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#Styx Jewel
zegalba · 1 year
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Styx Jewel: Cemetery Ring (2022)
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vanniez · 8 months
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oh? is it really? do you really think so?
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emilybeemartin · 6 months
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Just to tie in my two themes this month----
Additional notes, because poll options apparently limit their characters:
Frodo finds great peace in watching the tides rise and fall throughout each day. He attends all the ranger programs on birds and seashells and fills pages with sketches and poetry.
Sam meticulously selects postcards in the gift shop for each of his friends and spends a whole morning writing and addressing them. He also buys Junior Ranger hats for his kids and a variety of Appalachian jams for Rosie.
Park rangers launch a Missing Person search for Aragorn when they realize his car's been parked at Avalanche Creek for three days. The search runs for almost a week before he comes strolling out the opposite side of the park, supporting one of the SAR techs who twisted an ankle during the search.
Legolas is first drawn to Olympic for the towering, mossy temperate rainforests, but the ground goes out from under him when he steps onto Second Beach for the first time. He spends an entire day watching the light and tides shift on the sea stacks, and he leaves feeling both full and hollow, like a bell that's just been rung.
Mammoth is only Gimli's first stop on a cavern tour, followed by Jewel and Wind Caves and Carlsbad Caverns. Wind Cave is his favorite for the unusual formations. He makes an obnoxious tween boy cry in Carlsbad for breaking off a speleothem.
Boromir is on a tour of military parks. He asks so many questions to the intern working the info station at Fort Sumter the kid has to go find the park historian. His favorite site is Vicksburg because that place was buckwild, though he silently judges one of the reenactors for his clumsy handling of a black powder rifle.
Merry also makes stops in Jurassic and Dinosaur National Monuments. He watches every park video, takes selfies in front of all the fossil exhibits, and earns his Junior Ranger badge at each one. He buys a keychain for Pippin.
Pippin actually gets four citations, mostly for trying to stick his hands in mud pots. He doesn't mean anything by it---he's just so delighted and curious about the bizarre landscape. He winds up with several thermal burns and dumps a king's ransom in the donation box on his last day.
Gandalf gets dinged by rangers for not paying the $5 fee for Trunk Bay, but he acts senile until they eventually decide to drop it. He gets postcards from everyone and responds to none of them.
Faramir and Eowyn are traveling together and do many of the same hikes and rides, but they do have some different preferences off-trail. Eowyn drags Faramir to a rodeo and the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar in Jackson Hole, and he goads her into Ranger Shelton Johnson's living history programs on the Buffalo Soldiers in Yosemite.
Eomer is bike-packing on his sport cruiser motorcycle. He goes to Roosevelt south unit for the wild horse herds but ends up spending half a day watching a prairie dog town. He takes 400 photos of them, mostly blurry, and texts them to Eowyn.
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the HOO character concepts were pretty genius
take a trope for a god kid, turn it around, then give them the necessary power boost so percy no longer has to feel like the sole force of nature who had to dunk himself in the styx, which gets you:
- a Zeus kid with bad eyesight who's plagued by self-doubt
- an Aphrodite kid who hates artifice and wields truth like a knife
- a Hephaestus kid with sarcastic humor and burning rage
- a Hades kid representing jewels and magic instead of skeletons
- an Ares kid who's chill and clumsy (and terminally ill, unless I'm reading too much into the metaphor)
it's a pretty good combo! they're so interesting! you could do so much with these stereotype-breakers
+ classics are classic for a reason (see: power of the sea distilled into one dude, ghost king constantly on the brink of death, purple-cape-wearing action superhero, and blonde batman.)
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livinamity · 7 months
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Honeydukes and Sweets
Summary: Competition is a double-edged sword — it can carry you to great heights, but also result in a fiery fall. Like the wings of Icarus, Draco Malfoy fell, but not in the way he expected. Words: 4.4k Pairing: Draco x Non-Slytherin!Reader A/N: this was meant to go on for much longer, but i might put my other ideas into a separate fic. will proofread tomorrow (maybe) thanks for reading!
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The philosopher Aristotle wrote about the importance of art and beauty in human life. He said that beauty has the power to change human behaviour — that it isn’t just something to be admired, but by surrounding ourselves with beautiful things, we can become better people.
Draco Malfoy never thought much about beauty. It was not a concept that concerned him. He had his gold and jewels, the power and the prestige, and the attention and validation that came with them. Beauty in even the smallest things like the sun setting over the horizon never faltered his idea of it being nothing more than just a mirage.
It was merely a fleeting moment of pleasure that faded as quick as it came. He’d never been moved by beauty in the same way that others were. The things he had were valued above all else, and his desire to place value on the things he possessed overshadowed the importance of all things else.
His arrogance rose tension like thorns between the pair of you. You were merely a half-blood to him—a filthy one at that, and one with barely any wealth—and he convinced himself that his thoughts would never sway. Never mind the beauty you held that enthralled people to your feet, he would never bow even if you asked politely; you were beneath him.
"You're nothing special, really. In fact, I fail to see why anyone would give you a second thought." He told you.
You liked to think it was only a way to conceal his insecurities, so you never put too much thought into it. Draco was hardly special under the roof of the castle even with his status. He barely had anyone, but he never really valued the beauty in friendship regardless, and still, his lack of companionship only fuelled his frustration. How could a half-blood be more liked than him?
Then, he saw you had surpassed his grade in potions, and your battle of ego and wits grew into an academic rivalry. The two of you were like magnets pulled together by an invisible force, both drawn to the challenge of besting each other.
“An ‘E’?” Draco yelled, his voice a discordant tune. His fingers gripped tightly around his parchment paper, knuckles red with anger.
The paper within your grasp was as smooth as a silk chiton. The bold and elegant "O" adorned on its front, like a crown to your victory, brought a smirk to your lips. You had him beat and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Upset, Malfoy?” You disputed, a note in your voice like a lyre. Your smile remained soft and yet, he thought of cursing you with his bitter tongue.
“Upset?” His mouth formed a thin, cruel line. "Hardly." he scoffed. His tone dripped with derision. To be beaten by a witch, raised as a Muggle was unfathomable, and his ego was wounded by a cut that ran deeper than the River Styx.
“A slip of paper does not define my intelligence, or my abilities as a wizard. I am above something as trivial as a ‘paper’.” His words sought to mask his envy, but his jealousy was palpable as it hung in the air like a noxious cloud.
“Sure, Malfoy.”
After that, Draco dreaded the moment you would mention this defeat again, but you never did—seeing him seethe in his seat was enough and that infuriated him. He had always been better than you academically, but this time he fell short, and he concluded your silence was to ridicule him.
He sought you out one day, finding you before you made a turn to the library. With his lips raised in their familiar scowl, he approached you with long strides. “Think you’re better than me, eh?” Draco tucked his hands into the pockets of his robe, his gaze grey and uninviting.
A look of confusion drew onto your face. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You know what I’m talking about.” He huffed. He pulled his hands from his pockets. “You get an ‘outstanding’ and you don’t taunt me about it like I do you.”
Your brows weaved together like a basket of wool on a spindle. “I suppose you wouldn’t want me to...?” He took a second too long to reply. “Did you want me to?”
The question hung in the air like a golden apple poised to be picked and he turned to the wall beside you, as if he expected to find his answer there. “Of course not, that’s ridiculous.” He scoffed, his words sharp like the blades of a scythe.
“You think everything is ridiculous.” You retorted. “Besides, I don’t understand. You’re confronting me because I’m not mocking you?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked away again, his mind knotty with labyrinthine thoughts. His mouth moved to speak but your words slipped before his could. “I have to get to the library.”
Behind him, more students began to file into the room, their steps light but hurried like the gentle whisper of the wind. You clasped your books tighter to your chest. “Would you like to join?”
He heard you shift your feet and thought you were reconsidering your question when he turned to you again. You still held that gentle glow in your eyes and he hated that he nearly lost himself in them—an absurd moment of weakness. You thought you saw a warmth in his own, like a hint of willingness, or maybe a spark of wonder, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“No.” He rounded you, his lips raised in disgust.
Studying with a half-blood would be a mind-numbing exercise, like another torturous case like the Cruciatus Curse. He hated that you had even considered it. He would never waste his time with someone below him, even the thought sparked an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. Your sick proposal jabbed into his brain whenever he saw you, and he thought that was bad enough, until you joined a Quidditch team.
There’s never been a more pathetic sight than when you walked on the field, your gaze to the cloudless sky. He wanted to laugh—you, playing Quidditch? You were clumsy enough on the ground.
He dropped his feet to the ground, his broom still between his legs. “Joining the team, eh?” His lips raised into his characteristic sneer. “I don’t see how you could possibly beat me.”
You turned your head with his words, your eyebrows raised in merriment. “I don’t need to beat you; this is just for fun.” You can’t recall a time when Draco didn’t want to challenge you.
His mouth curled into an entertained frown. “Is that a Nimbus 2000?” He gestured to the broomstick in your hand.
“It is.” You twirled it. “Pretty, isn’t it? I might consider painting it as well. Maybe a green?” You smiled with a joking sweetness. “For when Slytherin loses, don’t want to hurt their ego too much, do we?”
He was a little taken aback by your remark, but he couldn’t deny that he found your challenge humorous. “Slytherin, losing?” He laughed with a tilt of his head.
“How about a race then? You and I, for the Golden Snitch.” His grey eyes were firm, and his lips upturned into a daring smirk. “The one who catches it first wins. What do you say?”
“What’s in it for me?”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “We’ll see if you win.”
“And what about for you, what would you want?”
“For you to admit that I’m superior.”
