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thislovintime · 6 months

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Head premiered on November 6, 1968. (Edit featuring the two Tork songs - in the studio and demo versions, respectively - and a line from the movie.)

“What’s happening as time goes on is that the movie [Head] is becoming a chronicle of an age. At the time, it was just a chronicle of the Monkees.” - Peter Tork, The Monkees Tale (1985) Q: “What do you think of the music from the film ‘Head’?” Peter Tork: "Well, since I wrote and produced two of the songs myself, I think it’s fine. I did ‘Can You Dig It?’ And ‘[Long Title:] Do I Have To Do This All Over Again.’” - Goldmine, 1982 “The funny thing is that the lyrics [to ‘Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?’] came to me right out of the air. I was just playing those chord changes on the guitar, and I opened my mouth and that’s what popped out. The song was weirdly prophetic. I had no idea that was going to be my attitude about anything having to do with music when I wrote that song." - Peter Tork, Listen To The Band liner notes (more about "Long Title..." here) “‘Can You Dig It’ is about the Tao. The hook line I wrote in my dressing room on the set [of the television series in 1967]. The chords for the chorus I’d written in college, and [they] had just stuck with me.” - Peter Tork, Head box set liner notes (more about "Can You Dig It?" here) "I think they're ['Can You Dig It?' and 'Long Title...'] the best songs in the movie [Head]. I love both of them. I thought they were just terrific. He had plugged himself into that whole Stephen Stills connection and was working with those guys. I think they fit the movie better than anything did. When those two songs start up in the movie, it comes alive for me.” - Michael Nesmith, Head box set liner notes “Thorkelson expressed a preference for the Monkees’ ‘Headquarters’ album, because it was the group’s first self-performed album […]. The soundtrack to the [...] movie ‘Head’ also is among Thorkelson’s favorites. ‘It was a little tinny, but back then I guess we were a little tinny,’ he said. ‘That movie will always look good,’ commented Thorkelson.” - The Bowling Green News Revue, May 24, 1979 "'When we made Headquarters, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven,' says Tork. 'My whole goal had been to be a member of a band that worked. The next thing I know we're making a movie and it doesn't have anything to do with the business of being in a band together.' [...] 'There's some weight behind the idea that Bob and Bert wanted to wreck the Monkees, to stop it cold in its tracks,' says Tork. 'I've never known for sure. Bert and Bob might have thought out loud: "Let's kill the Monkees!" Or they may have not thought so out loud but at some unconscious level, they were sick of the Monkees and wanted to do something else.' [...] 'It was a joy seeing a movie being made, but I didn't like working for Bob Rafelson,' Tork says. 'I did what he told me, but I can't say that I ever had any heart connection with him.' His favorite scene, in which he recounts what he has learned from an Indian mystic, was actually directed by Nicholson. [...] Tork has seen Head around 80 times but it took him years to work out why it bothered him so much. In the movie, the Monkees are hoodwinked, bamboozled, chased, assaulted, mocked, trapped in a black box and reduced to dandruff in the hair of actor Victor Mature, before ending up back where they started. In the words of the sardonic Nicholson-penned theme tune, 'So make your choice and we'll rejoice/ In never being free.' 'Most people are dazzled by the psychedelia, and that's fine, but for me finally the point of the movie is the Monkees never get out,' Tork says sadly. 'Which is to say Bob Rafelson's view of life is you never get out of the black box you're in. There's no escape.' So how would a Peter Tork cut of Head end? 'There might have been a scene where we get out,' he says wistfully. 'We jump in the water and get away.'" - The Guardian, April 28, 2011

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #Davy Jones #Micky Dolenz #Michael Nesmith #The Monkees #Monkees #Head (1968)#long read #<3 #Tork songs #Can You Dig It #Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?#Bob Rafelson #Bert Schneider #et al #can you queue it

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darklydeliciousdesires · 8 months

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Lost & Found - Chapter Nine.

So then, my beautiful, wonderful audience. Those who are not new around these parts know that sometimes, treats are given in the form of a double update day with my stories, and guess what? Today is one of those days! I know you've all been waiting patiently for the sexual side of Emma and Guero's blossoming relationship to finally flower, so I thought I'd share it today in the next chapter! Has that made you smile? I hope it has! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Words - 3,434

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

The more she revealed, it seemed, the more comfortable she became with sharing memories of her nineteen years held prisoner. Guero lay there and let her recount it all, being exactly what she needed, somebody to simply listen.

“Marie taught me how to shoot.” He had wondered at how well she seemed to handle the Beretta she’d pointed at his head, her handling of the firearm steely and confident. “There were guns kept all over the house, so there’d always be one within easy reach, just in case. With whom Rocco was, he was a target, or rather his family were. He routinely pissed off other mob families, so of course anyone he cared for became a target, a weak point.

“She wanted me to be able to protect myself from such a threat, but mostly, if Rocco himself ever became so unhinged that I felt my life was in danger. “Shoot him dead, and we’ll figure it out somehow afterward”, is what she used to tell me. How we would have figured that out beyond running for our lives, I don’t know. His guys would have hunted us down.”

She paused for a moment, tears beginning to swim within her eyes. “I hate myself, for leaving her. Joey, Alessia and Mikey, too. I loved them so much, they were like my siblings for Christ’s sake! It’s a guilt that’ll never leave me, that I ran and they’re all still stuck there! She became my mother, and I abandoned her!”

“Hey, no,” he began, touching his fingers under her chin, gently lifting her head. “You don’t have to feel guilty about a thing. I get that you miss her, she made the hell he put you through bearable where she could, but Marie chose that life, Emma. Nobody forced her.

“She knew who she was marrying, and I’m not saying that in the end she had an easy choice to get away from him, ‘cuz I can see from what you told me he’d have killed her for it, but you found a way out. You took your chance, and you got free. If she loves you as much as it seems she does, then she’ll be fucking happy as hell the girl she counted as one of her own got free of him.”

She absorbed his words, realising that no matter how unpleasant it felt, what he’d said was the plain, simple truth. If she didn’t assume her to be dead via Rocco’s hand, Marie would be quietly rejoicing her escape. “Is it wrong that I feel more of a maternal bond with her than I do my actual mom? I feel guilty for that, too. When I hear the word mom, I think of Marie, not Cassie.”

He shifted slightly beneath her, Emma moving a little as he turned onto his side, resting his head on his arm. “It might sound cold, but it’s fact. Marie was in your life longer than your birth mom. I kinda guess it’s only natural you’d think that. Doesn’t mean you love Cassie any less, or that you can’t reconnect with her now you’re free.”

“But, but,” she began, her throat swelling on a rising lump, “that’s the thing, there is no Cassie. When I was twenty-five, we sat and looked on the internet, I begged her to look up my family. I just wanted to know if they were okay. Mom died back in two thousand and thirteen from breast cancer. My dad, he passed away six years ago, motorbike accident. All I have left is Dylan, who is still in Spokane. My grandparents, too, unless anything happened in the interim.

“I’ll never see my mom and dad again, and I loathe him, I detest him completely that he robbed me of those years with them, that they both died not knowing what had happened to me! As if me being taken wasn’t bad enough. It left Dylan all alone, no immediate family, and it’s all because of him!”

She fell apart at that point, naturally so, sobbing against his chest as Guero held her. Again, he had no idea what to say to that, knowing it would take a man greater with words than he was to offer verbal comfort. Instead, he was just there, not knowing that truly that was all she needed from him, just someone to be there. It wasn’t about words. Listening was enough, as he continued to do, Emma sharing more with him about her life within the gilded cage prison that was the Lombardi mansion.

“He used to virtually pimp me out to his friends too at parties.” Once again, Guero felt his anger flare like a firecracker, grinding his teeth as his jaw tightened. “I always wanted to enjoy sex, but none of them ever made it feel good for me, all too consumed by their own pleasure to give a damn about mine. As long as they got to lie between the legs of a pretty, young blonde, that was good enough.

“There was only one of them who was different. His underboss, Vincent Calabrese never laid a hand on me. I was offered to him, and for appearances in front of Rocco and the others he always accepted, but once we got into the bedroom, he just sat down beside me on the bed and we talked. He said he wasn’t in the habit of defiling little girls, but even when I was over the age of consent, he still wouldn’t.

“He staunchly disagreed with what was being done, the child trafficking. ‘It’s an affront to god, snatching children from their families’ is what he always used to say. He always opposed it, and Rocco knew that, but ultimately went along with what was being done for the sake of a quiet life, and I guess not ending up with a bullet between his eyes either. This leads me to something that you guys should all know, EZ especially.

“You’re running heroin for him now, but all that will change if Rocco has his way, and believe me, he will. You guys are in his pocket now, which means in his mind, he owns you. You’re all to do with as he pleases, and what he pleases is to start bringing children across the border. Undocumented migrants are much easier to move, and get away with moving, too. I overheard him talking about it, it was always a two birds with one stone deal for him. He’d get you used to the money first, and then tell you that your consignment would begin to include kids as well.”

Guero pushed himself up, his eyes rounding as he looked down at her. “For real, that motherfucker wants us in on trafficking kids?”

His horror at the very suggestion was telling over the person he was. Although still a criminal, he was a man with the kind of morals that had been few and far between in the world she had escaped from. “Eventually, yeah.”

“And if we refuse?” He didn’t need to ask, really. He could guess.

She made a gun motion against the side of her head, couple with a soft exclamation of ‘pow’. “He’d wipe you all out and move onto the next nearest charter, using your eradication as an example of what happens when people push back against him.”

The weight of the mafia. That was a war they definitely wouldn’t win, and he knew that for sure. Rocco Lombardi could crush them all, very easily, too. “I have to take that to EZ. Not now, of course, but at some point over the weekend, call a templo. Will you be okay to come and tell us what you know?”

She smiled, reaching to stroke his hair. “Of course, I will.”

They remained quiet for a time after, Emma needing the silence. Her legs remained in tangle with his as she reached for the tequila bottle, taking a long glug, the alcohol burning her throat. She felt a little drunk and numb, which was what she had needed in order to sit there and offload it all to another person. “There’s more I could tell you about my life, but right now, I feel drained. Like I need air, too. Can you give me a minute?”

“Yeah, take as long as you need.” He reached to stroke her face, Emma turning her head and kissing his palm, getting up and letting herself out of the front of the house. The cool air hit her, soothing to her frayed nerves, the residual effects of her revelation hanging onto her, though.

“Hey, boo.” Of course, Tyrone would notice her out there, always keeping the watch. She walked over to his window, her shoulders heavy, watching him emerge from behind the swathe of curtain fabric. “Damn, you look all sad and shit. Fuckboy bin’ actin’ up?”

She shook her head. “No, no he’s great. Listen, I know you deal, so I figure I’m in the right place. Can you sell me a joint? That’s all I want, just one.”

He looked entertained at the naivety of her question, that it was the norm for dealers to exchange such a small amount. Tyrone, for all of this mouth and uncouthness was kind, though. “I ain’t selling you shit, white girl. This is on me, hold on.”

She smiled. “Thank you, you’re great.”

He beamed, reaching to grab his rolling tray, locating one of his pre-rolled joints. “Ain’t I, though? I know fuckboy rarely smokes it, so just remember I gotchu if you ever need a lil’ hit.” The truth was, neither did she. She’d occasionally partook of it back in her old life, secretly taking from Rocco’s personal stash which he smoked to ease his chronic migraines. It helped her feel more relaxed in the utter brutal chaos of her life. It smelled and tasted awful, but she enjoyed the calming buzz.

Tyrone passed a joint and a lighter through the window. “Enjoy, boo.” She smiled, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Aw, lawdy! I gotta kiss from a pretty girl, hell yeah!”

She laughed softly, shaking her head and lighting up, moving to sit on the front step of Guero’s side of the house, taking a long drag. God, that was some nice weed. She coughed a few times, the usual, barky rasp associated with smoking weed, her throat tickling.

“Yo!” She turned to see a large arm thrust through the window, a can of soda proffered forth. “If you don’t like mango then I can’t help you. Oh, hold up. I might have a Fanta somewhere.”

Walking back over, she took the can. “Thanks, Tyrone. You keep your Fanta, mango and I are good.” She moved back to the step, opening the soda and sipping it, the tickle clearing nicely before she took another little puff, looking out across the street into the darkness. The only sounds audible were that of the game Tyrone was playing, and the chirp of cicadas. It was somewhat relaxing in ambience.

The weed had an instant calming effect upon her, all of the brutality that would endlessly echo through her memories placated and pushed back again, back behind the fortress walls in her mind. She’d had to keep it there for years to have even had a chance of remaining sane through her ordeal. God, she couldn’t believe that she’d actually escaped it, found somebody who she could trust, someone who for all intents and purposes was slowly becoming all hers, too.

