#with this on my conscience any longer like i will just pray every single day in ramadan for him and ask Allah to forgive him and forgive me

[gentlesounds]

.

[yunhostinyuyu]

no one‘s gonna believe that

pairing: co-worker!ten x fem reader ft. co-worker!johnny

genre: work!au, suggestive, little smutty

wc: 2.1k

synopsis: Y/N tried to escape the flirtatious attempts of one of her colleagues, but thankfully someone else stepped in to help...

warnings: mentioned sexual harassment, hickeys, they’re basically just making out at work

—

You find yourself in the break room by the water dispenser, and waiting for what feels like ages for your jug to fill up all the way. Internally praying that a certain someone would leave you alone, and that he would not appear out of thin air right now, just to hit on you. But of course, your prayers were not answered:

„Hey there, Y/N, how are you doing?“ the tall man in question walked up to you and stood just a few inches away from your small form. Internally cursing at him, but not letting your discomfort about his presence show.

„Hi, Johnny... I‘m good, thanks for asking“ you tried to dismiss his attempt on starting a conversation with you. It could be nice having someone like Johnny swoon over you, yes. He was indeed a very handsome man, but everyone knew that he isn’t a keeper, and quite frankly you were just not into one night stands or anything casual. Admitting to yourself that you were a hopeless romantic, but  at the same time you were okay with being single for now. This way you could have all your attention on work, no distractions. And if you didn’t knew better from your other coworkers, who have worked here longer than you, you would think he just really attentive in trying to seduce you. But not only have you witnessed him behaving worse in order to get what he wants, the stories that are being told about him around the office are ten times worse. So you wanted to avoid him at all costs, telling him you are in a relationship, or currently seeing someone, but he doesn’t believe you - lack of evidence. Today however, you came prepared.

As your jug was full enough, you tried to walk around him in order to get back to your office, but you were unsuccsessful in your attempt. He took another step to cut of your way back. “Why are you always in such a rush? It’s break time soon, isn't it?”. You sighed to yourself, but quiet enough for him not to register.

“I would really love to Johnny but, I have an important file open on my PC that i need to finish and submit tonight...” you dragged your hand up to your shoulder, pushing the soft material of your loose blouse to the side, revealing a hickey you placed there by yourself. Yes, you went as far as giving yourself hickeys to get rid of him. It sounds stupid, yes, but he has been trying shooting his shot for weeks now and he didn't accept any of your excuses, assuming you were playing hard to get. And you tried every trick in the book, except for one: being said love bite on your pale skin that was on show now for him to see.

His eyes wandered to the red and purple spot and widened in shock. You send him a quick apologetic smile as you walk around him, dashing towards your cubicle in a hurry.

You placed the jug on the edge of your desk and turned your attention back to the piece of work that was right in front of you. Only sounds coming from you were the keys of your keyboard being pressed rythmically and and eventual clicks of your mouse. Even if this wasn't your favorite type of work, it was a way of proofing that you are indeed a talented writer and deserved the promotion your boss was dangling in front of everyone in your division for the past couple of weeks. And you were eager to get it. Minutes pass by and you loose track of time as you only focus lies on the task at hand.

“Now, you know that no one’s gonna believe that?”

You turn your head around and find one of your colleagues at the entrance of your little cubicle. But as you see his face, you turn right back around and continue typing. “Believe what, Ten? You see that I’m busy, right?”

He just chuckles and moves towards your chair, starting to explain his intrusion. “Of course i know that, Y/N, we all work our asses off for that promotion. But I’m speaking of your amateurish attempts on getting Johnny off your back. And I have to admit, the idea wasn't bad, but poorly executed. You played yourself.”

The only thing you could manage for now was a half hearted scoff. Ten was a decent guy, but borderline annoying some times, now being an excellent example. He was friends with Johnny, so you didn't understand what he was hinting at.

“Last time I checked my relationships were non of your business.” you remonstrated. But Ten wasn't buying it as easily as Johnny did minutes ago.

“Listen, I’m not trying to defend him, I admit that I think most of the women in here give him a bad wrap for things he might have said or done while being drunk, but that’s not the reason why I’m here right now, Y/N. You see, first of all, who would give you a hickey on your shoulder of all places? Chest, okay, i get it, neck, i get it. But shoulder? He will become suspicious of it soon enough.”

Your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment as Ten dismantled your disguise right on the spot. It was humiliating being called out like this. You couldn't even keep you lie up for longer than a day, but Ten was right, you both knew it. You pushed the keyboard back in frustration, turning yourself to the side to look at the slim figure.

“What else am I supposed to do? He won't take no for an answer and I fucking enjoy my single life. And I can't be mean enough to tell him to fuck off now, can I? I don’t know, Ten, tell me!” you exclaim, both anger and frustration tangible in your tone, and he whips his head in all directions to make sure no one heard your mini-outburst. 

The older one crotches down, so that he won't be visible for people walking around in the office. You try to calm down and get your focus back to work, which seemed almost impossible after Ten took apart your plan into small bits and pieces, trying to hide your state behind your hands and covering your face up with them.

“Listen, I know you damn well by now, so don’t fight me on this. But, I may or may not have a solution for you, that could get Johnny off your heels for good. But feel free to tell me to fuck off anytime, darling. It’s just an offer.” He asserted while patting your hair lightly. Slowly but surely taking your fingers off your eyelids to look him into his eyes. There was no sign of pranking you or any sarcastic comment being in sight, but you still sneered at him in response.

“Don’t pull any shit on me, I’m warning you. What’s the solution?”

ignoring your moody comment, he continues his explanation unbothered.

“If you would really have a boyfriend, Johnny would leave you alone, but you play hard to get without realizing it... You see, your own mouth can only reach so far...” his fingers trailing up to your selfmade hickey, traveling further up to your throat and neck, “while someone else's mouth can reach much further”.

Without a second thought, you slap his hand away. “Thanks, but no thanks. Can you now kindly piss off?” Ten visibly took offense to your reaction, pulling himself back into a standing position. 

“Suit yourself. But don’t come back to me when you realize your plan was doomed to fail.” and he disappeared out of your workspace. To say his offer didn’t leave you hot and bothered would be a lie, but you pushed all that aside, before taking another gulp of water and once again, shifting your concentration on the file.

-

Another week goes by, and unfortunately, Johnny didn't leave you alone, still hitting on you every time you crossed paths. The hickey on your shoulder left a sour taste in his mouth, and it really didn't imply that you were in a relationship at all. His comments teasing you about the guy that gave you the hickey, making it harder and harder each day to get out of his presence, to the point were you didn’t leave your cubicle on your own anymore. It was all starting to eat on your conscience and take your confidence away. With every passing day, you were conflicted over and over again, debating if you should pick up on Ten’s offer. Yet, you find your eyes glued onto his work space, were he busied himself with a shit load of work. What’s the harm in asking him to do what he has come up by himself? you keep thinking to yourself, but then still unsure if it was the right thing to do.

Sighing to yourself, but your legs are already taking you to his desk, only a few cubicles away from your own. You turn again, just realizing that it was past 18:00 o'clock and most of your co-workers already left, leaving only a handful of people that are all eager to finish their work as soon as possible.

As you bring your hand to knock on his glass shield, immediate regret makes itself present in your system, but it’s already too late now. He turns around in his office chair and a smile appeared on his lips the moment he saw you. Genuinely glad about seeing you right now.

“Hey! What’s up? You’re still here?” he asks as he leans back and lets his eyes trail over your form, oversized black blouse that is messily tucked into your blue high waisted jeans. A forced smile stretching over your thin lips before you replied.

“Yeah, uhm, kinda... Am I interrupting you or something?” stammering and tumbling over your own words, awkwardly crossing your arms. He eyes you skeptically, clearly noticing your nervousness.

“No, not at all, why? Did something happen, dear?” his tone calm and comforting, even if you didn't expect this reaction from him. You bit your tongue before you continued.

“No! Well, uhm, yeah... kinda? The Johnny thing- you know, uhm... I was just wondering if-” you stammered and tried your hardest to avoid eye contact, feeling uneasy about the whole thing still. You felt stupid, really, even after he reacted so harshly after he suggested this whole thing for the first time.

He coos as he gets what you’re hinting at, “Aww, so you did realize your plan wasn’t working out, huh? I figured, but I didn’t realize you would actually take up on my offer after all, even if you were rude last time.”

Your ears turn red the longer you stood in front of him. “I’m sorry about that, I didn't mean it...” Truly expecting him to tease you further, but that wasn't the case. Instead he stretched his arms out towards you, motioning for you to come and take a seat on his lap, and you carefully did just that. Making him look at the side of your face from the angle you sat down. Ten took hold of your hands, and rubbed little cirlces into your palms. 

“Are you sure you want me to do this? Just tell me to stop and I will.” He asked for consent, but you nodded eagerly in reply. “I trust you with this. It’s okay.”

He nodded as his eyes were fixed on your exposed neck, fingers slowly touching the skin before he leaned in. Hands wandering to the crook of your neck and your hip respectively. As he started to place wet kisses all over your chest and neck area, sucking on the skin quite harshly, your fingers gripped his hair at the sensation, and you readjusted your sitting position, for Ten to have better access. You quickly lost yourself at the sensation of his lips and tongue working on creating dark marks all over yourself.

To your surprise, after only giving you a few more sucks and bites, he pulled back to admire his work of art. Secretly hoping that he would continue for a little longer, but you snapped back into reality quite quickly. Hands detaching from each other. 

“You okay? Look at them.” he held out his phone, which had the front camera opened. After a few seconds you started to giggle and hand him his device back. 

“They look okay, thank you.” you stood up and told yourself that this would never happen again as you went back to get your stuff from your desk.

But in the end, you found yourself in Ten’s lap more often then you expected.

—

[wrienne]

My Cheating Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 2: Confrontation

Okay, you took that back. His mother was actually a nice lady. It was his father that was the problem.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Jeon Jungkook, your fiancé, had a girlfriend.

Park Yi-Jae approached the sink next to yours and began washing her hands gingerly. Her pale skin looked even whiter than it did on the advertisements, though you couldn’t judge if it was due to good genes, make-up or the pallid glow from the ceiling lights. Public bathrooms always had horrible lighting.

You had to admit, however, that she was still pretty.

In fact, she was prettier in real life. Advertisements peeled off a sliver of humanity from the people starring in them and even dramas had managed to dull a bit of her glow. Or it was perhaps her “imperfections” that enhanced her beauty. The slight crook of her nose, the slight droopiness of her ears, the slight imbalance between her upper and lower lip - every slightness.

Jungkook’s jacket was a thick denim jacket but with sleeves and a hoodie made of that typical cozy, oversized gray sweatshirt material. You remembered that it had been fitted on Jungkook, but on Park Yi-Jae, it was several sizes too large. She had even folded up the sleeves, revealing thin wrists and fingers. She had a slender, graceful neck - like a swan’s - and around that neck, curving after the shape of her clearly visible collarbone rested the thin golden chain necklace you had bought Jungkook. You were absolutely certain, for you had spent hours upon hours contemplating its unique design, and stared at it for even longer after you had had it forged to make sure it was according to your liking. It had been the first present you had given him after your engagement, and you had wanted it to be special. Something he would remember.

And here it was, in the possession of another girl.

Jealousy raised its ugly head and told you to snap. You managed to ignore it. Honestly, you weren’t exactly in love with Jungkook or anything. You rather despised him. But you were not going to stand him cheating on you. Not when you two would eventually have to get married.

Though, was that even an option any longer? If your parents found out about this, the engagement would definitely be canceled. Was this, in a way, your ticket out of soon-to-be-horrible-marriage town? Was this good for you?

Noticing you staring at her, stuck in your swirling thoughts, Yi-Jae glanced at you and smiled politely. “Finally finished for the day?” she asked in a light, fluttery voice. “You and the rest of the coordi-unnies have all worked very hard and deserve at least a week of rest.”

This caught you off guard for a moment, and you were just about to open your mouth and tell the “truth” - that you were simply there to grab your keys - when an idea popped into your head. “Yeah,” you replied quickly, mustering up your friendliest smile. Surprisingly, it hurt to smile at her. “I’ve been here since early morning with a few others. I’m exhausted.”

Your smile must have looked as painful on your face as it had inside your chest, because she gave you a sympathetic look. “I bet. The boys are lucky to have you. At least you’ll get some rest on your flight overseas.”

“Yeah,” you repeated, not knowing anything about a journey overseas.

You continued to wash your hands, rubbing and scrubbing them in a way that falsely indicated that you had gotten something sticky on them. You waited until Yi-Jae was done washing her own hands before you followed her toward the hand-drying air machines. When she was content, you remained at the machines, praying fervently that the plan would work.

“Want to head back together?” she finally asked, raising her voice over the violent whooshing of the machine.

You nodded and then followed her toward the door when you remembered the security guard that had escorted you around. He would probably not be fine with you following her, since he knew you weren’t a… had she meant a coordinator? What even was that?

“Wait,” you blurted as you halted.

“What is it?” she asked, turning around with her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“There’s this guy,” you began, hoping your lie wouldn’t sound as outrageous out loud as it did in your mind. “He’s in security and he has been harassing me for my number all day. He’s waiting just outside the bathroom right now. I’m kind of scared he’ll follow me on my way home or something. If you could just do something to help me get away from him, I’d be really grateful.”

Yi-Jae’s eyes widened in dismay. “You sure you shouldn’t just report this to the manager?”

You shook your head. “I’ve only just begun working for him, I don’t even have the ID card yet.” Inwardly, you made a fist-pump at the brilliant idea of mentioning your obvious lack of identification. Outwardly, you were trying your best to portray the young, timid intern. “I don’t want to get in trouble already.”

“It’s not being trouble, you should know,” she said softly. “But I understand the need to prove oneself, and girls need to stick together.” She gave you a wide smile. “What will you have me do?”

She was really sweet. You almost felt bad for her. Almost.

“If you could perhaps tell him that you would like to talk to me backstage or something,” you answered, “I can take that chance to slip out of here through one of the back entrances. Make it sound like you’re really angry at me or something, like I’ve misbehaved or insulted you. He’ll probably stay away from Park Yi-Jae. You’re kind of famous, you know.”

She giggled. “Sounds like I’m some kind of mafia boss.” She quickly gathered herself into a sober expression. “But if he tries to bother you again in the future, you need to seek out the manager. Promise me?”

Okay, you were kind of getting a bad conscience. In another universe or timeline, you two might have made good friends. Fortunately, with a single glance at the necklace on her skin and his jacket on her torso, your determination was renewed.

“I will,” you said, managing what you hoped looked like an anxious or at least shy smile. It wasn’t really difficult to muster, since what you were doing practically was trespassing, and that, under the cover of false employment. This was probably illegal. You could already imagine the media slaughtering your family’s name and the brand that had made your late grandfather so very affluent, should you be caught.

“Come on,” Yi-Jae said as she pushed the bathroom door open.

With a nod, you followed her out. The security guard, who thus far had deadpanned you, wore a confused expression when Park Yi-Jae hooked her arm around yours and began dragging you in the same direction you had come.

“I need to speak with her,” she told him coolly. “If you would be so nice as to return to your post.”

He opened his mouth to say something but Yi-Jae interjected. “No protests. She’s mine for the moment.”

“If you’re sure,” he said hesitantly, not really relenting.

“I am.” She strode away from him. When you two were far enough away that it was safe to speak, she muttered: “Creep.”

“Thank you,” you blurted, feeling genuine relief washing over you.

"But of course,” she said cheerily, letting go of your arm. She continued down the hallways, surprisingly quickly considering her short stature, and you had to strain in order to keep up with her. “Do you have a ride? It’s kind of late for a girl to walk home all alone.”

“Actually, I don’t,” you lied with artificial sheepishness. “Would you mind…?”

“Not at all!” She smiled. “I need to take good care of the coordi-unnies, since they take care of my honey and his group members. Ultimately, I take care of him.”

“Oh?” you managed.

“You’re new, I forgot,” she said, before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Everyone’s been really good at keeping it hidden and private, which I thank them for. But inevitably, the media is probably going to get a hold of it sooner or later, and our managers have agreed that those working close to them might just as well know.”

“Know what?” you asked stiffly.

“I… am in a relationship with one of the members,” she said, and blushed.

You felt your heart grow cold. You had known it almost as soon as you had spotted her, yet it felt worse hearing it somehow. You managed a singular nod. “And who would that be?” you asked, trying to sound curious but not like you were trying to pry.

“Well...”

By then, you two had rounded a corner leading into a thin hallway with a pair of double metal doors - not unlike the ones at the women’s bathroom - at the end and on the western wall halfway across it. It said backstage above the doors at the end of the hall, but the fact that you had somehow reached your original destination wasn’t what caught your attention.

It was the train of people that was exiting those doors - in particular, the seven people you just recently had watched perform on stage that were walking in the front.

They had changed into more casual clothes, and wore jackets or coats with various caps and masks covering their mouth and nose. But even in an opaque, full-coverage bodysuit, you would discern Jeon Jungkook as long as he was able to speak. Frankly, even if he couldn’t, you would probably have a better chance than most of spotting him. You had known him for so long, you even recognized him in the way he walked and moved. He would need more than a white mouth mask and a black Puma cap to hide from you and your furious gaze.

Perhaps he felt it, too. For as soon as your gaze landed on him, he glanced toward you and Yi-Jae. His brown, familiar eyes widened in shock and you could see movement underneath his mask indicating that he had, in fact, opened his mouth in surprise. He had even stopped so abruptly the guy behind him had bumped into him, causing him to stumble slightly. Had the day been a different one, you might have felt joy at this display of bewilderment from one of the most infuriatingly perfect people in the world.

But you were pissed, and had every right to be.

“Jungkook!” Yi-Jae called in an overly sweet sing-song. “Why, were you boys all trying to leave without saying goodbye? I was just at the bathrooms with...” She looked at you. “Er, what was your name again?”

You had forgotten her presence and reflexively shifted your focus to her. You noticed a glimmer of something in her eyes, but it disappeared before you could ascertain its nature. Instead, you did your very best to stay exactly where you stood and continue your charade of being a shy intern. Perhaps Jungkook would do the same and pretend like he didn’t know you. He was clever, he caught up on things very quickly. He would play it smooth and remain calm, and you would, too.

To your amazement, however, and admittedly in a morbid mixture of satisfaction and fear, Jeon Jungkook reacted in a completely different manner.

Drilling his eyes into yours, he tore off his mouth mask and cursed loudly. Before anyone in the hallway, including you, could speak or react, he snarled his next few words in the same cold voice you had heard countless times before.

“What the hell are you doing here, (Y/N)?”

[cdarkheartzero]

Today’s theme-

“Diary of a security guard part 4- “His own legs”

Data log entry 6553

I barely even started my shift before I got the news. Three smeets had disappeared at some point during the night and -OF COARSE- the little shit was one of them.

Receiving the names of Zim and Skoodge wasn’t surprising. Those two were always together and up to something but I was shocked when the keeper said “Smeet Tak”. TAK? She was usually fairly well behaved. Few fights here and there, sure but this? Especially because she hates Zim. Why would she join them? At least that’s what I hoped for anyway.

Since the “snack heist” episode, I assumed the boys were off to find another “treasure chest” of pure sugar so I figured I would check the pantries first. They weren’t stupid enough to do the same closet twice in a row but I would bet my monies that’s where they were.

[[MORE]]

Stumbled down the halls when I noticed a door slightly left ajar. Yup. There they were. As I approached I could hear a conversation being had between Tak and Zim. GOOD. I can grab them all at once. I slowly opened the door juuuust enough to squeeze my body through and crept in behind boxes , eyeing the mess of once-again ripped open junk food and wrappers littering the floor. I sat behind a rather large box (big enough to shield me from sight at the very least) and waited for the opportunity to pounce.

Skoodge was sitting on the floor very much invested in the “ploof puffs” he was shoving into his adorable chubby face. Not really paying much mind to the other two. Zim and Tak sat atop two boxes staring each other down. Tak had her back to me and Zim was so fixated on his enemy, that he didn’t notice me peeking out from the box behind her. I could see on Zim’s face that SOMETHING said before my arrival was eating at him. The conversation continued-

“I’m telling you the truth, Zim.”

“There is NO WAY you did it on your own, Tak.”

“You think I’m lying? Or is your pride eating away at you because I’m clearly the superior soldier to-be?”

“There is NO WAY YOU would hurt my pride. BESIDES, how could someone with your intellectual shortcomings accomplish something soldiers are trained YEARS to do?!”

“Okay, fine. This will shut you up, you reject!”

I couldn’t see her face but she stood straight and her body tighten, I could see her fists turning pale by the amount of pressure she was putting on them. The ports on her back slowly opened and her PAK legs menacingly emerged. Awkwardly crawling out and wobbling as the touched the ground and lifted her mid air.

Skoodge panicked and fled at the sight of the thin, metallic limbs- having never seen or been told about these things prior, this must have been quite terrifying. And it’s true. I was shocked myself. The shit was right. Irken soldiers are taught how to use these well into their military training and it takes a tremendous amount of skill and concentration to activate. For a smeet this was basically unheard of. Tak May very well be the most advanced smeet in Irken history.

Zim was.... far from impressed. He puffed his cheeks and pouted quietly as Tak spat insult after insult to him, Landing harsh and pride crushing comments. I almost felt sorry. It wasn’t until one of her legs abandoned its position of stabilizer and shakily made its way toward Zim’s throat that I knew I had to step in NOW.

Not wanting to use my taser on her, I did the next best thing. I took my boot off and smacked it on the PAK leg closest to me, knocking her off balance and bringing her hurdling downwards. The PAK legs quickly retreated back into their holder and the small Irken was left confused and slightly stunned by the secret attack.

Skoodge ran over to me, tears in his eyes, wailing about the scary legs. He clung to my foot tight. Real tight. Kid has a good grip. I (and my newfound leech) walked over to Tak to picked her up. She just stared at the floor, quickly blinking and not saying a word. Man.... I got her good. I put her to my chest and she didn’t budge. It was unnerving to say the least but she was still alive so.... I just gotta gather the last one.

Zim was spaced out. Totally lost in thought. Didn’t even twitch when I approached him. Seeing those legs really internally triggered something. I scoop him up and stare. I might have well had not been there as far as he was concerned. He was gone from this place.

We get back to the smeetery and I drop off Zim and Skoodge (Skoodge waved me good-bye too. He is so cute sometimes) and made my way to the medical ward with Tak. Just to make sure I didn’t mess her up too bad, you know? The staff there assured me she was okay and just stunned but I told them to keep her for testing anyway. Can’t have that on my conscience.

By the time I got back to the smeetery, Zim was gone and Skoodge was alone, doing some light reading in the form of a cooking magazine. Where he got it, I didn’t ask. It was unusual to see these two separated though. “Where is Zim?” I asked confused. “Hmmm?” He hummed with a slight jump. Must’ve startled him. “Zim wanted to go to the tube room. Is Tak okay?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. She’s fine. You okay though?”

“Yeah. That was just scary.”

“They really aren’t. Just another tool we have to protect ourselves and aid ‘n battle. One day you will be trained to use yours too.”

His eyes lit up in wonder and confusion “I HAVE THEM TOO?????”

“Yup. But it’s totally normal you can’t use them yet though. The fact that Tak could is real unusual. I know you’ll get there.” I said ruffling his antenna. He let out a laugh and smiled “Thanks”

“Anytime. Imma see what the little shit is up to.”

“HAVE FUN!” He joyfully waved as I walked away. Skoodge is unusual too. Now that I think about it, everyone associated with the little shit is so quirky. This batch of smeets...they really do have bright futures ahead of them.

Walking through the doors to the usually silent unborn sleeping chambers, the room echoed with low, muffled grunts and heavy breathing. I know this voice. I just had to find him.

Tucked off to one of the corners of the massive room, Zim was doubled over panting, clutching at his chest. His PAK opened and his legs partially exposed, spazzing and sparking, filling the air around him with a dangerous electrical charge. Never in all my life have I seen a PAK respond this way. His body seized, confulsing constantly. His eyes welled with tears, sweat dripping down his entire frame. Veins bulged out of his skin.

