#though she no longer feels deserving of the honor & thus keeps them covered

[sporefound]

also while i'm thinking about amanita traveling to the surface, i do want to note that she has two cloaks that she layers. the bottom layer is her piwafwi. it is the only thing she kept from her former life as nobility as she 'died' in it. the second cloak is a black one that she layers on top of it when she travels on the surface so that the sun doesn't strip the lower layer of it's magic. The top cloak is enchanted with elemental resistance & resistance from the sunlight. it made moving around on the surface a little bit easier, though her face often still ends up sunburnt & she gets headaches from her light sensitivity

[kagemaruzest69]

Lovesick {Karl Heisenberg x Reader}

Ch. 4 - {A Monster in Progress} 

*I updated a note at the end of this chapter, please take a look. -----‐--------------------------------------------

【ωє αяє συя σωη мσηѕтєяѕ αη∂ тнυѕ, ωє ƒєαя συяѕєℓνєѕ тнє мσѕт】

Morning came by quickly, (Y/N)'s delicate left hand rubbed her eyes as she woke up from her deep slumber, feeling groggy before she sat up on the couch and stretched her arms. The smell of oil, grease and tobacco was heavier in the room this morning than what she remembered last night. (Y/N)'s eyes found themselves directed over to the bed where Heisenberg was asleep. It seemed that he had worked late last night and went to bed right away. He looked so peaceful in his sleep as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

The man was lying on his back, shirtless save for his pants. His fedora hat and glasses were placed on the table next to his bed. The female's eyes locked on his manly features, noticing that parts of his body were still covered in grease such as his hands, a small part of each of his arms and his upper body. His body was quite toned beneath those thick clothing he always used.

Upon walking closer and sat softly on the bed, she noticed that there were many scars ran across his body and face. The scars were barely visible, but it was there if one were to inspect the mechanic closely. This made the female's lips curled in a soft but sad smile, thinking about what kind of experiments and pain he had gone through to have such scars on his beautiful male body.

Her right hand reached over to his breast as they traced the scar softly to his collarbone, higher to his neck and his jaw before resting on his left cheek. Right when she was about to touch the scar on his face with her fingers, she was suddenly pinned down onto her back on the bed as a result of his reflex towards anything that could harm him in his sleep. Heisenberg's right hand was placed on between her collarbone to pin her down and his other hand held a knife to her throat.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as she felt a cold metal placed on her neck which was a sharp knife that was called beforehand onto his grip by his power. When Karl realized that it was just (Y/N), he released her body, but his sharp and judging eyes remained on her. "It is not an honorable thing for a woman to touch a man on his bed." He spoke as he rose from the bed. "Especially when she is in his den." He moved over to his closet to take a shirt out and went to the direction of his bathroom.

She sat up and looked down ashamed, "Please forgive my rudeness... it's just that you look so peaceful and that you deserve a better life, a normal life. Those scars on you, I am sure even if they were barely visible now, they still hurt and haunt you, don't they?"

Heisenberg scoffed, "What do you know about me and my life?" He turned his face over his shoulder to look at her form. "I know nothing." She responded, knowing he was right. He went to the bathroom and proceeded to wash himself.

The (H/C) haired woman went back to the couch and sat. Her thoughts once again raced about how she was also infected. Would she be able to understand him one day? Does she even want to understand his pain? The answer is yes. She must if she wanted to survive within the village. Knowing how to handle the pain and nightmare of the mold would totally help her adapt in this place until she would be able to escape.

Not long after, Heisenberg came out of the bathroom, fully clothed. He walked over to the table where he put his fedora and sunglasses. He picked them up and placed them at where they were supposed to be, "Have you felt anything different regarding your body?" (Y/N) shook her head as a no. "Let's assume that the mold within your body is still developing but with a fast pace and you are not really affected by its side effect. It could serve as a sign that you have a great connection or rather affinity with the mold."

"Am I going to be experimented on like you?" She had a worried look on her face, "As long as Miranda doesn't find out, you will be fine." She was content with his answer as she went to the bathroom to wash herself. Since she brought her bag with her to the factory, she had some of her clothes still. She picked to use a grey tank top with a beige jean. It wasn't long until she finished and came out from the bathroom.

"Is it possible to hide from her though?" He lifted his hammer easily with one hand as he headed for the door after he saw her coming out from the bathroom. "Nearly impossible but still possible. Though, I will be the one to perform the experiment on you to ensure that she won't be able to control or detect your mold."

Hearing his sentence, she gulped. She had seen what he did within these walls. Those numerous soldats would have been able to serve more than a proof of his capabilities of turning someone into an eldritch monster. But she chose to trust him still. "We will begin the experiment two days from now." He informed.

"In the meantime, entertain me with a tale about yourself." He motioned for her to follow him. "Well, I work or rather, used to be a data analyst. I don't think that it matters now, I bet the company would have fired me by now." She let out a dry chuckle.

Heisenberg just hummed in response as a clue for her to continue her talk and he would listen patiently to her. "I am only 22, used to live in (City name) and my boyfriend is James. He works at the same company as I did as a data engineer. He is such a romantic, loyal and humorous man." She smiled at the memory of her lover.

"Yet, he tried to kill you." Karl retorted. "I am sure it was not him who attacked me." (Y/N) spoke firmly to defend her lover. Heisenberg sighed as he took a drag from his cigarette that he had lit up earlier during their walk. He exhaled the smoke right to her face. "Wake up darling. He left you here." He spoke firmly. "If he had already escaped the village, fear not, for the mold within his body will attract him back to the village and by then, I will prove it to you my dear, that you are wrong about him."

She gritted her teeth and slapped Heisenberg really hard right then. That was sure to leave a red mark on his cheek. His cigarette fell to the floor as his face was turned to the right side. Heisenberg snapped his head back to her and pinned her to the wall by her neck. "You should face the truth. Do not be a coward." He growled as his body was fuming with his anger.

From the very moment the two met each others, their connection had always spiked like this, one minute they would be talking casually like a pair of good old friends and the next minute, they were fighting like they were enemies.

This time, she had recovered well and she was able to grab his arm with both of her hands hard enough to have her nails dug into his flesh. Her power began to show its color. He threw her across the hallway, which resulted in her hitting her back to the wall and she coughed up some blood. "Bastard..." she murmured as she wiped the blood from her mouth with her arm.

"You are the bastard here! You slapped me because I told you the truth! Would you prefer that I lied to your face instead?" Karl spoke as he stalked over to her with a dangerous aura surrounded him. "Like that bloody James did? HUH?!" His hammer was placed on his dominant hand, ready to smash her into pieces.

She would not give him the upper hand and decided to charge him head on. She tried to punch him but he evaded easily with a side step and moved his foot onto her back, kicking her to the ground before he planted it down on her back. "Do you have a death wish woman?!" he bellowed down to her.

She groaned in pain as she tried to get up from under his feet. She felt a strange power surging through her veins onto both of her hands as her fingers grew longer and sharper. The muscles on her body became stiff as (Y/N) lifted herself off of the ground. He was caught off his guard as he saw her fingers turned to claws, this enabled her to free herself from his foot and within a quick second, she moved as swift as the wind as she turned over to him and slashed him across his chest with her new claws.

Her attack was too fast for him to register and thus, blood spurted from his chest. The gash was deep and clean. Any mortal would have died right away or died because of the blood loss from the deep gash within a few minutes. He looked down to his chest and strangely, his regeneration power had slowed down. It was as if something was keeping his skin tissue from healing. He was positive that it had something to do with her developing power. Before he could say or do anything, she was about to attack him once again, but he managed to slam his beloved hammer towards her head on.

Instinctively, she put both of her arms out in defend but she was not strong enough. She was agile yes, but her brute force was still weaker than his. She chose to jump backward because she realized that she won't be able to handle the hammer's pressure any longer. The moment she jumped away, the hammer came down in contact with the ground and broke parts of the cement, sending some sharp pieces of the cement flying at a random direction.

Suddenly, she felt her heart raced, its beating faster and faster within her chest. The pain was unbearable as she let out a cry of pain. Her vision became blurred and she fell to her knees. Her hands supported her weight as she heaved, trying to stay conscious. (Y/N) was new to this power and it sure had taken a huge toll on her body. Her body was having a shock at the sudden transformation of her body and muscles. She will need time to adapt and train her body to the new power.

Heisenberg just watched in amazement of her power with a sickening grin. Plans already formulating within his brain, because if her power enabled her to inflict wound and slowed the recovery or even disabled the wound to be healed, she would truly be a huge help to him in his plan to bring Miranda down.

Not long after, he was brought out of his thoughts by her howl of agony as she called out to him before falling limp to the floor as the darkness enclosed her vision. He walked over to her and brought her body over his left shoulder as if she weighted nothing. His right hand held onto his hammer as he dragged her back to his quarter. He placed her down on his bed and went to grab some first aid to close his newly received wound, at least until it would close and heal properly. He did not want to risk dying because of stupid blood loss, especially not when he had found a trump card, a great piece to his plan.

-----‐-------------------------------------------- *Hello guys! I hope that you all have been enjoying the story up to this point. I would like to know your opinions on the story so far and what do you guys expect to see in the future? How would you like this story to progress? What kind of interaction between the reader and Heisenberg that you wanted to see and read? Please do leave your suggestion below. I really appreciate that❤ and thank you for the support so far

[griffinsandpeacocks]

Phoenix, Son of Hades and Persephone

Warning: Contains foul language! And toxic behaviors mentioned in passing.

Phoenix had come to Auradon to be closer to his father. Hades had been upset for a long while and his mother Persephone had sensed Hades’ pain so gave Phoenix a nudge to go to his father. Phoenix hadn’t needed much nudging as he didn’t quite fit in back home. Or one could say, liked home very much.

In his escapades as a youngster he was fine being the bottom and that made others think he was weak. It was just how they thought of such behavior, and he had grown tired of being approached for that sole fact; which was well known about him. Especially after Apollo’s bastard had decided to lead him on then stab him in the back by outing said fact by saying Phoenix never actively sought out to be on top. Oh, he had almost killed the demigod. That had been a form of social suicide. He’d get to suffer mockery for ages thanks to that little bastard.

On the day he’d left he wrapped him in a rose bush and left him gaged in a garden covered by the roses then growing a tree up around it. He heard eventually Helios had pointed out where the brat was when Apollo had started to look for him. Of course Posiden had pointed out being a demigod even if Zeus’ grandson he’d insulted Hades’ full blooded godling, and thus though furious Apollo couldn’t punish Phoenix. whom had been very smug upon reading his mother’s letter. She’d applauded his creative way of taking care of his anger towards the other godling without hurting him too seriously. Phoenix would be hard pressed to admit he had wanted to hurt the other. He just... Couldn’t. 

When he’d arrived he’d wandered around lost and uncertain where anyone was, was there some sort of assembly going on his father neglected to inform him of? Yet Hades rarely forgot such details; he tended to plan well when he did plan at all. Phoenix eventually found them, drawn to the sound of music he sees a large crowd in a graveyard and he spot his father’s hair, grown out and tied back the blue striking in the sea of more ‘normal’ colors. he walks closer and hears a man speak he has a clear accent, it’s french, at least Phoenix thinks it is; he’s not too certain never having lived outside Olympus.

“I know many here knew the man we say goodbye to today, so I shall keep my part short, as many will wish to say words I am sure, such as how dare he leave in this way. Though, I digress, Sir Cogsworth was many things to many of us, a mentor, a friend, a pin in the side... But to me he had been an anchor. I would never have been able to make it through my life without Cogsworth by my side to keep me and the other staff of the castle in order. He was focused we keep everything in order in at least the best shape we could, and it made the years as an animated wax stick trio bearable...” He paused a moment laughing sadly along with several others. His expression is pinched and he looks like he struggles to speak before he clears his throat. “So I must say, I am not pleased to loose you friend, but I am glad you shall no longer be in pain, so I bid you au dieu.” He had turned to the coffin leaden with flowers and did a flourished bow and stepped down walking off to the side pulling out a handkerchief rubbing at his face as he leans against a tree. The posture reminded Phoenix of someone wanting to hide. Phoenix moves closer trying to slink through shadows as he grows lilies gathering them in his hands; a collection of white, yellow and blue and walks up to the man.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Phoenix says softly wincing as the man startles he looks over blinking and smiles flourishing the handkerchief he tucks it away to effect a proper façade. Phoenix frowns, he shouldn’t hide his emotions just for his sake, and offers the flowers having removed the pale pink ribbon he used to tie back his hair to tie together the bouquet. The man paused in shock looking at the rather stunning flowers he accepts them and takes a deep breath.

“Thank you, though I don’t recall seeing you, are you a new arrival? If so I apologize you’re introduction is such a sad thing as a funeral.” The man says and Phoenix smiles sadly, he never had been to one, though he’d heard about many from Thanatos. He wasn’t to sure how to properly react, except he knew these tended to be sad affairs.

“Some might call it fitting given my father is Hades. I am sorry though... He seemed to mean a lot to all of you.” Phoenix says giving a small half smile and shrugging a bit worried he’ll seem as out of place as a snake in a hen house. Lumiere chuckles sadly looking out to the coffin, a young man stood there and seemed to struggle with words a moment before saying something softly in french and quickly going to a woman in a black dress with her long brunette curls pulled back and held behind her with a golden rose clip. 

That must be the Prince and his mother Phoenix realized, she had warm brown eyes hidden behind a dark veil and she looked as upset as everyone else, though she gently pulled her son close rubbing his back as she whispered to him. The boy was around his own age and had eyes alike but not to his mothers, Phoenix had seen both green and brown, so the Prince had hazel eyes, not quite one or the other color, somewhere in the middle. Though when Phoenix had seen him he’d look distraught like he couldn’t think and had panicked while standing in front of the crowd. At least Phoenix thinks that’s what happened. 

“Ah, poor Ben... This will be the first funeral he’ll remember.” Lumiere says softly sadly and Phoenix frowns and feels horribly out of place. The idea of death was so foreign to him. He’d never had to worry over it as there were few things or beings able to kill a god, and until now he’d not really known anyone with this looming fate either. This was going to be a new and not wholly good learning curve.

“Ah, there’s you’re father...” Lumiere notes looking oddly calmer now the tired worn look brightening up a bit. After many had come and gone Hades steps up and he looks behind him at the coffin and places a crystal flower down, it’s a white rose. He looks out at the crowd his expression carefully neutral. Phoenix knows that look, his father only ever had that expression when he struggled to control his own emotions. Though he could see sadness echoing in his father’s eyes the only cue in his face was a slight furrow of his brow and the tight jaw.

“I am not comfortable speaking before all of you, but I felt the man we’re saying goodbye to deserves to hear what I have to say. He was a very honorable man, one I admired and those have been few, fewer were those who impressed me quite like Cogsworth. He was a loyal friend, a hard worker, and a stubborn goat when he felt like putting his foot down. I had hopped to get to introduce him to my son, but instead I must say goodbye to him instead. You will be missed but your memory will be cherished and you deserve your rest.” Hades says turning and nodding to someone though no in the crowd sees them. Phoenix watches a shadowy figure he doesn’t know who watches looking upset but they smile and Thanatos nods back to Hades before offering his hand and slipping away like a wisp with the figure. Phoenix wonders if he should say anything.

“I wonder...” Lumiere says gazing where Hades had looked and Phoenix sighs and swallows feeling uncertain and shifts on his feet.

“Dad made sure he knew you’d all never forget, Thanatos will make sure he get’s ho- I mean... Er...” He isn’t sure how to say it... Home to him yes, but most here might call it hell, or something equally bad. Lumiere smiles at him, though it clearly subdued he shakes his head.

“Non, non, home is right little one. He’s home now.” Lumiere says blinking tears away though they slide down anyway he takes out the same handkerchief and dabs them away and Phoenix wonders at it, he hasn’t really seen many people he knew cry. He’d cried plenty but it was odd to actually see it. He isn’t going to cry, it just felt sad to see this crowd in clear pain over a loss he was sure hit hard. He doesn’t feel the same pain they do. The crowd looked a mix from anywhere of open grief to cold stony expressions hiding sad eyes. He couldn’t fathom it, he knew that, but his sympathy still went to these people. He worries for his father, was this why he was so sad lately? Watching humans he had come to like grow old and pass away, all the while staring out over an island that held a daughter that he’d likely never be able to meet? 

Phoenix quelled the sudden anger at his father’s position, it wouldn’t do to get angry he’d end up growing a thorny plant and hurt someone. Which he both doesn’t want to do, as hurting people wasn’t an answer and it would get him in trouble. He had heard magic wasn’t looked on too kindly here in any form though he found it annoying they’d call his powers magical given they weren’t magic. 

He had no pact with anything to allow him these abilities, he was just able to control plants in a way no other creature on the world could. Well, save other gods or nymphs tied to nature, though his was more potent than a nymph he wasn’t as good at it as his mother. He didn’t conjure things he willed them to grow, either from his own pool of energy or by touching a plant and encouraging it to bloom. He preferred the latter as it took less energy and was faster, but if he were to grow them on his own they could be anything he imagined. 

Magic was something that was specific, Hecate had told him that though gods seemed magical truly they were just powerful primordial beings able to control things in a way that was passed down to them from their Titan parentage. Magic was a separate power to the differing abilities the gods had and she then showed him many of her own tricks which all seemed like all and none of the other gods powers. As a child he had always loved being around her as she would twinkle lights about her and he’d spend hours playing with them as one or both of his parents were busy. Then again most understood magic as just power beyond normal human ability... So he supposed he couldn’t argue that without getting a headache or giving one to someone else. 

“Ah, you’ve meet Phoenix then, Lumiere, I hope he has been on good behavior?” Hades asks stepping closer and leaning on the tree as well to watch the people as the coffin was lowered and slowly buried. He looks tired but when he looks at the frenchman his expression softens and his eyes glow with a fond light. Phoenix catches it immediately.  Maybe his father has a new lover?   Almost all the gods and even goddesses tended to be polyamorous though there was a huge difference between being so and going behind one’s lover’s back and having a fling. He hated the way Hera reacted towards Zeus’ dalliances but then again she wouldn’t make a step that would make her look like anything less than the perfect wife. Even if it meant tormenting the wrong side of her husband’s affairs.

Many had begun to disperse from the graveyard and Phoenix was surprised by how much smaller the crowd was now. Fewer than half stayed including the royal family ruling over Auradon. Lumiere shrugs slightly he just seems tired now though he gives a half-hearted smile Hades’ way.

