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#absolutely gorg. such a shame about the personality.
halodwolf · 2 years
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YOOO their lore is riveting holy shit!! id love to hear more abt the gods if youd like!
HEY THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT i've put years of love into these guys and it's so nice to have the groundwork out there finally :}
there are four gods here (i know we didn't hear mention of a fourth one yet nor their chosen one >_> still working that out). they essentially coexist pretty ok for the most part. none of the four are inherently good or evil (stating this clearly bc i know the lore post makes the progenitor look pretty bad. he's fine though). rest is goin under the cut cause i talk too much hope you don't mind
the star is based around venusian deities/archetypes - aphrodite/venus/ishtar/lucifer/inanna etc. uses she/he pronouns. her name is the star because she is y'know, venus, the morning/evening star and the brightest object in the sky other than the moon. she's the spinner's sister. she's a fertility/love god at her absolute baseline but also has an incredibly strong domain of personal justice and righteousness. she's a cyclical deity with two "phases"- the morning star, which is when he is sought for her verdant nature, this is when you'd go to her for matters concerning love, life, abundance, prosperity, fertility, change, etc, and the evening star, which is considered her "fall from grace" ushering the darker side of things concerning justice, victory, war, blood, lust, etc. the most actively invested in the going ons of the story out of the four gods, has always been very in touch with mortals. wants to see the wrongs of the story righted and will intervene as much as he can to do so. manifests in the story as either a maned lioness or a feathered serpent i can't decide which, maybe both?
the spinner is your fortune god! the star's sister. rules over fortune, fate, cycles, abundance, prosperity, luck, spontaneity, and general chaos as is the way of things. she/her. is pretty detached from everything happening because she has to be, general puppeteer of the story. while atheris may not be of her, she has a very large soft spot to him because of his devotion and pulls the strings in his favor. she creates the time loop that allows atheris to fix the mistakes he's made. tends to be aloof and distanced about the way things have to happen but feels no shame in ushering bad things upon those who deserve them. works very closely with the star as their domains in fate and justice have a large overlap although they don't get along the best. eccentric and strange and completely ineffable and almost impossible to understand. thinking about her too long will give you a migraine. has an undeniable presence whenever she's around. usually attributed to jupiter as the third brightest object in the sky. perhaps manifests as a hyena with an incomprehensible face garnered in pomegranates and laurels. they say that cicada song in the summer is her singing
the progenitor is literally like. the archetypal serpent. creation/sun god. he/him. the first one and the god of gods. carved the path for the others to follow. notorious seducer and persuader. him and the spinner are closely attributed to one another, they relied on each other for the longest time. nowadays they don't work as closely, but the progenitor still has his interests in her. is basically the personification of endless potential and creation, he offers this for you to take. what matters the most about the progenitor is how you take what he has to offer, which is why he culminates violently and explosively when atheris snaps. working with him is tricky but he is not entirely cruel. he'll kick you when you're down until you stop doing whatever what's gotten you to this point and will twist his fingers in your wounds until you change. does not make himself present to mortals very often so his appearance is surprising to everyone. very old very alien and no one knows much about his motives. common mythology is that he carved the gorge that the keys live in and now slumbers in the basin of the river. manifests as a giant black snake with iridescent scales
the reflector is the last of the four! personification of the moon. she/they. the most mysterious of the four, does not communicate very often or very well literally at all. is always watching very carefully and rumor is she has a lot more hands in the pot than you think she does. rules over the hunt/mystery/personal selfhood/introspection/crossroads/nighttime/everything you can't wrap your brain around. the wolves and dogs between the two clowders are particularly fond of her. she's known as the reflector for the way the moon reflects on water and her embodiment of knowing your own self. her nature is incredibly elusive and it seems they do this on purpose. however, she does care about those who follow her in her own strange way. weaver of webs. rumored to work in secrecy with the spinner in turning the wheel of fate but no one can say for sure. manifests as a giant wolf with a mirror for a face.
both the keys and the ridges follow each of the gods equally, there is no personal preference between the two despite their differences. however, the star finds herself personally invested in the lively hood of the keys due to the tragic death of their founder and thus the keys tend to see her as the highest and closest of the four. general worship is mostly old practice and the gods are far less involved in the present day than they used to be. however, when violence between the keys and the ridges comes to a head with nerros's assassination, this very quickly changes and they become directly involved. the star is the first to act, coming to lazarus above nerros's corpse, but the others follow not too long after
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silversatoru · 3 years
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Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺
May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️
burdens pt. 2
a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3
fushiguro megumi x f!reader
synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event
tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death
word count: 3k
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“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.
Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.
You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.
He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.
To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.
So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.
“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.
You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.
“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.
“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.
“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.
“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.
“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”
You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.
Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.
Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.
“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.
The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.
“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”
“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.
You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.
“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”
Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”
“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”
“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.
“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”
The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.
From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.
The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.
Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.
Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.
You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.
And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.
“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.
His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.
“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.
“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.
“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”
Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.
He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.
“Alright, so when does this thing start?”
after the start of the event
Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.
Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?
Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.
You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.
A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.
“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.
You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.
Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.
He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?
He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.
Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.
It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.
A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.
“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.
Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?
“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.
Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.
“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.
“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.
You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.
“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.
“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.
“Shut up”.
“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.
“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.
The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.
“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.
Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.
Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.
Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.
And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.
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nyxshadowhawk · 3 years
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The Lady of the Labyrinth
My entry for @dionysia-ta-astika's City Dionysia contest! I'm very proud of myself for having finished it in a week, and I thought I'd share it here on my own blog.
Hail Dionysus!
*** Everything was lost. My brother was dead. My love was gone.
I was also stranded on a deserted island. I stared out at the vast, empty expanse of the sea. The sunlight on the waves winked at me with a thousand eyes, as though diamonds had been scattered across the surface of the water. Anyone would find this beach tranquil, I suppose, if they were here under different circumstances than mine.
My brother’s name was Asterion.
Most people didn’t know his name, or even that he had one. To most people, he was the Minotaur, a horrible monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull that eats people. Asterion was a monster, and he did eat people.
Beneath my father’s shining palace, he prowled the twists and turns of the Labyrinth that my father’s genius architect built. The Labyrinth was mine, once. Daedalus made it for me as a dancing path, when I was a little girl. But now it is a dark, disorienting maze of seemingly endless passageways, and I was still the only person who knew how to navigate it. When I could have time alone, I would go to the Labyrinth. I felt my way through its pitch-black corridors, memorizing the nicks and cracks in the rough stone, trying to calm my thoughts. I spoke to Asterion through the walls: “You have never seen the sun,” I said to him. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like in the outside world? Or do you like it down here?” I received no answer from the surrounding darkness. If I did hear something — a snort, or hooves on stone, I would have to run as fast as I could away from the sound. Even I couldn’t go too near Asterion — I wouldn’t want to run the risk that he might attack me.
“Why do you go down there?” My sister, Phaedra, asked me. “What could possibly be appealing about that dark, dismal place?”
“I like it down there,” I said, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I could. “It is peaceful. And I don’t mind the dark.”
She looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted bull’s horns myself. “You know you risk your life every time you enter the Labyrinth, right?”
“He’s our brother,” I said. I don’t know what I intended to explain by saying that. I felt like I had a responsibility to him that extended beyond simply being his sister. I tried to see a man in him, although he sniffed and bellowed and charged like a bull. He could gore me to death like a bull, but I did not fear him. “I can’t say I love him, but I feel something.”
“You shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. He’s a freak of nature. The gods cursed us with him for our father’s arrogance. He is a shame upon our kingdom.”
She was right, of course. The gods gifted us a beautiful white bull that we were meant to sacrifice to Poseidon, but my father decided to keep it instead. And Poseidon cursed us… Asterion is the unholy offspring of my mother and the bull. And it gets worse. Every seven years, seven young men and seven young women from the city of Athens were brought to the Labyrinth to be fed to my brother. This was because my other brother, whom I was too young to remember, died while in Athens. Athens pays for this slight with the lives of other young people.
I suppose it’s no different than war, or at least, that’s what my father says. All cities send their youths to die for the polis. How was this any different? I could hardly bear the prisoners’ wails of desperation or their pleas for me to help them. When I heard they were coming, I begged my father to set them free, asserting that it was wrong to sacrifice humans to anything. If the gods had cast Tantalus into Tartarus for feeding them his son, then why should we knowingly feed humans to a monster? He laughed at me and asked why I had no pride in my family.
I hated the thought of the fourteen young people being fed to him, but I also couldn’t imagine killing my own brother, even if he was a monster.
I was too young to remember the last time the prisoners came to the Labyrinth. They had come, and my brother had gorged himself on their flesh, and I was none the wiser. This time, I knew, and the horror of it struck me silent as the tributes were paraded through the city like animal sacrifices to the gods, so that we could all see those who were doomed to die. I could hardly bear to look at them. Some of those girls were barely older than me. It felt wrong to sit by and watch as they were brought to the Labyrinth. But what could I do to save their lives? Supplicating my father would not work, and the only other option was helping them to escape, somehow. How could I do that?
In spite of myself, I caught sight of one of the young men. He was handsome, and he had a defiant, blazing look in his eye. He looked straight at my father on his throne. “I am Theseus of Athens!” he declared. “I have come to slay your monstrous son!”
My father had laughed at him, but he consumed my thoughts. That may be because he was absolutely gorgeous, but it was also because if he succeeded at killing Asterion, he would solve all my problems. I wouldn’t have to take my own brother’s life, but he would devour no more innocent lives. And, if this youth survived, he might take me away with him. I knew the Labyrinth better than anyone. Even if he did survive, he could never make it in and out without my help.
Forgive me, Asterion.
The prisoners were held in two dank cells near the entrance to the Labyrinth. The women were kept in one, and the men were kept in the other. Many of the prisoners were crying — not just the women, but the men, too. In my familiarity with the Labyrinth and its inhabitant, I had forgotten just how terrifying both would be to anyone else. The Labyrinth’s darkness and maddening complexity would intimidate anyone, and the prospect of being eaten by a monster within its depths was horrific.
Only Theseus seemed calm. His boldness in front of my father hadn’t been an act. His jaw was set, and he still had raw determination in his steely eyes. He was really going to do it, wasn’t he? He actually meant to kill Asterion. He shone like gold in the gloom of the dungeon — he could have been Apollo. If our circumstances were different, I might have wanted to stroke his chest. “Who are you?” he demanded when I approached the cell, as though I were the one behind bars, and had requested an audience with him.
“I am Ariadne,” I said, “daughter of Minos, princess of Crete.”
“I am Theseus, son of Aegeus, prince of Athens,” he returned.
Prince of Athens. That explained his noble bearing and proud mien, not to mention his handsome features… and yet… “There is no way the King of Athens would have sent his own son to be fed to the Minotaur,” I said. “Why are you really here?”
“I said, didn’t I? I’m here to slay the Minotaur. I volunteered as tribute.” He smirked. “I promised my father that I would return alive. No more of our people will be sacrificed to the monster!”
“You speak with a lot of confidence for someone who is currently in a prison cell,” I said. “What are you going to do, Theseus? Do you have a plan?”
“Of course I have a plan!” he said, a little defensively. “I am going to break out of this cell. And then I will conquer the Labyrinth—”
“How? You’ll be dead of starvation before you even reach the Minotaur, assuming he doesn’t find you first.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you taunting me?”
I leaned forward, looking directly into his eyes. “No. I was actually going to offer to help you. I know the Labyrinth. I go into it all the time.”
“No, you don’t. You’re trying to get me to sleep with you. Or trying to deceive me on behalf of Minos.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find anything to say in response to that. For a moment I just stared at him. Was he always this self-assured, even in the worst of circumstances? If he wanted to sleep with me, I certainly wouldn’t complain, but why would he assume that I would deceive him? Well, perhaps it was his right to be suspicious, in a strange land where he was kept as a prisoner. “I… no,” I finally replied. “I’m being serious. I’m here to help you.”
“Why, then?”
“I think it is very noble of you to want to save the other Athenians, and I agree that no more innocent lives should be lost.”
He smiled slightly, but still looked suspicious. “You have no loyalty to your father?”
“My father is cruel and selfish. Why else do you think my mother gave birth to a monster, anyway?”
“The monster is your brother? What was his father, a bull?”
“Yes.”
That seemed to have stunned him into silence. I felt some satisfaction at that. “Listen to me. Without my help, you will not get through the Labyrinth. If you want to kill the Minotaur, you need me.”
“What’s the catch?” he asked. “You’re going to want something in return, aren’t you? What?”
“Take me off this accursed rock,” I said. “I am sick of Crete, I’m sick of my father, and I don’t want to have to put up with whatever punishment he might give me for helping you.”
“Well, you are a princess, and I suppose you would make a fine bride for me.”
My heart leapt at those words, and I felt myself blushing. Perhaps I should have known better. “Really? You would marry me?”
“If you help me to slay the Minotaur, then yes, I will marry you.”
“Deal.”
Theseus remained in my thoughts from that point onward. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, and I imagined the feel of his skin. I’d never seen a man like him before, and oh, if I married him… would I be happy? Happier than I was here, at least? He seemed like the kind of man that Phaedra and I dreamed we would marry as young girls — strong, brave, handsome, and willing to put himself on the line for the sake of his people. All such admirable qualities.
I returned to Theseus when the prisoners were locked into the Labyrinth’s abyssal maw. “Everyone else, stay back!” he ordered, as though he were directing troops. “I will go into the Labyrinth and kill the Minotaur. Stay here, and you will be safe.” He suddenly turned to me. “What have you brought to help me?”
I held out a humble ball of yarn. “This.”
He took it from my hand and raised an eyebrow at it, looking as though he might throw it into the dark. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Daedalus gave it to me when I first started exploring the Labyrinth.”
“Daedalus? I’ve heard of Daedalus. He is supposed to be the most brilliant architect in the world, right?”
“He built this Labyrinth, and he gave me the yarn. All you have to do is tie the end here and carry it through the maze. Then you can follow it back out.”
Theseus looked impressed. “He must be a genius to have thought of something like that!”
He may have been a genius, but I was still intelligent enough to figure it out on my own. All Daedalus had done was hand me the ball of yarn, and I immediately understood what I was meant to do with it. But I didn’t bother correcting Theseus. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No,” said Theseus. “I’m not worried. I’ll kill the beast with my bare hands.”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. I suppose if anyone could do it, he could; he was almost as musclebound as the bull-man. But still. Only an extremely impressive hero with divine lineage could hope to kill a monster bare-handed, that or a total idiot. “You are going to die.”
“Nonsense!” He smiled. “Haven’t died yet! And I have faced many deadly trials before.”
I smiled back. “I’m sure you have, but, well, it’s your funeral.”
“Do you want this monster dead, or not?” he demanded.
“Woah, I wasn’t being serious, I…” To be asked that question point-blank was unsettling. It threw my whole dilemma into focus. But seeing the terrified faces of the other tributes huddled naked in the entrance to the Labyrinth gave me my answer. “Yes.”
“I shall go then.” He tied the yarn to the gate and strode with it into the dark. I admired his confidence, even if the odds were against him. He turned the first corner, and was gone. I stared into the darkness for a moment.
One of the girls gripped the hem of my dress. “Please,” she whispered. “Please help us, my lady. We did nothing to be here. If he dies, will you help us escape?”
I didn’t look at her. I kept staring into the Labyrinth’s depths. “I will do what I can,” I said slowly. Then I followed Theseus. I heard her gasp behind me, as if her last hope had just walked away.
I overtook Theseus quickly. He was moving slowly, blindly hitting walls and getting disoriented by the serpentine turns. He jumped when he heard me behind him, turned on his heel and braced for attack, staring me down with the intensity of a bull about to charge. Then he softened. “Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here? I don’t need your help.”
“I know this place better than you do,” I said matter-of-factly.
He huffed in response. “Get back to the entrance. The Minotaur could arrive at any moment.”
I walked ahead of him. “I know. Every time I explore the Labyrinth, I risk death.”
“Why would you explore this place?” he asked, following me. “What could it possibly offer a girl like you?”
“Peace. Solitude. Time away from my father.”
“This Labyrinth is maddening!” His growing frustration echoed off the walls. “How are you not mad? Perhaps you are mad, with the things you say.”
“I’ve never considered that I might be mad.”
“Only if you were mad would you willingly choose to be in this dark prison.”
“You willingly chose to be here.”
He had no response. We walked in silence for a while, dragging the thread behind us. It was almost impossible to see the thread in the dark. I could tell that Theseus was starting to get agitated. The twining paths of the Labyrinth must be making him feel like we were making no progress. The grim silence and high stone walls made us feel completely cut off from the outside world, like there was no world at all beyond the Labyrinth. “Do you think this is what Hades is like?” he asked. “A deep cavern, under the earth, where there is nothing to do but walk endlessly?”
I couldn’t tell whether that was a sincere philosophical question, or whether he was asking indignantly. “I don’t know. The Fields of Asphodel are supposed to be open, and full of the white flowers… Not quite like this.”
“It makes no difference to me anyway. I will assuredly go to Elysium when I die, and it is the most agreeable part of Hades.”
If Hades is exactly like this, I thought, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. There are worse things than this.
Eventually, we passed the point where I usually turned back. I had never gotten this close to the center before. And then we heard it — the unmistakable sound of hooves. Cold terror gripped me. I did not expect to feel this afraid, especially not of my own brother, but the reality of the situation sank in. We were in a Labyrinth with a flesh-eating monster, and the exit was too far away for any chance of escape. Why did I follow him? Why did I think that was a good idea?
“Our quarry is upon us! You should leave,” said Theseus sternly. “The monster eats the maidens first, so I hear.”
The instinct to run left me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Suit yourself, but you will not be able to fight against the Minotaur.”
“You will protect me, will you?” Being with him felt safe, like he was a bodyguard.
“I will.” As soon as he said that, my fear was banished, and my confidence restored.
A few more turns, and we reached the center of the Labyrinth, a place I figured I’d never enter. In the gloom, I couldn’t actually see much, but I was able to see the hulking shape of my brother with his huge bull’s head and wicked-looking horns.
“There is the beast!” A light suddenly blazed to life beside me, and I cringed away from its brightness. It was a torch.
“Did you have that the whole time?”
“I was saving it!” He handed me the torch and the end of the yarn, and I took them, nonplussed. I saw the floor of the Labyrinth’s center, full of human bones. “Wait there, I will make swift work of this!” Theseus took a fighting stance, muscles tensed.
Asterion looked at me. I felt blind panic grip me, but he did not attack me. Perhaps he recognized me. He must have been familiar with my presence and voice by now, enough to know I wasn’t a threat. I stared into his black bull eyes. They were soft, not fiery and enraged. This was my brother. “Asterion… I’m so sorry, Asterion.”
“What are you doing? Get back!”
Theseus’ yell attracted Asterion’s attention. He roared and rushed forward with his powerful legs, horns lowered and ready to gore him to death. Theseus grabbed Asterion’s horns and hurled himself up onto the Minotaur’s back, holding him in a chokehold with both arms. “I shall send you to the pit of Tartarus, fiend!” Asterion thrashed and bucked and slammed Theseus against the wall, but soon enough, it was over. Theseus had strangled the Minotaur. Asterion lay dead.
Theseus picked himself up, looking exhausted but triumphant. “Victory! No Athenians will die today, or ever! This monster will never claim another human life!” He grinned at me. “See, I told you I could do it with my bare hands!”
I stared at the mass of Asterion’s body. “I killed my brother…”
“Nonsense!” Theseus took the torch back from me. The bones crunched under his feet as he walked. “It is hardly your fault that you are the sister of a beast. We have done a good and heroic thing today. Look, look at the bones! Why are you crying, Ariadne?”
I suddenly looked at him instead of the Minotaur’s corpse. I don’t think he’d said my name before. Even in the dim torchlight, he still looked bright, with clear eyes and golden hair and bronze skin slick with sweat. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Ariadne.” He smiled at me. “Thank you. Together we have saved many lives.”
He kissed me, and the torch went out.
The following events were a blur. After we had successfully followed the thread out of the Labyrinth, Theseus triumphantly announced to my father that the Minotaur was dead, and demanded me and my sister as prizes. My father was furious — of course he was. He had essentially just lost all of his children, and all because one had died in Athens before I was old enough to remember. I, however, was elated, and so was Phaedra. Phaedra was as eager to leave Crete as I was, and she seemed just as taken with Theseus’ handsomeness. She didn’t seem distressed that Asterion was dead, and why would she? The grateful Athenians went back to their ship, many of them sobbing with relief. I didn’t look at my father as I followed Theseus to the ship. I never wanted to look at him again. We passed by Talos, and I left Knossos and the Labyrinth behind me.
Crete faded into the horizon, and before me was sunshine and new possibilities. Theseus glowed with triumph and pride, smiling at me and kissing me when he announced to the other Athenians that he would marry me, and that I would become their queen. They fell to their knees and showered me and Theseus with gratitude for having saved their lives. I felt almost as if I were a goddess. Wine flowed freely in celebration, and I took more joy in it than I had in a long time.
It did not last long. Soon after the first few hours I was, if possible, even more miserable on Theseus’ ship than I had been in Knossos. I quickly became tired of his boasts about how he had strangled the beast, without crediting me at all, or so much as mentioning the ball of yarn, even though the other Athenians had seen me give it to him and seen me follow him into the Labyrinth. Every time he told the story, it got further from the truth, and emphasized his own heroism over mine. Is this how it would be when I was queen? No matter what I did, I’d be shunted to the side? Then, Theseus seemed to be doting on Phaedra. She usually attracted more attention. She was prettier than me. She had blond hair that shined in the sunlight and the bright eyes of our mother Pasiphae, the daughter of Helios. My hair and eyes were dark, like the Labyrinth.