Here is something ya gotta know about Irken anatomy. PAKs serve as a second brain and is connected to the organic brain through the spine by a series of wires. Some things are only possible BECAUSE of this connection. Like using PAK legs. The host needs to be able to simultaneously create a gateway both consciously and subconsciously to allow data to flow between the two. Using the legs as an extension of their organic bodies. Being able to tell each of the 4 legs to move independently but having enough focus to not completely be distracted by it. Kinda like breathing. Your brain knows to do it automatically. But if you wanted to, you could alter its patterns. Except a loss of control would mean a comrade getting empaled. Concentration and data input is everything. I’m gettin side tracked though, I didn’t even know it was POSSIBLE to see the bridge between the two minds. But here they were. I could see every ridge, every curve of the wiring violently throbbing.

This is bad. THIS IS SO BAD.

I tried to grab him- he needed medical attention ASAP. WHAT ON IRK WAS HAPPENING!? But as I reached for him, the legs became defensive and started stabbing in my direction. The electrical charge strengthened too. Zim coiled into himself more. He wanted to scream. I could see it in his face. But every time he opened that yap of his- there was nothing.

Oh, My tallest. The closer I got to him, the more his PAK simultaneously defended/harmed him. I screamed for help. Someone.... ANYONE, please. Come! I have no idea what’s going on!

“....z-zara....” I heard faintly between gasps and groans. He reached his hand to me. FUCK THIS. I cannot let the suffering go on any longer. I’m sorry, Zim. But I gotta do this.

I grabbed my taser out and gave his PAK a short jolt, praying that it would short circuit and reboot. His legs stabbed into my hand before going limp, just like the rest of him. The bright pink lights emminating from his back faded to a faint, dim color. But it was still lit. Please. PLEASE. Be okay.

There was a moment of silence. Felt like a decade though, wondering if it worked. Or if I just made the worst mistake of my career.

“REACTIVATING”

The PAK light shone bright again and gave the body a single jolt. The legs instantly retracted. He stirred, groaning. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times, not a single word spoken between us. He looked at me, pained and spiritually drained. “Zara....” he finally said.

I grabbed him and gave him a hug. I was so relieved. He was okay. He just accepted my embrace. He didn’t have the strength to fight. Slowly pulling him away, I could finally speak. “Imma take you to the medical station, okay?” He replied with a humm. Response accepted.

The smeetery staff rushed in (it was so hard to believe only a moment had passed In real time) but I took it upon myself to hand deliver him where he needed to be. It was a long, unsettlingly uncomfortable walk. But this.... I wanted to be here. I needed to. Unfortunately, we soon arrived to the medical station and I finally had to hand him off and return to my shift. I didn’t wanna leave him. Not one bit. I can’t even imagine how he was feeling. But I have a job to do. We gave each other a sad look as we parted. There was a slight pain in my chest the whole time.

The rest of the day dragged on what seemed like years but within a few hours, Zim had been released from care and returned to the Smeetery by a member of the medical staff. She just silently walked in, spoke to a smeetery staff member, placed him on the floor and disappeared. I was thrilled (I would never tell him that though). But I can tell he was still deeply upset. I approached him and asked if he was okay. His eyes said more than his words ever could. I picked him up. I honestly don’t have a game plan but... he needs a few minutes to breathe, I think.

I wave to another guard and ask her to take my place. She saw the smeet I held close and said “fine. But you owe me one.” Wouldn’t be the first time Kira helped me out. She was probably the closest thing to a friend I had in this place. I thanked her and took my leave. Zim didn’t really ask any questions. Just kinda went for the ride.

We wound up in a pantry. I sat down on the cold floor and put him next to me. This... was awkward. I couldn’t figure out what to say or do. Or even why I wound up HERE of all places. Why not my office???? Thankfully, he tore me away from my thoughts and broke the ice.

“Why are we here? Don’t you usually want Zim OUT of the pantry?”

“Uhhhhhh.... you looked like you needed a few minutes to breathe.”

He hugged his knees. “Zim is fine.”

There was that silence again. I’m the adult here. I gotta do something....right?

“You know, the thing with Tak has never happened before.”

“Just rub it in...” he mumbled burying his face into his legs.

“But, you were able to pull yours out too. Even just a little. That’s impressive too.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but mine tried to kill me.”

“Maybe yours are just-“

“The medical staff-“ he cut me off “told me I might never be able to use them right. That Zim might be “defective”.”

I was agitated to say the least. How can you say something like that to a smeet? A BABY? This little soul who just began living this life he never asked for? My emotions got the best of me. “Listen here, Zim. Maybe you can’t use your legs the way she does. Or the way I do. But I know you will find a way. You have never bowed down when the odds were stack against you before. Why start now?”

He didn’t stir. I passionately rambled on “you are a lot of things. Cunning. Manipulative. Obsessive. Persuasive. Passionate. But you are damn smart. I’m constantly surprised by your ingenuity and craftsmanship. You know how good I am at dismantling your bombs at this point? You challenge those around you to grow and be better. I wish you WOULDN’T challenge me with explosives, mind you, but you aren’t defective. No way, no how. You are different. And no one said different is bad. Just means you leave your mark in ways no one expected before. And maybe that scares some but.... I believe that you can do amazing things. And screw em If they don’t see it.”

He let out a small chuckle. It was refreshing to hear, even if it was a sad, emotionally drained laugh.

“Does that mean you don’t hate me?”

“I didn’t say all that now.”

He smiled with sorrow and hugged himself tighter.

Maybe that was a little too deep. I was actually kinda embarrassed for that. But.... perhaps I could say something else to make him feel better. “You know” I started “when I have a bad day, I like to look at the stars. You can’t see them here but they always put me at ease.”

“Stars?”

“Yeah. They exist outside the planet, in space. Burning, exploding balls of chemicals. Mostly hydrogen and helium. But from Irk’s surface, they are just beautiful bright lights littering the sky. You can’t see them everywhere here ‘cuz of the brightness of the surface’s refelection in our atmosphere. But I came from the sugar mines before I was a guard. It’s a lot less industrial and darker there so it was always so much easier to see.”

“Burning balls? Really?” He scoffed, amused and confused but intrigued.

“I guess tellin’ you about ‘em doesn’t do it justice. Here. Let me show you. Computer.”

My PAK lit up and released a small floating, mechanical ball with a small circular screen used for projections. Zim just stared. “Show us stars.”

As instructed, the screen painted a gorgeous night sky (as “night” as Irken pink skies get anyway) glistening with hundreds of stars. Zim stared, taken aback. There was a slight sparkle in his face. Good. This helped. Thank the Tallest. The projection stayed active for only a moment before I thought it was enough. Without saying anything, the orb returned to where it had come from.

“You okay?” I finally asked, knowing the answer already but hoping for the best.

“.... can we stay here a little bit longer?”

I can tell in his voice, he was embarrassed. Ashamed. Depressed. Confused. Self-loathing. His whole world thrown in a blender. “Sure” I said pulling him closer to my leg. I kept my hand on his back, gently stroking it. Imagine my surprise when he accepted my compassion and snuggled up to me.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking but all my organic brain kept repeating was “just be there for him.” I dunno what this feeling in my spooch could have been but it felt knotted and twisted at the sight of his misery. I had to look away. What is this smeet? Why does he make me feel this way? Do I have a bug? Is this something else I don’t understand? ...You know what? It’s Best not to think too much about it, I guess. Just take in this silence with the little shit. He will be back to his old self tomorrow I bet.

Zara signing off

[wyrd-weaver]

"𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫."

Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Rape (That Resulted in Pregnancy), Mention of Binge Eating, Mention of Weight (By a Disgusting Man), Depression, Anxiety.

⤷ Remember: Every body type is beautiful, and you're legally allowed to maim those who say otherwise! The brief few sentences in this story are not accurate of any decent, sane individual.

Word Count: 1887

～～～～～～～～～～

Depression had you caged, shackled to the memories...the all-consuming sensations of horror and disgust. The very same that were forced upon you, that iced all your muscles twelve hellish months ago. Twelve! And yet, the nightmares refused to cease. Every evening, you battled demons most powerful and foul, acquiring scar after scar after scar. If you stumbled, if you lay down your weapon or lost...could you really be faulted? If this was Heaven's retribution, a cleansing of your contaminated, sinful body, then...was it not misguided? Surely a void replaced the evidence against you?

Blame should never have befallen you! This child, despite his mask of innocence, attested to humanity's ugliest side. Your heart was unravelling - you needed him, as an extension of yourself, as someone to cherish, but...you didn't want him. He wasn't the product of consent. He was loathsome...and a burden. He was so young, so dependent.

Casting him to the mercy of the streets would be more than a mere violation of morality. You already felt criminal - convicted on thoughts and false claims, serving a life sentence in the bowels of Hell. There was an escape, of course. Although...it wasn't accompanied by a light, or the gentle touch of a loved one. No...this escape was advertised as selfish, shameful...weak. And maybe so. Maybe life's greatest demand was the forgoing of happiness. But...to such an extent seemed excessive, and deliberately cruel. You shouldn't have been so dirty, so broken...an embarrassing stain on your family's name.

A single mother. A victim. A failure.

Plagued with flashbacks that favoured spontaneity above calculation, you carved miserable little lines on to your arms. Nobody knew - not your son, nor the Avengers...nor even Loki. They all harboured some form of trauma, however deep-rooted, and so...they had no need for your sob story. Who would care for someone so violated? Someone so...afraid? Your mind, weakened by fatigue and chronic worry, was simply too weak to resist those thoughts, and all hope had been drained from your heart. Why should you be tethered to life, if only for your child? Should you instead seek liberation, peace...joy? Decency discouraged it, but pain stood its ground.

With your dignity in shambles, your disowning, your binging...nothing felt right anymore! Nothing felt...clean. Loki had noticed, observant as he was. Here, sequestered within the walls of the Avengers' Compound, he was the closest to a friend...maybe even more.

No, no, no! I can't think like that! He's a man! A man! I shouldn't even be going near him anymore! Why, oh god...why is he the only one I'm not afraid of? The only one who can comfort me when I break? I can't...! I haven't even told him about...about...Well, I haven't told anyone! They all just think I slept with someone recklessly! And now...now I'm tainted, unlovable! This is...it's all my fault...I should have defended myself. I should have done something! Anything! Why...why did I freeze...? Why? Why?! Why?!!

Loki understood mental anguish and the torture of dissimilarity, as his birth-rights. Perhaps that was reason enough for your breathing to even, in his embrace. It had taken moths to allow such a privilege, and Loki's persistence, how his voice quivered as he begged to help you in any form...

You, whom he held so very dear...

You might have assumed his affections romantic, once upon a time. Yet...no longer. An ailment had struck you - one that rendered both eyes and ears ignorant to his double meanings, his implications...his love. You couldn't process them over the fear and paranoia. Didn't all relationships entail force, and...activities of a sexual nature? You never wanted to experience that again. Never! So, while sleep washed over the Compound, you crept to the kitchen, intent on expanding your waistline evermore. That your size may, to some, be cause for revulsion, had never previously occurred. It was only when the words danced on the tongue of that godforsaken man...

Eat, eat more! Who cares if you're sick? Keep eating! He said...he said that excess was unattractive. So - so maybe he won't...maybe I won't be...again...?

It had been dominance play, a show of superiority.

Loki would never steal something so sacred, unless you willed it.

He was a gentle soul, manipulated into committing an atrocity, and scorned - by the Avengers, especially. He wouldn't find any resonance in your tale (and you hoped he never would), but as a companion, a patient listener...surely there would be no judgement in his heart? He wouldn't be so quick to abandon you...right? Still, a single utterance of that day, of that most fright-inducing event...required courage far surpassing your own. Maybe...just a word? A sign? Something...?

Lonely was the path you wandered, in spite of Loki's presence. Alone, he failed to drown your demons. He held them under the waves, but they always returned.

You appreciated the effort. Plasters may cover your scars, but they could never heal your heart. Could Loki?...In time? If distorted thoughts of him were enough to ground you in the midst of panic...could he aid your recovery?

He also wondered that. Your deception wasn't half as masterful as you had hoped. Or perhaps you were simply the target of Loki's observations, and therefore came under frequent scrutiny. He had, of course, picked up on the subtle changes in your demeanour - particularly post-pregnancy. He idled at your side, throwing neither intrusive question nor accusation. This was at the behest of his conscience, although he longed desperately to ignore it. He wanted to know...what exactly happened last year, when your transformation began?

Your lips were sealed, but his very essence ached - sorrow, curiosity, love, sympathy and compassion all melding together within him. They ran amuck, refusing any whisper of sleep. His concentration had flown alongside it, rendering him unable to enjoy the book that rested in his palm. It had maintained a decent level of interest until now, but duty called. He would pry open your chamber door, glimpse your ethereal, sleeping form...and finally feel content. If you were strolling through dreamland, then his concern could dissipate. At least for a while. If not...he would discover why.

Loki hesitated outside your door, for if you were truly non-the-wiser, asleep...vulnerable, then a mere survey of yourself and the room would leave, on his tongue, a terrible aftertaste.

But, lo and behold, only your young son slept soundly, in his crib.

Loki was grappled now with a sense of alarm - where in Odin's name were you? And, pray tell...why was your child on his lonesome, cleansing himself of the prior day, in such a frigid room? He was wrought with grief upon recalling your distaste for the babe, and again when he realised there was no option to remove him, bring him to a warmer space, rock him and sing soft melodies...

Loki's primary goal was to find you, and perhaps...coerce you into confessing everything. From a true account of the day that always replayed in your mind, to your innermost feelings and thoughts...he needed to know, and to understand.

He had scoured half the building before laying eyes upon you. However...relief proved elusive. There were an endless number of questions, but none dared to grace the air. Why was your beautiful face stained with tears? Why were you eating, despite looking so sickly? What had troubled you so? And...could he kill it? He was unsure of the proper manner in which to approach you. He had always tread lightly, but complete silence and delicacy were more fortes of his mother. He swallowed down the nerves.

"(Y/n), darling...why aren't you sleeping?"

You startled, eyes bloodshot and a biscuit lodged between your lips. "U-Uh..."

He walked forward. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"

"...No?" This was mumbled, as though credence escaped you.

"My dear, you aren't a skilled liar. Talk to me, please." The heartache nearly tore him apart.

You wouldn't meet his gaze. "I...I can't."

"Please?" Both of your voices cracked, in unison.

Oh god, alright. Okay. This if fine...right? It's fine. I'm fine...Am I? What if I'm not?! I can't tell him just yet! But he looks so upset...I did this! I caused this! Oh god...just stay - stay calm! Calm down...calm down...

A tear trickled down your cheek, then another. "I-I've never...I don't want to - to relive it."

He brought you into a protective embrace. "Then you won't. I swear, by all the beings in the Nine Realms, that I will keep you safe. Please, let me share your burden."

Three sentences. Who was so weak-willed, that a mere three sentences shattered all their defences? You cursed his silver tongue. "(S-S/n)...! He - he's...I didn't...I-I don't want him! J-Just because I didn't fight back...I didn't try to run, he...t-that man, he did...things. To me. And now...now I'm so dirty! I'm disgusting...unclean, weak. B-But...sometimes - sometimes I think it's all in my head. But it isn't! I-It happened, and (S/n)! He's...he's the proof! He reminds me...o-of that..."

Loki froze. "What...?"

"But I-I couldn't - I couldn't tell anyone! They wouldn't...believe me, o-or care! People like me, they don't - this...this doesn't happen! Why...why did this happen?? A-And now...there's (S/n). And every...every minute is Hell! I can't take it anymore...I don't w-want to be here. I don't want to be...to be alive anymore..."

Loki could almost see the threads of rationality thinning. Who would...defile you, hurt you? You were so important, so genuine and...lovely. "I will find this man, and personally deliver his comeuppance. He never deserved your voice, let alone your touch."

"No!" You stiffened in his arms. "Then he'll...he'll come back..."

"If he does, I shall slay him." Yet, Loki made no attempt to leave. Instead, he slipped into a mask of composure, enough to continue speaking without seething. "I apologise...if you thought I wouldn't care. I do - more than you could ever imagine. You are the most stunning creature I have had the honour of meeting, in all my lifetime. I was resolved to spend my days at your side, never professing my love, but after hearing that...I..."

You panicked. "Loki...don't. Please-"

"I know it would be impudent to assume that you could accept me right now, but consider that...I can protect you. I will never let him, or anyone, hurt you again." Loki wiped away your crystalline sadness. "But, please...when you can't see worth or joy in this life...please come to me. I will be here to remind you of your victory - you survived such torture, and delivered a child. You are far from weak, (Y/n)."

Loki's fingers darted along your wrist. He yearned to kiss every scar, every inch of your skin.

Though, he would do nothing without permission. "Now, my dear...let's put these treats away. I would suggest that, henceforth, you eat balanced meals and partake in some fun activities. Perhaps I could read to you, one day? And venturing out for a walk - we can do that together. I...um, hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries. I'm simply thinking of ways to occupy your mind...and your time. You can do these things alone, of course..."

You nodded. "But...you'd - you'd do them with me?"

"I would gladly do anything with you, my love." Loki's words were empty of duplicity.

You were angelic - the only one safe from his lies.

[moodyblues93]

Dear LGBTQ Community

I am so incredibly sorry is the only right way to start. This post comes from a lifelong conservative, homeschooled Christian. I never stood on a street corner with a sign that said ugly things about you, and whenever I met someone who was gay (or I suspected they were), I tried very hard to treat them the same as anyone else and not hold them at arm’s length; nevertheless, I made some disparaging remarks within my circle of likeminded people, and I most definitely saw you as being in the wrong. I didn’t hate you- I felt sorry for you, and found myself wistfully thinking how nice it would be if being gay wasn’t a sin, and we could all just get along then…but ultimately I had to shake my head and say, “well, the Bible says it’s a sin, so that’s the end of the debate.”

Having now been out of my (incredibly controlling and right-wing extremist) parents’ house for seven years now, I’ve made a lot of progress in finding what I believe is a proper middle ground for my beliefs and overall worldview. Every New Year’s Day, rather than make a resolution, I have a long talk with the Lord and ask Him to please make me more like Him in the coming year and draw me closer to His heart; I can honestly say that every year this prayer is answered, and I continue to become a more loving and understanding person (though I am far, far from perfect). This year I have become increasingly aware of how ugly a lot of my conservative, supposedly Christian friends behave at their cores, and how so many of the things they claim they’re saying in love sound a lot more akin to hate, pride, and bigotry. By May, I was so disgusted by their words and actions, I came back for a Part 2 to my prayer. I asked God to reveal to me the things in my beliefs that I had accepted as truths that are in fact lies- whether in part or in whole -and vice versa; I asked that He help me be willing to reconsider my stance on any and all issues where I was wrong, and to give me the courage to take the steps necessary to change.

I kid you not: within two weeks of praying that, I was struck out of the blue by a thought I had never dared even entertain in jest in my entire life. Why is being gay a sin? I froze in my tracks and my heart stopped. Having thought this forbidden sentence, my mind raced ahead before I could catch it.

Why should it be a sin?

I understand that the very first couple was a man and a woman, but they HAD to be in order to continue the human race.

If there’s one thing I’ve known from an early age, it’s that God is a God of logic. He has a reason for every commandment/rule, and usually that reason is very self-evident. Adultery is breaking a promise and brings devastating hurt to others and yourself. Stealing is taking something that you have no right to take, and again, you’re harming someone else one way or another. I already know AIDS isn’t the exclusively “gay cancer” televangelists claimed it was in the ‘80s, so I can’t even use that as the reason behind why gay relationships are forbidden.

I stood there in the kitchen, stumped. I could not think of a single actual reason why being gay could be considered a sin, aside from citing “because God said so,” which is not an actual argument; God never lays down arbitrary rules like that, and even the passages about “it is an abomination” suddenly didn’t make sense to me. Okay, but WHY is it an abomination? Circular reasoning didn’t sound like the God I’ve come to know so well over the years. The notion gnawed at me all day, and I could hardly focus on anything else. I prayed almost continually for the next two days on the matter: I asked that if my heart was deceiving me and I was being sucked into the “liberal Christian” mindset after too long away from the influence of a super strict church, that God would save me from my error and show me the why behind this commandment so I wouldn't stray. I also asked in no uncertain terms that if the church is in fact wrong and being gay is NOT a sin that God would give me peace about the whole matter and help me to find good, thorough resources that could dismantle the arguments I’d been supportive of all these years.

None of this stemmed from a guilty conscience needing to find justification for a beloved family member’s lifestyle, or even my own: as far as I know, everyone in my immediate family is hetero, and I myself am ace. Nor did this come from the desire to be as opposite of my strict parents as possible, to rebel and go nuts now that they no longer control my life. I am a person who always wants to know the why and how behind every rule and process, to understand as much about my surroundings as a human can, and to champion the truth in all things- even when that truth makes me uncomfortable.

I spent copious amount of time over several months researching this subject from multiple viewpoints, devouring articles and lectures, and praying for guidance with every new piece of information I uncovered. By the time I’d finished, I was left with a deep conviction that we have been wrong all this time; the arguments the church has used are based on a mix of mistranslations and cultural practices that are irrelevant to our society today (for anyone who wants to know more on this, I cannot recommend enough Walking The Bridgeless Canyon by Kathy Baldock, and God and the Gay Christian by Matthew Vines, because there isn’t room in this post to explain it all. You need to read both books for the full picture).

I’m sorry for how long this post is, but since you don’t know me, I’m trying to convey to you just how significant it is for someone like me to have come to this conclusion. I’ve been a dyed-in-the-wool conservative Christian my entire life; I literally don’t even remember my conversion because of how young I was when I came to faith. For those who are skeptics concerning if homosexuality and the like is a sin, I hope this has prodded at your conscience and will push you to start looking into this for yourself.

But my main purpose of this post is to address you, the LGBTQ community. One person’s apologies, no matter how sincere, cannot begin to make up for or repair the damage done to you. As I was studying all this, the more horrified I became as it hit me that there are countless souls the church turned away because they were told Jesus wasn’t interested in a relationship with them, and consequently, most of those people likely then didn’t want to have anything to do with a Jesus like that. The thought completely broke my heart for you, and all I want to tell you now is that regardless if someone has said to you that you cannot enter the kingdom of Heaven as long as you are a practicing homosexual/bisexual/etc. or anything else along those lines…PLEASE listen to me instead.

I love you. I accept you as you are and I am not going to ask you to change this aspect of your life. Far more importantly, Jesus loves you as you are and He wants to have a relationship with you. If the only thing that’s ever held you back from looking into Christianity is believing your sexuality won’t be accepted, know that there are churches out there who will gladly welcome you (Google ‘open and affirming church near me’).

I’m making an iron promise to you that I’m going to attend my local rally every June from now on; I’m going to hug you and remind you that it’s okay to be who you are without having to fear eternal damnation for it. I can’t say enough how sorry I am for everything that has been said and done to you, all supposedly in the name of love- a love that has been hideously misunderstood and twisted to fit a human agenda of our own making. Please give God another chance. Let Him show you just what love really and truly is, and I guarantee you will find it’s nothing like what you’ve been told.

I know you don’t know me, and you have no reason to believe me, but please take this as a hopeful sign for the future. If I can come to this conclusion, then surely the rest of the world can’t be far behind me. We will make this a safe and accepting place for you, where contemptuous glances and ugly words are no longer slung across the dividing line, because there will no longer be a line- it will no longer be an Us vs. Them, because there will only be Us. Thank you for your persistence through the decades to not deny who you are, because your endurance will help keep the door open for this and future generations to come to a true understanding.

I hope a lot of people see this. I don't know much about how Tumblr works, I'm hardly ever on here, but I sincerely wish for many people to see this and smile by the time they're finished.

Red and orange, yellow and green, blue and purple, black and white, we are precious in His sight.

[dailydianakko]

Withered Flowers

Okay, I personally really hate this one. I feel like its not that cohesive. I wish I could write this a little better, but alas I have NO time to do anything anymore. Since I won’t be participating in Diakko week, please take this humble offering instead. Check out my AO3 here.

Chains scraped the rock with Akko’s every movement, however small. The shackles on her wrists pinched and tugged at her skin as she slowly etched another line into the stone. The overhang was littered with the numerous white gashes. Each one had been carefully carved with her claws. She pulled her hand back and blew the dust away, not even bothering to flinch at the grating sound of iron on stone. She had become all too used to the noise over the years. After all, today marked the hundredth year of her imprisonment. 

Akko turned away from the rock and listlessly looked out at the forest around her. Dead trees littered a barren landscape. Grey stone on rotting wood as far as her eyes could see. The only sign of life that could be seen was a single flower, peeking from the cracks in the rock by her feet. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Akko could remember when the forest had been full of life. Birds had filled the treetops with song during the day and the raucous calls of foxes had filled the night. Since her imprisonment, the forest had waned drastically.