Students gathered to the field, all adorn in their respective uniform and magical badges on their hearts. Draco’s name sparkled more often on their chests than yours, and he smirked with a haughty tilt of his chin. He was confident it would prick your nerves, so the Slytherin flew over, his hair flowing with the wind like the silver feathers of a Pegasus.
“See, I am superior to you.” He sniggered.
Your head shook. “I doubt it, they don’t know what I’m capable of just yet.” Your tone dripped sweetly with poison, like the honeyed words of the serpent Python. No one hated you; they were just a little less expectant of your skills in Quidditch, you were sure of it.
Draco pulled his lips together in an amused frown. “Right, let’s see what you’ve got.”
The Snitch was raised by Marcus Flint, the golden sphere in his fingers like a prize for superiority. The wings unravelled from their place to flail in the air, and it shone intimidatingly between yourself and your rival.
Marcus, on the edge of his broom, flashed his vile teeth. “Close your eyes,” he commanded. The both of you did, letting the Golden Snitch tour its way around the huge field. “Now, open! Start!” He flew away from the scene just as you and Draco opened your eyes.
Your heads twisted and turned in search for the golden bug, eyes narrowed between the crowd, below your feet, and above your heads. Until there it was, flying freely near the Gryffindors. You sped first, your head tilted to fight the air resistance. Draco was on your tail a second after, his hands tight around his broom as he fought to speed passed you.
“Don’t think you have the upper hand.” He laughed, his voice loud against the strong wind. He flew by quickly, his platinum hair flowing freely behind him.
The two of you raced, neck and neck, towards the Snitch. Draco kept his lips between his teeth as he glided, his broom making sharp turns and sudden spirals towards the bug, as it flew erratically like a crazed Phoenix.
The competition was intense, the rush from the chase filling your lungs with an excitement that gave a natural high. The crowd cheered as you dashed through the air, surprised at your pace against an experienced seeker. They jumped and joyously screamed as the two of you flew to the golden ball.
The Snitch seemed to flicker in the sun, tempting you and Draco to close the gap and claim the win. The platinum blond was focused, his gaze narrowed like lasers and movements precise as he grew closer.
You neared each other, arms out and the tension high. The crowd held their collective breath, waiting to catch the win. With every turn and twist of your broom, Draco matched your speed. Despite his closing pale body, your determined eyes remained on the ball.
With a burst of speed, you brushed against him and shoved his body aside. You soared through the air, fingers out to the ball. Only a little closer…
Your fingers barely grazed it, until finally, you clenched it in your grasp. You held the Snitch and its golden glow shimmered in the sun. The entire crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers as they threw their Draco badges to the floor. You had won.
A sigh of disbelief left your throat as you turned to your opponent. Draco had no words to express his lost, nor could he find his speech when you playful winked at him. His cheeks flushed with a faint pink.
He felt silly blushing at something he’d already seen. You’d winked at him before, but this time, it made him feel vulnerable. And as you turned to the crowd, your eyes gentle and smile wide, the feeling began to consume him. It was almost compelling, the sight of you proud without any irritation on your features. He wanted to hate it— ‘that’s a bloody half-blood you’re looking at’ he wanted to say.
But the wind ruffled your hair, the warm sun kissed against your skin, and you had won. He was meant scoff and roll his eyes, but instead, he felt a strange sort of admiration.
And now, as he watched the light dance in your eyes, he felt a stirring in his chest that he couldn’t explain. He wanted to look away—to find a reason to, but he couldn’t. There was something addictive with the way your hair billowed in the wind, and he was sure that even if he was to swim in the banks of the river Lethe, your smile wouldn’t erase from his memory.
Then, following that—and he wished he never would have to admit—he began to notice things that he hadn’t before. He memorised the way your lips would part, and you would facepalm whenever you’d say the wrong answer in class. He noticed how you would fiddle with your fingers—though he wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or just a bored habit.
He admired your different hairstyles from a distance. You’d change it every day, but he found it the prettiest whenever you would braid it. He loved the way the strands would interweave like wool on a spindle, and the way it would reflect the light whenever the sun grazed you.
His words began to trip at the sight of you. So even when you had surpassed his grade in Charms, he kept his lips sealed. It was embarrassing enough to admit to himself that he found you somewhat pretty and it would be even more so if he was to stutter in your face. So slowly, his banter towards you died.
“Malfoy?”
You approached him one day, on a weekend when everyone would be heading off to Hogsmeade. He was sitting on a bench by the fountain outside, his legs relaxed and eyes focused on nothing in particular.
“You coming to Hogsmeade as well?” Your voice was gentle as ever, although it was never really harsh even when you threw playful insults at him.
He raised his gaze. There was something unfamiliar with the way he looked at you now, but you supposed it was the way the sun hit his grey irises.
“Yes.” It’s all he says, like the time you had asked if he wanted to join you in the library.
“I heard Blaise is there already, why aren’t you with him now?”
He blinked. He wanted to hate the way your voice played gracefully like a lyre. “He’s with a girl.”
His responses were short—something you wished you could understand. Nothing was the same after the race, and you weren’t sure it was because you had won.
“Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”
There it was again, that gentleness in your voice that would make him weak in the knees these days. He was grateful he was sitting then because otherwise his legs would buckle beneath him.
“No.”
You looked aside briefly, trying to find the words that might comfort him. There were butterflies where you gazed, and they fluttered their wings around gracefully like a dance against the wind. You remembered when Professor Lupin had said they were a symbol of new beginnings, and that memory brought an idea to your mind.
“I’m asking you to join me to Hogsmeade.” You told him. “Please come with me.” You wanted it to sound like a kind command, to which he had no choice but to accept.
He raised a brow at your proposal, hesitant. “Draco?”
You’d never said his name so gently before. It was always filled with a hint of tease, or a slight annoyance, but as you stood in front of him in the daring sun, your voice played like a plead.
He considered it. The two of you had never exchanged a proper conversation before; maybe you would embarrass yourself and his weird feelings would wash away. You were pretty, that’s all, and maybe after this, he would think otherwise. His dumb feelings would disappear and everything would be back to normal.
The corners of his mouth raised slightly. “Okay.”
The two of you walked together, soundlessly awkward smiles on your lips and minds whirled with sweet joy. You both tried to hide your enjoyments, looking away from each other as you made your way into The Three Broomsticks.
“Is it good?” You sat across from him, at a wooden booth inside of the store.
His forehead creased with slight disappointment as he licked foam from his lips. “I should’ve asked for less cider.” He tightened his fingers around his Butterbeer.
“Try mine, I asked for less sugar.” You pushed your drink forwards, offering a gentle smile.
He had never shared a food or drink with anyone—it wasn’t something he was accustomed to. His mother had always told him the proper etiquette to decline, but as you offered him your drink, he couldn’t deny.
He brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. It was better than his, less sweet like he prefers most things. He gave a nod.
“This one’s better. Mine tastes like Honeydukes melted as one and put into a cup.” He pulled his lips up into his familiar scowl, but there was a playful charm in it now.
You grabbed his cup and pushed yours closer to him. “Take mine, I’ll drink yours.” He didn’t reply to your offering before you pulled his cup to your lips.
He chuckled lightly when you pulled it away and a white foam formed around your mouth like a moustache. “You remind me of that Muggle.” He said, his teeth peering from behind his lips.
 Your eyebrows knitted together. “What?”
“That Muggle. The one with the white moustache and beard?”
“There are a lot of those — are you referring to Santa Claus?” There’s a chuckle of disbelief that followed your words. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know his name?”
He parted his lips about to defend himself, when a figure crossed behind you, and a scowl fell onto Draco’s features. His grey eyes rose and fell with disdain.
“Potter.” He spat with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” He stood from the wooden seat, his eyes still following Harry behind you with irritation.
You wiped your lips with the back of your sleeve. “But we haven’t finished our Butterbeer.”
Draco gripped your arm as he slipped by you, pulling you with him as he exited the bar. You followed him with hurried steps as you tried to match his longer strides.
“You know, it’s not every day that I can have a butterbeer, Malfoy. I had to save those galleons to earn such a prize.” You spoke.
He continued to walk until he could barely see The Three Broomsticks behind him. “I’ll buy you a Butterbeer next time. I’ll even buy you two if it means I never have to see Potter again.” He released his grip from your arm.
“What do hate about him so much?”
“He’s irritating.”
You decided not to argue with him. “Fair.”
Not long after, the pair of you set foot into Honeydukes, the coolness of the air brushing against your cheeks as you entered. It smelt of vanilla and chocolate with a hint of baking pastries.
Draco followed closely behind as you ventured the store, his eyes scanning the shelves along with you. He didn’t enjoy sweets as much, but he couldn’t deny that he found your company nice. So, he only watched as you admired the colours and wacky flavours displayed.
He picked up a string of liquorice. “You enjoy this stuff?” He asked with a slight distaste in his tone.  “This is all just sugar.”
He dropped the lolly as you shrugged. “I haven’t tried any of these. Well, besides that disgusting liquorice that Blaise offered me.” Your fingers curled around the pentagonal box of a Chocolate Frog packet.
“Blaise talks to you?”
You turned your head slightly with a furrow of your eyebrows. “Of course Blaise talks to me. Why shouldn’t he?”
His grey eyes sank into yours. “It’s not like we’re rivals.” You continued, dropping the packet back onto the shelf as you turned your body towards him.
“I’m not implying that you and I are,” you added for clarification. “I’m just asking, is it that difficult to understand that I can be friends with your friends as well?”
Draco’s lips raised with a slight amusement. “Your choice of words insinuates that we’re rivals.” He plays with the end of his sleeve. “Besides, Blaise never talked about you, so I assumed you two never got along. Don’t get offended when I barely offered a reply.”