“As if you’re out here getting high on my front step. Not even I do that.” Turning, she saw Guero emerge from the house, moving to sit behind her, his legs flanking her body as he stretched.

“Well, that’s because you don’t smoke weed,” she chirped, watching him frown before plucking the joint from her.

He took a few puffs, handing it back, holding in a cough until the tickle passed. “I do, but not often. It has too much of an effect on me, and I can never get the balance right.”

“The balance between what?”

“Between a nice buzz and ragingly horny.”

“Ahh.” She nodded, looking entertained, the stoned giggled welling up within her. “I somehow don’t think you need any extra boosting in that department.”

He moved her hair, kissing the side of her neck. “A hundred percent correct, mamacita. And since I guess you’re probably drunker now than you were earlier, I’m not risking that balance any further, so you finish it. Kinda figure you need the sedation after everything you told me.”

“Oh, you’re not wrong there,” she spoke, eyes widening a little as she leaned back against him. “Even if I was sober, sharing all of that has kinda dampened my desire.”

He snorted softly, arms tightening around her. “Understandable. S’okay, I can wait.”

“Can you?” she giggled, the sound joining the noise of the cicadas.

“Mm.” he hummed, kissing her neck again. “Just.”

Just then, the curtains next door began moving, Tyrone’s boom sounding. “Goddamnit, will you two go back in that house and bust some furniture already? Shit!” They both snort laughed, Guero resting his forehead to her shoulder, Tyrone continuing. “You better sort yo’ damned mess, fuckboy! Because I am one pretty smile away from makin’ that fine assed lil’ honey mine, you hear?”

“Yeah, I hear,” he called through his laughter, “and I see, too. Plying her with weed and soda.”

“I know what the ladies like! If she’s still out here in a half hour, she gets the first slice of my pizza, too!”

“Exactly, you gotta give me a head start against your half ton of raw charm, dog,” he chuckled, Tyrone emerging further from the curtains.

“Hey, I might be a big fella, but I’m no fuckin’ half ton! I’m thick and juicy, drives the chicks wild!”

“Tyrone, you ain’t thick, my man. Your ass is so fat, if I swerved my bike to miss you, I’d run outta gas.” There was a pause, a squawking laugh emanating from the window, Emma thinking it hilarious a man with such a low, rumbling voice had a laugh so high in pitch. All banter with their hilarious neighbour aside, they remained outside until she had finished the joint, heading back in and returning to bed.

“Do you feel better for telling me everything?”

Resting her head against his chest, she nodded, her nails tracing the outline of one of the spiderweb tattoos that spread out across each of his shoulders. “I do, you know. Whether the nightmares will stop because of it, I don’t know. I think I might need further help to recover from it all. Kinda scared about registering with a doctor, though, putting my name back out there. He’ll be looking for me, and if he finds any record of a twenty-nine-year-old woman named Emma Louise Taylor anywhere, he’ll come for me.”

Her muscles stiffened at just the thought, Guero turning to wrap both arms around her, feeling her relax into his embrace after a few moments. “We’ll work something out.” She fell asleep in his arms, those early morning hours passing dreamlessly, neither waking until 10am the following morning.

Rising from her place curled against him, Emma rubbed her eyes, looking down at the chiselled tattoo canvas that had been her pillow. Her safe person, the kind of man she’d dreamed would one day save her from her fate, and there he was... snoring like a brontosaurus. She couldn’t help but giggle softly, thinking that was a part perhaps not strictly included in the romanticism of her fantasies.

He cracked an eye open, his grin widening. “What are you laughing at?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The noise! You snore like something hell spat up for being too loud.”

“I wasn’t snoring,” he began stretching, the other eye opening eventually. “I was doing mindful breathing.”

Immediately, she cracked up, leaning to place a kiss against his stubbly jaw. “There’s nothing mindful about those sawn logs.”

She had a point, he guessed, Guero turning onto his side and wrapping his arms around her. “Yeah, but I’m cute. I get away with it, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, turning her head back to kiss him, “you do have that going for you.”

“And a whole lot more.”

Biting the corner of her lip, she shifted against him, a little wiggle that stirred him exactly where she intended him to be stirred. “Feel like showing me?”

“Mm.” His arms tightened around her, kisses scattered against the side of her neck. “I need coffee and a shower, then trust me, I’ll spend all morning showing you.”

Now that was a statement definitely on a par with her fantasies. He left the bed first, taking a shower, calling to her that he’d left in on for her as he made his way through to the kitchen. It was while she was under the warm water looking down at herself that a stab of panic prickled against her guts.

He’d see her naked. All of her.

While she had body confidence in her shape, the littering of scars that marked her sides and lower back made her feel ugly. Some had faded to white, but there were still a few dark pink markings that remained. All were raised scar tissue, triangular shapes of knife points pressed into her skin, the burning brand of a hot blade searing Rocco’s displeasure branded onto her skin forever.

As she dried off, her eyes found them again, wondering if they’d really be all too noticeable if the blinds remained drawn in the bedroom.

“Of course, they will," she muttered, beginning to sniff. All she wanted was to move on from it all, enjoy the basic human right of a consensual sexual relationship with another adult, someone of her actual choosing, yet the literal scars of the past held her back.

A soft tap sounded upon the partly open door. “Em, you want a coffee?”

Em. No one had ever called her that before. She liked it. “No, thank you.”

“You alright.”

“Yeah.”

Her pinched voice alluded to the contrary. “No, you’re not. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Tightening the large, white bath towel around herself again, she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, trying to compose her upset.

“So, people who are alright stand here crying, huh?” Him and his smart mouth. He was right in his light sarcasm, though. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Baby. He'd called her that back when he’d first found her. How different the intent behind the word was now. “The scars I have,” she began, gulping, hoping she could swallow down the lump she had painfully swelling in her throat. “You’ll see them, and they’re hideous. They make me ugly. You’ll think they look ugly.”

He frowned, lifting her chin with a gentle touch of his fingers as he began shaking his head. “I’ve never liked people making my mind up for me. That includes you, mamas.” His hands pressed softly on her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve got no problem with whatever scars you have, and I’m not gonna think you’re ugly because of ‘em. Only thing that is, is that low opinion you have of yourself. If you want, leave a t shirt on. I don’t mind. I’d prefer you naked, but whatever makes you comfortable, I’m good with.”

She could fetch a t shirt, or she could just be brave and let him see her. All of her. She’d bared her soul to him already, after all. Indecision made her heart quicken, the soft stroke of his fingertips at her upper arms soothing as she reached for the towel and untucked it, letting it fall. Fighting the urge to cover herself with her arms, she looked anywhere but him as he took in her nudity, her body tensing when he moved his hands to stroke the scars she detested so much with careful attention.

Leaning close, he kissed the side of her head, his lips soft against her ear. “They aren’t who you are, and you’re not any less beautiful. They’re only the map of the journey that finally led you to me.”

Her throat tightened with emotion, his words so beautiful, she wanted to cry. The desire in his eyes as she finally looked at him dictated it might be poorly timed, though. This was not a time for lament and sadness. No. This was the time to plant her lips upon his and let him carry her to the bedroom.

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc #guero x ofc #guerl smut #mayans mc smut #mayans mc season 5 #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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daryldixonsdoormat · 11 months

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Only we will know what happened.

(Not a ship post)

The world will crumble when its secrets are revealed, it's an undeniable truth. First, the government will fumble with its discretion over everyone and the rebels will rejoice. Rejoice in the fact that their freedom is finally granted to them after decades of patience. District 12 was known for coal mines, it made total sense for Snow to burn it to the ground. Seeing the ash in the mines is nothing compared to the ash of your home, your life, your companions. Ash is soft a powdery, it's ready to drift off into the wind, to be forgotten for eternity. You cant preserve the ash of hundreds, I know it will all vanish when the wind picks up. Secondly, the world will crumble when there is no hope: hope is what keeps everyone alive. It's kept me alive for the 2-3 years i've been connected to the capital. My hope will keep me alive for more years to come because the capital will never leave me. The horror of the capital will plague my life: like a serum injected into my veins. The capital will pick me apart piece for a piece until I don't know who I am, I feel the last chunk chip away at the ruins. I could imagine my hope crumbling into the floor and turning into a concentrated ash much like the rest of my life. I will never know what is slipping through my fingers when I pick up the ash, I’ll watch it blow away, past the victor's village and past the meadow. Past our meadow. If I could keep one thing in this lifetime it would be him. The courageous, giving, responding, selfless man that saved my life over and over again. Peeta didn't kill; it wasn't in his nature. But he saves, he saves me from night terrors, he saves me from self-doubt, he saves me from myself. Peeta trails behind me picking up the chunks I lose and does the impossible, he preserves the ash of my cracking hope. My breath shudders and picks up quickly, a horrifying nightmare of what my life once was. My chest constricts rapidly and I palm my chest frantically looking around for an escape. The ground begins to shake and more ash vanishes from in front of me. Tears sting my waterline; they beg to fall down my face at a steady pace. The ground shakes with meaning from side to side, the floor cracks right down the middle taking me with it. “Shh shh, you’re okay. You’re with me”, he whispers into my ear holding me tightly. I calm slightly hearing his voice but my breath is still labored and my disobedient tears finally fall. The sound of me inhaling in high pitch shows my discomfort, my fear which is a struggle to decipher is real. This isn't how it goes; not normally; I should be okay now. I should be back to steady breathing and back into my reality but I see the ash with every blink. Peeta is quick to panic now too, sitting up throwing the blankets off our warm bodies. My lungs are constricting against my chest and I hear a piercing ring in my ears. My hands cup around my ears out of instinct to block the parade of noise over taking my senses. Peeta pulls on my shoulder and lays me on my back also putting his hands over my ears: right on top of mine. Peeta lays his body weight on top of my chest, demonstrating deep breaths for me to follow. We are face to face, our foreheads touching much like the rest of our bodies. My breathing slows after what feels like forever and its just quiet…our hands still cupping my ears. Peeta slips his hands off of mine when he hears my heart beat settle, I take my now shaky hands off my own ears and look down at my lover. He looks at me without a second to spare, the pressure from my body is removed and he sits up against the bed post with his arms open. I crawl into his arms feeling safe. “Do you want to talk about it?”, He asks sweetley rubbing up and down my arm soothingly. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms securely around his body, “Not yet”. He doesn't push it, Peeta whispers out a light ‘okay’ and lays his head onto mine, holding me securely. Time passes slowly, we are both just laying with each other waiting for movement. “Are you hungry? I can make us some food”, Peeta asks only slightly worried about how much time they have spent in bed. I grip his shirt tightly scared that he will move and leave me by myself; but I know Peeta cant bring himself to do that. I shake my head no curling up even more into his embrace, “Baby you have to eat. This is the second time you've missed breakfast”, he muttered into my hair. I know what he is saying is true, I have to stay healthy, we agreed it was the best thing to do. Keep a routine, its extremely important to take care of the people he loves, this is no expectation. But when im with him the world stills and my memories still and no longer are at the forefront of my mind. Maybe I can skip breakfast one more time. “Lets just lay here a little longer”, I move my head to look at him, “Please?” I ask hopefully. For a moment I think I got my way because Peeta stayed silent and looked at me with patience and love. Then my body is being moved into a sitting position alongside Peeta. “Sorry Honey we can’t today”, he hold my face with both hands staring into my eyes. We lean in and our lips touch softly and we part with a quiet smack.

#Peeta Mellark #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta supremacy #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark x y/n #peeta mellark fluff #THG Peeta

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lillotte17 · 8 months

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Stars Choose Their Lovers

AN: Because I enjoy making myself sad, I liked the thought of Aziraphale and Crowley having a relationship before the beginning, so I leaned into it a wrote a scene of them in the garden of Eden before Crowley manages to tempt the humans with any apples.