Shifting slightly, Akko flexed her toes in a futile attempt to ward off the weariness  in her limbs. The unpleasant tingle was always present. A side effect from her years trapped in this rocky hollow. In an effort to stave off the numbness that was creeping up her legs, Akko turned her thoughts inward. It had been long enough. Had they written legends about her? Had stories of a sealed Oni of destruction begun to be woven beside the hearth fires at night? Did tales of a monster who lived by absorbing the life force of others creep into children’s nightmares? Would mothers warn their children not to come into the cursed forest, lest the meat fall from their bones, and they rot away?

She snorted to herself quietly. Akko only lived as others did, consuming life to nourish her own. The only difference is that her method was more direct. And more chaotic, a bitter voice in the back of her mind whispered. Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the day that she had been sealed here. Akko had been so small, so young. The red headed wandering hero Akok had admired did not hesitate to trick Akko into her manacles. Akko had been told it was for her own safety; that left unchecked she would destroy the world. Akko would have rather her hero killed her.

She had been told that “death was a part of living, and you have just as much right to life as the rest of us.” The words hadn’t been for Akko;that she knew now. It had been said merely to ease the conscience of her captor. Her hero had lied and betrayed her. Left Akko to rot for all time, while she enjoyed wandering the world. Akko let out a bitter laugh. Human lifespans were short, and Akko had obviously been forgotten. Left to gaze out at the ruined forest. There would be no hero to save her, the villain in this tale.

“Why are you laughing?” Akko froze at the sound of someone else speaking. She whipped around to identify the speaker and flinched, startled from the deafening clatter of the chains striking the ground. A human woman stood before her. Her blonde hair had green highlights; almost as if it were stained with chlorophyll, and her beautiful blue eyes sparkled with merriment. Her clothes were like nothing Akko had seen before, pale blue robes that folded over in on itself. She looked like she was wearing a flower. So caught up in her thoughts, Akko failed to respond to the stranger.

“Well? Can you speak?” The stranger cocked her head and placed her hands on her hips. A small tapping noise filled the hollow as she tapped her foot in impatience. “It is rude to keep someone waiting.”

“I can speak.” Akko’s voice sounded harsh with disuse. “Who are you?” She glared distrustfully at the woman. The last contact she had with a human ended in her bound in chains. If her luck ran the same way with this one, she would probably end up with a knife in her back. Death, while an escape from her prison, was something Akko would rather confront on her own terms. After all, she still wanted what had been denied to her all these years. To travel the world herself and see what it had to offer.

“I am a traveler, you may call me Diana.” Diana said with a curtsey. “May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” Diana straightened up and smiled expectantly at Akko.

“I’m Akko, the Oni who was sealed here one hundred years ago.” Akko said while she scrubbed at her eyes with her hand. She couldn’t believe a human had wondered their way into this forest. Had she been forgotten after all these years?

“Oh I know,” Diana responded, rocking on her heels. “I came to bring you stories.”

“Stories?” Akko said with a huff. She’d rather have her freedom and learn of the world herself, firsthand. Besides, why would humanity offer her news now? It had been a hundred years since anyone last visited her prison. Akko felt her claws click against her chains absentmindedly. Perhaps this human could offer information, as well as a way to free Akko from her chains. “I would like to hear them.”

Diana let out a bright laugh. It was full of life and joy, and Akko was enchanted. “Very well. What would you like to hear first?”

“Tell me of the ocean” Akko demanded. News of the cities could wait, after all had never seen the ocean before. All she knew from tales told to her as a child was that it was water that stretched onwards without end. She felt a spark of excitement light in her chest. It had been ages since she felt like this. Caught up in the moment, Akko scooted forwards until her chains gently tugged her back in recoil. She quickly settled herself down and looked at Diana expectantly.

“Well,” Diana began, sitting gently down on the ground and crossing her legs. “The ocean stretches far beyond the horizon. The shore is awash in treasures, and the water tastes sweet. Every night it spits out the moon and swallows the sun.”

“Does it? Does it really?” Akko’s hand closed tight around her shackles, and her knuckles went white from the pressure. She felt a gnawing urge to see the ocean and to taste the sweet water. She only knew the taste of the bitter rainwater that collected into the pools around her prison, and a faded memory of the clear taste of the water from the village well.

“Yes. The ocean is gentle and is as placid as could be. The fish have scales of gold and silver. All I speak is the truth.” Diana said as she made grand sweeping gestures with her hand. She paused and met Akko’s eyes. The Oni couldn’t sense any deceit in her words. Akko felt her heart beat faster in desire. She too wanted to see the fish flicker in the calm water, and to pick up rare treasure off the shoreline. She listened to Diana speak more about the sea and what it had to offer. As Diana spoke, the shadows slowly grew longer. Night was falling.

When Diana slowly moved to get up, Akko let out a cry of despair. “Will you come again tomorrow?” The brunette’s eyes flickered anxiously. She couldn’t let Diana leave. She needed to know more. She hungered to know about the world she had been denied.

“Of course, I will be here awhile yet. When I visit again tomorrow, I shall tell you of life in the capitol.” Diana said with a small wave. Akko closed her eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. The human would come back. When she opened them, Diana had already left the area. With a sigh, the Oni settled down for a restless night, thoughts of the ocean and capitol flitting through her mind.

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When Akko woke up from her restless sleep, Diana was already there. Her clothes looked a little duller than they had the day before, but it was probably due to the weak morning sun peeking up over the horizon. Akko stretched and settled back down. Her legs trembled in impatience. “Tell me of the capitol, please.” She said with her eyes trained on Diana.

Akko stiffened with anticipation when Diana gave her an impish grin. “Well, the streets are paved with marble.” Diana began as she gestured low. Akko closed her eyes and tried to imagine it. “Fountains inlaid with gold line the square, and the water is clean and cool. Along the streets there are many vendors, each one with more beautiful wares than the last.”

“I can see it.” Akko murmured. In her mind’s eye she could practically hear the bustle of people and the smell of food carts. She saw golden trinkets and rolls of silk. She could feel the spray of marble fountains beveled with gold and see the reflection of the shining water on the street.

“The palace is made of carved gemstones, and the floors are polished pearl. At the front gate are statues of the grand witch Chariot. They stand tall and people offer sacrifices of wheat and wine to honor her, and pray to her spirit for protection.”

Akko held her tongue at the mention of her once-revered hero. Of course they would honour the hero who saved them from calamity. The brave traveler who chained her to this desolate rock. She clenched her teeth in rage. She had to know what the people were saying about her. If the stories told of Chariot’s true feat of chaining a mere child to a rock and leaving her to rot.

“Tell me, Diana. Do they tell stories about me?” Akko looked down at the stone. She had memorized the surface long ago. She had watched the wind wear the once sharp nicks in the stone smooth over time. One hundred years was enough to change the surface of rock. It surely was enough time for people to change a shameful story into one of glory.

“They do.”Diana said, her voice dropping low.  “The legends tell of a terrible monster. An ugly ogre who roamed the land and vowed to destroy all life. It is said that Chariot sealed it away out of pity instead of giving it the judgment it deserved.”

“Do you think I’m terrible?” Akko asked. Her eyes reluctantly met Diana’s. She was afraid of what she would see. Would there be dark and deep loathing that directed at Akko for being a frightening monster? Would watery pity be reflected back? What about shame, for the sin that a fellow human inflicted on Akko.

“No.” Diana spoke slowly. Her eyes looked into Akko’s. A calm blue gazing into a tumultuous red. “I think you’re quite strange.”

“Strange?” Akko’s head cocked to the side, her anger replaced with confusion.

“Would you say I’m beautiful?” Diana asked as she gently ran her finger through the dirt.

“...Yes.” Akko answered reluctantly. Her cheeks tinged with red. An uncomfortable warm feeling had risen in her chest, and she quickly shook her head in an effort to disperse the feeling.

“What makes you say that?”

Akko couldn’t answer. Obviously Diana was beautiful, she was bright and colorful. She was just like a flower in full bloom. But what makes a flower beautiful? Is it the color, the scent? Is it the silky feel of the petals? Akko’s mouth dropped open as the answer struck her.  A flower is only beautiful because others think it to be. Anything has the ability to be beautiful, since beauty was something assigned by others. Akko wondered if she too could be considered beautiful.

“Well,” Diana said looking up at the sky. “It appears you have your answer. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll tell you whatever you wish.” With that, Diana walked off into the morning mist. 

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The next day it was raining. The cold water poured from the sky and dripped through the cracks in the stone. The hollows in the rock had filled with water, almost to the point of overflowing.

Akko sat huddled in a corner completely drenched. She had curled in on herself in an attempt to keep warm. Unfortunately, the cold metal manacles on her wrists and ankles sapped away at the warmth in her body. At least she wouldn’t be thirsty for quite some time. She would be able to drink from the puddles for quite some time.

When Diana appeared before her out of the rainy mist, Akko gave a startled jump. The sound of the water must have disguised Diana’s footsteps. The weather must have been affecting Diana as well. She looked a little faded, and there were brown streaks along the hem of her clothes. A result of the mud, no doubt. Akko watched as Diana sat on the sodden earth without a care.

“What would you like to hear about today, Akko?” Diana asked, as if completely unbothered by the rain. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Akko said with a sniffle. Humans were much more delicate than Oni. Akko couldn’t believe Diana was even out in this weather. She wasn’t even shivering.

“I quite like the rain,” Diana said with a smile as she tilted her palms to the sky. “It makes the earth smell fresh.”

“I guess.” Akko grumbled. She tucked her arms around her waist a little tighter, staving off a shiver. She blinked as a drop of water fell onto her nose. Akko couldn’t fathom why Diana would rather sit completely unprotected outside of the overhang. She could only reach halfway across, so Diana couldn’t be scared of being attacked. “Why don’t you come inside at least? I don’t want you getting sick.”

Diana’s gentle smile turned a little strained at Akko’s question. “I would, but I have been forbidden from doing so. Shall I tell you about the great forest?”

Akko nodded. It obviously looked like it was something Diana didn’t want to do. The cold feeling that came with the thought of possibly losing Diana was unpleasant. Akko didn’t want to chase her one friend off by prying too deeply. There would be time. After all, Akko wasn’t going anywhere. Unless she was freed, she would be here for the rest of eternity. Akko gave a shiver and focused her attention once more on Diana. She wanted to hear about the Forest of Ancients.

With a small smile she listened as Diana wove a tale about trees as tall as giants. As she closed her eyes, images of a forest filled with flowers made of colored glass and clear streams began to fill her mind. The rain was slowly drowned out by the sound of trees whispering to her tales from before the days of mankind. She could smell the loamy soil and see strange woodland creatures. Deer made from living wood, tigers the size of elephants with sharpened tusks, and frogs that sang intricate melodies. As Diana finished her story, she paused for a moment. 

“Akko,” Diana said as Akko slowly fell out of the daydream. “If I were to die, would you be sad?” 

Akko didn’t quite know how to respond. “I’d miss your stories,” She said after a moment. “I’d miss learning about the world.” It was the truth. Diana was useful to Akko. She was a source of stories and a buffer against loneliness.

“But would you miss me?” Diana asked again insistently.

Akko said nothing, still deep in thought. She was thinking about Diana and the light that she had brought to her prison.

Diana looked up at the sky. “I’d like it if you were to miss me. But don’t forget me. Think about me sometimes, and the time we spent together. After all, I was born for this kind of purpose.”

“You won’t die.” Akko said, suddenly feeling anxiety claw at her heart. “You never stay long enough for my power to affect you. You’ll be here for a while yet.” She reached out desperately at Diana. Akko could taste the bile on her tongue and hear her heartbeat. She couldn’t lose Diana, or her stories.

“I wonder.” Diana said with a gentle smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, and looked more sad than happy. Akko watched as Diana sifted the wet dirt through her fingers for a brief moment. She had to bite her tongue when the rain stopped and Diana finally stood up to go. Without the rain interfering with her sight, Akko could see Diana fully.

The ends of her cloak looked frayed, and her eyes were tired. Diana still had that same smile on her face, but it looked more strained. “Will you be back?” Akko said. Her voice was barely a whisper, and she turned her eyes to the stone. She didn’t want to see Diana look like that. Like she was sickly and worn.

“Maybe.” Akko heard Diana say. When she looked up to gaze one last time at Diana, she was gone. Akko grit her teeth and held her chains tightly in her hands. Diana would be back. She had no reason to leave. She would be fine and she’d visit Akko again, and tell her more stories about the world around her.

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When morning rose once more, Akko waited for Diana to come back. She sat straining her ears to hear footsteps or the brush of cloth on stone. She waited until the shadows grew long and covered the hollow she was imprisoned in. Finally wreathed in darkness, Akko sobbed. When the sun pierced the shadows in the morning, Akko looked about once more with tear stained eyes. Diana was nowhere in sight. There was no bright blue among the dead trees. No sight of her strange streaked hair among the gray stone.There was nothing in Akko’s hollow indicating Diana had been there. The only thing that remained in Akko’s prison were her chains and a small withered flower.

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 13 - Be(e) Mine

Varis’ lips press into a thin line as the Emissary strides toward you. Even his walk is smooth, his gait even and balanced, looking close to a saunter. His red eyes ensnare you, leaving you unable to look anywhere else but him.

And he knows it.

“I presume this to be her, correct?” the Emissary asks, coming to a stop a respectable distance away from you.

“Yes.” Varis answers, coming to stand nearby, clearly displeased.

The Emissary seems to pay little attention to Varis’ annoyed tone, choosing to extend his hand out in an offer to shake it. “A pleasure to meet you…”

“Honey.” You shake his hand firmly, surprised that for how thin he looks, he has a fairly strong grip. Continuing to hold your hand, his lips tweak into a gentle smile.

“What a lovely name.” The Emissary replies, the compliment sounding entirely genuine. You hope he can’t see the light blush rise to your cheeks.

Your eyes drift over to a nearby clock, catching the time. “I appreciate the compliments. Unfortunately, I do have some other business…” you trail off, giving your hand a light tug. He holds fast for a beat longer before finally loosening his grip, but not before turning your palm downwards to bring your hand to his lips to kiss the back of your hand.

“Professional, lovely, and diligent...your son has made quite the find, hasn’t he Varis?” The words are practically purred against your skin as the Emissary lowers his lashes at you.

“Indeed she is…” Varis murmurs, and his tone makes you break your stare off with the Emissary, not liking the predatory gleam in his golden eyes.

“Very well. I won’t hold you any longer, and let you attend to your duties.”

As he releases your hand, you do your best to not snatch it back to you, remaining cool and composed as you give the Emissary a hesitant smile. “Thank you…?”

“Elidibus.” He purrs, grinning like a cat. “I will be seeing you at dinner.” It was a statement, not an inquiry, and you quickly jolted your eyes to Varis. The CEO looked just as surprised as you, the predatory look fading for but a moment.

“I suppose you will.” You answer, not bothering to hide the confusion in your voice, but unwilling to stay any longer. Turning away you make your way to the kitchen, hoping you hadn’t kept Lyngsath waiting for too long.

“Sleepin’ in?” Lyngsath greets as you stroll in, already holding your plate of breakfast for you.

“Mornin’ Lyngsath.” You beam, taking a seat at a nearby table as he sets the plate down in front of you.A spread of various mouth watering fruit sits before you, paired with some eggs and toast. Saying your thanks, you dig right in. “I was held up by an, uh, guest?”

“Ah, the Emissary?” Lyngsath booms, though he doesn’t need to. His throaty voice easily carries over the sizzle of meat and clanging of pots. “What an honor! He has visited before, he is a most gracious guest. Lord Varis has us prepare Garlean cuisine for his arrival.”

Your eyebrow raises at that. “Garlean cuisine? Why?”

“Did you not know? He is the Prime Minister of Garlemald!”

"Garlemald? But he doesn't have a third eye…" you murmur in confusion.

"Aye! Which makes his position all the more impressive!"

You nearly drop your spoon at that, eyes surely bulging out of your head. You couldn’t believe you had so casually met a Prime Minister, and of Garlemald no less…

Which leads you to wonder, just what is the relationship between a CEO far from home and home’s Prime Minister? Of course it’s not unheard of for people in positions of power to mingle with one another; Lord Hien is known for being quite good friends with Gosetsu, a world renowned swordsmith and craftsman. However, thinking back on Varis’ tone when speaking with the Emissary, it leads you to believe that their relationship is far from chummy.

Speaking of Varis…

Handing your plate to the dishwasher, you make your way to the gym where Zenos awaits, thinking over his father’s unsettling stare. For someone who thought you worse than dirt, he seemed to pay special attention to you, or maybe he was merely making sure you wouldn’t step out of line in front of such prestigious company. Did he have anything close to a conscience that let him see he should afford you some respect for saving his life? It was the only reason that made sense from what you could tell.

“You are late.”

You don’t miss a beat as you head to put your things down as usual, seeing that Zenos has already finished his morning meditation.

“I slept in a little.” You lie, beginning your stretches. His eyes haven’t left you, focused hard, judging.

“Were you stopped by someone?” He asks, eyes narrowing as you flinch guiltily. “Who?”

“The Emissary.” You mumble under your breath, cutting your eyes away as you find the weights on the other wall suddenly riveting. “All he did was say hello, and thank me for saving you and your dad.” You answer truthfully, bending to reach your toes.

“That’s all?” Zenos questions. Really, you wonder if he had some built in lie detector or something on you.

“And...he also invited me to dinner later.” You mumble as quickly as possible.

“He did? Not my father?” Zenos presses, crouching down to pull you out of your stretch. His face is strangely serious, almost calculating.

“Yes. I believe to thank me for saving you and your dad.” You tell him, jumping as his grip on you tightens for a brief moment.

“Father.” He corrects while looking down at you, and you nod slowly. Standing to his full height, he seems to stare hard at nothing for a moment. “Continue your stretches. I’ve already finished warming up.”

Biting down on your lip, you watch as he seems to resist the urge to pace. Outwardly he doesn’t look too concerned, but you’ve been around him enough by this point to see that something is genuinely bothering him. If someone as immovable as him seems put out, perhaps you should be too. “Should I be worried?” You hazard, knowing full well he could either respond with sass or fury.

He pauses his musing to look at you, frost blue eyes shimmering as he mulls over his words. “Worried? Certainly not.” He huffs, the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, but his brows furrow further. “If what is happening, is happening, it will be my problem; not yours.”

Frowning, you stand to your feet, beginning your arm stretches. “But I’m your bodyguard right? So if it’s your problem, pretty sure it’s mine too.” You counter, watching a single blonde eyebrow arch, before his lips curl into a full on smirk.

“Yes...you are mine, aren’t you?” He purrs, so deep and silky that for a moment you almost ignore what it was he said.

“I am your bodyguard, yes.” You correct, sticking your tongue out at him, not caring how childish you may look.

“I’d put that away unless you plan to use it, my beast.” He croons, eyes half lidded, and your tongue snaps back in your mouth like an old cartoon, staring wide eyed at your boss. Even in the stark, white light, his eyes glimmer darkly, a myriad of emotion swimming through them. A tension seems to fall upon the room under his hooded stare, growing more oppressive as he crosses over to you.

Standing before you, he shifts his weight to one leg, a hand slowly reaching out to take a lock of your hair between two fingers. Twirling the strands between them, his eyes slide to yours, half lidded. “Deny it all you like, my beast. You are mine, and mine alone, no matter how much you may hate me. Until you breathe your last breath, I never intend to let you go.”

Scoffing, you jerk slightly to pull the strands from his fingers, and he allows it. “Those words would almost be romantic if they weren’t said by a sociopath such as yourself.” You snarl, glaring hotly up at him, wishing anything you did would faze him. “I belong to no one, Zenos.”

He laughs, bending down into your space, and out of sheer spite do you not cow before him as he enters it. You feel the ends of his long, blonde hair tickle your skin, feel his cool breath ghost across your face. “Is it so wrong to belong? Do I not belong to you?”

Your brain halts at that statement, caught off guard. Zenos smirks, pressing even closer, your foot taking you backwards as to not have his lips meet your own. Zenos follows, step for step. “Have you not given me the challenge I’ve craved my entire life? Who else has been strong enough to sharpen my blade as I have sharpened theirs?” He asks, and you find you have no answer. You grunt as you nearly trip backwards over equipment, Zenos’ arm rushing out to grab your own and pull you close to him.

“I am hated by far too many than I care to keep count for. But you, my beast…” He purrs, arm snaking around your waist, holding you close as he once again leans into your space, “No one has challenged me as you have. You are in my thoughts every waking moment, the highlight of an otherwise dull and dreary day.” Pressed between him and the wall, you pray he cannot hear how your heart races inside your chest, how your face flushes red as he tries to press closer still.

“Do I not belong to you as well? She, who hates me with such ferocity, she, who does not cow before what could be certain death. Where others would bend and break, you tower over me with your might.” He praises, voice but a harsh whisper as if he is trying to convince you. “It is why I do not care how you spit and curse at me. Am I not yours to treat how you see fit?”

You don’t know what to say.

That Zenos thought you his own property was certain, but the knowledge that he thought him your property left you more than speechless.

That the son of one of the richest men living in Kugane would think himself beneath you.

That the man who would have men and women alike throwing themselves at his feet...

That the man who demanded respect by just walking in a room would let you flip him over your shoulder, snark and snap at him as if he was a bum off the street…

“I do not want you to be mine.” You murmur softly, meeting his gaze head on, unafraid.

“You do not have a choice.” He responds, not missing a beat, lips curling into a smirk. “Your survival depends on my protection. I will not suffer to see my father take yet another one of my bodyguards away from me.” He rumbles, voice low and threatening like the beginning of a summer storm. “And if you think I am unforgiving,...you would not last a day underneath my father.”

Swallowing thickly, you nod, hearing the genuine promise in his voice.

As he pulls away, you can’t help but gaze up at him, your heart still thudding in your chest. Smart as he was, what a fool he must be to be so enamored with you to let you treat him the way he does. Would he feel betrayed when you finally turned him in for his crimes along with his father?

Bile fills your throat for a brief moment, hand flying to your mouth as Zenos turns around to head back to the center of the room. Frowning, you bite down hard on your lip at the conflicting feelings in your chest, deciding not to think too hard on them for now. It is instead time to focus on your daily training, to prepare for the rest of the day.

You try to keep the thought of meeting with the Emissary at bay; he had seemed pleasant enough. Though you can’t say you at all expected for the voice of the world leader to pour out like ichor; for his unreadable, ruby gaze to land upon you, making you feel so much...younger than he. There was a wisdom to him that you couldn’t put your finger on, and you hoped to perhaps find more out at the looming dinner.

As the day passes on you begin thinking harder and harder on the dinner. It dawns on you much later how many important people will be at this table: a CEO, a dignitary (the dignitary) of Garlemald, and the son of the aforementioned CEO. Men who were all highly educated, incredibly rich, and unbearably snooty. It made you feel like you had walked out the boonies.

Would you be given something to wear? Was it that important? Would it be an actual dress?

“I can tell from the look on your face you are thinking much too hard about tonight.”

Your eyes slowly slide over from your place on one of the chairs to Zenos, who is sitting at his desk, flipping through stacks of paper, expression bored, but focused. “What’s on your mind?” he sighs, grabbing a fine ink pen to scribble something on a paper.

Deciding to humor him, you kick your legs over the arm of the chair, relaxing against the other. “It just occurred to me how many important people are going to be at this dinner.” You answer, deciding not to elaborate on your feelings.

His scoff is clearly heard across his spacious office. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?” He teases, making another few choice marks on the paper. You frown at how he pegged you so easily, rolling your eyes as you stare at the mirrored ceiling.

“Hardly. Who needs to be embarrassed with skills like mine?” You retort, idly kicking your feet as you stare at your reflection. “I just wonder how I got here; a street rat as you so affectionately called me, coming to sit with a CEO, a foreign world leader, and the CEO’s son. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed…” You trail off, noticing Zenos has stopped scribbling away at whatever he was doing. “I can’t be so important right? Like, what does a whole ass world leader want with me, to come overseas just to give a thank you for saving some of his citizens in person? Unless…”

Unless you are important to him.

The thought gives you pause. While it wasn’t unheard of for some world leaders to be buddy buddy with some successful businessmen, most tried to keep from being in the public eye too much lest some sort of collusion would begin to be suspected. Despite being one of the most prominent figures within Kugane, very little was actually known about Varis: who he interacted with, his family, hells, even some doubted the truth of his origins.

