Our muses to be caught in one of these situational tropes! (These work well for ships, but could be used for all kinds of characters.
❄ Our muses huddle together to stay warm. ☽ Our muses having no choice but to share a bed. ✚ My muse carries yours due to an injury. ☂ Our muses get caught in the rain together. ☃ My muse gives yours their jacket in the cold. ♡ Our muses almost kiss, but are interrupted. ☹ My muse is jealous over someone else showing interest in yours. ✦ My muse bandages yours due to an injury. ✗ My muse confesses their love to yours as they die in their arms. ✓ Our muses share a hug after being separated for a long time. △ My muse shows up outside your muse’s door after being presumed dead. ❖ My muse accidentally falls asleep against yours. ⁕ Our muses hold hands for the first time. ⎔ Our muses say goodbye to each other for the last time. ⚑ Our muses are mistaken to be a couple by someone else. ♧ Our muses see each other in formal wear for the first time. ⚠ My muse sacrifices themselves for yours. ⎈ My character pins yours to the ground while fighting/sparring.
tw for distressing themes , depressive tendencies , harsh language , ect .
❛ i can’t , i can’t , i just — can’t . ❜ ❛ i’m trying — i’m trying so fucking hard , but nothing’s working . ❜ ❛ i just want it to stop . ❜ ❛ i’m so sorry . i’m so so fucking sorry .❜ ❛ i’m in tatters and i can’t fucking do anything . ❜ ❛ i can’t do anything right . ❜ ❛ i’m a failure . ❜ ❛ help me — oh god , help me , please . ❜ ❛ i’m tired . i’m so tired . ❜ ❛ i just want to sleep . please , just … let me sleep . ❜ ❛ i don’t know what to do . i just don’t . ❜ ❛ who cares ? who could even care about me ? ❜ ❛ i’m disgusting and mangled and broken and useless . ❜ ❛ trying’s so fucking hard . ❜ ❛ i can’t breathe , i can’t — ❜ ❛ what do i do ? what do i do ? ❜ ❛ i’m scared — i’m so scared . ❜ ❛ i’m the problem . and there’s nothing i can do about it . ❜ ❛ i ruined it . i fucking ruined it . ❜ ❛ i’m such a fucking idiot . ❜ ❛ i know , i know . ❜
❛ i didn’t — i didn’t mean it like that . ❜
❛ how could you do this to me ? ❜
❛ i can’t do this anymore . ❜
❛ get the fuck away from me ! ❜
#for Mab only cause Hera is gonna be put ok the shelf today
She moved silently throughout the fallen debris of the forest, her long skirts scarcely making a sound as she went, weaving through rotted trees. A pale moon hung heavy overhead, ripe and glowing, causing dark eyes to glance up, gleaming silver in the light. An alabaster hand reached up, as if to touch the glowing orb in the night sky, to grasp it and make it her own. The chilled night air stirred at her dark tresses, as if urging her forward.
But the dark queen took her time as she danced through the forest, the many creatures that inhabited it’s festering woodland falling silent at her approach. The only sound to be heard was an eerie voice, light and singsong - so out of place. Hers. “Spider web, spider web - spun so fine.” She paused on the fringe of the forest, the border on which her kingdom both ended and began. “Whatever you trap becomes mine.”
,A cruel smile curved at her lips, however her dark eyes remained untouched - blank, almost dead. Almost. “My my,” She sighed, eyeing the figure who was indeed caught in a large web of silk - unnoticeable in the day, a beacon in the night. “Who do we have here?”
#queen mab: starter #spider queen deep in the forest 🕷-; #tales.start #idk but y'all go
UNSEELIE QUEEN, ruler of the unseelie court - home to the most malicious, malevolent faeries known to man. chaos rules their realm, darkness reigns. in the darkest part of the forest despicable creatures preside, ruled by their queen.
she’s the darkness that creeps into your mind, the nightmares that grip you. she is the forbidden voice that lurks in deepest parts of your soul, the desires and the pleasures you do not wish to acknowledge. come, my sweet, and step into the forest and hold court with the darkest creatures of the realm and their queen.
step into a world where pain meets pleasure and a heartless queen presides. her lips curve into a cruel smirk, eyes alight as her subjects play. pain. pleasure. sex. greed. the queen allows them to indulge. under her command, they roam free - to seek out their innermost desires. magic, darkness, flesh.
and while the revelry goes on, over the sound of screams - in terror and in rapture, a queen sits on a throne of thorns and waits, her dark mind always plotting.
welcome to the unseelie court, the court of the unblessed, the court of nightmares. careful, you are in the spider’s web and she is closing in.
