throughout the whole of your life, right from the beginning. You think you were old enough to take care of your brother safely? You think you were strong enough to avert the apocalypse a thousand times over with no fallout? You have been thrown into these scenarios over and over and over. You hate yourself for not winning in no-win situations.”

“But - Cas, look -”

“No. Stop telling me to look at you. You look at you. Look at yourself. Look at yourself. What do you have? You have a world that’s still spinning. You have a life, you have a future. You have your brother, a brother who cares about you. You have an angel,” Castiel said, “who has feelings for you.” He breathed out. He’s a mango. I don’t care. HE BREATHED OUT. “You shouldn’t hate yourself,” he said. “Please. Take my eyes. See yourself with them instead. You took every bullshit thing the world ever threw at you and you did everything you could. You’ve kept trying and you’re still trying after all this time. All while being... just some asshole. Don’t you see? You’re astounding, Dean.”

“Cas, I - I don’t know what to - you…” Dean said weakly. “You have - you have feelings for me?”

“Well,” Castiel said, “yes.”

“Like… good feelings?”

“Definitely,” Castiel said.

“Like… the ‘L’ word feelings?”

“Absolutely.”

Dean wanted him to say it. Castiel knew it. He could feel it in his pulp. Dean wanted him to say those words out loud.

“It’s strangely terrifying,” Castiel said, “to think about saying those three words.”

“Cas,” Dean said, “be brave.”

“Why don’t you do it, then?” Castiel said.

“Come on, Cas - are you a man, or are you a mango?”

“Well - are you a man, or are you a manana?” Castiel shot back.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, in a flash, they were both in their human bodies once more. They sat up on their beds, stretching their arms and wiggling their eyebrows to an excessive degree just because they could.

They looked at each other.

“I love you,” they said, at the same time.

And there was no explanation whatsoever for the fruit thing. And then they kissed.

The End.

[havenoffandoms]

Hallelujah

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825494

Pairing: Destiel

Warnings: fluff, songfiction, human castiel

Summary: 

“Cas I’ve always wondered… can angels sing?” “Well… you might not consider it enjoyable if you heard my real voice” Cas said with a chuckle. “But in your vessel, you have your vessel’s voice… do you think you could sing?"

Dean had been waiting in the car for the past twenty minutes. Castiel had insisted they visited that church, why, Dean would probably never know. Despite being human again since they had managed to defeat Amara, he was still holding onto his past as an angel of the Lord. Being in a church reminded him where he came from and enabled him to connect with God once again (or something like that, Dean had to admit that he had not really been paying attention). Dean understood Cas’ need to do this, though, and he never complained when his occasional lover asked to stop by a church whenever they were in a town they didn’t know. Dean and Sam would, on these occasions, go have lunch, dinner or buy supplies for the next few days. It didn’t bother them, they were aware how terribly confusing this must be for the former angel.

But tonight, Dean wanted to know what it was that Castiel did when he visited a church. Did he pray? Confess? Or did he simply meditate for half an hour on the lousy benches, looking at a crucifix on the wall? He never attended a Sunday mess, not comfortable around other people who ‘misunderstood and most often misinterpreted the word of God’. The former angel had been shocked to learn that the Christian Church most often didn’t allow homosexuals couples to get married in the house of God. They are human beings like you and Sam, Dean. God has better things to do than to care about his creations’ sexuality. Dean had given up trying to explain this to Cas, as his friend could be the most stubborn being on earth and it would only be a waste of their precious time together. Time they usually spent engaged in more interesting activities.

However, Dean was curious as to what his lover was up to, and thus he decided to follow him. It was not spying and it was no eavesdropping Dean kept reminding himself. Maybe it had been Castiel’s wish to be left alone with his thoughts, but he hadn’t voiced this thought out loud, how the hell was Dean supposed to know that his friend wanted to be left alone on these occasions?  

Dean swiftly got out of the Impala and walked towards the entrance of the church. His long legs climbed the stairs with ease in a slow jog and his lean body easily fitted through the partly opened doors. The inside of the church was dark, a few candles on the far end the only source of light. That’s when Dean noticed that the windows had all been condemned. The church looked abandoned. The altar was empty, sad and grey. There were no paintings on the wall, there was no crucifix and there were no benches. Castiel, however, sat in the middle of the church with his legs crossed and his eyes shut. Dean stood there for a while, watching Castiel sitting on the concrete floor, not even flinching when a gush of wind managed to penetrate the church, chilling the room considerably.

“Churches are always such peaceful places, all of them. Whenever you stand in their centre, that’s when you can take in their greatness and their beauty. They are a place of shelter, of love and tolerance… or at least they should be” Cas’ voice echoed in the empty building, resonating against the bare walls. Dean merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Churches make me feel uneasy…”, he stated briefly. The former angel turned around and looked at Dean with piercing blue eyes. A frown appeared on the almost cherubic face as Cas tilted his head to the side in confusion, an expression so familiar to Dean that it made him feel at home. However, the older Winchester shifted uncomfortably under the intense staring, knowing that Cas always managed to read him like an open book. The other man rose to his feet and took slow steps towards his lover, taking his hand in a rare gesture of affection. Since he was human again, Cas seemed to be more in need of affection and human contact (which Dean didn’t mind at all).