“I too, wonder at Elidibus’ reasoning for coming over…” You hear Zenos murmur, returning back to writing, though at a slower pace. His brows are furrowed in concentration, as if he’s trying to make sense of the situation himself.

“Does he not visit often?” You ask with a shrug.

“No. In fact, the last reason he visited was only when my father’s tower was completed, and that was over four years ago. He does not oft visit my father. Whether it is due to his own responsibilities as the Emissary, or his own personal reasons, I do not know.” He sighs, neatly settling the papers and stacking them at the corner of his desk.

“Are he and your father like...friends?” The thought of anyone wanting to be Varis’ friend seems nigh impossible, but due to your job you can’t ignore the possibility.

“If they are friends, I wouldn’t know anything about it.” You turn your head to watch him recline in his high backed chair, leveling you with a neutral expression. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my beast, I have little to no desire to poke around my father’s personal affairs. So long as it does not affect my own life, I care little for what he does.”

You can’t stop your frown. You wonder what could’ve happened in his upbringing to cause such a dramatic rift; one so wide that you genuinely doubt there would be any healing for it. Zenos did not even hate his father; he merely felt nothing but unending apathy for him. Curiosity nagged in the back of your mind, wanting to know more about him, his family, why he was the way he was.

Never once did it cross your mind to ask in an attempt to dig for information. You wanted to know purely because you wanted to know.

“Either way, you have nothing to worry about. If anything, my father is just looking for an excuse to try and talk to you.” He sighs, the anger barely restrained in his voice.

Sitting up now, you meet his gaze head on. “Talk to me? I thought--”

“What is the reason Elidibus has invited you to dinner, Honey?” He cuts you off, eyes hard.

“To thank me for saving you and your father--”

“And what did I tell you would keep you from escaping my father’s notice?” He interrupts once more, his fists clenched tightly.

Dread seeps into your very bones as you realize what he’s getting at.

“My father has no use for anyone who is not willing to kill or be killed for him.” He hisses, his next words draining the color from your face. “By killing Lambard in order to save us, you just put yourself in his sights.”

It seemed if you excelled in anything, it was getting in deeper trouble than you were already in.

You tried not to blame yourself too heavily. You couldn’t fail your job by letting Zenos and Varis die; death would be too easy of an escape for all the crimes they’ve committed. Your hand had been forced; you had no other way to ensure their survival aside from ending Lambard’s life.

As much as you tell yourself that, the nightmares still plague you.

“Can I count on your father to behave himself?” You ask, staring out the window of the backseat of the car, watching as the city fades away into upper end housing.

Zenos arches a strong brow. “Behave?” He questions.

“If he calls me a savage, I’m decking him right in his fucking face.” You snarl, glaring at him fiercely as he barks out a laugh.

“As enjoyable a sight as that sounds, I can’t say I can predict how he’ll act. As I had said, I don’t know the nature of their relationship, but I’ve seen them around each other enough to hazard that my father will...behave like you wish.” His lips curl into a fierce smirk. “He must answer to the Emissary after all. And I will say Elidibus is certainly more sensitive.” He snorts derisively.

Tutting, you jab a finger sharply into his shoulder. “You could stand to be more sensitive.” You sneer, making sure to draw out every syllable of the word. You freeze as Zenos grabs your hand in his, holding tightly, but not so much you could not pull away if you wanted.

“Could I?” He purrs, thumb tracing nonsensical patterns on the back of your hand. His touch is like fire despite the crystalline gaze of his frigid blue eyes, each motion sending sparks along your skin. “I think you’ll find parts of me are certainly more sensitive than most, my beast.”

Flushing deeply, you stammer, unsure of what to say in the face of such an obvious innuendo. Quickly, you regain your cool. “I thought you said you did not mix business with pleasure.” You hiss, snatching your hand away, unconsciously pressing yourself against the opposite door for good measure.

“So I did.” He chuckles lowly, gaze half lidded. “Though I will say, it is certainly a stance I’ve considered...reevaluating.” His voice rumbles low and thick, so much so that you know you would’ve felt it if you continued to let him hold your hand. Unsure what to say, you mumble something about “lying rich boys” and refocus on the houses passing by, doing your best to ignore the satisfied air you know lurks right behind you.

Pulling up to the house, both you and Zenos exit the car, your eyes barely catching Ardbert's look of worry. You toss him an easy going smile over your shoulder, one that tells him not to worry. You may be in Varis' sights now, but you'll be damned before you ever worked under him. "Do I have to change into something nice?" you ask Zenos, opening the front door for him so that you two may step inside. Your dinners were often taken alone in a separate dining room while Zenos and Varis ate in the main one.

"I would suggest you change into something light and...appropriate. It's not a formal dinner, but as you had said before, you are in esteemed company." He answers truthfully, pausing as he reaches the spiraling staircase to the upper floors. "Dress modestly, comfortably."

Nodding you head to your own rooms to get out of your uniform and shower. You decide to not read too deep about his "modest" comment; if anything it was a genuine suggestion aa you were about to dine with a dignitary. You'd have to wear something that was already given to you upon your move here; no way any of the clothes you picked would be anywhere decent enough.

You decide to pick a floral top, not afraid to add a little feminine flair. Pink flowers trail across sheer black material, you modesty protected with the satin undershirt. You pair it with some fairly dressy jeans, the material smooth and obviously designer, but still casual so that you don’t look like you’re trying too hard. You glance back at the vanity in the bathroom for the moment, debating on at the very least putting on some mascara or some eyeliner, but decide against it. It was just a simple dinner, and you had no one to impress.

Stepping out your room, you take a calming breath, the mansion quieter with the day almost done. In a last minute decision you decided to go with some modest heels instead of flats, accentuating the line of your legs as your heels click on the immaculate tile floor once you begin making your way down the hall. You’ve brushed your hair to where you pray it looks presentable, having not nearly enough time to pull it into something fancy. A few housekeepers take note of your attire, some even whistling in jest as you stroll down the hall. It was well known that once you got home you usually threw on a t-shirt and shorts, scarfed down your dinner, and hid out in your room for the rest of the night.

Now, their second glances make you feel terribly self conscious.

Reaching the door to the dining hall, you pause. They know you’re outside obviously; your heels signaled your approach. Even still, you take the time to hesitate, worrying your lip for a moment before you take a deep breath and press down on the still bent door handle.

Immediately all eyes land on you, and you give a small bow. “Good evening.” You greet, eyeing the remaining chairs at the table. Varis sits at the head, Elidibus to his left and Zenos to his right. Instinct demands you sit at the opposite end, but that’s a power move you don’t want to play right now.

“Good evening.” Elidibus returns with a warm smile, his voice floating over to you like a gentle cloud. “Please, take a seat wherever you wish.” He offers.

Giving him a small smile of thanks, you decide to play it safe and sit next to Zenos and opposite of Elidibus. If Varis does try to start shit, Zenos hopefully would make a good buffer and stop you before you jeopardized your mission. Sitting next to the Emissary also wasn’t an option, not being nearly enough familiar, not wanting to offend.

Taking your seat in the high backed chair, you eye the many forks and spoons before you. Mentally you groan; you didn’t think rich people actually ate like this. They are all made of real silver, that much is obvious.

“Worry not about any high class etiquette tonight--” Elidibus purrs, his lips curled into a smile, “--most of them are for show anyway. Varis has always been one to flaunt his wealth.”

Unsure if that was a barb or not, you prepare to respond but Varis beats you to it. “One should show their hard earned possessions.” He huffs haughtily, golden eyes fixated on you. Keeping your expression neutral is a challenge in itself, meeting his gaze unafraid. “Also I believe that this is my dining room that you’re playing host in.”

“Indeed it is. My apologies.” Elidibus chuckles, and suddenly things feel tense.

Your eyes slide to Zenos for a moment for any kind of clue, but he stares off into the distance, bored. No help from him then.

“In that case, let me chat as a guest. I regret not being able to spend more time with you earlier this morning.” Elidibus says as he leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers in his lap. “Had I known your morning was already taken up by young Zenos, I would have requested your time earlier. Varis seemed to leave out that tidbit.”

“Ah, forgive me then.” You titter nervously, feeling like a sheep in a den of wolves. It was one thing to win a fist fight, but a fight of words, of cunning and skill and never saying what you mean… that is where you were sorely outmatched. “Ever since I began my employment here, I have trained with Zenos at daybreak.”

“Zenos?” Elidibus echoes, red eyes sparkling like rubies. “You two are so...familiar?”

Your eyes dart to the aforementioned man who is now looking back at you. You can feel your face heat up under his scrutiny, despite his father and a whole ass dignitary being in the room. “I suppose we have become more casual, as time has gone on?” You wince at how your voice ticks upwards with uncertainty, daring to take a glance at the man across the table.

“I see. No wonder you were so...vicious in saving young Zenos and his father.” It is worded as a statement, but it is almost as if he is musing to himself out loud. “I have only heard bits and pieces of the tale; would you mind regaling me in the details?”

“She will not.”

Zenos has spoken for the first time since you had entered the room, his icy gaze settled on the Emissary. Elidibus doesn’t look fazed by Zenos’ warning stare, though unlike Varis, he merely looks amused. “Oh?”

“Mind your tongue, boy.” Varis warns, and Zenos’ glare turns downright murderous as he stares down his father. Varis doesn’t flinch, unblinking as he steps in to reprimand his son. You resist the urge to just slink under the table and slide out the door, your nerves frazzled beyond belief and you’re positive you’ve only been in the room no more than ten minutes.

“It is fine, let him speak. She is his charge after all…” His stress on being his does not escape your notice, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as his ruby eyes twinkle with unsaid plans. So occupied with his jewel like eyes, you do not notice Varis’ perpetual frown somehow deepening.

“If you are lacking in details, Emissary, there is a reason for such. If you are truly so curious, I’m sure my father can avail you of the details privately.” His voice is like steel, seeming almost non-threatening to anyone who doesn’t know him, but you can hear the threat in his voice.

“This is certainly true, young Zenos. I did not mean to overstep my bounds.” Elidibus offers diplomatically. You don’t doubt Zenos seeing it for what it is, but it seems to placate him for the time being. “Though I must wonder, will you be keeping such skill to yourself?”

“Of course.” Zenos answers with zero hesitation. “Father has enough guards; he had hounded me to get one of my own, and now I have her.”

“I see.” Elidibus murmurs, once again musing aloud. He seems to be digging for clues, but clues for what? What are his plans?

Maybe it was time to start asking questions of your own.

“If I may be so bold,” you begin, “you’ve been awfully curious about me, Emissary, while I am ashamed to say I don’t know much about yourself.”

You’ve clearly caught him off guard, surprise shining in his eyes for a moment before a genuine respect shines in them. “I am not one to praise myself, Miss…”

“Honey is fine, remember?” you advise, not at all liking the idea of being called Miss Honey.

“Indeed. I try not to make a habit of talking about myself, especially due to my position, but I will do my best to answer any questions you may have.”

Nodding, you do your best to phrase your next question carefully. “I have to say I was pretty surprised to see a Garlean dignitary here, in Lord Varis’ home no less. Are you perhaps old friends?”

Elidibus lets out a rich laugh at that, the sound pleasant and smooth like whiskey. “If we are anything, it is colleagues. We met when we were younger, just starting to break out into the world. Since then, we have kept up with each other’s life events. I was there for Zenos’ birth, and the unfortunate death of his mother.”

An incredibly safe answer from what you could tell. “I see. Then I suppose it makes sense why you would come to visit after such a...life threatening situation.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment the door to the kitchen opens, Lyngsath’s bulk crowding through. “Good evening, Emissary! It is an honor to host you once again!” he booms, pearly white teeth twinkling in the low light from the chandelier. With that, it seems questions are to be put on hold as dinner is served.

Your suspicions about the family eating better than you are confirmed; everything put before you looks amazing. Not that you’re fed absolute gruel, but the mole loaf placed before you has gravy on it. Gravy! Such frivolities were excluded from your diet (thanks to Zenos) and you did your best to not look like a pig as you savored each bite. You were tempted to ask for seconds but didn’t want to push your luck, sensing that Zenos might give you an earful of maintaining peak physical form. It made no sense he ate like this every night and wasn’t restricting his own diet.

“I believe I will be retiring for tonight.” Zenos dabs at his lips gently with a cloth napkin, gently pushing his chair away from the table to stand. You glance at your plate, still a bit hungry, hoping that now with Zenos gone, you can sneak into the kitchen and tell Lyngsath to save any leftovers for later.

“Come, Honey. We must rest for tomorrow.”

Goddammit.

“It seems we must part for now. Thank you for your company, Honey.” Elidibus croons, your name sounding like silk passing his lips, the rich baritone of his voice making you shiver. You throw a cautious glance at Zenos who is glaring daggers at the Emissary and decide to expedite your exit.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, I am not often in such good company. I wish you safe travels,”

“Ah, ah. I will remain here in Hingashi for a while yet. It’s been some time since I’ve been able to relax. Hopefully, we will have time to get more acquainted with one another?” He’s pretty much backed you into a corner with a yes or no question, so you pray a carefully crafted “maybe” won’t offend.

“So long as I have the time. As you’ve heard, protecting these men is very busy work.” Your voice betrays none of your feelings as you stand from the table, moving to the door where Zenos stands.

“So they are. Good night, Honey.” Elidibus grins, raising his wine glass to you.

“Good night.” You wave, stepping out the door into the hallway, Zenos close behind. It is quiet for a few moments as you do your best to casually look over your shoulder. He’s shrouded in shadow in the dark hallway, the blue glow of the moonlight softening his otherwise sharp features, though the way his crystal blue eyes catch the light, he still looks more beast than man. “Well. See you in the morning…” you trail off, giving him a little wave as you begin to walk away.

“And just where are you going?” He asks, amusement dancing alongside the venom in his voice.

“Oh, nowhere. I was just gonna...uh…” you suddenly blank on every other room that is in the direction of the kitchen. “...go out into the garden for awhile.” you lie.

He doesn’t buy it. “Oh? So eager to take a dip in the fountain again?” he taunts, his eyes predatory but there is a...different edge to them somehow. His steps to close the distance between you feel almost like a prowl, keeping you rooted there, unmoving.

“Hardly.” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “What’s it to you anyway? I’m off duty as soon as we come in this house. You said so yourself. What I do on my own time is no business of yours.” you snarl, to which the Garlean looks somewhat unsettled for a brief moment before quiet fury rolls off him in waves.

“Perhaps it is so, my beast…” he purrs, still for but a moment until he pounces, your back against the closest wall, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. “You might think yourself only in my employ, but you require me for your survival...more than ever.” The way his voice drops brings your heart to a halt for a split second as fear shoots through you like lightning.

Does he know?

Pressing closer against you, he sighs, hair hanging in his face as he looms above you. “I don’t know what my father plans, but I am certain that after your stunt at the hospital he will stop at nothing to have you. This is the most I’ve ever denied him from taking what does not belong to him.” He pauses for a moment, creeping closer still. You are chest to chest now, bodies breathing in tandem in the quiet of the hallway.

“But whatever it is, you should fear it. I know little of my father aside from pain and apathy, and that he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. I’m also sure you don’t need me to tell you that Elidibus’ extended stay is also room for suspicion either.” His voice vibrates through your entire, physical being, his lips seeming just a hair’s breadth too close, and yet malms away at once. You can smell his scent up this close, something musky, something wild.

“Then what do you suppose I should do?” You ask, noticing how his gaze drops to your lips so fast that if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

As he smirks from this close, you realize how handsome he is. How much of him you do admire, from his brilliant teeth, to his pouty lips. His frigid, blue eyes that could spark like a blue flame under his ire. His skin, perfect like porcelain, smooth and unmarred in the moonlight, his hair shining like golden thread.

His hands that leave your wrists to steady themselves at your hips.

“Haven’t I told you before?” he asks, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips, hinting at a different kind of strength.

“Remind me.” You whisper, searching his gaze for something. Anything.

He huffs out a chuckle, pulling you closer still.

“Be mine.”

[yukiwrites]

Byleth, Revealing the Truth

Thank you for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This is always so interesting to work on! >v<)

Summary: Coming to terms with the realization that he will never see Sothis again, Byleth finally confronts Rhea in front of the student body and reveals the truth of the deep and dark secrets the Church had been keeping for a thousand years...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -  Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8  - Part 9 - Part 10  - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

The air underground felt thicker and thicker with magical energy the closer they got to the Holy Tomb. Byleth could almost hear the memories unraveling around him, taking everything he had to simply look ahead and lead the way.

The students -- Claude, Linhardt and Ignatz especially -- explored the stones with deep curiosity, whispering amongst themselves while coming up with this or that theory about the place's origins. Once they descended through a mysterious contraption -- something Byleth's memories told him was called 'elevator' -- the awed gasps increased.

There it lay, right in front of them -- the gargantuan underground space known as the Holy Tomb.

"Are you surprised, Professor? This is the Holy Tomb." Rhea pressed her lips into a thin line, as though testing Byleth's grasp in Sothis' memories. The young Professor simply chewed his lower lip and took a short breath, seeing the young Rhea giggling and twirling around herself in every single place he directed his gaze to.

Standing on Byleth's left, Dimitri looked around with large eyes. "Incredible. To think such a vast space has been hiding beneath the Monastery all this time. I wonder what powers that giant mechanism that descends beneath the ground." He whispered the last part more to himself, taking a hand to his chin in thought.

Rhea's steps turned hastier as they approached the throne sitting on the opposite side of the entrance. It overlooked any and all who entered, centered so as to watch over the countless sarcophagi scattered all over the grounds.

"This is where the goddess who created this world was laid to rest, along with her children." She gestured vaguely from the sarcophagi to the throne. "It is said," she tried very hard to suppress her smirk, "that our creator, the goddess Sothis, sat upon this very throne." She let the words sink in for a moment, waiting for when Byleth's gaze turned to her. "Do you recognize this throne, Professor?"

"What, why would he know about this? Is that because he received the power from the goddess?" Claude blurted out from the position Hanneman had guided the Golden Deers to, crossing his arms in confusion.

"I do not think now's the time to ask such questions, Claude..." Ignatz shook his head beside Claude, whispering as low as he could, though still falling victim to the mysterious echo of the Holy Tomb.

"Now's precisely the time to ask questions, though..." Unsatisfied, but intent on staying put for the time being, Claude crossed both hands behind his head, feigning nonchalance.

Byleth looked away from Rhea towards the throne, clutching his chest and embracing the lump in his throat. "I do." He replied simply, making the Archbishop blink enthusiastically and clap her hands gracefully.

"So long... So long have I waited for this very day." Her eyes looked glazed over; her controlled smile just a step from conveying the deep-rooted madness within. "Go, Professor," she urged the young man through the steps. "Sit upon the throne. I have no doubt -- no doubt! -- that you will be gifted a r-revelation from the goddess." She bit her lower lip in anticipation.

Byleth gazed upon the throne, feeling the heat escape his body and his throat go dry.

He had just seen it inside his head, barely a week ago. He had gone up these very steps within his mind to console Sothis when she had regained her memory, just a few weeks previous. He had seen her sit upon it countless, countless times inside their shared memories.

His eyes burning, Byleth gripped the hilt of the Sword of the Creator on his hip and climbed the steps, one by one; one by one.

The more the throne approached, the more visions Byleth could see -- of Rhea, of Sothis, of her children; even of a young Seteth -- and his legs started trembling. He knew that if he had a normal heart, this would be the moment where it would be beating so loud he would barely be able to hear his own breathing.

Alas, his chest was as silent as ever, though if only his mind could say the same...

He touched the cold stone of the throne's hand rest, feeling a crackle of energy clashing with the one being emitted from his own body. Taking a deep breath, the professor slowly took a seat in the middle of the large throne, reminding him of how small Sothis always looked whenever she sat on it inside their shared mindscape.

Closing his eyes, Byleth felt a surge of memories cascading through his mind.

He could almost, almost hear Sothis' voice again, though it all stemmed from his own memories.

“You fool!! Do not go asking questions you might regret hearing the answer to!”    “Give it to her! Get away from here this instant! I cannot bear this conversation any longer!” He could hear her voice almost as clear as day, though he knew, deep within himself, that this was all just his own wishful thinking showing him what he wanted to see.

“I condone the way you forcefully try to yank it all out of me.”      “Your mind has been wandering and wandering…”      “Sothis, also known as The Beginning. I identify with both aliases, as does the goddess.”      “Am I simply a part of the goddess? The conscience once calls ‘self’? If so, is that the reason why I bear the appearance of a child?” Her voice as she condoned or comforted him made the Professor press his own lips into a thin line, a deep frown squeezing his eyes shut lest they overflowed with grief.

“Experiment? What- Did I go through such a thing in the past?”       “NO! No, no! Nooo!” “This… this is… It’s how I died.”

Byleth could barely keep himself from expressing his own grief, watching his and Sothis’ shared memories play out inside his mind.

“So that is why I did not want to remember…”      “Will you come with me?”    “Thank you…”      “I have the memories back, not the powers! Oh, why-why must this happen…!”      “What a beautiful love it must’ve been.”      “Your Father had been wary of her from day one.”

“Indeed… The wicked must be punished.”

“It was that simple, young one. She wanted to see me again.”

Byleth opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Rhea’s.

“She wanted to bring me back to life, Byleth, by using your body as a medium. I’d wager she almost succeeded this time.”       “Even though we’ve been together ever since you were born, it is a shame that I’ve only awoke a few months ago.”        “It is not the same as death, silly child. I will always be with you, quite literally.”

“We simply… will not be able to talk like this. I shall miss it.”

Rhea’s expression started to crumble. “Well…?”

“Can I be selfish just one more time?”      “Could you- hug me?”      “This will be the very last time anyway, for all eternity.”

Byleth slowly ascended from the throne, taking quiet steps down the stairs towards the Archbishop.

“Thank you… I’m glad it was with you to whom my fate was bound.”

The Professor stopped midway to the staircase, taking a deep breath and turning to the throne, bowing slightly to it. "I'm sorry, my friend... I’ll try to keep my promise as best I can, but…” He raised his gaze to the cold stone, then back to the increasingly nervous Archbishop.

Averting her gaze, Byleth tried to walk past her in a strangled silence, but she took his arm with a force that did not match her frail-looking get-up.

"W-wait, Professor? What happened? It w-was supposed to be just a step away..." Her voice derailed as her eyes shook -- the color seeped out of her face with each breath she took. "Answer me!"

"L-Lady Rhea, pray let the Professor go-" Dimitri tried to touch Rhea's hand which gripped Byleth's arm, but was shook off by the increasingly unhinged Archbishop.

"Do not interfere, child!" She hissed, her eyes and cheeks hollowing in despair.

Byleth's brow flickered with anger, so he, too, shook off Rhea's hand. "Don't touch my students." His voice was low, but somber, full of authority and barely controlled anger.

It was as though he had the poise of a god for the entire room fell silent as chills spread around everyone's spines.

Hanneman and Manuela exchanged glances, ready to haul the students out at any indication of Rhea losing control.

"I'm not a tool for your schemes anymore, Rhea! What did you want to happen, truly? To have Sothis possess my body and live and speak through my mouth? You can't ever replicate her body! It would've been a prison just as cruel as the one they put her through!"

"NO! No- no, she would be free! She would walk amongst us again- M-mother...! She would- reconstruct herself once she regained her powers-" Rhea blabbed, her field of vision and consciousness narrowing to Byleth only, forgetting about the dozens of onlookers.

Byleth clutched his chest, "regained what powers? Through a limited vessel there was no way to channel them! She could only keep the form of an amnesic child! Haven't you realized that the power of her soul can't be contained only in her Crest Stone?! The most she could do was wish to know who she was!"

Rhea's eyes widened so, they almost bulged out of her skull. "F-form of a child? No memories...? But then, how do you- how did she give you this power- o-oh, Mother..."

The Professor's chin trembled with the overlapped version of Rhea and her child self, his eyes burning with tears -- no doubt stemming from Sothis' side of his soul. "She!" He didn't notice he raised his voice until it left his throat. "She didn't want me to resent you up until the very end. She asked me to be merciful to the child who was most attached to her." His voice trembled and he could feel that a single tear escaped, though he was quick to dry it with the back of his hand.

Rhea's legs gave out. "M-mother..." She dug her face into her hands; her entire body, that once felt imposing and all-knowing, trembled and shivered like a lost little girl who simply missed her mother.

