SEPTEMBER 2020: Of Love and Devotion

Elpis: what kind of question is this? Aren't 2000 years sealed away proof of how I feel about him? Maybe you would want me to tell you that I am proud of the relationship I now have with Pride. There is no remnant of the past, there is no nostalgia anymore. There is only the present. There is only Superbia. My love became truer because I grew from the past golden years. After spending so much time trapped inside humans I realized I wasn't loving him with open eyes. This time there is no romanization of my feelings or of who is. Only the truth. Pride and I are power incarnate. We are revenge, we are luxuria, we are all of the seven sins when together because we have a purpose. We can't be restrained to Earth and earth gods. We can't just allow ourselves to be limited. Back to my emperor. Superbia is magnificent. Obviously, he is perfect but truly his mind is remarkable. He managed to fulfill his dreams and has this ability to always find new challenges that I admire. He is a true leader, he is the one worthy of my undying of Loyalty and love. He is my everything. He is my alpha and lyrics omega. He is my beginning and will be my end although I hope there won't be any end. He gives me a purpose, he helps me grow even more than I wanted. He helps me reach new heights. How can I explain how I feel? How can I explain my feelings for my emperor? What do you want me to say? Except that I laced my destiny with his?

XXXX

Jaime has always been misunderstood. I guess people had always been quick to name names and blame him without taking the time to see why he did what he did. I am not saying he is a saint. He isn't. But at least I see him for who he is with his flaws and qualities. Jaime is cunning, clever, a true fast thinker. He's knowledgeable and affable. He still a sharp mind, I feel safe by his side because he knows this world is am a newcomer to and he can fend for himself. But he's more than that. Jaime is a man of passion, of love. He is a man who will do whatever it takes to protect his loved ones. He's a man who did terrible things in the name of love. But when he loves he is sincere. He is honest and fully committed. He's loyal and supportive. Jaime saved my life at Winterfell because he was empathetic and took a liking in me, enough to shake me up. I love him. I am in love with him. I don't think there is a limit to that love actually. We always find a way back to each other. That's what I believe in. No matter how hard we try to stay away, love finds a way. ..life brings us back together. With Jaime, my life has meaning. He gave me a purpose. He guides me. He heals me....and I want to do the same for him. He's sensitive you know? And he keeps to himself but I will always make sure he can speak his mind, even to say the most hurtful things because I will always be there to listen. Oh, it also doesn't hurt that he's very beautiful. I have never seen a man like.him. a man who wasn't a Targaryen be this beautiful. I.....yearn for him, verily but I won't let us go this far for now...

XXXX

Oya: "Dean is my partner, my other half. It's ride or die with him. We ride together and I hope we will de together. Dean is kind, he has a rough exterior but is soft inside. He's concerned, he's loving...he cares. Even when you think he doesn't, Dean cares. He cared for me.. he still does you know. With Dean, I know that we can face whatever Chuck has for us. We can face it, he makes it easy even dying. Dean is charismatic, he draws people in but you have to be tough to crack through his walls of protection and it's worth it. It's worth fighting for him. Dean....dean gave me something nobody could. He gave me a home. He gave me a reason to live. I can return home to him, I know he will wait for me. He manages to make space for us. Dean...made my life, much less miserable, and I am grateful every day for him. Also, it's noteworthy to say he's hot. He fucking is. I have a strong appetite but never had I wanted to be close to him. Physically and spiritually. I'm overwhelmed with lovely feelings when I see him but I also very much want to fuck him too. He allows me to be myself and to be in charge... and we get along very well...we match. He's my soul mate, I am now very certain of that

Misadventures of Eros and Thanatos: Morning Glory

 Misadventures of Eros and Thanatos: Morning Glory

This is the calm after the storm when everything was said and done. There laid the pieces of our hearts, shattered by the violence of our words of the day before.

It feels as if we woke up from a nightmare, exhausted, heartbroken, with acute senses. We could feel the warm breeze on our faces again, the sting of the open wounds we still carry, the dried tears on our faces, the latest testimonies of war.

We look at each other, still at a safe distance for we aren't sure yet. Are we going to rip each other's throat like the night before? Are we going to let doubt and fear creep into our hearts? Are we letting darkness win over? We cautiously gather the broken pieces on the floor and carry our hearts in our hands.

We look at each other, confused, upset, and ashamed. Yes, why did we have to hurt the other with words we weren't even thinking? why did we have to spit at our faces, the lies, and fear we keep telling ourselves?

I guess, deep down we both fear being left behind. We both fear to be alone again. We both fear to have the other wake up one day and see that we are not enough.

