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Daveed: I like this Lafayette character. What about Jefferson? Do I get to rap a lot for him, too?! I love rap!¡! 

Lin: Well… 

Lin: 

anonymous asked:

I read that one post in your gods and monsters series and I love it. But there's an area in one of the stories that says "Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to Olympus and makes an even worse one." My curiosity is getting the better of me so WHAT WERE THE BARGAINS I NEED TO KNOW

From my Gods and Monsters Series, Part XIV: The Gods Are Dead

Demeter rages.

She makes imprudent deals to control an earth that no longer falls under her domain, and she enacts her revenge against the mortals in whatever way she can. They have forgotten her, forgotten the earth, and in their ignorance they seek to destroy it.

She shakes the bedrock and splits it open, but still they do not learn, and as the temperature of the earth rises so does her temper.

The sea is not hers to command, her power is of earth and of earth alone, and even now she gave more than could afford to lose to keep her grasp on it. But these mortals do not learn.

Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to the crumbling remains of Olympus and makes an even worse one.

Typhoons and hurricanes whip across the land. If they seek to destroy her, she will simply destroy them first.


Demeter’s skin used to be dark.

It was the rich brown of potting soil, it was the fertile black earth that washed up from the Nile River. Her skin was deep, life-giving brown.

It’s not like that now.

It’s pale desert sand, cracks all along it like baked earth and tree roots searching for water that they can’t find. Her hair hangs thin and grey against her temple, and her dark eyes have turned milky.

She clings to her power over the earth by her fingertips, and she knows that she’s just delaying the inevitable. There’s no coming back from this, no really, the strings of her fate have long been woven. But she will not go quietly. The mortals may take the earth from her grasp, but she’s never been one to cross lightly. She still isn’t.

Demeter goes to the sea. She hasn’t dared step foot in there since her birth, but now she has so little left to lose. The water’s barely to her knees before a wave rises up from the smooth ocean and drags her below.

“Well, well,” Amphitrite says, circling her with curious green eyes, “Time has not been kind to you, I see.”

“It has to you,” she says tightly. Amphitrite looks the same as she saw her last, has aged even better the goddesses who shed their mantels of power the moment they became too heavy. Then again, Demeter expected nothing less. “I want to make a deal.”

“You have nothing I desire, Sister,” she says, smiling even though it feels like she’s mocking her.

Demeter almost laughs – oh, if they could see them know, if Hera or Hestia could see them now, see her now. “I have this.” She cuts open her chest and pulls out her heart – rich red, a heart that has not failed her, a heart that can feel love and pain and desire and fear and happiness.

“Sister,” she whispers, eyes wide, “what are you–”

“I already know I don’t get to see how this ends,” she says, “Give me your heart, give me power over the sea, and I will grant you a heart with the capacity to feel all the emotions you are so fond of.”

The queen of the sea shakes her head, “Don’t do this, you don’t need to do this.”

“I am Gaia,” she says, hard, speaking a name she hasn’t used in a long, long time. “I am Mother Goddess to all, the first to walk this plain, and your elder sister. I will do as I please.” They call her Demeter. She was born Demeter. But she was something else, something far greater, before she risked it all to be born a lowly goddess. “I gambled, and I lost this game. But I will not go out without a fight.”

“You were second to walk this plain, technically,” Amphitrite says softly, “Thinking this was a game was your first mistake. He never thought of it that way.”

She’s about to snap at her, then Amphitrite cuts open her chest and takes out her cold, dark heart. She slips her heart into her sister’s chest, and Demeter does the same. Demeter feels what little grasp on humanity she’d managed to maintain drain away even as a pink flush comes to Amphitrite’s cheeks and a smile tugs on her lips.

She can feel the power of the current beneath her, the water eager and ready to do her bidding. “Use it well,” Demeter tells Amphitrite, Gaia tells her little sister, before using the water to carry her far from there.

She climbs the steps to what remains of Olympus.

Only Zeus remains, skin and bones and sunken eyes. He maintains authority over the skies even though it’s killing him. He’ll maintain authority over it until it kills him.

She needs that power.

She doesn’t care if it kills her.

“My king,” she murmurs, kneeling before his crumbling throne. Their once great pantheon lies around them as rubble.

He almost meets her eyes, copper skin now sallow and black hair now almost white. “She left,” he tells her, high pitched and something terrifying in the edges of his eyes, “She left me – she was never supposed to leave me.” He reaches out and grabs her shoulder, bony hand surprisingly strong, “I miss her.”

Demeter only has one thing left to trade for Zeus’s power.

“Give me what our mother Rhea gave you,” she says softly, “Give it to me, and I will stay on Olympus and you can go to her.”

“There must always be one on Olympus,” he tells her. She doesn’t think he recognizes her. “As long as I am on Olympus, we’ll be fine. He can’t do anything if I’m here, as long as one of us is here. I am here.” His face crumples. “She’s not here. She was supposed to be here. I did not want to be alone.”

“Give it to me,” she repeats, firmer. “What did mother give you, Zeus? What do I need to take?”

“You can’t take it!” he screeches, scrambling back and away from her. “You can’t have it! I need it! Mother gave it to me, said I had to keep it safe, said I had to stay on Olympus. You can’t have it!”

Demeter growls and grabs the front of his too-big robes, pulling him upright, getting ready to yell at him.

Then she sees it.

Less than an hour later, Zeus takes hobbling, slow steps down Mount Olympus.

Demeter sits on the abandoned, crumbling throne and curls her lips into a cruel grin.

She has dominion over earth, over water, and over air.

She will make these mortals beg for mercy before they kill her – Gaia, Mother to All, Earth Goddess.

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