“Ah, he’s been a very polite young man. Though I think he’s a little confused by what to do in the face of so much grief.” Lumiere says and Hades looks over worried and sees Phoenix’s icy eyes clouded in worry his form shifting side to side as he tried to hide his discomfort. Hades moves and pats his son’s shoulder gently smiling softly at his son.

“You’ve never had to deal with this, Gia willing we don’t have to have another service any time soon. Sympathy isn’t something bad to have; it makes you like your mother. Thankfully you’re not apathetic like me.” Hades says and Phoenix both loved hearing that and didn’t. He wanted to be compared to Hades more often he always heard how much he was like his mother, as nice as it was, becuase his mother was a wonderful goddess, much calmer and less prone to rash flights of fancy that may end up as tragedy for humans than most other gods and goddesses. 

His father was just as amazing in his eyes. Hades was strong and stern, true; prone to make mischief, and make brash choices like his brothers, but he also was less prone to doing things that caused strife among humans nor was he outright spiteful of them like creating gorgons or other creatures that would often attack humans on sight. Based on Phoenix’s understanding Hades had the best track record out of his siblings really. Or at least a cleaner one by comparison. He didn’t understand why it was avoided comparing him to his father. He had similar eyes, blue; though his were brighter a more icy form of his fathers stormy blues.

“So it’s not bad I wasn’t crying?” Phoenix asks still confused though he wasn’t upset about it he wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t be crying. He didn’t know the one everyone had said goodbye to after all so he shouldn’t be upset wouldn’t the tears be seen as odd? Hades nods and pats his shoulder and pulls him into a half hug against his side and Phoenix leans into it relaxing a bit as he tries calming his emotions. Even as confused as they were. If there was one thing that wasn’t fun about being a god was how emotions worked with them. According to several gods their emotions were less restricted than other races. When they felt, it was something they felt strongly and it was often hard to contain it, whether it was joy, grief, or anger. Even weird amalgamations of said emotions.  

“Hades.” A man says and Phoenix assumes him to be King Adam becuase his father looks less than happy to talk to him. The man is a tall and broad blond, a stern look to him with cool blue eyes, not quite ice chips but they certainly weren’t warm like his Queen’s.

“King.” Hades says back curtly. Phoenix notes his father’s posture stiffens and he brings up a mask of indifference and mild displeasure.

“Is this Phoenix?” The woman the young Prince had gone to asks, so Phoenix is certain she must be Queen Belle. Hades nods though keeps his attention on the King. Both seemingly trying and glare the other into cowering. 

“Hello, Queen Belle, I presume?” Phoenix says trying to smile though he’s uncertain and does a slightly jittery bow sure he’s messing up as he isn’t sure how customs are here. He just bows slightly and inclines his head as he did with Zeus. She chuckles though it’s a bit hollow and curtseys and he blushed not sure he was owed the courtesy. After all his title wasn’t much out of Olympus and Greece. The Prince even bows and he tries to smile though it’s more a wince, his hazel eyes though pretty don’t glimmer they’re dull with pain. Phoenix wants to brighten them, he doesn’t like seeing this other young boy upset.

“Yes, I wish we’d have meet with some nicer circumstances. Oh those are beautiful Lumiere.” She says eyes brightening a bit at the sight of the vibrant blooms. Phoenix shrugs not certain how exactly to address that with the royals. He didn’t mind he just hoped them the best in recovering from the loss. Lumiere had been easy as he hadn’t realized who he was at first. Though he flushes at the compliment to the flowers he’d bloomed.

“Phoenix here gave them to me with his condolences.” Lumiere explains smiling at the flowers the look less stressed than earlier. Hades looks over curious as he looks first at the lilies then smiles that tired air stuck to it.

“You’ve gotten better at growing them.” He says making sure to catch Phoenix’s gaze the two silently survey the other checking for any cues of distress and Phoenix smiles though it’s weaker than his usual.

“Mother says that they’re almost prettier than hers now. I don’t believe her though.” Phoenix says shrugging looking at the blooms, they might be exception specimens of they’re variety but they didn’t give off that paradise like aura his mother’s plants would. 

“Growing them?” Prince Ben asks looking curious, seeing an opportunity to distract the boy Phoenix leaps at the chance for a smile or at least a distraction. Phoenix looks at the wilting yellow rose in the Prince’s pocket and grows a fresh new one and swaps it. He sees the King go tense expression growing almost angry and looks to his father worried he’d done something wrong but Hades had moved a hand out to grab the King’s shoulder glaring at him. 

“Oh, that’s cool.” Ben looks amazed and Phoenix pays more attention to the other child to ignore how he feels like he messed up. “How’d you do that?” Ben asks and Phoenix spins the dead rose between his fingers back and forth. He could rejuvenate it but it wouldn’t last long, and would eventually only cause it to decay faster each time he tried to bring it back to it’s former lush vitality. If it had roots it would be another story. So long as the plant was still able to grow he could influence it’s health for as long as it remained able to grow.

“I can grow things like my mother, Persephone. She’s the Goddess of Spring. I can also become a shadow like Father but I haven’t figured out how to really do that...” Phoenix explains and Ben is wide eyed asking him all sorts of questions Phoenix answers without a second thought, at least both of them are distracted. Ben asked questions about what The Underworld is like, if he knew certain gods and so on so forth. Phoenix was unsteady at first, not used to anyone being so actively interested, but easily grew fond of Ben. The other boy was compassionate and when he cared he cared deeply, the draw back was his naivety. Ben tended to believe in and look for the good in all things. Phoenix adored it about him but also hated it. People especially those in Auradon would certainly attempt to take advantage. Not to say Ben was stupid, just... Soft. Phoenix felt strangely protective of him, and that feeling only seemed to solidify the longer he spent time with and around the Prince.

Phoenix slowly grew fond of the kingdom as much as he hated the similar way people preened for power like back home it was no where near as toxic, people there still had good hearts and had a habit of reminding people when to shove off when they over stepped their boundaries. He makes a few friends though it’s tentative at first. Being friends with Ben is difficult as it earns him ire from everyone around him. Except a few. Queen Belle, Fairy Godmother and Lonnie are very encouraging all around of him and the steps he takes to separate himself from a few negative stereotypes associated with greek gods and goddesses. He fights constantly to subdue his emotions as it could be hard not to grow angry when someone would start up behavior they so viciously condemned in Auradon, yet seem prone to all the same. 

He is allowed to grow plants without penalty as it was best he use the energy on something given if he is left idle too long he looses control over his power and it will grow plants rampant around him. Control at least full control eluded him at his young age. He could grow things on command but if he didn’t use the ability to flex it it would just build into excess growth in the general area. He worked on it with both his father and Fairy Godmother but he couldn’t seem to find a way to work it out.

Hades had suggested that perhaps Phoenix just wasn’t able to due to his mixed nature, given Persephone was a fertility Goddess and nature oriented while he was fire, shadow and death/spirit oriented. He was a King of wealth and all beneath the earth while his wife and Queen was a goddess of what grew through it and above. Phoenix was a strange middle ground. He could become mist and shadow like or even summon fog around himself but it was rare to manifest and often only if he were afraid. He had much better grasp over his nature abilities. 

“Life here isn’t nor will it be easy... And it kind of hurts to see the Isle and know my sister’s out there... But, I think I made a good choice coming here.” Phoenix says softly to his father. Hades just stares out over the water and seems to distracted to notice at first.

“I’d hope so, you’re stuck here or Olympus anyway.” Hades reminds him and Phoenix nods with a heavy sigh. It was true he couldn’t really travel elsewhere. Not until he could control his powers fully. Then he could travel about without one of his parent’s oversight. 

“At least here more toxic behavior is curbed and pushed out of the public areas. Unless of course said behavior is common, but there’s enough good here I don’t feel like I’m trapped and need to lash out at everyone near me to breathe.” He says kicking a rock and Hades rubs his back staring over the Isle. He says nothing but Phoenix knows how his father feels. It hurts but it’s easier to deal with here rather than at home. It’s not so much a weakness here as accepted unfortunate circumstances. He does hope to meet his sister one day though, most likely she’ll hate him. He couldn’t blame her though, if he’d have grown up in a cage he’d likely hate anyone on the other side of the bars too.

@hereliesdeedee​​ for the aesthetic, they’re amazing at making these and they put a lot of work into making me the one above for Phoenix Prince of The Underworld son of Hades and Persephone. 

[aces-to-apples]

Written for Day 5: Fluff of Codywan Week 2020 @codywanweek

Here on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Multi Relationship: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Background Padmé Amidala/CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Implied/Referenced Future Rexsoka, GFY

For best results please look at this Rex and this Cody before reading.

“tribute”

Another one of the local little chompers marched towards the dais with all the solemnity and determination of a verd’ika plucking their first set of whites off the assembly line. Cody met Rex’s eye and they both very carefully avoided grinning at the sight. Not only could it be bad for their relationship with said locals, it wouldn’t do to let their Jedi think they were, in fact, having a good time up there.

When the kid came to a halt a ‘respectful’ distance away, Cody nodded for them to approach and bent his head to receive the kid’s blessing and subsequent gift. He watched Rex do the same.

The celebration had been going for hours, by that point, and they’d amassed a pile of shiny little wearable trinkets to give any sovereign of Naboo a run for their credits and enough blessings to make them holier than most deities. It’d been a relief, at the start of the night, to hear that—aside from the ceremonial outfits they’d been bullied into wearing—he and Rex were free to redistribute the gifts as they saw fit. Something about sharing luck, or good vibes, or what have you.

Said ceremonial outfits, on the other hand, they were obliged to keep and maintain with honor.

Obi-Wan had smoothed over any offense they’d given with their lacklustre reaction to the news but Rex’s general had been less than subtle in his delight at their new possessions. Tano, at least, had just told them they looked nice and kept her own mocking to a bare minimum.

And it wasn’t that they were grateful, Cody had reflected at the start of the celebration, when he and Rex had stepped out under the light of the moons to deafening cheers, but. It wasn’t quite their style, no matter how well the two of them pulled off the intricate, and admittedly beautiful, get-ups.

Rex, by dint of his Torrent paintjob, had been immediately deemed the locals’ Goddess of War come again and draped accordingly in layers of blue fabric. Some of it was dark and blaster-resistant and some of it pale and so sheer as to be almost nonexistent. Bands of silver, often studded with precious blue stones, were wrapped around his wrists, forearms, biceps, and throat, and a silver cap affixed with yet more jewels and a pale blue veil had been placed on his head with much reverence.

After a great deal of muttered debate, they determined that Cody must be their war deity’s twin, the Goddess of Beauty. Not an insult by any means…

The traditional garb he’d been presented with, by contrast, was deep red with a long flowing cape and headdress of heavy twisted fabric. It came with its own set of jewelry, as well, shining gold and polished red stones, bulky and eye-catching around his wrists and throat and slim and delicate around his forearms and biceps. Something about the placement was culturally significant, but hells if Cody was going to ask what.

They’d already lost the battle against: 1) staying for several days to rest and recuperate, 2) accepting the titles of living incarnations of their local deities and all the celebration that entailed, and 3) keeping both the get-ups and the gifts for themselves.

No way was Cody going to invite more conversation about their cultural practices. He could win against droids and bounty-hunters and half-baked Sith, but apparently, he couldn’t convince a bunch of over-awed, Mid Rim locals that he and Rex weren’t tools of War and Beauty.

Tools of the Republic, sure, but nothing divine.

The leader of the city they’d liberated had just smiled gently and reassured them that belief on their part was not necessary, only acceptance of their gratitude. Which came with lots of shiny metal, sparkly rocks, and a pair of gowns that they had to either accept or throw into a sacrificial fire and publicly reject.

Obi-Wan had stepped in at that point.

He’d assured everyone that they had no interest in disrespecting their culture and asked for a debrief about the ceremony.

Wear the outfits, sit on the thrones, and let people fawn over them at least a little bit, had basically been the long and short of it. But, hey, they were comfortably cushioned, well-fed, and kept hydrated throughout the whole thing, so it could have been worse. Sharp-toothed little ankle-biters shyly kissing their foreheads and handing them shiny bits and bobs before scampering off weren’t much of a hardship.

“How’re you fellas doing?” Skywalker asked, strolling up to the dais with a grin that had yet to falter all night. “Getting into the spirit of the thing? Really feeling the divinity flow through you?”

Plenty vode had wandered over to check on them over the course of the night, mostly to heckle, but the Jedi had visited just as frequently. And for similar reasons, too.

The way Rex’s general had been eyeing him all night, Cody was almost worried for Rex’s safety. He’d heard plenty of complaints from Obi-Wan about Skywalker’s willingness to eat damn near anything; who was to say that he hadn’t acquired a taste for Mandalorian-adjacent flesh and wouldn’t gobble poor Rex up in just a few bites.

He was pretty sure Commander Tano was having some kind of intermittent crisis over at their table as well.

It was his responsibility, as both Marshal Commander and ori’vod, to bring his concerns to his superior officer and then ruthlessly mock all three of them. After Skywalker eventually got tired of making Rex blush and wandered away whistling a jaunty tune to a very raunchy cantina song, that was.

“So does that ‘angel’ of his know the two of you have started sharing blankets since your last stop-over on Coruscant or should I start planning your funeral now?” Cody said archly, watching his vod’ika visibly consider punching him. “I’ll be sure to wear this and lie about how smart and good-looking you are, like a proper vod.”

Rex pressed a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Angel knows,” he admitted, darting an unsubtle glance at his general’s shebs. “What I am afraid of, though, is that next time we stop over on Coruscant she’s gonna have a whole new wardrobe just like this one and it will just happen to be in my size.”

“Well, hey, get a full-coverage veil and you’re probably good to step out with them,” Cody said with false sympathy, gleefully imagining the uproar that would cause. “Just make sure they’re made out of that fabric that’s designed to ruin holos. Pakod.”

The ol’ boy made a sound like a malfunctioning mouse-droid.

“Is it too much to believe that I’d like to spend whatever leave I get wearing as few clothes as possible?” he wailed, quietly, with a desperation that made Cody think this was an argument he and the senator had gotten into before. With this revelation in mind, he snapped a few holos of his own while Rex was distracted and vowed to get them to the senator if Skywalker’s brain cell was too lonely to manage it. “Isn’t it enough that I have this already?”

“Oh, dear me,” a low voice said from behind Cody’s left ear, “I can’t imagine how terrible it must be to have two attractive, attentive lovers who wish to shower you with tokens of their affection. Truly, Captain, your misery must be exquisite.”

Cody turned his head to press a sloppy kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek in gratitude for the pitiful sound his words had drawn out of his favorite brother.

“General,” Rex whined pathetically, “they keep getting me plants. Alive ones, dead ones, prickly ones, poisonous ones. My quarters are being taken over by non-sentient invaders.”

Obi-Wan made a little noise of patently fake sympathy. “My old master’s quarters were like that as well,” he commiserated, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind Cody’s ear. The noise of the locals around them changed in pitch, but Cody’d had enough to drink over the course of the evening to not feel worried by the change. If he was lucky, Obi-Wan would be shoved into a pretty outfit like this next. “It drove me mad that he never formally answered, let alone turned down, any of the suits. Just let the poor, smitten beings keep sending him gifts. So uncivilized.”

“Speaking of uncivilized,” Cody said, wondering if he could get away with pulling Obi-Wan down onto his lap.

Rex rolled his eyes. “If I don’t get to canoodle in public with my Jedi then you don’t get to with yours,” he huffed, leaning over to push Obi-Wan a few inches away. “Leave room for the Force, sirs.”

“‘Leave room for the Force’?” Obi-Wan repeated, nonplussed, while Cody found himself hung up on, “Canoodle?”

No longer quite so flustered, Rex shrugged. “Skywalker talks like a scandalized opera singer, sometimes, and Ahsoka says that when she catches the lads giving each other a tune-up. How’s the kid doing, by the way?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said ruefully, “she’s seventeen and in the middle of a war and puberty. Thus far, I believe she’s coped by placing you all in the ‘dear friends and family whom deserve her utmost respect’ category of her mind, rather than allowing herself to see you as attractive young men. Tonight seems to be causing some kind of breakdown in that line of thinking.”

Cody turned to give Rex his full attention and clapped him on the shoulder. “Cheers, vod’ika, keep it up and you might have a full set soon!”

In response, Rex covered his face with both hands and groaned again.

“Remind me to send the good captain some appropriate literature about age of consent laws, would you, dear?” Obi-Wan murmured into his ear. He most assuredly was not leaving room for the Force between them. “Until then, I believe you mentioned being uncivilized?”

Cody made a mental note to remind him as requested before standing up, bowing at the local assembly, and following Obi-Wan wherever he led.

[crystalliccs]

                 WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ALIVE.    PART ONE.                       ________________________

                 Note: Female Warrior of Light/Darkness. Miqo’te. Summoner.                  Part one is completely sfw! (And it’s not beta read. Do not judge.)

                 HEAVY PATCH 5.3 SPOILERS.

                 Word Count: 4844 (read more-cut due to the length)                  Ship: G’raha Tia/WoL                       ________________________

The sharp, illuminous blade reflected the light perfectly as he swung it several times in fluent motions – full glad that only for once he could do this without any curious eyes watching him. And yet it was almost as if their shadows still lingered inside the rooms of the Rising Stones, gawking and eagerly commenting his work. Yet the man failed to grasp their fascination for his skills completely; as he understood that he was scarcely more than a fresh beginner in so many aspects. Perchance even far less experienced than them all. And, merely sometimes, he felt at loss – overwhelmed by his very own emotions dwelling inside, as he could sense a trace of pride, of honor. Thus he could hardly afford to rest and enjoy his very own life when he had done naught so far.

With this young body of his, at least.

It was tedious and so very different from controlling his body in the First; albeit he would debate if those crystalline shapes he walked on ever truly had been his in the first place. No, to be quite frank he had to debate if he ever were truly alive as Exarch - shedding off all of his humanity to outlive the eternal slumber for a little longer so that he could reach for the salvation of their worlds. And truthfully, it had made him be far more powerful than he had imagined it would. Connecting his own aether with the collected boundless amount of the sun, all stored within the central spire, he had become far more than the marionette of the voices of the ancient Allag whispering to him whenever he closed his sanguine hues.

It had not been his very own aether which fed his body for an entire century; and most certainly wasn’t an old man - who hardly ever left the Ocular for so many decades - supposed to be able to keep up with true heroes of another world who knew no other life. Yet he had achieved as much; borrowing the strength to do so by shortening his close to now immortal life, step by step.