Your mouth dropped a little with embarrassment. “I’m not offended.” Your toned raised. “I’m just clarifying, that’s all.”
“Then don’t.”
You pursed your lips. “Okay then.”
He looked down at you with a glint in his eyes, a dumbfounded expression plastered on his face. Your hair fell against your cheeks when you lowered your gaze, and his lips curled upwards slightly. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to speak, but he only looked away with a faint blush.
You turned away as well, finding your focus on the colours of the sweets again. He watched from a distance, trying to keep his gaze calculated so he didn’t look at you for too long. But whenever you lingered over a treat for a beat too long, he found it impossible not to catch a glimpse of you. His lips would always tug into a small smile, almost as if you were a secret between the two of you.
His grey eyes caught you again when you spoke. “They have lollipops?” You scooped into the colourful mix of lollies. “I haven’t had a lollipop in years!”
Draco considered a thought. “Do you want one?” He moved closer and grazed his fingers against the glass bowl of sweets.
“Yes I’d love one, but maybe next time.” You smiled at him, your eyes shining delicately below the lanterns of the store. “I spent too much already on that Butterbeer—that I didn’t get to finish by the way.” Your smile widened with your words, a joking tone playing on your tongue.
Draco bit his lip to stop a grin, but there was an obvious rise in his cheeks. He doesn't understand how he brought himself to be so rude to you, you were so endearing. You moved around him to reach a case of chocolates, when he picked the glass bowl of lollipops from its stand.
“Draco, what are you doing?” He ignored you as he pulled the crystal casing closer to his chest, a sense of determination on his face.
He dropped the bowl onto the front counter. “These.” The cashier looked at him with a face of distress before she began to count the lollipops.
“You’re going to eat all of that?” You asked once you stood beside him. You were in disbelief as he continued to snatch chocolates and other sweets from below the counter and the shelves behind him.
“No, you will.” He said nonchalantly. He picked a chocolate from another shelf. “Did you want these as well?” He barely let you reply before he stacked the packets and dropped it onto the counter.
Your mouth parted. “You’re absurd, put it back. I can’t eat all of that.” You reached over, in an attempt to move the lollies away, when he stopped you.
His fingers wrapped around your forearm. “You can. It’s my treat for the butterbeer you didn’t finish.”
“This is worth way more than just a Butterbeer, Draco.”
A smile slipped onto his cheeks when you said his name. “It’s my treat then.” He pulled his hand away. “For being such an ass to you.”
You dragged your lip beneath your teeth to contain a grin as Draco scanned the woman behind the counter. “My father will pay for this, I’m sure you know who that is.” She nodded in return, pushing the lollies into a bag before handing it to him.
Draco grabbed the plastic and turned to the door with a smirk. He looked at you from his side. “Let’s try the lollipops you wanted so bad.” He took a few steps in front as you stalled.
“I didn’t want them ‘so bad’!”
“Yeah, whatever.” You laughed as you ran towards him, mouth wide with joy, and eyes shaped like crescent moons.
“You still owe me something for winning the race, though. This doesn’t count!”
“Yeah, alright.” He turned to you with a soft gaze, his face adorned by a delicate smile. You couldn’t recall a time when he'd smiled so gently.
“Want to race to the castle?” You asked, pulling your lip beneath your teeth. The sight made his heart stutter, and the playful tone of your voice made him weaker still. He nodded, and without warning, you took off—your hair flowing freely behind you.
He followed right after, the bag still in his hands as he approached from behind. The sun cast a soft, golden glow around you like an eclipse, highlighting your form in a warm, comforting light. The sun setting over the horizon was breathtaking, but your silhouette in front of it made it all the more captivating, and Draco knew then that beauty was much more than just his jewels.
He had always thought of beauty in abstract terms. It was something for the muggles to fawn over, not something that a pure-blood like him needed to concern himself with. He was accustomed to things being a certain way, and he knew it was foolish, to suddenly find the appeal in something so absurd; to fall for someone who was deemed lower than him. But he couldn’t help it, he was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.
"Beauty is symmetry," Aristotle had said.  But for Draco, beauty was more. It was a feeling, a sensation that he couldn't quite explain. It was the way the sun caught your hair at just the right angle, the way you laughed.
Suddenly, beauty was the sound of parchment, the smell of butterbeer and Honeydukes, and the scene of the sun setting over the horizon. You were like a breath of fresh air, like the sunlight after a storm. Suddenly, he understood why everyone fell to your feet.
For the first time in his life, Draco realised that beauty wasn't only a fleeting moment of time, nor was it something that could be defined, it was something that existed beyond words. It was a feeling, a sensation, that he couldn't really understand. But he knew it when he saw it, when he felt it.
And he knew that he was falling in love with you.
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celestiall0tus · 9 months
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Roarr and Styx
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Roarr and Styx:
Roarr drops Exaltation and becomes the Kwami of Valor, opposed by Styx, Kwami of Fear.
Roarr is a loud, proud, hyper ball of fluff. Always ready to jump into the thick of it. She often chooses holders that are rough, rowdy, and never back away from a challenge.
Roarr's preferred food is jerky. Her jewel is the same as in show.
Styx is a manipulative coward. She plays the victim, always making herself look weak, hiding her cunning, dastardly nature. She will always accept holders riddled with anxiety and fear, teaching them to wield their fear as any weapon.
Styx's preferred food is pomegranates. Her jewel is a necklace.
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loquaciousquark · 1 year
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[Fic] Metamorphose [3/3] - Complete!
Rating: T Characters/Pairings: Thanatos/Zagreus Word Count: 5k this chapter, 14k total Summary: The thing about loving the son of the god of the dead is that for a man with feet of literal fire, he can be so damned hard to pin down.
The Styx roils.
Except—this is different than before. Not the swollen churn which comes with delivering the prince of the house home again; not the froth of shades grasping for the stern jeweled gleam of Hades’s domain. Instead it’s a simple swell, displacement of the holy water marking the very real weight of a boat’s passage.
Charon, Thanatos wonders, all the way up to the moment Hades rises from his throne in full and dangerous glory, his face black as Nyx’s sky. The god of the dead sweeps towards the eastern palace doors, shades cringing away from his open wrath, and then—
A great power surges around them. It’s hot and bright and green as grass, a summerweight shout that stamps its name into every crevice of the palace. It weaves through iron and gem and gold, gentle and inexorable as vines rootling through mortar to crush it over many years.
The queen has returned.
Links: FF.net, AO3
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happyk44 · 1 year
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Hermes growing up in sunshine and bright lights and pretty thrones and regality and formality and "stay still, for the love of the stars, just stay still for one bleeding second" and hearing stories about the dirty Underworld and how its damp and dreary and no one it and the people who do are weird and strange and he meets Thanatos on a war field and admires the pretty wings stretched long across his back and watches quietly as he walks through bodies and blood and weaponry laid bare and plucks wandering confused soul up from their barely breathing chests and away from the grass they're sobbing in and and he follows him like a duck to water and Thanatos pays him no mind, just deposits the soil at the foot of his older brother and descends across the Styx with wide black wings that glitter like jewels in the dim light of the Underworld.
Charon regards Hermes with little interest, collecting payment and readying his boat. There's a young boy, no older than fifteen, who has no money, but Charon just pulls a coin from his own pocket and adds it to the bucket. It's locked tight and snaps at Hermes with large fangs when he creeps too close so he batters back and follows the boat across the Styx. She's black and vicious, waters tremulous and cruel. Beneath her waves, lost souls are screaming, begging to be saved. But around Charon's boat, her waves are soft and gentle. They push his boat along as he paddles to the gray sandy shore ahead.
He pays Hermes no mind when he lands of soft gray beach beside the boatman. Just guides the souls in a long line to the wall. There are other souls walking long across the beach and they turn and run with wispy feet and crash into the newly deceased with untapped joy.
Charon's lip twitches.
Hermes wanders through hallways and rooms and there's a large court, a myriad of souls waiting with shaking nerves as nymphs and naiads and skeletons holding stacks of parchment beside them. Some are assuring them. Others are silent, simply waiting.
Out through the final door, there's a beautiful walkway into a large field of asphodels. The Lethe trickles nearby. He can hear her soft siren call to rest, to sleep, to wash away all that worries him. Poppies flock her riverbank. Hypnos shimmers nearby. He is humming as soft tune as he lays a wispy soul to rest in the water.
The first and last time Hermes met him was Pasithea's wedding. A grand affair as Hera would have nothing less for her lovely daughter. He had been sleepy-eyed, dim and unresponsive. Here he is brighter. Whispering soft assurances as the soul rolls out of his arms and into the soft lap of the river below. He waits some time then collects them. They seem smaller somehow. Wet and dripping. But their form, once wispy and deteriorated, is stronger now. Squishy and soft along the edges, but ridge.
He seals them up in a jar and sets them aside with another set of jars. He pays Hermes no mind as he walks past. Nearby Pasithea descends. She cracks a crooked grin at her half-brother, and collects the washed souls sealed away. She disappears on gossamer wings into the darkness above their heads. Hypnos continues his work, lowering one soul at a time. Some of them are wispy and some are glowing bright. But he treats them all with the same gentleness. Like a parent tucking a child in for bed.
Hermes moves on.
It is not as dark as everyone said. Jewels glitter along the walls. The poplar trees almost glow, their white back standing strong. There is no dampness. It is cold, yes, but there's a warmth there. In the hustle and bustle. Ghosts wander, but nymphs and naiads and gods fluster back and forth among them.