The students watched with glazed eyes, not knowing what to think or where all of that came from, most of their mouths agape in shock.

Byleth gave his back to the sobbing Rhea, turning to the audience. His eyes met his coworkers, though he could only see their worry for him in their expressions. He simply nodded and looked away from them towards every single student. "I'm sure you all have many questions." He managed to control his voice and grip at his sword to ground himself. "What failed to happen just now was the resurrection of the goddess." He declared, noticing how the air itself started to waver due to the students' anxiety. He took out his weapon and hung it overhead.

The Sword of the Creator shone in its characteristic red glow, stealing every pair of eyes towards it. "I have been housing the consciousness of the goddess inside me, which is why I am able to wield the weapon that was made with her very own bones."

A low 'eek' was heard amongst the students, though was deafened by Claude's loud objection. "Bones? What'dya mean by that, Teach? Are you saying...?"

Byleth nodded, pointing towards the House Leader. "Failnaught," he went from Claude to Dimitri, "Areadbhar," then towards the spot the Blue Lions stood at, "The Crusher, Aegir Shield, the Lance of Ruin, Lùin..." Then, he looked back to the Alliance House, "Freikugel, Thyrsus... They were all made out of the bones and crystallized blood of the children of the goddess. That I can wield the Sword of the Creator without its own Crest Stone is the proof -- for the crystallized blood of the goddess rests within my own heart."

"B-bones?" Ingrid's grasp on Lùin faltered, allowing it to fall with a loud clang on the ground. "B-but the ancient texts..."

"The Church has been manipulating the information of what happened a millennia ago to hide the true nature of the tragedy." Byleth placed the tip of his sword on the ground, resting both hands upon its hilt. "I'm sure none of you forgot what happened at Remire village." He let his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Those who were behind the attack on the village, as well as behind the murder of my father... They were the ones who, a thousand years ago, murdered the goddess and her children, drank their blood and made weapons out of their very bodies." His throat itched as the information was difficult to say. His eyes fell upon Flayn, who looked down in unfathomable grief. She had also been there, back then, as Sothis' memories imbued within the Sword of the Creator told him.

Mercedes and Marianne covered their faces with horror, being comforted by Annette and Hilda respectively, while the most devout students stared at the space without knowing what to think.

Edelgard took a step forward, seeing an opportunity. "Are you saying that we should topple the Church and let the people be free to believe in whatever gods they wish, Professor? This is all SO very surprising..."

Byleth shook his head. "Topple it? No. But it needs immediate reform. The people deserve to know the truth."

"Interesting." The Imperial Princess took the same step back, glancing around to watch everyone's reactions at the same time a loud wail exploded behind Byleth.

It was Rhea.

Her grief was so deep that she completely forgot how many millennia had been since she had been a little girl.

She cried and howled with the pain within her heart. "LEAVE! All of you- leave this place! Mother's- Mother's resting holy ground!" She bellowed as she dug her face deeper within her hands.

Byleth pressed his lips into a thin line, glancing back at Rhea then towards his fellow professors. They all nodded in agreement and started to herd the students to the exit.

"Wait, wait, wait, we're leaving? I still have a lot to ask, though!" Claude scurried to Byleth while Manuela had to physically maim Linhardt out of his spot.

"I'll answer whatever you want." Byleth nodded to the House Leader, then looked over his shoulder to the aghast students. "Whatever you all want. But for now..." he clutched his chest, trying not to think of the pain of losing his one and only friend for good. "For now, let's leave her to mourn on her own." He whispered under Rhea's loud wails.

The Archbishop climbed on the steps and threw herself on the throne, hugging it as though she did her mother, crying like she hadn’t cried in ages past.

I'll protect her from the public scorn however I can... I hope that's enough to fulfill my promise, Sothis. 

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 8: Stab Wound

(But hold on a little while longer.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 8: Stab Wound

Word Count: 2054

Relationships: familial Creativitwins, platonic/familial dlamptr

Warnings: Stab wound (obviously), other minor injuries, blood, minor dissociation, lots and lots of cursing

A/N: yes, i know this is late! it’s only by 30 minutes though D: hopefully my characterization of the trash man is alright! this was fun to write hehe

Well. That wasn’t a very fun camping trip!

Remus has always been one for surprise. He likes the excitement, the variety, the fun! It’s healthy to keep a little bit of spice in your life. He’s not afraid to live by this sort of motto, because life is about the little things. Although, he isn’t sure that getting stabbed in the middle of the woods at three a.m. necessarily counts as little, but he’ll take what he can get.

So sue him! Maybe he likes to have a little fun sometimes. Routine is boring! Fuck patterns! Fuck authority! Cause anarchy!

And, uh, yeah. He’s pretty chill with living on the edge like that. But maybe… maybe just a bit further from the edge? He means, like, the edge of harmful societal expectations and complacency, or whatever dumb shit Dee and Lo-Lo rant about to each other at one in the morning. Remus loves his roommates, and would totally rip out a bitch’s spine for them, but they’re fucking nerds. Speak ENGLISH.

Yeah, the edge of “normal”. Not the edge of death.

He’s not gonna die out here, no siree. If he believes he’s immortal strongly enough, he will be. That’s what Barbie movies teach you, right? In any case, even though he refuses to die, getting stabbed hurts like a motherfucker, and it doesn’t help that it’s also storming. He just wanted a nice, fun camping trip, but nooo, some shitty-ass god out there decided “Oh! Time to turn Remus into a shitty cliche horror movie protagonist!”. Why can’t he be the antagonist? Or… wait, what’s the one in the middle of the two? The side character? He wants to be the one guy who is in the midst of all the action with the protag, but seemingly dies halfway through the movie, and then comes back at the end to be like, ”Haha, surprise, bitch! I’m not dead!”.

Huh. Maybe he shouldn’t make all of his life choices based on movie stereotypes.

Anyway, he wishes that at the very least it’d stop fucking raining, because it makes it seriously hard to crawl through the underbrush while slipping in mud and falling flat on his face every two seconds. The stab wound is painful, sure, but as long as he can keep pressure on it and not lose too much blood before he gets to the main road, he should be fine. But having to deal with the downpour hindering his movement and blinding most of his senses sucks ass. How the hell is he supposed to utilize his tracking skills and make sure he’s going the right way without being able to see, hear, or smell a single goddamn thing? He might like making other people wet, but that doesn’t mean he likes being wet himself.

So, he thinks he’s going the right direction. Trying to escape a batshit crazy murderer in the middle of the woods doesn’t leave you a lot of time to casually sit down at a table with a cup of tea and pull out your faded, burnt treasure map, but if he had a table and a cup of tea and a partially burnt map, he would totally do that. Maybe the killer would be so confused, he’d have time to run away.

The thought causes Remus to bark out a laugh into the white noise of the storm, which is a VBI (Very Bad Idea), because it goes straight to his stomach. The pain that radiates out from the wound is like, actually excruciating, hahaha! But... Remus is supposed to be the one who actually survives to the end. He-- he has to be. Who else is gonna fill Roman’s socks with wet concrete?

Oh, Roman. His brother would probably be crying like a little bitch if he were here. Now he’d be the protagonist, the one who’d make so many stupid decisions and somehow come out of it alive anyway. He’s like those teenage girls in horror movies who make you scream at the screen “Don’t go in the dark scary basement, you fucking idiot!” but for some reason, never have a single repercussion for any of their terrible choices. (Remus would be the one who would sacrifice himself for the main character near the end of the movie at the dramatic climax, but Roman can never know that.)

Maybe he wishes Roman was here so that he didn’t have to crawl all this way on his own, but whatever. His brother would probably be too busy whining about his ruined hair to help much, anyway. Not-- Not that Remus needs help! He is having a blast slipping and sliding through the sticks and mud and bushes, thank you very much!

“C’mon out, dude! Don’t draw out the inevitable!” a voice echoes from the trees, a yell that’s far too familiar for Remus’ liking. God, can this guy just give it up already? Go find some other helpless damsel to terrorize! He does not wanna try Remus right now. This may all be fun and games, but Remus is starting to get pissed off, and he is unafraid to take out the stress on this crazy dumbfuck.

Somehow, Remus is able to hear the guy’s footsteps come closer through the sound of the rain splashing all around him, and he speeds up. Probably better to just avoid the guy. Although Remus’d totally win in a fight, the dude does have a knife, and Remus would really prefer to not get stabbed a second time. There’s a drop ahead, a place where it looks like the floor disappears, so Remus shuffles over to it and peers over. It’s a small cliff, with maybe fifteen or so feet to the bottom, and Remus curses under his breath. Fuck, he’s gonna have to do it, isn’t he? And now that he’s looking, he can just barely make out some headlights flit through the trees and disappear, so he knows that he’s close to the main road.

With a grimace, Remus steels himself, then slides off the edge feet-first, trying to use his shoes as a brace against the incline. Of course, because his life fucking sucks, he somehow manages to hit a rock embedded in the side in the wrong crevice, and it pitches him forward off the wall to tumble to the ground below. He smacks into the wet dirt, is just barely able to bite his tongue hard enough to stop the scream from ripping from his throat, and he lands at the bottom harshly. 

His stomach is on fire. It fucking hurts, feels like he’s being stabbed all over again a thousand times over. Bruises are definitely going to start forming all over his body from that fall, and coupled with the fact that his leg hit the ground at a weird angle, walking is going to be even worse than before. Fuck! Why can’t he just catch a fucking break?!

Remus pants hard, trying to work himself up to resuming his trek, when he hears his attacker’s voice calling out from above again. It sounds like he’s coming to the edge, so Remus just swallows hard and scoots himself over through the agonizing aches in his body to lay flat against the cliff wall. He just has to hope the dude doesn’t see him. He can’t really see very well through the storm, but Remus thinks he sees the guy look over the edge. Silence is key, and that’s pretty damn hard considering the absolute torture that is his wounds, but he has to. To survive.

He can’t die today.

And then the guy’s yelling for him again, and his voice is getting further away, and Remus waits in the mud until he can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Vigour and adrenaline now fully renewed, Remus bolts into the trees again, crawl morphing into a crouched run when he’s finally in cover. He clutches at his stomach to try to lessen the pain, which of course doesn’t help, but maybe it’ll keep some blood inside of him or something. Probably not best to bleed out right before he can get help. That’d be a shitty movie ending, if he’s being honest. Absolutely uncreative and unsatisfying. -11/10. 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. Is Remus delirious right now?

Despite all that, the sight of the road through a break in the trees is like a blissful breath of fresh air, a shining light of hope in the darkness. He’ll get to see Roman again, and prank Patton with bugs, and absolutely destroy Virge at video games, and listen to Dee and Lo-Lo’s stupid philosophy talks, and give his adoptive uncle Thomas a heart attack every time he does something stupid, and holy fuck maybe Remus is dying because when did he become sentimental? Ew.

A car finally comes along right as Remus manages to drag himself up onto the shoulder, and he waves frantically from where he’s kneeled on the ground in an effort to flag it down. Thank fuck, the car actually slows to a stop, and the window rolls down almost immediately. The face that pokes out is cute, and innocent-looking, and Remus prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that this person will actually help.

“Oh, jeez, are you okay? Why are you out on the road like this? Is-- Is that blood?!” the driver asks, horrified, and Remus tries to stumble closer. He doesn’t know what he looks like right now, but it’s probably horrifying, and he wouldn’t really blame this stranger if he drove away immediately. Maybe Remus will become like those ghost stories, the spooky legends about ghost hitchhikers. Ooh, maybe he’ll become a local cryptid! They can tell stories about him, and sell merch with his face on it, and he’ll be famous, and he can rub all of his sweet, sweet royalties in Roman’s face.

“Got-- I got stabbed. Crazy fucker got me while I was asleep. Help,” Remus manages to force out through his grit teeth, voice hoarse under the weight of the pain he’s in, and the driver looks extremely worried. For whose well-being, Remus has no clue.

“Alright, I’m taking you to the hospital. I couldn’t live with a guilty conscience if I left you out here. I’m Emile, by the way-- please don’t murder me, okay?” the stranger, Emile, says, and Remus chokes out a laugh despite himself. Emile gets out of his car and rushes through the drizzle without any hesitation, and Remus can already see that this is a genuinely good person. Anyone else would leave him here to die. He knows that. Even he’d leave himself here. But here this guy is, the kindest anyone has ever been to Remus, and it makes him wonder if he’ll still be as nice when he realizes that Remus’ personality is awful and the polar opposite of good and kind. (He knows he’ll never be good enough. He knows. He’s heard it enough, and he doesn’t need to be told again.)

“Not g’nna murder you. I can’t-- can’t even walk on my own, so,” Remus mumbles once he’s sure Emile is close enough to hear, and the latter just clicks his tongue with hands that frantically wave all around as if they don’t know where to go. Luckily enough for Remus, Emile pulls himself together quickly, slings an arm underneath his shoulder to help support his weight, and they limp back to the guy’s car together. As they do, Remus realizes the rain has stopped outright, and, well, isn’t that poetic?

Once he’s inside, dripping all over this stranger’s seats (okay, maybe he feels a little bad about that. When he’s a famous cryptid, he can pay for Emile to get his upholstery fixed), Remus starts to fade in and out. Not like the dying kind of “fading”, because he knows from multiple personal experiences what dying feels like, but more like he’s losing time as an effect of a literal stab wound. Oh, what did Lo-Lo call it? Desecrating? Dissipating? No, dissociating. Yeah, that’s the bitch. Yeah. Yeah...

He gets flashes now and again. Streetlamps outside, a tall building, hands underneath him, bright lights, rapid conversation. It smells like an E.R. It feels like home. He’s not gonna die today. Not yet.

[capriciouswriter]

The Birth of the Sins

So this is the story of how the Seven Deadly Sins were brought to life because of God’s relationship with Lucifer. This only applies to my mainverse which I write with Oli’s Lucifer ( @hellruins ).

It’s very long but I hope you enjoy it! It took me almost 6 months to write it askfsjdhgklf.

In the beginning there was Him and His sister. Two parts of a whole, everything and nothingness at the same time, coexisting before creation. Then creation happened, then archangels happened, then She was no longer there and soon it was just Him, His archangels, heaven and other celestial creations, for millennia to come.

It was no secret to anyone in heaven that, despite Michael being the Prince and heir of heaven, the favorite child was none but Lucifer.

The morning star.

The most beautiful angel ever created, the light bringer, made in His image and the one always one step closer to Him. If Michael took a step close, Lucifer took two. If Gabriel held His hand, Lucifer held both. If Raphael was at His feet, Lucifer was on His arms. If the siblings were upset about these preferences, they went unnoticed for ages, since no one dared to question why would He allow Lucifer such privileges, and He never made effort to explain His motives.

This preference, however, did have an effect in Lucifer. Every step closer, every hold tighter, every touch, every brush, every second together and every allowed interaction raised a feeling, an emanation inside the archangel that grew and grew and he held onto that feeling, using it as a ladder to push himself taller, and bigger and above his siblings, escalating until he felt what no one had ever felt before: God-like.

And so, Pride was born…

The sin nested itself deep inside their hearts, for where else would it feel just as welcomed than there, where it was born? And inside those hearts it grew its roots, feasting of their shared time, on their longing gazes, on those moments where The All-mighty would send everyone away except for the Morning star, keeping him close; Soft, warm hugs, divine hands dripping grace and love through white glowy feathers, wings spreading at His desire, every touch so intimate, delicate and chaste, yet filled with desire within.

None of them noticed when Pride gained a conscience of itself, beating through holy veins and expanding itself, nurturing those feelings inside those two divine cores: The need for even more closeness, the fact that no matter how much time they spent together it wasn’t long enough, how when He looked away, the Morning star burnt bright, flaring for attention, and oh, the response of those blue eyes, desire just as intense behind them as God noticed His child: so beautiful, so needy, so close yet not enough... Never enough.

Greed sparkled in golden flames, demanding to have more.

And so, the All-mighty allowed it. Lucifer was everywhere: Standing by His side, an arm looped around His; sitting on His lap, no matter the place, from the Throne to His secret study behind that same room. Never close enough, thin arms clinging to holy shoulders, lips tracing patterns across His face, gentle brushes that, slowly, with every passing day made their way into His mouth.

The day their lips met, His study was particularly empty. Nothing but them in the space of the void, shielded from the rest of heaven, just wanting to be as close, as safe and uninterrupted as they could.

Eager lips colliding against each other, restless hands exploring every bit of skin, no need for clothes, there was no shame left between them when they decided to take the next step. It was overwhelming, grace flaring uncontrolled as they kissed, and bit, and sucked and touched each other, enjoying every single moment as God made Lucifer His in a deeper way than any other of His creations, a bond so strong, a link so fierce and heated up, on a level existence had never seen before.

Never before in the history of creation had been such a spillage of grace and uncontrolled energy, God's and Lucifer's core so in sync, coming together and undone at the same time for what it seemed like months and years and decades together, reaching a climax that shook the entirety of existence, such pressure, density and temperature of Holy grace highly intense it created the biggest explosion ever known, and suddenly the void around them wasn't void anymore...

This cosmic level of connection was so intense, some people are still arguing if it's still happening, somewhere, Billions of light years away from Earth...

Lust was born at the same day the universe was: during The Big Bang.

"It's a new project." were the words of the Creator when everyone on heaven asked what this new cosmic creation was: galaxies coming together, creating stars and planets and many astral bodies never seen before, the questions of course, carried by His closest archangels, the only ones allowed in His presence. "Your brother Lucifer helped me create it, and you all will help me build it. It’s all yours to work and play with."

And so they did. The archangels explored the universe, every celestial body out there was so new and different from what they had ever seen. Heaven was beautiful, perfect and fulfilled; the universe was rough, barely born, growing and expanding uncontrolled, never still. It was marvelous, and the angels took the liberty of shaping every star, name every planet and their moons, creating their cores and even destroying them just to build something new and better and bigger, like children building an empire with sandcastles, their graces either building hands or destructive waves, ever so curious.

And as every other celestial enjoyed themselves with this creative momentum, God and Lucifer took the liberty of resting. With the building of the universe, everyone's attention was out there, instead of around the two celestials back home. No need to sneak around, no need to measure their affection; just the two of them, together, for eons to come as the universe expanded and they both settled to spend time together.

Those were long, wonderful years where the deity and His archangel came even closer than before if possible, their cores in sync, not wanting to spend another second apart, shared kisses and brushes, soft feathers across divine skin, slow touches with heavy intention and meaningful connection behind them...

No one kept track of time back then, it wasn't even a concept born yet, but without realizing roughly 9 billion years happened since the birth of Lust, and now, after all these eons of leisure, the rest of the sins realized a new one had appeared under their noses: Sloth.

Although creative, there weren't many of His children's creations that could take away Chuck's focus from Lucifer. For Lucifer was perfect, and if that Pride growing inside Him knew something, was to appreciate perfection made by one self.

So it was really a surprise the moment one of His archangels, the youngest of the core four, approached one day to show Him his new creation: a solar system.

"Look, Papa, this is us." Gabriel chirped, divine hands pointing at the planets and their star. "That big one is Lucifer." He pointed at the sun, bright and huge, it's light embracing the planets around it. "That one is mikey!" he grabs mercury in hands and shows it to his Father, who amazed and endeared watched how Gabriel pointed at each planet and how they represented each one of his siblings: Venus was Raphael, Mars was Maze, Azrael was Jupiter, Jophiel was Saturn, Metatron was Neptune and the tiniest, smaller planet was their newest brother seraph: Castiel.

And as God admired his work, He decided to make room for one planet, also aligned to the sun, at a distance behind Venus, and on front of Mars. "Now it's perfect. This is you, Gabriel." The deity spoke, running a hand through golden hairs as The Earth was created for His child.

And with this frame of a family, Gabriel gained his Father’s attention for long periods of time, for this was the first time in eons God felt the itch to create again, to build something new, to destroy it and start from scratch, playing with the planets in their surroundings. He was so enamored with His new creation, Elohim decided to see, to predict how this world would evolve, to take a look on its future and the nature He saw amazed and enchanted Him even more, He decided to create a replica of how the earth would eventually look. Eden was born then, a link between heaven and earth, a romantic idea of how He expected things to go, opening it to His celestials to enjoy. Still, Elohim’s favorite part was seeing things happen, for He had learned His predictions don’t always go as He expected. And as God pulled away from Lucifer to create, entertained by the evolution of His new planet, a new sin screamed its way out into existence: Envy.

Jealousy that burned green, gold-touched by Greed, coiling deep inside Lucifer’s heart, retaliation coming soon enough in the shape of tantrums, misbehaving and plenty of problematic behaviors, all in the name of drawing even a little of His attention back to him. Jealousy that more than once instigated fights among the core archangels that, after seeing their Father lose focus on Lucifer, all wanted to try a chance of being closer to Him as well. Raphael got bolder, closer, demanding of their Father’s attention as well. Gabriel was all over Him, wanting to create, to make new things, always restless. Michael trying hard to keep them in line, praying to their Father for patience. Mastema, the worshipper, always looking for ways to praise Him and gain attention as well. Jophiel, the youngest of the archangels, praising and offering worship to her Lord.

Still, none of them was loud enough as Lucifer, who even dared bring other celestials into this. For it wasn’t only in Lucifer’s heart that envy rooted, the sin stretching and cradling the God’s heart as well, a tiny squeeze and He was livid, green with jealousy whenever Lucifer spent time with other celestials right before His eyes, his touch and approach too intimate, and that behavior from Lucifer belonged to Him only.

One day He broke, deciding to take Lucifer with Him into Eden, keeping everyone out to have the garden just for the two of them. And in the middle of the garden, right between the Tree of life and the Tree of Knowledge, God laid with Lucifer again, like they had been during eons before, loving and marking up His archangel, divinity fueling the celestial with a new glow again. Still, it wasn’t enough. Greed and Envy had tasted the attention of previous eras, so this moment as satisfactory as it was, wasn’t enough. And so, God gave up once again to Lucifer’s petitions. If Lucifer could only understand why He was so dedicated to Earth, then he wouldn’t feel so insecure, right?

Elohim then picked up a fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, the forbidden fruit He had told His celestials to never touch, and with Lucifer in arms He fed it to him, giving him a part of the Knowledge He had on earth and its future. And with every bite, Lucifer’s need for reassurance receded slowly, trusting in Him and His decisions. Elohim understood Lucifer was different than his siblings, and the love He felt for him pushed Him to allow him to gain the Knowledge that was forbidden for everyone, except Himself. And Lucifer took it and accepted it, now he understood why this nature marveled his Father and decided to love earth as well.

And then, just as (un)predicted, an amazing event happened. Hominids started populating the earth, sentient beings that could at some degree reason. Again, God’s attention was drawn to Earth, and decided to repeat His action once again: create a version of the last evolution of hominids on Eden to admire, as He waited for them to evolve naturally on Earth. He had picked the dual reproduction on earth, and so decided to create two versions of them. Just as the first time He had started creating, Lucifer’s anxiety spiked up again and, to get him involved in this, God decided to give him the opportunity of creating alongside Him.

God then grabbed another fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, giving Lucifer the ability and power to create life, if only briefly. With that knowledge, Lucifer created Lilith, just at the same time God created Adam. They were supposed to procreate, be there for each other and multiply just as the species on earth. But unlike their less evolved counterparts, there was something lacking there that wasn’t shown before until these creations.

Lilith didn’t like Adam’s status, meant to be above her. She constantly fought her birth right to be his equal, and being created from Lucifer’s own hand grew the seed of sin inside her heart, demanding more, hubris pushing her to fight for her rightful place by Adam’s side, not bellow. God soon grew tired of this, and decided to expel Lilith out of Eden, hurt by her rejection of His creation. He made sure to post watchers all around Eden, to prevent her from wanting to get back into the Garden. He then decided to do what He should’ve done on the first place: create Eve from Adam, just like He had created the archangels from Himself, so she would serve him like the archangels were meant to serve Him.

Seeing his creation vanished and replaced made Lucifer’s insecurities arise again. Why couldn’t Lilith be equal to Adam? Why couldn’t both hold the same power? Elohim saw the distress in His child’s mind and held him close again, brought him back to Eden, to Himself and to repeat the only action that seemed to sooth Lucifer during this outbreaks: He fed him again the fruit of knowledge. He let him know what he expected of humanity, what He desired to be for them, and reassured the archangel that everything was going to be ok, that He loved him above everything and the situation with Lilith was going to be left behind.

