#the same can be said for a goddess of fresh air with worshippers that live in a place completely characterized by smog

[mollysunder]

Personally, I feel like Janna's worship in Arcane, specifically in Zaun, has faded or that she's generally unpopular as a goddess. In most League lore fir Zaun, Janna's presence is an afterthought at best if not outright nonexistent to most Zaunites. In the game, most Zaun champions react to her dismissively or with actual resentment like Renata, at best new characters like Zeri are delightedly shocked to know she exists at all.

If you think about it, Piltover has more things that acknowledge Janna with than Zaun. In League, Piltover named its wealthiest neighborhood, the Blue Wind Court, which is one of Janna's powers. Meanwhile, in Arcane, the show defines Zaun with Jinx's special birds (crows) than Janna's own sacred birds, the blue bird, in Zaun to lay claim to the space.

Sidenote: Convergence and Legends of Runeterra are the exception, but Convergence's worldbuilding is pretty opposite day on Zaun's lore and tone. And LoR's Janna and her followers don't actually fit the aesthetic of Zaun, they all look like they live somewhere else in Shurima. It all makes it seem that League really didn't know how to integrate a Janna into Zaun after the first story retcon.

[yn-dere]

La sorcière • Y!K.TH

Synopsis: The goddess Ashtoreth seemed to have found her worshipper.

Ship/s: Photographer!Taehyung x Antagonist/seductress!Reader

Warning/s: Angst, Yandere/Dark themes, Manipulation, Mentions of killing, Bored and mean reader.

(Note: this takes place in the late 19th century)

'It is not the quality of the desired object that gives us pleasure, but rather the energy of our appetites'

~ Charles Baudelaire, The end of Don Juan

A dejected summer, that's what it was. The suffocating air that leaves you sweltering in your corset but I am anything but, naked on my cold feet with a cigar between those gentil fingers, sluggishly looking out from my apartment window into the florid affluent streets which were once quite and reserved. The sounds of playful squabbling, the occasional delightful squeals of children, the ecstatic laughter of women did nothing to soothe that covetous feeling throbbing at the pit of my stomach. Nor did the family of stars splattered all across the dark night sky with the dazzling moon nowhere to be seen. They seemed to be mocking me with every sparkle, impersonating my woe by disappearing this second only to come back and laugh at my face. Oh well. It hurts my chest as I exhale out the smog; I forgot that I even took a drag. Not even smoke can replace that void in my lungs now.

This moment is slightly pleasant though, accompanied by the crisp breeze that blows in through the drapes, strong enough to make my locks flutter and trigger my cigar to litter on the window railing (that I'm not bothering to clean anytime soon) but not enough to take the glum away with it. The only thing that found me pleasant enough to return. And... the troubled men that found home in my cosy and welcoming bed. Neither of them were guaranteed.

Thinking about men, I glance back into the dark room to spot the man I chose for the night. Blissfully sound asleep between my covers, with a small but radiant smile adorning his regal face. He really emulated the beautiful night sky, the baby constellation spreading across his portrait in the form of les grains de beauté. The way the light reflected off of his unblemished face puts la lune to shame, almost looking as if it is it's own light source. His beauty truly was bewitching and I would've felt envious of it if I didn't know any better.

If I didn't own an enormous dressing mirror in the corner which kept reflecting the street lights back onto my eyes; it was adorned with pink crystals, fresh roses and myrtles, white feathers and burnt out incense that left behind a soft but strong scent. It truly looked like an altar for venus herself, towering over me to have me take a look at the highly sexual, supremely confident, alluring female that offers endless pleasure and a bit of... danger. At least, that's what people men see. And I agree with it. I know the expression does sound like something that would come out of Narcissus' mouth as he stares into his reflection but can you really blame me?

It's the huge impact left on me by years and years of society misjudging me as just another pretty face in the crowd. No matter how hard I worked on something, it would always be de-emphasized. All the blood, sweat and tears only to be wasted because individuals couldn't see the nimble brain past the pleasant portrait. I wanted to stand out, and I did at times but.. not in the way I wanted to. But soon enough, I began to convince myself that maybe this isn't so bad at all, and wearily...

... I accepted it.

I accepted my place in the stupid community as one of those women, a blood sucking succubus is just how they saw me to be exact. Mind you, I've never stood sturdy in any of my subjects until I slowly started to abuse my power and it made me feel competent and sure enough I felt powerful enough to destroy families, to get someone to chase me so feverishly that they lose control but I guess I was never that valuable to keep nor was I important enough for someone to actually care about me. The only difference between your pompous narrator here and a poor mistress is that I don't have a fickle of hope nor do I really care enough about a particular visitor to be left heartbroken.

It still kills me to feel impotent at the end of the day (or the start of the day, when they leave me with nothing). I feel like THE FOOL, a frail dog chasing a car....

....But as the lonely sun finally decides to set to rest and the family of stars gets more discernable with every shimmer against the dark and misty horizon; I, once again find myself repeating history as if my life's a record on the phonograph. But as one get sick of listening to the same song over and over again, there's a momentary pause... and then an appalling revelation; it's seems as though you've been singing the most important part of the song, the chorus, wrong.

And suddenly I can grasp it all..

.

.

.

You see, lust is what makes one take a glance at you. Temptation is what makes them throw caution in the air, when they know they shouldn't. But is it really enough to keep the attention on you? Is the beauty really enough for the sirens who beckon sailors to their destruction? If that was the case, wouldn't mermaids be able to do the same? Love is-

"...h-hey?"

That deep voice...

Then suddenly, lean icy fingers grabbed my arm and pulled me back into reality just when I started inching through the darkness in my mind.

Oh God. How did I not see him wake up? Especially with the mess he made in an effort to get up from the bed? One of the pillows accompanied with the sheets are on the floor... those velvet covers are really hard to wash. I will never forgive him for that.

But my irritation soon turned into embarrassment when I pondered over how crazy I must have looked, naked while just staring into my mirror with a cigar in hand. Or what was left of it, the soft ash on my fingers, my bare breasts and one of my thighs.

"Is everything a-alright?" He questioned. I looked down to his palm which was still holding my arm with a firm grip. He followed my gaze, his eyes widening slighting as he quickly let it go. "I m-mean, you were kind of dazed off or something. I thought..." he muttered after clearing his throat in a futile attempt at ceasing the stuttering. "Yeah.. I was just thinking about something" I replied as I looked up at his eyes and his orbs that were just suffering with nervousness and uncertainty were now swimming in curiosity. I couldn't help but let a giggle get past my lips. He hummed in response as his brows furrowed. "about.. this." I uttered, feigning a bashful look. His brows furrowed even further, creating small lines on his otherwise smooth forehead. "What do you mean by "this" ?" He seems to have forgotten his tense stance and the risqué side of me wanted to bring it back so I tried. "Our liaison, everything we did and...." if it weren't for the pin drop silence in the room, I would've never heard his breath hitching as he waited for me to continue. "Us." I finished with a whisper...

... After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for him to answer, my patience wore thin so I couldn't help but gently poke his chest. It surely did broke the trance he was in and the cute timid man was back. "Uh- I- uhm" he stuttered, looking at everything but my presence. I slowly started to feel the disappointment building up in the bottom of my stomach. Why do I when I didn't even expected anything else? If this is the only way it can go for me, why not have a little fun? I couldn't help but let out a smirk which I covered in a second, hoping he didn't see it. "I might be quite racy at times but I don't just do this with anyone. I thought I told you in the tavern that if you are to leave, leave already..." as soon as I finished bluffing the sadness in my voice, I casted my eyes downwards at his feet as I anticipated the same white lies but they never came. I awaited the "I will never leave you", "you're the best thing that ever happened" or my personal favorite one " I have a wife and kids that I love very dearly" but he didn't say anything. And just as I was about to look up, the smooth dark honey voice cut me off.

"And I thought I told you that I didn't want to follow you back home for whatever fleshly pleasures you had to offer.." the hint of disappointment was evident. This was a new one to add in the book, eh? "But because my precious cameras are all in vain without your figure and your lively soul.. like an empty canvas to an artist with no references or muse." My ears couldn't help but perk up as he continued, " Sure, they might not be too good at capturing the enigma that is you as the films only render in shades of grey which evidently fails to recognize the different shades of your blush and the undertones, but this is all that I have..."

It's his time to wait as I, for the first time, didn't know what to say. He opened his lips once again "I would be lying if I said I didn't gravely fell in love the second I took my first glance at you months ago. Love at first sight was never my thing but you cleared all my doubts about the idea". I wanted to mock him and tell him about how lust in first sight is a thing, not love but I rather chose to humor him. "That's what they all said..." I slowly look up at his face, looking at each and every feature carefully leaving out his mors than intense eyes. "Who are "they"?" He asked with a slight fury in his voice and the sharp edge of the words spoken almost gashed my already tainted soul. I wish I didn't faked the courage and take a glance into his orbs since I saw the immense anger and hatred through his narrowed eyes as he scrutinized my very existence. I withered uncomfortably under his glare, already regretting opening my mouth without thinking.