It doesn't feel dreary. Feels like home. Comfortable, like every village and town Hermes has travelled through. Everyone has a job and they do it the best of their ability. They step around one another with practiced ease and smile and laugh. Cows roam freely and come when called.
Macaria doesn't say hello when he drifts by. She simply states at him for moment, but she doesn't question his presence. Just turns around and continues onwards with a cluster of souls at her side. Elysium is clustered further to the back. It is saved by a large boundary wall and strong iron gates. She pulls them open easily and he follows her inside. It is beautiful and orderly. Obsidian walkways. Colourful cottages. In the center square there is a large pomegranate tree. Each fruit is golden, hanging high and neatly in dark green leaves. As he approaches, they seem to shift, pushing outwards as though enticing him to take. Macaria grabs his wrist. It is the first true acknowledge of his presence.
"Don't," she says. "Eat those while living and my father will own you as if you were dead."
The golden fruit entices him. Turns a rich red as the trees almost tilts towards him.
"Oh," he says faintly. He doesn't like to be denied the things he wants, doesn't like to be told he can't have something, and he's tempted to take it anyway. But he withdraws his arm.
She pulls her hand off him and smiles kindly. She says nothing else, just carries on her way.
Hermes states at bright red fruit in front of him. He's never really been a fan of pomegranates. They're annoying to eat, little seeds you have to chew and spit out. And they're bitter. But he wants these ones. Distantly he thinks they'll taste good, like candy, like sugar, like the sweet relief of death.
He steps back and exhales shallowly. Turns on his heels and leaves.
The castle is far off to the corner. Built in the shadowy walls of the Underworld. He wanders through hallways and a throne room, peeking into bedrooms on the second floor. Each room is carefully curated to everyone's own design. He stumbles a bit when the castle floors shift under his feet, expanding rapidly. A new door opens up. He peeks inside to spot a nursery, and a second leading into Pasithea and Hypnos's shared bedroom. It slowly decorates itself. Sleepy wisps of fog against the ceiling. A soft rocking chair beside a study crib. Glowing jewels sprout from the walls. They are sharp for a minute before rounding out gently.
There is one room that is bare of any real effects. There is a bed that sits in middle, untouched. The sheets are too crisp. There's a closet. Dark robes sit inside, all the same colour, all the same design. There is one thing, a silver handmade crown on the beside table. It isn't well-crafted, but its cute.
He steps out and continues to wander. There is a modest kitchen on the second floor, across from the line of bedrooms. It accompanied a small seating area. But that is all. The third floor is open, no ceiling, just floor and an impressive view of all that is the Underworld. He steps onto the railing and jumps off. Flies across grass and wheat and a small but bustling farm and asphodels and poplar trees.
It's not scary. He doesn't know why the others grumble so much. Perhaps they fear what is below the surface, Tartarus, eternal punishment. The Phelegathon swirls around a large staircase that descends into flaming waters. The closer he gets, the warmer it is. The Keres are dragging sobbing souls to it and shoving them in unceremoniously. The river doesn't part for her, as she flies over head, but when a soul falls from her grasp, it spits the poor sufferer back out and into the pit itself.
Hermes recognizes Alecto as she ascends from deep inside the darkness. She glares at him, unpleased, but does not say anything about his presence. Merely snaps her whip and flies off. From a safe distance, Hermes follows.
Ah. Yes. The crown jewel of the Underworld.
The mines.
The caverns are glistening. Carts and carts of jewels are stacked along the walls. Guards dogs and a couple rams hold close, growling at Hermes when he tries to sneak over. A nymph shoots him a dirty look before she returns to her parchment. Hermes floats back.
He can sneak the jewels later. Right now, he wants to know why Alecto has left her post. She flies into the caverns. Hermes follows and falls still.
He's met his uncle before. Sat near him at meetings. But the man he's seeing now and the man he's seen before do not match up. Hades had always been tall, half-covered in shadows and shifting darkness. His crown sat on his head so dastardly no one but his siblings could bare to look him in the eye. Even Ares, strong and bull-headed as he was, cowered ever so slightly when Hades walked in.
Alecto speaks low as she settles near him. He listens quietly then nods, speaking near silent. Ghosts mill around, chipping at walls and pushing carts of shiny jewels.
He seems simpler now. There is no darkness, there is no crown. His pale arms are exposed. His legs. His face.
His eyes are blacker than the void, and Hermes finds himself falling into them, falling, falling, falling. His voice is a soft thing. Coaxing. Deep beneath his bones, Hermes feels himself crave something. A falling again. To lower himself. To rip out his own beating heart and hand it over without question.
The ruby red pomegranate filters back into his mind. He swallows around thick saliva of want and wearily steps back. Alecto mutters something and flies away. Hades turns and Hermes falls.
His smile is gentle, soothing. Everything is alright, it says. It's time to go.
"Hermes," he says and his voice is like a song. Upstairs, it is rigid, cutting and sharp. Like a blade. But here it's almost like medicine, healing parts of Hermes's soul he didn't know were damaged. "I was wondering when you were going to say hello." He cocks his head, like a pup, and it's almost laughable. It's cute, which doesn't make sense. Kings of the dead should not be cute. But Hades is. In a older matured sort of way. "Did you see everything you wanted to see?"
He knew. He knew Hermes was here and nosy. Of course, he did. This is his realm, his home. It shares his name and it is him, done to the bones.
"I was curious," he says slowly.
Hades's eyes glitter. Like stars. Like diamonds. "Yes, I know." He gestures loosely around him. "They were all curious once too." He laughs and it is sweet. The souls around him shimmer and bend with the sound, as though reaching for him. "Well, except Mac, but she was born of this earth. Nothing to really be curious about when it's in your veins."
The souls wane as his laughter dies.
I am not dead, Hermes thinks. Why does the sound of his uncle instill him with such longing then? He steps back. "Sorry for intruding, Uncle."
Hades looks amused. It fits his face far better than Hermes had imagined. Here he is lively and together. Breathing in the presence of death and wealth, invigorated by what Olympus lacks.
"People don't intrude," Hades says. He pauses. "Well, that's not true. Mortals intrude when they want something. But gods don't. Our family-" He waves his hand dismissively and moves forward. Each step is languid and calm. "-tend to stick to where they feel safest. Mortals will avoid me until they need me. But our family oftens feels I am unnecessary."
Hermes blinks. "Ares doesn't think that."
Hades grins. It is a sharp toothed thing, reflecting bloody war-torn bodies and rapid burials in shredded grass. "Ares likes Thanatos. And the Keres. That doesn't mean he thinks what I do is necessary. I am not the reason people die, nor am I the creator of their deaths."
Hermes blinks and Hades looms over him. It's not scary. Not worrying. There is something comforting in the presence of his uncle towering over him. It feels... Protective.
"They worry," Hades says, "about my proximity to our father and his friends. To the souls I have. My realm will always grow, even when belief begins to fade. The dead will always need a home to come to, even if they have no home in mind. It worries them." He shrugs. "But that's not a concern you need to bother about."
"I-" Hermes falters. He looks away from porcelain skin and glittering eyes and the sweet voice that coaxes him to spill bitter juice across his tongue and stay. "I should go."
Hades steps back. "I'm not stopping you," he says. "But when you want to, try to come back during the day. Charon locks the door at dinner and I wouldn't want you to be waiting too long for everything to open up."
Hermes falters again. Distantly he knows he was going to be come back. Drift in to poke around again. Maybe try to steal some pretty gems. Explore the farm. Check out the heated punishments down in Tartarus or sit in on one of the court proceedings.
There is too much he hasn't yet seen.
But how did Hades know?
Hades just smiles and says, "I told you. No one living walks in here unless they want something." He turns on his heel, to the souls waiting before him with carts of diamonds and emeralds and gold. "You don't have to know what you want now," he continues. He shoots Hermes a pleasant smile from over his shoulder. "But let me know when you figure it out."
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silver-la-pixels · 4 months
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Okay so bad idea I had called chunibyou cafe. It's your standard coffee shop geared to students studyting and hanging out after school. The schtick is that you're treated and addressed as the 12 year old king of darkness you like to pretend to be and everything looks super gothic and edgy. You could get different levels of membership like casual, serious, and ex chuni.
The drinks are called like. Styx water, essence of shadow (coffee), dark mana (health drinks), any brightly colored drinks are named after jewels or fire and the staff calls you by your chosen chuni name. There are se tons dedicated to getting schoolwork done that you can rent spots in for 20 minute increments idk.
To stay afloat theres a merch shop to dress "in the uniform of the dark army" that's more or less hot topic accessories
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einsteinsugly · 11 months
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That 70s Show: The gang, and their varying music tastes.
In That 70s Show, most of the gang (minus Jackie) loves what we now call stereotypical classic rock. Zeppelin, The Who, The Rolling Stones, Queen, etc. But now and then, we see small glimpses of the gang's varying tastes, from Eric's love for the prog rock band Styx to Donna's Janis Joplin poster on her wall. Here, in this essay, I'm going to present their variations in music taste, as provided by both the show and my realistic speculations (and some real life experiences, via my EDish parents), from character to character.
Donna: She has a singer-songwriter slant/vibe, such as…
Fleetwood Mac, Carole King, Carly Simon, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, The Mamas and The Papas, etc.
Also, she'd generally have a slant towards female rock groups and solo artists. Heart, Pat Benatar, Janis Joplin, Joan Jett/The Runaways, and the occasional Blondie tune (mainly, she'd really like Rapture).
She would also, with Eric, like these rock bands more than the others would (they all give me "mom and dad" rock vibes): Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, Kansas, The Eagles (and all their solo stuff in the 80s, too).