I left the celebration, finding a quiet spot on deck. I sat by the edge of the ship, staring out into the open waves and trying not to think about Asterion, but the image of him lying dead in the torchlight haunted me. “Are you okay, Ariadne?” Phaedra asked me. “What is wrong? We are finally out of there, all thanks to you! No more Minotaur, no more tributes having to die, no more Father… We will have a new life in Athens.” I stayed silent. “You look despondent. Something’s wrong.”
I looked up into her eyes. “It’s like you said, Phaedra. Asterion is dead.”
“Do you… mourn him?”
“He was our brother, and I killed him!”
“Theseus killed him! You did nothing!” I knew that she meant to reassure me, but it touched a raw nerve.
“He would not have if I hadn’t led him straight to the center of the Labyrinth!”
“Ariadne…” Phaedra put her hand on my shoulder. “You… you’re… you’ll be okay. You are just a little bit disoriented.” She left me alone.
I looked at the Athenians, who laughed and danced and celebrated their lives. I didn’t feel like dancing. I already missed the Labyrinth. My guilt drew my thoughts back to Knossos. I wanted to hide in the Labyrinth forever, like Asterion had, or else throw myself into the sea for my guilt. The brightness of the waves was glaring compared to the soothing darkness of the Labyrinth.
Theseus approached me from behind. He had been ignoring me until now, maybe because I was so sorrowful. I could feel that he was angry at me, and my skin crawled, but I didn’t turn. “What cause do you have to weep, Ariadne? You should be happy!” he said.
“I am sorry, Theseus. Part of me still mourns for my brother.”
“What is the matter with you? All you have done is sit and stare at the water! If you loved that Labyrinth so much, perhaps you should have stayed there! Now please, put this sorrow behind you. You have no cause for it.” He sighed, softening. “When we arrive in Athens, we shall marry, and there will be much rejoicing.”
“Leave me alone.” The bitterness in my voice rang louder than I’d intended.
He scowled at me.“You are joyless, passionless, and thankless,” he spat, and stalked off. The word useless went unsaid; I could tell he was reconsidering making me his wife.
“Theseus, wait!” I yelled, suddenly sounding desperate.
I stood up, and he turned back to look at me, and I felt as if I were naked under his gaze and that of the others on the ship, which had all quieted and turned in my direction. His eyes were cold, and his nostrils flared just as Asterion’s had. “What, Ariadne? You have shown me neither gratitude nor pleasure, you have not acted like a princess. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Shamed, I said nothing. I sat back down. Then, as he was about to turn away again, I suddenly found my voice. “Why are you being cruel?”
“I am not being cruel. You are being difficult.”
By the time we reached Naxos, I was feeling heartbroken as well as grief-stricken. Theseus was giving me the silent treatment. I think he expected me to come running to him begging for forgiveness. We stopped on the island to rest, primarily because Theseus had dreamt that he would stop here during his homecoming.
I took off my sandals and walked along the edge of the surf to clear my thoughts. The beach was bright and wide and open, the exact opposite of the Labyrinth. Even in the sand, I felt his heavy footsteps approaching behind me. “Ariadne, we need to talk.”
I continued to face away from him. “What?”
“Ariadne, I find your attitude disagreeable.”
I turned on my heel to face him, planting myself in the sand. “I’ve found your attitude disagreeable! All you have done since we left Crete is boast about your heroics, and you’ve barely given me any credit—”
“Credit! You want credit for having slain it, when all you have done is cry over the hideous thing?”
The disdain in his voice stung me like arrows. “You don’t care at all for me or my feelings, do you?”
“If you were to become my queen, I would expect better behavior from you.” He sounded like he was lecturing a child.
“Well… I don’t want to be your queen! You are almost as bad as my father!”
“Good. I have already decided to take your sister Phaedra as my bride instead.” I didn’t reply. “You may still return with us to Athens, but we will have to make other arrangements for you.”
Forget Athens. I didn’t want Theseus to do anything for me. “Oh, forgive me for having been such a disappointment to you! Go ahead, go back to Athens and marry my sister! By Zeus! I’ve had enough of you!”
And I ran. I turned away from Theseus and ran down the beach until my legs gave out, falling in the sand to sulk and wonder where it all went wrong. I regretted having ever met Theseus, or helped him to kill my brother. If I could undo it all, I would. No. Then innocent people would have died. Oh, gods, why am I so wretched?
And then, as I was just beginning to calm down, I saw that the ship was sailing away over the waves. I was stranded on the island. Despair and panic crashed down upon me. Oh gods, gods, why? Had I somehow been forgotten about, or left behind on purpose? Had Theseus doomed me to die? “CURSE you, Theseus!” I screamed at the distant ship. I watched it go until it disappeared over the horizon. I could do nothing but hopelessly stare at the wine-dark sea as the sun set.
“Excuse me, why are you crying?”
I had been sitting with my head in my arms, weeping despondently, and I was startled by the sudden voice, soft though it was. I was certain the island was deserted, but now, a young man stood before me. He was silhouetted against the sky, the sun shining behind his head like a halo. Where had he come from? I hadn’t heard him come. It was though he’d simply stepped out of the sea.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and my voice sounded cracked from crying. “I thought I was alone.”
“May I sit with you?” the man asked. “You look like you could use a drink, something to soothe you, hm?”
“Yes… yes, thank you.”
He sat down in the sand next to me, languidly stretching his legs out in front of him like he was sitting on the plushest couch. With the sunlight on him, I could see him properly — he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. He easily put Theseus to shame. His eyes were leafy green, warm and kind. He was lithe, and his skin looked as pale and smooth as a girl’s, and his lips looked so soft. I couldn’t place the color of his hair — it seemed to be dark brown, but it could have been as dark as the Styx, and when the sun caught it, it looked honey-gold. It fell over his shoulders in loose curls. He wore nothing but a fine purple cloak draped over one shoulder, a golden leopard skin around his waist, and a wreath of ivy on his head. His cheeks were flushed, and he had a bright, easy smile. He was so lovely, so breathtaking, it almost hurt to look at him. With delicate hands, he offered me a kylix brimming with wine. “Please, tell me what has made you so upset.”
I blinked at the kylix, and the leopard skin, and the ivy in his hair. “Are you… a Bacchant?” I’d heard of them. They worshipped a mad and savage god with drunken orgies in the woods, and were said to be able to rip animals or even people limb-from-limb in their frenzy. Not unlike Asterion, I suppose.
He flashed a devious smile. “Maaaaybe.”
I took the kylix and drank deeply. The wine was sweet, and somehow, I felt immediately calmer. Slowly, amid my lingering sobs, I told the story — about Asterion, and my father, and the tributes, how I’d decided to help Theseus, how we’d found our way through the Labyrinth, how Theseus had killed Asterion, how Theseus had been so heartless, and how he had apparently left me to die on a deserted island. By the time I finished talking, the kylix was empty.
“How do you feel now?” he asked me.
“Better… I think. But I’m still devastated, and… guilty. My brother’s death… it was really my fault, and I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. Do you think it’s wrong for me to grieve for my brother? I mean… he was a monster…”
“No. I don’t think it’s wrong. It is perfectly understandable that you would mourn your brother.”
“If I had let the Athenians die, I would have mourned for them, too.” I sighed.
“Yes. There must be blood; one sacrifice was traded for another, Asterion, the worthy bull. It is okay to grieve, for as long as you need to, but do not wallow in despair.”
“I tend to do that. I don’t remember the last time I was completely happy. I thought Theseus would make me happy, but… then… I wish I had my Labyrinth back! It was at least soothing down there.”
“It pains me to see people sad,” he said. He handed me the kylix again, and it was once again full of wine. I hadn’t seen him fill it. “Pleasure is a state of mind. The best way to rid yourself of sadness is to focus on things that make you happy. There is always something to take pleasure in! Like the beauty of the sunset, or the sound of the lapping waves. Or wine!”
“Not when you are abandoned to die, with no way off the island,” I said. “How did you get here, anyway? I don’t see a boat.”
“I have my ways,” he said cryptically, with that same mischievous smile. That smile and the teasing sparkle in his eyes were so adorable. His beauty is something to take pleasure in, I suddenly thought, and his company, and kindness…
I took another draught of the wine. “Why are the gods so cruel to me?” I murmured, more to myself than to him.
“The gods are not cruel to you.” He stated it with complete confidence, as though it were an undeniable fact, not as though he were trying to convince me.
“It certainly seems that way,” I replied.
“Life can often seem that way, but then, it gets better, and you will find that the gods favor you,” he said.
“Well… I suppose that must be true, if handsome strangers pop out of nowhere to comfort women.”
He beamed. “Exactly!” He took the kylix back from me, threw his head back, and drained about half of it in one gulp. “You know, I was stranded on a desert island like this one once.”
“Wait, what? You were?”
“Yes! It was a long time ago now, but I was just as pretty back then, and just as fond of wearing purple. Purple is the best color, you know.” He winked. “Anyway, so I was lying asleep on a beach and—” he took another swig of the wine, “a pirate ship rows by…”
“Are you drunk?”
“Always, darling!” That roguish grin of his was really starting to win me over. “Anyway, the pirates saw me sleeping on the beach, saw how pretty I was and saw my fine purple robes, and thought I was a prince. Well. They weren’t wrong… I technically am a prince of Thebes, on my mother’s side.” He laughed like he had just told the most hilarious joke and had another sip of the wine. The amount of wine in the kylix never seemed to get any lower.
“Does that mean… you’re a bastard?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes, yes it does! I’m such a bastard. I mean… I was born out of wedlock. And my father’s wife, oooh, she hates me.” Another sip of the wine. “Never get on her bad side if you can help it.” He pointed at me as if this was the most important information I could ever learn, and I laughed. “She can’t touch me now, but she drove me mad when I was younger. Literally. Anyway, so these pirates kidnapped me. Thought I’d make a damn cute catamite, and I certainly would, but that’s beside the point. You don’t and kidnap boys no matter how pretty they are. I tried to tell my dad that, but it didn’t go over well.” Another sip of the wine.
“You are slender, but I bet you could take Theseus in a drinking contest.”
“Oh, I could take aaaaaanyone in a drinking contest! Never lost one yet!” His face was glowing, not just with blush from the wine but also with infectious joy. I slowly forgot about my misfortunes as I listened to his story. “So they tried to tie me to the ship’s mast, but found they couldn’t do it. I only tolerate bondage on my own terms. And then…” There was suddenly a mad gleam in his green eyes. “I covered their ship in grapevines, and ivy, and flowers, and the delicious smell of wine. I can’t imagine why such delightful things frightened them so. But I thought I’d scare them more, see, because it was funny. So I turned into a lion! And they flung themselves overboard in fear!” He laughed, and his laugh sounded as musical as flutes on a clear morning, but it had a maddened edge to it. “But I pitied them, y’know?” he continued. “Just as you pity your brother. So I changed them into dolphins. So they wouldn’t drown.”
“You changed… you turned into… did… did your god give you those powers? Or… are you just… really… drunk?” But I knew. I think that intuitively, I knew the whole time.
“Easy,” he said, once again raising the bottomless kylix to his lips with that knowing smile. “I’m really drunk.”
At this, I burst out laughing, and my laugh sounded almost unfamiliar to my own ears. I felt light, carefree, replenished. And then it sank in, that I was speaking to a god. I hastily knelt, and dropped my head before him, although he was still sitting next to me. “Lord Dionysus! Son of Zeus! Lord, lord, thank you for coming to me, for talking to me, for relieving me of my pain, for freeing me from my suffering…”
“You’re welcome, Ariadne.” He lifted my face, so that I was staring up into his eyes, which were now vivid reddish-purple, the color of ripe grapes. A richly purple aura surrounded him, proclaiming his divinity. In his hand was his staff, a fennel stalk topped with a pinecone that dripped with honey, twined with ivy and purple ribbons. And he had horns, bull’s horns just like my brother’s, magnificent and deadly sharp. They curved up above his brow, as much his crown as the wreath of ivy in his hair. The imposing horns created a striking contrast with his delicate features, but they looked right, somehow. Like this was how he was supposed to look.
I didn’t know what to say. My mind had gone suddenly blank. “I’ve never known great Dionysus to have horns,” I blurted.
“Not many get to see them,” he said, his voice suddenly slow and solemn. “Ariadne, will you dance with me?”
Whatever I had expected him to say, it was not that. “Wh—what?”
“Dance with me!” He stood up and twirled off across the beach. His hair floated around his shoulders, the ribbons on his thyrsus arced through the air like the rainbow, and his expression was one of elation. He screamed in ecstasy, and it was an inhuman sound, like the crowing of some unearthly bird. At that, the air filled with cacophonous music — flutes, drums, cymbals, rattles, castanets.
A command echoed inside my head. No, not a command — a compulsion: DANCE! DANCE!
So I danced with the bull-horned god. “Dancing” barely even begins to describe what I was doing. I was filled with an overwhelming, indescribable feeling, like I didn’t fit in my own skin. Like I was about to be lifted out of my own shoulders! I moved like my body was doing everything it could to express this ineffable thing inside me that was so much bigger than me. I spun, I leapt, I ran, I stamped my feet in the sand, I moved wherever the feeling took me. It burned like fire. And Dionysus was all I could perceive. I screamed with both intense rapture and pure, genuine worship: “EUOI! EUOI! EUOI!”
I met his eyes, and there I saw all the raw ferocity of a bull or a great cat, as well as chaos and lust and debauchery and pure mania. All the forces strong enough to tear a person apart! I desperately thirsted for something I could not name. It was more than wine, more than flesh, more than blood. Dionysus took me in his arms, and kissed me on the lips. Passion overtook me.
Maybe I fainted in exhilaration, or maybe I was simply too drunk to remember. All I know was that I was eventually awakened by the sunrise and the sound of lapping waves. And Dionysus… was still there. He hadn’t disappeared into the night, he was still sleeping there in the sand, looking blissful and alluring in his sleep. His tousled curls tumbled over the sand, his soft hand was upturned beside his head, and his lips were parted invitingly. He lay on his purple cloak, and was using the leopard pelt like a blanket, though it was only carelessly draped over his waist.
“Lord… thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.
His long eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened, once again appearing vine-green. “Mmmm… sleep well?”
“Yes.” I desperately wanted to kiss him, and the seductive look in his eyes tempted me. “May I… touch you?”
“Darling, you may touch me anywhere you like,” he purred. Ravenously, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my chest to his, and our lips met. He still tasted like wine, and I drank him in the way I would wine. We lay there for a moment, entangled in each other’s arms like grape and ivy vines, idly caressing each other’s skin and hair.
“M’lord…” I whispered, “perhaps it might be impertinent to ask, but… what am I going to do now? I can’t go home. I don’t really want to go to Athens. And I still have no way off this island.”
“Why, Ariadne,” he gave me a teasing smile. “If I may be so bold, I hoped you would join me! In fact… I hope you might marry me.”
I was so taken aback by this that I immediately sat up. “You… you’re serious? Marry you?” I knew that gods frequently took mortal lovers, but this was unimaginable. “Actually marry you?”
“Yes, Ariadne. I love you.” He said it with the same sweetness and sincerity that he initially approached me with. Theseus had said no such thing. “You are not destined to become queen of Athens, but perhaps you might be my queen, if you are willing.”
I burst into tears, but they weren’t tears of sadness this time. They were tears of overwhelm, the same kind of overflowing sensation that I’d felt while dancing. “You love me?”
“I am absolutely besotted, my darling! I have had many lovers, but I had not fallen so madly in love since Ampelos, my first love, my darling vine.” A grapevine appeared between his fingers and twined up his arm. “Perhaps something in me is inclined towards mortals over gods, which is understandable, given my parentage. But, that should be no problem. I will bring you to Olympus, and love you for all of time.”
“How… why me?” I sputtered. “What have I done to deserve this?”
“Ariadne, you are letting your human mind interfere, and convince you that you are not worthy to be in my presence. Did you feel unworthy last night, while we were dancing?”
“No… I felt… there was no such thing.”
“Ariadne, do you love me?”
I struggled to find any word that could properly describe how I felt about him. “You are… utterly intoxicating.”
He giggled like a shy maiden. “I get that a lot. And, if you could be worthy of having me as a husband, would you have me?”
Yes. My body and soul ached and burned with wanting. And he made me extraordinarily happy! I’d never dared to believe a god would love me enough to marry me, but that disbelief was only getting in my way.
He looked me dead in the eyes. I nearly flinched away from the intensity of his gaze, and the shimmering madness behind it. “You are more than you realize, Ariadne, guide in the dark, guardian of the gates of initiation. You are intelligent and witty and brave, and you fear no darkness or madness or savagery, do you? You faced them all in the Labyrinth. You would make an excellent addition to my thiasus, even if you decide not to marry me. Ariadne, the most holy and pure, Lady of the Labyrinth.” His words reverberated deep in the labyrinthine pathways of my own mind and soul, like he had revealed an ancient truth that I had known once, but forgotten.
“The Labyrinth is a holy place, of contemplation and transformation. Isn’t it? Not of death.”
He smiled that gorgeous, winning smile again. “Yes! You understand! And even where there is death, it is not absolute.” His eyes shone with feverish excitement. “Oh, I have so much to teach you!”
“Lord Dionysus, I would be honored beyond imagining if I were to become your wife.”
“So is that a yes? You will marry me?”
Something about him felt right in a way that I could not put words to, like the Fates had done all they could to bring me to this moment. This god loved me, more than the other gods love their conquests, more than I could comprehend. “Yes! I will marry you!”
At that, a cool wind blew across the island, swirling his dark hair around his face and making all the vegetation appear to shimmer. It was like the island itself was affirming my decision. “Then, Ariadne, we shall rule the revel together! In honor of our engagement…” A magnificent diadem appeared in his hands, sparkling with seven gemstones like stars. He placed it on my head, and gave me a warm kiss on my lips. “Ariadne, my bride, may you never thirst. May your lusts never go unsatisfied. May your heart always be light and joyful.”
“Thank you. Thank you, m’lord!”
“You can stop calling me that. If we are to be married, you can simply call me by my name. Or, call me what pleases you. Now, come with me!” He stood, offering me his hand. “Unless you would rather spend some more alone time together, I should finally take you off this island! I will take you home to Nysa, or perhaps to Arcadia, and we will have to throw the most spectacular bacchanal in celebration of our marriage!”
“How will we travel?”
He led me down the beach like a child eager to show something to their parent, and gestured toward a golden chariot drawn by two gigantic panthers. The chariot itself was decorated in images of swirling grapevines and serpents and satyrs making love, and the cats’ pelts gleamed. “Oh, gods… I mean… wow. Does it move over water?”
“It flies, silly!” He stood inside it and beckoned to me. “These cats can run on the wind. Hermes gave them to me.”
I climbed into the chariot and held on for dear life as the panthers bounded into the air with great strides. Soon the chariot was blazing through the bright air, and Naxos was far behind us. Dionysus laughed into the wind, which blew his long hair back from his face. As radiant as he was, I was more than a little terrified of speeding through the air high above the sea in a chariot, and felt like I would fall off at any second, although not even my diadem was dislodged from my head.
“You look terror-stricken, Ariadne. Would you like me to tell you another amusing story? That seems to have cheered you up the last time!”
“That depends on whether you can drive a chariot and get incredibly drunk at the same time.”
He laughed uproariously. “Oh, I love you so much! I can do anything and get incredibly drunk, if you were wondering. So, anyway, the story… Mortals have mixed opinions of me. Most love my parties and stories and love my wine, but they seem a bit put off by the madness and violence and lust it brings out in them… Not sure why, it’s not as though all of that wasn’t there to begin with… Mortal kings do not like this, and some of them can be quite unkind to my worshippers, testing the limits of my mercy… but one of them allowed my mentor, Silenus, to sleep in his garden. So kind of him! So of course I offered him any reward he might wish for, and… he wished that everything he touched would turn to gold.”
“Ooh. Let me guess, it backfired?”
“Oh, did it backfire! His food turned to gold and he nearly starved, and even his daughter turned to gold! Hardly my fault, of course. I promised to give him what he asked for, and I did, he just happened to be an idiot. He had the chance to wish for anything in the world, and he chose something as shallow and pointless as gold. Not to mention, he clearly had never heard of inflation, which makes me worry about his kingdom’s economy. Oh, well. He learned, and I changed everything back. I always let humans indulge themselves, but I am not a god of excess. Either they are satisfied by their pleasures, or they learn their lesson fast. The moral of the story: Know your tolerance. Also, if you want to turn things to gold, you have to do it the hard way. Hermes and I were just discussing how to turn lead to gold, in fact…”
His soothing voice and hilarious tales put me at ease, until we were traveling over beautiful mountains and verdant valleys. I had never seen mainland Greece, but the view of it from the flying chariot was incredible. I was no longer afraid of falling. As we flew, I felt as if the wind stripped me of the cares and sorrows of my former life. Dionysus had set me free. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me as the chariot descended into the lush, hidden valley where a throng of Maenads and satyrs waited to welcome home their lord and his queen.
Dionysus helped me out of the chariot, and I stood before the thiasus, their maddened eyes all turned upon me. “I am the bride of Dionysus,” I proclaimed. “I am Ariadne of the Labyrinth.”
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dionysia-ta-astika · 3 years
Text
The Lady of the Labyrinth
For Dionysus.
Everything was lost. My brother was dead. My love was gone.
I was also stranded on a deserted island. I stared out at the vast, empty expanse of the sea. The sunlight on the waves winked at me with a thousand eyes, as though diamonds had been scattered across the surface of the water. Anyone would find this beach tranquil, I suppose, if they were here under different circumstances than mine.
My brother’s name was Asterion.
Most people didn’t know his name, or even that he had one. To most people, he was the Minotaur, a horrible monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull that eats people. Asterion was a monster, and he did eat people.