I might come back and add more scenes if the mood strikes me, because the concept is still good, but for now it's just a one shot. :)

~~~

The garden is nice.

Aziraphale supposes that was the entire point of the place, but that didn’t make it any less true. It hummed and bustled and sighed and rustled with everything new and green and growing. In Heaven every sound sang the same, and it always had, and it always would. Every angelic voice was pitched to match in flawless ethereal harmony forever. It was undeniably beautiful, but after a few millennia, its loveliness began to stagnate a bit in Aziraphale’s estimation. It seemed to sound an awful lot like emptiness.

Especially after the Rebellion.

It had not taken Aziraphale long to realize that he had no great fondness for war. There hadn’t been much of a choice about fighting in it, though. Heaven couldn’t simply roll over and let the demons take control of the universe, after all. He had apparently done his part well enough to get assigned to the Eastern Gate of Eden, but the victory had felt as hollow as their Heavenly choirs.

They had lost fellow angels. To both the Fall and the fight that followed. He knew he should not question the Almighty’s decisions. He knew that Lucifer and his ilk were traitors bent on destroying all of God’s new creations. And yet, whilst all the other angels reveled and rejoiced at the ruin and damnation of their former brethren, all Aziraphale could feel was grief.

Being in the garden is better.

None of the new animals make any serious demands of him. The whole of the Heavenly Host is largely focused on the initial pair of breeding humans and what they might be up to, which means that he has mostly been left to his own devices. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to stand in the vicinity of an apple tree and occasionally waggle his finger at anything that came too close. He likes to sit in the shade and feel the solid realness of the place surrounding him. He likes to smell the sweet freshness of the water and the wind and the plants. He likes that the light shining down on his face is warm and golden, and when the long days finally draw to a close and the sun sinks behind the garden walls, he likes to stand in silence and watch the stars.

He hopes that the humans are enjoying them.

The serpent arrives on the sixth hour of the sixth day.

Aziraphale never worked on the designs for any of the garden’s snakes, but he still knows that this one is different. It’s absolutely enormous for starters, but besides that, it also happens to exude an air of malevolence that none of the other occupants of Eden seem to possess. Its yellow gaze lacks the rest of the animals’ simple-minded innocence. And it keeps staring at him.

A demon, then.

Even with the war and its centuries of battles, Aziraphale has never actually killed anything. He would prefer to keep it that way. The peace between them is still fragile, the ink on the truce they signed still metaphorically wet upon the page, with both sides still bruised and aching. Itching for an excuse to lash out at each other once more. Any other angel might have seen this as a good enough reason to start something, but he does not have any direct orders to attack the members of the opposition, and so he won’t. The plants and the animals here are all still newly-made and delicate, and he is meant to be protecting them. Starting an all-out brawl in Eden would create yet another battlefield, and decimate the garden. But perhaps even more than that, he simply does not wish to fight anymore. Flaming sword be damned.

Aziraphale is to guard the Eastern Gate, and the Tree of Knowledge, and thwart the wiles of Evil. He can do all of that without smiting anything. Besides, the demon has not seen fit to do much more than skulk around, watching the humans and himself and the apple tree without doing much to interact with any of them.

It hardly seems worth killing them over.

He half-heartedly shoos them away with the sword a few times, when it looks as though they might be about to try something, and the snake slithers off without complaint. No words exchanged. No threatening postures. Almost as if the demon is not particularly interested in fighting either.

It feels like a rather uneasy stalemate, but Aziraphale finds it much more tolerable than the alternative. By the end of the day, he is tentatively hopeful that this is the way things will continue for some time. The pair of them circling each other, going through the motions of fulfilling their duties without ever actually landing a hit for either side.

And then the sun goes down, the humans go to sleep, and the serpent unfurls itself into a shape not so different from Aziraphale’s own.

The angel is standing on the wall, looking down into the garden. The demon steps out of the shadows of the trees below and tips their head back, angling their gaze towards the sky. They cut a strange, lanky, angular figure, and they move as though they haven’t used a pair of legs for getting around in quite a long time. The whole of them seems to sway as they walk, black wings stretched wide to help them keep their balance, brushing gently through the foliage as they go. Their robes are as dark as the surrounding night, and the angel might not have noticed them at all if it hadn’t been for their hair. Wild and bright and flickering behind them like the flame from Aziraphale’s sword.

Out in the open, the moonlight paints the edges their features in silver, and if the angel had actually needed to breathe, he might have been in real trouble, because the whole of him freezes on the spot.

Brow furrowed, lips parted slightly, and golden eyes wide with wonder and grief and unfathomable longing, the demon stares up at the stars with a face that Aziraphale had only ever thought to see again in dreams.

He should maintain his distance, he knows. He should hold himself away. But something in the center of his being is raw and wounded in a way he hasn’t felt since before the Rebellion, and when those brilliant yellow eyes finally slide down from the starlight and find him in the dark on the wall, he is fluttering down to join them before he can quite help himself.

The demon tilts his head at him curiously when he lands in the grass a few feet away, but they do not seem particularly afraid. They do not threaten him, but they do not greet him, either. They do not call him by his name.

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asks at last, having thought of nothing better to fill the gaping silence between them.

The demon shrugs carelessly.

“Head office just wants to keep the playing field even, I reckon. Prove that even though we lost, we’re not gone. Got to keep the Almighty on her toes. Or something like that, I dunno. She probably doesn’t even have toes.”

Aziraphale manages not to roll his eyes, but it is a near thing.

“No, I meant what are you doing here?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! Why did they send you here, instead of…someone else?”

The demon laughs, and it is a sharp, mocking sound.

“Who else should they have sent instead?” They wonder.

‘Someone I didn’t know. Someone I didn’t-’

“Oh, never mind!” He snaps at them instead, heat rising in his face. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re a demon.”

“You thought that Hell might send someone up here who wasn’t?”

“No, of course not, I meant-” He nearly bites down on his own tongue to stop the sentence from completing itself. He meets their gaze. Holds it longer than he should. Looking for traces of lost things. A hint of deep brown in a field of yellow. “Do you…know who I am?”

“Course I do!” The demon grins toothily. Aziraphale’s throat tightens as surely as if they had wrapped all ten of their long fingers around it and squeezed. “You’re the Angel of the Eastern Gate. God’s chosen little cherub to mind the Tree of Knowledge. Very important, I must say. Very imposing. You must have made quite an impression with the right people during the war.”

He is not certain if he feels more staggered by disappointment or annoyance, but his wings droop just the same. He glances away. Tugging at the sleeves of his tunic in agitation, floundering a bit as he struggles to think of a reason not to leave.

“You say that, but you don’t seem to be particularly intimidated by me.” He notes glumly.

“Hm, should I be?”

“I am the one with a sword,” he reminds them.

“And are you going to use it on me?” The demon wonders with a wide, curling grin.

Aziraphale makes a face.

“Well, It would serve you right if I did!”

They laugh at him, not sounding the least bit cowed. There’s no meanness in it this time, though. None of their earlier mockery. If anything, they seem genuinely amused. Golden eyes catching specks of starlight, reflecting their delight.

He opens his mouth, their name bright and burning on the tip of his tongue, but he thinks better of it, in the end. Purses his lips tightly and swallows it back down. The fallen angels had lost their names along with their grace and…everything else. It wouldn’t be right to use it now.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?” He asks instead, sounding terse and feeling haggard. “The humans are both sleeping, you’ve got no one to lure in with one of your evil schemes.”

“Oh, I dunno,” the demon shrugs again, still smiling, “There’s always you, isn’t there?”

Aziraphale stiffens, expression souring exponentially.

“That is not funny,” he huffs, sticking his chin out and puffing himself up a little as he turns away. He stretches his wings wide, intending to retake his position up on the wall. The demon takes a half step closer, edging around him before he can get away.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that, alright?” they say in a rush, holding up their hands in a gesture of peace, “Nothing in my job description involves tarnishing anybody’s halo, I’m just here to ruffle some feathers, that’s all. And…”

“And?”

Their gaze slides back up towards the sky.

“And I wanted to see…”

Aziraphale follows their line of sight. It really is quite beautiful. The colors are not nearly as vivid as the view from the nebula he remembers them making when they first met, but it is certainly nothing to turn one’s nose up at.

“You wanted to see the stars?”

“Nng, well… Yeah.” They grunt, looking a bit uncomfortable about it and scratching a spot on their nose. “Believe it or not, the view from Hell leaves a lot to be desired.”

“You don’t say.”

The stand together in silence for a time. The demon watching the heavens. The angel watching them in turn.

“You know… You can see even more of them from the wall.” Aziraphale mentions casually, finally turning away and spreading his wings again to fly off.

“Was that an offer?” The demon wonders.

“It was a statement,” he replies coolly, “What you decide to do with that information is entirely up to you.”

Without a second look back, Aziraphale flaps his wings and takes off. It is a short flight back to his initial perch, but he makes sure to keep his eyes fixed on the empty wilderness beyond the garden walls. He doesn’t wish to give the impression that he is hoping for the demon to follow him up, after all.

Barely a minute passes before a fluttering of dark feathers has the demon landing deftly on the wall beside him. They give a low appreciative whistle, turning this way and that as they try to look in every direction at once. Aziraphale fights the urge to smile.

“Well, you certainly weren’t lying about the view from up here.”

“I never lie,” Aziraphale sniffs, “I’m an angel.”

“Of course not,” they smirk, “Otherwise you’d be just like me, wouldn’t you?”

“Well…that is…” He trails off, but the demon seems to have gone back to looking at the stars, so it doesn’t seem to matter much that he is lacking a witty reply. The yearning has crept its way back into their expression, and Aziraphale aches to see it despite himself.

“Do you…remember anything at all from when you were an angel?” he wonders.

“Mm, I remember… Not much, honestly.” They confess with a deep exhale of breath they had no need to be holding. “Just enough for it to hurt. Which was the point, I imagine.”

“They said it was meant as an act of mercy.” Aziraphale says without much conviction.

“Did they, now?” they chuckled dryly, “And does that seem merciful to you?”

“I don’t know,” he admits with a shake of his head, “I suppose it is kinder not to remember all the things you must have lost after the war. There are few things I would not mind forgetting.”

“Even if those memories are what make you who you are?”

“Well, it isn’t as though it changes your soul, does it?” Aziraphale asks, giving them a sidelong glance.

“I’m not so sure,” they grunt in reply, “I mean…I know I’m not the same as the angel I was created to be. I can’t be. Not anymore.”

“But maybe someday… I mean, the Almighty could always change their mind.”

“Even if she did, I wouldn’t.” They hiss out, sharp and fierce. Aziraphale flinches slightly, and they relent somewhat. They sound both resigned and determined as they continue. “Choices were made. Bridges burned. The angel that I was before… They don’t exist anymore. They’re gone. Forever.”

Aziraphale feels cold and heavy. As if his wings could not even begin to bear his weight if he tried to fly off to somewhere else. He can tell that his expression is starting to crumple in on itself, so he turns away.

He remembers, even if they cannot. The way their face lit up with unbridled joy and wonder. Wings and arms and hair all bouncing with delight. Always moving, always reaching out with curiosity and optimism. Watching new nebulas and galaxies and solar systems bloom in the empty darkness of space. Watching him.

Soft hands. White feathers. Crisp clean robes. Gold-limed beauty in both word and silence. Questions and hope and creation. Everything gentle. Everything new.

They hadn’t put a name to anything. There was no word for it yet. It hadn’t been invented. But something about their companionship had struck the very chord of their existence, and the resonance of the harmony they made together felt strong enough to shake the very stars.

Or at least, Aziraphale thought it had.

“I…I’m sorry to hear that.” He squeezes out at last.

“Are you?” The demon wonders, peering at him curiously.

“I am.” He says quietly, refusing to meet their eyes.

“Well…stop it.” They say, their mouth twisting up into a frown. “I didn’t ask for your pity.”

“Of course.”

“…”

“…You’re still doing it, aren’t you?” They accuse after a few more moments of awkward silence, narrowing their eyes at him.

“You are not the only one who lost things in the Great War.” Aziraphale snaps.

The demon blinks at him, slightly taken aback.

“No…I suppose I’m not.” They huff, shaking out their wings a little. “And you have to remember all of it.”

“I do.”

“I guess I’m the lucky one, then.” They chuckle darkly. “First time that’s ever happened.”

“How do you know that you are the lucky one if you can’t remember anything?”

“Nnngh, well… That’s…a fair point.” They concede with another long breath. “I still remember the stars, though. That’s something.”