"You seriously didn't just compare me to those men, did you? After everything I've done? After I got rid of those hideous women that had nothing else to do but spread nasty rumours about you because the same husbands that couldn't get it up for them were lusting after you? Because they couldn't hold their husbands accountable so they were threatened by you?" He took a sharp but shaky breath before continuing, "Or after I got rid of those men who bonded over their heinous fantasies about violating you?..." I cover my mouth, I feel like throwing up. Not because I don't want to/can't believe it but because this is alot of information to take in in a few minutes. I heard him sigh and his voice suddenly changed from being gruff to soft in a second as he saw my terrified look, "you see these hands, sweetheart?" He said in a slightly coaxing voice as he laid his large hand on top of mine, "They were only used to clicking pictures of everything beautiful and developing them but now, they're stained with shed blood of anyone who dared to lay a finger on you.... You made me this way. You made me so empathetically challenged. You did this."

Me? Me...

I did this. I made him this way.

"How could you have been so blind?"

How could I have been so blind?

Maybe I didn't give myself enough credit.

And as he continued to stare into my frame with such adoration that it reminded me of what I was thinking about before he startled me by waking up...

As I was saying previously, lust is what makes one take a glance at you. Temptation is what makes them throw caution in the air, when they know they shouldn't but it's still not enough to keep the attention on you. Love is. It is the greatest weapon of all. It's the most exceptional power that you can have over someone. Making them do what they never thought they ever would do, act in ways they might've mocked previous to meeting you, taking up any space in their mind that was left for rationality and instead plaguing it with sweet obsession. Not even fear dares to compete with love when it comes to power. If anything, they go hand in hand. It truly turns a mermaid to a siren.

Wow. It's not the family of stars that I envied, who would want to look like some aliens just jizzed all over the sky? I was made to be la lune, who with all her blemishes littering her skin still stood unfazed as her admirers wrote poems about her beauty. It's not the homely women that I envied, I have always been quite sophisticated but I just wanted to belong somewhere.

I wanted power over someone or something.

And the thought of me making this man do the most vile acts of crime that humanity cannot even begin to visualize in their brains flared up the familiar feeling of ascendency and competency but this time? It was about to stay. Why? Because he is to stay.

I softly smiled at that thought and slowly held my small hands up to his face to caress his cheeks. The shyness got to him as he squeezed his eyes shut to relish in the contact without having to look at my amused face. I could feel him slowly shaking under finger tips, his face was warm unlike the rest of his body. The effect that my small gesture had on him is unlike anything I've ever seen or experienced. This isn't vulgar, this is sensual. And sure, what I feel might not be love but it has one thing in common with it. It's a drug. A high we're both on, and not even my cigar, my only companion for so long can compete with it.

Let's see how long this lasts before I drain all life out of him... or maybe, this is forever but I doubt. Then again, he- wait a minute... what's his name, again? This is going to suck. As I was saying, he does like to surprise me so let's hope for the best.

"Okay, let's just forget we met like this... hello, my name's y/n", I reached out for his hand to shake with a small smile on my face. He erupted into giggles as he took my hand, "Nice to meet you y/n, this is taehyung." Taehyung. Oh taehyung. And suddenly the cheerful atmosphere turned into something sinister as I pulled him in.

"Taehyung, I am like a raging flame.. don't be a moth and get too close or I might destroy you" I whispered in my raspy voice, the smirk that played in my rouge lips being incredibly devilish along with that red unnatural glint in my eye.

"I want to be destroyed."

[buckysrighthanddoll]

Nyx, of the Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

The reader is called Nyx in this, however, it is a reader insert :)

Warnings: language; slight pining; mentions of PTSD, anxiety, and drugs; the reader literally murders two people (oof)

The most recent addition to the Avengers--that’s who you were. They called you Nyx, the Greek Goddess of the night. You worked tirelessly at perfecting your powers--bringing death and sleep to people with a focused glance. You could also use “force fields” to do many things, including moving objects and throwing back the enemy.

Nobody was sure how you got these powers. You didn’t have a tragic backstory (beyond childhood trauma that was experienced by far too many people), you weren’t in some freak accident; nothing indicated that you would ever turn into this.

You, being a worshipper of the Greek deities, thought that perhaps it was a divine thing. Maybe something convinced a god or a goddess to bestow you with powers. The theory was ridiculous, but it was the only thing you could even think to come up with.

Getting close to the team wasn’t as easy as you would’ve hoped. It took a while for Steve to warm up to you, and even longer for Nat to start conversing with you openly. But, now, you were at least on good terms with everybody. You, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky were a small team within the team, which made you happy.

You and Nat would go out to brunch, you and Steve would sit around and sketch, and you and Bucky did everything together. He was easily your best friend. You used to think that he was quiet and held back, but it was the exact opposite when you got to know him. He was always making comments and joking around about whatever topic you were on about. Bucky made you laugh a lot more than you cared to admit.

Which brings us to the next point--you were deeply in love with your best friend. He just had a charm about him, and he cared about people, and he was friendly and funny, and have you seen those thighs? The man was a Greek god, and you were just another hopeless devotee.

You wouldn’t say anything, though (much to Steve and Nat’s dismay). It wasn’t that you couldn’t date him, but it was that you both just worked so well as friends. You were terrified to fuck that up. So much could go wrong, and you weren’t willing to risk that unless you were certain Bucky felt the same way.

Bucky, luckily, felt the same way. Yet, he also kept his mouth sealed about it. Even when it was blatantly obvious to everybody else, he chose to see it as you two just being friends. Steve and Natasha understood why; Bucky thought that he was a monster, even after all of the therapy and constant reassurance that he wasn’t. He believed that he didn’t deserve someone like you, who made him forget the past and live in the present. You were grounding to him, like a breath of fresh air.

The four of you were making cookies in the kitchen. It was Christmas, after all, and you wanted to do something privately before Tony’s big party tonight. Were any of you shocked that Tony was hosting another party? No. Were you happy about it? Also, no, but you supposed this was a better way to spend the holiday rather than out in the field. Besides that, this was your first Stark party.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of the other two Tony had thrown this year. The first one, you played sick and snuck out with a friend from way back in the day. The second one, you were on a mission in Bulgaria. You and Nat managed a ten-minute facetime call with Bucky and Steve, and even got a quick moment with Sam and Wanda before they had to go.

And now, even though you wanted to just curl up under the blankets and put on a movie, you forced yourself to go to Stark’s Christmas party.

You had plenty of time to prepare for it since it was currently noon, and the party was at seven. Steve had suggested doing some baking for the team and some of the higher-ups of SHIELD, which sounded great at the time--now you just wanted another hour of sleep.

For the most part, you just mixed and decorated since baking wasn’t a strong suit. You stayed in the kitchen when Nat went to do her workout (“it’s a daily requirement, Nyx”), and you started decorating when Steve responded to a text from Tony.

“Are you ready for your first Stark party?” Bucky asked, leaning on the counter beside you.

“I feel like nothing can prepare me for one of his parties,” You laughed, adding more frosting to a piping bag.

“Whatcha wearing?”

“You tryna match or something?” You joked flirtingly. He rolls his eyes with a smile. “Nat picked it out, so I have no clue if it’s up to standard.”

“If Natasha has any say in anything, you’re prepared,” Bucky laughs. Fuck, that laugh. It was music to your ears.

“Don’t forget what you promised me,” You sang out as the oven went off. Bucky groans and pulls out some pecan tarts while you cut the tip of the icing bag.

“I can’t forget when you remind me every two minutes,” He jokes, setting the tray on the counter. He spins you around and places his hands on either side of you, trapping you in a way. Both of you knew that you could give him one look and he’d be asleep, but this was a position you certainly weren’t complaining about. “I owe you one dance, doll. I know,” He says, his voice softer than usual. It took everything in you not to reach forward and kiss him. But, of course, you reminded yourself why you couldn’t. It could ruin your friendship.

Instead, you stealthily dipped your finger in the frosting and then swiped it on the tip of his nose. Bucky had a look of shock, and then a wave of expectation. You couldn’t see either of them, though, because you were laughing your ass off. He backs away and grabs a cloth to wipe his face, and then you get back to work.

It was moments like those that you loved with Bucky. Sometimes he’d back away, and other times he’d tickle you until you couldn’t breathe; either way, it gave you serotonin.

Natasha finished her workout routine right as you finished frosting the cookies, and she helped you clean up. “Hope you don’t mind, but I gotta steal her for a bit,” She smirked, looking at Bucky.

“I don’t mind at all,” He says, trying to get some flour off of his black shirt. “I’ll see you soon, ladies,” He adds, giving that signature smile.

Natasha decides to get some food from a random diner on the other side of town. It was a light lunch but definitely needed. You had managed not to eat any of the batter (which was truly surprising). And then, once you got back to the tower, it was go time.

Nat went to her room to shower, so you did the same. She met you back in your room twenty minutes later with a towel wrapped around her and a makeup bag in hand. You put your wet hair back and started on the makeup.