In the 90s/00s, she would be a fan of Jewel, Alanis Morissette, The Cranberries, Tracy Chapman, The Fugees/Lauryn Hill, Sheryl Crow, Natalie Merchant/10,000 Maniacs, Melissa Etheridge, No Doubt, Evanescence, Alicia Keys, KT Tunstall, etc.
Eric: He has a prog/soft rock vibe, such as…
Chicago, Styx (but he can't stand Mr. Roboto, because Kelso ruined it), Genesis, Pink Floyd, Air Supply, Rush, Foreigner, Boston, The Police, Journey, Supertramp, The Cars, The Doobie Brothers, Simon and Garfunkel, James Taylor, Hall and Oates, Huey Lewis and the News, Genesis, Tears For Fears, Billy Joel, Wings, U2, etc.
He's a huge fan of The Beatles, Paul McCartney in particular. He constantly compares him and Donna to Paul and Linda.
He, along with Hyde, likes more "chill" rock when he's in a good mood, like Eric Clapton and Steely Dan. And James Taylor, after Jackie gets Hyde into it.
See above for the "mom and dad" rock bands. Eric loves "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing," though, and Donna hates it.
In the 90s/early 00s, he'd like a lot of the mainstream/less grunge rock of the 90s, such as Matchbox Twenty, The Goo Goo Dolls, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Green Day, and Weezer (Weezer is such an Eric-y band). He'd like John Mayer, Five for Fighting, and Michael Buble in the 2000s, and the gang would make fun of him for it.
Fez: He has a mix between an R&B/Motown slant (such as Stevie Wonder) and what I would call a "crappy novelty song" slant. This mix leads him to be a fan of KC and the Sunshine Band, which everyone makes fun of him for (although Kelso likes a couple of songs). He's a huge fan of Queen and Freddie Mercury, and a huge fan of Prince and Michael Jackson (and to a lesser extent, Boyz II Men). He, unfortunately, likes Milli Vanilli (even after they were exposed), Ricky Martin, and Enrique Iglesias (he's not as bad as the first two, though). and all those novelty songs from the late 80s/90s (like Mambo No 5 and the Macarena). Currently, he would be a big fan of Bruno Mars.
Hyde: I'm admittedly less knowledgeable about hard rock, and I'm just gonna throw some well-thought out band names at you. He particularly likes Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Santana, Eric Clapton, and Jimi Hendrix. In the 80s, he hates hair metal, minus maybe Guns N Roses (if that counts; Kelso loves it), and in the 90s, he's a big fan of grunge. Nirvana, Soundgarden, The Smashing Pumpkins, etc. He also likes Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lenny Kravitz, and The Black Keys (his kid gets him into it). Jackie gets him to be a fan of James Taylor, Elton John, and Adele (much later), and very occasionally, Billy Joel. He likes Steely Dan when he's in a good mood.
Anywho, I grew up with Eric and Donna "mom and dad" kind of rock (but my dad's a mix of Eric and Jackie music taste wise, and it's the worst) mixed with a bit of some good R&B and Motown (not the crappy Fez kind). My dad grew out of a solid chunk of the harder rock that he listened to as a teen, hence how I personally developed Eric's music taste over time in my verse (it's realistic, frankly). So, if any of you grew up with a parent with Hyde-ish taste in music or just like hard rock yourself (or are just more familiar with it than me), toss some ideas at me.
Jackie: She's the only one that majorly deviates from the classic rock status quo on T7S. She loves ABBA, The Carpenters, David Cassidy (she grows out of that, though), The Bee Gees (my dad does too, eww), Captain and Tennille, Journey, Elton John, Billy Joel, Blondie, Fleetwood Mac, Olivia Newton-John, Donna Summer, and Peter Frampton. She grew up listening to James Taylor with her dad, so it holds a special place in her heart. She gets Hyde to like James Taylor and Elton John, and Hyde gets her to like Zeppelin. She gets Donna to like Blondie, to some extent, and Heart and Pat Benatar is Jackie's angry music.
In the 80s, she loves Madonna, The Go Gos, Whitney Houston, Cyndi Lauper, Paula Abdul, a sea of one/two hit wonders, etc. She loves Dirty Dancing and the song "(I've Had) The Time of My Life." In the 90s, she's a huge fan of Mariah Carey. Since the mainstream music for most of the 90s was either rock/alternative, R&B, or stupid Fez-ish gimmicky songs, Mariah Carey's music becomes an obsession for her. Her obsession calms down a bit with the bubblegum pop revival in the late 90s/early 00s, and she loves Britney Spears, The Spice Girls, Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, J-Lo, Christina Aguilera…the list is endless. And today, she'd love Adele and Ariana Grande, and uses them as an example for good music when Hyde complains about mainstream music today. Well, and she'd love Taylor Swift too (minus some of the early country stuff), but for Hyde, Taylor Swift doesn't count as good music. And for Hyde, Ariana just has a good voice. That's it.
Kelso: He likes The Doors, The Police, Pink Floyd, and David Bowie. For Kelso, he never grows out of the most obnoxious rock bands the gang listened to as teens. KISS, AC/DC (to be fair, Hyde doesn't, either), Alice Cooper, Molly Hatchet, Foghat, etc. He loves 80s hair metal, like Twisted Sister, The Scorpions, Def Leppard, Van Halen, Poison, etc. In the 90s, he loves Smash Mouth and the Barenaked Ladies. He can recite "One Week" and "It's The End of the World" by REM by heart. The Talking Heads and the B-52s are also a guilty pleasure of his (especially "Love Shack"), and "Mr. Roboto" by Styx. He also has a soft spot for Boston and The Cars (he listens to "My Best Friend's Girl" on repeat when Jackie first gets with Hyde).
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fuckthisshitimin · 1 year
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[ID: And intricate and highly decorated digital portrait of Styx from the Night Shift Podcast and his imagined black cat, Stones. They are inside a golden frame, at the bottom of which an emerald plaque reads, "The witch's cat", Stones sitting, her body mostly facing us and looking over her shoulder, so that we see her face's profile. Her profile fits in the middle of Styx's face, each one of their visible eyes lining up. Stones is a lean black cat, appearing mostly brown in this light: there is a jewel at the center of her chest, and falling from her shoulders, a golden collar holds together a drape of vertical, rich blue and green fabrics. Styx, gray-skinned, hair cut short and dyed blonde, adorns two similar collars, from which ocean-like ribbons spread. On the pans of the fabric, several motifs are embroidered, along with the phrase This too shall pass, and Styx's name.
Styx and Stones are both wearing a long earring, of different shapes but matching colors: blood red, cyan and gold. Stone's jewel falls down to her chest, ending in the Flamel cross symbol. Styx's is composed of gems and unversed triangle links. He adorns a second earring, and several round piercings: bridge and snake bite. His lips are painted, and his cold-toned face is splashed by the bright matching red of pimples. He is smiling as a cat. His eyes are black: but as all things black with shadows here, they are decorated with golden spiraling motifs. Stones wears a sort of bracelet on her tail, a red gem matching Styx's acne.
The background is a marble-textured gold, and stylized letters read "Eoin Macnamara."
Signed: Meaningless Mikhaïl. End ID.]
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chim-aera · 4 months
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pomegranate
I am like a pomegranate. I always have been.
not an apple, not easily accessed, not bright, and lovely. sweet nectar dribbling down your chin, skin broken with one bite.
no, I'm guarded. dark red armor, hiding the intimate depths of my soul, of my body. there is no tender flesh available for you to touch, I am all shining sheaths, all crimson coats.
pull me apart, try to rip through my barriers, I'll crumble, fall apart.
all the while I stain you, dripping red, staining your fingers, your tongue, your hands. saying, pointing, showing, what you did to me.
you did this. you did this. you did this.
no I am not easily accessed.
I've always found a sort of solace with the disregarded things. items, objects, creatures, myths. the monsters and morrows.
the misunderstood.
I am like a pomegranate.
I can be destroyed, yes.
with some force, sink your fangs into me, rip me apart. or, leave me alone.
grow bored when I do not yield immediately, I never do. not all the way. I am far too distrusting for that. toss me to the ground let me roll back to Mother, soil staining the waxy surface, as I am simply lost, and forgotten as another rotten harvest. another fallen fruit.
but I can be opened, I can be seen. it only takes gentleness to get there. patience, and a tender hand.
I use no knives when I peel them, pomegranates, just my bare, calloused, cool hands, pulling gently at the top, at the crown, like the one Hades placed reverently on his goddess's forehead.
it will split in two, glistening like rubies, like blood stains, like poems. glittering like scarlet stars, and one by one will I carefully pull out the little jewels, letting the sugary syrup coat my tongue, relishing in a gift from the gods.
patience.
that's all it takes.
and a want for it.
oranges.
it's always oranges.
perhaps I find some sympathy for them, but I have only found kindred in those bleeding garnet garnishes.
they're known so well for their beauty, yes.
but how many act only with violence, ripping her soft flesh, spilling her blood.
why am I identifying with a fruit?
but I am nevertheless.
oh Kore, Queen, Goddess, why do I find myself echoing your name, your epithets falling from these still lips.
over.
and over.
and over.
how did you do it?
left your cage, found your love? when I have done neither.
but I am far, far from goddess.
I'm not even some moon-eyed maiden, all I am, is some shivering, sordid thing.
or perhaps I am simply tired.
tired of all this.
I'm not angry, no injustice has been done.
but gods, gods I am tired.
Orpheus, if it were me he had turned around for, no wrath would mar my features, I would feel no remorse, if I were to be doomed to return back to king and queen, drawn back to Styx, to Hades, with the sorrows and shades, at least the last thing I see is your face. is knowing I was loved.
memento mei in fabulis.
make a story, perhaps, write me weird, write me well.