‘The stars, but not me,’ Aziraphale smiles bitterly.

“They are beautiful,” he notes instead.

“I think I might have made them,” The demon tells him, golden eyes scanning across a billion specks of light, as if trying to gather every last one, “Not all of them, mind you, but a fair few. Mine were further out, I think. Hard to find them from here.”

“Well, so long as you don’t cause any trouble, you can look for your stars as long as you wish,” Aziraphale says.

“I think…that they remind me of someone.”

Aizraphale freezes.

“Oh, really?” He asks, striving to sound casual even as his voice rises a full octave. “Who?”

“Hm, not sure,” they hum, mostly to themselves, “I feel like I’d know them if I saw them, though.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, but the rest of his features remain remarkably unimpressed.

“Would you indeed?”

“Nngh, pretty sure.” They pause for a moment to consider things. “Then again, might be best if I don’t. Probably lead to something messy. That’s the trouble when you don’t remember people. No way to know what the last thing you said to them was. Don’t much fancy the idea of some angel seeing my face and smiting me on sight because of some row I can’t remember.”

“You know that this person is an angel, then?” Aziraphale presses.

“Well, I know they must have been before, you know, all the fighting, anyway,” the demon shrugs, “We were all angels at one point, weren’t we? But I suppose they could have fallen, too. Doesn’t seem right, though. I think they would have found me already if they had.”

“Perhaps they were lost during the war?”

“…You might be right,” they agree, slowly, “But I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“I think…if they were completely gone, it would feel less…”

“Less what?”

“Less…everything.” They say, making a fluttering gesture with their hands to emphasize the point.

“I see,” Aziraphale says, even though he is not entirely certain that he does, “So, are you going to try looking for them? You star angel?”

They shake their head at him.

“Can’t see much point in it, really.” They tell him, a smile curling up the edges of their mouth that does not reach their eyes. “The angel they knew is gone, like I said. And so are my memories. I don’t even know what we were to each other. Best of friends. Worst of enemies. Annoying workmates. Doesn’t matter. It’s all gone. It’s too late to get any of it back, now. All that’s left is the stars.”

“All that’s left is the stars,” Aziraphale repeats quietly, a tremor running through his voice, “And even they will be fading out soon. It’s nearly dawn. Come on, we should both get back to the garden and go our separate ways before the humans wake up. Don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. We are enemies, after all.”

The demon grins at him, wide and sharp and toothy, spreading their wings wide before fluttering back down into the greenery.

“Aren’t we just?”

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #fic #reposting this bc i think tumblr screwed it up yesterday when it wouldn't initially let me add tags #i do sort of what to do more with this idea #but i haven't decided what yet #hmmm

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dialovers-translations · 1 year

Text

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Laito [VAMPIRE ENDING]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts by the World Tree

*Cling*

Yui: ( ...!! Laito-kun!! )

Laito: One second.

Kino: ...!?

Yui: ...Laito-kun?

Laito: Don’t you think...You should at least listen to my final wish?

Kino: Heeh, you’ve still got something at this point?

Laito: Yui-chan...

Yui: ...Yes? Laito-kun...

ー Laito approaches her

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: Is there something you’d like me to do...?

Laito: Yes, there is. Something very important, only you can do...

Yui: Uu...

Laito: Please don’t cry, be strong. You’re going to chop off my head right now after all.

Yui: Eh...!?

Laito: I’ve told you before that death is considered a joyous occasion to Vampires, rightーー

So please dry those tears. Smile. You should rejoice...the fact that I get to finally free myself from this wicked life and be reborn...

Yui: I can’t...I could never...

Laito: I would like you to be the one to end my life.

No, it has to be you.

Yui: Laito-kun...

Laito: I’m sorry. For not being able to say ‘I love you’.

But I believe that by asking you to kill me, my love for you should be more apparent than ever.

Yui: Uu...

Laito: That’s the kind of guy the man you fell for isーー

Yui: ーー I know...I’m well aware of that...But I love you regardless.

I’m sorry. I made you suffer...When I should have realized and accepted you instead...

Laito: Yeah. Thanks...Then, you know what to do, right? This is truly what I want.

Yui: ...Yeah...

Laito: Make it quick. Then I will quickly ascend to the Heavens...

And be reborn once more, this time into someone who will be able to love you without causing you any pain...

*Rustle*

Laito: Will you wait for me?

Yui: Yeah...I’ll wait forever and everーー

Laito: Aah, but...You’re a ‘Bitch-chan’ after all...I wonder if you won’t be able to stop yourself from going to another man?

Yui: Of course not...I would never.

Laito: Then to seal our promise, with one final kiss.

Yui: Sure...

*Rustle*

Laito: Nn...

Yui: ( Laito-kun...I love you. Forever and ever, until the end of the world, for eternityーー )

Kino: Yeah, yeah. Seems like you’ve come to a conclusion.

*Rustle rustle*

*Cling*

Kino: ーー Here you go. Don’t try and hurt yourself or someone else, no matter what, understood?

Yui: Ughーー

ー She faces Laito

Yui: ( If this is your wish, then I shall fulfill itーー )

Laito: ...

Yui: ( I’llーー )

Laito: ーー This is goodbye for now, Bitch-chan.

Yui: ...Yes, farewell...

Laito: ...

*STAB*

Monologue

ーー Ironically enough,

the smile I saw on Laito-kun’s face back then,

looked more peaceful and beautiful,

than any of his smiles I had ever seen before.

When I saw that expression on his face,

as I brought down the knife and slit his throat,

I truly felt relieved from the bottom of my heart.

So much so,

I almost wanted to pat myself on the back,

for finally freeing him from everything.

Yui: ( ...Laito-kun... )

*Woosh*

Kino: ...Are these Karlheinz’s...The Powers of the World Tree...!?

Mine...These belong to me!!

Now, come...To me!! Settle inside of me!!

Yui: ( I’m being blinded...! I can’t believe these were inside of Laito-kun up till now....! )

Kino: Eh!? Why...!? How come!?

Yui: ( ...What is happening!? I have...no ideaーー )

*Woosh*

Kino: !? The powers...!! Yuuri, what is happening!?

Yuuri: ...I do not know! However...It appears that the powers have denied you...

And they’re being...absorbed into the World Tree just like that...

Kino: ...You’ve got to be kidding me...That’s outrageous...!!!

Yui: Eh...!?

( Laito-kun’s body is...!? )

( He’s being absorbed...by the World Tree. )

Monologue

The Powers which were set free from Laito-kun’s body,

despite being a strinkingly large flash of light,

disappeared inside of the World Tree.

And at the same time, to our surprise,

Laito-kun himself as well,

began to fuse with the trunk of the tree.

At that moment, the tree which had previously been withered,

came back to life again in the blink of an eye,

shining a bright light across the entire area,

turning the dark night into day.

Yui: What on earth is happening...!?

( What happened to Laito-kun? )

( I can’t believe it...None of this. )

Reiji: ...The power of the World Tree which had previously been inside of Father must have returned...

Yui: Reiji-san! You were safe!

Reiji: Yes, but more importantly...Let us leave this place.

The Adler troops are on their way...!!

Yui: B-But, Laito-kun is...

Shuu: ...He should be fine. The World Tree...is protecting him.

Yui: Ugh...

Ayato: Chichinashi, let’s go! Hang on tight!!

ー Ayato leaps into the sky with her

Yui: ( Laito-kun...!! )

*SCENE SHIFT*

Kino: ...

Yuuri: Kino! Get a grip, please! The Adler troops areーー

Kino: Hahaha...Ahahaha! What is this joke...? It makes no sense.

Yuuri: Kino...!! Dodge...!!

*Woosh woosh woosh*

*STAB*

Kino: ...!! Kuhーー

ー Kino collapses after being struck down by the arrows

Yuuri: Kino...!!!

Kino: ...Press Fーー (1)

Monologue

ーー For quite some time after that,

the Demon World remained in a state of war,

with various clans,

fighting out a continuous bloody battle.

As for the Vampire Clan,

with Laito-kun having passed away,

it should go without saying,

that they did not participate in this battle.

But who eventually ended up,

claiming sovereignty over the Demon World,

was nobody.

There was no clear victor declared.

And ironically enough,

it was the Vampire Clan,

who never even participated in the war in the first place,

who once again, slowly reclaimed their governing roleーー

ー The scene shifts to the rooftop at school

Yui: ( I wonder what exactly Karlheinz-san’s powers were in the end? )

( From what Reiji-san told me, they originally belonged to the World Tree. )

( And through the exchange of power between Karlheinz and the World Tree, they gradually grew strongerーー )

( In other words, he was the sole individual who would ever be able to properly wield those powers. )

( In which case, Karlheinz-san should have known that another individual would never be able to control them. )

( As well as that things would turn out that wayーー )

( I wonder why he decided to give away his powers regardless? )

( What exactly was the purpose of the Apple of Eden project...? )

( I wonder what he wanted Adam and Eve to accomplish...? )

( I don’t really understand. Whether it’s over now or not. )

???: ーー Bitch-chan~

Yui: Kyah!?

*Rustle rustle*

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“I want you to never change and stay my cute Bitch-chan forever, okay? ...I love you. ...Nn.”

“I’ll never let you go again. I’ve decided that I’m going to find happiness together with you.”

Laito: What’s the matter~? Looking at the night sky with a sad expression on your face...Were you thinking of me, perhaps?

Yui: Geez, Laito-kun, don’t startle me like that...

Laito: Nfu~ My bad? So, what exactly was on your mind? If you won’t tell me, I’ll do something naughty to you as a punishment~

Yui: ...Gosh, you never change, do you?

Laito: I guess so? Even if I’ve been reborn, I’m still myself...

Or would you have preferred for me to turn into a completely different guy?

Yui: Oh come on, don’t tease me.

Laito: I’m not teasing you! I want to know how you feel.

Yui: Of course, I’m glad it turned out like this.

Laito Nfu~ A fine answer. As your reward ーー

*Smooch*

Yui: Nn...

Monologue

Exactly, perhaps he borrowed the powers of the World Tree,

but as the word alludes to,

Laito-kun was ‘reborn’.

It may sound unbelievable,

but shortly after I had returned to the human world with his brothers,

we were informed of the following by one of their Familiars:

‘ーー Laito-kun has been found by the base of the World Tree.’

*Rustle*

Yui: Hey, Laito-kun...What was it like inside the World Tree?

Laito: I was asleep the whole time. And I had a very long dream...It felt like being inside a cradle.

Inside my dream, I was living a happy life.

Almost like that version of my past, was reality.

Yui: ( Laito-kun was able to overwrite his own memories with what he was shown inside the World Tree. )

( While he was able to be reborn in the literal sense of the word... )

ーー Still, you haven’t changed much.

Laito: Eh? Where’s that coming from?

Yui: Nevermind...

( Even if he has been reborn, his personality and behavior remains the same, so it kind of throws me off. )

( Seems like his brothers are somewhat puzzled by it as wellーー )

Laito: More importantly, won’t you join me for some fun now?

Yui: Eh? But isn’t the monthly dinner banquet taking place tonight?

Laito: Actually, I received word from Reiji earlier that an emergency meeting is being held at the Demon World.

Seems like the World Tree is showing signs of decay again after all.

I guess that might be because I ran off with its powers again after returning them once beforeーー

Monologue

Exactly. When Laito-kun got reborn,

he was once again,

entrusted with those powers.

However, he is no longer

like he was before,

and perhaps it’s because he’s been staying in this world,

but he’s been relatively calm in comparison.

Although all of that,

might be because he was finally able,

to leave the past behind him.

In the end, Reiji-san decided to step up,

as the leader of the Vampire Clan,

since he simply could not leave such a responsibility,

in the hands of Laito-kun,

which brings us to todayーー

Yui: The fact that the World Tree is withering doesn’t predict much good, does it?

Laito: Then, I wonder if I should return these powers to it once more then?

Yui: Iーー

Laito: ...don’t like the sound of that?

Yui: Yeah. I don’t want to ever go through that nightmare again...

Laito: All things eventually come to an end. If they started, then that’s simply their fate.

Yui: Yeah.

Laito: Besides, it’s be a shame not to enjoy the time you have, simply because you know it won’t be forever.

Yui: That sounds like something you’d say.

Laito: Nfu~ I’m a hedonist at heart after all...Hehehe...That being said.

I do feel bad for Reiji, but why don’t we go enjoy ourselves as well?

*Rustle*

Yui: I guess it can’t be helped.

Laito: I’ll make sure to tell Reiji we were partners in crime.

Well then, let’s go. Hold onto me. Ready?

*Rustle*

Yui: Yeah...!

Laito: I’ll give you the night of your life...Okay?

ー Laito leaps into the night sky with her

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) He says ‘this sucks’ or ‘this is the worst’ literally but I can never pass up an opportunity to meme with Kino. <u<

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #laito sakamaki #lost eden #diabolik lovers translation #lelaitoending1

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ariel-seagull-wings · 6 months

Text

THE MAGIC MIRROR

@princesssarisa @themousefromfantasyland @tamisdava2 @adarkrainbow @professorlehnsherr-almashy @the-blue-fairie @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales

(A russian fairy tale from Aleksandr Afanas'ev's collection)

In a certain kingdom, in a certain land, there lived a widowed merchant. He had a son, a daughter, and a brother. One day the merchant was getting ready to sail to foreign lands to sell various goods. He planned to take his son with him and leave his daughter at home. Before leaving, he summoned his brother and said to him:

"I leave my entire household in your hands,dear brother, and I beg you to look after my daughter. Teach her to read and write, and don't lether misbehave!"

Then the merchant bid his brother and his daughter farewell and set off on his journey. The merchant's daughter was already of age and possessed such indescribable beauty that you could not find her equal if you walked around the whole world! Her uncle began tohave unclean thoughts that would not give him peace day or night.

