Yo, it's John. I got really bored recently, overwhelmingly so. I swear it always hits at night, and I get summoned here. Anyways, here's the most requested Pilot so far: "Did I Birth You?"
As for ESS, I'm working on an outline for it. It will take a bit of time as I'm breaking it up in arcs. I've got like 4 now for the first 'book,' and I'm trying to estimate the word count as well as how much time I need to spend in each area.
Yeah, as I said, it's going to take a bit. Part of it is because I have to separate the information and events of the old story (which still happens/ed) and figure out where to place them. I'm also trying to see if I want to write longer chapters, as fanfiction seems to work better in larger doses on average than the usual book. Most books average between 3,000-5,000 word count for their chapters, but fanfiction seems to side more toward the 5,000-10,000 word count.
It's taking me some getting used to as I'm not sure if I want to adapt my writing to fit fanfiction or to simply stick with what I know and instead simply hold updating until I have maybe two chapters done. If length is a must with you guys, or if you have a preference, feel free to tell me.
As for the last stuff, how do you guys like the updated cover art? I made them with Midjourney, and I think they came out pretty well. I'll probably do the same for any other stories in the future, so tell me what you guys think about them.
For one reason or another, I can't upload any new pics, so I have to replace my current ones. That might become a bit of a problem in the future.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Percy Jackson. I do, however, own the gods (The Father, First Born, Second Born, etc.), original characters, and plot points that deviate from said franchises
Did I Birth You: Shard of the Second Born
Before there was time, space, or even the concept of existence itself—there was nothing. However, before there was nothing, there was the Void. It was infinitely expanding, and within it rested its source, the father of nihility, [REDACTED], which slept and dreamt of many things.
It dreamt the birth of two, two who would sire many and would create that which it desired most. And so, through the power of dreams, the Twins were born. [REDACTED] and [REDACTED], both formed to eventually create all their father saw. However, the two could not be any more different.
The firstborn was but a mass of emotion and fragility. It was absolved of thought and only held instinct, unable to truly comprehend all it was born to achieve, for it knew only hunger.
Its sibling was born sleeping, an egg that had yet to awaken. It was a being without emotion, only holding thought and higher thinking. It knew all it was born to do but desired nothing as it felt nothing.
Controlled by its ever-present voracity, the firstborn attacked its sibling to consume all it was and tame the fervor that enveloped its existence. It was then that the secondborn awoke and responded as instructed by its father.
The result of their clash was time. The second clash birthed space. The final clash birthed energy and therefore matter. Together these pieces formed reality, and existence came to be. However, that was not all, for the conflict also broke these beings, shattering them as their fragments spread far and wide.
As time continued, all three beings would be forgotten as the wheel spun under their whims and other beings were born and erased. And thus, the cycle began once again—slightly different, but beginning with three beings all the same. For their role in creation, the title Precatalic God was made to denote their existence before all else.
However, while forgotten, the effects of their actions would not cease until the resonance began and all things ended once more.
Chocolate. Warm, comforting, and enveloping her form—the smell danced around the alabastrine room. It snaked its way towards the ceilings, exiting through the door and calling all with its subtle temptations. Oh, an odd mistress the smell was. Tugging upon the strings of precious memories, yet so too did it pluck at her heart with malefic mirth.
Those sensations she once felt, the gentle caress of fingers through her caramel locks, the vigilant arms that held her as if she were the only piece that could complete him, the words of affirmation and eternal duty that danced so splendidly within her ears. That's all they were—memories.
She loathed the part of herself that ensured her eternal return to this cold throne, but it always did well to ground her amongst the snug grasp of the past. She couldn't change such a thing, Goddess or not, and it wasn't logical to perpetuate this cycle. But she wasn't Athena. No, she could never turn away her emotions and shackle them within a stormy abyss. That wasn't her role to play, and truthfully, she hoped it never was.
It didn't matter how tempting such a call was, to simply indulge in the apathetic luxury, to tear her heart away and toss it down the cliffs that once made her feel so grand, she feared the result. Not just for herself but for others as well. Her husband wasn't always the calmest nor caring of men, especially regarding his pride.
No, Hera could not damn those around nor beneath her with such a curse. Her duty was to bear its weight, no matter how much she longed to buckle and sink beneath it.
A strangled grimace tore itself from her throat, furious at her attempt to bind and subdue it. Another came, but she didn't resist this time—simply allowing it to pass as it was birthed into the world. Her head drooped down in defeat. She didn't care to become a bastion for those who currently weren't even near; she could allow herself this. She deserved that much.
Was it truly too much for her husband to be faithful? Was she not good enough? What possibly could a mortal have that she did not?
Her figure was eternal, her heart never strayed nor wavered, and her strength was always at his side and his disposal. Even her sister in laws, beautiful as they were, could not claim the same loyalty as she. And yet, she was returned with defilement—of their vows, of her trust, and of their bond. Each breakage was like bone, healing yet more brittle to the touch. Did Zeus not understand that there would come a day where even she, the Goddess of Marriage, could take no more?
She was no Atlas.
The cruel sound shrieked through the gentle haze, stripping the once comfortable setting bare and bleeding. She glanced towards the source, peering in capitulation at the long streaks that marred her once immaculate marble throne. The queen's head drooped, the awe-inspiring regal aura dimming as her fingers grasped the crown atop her head. A flick of her wrist and the auspicious headdress clattered to the floor, sliding under the abortive, burning hearth that flickered and failed to provide the repose it promised.