Oh, he gladfully endured this all – feeling the icy coldness of the crystallization proceeding to cover his chest so ever slowly with every spell he conjured. It had been a slow death – one he embraced should the time arrive.

Yet the time had changed. He could no longer rely on such ancient secrets – nor could he sacrifice what had been bestowed upon him. Another chance.

Even a few weeks after awakening from his long slumber, G’raha was still far from being satisfied of the very condition of his very own body. Though younger and revitalized as he still so very freshly remembered through his younger soul deep inside, it was still far more challenging to use the very own resources of it instead of relying on the power bestowed by ancient technology. Truthfully, it had taken him all this time to remember himself of his common body’s functions, as pathetic and foolish as it was – such as the need to even sleep. Albeit he had undeniably become better in managing such normal needs by now, the Miqo’te still attempted to push himself towards his own limits every now and then, exploring the possibilities.

He had lost count of the many apologies he had mumbled recently, uncertain how to behave or control himself in this new environment when both of his souls still attempted to grasp that he had indeed broken free of his chains. An impossible task, as it seemed. It would take him more than one century of him mostly isolating himself inside the Crystal Tower to not notice certain individuals’ worried gazes. One particular ambitious lalafell somehow always showed her motherly face when he indeed started to feel unwell, gently reminding him to rest. Oh, and it was by far not only Tataru, unfortunately. They all kept a close eye on him.

So, he feared naught at changed – that he was still the very same.

Yet such knowledge only made him strengthen his resolve to work on himself so much more; lest he became a burden to his newfound comrades.

The man had to admit that some very selfish part of him wanted to step out of the Rising Stones and join the others for longer, raising his own cup when they did and enjoying the prepared feast to the fullest. Perchance even catch a glance or two upon the smiling face of his beloved who finally indulged in such activities after all she had done. But how could he? His lips would merely curl into one of these delightful smiles he only had for her whenever she glanced upon him, without him ever saying those words which always lingered on his tongue. Words of affection, of love. And, as he feared, he would merely get teased for it once again. Albeit he had never spoken about such thoughts with anyone, he was quite certain that a few individuals were fully aware of what he truly felt. In fact, he already considered such assumption in the First.

And still his lips remained sealed.

The man quickly twirled on one steady foot, with the tip of his illuminous blade drawing one perfect circle to pierce through a great chunk of wood of the dummy he had used for the past twenty minutes. For once he did not even feel the harsh impact on its sturdy surface inside his muscles – unlike all of his previous attempt over the course of several days. His sanguine eyes widened a little by his own display of strength as he was taking one sharp breath. Soft clapping echoed from the stony walls of the room, as he realized that he was indeed not alone at all. Perchance he had been mistaken that anyone would participate in the festival after all, but he could certainly cope.

Quickly sheathing his sword again, head slightly tilting to glance upon his observer, G’rahas lips lightly opened in surprise.

“One clean cut. You have indeed been practicing a lot, lately – haven’t you? I believe you have been less proficient last time I saw you swinging a sword against a proper opponent”, the Warrior of both Light and Darkness spoke as she took a few steps closer to him, mint eyes glaring with unbelief.

Truthfully, he had hoped she would not become witness of such poor display of skill until he had honed such a little more; yet he could hardly pretend that seeing her was unpleasant in any possible way. Her company never was, albeit this was perchance no convenient time.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, playfully pouting yet her aggressively swinging tail was indeed telling him that she was annoyed. Angry even, mayhap. His eyebrows slightly furrowed as his expression softened into a silent apology as immediate reaction – knowing full well she deserved as much. And so much more.

“But - G’raha, really. Pray tell me you do not intend to hide away here and train all by yourself whilst everyone else is enjoying themselves”, she continued, carefully watching him as she stopped a few fulm in front of him – seemingly judging him with every fiber of her body.

“Oh, about that. Well, I merely considered this as fine opportunity to spar with myself without disturbing anyone else. Though, in truth, I am still getting accustomed to how loud and crowded it can be in the Rising Stones. So ‘tis indeed a quite welcome change”, he attempted to explain with a gentle voice, with his ears excitedly twitching as so very often when he spoke with her.

In the very end he would not dare to say the full truth about his endeavor. Nor that he not solely did it for himself – but also for her.

“Hardly an excuse to miss such a rare opportunity, I daresay. You need the rest more than any of us. Besides, everyone poured their hearts’ content into the preparation. You included. ‘Tis hardly fair if you do not participate.”

“I indeed had one cup of fine ale thus far”, the man shrugged, albeit his facial expression remained the very same. Kind and soft.

“And I had two. This is not a contest”, the woman reminded him, easing her posture for merely a little. She moved around him towards one the many empty chairs near him, which were usually always filled. But not now, when the spirit of enthusiasm had long departed to celebrate outside with everyone else. If she truly ever had been angry at him, it was scarcely noticeable by now.

G’raha could not help but to feel relieved upon such sight, feeling the tension of his still agitated muscles to disappear by merely looking at her. Her small silhouette seemed almost…calm – as calm as one could be before the next raging storm was fast approaching. He knew this too well. And it would come – particularly since the most recent reports from Garlemald had certainly stirred more than one rumor in these halls. It was indeed worrisome, to say at least. Yet perchance this was not the right moment to speak of such topic. If the situation changed, they were the first to know anyway. And until then, well – there was so much to discuss. To consider.

Mayhap his own selfishness indeed drove him to such decision to prepare himself to become her shield if he must. One final burden to bear, one she had not to know of. It had been his choice, in the very end. One he had not to oblige, yet his heart demanded.

For her there was still a chance to enjoy this evening if she left and let him be.

“So, my inspirational friend and hero, pray enlighten me what you seek if you are so unwilling to join the festivities outside. I doubt you have entered the Rising Stones to pry on my poor efforts”, he spoke rather amused, with his velvety tone merely becoming higher in spirits. Of course it was merely a small jest, one he happened to voice every now and then by now, yet genuine curiosity swung inside his very tone as well.

Her eyes widened a little ere she closed them again, her tail curling on her lap in utter defeat. “Mayhap I happen to find it unfitting for myself to enjoy the festivities as well and sought to find a quiet place instead. Not unlike your own idea, as it seems.”

“Ah, it would seem so. Though I fail to fathom how the guest of honor managed to escape unnoticed.” “I have my ways.”

His lips revealed his perfect teeth, a small and yet ever sweet grin as answer to her own she showed after giving such mischievous reply. Truthfully, he indeed felt so much younger when he was with her like this, despite still feeling the nagging burden of his older self at the corner of his mind. In those moments he could almost forget it all – the dark future he had witnessed, the sacrifices he had made just to save countless of lives. She was the only one who could create such oblivion for him – who truly made him feel alive again.

“Perchance now is a good time as any to ask…” The young woman lifted one hand to point it towards the blade resting on his hips, slightly tilting her head. “I have noticed you scarcely ever carry the staff Tataru so carefully prepared for you anymore. Is it not to your liking?”

His chest lifted heavily upon realizing that she had indeed noticed. Suffice to say his eyes had always silently followed her over all these past weeks, even if only to assure himself that she indeed was the same as always. Always determined and strong, prepared to forsake anything in any moment. No, he had even done more than this – eagerly following into her footsteps, even accompanying her once on a small little adventure just as she had promised. Mayhap he had been foolish to assume she would not notice what seemingly everyone else seemed to know already. His ears flopped a little, perchance a little ashamed to admit what he had concealed for the past few weeks.

His hidden struggles, the strains of his muscles and his reckless endeavor just for her sake. Yet could he not at least say as much when she already asked? After his long concealment, of his failed attempts to lie, could he not voice the truth even if only parts of it?

“Well…Controlling my own aether to conjure spells is far more challenging than I had imagined. Though, I believe, I have learned quite well to hold myself by now. Thank goodness for that. Yet there is no doubt in my heart that my poor control of such stand little chance against your mighty summons. However, ‘tis hardly a surprise, of course. When I first woke up in this body again, my mind kept repeating the very same question. And so I pondered… I asked myself what I could possibly do with this newly gained life I embraced. Suffice to say, the conclusion I came to was quite simple. I want to live the very dream of a young boy I once was – and I wish to stand by your side.”

Clenching a fist, he bumped it against his chest a few times, one light smile still visible on his full lips.

“So, I have decided for myself to become your sword and shield henceforth.”

“G’raha…”, she whispered, quietly and slowly rising from the chair she had picked just moments ago, scratching lightly over the stony floor. “You do not have to do this for me.” The thin line of her eyebrows lightly furrowed in concern, light footed steps coming closer once again.

For a mere moment he saw more inside the reflection of her beautiful eyes surrounded by those astonishing long leashes – one hint of an emotion, perhaps fear. An entire tale carefully hidden away inside them, one he yearned to decipher. “So ‘tis as I feared. You still feel the burden on your shoulders, do you not? After all this time… Would it not be possible to make a finer choice than this?”

Her lips began to form more, unspoken words – yet he heard no tone, nor did he know what she attempted to add. Nonetheless he fully understood the true meaning behind them; since he could ask her the very same question.

Why carrying the burden of an entire world when one had the choice not to? Knowing the risks, knowing the countless sleepless nights and the hidden, dry tears deep inside their souls.

“’Tis easier said than done, I fear. You among all should know this as well as I do. You have found and touched many souls on your path – inspired them to act when there was naught left to believe in. In the many moments of desperation, when the hope slipped through their fingers, becoming unreachable by their very own strength, your kindness guided them. “ His lips formed a wry smile, remembering his own naivety in his younger years.

“Of course, I was no exception. And when I first set my mind on this world’s salvation, I realized the full extend of your sacrifices. Over the years the burden became heavier, weighing upon my heart. And yet… No, ‘tis my full intention to live my life to the fullest. Without any regret. And I cannot imagine doing this without you.”

Too many unspoken words lingered in the heavy air surrounding them, taking both of their breaths for a moment. Words, which had always dwelled in their minds, for all this time – and yet failed to ever reach the other’s ears. And whilst their souls had silently yelled in this buried, pitch-black corner inside their very heart, their very own numbness and regret had made them so vulnerable. Those tears they both had pretended to not heavily wear; the immeasurable burden of two entire worlds resting on their shoulders which threatened to make them falter and they attempted to ignore regardless. Always staying silent, always quietly suffering in the very cage they had created – knowing this was the only path they could take.

He recognized this very gaze she showed him now – knew of its meaning. Each shade of her mint colored eyes showed the very same shadows he could see in his very own gaze inside the mirror – the souls of the lost; the fragments of what remained when they had failed. The man watched her reflection inside the mirror for so many centuries; watched her struggling, laying in her own blood and yet mourning for each one she had not been able to save.

He had done the same; slightly smiling underneath his cowl to give his posture strength whilst his fingers tightly clutched his staff over all these years. Listening to the sheer endless reports of their casualties; listening to the refugee’s horrific encounters with the menace they faced every single day.

Even now, after both of his souls had united in one body and mind, and he could glimpse on freedom for the very first time in his life – a true choice given to him – it was impossible to avert his gaze from the path he already had chosen. The dream he once had a boy had long awakened, shaping in pleas of a distant past and mocking nightmares. All of his entire being had yearned to partake in the Scion’s duty; to stand next to the comrades, these friends, he respected – yet some small part inside, deep within, had also seen it as necessity. And, from what he understood, she was so very similar. Albeit given the choice to rest so very often she never did, never hesitated. It was the trait worthy of a true hero who shaped their entire future – yet who also lead onto a very destructive path.

Oh, he knew this all too well.

The short glimpse of warmth, of happiness just to see it withering once again, turning to emotionless dust – never touching one’s own life.

Because those who fought, who did remember - the forgotten, the untold tales no one else knew besides them, had to carry their burden for all eternity.

His face expression changed, sanguine hues filling with a sea of sadness and regret. In truth he wanted to lay it all bare – wanted to speak those hidden words so many moons ago, when he was still believing in his own selfish, pathetic demise. And now, after receiving a second chance he still concealed himself in this veil of silence, ignoring his fast throbbing heart, fearing what her answer would be. An answer he would have given for so many decades as well. Yet if he continued to let his heart wither and die, failing to let his own emotions reach her, he would no longer be able to look upon those faces who sincerely wished for his happiness.

Wasn’t she one of them, in the very end…? He knew that she, among all of them, needed one plain word of affection the most. It was selfish, mayhap… Yet how harmful could it be to set himself free from the chains of his feelings for her? Emotions he had learned to well control, which he had been prepared to take with him when he embraced death itself. No, he certainly would not ponder about such things if there even was the possibility of accidentally hurting her. In truth it did not even matter to him if she returned the immortal love he felt for her – as long as he could ease her indescribable loneliness for merely a little.

“I…’Tis a selfish request, I am certain – nevertheless, I must ask one final thing of you. That you survive, no matter what. And that you will return…to my side.”

G’raha took a heavy breath, calloused fingertips finding her surprisingly thin shoulders to carefully bury themselves into her soft skin. He was scarcely taller than her, a few ilm at best perchance, but this made it solely easier to observe her fair face so very close to his own. Her rose lips already parted, likely in attempt to respond, yet he immediately cut her off, fearing if his own words got lost in hers they would never reach her.

“Every time someone calls for your aid in desperate times, I want you to remember that the very thought of losing you is frightening to me and I can ill afford losing you. This world has long entrusted all their hopes onto you, and with each day I fail to fully fathom the burden you still bear. Nevertheless, I can imagine. And I wish for you to know that before I draw my dying breath, I shall share and attempt to ease the weight you’re carrying. Lest you forget you are not alone.”

His voice had become velvety yet strong, as his resolve resonated with each word he spoke. There was so much more to say – so much more to reveal – yet opening his heart this very way after all these years was indeed quite a challenge. The emotions had long suffocated him until he had banished them, losing his own humanity with each passing day after replacing them with the numb, faceless mask of the Exarch. But no longer.

“G’raha – pray tell me, why exactly are you telling me this”, she asked in a hoarse whisper, finally seizing the opportunity to speak, worrying he might say more. The young hero had not moved ever since he had approached her, but the shades inside her eyes were ever moving, observing – and filled with the very same sadness he felt burning deep inside his soul when looking upon her.

Oh, what would he gave for her to look at him differently – not with the kind, worrying eyes of an hero but those of a loving woman.

“I love you”, he said plainly, lips curling into a soft smile, unable to hold it back any longer. “I do not regret one single moment by your side, nor my… quite selfish actions in the First. It was all for you, to protect you. And it pains me to know you all alone even now, shouldering all dreams and hopes by yourself. Whatever it takes, I will see you finding your happiness. And I… I trust you are well aware that I do not require you to accept my feelings. They are genuine, I assure you – and I cannot imagine any one being more worthy of them than you.”

The pressure of his fingertips on her shoulders grew – not to cause harm but to steady himself for the remaining words which still had to slip his tongue. He would love to indulge in the sensation of his touch for longer, usually shunning to be as close to her to not awaken those lustful desires.  

Would she allow him to come closer, even if just for a brink of a moment…? Could she already listen to his loudly throbbing heartbeat and merely bore it for his sake?

His sanguine eyes disappeared beneath his long lashes, not to hide them from her but rather to dwell in his own memories as he spoke. His chest lifted, filled with the emotions of all these moments they had shared albeit ever so briefly.

“Worry not, my inspiration – my only love. For I am eternally glad that your star has charted my course, I will never forget your kindness nor anything you have done to save my own life. So I will not ask more of you than I already have. In truth, I already received so much more than what I had dreamed of. So I beseech you, pray let me aid you in any possible way. Just say the word, my friend.”

His hands felt as heavy as the crystalline form he once possessed when he attempted to lift them from her shoulders again, intending to give her some space. Yet the faint grip of one of her hands found his own, carefully wrapping his wrist to hold it in place. His eyes flung open as he felt the unexpected touch, meeting the pair of shiny mint colored eyes filled with tears, he reckoned. The man’s lips parted in surprise as his reddish ears laid close to his head.

“Why do you speak of such things, asking for naught in return?”, she asked, her voice slightly trembling – yet in apparent anger, with her ears moving agitatedly. “Do you truly never ponder about your own well-being, not even now of all times? After learning that they all wish for the very same… Rammbroes, Krile, Lyna… All good people of the Crystarium. They all wish for you to live your own life. You have already done so much, so pray tell me why you still fail to see this…?”

He did not move nor grit it teeth as her free hand clenched a fist to tenderly beat his chest a few times. As she stopped the fingertips clutched the fabric of his new garment, leaning in her weight until she almost rested inside his arms. Yet just almost. He could feel her hot breath brushing the bare skin around his collarbones, sending an immediate shiver down his spine. His limbs were itching to move, to pull her into a full and proper embrace – nonetheless he did not dare to move, not understanding her current actions.

“‘Tis true, we are indeed so very alike, you and I. And most certainly you are just as stubborn as I am. ‘Tis why I am…glad to know you as my companion henceforth. Yet I cannot condone you to suffer in my place. Ultimately, I solely want to see you finally happy as well. I want to see your dreams lived and fulfilled”, she continued with a small sigh and he noticed, as she lifted her gaze once again to face him, that one single tear had emerged from her eyes.

“Is it truly selfish to want to feel alive for once…? After being so very selfless all the time?”

Her voice trembled with the last questions, making him ponder if they were rhetoric or not. In the very end he was not even certain of whom she spoke. His second hand, yet free from her touch, slowly lifted to meet the warm skin of her cheeks, swiping away the tear with his calloused thumb. G’raha felt her reacting to his touch, barely noticeably even, ere she leaned into the warmth he offered.

“Mayhap not”, he answered in a rather husky tone, ignoring the yearning of his own body and the loud, desperate clutch of his very own soul.

“Then you shall know… I love you too, G’raha.” Albeit her voice had scarcely been more than a whisper to his ears, suffocating in some more tear drops to flow down her cheeks, he felt their meaning with every fiber of his body. It was not before she lifted her hand to gently rub over his own cheeks that he noticed that he had shared in her sentimentality.

For he realized that the woe, the deep sadness he saw inside her mint colored shades for the past moments were not product of her kindness but rather her feelings for him. Such sight made him to finally channel the strength needed to let go. To let go of the very burden he still desperately held onto; the very past in which he had merely chased after his very own death and desperation for all these long years. For the childhood in which he had believed to be cursed, to be condemned.

One past filled with dreams and hopes to believe in a future in which others might find happiness, albeit not himself.

“So perchance, just for once, mayhap just even for this moment - can we not forget and live, breathe? The world will not end, solely for us being happy for only one day. And the others can certainly wait, too.”