There was always something dark about Mab. Whilst most faeries indulged in a little mischief, she always seemed to take it too far. She always pushed the boundaries, always wanted more. She was never content with what she had, never satisfied.
Mab does not have a sad story to sing, an ode to what has made her into the dark queen that she is. She was born with darkness and shadows in her heart and a need to live without limits.
She had lost the war to claim the fae kingdom once, being cast to the darkest forest to hold her own court with the dark and cruelest of creatures that had fought with her. The unseelie court. The court of nightmares, the court of pain, the court of horrors. There, civilization ends and destruction begins. Mab’s subjects are encouraged to divulge into their most darkest beings. to be their very worst self and enjoy it.
For those who dare to tread into the unseelie court, their ragged screams will pierce the night. Cold eyes watch as her subjects slowly carve trespassers up, a faint smile on her lips. few know the goings on under Mab’s rule, save from hushed whispers, fleeting rumours.
But in the dark forest, atop of a throne made of thorns and bones, Mab is plotting - she is not content with one small corner of the kingdom. Her ambitions are far higher and pathetic Oberon and sweet little Titania best enjoy their rule, for they are on borrowed time.
Powers: She’s the queen of nightmares, hold power to enter when one is in their deepest slumber. She can twist and manipulate how she sees fit. She also has an apt ability to discern one’s innermost fear.
Courtiers - unseelie folk - fae or otherwise who acknowledge Mab’s rule and share in her twisted ideals.
Her trusted henchman (or woman) - the one person Mab trusts to do her dirty work, the one she allows to share her plans.
Changelings - humans who were taken while babes and forced to be raised in the unseelie court. Such creatures are considered lessers, They live in fear of their ruler, but are often seen as her ‘pets’ when she wishes to spare them her favour.
Victims - those who have fled the unseelie court.
Dreamers - those who have susceptible minds that allow Mab to enter their dreams and torment them.
Allies - those who support Mab’s rule and her plan to overtake the fae kingdom.
Enemies - those who oppose Mab and everything she stands for.
Ex-lovers - Mab does not keep ties nor make nay lasting connections, but she is one to indulge in her body’s needs. She has had many lovers, often those with the same dark tastes.
#step into the mabness; #spider queen deep in the forest 🕷-; #tales.into #wanted connections and more!!
“I’ve never needed to put on a suit in years.” Hades replied, allowing Hera into his space. The tie around his neck tightened ever so slightly underneath Hera’s nimble fingers. From this close of a distance, he could see the wrinkles that lined her eyes, the lines that cradled a soft smile. Hades was sure that his face echoed similar features after all these years.
Hera’s gray eyes were fixated on his tie before they flitted back to his gaze. It was bittersweet seeing Hera soften like this, knowing that the moment was only temporary. At least Poseidon was trying to better himself. If only Zeus could see what he was overlooking.
The sound of laughter and various chatter increased when they approached, receiving the occasional bow in thanks of two gods at this wedding. They were not Hades’ people, with their heartbeats in rhythm to the music. His focus remained on Hera as the question left her lips, a hand coaxing him forward.
Hades chuckled, downing a good few swallows of burning liquor before putting it down on a nearby table. Weaving through the crowd, he took Hera’s hand in his own and touched his free hand to her waist.
“Guess those dance lessons we were forced to take decades ago are coming in handy. Remember when Poseidon kept stepping on your toes?” Hades reminisced, a breathless laugh punctuating his sentence.
She did not know why she thought he would have said no to dancing. Perhaps Hera was used to being disappointed, used to getting her hopes dashed. How many times had she hoped her husband would change? How many times had she seen him walk through the door, knowing the truth that lurked within his eyes? But tonight was not the night for dwelling. No, Hera felt the whiskey coursing through her veins and she wanted, just for one night, to feel like the young goddess she had once been.
But his hand took hers, weaving with skill through the crowd before drawing her close. There was still a respectable amount of distance between them, but the hand he had placed on her waist seemed to burn. It had been so long since another being had touched her and Hera tried not to dwell on that thought either. Still, her eyes closed briefly as her fingers wound around his, savouring the mere touch of another.