We look at each other and we realize that we lived through another day, and as we look into each other's eyes, we could see again, the love we have for each other. Its warmth soothes our souls and finally, we are able to see each other again, without the rose-tinted glass of self-hatred.

This is the calm after the storm when our war ends. This is the moment we see with clarity that there was no reason to be afraid because the other is genuine in the love they have for us. This is the moment we allow truth to pierce through the thick coat of lies we draped ourselves with. Love, true love, is triumphant.

And we hug. And I can feel that peace I have been craving for. I can feel that truth I have been searching for. You love me and I love you. And that was all we need to understand so the war could end. We love each other, what greater gift to ask for?

Chronicles of the primeval gods: Life and Death of Ishtar: All-FAther above us all.

Chronicles of the primeval gods: All-FAther above us all.

A/N : I'm channeling my dear Ishtar. He's been reeling in my head for a good while now.

XXXX

« I am the All-Father. The Alpha and the Omega.

I am the son of Khaos, the very first God, the very first being in the whole universe.

I am the all-Powerful, the one and only, the strongest there is.

And yet...She still has the power to bring me to my knees. »

Ishtar was sitting on his throne, a glass of hydromel in his hand. He was surrounded by the surviving gods of his pantheon, those who either truly served Ayasha and him. While they allowed themselves to be entertained, the All-Father was lost in his thoughts. He was still reeling with rage at the thought that his sister. Truth be told, Ishtar was uncertain of his reaction when faced with his younger sibling. He liked to think that he could stand up to her, not as Ishtar; the God of War who was helplessly in love with his little sister and killed her because he was jealous; but as the All-Father who could smash her with the back of his hand, if he willed it.

He wanted to be detached from her, to forget about his feelings for her, but they were deeply rooted in him. Perhaps it was a cruel joke from Khaos, who had created siblings who didn't care much for each other and even competed with one another until Elpis was born. With her, he learned compassion, empathy, and even learned to appreciate the moments he wasn't waging war. She brought light into his darkness and whether he wanted it or not, Ishtar was craving it today. He was craving her presence, he needed her forgiveness for what he did to her. How could he look at his reflection and forgive himself for what he did?

« I am the All-Father, the one above All.

And yet I was brought to my knees by the ghost of my sister.

For 2000 years I couldn't forget about her, not her smiles, not her bright eyes, not even her anger.*

And somehow, after all this time, I still carry my guilt. »

Why was he so upset at the idea of meeting her again? Why was he afraid? Ishtar started to hold his glass tighter. The idea of the all-mighty god being scared of his younger sister didn't sit well with him. He dreaded her return for he knew her vengeance would be far worse than his worst nightmare. He knew she never forgave him for his betrayal, for he was the god she was the closest to. He was the god she entrusted her life with, the one she blindly believed and followed; He was the one who was supposed to protect her, and yet, it was his hand that almost snuffed her life. It was his hand that deprived her of the very happiness she deserved. And perhaps, it was what hurt him the most. To be the one she most hated.

Doya: One of those good days

A/N: They are together, always. Late-night conversation between my favorite hunters. 

Xxxxxx

“Dean...?”

Oya's voice pierced through the silence that had settled in the room. She had been unable to sleep that night and her tired voice echoed through the quiet room. Dean had been contemplating the day, satisfied that their case had a positive outcome. They got the monster, there was no casualty, there was no ma major injury except for a couple of bruises here and there. For the first time in a long while, Dean felt good. Oya's voice was calming, even as she broke the silence, her tone was not worried, her voice was still very soothing. He grunted, loud enough for Oya to lift her head and look at his face. He glanced at her, noticing her big hazel eyes that were staring at him with curiosity and lifted a brow as to ask her to keep talking.

“Do you think Castiel would understand if I ask him how many angels are needed to change a light bulb?”

The question was random, as random as the hearty laughter that escaped from Dean's lips. He had not expected her first words since they got under the sheets to be about a joke she wanted to tell to Castiel, but it brought a grin on his lips and he let his fingers sink into her silky black mane. As he massaged her scalp, Oya purred and pressed her body against his.

“I don't know... You know Cas. He's /very/ literal. I don't think he'd understand.”

“But that's the joke! Him, not getting it.” She said, biting her thumb as she wanted his approval. “C'mon, next time we see him, I ask him.”

“Oya..” He started before another laughter crept out of his mouth. “I'm not even sure he'd understand why you're laughing. I can already see his face from here.” He said as he started to impersonate the angel and make faces like him. Always so stern, always so constipated. What started as frustrating quickly became endearing. It was Castiel's personality, what separated him from other angels, and what made him “him”. Akin to Oya's beautiful face when she was laughing. It felt good to do so, to be able to be silly under the sheets and after all the shit they had to endure. It felt good to be together, just two people talking late at night. It was needed.