Beneath my father’s shining palace, he prowled the twists and turns of the Labyrinth that my father’s genius architect built. The Labyrinth was mine, once. Daedalus made it for me as a dancing path, when I was a little girl. But now it is a dark, disorienting maze of seemingly endless passageways, and I was still the only person who knew how to navigate it. When I could have time alone, I would go to the Labyrinth. I felt my way through its pitch-black corridors, memorizing the nicks and cracks in the rough stone, trying to calm my thoughts. I spoke to Asterion through the walls: “You have never seen the sun,” I said to him. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like in the outside world? Or do you like it down here?” I received no answer from the surrounding darkness. If I did hear something — a snort, or hooves on stone, I would have to run as fast as I could away from the sound. Even I couldn’t go too near Asterion — I wouldn’t want to run the risk that he might attack me.
 “Why do you go down there?” My sister, Phaedra, asked me. “What could possibly be appealing about that dark, dismal place?”
“I like it down there,” I said, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I could. “It is peaceful. And I don’t mind the dark.”
She looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted bull’s horns myself. “You know you risk your life every time you enter the Labyrinth, right?”
“He’s our brother,” I said. I don’t know what I intended to explain by saying that. I felt like I had a responsibility to him that extended beyond simply being his sister. I tried to see a man in him, although he sniffed and bellowed and charged like a bull. He could gore me to death like a bull, but I did not fear him. “I can’t say I love him, but I feel something.”
“You shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. He’s a freak of nature. The gods cursed us with him for our father’s arrogance. He is a shame upon our kingdom.”
She was right, of course. The gods gifted us a beautiful white bull that we were meant to sacrifice to Poseidon, but my father decided to keep it instead. And Poseidon cursed us… Asterion is the unholy offspring of my mother and the bull. And it gets worse. Every seven years, seven young men and seven young women from the city of Athens were brought to the Labyrinth to be fed to my brother. This was because my other brother, whom I was too young to remember, died while in Athens. Athens pays for this slight with the lives of other young people.
I suppose it’s no different than war, or at least, that’s what my father says. All cities send their youths to die for the polis. How was this any different? I could hardly bear the prisoners’ wails of desperation or their pleas for me to help them. When I heard they were coming, I begged my father to set them free, asserting that it was wrong to sacrifice humans to anything. If the gods had cast Tantalus into Tartarus for feeding them his son, then why should we knowingly feed humans to a monster? He laughed at me and asked why I had no pride in my family.  
I hated the thought of the fourteen young people being fed to him, but I also couldn’t imagine killing my own brother, even if he was a monster.
I was too young to remember the last time the prisoners came to the Labyrinth. They had come, and my brother had gorged himself on their flesh, and I was none the wiser. This time, I knew, and the horror of it struck me silent as the tributes were paraded through the city like animal sacrifices to the gods, so that we could all see those who were doomed to die. I could hardly bear to look at them. Some of those girls were barely older than me. It felt wrong to sit by and watch as they were brought to the Labyrinth. But what could I do to save their lives? Supplicating my father would not work, and the only other option was helping them to escape, somehow. How could I do that?
In spite of myself, I caught sight of one of the young men. He was handsome, and he had a defiant, blazing look in his eye. He looked straight at my father on his throne. “I am Theseus of Athens!” he declared. “I have come to slay your monstrous son!”
My father had laughed at him, but he consumed my thoughts. That may be because he was absolutely gorgeous, but it was also because if he succeeded at killing Asterion, he would solve all my problems. I wouldn’t have to take my own brother’s life, but he would devour no more innocent lives. And, if this youth survived, he might take me away with him. I knew the Labyrinth better than anyone. Even if he did survive, he could never make it in and out without my help.
Forgive me, Asterion.
The prisoners were held in two dank cells near the entrance to the Labyrinth.  The women were kept in one, and the men were kept in the other. Many of the prisoners were crying — not just the women, but the men, too. In my familiarity with the Labyrinth and its inhabitant, I had forgotten just how terrifying both would be to anyone else. The Labyrinth’s darkness and maddening complexity would intimidate anyone, and the prospect of being eaten by a monster within its depths was horrific.
Only Theseus seemed calm. His boldness in front of my father hadn’t been an act. His jaw was set, and he still had raw determination in his steely eyes. He was really going to do it, wasn’t he? He actually meant to kill Asterion. He shone like gold in the gloom of the dungeon — he could have been Apollo. If our circumstances were different, I might have wanted to stroke his chest. “Who are you?” he demanded when I approached the cell, as though I were the one behind bars, and had requested an audience with him.
“I am Ariadne,” I said, “daughter of Minos, princess of Crete.”
“I am Theseus, son of Aegeus, prince of Athens,” he returned.
Prince of Athens. That explained his noble bearing and proud mien, not to mention his handsome features… and yet… “There is no way the King of Athens would have sent his own son to be fed to the Minotaur,” I said. “Why are you really here?”
“I said, didn’t I? I’m here to slay the Minotaur. I volunteered as tribute.” He smirked. “I promised my father that I would return alive. No more of our people will be sacrificed to the monster!”
“You speak with a lot of confidence for someone who is currently in a prison cell,” I said. “What are you going to do, Theseus? Do you have a plan?”
“Of course I have a plan!” he said, a little defensively. “I am going to break out of this cell. And then I will conquer the Labyrinth—”
“How? You’ll be dead of starvation before you even reach the Minotaur, assuming he doesn’t find you first.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you taunting me?”
I leaned forward, looking directly into his eyes. “No. I was actually going to offer to help you. I know the Labyrinth. I go into it all the time.”
“No, you don’t. You’re trying to get me to sleep with you. Or trying to deceive me on behalf of Minos.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find anything to say in response to that. For a moment I just stared at him. Was he always this self-assured, even in the worst of circumstances? If he wanted to sleep with me, I certainly wouldn’t complain, but why would he assume that I would deceive him? Well, perhaps it was his right to be suspicious, in a strange land where he was kept as a prisoner. “I… no,” I finally replied. “I’m being serious. I’m here to help you.”
“Why, then?”
“I think it is very noble of you to want to save the other Athenians, and I agree that no more innocent lives should be lost.”
He smiled slightly, but still looked suspicious. “You have no loyalty to your father?”
“My father is cruel and selfish. Why else do you think my mother gave birth to a monster, anyway?”
“The monster is your brother? What was his father, a bull?”
“Yes.”
That seemed to have stunned him into silence. I felt some satisfaction at that. “Listen to me. Without my help, you will not get through the Labyrinth. If you want to kill the Minotaur, you need me.”
“What’s the catch?” he asked. “You’re going to want something in return, aren’t you? What?”
“Take me off this accursed rock,” I said. “I am sick of Crete, I’m sick of my father, and I don’t want to have to put up with whatever punishment he might give me for helping you.”
“Well, you are a princess, and I suppose you would make a fine bride for me.”
My heart leapt at those words, and I felt myself blushing. Perhaps I should have known better. “Really? You would marry me?”
“If you help me to slay the Minotaur, then yes, I will marry you.”
“Deal.”
Theseus remained in my thoughts from that point onward. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, and I imagined the feel of his skin. I’d never seen a man like him before, and oh, if I married him… would I be happy? Happier than I was here, at least? He seemed like the kind of man that Phaedra and I dreamed we would marry as young girls — strong, brave, handsome, and willing to put himself on the line for the sake of his people. All such admirable qualities.
I returned to Theseus when the prisoners were locked into the Labyrinth’s abyssal maw. “Everyone else, stay back!” he ordered, as though he were directing troops. “I will go into the Labyrinth and kill the Minotaur. Stay here, and you will be safe.” He suddenly turned to me. “What have you brought to help me?”
I held out a humble ball of yarn. “This.”
He took it from my hand and raised an eyebrow at it, looking as though he might throw it into the dark. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Daedalus gave it to me when I first started exploring the Labyrinth.”
“Daedalus? I’ve heard of Daedalus. He is supposed to be the most brilliant architect in the world, right?”
“He built this Labyrinth, and he gave me the yarn. All you have to do is tie the end here and carry it through the maze. Then you can follow it back out.”
Theseus looked impressed. “He must be a genius to have thought of something like that!”
He may have been a genius, but I was still intelligent enough to figure it out on my own. All Daedalus had done was hand me the ball of yarn, and I immediately understood what I was meant to do with it. But I didn’t bother correcting Theseus. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No,” said Theseus. “I’m not worried. I’ll kill the beast with my bare hands.”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. I suppose if anyone could do it, he could; he was almost as musclebound as the bull-man. But still. Only an extremely impressive hero with divine lineage could hope to kill a monster bare-handed, that or a total idiot. “You are going to die.”
“Nonsense!” He smiled. “Haven’t died yet! And I have faced many deadly trials before.”
I smiled back. “I’m sure you have, but, well, it’s your funeral.”
“Do you want this monster dead, or not?” he demanded.
“Woah, I wasn’t being serious, I…” To be asked that question point-blank was unsettling. It threw my whole dilemma into focus. But seeing the terrified faces of the other tributes huddled naked in the entrance to the Labyrinth gave me my answer. “Yes.”
“I shall go then.” He tied the yarn to the gate and strode with it into the dark. I admired his confidence, even if the odds were against him. He turned the first corner, and was gone. I stared into the darkness for a moment.
One of the girls gripped the hem of my dress. “Please,” she whispered. “Please help us, my lady. We did nothing to be here. If he dies, will you help us escape?”
 I didn’t look at her. I kept staring into the Labyrinth’s depths. “I will do what I can,” I said slowly. Then I followed Theseus. I heard her gasp behind me, as if her last hope had just walked away.
I overtook Theseus quickly. He was moving slowly, blindly hitting walls and getting disoriented by the serpentine turns. He jumped when he heard me behind him, turned on his heel and braced for attack, staring me down with the intensity of a bull about to charge. Then he softened. “Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here? I don’t need your help.”
“I know this place better than you do,” I said matter-of-factly.
He huffed in response. “Get back to the entrance. The Minotaur could arrive at any moment.”
I walked ahead of him. “I know. Every time I explore the Labyrinth, I risk death.”
“Why would you explore this place?” he asked, following me. “What could it possibly offer a girl like you?”
“Peace. Solitude. Time away from my father.”
“This Labyrinth is maddening!” His growing frustration echoed off the walls. “How are you not mad? Perhaps you are mad, with the things you say.”
“I’ve never considered that I might be mad.”
“Only if you were mad would you willingly choose to be in this dark prison.”
“You willingly chose to be here.”
He had no response. We walked in silence for a while, dragging the thread behind us. It was almost impossible to see the thread in the dark. I could tell that Theseus was starting to get agitated. The twining paths of the Labyrinth must be making him feel like we were making no progress. The grim silence and high stone walls made us feel completely cut off from the outside world, like there was no world at all beyond the Labyrinth. “Do you think this is what Hades is like?” he asked. “A deep cavern, under the earth, where there is nothing to do but walk endlessly?”
I couldn’t tell whether that was a sincere philosophical question, or whether he was asking indignantly. “I don’t know. The Fields of Asphodel are supposed to be open, and full of the white flowers… Not quite like this.”
“It makes no difference to me anyway. I will assuredly go to Elysium when I die, and it is the most agreeable part of Hades.”
If Hades is exactly like this, I thought, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. There are worse things than this.
Eventually, we passed the point where I usually turned back. I had never gotten this close to the center before. And then we heard it — the unmistakable sound of hooves. Cold terror gripped me. I did not expect to feel this afraid, especially not of my own brother, but the reality of the situation sank in. We were  in a Labyrinth with a flesh-eating monster, and the exit was too far away for any chance of escape.  Why did I follow him? Why did I think that was a good idea?
“Our quarry is upon us! You should leave,” said Theseus sternly. “The monster eats the maidens first, so I hear.”
The instinct to run left me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Suit yourself, but you will not be able to fight against the Minotaur.”
“You will protect me, will you?” Being with him felt safe, like he was a bodyguard.
“I will.” As soon as he said that, my fear was banished, and my confidence restored.
A few more turns, and we reached the center of the Labyrinth, a place I figured I’d never enter. In the gloom, I couldn’t actually see much, but I was able to see the hulking shape of my brother with his huge bull’s head and wicked-looking horns.
“There is the beast!” A light suddenly blazed to life beside me, and I cringed away from its brightness. It was a torch.
“Did you have that the whole time?”
“I was saving it!” He handed me the torch and the end of the yarn, and I took them, nonplussed. I saw the floor of the Labyrinth’s center, full of human bones. “Wait there, I will make swift work of this!” Theseus took a fighting stance, muscles tensed.
Asterion looked at me. I felt blind panic grip me, but he did not attack me. Perhaps he recognized me. He must have been familiar with my presence and voice by now, enough to know I wasn’t a threat. I stared into his black bull eyes. They were soft, not fiery and enraged. This was my brother. “Asterion… I’m so sorry, Asterion.”
“What are you doing? Get back!”
Theseus’ yell attracted Asterion’s attention. He roared and rushed forward with his powerful legs, horns lowered and ready to gore him to death. Theseus grabbed Asterion’s horns and hurled himself up onto the Minotaur’s back, holding him in a chokehold with both arms. “I shall send you to the pit of Tartarus, fiend!”  Asterion thrashed and bucked and slammed Theseus against the wall, but soon enough, it was over. Theseus had strangled the Minotaur. Asterion lay dead.
Theseus picked himself up, looking exhausted but triumphant. “Victory! No Athenians will die today, or ever! This monster will never claim another human life!” He grinned at me. “See, I told you I could do it with my bare hands!”
I stared at the mass of Asterion’s body. “I killed my brother…”
“Nonsense!” Theseus took the torch back from me. The bones crunched under his feet as he walked. “It is hardly your fault that you are the sister of a beast. We have done a good and heroic thing today. Look, look at the bones! Why are you crying, Ariadne?”
I suddenly looked at him instead of the Minotaur’s corpse. I don’t think he’d said my name before. Even in the dim torchlight, he still looked bright, with clear eyes and golden hair and bronze skin slick with sweat. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Ariadne.” He smiled at me. “Thank you. Together we have saved many lives.”
He kissed me, and the torch went out.
The following events were a blur. After we had successfully followed the thread out of the Labyrinth, Theseus triumphantly announced to my father that the Minotaur was dead, and demanded me and my sister as prizes. My father was furious — of course he was. He had essentially just lost all of his children, and all because one had died in Athens before I was old enough to remember. I, however, was elated, and so was Phaedra. Phaedra was as eager to leave Crete as I was, and she seemed just as taken with Theseus’ handsomeness. She didn’t seem distressed that Asterion was dead, and why would she? The grateful Athenians went back to their ship, many of them sobbing with relief. I didn’t look at my father as I followed Theseus to the ship. I never wanted to look at him again. We passed by Talos, and I left Knossos and the Labyrinth behind me.
Crete faded into the horizon, and before me was sunshine and new possibilities. Theseus glowed with triumph and pride, smiling at me and kissing me when he announced to the other Athenians that he would marry me, and that I would become their queen. They fell to their knees and showered me and Theseus with gratitude for having saved their lives. I felt almost as if I were a goddess. Wine flowed freely in celebration, and I took more joy in it than I had in a long time.
It did not last long. Soon after the first few hours I was, if possible, even more miserable on Theseus’ ship than I had been in Knossos. I quickly became tired of his boasts about how he had strangled the beast, without crediting me at all, or so much as mentioning the ball of yarn, even though the other Athenians had seen me give it to him and seen me follow him into the Labyrinth. Every time he told the story, it got further from the truth, and emphasized his own heroism over mine. Is this how it would be when I was queen? No matter what I did, I’d be shunted to the side? Then, Theseus seemed to be doting on Phaedra. She usually attracted more attention. She was prettier than me. She had blond hair that shined in the sunlight and the bright eyes of our mother Pasiphae, the daughter of Helios. My hair and eyes were dark, like the Labyrinth.
I left the celebration, finding a quiet spot on deck. I sat by the edge of the ship, staring out into the open waves and trying not to think about Asterion, but the image of him lying dead in the torchlight haunted me. “Are you okay, Ariadne?” Phaedra asked me. “What is wrong? We are finally out of there, all thanks to you! No more Minotaur, no more tributes having to die, no more Father… We will have a new life in Athens.” I stayed silent. “You look despondent. Something’s wrong.”
I looked up into her eyes. “It’s like you said, Phaedra. Asterion is dead.”
“Do you… mourn him?”
“He was our brother, and I killed him!”
“Theseus killed him! You did nothing!” I knew that she meant to reassure me, but it touched a raw nerve.
“He would not have if I hadn’t led him straight to the center of the Labyrinth!”
“Ariadne…” Phaedra put her hand on my shoulder. “You… you’re… you’ll be okay. You are just a little bit disoriented.” She left me alone.
I looked at the Athenians, who laughed and danced and celebrated their lives. I didn’t feel like dancing. I already missed the Labyrinth. My guilt drew my thoughts back to Knossos. I wanted to hide in the Labyrinth forever, like Asterion had, or else throw myself into the sea for my guilt. The brightness of the waves was glaring compared to the soothing darkness of the Labyrinth.
Theseus approached me from behind. He had been ignoring me until now, maybe because I was so sorrowful. I could feel that he was angry at me, and my skin crawled, but I didn’t turn. “What cause do you have to weep, Ariadne? You should be happy!” he said.
“I am sorry, Theseus. Part of me still mourns for my brother.”
“What is the matter with you? All you have done is sit and stare at the water! If you loved that Labyrinth so much, perhaps you should have stayed there! Now please, put this sorrow behind you. You have no cause for it.” He sighed, softening. “When we arrive in Athens, we shall marry, and there will be much rejoicing.”
“Leave me alone.” The bitterness in my voice rang louder than I’d intended.
He scowled at me.“You are joyless, passionless, and thankless,” he spat, and stalked off. The word useless went unsaid; I could tell he was reconsidering making me his wife.
“Theseus, wait!” I yelled, suddenly sounding desperate.
I stood up, and he turned back to look at me, and I felt as if I were naked under his gaze and that of the others on the ship, which had all quieted and turned in my direction. His eyes were cold, and his nostrils flared just as Asterion’s had. “What, Ariadne? You have shown me neither gratitude nor pleasure, you have not acted like a princess. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Shamed, I said nothing. I sat back down. Then, as he was about to turn away again, I suddenly found my voice. “Why are you being cruel?”
“I am not being cruel. You are being difficult.”
By the time we reached Naxos, I was feeling heartbroken as well as grief-stricken. Theseus was giving me the silent treatment. I think he expected me to come running to him begging for forgiveness. We stopped on the island to rest, primarily because Theseus had dreamt that he would stop here during his homecoming.
 I took off my sandals and walked along the edge of the surf to clear my thoughts. The beach was bright and wide and open, the exact opposite of the Labyrinth. Even in the sand, I felt his heavy footsteps approaching behind me. “Ariadne, we need to talk.”
I continued to face away from him. “What?”
“Ariadne, I find your attitude disagreeable.” 
I turned on my heel to face him, planting myself in the sand. “I’ve found your attitude disagreeable! All you have done since we left Crete is boast about your heroics, and you’ve barely given me any credit—”
“Credit! You want credit for having slain it, when all you have done is cry over the hideous thing?”
The disdain in his voice stung me like arrows. “You don’t care at all for me or my feelings, do you?”
“If you were to become my queen, I would expect better behavior from you.” He sounded like he was lecturing a child.
“Well… I don’t want to be your queen! You are almost as bad as my father!”
“Good. I have already decided to take your sister Phaedra as my bride instead.” I didn’t reply. “You may still return with us to Athens, but we will have to make other arrangements for you.”
Forget Athens. I didn’t want Theseus to do anything for me. “Oh, forgive me for having been such a disappointment to you! Go ahead, go back to Athens and marry my sister! By Zeus! I’ve had enough of you!”
And I ran. I turned away from Theseus and ran down the beach until my legs gave out, falling in the sand to sulk and wonder where it all went wrong. I regretted having ever met Theseus, or helped him to kill my brother. If I could undo it all, I would. No. Then innocent people would have died. Oh, gods, why am I so wretched?
And then, as I was just beginning to calm down, I saw that the ship was sailing away over the waves. I was stranded on the island. Despair and panic crashed down upon me. Oh gods, gods, why? Had I somehow been forgotten about, or left behind on purpose? Had Theseus doomed me to die? “CURSE you, Theseus!” I screamed at the distant ship. I watched it go until it disappeared over the horizon. I could do nothing but hopelessly stare at the wine-dark sea as the sun set.
“Excuse me, why are you crying?”
I had been sitting with my head in my arms, weeping despondently, and I was startled by the sudden voice, soft though it was. I was certain the island was deserted, but now, a young man stood before me. He was silhouetted against the sky, the sun shining behind his head like a halo. Where had he come from? I hadn’t heard him come. It was though he’d simply stepped out of the sea.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and my voice sounded cracked from crying. “I thought I was alone.”
“May I sit with you?” the man asked. “You look like you could use a drink, something to soothe you, hm?”
“Yes… yes, thank you.”
He sat down in the sand next to me, languidly stretching his legs out in front of him like he was sitting on the plushest couch. With the sunlight on him, I could see him properly — he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. He easily put Theseus to shame. His eyes were leafy green, warm and kind. He was lithe, and his skin looked as pale and smooth as a girl’s, and his lips looked so soft. I couldn’t place the color of his hair — it seemed to be dark brown, but it could have been as dark as the Styx, and when the sun caught it, it looked honey-gold. It fell over his shoulders in loose curls. He wore nothing but a fine purple cloak draped over one shoulder, a golden leopard skin around his waist, and a wreath of ivy on his head. His cheeks were flushed, and he had a bright, easy smile. He was so lovely, so breathtaking, it almost hurt to look at him. With delicate hands, he offered me a kylix brimming with wine. “Please, tell me what has made you so upset.”