She moved in time with the music, allowing Hades to lead. It was some of the few things that no one knew about Hera - her love of dancing. At the sound of his voice, her eyes opened and though there was little difference in height, Hera looked up at Hades through her lashes. “He was like a fish out of water,” Hera agreed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Do you remember our first ball? I don’t know which of us was more terrified when the music started.” Her gaze softened, not sad but more wistful. “We were so young then.”
#Hera x Hades #chat: Hades #i am all for that hc and omfg i am all for soft gifs
A matronly figure, Hera served as both the patroness and protectress of married women, presiding over weddings and blessing marital unions. One of Hera’s defining characteristics is her jealous and vengeful nature against Zeus’ numerous lovers and illegitimate offspring, as well as the mortals who cross her.
Hera is commonly seen with the animals she considers sacred including the cow, lion and the peacock. Portrayed as majestic and solemn, often enthroned, and crowned with the polos (a high cylindrical crown worn by several of the Great Goddesses), Hera may hold a pomegranate in her hand, emblem of fertile blood and death and a substitute for the narcotic capsule of the opium poppy.
feel free to edit or elaborate as you please . ( add ‘ reverse ‘ to your message if you’d like to see how my muse would perform the action ) . otherwise , send in one of these for my muse’s reaction to …
[ lit ] your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine .
[ order ] your muse ordering for mine at a restaurant or bar .
[ guide ] your muse putting a hand on mine’s back to lead them .
[ pay ] your muse paying for mine at a store , bar , restaurant , etc . ( you can specify where or for what . )
[ open ] your muse opening a door for mine .
[ dry ] your muse drying mine off with a towel after a shower , bath , swimming , etc .
[ instruct ] your muse giving mine instructions / telling them what to do .
[ groom ] your muse adjusting mine’s appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc .
[ direct ] your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye .
[ disagree ] your muse sternly telling mine ‘ no ‘ .
[ rest ] your muse resting their arm over mine’s shoulder / s .
[ clean ] your muse cleaning a smudge of something off mine’s cheek , forehead , etc . feel free to specify what and how .
[ answer ] your muse answering a question meant for mine .
[ coat ] your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on .
[ pilot ] your muse taking mine by the arm , hand , shoulder , etc . to lead them .
[ stare ] your muse staring mine down .
[ placement ] your muse telling mine to sit down .
[ teach ] your muse taking control of mine’s hand , arm , hips , etc . to make sure they do something correctly .
[ patience ] your muse telling mine to be patient .
[ tears ] your muse wiping away mine’s tears .
[ swat ] your muse swatting mine’s hand away from something they’re not supposed to touch .
jewelry ] your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings .
[ enough ] your muse commanding mine to stop talking .
[ retrieve ] your muse requesting or ordering mine to retrieve them something .
[ invite ] your muse inviting mine to sit on their lap .
[ lean ] your muse inviting mine to lean into their side while they’re sitting or laying together .
[ calm ] your muse telling mine to ‘ just breathe ‘ .
[ scold ] your muse scolding mine for something .
[ comfort ] your muse pulling mine into a reassuring hug .
[ approval ] your muse complimenting mine on a choice they’ve made .
[ beckon ] your muse beckoning mine to them without speaking .
[ laces ] your muse lacing , tying , or zipping something for mine , such as shoes , a dress , or a jacket , etc .
[ stay ] your muse telling mine to stay in the car .
[ defend ] your muse defending mine’s reputation , dignity , or safety for them .
[ feed ] your muse feeding mine something , feel free to specify what .
[ volume ] your muse demanding mine speak louder .
[ read ] your muse reading something to mine .
[ refill ] your muse refilling mine’s glass for them .
[ possessive ] your muse resting their hand on mine’s leg or the small of their back while they’re sitting beside each other .
The curiosity in Hera’s gray eyes reminded him of a time when they were much younger, around the time when their friendship had first blossomed. It had been a simpler time, when both of them were softer, laughter more easily spilling from their lips. Now, the decades had aged them, jaded them, but his eyes softened at a peek of who Hera once was.
Hades smiled - how could he not? - and shook his head at uncharacteristically sweet words.
“Isn’t it amazing what a suit and tie can do?” Hades mused, taking the bottle by the neck and brushing past her to go towards the reception area.
“Come. And on the way you can tell me about the couple so I can at least pretend I know them.”