The thing about holding so much knowledge is that soon enough Lucifer wanted more and more. He wanted to know everything behind his Father’s actions, and begged Him for more of it over and over. Each time the deity gave up under Lucifer’s pushing, a new sin grew stronger and wildly, aided by the hand of its sibling Greed: Gluttony.

Eve’s creation was one of the few things that brought joy to the All-mighty after all the drama that involved their creation. He adored His girl with all His heart, and watching her thrive on Eden along with Adam quickly became one of Elohim’s hobbies. This was, of course, soon met with Lucifer’s increasing, beating jealousy. No matter what he tried, God’s attention eventually left him to focus on Adam and Eve. Especially Eve. His perfect, submissive little Eve.

And just like he had done before, Lucifer resorted to charm his way into Eden. He was Elohim’s brightest creation, the most beautiful angel, and it was not hard for him to seduce both humans just like he had done before with several other angels. This time, however, with the amount of unacknowledged sin in their hearts, Chuck’s reaction was violent.

He scolded the archangel for getting involved with the humans in such way, and ordered not to do so again. Lucifer complied as long as He paid him attention, and so it was… for a while. When His attention shifted again, Lucifer slithered once again into the human’s lives, and his words and actions were so alluring, the seed of doubt was planted in them, especially Eve, just like Lilith’s once had been. Why did she had to be below Adam? Why did she had to be lower than him?

The corruption of Eve was God’s last straw, and, not knowing how to deliver punishment for the two beings He loved most in the whole cosmos, a last sin was born within His heart: Wrath.

Wrath started warm, saving up all of His feelings, building them up to what He thought would be just deliverance. But with each of Lucifer’s tantrums and betrayals, suddenly the arguments started. Why was He obsessed with humans? Why was He paying more attention to them than His previous creations? All these questions were shouted at Him from a very angry, very hurt and very sinful heart, the lightbringer glowing with rage at His words: Angels were supposed to protect humanity, to care for them, to bow to them and love them even more than they loved Him.

It was blasphemous to Lucifer’s ears, for no one could ever love anyone like he loved his creator, like he loved Him: desperately and sinful, with his entire being, selfish and possessively. Pride made sure to throw more fire in the pyre, feeding up its newly born sibling, making Wrath grow with each new fight Pride prompted Lucifer to create, Envy and Greed glowing bright with each argument, until one day, Wrath exploded into completion.

Heaven had never seen such cruelty in their Creator’s face. The burning feeling of Wrath was felt across the entire cosmos and fear was born that same day, as Elohim took the hardest decision of His life: to save humanity from being corrupted, He needed to cast said corruption out of heaven.

And so, wielding His sword, Lucifer’s fall was ordered. He had refused to do what God ordered, had crossed plenty of lines, and the seeds of their sin grew into his perdition. Michael carried the order, and in heaven’s first war ever, the rebellion happened as soon as it ended: Lucifer fell to earth, along with a handful of angels who thought wise to follow his path.

As blinding as Wrath was, once it was gone, once He was calm and the fire had died, He was, for the first time ever, able to see them: The sins born of their relationship. God’s roar was heard across the universe as He ripped each and every one of those sins out of His core, divine hands molding them like molten glass, shaping them into the first thing that came to mind: a fruit.

He put the fruit on the one place He was sure no one would touch: The tree of knowledge. For it was forbidden for every creature in the universe…

Though, plenty of years after his fall, Lucifer decided to carry on with his revenge: he would make Elohim’s humans fall like he did, it’s the least they deserved after being the cause of losing everything Lucifer ever loved. So one day he charmed his way into Eden, the action that would earn Gadreel’s incarceration and torture under the hand of his guard, and found his way to Adam and Eve. The well-known story happened, he temped Adam and Eve into taking the forbidden fruit and, having eaten from it, Eve gained the knowledge of creation, Adam’s eyes opened too, and by taking in the one apple carrying the Sins, they attached into the heart of men.

And so, with Adam and Eve’s betrayal, God casted them out of heaven and the story is already known. The sins were brought to earth, nestled in the heart of human kind, and were spread across the globe by their reproduction.

[sweetness47]

Surviving Purgatory

Pairing Purgatory!Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

FINAL WORD COUNT: 2574

@spnkinkbingo – square filled: Slick

@heavenandhellbingo – square filled: Dimensional portals

@spndarkbingo – square filled: Purgatory Dean

@spnabobingo – square filled: heat

@spndeanbingo – square filled: purgatory

WARNINGS: MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY!! SMUT, SWEARING, HEAT/RUT, ABO, MATING, CLAIMING, MENTIONS OF ALMOST RAPE

Summary: Escape is all that matters, isn’t it?

Her head hurt, and so did everything else. What the hell happened? Wait, was that twigs? Leaves? Then her ears caught sounds, yelling, fighting, and…snarling? Struggling through the pain and the persistent jackhammer that pounded inside her skull, YN attempted to open her eyes and stand up. She needed to find safety, FAST! And what about her heat? It was supposed to come any day now. How long had she been unconscious?

As she ran in the opposite direction of the noise, she felt around her pockets for her meds, but found nothing. Her mind came back to the current predicament, realizing the sounds were growing closer. With renewed desperation, she picked up speed she didn’t know she possessed. Tripping, falling, scrambling to get up, running again, her lungs burned, gasping for air.

The sounds seemed to echo from all directions now, farther, then closer, than far once more. She couldn’t tell anymore where the sounds had originated. She looked behind her but saw nothing. She looked to her left, then to her right, still seeing nothing.

She slammed into a wall…no a person. Both toppled to the ground and a scream escaped her lips. A large hand covered the sound, a deep voice shushing her. She stopped struggling when her captor held firm and whispered in her ear.

“Keep quiet if you want to live. I won’t hurt you. Trust me.”

She turned and was greeted by a stunning pair of eyes, green and mesmerizing. They stayed still and waited. The sound of footsteps came and left. When he was sure the danger had passed, he nodded to YN and released her, motioning for her to keep her voice down.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, but I didn’t want to see them take you.” He whispered. His face showed nothing but sincerity.

Then his scent hit her. ALPHA!

Shit!

Her heat was still coming. Rescue or not, he was also a threat, but a different kind of threat.

“Who, or more like, what were they? Thank you for saving me by the way. I owe you my life.” she replied, hoping her voice didn’t sound as scared as she thought.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know. And your welcome.”

His eyes flickered gold, then back to that gorgeous green.

He knew.

“Shit!” he muttered. “We need to get you back to my hideout. That sweet scent of yours is going to attract some unwanted attention. Let’s move!”

He didn’t need to tell her twice. For as dangerous as his presence was, she was a hell of a lot safer with him than without. So she went with him, weaving through the trees and dense brush, almost tripping again. Strong arms caught her mid-fall, enveloping her in the security they offered. Then they kept going.

They barely get to the shelter before YN collapses. Exhausted, hungry and cold, she can no longer maintain consciousness. Those same strong arms lifted her easily, and carried her indoors. He got a fire going soon enough, and placed blankets and pillows next to the fire for her to lay on. Her skin was pale and icy, and her breathing, shallow. If he didn’t act quickly, she could end up with pneumonia or worse. He made hot tea, mint, but she wasn’t coherent enough to drink it.

Not finding anymore blankets, he has only one choice left. Body heat is the quickest way to transfer warmth to someone. Just bodies and blankets. No clothes. He can smell her heat coming, and he isn’t sure if he will be able to keep sane, would he be able to stop himself from taking her? His conscience won’t let him violate her while she is out, but once she awakens, and she asks?

He will knot her, and then he will claim her.

For now, he needs to get her warm. Quickly, he removes his clothes and then hers. He crawls under the mountain of blankets and brings her into his arms. She feels like ice. He prays he isn’t too late to save her.

Some time later, she stirs and coughs, feeling like she’s been run over by a herd of elephants. The body behind her also stirs, and she freezes. She recognizes the scent, and is acutely aware that neither of them are wearing any clothing. She attempts to take a blanket to cover herself as she slips from the makeshift bed. Her actions, however, do not go unnoticed.

“You’re awake, thank God! How do you feel?”

She turns and blushes as she tries to shield her figure from him.

He understands and tries to calm her. “Nothing happened. You needed warmth, and the fire wasn’t enough. Skin to skin is the next best thing.”

YN visibly relaxed. “I believe you. Thank you for saving my life, again.” She turned crimson when the blankets moved, exposing some of his groin. “My name is YN.”

“Dean, and your welcome. How did you end up in this place? This ain’t no picnic site.”

“I honestly have no idea. One minute I was on my way home from the store, and then pain, lots of it. I woke up here, with nothing but the clothes on my back, and no suppressants. Worse, my heat…”

He didn’t let her finish. “I know. It’s gonna hit any time now.”

YN nodded. “That’s pretty accurate. But that still doesn’t explain why I was brought here. By the way, where is ‘here’?”

Dean’s voice was quiet, but concerned. “You’re in purgatory. It’s like a monster version of hell.” The shocked look on YN’s face made him pause. He probably shouldn’t have started with that. “My guess is you were sent her by accident, unless you’re a monster, but I’m leaning more toward option A.”

His attempt at mild humor made her smile. “I’m not a monster. I do have gifts though. I can see monsters when they are disguised as people. Does that make me a monster?”

Dean got up to grab clothing, and YN looked away with hot pink cheeks, modesty and innocence coming into play. Dean looked at her reactions and smiled.

“That doesn’t make you a monster YN. But they might see you as a threat, and figured they could get rid of you by throwing you in here.”

YN began dressing as Dean went to the kitchen area to get some food. It wasn’t much, some edible berries and mint leaves and water. But it was better than nothing.

“So, is there a way out of Purgatory?” YN asked hopefully.

“According to a friend of mine, yes. There is a door, a portal somewhere here. It’s not visible to the monsters, just other beings. I haven’t seen or found it yet though.”

YN frowned. “How long have you been searching? Or should I ask how long you’ve been here.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s hard to say. There are no day and night, just this grey, every minute of every hour.”

“Dean, we need to get me home. My suppressants! I need them before…”

He shook his head. “There’s no way we’re going to find it that fast.”

YN’s eyes widened. “But, the monsters! They will smell it, and it will lead them here.”

Dean looked at her. “We’ll be fine. They can’t get us here.”

The first cramp hit hard, spurred on by the fear and panic. YN screamed as she grabbed her mid section. They’d never been this bad.

Dean’s eyes flashed gold. Closing them, he breathed in fresh apple pie and burgers. His mouth began to water.

“Omega!” he growled. Dean came over to her and knelt down beside her, looking into her eyes. “I won’t force you, but if you allow me, I can help you. I can knot you and claim you. But it will be your choice.”

She bit her lower lip. She’d always been afraid of alphas claiming her, because she’d almost been forced once. That was why she used the herbs.

Now she had little choice. She needed an alpha’s knot, his mark.

She needed this Alpha.

“Dean…please…” she whispered.

In half a second he had crossed the room, his lips crushing hers as he carried her to the bed. She mewled as his tongue left a hot trail down her neck, then nibbled near her scent gland. Slick pooled between her legs. She moaned.

His fingers slid past the waistband of her pants, slipping easily inside her, drowning in the sweet nectar she offered. She gasped as her hips bucked, his fingers caressing her sensitive area. The first climax found her instantly, followed shortly by another. Pleasure devoured her rationality, fears vanished as her body exploded with the passionate fire created by Dean’s fingers. He slipped her pants off, and his as well, eager to lap up every single drop of the ambrosia that was YN. He was pretty sure he’d found heaven. Never had he tasted anything so irresistible. He couldn’t seem to get enough. Fuck, this was better than pie…wait did he really just think that? Yeah he did, and it was true.

“Dean! Alpha!” she cried as she orgasmed once more.

Dean once again drank every single drop, then moved to line himself up with her entrance. He searched her eyes for any sign of rejection, but found only lust and desire, need. Her eyes had gone full silver.

That melted the last of his resolve. He positioned himself and thrust in, feeling that slick pool as it welcomed his hard cock inside. He groaned as he slowly pushed into her tight hole. His thick shaft met her barrier, and she nodded. In one swift motion, he broke through, bottoming out, stopping to allow her time to adjust. His lips captured hers as he began to move, pulling out only to slam back in. She wrapped her legs around his torso as he set a relentless pace. Slick coated his cock as she hit her high once more, her cries muffled by his kiss.

He cried out her name and sank his fangs into her shoulder as his knot swelled, shooting load after load of hot cum inside her belly. He licked the wound to seal it and nipped at her neck and earlobe.

Gently, he rolled them so she was on top, apologizing when he accidently tugged the knot, causing her some minor discomfort.

Both were still coming off their high when footsteps were heard in the living room, followed by a voice Dean immediately recognized.

“Dean? You here mon ami?”

“Yeah Benny. Make yourself comfy. I’ll be out in a bit.”

YN raised a questioning brow. Dean shrugged. “That’s the friend I mentioned earlier.”

She relaxed.

Some time later, both Dean and YN emerged from the bedroom, clothed and somewhat presentable. Then YN stopped short as her gaze landed on Benny.

He was a vampire. He was also the Alpha who had nearly violated her. She would never forget that scent, ever.

YN visibly paled and ran to the bathroom, barely making it before she threw up. Dean was there in a flash.

“What’s wrong YN? Did I…?” She shook her head before he could finish.

A voice spoke from behind them. “She’s afraid of me Dean. Remember that past I told you about? The really bad one? A few years before I ended up here, I was experiencing a really bad rut. She was almost an unwilling participant in my relief. She’s quite a little spitfire and slugged me. Then she disappeared, and reality hit at what I’d almost done.”

Benny turned to YN. “I’m sorry for what I did. I hope one day you can forgive me for my actions.” Then he turned back to Dean. “I leave the decision up to you, mon ami. I did your omega wrong, and I cannot change or excuse my actions, so if you want me to go, I will.”

Dean looked at YN, then back at his friend. “I’ll still help you, because you saved my life. But I can’t speak for YN. Once we find the back door to the real world, your fate is in her hands.”

Benny nodded. “That’s fair.”

YN cleared her throat. “So, what does this portal look like? I might be able to find it.”

Benny shrugged. “Honestly chère, I’ve only ever heard stories. It’s a large shiny door, hard to miss apparently, if you have the sight.”

“We’ll head out in a few hours, it’s too dangerous right now.” Dean suggested.

The few hours went by rather quickly, although it was rather pleasant. Benny sat in the porch, while Dean and YN found new ways to pleasure each other, taking time to explore and learn about one another. Dean dived right back into her slick, and it was just as divine as previously discovered.

When the time came to leave, the unlikely trio set out, Benny and Dean both flanking YN in an attempt to mask her heat. She wore Dean’s jacket and Benny’s hat, hoping that the Alpha-scented clothing would help as well. It seemed to work at first, Benny leading Dean and YN to the area where the portal was rumored to be. Then howling and snarling echoed in the far distance.

“Shit! They found her scent!” Dean yelled.

Benny nodded, and they ran, that is until YN grabbed Dean’s arm and pointed. “There!” she shouted.

“Lead the way chère. Fast!” Benny urged.

YN held Dean’s hand and made a beeline for the portal, Benny following close behind. She reached for the handle just as three werewolves entered the area. Dean and Benny turned to the unwanted guests, machetes in hand, while she turned the knob.

Bright light shone through the opening, causing the werewolves to shield their eyes. But more creatures were heard in the distance. “Let’s move!” Dean motioned to Benny and YN, both of whom didn’t need to be asked twice. Dean grabbed YN’s hand, and Benny put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, then the three ran through the opening. Right after they did, the door closed, cutting off a hand from one of the lycans.

YN woke with a start, she wasn’t at home, and her head hurt something fierce. Then memories came flooding back. Purgatory. The Portal.

The Alpha that had saved her life, then mated her and claimed her.

Her Alpha.

She looked around the room she occupied, taking the homey feel, the simplicity. The door opened and she sat up. Dean walked in with a tray of real food. Her stomach growled as she took in the savory aroma of bacon and eggs.

“Morning sweetheart. Thought we should start our life together with breakfast in bed, then some hot sex, then some info swapping. How does that sound?”

YN smiled, even as a cramp started in her abdomen. “Sounds wonderful, but can we start in a different order? My body really needs the hot sex first, with my Alpha.”

Dean growled as he set the tray down. “Whatever my Omega needs, I am more than willing to supply.” He said as he removed his clothes and joined her on the bed.

@legion1993 @akshi8278

[four-loose-screws]

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation - Chapter 1 Part 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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Chapter 1 – High Priest Bragi

Part 2

Bragi was taken to a small island north of Augustria, where the the Hidden Maera Sect's base was located. The priests living there raised him.

They noticed how smart, sensitive, and kind he was, so they began to teach him healing magic when he was twelve. He mastered it very quickly, and at twenty, he could cast the most difficult healing spell they had on the island.

In Gran Year 609, liberation armies rose up in every region of Jugdral.

They were not unified under a single leader, nor did they communicate with each other. Galle VII's reign had simply become so oppressive that the people everywhere could no longer endure it.

However, the imperial army moved so quickly that it seemed as if they had predicted the rebellion. 

Nearly all of the liberation armies were individually wiped out before they could unite and wage a full-scale war. They fled from the imperial army's pursuit, forcing them to enter the Yied Desert, the most barren of all Jugdral's lands.

Bragi had joined the Augustrian liberation army, and was one of its most valuable members. The harsh battle made his healing abilities stand out all the more.

Augustria’s liberation army was also surrounded by the imperial army and fled, and before they knew it, they too were in the Yied Desert. Bragi was still among their ranks.

However, there were no safe places, even in the desert.

The imperial army had followed them, and was ready to take out their enemies in one final blow. The Battle at Fort Darna had begun, and no matter how hard the liberation armies fought, their numbers were dwindling quickly.

Bragi healed everyone nonstop, yet warriors were dying all around him. ‘We probably won’t stand a chance against their next attack.’ He thought.

Thick clouds hung overhead that were so dark it appeared to be evening, even though it was midday. Saint Heim, who had taken charge and was giving orders to the liberation armies, began to speak to the remaining warriors.

“We’ve fought as hard as we can. We’ve tried to overthrow the empire’s oppressive regime, and exhausted all our options. Still, we must believe, everyone! Our dreams will live on in the hearts of those who come after us. It may be another one hundred years before another rebellion rises up, and they may be defeated just as easily, even if they fight as hard as we have. But all power has its limits! One day, the empire will fall! Believe in this hope, and fight to the very last! Make this battle go down in history!”

Though they were tired, the warriors all nodded in agreement at Heim’s passionate speech.

He faced them and raised his staff into the air.

They raised their weapons and gave a mighty battle cry in return.

Then, a gust of wind blew through the fort. The clouds parted, and a light poured forth from the hole in the sky and into the fort.

Everyone looked up. 

The sun blinded them all for a moment, and when they could see again, twelve people they had never seen before were standing in the light. Among them were men and women of all ages, and even children. None of them had been there even a few seconds before.

“Who are you?” Heim asked them.

“We have come to grant you our powers and weapons.” An old man answered.

A young girl walked up to Heim. "My name is Naga. Saint Heim, I will give you my powers and the ability to wield light magic. First, drink my blood." She sliced open her thumb and held it out in front of his face.

He did as she said. He had never seen these people before, nor had they explained who they were, but he and the other warriors could sense that they were beings much more powerful than humans.

“This is the Book of Naga. It contains the power to oppose Loptous. Please take it.” The girl handed the Holy Light Tome over to Heim. The jewel embedded in the cover sparkled in the light.

Next, one of the young men walked up to Ced, offered his blood, and handed him the Holy Wind Tome, Forseti.

The strangers, one-by-one, continued to give their blood and mysterious weapons to the warriors.

Baldr received the Holy Blade, Tyrfing, Od received the Divine Sword, Balmung, Dain received the Heavens Lance, Gungnir, Njörun received the Earth Lance, Gáe Bolg, Ulir received the Holy Bow, Yewfelle, Thrud received the Holy Thunder Tome, Mjölnir, Fjalar received the Holy Fire Tome, Valflame, Hezul received the Demon Sword, Mystletainn, and Neir received the Holy Axe, Helswath.

Finally, an old man walked up to Bragi and said, "Bragi, my name is Valkyrie. This staff controls life and fortune. First, drink my blood."

Bragi sucked the blood from the old man's finger, and felt power and warmth course through his body.

"That should be enough." 

He pulled away, and the old man handed him a staff with a white gem set atop it.

"This staff is not for defeating your enemies, but for correcting what should not happen. It can even bring a person back to life, if you believe that they should not have died. However, if you undo an event that has already happened, like death, then the staff might break. Therefore, it is best to correct wrongs that have yet to happen - in other words, it is important to use this staff to guide yourself and others down the right path. If you are unsure of what to do, then pray to the gem. It should show you the truth. Out of all the people we have chosen, you play a very special part, Bragi. You must be the conscience of the Crusaders."

"I understand. I will do as you say." Bragi answered.

The old man stepped back, and the young girl came forward again. "We believe in you, Crusaders. Please fight for the people.”

The twelve warriors - now the Twelve Crusaders - felt their fatigue vanish, and the injured were suddenly healed. They raised their new weapons and cheered once more. The rest of the army joined in the cheer as well, but this time, there wasn't even a hint of hesitation in their voices. To the imperial soldiers surrounding them, it sounded like there was one thousand people in the fort.

Meanwhile, the strangers started to become transparent, and slowly vanished.

The Twelve Crusaders felt like they were dreaming, but the weapons in their hands reassured them that they weren't.

Heim raised the Book of Naga and faced everyone. "Everyone, look at this tome!"

The gem embedded in the cover was still sparkling, and reminded them of the event that had just occurred.

"There's no questioning that we were just visited by gods! They came to save us… No, not just us, but all of the people in this world! There is only one thing we can do now. We must believe in these gods, and fight! We will not wait, but march right out of here and face our enemies! Open the gate!"

The warriors followed his order and marched outside of the fort. The eleven Crusaders with weapons made up the front line, Bragi stood in the middle, and everyone else was in the back.

The leader of the imperial army's first troop saw them and laughed.

"So they've come out of the fort…? Oh well, saves us a bunch of trouble!" He turned to his men to give them his order. "Attack them head-on! Do not show any mercy! Kill every last one of them!"

But the men to die would be those of the imperial army.

The Crusaders wielding tomes cast fire, wind, and thunder spells.

The remaining Crusaders raised their mysterious weapons towards the enemies that had managed to dodge the magic attacks. Their swords, lances, and axe tore through the enemy's defenses like paper, and within the blink of an eye, the Crusaders had eradicated the first troop.

"Keep this formation and push forward, everyone!" At Heim's orders, the Crusaders slowly began to progress.

The second imperial troop attacked, but met the same fate as the first.

After that, the imperial army did not try to keep up the fight.

They retreated and cleared a path for the liberation army to continue forwards.

This event became known as the "Miracle of Darna."

[panda-noosh]

Hiraeth {part one} {demigod!Lance x reader}

Words: 6k

Summary: Your life changed forever that day in the forest. The day the voices got too much. The day that single word brought you to what felt like the very brink of death - that was until Lance McClain, son of Poseidon, arrived to take you home.

Genre: percyjackson!au - angst

Notes: part 2  - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - epilogue - here it issss! i’ve been having so much fun writing this series and i really, really hope you guys enjoy it. i’m such a slut for Greek mythology, so writing this was truly one of my favourite things to do with my time lol. tell me your thoughts and lets discuss stuff! i wanna hear from you all!! 

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Hiraeth - (n) a homesickness for a place you can’t return to, or that never was. 

Chapter 1

   The voices only got louder.

   Louder, and louder, and louder, until they were the only thing you could hear. They echoed in the back of your head, taking up every piece of your conscience, impossible to block out. There were no thoughts drifting through your mind at the moment – just the voices. The voices of the terrified people, the voices begging for a help you couldn't give them, because you didn't understand what was going on.

   They sounded so helpless. It clawed at you as you darted between the trees, fighting off the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. Your head was in pain. It was always in pain, but today it was worse; today, it felt as if somebody was truly taking a hammer and nail to your temple, repeatedly slamming them into your skin.

    The trees brought little comfort this time. You ran through them, whipping stray branches out of your way as your feet carried you at what felt like a million miles per hour. You wanted to be quicker. You wanted to run so fast that the only thing you could hear was the wind screeching past your ears, the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins, the sound of your heavy breathing.

   But instead, you got the voices.