I blinked at the kylix, and the leopard skin, and the ivy in his hair. “Are you… a Bacchant?” I’d heard of them. They worshipped a mad and savage god with drunken orgies in the woods, and were said to be able to rip animals or even people limb-from-limb in their frenzy. Not unlike Asterion, I suppose.
He flashed a devious smile. “Maaaaybe.”
I took the kylix and drank deeply. The wine was sweet, and somehow, I felt immediately calmer. Slowly, amid my lingering sobs, I told the story — about Asterion, and my father, and the tributes, how I’d decided to help Theseus, how we’d found our way through the Labyrinth, how Theseus had killed Asterion, how Theseus had been so heartless, and how he had apparently left me to die on a deserted island. By the time I finished talking, the kylix was empty.
“How do you feel now?” he asked me.
“Better… I think. But I’m still devastated, and… guilty. My brother’s death… it was really my fault, and I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. Do you think it’s wrong for me to grieve for my brother? I mean… he was a monster…”
“No. I don’t think it’s wrong. It is perfectly understandable that you would mourn your brother.”
“If I had let the Athenians die, I would have mourned for them, too.” I sighed.
“Yes. There must be blood; one sacrifice was traded for another, Asterion, the worthy bull. It is okay to grieve, for as long as you need to, but do not wallow in despair.”
“I tend to do that. I don’t remember the last time I was completely happy. I thought Theseus would make me happy, but… then… I wish I had my Labyrinth back! It was at least soothing down there.”
“It pains me to see people sad,” he said. He handed me the kylix again, and it was once again full of wine. I hadn’t seen him fill it. “Pleasure is a state of mind. The best way to rid yourself of sadness is to focus on things that make you happy. There is always something to take pleasure in! Like the beauty of the sunset, or the sound of the lapping waves. Or wine!”
“Not when you are abandoned to die, with no way off the island,” I said. “How did you get here, anyway? I don’t see a boat.”
“I have my ways,” he said cryptically, with that same mischievous smile. That smile and the teasing sparkle in his eyes were so adorable. His beauty is something to take pleasure in, I suddenly thought, and his company, and kindness…
I took another draught of the wine. “Why are the gods so cruel to me?” I murmured, more to myself than to him.
“The gods are not cruel to you.” He stated it with complete confidence, as though it were an undeniable fact, not as though he were trying to convince me.
“It certainly seems that way,” I replied.
“Life can often seem that way, but then, it gets better, and you will find that the gods favor you,” he said.
“Well… I suppose that must be true, if handsome strangers pop out of nowhere to comfort women.”
He beamed. “Exactly!” He took the kylix back from me, threw his head back, and drained about half of it in one gulp. “You know, I was stranded on a desert island like this one once.”
“Wait, what? You were?”
“Yes! It was a long time ago now, but I was just as pretty back then, and just as fond of wearing purple. Purple is the best color, you know.” He winked. “Anyway, so I was lying asleep on a beach and—” he took another swig of the wine, “a pirate ship rows by…”
“Are you drunk?”
“Always, darling!” That roguish grin of his was really starting to win me over. “Anyway, the pirates saw me sleeping on the beach, saw how pretty I was and saw my fine purple robes, and thought I was a prince. Well. They weren’t wrong… I technically am a prince of Thebes, on my mother’s side.” He laughed like he had just told the most hilarious joke and had another sip of the wine. The amount of wine in the kylix never seemed to get any lower.
“Does that mean… you’re a bastard?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes, yes it does! I’m such a bastard. I mean… I was born out of wedlock. And my father’s wife, oooh, she hates me.” Another sip of the wine. “Never get on her bad side if you can help it.” He pointed at me as if this was the most important information I could ever learn, and I laughed. “She can’t touch me now, but she drove me mad when I was younger. Literally. Anyway, so these pirates kidnapped me. Thought I’d make a damn cute catamite, and I certainly would, but that’s beside the point. You don’t and kidnap boys no matter how pretty they are. I tried to tell my dad that, but it didn’t go over well.” Another sip of the wine.
“You are slender, but I bet you could take Theseus in a drinking contest.”
“Oh, I could take aaaaaanyone in a drinking contest! Never lost one yet!” His face was glowing, not just with blush from the wine but also with infectious joy. I slowly forgot about my misfortunes as I listened to his story. “So they tried to tie me to the ship’s mast, but found they couldn’t do it. I only tolerate bondage on my own terms. And then…” There was suddenly a mad gleam in his green eyes. “I covered their ship in grapevines, and ivy, and flowers, and the delicious smell of wine. I can’t imagine why such delightful things frightened them so. But I thought I’d scare them more, see, because it was funny. So I turned into a lion! And they flung themselves overboard in fear!” He laughed, and his laugh sounded as musical as flutes on a clear morning, but it had a maddened edge to it. “But I pitied them, y’know?” he continued. “Just as you pity your brother. So I changed them into dolphins. So they wouldn’t drown.”
“You changed… you turned into… did… did your god give you those powers? Or… are you just… really… drunk?” But I knew. I think that intuitively, I knew the whole time.
“Easy,” he said, once again raising the bottomless kylix to his lips with that knowing smile. “I’m really drunk.”
At this, I burst out laughing, and my laugh sounded almost unfamiliar to my own ears. I felt light, carefree, replenished. And then it sank in, that I was speaking to a god. I hastily knelt, and dropped my head before him, although he was still sitting next to me. “Lord Dionysus! Son of Zeus! Lord, lord, thank you for coming to me, for talking to me, for relieving me of my pain, for freeing me from my suffering…”
“You’re welcome, Ariadne.” He lifted my face, so that I was staring up into his eyes, which were now vivid reddish-purple, the color of ripe grapes. A richly purple aura surrounded him, proclaiming his divinity. In his hand was his staff, a fennel stalk topped with a pinecone that dripped with honey, twined with ivy and purple ribbons. And he had horns, bull’s horns just like my brother’s, magnificent and deadly sharp. They curved up above his brow, as much his crown as the wreath of ivy in his hair. The imposing horns created a striking contrast with his delicate features, but they looked right, somehow. Like this was how he was supposed to look.
I didn’t know what to say. My mind had gone suddenly blank. “I’ve never known great Dionysus to have horns,” I blurted.
“Not many get to see them,” he said, his voice suddenly slow and solemn. “Ariadne, will you dance with me?”
Whatever I had expected him to say, it was not that. “Wh—what?”
“Dance with me!” He stood up and twirled off across the beach. His hair floated around his shoulders, the ribbons on his thyrsus arced through the air like the rainbow, and his expression was one of elation. He screamed in ecstasy, and it was an inhuman sound, like the crowing of some unearthly bird. At that, the air filled with cacophonous music — flutes, drums, cymbals, rattles, castanets.
A command echoed inside my head. No, not a command — a compulsion: DANCE! DANCE!
So I danced with the bull-horned god. “Dancing” barely even begins to describe what I was doing. I was filled with an overwhelming, indescribable feeling, like I didn’t fit in my own skin. Like I was about to be lifted out of my own shoulders! I moved like my body was doing everything it could to express this ineffable thing inside me that was so much bigger than me. I spun, I leapt, I ran, I stamped my feet in the sand, I moved wherever the feeling took me. It burned like fire. And Dionysus was all I could perceive. I screamed with both intense rapture and pure, genuine worship: “EUOI! EUOI! EUOI!”
I met his eyes, and there I saw all the raw ferocity of a bull or a great cat, as well as chaos and lust and debauchery and pure mania. All the forces strong enough to tear a person apart! I desperately thirsted for something I could not name. It was more than wine, more than flesh, more than blood. Dionysus took me in his arms, and kissed me on the lips. Passion overtook me.
Maybe I fainted in exhilaration, or maybe I was simply too drunk to remember. All I know was that I was eventually awakened by the sunrise and the sound of lapping waves. And Dionysus… was still there. He hadn’t disappeared into the night, he was still sleeping there in the sand, looking blissful and alluring in his sleep. His tousled curls tumbled over the sand, his soft hand was upturned beside his head, and his lips were parted invitingly. He lay on his purple cloak, and was using the leopard pelt like a blanket, though it was only carelessly draped over his waist.
“Lord… thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.
His long eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened, once again appearing vine-green. “Mmmm… sleep well?”
“Yes.” I desperately wanted to kiss him, and the seductive look in his eyes tempted me. “May I… touch you?”
“Darling, you may touch me anywhere you like,” he purred. Ravenously, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my chest to his, and our lips met. He still tasted like wine, and I drank him in the way I would wine. We lay there for a moment, entangled in each other’s arms like grape and ivy vines, idly caressing each other’s skin and hair.
“M’lord…” I whispered, “perhaps it might be impertinent to ask, but… what am I going to do now? I can’t go home. I don’t really want to go to Athens. And I still have no way off this island.”
“Why, Ariadne,” he gave me a teasing smile. “If I may be so bold, I hoped you would join me! In fact… I hope you might marry me.”
I was so taken aback by this that I immediately sat up. “You… you’re serious? Marry you?” I knew that gods frequently took mortal lovers, but this was unimaginable. “Actually marry you?”
“Yes, Ariadne. I love you.” He said it with the same sweetness and sincerity that he initially approached me with. Theseus had said no such thing. “You are not destined to become queen of Athens, but perhaps you might be my queen, if you are willing.”
I burst into tears, but they weren’t tears of sadness this time. They were tears of overwhelm, the same kind of overflowing sensation that I’d felt while dancing. “You love me?”
“I am absolutely besotted, my darling! I have had many lovers, but I had not fallen so madly in love since Ampelos, my first love, my darling vine.” A grapevine appeared between his fingers and twined up his arm. “Perhaps something in me is inclined towards mortals over gods, which is understandable, given my parentage. But, that should be no problem. I will bring you to Olympus, and love you for all of time.”
“How… why me?” I sputtered. “What have I done to deserve this?”
“Ariadne, you are letting your human mind interfere, and convince you that you are not worthy to be in my presence. Did you feel unworthy last night, while we were dancing?”
“No… I felt… there was no such thing.”
“Ariadne, do you love me?”
I struggled to find any word that could properly describe how I felt about him. “You are… utterly intoxicating.”
He giggled like a shy maiden. “I get that a lot. And, if you could be worthy of having me as a husband, would you have me?”
Yes. My body and soul ached and burned with wanting. And he made me extraordinarily happy! I’d never dared to believe a god would love me enough to marry me, but that disbelief was only getting in my way.
He looked me dead in the eyes. I nearly flinched away from the intensity of his gaze, and the shimmering madness behind it. “You are more than you realize, Ariadne, guide in the dark, guardian of the gates of initiation. You are intelligent and witty and brave, and you fear no darkness or madness or savagery, do you? You faced them all in the Labyrinth. You would make an excellent addition to my thiasus, even if you decide not to marry me. Ariadne, the most holy and pure, Lady of the Labyrinth.” His words reverberated deep in the labyrinthine pathways of my own mind and soul, like he had revealed an ancient truth that I had known once, but forgotten.
“The Labyrinth is a holy place, of contemplation and transformation. Isn’t it? Not of death.”
He smiled that gorgeous, winning smile again. “Yes! You understand! And even where there is death, it is not absolute.” His eyes shone with feverish excitement. “Oh, I have so much to teach you!”
“Lord Dionysus, I would be honored beyond imagining if I were to become your wife.”
“So is that a yes? You will marry me?”
Something about him felt right in a way that I could not put words to, like the Fates had done all they could to bring me to this moment. This god loved me, more than the other gods love their conquests, more than I could comprehend. “Yes! I will marry you!”
At that, a cool wind blew across the island, swirling his dark hair around his face and making all the vegetation appear to shimmer. It was like the island itself was affirming my decision. “Then, Ariadne, we shall rule the revel together! In honor of our engagement…” A magnificent diadem appeared in his hands, sparkling with seven gemstones like stars. He placed it on my head, and gave me a warm kiss on my lips. “Ariadne, my bride, may you never thirst. May your lusts never go unsatisfied. May your heart always be light and joyful.”
“Thank you. Thank you, m’lord!”
“You can stop calling me that. If we are to be married, you can simply call me by my name. Or, call me what pleases you. Now, come with me!” He stood, offering me his hand. “Unless you would rather spend some more alone time together, I should finally take you off this island! I will take you home to Nysa, or perhaps to Arcadia, and we will have to throw the most spectacular bacchanal in celebration of our marriage!”
“How will we travel?”
He led me down the beach like a child eager to show something to their parent, and gestured toward a golden chariot drawn by two gigantic panthers. The chariot itself was decorated in images of swirling grapevines and serpents and satyrs making love, and the cats’ pelts gleamed. “Oh, gods… I mean… wow. Does it move over water?”
“It flies, silly!” He stood inside it and beckoned to me. “These cats can run on the wind. Hermes gave them to me.”
I climbed into the chariot and held on for dear life as the panthers bounded into the air with great strides. Soon the chariot was blazing through the bright air, and Naxos was far behind us. Dionysus laughed into the wind, which blew his long hair back from his face. As radiant as he was, I was more than a little terrified of speeding through the air high above the sea in a chariot, and felt like I would fall off at any second, although not even my diadem was dislodged from my head.
“You look terror-stricken, Ariadne. Would you like me to tell you another amusing story? That seems to have cheered you up the last time!”
“That depends on whether you can drive a chariot and get incredibly drunk at the same time.”
He laughed uproariously. “Oh, I love you so much! I can do anything and get incredibly drunk, if you were wondering. So, anyway, the story… Mortals have mixed opinions of me. Most love my parties and stories and love my wine, but they seem a bit put off by the madness and violence and lust it brings out in them… Not sure why, it’s not as though all of that wasn’t there to begin with… Mortal kings do not like this, and some of them can be quite unkind to my worshippers, testing the limits of my mercy… but one of them allowed my mentor, Silenus, to sleep in his garden. So kind of him! So of course I offered him any reward he might wish for, and… he wished that everything he touched would turn to gold.”
“Ooh. Let me guess, it backfired?”
“Oh, did it backfire! His food turned to gold and he nearly starved, and even his daughter turned to gold! Hardly my fault, of course. I promised to give him what he asked for, and I did, he just happened to be an idiot. He had the chance to wish for anything in the world, and he chose something as shallow and pointless as gold. Not to mention, he clearly had never heard of inflation, which makes me worry about his kingdom’s economy. Oh, well. He learned, and I changed everything back. I always let humans indulge themselves, but I am not a god of excess. Either they are satisfied by their pleasures, or they learn their lesson fast. The moral of the story: Know your tolerance. Also, if you want to turn things to gold, you have to do it the hard way. Hermes and I were just discussing how to turn lead to gold, in fact…”
His soothing voice and hilarious tales put me at ease, until we were traveling over beautiful mountains and verdant valleys. I had never seen mainland Greece, but the view of it from the flying chariot was incredible. I was no longer afraid of falling. As we flew, I felt as if the wind stripped me of the cares and sorrows of my former life. Dionysus had set me free. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me as the chariot descended into the lush, hidden valley where a throng of Maenads and satyrs waited to welcome home their lord and his queen.
Dionysus helped me out of the chariot, and I stood before the thiasus, their maddened eyes all turned upon me. “I am the bride of Dionysus,” I proclaimed. “I am Ariadne of the Labyrinth.”
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bondsmagii · 3 years
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Why do you think there are people that care so much about the fiction other people consume? I find it so wild. Like, I may not enjoy certain "taboo fiction" myself but I won't sit there and make it my personal mission in life to call people out for enjoying something I don't personally like? No one is being harmed. Its just fantasy. I don't understand. What must it be like to have that kind of energy, I wonder.
most of the time I attribute it to Shitty Little Bitch Syndrome, but I actually do have more well-rounded thoughts about this, I swear.
to put it as simplistically as possible, I think it's about control -- both over others, and over their own lives. there's been an increased attitude over the last several years in regards to purity, and a lot of people I think live in genuine fear or at least discomfort over the idea that they might be Bad People. some of these people associate with groups who are really deeply into this kind of thing (or hang out on websites where it's a prominent feature, such as Twitter or Tumblr), and other people have been on the fringes of it and have internalised the ideas. either way, it results in the same kind of attitude: that if you consume "problematic" media, you're exposed to "problematic" thoughts, and this, essentially, corrupts you.
of course, most people realise that humans are capable of logical and critical thinking, and when we're exposed to new thoughts or ideas we're capable of assessing them and analysing them and working out if this is something we agree with or not. unfortunately, the increased reliance on groupthink and buzzwords has rendered a lot of people incapable or at least hesitant to do this, so they repeat what they know to be safe or they simply say nothing at all. meanwhile, those people who are more heavily involved in this kind of thing will be up close and personal to people who are absolutely militant about it, and they will seek to do anything they can to assure these people that they're still on the Right Side. the militants, on the other hand, are doing it strictly for power -- I doubt any of them truly believe the bullshit they come out with, but they believe in it enough to get a rush out of publicly shaming the problematic masses, and that's probably kind of addicting when you're a loser.
basically these people are incapable of telling fiction from reality, and they judge everyone by their own standards. they can't read a story involving rape without thinking that it's supporting rape by the mere mention of it, so they assume nobody else can. therefore, if you read stories that include rape and enjoy the story, you must support rape. if you write stories that include rape, you must be a rapist -- or at least, you want to be. to them it's simple. for everyone else it's utterly absurd.
an offshoot of this idea is also the cult of vulnerability that is so prevalent in purity culture circles. those who are most oppressed are most removed from responsibility and are most Correct, therefore everybody must acquiesce to their demands. if you don't, you are therefore responsible for deliberately triggering them, not caring about trauma, wanting to see them personally hurt, etc. reading stories with nasty things in it means you support those nasty things and hate victims. this ripples out to the people on the outskirts of these groups who realise that to be seen engaging with anything remotely uncomfortable might make them one of these voyeuristic assholes who loves to gorge themselves on the suffering of these vulnerable victims, so they immediately start shouting down anything that could be seen as remotely uncomfortable. this could be stories with mature themes, or even things that don't have a happy ending. it's all an attempt to make themselves look pure of ideology and sensitive of spirit. basically, it's to cover their ass.
unfortunately, a lot of people live in some measure of fear of these people, because they can be absolutely rabid in their harassment. a lot of people, understandably, have an aversion to being called a rapist or a transphobe or a paedophile, but if you sincerely break down what the accusation is and remove it from the terminally online and into a situation where people are more normal, you'll quickly realise that nobody with a brain cell would take any of it seriously. I've literally lost count of the amount of times I've been called some various name because of the stories I like, and I literally do not care. don't debate with these people, don't engage, just block them and move on. you cannot argue with stupid.
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tainted-wine · 3 years
Text
Evil Demonic Music
Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic
Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.
Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.
Words: 7.9k
Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending
🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃
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Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.
It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.
You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices. 
Like this nightclub.
Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.
“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”
To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.
Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.
“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.
He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”
No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.
“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.
That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.
“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.
It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.
Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey. 
But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.
Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.
He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”
“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”
Put down the tome?
Loosen up?
Babe?
How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”
The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. “Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”
“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”
“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”
Despicable.
“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.
He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”
“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.
“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”
Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.
Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.
Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.
“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”
“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something. 
The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses. 
God help these poor souls.
“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”
Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”
The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.” 
You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”
“....um…”
“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn���t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”
There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.
Impertinent juveniles.
“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”
“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”
He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”
The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.
“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”
He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.
Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”
You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”
“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club. 
You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.
Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.
And find a way to keep everyone safe.
He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.
Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.
---------------------------------------------------------------
8:30 p.m.
You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.
Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.
“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”
The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.
“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans. 
You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”
“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”
“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”
“No.”
“Lies. Look here, vampire…”
“My name is Shouta.”
“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”
He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”
You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.
With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.” 
You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.
The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.
Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?
When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.
You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…
“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.
Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.
“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.
Also known as a world of sin.
A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.
And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.
Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.
You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.
Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently.  Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.
Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.
The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.
Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.
Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.
You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.
O Lord, protect me from temptation.
The water trickles out before you.
O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.
“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”
The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.
For we know that your power is greater than any evil.
The song is deafening, but you keep going.
Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-
Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.
Shit! Forgive my language, Father!
You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.
You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.
OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-
“HERE COMES THE DROP!”
The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.
It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.
Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.
Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!
“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”
The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.
“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”
Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison. 
It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.
No!
Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.
Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.
‘Baby priest? Is that you?’
That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you. 
‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’  You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”
Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?
With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.
Not when a demon was feeding from you.
Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.
There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.
‘Whoa...holy shit.’
The breathless moan in your head made you shudder. 
‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’ 
“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”
The dancing stops.
The music stops.
Everything stops.
It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.
The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.
Crazed and eager to devour.
He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”
The dread threatens to make you faint.
“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”
You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.
Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.
You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.
As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.
At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.
“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out.  “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.
“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.
How? His reaction should have been much stronger…
“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.
There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice. 
But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out. 
“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”
The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.
Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.
This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.
The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.
“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”
He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.
Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.
He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace. 
“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”
You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.
“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.
The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”
You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.
You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.
More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.
“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”
That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”
“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.” 
How dare he.
“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”
He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”
With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.
And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.
The music is muffled. It’s too loud.
The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.
Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?
“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.
Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.
“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”
There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.
“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”
Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.
You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan. 
The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”
Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear. 
“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”
The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.
“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”
‘Oh’ indeed.
The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.
Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”
It takes effort to nod your head.
His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”
Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.
Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.
Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.
“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”
‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.
He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.
There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.
Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”
His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.
You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”
He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.
“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”
His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?
“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”
The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.
Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.
The repulsive sight makes you wetter.
They sure were having fun.
Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds. 
“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.
“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”
The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.