“Agreed”, the man mumbled, quickly leaning in to seal her lips with his very own, lest she spoke more than she already had. Truthfully, he was no longer certain if he could bear to wait any longer. Not after waiting more than an entire lifetime for her already, to finally feel her faint touch.

Her sweet, flowery scent filled his nose, sweeping through his entire body like an untamed wave – evoking all of his usually hidden emotions for her. Lips so perfectly shaped and soft moved against his very own in an almost painful slow rhythm, ere he his tongue slightly tickled them, yearning to taste her, to memorize all of her entire being. Immediately he felt her slim arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer as she slightly parted her full lips to give him entry.

None of it was like he had imagined; it was far better than the finest dream he ever had.

________________________

[ END OF PART ONE – Part Two will contain smut! ]

________________________

Sidenotes: I am following my headcanon that – because he is an allrounder and can fit into all roles – he is picking the most fitting role for the Warrior of Light (despite seen with his staff in the cutscenes).

In this case, since the Warrior of Light is a Summoner – which I still daresay should be the most powerful role according to the given canon information – he prefers to become her sword and shield. All of this is, of course, accordingly written to my own headcanons & portrayal and might not fit with other’s. 

[marinette-adrien]

MischiefGod!AU

Ok, so the amazing @sidsinning came up with an amazing AU and gave me persmision to write a fanfic about it. It took me a long long time and I’m sorry for that. But finally here it is!

The lovely people who asked to be tagged: @kay-great @geminikessa @carolinaleo-blog @nadinemarie-art @ellysia-banearrow @skellingtonia @waitingfortheshadows @ink-stains-on-ceilings @crisjim @dulcetfoxao3 

Sorry if I forgot someone. Totally not intentional.

People who I saw asking for writers to write it or if someone was writting it, saying they’d read it or needed more of it, will be following this au or something along those lines: @washikook @smackthat-allonthefloor @greymouser13 @miraculousshipping @missca7astropcat @rhymeringlamb @sharkiethesharkperhaps @bridgetinerabbit @wewonmrstark3-0-0-0 @a-mahou-shoujo @thenovelartist @me4ml @inkshila @sakuramarie @parlezvousladybug @blue-peach14 @teardroplet @theunfortunatefangirl @doll-gloss @berry-loves-otome @trapqueeni @onesmolbirb @millie27love

I deeply apologize if you didn’t want to be tagged. Please ignore it. I just didn’t want anyone to feel I left them out. 

And finally I can’t start without a big shout-out to @thecaptainfandom who bore with me for three days and beta’ed the flip out of this work. It was a mess and now is readable. She deserves all the praise.

Anyways, here’s the story! Hope you enjoy. 

AO3 link

The Mischief Bride

I

Gods die too. They live and they age, even if it is slow enough to deceive time and humans. Gods live and play and sometimes, they trick and they lie. Sometimes they love and they care. Other times, they just want entertainment.

Kim, god of rivalry and fire, was one of the latter. And he got bored pretty quickly too. He was a relentless god who didn’t discriminate between humans or other gods to challenge for a competition. He had a reputation of picking random humans who were good athletes to compare his abilities to the very best of the human race.

Generations ago, the townspeople, tired of being spirited away randomly, asked for the lord of the land to make a pact with the god. Every year, they would offer a competitor, the very best of their sport, to be challenged by him, in exchange for leaving the other humans alone.

Now, every year, Marinette’s town would offer a “sacrifice” for Kim, the god of fire and rivalry. The reason they were called sacrifices instead of competitors these days was because they never came back. Nobody knew what happened to them, but people speculated that no matter if they won or lost, they ended up dying. Perhaps they perished trying to keep up with his challenges or perhaps were punished by the god’s wrath for not being able to.

The day of the sacrifice was just around the corner but Marinette didn’t have the mind to worry about it. Sure, she was in good form but was by no means an athlete, so there were very little chances she would be picked as the sacrifice, and she had better things to worry herself with. Primordially, her parents were both sick.

Autumn had brought the flu to her household and she had her hands full attending her family’s bakery and tending to her parents. Regardless, she knew no matter how much she worked, she couldn’t afford medicine for both her mother and father.

She was scared.

She spent nights alone with her thoughts, unable to sleep and just watching them breathe. She bit back tears, wondered how she could make the medicine last just a little longer, hoping that somehow, it would be enough.

II

Kagami didn’t have many friends. To be precise, Kagami had only one friend, Marinette. Since they were little, people tended to mistake one for the other because they seemed very much alike. They had the same blue hair and similar height and build. Their skin was pale and their hearts were kind.

Despite appearances, one thing that they didn’t have in common was their families. While Marinette’s parents were loving and caring, Kagami’s mother was cold and reserved. She was a proud samurai that served the feudal lord of the land, which proved to be her daughter’s downfall.

Just as her mother, Kagami was a very good swordswoman, a trait that was rare among the villagers. Almost no one around these parts dared to practice and excel at any sport because then they would be selected as a sacrifice to the god of fire and rivalry. The Tsurugis, regardless, were a proud family that had always served the royal family, and was expected to be good samurai by them.

The people started to become restless. They didn’t practice any sport for fear of becoming good enough to be selected as the new sacrifice. Due to the lack of athletes this provoked, the sacrifices started being picked between people with almost no training at all. Tired of this situation, the town demanded for the feudal lord to do something about it. The solution that was finally approved and exposed to the god by prayers and rituals with incense, came in the form of a last sacrifice in the shape of a wife.

They promised a wife who would be as powerful and athletic as she was beautiful and thus, Kagami was selected. It was a great honor for Tomoe, as the lord put it, to be able to prove her loyalty by offering her daughter.

Tomoe couldn’t afford to lose her daughter, but she couldn’t afford to lose her honor either. She looked at Kagami and felt a pang of pride and shame at the same time when the girl took the news with dignity and resignation. She only made one request: to go visit her friend one last time to say goodbye. Her mother granted her permission without protest.

To Kagami’s surprise, Marinette looked exhausted. Her eyes were red and had big purple bags under them. She was paler than usual and perhaps a little bit thinner too.

They hadn’t seen each other in a while, since Kagami’s mother didn’t usually let her out of her supervision for too long, and the catching up was sad for both parts. They both cried in each other’s arms until their eyes ran dry.

Marinette felt like she was losing three people dear to her now instead of two, and life seemed gloom and grimm like never before. Late at night, Kagami’s mother went to pick her up since her daughter hadn’t return, she was hit with the resemblance of the girls that she had forgotten, and a twisted idea was planted on her mind, making her both ashamed and hopeful at the same time.

On their way home, Kagami told her mother about what Marinette was going through and that she felt bad she couldn’t do anything to help her anymore. Selfishly, she asked her mother to help her friend in her place and to her surprise, Tomoe accepted.

The very next morning, Tomoe went to see her daughter’s friend and offered her help, in exchange for a favor.

Marinette accepted.

III

Marinette knew she was being taken advantage of, but she bit back the injustice and kept going. For her parents. She knew that when Kagami realized the scheme, she would make good of her mother promise to nurse her mom and dad back to health. She hoped her friend would forgive her for taking her place, too.

Tricking the feudal lord of the land was easy. He had never seen Kagami up close and Marinette covered her head with the wataboshi anyways, so no one would suspect a thing.

Like all sacrifices before her, Marinette walked willingly to the sacred mountain where the gods would be descending soon. Legend said that during the fifteenth day of the seventh month, gods and youkais descended to Earth to have a festival and, sometimes, to interact with humans.

For that reason, anyone who had the intention of meeting them would venture to the sacred mountain. Said mountain that was actually a sleeping volcano, the very same that would wake if they dared anger the gods.

But Marinette’s step didn’t quiver when she set foot on the holy ground. She lighted her way with an oil lamp through the misty woods of the mountain and repeated to herself that she would find her husband-to-be walking northeast, so she walked until the oil ran out. She walked until the mist grew heavy and her feet hurt, and then she walked some more. She walked until she realized the moon changed positions in the sky randomly, making her confused as to where to go. She stopped when she realized she was lost.

She dropped to the ground in defeat, feeling tired and hopeless. She rubbed her feet and wondered if she was lucky or unlucky if she ended up not meeting with the god. Probably unlucky, if her town suffered the consequences.

Then, she heard a chuckle.

It was soft and falsely sweet. When Marinette lifted her gaze looking for the source, she met a pair of olive eyes.

��A human,” said the apparition. “Are you lost?”

It was a girl with caramel colored skin and brown, long hair. She was dressed in orange from her clothes to her smile, and even though there wasn’t particularly anything wrong with her, Marinette’s gut told her something was off about the lady. When she squinted, she realized —and how could she have missed it— that the girl had the ears and the tail of a fox.

She was a kitsune, a youkai better known to be a trickster. Marinette felt alarm rise to her head, but bit her tongue to remain calm.

“I am,” she said. “Do you happen to know which way is the northeast?”

The kitsune disappeared and reappeared closer to her, to her right. Marinette stood up and followed her gaze, her uneasiness increasing. The youkai ignored her question.

“Are you, perhaps, by any chance, the god of fire’s new toy?”

She didn’t think it was wise to offer the spirit too much information, but figured that either way, there was little else she could do.

“I am this year sacrifice, yes. Would you be so kind as to point the way to the northeast, please?”

The kitsune chuckled and disappeared again.

“He’s not at his usual spot right now,” she informed, appearing right at her back. Marinette jumped to get some distance between them. “He got tired of waiting and decided to go the Ghost Festival instead”

Marinette cursed her luck. She hoped he wouldn’t be too angry because she didn’t appear and roast their village by morning.

“I can show you the way to the festival if you want,” offer the kitsune with a sweet smile. A little too sweet, perhaps.

The young baker still had reservations. She didn’t feel comfortable following a kitsune. She would probably play a prank on her, preventing her from reaching the god Kim.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. It would be more than enough if you pointed the right way for me to follow.”

The kitsune laughed again and disappeared once more. She wasn’t in sight for a few moments and Marinette feared to have offended her, provoking for her abandon her to her luck. But the youkai talked to her once more, making herself visible again sitting on a low branch of a tree.

“It’s that way,” she said, pointing ahead.

Marinette looked to the path that the mist opened when the youkai pointed at it, still feeling uneasy. Sensing her discomfort, the kitsune giggled one last time.

“You can trust me,” she said making the gesture of crossing her heart. “I never lie.”

Having no other alternative, Marinette thanked her and sighed, trying to appease her distrust as she heard the spirit ghostly laugh disappear as she followed the path she had told her.

IV

It had been a lie, of course. Marinette kept walking until the sun threatened her with down, but she couldn’t find nor the festival nor the god. She felt stupid, gullible and hopeless but refused to give up. She swallowed her tears and kept going, not ready to abandon hope yet.

Then, she heard sobbing.

Her eyes tried looking for the source jumping from place to place around her until she finally located it. A very small, red creature kept flying around a spot near the overgrown roots of a tree. Even with her own problems unresolved, Marinette couldn’t help to stop to see if she could help.

“Hello,” she said to the creature, approaching slowly. “Are you okay?” She asked as an icebreaker.

The little spirit turned in surprise and regarded the bride she had in front of her.

“Oh, hello,” she returned the greeting politely, drying her big blue eyes with a tiny, tiny hand. “Well, no,” she admitted.

“What’s the problem?” Inquired Marinette, coming closer. She noticed that it was a kind of fairy with antennas and big black spots that made her resemble a ladybug. She didn’t recognize the kind of youkai that she was, but thought that it was perhaps a zashiki-warashi. If she offered assistance, maybe the youkai would actually help her in exchange.

“It’s one of my earrings. I dropped one of my precious earrings down this hole in the ground, but it’s too small to reach, even for me.”

Marinette approached the area the youkai was hovering over, and discovered a small hole that formed between the roots of the tree and held something that shined. It was far enough to be unreachable for the small creature or her fingers, but she gave it a thought and looked over her surroundings to find some inspiration. She ended up grabbing a thin stick and one of her hair pieces that she tied with a decorative ribbon from her outfit to make a tool long enough to reach it and pick it up with the hair piece, so in a few minutes, the earring was back to its owner.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

The little creature was beyond happy, and her happiness was contagious. Marinette laughed with her but promptly remember that she was in a predicament too.

“Hey, by any chance, would you know how I can get to the gods? I have only encountered youkais tonight.”

The spirit then seemed to become aware of the human in god territory and taking notice of her clothes, she had a feeling about what was happening.

“Oh,” she said quietly, “where you offered as sacrifice?”

“Well, yes. But it’s fine. I did it willingly. I cut a deal to save my parents, so it’s alright for the most part, I guess.”

“I see. You must have a very kind heart…” said the creature, noticing that the young lady in front of her seemed to have her motivations always in helping others, and took a like of her almost instantly.

“Marinette. My name is Marinette.”

“Well, Marinette, my name is Tikki and I can help you find the god you are looking for”

“Really? That would be amazing! Thank you!”

“Which god are you searching for? This part of the mountain is the territory of one of them, actually.”

“Really?” Marinette asked, surprised. Perhaps the kitsune hadn’t been lying after all. “Then I was in the right path, after all!”

“I can send you to him if you want, I can sense he’s close”

“Oh, thank you, thank you Tikki! That would be wonderful, you’ll be saving my life!”

Tikki giggled. “It would be my pleasure, Marinette!”

Feeling like things were finally getting back on track, Marinette saw Tikki fly around her a couple of times and then, she felt the ground disappear under her feet. She stumbled backwards a couple of steps and then fell on her butt.

She sat up and lifted the wataboshi to inspect her surroundings and was immediately met with a pair of green, mischievous eyes.

“W-where am I?” Asked Marinette disorientated.

In front of her was a young man with golden hair wearing a montsuki. Similar to the previous youkai, he had a pair of black cat ears crowning his head. Unlike the previous spirit, though, she could feel a different aura from him. It felt old and dangerous. He wasn’t a youkai, he was a god.

His eyes gleamed with excitement when he saw her and he showed her a smile full of teeth and untold secrets.

“You’re in the Sacred Mountain, girl. In our territory, to be precise.”

Marinette then took notice of the small black creature floating close to the god’s head. It had green eyes too and was similar in size to Tikki, if not a little bigger. Much like the god beside him, he resembled a cat.

“Oh. Are you the god of fire?” She asked, composing herself.

Both of them interchanged a look and then smiled down to her.

“Why, yes. Yes I am. And who are you, pretty lady?”

She jumped to kneel in front of him, suddenly assuming a formal posture. The most important part was yet to be accomplished. She had to make sure that the god accepted the new pact.

“I am Marinette! And my people begs for you to take me as a wife as a last sacrifice, as our prayers had supplicated in the name of your clemency!”

There was a moment of silence, and neither the god nor the creature said a thing.

“Your people thought that getting the god of rivalry, the very one that likes to challenge anything that moves to an athletic competition, a wife, would solve the problem?”

Put it that way, Marinette recognized that it sounded kind of moronic but she was just trying to help her people, especially her parents, and following orders.

“Please,” she said quietly having no other argument.

He looked at her and found nothing but sincerity in the form of big, expressive eyes, pleading and impossibly blue.

The god’s heart jumped on his chest without his permission, making him feel a weird tug on his heartstrings. Usually, if it wasn’t funny, he was not interested, but there was something about this lady that felt odd, though not in a bad way.

“She smells… like luck,” said his companion, getting close to her and giving her a sniff, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well, then I guess it’s your lucky day, pretty lady. I’ll take your offer.”

Marinette blinked.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he extended a hand to her, to help her stand up. “Yes. It was wife day after all, wasn’t it Plagg?”

“Yes, yes it was!” smirked the little black fairy-like-creature.

Marinette admitted to herself that indeed she ended up being pretty lucky, successfully achieving her goal to reach the god and convince him to take her as a wife. She extended her hand to take his and he grasped her in a tight grip. He pulled her to her feet and a red string tied their wrists together. The ribbon shined and popped, disappearing into tiny sparks.

Marinette felt the ground banish from underneath her for a moment, unable to divert her gaze from his face. It was probably rude. Humans weren’t supposed to look at gods in the eyes, she believed, but couldn’t help herself. His green gaze was mesmerizing, all deep and lively and fresh as a lime. He caught her when her footing failed and gave her a wicked smile.

“T-that’s it?” She asked, catching her words. “Are you my husband now?”

The gleam in his eye sparkled with mischief.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

V

Marinette had kept going for the last couple of weeks by mere will power. First taking care of her increasingly ill parents and then of the bakery by herself. She lost a whole night of sleep after Kagami’s visit and later operated almost on automatic mode focusing only on the task she had been entrusted with. When she successfully achieved it and her worries about the village and her parents were lifted from her shoulders, it was as if the strings that had been keeping her standing and going were cut.

She remembered the god of rivalry and fire had asked her to come with him, as he was bound to return to his castle since the festivities were ending, and follow him she did. Or at least, she thought she did because now she was waking up, which meant she must have fallen asleep at some point. She didn't remember when it happened but there were a few times in her life when it did. She woke up disoriented, covered in silks, in a room she didn't recognize.

The sun was high in the sky while the last time she had seen it, it had been just rising. She looked around and she found herself in a big bed, like the ones people from other parts of the world slept in, the ones lifted from the ground. It was very comfortable and probably the reason she had slept like a baby. The room was spacious and a big balcony window let the sunlight in, painting golden rays in the dark floor and blankets.

But most importantly, she noticed, she wasn't alone.

A familiar blond head lied beside her. He was not touching her and was facing the opposite side of the window and her. His breathing was even, denoting he was asleep but when she fell off the bed in her haste, he woke up.

Marinette grimaced in pain and heard a chuckle. A pair of mischievous green eyes looked at her from above on top of the bed, paired with a playful smirk.

"Where am I?" asked Marinette.

"I carried you like a princess. You fell asleep on me on the way home.”

"Why were we on the same bed?"

"Well, I mean we're married, remember? Why wouldn't we be?"

Marinette was speechless for a moment. She tried to come up with a reasonable answer to rebutt his argument, but could only come up with none. She sat there on the hard floor letting her eyes stare into nothingness. At that moment, she was hit with the realization.

She was married. To a god.

“Are you okay?” He asked when she didn’t say anything else.

“No,” came the immediate answer. She was a little overwhelmed.

He had the nerve to chuckle again. Marinette recomposed a little to glare at him, but he just stretched, completely unimpressed. He looked like a cat perched in a tree looking down at her like that and she could almost picture him swaying a tail contently.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.

“We are in my castle of course, princess. Your new home. Or should I call you queen?”

“Queen?”