    “Help us!”

   “I didn't deserve to die!”

  “It was an accident! I swear!”

   You closed your eyes and finally dropped to your knees like a stone in water. The brambles attacked the thin fabric of your jeans, ripping a fresh hole in them that you would never be able to fix or replace.

    “Oh Gods, I have kids. I have kids! Show some mercy!”

   You didn't know what they wanted you to do; you were a teenager, for crying out loud! You were just trying to scrape by in life, trying to fix things that had long since been messed up; you had nobody. You had dropped out of school after your mother had left, had found no point in trying to earn an education whenever you had nobody around to support you. After the rent had been used up, you had sent yourself out into the streets and had been living amongst the homeless since then – it wasn't all that bad. You would live on the streets for the rest of your life if it meant the voices would leave you alone, the torturous wailing that followed you around for no reason would finally come to a stop.

   As the screams continued, you pulled your knees into your chest and bit down on the palm of your hand so harshly you drew blood. The pain was no longer a distraction. The screams were too loud for anything to get your mind away from them.

    So you sat there instead, hidden behind the trees and the brambles, with your knees pulled up to your chest and blood dripping down the palm of your hand; the screams continued, even as you rocked back and forth and silently begged them to stop.

   “To anybody listening,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes closed tightly. “Please make this stop. Please. I'll do anything.”

    You thought it was a long-shot.

   Little did you know, Olympus was listening.

  ---

    For the first time in days, it seemed as if the voices had taken a day off.

   You were aware it was only going to be brief; there was no way they had suddenly stopped for good. They would return in a matter of hours, and you would be back in the woods, curling up on the leaves trying to fight them off before sleep overtook you.

  But until then, you would use this time of silence to your advantage.

   “Got a spare towel I could borrow?” you asked Romelle, who was busy washing her face with the hand-soap provided by the off-licence.

   She glanced at you, her violet eyes gleaming with a slight look of disbelief. Despite you two being friends, having met at a homeless shelter only a few months prior, she still took it as a personal offence whenever you asked to borrow anything of hers.

   You rolled your eyes. “Come on. A towel is reusable, for gods sake.” You didn't bother waiting for a reply before snatching the soft white towel out of her hand and drying your dripping face with it.

   Romelle frowned but didn't say anything else. Instead, she turned to the mirror and started idly running her fingers through her knotted pony tail, wincing as her fingers tore through the strands and pulled small fibres out of her head.

    Your hair wasn't any better. You had slept on the forest floor again last night, meaning you were still picking random leaves and insects out of your head even hours later. You had been awake for over six hours, having awoken before sunrise, and you were only now beginning to realise just how badly you needed a wash.

    Oh, how you wished you could sink into a bath. An actual bath. Not a lake, not a random bathroom sink where the most you could do was splash your face with water. You wanted an actual bath, like the one you used to have – but that was back when things were easier, back when you had your mother protecting you, back whenever your brain wasn't messed up, screaming at you every few hours.

     Nobody else knew about the voices; not even Romelle. You told her you didn't like sleeping in the homeless shelters, which was why you disappeared nearly every night. Romelle had become emotionally numb during her time on the streets, so she never questioned it, though she sometimes sent you a concerned look whenever she caught you stumbling out of the forest at the crack of dawn.

    It was nice having somebody there to protect you, but Romelle most certainly wasn't a mother-figure. You had met her a few months prior, and she had immediately taken a liking to you; she had a mothers instinct in her, clearly, but she didn't like the idea of becoming emotionally attached, and you understood that. You were the same. You spent your life drifting between homeless shelters, and to this day, you could not name a single person bar Romelle who you had met during those times.

    You and Romelle cleaned yourselves up and exited the off-licence, ignoring the cashiers weary gaze.

    “You planning on disappearing again tonight?” Romelle asked you as the two of you walked across the car park.

    You shrugged, already knowing full well that you had no intentions of staying at the homeless shelter. “Maybe. We'll just have to see where the night takes me.”

   “You act like some kind of werewolf, you know,” she continued. “Don't get me wrong, everyone to themselves. I know first hand that the beds at the shelters aren't exactly the most comfortable things, but it has to be better than sleeping on leaves.”

   “Have you ever slept on leaves?”

 Romelle frowned. “Well... No, but-”

  “Then don't judge something you don't know anything about.” You flashed her a sarcastic smile and picked up your pace, trying to get ahead of her before her questions dove any deeper than they already had.

   You heard her sigh in annoyance, picking up her own pace to walk beside you again. Romelle was older than you by a number of years, but she still wasn't very old – certainly not old enough to be living on the streets, but that was a topic that neither of you ever brought up. There was no point on dwelling over what you both once had – it was gone, and that was all there was to it.

    “I'm serious, though,” she continued. “Why don't you spend the night in the shelter today? I can save you a bunk if you want – so you're not sleeping beside Steve. He's a bit-”

   “Don't bother,” you grunted. “I don't like the shelters – you know that. There's no point in trying to persuade me otherwise.”

    “You're gonna put your back out if you keep sleeping the way you are,” Romelle groaned, and you looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, silently questioning why she cared.

   Romelle seemed to catch on to the fact that she was, genuinely, showing some essence of caring and immediately clamped her mouth shut, staring dead ahead.

   “Fine. But don't come crawling to me whenever your spines gotten bent out of shape and no doctor will see you.”

    “Trust me – if my spine is bent out of shape, the last person I'll come crawling to is you.”

  Romelle rolled her eyes, nudged you with her elbow as the conversation slowly ceased to a halt.

   It must have been the silence that triggered it.

    The first few voices were merely whispers, tickling the back of your brain, barely noticeable unless you truly paid attention. Upon first hearing them, you very nearly stopped in your tracks just to be able to hear what they were saying this time; begging for mercy, most likely. That seemed to be a common theme amongst them nowadays, though you had no idea what they meant or why they were asking you for such a thing.

    You kept walking, though. The voices were so quiet that even the click of your footsteps was overshadowing them.

     But they gradually got louder. Just like they always did.

   You swallowed thickly, a thin sheen of sweat coating your freshly-washed hands. You rubbed them down your ripped jeans, hoping and praying that you arrived at the homeless shelter soon so you could send Romelle on her way and escape into the woods, so you could be alone to deal with the rising screeches in your head.

     “Today is the day! He told us!”

   “His first child! He will claim them! Finally!”

     “Princess of the Underworld.”

    You shivered. This was new – all of this was new. Never before had you heard them say such a thing. For the first time, they didn't sound particularly terrified – some of them even sounded happy, as if they were celebrating the rise of some princess of the underworld.

   The celebratory cheers only got louder as you and Romelle walked. Romelle had taken to humming to herself to fill the silence, but you could no longer concentrate on the sound of her tune; you were trying to decipher what the voices meant, what they were saying, why they were saying it.

    You couldn't help it. You knew you would do much better just ignoring them, perhaps trying to get your hands on a kind psychiatrist who could tell you what was going on and why you were hearing such strange things, but you couldn't help listening to them. Before, they sounded so helpless. You wanted to help them, wanted to find them and get them out of whatever situation they were in-

   It took a while for you to realise that they couldn't possibly be real people, and you were most likely just being driven insane by childhood trauma and malnourishment.

   This realisation did little to halt your curiosity, and you still found yourself trying to decipher the mysterious wailings of the people in your head.

    You and Romelle reached the homeless shelter.

   Well, barely.

    As soon as you saw the old building coming into view, you clapped your friend on the shoulder, bid your farewell and span on your heel in the opposite direction. Romelle yelled after you, but you could barely hear her, didn't want to pay attention to her right now. You didn't even look back over your shoulder as you picked up your pace to a brisk walk and disappeared amongst the trees again.

     You started running, just like you always did.

   And the voices were fuelled by your adrenaline, screaming in your head now. Some of them were still begging for mercy in the background of the celebrations – some of them were still crying, telling you to go and check on their children and their families as if you of all people would have any idea who they were referring to.

   But the celebrations were the most prominent.

   “He's going to claim her at long last!”

   “This day will go down in history as one of the greatest!”

  “Olympus truly is doing the right thing for once!”

    They got louder.

   And louder.

    And louder.

   You were certain you could feel the floor thumping beneath you, even though the voices were all in your head. It was like being at a club, the music pumping so loud that the tiles beneath your feet bounced with the beat of the music – only it wasn't tiles you were standing on; it was grass, and it wasn't music you were hearing; it was tortured souls.

    You crumbled to your knees, clamped your hands over your head. You opened your mouth, were fairly sure you were screaming although you could hear nothing coming from your own throat. You squeezed your eyes closed – they were talking about Olympus. Olympus? You didn't know what that was. Was it a clue? Were they telling you about this infamous place to get you to finally realise what was going on in your own head?

    And then a single word flashed through your brain that shattered it all: “Hades.”

   You heard it only briefly, but it triggered something inside of you almost instantly. You had never felt pain quite like it. It was blinding, starting at the back of your head and shooting to the front so quick that it pulled you with it, causing you to stumble forward. You were definitely screaming now, your jaw aching with how wide and quickly your mouth had shot open.

   “No. No, no, no, no, please!” you wailed, pressing your forehead into the moss and clapping your hands over your ears. The pain was too much. There were tears slipping out of your eyes, dripping into the ground. You reached up, tested for blood on your forehead, because it truly felt as if someone was stabbing you over and over in the temple.

   Your hand drew away clean.

   This was all you.

   Your breathing became shallow, your vision growing blurry; you were going to pass out. You were going to pass out. Hell, maybe you were about to die; it certainly felt like it. Maybe the malnutrition had finally taken its toll on you and you were being claimed by death at long last.

    It was only a matter of time, anyway. You would welcome it. Sure, Romelle might be a little sad, but a part from that, there was nobody else who would be even a little bit affected by you disappearing off the face of the earth. The chances of you-

   “Hey, hey, hey, hey.”

   Your eyes snapped open. There was a man. A single man in a blue jacket staring down at you.

   You panicked.

   Nobody could see you like this. They would send you away. They would call you crazy and lock you up somewhere, and nobody could see you like this.

   Despite the blinding pain searing through your body, you scrambled backwards at lightening speed. The man in the blue jacket reached hesitant hands towards you, his eyes flashing with a worry you didn't understand, couldn't understand. If you started to understand, you could very easily slip into the realm of trust, and that was the last thing you needed.

   “Get away from me!” you exclaimed.

   “I'm here to help you,” he said. “I know what's going on. We've been looking for you for months.”

   You shook your head violently. “Stay away!”

   “Please.” He sounded desperate now, continuing to take small steps towards you with his hands outstretched. You saw the scars on his palms – they looked like they had come from a knife, and you suddenly found yourself wondering what this man had been through to get such harsh markings embedded in his skin.

   “I don't know you,” you croaked out. “I don't-”

   “Hades.”

  You screamed, your elbows caving in and causing you to crash to the floor. You curled up, pressing your knees into your forehead to try and shove back the pain which was flying through your brain at this moment, but it did very little to help.

   The strange man was by your side in seconds, whispering words in a different language you didn't understand. You didn't bother trying to move – you felt as if you couldn't, as if your body was truly and utterly in a state of paralysis at this point.

   If he was going to kill you, he would be showing you a mercy right now.

   But he made no move to try and assassinate you. You could feel his fingers – calloused and rough – making their way along your arms, trying to pry you out of the defensive position you had curled yourself into.

    You fought against him, but weakly.

   He managed to roll you over with very little effort. You looked up at him, eyes swimming with forced tears. In his hand was a golden bar – where had he got that from?

    “I need you to swallow this,” he ordered.

   Your eyes widened. “I don't-”

    But he didn't give you a chance to protest before he was snapping a single corner off of the golden bar and stuffing it into your mouth, halting your words almost immediately.

    You felt as if you should have been fighting against it – some random man appearing beside you, placing a random piece of gold into your mouth. You shouldn't have chewed it. You shouldn't have swallowed it, but you couldn't help it. It truly felt as if you had to finish the entire thing.

   It tasted like nothing.

   It slid down your throat, and the effects were immediate.

   The pain in your head came to a stop. Your hands stopped trembling, and the sweat on your forehead and hands evaporated back into your skin. You suddenly felt energized, despite the fact that you had slept a total of eight hours in the past four days.

    The man was glancing down at you with a small smile playing on his face. You had half a mind to reach forward and slap him, but you couldn't; not with the shock bouncing around in your system right now.

   Slowly – so slowly – you pushed yourself up onto your elbows and glanced around the forest as if seeing it in a new light. Every single time you had been here, there had been strangers screaming for mercy in your head; this wasn't a nice place for you. It didn't remind you of nice things, but now that your brain was clear, you were seeing it just how everybody else would have seen it – pretty, the trees eerie yet nice to look at.

   You swallowed thickly, hoping to taste a little bit more of the random gold you had just swallowed; there was none left.

   “Better?”

   You jumped, having almost forgotten the man was there at all.

   You scrambled away from him, clutching your hands to your chest. “Who are you? What did you just feed me?”

   He raised the golden bar as if that was answer all in itself. Whenever he saw your continued look of confusion, he rolled his eyes and said, “Ambrosia. It's like demigod medicine.” You faltered. He continued on swiftly, as if he hadn't just said the word demigod in a real life, casual sentence. “Now, my name is Lance McClain and that's all you need to know about me until we get to camp. I know for a fact that Chiron is very interested in seeing you. Your name has gotten around quite fast-”

   “Stop talking.”

   “-although not all of the things being said are positive, so I should probably warn you about that.” He stood up, stretched out his neck with a long, drawn out sigh. “It's mainly Keith – he thinks you're a danger. Pfft. You're tiny. You must have gotten more of your mothers genes than your dads, because I know for a fact that Big Hades-”

   You flinched at the word.

   “-isn't short. Although, I'm pretty sure he's the shortest of the Big Three.” Lance frowned before shrugging. “He's still pretty tall, though.” Lance looked down then, as if only just now realising you were still sitting on the floor. His frown only deepened, a crease forming between his eyes. “What are you still doing on the floor? We need to go. We haven't got all day.”

   “I'm not going anywhere with you,” you hissed, scrambling up and holding your hands out in front of you – you knew you looked ridiculous. You were a skinny little thing, suffering with malnutrition, had very few fighting skills – but you'd be damned if you were going to let this stranger take you without a fight.

    Lance raised a brow at the stance you were taking, a devilish smirk appearing on his face. “Okay... I really appreciate your efforts here, but this whole attitude you've got going on just won't do.”

   “Attitude? You just force-fed me-”

  “I basically saved your life,” Lance scoffed. “Although the voices wouldn't have killed you – I know from experience. When I was having my Approach, it was the worst thing. But I'm pretty sure it was fishes talking to me and not dead bodies...”

   Your eyes widened. Oh gods, he really is insane.

   You glanced around the forest in search of a way out – you had to get away from him before he pulled out a knife or something. It seemed like something he would do. Or maybe a spear.

    Casually, with the air of somebody merely standing in a long line, Lance glanced down at his bare wrist as if he was looking down at a watch. “Time is running out. I want to get back before dinner starts, you know. If you're late, you have to give more food into the sacrifice fire, and I really don't-”

   You took your chance.

   Without thinking twice, you burst into a run. Your lungs felt fresher than they had in months. You felt like you could run a mile. You very nearly smiled, despite the person you were running from. The air whipped through your hair, the trees seemed to move out of the way for you. You were unstoppable. You were healthy. Just wait until Romelle heard-

   The floor exploded in front of you, and water sprouted from the dirt out of nowhere.

   You yelped, sliding and falling onto your backside in your attempts to avoid the spurting water suddenly shooting up from a fresh crack in the floor. Your attempts were in vain, though, as droplets of said water dripped down onto your head, soaking your hair.

    Lance waded up behind you and sighed. “Now we're definitely going to be late.”

   You couldn't speak. You were gazing at the water fountain in shock – how? That didn't make any sense! That hadn't been there before – gods, you had genuinely just watched it burst from the floor!

    Lance kneeled down beside you, gently dipped his fingers into the water. His skin seemed to glow beneath it, and whenever he pulled his hand away and ran his fingers over your arm, his skin was completely dry.

   You gaped. This was too much. You truly had died. The headaches you were suffering from had killed you, and this was hell. This was hell.

    “Am I in hell?” you vocalised before you could stop yourself.

   Lance laughed loudly then, clapping his hands in his amusement. You flinched, glancing at him through sheets of soggy hair which were now dangling in your eyes. “Oh, funny how you of all people would talk about hell. Ah... The world is wild.” He turned to you then. “But no. You'd know if you were in hell.”

   Before you could question what he meant, he was grabbing your arm and hauling you up. You stumbled up along with him, feet slipping in the dirt which had now turned to sludge due to the water pelting down upon it – still pelting down upon it. There didn't seem to be an end to it.

    “Maybe we should get a plumber or something,” you mumbled. “There might be a burst pipe somewhere.”

   “Hm?” Lance looked over at the shooting stream of water as if only just now noticing it. His face lit up. “Oh, yeah. No, don't worry about that.” And you watched – you genuinely watched – as this strange man flicked his wrist, and put a halt to the fountain of water.

   It just stopped. With no explanation, no scientific reasoning – it just stopped. The crack in the dirt moulded over, and the water stopped running, and it was truly as if it had never even been there in the first place. If it wasn't for your soaked clothes and the sloshy mud around you, you would have debated whether or not it had been there in the first place.

    “Don't worry. Water's good for the nature if that's what you're worried about,” Lance whispered in your ear, his hand still wrapped around your arm. “Now can we go? I'm getting hungry, and everybody was expecting me back in an hour – I may have been a little too cocky whenever I was telling them how quick I'd find you.” He grinned sheepishly. “It's kind of been four days. But that's not the point! I've got you now, and you need new clothes before the water starts going stagnant – it really starts to stink whenever it goes stagnant.”

   “You talk a lot.”

   “Excuse me. I'm explaining things to you.”

  “I know water stinks when it goes stagnant, but that doesn't mean I'm going anywhere with you.”

    Lance groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. “Dad was right. Children of the Big Three really are stubborn. Remind me to apologise to anybody I've ever spoken to once we get back to camp.”

   You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out of your mouth before Lance was throwing a cloak – a cloak he had pulled from thin air – over the top of your heads.

   You cried out in shock. The floor fell away from under you. The trees whizzed past, branches slashing against your ears as you moved at a speed you couldn't even describe without sounding insane.

   And then you were landing, crashing against the floor. As soon as your feet hit the mud, Lance's hand shot away from your arm and your knees were giving out, causing you to fall forward and land in the dirt – new dirt. Not the dirt of the forest you had just been in.

   You couldn't stop yourself from screaming.

   You threw the mystery blanket off of your head and scrambled to your feet, darting your eyes around in panic – how the hell had you gotten here? Because this wasn't the forest. This definitely wasn't the forest.

   There were cabins, buildings, people – people who were all staring at you in shock. Wide eyes, open mouths, whispers being passed around. Some of them even held weapons, though you struggled to feel threatened whenever half of the weaponry was stuff you had never even seen before.

   You were stood in the centre of a circle made from pebbles. Protecting the pebbles from being stood on was a ring of fire – a ring of fire that nobody else seemed to be questioning. They were all just standing around it, looking through the flames at you and Lance, who had just randomly appeared in front of them.

   You swallowed thickly and slowly turned in a circle. This was the oddest bunch of people you had ever seen – the majority of them were wearing an orange shirt with the words 'Camp Half-Blood' written across the chest, and almost all of them had necklaces with clay beads around their necks. You looked over at Lance, who was busy waving at a random boy, and saw that he, too, had a necklace – only his consisted of a lot more clay beads than everybody elses. You could just barely make out sixteen beads which had been carefully seamed through the chain.

    “Good work, Lance.”

  The voice startled you. You span around, looked through the flames to see a man standing before you – he had a brown beard forming, his buff arms folded in front of him. His hair was greying, and yet you were still fairly certain that he would not hesitate to knock you out if he needed to.

   Lance grinned brightly, wrapping a skinny arm around your shoulders as if he was showing off some kind of prize. You were much too confused and much too terrified to move out of his grip.

   “It was my pleasure, Chiron. Sorry it – uh – took a little longer than I had originally planned-”

   “Four days?” a girl in green spoke up.

   Lance shot her a warning look. “Alright, maybe I underestimated just how long it would take to find her, but she's here now and that's all that matters.” He turned back to Chiron, grinning once again. “So, Big Guy, what do I get in return for bringing our delicate little princess home?”

    You frowned. Chiron had no reaction, giving you the illusion that Lance spoke like this often.

   “You have the honour of showing her around camp until her claiming is official,” said Chiron.

   “Woah, woah, woah, woah, hold on a second!” Lance exclaimed. “What? I've just spent four days hauling ass across the country trying to find her, and then you make me mentor her, as well?”

   “You're not mentoring her. You're showing her around. And besides, you're really the only person who can – you're the only other child of a Big Three god. You can show her the ropes.”

   The ropes? Big Three?

   You sidestepped out of Lance's grip with as much confidence as you could muster up. Your knees were still achingly weak from the whole blanket fiasco, but you forced yourself to stay upright.

   “I am here, you know,” you said, waving your hand. “I don't know what any of this means, but I want to go home. This is kidnapping.”

   “Ooh, what is she gonna do? Call the police?” a taunting voice jeered from outside the flames.

   “I wouldn't mess with her, Lotor. She'll get the skeletons on you.”

   A chorus of snickers rang out around you, causing you to flush red despite having absolutely no idea what they were laughing about – surely calling the police would be a genuine threat? Why were the acting as if it wasn't?

   “Alright, Lotor, that's enough,” Chiron scolded. “Somebody extinguish these flames and let Lance and Y/N out. We have a lot to get done today with our new arrival.”

  “How do you know my-”

   Your question came to an abrupt halt as the flames that had circled you were blown away by a wind that hadn't been present seconds before.

  Chiron wasn't exactly what you had been expecting, as you could now see.

  Now that the flames had died down, you were given a perfect view of Chiron's lower half – his lower half, where legs were supposed to be. Human legs, you preferred. But no. Where his torso ended and legs were supposed to begin, was fur. Brown fur, pleasantly groomed that drifted down into four legs and the back end of a horse.

  You choked on air. You wanted to stumble away, to run as far away from this messed up place as you possibly could, but you were frozen, gazing at this half-horse half-man creature in front of you.

  Chiron smiled knowingly. “Dinner shall begin in an hours time. Until then, Lance will lead you to your cabin and get you settled in.”

   You couldn't find the breath in you to argue.

  ---

  “I think I owe you an apology,” Lance said as you and him walked side-by-side through the camp you were still struggling to get used to. “I rushed you when there was no need to rush you. Dinner is an hour away, so we have plenty of time to kill.”

   You shook your head. “Please stop talking. Just for two seconds.”

  Lance didn't listen. “It's a lot to take in, isn't it?”

  “That's an understatement.”

  “Chiron's really nice. I've only ever seen him kick someone in the teeth twice, and the person he kicked deserved it.” Lance shot you a glance, clearly checking to see if you had taken his joke in stride.

  You hadn't. You kept your facial expression neutral, your trembling hands tucked into the pockets of your ripped jeans. It took everything in you not to scream at the top of your lungs, not to ask the questions that were brinking on the edge of your mind – you were still fairly certain you had just died, and this was your brain shutting down.

  Lance awkwardly coughed into the silence, seeming, for the first time, to not know what to say.

  He led you silently to a large cabin on the far side of the camp; there were twelve of them in total, creating a 'U' shape around the camp; different people crowded around them, coming in and out of them – a lot more people than you thought the cabin could fit. There had to be at least a thousand people in this camp – how all of them could fit in twelve, fairly small cabins was completely beyond you.

  You had learned not to question such things, though.

  “This is where you'll be sleeping,” Lance said once the two of you finally arrived at the door. The cabin was charcoal black, plain bar a skull and crossbones which was situated over the door.

  “Cosy,” you grunted.

  Lance gave you a reassuring smile before he pushed open the door and let you walk in first. You stepped inside – again, there was nothing special on the inside. In fact, it looked as if this cabin hadn't even been touched. There were spiderwebs clinging to the corners of the roof, and you had to untangle yourself from one that had been stretched across the doorway. There were spiders and woodlice skittering along the floor, and there was a single bunk bed placed in the centre of the room – one that had clearly only been placed there for you. The white sheets were pure white, crisp, looking freshly washed. It was a direct contrast to the rest of the room, which truly looked as if it had never seen a feather duster.