“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.
You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does. 
“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?
He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.
It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?
His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”
You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.
“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”
You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.
“No, the one next to it.”
You press it, and another song begins.
Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”
A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.
“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”
He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort. 
With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.
“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”
Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.
“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”
That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.
Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”
How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?
His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”
And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.
With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.
The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.
The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear. 
An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process. 
A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.
It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.
The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.
The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.
With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.
The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.
Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.
A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.
“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.
You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.
“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”
Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.
Home?
Your eyes shut. 
And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.
Welcome home.
188 notes · View notes
Text
Croatia brings no men in a hamster wheel to Rotterdam 2021
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Now could this be the teddy bear uprising invasion Muse has warned us about 12 years ago?
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And LITERALLY, these review series make me feel like Croatia is openly taunting me - I watch the days go, I’m losing track of time, and when another day comes, I’m screaming “oh no I forgot to publish a review sooner than wanted!!”. Guess I’m for one glad there’s a time related song this year, hum?
ARTIST & ENTRY INFO
Repping the Adriatic coast nation that got all the sea instead of Bosnia & Herzegovina is some 22 year old Albina Grčić, who first popped up on X Factor Adria back when that was a thing, and got lumped into a girlgroup in later stages, but to that she said “hvala ne” and moved on with her life, getting eliminated just like that. Queen <3 She did get her second chance to compete as a soloist and make a more prominent mark on her career when she ended up on The Voice in Croatia. She did well, placing third overall in the season, but somehow, during the duel stage, her coach initially favoured her fellow Dora 2021 contestant Filip Rudan:
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Her Voice success landed her a record deal with the Croatian division of Universal Music, she released a debut single, sometime later ended up on Dora, and here she is now, on Eurovision.
“Tick-Tock” is the song, a standard upbeat pop song, and one of the ones that talks about a girl leaving a terrible relationship and being so well over it that she “found [her]self and [she’s] finally free”, and the “tick-tock” here is used to represent the time passing by, not the sound of her heart, unlike a fellow ESC entry of a similar title. The tune (or its lyrics only) is co-authored by some dude you might’ve heard of from France’s 2018 preselection Destination Eurovision, and that is Max Cinnamon - some half-English guy with a half English song about love (”Ailleurs”) that did moderately averagely in the final... I don’t even know if his influence shows, I just love how 2021 has sort of become revenge of the NF flops but they’re writing other entries instead (Suzi P, “Adrenalina”).
REVIEW
I often don’t really fully vibe with female bops in Eurovision as much as I want to, like, for the most part they’re overhyped, and I let the “yass queeeeen” audience gorge on the everything their favourite bops give them. But this year there are plenty of great ones to choose from, as I think that it’s safe to say that most, if not all, are tucked in somewhere inside my top 20, top 25 at the very minimum. Croatia managed to even do the impossible and land into my top 10.
Why?
Well, the answer is that the song is just so damn good.
I mean, what’s NOT to like about it? It’s a catchy and upbeat song that incorporates xylophones (or whatever is it that sounds like them), guitars and synths; has a good bassline in the chorus; and it’s just... a very good composition overall, like, all the instruments in it are just in their right place and uplift the song massively. I also like Albina’s performance on it, both live and studio, it clearly shows that she’s a very good singer (also shown on her cover of the scandalous Oscar award snubbery “Husavik”). Sounds like a song a common pop loving Eurofan could gear themselves towards. Besides, it also has possibly my favourite pre-chorus section of the 2021 year? Oh wait, there’s also Switzerland, scratch that. “Tick-Tock” has one of my favourite pre-chorus sections of 2021. It builds up so well instrumentally and the way Albina sings it is even better. I obviously like to believe Albina heard those voices from far away that helped her to escape, has found herself, and she’s finally free from her “partner’s” bad lovin’ and restraint. Yas queen go be free you didn’t deserve his tomfoolery anyway!  👏 (Also I admire a section that’s not quite the pre-chorus but is still before the 1st chorus, the one that goes “If you pull me down then I'll come around” - literally just a lot of the parts of the song are full of nice vocal performance and I don’t regret ranking this in my top 10 not a second.)
If it has any drawbacks, it’s just that it gets a tad too repetitive after the halfway mark... like, the pre-chorus before the second chorus is the one to be repeated once again, and no new verse, nothing - but it does launch itself into something extraordinary, and that is a chorus in Croatian, which I assume she would perform in Eurovision because there’s no Eurovision version on the song promo bundle, I suppose. Comparatively the Croatian chorus is not as complex in lyrics as the English language one, and flows slightly differently too. But the song still has a long chorus by the end, and song with too many choruses is never a good sign for those that look for a song that’s constructed well, but I guess it’s a good factor for those that value the song’s catchiness. I guess that’s what one of the two Eurovision 2005 hosts valued the most when writing the Ukrainian 2006 entry “Show Me Your Love”, which if you ask me, is straight up 75% chorus, lol.
So yeah my verdict is that almost everything about this song, I like. I’m just a little devastated that in a usually very easily gorged on category of female bops, this just tends to lag behind in love, like a fellow song I really like this year, Israel. Instead people tend to prioritize Cyprus (which I get because they’ve established themselves as a girlbanger nation since Fuego swept Eurovision) and... probably even Azerbaijan? (which I might also get because Eurovision rarely has this thing called an ethnobop anymore, and it has more ethno than “Cleopatra” did, but still unnecessarily underwhelming lol.) Well then, in a year of female bangers, I would just like Croatia to not be swept under the rug come semis I guess. Yeah “Tick-Tock” may not sound like it brings something totally never seen before in a Eurovision environment (foreign language lyrics, themes about a break up, hell even her dancers looked like they were wearing the same hats as Tamta’s dancers), but you got to have a lot in you to sell a worn out idea to the new heights, and Albina does exactly that in my eyes.
Approval factor: Yeah! There is a lot of it in here for me. Follow-up factor: A great follow-up, not so great in regards to panini but musically it’s just going up and up from what we had in the past few years. I’ve actually not minded “The Dream” for the most part but I knew it was a chanceless plodding ballad and Roko harboured heaps of wasted potential working with Jacques Houdek and having wings as part of his performance, uff. *_* And then there’s “Divlji vjetre” which I also like a lot - a much better male ballad winner choice! If the Dora re-up winners keep being decent imo just like this, I have a feeling I will follow it a lot more often than I did just this one time this year. I am just saying that panini-wise, it was a sucky move from HRT for not allowing their last year’s winner promote his new song with Tijana (from Serbia 2017) on the Dora night, so we sadly only heard a pre-recorded opening version of “Divlji vjetre” to start off with :( Otherwise I think it’s not Dora’s fault in itself that Damir himself chose not to even submit an entry this year because he hadn’t found a good one - much like with Diodato for Sanremo (he was NOT rejected, if you think he still was, shush). But aside that, musically, it just keeps going up for me. Well done Croatia, for you’ve used to be a Eurovision country I don’t necessarily care about, that you brought two pretty damn good entries in a row. Qualification factor: I can absolutely trust in Albina bringing in a little bit of her charisma and well-likedness, and on top of that, a great vocal performance, in Rotterdam. Don’t ask me why, I just do. She doesn’t really perform her song live on pre-parties as much as I’d like to hope she would, but you heard girlie on the national selection, she didn’t win for nothing. Yeah yeah there might as well be female uptempo songs hungrier for the last spot, but I’d like to think Albina is one of the ones ready to devour than to be devoured. Go girl! Take us all dancing!
NF CORNER
To be honest with you, “Tick-Tock” winning Dora caught me by surprise. Ever since its re-up, the last two editions were kind of won by male ballads, and maaaaybe the dancey females were doing moderately well enough for themselves, but not overall? But look, juries were very keen on Albina, probably because she can SANG and she creates one hell of a fancy presence on her performance. And somehow she ended up snatching a win out of the hands of 5G conspiracy theorist 2016 representative Nina Kraljić, who was at first too drunk to care, but too unexpectedly sober to yell all over the soc. media how she was robbed and how the contest was rigged against her with her being on first and all that. Which is a shame that she is one of THOSE people, because her NF entry “Rijeka” is kinda nice? We did have the Balkan-esque ballads coming from Croatia in recent memory, but we haven’t had a truly proudly folksy one at that from Croatia for a long while, if not ever. Nina could’ve very well brought that to Rotterdam (and another mismatched wardrobe choice oops). But instead she was the one screaming “oh no, oh no, oh no”.
Actually I regarded Nina as one of my faves pre-show, and Albina was on her way, though she didn’t really cement the personal fav status until after all performances, thus making Nina and Albina switch spots for me. But truly, the one song that was my top favourite, iiiiiiiiiiis
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GIMME AN OCEAN! OF LOVE!
2021 made me realize that damn, maybe anything that’s funky is my favourite music genre afterall. Up until then I vibed with entries like “Tonight Again” and “What’s the Pressure?” that had this sort of energetic flair and very rhythmic kinda sound to it, but 2021 just simply cemented it to me that my music world has probably been about nice and smooth and funky all along. I owe so much gratitude to ToMa first and foremost along the lines of more to have come in this year’s lineups - I just can’t not want to dance to “Ocean of Love”, and ToMa is quite alright at selling it live as well. There are small gripes with some instrument usages but that doesn’t detract from the fact that I love love LOVE funky guitar tunes.
Aside from that, I can give shout outs to Beta Sudar, whose song not only was underrated, but also had an underrated meme format throughout its performance:
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My other props go to Bernarda, who not only competed in a national selection singing a song about seeing “Colors” while blind (and ironically there was a song called “Blind” in that same NF sung by a well-seeing guy!!), but also for finally putting this every country’s reject to rest. Seriously. That particular song was passed on to everyone in need of a competitive Eurovision bop, from Poli Genova to Helena Paparizou as of recently. Oh well, at least the song died a honourable death - well performed slice of good typical Eurovision pop (maybe even overperformed a little towards the end), that got a good rank with the regional juries, but somewhat murdered in televote, fellow Boris Milanov composition “Chameleon” style.
This one Mia Negovetić chick was promising too! Her song was written by the Debs and you might be tired of them trying to continue infiltrating Eurovision at this point, but a lot of their Eurovision songs are usually something I enjoy, “She’s Like a Dream” is no exception. Nothing but 3 minutes of pastel-dressed Croatian Ariana Grande doing what she does best <3
Oh and also some dudes tried to play chess on stage too I guess. But their song is not worth looking into, because one of the acts on it is apparently also a conspiracist, and maybe because oft this their entry is aptly titled “Sing, for the freedom has arrived!” lol I wonder what exactly is the kind of freedom you’re thinking of my guy
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Was this the “better mood game” Laura was warning everyone about? Beats me
NF CORNER (NON-COMPETITIVE)
• It’s still hilarious to me as to how one of the acts this year, Brigita Vuco, was planning to bring in backing dancers, only for them to show a fake COVID test or something and outright BARRED from coming with her on stage. <3 Whatever she intended to do with them dancers, I have absolutely no idea, but at least she committed to her song being about drunken nights visually by having all these blurry shots
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• Nina Kraljić’s greenroom shenanigans, from the “1-2-3, 1-2-3, drink” to numb the sadness over some results (and the 8 she got from the region Rijeka for the song “Rijeka” lmao), to whatever she saw on the phone that made her smile or go neutral
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• Greenroom reactions in general. I swear, this year had cameramen in every single corner everywhere just to make sure something covers up for a human audience instead of severals of Zoom screens permitted to act as an audience. Random people in greenrooms were doing some sort of emotions after random acts, and also randomly they ended up pointing a camera towards an act that lost, but the act didn’t treat losing as if it were such a big deal <3
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• All the other memes the Croatian Twitter might’ve noticed me for:
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seriously Bernarda was locked in a bluelight mathematical dice contraption. how fucking cool is that
ANY LAST WORDS?
I just fucking hope that Albina shatters any doubts that people have had about her song come rehearsals, and somehow Croatia AND Israel slip through, because never too many female bangers I appreciate in the final, if they all are the bangers I appreciate, lol.
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twisted-broth · 5 years
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Iplier Egos Halloween HCs
Dark:
He generally thinks the whole thing is ridiculous 
You convince him to throw a Halloween party at the manor for all the egos
He won’t dress up and if your costume is in the slightest bit revealing you won’t leave his side the whole night
Helps you pass out candy to trick or treaters but he kinda scares some of them 
Also the manor itself is pretty intimidating so don’t expect a lot of visitors
Once everyone leaves, you sit on the couch and watch scary movies
He spends the whole time making snide comments under his breath about the stupidity of the characters
If you’re a jumpy person he’ll first find it pretty funny but once you playfully smack his chest he’ll roll his eyes and pull you into his lap
“You know nothing will hurt you as long as I’m here.”
Wilford:
Halloween is probably his second favorite holiday after Valentine’s Day
Will absolutely try to make you trick or treat with him
“Will, aren’t we a bit old for this?”
“Blasphemy!”
Everyone in the neighborhood is terrified of him so they let you go
If anyone is dumb enough to close the door on you they will be shot
Cute couples costume is required
Would probably make you wear something dumb and kinda slutty but it just gives him an excuse to keep you close to him
He may have a strange way of showing it, but he just really loves being around you
Google:
Okay so he knows of it
Like many things, he doesn’t really… get it
He’ll understand the traditional aspect and why children do it but he wouldn’t understand decorating or parties or adults dressing up
So he probably wouldn’t dress up unless you forced him but people would still compliment his google shirt which he doesn’t get
Alcohol and too much candy messes with his processing system 
So he can’t really get in on the action
Still likes to see you having fun tho
Host:
He actually really likes Halloween
He can go outside with his bandages on and people won’t freak out
Likes to narrate everyone’s costume
It gives him some practice
“It would appear that Wilford Warfstache has dressed as a cowboy to allow himself to brandish his pistol without being arrested.”
He mostly enjoys handing out candy with you
The kids are always really polite to him and it makes him smile because he’s so used to the cruelty of adults
He’ll narrate on how beautiful/ scary/ creative each kids costume is and it always makes them smile
Not a huge fan of candy but if you happen to be holding some and look away for a second it’s already gone
You try to be mad at him but it’s no use
Bing:
You cannot have candy in this house unless it is being given away immediately
You can try to hide it but he will find it
By Halloween you have to run around town trying to find some candy because everywhere is sold out
Once you do get some you’ll have to keep a very close eye on him
Once the trick- or- treaters have left, though, you both sit down to watch a scary movie and gorge yourself on candy
He’s honestly not great with scary movies
The snacks better not be on his lap because he will jump and they will go flying
He will cling onto you for dear life
At one point you scare him at a scary part of the movie and he literally shrieks
Dark has to come in and make sure no one died but it’s not like you can answer him because you’re doubled over in laughter and Bing is bright red
“That was not cool, bruh.”
Bim:
He would probably have to work late on his show which is kind of sad
He’s filming a live Halloween special so you just watch from the wings
There’s this one segment where the contestants have to recreate couples costumes from household materials
And he drags you onstage to model them with him
You’re super flustered and you tell him you won’t do any like weird slutty costumes
But then you go into the changing room during the commercial break and you have the normal-ish male costume
And you come out and Bim is, of course, dressed like an overly sexy Harley Quinn
He’ll try to compliment you on how great you look while you’re literally crying trying to hold back your laughter
At the end of the show, he determines that you two are the winners
And you’re still out in time to catch the end of a nearby party so it’s overall a good day
Jims:
Reporter Jim is begging you to break out the ouija board
He won’t let up about the spirits and the connection to the otherworld and how the veil is thinning
You eventually just give in and let him mess around with it
You watch next to Cameraman Jim as R. Jim makes you laugh with his over the top movements
Once the demons take over, he practically pounces on you, tickling you nonstop as his form of attack
“Forgive me, my dear Y/N! I couldn’t hold them back! The demons are too powerful! Oh, how will I live with myself?”
You’re in a fit of laughter until you finally manage to shove him off of you
C. Jim laughs as he turns off the camera and helps you up
R. Jim, meanwhile, is pretending to be dead on the floor
“That’s a shame.” “So, you wanna get some coffee?” “Yeah, sure.”
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aroambergris · 4 years
Text
fun chaos things
- I don’t know if it would be cooler for me personally for them to be Helping just Omnious or Actually Just Straight Up Evil
-Travis said that they’re humanoid BUT they’re chaos. my brain immediately jumped to being a figment / concept of chaos but some of u r debating what race they are (which ISNT bad just reminds me I don’t know things)
-so the point here. Do I want chaos messed up and evil designs? Do I want them to be Only taking a human form bc it would scare fitz less? Do I want to draw them messed up and evil? Yes to all of these. Do I also greatly enjoy thinking abt who they could be and a consistent design? Yes. Do I actually have a point? No. Chaos five and a half arms rights.
-back to the evil / not being evil just kinda omnious for what we know currently
-evil ideas. bodysnatched Fitzroy. magic out of control and he can’t do anything fitzroy. chaos just being an Ass. Chaos instilling distrust. having to work together to find out why chaos chose Fitzroy as their weapon and how to stop them. Fitzroy descends into the chaos pit (the gorge) and meets chaos and idk where I was going with this one I think it was like Fitzroy meets g/d and everyone thinks he’s high but no he has to deal with them every time he goes into another half-trance. please someone believe him. he promises hes telling the truth
-evil ideas are SEXY bc. as I have previously stated. messed up and evil chaos designs. this could still apply to a chaos who is not evil except chaos who is evil gains a fraction of an arm every single time fitzroy blinks and he doesn’t want to be impolite and mention it but the room is getting crowded
-but also. Waht If They Were Friends
-I!! Want!! Fitzroy!! To!! Go!! Ham!!
-I want fitzroy to take chaos shopping and everyone else like. Hello Sir? Whos That? And fitzroy is just like oh this is my good friend chaos we met when they gave me my wild and crazy magic :) we are best buds and watch the great British bake-off together. we also talk SHIT about all of you
-I feel like chaos IS kinda trying to do something good which. ok. I mean fitzroy and chaos friends rights
-but also the POSSIBILITY of fitzroy being like AHAHA here’s my messed up brain buddy :) and Argo and the firbolg r like ??? hey dude. do you. do you want help with that and Fitzroy goes NO I WAS AN ALMOST GRADUATE OF CYLDE NITE KNIGHT NIGHT SCHOOL I can handle some MESSED UP MAGIC and then he trips and falls down the stairs
-chaos made him trip btw
-they think it’s funny
-but like .... also we know there is something horribly wrong w the world. with the school. with all of the crashing goals and personal conflicts and everyone out for themselves and their own agendas.
-What If Chaos Could Help With That?
-chaos voice oh fitzroy we are such good friends now.... can you imagine when we first met you were terrified of me!
-Fitzroy: you called me a weapon and told me to go crazy go stupid. also you told me you were disappointed in me and I don’t like hearing that from anyone it makes me feel bad
-chaos: Water Under The Bridge!
-idk I just want a touching scene where chaos wins fitzroy over
-I also want Travis to pull another fun little twist on us that makes me want to run down to where he is a shake him. however I am still in quarantine and I cannot. a shame
-like idk ... Fitzroy and chaos working to save the world .........
-when we finally know everything Travis is plan it’s going to be BRILLIANT ok. absolutely DAZZLING.
-TRAVIS! GIVE ME THE CHAOS CONTENT! I WOULD LIKE TO UNDERSTAND YOUR CAMPAIGN!
that has been chaos thoughts with shiny
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fingerguneds · 4 years
Note
Stozier + going to the movies
im like one hundred percent sure this is not what you wanted and it turns out i dont know what a drabble is so it’s 4.4k long but um..yeah hope you like it 
Richie is tired. Okay, “tired” is actually a litotes — he’s fucking exhausted. Two weeks of pre-holiday classes — two weeks of deadlines, exams and final test, two weeks of nervous breakdowns and panic attacks for all students, and for him, probably the biggest procrastinator in their year, it was a hell ride. Sugar-high, coffee-flavoured satanic ritual.
But in the end, he finished up good, of course he did, because not only he’s a phenomenal fuckup of a person with a pathological time-management crisis, he’s also a smart fucking guy. And now, after his last French exam, it’s only fair that he goes home and tries to recover from his two weeks long sleep deficit, but…no.
The problem is, he promised Bill to accompany him to the new Star Wars film premiere, they got the tickets days ago, and even though Richie feels like throwing up and lying in his puke for a month and crying helplessly about of it, he promised. And it’s not just someone, it’s Bill, his best friend, and the newest part of Star Wars! And maybe, if three Red Bulls and two strawberry-flavoured Fantas didn’t make his heart stop, another large-sized slushie won’t either. His heart’s a strong one, it’s been to hell and back and he can show you vouchers — his student’s record book, thank you very much.
“You’re gonna have diabetes,” Eddie, Bill’s boyfriend, intones, when Richie arrives to their apartment to pick up Bill with a venti gingerbread latte in his right hand. “Feed him something or come up with a good eulogy,” he tells Bill, standing on tiptoe to leave a quick peck on his cheek.
“But your mom told me I shouldn’t ever force myself to eat—” Richie tries, but Bill pushes him out of the apartment with a sigh and closes the door, leaving Eddie’s pink-cheeked and ready-to-fight face behind it.
“Sure you’re not hungry?”
“It’s always like that when you miss a night of your beauty sleep,” Richie grimaces as they get into the elevator. “But we still can grab something to go.”
“McDonalds?”
Richie chuckles. As kids, they always went to McDonalds before films, hiding burgers and fries in their little hats in winter or bringing a special backpack “for illegal purposes only” in summer so the cinema boys wouldn’t kick them out, or worse — make them throw everything away. Now, no one cares whether you bring your own snacks or not, and they actually finish their food while driving, but there’s still a lingering touch of nostalgia to the whole process.