He crawled out of the bed towards her, never losing his smile. Something in him screamed “danger” but something else locked her in place and made her heart race. He kept getting closer and closer until she could feel his breath on her face.

“Queen of Fire and Rivalry. Queen of everything that I reign of. My Queen.”

He took her left hand, the one he had taken when the invisible ribbon tied them together, and kissed it without dropping her gaze. She blushed. He was very attractive.

She noticed then that the ribbon had left a mark like a bracelet on her wrist, a remainder of their pact.

“Or would you like to be the Queen of something else?”

He was teasing her, she knew, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad. She was just a sacrifice. She had ventured the mountain, giving up on her future so her parents could have one. She was ready to die trying or live like a prisoner in a loveless marriage. She never thought she would look at her husband and blush. She never thought that he would call her his queen, sharing his rein.

Perhaps, she thought, gods didn’t think so little of humans. Perhaps she was starting to feel truly lucky, and not just by being able to save others. Perhaps she wasn’t doomed. Perhaps she didn’t hate her situation anymore.

“Your queen is fine” she said, quietly.

He raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting an honest response.

“Your queen is fine,” she repeated, letting a smile tug at her lips this time.

Slowly, he returned the smile and for the first time, it wasn’t mischievous or teasing. It had something in it that reminded Marinette of tenderness and hope.

VI

Marinette followed him to the dining room, where a banquet was expecting them. The little black creature that accompanied the god the night before was already filling his mouth with cheese. He introduced himself as Plagg and then proceeded to explain to her that he was a kwami. Every god had one following them around who shared the nature of the god powers. They were the companions of the gods.

She discovered Plagg loved cheese as much as he loved teasing Kim, and that the blond pretended to be deeply offended if the tiny creature dismissed his puns but Plagg had worst on his repertoire, if she was honest. They seemed to be very good friends.

She didn’t pay much attention to their banter once she focused on her meal though. Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t eaten in almost a day and even before that, her meals had been frugal thanks to her lack of appetite. The table in front of her was filled with delicious fruit, cheese, seeds, tea and wine so she helped herself to seconds of everything. She ate until her belly couldn’t fit one more bite.

Shortly after breakfast, Kim excused himself, saying he had some business to attend to, but that he would be back in a few hours.

“You can familiarise yourself with your new home in the meanwhile, my queen,” said her new husband with that mischievous smile that she was learning to recognize as the one he almost always wore. “If you need something, just ask for it and it shall be given to you.”

He stole a kiss from her cheek and then he was gone with his kwami before she could ask to who she could ask for her hypothetical needs.

So she finished her breakfast and decided she would follow his advice and explore the castle. She spent the next couple of days wandering around its hallways, which were empty for the most part. The palace was made of stone and has long staircases that led from one floor to another several times. It was huge and a little lifeless, with dark marble walls that gave the palace the appearance of being cracked. It reminded her of the European fairytale like castles, where invisible servants would tend to the inhabitants from the shadows.

The god of fire and rivalry disappeared everyday by the afternoons, but always returned to have their meals together, which Marinette had to admit, was nice. He was a bit of a dork with a bad sense of humor that never failed to pull a smile out of her nonetheless. As the days pass, she learned that his jokes and bright smiles hid a lonely, old soul underneath the youthful appearance.

During her exploration around her new home, she discovered that everything was… raw, in a sort of way. The bed was covered in linens and silks, but they were just fabric instead of blankets. The walls were bare of paintings or any kind of art, and even the furniture, despite being indeed luxurious and made of high quality woods and materials, was simple and minimalistic.

Even their meals were simple. Their table was always full of delicious fruit, vegetables, meat, fish, grains, seeds, milk, honey, cheese and bread but they were all fresh or cooked very simply. There was plain bread but never pies or cakes. There was meat but never stew. The fruit was always fresh and clean but never in a dessert. When she asked him about it, he shrugged.

“It’s because I’m the god of…” he stopped, with the chopsticks midway to his mouth.

“Fire,” said Plagg, giving him a funny look. “He’s the god of fire and sometimes he burns his own stuff by accident. The servants are not good at crafts and that’s why the castle is what it is”

“You burn stuff by accident?” asked Marinette, alarm in her voice.

“No,” said he quickly. “Well, sometimes, I guess. But it hasn’t happened in a long, long time, has it Plagg?” He glared at his kwami.

The Kwami agreed dismissively, getting back on his cheese, and the subject was quickly diverted after that.

After that incident, Marinette took it to herself to make something of the materials that were scattered around the castle. She made actual blankets for the bed and found the kitchen to cook when she could. She made quiches and cookies and dumplings. Bread, of course, she always baked because old habits die hard.

The first time Kim got home to a table full of dishes, he had a bewildered expression on his face. He didn’t stop singing her praises when he discovered that she made something new everyday. Not only food, but the palace was suddenly beginning to feel like a home. The windows had curtains and the bed had actual blankets. Suddenly there were cushions on the chairs and an amazing smell of bread in the air at lunchtime.

“You’re amazing, Marinette,” he’d whisper every night before falling asleep while holding her hand, and she’d felt a tingling in her heart at the tenderness of his voice.

The only thing he did was hold her hand, but she found herself snuggling closer and closer with every moonrise. He never asked for a consummation of marriage, but she didn’t know how god-human marriages worked. She already felt very lucky to have control of his domain.

She only had to wish for something out loud or command something to be done, and as if by invisible servants, her instructions were followed. She never saw anyone outside or inside the castle, besides Kim or Plagg, but even though she appreciated the hours he gave her for herself, she started to feel lonely.

And then, she met Tikki again.

Tikki, now that she thought about it, looked just like a Kwami, but Plagg was always near Kim and if the little red creature was indeed a Kwami, Marinette wondered why she wasn’t with her god.

She had been sewing in the castle, making clothes for herself with all the pretty fabrics available in the house when her little friend appeared.

“Marinette! I was hoping to find you here.”

“Tikki! I’m so happy to see you! What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit Plagg.”

“Ah, I should have guessed you were friends. He’s not here though. But I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Would you like to wait with me?”

“I’d love to,” she said, and sat on the table Marinette was using as a desk.

“Tea and pastries for Tikki, please,” she said, and in a few moments, a trail with what was ordered appear beside the Kwami.

“I can see that you are doing well,” said her guest. “Now you manage a castle instead of being lost!” she giggled.

Marinette smiled.

“All thanks to you, Tikki. I was so lucky that I found you before the night ended. I could find my way to the god I was looking for and convince him to stop the annual sacrifices. My village is safe because you helped me.”

“You did mention your village. I’m glad they’re safe but how are you doing?”

“I’m doing better than I thought possible, to be honest,” Marinette confessed. It was easy talking to Tikki. She picked the needle once again and let herself ramble while she worked. “I feel a little lonely sometimes, but I never imagined I’d actually come to like my new husband. He’s kind and attentive. He respects my space and I think he genuinely is amazed by my cooking and sewing skills” she giggled. “He gave me power over his domain since day one and… yeah, I think I like him.”

Tikki looked at her with giddy eyes and a kind smile.

“I’m happy for you, Marinette. I knew Plagg chose well. Adrien is such a gentle soul, a perfect decision for the God of Destruction.”

Marinette went rigid.

“The god of what?”

“The god of destruction” repeated Tikki slowly, eyeing her reaction. “And mischief. And misfortune.”

Who, now?

Marinette looked at her friend like she had just slapped her.

“But… but… no. His name isn’t Adrien. He is Kim, the god of the sun, rivalry and fire! The one who would melt my land with the volcano if there isn’t an annual sacrifice!”

But her memory was bombarding her with all the times he had almost slip. The times Plagg and him would send each other furtive or disapproving glances, as if trying to keep a secret from being revealed.

“Oh. Oh, no Marinette,” said Tikki, with heavy realization. “I think there has been a misunderstanding. You were on the territory of the god of destruction, misfortune and mischief when I found you. I should have asked for clarification.”

“No, but.. but he said so himself! He is Kim, god of fire; not… not…”

“Adrien?” asked the voice she had learn to miss on her afternoons.

She turned abruptly to face him, and for the first time since she knew him, a guilty expression cast a shadow over his features.

“I am,” he said softly. “Adrien, god of destruction, mischief and misfortune. That’s me.”

There was a long pause. Tikki, who had been longing to meet with Plagg, couldn’t help but get offended on Marinette’s behalf. She flew right towards him, a big frown on her face.

“Plagg! This has your mark painted all over! Was it your idea to trick Marinette like that?”

“Well, hello to you too, cheesecake. Can see that you missed me. I didn’t know you knew the bride.”

“Plagg!”

“Ugh, I can’t talk to you when you are being unreasonable,” he said, and flew off.

“Unreasonable! I can’t believe you’d trick an innocent girl who were just trying to help her parents! How cruel can you be?” Exclaimed Tikki, following him while giving him a piece of her mind. Soon, both of them got lost in the hallways of the castle.

“It’s true, then. You are not the one who I was supposed to marry,” Her tone was calm, but her mind was racing, going through all of what that entailed. Was his kindness, the kindness that got her, fake? Was he laughing at her back while she blushed and thought that she was oh, so lucky to have such a kind and humble husband? Did he realize what he jeopardized? Her parents, her village?

Oh, her people…

What if they were already gone? What if Kim, enraged, had already burned to ashes her village while she was here playing house? She could not fathom the thought.

“Well, I… it’s true I’m not the one one you were looking for, but even gods are not free from The Fate’s domain, and after knowing you, I was hoping…”

“Hoping?” She interrupted him. “Hoping for what? That I’d forgive you? For impeding me of helping my people? My parents, who were the only reason I had to…” her voice broke. But she bit back her tears and continued. The more she thought about it, the more betrayed she felt, the more hurt she got and the more stupid she knew she had been.

“I’ve been here! Losing time, married to you! When I should have been saving my people!”

She dashed towards the door, but a hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Let me go, I have to make sure that they… that they’re not…” she could not finish that thought.

“Marinette. Marinette, listen to me. They’re fine.”

“How can you know? They could all be dead by now. My parents, my friends…”

“They are just fine, please listen to me -”

“You lied to me! You tricked me into marrying you and to let my village to die! And for what? A stupid prank?”

“I know you are mad at me, and I shouldn’t have lied to you, but I couldn’t help it. It’s who I am. I am the god of mischief.”

He probably should try to excuse himself after he explained, he realized. Marinette turned to him and pushed him hard. He stumbled back and she kept throwing her fists in his direction.

“The god of mischief! And destruction! Very well played! You destroyed everything that I care about!” She accused with tears streaming down her face. She finally collapsed to her knees and started sobbing.

“Marinette, please listen. They are fine.” He said softly, kneeling beside her. He wanted to touch her but noted that perhaps it wasn’t the best of ideas.

“How can you know?”

“Because I have been going to visit Kim everyday. I don’t really need to leave the castle to do my godly duties. And even if I did, I’m sure the world would do just fine without cataclysms for a few weeks. Or years.”

“You went… to Kim?” She asked, perplexed. She wasn’t following completely, but figured she could at least trust that her village was still intact.

“Yes, I went to offer him a deal. If he gave up this year sacrifice, then I’d be his challenge buddy for the next decade. No questions asked, every time he wanted. Turns out he has been challenging me to play various sports every day. I hope the novelty passes after a few months, but I’ll still have to accept his challenges for the next ten years,” he grimaced.

“He… gave up the sacrifice?”

“Well, not exactly. Since you were supposed to be the last one, I could only buy you a chance. He’ll challenge you to a match. If you win, he’ll revoke the sacrifice policy off your village. If not… well, you’ll be his challenge buddy, like the rest. And your village would have to send another every year, like before.”

“Wait. The rest?”

“Yeah, every single one of the previous sacrifices are alive. They live in his domain now. They have to accept every challenge he asks of them, but they have good lives. With all the luxury a human blessed by the gods could expect.”

It was a little too much information for Marinette to handle. She needed a moment.

“So everyone is alive? All of them?”

“Every single one of them,” he smiled.

Marinette felt so relieved that she almost hugged him and thanked him, but she held herself back.

“You still lied to me.”

“You’re right. It was a stupid prank that got out of hand, but I did my best to make it harmless. I’m also giving you an opportunity that none of the others had: a chance of freedom. Would you… accept that as an apology?” He asked hopefully.

With all that he’d done to take the danger out of the situation… it was indeed a harmless prank from his point of view, she guessed. Except that she was tricked into marry the wrong guy.

“You still tricked me. To marry you.”

His smile, ever changing, was a little sad then.

“I tricked you into believing that we’re married,” he said.

He took her hand again. The one he held in their sleep and the one that had the binding bracelet painted on her skin.

“This is just a mark that shows you as a blessed-by-the-gods human. It’s not a marriage contract. I can easily remove it, if you want. I thought that perhaps it would give you at least a little of an advantage in the upcoming match, but… perhaps coming from me,  the God of misfortune, you’ll want it removed.”

“So you’re saying that we’re not married?”

“No.”

“Oh,” for some reason, she felt a little empty.

“When were you going to tell me?”

He made a pause, uncomfortable.

“Ten years?” He tried.

“Adrien!” She reproached. It was the first time she said his name and a little magic mingled in the air, like every time you said a god’s name out loud in their presence. She realized that she had been sharing a home with one of the two most powerful gods that there were. And he was kind of a goofball. And sweet. For a god of destruction, of course.

“Sorry! I’m kidding. I was planning on telling you the very next day, when I made the arrangement with Kim. But when I came back… you were wearing the kimono I picked for you and you made the most delicious bread I have ever tasted, and… you smiled. You didn’t seem bothered by being here, with me. And… I guess I wanted to pretend for a little longer.”

There was a pause. Marinette realized he had mentioned Kim had a kingdom. Perhaps the other gods did too. Perhaps his land was empty because no one wanted to pray to the god of destruction and misfortune. Perhaps his castle was built with raw materials because everything broke in his presence. Perhaps “everything” included his relationships with everyone else too.  

“I can challenge Kim whenever I want?” She asked after meditating it for a moment.

He nodded.

“Well, I’ll be challenging him tomorrow, then,” she declared firmly.

He sighed.

“I’ll take you there.”

“And,”

He looked up at her face. She averted her gaze.

“And if you’d have me… I’d like to come here. And pretend for a little longer. If you want.”

VII

Kim was nothing like she imagined him. He was goofy instead of mighty and gave the impression of not being too bright. Yet, just like Adrien, he had a youthful appearance and that aura that Marinette was learning to recognize as one that outlined the gods.

The real Kim’s Kwami was a little monkey that, much like his companion, was extravagant and playful, pure chaotic energy. He fluttered around him non-stop, apparently unable to stand still for more than a minute. When Adrien and Marinette entered the Chinese-style palace to meet their king, they found the owner and his Kwami immersed in a childish fight that included faces, grimaces and stuck out tongues, provoking each other like little kids.

They had been waiting for them on the palace throne room, but didn’t notice them when they arrived. Adrien cleared his throat to announce their presence and the pair turned in their direction, their attention effectively redirected.

“Hello, there. I see you were expecting us, so I’ll cut the formalities short. Kim, this is Marinette.”

"Ah, finally!” He exclaimed, not seeming to care much for said formalities and jumping from his throne to have a closer look at his guests. “I was starting to get bored of always challenging the same people. Tell me, girl, what are you good at? What challenges can you offer?”

"Not so fast," Marinette interrupted. Kim stopped and looked at her raising a brow. She bit her lip fearing that she overstepped by being rude, but Adrien squeezed her hand beside her and she continued. “I need confirmation first. Adrien says if I win, I can be free, do I have your word?”

Kim gave her a smirk.

“Of course” he promised. “If you win”.

He eyed her critically. Marinette knew that she didn’t look so much of an athlete. She was small and skinny, but he’d be disappointed if he thought she would abandon so easily.

“I’ll even let you pick the challenge, just so you see that I’m a just god,” he promised and promptly dropped to the ground to start a warm up. He looked eager to start.

Marinette tried to think of a sport she could have a chance with, a frown on her face. Adrien looked at her and squeezed her hand one more time. When she met his eyes with her own, he gave her an encouraging smile.

“You’ll be just fine. I have faith in you. You are amazing, Marinette. I’m sure you can win.”

She smiled back and nodded her head. Adrien and Plagg stepped aside and watched her form the lines.

“You’ll do good, Marinette,” said Tikki and kissed her cheek. “For luck.” Then, she flew to join the unlucky pair.

Marinette turned her attention once again to the god of rivalry and fire, trying to think of an option that would allow her to win. She thought that he might not get along with water, being the god of fire, and perhaps challenging him to a swimming competition would be a viable idea, but it was very obvious. Surely others would have previously challenged him to a swimming competition without success. As Adrien had told her, Kim always won in every competition he had suggested.

If only shōgi was a sport she might have suggested it. Looking at Kim, he looked more on the side of impulsiveness rather than on the analyzing side. She had a strong pair of arms due to all the kneading and lifting and carrying sacks of flour, but nothing as near as a god’s strength. She didn’t want to test his endurance either because Adrien once told her that he didn’t need much sleep, but it was nice and relaxing to lay on bed. He supposed Kim would be the same.

He was still doing a warm up when she lifted her eyes in his direction again. She tried to look at his body type to guess which kind of sports he had less experience with, when it hit her.

“I know which challenge I’d like to propose,” she declared.

“About time!” said Kim, jumping from the floor where he was doing squats. “Well, what is it?”

“Gymnastics” said Marinette, with no trace of doubt on her voice, despite her inner turmoil.

“Gymnastics?”

“Yes, especially flexibility.”

Kim was surprised. He had never been challenged for a gymnastics match, and despite that his Kwami was a monkey, he was only a monkey in name. He was good at climbing trees and swaying from one branch to another, but that was about it. Truth be told, he wasn’t very flexible. But how could this girl have known?

She must have seen the insecurity twinkle in his eye, because she smiled.

“Are you backing down from a duel? I have no problem by winning by default.”

“Never!” He responded immediately, like a petulant child. “I never back down from a dare!”

“Very well, then. Shall we start?”

Marinette challenged him to three different disciplines form gymnastics, and he lost all of them. First part of the challenge, he could not touch his head with his toes. For the second he couldn’t do a split and for the third, he could not even reach to grab his toes while sitting down. She won fair and square.

Plag and Tikki cheered. Adrien smiled at her and she returned the smile. After a moment, she ran to him to hug him. Despite everything, he returned to her the one thing she thought she had given up for ever, her freedom.

“Thank you”

He held her a little tighter before he had to let her go.

VIII

Marinette didn’t really go back to her village. Spirited away people were not always well received among mortals. She visited her parents in secret though. And Kagami. She told her about her adventure and how she didn’t regret it.