It was a full beat, to be honest. Your skin looked like porcelain, and your eyes and lips were snatched. Nat went all out, too, opting to use a bold red instead of your mauve lipstick. Then, you did your hair in curls. They weren’t too tight, and they weren’t too loose. Tonight, you let your hair stay down rather than pinning it up. Next came the dress. Nat picked a flowy red dress for herself. It ended a few inches above her knees and had a halter top to it. She chose an a-line forest green dress for you. It had a deep neckline, and it shimmered, but it wasn’t sequin. It was like there were diamonds sewn into the fabric--it was unlike any dress you’ve seen. Your dress, like her’s, ended quite a few inches above the knee.

After sliding on your heels (and realizing you were half an hour late), you both took the elevator down to the party deck. It only took up one floor (typically Tony’s parties took four, but he kept it light for Christmas), but it was still set up so extravagantly.

“Let’s make a straight shot for the bar and see how many shots we can take before Steve and Bucky find us,” Nat said. It was less of a suggestion and more of a command, but you did it either way.

“Nat, you know I’m a lightweight,” You warned as you stood at the bar.

“Even more fun,” She smirked, waving down the bartender. The young man poured six shots to share between the two of you, and they were gone in seconds. Your goal was to keep up with Nat. And you did, but you were also feeling it by shot number six.

Steve found you guys first, asking what was going on. Natasha gestured to the empty shot glasses and water that you were sipping on, and he nodded his head in understanding.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked.

“He’s in his room; he had a flare with his PTSD. He just texted me and said that he’d be down soon, though,” Steve answered. He whisked Natasha away after that, taking her to the dance floor.

You were concerned about Bucky, so you downed the water and hit the elevator. Tony made these so that they were faster than any elevator in New York, but the ascent to Bucky’s floor was maddeningly slow.

Passing your living area and heading to the only other door on the floor, you knocked. Bucky answered it a few seconds later, eyes widening at you.

“Doll, you look stunning,” He said.

You stepped into his room and shut the door, turning back to him. “What’s going on, Buck?” You asked him.

He sighs, knowing that he couldn’t keep anything from you. “I missed two days of my meds, so my PTSD and anxiety are flared.”

“Okay,” You told him. “Is it okay to touch you right now?” Bucky nods his head. How could he say no? Your arms around him grounded him in ways nothing else could. As much as he hated his nightmares and restlessness, he longed to have you in his bed and helping him sleep. Half of the time, you didn’t even need your powers to accomplish it.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into you, gently laying your head on his chest. Both of you let out a sigh of relief and welcomed each other’s warmth. “I’m sorry,” He muttered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” You replied. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at the pet name (you never used them on him) but felt his cheeks heat up at the sound of it. “If you don’t wanna go down there, you don’t have to.”

“But I promised you that dance.”

“I’ll take a raincheck, Buck. Your health and wellbeing are infinitely more important than a dance.” Before he could counter, you speak again. “Wanna come with me to take my makeup off?”

“I have some wipes in here,” He says, releasing you from the hug. You follow him through the hallway and to the bathroom, where he pulls out an unopened pack of makeup wipes. “I keep them in here just in case you or Nat need one.”

“You’re so sweet, Buck,” You smile, taking a wipe from the package.

“I’ll grab some sweats and a shirt for you if you’d like me to,” He adds. “We can set up a movie or something.”

“That sounds perfect,” You say. Bucky goes across the hall into his bedroom, and you take off your makeup. When you’re done, you meet him in his room, where he’s scrolling through Netflix. Changing in front of Bucky was something you had done before, but it never stopped being awkward, especially when you needed his help to unzip your dress.

Once you were both ready, you got under the sheets. At first, you were just side by side, but it quickly turned into a full cuddle session. For once, you were the first to fall asleep.

The next morning, you and Bucky were called into Tony’s office.

“You two look splendid,” Tony quipped. You didn’t think twice about being in Bucky’s sweatpants and shirt, a cup of coffee in your hand and a scowl on your face.

“It’s five in the morning, Tony,” You snapped back. You weren’t an early riser compared to the rest of the team--it was something Steve repeatedly told you to work on. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a trade deal happening on the Solviski case,” Tony started. “And you two are the only ones here that speak Polish. Therefore, I’m sending you both out for recon and hit.”

“So what you’re saying is the biggest mission we’ve seen all year, where we need to exercise every facet of my training, is my first mission?” You asked. You were in disbelief. You hadn’t been on a single mission. The only thing that came close was when you stopped a bank robbery. And that wasn’t a mission--that was just poor timing for you and the robber.

“Yep,” Tony said. “Get suited up. There’ll be a quinjet ready in an hour. The mission should be two days tops.”

You and Bucky turned and went back to your rooms to get ready. You brushed your hair and teeth, packed your bags, and met your partner at the hangar. Once he got there, you both loaded up and took flight.

It was relatively easy, considering Bucky can put in the coordinates and place the flight on auto-pilot. So, when he did that, you sat back and tried to enjoy the ride. It was ten hours from New York to Poland.

You got a hotel room first. It was a damn good thing you were both fluent in Polish because the nerves started to kick in, and Bucky had to do most of the talking to get checked in.

“Okay, so we have to go to his party tonight--”

“Another party?” You groaned. Bucky laughs softly before continuing.

“We’re going undercover as Mr. Dominik Rovlov and his loving wife, Mrs. Katina Rovlov. We’ve been married for five years, and we need to make a deal with Solviski to get drugs for our small gang in western Russia. And we have a deal that he can’t refuse.”

“Which is?”

“20 million zlotych, or the equivalent of five million dollars,” Bucky answers. “Let’s hit the town,” He added.

“For what?”

“I didn’t bring a suit, and I’m assuming you didn’t bring a formal dress. Plus, you need to work out your nerves,” Bucky answers, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you nervous?”

“It’s my first mission, and it’s high-profile. Mixed with the fact that Polish isn’t my native language--it’s like my fourth or fifth.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Bucky coos. “You’re Nyx. You’re like a Greek goddess. I wouldn’t mess with you; you’re powerful beyond words, doll.” Bucky always knew what to say and do when you were nervous. He knew you like the back of his hand. “You ready?”

“Sure?” You questioned. You were as ready as you were going to be. This was the easy part. All you needed to do was get a dress and get back here to prepare.

Bucky decided to split up when you got to town. He said that it’d be quicker since we only had two more hours to be at the party.

Once you got back to the hotel, you quickly changed into your dress while Bucky changed into his suit. The man was hot beyond belief.

“You look--wow,” Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, sweetheart,” You smirked. Bucky tied his hair up, slipped on his shoes, and then you got into the rental car. It was luxurious, but you didn’t care about the vehicle. Bucky had all of your attention.

Once you showed up at the party, Bucky parked a block away. He got out and opened your door for you like a gentleman.

“Okay. If something goes wrong--anything at all--you pull the pin,” He starts, referring to the codes you had made up in the hotel wrong. If you adjusted your earrings, it meant that something was off. It could be that you suspected that he was catching on to you, or anything along those lines. But if you pulled the pin out of your hair, it meant that a fight was going to break out any second, and you needed to be prepared. You weren’t horribly concerned with hand-to-hand combat or even knife-fighting; your powers were well adjusted to that. But if bullets were going to start flying, you didn’t know if you could put up a strong enough field to keep you and Bucky safe. “Nobody gets a single scratch; you got it?”

You nod your head in agreement. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, taking a nervous breath. “Now, kiss me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Kiss me. I need to know what to expect, so I’m not surprised in there.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You took a second to process the situation. Bucky was right--he usually was. This would eliminate both surprise and flooding emotions if you had to kiss in front of a crowd of people. It’s just that this was not how you expected your first kiss with Bucky to go.

You place a hand behind his neck and gently start to pull him down to you. He cups your face, leaning in agonizingly slowly. His lips flicker from your eyes to your lips, his mouth slightly parted, and if you didn’t know any better, this would be a dream-come-true.

Your lips finally meet, and your eyes flutter shut. This kiss felt right, even though it was a practice for a mission. Bucky’s lips were so soft and gentle, and he moved so smoothly that it didn’t let you think. His other hand, which previously held no position in this, came to rest on your waist.

You broke the kiss first, moving only an inch away from him. Your mind wandered back into your body, and the weight of what was happening around you hit.

Bucky had a small smile on his face for a second. “Okay, I got it.” You swallowed thickly and backed away from him, and you both walked the block to the entrance of the house.

“Dzień dobry (hello),” The guard at the front said. “Dla kogo jest rezerwacja (who is the reservation for)?”

“Dominik i Katina Rovlov,” Bucky said. The guard checks his list, sees the names, and lets us into the house. The house was extravagant. There was gold framing on hand-painted walls, a giant chandelier, and all the guests looked eloquent.

“To jest piękne (it’s beautiful),” You said, taking everything in.

“Nie tak piękna jak ty (not as beautiful as you),” Bucky responded, his eyes never leaving you. You smiled and looked up at him.

“Co powiesz na ten taniec (how about that dance)?” You asked. Bucky took your arm and led you to where the other couples were dancing, and you joined in smoothly.

“Solviski knows how to find us,” Bucky whispers. “The offer was already laid out; now it’s about waiting.”

You nodded your head but didn’t say a word, focused more on the dance than the mission. It was a bad idea to go on a mission with Bucky Barnes. He would be the death of you--or perhaps he’d be the life of you.