“Why is that Dean? The only people that feel uneasy in churches are sinners and demons. You are neither…” The last comment made Dean laugh humourlessly, almost cynically.

“Me? No sinner? Cas I suggest you look up the definition of ‘sin’ and ‘sinner’, for all I know they’ve attached my picture to the definition” Cas’ frown did not go away and if it was possible, his words seemed to confuse the former angel more.

“I know what a sinner is, Dean! A sinner is not someone who turns his back on God” Cas’ lips were impossibly close to Dean’s and the taller man felt the incredible urge to claim them, bite down on the soft flesh, tasting Cas’ mouth with his tongue.

“Who… who is considered a sinner?” Dean had troubles thinking clear with his lover standing so close to him, his body radiating warmth and carrying the promise of comfort and love. A small smile appeared on the former angel’s lips, causing the butterflies in Dean’s tummy go wild.

“Lucifer is a sinner. He turned against God’s creation, destroyed and corrupted it. Crowley is a sinner, as he turned his back on God to meddle with hell and all that because of a foolish wish to be more proficient during sexual intercourse”

“I don’t believe in God, so I have turned my back on him as well…”

“No Dean, you never had faith, thus you couldn’t turn your back on God. My job was to bring you onto the right path and it seems that I have succeeded…” Dean looked at Cas with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh really? I still don’t believe in God…”

“No, but who can blame you, as he’s not even here to help the angels. Some angels have never ever seen God, so it’s only natural that some of you humans don’t believe in him. But you did believe in me when I was still an angel… you prayed to me, you had faith that I would always come when you called…” Castiel’s fingers brushed over Dean’s hands and his lips placed a soft peck onto the taller man’s lips. Dean sighed happily and shut his eyes, trusting Castiel completely.

“So you don’t consider me to be a sinner? How do you explain my uneasiness in this church?” Cas shrugged, brushing the matter off as if it were of no import to him.

“My opinion is that you have a far too negative image of yourself, Dean, but believe me I saw your soul. I saw your true self, and I know that you are worthy of being saved… you always have been” This time, Castiel kissed Dean more passionately, a kiss that was quickly reciprocated. Their hands hung interlaced at their sides and the only sounds heard in the church were that of sloppy kisses shared between the two lovers. Dean smiled against Cas’ lips.

“Cas I’ve always wondered… can angels sing?”

“Well… you might not consider it enjoyable if you heard my real voice” Cas said with a chuckle.

“But in your vessel, you have your vessel’s voice… do you think you could sing? I mean, angels usually sing in… movies and in… paintings” Dean had no idea what he was talking about, but he wanted to know whether Castiel would sing for him. He needed an excuse… But to his surprise, Castiel smiled softly.

“Maybe I could… there’s that one song I heard a few days ago when we were in that gas station… I looked it up on the internet and found the lyrics. I don’t know if you’ll enjoy it…”

“Just sing, Cas, please…” Dean’s voice sounded almost pleading when he took Castiel’s hand in his and looked at him with a tender look in his eyes. His lover lowered his eyes and cleared his throat, readying himself to perform for his single spectator. Dean had no idea that the former angel’s voice would have such an effect on him.

I’ve heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don’t really care for music do you?

It goes like this, the forth, the fifth

The minor fall and the major lift,

The baffled King composing Hallelujah.

Dean closed his eyes and enjoyed the deep voice that sent shivers down his spine. He concentrated on Cas’ fingers intertwined with his, on his warm body pressed against his, on his voice, on his presence. Dean thanked whoever was responsible for this feeling of happiness he felt at the sound of Castiel singing to him. Dean noticed only after the first few verses that his lover was, in fact, almost whispering the song in his ear.

Dean began moving slowly together with Cas while his boyfriend sang the chorus in a loving voice. The former angel’s cheek rested against Dean’s shoulder as his lips moved against the skin of his throat while he continued singing, apparently lost in the song the same way Dean was. The hunter wished he could make time stop, the world could go on as long as he could stay here with Cas forever.

There was a time where you’d let me know

What’s really going on below

But now you never show that to me, do you?

But remember when I moved in you

The holy dove was moving, too

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Dean interrupted the singing by kissing Cas on the lips, emotion overwhelming him. His heart raced in his chest and he was conflicted between letting Cas carry on with the singing or shutting him up with many, many kisses. Dean pulled his lover close to his chest, kissing his head in a rare display of affection and tenderness.

“Let’s go back to the bunker, alright?”

“Yeah… Sam might be wondering what we’re up to” Cas said with a smile, placing a last kiss on Dean’s freckled lips.

“He better shut his cakehole…”

“You think he’ll let me ride shotgun this time?” Dean laughed heartily and placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a half hug as they walked out of the church.

“I think he’ll never give up on his shotgun privileges babe”