They’re barely on time, because Richie insisted on buying a goddamn slushie, although the line was fucking enormous, and yet they take their seats exactly one minute before upcoming film trailers begin. They’re both excited as hell, the slushie tastes amazing after the first proper meal he’s had since yesterday’s evening (yes, fries, nuggets and a Big Mac is a meal, unlike two Kit Kats and a bag of Doritos), and yet…nothing goes as planned.
After fifteen minutes of the film, Richie starts to zone the fuck out. The food is still warm in his belly, his winter scarf he didn’t pull off is soft and comfortable under his crooked neck, his eyelids feel like the only thing heavier than them is his head. He tries, he really does, he clears his glasses twice, he finishes his slushie with the largest gulps to wake up, he bites the insides of his cheeks, but it’s all pointless.
Thirty minutes into the film, and Richie’s gone.
***
“Richie! Richie, wuw-wake up! Oh my guh-god, I’m so suh-sorry, he—Richie!“
Bill sounds nervous. His childhood stutter comes back when he is. There’s a tug at Richie’s hand he barely registers.
“It’s okay,” someone chuckles curtly right above Richie’s ear. “At least his hair is clean.”
Um, rude.
Well, maybe in a different situation, Richie wouldn’t have thought that it’s rude. Like, it’s always nice when people have clean hair. Yes.
But.
He’s diabolically tired. His nerves are nothing but a strained, stiff line that is in an alarming danger to snap and slap you in the face, his mind is dangerously aggressive, meeting every single thing with feverish hostility, and Richie doesn’t even wonder if it’s him the voice is talking about. Even if it’s not, it’s still rude. He tries to remember when he last washed his hair — this morning, to not die before emerging from his flat. And his shampoo is nice too, it’s his mom’s shampoo, because he has her curls and—
“Richie!”
He straightens up abruptly, as if someone just kicked him in the balls, eyes still blurry, like a newborn bird’s.
“Ye.”
Someone starts laughing.
“He sounds like that vine.”
Richie blinks and turns to his left, still not quite conscious of the situation, yet quite aware that this someone’s laughing at him.
The first boy he sees sits one seat away from Richie, but he’s leaning forward, elbows on knees, face on the palms of his hands. He’s the one who said about the vine (Richie’s almost one hundred percent sure he knows which vine), and although Richie feels very attacked, he has to admit, the boy’s cute. He has dark skin, dark eyes, jawline to kill (and to die) for, and his smile is so wide and genuinely nice that it would be a shame to get mad at the owner.
Fuck this guy, he’s educated on vines and he’s hot. If it wasn’t for the “basically a ray of sunshine” part, Richie would fall.
And then there’s the asshole. He opens his mouth again.
“The peanut baby vine?” Richie looks at the mop of curly dark-blond hair, currently hiding the said asshole’s face as he turns to look at the first guy, and Richie’s offended diva is back. He may be a fuckup, but no one has a right to say anything about his hair with a voice like this. Even if it’s greasy as fuck, knotty and smells like used oil, like everyone’s hair smells after visiting places where kitchens are inside the main room and they just keep frying the shit out of food right in front of you; even then, no one can say shit about his hair, even—
“Yeah, that one,” the dark-skinned guy laughs again, and the curly asshole turns to face Richie.
No one can say shit about Richie’s hair, even if they own Cupid’s face. No joke, the guy—pardon, the motherfucker looks like an epitome of Cupid from the Psyche myth (not the fat winged baby). Richie quickly gets mad at himself for paying this much attention to the guy, but know your enemy, right? Know your enemy — their hair dark blond hair, like fields of rye in November, their plump pale lips and pale, although with a warm undertone, skin with an almost invisible constellation of freckles on the wings of his nose, their eyes and their dark, muddy colour Richie can’t really identify in the poor lighting of the auditorium. They’re bright with joy and fox-like curiosity, yet insolent and a little arrogant; daring.
Seriously, do people have to be this pretty? One is hot, like an Abercrombie model you see once and think of for days, the second one is not hot but really, really attractive, like someone who would make a fortune with this intense stare, peeling you off right there, where you’ve had a misfortune to capitulate.
“Rich,” he feels Bill’s large hand on his shoulder, still participating in this ugly staring competition with the curly one. “Guys, we’re sorry ag-again, huh-he’s really tired and doesn’t cuh-control himself.”
Richie blinks and frowns, ready to explode right into Bill’s face, but he cuts him off.
“Come on, Richie, we gotta go.”
They stand up, Richie taking his empty slurpie glass in one hand and looking at the guys again. Everything feels like a dream, his brain is too heavy, his legs disobey, his hands don’t feel like they belong to him.
“ ‘s alright, no big deal,” the first boy says again with the gentlest glimmer to his eyes and the loveliest smile, but Richie…Richie’s tired and bitter and…stupid.
“Yeah, you’re probably used to people leaving after waking up with you,” he says, looking directly into the curly one’s eyes. “Not you, you’re cool,” he winks quickly at his friend, as Bill starts swearing quietly and pulling Richie towards the door.
“Dude,” he says, when they both emerge from the cinema doors, a cig already in his fingers. He offers his pack to Richie without a word.
They smoke in silence, walking towards Richie’s car, and Richie is the one to break it.
“Did I really fall asleep on him?”
Bill chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“Yes you did. I didn’t notice until the lights were on.”
“Surprised he didn’t say anything,” Richie mutters, turning the car key.
“You’re too hard on the guy,” Bill huffs out, lips still wearing a lopsided grin. “He didn’t say anything—“
“Yes he did, I heard what he said about my hair, it’s—“
“Rich,” Bill sighs, but he’s not in the least bit mad or disapproving. Bill has always been a keeper of the wonderful gift of understanding. “He said you weren’t a bother and that he’s glad your hair’s not greasy. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, you’re just tired and tensed, and take things too personally. You just need a rest. C’mon, want me to drive you home? I’ll catch a bus to mine, no problem.”
***
The next four days Richie spends at home, sleeping and eating. Sleeping, eating, watching Netflix, thinking about the curly boy, sometimes. Actually, the memory of that day quickly turns into something embarrassing for Richie, something he knows that will make his cheeks grow hot and pink even years later. He was really, really rude to the guy, rude for nothing, and the worst part of the situation is — he can’t apologize. And! The worst-worst part is that the second-to-worst part is — the boy was absolutely gorg dot com. What an unfortunate turn of events: Richie can’t even suck his dick as an apology. Or just suck his dick. Whatever, he’d find a way to make it up to the boy, he’s talented with all parts of his body.
But it’s like falling in love with someone you saw on a train or in line at grocery store. Or maybe slightly worse, because Richie manage to fall fucking asleep on the guy, but still — a crush, doomed to picturesque longing and a quiet little death. It’s all about the masochistic nature of humankind — Richie concludes bitterly to himself, because although he’s a certificated Trashmouth, there’s a pathologically romanticistic heart under all these layers of shit.
No, seriously. He’s too much for everyone, even for himself. Especially for himself.
But enough with this shit, Richie decides the moment next, because his mood swings are the only thing wilder than his imagination. C’est la vie, you fuck up and you keep going until you fuck up again. Maybe there is a lesson he can learn, like to keep his mouth shut when he’s tired or, um, to do his homework in time and not traumatize himself…but it’s Richie. He never learns.
He falls asleep on his couch again, trying to decide what he wants to eat after waking up. God only knows why his actual last thought is so, what the curly boy smelled like?
***
Richie doesn’t remember the last time he’s been to a library. He’s always felt that a book should belong to him for being able to read it comfortably, but when you’re assigned to write a research on Andrei Tarkovskiy’s connection with slavic symbolism…not many books you can find in a regular American bookshop down the street.
The library is huge. The entrance is decorated with ionic columns and the door is so massive Richie barely manages to open it. Inside, it’s just as impressive, with the highest ceilings he’s ever seen and beautiful bookcases and tables of dark wood, situated under big thick windows. Richie undoes his scarf and immediately walks towards the service desk, knowing for sure there’s no way he’ll manage to find anything without help. His steps are loud in the monumental silence of this place.
“Uh, hi?” he says, as quietly as he can, and the boy behind the desk looks up at him and smiles politely.
“Good afternoon. How can I help you?”
“Well,” Richie chuckles, trying to hope for the best. “Do you happen to know any books related to slavic symbolism in Soviet cinematography, Andrei Tarkovskiy’s specifically?”
The boy arches his eyebrows. Richie smiles unsurely and gets ready to shrug it off and maybe convince his lecturer to change his topic of research.
“I’ll have to be honest, I have no idea how to help you, sir, but my colleague, who is currently in the section number eight is probably more educated on this matter.”
“Oh, okay,” Richie nods, considering to leave the place right now, but the boy’s softest, a little apologetic smile decide for him.
“It’s to the left, straight up until you see the number.”
“Thank you very much,” Richie tells him and turns towards the rows of bookcases.
12, 11, 10, 9…here it is.
The amount of books is almost frightening. The bookshelves are no less than two and a half meters tall, and Richie immediately imagines one of these things crashing epically right on his head. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, then turns behind the number Eight.
Five or more bookcases, forming some kind of a wall. In a couple of steps from where Richie’s standing, leaning on one of them, there’s a ladder, and on the ladder, one and a half meters above the floor, there’s a boy with a couple of books in his hands. Richie, even in glasses, can’t really see his face, because the light doesn’t reach it.
“Hi,” the boy speaks up first, although Richie decides to wait until he’s finished. It’s like, dangerous. The whole construction looks…unsafe. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, hello, uh, the boy at the desk told me you could help me to find some resources on slavic symbolism in Andrei Tarkovskiy’s films?”
Richie doesn’t notice that he’s holding his breath. The boy’s hands don’t stop, they don’t even flinch, he surely keeps placing the books one by one to where they belong. They’re both silent for a long minute.
“I’m not sure I can help you to find something with both Andrei Tarkovskiy and slavic symbolism, but you could look through slavic symbolism analysis in Russian art in general and the language of Andrei Tarkovskiy’s separately.”
Motherfucker.
“Oh wow, that would actually—“
“Also on the Internet there are a lot of articles on what inspired Tarkovskiy’s methods, if I were you I’d check them out as well.”
The last two books stay tucked under his arm, and that is when he begins to climb down.
“God, lemme help you,” Richie’s heart trembles and starts beating faster at the sight of how tremendously dangerous the boy’s position looks, and he rushes towards the ladder.
“I’m alri—“ the boy turns his head to look at Richie, and when their eyes meet and the spark of recognition explodes between them, two things happen at once: first, Richie’s heart stops, and second, the boy falls down the ladder.
“Bloody fuck,” Richie breathes out, already on his knees beside the boy’s sprawled body. It’s him, of course it’s him, his curly hair, pale freckles on heart-shaped face, but now it’s all red, wearing a grimace of breathless pain. Richie’s so shocked he doesn’t know what to do. The boy turns to lay on his back and a hard moan escapes his lips.
“Oh God, oh fuck, what the—“
“Shut up,” the boy manages to say, chest trembling from the efforts to control his breath. “Shut up and call the—“
“Stan! Jesus, what happened!?”
The other boy is now here too, Richie sees him with the corner of his eye. He looks back though, quickly inspecting the boy’s—Stan’s body.
“What does it look like,” he mocks, cheeks darker than a pomegranate. If Richie wasn’t so terrified, he would appreciate this. Like, a lot. “Call an ambulance, quick, I think my collarbone is broken.”
“Oh my God,” Richie and the other boy mutter in unison, and Stan rolls his eyes.
“Well unfortunately, it’s not my fucking neck, so I’m kind of in pain right now and would really appreciate—“
“God, yes, sorry, yes.”
Richie too pulls out his phone, hands shaking, while Stan closes his eyes and tries to remain unmoving. There’s not much Richie can do, but it’s still something. The other boy’s panicked voice is explaining something in the background. Every ring lasts forever, and when Eddie finally picks the phone, Richie’s sure he almost had a heart attack. Twice.
“Eds? Hi, listen, what do I do if someone breaks their collarbone?”
He accidentally catches Stan’s unreadable stare and looks away, heart already on fire.
“What? Richie, what the fuck, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m just—“
“Did anyone break their collarbone?”
“Well it looks like this, yeah.”
“Did you call—“
“Yeah, but—“
“Okay, fuck, okay, most importantly, do not try to move the body until they arrive, it’s really fucking important, got it? Let them stay where they are, immobilize the shoulders completely, also—do you have ice there?”
“Do you—“ Richie turns to the other boy, but he’s still on the phone, so he has to ask Stan. “Do you have ice?”
Stan blinks, and for the first time, Richie notices that he’s balancing his head above the floor. It’s clear lowering it hurts him. Oh, and his pride is too hard-to-swallow to ask for help. It’s hot.
“Yes, I think we do.”
“Yeah, we do,” Richie repeats and moves awkwardly on his knees to help Stan keep his head up. Stan freezes for a second, but then blinks and relaxes into Richie’s hands.
“Use it for pain, you can give them an ibuprofen too, but don’t let them move, Richie, okay!? Now tell me what the fuck—“
“Later, Eds, thanks a lot, bye,” Richie breaths out as fast as he can and focuses on Stan.
Even upside down, he looks pretty.
Fuck.
Richie, shut the hell up, you’ll think about this later, you sick fuck.
Stan looks him in the eye, and Richie sees that those irises are brown. They’re bright with accidental tears, framed with dark thick lashes, and the colour is not exactly brown, more like greenish-brown, like pine tree needles three weeks after Christmas.
“You shouldn’t move,” Richie says, back to reality. “You shouldn’t move, we need ice and you’re allowed to take an ibuprofen.”
“They’re gonna be here in ten minutes,” the other boy finally joins them, face as red as Stan’s. Actually, even worse: red is his neck and probably his shoulders are too.
“Could you bring me some ice? And a glass of water with an ibuprofen?” Stan asks him, and Richie’s finally calmed down enough to notice how calm Stan is, although the situation is…literally the craziest he’s ever been in. He moves his leg to support his arm holding Stan’s head. Fuck, those curls are soft. Not like Richie’s, Richie’s are soft too, but Stan’s are in thicker rings, curling tenderly around Richie’s pale fingers, licking the boy’s unhealthily pale sweaty forehead.
“Like what you see?” Richie hears Stan’s voice and meets his intense gaze again. There is this daring glimmer to his eyes again, and Richie willingly accepts it.
“Dude, stop,” he chuckles weakly, licking his lips. “ You know I’m already in love.”
Despite their position, Stan huffs, but then his face skews of pain.
“Shh,” Richie winces and moves his fingers in an instinctive soothing motion. “You’re gonna be fine soon.”
“It’s not that bad, just a collarbone. Happens to people all the time.”
“At least it didn’t break through your skin,” Richie blurts out and regrets it immediately, cheeks flaming up.
But then, Stan chuckles. There’s a dimple in one of his cheeks, the left one. Richie’s almost sure his eyes are fully heart-shaped by now.
“Here,” the other librarian boy rushes up to them with what looks like a towel, stuffed with ice cubes, and a glass of water.
He puts a pill in Stan’s lips and lets him drink carefully, then passes Richie the towel.
“Tell me where,” Richie murmurs, and despite how fucked up the situation actually is, this feels oddly intimate. He lowers the towel and feels how more tensed Stan grows.
“A bit—yeah,” he breathes out, and Richie presses down a little.
“Told you you should’ve taken a lunch break,” the librarian guy mumbles softly, and for a moment Richie thinks he’s gonna cry.
Stan rolls his eyes. Richie keeps holding. Somewhere near the door bursts open.
***
“This shit’s surreal,” Bill says after a long pause, when Richie calls him from the hospital an hour later. “I don’t believe this.”
“Fair enough,” Richie nods to himself, inspecting his shoes. “And yet.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Probably something stupid,” Richie hears Eddie’s voice and grins.
“You’re absolutely correct, Edward.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” comes an answer, and Richie thanks him once again for helping out.
“Trust me, I was ten times worse.”
“It’s actually unbelievable,” Bill says again, and Richie knows the face he’s probably wearing at the moment: blue eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest bit, one corner of his lips crooked a little. “If it’s not fate, I don’t know what it is.”
“Ooooow,” Richie and Eddie fondly mock him in unison, and Richie knows for sure someone’s gonna get some when he hangs up. “Don’t get too emotional, Big Bill, Edster likes it rough, just like his mom.”
“Oh for fuck’s—“ Eddie’s scandalized howl is the last thing he hears before the line goes silent, and he’s alone again, with the most shit-eating smirk on his face.
The other librarian boy — Ben, he learned when the ambulance arrived — stayed at the library, and Richie was secretly happy to accompany Stan to the hospital alone, although he insisted a couple of times that Richie doesn’t need to.
Richie’s stomach growls and he needs a fag asap, but there’s no way he’s missing Stan. God only knows when he’s at the library again, and Richie needs…Richie needs to talk.
And when Stan, with a sling supporting his hand, walks out of the emergency room, Richie stands up, not being able to help a smile forming on his face.
“Don’t you have other things to do?” Stan asks him, but he’s not annoyed. He looks tired and disheveled, but still calm, and Richie notices that they’re both the same height. Stan’s all legs though, all legs and curls.
“You’re the most important one on the list,” Richie answers automatically, and Stan purses his lips, clearly unimpressed. His eyes glimmer brighter, though. “Hungry?”
Stan graciously arches his dark eyebrow.
“Are you—“ he cuts himself off, clearly thinking it’s a bad idea, but when Richie keeps waiting (politely, although he’s nervous as fuck, because hello to today’s third heart attack), he licks his lips and starts again. “Are you trying to ask me out?”
“Maybe?” thank God his voice sounds much, much more confident than he, in fact, is.
Richie probably needs to get comfortable with Stan needing a moment of silence to think good. Unlike other people that start…to ramble.
“Sorry, I’m just used to people leaving after waking up with me.”
Richie’s jaw hits the floor harder than that meteor hit the Earth and fucked up the dinosaurs. Go off, Stan the Man, go the fuck off.
And he doesn’t even look proud of himself. It’s as casual for him as it is for Richie to tell your dad a mom joke. For Heaven’s sake, who is this guy?
“Well,” Richie squeaks, feeling that his body is on again, as if something blew his fuse for a moment. “It’s not happening any time soon, pretty boy,” he points at Stan’s sling, “so I thought maybe I could try something different.”
“Like what?” he’s smiling now. Legit.
“A dinner? A couple of them? Maybe films? Although I’ll have to be careful with this one, your shoulders are fragile now.”
Stan’s smile becomes even wider as Richie continues to ramble, and although it’s not the brightest and sunniest smile he’s ever seen, it sure feels like the most precious one. It feels like a reward.
It still feels like the most precious reward, weeks later, when they finally wake up together and Richie only leaves to pee and to make them a coffee. Months later, when Richie lets his hand slide down Stan’s shoulder and feels the slightest crook to his collarbone with the tips of his fingers. Years later, after some shitty horror film about some monster clown who eats kids, when he proposes in that empty cinema auditorium, in those exact seats.
Stan still needs a minute to think good, but his burning, incandescent smile says everything Richie needs to know.
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ghost-chance · 4 years
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Fanfiction Recommendation: “Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous” by MoofyKitten
Title: Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous Author: MoofyKitten on AO3/FFN/Wattpad Fandom: BNHA/My Hero Academia Rating: M/MA for a reason. (Detailed sex in over half the posted chapters. Perv away only if you’re of age!) Pairing(s): Fat Gum [Toyomitsu Taishirou] / OFC Found on: AO3
Deets Expect some light spoilers and a mini-rant.
I am an unrepentant fanfiction addict; this is no secret. There are fics I read to wind down after a rough day, fics I read to put myself to sleep in hopes of pleasant dreams, and fics I read to tear my hear into teeny tiny fragments then build it back again better than before. THEN there are fics that don’t fit the mold – the kind that I become so invested in that I physically cannot put off reading that update. THIS, my lovelies, is one of THOSE fics, and it’s earned that place from the early chapters. This story has almost everything I need from a fanfiction, and I have a feeling the rest is just around the corner.
Let’s get the basics out of the way.
The Spelling, grammar, and punctuation are all excellent – I have yet to notice a single error, so either the author and her betas are a force to be reckoned with or I’m just getting so sucked into the story an elephant could sit on me and I’d never notice. The formatting is effective and easy to follow, and the chapters have all been of a nice meaty length, perfect for plowing through in a single sitting only to realize you missed a meal and it’s time for bed and your brain is hopelessly lost in ship-land daydreaming about what’s up next. ...wait, that’s just me? My bad.
Syntax – This one requires an entire section of its own. The fact that I’m having to actually think about how well the author’s varying their syntax says they’re effing nailing it. If a story’s syntax is at all static or the sentence even the slightest bit predictable, it’s easy enough for me to recall it because I’m mentally rearranging the bits that irk or don’t impress me as I read. I can’t even get through a bleepin’ news article or an online recipe without itching to push what I’m reading up to the standards my professors held. It sounds harsh, I know, but please take  my word for it when I say I’m not criticizing anyone. Suffice it to say, if my classes did anything, they made editing so instinctive I can’t turn it off. Confession: I have never found myself rearranging a single phrase in this masterpiece. Arguing with the characters? Encouraging the characters? Begging, pleading, and berating the characters for breaking my heart time and time again by stopping just short of the sugary fluff I can just smell right around the corner? Oh, Hell yes. I’ve done all of that and more, but I’ve never found myself with the urge to grab my red pen and strike out or scooch even a single word.