And you could’ve sworn Bucky was an actor in his youth. The way he looked at you right now, with such tenderness and warmth, like he would do absolutely anything for you, it looked like he was falling in love with you right before your eyes. It was intoxicating. You could get drunk off of one simple look from him, and that was perfectly fine by you.

“Jesteś poszukiwany w głównym biurze (you’re wanted in the main office),” A butler said, tapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Chodź za mną (follow me),” He commanded, nudging his head toward the upstairs.

Bucky and you followed in a single file line, with you in the back. You made as many observations as you could--escape routes, the number of people that were in any given area, the location of the guards and butlers. Anything to help if the plan went wrong.

Once the butler got to the door, he knocked in a code. A female guard on the other side opened the door, giving a curt nod before looking at you and Bucky. She wore a plain black mask that covered the lower half of her face. Her dark brown hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and her eyes were a piercing grey. She was intimidating to most, but to you, she was as innocent as a child.

She opened the door and let you in, standing in front of it once it was closed. “Cieszę się, że przyszedłeś (I’m glad you came),” The man behind the desk said. From the files you’d gotten from Tony, it was easy to tell that this man was Solviski. Your nerves wanted to scream at you, and you had to keep your mind focused on anything other than kill mode, but you managed to look stoic. “Miło cię poznać (it’s a pleasure to meet you),” He added, gesturing to the chairs in front of him.

“Przyjemność po naszej stronie,” You said with a light smile.

“Moja żona i ja nie mogliśmy się tego doczekać (my wife and I have been looking forward to this),” Bucky adds.

“Otrzymałem twoją ofertę (I received your offer),” Solviski starts, tapping a file on his desk. “Po prostu nie mogę odmówić (I simply can’t refuse).”

“Świetny (excellent),” You say, clapping your hands together. “Załatwmy to (let’s arrange it).”

Bucky pulls out the briefcase he had carried in, and sets it on the desk. He opens it to reveal the money that we “owe” him. As Solviski looks through it, Bucky wraps his arm around your shoulders and gives three quick taps--the symbol to enter phase two. The hit. This, in your opinion, would be the easy part.

“Przepraszam (pardon me),” You started. “Myślę, że właśnie zacząłem okres (I believe I just started my period),” You added, faking some sense of panic. You stood up and looked to the female guard, who (although rather neutral) looked sympathetic. “Czy możesz mi pokazać łazienkę (may you please show me the bathroom)?” You asked her sweetly.

“Czy potrzebujesz czegoś ode mnie (do you need anything from me)?” Bucky asked, like a good husband should. It wasn’t a part of the plan for him to be caring, but you supposed it was just who he was.

“Nie, dziękuję, kochanie (no, thank you, my love),” You responded with a small smile. Turning back to the female guard, you nod as a signal that you’re ready. She leads you down the hallway and to the guest bathroom, where she opens the door and holds it for you.

You feel absolutely horrible for doing this to her, but it has to be done for the mission. So, you use a force field to shove her into the bathroom, and then shut the door behind you both. “I’m sorry,” You mutter as the lunges at you. You grab her arms and twist them so they’re pinned behind her, then you turn her to look into the mirror. Your gaze focuses right into her eyes and you will your brain into kill-mode. She looks stunned as she has an aneurysm, falling to the ground.

Quickly, you grab her body and place it into the bathtub, shutting the curtain. It was a good thing you wore gloves to this event because even though the Avengers would be taking care of the legal matters, you still felt horrible about the evidence you left behind.

You opened the door and locked it from the inside, shutting it behind you as you left. This would buy more time to complete the hit and make your escape. You gave the knock that the guard had given before entering, and the second you had entered, you gave a major blast to Solviski.

He flew backwards and hit the wall behind him, immediately coming back with a gun drawn. You threw up a forcefield right as Bucky stood in front of you with his metal arm as his only defense. The bullet stopped in mid-air, suspended by the field. You let Solviski empty his clip, watching as he panicked more and more. Once he ran out of bullets, he went to phone for more guards, but you gave him the same look that you gave to the guard, and he was dead in seconds. The second you felt the life leave his body, you dropped your shield, letting the bullets fall to the ground.

Bucky turns back toward you, heaving a sigh of relief as he pulled you into a kiss. You stood shocked for a second, but then your brain caught up to what was happening. Bucky pulled you tightly to him, nearly moaning when your hand went to his hair to keep him in place.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” He said against your lips.

“I had it handled,” You argued, biting down on his lips gently. He let out a breathy laugh as you pulled away.

“We have five minutes before the butler does his routine check-in; we need to leave,” Bucky said. You nodded, reluctantly processing his words.

Bucky led you out of the room calmly in an attempt to play it cool. It was a quick exit, and an even quicker walk to the car. The two of you didn’t even stop for a breath when you were at the hotel. It was two minutes of throwing everything into your bag and speeding to the quinjet.

You felt like you could finally breathe the second the jet was in auto-pilot. Leaning back in your seat, you took one grounding breath before undoing your seatbelt and standing up. Bucky followed behind you, and you quietly changed back into your civilian clothes.

“Hey, we should probably talk about that,” Bucky said as he slid his shirt on.

“Yeah, we should,” You repeated. You sit down on one of the benches, and he takes a seat next to you. “Listen, I don’t know if you kiss everybody like that on their first mission, but--”

“I should’ve done it sooner,” Bucky blurts out. He notices your shocked expression and takes that at his opportunity to continue. “I’ve liked you for months, and I should’ve said something before we went on a mission.”

“You--did--Buck--I just can’t--huh?” You stammered. You take a second, collect your thoughts, and try to speak again. “Bucky, are you sure?” You asked. Wow, that was a dumb question. “I mean, aren’t you scared that we could ruin what we already have?”

“We could, or we could have something even better,” Bucky bartered. He had a point, and you truly never thought of it quite like that. “I wanna give us a shot, as long as you’re okay with that.”

You smiled and nodded your head at Bucky, making him smile even more. He leans down, cupping your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. This feeling was one you could get used to. Where you felt warm and fuzzy, as though you had taken five shots and were just starting to feel it hit.

They called you Nyx. The goddess of the night. But even the goddess of the darkness deserves a little light, right?

[hookaroo]

A Captain’s Heart (27 of 33?)

Chapter 1 Chapter 26

Rated T for language and graphic descriptions of injuries.

Also on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12937105/1/A-Captain-s-Heart

Tagging @therooksshiningknight & @killian-whump by request :) Also @zippidyzany for the “hello” ;)

Killian was unaware of the point at which the Jolly Roger sailed out of the volcano’s reach and beyond Zeus’ invisible shielding. He stood frozen in a daze, mind completely disengaged, sailing by instinct alone. Oblivious to the lightening of the sky, the clearing of the air, the softening of all ambient noise. Something buoyed him up, preventing his logical collapse, and were he asked, the weary captain would probably have credited the living spirit of the vessel beneath his feet. And maybe that wouldn’t have been so far from the truth.

But he blinked, and he was somehow still standing, and somehow beyond the threat of death, and he could feel nothing but an overwhelming exhaustion in every corner of his soul. He examined the ship stretched out before him, barely registering the beautiful rose-gold highlights cast by a late evening sun.

It should have come as no surprise when three beings materialized on deck just meters away. But Killian had forgotten all but his own name and the name of his ship, and he gawked through bloodshot, burning eyes.

“I knew you were the man for the job!” came the grating voice of a crowing Eris. Killian grimaced at the noise, which was just familiar enough to hammer vague awareness into his reluctant brain. The goddess stalked closer, trailed by her two shadows - bodyguards, worshippers, whoever. Killian knew she was after something, but couldn’t remember what.

“Where is it?” she growled, holding out her hand impatiently. Killian responded with a slow blink, a clumsy shifting of his weight, noticeably out of sync with the gentle rocking of the deck.

“Bugger off,” said the pirate thickly. His tongue was as slow to react as the rest of him. Uncoordinated. Raging, Eris began to close the remaining distance between them. Then she spotted the crystal phial, tipped sideways on the deck, having rolled almost the whole way to the gunwale. She hissed as she waved her hand. The vessel appeared in her grip and she shook it lightly. A scant mouthful remained; the rest had flooded out onto the boards when the potion had fallen forgotten.

“Careless fool!” she screeched. Killian flinched instinctively as she flung a blast of furious magic in his direction. But it passed harmlessly around him, and he sighed a single, mirthless laugh.

“Immune,” he reminded, unable to keep the taunt from his voice, tired as it was.

“Is that so?” Eris poofed the remaining distance, and when she reappeared, she drove a vicious fist into his middle, directly in the center of Excalibur’s damage. Killian crumpled to the floor, too winded to even cry out, feeling himself being gored all over again despite the blade’s absence.

Apparently deciding that he wasn’t worthy of any more of her time, Eris turned away from the half-dead pirate. As she held up the phial, she gave it another wiggle and heard the small splash of its contents.

“You had better pray there’s enough left for me to use. I may not be able to shield my handiwork from Zeus and his minions, but I can at least protect myself.”