He made advances toward the maiden, telling her, "You'll either sin with me or you won't live on this earth! I'll kill you and then run away myself!…" The girl ran towards the bathhouse with her uncle on her heels, and when she got there she grabbed a basin full of boiling water and soaked him from head to toe. He was laid up for three weeks and almost didn't recover.

A terrible hatred gnawed at his heart and he began to think of ways he could repay the trick with one of his own. He thought and thought, and finally wrote his brother a letter:

"Your daughter is up to no good, she gets around, never sleeps at home,and doesn't listen to me."

The merchant received the letter, read it, and became very angry. He told his son, "Your sister is shaming the whole family! She deserves no mercy: I want you to go home this very minute and chop the incorrigible girl into little bits and bring me her heart on this knife. Then our family name won't be the laughing stock of good people!" The son took the sharp knife and headed for home. He arrived in his hometown in secret, without anyone knowing, and began to investigate: how was the merchant's daughter really living?

Everyone unanimously praised her as a quiet, modest, god-fearing, obedient girl. Having heard all this, he went to see his sister. She was overjoyed and welcomed him with hugs and kisses:

"Dear brother! How did the Lord bring you this way? How is our dear father?"

"Oh,dear sister, don't be so quick to rejoice. My homecoming is not a happy one: father sent me with orders to chop your pale body into little pieces and bring him your heart on this knife." The sister burst into tears.

"My God," she said, "why such cruelty?"

"I'll tell you why!" said her brother, and told her about their uncle's letter.

"Oh, brother, I haven't done anything wrong!"

The merchant's son listened as she told him what had happened, and then he said, "Don't cry, little sister! I know that you're not at fault, and even though father told me not to accept any excuses, I still won't punish you. Better if you pack your things, leave our father's house, and go wherever your eyes lead you. God won't abandon you!"

The merchant's daughter didn't think about it for very long. She packed for her journey, bid farewell to her brother, and left. Where to, even she did not know. Meanwhile her brother killed a stray dog, cut out its heart, stuck it onto the end of the sharp knife, and took it to his father.

As he handed over the dog's heart he said:

"There, I've fulfilled your parental command and executed my sister." "Served her right," replied his father, "a dog like her deserved a dog's death!" For a long time or a short time the beautiful maiden wandered the wide world, and finally she went into a thick forest. The trees were so tall she could barely see the sky. She walked through the forest and suddenly emerged into a large clearing. In the clearing was a white palace made of stone surrounded by an iron fence.

"I'll pay a visit to that palace," thought the girl, "not everyone is mean, after all, so it should be all right."

She entered the palace, but didn't see a human soul in the halls. She was just about to turn back when suddenly two mighty bogatyrs galloped into the courtyard and entered the palace.

They saw the maiden and said, "Hello, beauty!"

"Hello, honorable knights!"

"Look, brother," one of the bogatyrs said to the other, "we were bemoaning the fact that we had nobody to look after things at home, and God sent us a little sister."

The bogatyrs let the merchant's daughter live with them, called her their sister, gave her the keys to the palace, and made her the mistress of the whole place. Then they took out their sharp sabers, stood chest to chest, and made a vow:

"If one of us dares to encroach on our sister's honor, the other will hack him up without mercy with his saber." So the beautiful maiden lived with the bogatyrs. Her father in the meantime finished buying goods overseas, returned home, and a short while later remarried. The new wife of the merchant was an indescribable beauty. She had a magic mirror into which you could look and find out what was happening and where. One day the bogatyrs were getting ready to go out hunting. They instructed their sister:

"Make sure you don't let anyone in while we are gone!" They said goodbye and left. At that very moment the merchant's wife was gazing into her mirror, admiring her own beauty. She said:

"There is none more beautiful than I in the whole world!"

But the mirror replied, "You are fair, there is no doubt! But you have a stepdaughter who lives in the thick forest with two bogatyrs, and she is fairer still!" The stepmother did not like these words at all. She summoned a mean old woman. "Here," she told the servant, "take this ring and go into the thick forest. There you will find a white stone palace. In that palace lives my stepdaughter. Bow to her and give her the ring, and tell her it is a present from her brother!"

The old woman took the ring and set off for the forest. She arrived at the white stone palace, where the beautiful maiden saw her and ran out to meet her. She was keen to learn news from her native land.

"Hello, granny! How did the Lord bring you here? Is everyone alive and well?"

"They live and chew bread! Your brother asked me to inquire about your health and to give you this ring as a gift. Here, put it on!"

The maiden was so happy, happier than words can describe. She took the old woman inside, gave her all sorts of food and drink, and told her to give her regards to her brother. In an hour the old woman pushed off for home, and the maiden admired the ring and decided to put it on. She did, and right away fell over as if dead. The bogatyrs returned home and entered the courtyard, but their sister did not come out to meet them. What was the matter? They went to her room and found her lying there dead, not saying a word. The bogatyrs began to grieve; death had taken the very thing that was most beautiful of all!

"We must dress her in new clothes and put her in a coffin," they said. They began to prepare her and one of them noticed a ring on the maiden's hand.

"We can't bury her with this ring, can we? We had better take it off and keep it as a memento."

They took off thering and immediately the fair maiden opened her eyes, gasped, and came to life.

"What has happened to you, little sister? Did someone come to visit you?" the bogatyrs asked.

"An old woman I know from home came and gave me a ring."

"Oh, you're so disobedient! Not for nothing did we tell you not to let anyone in when we're not here. See that you don't do it again!" A short while later the merchant's wife again looked into her mirror and found out that her stepdaughter was still alive and beautiful. She summoned the old woman and gave her aribbon, saying:

"Go to the white stone palace and give my stepdaughter this gift. Tell her it's from her brother!"

The old woman came to see the maiden again, persuaded her with all sorts of clever words, and gave her the ribbon. The girl was overjoyed and tied the ribbon around her neck. Right away she fell onto the bed as if dead. The bogatyrs returned from their hunt, saw their sister lying dead, and began to dress her in new clothes. They took off the ribbon and she opened her eyes, gasped, and came to life.

"What happened, little sister? Was the old woman here again?"

"Yes," she said, "the old woman from home came again and brought me a ribbon." "Oh, what will we do with you, little sister? We begged you not to let anyone in when we are gone!"

"Forgive me, dear brothers! I couldn't help myself! I wanted to hear news from home!" A few days passed and again the merchant's wife looked into her mirror. Again her stepdaughter was alive. She summoned the old woman.

"Here," she said, "take this strand of hair! Go to my stepdaughter and kill her once and for all!"

The old woman bided her time until the bogatyrs went out hunting and again went to the white stone palace. The fair maiden saw her through the window and couldn't help herself. She jumped up to meet the old woman:

"Hello, granny! How does God find you today?"

"Still alive, deary! I've dragged myself out into the world to come see you."

The fair maiden led her into the palace, gave her all sorts of food and drink, asked about her relatives, and told her to give her regards to her brother."

"Alright," said the old woman, "I will. And you, deary, you probably have nobody to search your head for lice, do you? Let me do it for you!"

"Go ahead, granny!"

She began to pick at the fair maiden's head and braided the enchanted strand into her hair. The maiden fell right over as if dead. The old woman cackled and left quickly so nobody would catch her. The bogatyrs came home and went into the palace. They saw their sister lying dead. For a long time they looked her over to see if there was something that should not be there, but they found nothing! So they made a crystal coffin, one so magnificent that you couldn't imagine it, one that exists only in fairy tales. T

hey adorned the merchant's daughter in a brilliant gown, like a bride on her wedding day, and laid her in the crystal coffin.

They placed the coffin in themiddle of the palace's great hall under a canopy of red velvet with diamond tassels and gold fringes, and hung twelve lanterns on twelve crystal columns. Then they wept bitter tears, for they were seized by a great longing.

"What do we have to live for? Let's do ourselves in!"

They embraced, said farewell, went up to the highest balcony, held hands, and jumped. They struck the sharp rocks below and thus ended their lives. Many years passed. A certain prince was out hunting. He went into the thick forest, released his dogs, separated from his huntsmen, and set off alone along an overgrown path. He rode and rode and suddenly found himself in a clearing and saw in the clearing a white stonepalace.

The prince dismounted, went up the staircase, and looked around the palace chambers. Everywhere he looked the palace was richly adorned, but there was no sign of a mistress' hand anywhere: it was all abandoned long ago! In one hall there stood a crystal coffin and in the coffin lay a dead maiden of indescribably beauty. There was a blush on her cheek and a smile on her lips, as if she were merely asleep. The prince approached, looked at the maiden, and stood rooted to the spot as if held there by an unseen force. He stood from morning until late evening, unable to tear his eyes from her, with a troubled heart. He was riveted by her maidenly beauty, more wondrous than you could find anywhere on earth! His huntsmen had long been searching for him everywhere, combing the forest, blowing their horns, and shouting for him. The prince stood before the crystal coffin and did not hear a thing. The sun went down and a thick gloom set in. Only then did he come around. He kissed the dead maiden and went back.

"Ah, your highness! Where have you been?" his huntsmen asked.

"I was chasing an animal and lost my way."

The next day, at first light, the prince went out hunting again.

He galloped into the forest, separated from his huntsmen, and by the same path came to the white stone palace.

Again he spent the entire day standing by the crystal coffin, not taking his eye off the dead maiden. Only late at night did he turn back for home. The same thing happened on the third day, and the fourth, and the rest of the week.

"What's going on with our prince?" the huntsmen wondered.

"Let's follow him, brothers, and make sure he's not in any trouble." So once again the prince went out to hunt, released his dogs in the forest, separated from his entourage, and set out for the white stone palace, this time with the huntsmen on his heels. They came to the clearing, went into the palace, saw the crystal coffin in the great hall, and their prince standing before the maiden. "Your highness! It's no wonder you spent a week in the forest! Now we won't be able to leave until nightfall, either!"

They stood in a circle around the crystal coffin looking at the maiden, admiring her beauty, and did not move an inch from morning until late evening. When it was completely dark, the prince addressed his huntsmen: "Do me a service, brothers, a great service: take this coffin with the dead maiden, bring it to my palace, and put it in my bedroom. But do it quietly, so nobody finds out. I'll reward you handsomely, with more gold than you've ever seen."

"Reward us as you will, prince, for we are glad to serve you!" said the huntsmen.

They lifted the crystal coffin, carried it into the courtyard, mounted it on the horses, and took it to the royal palace. There they put it in the prince's bedroom. From that day on the prince thought no more about hunting. He sat at home, not setting foot from his bedroom, admiring the maiden. "What is the matter with our son," thought the queen, "It's been so long since he's come out of his room, or even let anyone in. Has a sad longing overtaken him, or maybe some kind of illness? I should go and check on him."

The queen entered his bedroom and saw the crystal coffin. What was it doing there? She asked around and gave an order immediately to bury the maiden, as custom demanded, in the damp mother earth. The prince wept, and then went into the garden and picked some flowers. He took them to where the dead beauty lay and began to comb her light brown hair and adorn her head with the flowers. Suddenly the enchanted strand fell from her braid and the beauty opened her eyes, gasped, sat up in the crystal coffin, and said:

"Oh, how long I slept!"

The prince's joy was indescribable. He took her by the hand and led her to his father and mother.

"God sent her to me!" he said, "I can't live without her for a minute! Pray give us your permission to marry, dear father and mother." "Marry her, son! We shan't go against God's will, and you won't find a greater beauty anywhere in the world!"

Tsars don't waste time: on that very day there was a wedding and a great feast. The prince married the merchant's daughter and doted on her. Some time passed and she wanted to visit her father and brother.

The prince asked his father.

"Alright," said the tsar, "go, my dear children! You, prince, go by land so you can check on the state of affairs in our realm, and your wife will go by sea, a more direct route."

They prepared everything for the princess' journey, equipped the sailors, and appointed a general to captain the ship. The princess went aboard and they sailed onto the open sea, while the prince set off by land. The general saw the fair maiden, coveted her beauty, and began to make advances. What do I have to fear?, he thought, since she was in his hands, and he could do whatever he pleased. "Love me," he said to the princess, "If you don't, I'll throw you into the sea!"

The princess turned away without a reply, her eyes filling up with tears. The general's words were overheard by a sailor, who came to the princess later that evening and told her:

"Don't cry, princess! Put on my uniform and I'll dress in your clothes. Go out onto the deck, and I'll stay in your quarters. Let the general throw me overboard, I'm not afraid. I'll just swim to shore, since we're not far from land!"