The sight of his smile brought one to her own lips - Hades very presence making Hera realise just how lonely she had become. Whether Zeus was around or not, Hera had such a terrible ache, a hollowness in her chest. It was so easy to be cold and cruel, to be the bitter and jealous queen everyone assumed her to be. She hadn’t always been like that and even now, Hera had to struggle to remember the woman she had been.
But Hades - he had seen her throughout. He had known her as a young woman, one sweeter, kinder. He had bore witness to the warrior who stood by him and his brothers to fight for Olympus. He had saw become a wife, a ruler, a mother. Saw the battle between her love and pain slowly tear her in two. And yet, he was always there, always stepping out of the shadows in her darkest hours, always armed with a bottle and a sympathetic ear.
“I haven’t seen you in a suit in years.” She moved, hands on the knot of his tie, carefully fixing it so that it was impeccably straight. “There,” She lingered for a moment before stepping away. “Perfect.”
She watched him move, following as they walked to where the music had grown, people milling about. The air carried the sound of laughter, light and carefree. She saw the bride and groom happily arm in arm, taking to a few gathered guests. A gold hand touched the crook of his arm, pausing Hades in his stride. “Dance with me first?” Her voice held a slight challenge, but her grey eyes were a little wide - perhaps a bit glassy, but they held the smallest of pleas. Slowly, she stepped away, backing towards the clearing where a few couples danced, a hand raised out to him to join her.
Heph let himself stay silent for a moment. How truthful coud he be with queen? Would he have been nicer if his mother acknowledge the elephant in the room? Perhaps but she wasn’t. He shrugged. “That’s an analysis you can ponder on late at night.” He didn’t want to answer.
His expression remained nuetral. “Such dagger wasn’t a toy.” Was hera expecting him to change his expression of the hint of emotion. Hephaethus nodded. “It’s nothing I would use against you.” He promised. That was his way to say yes.
Hera’s brows rose as she stared at the man that was the son she had forced herself to forget. His words were edged with a hint of resentment that did not surprise her, but irked her nonetheless. “It would not bode well,” Her voice was laced with queenly authority. “To leave me ponder.”
“I am aware,” Hera moved, picking up a light sword, testing its weight between her manicured fingers. “I have fought great titans at Zeus’ side to claim this kingdom, I know what weapon I seek to wield.” She frowned a little, noting that his words were carefully phrased, not committing to anything. “How is your marriage fairing?” Hera asked casually.
A rare occasion for Hades to wander so far from his home, but this event was a celebration. As much as he reveled in his dark Underworld, a marriage brought happier memories. It took persuasion to get Persephone to see the benefits of the Underworld, to allow the darkness in her to blossom, but she got there in her own time.
What really brought him here, was the presence of Hera. Hades could only guess what was going through her mind, as the goddess who blessed their marriage as her own fell apart.
“No, but I am here to offer you a drink.” Hades lifted a bottle of liquor, harder and better quality than the wine that this wedding offered. For once, he wasn’t here to bring up Zeus, even though he knew that it was on both their minds. For now, Hades was there to offer reprieve for a goddess who needed it the most.
“It’s a time for celebration. We should make the best of it.”
She should have know it was him, should have know with the way darkness seemed to cling to him. She could sense it now - the woody, smoky scent of him, cloying like the heady mixture of whiskey and smoke and something other. That faint chill of the Underworld. Perhaps it was the few drinks Hera had at the palace earlier that day that seemed to mute her senses or maybe it was merely that she had been consumed with her own morose thoughts, but the queen found her lips curving into a faint, if not a little strained smile.
She accepted the offered bottle and brought it to her lips, not even wincing at the bite of its strength as it burned down her throat. She turned towards the ‘celebrations’, seeing how many chairs had cleared to give way to a make-shift dance floor, the faint strum of music beginning to fill the air. Her eyes closed, for a moment willing herself not to think about him. Not to allow the thought of Zeus to mar whatever good that was left in her life. She deserved stolen moments of happiness, especially when her husband gorged on them.
Hera took another swing, feeling the way the alcohol coursed through her veins. It wasn’t the champagne she had sipped on earlier and somewhere, deep down, she felt those two liquids mix.
“We should,” She agreed at last, offering up the bottle. Her grey gaze raked over him, perhaps a little more brazenly than she ever would. “You look good,” She commented, head tilting.