With that, she tipped the potion down her gullet. And though Killian was expecting the outburst that followed, he hadn’t imagined it would be quite so dramatic. Curled into a ball, eyes streaming, still struggling for breath, Killian could just barely make out the goddess’ agonized writhing that preceded a ripple, then a literal explosion of unrecognizable elements. The shards swirled, coalesced into a brief whirlwind, repelled each other and scattered to the heavens.

The clatter of phial against deck was followed by a stunned silence as Eris’ henchmen tried to process what had just happened. They appeared more surprised than aggrieved. When one of them spotted the fresh droplets of potion on the wood, he began to back away nervously. The other quickly followed suit, and an instant later, they both vanished. Doubtless off to instigate their own brand of mischief, or perhaps find another deity to serve. And Killian lacked the strength to rise from his fetal position, much less celebrate their departure.

In his misery, Killian missed seeing the setting sun cast a brilliant red glow over wave and cloud, mimicking both the dried and fresh blood staining his bandages. He missed the first stirrings of a breeze caressing the sails above, the gentle pulse of the moving ship below. He even missed the first hint of a portal parting the waves ahead, but as the whirlpool gathered strength and its roar increased in volume, Killian finally collected the gumption to raise his head, discern what was happening, and realize that he should probably find something to hold on to.

With a quiet whimper, Killian made it as far as his knees. He was less than two meters from the wheel, but that distance felt like miles. The portal loomed closer, the ship began to quake, and Killian forced himself forward. One knee. Then the other. Brace clutched tightly against his abdomen. Hand not taking his weight; crumpling to elbow, forearm. Gasping. Waves increasing in intensity, the deck bobbing. Another knee dragged forward. The wheel just out of reach.

There came a violent splash as the bow split the final watery hill before beginning its descent into the tunnel. The dramatic tilting of the deck was enough to send Killian sliding the remaining few feet, and he caught the wheel with a grunt just before the portal’s corkscrew path took hold. The Jolly Roger tumbled into the void, everything topsy-turvy for far too long, especially when each shudder sent a jolt of anguish through the pirate's battered body. But if Killian let loose with a cry of pain or two, it was impossible to hear over the deafening rush of water and magic all around.

The spiral tightened. Even for a seasoned sailor, the dizzying effect bordered on nauseating. And then, just when Killian’s weight had tripled and he felt as if he would smash through the floor, the ship leapt from the portal's exit. Its crash back onto a residual churning wake tore the wheel from Killian’s grasp. He toppled forward, stopping his fall with protesting arms, hissing as different kinds of pain raced up each one. But at least he was still on his knees and hadn’t hit the deck yet again.

It was lighter here, midday at most. Killian’s exhausted brain and eyes couldn’t handle it. He knew he ought to take stock of their surroundings, look for danger, and check the ship for damage. He also knew it was hopeless to make even a token effort. So when a familiar figure appeared on board, he was hunched on his knees, clutching his abdomen and rubbing his eyes with a quivering hand, and he didn’t notice. Not until that figure spoke.

“Killian? What the hell!”

The pirate managed a strained smile of relief, genuinely happy to hear the alarm in Emma’s voice. It meant she was here. More than that, that she was okay. Killian’s hand dropped to his thigh in a moment of rest while he worked on peeling his eyes open. By this time, despite her shock, Emma had teleported to his side, and as she crouched, he reached a feeble hand in her direction.

“Emma.”

Emma surrounded his hand in hers, all the while taking in his appalling state. Countless wounds - a number haphazardly bandaged, others exposed - decorated his person, oozing blood. Some dripping it, if he moved a certain way. He hadn’t appeared so close to keeling over since his rescue in the Underworld. Gaze slightly unfocused, butterfly bandages askew on his cheek and forehead, Killian fixed her with the saddest eyes she had seen in quite some time.

“Killian. What happened?”

At a loss where to start, Killian eventually just pulled her closer, intent on bringing her into his embrace and never letting go. Emma inched gingerly forward, apparently more concerned about protecting his injuries than he was. And then she stiffened.

“The hell?”

She sounded so thrown that for a moment, Killian forgot his physical complaints and quickly twisted to check what had her so rattled. When he saw, his pained groan was cut off before it could fully form. Frantic, he attempted to rise to his feet with muscles too injured to respond, reflexes dulled by exhaustion and blood loss. Swearing softly, Emma moved to help him; she knew it was useless to try and stop the mad scramble.

“Marvel,” breathed Killian, listing wildly, clinging to Emma but shuffling forward all the same. “You’re here.”

The human figure shimmered before them, not quite solid. The faint outline of the stern railing could be seen intersecting her torso. She wore a melancholy smile, and when she spoke, the words had an ethereal echo about them that sent a chill right down Killian’s spine.

“We’re here,” she amended. “We made it, dearest.”

Killian stopped a few paces away. With her hand a support behind his back, Emma halted as well. Killian’s arm tensed, his fingers twitching as he wrestled against the urge to reach toward the apparition. Finally, both shoulders slumped, and he leaned more heavily against his wife.

“How long?” was his plea, in a voice so low and tremulous that it broke Emma’s heart. Marvel’s expression stiffened.

“Not long.”

In the silence that followed, the waves caressing the hull became a heartbeat, the rippling of sails a repeated sigh. Ghost Marvel took a step forward, and Emma squeezed her husband's arm in solidarity.

“I only wanted to say-” began the ship’s soul, but Killian cut her off.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t say goodbye.”

Marvel’s lips twitched in a sly smile. “Hello.” Her next breath was half chuckle, half sob. “Hello, Captain. It’s so very nice to meet you.”

Killian echoed her strangled sort-of laugh and raised his hand in an automatic gesture. “Likewise, my darling.”

Marvel drifted closer, taking steps that seemed unnecessary as no friction propelled her along the floorboards. She lifted her own hand - her right hand - and rested it gently atop his, feeling like nothing so much as the faintest of breaths against his palm, the lightest of flower petals. Killian bent to kiss it anyway. And then he found he could not let her go.

“Stay?” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “Can’t you just… stay?”

“Oh, Captain.” She brushed her free hand along his cheek, a mere wisp of sensation. “We’ve had such wonderful adventures. And we’ll continue to do so. But this… this is when we talked.”

Her ghostly thumb caught a teardrop before it fell. For an instant, her gaze turned to Emma’s, and they shared a silent conversation, their mutual love for the man between them providing effortless understanding. Then Marvel gave Killian a soft smile.

“Go back to your big, beautiful house, with so many people to love and be loved by. Run around, be human. Live. And know that I will always be here when you need me, ever happy to see you, but rejoicing when I don’t. Because I understand things better now. Sorrow and fear and shame… and joy.” She withdrew her hands, placing one on her own chest and the other on his. “Human or not, this ship’s heart belongs forever to her captain. And all I will ever want for you is total happiness. For the rest of your days.”

Trembling, Killian tried to reach up, to place his hand over hers, but she seemed less solid than before, and his fingers grasped nothing. He gulped a breath and began,

“Marvel, I have to say… and… and I had hopes of…”

The words caught in his throat. He couldn’t finish either thought. As tears flooded his eyes, Emma tightened her embrace and caught his lonely wandering hand. Marvel smiled softly through crystalline tears of her own.

“I know, my love.”

And then she began to glimmer. Little stars of light flickering in a random dance within her image. She seemed to almost revel in the sensation, giggling as she watched and turned her palms this way and that. Then she met Killian’s despairing gaze with one of excitement, almost glee.

“Watch this,” she winked.

The stars drifted apart and multiplied as they slowly lifted higher into the breeze. The greater the number of lights, the fainter Marvel’s image, and Killian was torn between watching the spectacle and keeping his eyes trained on the last glimpse he would have of the ship incarnate. For her part, Marvel kept her head thrown back, delighting in the beauty above.

Slowly the stars began to outcompete the cloud-covered sun in brightness. There were just so many, and each burned with a ferocity that made looking directly at it painful. Between one heartbeat and the next, Marvel’s form dissolved into a final spattering of lights, which hastened to join the others, noticeably playful in their movements.

The constellations migrated toward the bulk of the ship, and reflexively, Killian pivoted to keep them in sight. He leaned almost his entire weight against Emma now, but for a moment, neither of them noticed. Then, with a blinding flash and a crack of displaced air, the stars raced to line every inch of the ship’s perimeter. It only served to make the normally-beautiful Jolly Roger even more breathtaking.

Killian and Emma lost track of the amount of time they stood dazzled by the sight. But then, one by one, the twinkling lights started to flicker out. And as they faded, so did the remainder of Killian’s strength. His knees buckled and he sank to the deck, pulling Emma down with him. Still watching the sparkles, silent tears tracking down his face, he allowed himself to settle back on his haunches. Emma knelt beside him and gently lay her head on his shoulder; after a moment, he rested his cheek against her.

They stayed that way until the lights winked out, the waves were water once more, the breeze no longer breath. And the Jolly Roger, marvel that she was, floated inert.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, 3

Notes: As always, big thanks to my editors Drucilla and BlueShifted.

Managed to pop one more out before vacation time! One of the hardest things about this story was what to do with the Pygmalion mythos. At first glance it seems sweet, but once you take a closer look it does get pretty creepy. So I wrestled for a while how to fix it - and only in the last month or so did it finally come to me. What will happen to Goofy and the statue? You'll have to wait to find out.