Something that strikes me about this story above others I’ve given the same rating (Spoiler: there are VERY FEW!) is the sheer variety of the scenes and environments. Sounds silly? Probably, but romances often develop a certain amount of location stagnation, and I know from personal experience how difficult it can be to bust through those patterns. (I mean, the majority of “A New Lease on Life” takes place in the Lair in some room, most commonly a bedroom, the lab, or the kitchen.) This story takes the couple off of familiar and ‘safe’ turf like homes and offices and drags them through countless other places without regard for their sense of comfort. Each scene feels real and multi-dimensional and directly or indirectly influences the characters’ behavior and reactions. It’s awesome. That’s a sign the author has done her people-watching!
Now, about that OC. I’ll readily admit, in the first chapter, I had my reservations. At first glance she seemed shallow, obsessed with appearances and her own view of the world, and – strange as it may sound – too skinny and too attractive. Yes, there’s some personal bias involved there, but the majority was practical rather than emotional. BUT! Because the writer of this story is the same who unleashed the beautiful Kacchako torment Hot-Headed upon me without a single breath of remorse, I gave Aiko a chance. Sure enough, my first impressions were entirely incorrect. The things that bothered me about Aiko? They all had explanation or purpose, and she’s turned out to be a pretty well-fleshed out character...pun intended. As the story progresses we’re seeing sides of her that I hoped for but didn’t expect and each chapter leaves me wondering what we’ll learn next.
Romantic connection. First word: “OOFTA.” The second word, I’d spell out, but it’s a shrill, wordless, begging whine that I cannot translate into English for the life of me. This pairing starts without any sort of romantic connection; it skips straight to the shenanigans and leaves hope that the snugglebunnies will follow eventually. Friends…if you’ve read any of my writing before, you’ll know that I. LIVE. For. The. FLUFF. The awkward mush, the sweaty palms, the am-I-gonna-barf-or-do-I-have-a-crush, the absolutely tooth-rotting sweetness capable of sending a reader headlong into diabetes with a dopey grin and heart eyes - they’re my crack and I love them. This story started with no fluff but it’s been slowly developing in the background. It’s an entirely new situation for me! I feel like I’ve gotten used to eating my dessert first then digging into an equally sweet dinner without a moment to cleanse my palate. This story? It’s like gorging on smoky, meaty St. Louie barbecue for weeks on end with literally just a smear of something sweet as an afterthought. Mind. Frackin’. BLOWN. It turns out I’m more masochistic as a reader than I ever suspected.
Another relationship I want to cover is the building friendship between Aiko and Fat Gum – because nope, she has not managed to mentally connect the half-starved Taishiro she’s climbing like a tree with the big-and-beautiful Fat Gum who owns the agency. Yep. She thinks she’s boning Fat’s beefy little brother. It’d be funny if my heart wasn’t whining for fluff. While frustrating to fluff-starved readers, Aiko not knowing the beefcake and the brother are one and the same provides an intriguing and natural way for her to build an actual relationship with him. This means none of the fetishistic bullarkey rampant in other stories pairing plus-sized male characters with OCs.
What sort of fetishistic bullarkey am I talking about? To name a handful: I love you so lose weight. I love you because you’re big. I’m fat too so it’s okay if we’re together. Blatant fat-fetish disguised as romance. Fat character’s life absolutely revolves around food and it’s gross/nvm it’s okay. Lastly, OC’s only chance at being loved by fat character is feeding them. Maybe to thin folks those don’t sound negative but to those of us who fit the description? NOPE. These don’t make healthy relationships. Using these can turn a well-meaning pairing toxic and frankly, it tends to piss off those of us who – GASP! - accept ourselves no matter our size. These...tropes, let’s call them, have made me hesitant to even try fiction involving plus sized male characters because I’ve been let down so many times. Finding plus sized female characters is easy, especially OCs, but appreciation for the chonky bois isn’t nearly as common. They need love too, dammit!
Ahem. Rant over.
As mentioned before, I ain’t seen any of that crap in this story. This author is treating Fat Gum like she would any other character instead of focusing on the fat. I wish with all my heart that more authors were capable of (and willing to) do the same with Fat Gum, and with other plus sized male characters. I can’t even put into words how much it means to me that she’s doing such a fantastic job portraying a character type that so many writers bungle without ever realizing it. I’ve needed this story my entire life and never realized it wasn’t there; I shudder to think of how long I might have been waiting for it if this author never found the inspiration to do so.
If I don’t shut up now, I fear I never will. I love this story that much. Moving on.
Warnings
Explicit sexual content – do NOT read this around your family unless you have a stronger will than I and can do so without creeping them out. (According to my husband, when I read smut I “look like a demented vulture staring down at a half-flattened ‘possum waiting for it to take its last breath,” complete with hunched shoulders and heavy breathing. Flattering, I know.) The smut scenes, while not my usual cuppa tea, wreck. My brain? Broke. Chapter four’s budding romance? It’s goin’ on my headstone ‘cuz I’m dead.
There are mentions of human trafficking and the future may include more about it. Slut-shaming comes up a few times because men are assholes and asshole exes are the ultimate assholes. Situational fat-shaming and lack of body confidence come up as Aiko comes to recognize Fat Gum for who he is instead of what he is; on the other end of the tag, Fat is also doing a lot of it to himself even when it isn’t spelled out. You can see it behind some of his reasoning in his POV chapters and since the writer is kickass at portraying thoughts and feelings without ever breaking out of restricted POV, you can also see hints in other chapters. That said, if the shaming was really bad without any redeeming purpose, I’d have noped my way right out’a that fic and never looked back. It has a purpose, and it’s not that bad. Give it a chance.
Recommendation level
This story lacks purple prose and excessive fluff, and I haven’t seen any signs of the pop culture, literary, and music references I love so dearly, but the rating remains the same:
Ten. Out. of. Farking. TEN!
YES! I’ve finally found another 10/10!!! A quick reminder for anyone who’s managed to not see my other reading recc posts, I don’t even need both hands to count off all the 10/10s I’ve read. Congratulations, Ms. MoofyKitten – your story rocks my world and I have an addiction I do not care to shake!
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dxfiedfxte-a · 4 years
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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Meme.
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Mun & Muse
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fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.
tagged by:  Stolen from: @niflheimqueen​​ tagging:  @pinkheartedfool​, @divinesilverlove​ @delusorydetective​ @rock-you-like-a-hurricxne​ @foolishwinds​ @chibitantei​ @apocalypsxmaidxn​ @mcmcntomorii​​ and everyone else who hasn’t yet! You have been tagged! 
MY MUSE IS:   canon / oc / au / slightly canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated.
IS YOUR CHARACTER POPULAR IN THE FANDOM?   YES? / NO.
IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED HOT™ IN THE FANDOM?   YES / NO / IDK. (Have you seen his charm!! PLUS HE’S A RANDOM FOODAHOLIC DORK X3 and be weirdly cute in his own way :3  If you don’t believe me. wait until he Reveals His Right Eye)
IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED STRONG IN THE FANDOM?   YES / NO / IDK.  (Here’s the thing with that. It really depends if someone likes him as an MC. I’m sure their are probably others out there who may prefer Yu Narukami as a better Protag, or Akira the new P5 protag. So it depends on the person. But for the most part, I’d like to think he’s pretty well widely enough known in the fandom as the P3 Blue-Emo-Jesus who saved the world x3)
ARE THEY UNDERRATED?   YES / NO / IDK. (In terms of having his own personality, maybe a little bit? Since he’s only been able to express his own personality in the few spin off games we got for P3. Yu has been able too more, but for a while he wasn’t able to until Persona Q(P4 Side) and until the movie and now Dancing In Moonlight as well as Persona Q 2. But his personality in the P3 Manga if definitely underrated in my opinion, not too many people talk about the Manga)
WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN STORY?   YES / NO
WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN CHARACTER?   YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG./
ARE THEY WIDELY KNOWN IN THEIR WORLD?   YES / NO. (In my AU Main verse, he’s a famous Paranormal Investigator with his own show, so yes in my AU verse. Tho popularity level depends on verse, Main verse its his first season and he only just blew up. In my P5 Verse its 5 years after P4AU so he would be in his 4th season by then and only then be widely known)
HOW’S THEIR REPUTATION?   GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. (As a Paranormal Investigator, all his successful cases have gave him a very good rep within the Ghost Hunting community, it was thanks to his credibility how he was able ro get a 
tv contract deal. In P3 he has a great rep with his friends as their reliable leader and friend, but a not so good rep at school too many dates.. xD nice one Minato  )
HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?   —  (Because I started to RP Minato when there’s wasn’t much games where he didn’t have his personality shown yet(2015)   I based him off more from the Manga’s interpretation of him, But now canon wise in terms of Personality, I still tend to use mostly his Manga personality, but now I’ve added a few small tidd-bits of how he is in the movie and how he is depicted in both PQ’s as well as Dancing In Moonlight.)
SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting 
in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —    (Oh boy here we go. Minato is a food loving and very random dork who tends to be quiet and stoic 88% of the time, but he’s very kind, he always puts his friends before himself, he tries his very best to be the best leader he can possibly be and he is an all around easy person to get along with, just expect him to zone out here and there, to sometimes be very weird, VERY random. And expect him to randomly start snacking a lot x3 )
Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).                      (He can sometimes have a tendency to overthink things waaayyyy too much and if it’s really eating at him a lot, it will permanently plague the back of his mind. He can sometimes be lazy, but its a habit he’s trying to break. If he’s really super hungry, he will gorge and when he gorges, his tables manners are absolutely terrible XD )
WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?   —  (I guess it was how I saw him when   I read the Manga. I played P3 FES first, then after beating it, I wanted to read the manga as soon as I found out about it. I also think it was the fact he dies and seeing how his friends grew up without him, it made me really want to see what it would be like if he survived, I guess I felt his death at the end of the game was just a real shame, I suppose I thought he would have been a great character to bring back in future Persona games, I understand the reason for his death and I have nothing against it. It was just that thought I had of “Man Minato could have been so much more if he survived” that drove me to pick him up )
WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?   —  (Well, I’ve been in the Persona fandom for 5 years now. Before when I came back, I wasn’t getting many rp’s. But ever since I came back and found an active Fuuka(MinaFuu is a ship I rarely got to rp) so that started it back up, and then it was seeing all these familiar faces(Or blogs in this case xD) come back, my motivation has been through the roof. So I guess the revival of the fandom and the wonderful people of the Persona community has fueled my fire and it keeps on burning for more!)
Some more personal questions for the mun.
Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.
DO YOU THINK YOU GIVE YOUR CHARACTER JUSTICE?   YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? (I think so, I’ve Rp’d him for 5 years now, I’d like to think I know him inside and out?)
DO YOU FREQUENTLY WRITE HEADCANONS?   YES / NO / SORT OF? (When the motivation or idea’s are there then yeah I totally do)
DO YOU SOMETIMES WRITE DRABBLES?   YES / NO (I definitely do, not as many as I’d like to tho, but when the idea comes to mind that you just can’t express in an rp with someone else, then its best in drabble form.)
DO YOU THINK A LOT ABOUT YOUR MUSE DURING THE DAY?   YES / NO           (I’m a very musical person myself just like Minato so every time I jam I do and I’m always jammin ;3)
ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR PORTRAYAL?   YES / NO / SORT OF?
ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR WRITING?   YES / NO / A LITTLE BIT. (In the beginning I wasn’t, but I kept at it and eventually I built up enough confidence to really make him soar. The thing with Minato is since Persona protags are silent and the game lets you make up his personality. But since I incorporate him more from the Manga I try to really channel that version of him. I’ve had a few people tell me they like my portrayal. So I must be doing something right?)
ARE YOU A SENSITIVE PERSON?   YES / NO. / SORTA. (tbh I’m more sensitive when it comes to my friends or family. Most times I’m pretty level headed when it comes to myself, nowadyas anyway.)
DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?   —  (For the most part yes and I don’t usually let any negativity get to me.  But if someone doesn’t like my portrayal for some reason then you’re welcome to unfollow me. Maybe I’m not the Minato for you then?)
DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU TO EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?   — (DEF I love any questions I get so please def ask me stuff if you are curious.)
IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY? — (Yes, just so I can get a better idea of the flaws it may have, then I can better construct it if I see it as a valid reason for possibly not working. If I don’t see any problem with it then it’s still staying )
IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?   —  (If my portrayal doesn’t fit your idea of Minato then perhaps I’m not the Minato for you and the unfollow button is always there. No harm done really. )
IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT? — (Hey man, just don’t try and kill my vibe by cutting down my muse right in front of me and we’re good. Of course there is always the unfollow button. ) 
ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?   —  (Totally, I make quite a few sometimes, if it ever bothers you, please let me know kindly and I’ll have no problem fixing it, But if it doesn’t bug ya the we good. )
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN? — (I like to think so, I used to be pretty shy on here, but after 5 years on here I’m chill with pretty much everything. ) 
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lonestarbabe · 4 years
Text
Good Morning and Good Night
(AO3)
Marjan wakes up to an empty stomach, and for just that split second, she is at ease. It is the end of July, and the Texas heat is dense in the air, humid and heavy, pinning her down in her bed even though the emptiness makes her feel so light that she could float away. She stays in bed for a while because the second she gets out, the fury of her day will begin. Her thoughts will begin to create a vortex in her brain, and by noon, Marjan will be completely lost in it, caught in the disorienting cycling of her daily life. When Marjan is in bed, she doesn’t have to think about breakfast, lunch, or dinner. She can pretend that she’s still asleep for just a half hour more before the thoughts come pounding into her brain whether she wants them to or not.
Eventually, as the sun moves further into the pale sky, Marjan knows she can’t keep prolonging the inevitable. The heaviness of the lie she is living hits Marjan as she swings her body into a sitting position and dangles her legs over the side of the bed. Everyone she knows thinks that she is a different person because this illness she has is one that, for the most part, goes unnoticed. She aches. She suffers, but it’s not something that she shares with anyone, and this thing that is such a big part of her life goes so unknown. Her real personality cannot even shine through.
The first word that many people use to describe Marjan is confident, and it’s a good defense. The sleek veneer of confidence eases people’s minds. They think that nothing can be wrong because as far as they’re aware, she’s got it all together. She seems so self-assured and driven, and in some areas of her life, she is, but in others, she’s paralyzed by the fear that she will never be good enough. Even so, she doesn’t want anyone to see that fear because if they did, they’d know how majorly her life is crumbling. Having a crumbling life is so far from perfect that she doesn’t even like to think about it.
It’s funny to Marjan that her problem is so bodily focused because she’s never been the kind of girl who cared that much about what she looked like. She liked fashion well enough. Make up could be fun, but what she wore and how she did up her face didn’t have anything to do with wanting to look pretty. They were just cool ways of expressing herself. But eating disorders weren’t about vanity, and as silly as it may sound, her eating disorder doesn’t have that much to do with her body. I don’t care what I look like. My body is just like a canvas. I treat it the way I do to express how I’m feeling inside.
Marjan heads down the hall and heads straight to the bathroom. She goes to the bathroom before she weighs herself because that 0.6 pound difference matters to her. She steps on the scale, and it fills her with dread to see the red numbers flicker to a weight that was .2 pounds heavier than her goal for that day. In the grand scheme of things, .2 pounds was nothing, but it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like a failure and the worst kind of start to the day.
She skips breakfast because ever since she was a kid, she’s convinced herself that breakfast makes her feel sick, so she can’t eat it. It had been something her mom said once and Marjan had warped it to her own harmful purposes. She’d parroted her mother’s words, and they’d commiserated over the shared feeling of queasiness in the morning, but really, Marjan never felt sick in the morning. She just didn’t want to eat. Still doesn’t want to eat, and it’s been going on so long that she doubts she’ll ever want to eat. She does eat, of course. People have to eat, but she puts it off as much as she can.
Marjan gets ready for work, and she tries not to look at her body because if her eyes linger on any feature too long, she’ll get distracted, and she can’t be late for her shift. She hurries up and puts on her uniform, relieved that she never has to decide what to wear to work. She just chooses her uniform pieces and puts them together. She has more choices to make when she puts on her hijab, but those choices aren’t the same. They’re the kind of choices that make her feel comfortable with herself, so she puts her hijab on easily.
Work progresses easily. They have a few calls, but nothing too major happens. Not everyday is jam packed with action, and that’s a good thing. Marjan prays to have days like this when no major disasters happen. The biggest disaster that happens is lunch, which comes too quickly for Marjan’s liking. She chooses not to eat anything while the others get out their lunches and begin to eat them like normal people do. Marjan is not normal.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” T.K. asks as they sit at the table. If anyone sees beyond Marjan’s lies, it’s him. Marjan sees a lot of herself in T.K. They’re both good at acting like everything’s fine. They distract people with what’s really going on with levity and so many smiles. She’s not sure what he knows, but the way that he looks at her sometimes sets her on edge. Maybe she’s just being paranoid, but he’s the only one who ever looks like he doesn’t buy her bullshit excuses. Even Paul seems to not question her too much.
Most days, she tries to eat when she’s around people so that they don’t get suspicious, but every so often, she can’t help but try to get away with it, and she’s found that most people don’t go straight from “she’s not eating a meal” to “eating disorder.” For the most part, as long as they see her eat, they assume that she’s fine because people with eating disorders didn’t eat right? They just breathed in the air and wasted away as their bodies got absolutely no nutrition. Marjan knew she had a problem, but it was hard to take it seriously when she did eat. She ate plenty, in fact, but she never ate without agonizing over it. Eating didn’t feel natural or good for her, but she did do it. So, no one expected that there was a problem.
Marjan smiles. She can’t help it. It’s her automatic response to almost any feeling. “I overdid it at chipotle last night.” Well, technically, she’d overdid two nights before, but she is still trying to make up for her binge by eating as little food as possible.
“That was last night. This is today,” T.K. says.
“I’m okay, really. I’ll have a snack bar in a bit.” She won’t but they don’t have to know that. T.K. looks worried, but he doesn’t say anything more, and for that, Marjan is relieved. She can avoid this one last meal. She he’ll have to have dinner because skipping that will look disordered, but missing lunch is good.
Dinner. Marjan tries not to think of dinner as she heads home, feeling exhausted after her shift. It’s morning now, and the sun is already up, shining in her eyes with too much intensity. But she can’t stop thinking about dinner, even though it was over twelve hours prior. She hadn’t eaten a lot, but she had eaten too much, and now, she figures, she might as well not stop. She’s never going to lose weight. She’s already blown her diet, so now, she might as well just eat everything in sight because what’s the point of moderation? She’s either starving or gorging herself, and there’s no in between.
She stops at the store, and as she checks out her pile of junk food. She goes home, and she sits on the floor, all her food surrounding her in a circle. She knows she should resist the snacks and sweets, but she has no control. This is why she’ll never be thin. She stops trying to fight her hunger. She unleashes it on the food, and polishes calories upon calories. Her lips are sore from all the salt, and her stomach is so full that she feels like she might throw up, but she won’t. She punishes herself by not allowing herself to throw up. She has to sit with the shame and self-loathing.
She goes to bed with a full stomach, hoping that sleep will take the discomfort away and make her throat feel less scratchy— the corners of chips always scratch when she’s shoving them down without taking much time to chew. Tomorrow, she promises, I will not eat anything. She’ll only allow herself black coffee.
She wakes up two days later, and she feels light again. Two days of fasting will do that. She doesn’t want to get up, but the bathroom calls to her, and she pushes her heavy limbs up from the bed. She goes to the bathroom. She steps on the scale and sees that she’s down .8 pounds from yesterday. She wants the number to be lower, but she’ll take it. She gets dressed, refusing to look in the mirror. She puts on her hijab. She goes to work. She grabs a coffee and skips breakfast.
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whitetigerdemoness · 4 years
Text
I went full deus ex here to do some things and I have only slight shame. This is NOT the final chapter.
Foxes will often fight by standing on their hindlegs and placing their forelegs on their opponent’s chest. They try to push each other over in a trial of strength. The loser is often chased and may be badly bitten or savaged if they fail to escape.
Master Post of All Chapters
Marinette wasn’t quite sure what happened after Volpina had snatched Marc away from them. Everything felt numb and distant, almost like Reverser had altered her again but without the clarity.
“Is she going to be ok?” She heard distantly. The voice sounded worried. Worried about her. Someone was worried about her, why were they worried about her?
“She is in shock. It is not surprising, considering recent events.” A man, older. Who? Did it matter? Nothing she did mattered. Every time she thought they had finally won, fate cruelly laughed at her and kicked her in the face.
“Dude, you of ALL people don’t get to say shit about this.” Boy. Younger. Angry. She could relate. She was...she was angry.
“Nino...please. Not now.” Why not now? Now was the perfect time to be angry, to be frustrated. 
“Why do things keep falling apart?” She asked, angry tears pooling in her eyes. 
“Marinette? Are you back with us? Are you ok?” Tiki.
Marinette rubbed the tears from her eyes and struggled to focus. The red kwami was hovering close, looking very concerned. There was a warm pressure on both sides. Sitting to her left was Luka, gently rubbing the back of one hand. To her right was Adrien, stroking her hair. They both looked very tired. Dry tear tracks dirtied Adrien’s face. Sometime between Volpina’s latest dirty trick and now they had moved indoors. Inside (Marinette noted the decor) the Agreste mansion? Standing around them were the miraculous holders who had been at the battle, including a remorseful looking Gabriel Agreste and...Marinette rubbed at her eyes again.
“Are you...Emilie Agreste?” She gasped, wondering if she was still in shock and hallucinating. The woman she had only seen in photos gave her a strained smile.
“Yes, though I’m not entirely up to date on events. It seems I have been...asleep.” Marinette’s mind spun. Adrien squeezed her shoulder.
“Your Miraculous Cure healed her.” He explained. “Believe me, we were all just as shocked when she called my father’s phone. Apparently your ladybugs dropped her in his study.”
“Wh-why-HOW?” She spluttered. “I’ve used my miraculous cure dozens of times, why do this NOW?” 