  “I'm not sure if the spiderwebs are for decoration or if this place just has a bad spider problem,” Lance said, stepping in beside you. “But at least they bothered to give you fresh sheets!”

  You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

   Lance sighed then. “I'm sorry it's not much. I know what it feels like to walk into a cabin and see it empty whenever everybody else has brothers and sisters to greet them – it gets easier. I mean, I'm guessing.”

  You raised a brow. “All the people here are related?”

  Lance's eyes snapped open. “Gods forbid, no! Could you imagine if I was related to Keith?” He fake gagged, shaking his head. “No. No way. But everybody in the one cabin is related. If you had a brother or sister on your godly side, they would stay in this cabin as well.”

   “Godly side?”

   Lance ignored your query. “But you don't, so you're the only one who belongs to this cabin. You understand?”

   “I – I think so.”

   “It's like me – I have no brothers and sisters either, so my cabin is empty all the time as well. I don't really like staying in there when I can help it – it gets a bit lonely.”

    “And Chiron doesn't let other people stay over?”

   “What, like a sleepover?”

  “I guess so.”

    Lance shrugged. “I mean, I'm sure he would let me have a sleepover, but people in camp tend to avoid me whenever they can.”

   This sparked your interest. You turned to face him fully now, one eyebrow raised in question. “Why?”

   “I'm a child of one of the Big Three – people are frightened of us, Y/N.” The way he said your name sent a chill down your spine that you couldn't quite explain – he said it as if he had known you forever, as if he could already feel some weird connection sparking between you both. “It's harsh, but there's nothing we can do about it. Our parents are powerful-”

   “You keep talking about parents,” you interrupted. “I only know my mother, and she left me ages ago. I don't have parents.”

   Lance's face morphed then, as if he was only just now coming to some deep realisation. His small smile faded, the crease in his brow disappeared and he stared at you with wide eyes.

  His Adams apple bobbed before he said, “You don't – You don't know?”

    “Know what?” you asked. “Know why I'm here? Because I have absolutely no idea.”

  “Oh, gods,” Lance whispered. “I can't be the one to tell you. I don't – I don't know how I would even-”

   “Tell me what?” you exclaimed, throwing your hands out. “This isn't funny! First you take me to this freaky camp against my will, and now you won't even tell me what you mean when you talk about my parents. You're lucky I haven't-”

  “Your dad is a god, Y/N.”

  You froze, hands still outstretched to your sides. You looked over Lance's expression, half expecting him to start laughing that usual, annoying laugh of his that had been all you had heard for the past few hours. But he was standing still, his lips downturned in a sad frown, his hands stuffed in his pockets now.

  You slowly started to chuckle. “You must really think kidnapping is some massive joke. Just because I'm homeless doesn't mean the police won't take me seriously.”

  “Y/N, your dad is a god,” Lance repeated, more stern this time. “You haven't been officially claimed yet, but we all know who you your father is – it's difficult to keep quiet whenever you're a child of one of the Big Three.”

  “Stop joking around. I'm being-”

  “Hades,” Lance croaked out, and the name sent an ice cold feeling running down your back. “You're a child of Hades, Y/N. The god the Underworld.”

[zoocross0vers]

Raspberries Challenge #2: Zootopia x Pinocchio

Hello everyone! As promised here’s the first of many more to come Zootopia x Disney crossovers! Sorry I never got back to these before, but they’re back now and hopefully they’ll have a better updating schedule from now on. So hope you all enjoy! :D

Keep in mind some will be longer than other, some shorter. And in some maybe some characters might not be present or not so much, like Judy for one is not really present in this one, but I hope you like my take on this Disney classic nonetheless! 

@wildehopps-rasps

...

Raspberries Challenge Entry #2: Pinocchio

                                                     Pinickhio

Once upon a time, there lived a kindly old clockmaker named Emmett Otterton. He lived on his own after the unfortunate passing of his wife some years ago. Having never had any children of his own, the otter passed the time focusing on his life’s work -- making clocks day in and day out.

A fruitful life financially, but empty without anyone to share it with.

In his loneliness, Emmett turned to carving marionettes. Fashioning most of them to look like children to serve as sort of surrogate children to him. He loved them all so dearly, but if he had to choose his favorite -- it had to be a small red fox kit made of pine. The little fox marionette, clad in a pale yellow shirt, red overalls, a blue bowtie, and a yellow hat with a red feather was named Pinickhio by the kind otter.

One night as Emmett went to bed, he made a wish upon the evening star -- asking it, praying to it -- to please grant Pinickhio life, so that he may become a real fox and a real son to him.

His wish was granted.

For when Emmett fell asleep, a beautiful gazelle fairy with a blonde tuft of hair came to Pinickhio and granted him life. When the little wooden fox opened his brightly painted emerald eyes, the fairy promised him that she would make him into a real fox kit. But!...on one condition, “Prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish. And someday you will be a real fox.”

To help him achieve this, the gazelle fairy gave the wooden kit a conscience. A conscience in the form of a small fennec fox named Finnick who had snuck into Emmett’s home to seek shelter from the bitter cold. Though he did not possess the most admirable life, the gazelle fairy felt that this was the fennec fox’s chance to make things right for himself -- to learn from his past mistakes and to lead Pinickhio down the right path.

“Now remember Pinickhio, be a good boy. And always let your conscience be your guide,” and just like that, the gazelle vanished. Leaving Pinickhio and Finnick to prove themselves worthy.

.

The bell tolled throughout the village, signaling to the children that it was time for school. As boys and girls of all species and sizes said good-bye to their parents and rushed off to the local schoolhouse, Pinickhio eagerly swung open the front door to gaze in amazement at all the children. There were so many different looking ones! There were big ones, there were little ones, there were some that looked like his father Emmett, and there were some fluffy long eared ones.

Speaking of which…...There actually was one of those that immediately caught his eye and made his chest feel funny. A pretty little bunny girl with gray fur and amethyst colored eyes that looked in Pinickhio’s direction. She giggled and waved at him with a sweet friendly smile. Pinickhio returned a bashful smile and waved back as she skipped off along with other similar looking rabbits.

After watching her disappear into the distance, Pinickhio’s attention turned to another equally amazing sight. There, making their way to school, were a group of mammals that looked just like him. In his excitement, Pinickhio began hopping around the porch, following their every movement with his eyes.

His father, Emmett Otterton, came out the front door to place a formal little black vest on the puppet to make him look presentable for his first day of school. The eager Pinickhio however, was having a difficult time standing still as he hopped around eagerly. “Look father! Look!” the little wooden kit called out in a hop.

Emmett chuckled at the young puppet’s eagerness, “Hold still, Pinickhio.”

“What are those?” the little wooden kit asked Emmett.

“Huh?” Emmett lifted his gaze to the children making their way to school. “Oh, those. They’re foxes and your schoolmates, Pinickhio. Girls and boys--”

“Real boys?” Pinickhio cut him off, finally standing still. Amazed at the revelation.

“Yes,” Emmett answered as he finally managed to put the vest on Pinickhio. “And I’m sure they’re all eager to become your friends.”

“Friends?” Pinickhio beamed at the word.

“Yes, now hurry. You don’t want to be late,” Emmett gently shooed him down the small steps of their porch. “Oh! Wait my son!” Pinickhio stopped, wondering what his father could want of him. “I almost forgot,” Emmett came down the steps with an ABC book and an apple. He breathed on the apple and shined it up nice on the sleeve of his blouse for Pinickhio. “Here’s your book and here’s a nice apple for your teacher.” Pinickhio smiled. “Alright, now turn around and let me look you over,” Emmett told him with a proud chuckle.

The little fox puppet obeyed his father and turned only his body around, keeping his head in place.

“Perfect. Run along now.” Pinickhio joyfully skipped on toward school, feeling excited and eager to meet real foxes and make dozens of new friends.

“Goodbye father!” he called back to Emmett.

“Goodbye son! Hurry back!”

As the town’s children continued to race on toward school, a red fox by the name of John Worthington Foulfellow and his mute feline sidekick, Gideon, made their way about the crowded path. “Ah Gideon, listen. The merry laughter of little innocent children wending their way to school,” said the red fox to his companion. “Thirsty little minds rushing to the fountain of knowledge. Haha! School, a noble institution. What would this stupid world be without--” Honest John stopped short, noticing a poster depicting a heavy set ram named Stromboli with a pair of marionettes. “Well, well, well, Stromboli! So that old rascal is back in town, eh? Hahahaha! Remember Giddy the time I tied strings on you and passed you off as a puppet? Hahahaha! We nearly put one over on that old gypsy that time! Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

Honest John and Gideon continued on their merry way, laughing boisterously until they came across a most unexpected sight. There, skipping along the same path but heading in the opposite direction as them was… “A little wooden fox. Now who to--” Honest John and Gideon froze. “A wooden fox?!” Honest John gasped as he and Gideon followed after the wooden kit. They hid behind a brick wall to spy on the young kit and ensure their eyes did not deceive them. “Look Giddy! Look! It’s amazing! A live puppet without strings! A thing like that ought to be worth a fortune to someone. Now let me see…” Honest John rolled his eyes up in thought, his gaze landing upon the poster he had seen earlier. “That’s it! Stromboli! Why that fat old faker would give his--Listen! If we play our cards right, we’ll be on easy street. Or my name isn’t Honest John. Quick we’ll head him off.”  

Honest John and Gideon made their way behind a brick wall walking along the path Pinickhio was taking -- following the young puppet’s every move -- still amazed at the sight of a moving living puppet. The hustler fox quickened his pace and pulled his mute feline companion by the neck with the crook of his cane until they arrived at the other end of the wall. Now ahead of him, it was the perfect opportunity to catch him!

Honest John and Gid waited and brainstormed on how to go about catching the unsuspecting puppet. “Shh,” Honest John shushed to his friend, “Now’s our--” Honest John’s eyes widened upon noticing his associate lifting a mallet, ready to bop the young puppet on his head. “No, no stupid!” Honest John said, removing the mallet from Gid. “Don’t be crude.” Honest John uttered, bopping the silent feline over the head with the mallet. Gid gave no reaction, save for a single hiccup. “Let me handle this. Here he comes.”

He spun around to face Gideon, pretending to be lost in conversation with the feline. “Ah, yes Giddy. As I was saying to the Duchess only yesterday--” The cunning fox casually slid his cane back, causing the incoming Pinickhio to trip on it.

CLANK!  

“Oh! Oh, how clumsy of me,” uttered Honest John, feigning concern for the young puppet. “My, my, my. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Honest John clicked his tongue as he and Gideon helped the boy up, messily re-adjusting Pinickhio’s bowtie and hat. “Oh I’m terribly sorry. Oh, I do hope you’re not injured.”

“I’m alright,” Pinickhio responded.

Honest John sighed in relief, “Splendid!”

Gideon meanwhile, pulled out a small brush to help dust off the wooden kit clean. In the process of dusting him off, a greedy Gideon tugged at Pinickhio’s back pocket, pulling it wide to see if he had any money on him. He apparently did as Gideon reached in only to have Honest John smack him on the head with his cane, pushing the feline’s head down below his shoulders and into his shirt.

Pinickhio reached down for his book and apple, but Honest John picked them up first. The older fox rudely took a bite out of the apple and opened up the ABC book. He held it upside down,“Well, well, quite the scholar I see. Look Giddy, a mammal of letters.” Honest John lowered the book to his mute associate to see. With a humored chuckle, the fox returned the book to Pinickhio, “Here’s your book.”

Pinickhio took his book and innocently pointed ahead with a smile, “I’m going to school!” He started to march off on his way again when Honest John pulled him back with his cane.

“School?” Honest John questioned, “Then you haven’t heard of the easy road to success.”

“Uh-uh,” Pinickhio shook his head.

“No? I’m speaking my boy of the theatre!” Honest John exclaimed, draping his cape over himself in a dramatic flare. “Here’s your apple.” he said placing it back on the wooden kit’s palm. Pinickhio grimaced seeing that the older fox had already eaten it and only handed him the core. Taking absolutely no notice to the boy’s frown, Honest John continued with his speech, “Bright lights, music, applause! Fame,” Honest John said, raising his brows.

“Fame?” Pinickhio repeated, imitating Honest John's brow gesture.

“Yes! You’re a fox after all! Just like me! And let me tell you from one fox to another, there’s no greater occupation for a fox than the life of an actor!”

“Really?” Pinickhio asked, amazed by such a detail.

“Absolutely my dear boy! And with that personality. That profile! That physique! Why he’s a natural born actor. Eh Giddy?” Honest John said with a wink and a jab of his elbow to Gideon. The cat responded in kind with several goofy nods.

“But I’m going to--” Pinickhio tried to argue, attempting to continue on his path toward school.

“Straight to the top!” Honest John interrupted, turning the boy in the opposite direction and leading him on a new path, “Why, I can see your name in lights! Lights six feet high! Uh...What is your name?”

“Pinickhio!”

“Pinickhio! P-I-N-eh-Y-I-uh-P-I--Ohoho!” he chuckled, trailing off after fumbling his name. “How about we just call you Nick for short?”

“Okay! That kinda sounds like how my friend Finnick calls me. Except he calls me Nicky or Nicko.”

“Then Nick it is then!” Honest John cheered. He’s got him right where he wants him. “Now, on to the theatre!” the older fox declared, breaking into song as he and Gideon lead Pinickhio toward his ‘promising career’ as an actor.

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee

An actor's life for me

A high silk hat and a silver cane

A watch of gold with a diamond chain

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Day

An actor’s life is gay

It’s great to be a celebrity

An actor’s life for me

Ta dum diddle dee dum

Ti dee um dee dum

Ta dum diddle dee dum

Ta dum ta dum

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Di

Ta dee de dum ta dee

Ta dum diddle dee dum

Ta dum ta dum

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dum

An actor’s life is fun!

Elsewhere, Finnick raced through the streets while simultaneously attempting to dress himself. “Some conscious I turned out to be. Late on the first day--come on!” he strained between his teeth as he slipped on his black coat. “Oh well, I doubt Nick can get into much trouble on his way to school.”

The miniature fennec fox stopped beside a bridge on his path to tuck his nightshirt into his pants when suddenly...

Ta dum diddle dee dum

Ta dum ta dum

The sounds of merry singing caught his ear. This could only mean one thing, “Oh no, a parade,” the small fox groaned. “I guess I better move before I get stepped on.” Finnick stepped aside, crossing his arms and leaning against the stone to allow the marching mammals to pass.

An actor’s life for me

“Ugh finally!” Finnick growled under his breath once the mammals passed by. He made his way back onto the bridge only to hear a young, yet strangely familiar voice sing from behind him.

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee

An actor’s life for me!

Finnick glanced back doing a double take, “What the--?” There, marching beside a singing red fox and a brown feline was Pinickhio!

A waxed mustache

And a beaver coat

A pony cart

And a billy goat

“Pinickhio?!” Finnicked gasped confused. The school’s on the other side of town, thought the small fennec fox, So where...? Realizing he had no time to waste with questions, Finnick ran after him, “Hey Nicko! Where you goin’!”

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dum

An actor’s life is fun

You wear your hair in a pompadour

You ride around in a coach and four

Finnick raced and slid down a stairway rail, desperately trying to reach the young wooden fox, “Wait! Nick!” The fennec fox called to the young puppet but received no answer, the older red fox’s singing completely drowned out Finnick’s calls.

“Stop!” Finnick called once more only to have a completely distracted Honest John push Finnick away with a flare of his musically wandering paws. Finnick fell tail first with a dazed head. He shook it off to call for Pinickhio once more, “Hold on! Nicko!”

You stop and buy out a candy store

An actor’s life for me,

“That does it,” Finnick growled. He’s had enough.

Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee

An actor’s life for me

With clothes that come from the finest shop

And lots of peanuts and soda pop

Hi--

He ran after them and whistled as loud as he could, “HEY! PINICKHIO!”

“What was that?” Honest John asked turning every which way until he looked down and spotted the angry Finnick.

“Oh! It’s Finnick!” chirped a happy Pinickhio.

“Finnick?” questioned Honest John to the puppet.

“He’s my conscious!” Pinickhio replied innocently.

“Ah! So this is your conscious,” said Honest John, feigning excitement. “I didn’t know one of your schoolmates served as your conscious.”

“Schoolmates?” echoed an angry Finnick, “I’m a grown fox!”

“Really?!” Honest John gasped in shock, “Could’ve fooled me. I thought you were a bit tall for your age!” he snickered, jabbing Gideon with an elbow, eliciting an inaudible chuckle from the silent feline.

“What’d you say?!” Finnick snarled at them, balling his little paws into fists, “You’re lucky I have to set a good example for the kid. Otherwise I’d wipe that smirk off your face!”

“My, my, my, what a temper. We must be cautious Giddy. Seems like the grown fox has grown short with us. Hahahahaha!” They threw their heads back, laughing boisterously, while Pinickhio looked on wondering what's so funny... and what's made Finnick so angry?

Speaking of which…

“What are you doing here?” Pinickhio asked his fennec fox conscious.

“I could ask you the same thing kid. Ain’t you supposed to be in school? And who are these guys?” asked the miniature fennec with a sour look on his face.

“They’re my friends,” Pinickhio responded innocently, “This is Gideon,” Gideon tipped his hat to Finnick. “And that’s Honest John. He’s a fox! Just like me and you!” Pinickhio pointed happily at the older red fox.

“Charmed,” Honest John responded with a sarcastic bow.

Finnick only glared at him with an angry mumble.

“He’s gonna make me an actor!” Pinickhio replied ecstatically.

“An actor?! No, no, no. You're going to school kid.”

“But Finnick, Honest John says an actor's life is the only life for a real fox.”

“What? This guy told you that?” Finnick gave Honest John a dirty look and took Pinickhio by the paw, pulling him a few feet away from the two deceiving mammals, “Come 'ere kid.”

“What's wrong Finn--”  Finnick raised a paw, stopping the young fox puppet from finishing his sentence.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Those two are lyin’ to you,” Finnick whispered to the little puppet. “Foxes aren't supposta be actors. I'm not an actor and neither are you! You're a kit. You're supposta be in school. Learning how not to end up like that guy!” Finnick pointed to Honest John, who simply placed a dramatic tattered gloved paw at his chest as if saying, 'moi?’

Finnick continued, “Look kid, if you wanna be polite about it that's okay. Just tell 'im thanks all the same but you gotta go to school.”

“And he shall!” Honest John cut in, placing an arm around the tiny fennec. “Acting school that is!”

“Wait. Wha--!” Finnick hissed before being so rudely interrupted once again by Honest John.

“Finnick was it? Come with me. Talk with me,” Honest John said, guiding Finnick away from Pinickhio’s hearing reach. They stopped behind a wall to speak in private, “Now listen my tiny friend. You're a fox, right? I’m sure you know all too well the paths our kind are destined to follow. I'm just looking out for the boy.”

“Puh, yeah. Lookin’ out how you can exploit ‘im to make a profit you mean,” Finnick scoffed.

“Exactly!” Honest John admitted without shame. “After all let’s face facts, that solo moving puppet is a gold mine! You’re his conscious right? Don’t you think it would be wrong of you to keep him from a promising future with heavy financial rewards? Hmm?” Honest John lifted his brows, attempting to tempt Finnick into going along with the plan. “Think about it, as his conscious that gives you a right to a heavy cut. If not all of dear Nicky’s cut considering he’s still too young to utilize his own earnings.”

Finnick’s eyes widened in amazement. That would be a lot of moola, the fennec thought with a mischievous smirk as he imagined all the money he could make with the little fox puppet. Given all the financial hardships he’s gone through his whole life, this could be his big break! He could have anything he’s ever wanted! Money, girls, his own place -- heck a mansion even!

….Finnick’s smile fell and he shook his head as his own conscious returned to him. “No! No! Sorry ‘pal’, but ain’t doin’! I’m not betrayin’ the kid and I ain’t about to let you ruin his life neither!” Finnick declared bravely and loyally.

“Really? Is that so? Never thought I’d see the day when a fellow fox would turn down such an opportunity.”

“Guess there’s a first time for everythin’ chump. I’m takin’ that kid to school and if you don’t like it, try an stop me--eeh!”

Honest John snatched Finnick up in the air. Hanging him high by the coattails of his coat, “Hey what the?! Put me down ya no good piece a--”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Temper, temper,” Honest John tisked, “We don’t want young Nick to hear you say such foul words. But I will tell him you send him your warm regards and the best of luck.”

“Wha--!” Finnick yelled before being tossed into a barrel. Honest John slammed the lid hard down on top of the barrel, muffling Finnick’s foul ranting.

“You’re a heck of a conscious by the way. Not that it did you much good here.” With a bump of his hips Honest John sent the barrel rolling down the hill with Finnick still inside.

CRASH!

The barrel crashed against a thick tree. The lid popped open, allowing a dizzy Finnick to waddle his way out of the barrel before collapsing right next to it.

Atop the hill, Honest John laughed boisterously and made his way back to Pinickhio and Gideon.

Pinickhio looked around curiously, unable to spot his conscious anywhere. “Where’s Finnick?”

“Finnick?” Honest John asked, “Oh! He went back home, but he told me to tell you that he changed his mind. He wants you to be an actor and wishes you the best of luck!”

“Really?” Pinickhio asked with a big innocent smile.

“Yes! Now come along Nicky! We have to make you a star!”

“Okay!” Though unable to see him, Pinickhio waved good-bye to Finnick in hopes that his conscious would still hear him. “Good-bye Finnick! Good-bye!”

Honest John and Gideon guided Pinickhio back down the path toward Stromboli’s. They resumed their song as Finnick regained consciousness and Pinickhio’s words at last reached his large ears. “Good-bye? Good-bye?!!”

Finnick shook his head, shaking off the dizziness and watched Pinickhio walk off into the distance with Honest John and Gideon. Finnick slapped a frustrated paw to his forehead with a groan, “That kid’s dumber and more gullible than a rabbit! Hey Nick! NICK!!”

No response. It’s hopeless. Honest John’s singing completely tuned out any of Finnick’s desperate calls. “Great! What do I do now? Should I tell his dad?” Finnick questioned to himself. “Nah, I ain’t no snitch. I’ll go after ‘im myself.”

Finnick tipped his hat forward in a determined manner and ran after them, hoping to stop Pinickhio from ruining his young life and his chances of ever becoming a real fox.

[oyekunle]

To keep myself sexually pure and not to give in to temptation.

1 Corinthians 6:18 (Martin Bible) Flee from fornication; whatever other sin a man commits is outside the body; but the fornicator sins against his own body.

1 Thessalonians 4:3-5 (Sower) God's will is that you live a holy life, that you abstain from all immorality; that each of you should know how to gain perfect control of his body, so that he may live in holiness and honor, not being dominated by unbridled passions, as are the pagans who do not know God.

The present world does not respect any commandment of the Word of God. Everyone is free to do as he wants and to be seen it is very important to follow the trends of the moment: to have a boyfriend or girlfriend, to go out to clubs, to get drunk until you can't walk anymore, etc. These are just a few examples of the distracting things. Now as Christians we are in this world but not of this world and we need to stay focused on God's will in our lives and not be lured and grabbed by what the world wants to suggest to us as being the best and what we need to be happy. May the Lord help us to stand firm every day and not give in to temptations.

In the name of Jesus Christ, I pray to You Father for I find myself tempted so many times by all that my eyes see and all that my ears hear. I ask for Your help not to fall. I am single and I have to face the proposals that this world offers me like pornography, masturbation which according to this world is considered natural and normal, having sexual relations outside of marriage under any pretext. I wish not to sin against You and to stand firm in my commitment but sometimes it is so difficult Lord...I confess to You that sometimes my thoughts are impure and shameful. I have strong urges and I have already acted on them many times. I have the impression that I will never succeed! To keep myself pure in thought and in action seems to me a utopia! If you don't change me, if you don't purify my heart, it is lost in advance. However, in spite of all these temptations and sins that I commit, I want so much to please You Lord, I have this deep desire to honor You with my life and to give You glory. My heart is dirty, my conscience unclean and my thoughts impure: wash me Daddy in the pure water of Your Word.

May discouragement not overcome me in this struggle against temptations.  I am fighting not to be deceived by the wiles of the enemy and I know that with Your help I can fight and I will overcome! I stand on guard and will no longer frequent places I should not go or stay with people who have a bad influence on me and no fear of God. I thank You greatly because I know that Your supernatural power accompanies me every day and that You give me victory over all my enemies!