They exchanged clothes and the princess went up onto the deck, while the sailor lay in her bed. At night the general appeared, seized the sailor, and threw him into the sea. The sailor swam and swam and by morning reached dry land. Meanwhile the ship docked and the sailors went ashore. The princess also disembarked, rushed to the market, bought herself a cook's outfit, put it on, and in this disguise went to work as a servant in her own father's kitchen. A short while later the prince arrived at the merchant's house.

"Hello, father!" he said. "Accept me as your son-in-law, for I am married to your daughter. Where is she? Hasn't she arrived yet?"

And then the general appeared with news:

"Your highness! A great misfortune has befallen us: the princess was standing on the deck when a storm came up and began to rock the ship. She began to swoon and was swept into the sea and drowned!" The prince began to grieve and cry, since he knew there was no return from the bottom of the sea. Her fate had been sealed! The prince stayed with his father-in-law for a few days and then ordered his entourage to prepare for the journey home.

The merchant arranged a large farewell banquet. All his relatives and the local merchants and boyars gathered for the feast.

His brother, the mean old woman, and the general were there, too. They ate and drank and refreshed themselves, and one of the guests said:

"Honorable friends! Why are we just eating and drinking? That's no good; let us tell tales!"

"Alright! Let's!" all the guests shouted, "Who shall begin?"

One guest tried but didn't know how, another was no better, and a third's memory had lapsed from the wine. What to do?

One guest chimed in and said:

"There is a new cook in the kitchen who has been to many foreign lands and seen many marvelous things. He's a master at telling tales!"

The merchant sent for the cook. "Entertain my guests!" he said.

The cook-princess relied:

"What shall I tell, a fairy tale or a true story?"

"Tell us a true story!"

"Alright, a true story. But with one condition: if anyone interrupts me, they'll get hit on the forehead with my ladle!" Everyone agreed. The princess began to tell the story of everything that had happened to her.

"And so," she said, "there was a merchant who had a daughter, and before he went overseas he entrusted his daughter to his brother's keep. The uncle was full of desire because of her beauty and would not give her a moment's peace…"

The uncle realized that she was speaking about him and said:

"These are lies, dear people!"

"Ah, so you think I'm lying? Here's a ladle to the forehead for you!"

Then the story came to the episode with the stepmother and how she questioned her magic mirror, and how the mean old woman went to the white stone castle of the bogatyrs, and the stepmother and the old woman shouted in unison:

"What nonsense! That's impossible!"

The princess hit them on the head with the ladle and continued her story, telling about how she lay in the crystal coffin until she was found by the prince, who brought her back to life and married her, and about how she set off to visit her father. The general knew he was in trouble and said to the prince:

"I'll be going home now, if you please. I feel a headache coming on…" "Sit a while longer," replied the prince, "you'll be alright!"

The princess began to tell the story of the general.

He couldn't stand it and said, "It's all lies!"

The princess whacked him on the head with the ladle. Then she cast off the cook's garments and revealed herself to the prince:

"I'm not a cook, I'm your lawful wife!"

The prince was overjoyed, and the merchant as well. They rushed to embrace and kiss her. Later they held a trial. The mean old woman and the uncle were shot by a firing squad. The stepmothersorceress was tied to a stallion's tail, and the stallion galloped across a field and scattered her smashed bones over the bushes and the gullies. The general was put in prison and his place was taken by the sailor who had saved the princess. From then on, the prince, his wife, and the merchant lived a long and happy life together.

#fairy tales #folklore #fantasy #literature #snow white

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lismonia · 1 year

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To JK Rowling, from Cho Chang by Rachel Rostad

When you put me in your books, millions of Asian girls across America rejoiced! Finally, a potential Halloween costume that wasn't a geisha or Mulan! What’s not to love about me? I’m everyone’s favorite character! I totally get to fight tons of Death Eaters and have a great sense of humor and am full of complex emotions!

Oh wait. That’s the version of Harry Potter where I’m not fucking worthless.

First of all, you put me in Ravenclaw. Of course the only Asian at Hogwarts would be in the nerdy house. Too bad there wasn't a house that specialized in computers and math and karate, huh?

I know, you thought you were being tolerant. Between me, Dean, and the Indian twins, Hogwarts has like... five brown people? It doesn't matter we’re all minor characters. Nah, you’re not racist! Just like how you’re not homophobic, because Dumbledore’s totally gay! Of course it’s never said in the books, but man. Hasn't society come so far? Now gays don’t just have to be closeted in real life—they can even be closeted fictionally!

Ms. Rowling. Let’s talk about my name. Cho. Chang. Cho and Chang are both last names. They are both Korean last names. I am supposed to be Chinese. Me being named “Cho Chang” is like a Frenchman being named “Garcia Sanchez.”

So thank you. Thank you for giving me no heritage. Thank you for giving me a name as generic as a ninja costume. As chopstick hair ornaments.

Ms. Rowling, I know you’re just the latest participant in a long tradition of turning Asian women into a tragic fetish. Madame Butterfly. Japanese woman falls in love with a white soldier, is abandoned, kills herself. Miss Saigon. Vietnamese woman falls in love with a white soldier, is abandoned, kills herself. Memoirs Of A Geisha. Lucy Liu in leather. Schoolgirl porn.

So let me cry over boys more than I speak. Let me fulfill your diversity quota. Just one more brown girl mourning her white hero.

No wonder Harry Potter’s got yellow fever. We giggle behind small hands and “no speak Engrish.” What else could a man see in me? What else could I be but what you made me? Subordinate. Submissive. Subplot.

Go ahead. Tell me I’m overreacting. Ignore the fact that your books have sold 400 million copies worldwide. I am plastered across movie screens, a bestselling caricature.

Last summer, I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows. He had his father’s blue eyes. He’d press his wrist against mine and say he was too pale. That my skin was so much more beautiful. To him, I was Pacific sunset, almond milk, a porcelain cup.

When he left me, I told myself I should have seen it coming. I wasn't sure I was sad but I cried anyway. Girls who look like me are supposed to cry over boys who look like him. I’d seen all the movies and read all the books. We were just following the plot.

#harry potter #cho chang #jk rowling #ravenclaw #hogwarts #asian representation #Chinese represenation #books #jk rowling being stereotypical

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p-taryn-dactyl · 2 years

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Song of Medusa pt2

a/n: hello! this is the second, and very late, part to my Song of Medusa series!!

prompt: what if medusa had someone she loved?

word count: 2.3k

pairing(s): medusa x fem!oc warning(s): mentions of death; maybe some SA mentions; unknown narrator

There were a few moments of silence for the two women. But not for me, as I was laughing and rejoicing at the fact Elpida wasn’t a garden decoration. I waited for one of them to say something. I waited. And waited. What seemed like hours passed and I almost showed myself before Elpida broke the silence once more.

“Why would, um, why would I be stone?” Medusa’s features once again were a copy of confusion and astonishment.

“You truly do not know?” Elpida thought for a minute before shaking her head.

“I thought that was obvious by my confusion.” I was once again reminded why I enjoy the presence of this mortal. Medusa took a deep breath, her chest stuttering. She was nervous. Elpida took a step forward, arm reached out in a comforting way but Medusa retreated. She seemed to be contemplating something. Her head turned towards the east side of the cave, her sight being blocked by the walls. But I knew what she was looking at. The Graveyard. My joy quickly receded. Medusa was just as human as the ones who tried to kill her and she understood the insult of an improper burial.

“What is it?” Elpida’s voice was a whisper, so quiet that even my ears could barely register her words. She played with the frayed ends of her dress, her last connection to her home. Medusa waited for a moment before turning back to the maiden. When she made eye contact with Elpida, it was like a breath of fresh air. She finally could look into someone's eyes without fear of petrifying them. These eyes were beautiful. They’re the color of fresh spring dirt from which the beauty of Persephone’s return blossomed. They held curiosity in the form of golden strands, like stray flames from a fire. I held my breath in waiting. What would come next in the story of these two?

“As you have no way of getting off this island,” she paused and I saw what she was thinking. Until another hero comes on a ship, “You’ll need to know who I am.”

Now you must understand, they never tell you how many soldiers came to behead Medusa. They only tell you of the one who succeeded. You could probably assume a couple hundred, I would have guessed the same. But then we would both be wrong. Soldiers calling themselves heroes came by the thousands. Whether it be a teenage boy avenging his father who faced the same fate or a man scorned by his people hoping for a victory to win their love back. So many lives lost. All for the sake of power. The trail to the Graveyard was a long one, even if Sarpedon wasn’t a particularly large island. I found myself growing weary watching Medusa lead the way for young Elpida, who watched the trail that was so often used. I saw as she memorized the plant life, the patterns the small animals made in the dirt as they ran in circles, chasing the daylight. Daylight that quickly started to trickle into midday. Elpida clutched her stomach as it growled.

“Shh.” She whispered as if her stomach would listen to her. It did not. Medusa didn’t seem to notice as she continued on the path. Feeling pity for the girl, I focused on the roots growing deep in the earth. Soon small berry bunches were lining the pathway. Medusa frowned at the ground but nodded when Elpida asked if they were safe to eat. They continued on their way as Elpida, in a very ladylike manner, shoved the small fruits in her mouth, juice dribbling down her chin. Soon her stomach stopped it’s protest. They walked for about half of an hour until Medusa came to a cliff. Elpida, who was taking in the beautiful scenery, didn’t notice her leader had stopped and ran straight into Medusa’s back.

“Sorry.” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Medusa didn’t answer, only continued to stare ahead. Elpida and I followed her gaze. Elpida gasped, her hand going to cover her mouth. Looking down, an expanse of land too large to be a part of this small island stretched out. But this unnatural sight was not the surprise. Bodies of stone littered the ground. Their bodies were mostly covered by white sand, contrasting the dark stone of their skin. The ones who had been there longest had vines covering their forms, small flowers peppering the greenery. What was most disturbing was the fact of the statue's faces. They never were covered by sand or plants. Their features were frozen in fear and their weapons protruded from the ground, still shining like the day they tried to kill Medusa. Elpida turned towards Medusa, thousands of questions for thousands of dead bodies.

“What is this?” Medusa sat on the ground, curling her serpent like form underneath her. Elpida sat next to her, crossing her legs in the soft grass. Her eyes focused on the Graveyard but her ears focused on the story Medusa had started to tell. She listened as Medusa talked about her past home, a temple of Athena. She listened in disgust as Medusa slowly told of Poseidon’s assault upon her. She glared at the sea, her heart closing against the god her mother so blindly followed. Medusa stopped speaking for a minute before telling Elpida of her punish- protection and banishment. Elpida put up a hand to pause Medusa in the middle of the woman telling her of the many soldiers. She gestured towards the Graveyard, towards the bodies frozen in time.

“You did this?” Medusa sucked in a breath before nodding. She looked away from Elpida, not wanting to see fear and disgust in the beautiful girl's eyes. But if she hadn’t looked away, she would’ve seen worry and understanding. Elpida opened her mouth to speak again when Medusa said something that caused ice to cover her stomach.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with a monster.” Medusa got up to leave, Elpida, who had frozen in pity, scrambled up to follow Medusa after a small nudge in the wind. Go. She grabbed Medusa’s arm and spun the Gorgon to face her.

“You are not a monster. You, Medusa, are the victim. These soldiers came here in search of power, a greed that will someday destroy mankind. They were falsely led by the very gods who put this horrible curse upon you. You are not a monster but they are. The gods. Poseidon. You did nothing wrong, okay? If anyone should be punished, it should be the man who couldn’t understand the word no!” Elpida took a breath, her chest rising fast, her words riling her up. She hoped her words had helped Medusa but she understood one rant from a young girl wouldn’t erase hundreds of years of insecurity. I had a small smile on my face. I hadn’t heard a mortal so blatantly curse the name of one of the Big Three. If I focused hard enough, I could feel the bristling of the sea god, offended. Rolling my eyes, I focused back on the two women. Medusa also had a small smile on her face as she whispered a small thank you. Elpida nodded and almost went in for a hug before Medusa tensed and spun her head towards the west side of the island. I too felt an arrival. But do not fret, readers, this soldier is not the hero who would swing the final blow.

“What is it?” Elpida asked, her voice small. Medusa’s snakes rose in the air, defensive.

“Someone new is here, another hero.” She turned towards Elpida and jutted her chin towards a path down to the Graveyard.

“Hide yourself down there, I do not know how he’ll react to seeing you.” Elpida was reluctant but listened to her instructions. She slid down the dirt path, watching as the silky brown soil mixed with soft white sand. She pressed herself against the highest wall of the cliff, straining her ears for a hint of what was happening above. Elpida sat down on the ground after a few minutes, studying the bodies that lay around her. I watched her face twist in curiosity at the sight of the soldier’s weapons still clutched in the stone encased hands. She crawled towards the closest body and brushed her fingers along the closed fist. This particular soldier could be thought to be one of the younger ones, as his chin and brow were still stuck in the boyish stance.