…did. don’t think he doesn’t notice the past tense. believed in… not believes in. whatever had swayed the queens conviction had - perhaps - since… ebbed…
…so - to wonder. if something - or someone - had held the faith of one such as her so rapt and devoted and let it… slip… away… he can barely imagine. what kind of betrayal could turn ‘do’ to ‘did’… who… or what… would ever dare? and while she decides which glimmer to grace him with next - perhaps is the one thing that could turn his mind… send him careening from the certain path of his own thoughts and words - derails the train as it thunders onward, churning up dirt and spitting out steam in anger…
…because, he finds… it does… anger him.
( …falter. ) just a slight tightening of fingers around his cup of mead. a furrow of brow deepening. but that red veil passes jus as quickly as it arrives. it’s not his - right - to place his emotions onto her experience.
The way you speak of power would make me think that you have never wielded it. Or, If you have, it has not been for long.
and perhaps he should not… …but there’s nothing that can stop the laugh… a rumble that begins from deep within his chest, blossoming into something infinitely louder than it reasonably should be from human lips. it is not - entirely - a ‘human’ sound. and he’s not laughing at her - nor at her presumption. after all, who could understand the kind of ‘power’ the high king held? the choices he made? those sacrifices? he wonders if she’s ever heard the tales of his home land - of that far away kingdom of narnia? where the kings and queens therein had all been chosen for their inherent, implicit virtue? that he has reigned there - for… millennia or more… and still does… that he chooses to be - here - in a common guise - is another matter entirely.
would she doubt his words if she knew? would the title of ‘high king’ give them more weight? it shouldn’t… honesty – truth – should be taken from the lips of any - be they commoner or king.
❝ and i can assure you that such good intentions can and do prevail.especially – love. and i say this not as some notion of hopeful whimsy… but because i know it to be true… ❞
there’s not a flicker of doubt. more conviction in those words than in any he has spoken so far.
does she deny that it could be so because she had no notion of it? that nothing pure or good or sacred or virtuous could bear longevity because - even if she had known them, they had become absent from her existence? easier then perhaps, to deny them, rather than grieve over what had been… lost…
( …was anything ever truly lost? was there still hope that she might believe in such things? what scars of time had carved it’s way across her heart, had corrupted her mind that virtue seemed like such a fruitless endeavour? )
❝ greatness is not - easy. but it is not always fleeting. and it matters not the length of a life - but how it is lived. a span of mere years lived well is worth more than a thousand lived poorly. and if you can uphold such virtue for more than a moment of time, then perhaps you are truly worthy of greatness… ❞
the talk of war turns to talk of peace. and like any ‘creature’ tends to do - he lives in the moment. there are no more maudlin thoughts ( they’re present, but not apparent ) at the forefront of his mind. peace is a far more worthy subject to devote his time. and even as she utters the word, he seems to brighten. the air in the tavern not so oppressive. even in the gloom, and the dark of night, there is the feeling of sunlight and warmth…
❝ i do wish to broker peace… if it may save lives… then yes… but not at any cost… and… no… i have no desire to become an emissary, a voice for those who will not, or dare not speak for themselves. there is a kingdom that i hold to my heart - it is… far away - but that does not stop me caring about the fate of others. ❞
I fight my own causes
❝ of that, m’lady - i have no doubt. ❞
perhaps now there is something of a wry turn to his words… still sincere, but he does wonder… does she fight for others? or simply for herself? his mind holds onto those words… he has not forgotten…
As did I.
❝ not - a sword.❞
he confirms. it’s not as though he hasn’t picked up a sword. it’s just not his ‘go-to’. rather easier to fight with the weapons of his true form… and so often his foes are not expecting a lion amidst their battle…
❝ stablehand. ❞
he offers by way of clarity… motioning briefly to himself. though most stablehands would not sup with a shrouded queen and lay out words such as his. most would tremble in the presence of the mighty, a crowned goddess bringing them swiftly to their knees. he neither trembles… nor bows. he sits as her equal at this table. neither royal nor common. simply present.
there’s a shrug - a shift of shoulders beneath that raw, cheap shirt… and something of a grin appears…
❝ not a lot of swords in stables. ❞
❝ as for what might make me fight? evil. injustice. harm to the innocent. it’s a pretty long list - i won’t bore you with the nuances… not so very long ago i had my taste of daemon blood at the fair. ❞
…and in that, he’s probably being a slight more literal than most.