What a joke.
The weight that bore her shoulders lessened, but a heavier one remained on her right hand. She idly scratched the ring with her left hand, feeling smoldering metal spark dully in response. However, she violently wrenched the limb away. She wasn't so weak. She couldn't be, didn't have the luxury to be so. Olympus couldn't endure the result of her broken oath, not how it did her husband's.
Another sigh ruptured from within her, this one released without resistance. The hearth's flames dipped, and its panoptic hold within the room surrendered piteously to the sorrow that emanated from within. And soon, her tired eyes closed as she allowed the cold stone to embrace her form.
She couldn't go home, not today. She'd simply rest here until her attention was needed elsewhere. As her mind began to lull and her breathing began to even, a simple phrase left her lips. A small thing that a goddess shouldn't need to ask.
"Just one thing. I simply wish for one thing to be mine and mine alone."
It was bright, unbearably so, yet so too was it warm again. Hera couldn't tell which was worse—bright and comfortable or dark but uncomfortable. Neither were very good for resting, but she liked the gentle embers on her lap. Another sigh was released, but it had a tenor that was unlike the others.
Still, the radiance that picked at her eyelids wouldn't leave her unassailed. Rest was a thing of the past. Regretful though she was to admit it, now was the time for exploration. Perhaps Hestia had returned and rekindled her flame?
Her swirling, hazel eyes opened and looked upon the anomaly in wonder, engrossed in the portrait painted before her. Tiny stars, minuscule, in fact, floated and swayed in the air. They flickered brighter and dimmed as if shards of glass reflecting a light that did not exist. A smell returned, no longer one she was priorly privy to.
It was like nothing she had ever experienced, and as a god, it was riveting to enjoy something for the first time again. It reminded her of a time of darkness and fear within her father. However, it was not the horrid stench, the terror, nor the betrayal, but the feeling of hope that was inspired in her. The desire to see the world outside her and her sibling's prison, to live and enjoy life.
What such thing could inspire such feelings in an immortal? Hera had long since become somewhat jaded to the world, towards her own domain even. What kind of Goddess of marriage could not inspire faithfulness with their husband? It was as if Athena was a fool or Aphrodite mottled and craven.
The warmth in her lap grew, and her gaze settled upon a pale sphere glinting in silver light. Hera found herself slowly tracing her fingers through the lines and grooves that encircled the object—enjoying the smooth exterior coupled with the pleasant tingle that occurred.
Then, if such a thing was possible, the orb began to glow even brighter. Its radiance filled the room, and if Hera was any less a goddess, she would have been forced to avert her gaze. Yet instead, she became the sole witness to a phenomenon few existences could claim to see.
The orb began to unfurl, the grooves and lines releasing as they separated from what lay inside. Wing—pure, snow-white, feathered things they were. Beautiful, glinting as if scales, yet more supple than any feather. A tail, reptilian yet lined with the same feathers across its center, raising into the air in greeting and awareness.
Finally, a head of bronze, spiky locks with a luminescent white streak that shined as it draped itself over the eye of its bearer. A single, swirling, hazel eye dotted with white glints looked upon her, the other shy and sheltered by a bang.
The two beings looked upon each other, one in wonder and astonishment, the other in a dull curiosity as it slowly blinked and gained its bearings. Hera hesitantly lowered her palm towards the cherub, lightly tracing a nail along the boy's cheek and under his chin. The glowing youth simply nuzzled affectionately into her palm, the glowing stars that lined the room twinkling brighter in response to his actions. With a slight tremor in her voice, Hera finally asked what came to mind.
"Did I… Did I birth you?"
So how did you guys enjoy the first chapter? I think it was decent for setting the stage. This is a Naruto and Hera-centric story for those who didn't know. You'll see other characters, and they'll have a part to play, but it remains as I stated.
As I hope many of you have seen, this isn't a crack fic. I'm still figuring out character progression and relationships (platonic), but it's hard figuring out how to characterize an apathetic being.
Do I make them more humane? If so, how much? Obviously, they can't become as expressive as someone who was never in their circumstances, but the question remains. Feel free to comment with your thoughts, and we'll go from there.
As for the length, I don't feel it needs to be longer. It does what it does and tells what it needs to tell. I don't want to bolster it with unneeded information. Furthermore, it's a prologue, which is usually 1000-2000 words.
The following Pilot to be updated is "The Fox and the Flame," a Naruto and The Legend of Korra crossover. Be on the lookout for that one. As for this one and any other Pilots, they will be updated to the extent that I think people can have a decent idea of what the story might entail. Then the voting will occur, and the ones that win will be made into actual stories, while the ones that don't will be shelved until a time when I can do something with them
Stories and Pilots will be updated by demand, whether review, PM, or discord (I'm in Aizen's server, but please DM me so as not to be rude to other readers/writers). If a story doesn't get much of a response, it may stay stagnant for a while. I won't demand reviews or such, but they will nonetheless affect the update schedule.
Still trying to figure out if I want to keep all the Pilots on one document, but we'll see.
That'll pretty much be it. I hope to see you guys again soon.