For those new to my stories or just need a refresher - Millie is a fanmade OC made between myself and my friend Ange.

Summary: A woman lost to the sea, and a god lost to time. In her own way, Minnie will bring her gifts to those who didn't ask.

Whenever Daisy was informing Minnie about the ways of the world, which had almost become a daily routine by this point, the love goddess always paid rapt attention. She wanted to memorize every single detail her first friend gave her and to no longer feel as though she were a pathetic infant. But as the two immortals strolled around a quaint village of cobblestone, Minnie found herself unusually distracted. Daisy was explaining the differences between demigods, regular gods, and “The Big Three” as she called them, but Minnie kept sucking in her cheek and smacking her lips.

“Demigods, like myself, have only half the power of a regular god,” Daisy said, having chosen to wear a sunflower in her hair. Like all the other times they had taken casual walks through mortal homes, the two were invisible to the common eye. In an earlier lesson, Daisy had proven this by plucking off one of the seeds from her sunflower and flicking it at an elderly man's cheek. He had paused, picked up the fallen seed, and decided that it must have fallen from the mouth of a bird flying overheard. “For example, I can't summon a Viewing Mirror and I can't influence the mind of any mortal. Now the Big Three, they're all powerful, but it comes at a cost. Like my husband-”

The longwinded explanation came to an abrupt halt when she heard Minnie's lips smack once again. She stopped in place, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. One of the things that Minnie adored about Daisy was that she was never shy about how she felt, and right now she was obviously annoyed. “Do that one more time and I'll have you sit in a garden full of corpse flowers. Three guesses what they smell like and the first two don't count.”

Minnie hung her head like an ashamed child, twiddling her thumbs. “I'm sorry, Daisy. I just – I can't explain it...”

“Then ask. It's what I'm here for, apparently.” The two temporarily stopped where they were, and any mortals walking along the same path felt an inclination to walk around, perhaps thinking they wanted to avoid stepping in a puddle of mud.

“Oh, I do appreciate you teaching me so much! But – But sometimes I get worried I'm annoying you.”

“You are,” Daisy replied calmly, her bluntness another odd but helpful stable of this friendship. “But I figure the sooner you learn everything you need to know, the sooner we can get to know the real you. Knowing something doesn't define you. It's what you do with the knowledge.” Plus it gave Daisy's ego an extra boost. After being treated like a fool and a damsel in distress by her mother and those superior snotty gods on Mount Olympus, having someone admire and look up to her was more than welcome. “I'll admit, you being so cute does cut the annoyance down by half.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but Minnie frowned, still being adorable as her pouting exposed dimples in her cheeks. She hated to have her friendship watered down by her own beauty. “All right, but you'll think it's strange. I...I've just been having the strangest craving for peaches the last couple of days.” When she told Pete, Mortimer, and Gladstone this, she was hoping to get some kind of answer. Instead, she got armfuls of peaches, followed by the men throwing peaches at each other because each one believed they should have been the only one feeding her.

Daisy blinked slowly three times before getting an idea. “A craving like that might mean someone offered peaches at your temple...And you have a temple! Way to go!” In congratulations, she ruffled the top of Minnie's head, and was both amused and miffed to find that each delicate curl of fur simply bounced right back into place.

“I have a temple?” Minnie asked out loud, but in that same second she felt it was true. “I have a temple! Oh goody!” Having so very few things she could call her own, the idea filled her to the brim with excitement, especially because as Daisy had told her on day one, mortals built temples. “People actually worked on it and built it, with their own hands! They didn't have powers or anything! Daisy, I want to go see it, I want go see it!” She skipped in glee, frolicking ahead of Daisy.

“Okay, but don't expect much!” Daisy called after her, trying to catch up to Minnie's dancing. “You're a new goddess! You won't have any statues or paintings or wall carvings! Slow down, will you?” But no matter how hard she tried to put a lid on Minnie's happiness, it wouldn't simmer down. She wound up having to chase after her friend, stifling chuckles in her throat. If this was a glance at Minnie's real personality underneath all the questions, perhaps she was as cute on the inside as she was on the outside.

Minnie thought it was sheer coincidence that her temple was in the very same village they were visiting that day, but Daisy didn't believe in coincidences. When you lived as long as she had, it was easier to see that random happenings were part of fate's ultimate design. As the duck had tried to warn her beforehand, the temple was nothing to brag about. It was smaller than the average house, with red paint that had already begun to show signs of scratches. The entrance was a little lopsided, and inside was only one altar in the middle of a tiny room. But Minnie loved it, loved it, loved it to pieces, running her hands on the walls and twirling around to make sure she'd seen absolutely everything. This was hers, and hers alone. “It's beautiful!”

“If you say so,” Daisy winced as she stepped inside, a wretched stench hitting her nostrils. “Ugh...and I think we found your craving.” Placing a hand over her beak, she approached the altar where a crate with now rotten peaches sat. “Oh, for goodness sake! They're supposed to burn the offering! That's how we get it! Whoever did this must be a few horses short of a full stable.”

Still, Minnie's mood wouldn't be beat, and she even hugged the crate, despite suffering from the same ghastly smell hitting her nose. “It's what they did with the knowledge, remember? And I think it's a wonderful gift...even if it is going to going to make me throw up in a few minutes.” Swallowing down an urge to gag, she now inspected the crate with loving care to find a name or an identifying feature. “I want to thank whoever did this!”

“Well, that is your right.” Daisy inched back towards the entrance, trying to waft away the smell with her hand. “If a god or goddess really likes what someone offered, they can reward the mortal who gave it. I've helped a few farmers with their crops after the nice stuff they gave me. All you have to do is concentrate, and you can find whoever left this here.” And maybe give them a good smack upside the head, she mentally added.

“Yes, I'll concentrate! … Outside!”

Once the duo were out in fresh air, Minnie closed her eyes, concentrating long and hard about whoever it was that left her an offering. It was slightly more difficult than Daisy's blasé explanation, and she found she wasn't really sure what exactly she was supposed to be doing. In a fit of frustration, she wished whoever it was gave her some kind of sign.

“YAAAAAA-HA-HA-HOOOOIE!”

Minnie hadn't quite meant it like that. As she and Daisy heard the holler, they tilted their heads in unison as a runaway wagon careened down the nearby hill, rolling over and over on anything but its own wheels. The horses that were supposed to be guiding it were on top of the hill, in no rush to after the lost cargo. Fruits and vegetables splattered off the wagon – including peaches, Minnie noticed – and the villagers stepped aside, many wearing an irked expression as if this was the sign of another Monday. The wagon only stopped when it crashed into a fence, but its rider kept on going, rolling on the ground until gravity and exhaustion made him plop face-first in front of the girls, half of a watermelon stuck on his head.

“Minnie, don't concentrate so hard next time.”

“Sorry.”

Whoever it was dizzily tried to sit up, tugging on the watermelon but finding it hard to remove. The villagers got to work cleaning up his mess, with their irritation obvious in every shout.

“Nice going, you big goof!”

“You really put the pig in Pygmalion!”

“Why don't you do us all a favor and not cause trouble for ONE day?!”

The rider didn't reply, still too focused on his entrapment, now even using his feet in an attempt to pry the fruit off of his face. Daisy didn't know who to feel more sorry for – this mystery oaf, or for Minnie that said oaf was her very first worshipper. Yet Minnie didn't sound disappointed, as she tugged on Daisy's arm and pleaded gently, “Okay, so, how do I make him see me?”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to 'meet' him? He seems kinda...”

“Welp,” said the mystery man, “May as well have a snack, long as I'm stuck.” Daisy felt the chewing noises that followed said more than she needed to.

“Yes, I'm very sure.” Minnie nodded once, holding her head with pride. “He did something very nice for me, and he didn't have to! All the gods on Mount Olympus fawn over me and give me things just because I look nice. But he's never even seen me before and he gave me a whole crate of peaches! And without breaking the crate, which...might be a very big deal for him.” Minnie had only known this man for roughly fifteen seconds and she was already overwhelmingly proud of him. Even though he had messed up, it was the thought that counted.

Daisy could see that Minnie wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. “Very well. But first? We don't tell him we're goddesses. That'll just cause a world of trouble.” She grasped Minnie's right hand, and Minnie felt warmth seeping into her skin. “Second, we can't look exactly like we already do. Might make a few of them go nuts, and that'll probably go double for the 'goddess of beauty'. So you have to think of how you want them to see you. I'll help you out, just this once.” Attaining a form that mortals could see required a lot of energy, and there was no way Daisy was letting the newborn goddess do this all her own.

As for the mortal man, now that he'd eaten his fill, the fruity cage on his head was easier to yank off. Now that he was free, the girls could see he was a dog, with long black ears dripping with red juice. His muzzle stuck out the same way his limbs did, a little too much to be considered handsome. His buck teeth didn't help any, and his slow blinking eyes didn't give any signs of great intelligence hiding behind them. He was pretty much what one expected when you hear someone being described as goofy.  But one probably didn't expect them to keep it as a name. Goofy was full of surprises, not all of them pleasant, but it was his turn to be surprised today.