“Your cure can’t fix what you don’t know about. Well, sort of.” Tiki began to explain. “The cure works off of what you think should be right. So when the ladybugs fix akuma damage, it’s because you think that is wrong. You don’t have to know everything that broke or everyone that got hurt, just that they shouldn’t be.” 
“If I had known it was that simple...I would have still been after your miraculous but I would have explained. I cannot begin to tell you how deeply sorry, and grateful I am Ladybug.” Gabriel said, holding Emilie close. “I know that in no way excuses what I’ve done to this city, or to your personally but believe me when I say I want nothing more to do with the miraculous.” 
“You MURDERED dozens of innocent people, and you think you can just say SORRY?!” Alya stepped forward, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. Emile looked shocked, taking a step back from him.
“You what?”
“Volpina is the one responsible for this morning’s...unfortunate events.” Nathalie defended. Alya wasn’t hearing it.
“Volpina? You mean the akuma HE created? The one that, unlike Penknight, he could still control? You think we’re going to buy that?!” Alya demanded. 
“Stop.” Luka’s voice cut through the growing argument. “Persecution can come later. We have bigger problems right now.” He looked down at her and continued “Penknight is tearing apart the city looking for Marc. We would have sent someone after him but…” He winced.
“Everyone was exhausted, our miraculous are gone, and you had checked off into lala land.” Chloe huffed from off to the side. “My suggestion to just let me take the ladybug earrings and deal with him was foolishly rejected.”
“And unanimously.” Adrien added. “We all really needed the rest. Penknight is mostly doing collateral damage and it may be selfish to think this, but that’s nothing the miraculous cure can’t handle when we do take him down.”
“He’s right Marinette, things can be replaced. You can’t. Your health comes first.” Tiki said, patting her knee. Now that she was coming out of her shock, she noticed the other miraculous she had been wearing were gone. 
“Where are…?” She started to ask, patting herself down.
“You were exhausted and in shock. Even if they’re not activated the miraculous take a tiny bit of strength from you. Just one isn’t noticeable, but with the amount you were wearing…” Tiki explained. 
“We thought it would be better to take them off. Don’t worry, they’re safe.” Adrien promised. “Plagg is nearby too, gorging himself on cheese.” The blonde boy looked exasperated, but fond.
“So what’s the plan, Ladybug, and don’t think I’ll forget that you didn’t tell me about that!” Alya asked, forcing a grin. Marinette looked around. They were all so tired. 
“I guess I’ll accept an inferior miraculous to help sort this out. If I have to.” Chloe was studying her nails in fake disinterest. Sabrina nodded with more genuine enthusiasm from her side. Luka was a warm, comforting presence by her side. Adrien the same on the other. Marinette took a deep, calming breath and made her decision. 
“Ladybug and Chatnoir are going to take down one last akuma.”
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“Can you hear him out there? The poor thing has absolutely lost his mind. How pathetic.” Volpina mocked, pausing in her detailed (and ever changing) rant about how she was going to make Marc pay for humiliating her as a furious scream sounded in the distance. Marc squirmed in the rickety chair he was tied to. He had no idea where the shadows had deposited them, but it looked abandoned. Dirt, dust, and broken plaster lay about. Plastic rustled in the breeze as it failed to cover the single, broken window. The brief glimpses of the skyline Marc had gotten through that window suggested they were a few stories up, at least.
Volpina began pacing and ranting about what she was going to do to him again (were we back to being boiled alive? Cool, Marc thought absently) the kwami of her stolen miraculous hovering silently as they had been ordered to. Marc’s heart wrenched as he watched the Barkk try to comfort a shaking Ziggy. His jacket was torn from where Volpina had ripped the goat miraculous away. Even more heartbreaking were the screams that kept drifting through the window on the wind. Penknight had spent the past two days more or less protecting him, only to have Volpina steal Marc from him as easy as one might candy from a baby. He couldn’t imagine how the akuma was feeling right now. His more pressing concern was escaping from Volpina. He needed a plan.
“Are you listening to me?!” Volpina demanded, slamming the chair he was tied to against the wall with one hand, getting in his face. The fox miraculous dangled so close he could almost...touch it...this was the dumbest idea he had ever had. Lunging forward, he grabbed the miraculous with his teeth and yanked. There was a brief moment when Marc feared his teeth were going to be torn out as Volpina stumbled backwards, but the chain snapped first.
“How DARE you-!”
“Trixx, Let’s Pounce!” The fox kwami gasped, zipping to his side as he was released from Volpina’s command.
“Trisch, Letsh Pounsh!” Marc said through clenched teeth. Apparently that was good enough for Trixx as Marc felt the transformation take him over. He saw Volpina realize what he was doing mid transformation and lunge at him in slow motion. Not even a fraction of a second had passed from completing the transformation to Volpina slamming him through the wall behind him. Wood and plaster shattered around them in a way Marc was sure would be extremely painful with the protection of the miraculous. 
“That is MINE give it BACK!” Screeched Volpina, tearing at him. It was all Marc could do to keep her clawing hands away from the miraculous that now rested around his neck. Calling the struggle going on ‘wrestling’ would have been too generous. It was mostly just Volpina attempting to maul him as he frantically tried to escape. During the flailing his own hand managed to score lines across Volpina’s face. As she reared and shrieked, clutching at the bleeding cuts, he finally managed to scramble out from under her. Filing away the fact that he apparently had claws now for later, the unnamed fox hero dove for the open window. 
“Shit shit shit.” He hissed as his leap thrust him into open air, the ground more than three stories away. Thankfully the miraculous must come with SOME sort of autopilot function as he instinctively hit the ground in a roll that brought him back to his feet, instead of splatting against the concrete. Two furious screams rang through the city, one coming from the condemned apartment building behind him, the other from further in the city.
Using his newly discovered claws to get to the top of the next building over, he headed for the more distant commotion. Volpina was so hot on his heels he swore he could feel her breath. The curses and threats she was screaming at him were certainly nothing he would repeat in polite company. The scenery streaked by him in a blur as he fervently hoped she would remain too incensed to remember she had more miraculous she could use. 
Up ahead he could see Ladybug and Chatnoir squaring off against an absolutely furious Penknight. The rooftop they were on was littered with gouges and odds and ends Marc assumed the akuma had created to throw at the duo. They hadn’t noticed him yet.
“Help!” He shouted, bounding closer. Volpina just screamed insults behind him. The next moment couldn’t have been more than seconds but felt like it took forever. He saw a lightbulb go off in Ladybug’s head, she shouted something to Chatnoir, Marc dove for them, Chatnoir’s baton whooshed over his face so close he could almost taste it as he limbo slid under it, Volpina’s screaming cut off with a choking noise as the cat hero clotheslined her. Marc panted as he lay where he had skidded, more out of adrenaline than anything. The miraculous protected him from being out of breath from his frantic run. Ladybug’s yoyo goes clattering across the rooftop as Penknight manages to use the sudden chaos to bat it out of her hands.
“It’s me!” Marc squeaked, jumping between the Akuma and Ladybug, Penknight winding up for another swing.
“Marc?” The akuma questioned, suspicious.
“MARC!” Volpina screeched, getting her wind back. Chatnoir was equal parts trying to fend her off and grab her miraculous. Any of them.
“It’s him!” Ladybug promised, retrieving her yoyo to help Chatnoir.
“How do I know you’re not an illusion?” Penknight hissed, looking conflicted. Marc stomped on his foot. Like someone had flipped a switch, the snarling akuma transformed into a beaming hug monster.
“You took her miraculous!” He gushed. Marc squirmed away from him.
“Details later, taking Volpina down now!” Marc scolded as Chatnoir went sailing past them.
“You’ll never defeat me. I hold more power than any of you could possibly imagine!” Volpina snarled backing up. 
“Don’t do it Volpina, you won't be able to handle the strain!” Ladybug pleaded, seeming to realize the vixen’s plan. Volpina just smirked.
“Wayzz, Barkk, Ziggy, Pollen, Roarr, Dusu, Unify!” What happened next was hard to describe. Multicolored light strobbed as wind pressure pushed everyone back. Volpina’s form rose from the ground and flickered like static, changing too fast for Marc to comprehend. The sound she was making was less of a scream and more of the universe ripping.
“We have to get the miraculous off her before they kill her!” Ladybug shouted over the wind.
“Why?” Penknight asked. He was ignored.
“How are we going to do that, My Lady? We can’t even get close!” Chatnoir asked, bracing against the wind.
“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug shouted, a heavy object thumping down in front of her.
“Is that...an electromagnet?” Marc questioned, grateful for Penknight’s grip on him. For some reason his transformation had made him even skinnier than he already was. Of the four of them he was having the most trouble keeping from being blown away. Maybe it was so he could leap rooftops easier? The flute strapped to his back wasn’t any good for that, unlike Chatnoir and Ladybug’s weapons. Now really wasn’t the time to think about that.
“Is that honestly going to work? Are the miraculous even magnetic?” Penknight wondered.
“It’s magic!” Ladybug snapped, looking around the rooftop in an attempt to find clues on how to use her lucky charm. “It cannot be as easy as flipping a switch.” She muttered to herself.
“My lady, if you do that, what about our miraculous?” Chatnoir questioned. Volpina’s eldritch screams were losing steam. Ladybug looked panicked.
“We’ll have to hold on to them and hope, but if I’m holding my earings I can’t flip the switch!”
“Oh please, allow me.” Penknight said eagerly, turning his sword back into a tablet and passing Marc to Chatnoir. Ladybug hesitated for a second, taking in the sight of Volpina being magically ripped apart and put back together, then nodded, firmly covering her ears with both hands. Penknight chuckled darkly as he flipped the switch. Marc dug in his heels, Chatnoir’s arm iron around his waist, as the powerful magnet tried to drag him forward by the miraculous. 
At first Marc was worried the magnet wasn’t going to work, but then Volpina’s miraculous began to hit the magnet one by one with solid thunks. When the last one had been collected and Volpina lay dazed and panting on the rooftop, Penknight switched the magnet off. Ladybug stepped forward to check on Volpina, who only lay there and wheezed. Chatnoir began picking up the miraculous, handing the goat barrets to Marc with a smile when Ziggy zipped over to him for a hug.
“I can’t find her akumatized object.” Ladybug called to them, distressed. Volpina gasped a laugh and used the ledge of the rooftop to lever herself up.
“Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out if you think hard enough.” She mocked. 
“Lila please, you almost killed yourself with that stunt. Let us purify you so you can rest and heal.” Ladybug pleaded, hands out to catch the akuma if she fell. Chatnoir’s eyes trailed down to where Volpina was clutching her chest.
“No.” He breathed.
“Yes!” Volpina cackled. “My akuma might be second hand from that miserable wretch Prism, but at least he knew where to hide it. The only good idea he’s ever had, I’ll wager.”
“Her heart.” Chatnoir said sounding numb, “The akuma is in her heart.”
“You see Ladybug, no matter what you’ve done I’VE won! You’ll never get my akuma without killing me, something you pathetic heroes will never have the stomach for!” Ladybug looked horrified, backing away from the laughing akuma.
“It’s only a matter of time before I take your miraculous and- Hrk!” She coughed, cut off mid sentence by Penknight’s sword going through her chest. 
“Ugh, finally you stop talking. It’s a pity you’re probably going to be just fine after this, and I’ll have to go back to listening to your nattering.” Penknight grumbled, using his boot to push Volpina’s limp body both off his sword and the roof. Marc took in the akuma’s look of manic, wicked satisfaction as he watched the body fall and said:
“We have got to cure him.”
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pangtasias-atelier · 5 years
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Can you do a headcanon about a bet between Sylvain and Felix? The idea is that they think they can get stronger then the other with Felix training and Sylvain goofing off. Scenario 1, Felix is buff and taller then Sylvain who is quite fat. Scenario 2, Felix is gobsmacked that he gained so much fat by training and that Sylvain is an absolute tank of tall muscle. I apologize if this is too much 😅
No, it's not much. I actually fell in love with the ask when I saw it at work lol
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Beginning:
The two visiting each other often after the war, it was Felix's habit and choice in having them spar everytime
Sylvain much more laid-back, he never really practiced once peace began to take hold
Sylvain losing again, a particularly spiteful comment from Felix broke the joy in the event
A small quarrel breaking out, Felix bet that Sylvain would be unable to best him in battle; Sylvain agrees
Scenario 1:
Upset, Sylvain gives it his all
For a week, then he gives up
Too lazy to care, he ignores all his planned training; he just enjoys his meals
Felix goes all out
Daily regimines to work out each body parts
Specially made diets to help his growing body
Felix finds himself growing out of his clothes pretty soon
Agility key, he pays special attention to his legs
He ends up with thighs bigger than people's heads
A comment about squashing a watermelon with his thighs made him throw that person out
He still wonders if he can, but he's too embarrassed to try (he easily could though)
Felix finds his hair scraping the doorways now
But he keeps his routine, he knows that Sylvain can get quite serious, and he refuses to lose
He was wrong about Sylvain though
Sylvain struggles to get out of his chair after any meal
His clothes are also snug but from being obese
His shirts barely fit over him
The day of their spar arriving, Sylvain has Felix come
When Felix arrives, the staff stare at his new figure
Putting any bandit to shame, Felix strides through to see Sylvain
He finds Sylvain still eating
Upset from Sylvain giving up, he at least has a consolation prize
An obese Sylvain
Felix makes sure to overpower Sylvain to keep him stuffed all the time
Scenario 2:
Sylvain may get serious, but that doesn't mean he plays fair
After giving up his training, he hires mages
They swap the effects of Sylvain's and Felix's excercise and food
Sylvain gorges at all times
When he sees that he's getting buffer, his biceps straining his shirt when he flexes, he keeps at it
Sylvain flaunts his beafiness at all times
He just goes shirtless at all times
And sometimes just boxers
His territory, his rules as he likes to say
Felix gets angry
Despite working out everyday, he's getting fatter and fatter
Cardio near impossible as his gut reaches down to his knees, all he does is lift weights now
It's gotten to a point where it's getting hard to walk
Felix has to do a fitting every week to make sure his clothes fit him
All his staff thinks he's lying about his exercise
He's constantly out of breath
The day of their spar arriving, Felix goes over to Sylvain
The staff stare at him, not expecting Felix to be a slob
Sylvain having had the mages cancel the spell barely an hour ago, he's bench pressing at minimum 200 pounds
He smiles when he sees Felix out of breath, resting against the wall as his feet shake
Bouncing his pecs, Sylvain tackles Felix
Sylvain taunts Felix's "laziness"
Felix can't prove it was magic
Sylvain having won, he makes up the rule of getting one favour
It's not like Felix can stop him anyway, he can barely walk with how much Sylvain stuffed himself before
Sylvain makes sure that the staff always have food ready for Felix, he handfeeds him all the time
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shianhygge-imagines · 5 years
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[DMC5 Headcanons] Cooking with The Crew
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AN: I was thinking about Dante’s poor eating habits and I started thinking what dinner with the DMC crew would be like...
I’ve been trying to finish this headcanon for the past two days! But every single time I go to save my progress on mobile, Tumblr goes “Oopsey doopsies! Something went wrong :P” and never saves anything I do! So I guess I’m confined to writing only on my laptop now... >.>
Also... since Dante is the main character, it’s so flipping easy to write about him! It’s like, I don’t even have to think about what Dante would do, it just happens. >.> So... yeah, I’ve given my best when it comes to writing enough for the others.
DMC Crew: Dante, Trish, Lady, Nero & Kyrie, Nico, Vergil & V...
|Masterlist Link|
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Dante
It’s well known that Dante would gorge himself on pizza and strawberry sundaes if he had a choice.
Dante eats about anything, though, if you can make it for him
DON’T let him anywhere near the kitchen! Even boiling an egg is too much of a challenge for him
Somewhere, Dante yells at Shian, “Hey! I can totally boil an egg! It was that one time!” 
”Yes, Dante, and you managed to not only overcook the egg, you boiled it until there wasn’t anymore water to boil!” 
”Not my fault something caught my attention as I was cooking.” 
”You can hardly call that cooking! AND you fell asleep!”
”I woke up in time, didn’t I?”
”THE ENTIRE SHOP SMELLED OF BURNING METAL!” (which smells really bad btw. And gives me a terrible migraine.)
Despite this, however, Dante would be the type to learn how to cook just to please his s/o. Dinner is still beyond him, but Dante eventually learns how to make a mean french toast. 
Dante’s also the type to completely butter you up while in the kitchen, throwing compliments of how the food smells delicious. Saying that you’re a master chef.
He’s really doing it so that he can get extras later...
And he’s the type to swipe food as you’re cooking.
Make sure you didn’t do too much cleaning before you served dinner. Dante’s a messy eater most days, but if you force him... he’ll behave. Eva didn’t raise him to have no manners after all.
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Lady
Lady’s had to look after herself for a long while.
She was raised to eat well, so Lady isn’t really picky about what she has for a meal.
She does have a fairly average sized repertoire of recipes that she can cook well.
Though most of the recipes that Lady can make were taught to her by her late mother.
By cooking the meals that her mother had when she was still alive, Lady kind of feels like she still has her mom.
When she gets the taste of something just right, you can see a faint sparkle of happiness that hints that Mary hasn’t completely lost herself.
She doesn’t trust Trish in the kitchen.
Lady has a large appetite.
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Trish
Trish... she once short circuited a toaster... don’t let her near too many kitchen appliances, alright? 
She can handle simple cooking, like pan fried eggs... pasta... but nothing too complicated.
Trish is content to eat whatever she can get her hands on, whether it be pizza or some expensive sushi at Dante’s expense.
She’s from the Underworld, so she has a monstrous metabolism
Trish honestly doesn’t care that Lady doesn’t like her using the kitchen, if someone is willing to cook for her, she’s all okay with being lazy.
That being said, Trish also doesn’t appreciate it when people assume she can or can’t cook. If she feels like cooking, she’ll cook damn it!
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Vergil & V (Because they are essentially the same person)
Vergil isn’t picky about his food so long as it’s healthy and nutritious. 
Like their personalities, Vergil is the complete opposite in regards to how he and Dante eat.
Vergil doesn’t like junk food... much...
He has a bit of a weakness for cookies
Eva used to make the most delicious chocolate chip cookies ever (so moist and soft mmmm)
So having a soft warm chocolate chip cookie brings back feelings and memories of a better time. Of course Vergil is never straight forward with his feelings, so he feels love, happiness, sadness, and bitterness all at once. Makes it so that before DMC5, he’s only slightly able to enjoy his favorite treat.
Out of the twins, Vergil was the one that helped Eva the most with chores, going so far as to learn how to cook basic recipes to make his mother’s life as a single parent much easier. He’s such a mama’s boy, that’s why he was so butt hurt when she never found him. (*Shian can feel Vergil glaring daggers at her back. She stares back at him cooly. “What, you’re mad that it’s true? I love you, but get over yourself.”)
Vergil doesn’t like to flaunt his culinary skills, but at the same time he doesn’t like it when people think he can’t cook. He’ll take it as a personal affront.
If he’s learning a new recipe, you can guarantee that he’s going to perfect it. There is no such thing as half-assed for this man. (*Shian: Except for relationships... [Vergil’s glare worsens])
As V, he is much more open about his love of cooking.
Given that V is physically unable to do much when it comes to fighting, he relishes in being able to cook a delicious meal... all while having that mysterious cocky smirk on his face. (*Shian: Ugh I wanna hit his face with my face) 
V will occasionally make a few of Eva’s recipes in order to feel closer to his mother. Shadow would purr in contentment, but Griffon would tease V that he “misses mommy dearest.”
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Nero & Kyrie (Because they are the OTP of this fandom)
Let me say that if I’m going to write about Nero, I absolutely HAVE to write about Kyrie as well!
Well... it’s already been stated that Kyrie always makes too much food, but it’s only because she’s used to feeding three people. Nero, herself, and her brother Credo. Even though Credo died during the events of DMC4, Kyrie hasn’t really changed the amount that she makes. She doesn’t seem to realize it either...
Nero never says anything because he doesn’t want Kyrie to be sad, and he’ll give a stern talk to anyone who tries to tell her.
Nero, for his part, knows how to make the basic breakfast... coffee... instant noodles... he’s never really had to cook because Kyrie and Credo have always looked after him.
If it’s for his lady love (or if you challenge him) he’ll learn how to cook. (He’s ugh... pretty petty...)
Nero doesn’t like tomatoes or mushrooms (*Shian: which is a shame since I love both), but if it’s in Kyrie’s cooking he’ll eat everything on his plate.
If Nero isn’t able to finish the food on his plate, he starts to feel extremely guilty for wasting Kyrie’s hard work... Kyrie will also make him feel guilty by saying that it’s fine that he can’t finish... and then proceed to make a sad face. (It’s all in good fun though. They just love teasing each other.)
Nico
Nico likes to pretend that she doesn’t know an ounce of cooking.
THis is a complete LIE!
NOT ONLY does she know how to cook. BUT she’s a better chef than even Vergil at times. (... don’t tell him that though)
Nico learned how to cook from her grandma because she idolizes everything about the Goldstein matriarch. As a child, she observed her grandmother in the kitchen and the workshop because Nell did everything with a fierce passion.
Southern food is an art as much as weapon-smithing is, and Nico painstakingly seasons her meals with just the right balance and presentation
Anything not up to par usually gets scrapped or fed to a homeless person
After meeting Nero and Kyrie, Nico has made it her mission to mooch off whatever meal Kyrie prepares. Not only because Kyrie is a pretty great chef, but because not having to cook means more time to focus on her new projects.
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I’m sorry if it seems like I don’t treat other characters the same as some. But some characters only appear a handful of times in the series as side characters, and it’s just URGH My imagination will only work so much when I don’t know a character!
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