She also made good friends with the goddess of curiosity and investigation, who’s name was Alya. One afternoon, she told her that no youkai dared to venture the mountain during the festival of the gods. They stayed in the festival but did not wander around to interact with humans. They had no interest in them since, unlike the gods, youkai interacted with humans all the time, even if people didn’t notice.

“But then, who did I…?”

“Probably the goddess of lies. She likes to disguise herself as a youkai, especially kitsunes. Which sucks because kitsunes are the kind of youkai I reign above”.

Marinette visited her frequently, but for the most part stayed with Adrien. She thought about going to another human village or city, where no one knew her, but every time she returned to the European style castle, Adrien’s eyes lit up like a million fireflies, and her heart felt warm when he said her name. So she returned. So she stayed.

“They sure make a lovely couple,” said Plagg, voice casual, to Tikki.

“They do,” she replied, a little dreamily.

“Too bad she’s a human who’ll die too soon.”

The little red Kwami made a pause. She looked over to Plagg and saw him eating cheese without looking at her, making a show of not caring about what he was saying. She knew him too well to notice his intentions, though. He was the yang to her yin, after all.

“What? Why would you bring that up?”

“Well, she is. She’s a human. Human lives expire faster than cheese. But I think she would be a good goddess, given the chance, if you ask me.”

“I’m not.”

Plagg shrugged and kept eating cheese, but the silence was heavy with the weight of the idea implied.

“They just seem so… compatible, like you and me. The kid’s been happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“Are you suggesting that I make Marinette the goddess of Creation?”

“Ugh, no. Wouldn’t that be awful? She’s been creating stuff since she put a foot in this place. Curtains, clothes, bread. What’s next? Furniture? As if the simplest creations of a human girl could endure the power of the mere presence of a god? Ha, no.”

Tikki knew exactly what Plagg was doing, and even if she didn’t entertain the lazy way he was using to try to get in her head, she took a moment to think. She remembered how spontaneously Marinette had created a tool to help her regain her earring, the very same piece of jewelry that helped the Kwami to give mortals the power of the gods.

If she gave Marinette the earrings… she would become a chosen one. A goddess.

“She does create a lot of things, doesn’t she?”

“I was just pointing out how well they fit” said Plagg. “It’s important that our charges do, if we don’t want things to get unnecessarily complicated. Again.”

Tikki sighed. She liked Marinette very much, and she could also read her heart as Kwamis could. She was a kind soul. She would be a compassionate goddess.

The silence stretched while she kept thinking about it. Plagg had long finished his cheese when he spoke again in a soft tone that he rarely used.

“You’ve been alone for so long…”

There had been a couple of centuries since her last goddess.

Tikki sighed, and looked in the direction where Marinette and Adrien were. They were laying on a blanket on the grass, laughing and watching the sunset. The air around them felt different. Electrified, complete. Like it usually felt when she and Plagg where near each other and in perfect harmony.

Plagg had a point. No matter how mischievous he could be, he was always serious when it came to matters of her, like her lack of a chosen one. He was always serious when it came to them.

“Let’s give them this night,” she finally said, when the sky was upon them with a million stars. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask her.”

Plagg, who was dozing beside her, smirked with his eyes closed.

“Ah, you are so easily influenced.”

“Don’t push it, stinky tabi.”

He chuckled and she smiled. She laid her head against his and closed her eyes. She knew it was a good match.

-.-

Just adding a little vocabulary in case not everyone is familiarized with traditional Japanese clothing and/or mythology:

Wataboshi: The all white hood called the wataboshi is the Shinto equivalent of the western bridal veil.  The bride wears it before and during the ceremony and is a symbol of innocence and purity.

Youkai: A are a class of supernatural monsters, spirits, and demons in Japanese folklore.

Kitsune: In the literal sense is the Japanese word for 'fox', specifically in the red fox of East Asia. Foxes are a common subject of Japanese folklore; in English, kitsune refers to them in this context. Stories depict legendary foxes as intelligent beings and as possessing paranormal abilities that increase with their age and wisdom. According to Yōkai folklore, all foxes have the ability to shapeshift into human form.

Montsuki: All black formal kimono for men. Worn in ceremonies or parties. They are also used for the martial arts, theater and very popular among artists.

Shōgi: Also known as Japanese chess.

Tabi: Traditional Japanese sock.

-.-

Well, there it is. I’m sorry if you were expecting a multichapter series and I only offer a oneshot. Also, I write fluff and made it as less controversial as posible in order to keep it one chapter long. I’m sorry if you were expecting angst. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed! I wrote it with all my heart.

[chwrpg]

MAYA DUNNSTOCK. college junior; twenty. anya chalotra. OPEN.

and, as martha dunnstock once said:

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Some people were born to lead, while others were merely around for someone to compare them to, to simply present a baseline for what made someone average. Those who were cast into a sea of people whose utterly ordinary existence served to prop up the gifted and privileged. At least that was the role Maya had relegated herself to in the Rosewood community. For years it had been hammered in her head that she was nothing but an extra even in the story of her own life. But things hadn’t always been that way. Growing up she was bursting with confidence and a lust for life. She wouldn’t say she was the most popular girl in school but she was much more sociable and willing to let people in.

Sweet little Maya wasn’t prepared for the drastic change in the status quo between elementary to middle school. In just one summer life as she knew it had been flipped on its head. The kids who had run around playing Power Rangers with her at recess had discovered various school sports and stuck with the members of their teams. The girls who had spent weekends at her house for sleepovers wiped their hands of her, looking down on her for reasons out of her control. Puberty hadn’t been so benevolent to her as to make her baby fat disappear and propel her to supermodel proportions overnight, and she didn’t try to cover up her pizza face, as the others liked to tease, with caked on layers of makeup. One of the main culprits being her childhood best friend Olivia Durai. It seemed that simply being kindhearted wasn’t enough to make people like you, or keep you around. Not once everyone became old enough to realize how much reputations meant in a small town such as Rosewood.

Even then Maya did her best to grin and bear how she had quickly become an outcast. She convinced herself that if she tried harder people would take an interest in her again. That train of thought was abruptly halted though, the day her father, a highly regarded detective, threw one of the most influential men in town into jail. While he couldn’t be faulted for simply doing his job, he had inadvertently set off the beginning of a life of hell for Maya. All because he had outsmarted a Chadwell.

That was when Maya went from being an outcast to a social pariah. People had already looked down on her family for being new money, they were practically foaming at the mouth for any excuse to run them out of town-- which her father handed to them on a silver platter when he’d closed the Chadwell case. Thus began her run ins with Tinsley Chadwell and the Heathers, the former of which wanted vindication on behalf of her family. Years of taunting, mind games, getting yogurt and other food “spilled” on her, nasty notes, and public humiliation ensued.

No one invited her to parties, or anywhere, once the Heathers had singled her out, so she knew that the invite she received to this particular party had to have been given out of pity. Still she found herself there for one reason and one reason only, her long time crush Ram Sweeney. In first grade he’d given her the first and only Valentine she’d ever received from anyone who wasn’t her father, and she’d been head over heels since. He’d been so confident, handing out his cards with cheesy one liners to everyone despite the very real threat of cooties. In retrospect it probably didn’t leave as big of an impression on him as it had her, after all everyone had passed out Valentine’s cards to the whole class. Nevertheless, despite the fact that they barely interacted in the years after that moment, the gesture had left the deepest impression on her.

Sure, it wasn’t like Ram himself hadn’t taken part in the cruel taunts and bullying his friends had turned into a sport, but after spending so much time observing him from afar she understood him better than anyone. It didn’t change how she felt about him when he called her Dumptruck with his teammates. He did what he had to do to survive, just like she did.

The party was going to change everything though. Ram had split with Poppy again, so the timing was perfect for her to muster up the courage to spill her guts about her feelings, about how she could forgive him for everything. Catching him with his tongue down Yellow’s throat was the last thing she expected, her heart breaking just a little more at her newest letdown. Dejected, she attempted to mingle if only because she’d never been to a high school party before, only to run right into the mythic bitch herself, the leader of the Heathers. A brief back and forth led to Maya catching a face full of beer straight from Red’s cup, and it wasn’t long until others, people desperate to get in Tinsley’s good graces, followed her example.

Drenched with beer in front of the entire party, the last of her strength was dissolved as she stormed out of the house-- how could people be so cruel? What had she done to deserve her life being turned into a living hell? If they knew how many nights she spent crying herself to sleep or wishing she no longer existed would they even care? Would they have a single regret for the part they’d played? These were the questions going through her head as she drove off in tears. Fortunately her despair didn’t last long. Unfortunately what replaced it was an impact, followed by pain, followed by nothingness.

When she woke, brought out of a medically induced coma two weeks later, it was to news that she’d been in an accident so bad that she would likely never walk again. The irony didn’t slip by her when she heard who had put her in the hospital. Life could be so cruel sometimes.

DURING THE PARTY;

Fresh off the plane from an extended stay in a distant European country with world class surgeons and rehabilitation facilities, Maya wasn’t surprised to hear mutterings of a secret party for recent alumni at her old high school. Not in her honor, of course, because her fifteen minutes of fame had been and gone— though the naive and lonely little girl buried within still found herself praying that someone, anyone, would be glad to see her return.

And that certain others might think they’d seen a ghost.

While Holden had secretly been living with her at the rehabilitation center - allowing her parents to keep working to finance her stubborn, yet futile, determination to walk again - he’d gradually filled her in on everything he knew about the true culprits behind her accident and the ensuing cover up. They would pay, he’d promised her, and while she assumed he meant it in a karmic sense, a darker part of her hoped for more.

The routine humiliation she’d suffered for years had been bad enough, her kind heart always persevering against all odds. The tipping point, however, came when she discovered that Tinsley had slithered her way in during the darkest moments of her life purely to soothe her own guilty conscience. Holden was right, he’d always been right. The Heathers were poison, and they deserved a taste of their own medicine.

Pre-accident Maya would have shunned the Rosewood standard notion of excess and debauchery that came with their parties, preferring to avoid any risk of public humiliation from the Heathers in the safety of her dorm. That Maya was swept under the rug though, replaced with a rebuilt version that both Holden and Tinsley Chadwell herself had helped create. It was incredible what some lessons in style and grooming and the miracle of self confidence could achieve-- the makeover itself part of the farce that had been Red’s friendship after the accident, and the self confidence worked upon over months of recovery with her cousin’s encouragement.

Now, as she wheeled through the halls, people were parting for her like the Red Sea, whispers of her name - her real name - drifting through the air as they looked on in various shades of wonder.

Dumptruck was well and truly dead and gone. In her place sat the girl she’d always wanted to be, the one she’d once envisioned in daydreams about riding off into the sunset with Ram and his sweet dimpled smile. Forged in that fiery crash, spine held together by steel, Maya didn’t owe the Heathers, or the world, a damn thing.

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

[jbuffyangel]

Timeless 2x11 Reaction: “The Miracle of Christmas Part 1 and 2″

And thus Timeless is officially over. How did the writers fair with the series finale aka The Timeless movie? Pretty freakin’ fantastic.

Let’s dig in...

It’s been several months between Timeless’ Season 2 finale and their series finale tonight, so the writers wisely include a “Previously on Timeless.” We flashback to all their adventures while Unhappy Future Lucy (who looks a little scary if I’m being honest) narrates. It helps because I seriously forgot her mother is dead. (They kill Susanna Thompson on every damn show!)

The beginning is a little jarring because storylines I expected to happen in a season or two are all happening RIGHT NOW. My brain needs time to downshift, but I eventually adjust.

First things first - dealing with the third point in the love triangle, Garcia Flynn. Timeless isn’t interested in drawing out the shipper war because Wyatt and Lucy are kind of a mess. They require some screen time so they are fixed in a realistic manner. 

Scary Future Lucy gives Present Day Lucy and Wyatt her diary. Spoiler alert: Lucy hooks up with Flynn. Spoiler alert: They break up sometime down the road because she is really in love with Wyatt. They play out Lucy and Flynn’s entire relationship in under 3 minutes. I’m not joking when I say they breeze through three to four seasons worth of triangle.

I love Goran Visnjic, and while I adore Lucy and Wyatt, I was never opposed to Lucy and Flynn. I mean yeah he’s a murderer. That’s a real negative, but it’s friggin Goran Visnic. Have you seen this guy? He’s so hot. Where Dr. Luca goes so goes my nation.

Kidding aside, the writers convey the depth of Lucy and Flynn’s relationship with just a few lines, which is an impressive writing achievement. I love how Flynn is all “I can’t believe you date me because I tried to kill you a bunch of times.” HAHAHA. Classic. And true! Ah the joy of television romance. But it ain’t gonna be you Flynn, so mosey along big fella. 

Jessica is not pregnant. UGH. I HATED THIS STORYLINE SO MUCH. 

I appreciate the writers giving it a fast and hard death, but this is one of the ways I think Season 2 went wrong. Timeless is a show that defied the typical television tropes and that’s what made it so interesting in Season 1.  However, I think their Season 2 renewal, and desire to snare more viewers, created a “throw everything, but the kitchen sink” mentality. 

They used every romance trope they could think of in Season 2 to see what would stick. It was just... not good. I don’t blame Timeless anymore than I do any other show that does this (and it’s pretty much all of them). It was just disappointing to see the show move in this direction, when previously they’d been so good at avoiding those kinds of storylines.

Flynn sacrifices himself by going back to 2012 to kill Jessica, so Rufus never dies. REDEMPTION ARC BITCHES!!! YESSSS!! 

Seriously, he is so bad ass. Flynn puts a couple bullets in Jessica (plus one extra to be sure) after a ninja knockdown fight. He knows the effects of traveling to his own timeline will kill him... or something. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Then he watches 2012 Flynn with his beautiful and living family through a window before he dies. 

Flynn leaves a goodbye letter for Lucy that pretty much says he loves her, but he knows she loves Wyatt and he wants her to be happy. So yes, GARCIA FLYNN sacrifices himself for Rufus, ensures Lucy and Wyatt find the happy ending they deserve even though he is in love with Lucy, helps stop Rittenhouse and save the world. I AM SO EMO ABOUT MY BOY RIGHT NOW!

As for Lucy and Wyatt, they tiptoe around each other for most of the two hours. Wyatt thinks she ends up with Flynn and Lucy doesn’t want to be second choice. They are the only two who remember the Jessica history. Dear God, can we all forget too? Everyone is pretty much, “Why aren’t y’all together because y’all were together before and it was perfection?” So meta.

Wyatt almost dies in an explosion while delivering a baby during the fall of North Korea. Yes, you read that correctly. WYATT LOGAN IS HERE TO SAVE NATIONS AND DELIVER BABIES!

Lucy realizes she almost lost Wyatt and they are wasting time worrying about the past. 

This part of the finale feels really predictable to me. There’s no way they are killing off Wyatt, especially after Flynn dies. Lyatt is endgame, so the two characters dancing around it for so long feels like prolonging the inevitable.

“After that explosion I thought you were dead. And for a moment I saw my whole life without you and my world ended Wyatt.”

But damn though, what a speech Lucy gives him. 

Honestly, it is slightly annoying she did most of the talking because Wyatt is the one who screwed up. At least he offers up a “I wanted to pick you Lucy, but I felt I owed Jessica because she was my baby mama” explanation. Of course, we all knew this. 

Lucy accepts Wyatt’s “I am a big pine tree” explanation because facts. Things really get cooking with some Lyatt mistletoe kissing. 

Source:  sisterzelda

Ah, a time honored holiday trope I will never grow tired of. Then they have sex

BUT CUT AWAY TOO SOON! Boo NBC!

Rufus is alive, but doesn’t remember being dead. Jiya remembers Rufus being dead, but he doesn’t remember Jiya living in Chinatown for three years in the 1800s. I think. 

Jiya is concerned she’s no longer the woman Rufus fell in love with (re: see three years of trauma). I argue Rufus fell in love with a bad ass and Jiya is still most certainly one. It is frustrating how quickly they had to go through her physical and emotional trauma from Chinatown. Ugh, this is some seriously important drama that could have been a multiple season deep dive. Stupid cancellation.

Rufus and Jiya realize they are still perfect for each other, because they are perfect for each other. They start a company together and become billionaires saving the world. Jiya’s hair color is extremely pretty in the final scenes too. I feel this is very important detail to include. I heart them. 

Source:  katie-mcgraths

Lucy and Wyatt discuss how they don’t want to become scary Lucy and Wyatt from the future and THEY DON’T BECAUSE OF FLYNN. They get married, Wyatt works for Agent Christopher on special projects, and Lucy is a tenured history professor who focuses on important historical women. BECAUSE THERE AIN’T NO TIME FOR THE MEN! That’s right fellas. Drink your tea and wait your turn.

Unfortunately, Lucy is not able to get her sister Amy back. She gives an poignant speech about grief and loss, which could be the show’s mission statement. This is how you write a series finale:

"Everybody loses someone they love. And no matter how badly they want to they can't get them back. In spite of that they find a way to go on. That's everyone's history." 

What connects all of time is our humanity. We are born. We live. We love. We suffer grief, pain and loss. We find joy. We endure. This is the thread century after century. In the end, we aren’t so different after all. 

THEN LUCY AND WYATT GET MARRIED 

Source: @splitscreen

AND HAVE TWIN GIRLS NAMED FLYNN AND AMY. 

Source: @splitscreen​

ALERT!!!!!!!!!! MULTIPLES CONCEIVED! IT IS THE DREAM! EVERYTHING IS AMAZING!!!! 

The final scene is 2023 Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus traveling to 2014 to tell Garcia Flynn about the time machine. Lucy tells Flynn he doesn’t lose his humanity even though he never gets his family back. He is the hero the team and the world needs in the end. It connects the beginning and end of Timeless so seamlessly. This was probably always going to be the bookend. I just wish we had a few more seasons in between it.

They hint at a future time machine being invented by a young girl Rufus took an interest in at the science fair. The morality of the time machine is debated between Agent Christopher and Connor. She wants to destroy it, but Connor argues they need to keep it so they can stop others from abusing its power. You can’t un-invent something. Someone sooner or later will create the same technology Connor and Rufus did. They have a responsibility to make sure time travel is not abused and another Rittenhouse does not rise. So, the time machine is kept, covered, guarded and waiting.

Do I think we’ll see a resurrected Timeless about this girl and her time machine? No. I don’t. This is the last stop on the Timeless train and, while it was a wonderful ride, it is over. Actors are released from contracts. Writers, producers, crew, etc have all moved on to other gigs. It’s a freaking miracle they even made the movie. (Apropos episode title).