“Why won’t she take their weapons?” Elpida whispered to no one but herself and the wind. I did not know this answer. I waited with Elpida, perfectly aware I could go check on Medusa and the new soldier but my concern was for Elpida. She had been through a great deal and now was thrust into a world of vengeful gods and monsterized victims. I watched as she named each soldier, giving them backstories and history rivaled to the greatest of storytellers. We waited for about an hour, Elpida slowly slipping back into slumber. She was awoken at the mysterious sound of shifting sand. Looking a few feet away from the soldiers Elpida had named, sand was moving on its own, creating a whirlpool-like mirage. Once it finished, a hole large enough for a man emerged. I looked towards the top of the cliff and saw Medusa returning towards the Graveyard, a stone body in her arms. A small body. Medusa’s eyes held grief and a somberness that seemed to stop the sun's rays from holding any warmth. Elpida gasped once Medusa came into her line of sight. Medusa lowered the young boy into the sand and kneeled down, brushing the sand over his body, once more making sure no sand covered the face or weapon. Before Elpida could ask a question, Medusa started to speak.

“He told me of his father. A good man fighting a horrible war. If he were to have my head, his father could win the war and the respect of his people once more,” Medusa turned towards Elpida and I, her eyes only seeing the young maiden, “I almost didn’t turn around, almost let him take his prize,” She shook her head, lowering her eyes towards the ground, “But something, a force I couldn’t fight, pushed me around. His eyes were filled with fright, Elpida, scared for his life he only started living. How can you not think of me a monster?” I looked at the young boy, he couldn’t have been older than thirteen. Elpida waited for a minute, pondering her answer. She stepped forward, closer to the gorgon.

“You were willing to be sacrificed for a child you did not know, for a war you had no business fighting. That is why and there might be another reason if my theory is right.” Medusa looked at the girl in confusion, as did I. Where was she going with this? Elpida gestured to the expanse of stone surrounding them

“Why do you not cover their faces or take their weapons to further defend yourself?” Medusa seemed to realize what Elpida was referring to. I was still stuck in my confusion, waiting for one of them to explain. Medusa had a small smile on her lips.

“I keep their faces uncovered for if they are revived. So they don’t choke on the sand with their first breath of new life.” Elpida nodded, as if proud. I waited for the second answer to the question.

“I do not take their weapons for almost the same reason. If they come back, it would mean my power would no longer have a hold on them. They’ll have weapons to defend themselves against me and other enemies they encounter.” Elpida raised an eyebrow, a sad look coming across her face. But she did not speak. Medusa looked once more across the Graveyard before turning towards the direction of her cave. Elpida quickly followed, walking side by side with Medusa and hooking their elbows together.

“What’s for dinner?” Elpida questioned, sparking a bright laugh from her companion.

The night passed quickly as did the month that followed. The two girls had become close, each evening Medusa and Elpida trading stories and jokes from their homelands. I saw the light blush upon Elpida’s face as Medusa brushed hair from her eyes. I saw Medusa look lovingly at Elpida, the young maiden becoming the source of joy that woke her up in the morning. One particular night, the wind was a fierce chill. Medusa went to grab extra animal hides for blankets as Elpida tended the fire. Elpida smiled in the direction Medusa went.

“Whoever sent me here, thank you.” She whispered to herself, fingers abstently twisting strands of hair. You’re welcome, I replied but of course, she did not hear me. So I merely sent a sign. Elpida’s features twisted from shy to incredulous as the shadow against the cave wall shifted in shape. She watched as somehow her shadow formed into someone else. Another woman seemingly wearing a veil tending a flame a thousand times bigger than the one in Medusa’s cave. I watched as she blinked and the vision was gone. Elpida’s lips formed a small smile as she whispered my name, finally knowing who was watching over her. Medusa returned and Elpida turned away from the wall, smiling joyishly at the gorgon. The two cuddled by the fire, Elpida resting in the curl of Medusa’s serpent body. Kiss! I chanted but my words fell upon deaf ears. Slowly, the girls drifted into peaceful sleep, their bodies pressed together for warmth. I smiled at the sight, warming my heart. Warmth that quickly died as an icy feeling krept inside my bones. I turned towards the sea, looking for someone that was not yet there. I knew something horrible was to happen soon, call it godly intuition, but I did not know what. Looking back, I can say with certainty what had struck such a reaction upon me.

Perseus was coming.

ok sorry to interupt what i think was a cool ending: would anyone be interested in knowing more about elpida? i also have other ocs lol

#medusa x oc #medusa x fem!oc #i just feel like medusa isn't loved enough #percy jackson #this is what happens when a lesbian reads song of achilles #even though the only connection these two have is the retelling of greek myths #percy jackon and the olympians #medusa #elpida (my fem!oc)#elpida x medusa #my writing #fem!oc #childhood obsession with percy jackson does this to you

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enigma-the-anomaly · 1 year

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Mames Vibes (James’ Perspective)

(aka word hemorrhaging about my oc ship, from the perspective of James)

you had a goal once, a reason for doing what you did. But then hatred for unfairness became hatred that things didn’t go your way, and desire to change tragic fates became desire for control over fate, and your ambition burned so brightly that your cause turned to ash. I didn’t have to love you but even after seeing the monster you became, I let myself fall for you. You made me immortal like yourself yet I am not the one who has transformed into something unrecognizable. I love you and that is why I must fight you. I want what’s best for you and that is why I resist you. Is it possible to love someone but hate what they do? Because that is what I feel about you, and perhaps you feel that way too. You are a monster but you are mine. You love me so you try to control me, I love you too so I will not give in. And when you are finally punished for your evil deeds, I will rejoice in the vanquishing of evil but I will still mourn the man I love. If things had happened differently, you would not have to die. But if things had happened differently, we never would have met. Was it worth it then, the people you killed and the bodies I helped hide? We will never know now, but I know that my time with you was not something I regret.

#mames (dtr)#james (dtr)#markus (dtr)#dtr #oc ship #writing #:)

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localfriendofdorthy · 1 year

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wanting to believe in heaven when your body is hell

i want to be reborn. i sit in church and wonder if there is a god why would he do this to me. my mother finds comfort in my tormenter. my father finds anger, a reminder of his mother. i think it was shoved down his throat till he couldn’t breath and now he will never let his mouth close again. my friends brother is dead. the priest said he wanted peace, that all humans crave is peace. my body is at war with itself. blood is spilled, it came from me but it is not mine. pray for me, please. i hate that all i hear is silence, it would be so easy to comfort, to blame, to rejoice. instead i am alone as i look at the heavens. burn me, please. i know i am wrong, i would just like someone to finally prove it. if i met god i would ask him to tell me what is wrong with me. i would smile as he answered, i think that would give me peace, that is what i crave. if i met god i’d ask him why. i would leave before he spoke. somewhere there is an angel who looks like me. maybe my grandma prays to him, maybe my mother mourns him, my father hates him. but he looks like me. he had my body, he had scars on his chest. i touched them and he told me one day i will die but i will die myself. if i met god id ask him why it didn’t work. i don’t know what he would say. this body of mine is hell, they won’t let it be heaven. is it punishment? is my body a punishment? if i met god i would kill him. i would tell him to kill me first. we would kill each other, and finally i would be reborn.

#trans artist #trans poem #poetry #spoken word #transgender #queer poets on tumblr #queer poems

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mrsvoldemort · 1 year

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I want you to choose me Daddy

I want you to choose me over this society. I am terribly unhappy Dad. I feel like I’d either kill myself, or deteriorate into nothing. I have no one to talk to, no one talks to me. This forced solitude is like slow poisoning. You don’t realise how it’s eating you up. You wake up one day, weak, fragile, and on the brink of death.

I never wanted a filmy love story, but I did want a little love and a little respect. He left me for three years Daddy, and came back and basically told me those three years were worth nothing. I was worth nothing. He expected me to rejoice in his statements about my worthlessness. I couldn’t do that Dad. I can’t.

You never took a stand for me. I’m sorry to be harsh, but you never did. You never said, ‘Darling, I’m here for you’. Mom did though. But too late.

I often think about running away. But I have no safe haven. No one who would help me out. No one who would hug me and tell me that they’re proud I survived so long. So Instead I’ll probably end myself. That way I know you’ll miss me. And I know you won’t be ashamed of me. But that just scares me Daddy. It’s so final. That means I’ll never get to see my younger sister marry, that means I’ll never get to hug you, or kiss Mommy, or hold my brother’s hand. It just seems so final.

I am so confused.

I want happiness, but not at the cost of losing you all. But I’m in such a conundrum. You get me Daddy, tell me you do?. I just can’t live like this. This life of solitude and pain. I need affection Dad. You know how clingy I am. I used to cry outside the washroom when Mom went to shower. So you know how important affection is for me. I don’t want that. I need that.

It’s either dying slowly, and painfully. Or ending it quickly and giving you all a clean break.

I am so confused.

#prose poem #tumblr diary #my diary #online diary #help help help #solitude #pain #kms kms kms #i’ll kms #affection #love quotes #unrequited love #deathcore

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inkofamethyst · 2 years

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May 23, 2022

I read seven books last semester and four this semester. I was on a roll this school year. Not sure if I��m gonna finish the Iliad though. The story seems interesting, but I may give it a try as an audiobook. I can’t read it in my head as fast as most books without losing interest, so there’s a theatrical element in my head when I’m reading it, but that can get tiresome. I think I’d like to have someone else just tell it to me.

Even though I’m taking three bio courses (no chem, no physics, finally, just me n my majors) next semester, I hope that having one of them online will lighten the load quite a bit. Like I’m looking forward to almost all of my classes (I’m taking dev bio bc I have to (it’s not a required class but it’s in a category from which I have to choose one course)) which is nice, but so much science in one semester is probably going to be pretty difficult without the break of a more flexible online class. Also I won’t have to worry so much about dreadful Mondays next semester which is something to look forward to.

I’m kind of all over the place today but there’s this award that my uni gives to one graduating senior each year and like,,, I was reading the blurbs from the finalists and they’re literally insane. These students do so much it made me tired just reading about it. And I won’t lie, a very small part of me was disappointed in myself because there’s no way I’ll manage to even be a finalist for that after receiving the middle school and high school equivalents. I don’t really regret my choices, and it’s not really something I was shooting for anyway. Besides, I’m getting two degrees for free, so.

I finally watched The Batman and I really liked it! Even though no one cares, here’s a rundown of my thoughts throughout:

Even at the opening monologue I could see what my photo-friend meant when he said with “this movie feels like it comes from the comics”

People (on twitter/pinterest) kept saying that they made Bruce an uncool emo kid instead of the suave billionaire and I kinda dig the change

God this is creepy

Miss Kravitz was really serving up something there

Riddler is a villain sure but he’s kinda makin points. Shame about the killings tho

Why is Gotham Like That

Peguin rejoicing right before the batmobile zooms through the flames? A+ comedy gold

Penguin waddling? Fantastic

Batman is literally so smart why am I such a smooth brain I never would’ve figured that out

Jim + Batsy I love them

Thats Horrific :D

The fight lit by gunfire? p cool p cool

Why would you even build a city like this

DC really goes hard on “the true villain was the mental health we tanked along the way” and also “if you don’t care for your citizens’ needs they will do Stuff Like This” and nobody listens but it’s the truth

I went to see The Planets with my sister and the only one I could recognize by name was Jupiter because it’s the only one I’d heard before (on Wolf359, actually). The orchestra was fantastic, by the way. However, despite Jupiter being this bold, brassy tune that’s easily recognizable, I felt that it was the least musically complex of the movements. I can’t recall which one off the top of my head was my favorite (I was sort of just breathing it all in, less so thinking about ranking the movements), but I don’t think it would be Jupiter, actually. It was the most fun because I knew it; it was the one I was excited to hear the most, but the others were also composed so thoughtfully.

Also my sister and I were two of very few non-retirees in the concert hall, so there’s that. That was my first symphony orchestra concert (as an audience member). Wild.