He lifted his head and saw two exceptionally pretty ladies standing directly in front of him. They wore matching dresses colored pink and green, with matching sandals and even matching hairstyles that stretched over the same shoulders. But they couldn't be called twins, as Daisy had chosen to make herself look like an older woman of refined dignity, perhaps the matriarch of a rich family. She had found that mortals tended to respect the elderly even if they were complete strangers. Minnie on the other hand, had decided to go as a young girl, nearly budding out of childhood, as she felt it was unfair to “lie” to her worshipper about how old she was, or at least how old she felt.

Goofy was very sure he'd never seen either one of them before in the village, but instead of regarding that with suspicion, he smiled pleasantly and offered both of his hands. “Well, hello there! You folks must be new in town.”

“Why yes, we are,” Minnie chirped, having no idea what to do with the hand in front of her. “I'm Minnie, and this is Daisy!” Was she allowed to give out their chosen names like that? She quickly glanced at Daisy for approval, but thankfully her elder quietly nodded and took Goofy's hand to shake. Minnie eagerly copied the action. How fun!

“I'm Pygmalion, but everyone 'round here calls me Goofy!” When his hands were free, he pushed himself to stand, towering over both of them but making sure not to use his full height. “Nice ta meetcha! I'm sure you'll like our town real nice. We got the world's first temple to that new goddess, Aphrodite!” He tugged on his robe with his thumbs, bits of lettuce tumbling off as he did so. “Why, I even helped build it!”

“Will wonders never cease,” Daisy mumbled under her breath.

“You did a wonderful job!” Minnie had to physically jump and grab Goofy's hand to shake it again, which she did with much more vigor this time around. “It's so beautiful! It's a perfect temple! I couldn't ask – I mean, Aphrodite couldn't ask for one better!”

“Aw, shucks. Weren't nothin',” Goofy blushed with full rich color, allowing Minnie to have his hand as much as pleased. With every shake he lowered his head lower. “Every god's gotta have a temple, right? Even mean ol' Hades!” He would have gone into the details of how the temple was truly a group effort had Daisy not given him a good smack upside the head.

“My hand slipped,” Daisy lied through bared teeth. “Apologies.”

Goofy blinked slowly, but seemed to actually believe this. “Shoot, that's all right! No worse than what I do most times.” Speaking of which, he finally looked to survey the damage he'd done. His shoulders sagged as he saw his neighbors lift the wagon back onto its wheels and lasso the horses back to their proper places. “Oops. I was just tryin' to make some deliveries on the side. Maybe I should help clean up.”

“What do you mean, on the side?” Minnie asked, giving his hand an extra long tug to distract him.

It worked, as Goofy whipped his head around, right as rain again. “Just to make some extra money! No one's been buyin' my art, so I gotta find some way to put food on the table. But I think today I might wind up eatin' the table.”

Daisy had to admit she was getting curious. “You make art?”

“Can we see?” Minnie had almost started to hug Goofy's arm, which he would have allowed, but Daisy grabbed her by the shoulders and finally yanked her off. “Please, I would love to see your art, mister Goofy!”

The dog's eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by such a request. His sad feelings about lost food and lost coin would have to wait. “Sure you can! My house is just a jump, skip, and a hop away! Oh boy, I ain't had visitors in a real long time.” With an extra bounce in his step, he walked along the stone pathway and the girls followed, trying to imagine what a man like this could make with his hands. They weren't very surprised to see his home resemble the temple – it was boringly average with scrapped paint, the windows and doors at odd angles. Daisy was afraid that if she sneezed too hard it would all come tumbling down. Minnie thought it was quaint.

“Home sweet home,” Goofy said, pushing open his wooden door that fell over onto the floor. He shrugged it off, and walked inside with a whistle. “Make yourselves comfy! Sorry about the mess. Can't prepare for what you don't expect, I suppose.”

In seconds Minnie would learn what a sculptor does, as the one floor home was decked in marble life. The floor was covered in broken bits of stone and dust, and a chipped shelf held rusty tools that had seen better days. Yet even Daisy was stunned because she, like everyone else in the village, hadn't expected anyone named Goofy to be good at carving statues.

“Oh, my! These are amazing!” Minnie exclaimed, and despite having an inexperienced worldview, she was absolutely right. These were amazing statues, because each one looked ready to spring to life. In one corner sat an elderly man reading bedtime stories to his dozing grandchildren. A mountain lion on the prowl took over a good portion of the floor. Collections of birds sitting on shy girls' shoulders lined up on a windowsill. Each masterpiece was filled with emotion and devotion, and the only thing to find displeasing about them was that they took up so much space that it was hard to move around.

“I don't believe this,” Daisy walked around a marble deer that was sniffing a fake flower. “I've seen statues in temples that don't look half as good! How do you do it?”

Goofy shrugged, unsure of how to answer what he thought was a fairly silly question. “I just do it. Been doin' this ever since I could hold a chisel in my hand. It's what makes me happy.”

Daisy had to bend in an awkward position in order not to knock off a young athlete throwing a sharp javelin. “And you're telling me nobody wants to buy these? Are they blind?”

As long as he was there, Goofy decided to get a bit of work done. He picked up his aging hammer and rusty chisel from his tool shelf, and began to add another layer to a princess' wedding cake. “Folks don't really believe a guy like me can make anythin' purdy-lookin'. Can't blame 'em, really.” He knelt down, wanting to make sure the strawberry that fell off the icing had the right number of leaves. “Folks see a sickly gardener, they might think his veggies ain't good. They see a weaver with shaky hands, they might think her baskets fall apart. Way of the world, I learned by now. People see what they see.”

“But that's not fair!” Daisy scoffed, her flippant hand almost knocking over a flock of hummingbirds. “People shouldn't judge you based on what they see!” Although she had to pause as she realized she had done the same thing mere moments ago. She lowered her hand, nervously twirling her hair around her finger. “And if they do, they should feel terrible about it.”

Goofy chuckled, thanking her kindly for her sympathy. But neither of them had yet to notice the missing third member of their party. A moment ago, as Minnie had been admiring the works around her, she'd noticed a room that instead of holding a door had a blue curtain serving as an entrance. Her inquisitive nature naturally led her towards the room, paying no mind to the conversation being held without her.

It was a bedroom, if Minnie had to fathom a guess based on the sole frayed excuse of a mattress lying on the floor covered by a blanket that in no way could cover the extremely long dog. Unlike the rest of the house, only one statue was in this room. But it was more brilliant and beautiful than all the others – perhaps more brilliant and beautiful than anything Minnie had ever seen in her short life.

A woman stood on a sandy beach, seashells decorated at her bare feet. She was a dainty poodle, with cut puffs of fur around her neck and wrists. Her dress had only one layer, yet it pooled around her as if it could go on for miles. Her eyes were closed, her chin down, and she smiled with peace and serenity. In her cupped hands lay a necklace, shabbily made with bits of broken seaglass and string, yet she held it as if was the most precious treasure on earth. Even those who could claim not to have an appreciation for such things could tell this was a statue made with purest, deepest love – and Minnie felt it within the depths of her very soul.

She reached out to touch the woman's dress, almost startled to feel marble instead of silk, and as she continued to gaze at the woman's blissful expression, tears filled Minnie's eyes. She could feel every second that Goofy had worked on this piece, every passionate chip, and it was indeed made with love – with a heart broken in untold agony. Minnie fell to her knees, unable to stop crying, as if Goofy's heartache was also hers.

By then the other two realized Minnie had gone, and when Daisy pushed aside the curtain to see her sobbing companion, she ran to throw her arms around the younger goddess. “Minnie!” She held her close, trying to see her face. “What is it? What's wrong?” Unable to form words at the time, Minnie wildly gestured at the statue. Daisy looked up – while she too thought it was far more gorgeous than anything she'd seen in the entrance, she didn't understand why it had sent Minnie into a fit. “It's a happy statue! Look at that face, she's smiling!” Worry gave way to anger, and she glared at Goofy since he was more or less responsible for this mess. “Help me out here, will you? What's this one supposed to be?”

Goofy was at a loss for words for several reasons. He had never intended for this particular statue to be seen by anyone else, and since he never had visitors, it had never occurred to him that a curtain wasn't exactly a way to ward someone off. He'd also never handled a sobbing girl since – since – hm. Well. Since her. “She's...She was...a girl I loved a long time ago.”

Was – that one word diffused Daisy's anger like throwing water on a candle. Married to the god of death, she knew more than anyone the power of “was”. All she could say in response was a diminutive “Oh.”

Goofy hadn't told anyone this story, so he wasn't sure how to go about it. He took his time walking towards the statue, his voice distant and pained. “Her name was Millicent. She liked 'Millie' better, though. Said she always thought the name was for a fancier girl, not for a sailor's daughter. She taught me all about nautical ropes, and always untied me when I got it wrong. We'd make sandcastles on the beach and make up constellations when the stars came out. She never made me feel dumb. Said I was just smart about different things. Millie always knew how to make me smile, and she always knew when I was sad. She was special, but she wanted to be with me anyway. I always thought she deserved better than the likes of me, but anytime I said so, she made me take it back. Said nobody deserved anybody. That hearts loved who they loved, no more, no less, and that her heart loved me.”