I know you will.
perhaps one day the song will flit down here to me among the meadows of morose melancholy.
not even my crown of asphodel could make me forget you.
find me in elysium, perhaps, maybe tarturus, but then again, I have passed judgement already, strangely enough, I judged myself well. the bronze sword fell in my favor.
but that does not matter now.
riddles.
metaphors.
inchor drips from my jaws, through the gaps of my teeth, from behind my eyelids, I try to rub it away but it seeps into my skin staining me murky and ink-ridden.
will I always be this way?
I am nothing if not a romantic.
internally.
philosophically
hopelessly.
run your sword through my heart to check if it is still beating, is it? I couldn't tell?
but still, I'd only smile as I fell to the earth, flick my blood of the blade, let it color the anemone blossoms.
I do not want to be wanted, I want to be sought.
for all of me, whole, whole.
scars, and screaming, softness and songs.
all my madness and melodies and melcholy.
if someone will take all of that, I don't know what I'd do.
I do not seek pleasure, I just want to be loved.
and here I am again, some feral, frazzled cat scratching down walls, clawing and climbing in its own indignation.
I am nothing if not some songbird plucking out its own windpipe.
a walking cacophony of conundrums.
dauntless dualaties at its very finest.
but yes.
pomegranates.
patience and care, perhaps I'll just sit here, waiting, within Lord Hades' chambers.
waiting for someone to bind themself to me, willingly, like his Goddess did with him.
waiting till someone wraps rough or tender hands around my aching vessel, to hold me, to want me.
pull me apart, lower my defenses, peel them back one by one.
you scream and stab me I'll cower or combust, but a gentle stroke or soft soothing and I may fall forward crumbling like petals withering in your fists, but for once will someone catch me?
tear me open to the dawn, I may shrivel in sunlight.
it's been so long.
it's been eternity.
but will you?
I'm waiting.
waiting for that chance, that day. when I'm plucked from the branch I so desperately despise, yet cling to. my prison and asylum all at once.
waiting, until I'm pulled down, seen, and perhaps, then you'll taste me, when I'm out in the open, undoing each piece of armor bit by bit, I'll hand you my dagger, as you lay it on the ground, oh how I wish not to need it.
for someone to try, for someone to fight for me, for someone to give me a reason not to need all this fear.
but for now that is fiction.
and I am nothing if not a dreamer, so let me dream.
let me fall back into my fantasies and frivolities that I adore so dearly.
let me sleep.
let me dream.
a tree in winter, will spring come again?
I've never even blossomed.
that's alright.
I haven't rotted entirely yet either, I have time.
but for now here I am, waiting.
a pomegranate.
all ruby rosiness, all tentative textures.
spit me out, or suck me dry. either. neither. but nevertheless I am here.
and I will not lose hope.
besides.
perhaps, just maybe.
there is someone, up there, who is searching for me, who wants me, and maybe for now that is enough.
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chironshorseass · 2 years
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mari where is the essay about annabeth not being cursed where is the essay
she’s an interesting one alright. so actually annabeth is the savior. i mean. u think abt it and she rly is. she’s elpis in pandora’s jar she’s the anchor she’s the olive branch she’s the daughter of wisdom!!! leo and piper and jason all go on a quest to free hera and coincidentally jason is the lost hero, but so is piper and leo bc they were old enough to have been claimed years before but they weren’t. they’re just as misplaced as jason and blah blah blah they find their purpose and their true selves thru tlh. then there’s percy (in this version he’s keeping the curse of achilles) and hazel and frank. three people with curses. one was raised from the death and is haunted by it + she summons cursed jewels that eventually take those she loves away (they die lol), and the other 2 interestingly have their mortality tied to one thing. the difference is that one fears death (frank) bc he feels it so incredibly close and the other (percy) has lost sight of his mortality—which is what makes the curse of achilles a curse rly. and ANNABETH is the only one who can ground him. ANNABETH was the only one who could ground luke as well. in hoo she is now the seven’s only hope. like there’s the group who has an identity crisis 24/7 (is jason roman/greek? does piper want to embrace her mother’s side of herself/does she embrace her father’s heritage? what is leo’s place as a member of the seven?) and the other group is quite literally cursed and in some way it has to do with death and while one half of the seven is on a path of discovery the other half is on a path to freedom of their binds. annabeth stands in the crossfire since the very beginning. she plays the role of the mediator since pjo and she didn’t realize this until tlo—when she broke thru luke’s shield when she convinced percy to give him the knife. annabeth understands perfectly who she is. she knows her place as a leader and she isn’t held back by death. there isn’t anything like that stopping her per se….even if she doesn’t have any flashy powers at her disposal. all she depends on r her wits and intelligence but there’s something else that people forget:
annabeth’s so good at understanding people. she’s very in-tune with her emotions, despite what others say. she has this impact on people, this mark of wisdom that rly makes her stand out, and maybe that’s part of why luke and percy saw her in the river styx. bc she’s so so human and one of the best examples of a moral compass they can see and touch. like all she does is see the good in things and she follows her heart and she understands herself so deeply that she wasn’t even surprised when the sirens revealed to her that her fatal flaw is pride. she’s the true hero of pjo, and arguably of hoo, bc she saved everyone’s asses tbh. i mean without her they wouldn’t have gotten the athena parthenos and without the athena parthenos there was no hope, AT ALL, that gaia would be defeated. same with luke and a single choice shall end his days. some could say that she is “the seventh wheel” but truly what she is is the one who has to rise even higher than the rest of the seven. there’s a reason why she had to look for the mark of athena alone. there’s a reason why the seven would always look to her immediately for help. while percy and jason have an alpha male conflict annabeth is the one who mediates and annabeth is the one who can steer the ship besides leo and annabeth is the one to help frank figure out the chinese handcuffs and annabeth is the one to make hazel and piper feel right at home. and while she can be the seven’s biggest strength, given she doesn’t fit into the two trios of demigods, she can still be their downfall. bc if percy still has the curse and if she holds his life in her hands and if she is his anchor to his mortality and if percy loses sight of that too late and if she carries the actual weight of what they must do to succeed on her shoulders and if she fails….the pillars can all fall apart very very quickly. in a way, they all depend ENTIRELY on her.
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sea-owl · 9 months
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Spring’s Rebirth Ch 11
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43788034/chapters/122550937
Felicity looked around as they walked back through the Underworld. It was not that much different from the earth above to be honest, not while her mother still refused to do her job. But there was a strange kind of peaceful beauty to it. Like one could lay down to rest, and not be affected by the busyness that ran through the other two courts. 
The only thing that seemed to be continuously running was the rivers. Felicity could not help but stare at them. They were beautiful, in a different way than what she had seen back up in the Court of Earth. While those up above were clear and sometimes brought a sense of adventure and maybe wonder, the one Felicity stared into was dark, giving her a sense of mystery and promise. 
“That’s the river Styx.”
Felicity looked up at King Colin. Her fingers twitched for another arrow to shoot at him, but he did keep his promise to bring her to her sister. She’ll try to behave for now, at least until she can get to Penelope. “The river of Oaths?”
“And the river of Hatred,” King Colin added. “A soul can not move on until they let everything go from their previous life. This river is where they will release their hatred. It’s typically one of the last things they let go of before going to the Lethe River to have their memories wiped.”
“The nymph watching over this river must be proud of their work,” Felicity said, her attention back on the moving waters. 
“Oh, there is no nymph. None of the rivers have an immortal watching over them. The rivers never compatible with anyone, especially after my father died.”
Felicity frowned. Those poor rivers never had a loving touch of a care taker in their entire existence? River of Hatred in deed.
The castle King Colin and Phillip led Felicity to while dark int the color of the stone it was made out of, was a lot more open than she would have expected.
Phillip stepped back just enough to fall in step with Felicity while still leading the newly departed souls. “Not what you were expecting?”
“Honestly I expected a lot more gloom,” Felicity replied.
Phillip laughed. “From my time among the courts King Colin is the least gloomy of the three brothers, just watch out for his temper.”
Felicity wanted to ask what Phillip meant when a flash of red similar to her own caught her attention.
Felicity gasped. Her sister looked so different. The lighter colors their mother favored were gone, replaced by jewel toned fabrics and dark eyeliner. Penelope was dressed in a emerald colored dress with a matching and earrings made out of raw emeralds. Silver bracelets dangled on her wrists. Her hair plaited back into a bun with a hair piece made jewels to look like a poppy flower. She was talking to Lady Francesca and a mortal soul who looked a lot like her sister.
Felicity’s feet were moving faster than her mind. “PEN!”
Of all things Penelope was expecting this morning having her younger sister throw herself into her arms would frankly not have crossed her mind even once.
“Felicity?!”
Penelope tried to pull back to get a better look, but Felicity clung tighter each time. Mumbled apologies and tears soaked her shoulder.
“I’ll give you both a moment,” Francesca whispered as she led Briseis off to start her training.
Colin passed by, leaning over to give a quick kiss on Penelope’s forehead. Penelope felt her face heat up.
“Be gentle, please?” Phillip asked. “Felicity took your kidnapping hard. Mumbling something about an insipid wallflower?”
Oh, Penelope had honestly forgotten about that. Funny what kidnapping and throwing a someone into a new environment can make you forget. With some coordination Penelope managed to lead herself and Felicity back to her chambers. There she settled both of them on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” Felicity said. “You were right I should have put some distance between me and Lady Hyacinth. She’s not better than her siblings. Not only did she abandon me when I needed her, when she knew where you were and knew I was breaking down because I didn’t.” Felicity stood and began pacing. Her arms flailing this way and that. Yellow sparks danced off her fingers every time she moved.