Timeless approached the series finale the correct way, which is what’s important to me. They didn’t leave a bunch of loose ends. The world was saved and I saw all our beloved characters living their happy lives in peace. I need to know these characters are going to be okay, so I can say goodbye. 

Thank you Timeless for the insightful way you approached history, your cast of wonderful characters, humor and unflinching honesty. I look forward to the streaming deal so I can rewatch again and again.

Source:  yasmin-khan

Stray Thoughts

The finale is one EPIC Lucy speech after another. My girl runs this show.

Nobody was dressed appropriately for a North Korea winter. 

It looked like the mother threw her newborn into Wyatt’s arms as her son came running to her. LOL Nice catch, soldier.

"I've loved you since the Alamo." Girl is that ever right. 

Don't mock. Saint Christopher is for REAL. He has helped me out of many jams.

Hahaha. Wyatt said m'am. That's how you know it's the end.

[unfortunatelysirius]

☼☼ BEING IN LOVE WITH REMUS JOHN LUPIN WOULD INCLUDE ☼☼

[3 of 3 — Dating the <G O O D> Marauders]

❂ All love stories have a beginning, middle, and end, and for you and Remus, it was no different.

❂ The two of you met at St. Mungo's. He was in from a werewolf attack; you were in from the use of dark magic.

❂ The nurses called him a monster. They called you a victim.

❂ You thought he was gorgeous and fragile—like a glass doll, vulnerable. You were both covered in scratches and bruises that could eventually scar over. Your brains were damaged beyond repair, insecurities rising from the grave to haunt you evermore.

❂ On the second week of your stay at St. Mungo's, Remus was released. He came back a mere three hours after his dismissal to keep you company. Your parents were the causes of the wounds inflicted on you, and thus, you had no visitors—no friends, family, or even strangers.

❂ Remus liked that you didn't mock the scars aligning the crevices of his jaw. He liked that you didn't judge him for being a monster.

❂ On the first day, he read aloud Beauty and the Beast. The two of you were children, and you had never read a single fairytale in your life while Remus spent his childhood enriched in fantasy. Remus wanted to introduce you into magical realms far less sinister than the one you resided in.

❂ «I wish I were Belle.»

«You can be anyone you want to be, Y/N.»

❂ On the second day, he brought an enormous stack of fairytale novellas. He told you that his favorite was Jack and the Beanstalk, and you eagerly asked for him to read it aloud.

❂ Your parents never read to you storybooks before bedtime, and Remus's passion for fairytales filled you with delight. You wished that he had been in your life longer than just a few weeks. You wished that you had grown up knowing such a kind and benevolent soul.

❂ When you were finally released from the hospital, Aurors came and escorted you to the Ministry. They asked for you to stand on trial and recount the pain your mother and father inflicted on you.

❂ Though it hurt to remember the day's happenings, you were willing to do anything that would keep you from their custody.

❂ Your parents were put in Azkaban, and you were moved in with a muggle family that coincidentally lived in the same village as the Lupins.

❂ Remus was ecstatic to have you by his side for forever and always.

❂ Remus's mother and father both adored you, and they thought that Remus didn't deserve you.

❂ "He's a monster, Y/N."

"He's the closest thing to Prince Charming that I've ever known."

❂ You both had a ritual of going to the local park at midnight and cuddling together as you read your favorite fairytales over and over again. On full moons, it would only be you, and you'd sit and stare up at the moon, the only thought in your mind being a certain chocolate-loving werewolf and his gorgeous smile. And you would implore your ancestors to have mercy.

❂ And in that summer before the notorious Marauders would attend Hogwarts, the two of you got your letters. And that same night, two ecstatic eleven-year-olds shared their first little kiss, wrapped up in their excitement.

❂ There was no awkwardness. There was only love, compassion—faith and joy.

❂ The two of you were so happy to be attending the same school together, and the night before September 1st, Remus had looked so vulnerable.

❂ He asked, "You won't abandon me, will you?"

There wasn't a second's hesitation before you told him, "Never in a million years."

❂ On September 1st, 1971, you asked for your muggle foster parents to let you go with Remus's family, and your wish was granted.

❂ On the train, you and Remus spent the first thirty minutes alone and in a comfortable silence as you read fairytales together. Then suddenly, three fumbling imbeciles toppled into the compartment.

❂ The tallest one, Sirius, said, "Pardon us!" while the bespectacled one, James, just grinned stupidly. The pudgy one, Peter, waved awkwardly, giving a rushed apology. And the five of you become the notorious and inseparable Marauders, just like that.

❂ The five of you were sorted into Gryffindor, much to your locked-up parents' chagrin and the ever-rebellious Sirius's delight.

❂ Remus gave you a soft smile when the Sorting Hat proclaimed you a Gryffindor. He knew how worried and overwhelmed with anxiety you were in thinking you'd somehow end up a model of your mother or father. And when you came to plop down beside him, he enveloped you into a hug. Sirius and James made kissy-faces behind your backs, and if you were older and more mature, maybe you would have thrown up your middle finger as a reply.

❂ James and Sirius were the troublesome duo that always caused mischief that roped you, Remus, and Peter into detention. Peter was the ever-awed spectator who would nod vigorously at anything James said or done. You and Remus were the avid book readers and tentative lovers.

❂ One of Sirius's favorite pastimes was teasing you and Remus for being so awkwardly-in-love.

❂ "Where's the affection? Are the two of you too wrapped up in your own awkward neediness that you can't even give each other a simple peck?"

"Shut up, Sirius!"

❂ In all honesty, the only reason that you and Remus strictly forbade PDA was because of how deeply rooted Remus's insecurities were. He even neglected in asking you to be his girlfriend due to the belief embedded into his head that he was a monster.

❂ "I don't deserve you, Y/N."

"Remus, you're the only one I could ever be with. I love you!"

❂ And during the summer before third year, he finally gained the guts. There was nothing but you and Remus, an atmosphere of love and devotion, as you enveloped him in your arms and smashed your lips onto his. You murmured, "Yes," over and over again into the kiss, all until Remus laughingly put a finger between your lips and his. And for the first time in your entire life, you knew what it felt to be truly content.

❂ Hogwarts was a happy endeavor, but while you knew of Remus's "furry little secret," the other Marauders didn't. It hurt to keep such a heavy secret from your best mates, especially during full moons. But your heart would always be with Remus, your promises always kept, and his pleas for you to lie and deceive your best mates always went swiftly and steadily. You didn't want to upset Remus. You loved him more than anything in your life, and if he thought the best approach was to not get the boys involved, then you'd follow through. But the boys had other plans.

❂ On a full moon in the spring, during third year, the boys followed Remus to the Shrieking Shack. And they came back with bruises and scratches, an unconscious Remus dragged along with them.

❂ You were horrified, especially when it dawned on you that your mates had figured out his secret. Remus was going to be insecure, was going to sob from self-loathing, when he awoke to find that the beast in him had inflicted wounds onto his best friends.

❂ You ushered the four to the Hospital Wing, and you sat there by Remus's bedside, staring at him like he could wake any moment. You never truly knew how beautiful he was until that moment—until you caught a glimpse of his peaceful countenance, his soft features, his sharp jaw, his rosy lips. And still, he felt poor towards himself. He hated himself. And that bloody hurt to think about.

❂ You and the Marauders spent the rest of third year trying to fix him. You wanted to better his perception of himself, and you planned for it. You didn't want him to hate himself when he was the most caring, compassionate, and beautiful individual you'd ever met.

❂ During the beginning of fourth-year, the Marauders came up with a plan to become unregistered Animaguses. You wished to participate and help, but the boys refused.

❂ "Remus would have our hides!"

"But I want to help!"

❂ They went through, and slowly, new nicknames arose—Prongs, Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail. You thought they were rather silly, but it made Remus feel better. All the jokes and companionship—the way the boys would do anything to help Remus during full moons—made you wonder where such wonderful people had been all your life.

❂ Lily Evans, at first, had detested you, all for the love you had for the boys. But slowly, she began to soften her feelings towards you, and you, Marlene, Lily, Mary, and Alice became good friends.

❂ The last three years of Hogwarts were hard. Remus's insecurities worsened, and he needed constant validation to even feel the slightest bit better about himself, and Sirius's home situation reached an all time low. Somedays you would find him on a couch in the common-room just crying, and you would hug and console him as he sobbed his worries and insecurities into your shoulder. You and Remus were prefects every year, something that turned heated out in empty corridors as you wandered around "on patrol." And in your seventh year, you got to watch a second romance unfold—that of Lily Evans and James Potter. And you enjoyed every second of watching the slow realization of feelings.

❂ Then, the Marauders's time at Hogwarts ended. And you were set to live your lives out in the real world, but all five of you knew that you wouldn't be going anywhere. After all, Sirius needed to play best man at Jily's wedding and a little tike had to be born, one way or another.

❂ James and Lily got married a mere year after Hogwarts let out. You were the Maid of Honor, Sirius the Best Man—and when you made your toast, you threatened Lily into foreswearing she'd make you godmother of at least one of her future children. That had set the room into a bout of laughter, with Remus watching you with a soft smile dimpling his face.

❂ Three days after the wedding, Remus popped the big question. And who were you to deny the affections of your childhood sweetheart?

❂ Your wedding was a small affair, unlike that of James and Lily. You and Remus were private people, liking the quiet and relishing in times of solitude. And your romance had always been tentative; Remus wanted to kiss you and not have to worry about feeling nervous. He wanted to kiss you like he always had—like you were precious cargo, someone he never wanted to let go for as long as he lived.

❂ The two of you had a honeymoon that ended with you two more in love than ever, and you moved in together. You were happy and content to lay in his arms each night, to awaken with a soft peck to the head and a rough voice whispering, "Good morning." You had always dreamed of a happily-ever-after like this since you were a little girl. And you had got it.

❂ But life isn't a fairy-tale. And happy endings sure-as-hell don't go without a price.

❂ And when James and Lily died, you and Remus fought to have custody of Harry. But Professor Dumbledore refused, stating that he had to be in the custody of his aunt and uncle.

❂ "That will not a true home, Professor! They won't love him."

"We can give him happiness. We can be a family."

❂ That night, you both cried for your losses. You cried for James, for Lily, for Peter—three innocent lives, taken. And Sirius, how his betrayal fractured your soul into pieces. Then Harry, young and innocent Harry being stripped away from two willing and loving parental figures and put into the custody of two magic-hating Muggles. And it was so unfair. You wouldn't know the golden boy with James's face and Lily's eyes, the child whose first word was "Paddy" and favorite pastime was riding a miniature broomstick. You wouldn't know him.

❂ At least you had each other. And for now, that was all that you needed.

[comicteaparty]

July 22nd-July 28th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from July 22nd, 2019 to July 28th, 2019.  The chat focused on Tales of Midgard: The Age of Magic by Attila Polyák and Erzsébet Schlett.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Tales of Midgard: The Age of Magic by Attila Polyák and Erzsébet Schlett~! (https://talesofmidgard.com/comic/book-1-cover-page/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PDT), so keep checking back for more! You have until July 28th to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. Insofar, what are your theories on Anne’s past history? Why did she become a knight, and what do you think is the story with her parents? Additionally, what do you think happened to her as a mage that she hopes doesn’t happen to Amy?

snuffysam

My favorite scene in the comic thus far was the fight between Anne and Bernard (chapter 7, and a little bit of chapter 6). It's an incredible action setpiece, with cool techniques on both sides, and the way Bernard tries to sway Anne to his side makes him a really memorable villain.(edited)

Honorable mention to the ending of chapter 1. I love a good hook, and the reveal that Anne's armor was fake the whole time made me sit up sharply in my seat.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 4. Why do you think Erik is still a B rank mage? Is he really satisfied taking on lower level missions, or is there something he isn’t telling Anne? How do you think he and Anne even became partners?

RebelVampire

1) My favorite scene is probably the one where Erik is fighting on the...roof plateau area (whatever you want to call it) against two mages. While Anne has gotten plenty of action to be awesome, I felt until this point that we hadn't gotten to see Erik's true colors. Then whoosh, suddenly Erik is like "let me show you how amazing earth magic is" not to mention Erik got blinded and still whipped their butts. 2) In terms of Anne's past history, I get the impression for sure that she's an orphan. So probably not dissimilar to Amy where she went to learn magic partly out of not having anywhere else to go. I personally think she did something unexpected and bad with magic. Not enough that ppl were like "oh no monster" but enough that the academy place kicked her out. So then she left and became a knight because she was no longer welcome to become a mage at the academy at least.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 5. What has been your favorite illustration in the comic so far? What specifically about it do you like?

QUESTION 6. How do you think Amy will continue to affect Anne as the story goes on? Do you think Anne will still be able to be a good mentor, or will it be damaged by the missions she takes? Additionally, is educational reform the only reason she was asked to mentor Amy?

RebelVampire

3) My fave character at the moment is definitely Erik. Which I just relate to the whole "i could probably do this thing but that sounds like a lot of effort" attitude. Plus I like his sort of...air of mystery? Cause at the very least he's a lot less open compared to Anne so I'm really intrigued where he stands on everything. 4) I think Erik is still a lower ranked mage partly cause of the reason he said (ie lazy lack of ambition) and partly for reasons that he's not telling Anne. Though I don't have any theories on what he's not telling her. But I don't think its friendship ending, more like something Anne would be surprised to learn. In terms of how they became partners, I kind of feel like they probably got assigned to the same mission or something and just clicked. Since they both seem kind of radical in what they're willing to do so I imagine that gave them a bond. Since if I was an average mage I probably wouldn't necessary want to go on their crazy missions with them. XD

Attila Polyák

Erik gets a lot of love. Cool! Earth bending wins!

RebelVampire

QUESTION 7. Which characters do you enjoy seeing interact the most? What about their dynamic interests you?

QUESTION 8. What are your opinions of Anne’s theory about what Charr is up to? What does this have to do with the box that she and Erik had to retrieve twice? How does this tie into Bernard being found dead in an impossible place and Igor Björn being in Minas Fril?

RebelVampire

5) my favorite illustration so far is probably the bottom panel on this page https://talesofmidgard.com/comic/ch7-p18/ I really love the use of the fire both in the background and foreground. It's used in a really nice way that frames the picture. I also like the little spark details flying off the fire. Gotta love them particle effects. 6) I think Amy is kind of gonna force Anne to mature and think more about her actions. Cause as I've said before I believe, Anne can be a bit reckless. Like gettng stabbed in the leg, for example.. And I think the desire to continue to help Amy will have Anne going "but if I do this thing I'll get hurt and that will hurt Amy." I do think the missions will damage her mentorship to a degree. but more in the what if sense where Amy will be fine but it had the potential to be more. I think for the most part Anne will be a good mentor though, cause she cares a lot. In terms of educational reform, I do think that's part of the reason. However, I also get the impression that there was something more in there. Like the mentorship is just as much to help Anne personally grow as it is for Amy.

7) Anne and Erik are the characters I like to see interact most. They have a really fantastic dynamic that comes with a good amount of well-intentioned jabs, cooperation, and balance of personality. Plus I think they both have the highest capacity to reveal each other's backstore more in terms of story. 8) To be honest, I thought Anne's theories were a bit convoluted, albeit definitely with some truth in them. I feel they're definitely missing some crucial information that will make the puzzle snap though. As for the box, I assume it contained information or something that would be so bad it'd help rally the people or something. I think the Bernard and Igor things are misdirects of trying to keep everyone thinking things are fine, nothing to see here. Though I think Igor is also trying to convince others to stay out of the war that may be happening soon. In subtle sneak ways of course.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 9. What sorts of art or story details have you noticed in the way the comic is crafted that you think deserves attention?

QUESTION 10. How do you believe the Crimson Charr Reunification Army is faring, and how might they return to have a role in Anne’s personal story? Do you believe Bernard is actually dead? If so, what might have ominous final orders have been?

RebelVampire

QUESTION 11. What do you think are this particular comic’s strengths? What do you think makes this comic unique? Please elaborate.

QUESTION 12. Why do you think that the negotiations in Minas Fril seem to have been complicated and going to take longer than Anne had anticipated? Do you think things will go in Dyr’s favor, or will something sour the event?

RebelVampire

9) I really love all the details of the trees and leaves during the chapters where they're in the forest. I especially really like the shading and the use of different levels of background. It really brought a lot and made it feel very forest like. And it's nature so that definitely takes a lot of effort. 10) If I had to take a guess, I assume their boss' death really took them a few steps backwards. However, I do think they're gonna purposely seek at Anne, if only for revenge. Cause I don't think Anne is going to be forgiven. Which as that statement implies, I do think Bernard actually died. Especially after that foreshadowing where he was talking about the final orders. In terms of what the final orders were, it was probably a "do this one last thing that will spark the war" or someting. Cause don't need the reunification army when the goals are achieved. XD

RebelVampire

11) I think the comic's strength is definitely character interactions. You got a lot of drama, a lot of endearing moments, a lot of intrigue. It's really just got everything you could want and its all balanced and logical. So the characters really are what drive the story and make the scenes interesting. 12) If Anne's theories are right, it's possible that people in Dyr aren't the only people who suspect the upcoming war or political intrigue going on at least. And from the description of Dyr's position, I imagine they are a vulnerable country where nothing is ever easy. Cause it'd be super easy to just prey on them and get whatever you want cause you know Dyr needs the support of your country. So I imagine no matter how smooth things are supposed to go, it's never that smooth. I do think something is going to sour the event while they're in Minas Fril and further complicate their position. Though I don't have any clues as to what atm.

snuffysam

One thing I really like about the art in this comic is the way magic looks. Everything is so sparkly and pretty and smooth all at once... it's really inviting.