His fingers touched the necklace embedded into the statue, and while Minnie's cries had quieted down, he felt compelled to finish what it hurt to speak of. “Her Pa was always sailin' to other places, and when he had to go, so did she. Last time he did, he and Millie weren't sure when they'd be back. I thought long and hard...and then I made her a necklace. I knew it wasn't good, it's not like carvin'. But I told her how much I loved her, and that if she wore it when she came back home, I'd make her my wife.” How many years had it been since he'd stood on the port, waving her goodbye until her boat was a speck on the horizon? He'd long since lost count, or more accurately, had stopped counting when he learned of its fate.

“Sailors can prepare for the worst. But they ain't gods. They can't predict the weather perfectly. Nastiest storm on record...nothin' left but planks floatin' in the water. We had folks search all over the ocean, and that was all they could find.”

Goofy's cheeks were dry, perhaps unable to cry after years and years of howling over Millie's cruel fate. Daisy's cheeks were wet, yet despite her blurry vision she noticed a vital detail about the statue. “She's – she's not wearing the necklace.”

“Didn't think it'd be right.” His fingers slid off the marble, his hands hanging at his sides. “Didn't wanna make the choice for her.” Goofy looked down at the women, and then knelt down, tenderly petting Minnie between the ears. “Real sorry to make you hear that sob story. Last thing I ever wanna do is hurt someone. We can still make this day end on a good note, if'n you want. Always thought makin' a new friend was the best part of any day.” He pointed to his face, where despite all that had been said, a smile lay there with warmth and invitation. “You might not feel like you'll smile again, but you will.” A mantra he'd told himself thousands of times, no doubt.

Minnie didn't smile, but she did throw her arms around Goofy's neck for a tight hug. Daisy joined right after, and while Goofy was temporarily stunned, he embraced them both. “Ain't you ladies sweet as pie.” His stomach seemed to have no connection to his heart, as it began to growl at the mere mention of dessert. “Huh. Dinner for three...might be a little tricky.”

With that, Minnie pulled back, wiping her face. “Oh, no, we wouldn't dare intrude. You should feed yourself.”

“Anything we eat is going to taste salty at this rate,” Daisy added, pulling Minnie to her feet. “We should get going.”

Goofy was slightly disappointed to be deprived of company so soon, but he'd never impose. “If'n you say so. You two ever wanna come by, my door's always open! Or on the floor. Either way, you'll be welcome! And to make up for all that cryin', I'll make a special statue, just for Minnie here! It'll make you smile, that's a guarantee!” He jabbed a thumb to his chest, allowing himself to have a few handfuls of pride if it meant cheering someone up. “Whaddya want made?”

Minnie blinked with wet lashes. What did she want? That was a new one. She'd never been asked that before. The men on Mount Olympus assumed her wants and needs, and Daisy either gave Minnie a lesson in whatever she felt like teaching at that moment or waited for Minnie to ask something. No one had ever directly asked her what she wanted – so she said the first thing that came to mind. “Can you carve a peach?”

Such a bizarre answer made Goofy pause for half a second before bursting into charmed laughter, holding his belly with both hands. “A carved peach! Ain't ever thought of that one before! Why, I could carve you a whole peach tree, but just a single peach? Ain't you somethin'!”

Daisy smirked, glad to hear the sound of mirth again. “I think that means yes.”

Minnie was relieved she could give Goofy joy, her own was short lived as she concluded she was missing something very important. “Oh! Oh dear, I don't have any money on me!”

“Wouldn't take it even if ya did.” Goofy held up a hand, his fingers flat out. “I'd never charge a friend, and now we're all pals! You just come back in a little while, and I'll have the best carved peach anyone's ever seen! Gunna be a real beaut! Why, I'm gunna get started right this minute!” He paraded out of the room, whistling a merry tune.

Minnie watched the blue curtain flutter as he left, her tiny hands over her heart. “Mortals are amazing,” she said in a breathless whisper. “He can smile after losing the love of his life.”

“Well, mortals have to be made of stronger stuff than us,” Daisy agreed after snapping her fingers – their mortal disguises vanished, and they were invisible once more. “They can only live for a couple of decades, and lose people all the time. Takes a lot of work to kill a god. I don't think I'd want to live if someone I cared about died.” If something ever happened to her husband – nope, nope, nope, she wasn't even going to entertain that notion. “Okay, that's it, I've had enough of the blues. You know what always cheers my husband up? Sailing!”

Minnie gave Daisy a curt look and the duck realized once again she hadn't thought clearly. “Ah. Right. Maybe not today...but the beach is a close second! We'll think about what we can give Goofy as a reward.” She offered her hand.

“I don't think I could ever give him anything that would be enough,” Minnie lamented, her entire body sagging like a dying flower. She might have curled up on the floor and thought about Goofy's tragedy for millennia to come, but Daisy snatched Minnie's hand and forcibly teleported the two of them to the nearest beach – although without Minnie's immediate mental cooperation, they fell in the water instead of the sand.

Daisy popped her head out first, spitting and sputtering. “If I have to taste salt one more time today, I'm going to lose my mind! Tears are salty, this water's salty, I'm about to be salty!” Minnie's sudden giggling interrupted her ranting, making her temper flare even hotter. “What's so funny? You were crying a minute ago!”

“I'm not t-trying to laugh! S-something's tickling me!” Minnie shrieked, flailing her arms and kicking her legs. Daisy was about to tell her it was merely seaweed, when she too felt tickling fingers on her arms and legs. She tried to demand the assailant stop before she brought the wrath of a demigoddess upon them, but it wasn't really threatening when it was said before fits of high-pitched laughter.

It went on relentlessly until Minnie sunk underwater, being too tickled to keep herself afloat. The sensations suddenly stopped, and when Minnie swam back up, she saw their attackers. “Mermaids!” Daisy snapped, smashing the water with anger fists. “I should've known! You stupid things are always causing trouble!”

“I win!” the chubbier mermaid declared, oblivious to Daisy's fury as she spun in the water. “I win, I win, I win! Now you have to give it to me!”

“Awww, that's not faiiir!” the skinnier mermaid whined, her shoulders heaving up and down as she wailed. “Can we go for two out of three?”

“No, you can't!” Daisy knocked their heads together, making them squeak and roll their empty heads about. “Minnie, don't you ever try to go near these things. Mermaids are just a bunch of ditzes! If we were mortals, we might've drowned!”

“Well, maybe they knew we weren't mortal,” Minnie pointed out. If Goofy had taught them anything, it was clearly not to judge people by first glance. “What were you two doing? Was that some kind of game?”

The girls looked at Minnie and – as usual when people got a first look at her – they were awestruck by her beauty. With wide eyes and stopped hearts, they quickly forgot their squabble and began preening and playing with Minnie's hair and fur. “She's pretty!” “She's sooo pretty!” “Let's dress her up!” “Yes, yes, let's play dress up!”

Daisy rolled her eyes, tempted to give a very loud “I told you so”. But Minnie touched the girls by their shoulders, pushing them back. “She's right, you know. If we weren't goddesses, that little game of yours could have hurt someone! That's not very nice!” How else would they know if someone wasn't going to tell them?

To Daisy's surprise, the mermaids appeared to consider this, though not for the reasons she thought. They looked at each other, concern twisting their scaly features.

“Not very nice? That means not very good!”

“Oh no, we're not good girls!”

“Only good girls get gifts!”

“I want to be a good girl!”

“Me too, me too!”

Minnie smiled, feeling like the smarter one. It felt nice to teach someone else something, and she clapped her hands together. Daisy huffed, but tried to wait patiently as the lesson continued. “Now then,” Minnie instructed, trying to imitate Daisy's confidence. “If you want to be good, an apology works! Just say you're sorry and we'll forgive you.”

“I won't,” Daisy felt obligated to mutter.

“We're sorry!” the mermaids said together.

“Whoever got someone to sink won.”

“And I won.”

“And I have to give her this because I said she could have it if she won.” But as the skinnier mermaid began to take off her golden bracelet, she gasped with an idea. “But an apology with a gift, that's twice as good! I'll be an extra good girl!”

“I'll be an extra good girl too!”

“Maybe Mickey will give us extra gifts because we're extra good!”

As Minnie took the bracelet, noting its lovely features and how it perfectly glinted in the sunlight, she asked, “Who's Mickey?”

“Mickey's our friend.”

“He's a god.” “He's the best god, after Poseidon.”

“But Poseidon doesn't give us gifts for being good.”

“So we like Mickey better.”

“Mickey's the best!”

Minnie assumed she wasn't going to get too much detail from these girls, so she turned to Daisy, and asked the expert on everything. “Who's Mickey?” she asked again. If it was a god, Daisy had to know them.

But for the very first time since Minnie had met Daisy, Daisy didn't have an answer for her. Daisy herself seemed to be bewildered, her hands open and closing with confusion. She knew every single god on Mount Olympus, she knew who ruled over the dead and who ruled over the ocean, she knew the demigods like herself that had mortal parentage, she knew many centaurs and satyrs and favorite mortals, she knew what happened at the beginning of time and the cursed lineage of Zeus and his ancestors.

“I...I've never heard of a god named Mickey!”