Oya had a rough year, from the near-death of one of her best friends, (Joshua), to her own near-death at the hands of the God Pluto, to the moment Dean had to deal with archangels -Apparently, Adam was free, someone saw him but nobody was sure about the sightings- The moments of true peace and joy were very limited but they were used to it, after all. The life they led demanded it. However, it felt nice, to finally be able to let go, to finally be able to breathe and have a goddamn good day on a regular hunt. He didn't have to worry about her because she was right in his arms. She was safe, she was alive....and she was laughing with him. A large grin lit up his face and he gently planted a kiss onto her forehead. As she was taking her breath back, the ebony hunter leaned her head into the pillow and bit her bottom lip. Her laughter died out and she coyly smiled at him. Her hand stroked his chest again before she started to plant a few kisses on his hard skin.

“When all is said and done, I can still have a minute to think about how good our case was. We didn't lose anyone.” She exclaimed.

“We didn't lose anyone.” He repeated, bemused, satisfied.

“And we aren't heavily injured.” She pointed out, while she slowly attacked his neck with her lips, suddenly feeling a little more energetic and driven.

“and we aren't heavily injured.” He repeated, his left hand started to stroke her hips while his eyes stared at her. Oya was radiant, he couldn't really explain it, but Dean was happy with it.

“And more importantly, I am hunting with you.” She noted, while her hands ran over his chest. “It's been... it's been a while since we had something to celebrate, don't you think so?”

“Do you have something in your mind?” It was a rhetorical question. Of course, she had something in her mind given the growing intensity of her kisses. The blonde hunter grinned at Oya who snuggled to him and whispered seductively.

“What do you think I have in mind?”

The night was young and they were alive. Dean green eyes locked with her hazel ones and he quickly pressed his lips to hers, giving her a searing kiss of his own, just so she could have a first taste of what was to come. And by Chuck, there was a lot to come.

    -TBC-

Jaime and Bäahal: The colour purple

 

Jaime and Bäahal : The colour purple

A/N: I love them, okay, I love my babies.

Xxxxx 

He was the colour red. It was the colour of power, the Red of the Lannisters.

It was a colour of conquest, of determination and strength.

The colour of blood, the very blood that soaked his hands.

The colour of countless lives lost to his sword, To the devouring ambition of his father

To the loss of mind of his king, the very one he swore to protect even from himself.

He was the colour red, strong, violent, passionate, devastating.

He was the colour of the end, the colour which brought destruction and fear.

Jaime knew that his desire to protect those he loved would doom him to a life of misery.

Each and every decision he took always led to regret and destruction.

The Mad King's death caused the destruction of his hard-earned reputation. The loss of respect.

His relationship with Cersei made him miserable, broke him little by little, tainted his heart black.

He who was taught to be proud of this vibrant red colour they adorned, came to resent it.

At the end of the « Last  War. » Jaime rejected the colour for a while as shame and guilt triumphed.

And darkness swallowed him whole....Until she came back into his life.

Jaime used to respect the colour purple. He did so when he was younger, or a serving Hand,

Purple was the colour of Kings, of otherworldly kings and queens who shaped Westeros as it was.

Cersei dreamed of the Crowned Prince, Jaime knew he couldn't compare to Rhaegar, but didn't care

Purple, was flamboyant, mythical and eerie. Purple was shrouded with mystery and Magic.

Purple was beautiful yet sinister, as those with silver hair and purple eyes were unpredictable.

Robert Baratheon would consider them to be dangerous freaks, blood-thirsty monsters

And they were ruthless, they didn't forgive those who opposed them so purple was also, strength.

Jaime despised it, when he had to stop the Mad King for killing his own people, Jaime hated purple.

He would see Evil in it, he would see anger and hatred, he would see emptiness and loneliness.

The colour was cold and so were its people so when they all « died », Jaime ignored the colour.

He forgot about it, long enough to be surprised when the Queen from the South arose.

Then purple became  « Danger. ». Purple was to be eliminated, it re-opened old wounds.

The long night made him change his mind, for he respected the young queen and he met her.

The young, naive, warm purple princess who shattered without his knowledge his cold heart.

Purple became tender, playful, surprising. He never really knew how to anticipate the princess.

She always had a knack at appearing out of nowhere and say things that weren't expected.

She was young, and yet very resilient, she was innocent and yet had seen the horrors of this world.

She was warm...Her purple was soft, concerned and generous; She cared for others, she loved.

Oh, it was The colour of love, of a love so great she wanted to forget about herself to protect others.

It was the colour of a woman who abandoned everything just so she could find the love of her life.

And she brought him back to life.

She brought him back to the colour Red.