For the briefest moment, Hera saw it - a strange flicker of anger, of a rage that did not belong to man, but that of a beast. It was a small reminder that another creature lurked beneath, wore the skin of a human. Even she, old as time and witness to most, if not everything the world had to offer, had forgotten. Had been lulled in by the taste of wine and the easy conversation. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand, a delicate shiver working its way down her spine.
But then, it was gone - just as quickly as it came.
The man was back. The crease of his brows smoothing, like the passing of clouds, parting to give way to the warmth of the sun. It was unnerving how quickly, how easily, he managed to contain what prowled underneath. It was like his very body, his human body, was like a cage had barely held what lurked inside of him.
And then, he laughed. It was a rich sound, hearty and full. She blinked, caught off-guard by the mighty roar of humour. It was carefree, but like the rest of him, it had a glimmer of otherness. Something that she could not place, but knew that it set him part from others. It was a sense that was not sight or touch or smell, but something deeper, something older, that made her sure that she would and could be able to pick him out from among a crowd of many.
A golden brow arched as Hera wondered if she was the source of his laughter, if he dared to laugh at her. Ire flickered across her features as she watched him, grey eyes sharp, those lips of hers turning down in mild displeasure. Who was he to laugh at her? Of the words and wisdom that she held and had willingly shared with him. And then he spoke of love.
Nails drummed against the frayed wood of the table, the goddess noting that the pale gold skin had begun to glow, slightly muted, but still there - as if a star lay within her, slowly burning from the inside out.
“Your notion of love is heartwarming,” Her voice rang cold, those grey eyes turning into chipped flint. “But like everything else, it rots over time.” She thought of how her own love had festered within her - how she had fought it for so long, had wanted to believe that love prevailed over all else. But each time, she was shown again and again that love was an fool’s notion, bred on ill-placed hope. “What do you know of love?” Her tone rang out with challenge, as if daring him to prove her wrong.
Hera watched her hand as she willed the glow of her skin to dim. The flow of conversation had moved, causing what flare of anger within her to ebb. Slowly, the light from within ceased. “Death seems to erase the faults of one’s character. Those of us who still walk this earth will always be held to our faults, that is, until we move on to the next world.” Her gaze flickered up to him. “Tell me someone considered great who still lives.” Again, another challenge.
“You wish to save lives, but will not burden yourself to take a position of power to do so?” There was no judgement in her tone, just that ancient curiosity of an immortal who did not have the energy to muster any deeper emotions. When she tilted her head this time, the hood of her cloak slipped a little. “What kingdom?”
The turn of phrase made Hera think of a time long ago, causing a faint smile upon features. She dared confess to herself and herself alone that she… like the way those words shaped his lips, of the deep timber of her voice when he had uttered them to her.
Her brows rose at that, her tone incredulous. She eyed his hands, those hands that looked liked they had worked for a living. True, he dressed humbly, did not have the airs and graces of nobility, but she could not help but picture him in a position of power. Her brow creased in slight confusion but found that her lips wished to quirk in answer to his own grin. “No,” She agreed, a faint but uncommonly genuine smile curving her lips. “I imagine there aren’t.”
The talk of the attack caused whatever amusement that had flared within her to wither and die in an instant. She stared down at her empty goblet, mulling over the event and the casualties that had followed. “And?” She prompted, carefully, firmly. Her gaze rose to meet his, willing him to continue.
#I am so sorry this took me forever #Hera x Aslan #Chat: Aslan
Being a ruling queen with an absent king had meant that Hera had neglected her other duties. Among many other things, she was also a goddess. A goddess who now stood in the shadows, watching as a couple’s hands were joined before an alter, surrounded by family and friends.
They were young, their eyes so wide and earnest as they whispered their vows to each other - vowing to love one another, to be faithful and true to each other. She wanted to scoff, wanted break the ridiculous spell young loved casts but knew time would soon show that one would love too fiercely and the other not enough.
She sighed, grey eyes rising to the stars that winked above. They had chosen to wed below a blanket of twinkling light, as if to appease her. Hera’s lips pursed as she eyed the pair. The girl was too soft, too sweet for the rugged, devilish looking male. Hera knew a wandering eye when she saw one. But still, she offered up her blessing to the pair. Perhaps it would do little good, but then hadn’t she looked up to a man that very same way once before? Hadn’t she trusted, so devotedly, in her own marriage?