I'm not sure if Bernard actually died or not... the newspaper article seemed pretty fishy to me. If he is dead, I think the reunification army lied about the location for... some strategic reason. Possibly relating to those last orders he was giving?

snuffysam

I agree with you Rebel, the comic's greatest strengths are the characters and their interactions. My favorite is Anne teaching Amy. Amy is really cute and determined, and you learn a lot about how Anne had to grow up through those interactions. Though I also love the banter you get between Anne and Erik - two close friends who do all their work together, despite being very different in some ways.(edited)

NiaNook

1) I have a soft spot for the first inn scene https://talesofmidgard.com/comic/ch2-p16/ It was a brief little breath of air where we get to see the more day-to-day details of these two partners. But most of all, between the atmosphere of the room and the beautiful little town (bottom panel in the page I linked) it felt so cozy! And what can be more comfortable than curling up in bed in some PJs after wearing big heavy armor all day? :'D I will also second that Eric's fight on top of the cave was pretty interesting. We're seeing a lot of impressive and new spells from all the parties involved, at play! 2) For Anne's history, I have to wonder if her parents had anything to do with the war, as she has strong feelings towards her home, Dyr, but that's a loose guess. As for whatever it was that happened with her mage training, I'm imagining some scenario where she accidentally "demonstrates" her skills in a way that causes a lot of property damage. Impressive, but destructive! 3) Mia! That lady comes off as those steely-eyed, strict military types that would be hard to approach, but the next moment as soon as her shift ends, she melts into romance mode and goes to bring her lover a cake. That contrast in her character was so charming. 4) Wouldn't put it past Eric to be hiding something, but as far as I know, maybe the guy just doesn't give others the opportunity to recognize his strength. 5) Oh man, there are so many backgrounds I've been wanting to gush about throughout the comic. The town scenes, the forests, the sunsets.... Every panel since they made it to Minas Fril was pure scenery eye-candy! @o@ Just look at this https://talesofmidgard.com/comic/ch16-p19/ And there's this really cool panel of Eric about to bust out some mad magics on those wolves. https://talesofmidgard.com/comic/ch15-p07/

NiaNook

6) Echoing RebelVampire's thoughts, I'm hoping Amy will help Anne mature and grow as a character. It gives her something serious to work for; something to protect. I do have an anxiety that something bad will happen between her and Amy once Anne gets back from her mission. Like, maybe Amy will have gone through a hardship that Anne wasn't there for her for... 7) Well, besides Mia's and Gjurd's relationship, I like seeing Mr. Mannfred's interactions with the others. This is a high profile dude with no apparent fighting skills, yet here he is LEADING the way into danger with Anne and Eric behind. From how he treats others, he gives off "good leader" vibes. I wonder what other surprises he has under his hat. 8) I'm not even sure if Bernard is really dead at all, or if they're using his death as a tool to rile up people for war. Whatever the reason, I think her theory of trying to keep the countries from forming alliances holds some water. 9) I'm going to gush about background details, again. I like the detail put in that gives you something to look at on every page, like the town-people in their colorful outfits interacting. Couldn't help but notice that Anne had some dead-flowers outside of her apartment! 10) They seem small and weak, as a whole, but methinks they've got the determination and brainpower to /make things happen/. 11) The comic definitely has some cute moments, but I think the world is what does it for me. You start out a little dazed and confused (as most long-running stories go), but a few chapters in and it seems like a very neat place to live with likable blends of magic and technology. 12) I'll give the Charr reunification army some credit and say they're probably having some success in complicating things, though I think it would hurt Ilial more than Dyr, if I'm understanding the situation?(edited)

RebelVampire

QUESTION 13. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

QUESTION 14. Why do you think Lucretia has taken an interest in Anne? What could this mean for Anne’s future? Ultimately, how do you think Lucretia’s role as an archmage might help or hurt Anne as the world events start to take a serious turn?

RebelVampire

13) I'm actually hoping to see Erik and Amy interact in the future. Since Amy is an important part of Anne's life now, I'm interested to see how Erik adjusts to that and what good Erik can maybe do for Amy too or something. 14) Honestly I kind of...just think Lucretia thinks Anne is hot and bold. XD If I was in Lucretia's position, it'd probably also just be nice to know someone who isnt some political backstabber looking for any sign of weakness. I think Lucretia is going to help Anne by feeding her info and warnings that Anne probably wouldn't otherwise have access too. For what reason hard to say, but for now I don't think there'll be any hurt. Probably. Maybe.

Attila Polyák

Thank you all for reading and sharing your views on Tales of Midgard here! Hope you all had a good time while reading my work!

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Tales of Midgard: The Age of Magic this week! Please also give a special thank you to Attila Polyák and Erzsébet Schlett for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Tales of Midgard: The Age of Magic, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://talesofmidgard.com/comic/book-1-cover-page/

Tales of Midgard’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/talesofmidgard

Tales of Midgard’s Webshop: https://talesofmidgard.com/webshop/

Tales of Midgard’s Paypal.me: https://www.paypal.me/talesofmidgard

Tales of Midgard’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/MidgardComic

[notaninja83]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137507/chapters/55369060#workskin

My Heart is to You

Chapter 1: Soft Heart, Cold Eyes

Xuē let out a soft breath, which came out as a small cloud from her dark mask. Her ice blue eyes lingered on the door, then back to the windows, which poured out the soft yellow light, signalling to her that her targets are still very much awake. But that was fine. The young assassin was fine with waiting, as her training prepared her for it. She could feel her companions shift behind her, uncomfortable in the bushes they occupied. But they never mattered to her, despite being fellow Lin Kuei. Except perhaps her lover, Hydro. But this was a mission, and she had to pretend that he meant nothing to her. The 23 year old woman adjusted herself, her legs beginning to cramp up as she had been kneeling for hours.

“How much longer?” The taller man, Hydro, hissed. He may have been the eldest, but Xuē was in charge of the operation. She would decide when they attacked, or if her companions would stay behind. And she was lingering towards the latter, especially if who the target was is really whom it was. Her father, Zhang Wei.

He was a prominent member of the Lin Kuei, and son of the infamous Sub-Zero, Xuē’s grandfather. He was to fight his father for the title, but seemingly vanished shortly before the fight to the death. So the honor went to Xuē on her 20th birthday. And while difficult, she ended up the victor, thus earning the title of Sub-Zero for herself. It was unheard of, since the likelihood of a woman becoming a warrior was nigh slim to none. But her cryomancy gave her an edge above the competition, and her bloodthirsty nature was not one to be trifled with; her grandfather made sure of that. But because of her father’s betrayal, she made it her personal mission to end his life, to punish him for betraying the Lin Kuei. And more importantly, for abandoning his daughter when she needed him most. It was more insulting to find out he had a new family, with two boys and a young wife.

“You will stay here and provide back up.” She replies coldly, not looking back at him. “I will signal you if needed, but this is my mission. I shall be the one to eliminate Zhang Wei and his new... Family.” She added the last part venomously, making her feelings on the matter very clear. Hydro held his tongue, choosing not to correct his lover on the matter of showing emotion.

“Of course Sub-Zero.” He replied robotically, glancing away from the younger woman’s back and to the quiet house. The lights flickered off, causing Sub-Zero to let out the softest sigh. She waited a half an hour, giving her targets time to fall asleep before she crept forward, and disappeared through an open window. She surprised a tongue cluck, but rolled her eyes at her father’s stupidity. Perhaps being away from the Lin Kuei softened him. Either way, it made her job easier. She looked around the dark room, an ice dagger forming in her fist. It must have been the living room, as it had two squishy looking couches, a blue arm chair, an ugly wooden coffee table and a rectangular tv that was on, the volume turned to a low hum. A sitcom of sorts, but that was no concern to the female assassin.

She made her way down the dark hallway, quiet as shadows. She found one of her targets curled in bed, Zhang Wei. Smiling sweetly, she covered his mouth with her free hand, revelling in the fear as his eyes bugged open. No words needed to be exchanged as he seemingly recognised her. But that was all he got to do before she plunged her knife into his throat and removed her hand from his mouth. She enjoyed the way he gurgled and choked on his own blood before falling silent, eyes still wide and staring blankly at the ceiling. Carefully, she pulled the dagger out.

“You deserve this.” She whispered to his corpse. “You deserve worse.” She heard a sharp gasp to her right and looked up, staring down a horrified young woman, no older than herself. The woman opened her mouth, vaguely reminding Xuē of a fish. But no scream came out, as she quickly threw the dagger, burying the blade into the woman’s forehead. She moved quickly, catching the woman before she hit the floor. “Unfortunate.” She tutted. “If only you didn’t marry him, you might’ve gotten to live much longer. Oh well.” She tucked the woman into bed, making it look as though she were sleeping. Grabbing the hilt of her dagger, she yanked it out of the woman’s skull with a sickening squishing sound.

Sub-Zero moved into the room nearby, the room of a baby. A boys room, she guessed. It had the name ‘Liang’ in cute little wooden letters on the door. A crib sat near the window, bathing the baby boy that slept in it with moonlight. He couldn’t be any older than a few months, a pacifier tucked into his mouth. And he was tiny, even for his age. Pale skin, and already starting to grow dark hair. The assassin moved to his side and positioned her blade, holding it over the baby’s heart. She sucked in a deep breath, ready to stab the child when he seemingly opened his eyes, staring at her with the warmest pair of chocolate brown eyes she had ever seen. And it hit her like a sucker punch, leaving her almost breathless. The baby studied her, before smiling behind his pacifier and cooking up at her, reaching up to the assassin. Letting the dagger melt, she gently reached down and picked up the baby, her cold skin hardly bothering him. He let out another cooing sound, reaching up to grasp her mask, squirming in her arms happily.

Emotions shot through Xuē that she wasn’t familiar with. And that scared her. This baby, this infant.. He had never met her, yet he stared at her so adoringly, like she was his number one. “Liang.” She whispered. And it hit her. She couldn’t kill this baby. No, Xuē wanted to keep this baby. So innocent, so helpless. He made her feel something. She heard shuffling behind her and turned, staring down a 7 year old boy. He had shaggy black hair and piercing icy eyes. The boy stared at her, dumbfounded, mouth wide open. Instinctively, Xuē kneeled before him, clutching Liang close. “Hello.” She whispered. The boy was just silent, fearful of her. “I’m not here to hurt you.” Sub-Zero added, pulling down her hood and one handedly removing her mask. She gave the boy a gentle smile. “I’m Xuē, your sister.” Recognition flashes through the boys eyes, though he didn’t move closer. “Father mentioned you.” He finally whispered back. “He spoke fondly of you.”

Xuē nodded, still smiling a little. “Father asked me to take you two in.” The boy tilted his head, confusion and angst crossing to his face. “Why?” He croaked out. “Doesn’t he love us? Why would he want us gone?” Xuē shook her head. “No, that’s not it. He wants you to join the Lin Kuei, to become strong. And he thinks that it’s best with me. I will explain it more later, okay?” The boy looked just as confused, but slowly nodded. “Okay..” that bought Xuē more time to think of a story, and to speak with her companions. Carefully, she put her mask and hood back on. “Climb on my back and don’t let go.” She whispered to the boy. He nodded, moving behind her. Once his legs and arms were secured around the assassin, she stood up and left the home, returning to her companions. She shot them looks to remain silent as they teleported back to the temple. Leaving Hydro to give the report, Xuē went to her room, laying the infant onto her bed mat. “Go to sleep.” She whispered to the boy. “I’ll be back, I promise.” He nodded, curling up next to his brother, watching Sub-Zero as she left, waiting outside her closed door. Sure enough, Hydro came by, mask gone, revealing an annoyed look on the older man’s face.

“Want to explain what is going on?” He demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at her, though his expression lacked the anger. Shifting, Sub-Zero sighed and looked at the wall. “I.. I couldn’t do it.” She confessed. “I couldn’t kill the baby. I.. they’re my brothers..” Hydro huffed impatiently. “Zhang Wei was your father, yet you were eager to kill him.” He pointed out. Xuē glared at her lover, sneering a little, though her mask covered it. “That’s different.” She growled. “The boy, Liang.. he’s innocent. I looked into his eyes and I knew.. I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill him. And I won’t let anyone else kill him either.” She added firmly, though she knew he wouldn’t dare suggest it. “I.. I’ll make them my responsibility. I’ll train them to be Lin Kuei warriors. And if I can convince the grandmaster of their potential as cryomancers, he’d be a fool to kill them.” Hydro’s cheek twitched as he studied the young woman. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but only nodded. “I will help. You may be skilled with taking lives, but can you take care of them just as well? No. It is difficult.” Xuē grumbled, then sighed. “You’re.. ugh. I know you’re right Faolan. But..” she sighed, taking her mask off. “I just.. let me do something that doesn’t involve killing.” The older man clucked his tongue, pulling her closer. “Of course A Mhuirnín. I’m here for you. Is brea liom tú.” He murmured, kissing her forehead. He held her close, knowing that’s what she’d want, even if she hardly voiced it. And they stayed that way until they had to part and sleep in their respective rooms.

[chwpromoblog]

MAYA DUNNSTOCK. college junior; twenty. anya chalotra. OPEN.

and, as martha dunnstock once said:

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Some people were born to lead, while others were merely around for someone to compare them to, to simply present a baseline for what made someone average. Those who were cast into a sea of people whose utterly ordinary existence served to prop up the gifted and privileged. At least that was the role Maya had relegated herself to in the Rosewood community. For years it had been hammered in her head that she was nothing but an extra even in the story of her own life. But things hadn’t always been that way. Growing up she was bursting with confidence and a lust for life. She wouldn’t say she was the most popular girl in school but she was much more sociable and willing to let people in.

Sweet little Maya wasn’t prepared for the drastic change in the status quo between elementary to middle school. In just one summer life as she knew it had been flipped on its head. The kids who had run around playing Power Rangers with her at recess had discovered various school sports and stuck with the members of their teams. The girls who had spent weekends at her house for sleepovers wiped their hands of her, looking down on her for reasons out of her control. Puberty hadn’t been so benevolent to her as to make her baby fat disappear and propel her to supermodel proportions overnight, and she didn’t try to cover up her pizza face, as the others liked to tease, with caked on layers of makeup. One of the main culprits being her childhood best friend Olivia Durai. It seemed that simply being kindhearted wasn’t enough to make people like you, or keep you around. Not once everyone became old enough to realize how much reputations meant in a small town such as Rosewood.

Even then Maya did her best to grin and bear how she had quickly become an outcast. She convinced herself that if she tried harder people would take an interest in her again. That train of thought was abruptly halted though, the day her father, a highly regarded detective, threw one of the most influential men in town into jail. While he couldn’t be faulted for simply doing his job, he had inadvertently set off the beginning of a life of hell for Maya. All because he had outsmarted a Chadwell.

That was when Maya went from being an outcast to a social pariah. People had already looked down on her family for being new money, they were practically foaming at the mouth for any excuse to run them out of town-- which her father handed to them on a silver platter when he’d closed the Chadwell case. Thus began her run ins with Tinsley Chadwell and the Heathers, the former of which wanted vindication on behalf of her family. Years of taunting, mind games, getting yogurt and other food “spilled” on her, nasty notes, and public humiliation ensued.

No one invited her to parties, or anywhere, once the Heathers had singled her out, so she knew that the invite she received to this particular party had to have been given out of pity. Still she found herself there for one reason and one reason only, her long time crush Ram Sweeney. In first grade he’d given her the first and only Valentine she’d ever received from anyone who wasn’t her father, and she’d been head over heels since. He’d been so confident, handing out his cards with cheesy one liners to everyone despite the very real threat of cooties. In retrospect it probably didn’t leave as big of an impression on him as it had her, after all everyone had passed out Valentine’s cards to the whole class. Nevertheless, despite the fact that they barely interacted in the years after that moment, the gesture had left the deepest impression on her.

Sure, it wasn’t like Ram himself hadn’t taken part in the cruel taunts and bullying his friends had turned into a sport, but after spending so much time observing him from afar she understood him better than anyone. It didn’t change how she felt about him when he called her Dumptruck with his teammates. He did what he had to do to survive, just like she did.

The party was going to change everything though. Ram had split with Poppy again, so the timing was perfect for her to muster up the courage to spill her guts about her feelings, about how she could forgive him for everything. Catching him with his tongue down Yellow’s throat was the last thing she expected, her heart breaking just a little more at her newest letdown. Dejected, she attempted to mingle if only because she’d never been to a high school party before, only to run right into the mythic bitch herself, the leader of the Heathers. A brief back and forth led to Maya catching a face full of beer straight from Red’s cup, and it wasn’t long until others, people desperate to get in Tinsley’s good graces, followed her example.

Drenched with beer in front of the entire party, the last of her strength was dissolved as she stormed out of the house-- how could people be so cruel? What had she done to deserve her life being turned into a living hell? If they knew how many nights she spent crying herself to sleep or wishing she no longer existed would they even care? Would they have a single regret for the part they’d played? These were the questions going through her head as she drove off in tears. Fortunately her despair didn’t last long. Unfortunately what replaced it was an impact, followed by pain, followed by nothingness.

When she woke, brought out of a medically induced coma two weeks later, it was to news that she’d been in an accident so bad that she would likely never walk again. The irony didn’t slip by her when she heard who had put her in the hospital. Life could be so cruel sometimes.

DURING THE PARTY;

Fresh off the plane from an extended stay in a distant European country with world class surgeons and rehabilitation facilities, Maya wasn’t surprised to hear mutterings of a secret party for recent alumni at her old high school. Not in her honor, of course, because her fifteen minutes of fame had been and gone— though the naive and lonely little girl buried within still found herself praying that someone, anyone, would be glad to see her return.

And that certain others might think they’d seen a ghost.

While Holden had secretly been living with her at the rehabilitation center - allowing her parents to keep working to finance her stubborn, yet futile, determination to walk again - he’d gradually filled her in on everything he knew about the true culprits behind her accident and the ensuing cover up. They would pay, he’d promised her, and while she assumed he meant it in a karmic sense, a darker part of her hoped for more.

The routine humiliation she’d suffered for years had been bad enough, her kind heart always persevering against all odds. The tipping point, however, came when she discovered that Tinsley had slithered her way in during the darkest moments of her life purely to soothe her own guilty conscience. Holden was right, he’d always been right. The Heathers were poison, and they deserved a taste of their own medicine.

Pre-accident Maya would have shunned the Rosewood standard notion of excess and debauchery that came with their parties, preferring to avoid any risk of public humiliation from the Heathers in the safety of her dorm. That Maya was swept under the rug though, replaced with a rebuilt version that both Holden and Tinsley Chadwell herself had helped create. It was incredible what some lessons in style and grooming and the miracle of self confidence could achieve-- the makeover itself part of the farce that had been Red’s friendship after the accident, and the self confidence worked upon over months of recovery with her cousin’s encouragement.

Now, as she wheeled through the halls, people were parting for her like the Red Sea, whispers of her name - her real name - drifting through the air as they looked on in various shades of wonder.

Dumptruck was well and truly dead and gone. In her place sat the girl she’d always wanted to be, the one she’d once envisioned in daydreams about riding off into the sunset with Ram and his sweet dimpled smile. Forged in that fiery crash, spine held together by steel, Maya didn’t owe the Heathers, or the world, a damn thing.

alternate faceclaims and prompts.