“Felicity-“
“But she knew and lied about it to my face!”
“Felicity-“
“And I was an idiot to believe she wouldn’t do that! She’s no better than her siblings why did I fool myself?”
“Litty, come sit next to me,” Penelope commanded.
Felicity looked at her sister. Penelope had not raised her voice, had not hardened it to an edge, or nor had she let go cold like their mother would sometimes do. It was still the same sweet voice Penelope had always used, but there was difference to it. Felicity couldn’t put her finger on it.; Maybe it was the command that caused Felicity to pause. Felicity doesn’t think she has ever heard her sister give out a command before.
Felicity sat next to her sister, who now held a a vase with dead flowers inside.
“Help me heal these,” Penelope commanded once again. Her hands already had a greenish glow to them. “Carrying all that magic in you can’t be a good thing, especially since you have not found your piece of nature.”
Felicity took a deep breath before concentrating her magic to her hands. Penelope was right, it has been a while since she actively used her magic. Ever since Mama announced that she would no longer do her job. Felicity placed her hands over Penelope’s, their magic combining.
Felicity always liked the way her sister’s magic felt. The touch itself felt like a soft kiss of a flower petal, but the feeling it left you with felt like jumping out of a spring or waking up to a new day. Refreshed, energized.
"I'm not mad at you Felicity, I never was."
Felicity flinched. "You should be. I shouldn't have said that to you."
"No, you shouldn't have," Penelope agreed. "But I also shouldn't have said what I said either."
Felicity shook her head. "You were right."
"I don't think I was."
Felicity fell silent.
“There we go,” Penelope said. “Feel better?”
Felicity nodded and then looked up at the plant they held. It was anemone flowers. They were a flower Penelope had created specifically for Felicity when she started her training. They were supposed to help with negative emotions by sucking them in and being converted into a pleasant smell should help calm one's mind.
Felicity took a deep breath, her body slumping against the bed.
Penelope got up to place the flowers somewhere. When she came back she had a journal. Felicity stared at the journal in her sister’s hands.
"When was the last time you slept?"
When was the last time? Felicity knew she hasn't gotten a proper night's rest since Penelope disappeared. Too busy searching, and then too busy telling the royal family to fuck off.
Felicity felt her eyes get heavey. This bed has no right being this comfortable.
“I will be back in a little bit,” Penelope said, stroking her sister’s hair. “I must speak with my husband."
Felicity fell asleep. Penelope made a quick stop to open a window before leaving the room. The sounds of the river have helped Felicity sleep before. Surely they’ll help now too.
-
Penelope found Colin in the garden he had brought her to the day they toured the kingdom. Wordlessly she took his hand with her free one as she sat down. He turned it and kissed the back.
“I have a guess at to what the prize was all those years ago,” Penelope said as she laid the journal in front of them.
Colin let out a half humored laugh. “Where did you find this?”
“It appeared in my room after you left.
Colin laughed again. “I can’t hide from you.”
Penelope squeezed his hand. “How was the world up above?”
“Worse than what Phillip described. The mortals are desperate and I believe some of the gods are as well.”
Penelope nodded, she had feared what she saw from Briseis was true.
-
Felicity woke to whispers. Her sisters was not back yet, and there was no one else in the room besides herself. So where were those whispers coming from?
Felicity followed the noise to the open window Penelope left for her. It over looked what Felicity believed was an attempt at a garden. Sitting in it was Penelope and King Colin. Felicity was too far up for them to notice her, but that meant she had a hard time hearing them as well. Felicity closed her eyes and tried to concentrate her magic to her ears. She has to make sure Penelope is okay.
“I told Anthony that we would be back on the solstice. Then you can make your decision whether to stay with me or go back with your mother.”
King Colin was letting her sister go? Felicity grinned. This was fantastic! Oh the solstice couldn’t come fast enough, soon Penelope will be home and-
Felicity leaned closer to the window, watching her sister and the King of the Underworld. They have moved from their position of sitting next to one another to having Penelope sit in his lap. Her face buried into the side of his neck while his was buried in her hair.
Penelope and King Colin clung to each other. Each time Felicity saw one of them try to move away the other just held tighter. 
“I don’t want you to go,” King Colin whispered into Penelope’s hair. 
“I don’t think I have a choice,” Penelope whispered back. 
"You should. It should've been your choice from the beginning."
Oh. 
“Do you love him?” Felicity will ask her sister later once’s she’s back in her room. 
Penelope won’t even look at her. Her gaze will remain on the vase with images depicting the love story of Lord Nicholas and Lady Georgiana. In the vase are flowers that have been brought back to life once more. A mixture of bleeding hearts and forget me nots.  
Oh. 
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thelamentknight · 11 months
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(This is now old. Click here for updated version)
“…My dream…? …Oh, I…can’t tell you…”
Carmen Larimar is my MC for Twisted Wonderland and Twisted Cinderella. The last thing she remembers is seeing a covered man put her inside a carriage before she ended up in Twisted Wonderland. She says she comes from Meissen, Germany.
Carmen is known for being a very timid and quiet girl. She rarely ever speaks, and when she does, it’s always with a stutter. She also tends to keep to herself, never bothering to talk about her interests or feelings, since she’s always been told no one cares for her. Despite her loner aura, she is very kind and caring, and always puts over herself. This becomes a major problem however, as many students have used this to their advantage. 
Unique Magic: Her UM is “Shatter Glass,” which numbs all effects of magic. For example, if Riddle were to attempt to collar her, her UM makes it so the collar shatters into little glass pieces immediately. There’s one weakness to this: Whenever it is 12:00, her UM is useless and Carmen is no longer unaffected by magic.
(Warning! Mentions of R*pe and Ab*se. Skip backstory for those uncomfortable. 
Backstory: Her Father, Emery Larimar, is a wealthy man from Wonderland who was captured by STYX. Her Mother, Ingrid Weiss, is a Mafia Boss from Germany.  When attempting to escape STYX, Emery went to hiding on earth. One day, Ingrid dr*ghee his drink, dragged his body through an alley, and r*ped him. Afterwards, Ingrid asked for his last name, to which Emery, in a dr*gged state, responded with his last name. He was thanked with a kick to the gut. Shortly, Emery went back to Wonderland, only to be immediately captured by STYX.
Ingrid gave birth to twins, a girl named Carmen and a boy named Roman. A couple of years later, she had two girls that were Carmen and Roman’s half sisters: Diana and Annabelle.
Diana and Annabelle were spoiled rotten. Given nice dresses, given all the things the wanted, getting the best treatment. Carmen and Roman, however, were put to work as slaves at a young age. Despite Carmen’s attempt to stop it, Ingrid k!lled Roman when the twins were five due to Ingrid’s little respect of men.
Carmen was then abused and humiliated. She was put to work constantly, and was constantly harassed by her Mother and sisters. They tore down her self esteem and self worth, and wouldn’t shy away of getting physical. This went on for 16 years, until one day where Annabelle saw a rat inside her teacup. This was not a prank of Carmen’s, but her sisters and Mother assumed it was. First, they grabbed pieces of glass and carved them into her lower half of her face. This is why she wears a mask. Afterward, Ingrid disowned Carmen and threw her on the streets. Carmen spent the next three years as a poor person until she fell and saw a man taking her to a carriage before going unconscious.
Facts:
+ Her dream is to become a Fashion Designer. She wants to design clothes that are both gothic and preppy with chic flair in them. Though she rarely shares this.
+ Carmen loves reading about King Arthur, and she reads stories as a coping mechanism.
+ She has a lovely singing voice, but she only sings when she’s cleaning alone. 
+ Due to her past, she has PTSD and Insomnia. After gaining some money in Monstro Lounge, she is now getting some therapy and medication 
+ She hates apples because that’s all she was allowed to eat at the Chateau. If her Mother or sisters saw her eat something else, they would choke her so she would throw up.
+ Her jeweled necklace is a translation necklace. Carmen only knows German, and therefore cannot understand others without it.
+ She is Pansexual-Demisexual and her romantic interest is Vil
+ She designed her school uniform and other outfits by herself. She doesn’t bring it up unless asked
+ Carmen gets flustered very easily, and will squeak if touched
+ She has prescribed glasses, but usually wears contacts
+ Her favorite fruit is Pumpkin, and her favorite animal is frogs
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jasmariswonderland · 7 months
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Dreams Adorned In Silk ~ VilxOC
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Synopsis: After months of knowing her, Vil thinks it's time to finally time to express to Danica all that he feels for her. And what better way than under a dazzling, firelit sky?
A/N: Vil's new SSR has a death-grip upon my heart. 😭😍😭
Pairings: 👑/🦢
Word Count: 2315
Warnings: A lot of fluff with just the slightest hint of angst.
~~~
With the final descent of the sun, the evening began to take on a cooler temperature. A blessed relief from the scorching heat. They had arrived earlier that afternoon while the sun was still blazing high in the sky and while their silky attire offered stylish comfort, a break from the heat was not unwelcome. Now, nestled together in a private tent some distance down the river and away from the crowds, they prepared for a spectacular night they were sure to enjoy. And for Vil, the moment he’d been greatly anticipating, but simultaneously dreading, had finally come.
In the corner of the tent, sat his fair companion. He watched as she held out her hand, musing over the elegant jeweled bangle circling her wrist. The beginnings of a smile pulled at Vil’s lips, it was something he’d seen her admiring it in the marketplace earlier that day. She said nothing, not wanting to feel like she was imposing on him, but the wistful look in her eyes told him all that he needed to know. When they arrived at their tent a little while ago, the first thing Vil did was surprise Danica with a beautifully crafted gift box. Biting back a smirk at the small gasp and the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the bangle. 