Not willing to dwell, Hera turned to leave only to pause when she spotted another, watching her. Surprise flickered over her features for the briefest of moments before she schooled her composure. “If you are here to make objections,” She muttered coolly. “You’re a little late.” Her gaze raked up and down her new companion and a light sneer curled her lips.
#tales.start #idk but a lot of older threads have dies and new muses have appeared so if you wanna here ya go
Reality was an illusion, time was meaningless, and even Death itself could grow bored with the usual day-to-day. As it turned out, being a human could be equal parts boring and thrilling, but was often the former. When you were in Brom’s unique position of eternal life, you had to shake things up now and again. And what better way to do that than meddle in the affairs of gods?
“You’ve got quite the weight on your shoulders,” was his form of a greeting. By now, his visits to Hera were often unannounced and unprompted. Such was his power. “I haven’t witnessed a burden this massive since…well, since Atlas was tasked with holding up the heavens.”
Her head bent, a crown of stars atop of golden curls, Hera’s grey gaze scanned the latest reports, the corners of her lips turning down in displeasure. A manicured nails traced the outline of Olympus, towards the boarder where the more rural and secluded areas were. She knew of them, had been raised in their slums. A community of those who kept to the old ways, the titans. An adviser murmured in her ear of growing unrest and the queen nodded absently,
Then came a voice - his voice. Something dark and honeyed all at once. Like the promise of chaos, a whisper between strangers that echoed that of ruin. “Leave us,” She murmured to those around her, scarcely taking in their paled faces, their wide eyes. Only when they had left, did Hera glance up, a golden brow raising at Brom. “We all have our burdens to bear,” Her gaze flickered over him, the goddess willing her expression to remain neutral. But it was hard to hold his stare, not when his seemed to glow with her secrets, her terrible sins. “What do you want? As you can see, I have a kingdom to run and I am conveniently missing a king.”
The trail of callous fingers running along her bare, inner thigh made Hera shudder, a breath escaping her parted lips. She hated how easily her body reacted, how it longed for the touch of another after so long. She trembled as his hands parted her legs so that she was on full view.
She felt the tickle of his breath as his head found the junction of her thighs, pale gold hands winding through soft, silken strands of hair. She gasped when she felt his tongue flicker across her opening, taunting and teasing. He was toying with her, willing to draw this out.
Hera glanced down, past the firm mount of her breasts to see his eyes burning as she looked up at her. The sight of him before her, gazing up at her, the muscles in his jaw working, made her pulse spike. Still, he refused to touch her where she craved, even when she tried to tug on his hair, guiding him. She felt rather than saw him smirk against her.
The queen growled, a low and frustrated sound, causing Hades to chuckle darkly. He moved, finally touching her where she craved. Stars danced across her vision, her grip on his hair tightening when she felt his fingers slip inside of her. Immediately, she felt herself tighten around his fingers, felt herself flex and arch as they moved with his tongue. A pressure built low and deep in her core, her nipples puckering as she felt a heat spread through her body as the need rose. Hera arched herself against him moving to a fast, hard tempo, craving, demanding more from him.
And just went she felt like she was on the blink, when she felt lie her body could not take any more, she felt the scrape of teeth over her swollen clit.
She came, hard, his name a ragged plea on her lips, her limbs becoming weightless. The release felt sweet and painful all at once. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as his head rose, a knowing, satisfied gleam in his eye.
“Is the queen… pleased?” He mocked, though the curve of his lips softened his teasing.
Hera arched a brow, a manicured hand gripping his chin to raise his lips to hers, her tongue flickering across his bottom lip - tasting herself there. Teeth sank into the flesh before gently sucking the sting away.
Question: If you hadn’t married Zeus, who would you have married?
“There was… someone,” Hera glanced away. “It was a very long time ago - just a possibility, a maybe.” The golden goddess shrugged. “I doubt we would have married, or if it would have amounted to anything - but yes, perhaps I would have married him. If things were different.”
Question: how do you really feel about all of your husband's affairs?
Hera’s jaw worked furiously as she willed the words to remain within her. Grey eyes shone, a mixture of sadness and fury as she uttered. “Trapped. Humiliated.” Her eyes closed. “Have you any idea what it is like to love someone so unworthy of it? And yet, they make you feel as though you are the undeserving one?” Her eyes opened again and this time, they simmered with barely controlled rage. “I would strongly advise that any of my husband’s… indiscretions remain discreet. I have no issue with bringing Zeus their carved up hearts if mine is not enough.”