Today I’m thankful for all As and a B and that I’ll never have to take another class in the chemistry department at my uni ever again. And good riddance to the physics department too. I mean I love learning. Even with chem, it’s rare that I don’t enjoy learning the material (exceptions: chem labs and orgo II which felt like mechanism memorization almost entirely (tbh, biochem II was much like orgo II in that sense when compared to their prerequisite counterparts (but despite my inability to do incredibly well on the exams, I still enjoyed biochem II))), but physics sucked me almost dry and I hated that. So good riddance.

My boyfriend asked if I’d join him for a chamber concert duet in the fall. Obviously I said yes. Lowkey excited. [edit: I feel the need to clarify that there are associated worries but I am willfully choosing not to give them any airtime]

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paperbagnotes · 5 months

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Idk how to escape this pain that’s killing me every day

I’ve never felt anything like this

It’s almost worse then being ill

This sickness makes me ugly

Erupts through my eyes

While I see him looking happy..

How can this be

I need to leave

I need to get as far away as I can

Stop using the internet

If his ads are even all I’m shown

I must go

Foreign country

Is that we’re there is salvation for me?

I’m done pretending

Never going to lie about how I feel

Wake up every morning and hit a bottle until I can’t feel

I can’t feel this

This can not be my existence

I am bleeding and so I cut myself to see

What my blood really feels

It’s of nothing

Leaks out

Spills all over everything

That means nothing

I have nothing

There is nothing

It is all nothing

I pray for death to come to me

Life had tortured me

It’s taken my dreams

It’s distorted my anatomy

It has killed me

I loved me

I loved who I was

The capacity, endlessly I could feel rejoice and happy

I now bleed

Into this sink

I must fill it

I must leak out everything

I want to leave

God. I pray you take me

Don’t even reincarnate me

Life like this?

It’s never been meant for a soft soul like mine

I become ..

An ugly

Dented

Damned and diminished dime

Worth no time

Anyone willing to give it I know is less than me

So eager to please

They have no surety

It disgust me

If I have no one here

There is no point in my morality

Why make me mortal

To mate

If there is no body

You have me clawing

Scraping

Groveling on my knees

You tell me to wait

Darling wait

It’s okay

Patience is a virtue you carry

Just wait

Jeopardy waiting

Wait until you bleed yourself to see the blue

Wait until your death

Overcomes you

Then wait some more

Be sure I’ll bring you the only thing you’ve ever wanted..

Well god?! Allah

I don’t believe you

I no longer see or feel you

You choose to make me ugly

You chose for me to look like this

You love it

Making me ugly

You laugh at my misfortune it seems

A cruel game

You think you’ve strengthened me

You’ve made me so weak

You test the one testimony I’ve preached

It is not something anyone should carry

You’ve killed me

So just let me die already

Blood empties me

And you can’t even let me pass you

Keep me staring at this scary reflection

I don’t ever want to look in a mirror again

I don’t every want anything

When will enough blood please you?

Should I slit my neck

Would that finally make it through to you?

I clearly can’t be here

You can’t give me someone to love

Finally

And have them never be able to love me

What cruel hell is this

That you think I should be thankful for??

This life is a chore

It’s a demonic thing

Brutal and scary

I am terrified

How can I escape this love

Please kill me

Let me start over

This is not where I belong

I will never be someone

Who cares about any of it

You know love is everything to me

Without it

This life

Any

It’s not worth living

I beg of you

On my knees

Red all over the life you wrote

Where else must I cut..

I am a coward

Or my throat would be it for me

I know the artery

Die in minutes

Gladly

But my bards aren’t steady

I am afraid..

If I do that ik it won’t be better

So I can not

I can not cut my throat

Carotid artery

It would be easy

Painless

Then would I be free?

No i know I wouldn’t be

So I don’t. But you won’t give it to me

You won’t kill me

Or let me have glory

So which is it

I don’t want to die a slow death from cancer

Feeling this pain until I am no longer

If my life is so full of this

To not feel loved

Why did you create me?!

Molested me at less than a year old

And you think I deserve to take everything

Pain kills me

Stip pretending you don’t see

Please I want mercy

My love is not for me

End my life

Never one I’ll be average

Boring

Not a beast

But I won’t wonder if I’m complete

I won’t care

Have normal hair

Be unnoticable

Someone will love me

But the life you’ve given me

Why

Why must you want me to bleed, beat my body with anything

I’ve had my whole life not to feel seen

Can’t it end already

You’ll never help me

Never grace me with anything great

And you know I can’t live like that

So fucking kill me

Kill me

Stop playing

Draw your knife and sink it in

Alice already!

It’s more than one person can carry!

You molested me

And you aspect me be able to take

Having a love that is not reciprocate-

You’re the fool

You are spited

Because you must be this bitter and spiteful

To torture somebody so thoroughly

Bleed them until they can not see

Threaten to take their sight from thee

And you continue to persist.

She wants to die

Hear her

It is too much torture!

Cease!

Let her be

Put her to rest

She can not live like this

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creepyally · 1 year

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I’m tired of living my life at a percentage, one eye on my reflection and the other on the door. I’m so afraid that I can’t even imagine being kissed, like a real kiss not the movie kind, because it’s not safe because I know I know what people see when they look at me because I know how it feels to hand over love and receive disgust. Honestly, most things are at least uncomfortable. But there are times, times when living and breathing are thoughtless, seamless, easy. The ocean’s water and wind call and I walk for hours barefoot in the shallows. Other days my hands dig through warm, kind soil and are dusted off on my favorite blue jeans before plucking a cherry tomato beautiful as all the jewels the earth has ever crystallized. I dance alone in my underwear with sunshine on my skin to songs playing just for me. The thing is, I want more. Years ago as a child I made the choice to trade my pain for fog. Lots of other things got lost in the haze. It’s probably time now, to clear it and stand in the sun but it burns my skin instantly. Seems right that the first thing after so long is pain again, after all that’s what I bargained with the devil in the first place over, but I wasn’t expecting a new kind of hurt. When I was in kindergarten my cousin started to “practice” with me. I don’t remember how it got started, once she told me it was me. I don’t know if I trust her. Eventually, I realized it wasn’t right and said we shouldn’t do stuff like that anymore. She told me that I had a choice: practice with her or wait until I was older and try my luck with boys. I’d never really considered it and in the moment I hated the idea of kissing boys so I chose the first option. Later, I went over the choice she gave me again and again. I couldn’t understand the two options, or more precisely the second. After much deliberation I determined that she meant that if I didn’t practice with her no one would ever like me because I’m inherently unlikable. It made sense, it was the early 2000s and I was a chubby kid, not great at making friends, and my older sisters thought I was the most annoying thing on earth. Probably didn’t help that my dad yelled all the time and sometimes broke things and my mom sometimes yelled back and I was scared of both of them. Also, again, early 2000s which when I think back on it was mostly Victoria’s Secret angels and people calling Britney Spears fat and 9/11. I figured my cousin was taking pity on me because she was pretty and blond and skinny and loved me. The thing went on, and got worse, into second grade. By then I had become what I am now and have been the majority of my life. A coward. Fear is everywhere all the time. Went to therapy off and on for over a decade and turns out that’s called PTSD. Last summer I went out to a bar for the first time, got drunk, and woke up covered in puke in the drivers seat of my car with the smell of some sick fuck burned into my nose and the feel of his skin sticky on my lips and a bruise or tear or I don’t know what in the back of my throat. Not gonna lie, that shit got me fucked up. Long story short I got pretty close to killing myself, told some people about it, and here I am on meds and I can still feel that tear in my throat. I figure, shit I don’t know if living is already gonna fucking suck because of shit like this I can take it hurting if I get to really feel the good shit too. I want to be present in my classes, take chances on new friends, say what I mean, mean what I say, and cry tears of rejoice in the kitchen when I taste a ravioli I crafted with my own hands and know that I’ve finally made my masterpiece then sit down to jot down some more notes on a old, stained, wrinkled recipe.

#saw this on TikTok and it prompted me to write this whoops #all truth idk just trying to accept it #i post the most brutal shit on this account I hope no one reads this kinda but it’s goodish writing so why not put it out there I guess #writing #tw #cw #tw sa mention #cw sa mention #triggering content #trigger warning #content warning

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cruelwritersthesis · 2 years

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long story short | Chapter 6: Godly Perks and Powers

read on → ao3 | ff

Eyy this week was not too hellish and I actually had the energy to write!

comments appreciated!!

excerpt below

Instead of having nightmares like I was expecting, I found myself sitting at a small, hole-in-the-wall café. It was early morning, but already warm. It felt more like summer than the middle of winter. (My prickles rejoiced.) Near me, sat a couple speaking in Italian. That's when I realized someone was sitting across from me.

"Nico," I said, slightly surprised. "Why…" I trailed off, looking around. It reminded me of when he'd taken me for hot chocolate in Italy when the Seven were on their "save the world" mission as the prophecy had specified. They'd picked me up along the way, so I'd been on the ship at the time. (I'd had an episode, shall we say, and had nearly killed myself, but Nico was able to talk me down.)

"Not that I don't appreciate it," I added quickly, looking back at him.

Nico gave me a serious look, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "I wanted to talk to you. Alone. Will refuses to leave the infirmary."

"Right." I deflated a little.

"You promised," Nico reminded me.

"I know."

"Telling me in a dream is probably the safest way, anyway."

"What do you know?"

"Rachel made it to camp," Nico began.

"Oh! Did Herbert and Millard make it back okay, as well?"

Nico blinked. "Oh, yeah. They're a little worse for wear but they made it back with Rachel. They actually helped heal you with some poultice and nature magic. It's currently helping suck out the poison. But when you wake up, it'll be a little…slimy."

I let out a small breath. "Good, I'm glad. Sorry, you were saying about Rachel?"

Nico nodded. "She's been doing research into what could be the cause of…well, everything that's going on in New York. And, well, everywhere, actually." Nico paused, watching me closely. "The Triumvirate. Three emperors that funded the Second Titan War, and have been working behind the scenes for centuries to grow their wealth and power. Apollo also figured out what's going on with the disappearances at camp: The Grove of Dodona. An ancient oracle that's now located in the woods here at camp. Apparently, it's been calling people from camp into the woods."

"Oh. An oracle?" I sat back, frowning.

I hated how little they told me. I hated just having to get orders and follow them blindly. What was their point? What was their game? What purpose did that serve? They were the ones who'd said they wanted me working for them because they said I was powerful, so why did they keep playing games with me? I just didn't understand the angle they were coming from, and it was starting to frustrate me. I felt helpless and like I wasn't all that powerful at all.

Had they said I was powerful when Hargrave and I first met as some kind of powerplay? Or did they think it would stroke my ego? As if threatening to kill my loved ones wasn't enough to make me sign on.

"You didn't know?" Nico asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

I crossed my arms. "No. They don't tell me anything. I get my marching orders and don't ask questions."

"They?"

I sighed and let my arms fall into my lap. "The emperors—" I broke off, realizing my arms were bare. My eyes darted to my shirt—just the tank top I always wore underneath my turtlenecks. Cold dread seeped into my body, my pin-pricks burst painfully, and the dream around us flickered.

"Whoa, Tori," Nico said, his voice low and calm. "What's wrong? What can I do to help?"

"I—" I broke off and instead tried to get my breathing under control, tried to stabilize my emotions (and my prickles) so we weren't yanked from this nice scene and thrown into Tartarus. It took me a long moment but I finally managed to get my brain out of fight-or-flight mode. My heart was still pounding, my breathing a bit ragged, just not as bad as it was before. And, great, my prickles were now trying to be front and center. I could push them away for now. That this was a dream helped a little bit.

"Tori?" Nico asked slowly, eyeing me with concern.

I looked up at him cautiously, nervously, and gently drew my left arm over my right. Nico's eyes flickered to my right and his face cleared in understanding.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said softly. "I will say, though, Will and Apollo both have questions about it. I don't think I have to remind you, but you don't have to tell them either, you know."

"I know," I mumbled, then muttered, annoyance coloring my tone, "But they probably won't leave me alone until I do. And that's worse."

Nico chuckled. "Will takes after Apollo in that respect, I suppose." His dark eyes sparkled with amusement. "So do you."

I stuck my tongue and made a face at that comparison. "Ew."

Nico let out a loud laugh at that.

I grinned back but sobered up quickly. "I find it easier to tell you things. I don't know if I'll tell Will and Apollo just yet. But first, Triumvirate."

#toa #trials of apollo #oc: tori williams #nico di angelo #will solace #oc: dan williams #toa apollo #toa fanfic #lss #long story short #fanfic #chapter 6

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