“How did you know?” she had asked him. “I was looking at it, true, but…I don’t think…”
“Your lips might not have said you wanted this, but they didn’t have to.” A playful smile caused her cheeks to redden. “The look in your eyes was confirmation enough that you would appreciate if I gave this to you.”
“Ahh, oh Vil-san, thank you!”
The red tint upon her face darkened as she slipped the bangle on her arm. She turned it afew times with her other hand, watching as the gems sparkled, their light jumping from one facet to another. Though she did not realize it, her own eyes were sparkling as well.
“It’s so beautiful, thank you. Thank you!”
Seeing her joy caused a fluttering sensation in his chest. Secretly, it brought him joy as well, seeing her so happy. There were not many instances where Vil could see Danica smile. The last few months had been particularly difficult ones and loath he was to admit it, Vil had been the source of much of her despair. 
Things in their world were now beginning to calm down. The VDC had passed, their emotions reconciled and they managed to escape STYX. The Shroud brothers were dealt with and, best of all, Vil’s youthful beauty had been restored after his heroic dive into the underworld. Everything seemed to be returning to normal and today’s venture to Scalding Sands was a wonderful change to their usual routines. 
And for Vil, it was even more wonderful that despite all they had been through, Danica was still able to smile at him and enjoy his company just as much as he enjoyed her’s. How nice it was to finally have some time alone with her, without the pressures of school or the expectations of the world breathing down their necks. At that moment, he wasn’t Vil Scheonheit, the international mega celebrity and dorm leader of Pomefiore. He was simply Vil enjoying a vacation with the one he cared about above all others. 
“I’ve had so much fun today,” said Danica. “I’m so excited for the fireworks, it will be the perfect ending to a perfect day!”
“I’m glad to hear that, Little Potato,” Vil smiled. “I take it you’re no longer feeling sad?”
“Sad? Why ever would I feel sad for?”
“Well I know a few of your friends were also here today,” he thoughtfully tilted his head. “Iman, Vidaria, Kalim and Cater. Even Trey and Yuulan are here as well. I saw some of the pictures Cater uploaded to Magicam.” 
“Yes, I saw the pictures too,” Danica lowered her gaze, which momentarily gave Vil reason for concern. But she ended up smiling. “But I wasn’t sad, I’m…much happier that I got to spend the day with you, Vil-san.”
“Really?” This genuinely surprised Vil, though it also secretly tickled him. “You’re glad you spent the day with me, as opposed to your friends?”
“What? Does that sound very strange?”
“No, no. I don’t mean it that way, it’s just that…well…I figured…”
His voice trailed off, surprisingly at a loss for words. Danica smiled and went on to explain how she could hang out with her friends anytime while they were at school. However with Vil, though they were in the same dorm, their obligations often kept them from spending time together. Especially considering that Vil was a dorm leader and soon to begin preparing for his senior internship. Once the new school year began, they were likely not to see much of each other at all. 
“I could always call up Kalim or Cater and arrange a meetup if I wanted to,” she said. “But I value the time I can have with you because…well…” A light red tint returned to her cheeks. “Because it’s so rare that we can be alone, I value this time with you all the more.”
“Danica…”
Vil’s heart began to flutter once more. Over the months, Danica had gradually become more assertive in speaking her mind. She still had her timid moments, but she was finding her voice and her thoughtful astuteness was something that he always found intriguing. But for her to voice how much she valued their time together, well, it was enough for Vil to start feeling rather bold. 
He couldn’t deny the close bond they had forged. A most unlikely friendship that Vil never could have anticipated, When he thought how this was the same shy and soft spoken spudling he was introduced to at the start of the school year, it made him chuckle. What initially began as curiosity on his part soon blossomed into a genuine respect, eventually giving way to awe and now, something even deeper. 
Still, a nagging thought continued to gnaw at him. In his pursuit of beauty, he had been quite ruthless with her at times. His harshness often overwhelmed her, sometimes reducing her to tears and he cringed inside thinking of the pain he caused as they were preparing for the VDC. All of this weighed as heavily on his heart as his feelings for her. Could she really accept him after enduring such pain?
Her words were the exact answer he needed. And as the evening became cooler and Danica slowly moved closer to him, Vil found he could not deny his feelings any longer. In his mind, he rehearsed the words he would say, reminding himself that as a professional actor, this shouldn’t be such a difficult thing to do. But in his heart, this would be far from easy and unlike any other performance he gave, this was real. 
“Danica, there’s been something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time.” 
Danica looked up at him, her curiosity piqued. “Hmm? What is it, Vil-san?”
“I…well…” he took a deep breath. “First off, I would like to apologize. The first time I attempted to convey this, I did so in an extremely undignified manner.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was extremely selfish and cruel then. But please know, even though I did a very poor job at expressing my feelings, they haven't changed,” Vil smiled a little. “And when I say that I am the only one who sees you for the jewel that you are, I mean that.Truly.”
These words made Danica blush, though they also perplexed her. She couldn’t yet understand what Vil was trying to say but she did notice how he was looking at her. His usual intense gaze was softer, more tender, and his tone lacked its usual authoritative manner. Once again, she asked what he meant by this. But just as he worked up the courage to continue, they were both startled by a loud, booming sound filling the air. Fireworks erupted in a brilliant display.
Like a garden of flowers blooming in the sky, the night was illuminated with glowing color and dazzling light. Danica even reached out to the sky, she’d never seen such large fireworks before and felt they were close enough to touch. In the distance an enchanting, infectious music began to play, filling the air and loud enough for them to hear. Both of them were enraptured by the gorgeous display and Vil momentarily forgot his words, smiling at Danica.
“Would you like to dance with me, Little Potato?” he asked. “You know, it’s a Scalding Sands’ tradition to dance under the fireworks. Kalim told me.”
A bright red tint returned to Danica’s cheeks. “Was that…what you wanted to ask me, Vil-san?”
Of course it wasn’t, but he looked at her teasingly. “Do you want to dance with me or not?”
She eagerly agreed, allowing him to take her hand and pull her to her feet. Under the firelit sky, he guided her through an array of fun and graceful movements that perfectly matched the music. The colorful silks of their attire swirling elegantly with them as they danced, adding themselves to the gorgeous display up above. Vil was a beautiful dancer, Danica already knew that firsthand. The way he danced with her always left her breathless; every turn, every sway, was absolutely captivating. The way he never took his eyes off of her, caused her heart to race with the rhythm of the music. 
He was a perfect dance partner but what touched Danica the most, at that moment, was seeing Vil laugh and smile with such natural joy. It was rare to see him smile, even at her. He often kept a stolid expression when he wasn’t glaring with disappointment or smirking with amusement. But a true smile from Vil was almost as rare as him going a day without once having to scold Epel. But because she didn’t often see him smile, when he did, it was all the more special. A beautiful treasure that she held dear to her heart.
It was also quite infectious and Danica found herself smiling with him, sharing in this joy. So deep was this joy that what happened next was as natural as it was spontaneous. Vil stopped spinning her and for a moment, they continued gazing up at the colorful sky before he lifted her chin up to face him. He gazed at her thoughtfully and without a word, gently pressed his lips to her’s. He half expected her to be shocked or even to pull away, but to his surprise, she didn’t. There was no resistance and Danica slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.
Under the firelit sky, the fireworks weren’t the only thing illuminating. Though Vil hadn’t yet voiced his feelings, at that moment, he didn’t have to. Their closeness, this kiss, spoke louder than any words he could say. And her response said it all, his love was reciprocated. 
~~~
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Vil slowly stirred awake, tears dampening his cheeks even before he opened his eyes. His heart ached with the bittersweet residue of the dream that had felt so vivid, so real. He knew what he would find before his eyes opened to confirm it. The empty space beside him in his bed told him that it had indeed all been a dream. A beautiful, silk-adorned dream, and now reality was crashing down upon him.
Cursing his own mind for playing such a cruel trick on him, Vil couldn't help but wonder why he would dream of something so poignant in the first place. That’s when his gaze shifted to the dress form in the corner of his room, adorned with the silky outfit Trey had gifted him, a plethora of vibrant colors and glittery fireworks printed upon the fabric. At the time, gratitude welled up within him for the thoughtful gift, but now it was overshadowed by sadness and regret. How he would have loved to attend and see the fireworks for himself, dancing in the gorgeous silk outfit with Danica by his side. It could have been a perfect date, and the perfect moment to finally express his feelings to her.
As he showered and dressed in his school uniform, Vil continued to contemplate this. He had fallen in love with her, that much was certain. And considering all they had gone through, he was almost certain that she was in love with him as well. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had much opportunity to really discuss their relationship since their return from STYX. The emotions from that harrowing experience were still quite high even a month later, to say nothing of his guilt at how badly he’d treated her before. 
He was just about ready to leave for the day, classes would start soon and he had to shift his focus. Vil gleaned out the window of his room, it was a lovely day at least, warm and sunny without a single cloud in the blue sky. His window also overlooked the Pomefiore courtyard and when he glanced down, there she was. Danica sat under one of the apple trees, chatting and laughing with Yuulan, Grim sitting in the latter’s lap. Her laughter was like music to his ears, and it ignited a spark of determination within him. 
The time for hesitance had long passed. It was time to seize the moment.
With his phone in hand, Vil quickly wrote up a text to Danica and watched as she received it and checked her phone. The message was simple: a request for her to meet him in the lounge later that evening for a monthly evaluation, something he gave to all freshmen. In truth, the evaluation was merely a pretense for something just as important, but even more special. 
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