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intersexwiki · 2 months ago

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for archival purposes, copying everything under the cut

What we liked

This book had a bunch of things going for it.

The one thing this book did better than Swarr was its use of hauntology. Swarr invokes hauntology in her book, but not nearly as effectively as Orr does. Orr gets a lot of effective mileage out of how the spectre of intersex haunts people’s bodies. Not just intersex people’s bodies, but also the bodies of pregnant people who are called upon to exorcise the spectre of intersex through selective abortion should a foetus be identified as possibly intersex.

The haunting metaphor rung true for talking about how we intersex people are haunted by past surgeries, forced treatments, medical trauma, and so on. Even when we’re “done” with receiving gender-altering “treatments” we live with their ghosts every day.

We liked the explicit connections that Orr drew between intersex and disability studies. Elizabeth in particular was warmed by the shoutout to how Garland-Thompson explicitly includes intersex in her disability studies work. We felt that Orr perhaps underestimates how receptive many intersex people would be to their central argument - Orr takes on a tone of “hey bear with my crazy radical argument” that we weren’t sure was really necessary.

Orr is not the first to make the argument that intersex organizing and scholarship would benefit from more alignment with the disability world. This gets into criticisms, but Orr isn’t the first to make this argument yet seems unaware of how regularly the argument comes up. Indeed there’s a whole chapter in Critical Intersex (2009) arguing that intersex is better off allying with the disability community than the queer community. It’s not hard to find intersex people on this very website arguing similar things. Intersex-support even has a whole section on it in their FAQ, though it does cite Orr (lol). Orr does at least seem aware of Koyama’s work making this argument.

We appreciated Orr calling out ableism in a lot of intersex organizing. When intersex people and organizations insist that intersex is NOT a disorder or disability, they conflate disorder and disability. This is an ableist conflation: disability activism tends to start from a place of resistance to the medical model of disability, whether it be by the social model or more recent ones like the political/relational model.

Intersex activists insisting that intersex is “NOT a disability” reinforce the idea that disability is a negative, tragic thing. It’s the “I’m not like the other girls” rhetoric: putting down people who experience the same oppression you do in an effort to gain some credibility. It holds our movement back, because ableism is a very potent part of how we intersex people are oppressed. Orr does an effective job of laying this out, and we recommend reading the first chapter for this.

Orr coins a term, temporarily endosex, to talk about how people can learn at any age or time that they have had intersex traits all along. (Another way in which intersex can haunt!). For Elizabeth, the idea of temporarily perisex helped zer understand why perisex people can be *so* insistent in defining intersex as something visible at birth: because if intersex is something you can become at any age, this threatens perisex people with the possibility that they too could find themselves on the minority side of the tracks.

Other terms that Orr uses were big hits with the group. Elizabeth loved “curative violence” and ze expects to get future mileage out of the term. Ze also liked the framing of IGM as medical malpractice. Apollo praised “compulsory dyadism” as a concept. Remy shared that the cyborg stuff in the book gave them a lot to think about.

The book features a takedown of eugenicist rhetoric by a bioethicist by the name of Sparrow. We all agreed that Sparrow’s arguments sucked, were grossly eugenicist, and welcomed that Orr had put in the work to rebut his hateful messaging. Michelle praised how they invoked Sparrow’s lists of undesirables that Preimplantation Genetic Diagnosis is supposed to prevent: for xem, it evoked monstrosity identification theory and ideas of the abject.

Elizabeth liked Orr’s argument that genital differences are a threat to the heterosexual (perisex) imagination: there’s so much porn out there that incorrectly presents intersex as “typical fully-developed penis plus typical fully-developed vagina” that really reflects how perisex people have a serious lack of imagination about genitals.

Fact Checking

There are a number of things that Orr says that we felt warrant an explicit fact check.

Orr presents the terms “perisex” and “endosex” as though they are contentious within the intersex community. They are not. The general consensus that one’s choice of perisex/endosex/dyadic is a question of personal preference and familiarity.

Orr clearly prefers the term dyadic, and makes a show of casting aspersions on “perisex” and “endosex”. They make it seem like their origins are disputed, and selectively cite Tumblr posts to make this argument. “Perisex” is actually the most common antonym to intersex on this very website, so it feels surreal that they're publishing the rare anti-“perisex” posts on this platform. Orr does correctly cite the Tumblr which coined “perisex”, the issue is they try to discredit it as a means to make it seem like this is not a term embraced by the intersex community.

Orr makes it seem like the origin of “endosex” is a suspicious mystery. It’s not. the term was first used in German in 2000 by Heike Bödeker. Bödeker is controversial for supporting autogynephilia 😬, but we've never seen anybody doubt Bödeker having mixed gonadal dysgenesis.

Orr clearly prefers the term “dyadic” and makes zero attempt to source the term, and the most minimal attempt at covering its controversy. This term actually does come from outside the intersex community! The term came from gender studies, popularized by 1970s radfem Shulamith Firestone. And it’s controversial for more than just being a laundering of “sex binary”.

Nobody calls it “ipso gender” anymore. It was coined as “ipso gender” but in actual usage has been “ipsogender” from basically as soon as the term was coined.

Orr uncritically repeats a quote which romanticizes home births in Black & Indigenous communities as that intersex-at-birth babies were accepted and cared for in a way that wouldn’t happen if the baby were born in hospital. This, sadly, is deserves scrutiny. We’re not saying it never happened: one can find stories supporting it. But the historical and sociological evidence show that infanticide of intersex infants has been widespread globally, and this includes traditional Black and Indigenous birth attendants. Collison (2018) as quoted in Swarr, reports that 88 of 90 traditional South African birth attendants they interviewed admitted to “getting rid” of a child if it was born intersex. That very story we just linked to about a Kenyan midwife saving intersex babies made the news because infanticide was the norm. In North America, some First Nations had similar traditions, e.g. the Navajo would leave intersex babies to die in arroyos, and the Halq’eméylem would leave them to die on a specific mountain. 😢

Michelle was visibly upset when talking about Orr’s repeated comments which insinuate that LGBT marriage equality was an attempt to fit in + liberalism + conformity. In Michelle’s words: “AIDS activists did not watch their lovers die for you to say that marriage equality is conformist bullshit. As a [polyamorous] person who is not legally married to xer spouses, I really felt that one, and I was intensely angry about how Orr was dismissing those activist efforts and the importance of them.”

The Voyeuristic Vibes

The consensus in the group was that Orr’s writing came off as voyeuristic of the intersex community. There were several points in the book where Orr seemed strangely disconnected from the intersex community. Sometimes it was small things, like spelling ipsogender as “ipso gender”, or favouring the term “interphobia” when “intersexism” is actually more popular in the community (it also avoids the potential casual ableism of framing bigots as clinically insane! Which you’d think a crip theorist would be sensitive to…. 👀)

Other times, it felt like a deeper, conceptual thing. For example, Orr’s top priority in future work was to apply their interpretation of intersex issues to critique how LGBT marriage equality was a homonormative, neoliberal, conformist movement. Not only was this viscerally upsetting to Michelle, for Elizabeth it was galling that this is what Orr seems to think intersex perspectives are good for: pushing down other queer groups. 😬 It added to the sense that Orr saw us as a nifty theoretical lens, and wasn’t particularly interested in advancing the intersex cause.

Another disconnection that was noted was in how Orr rebutted Sparrow’s claims that genital differences are disgusting and will not elicit sexual desire in others. Despite detailed rebuttals to other appalling comments from Sparrow, Orr does not bring up the intense fetishization of intersex genital differences which is uncomfortably familiar to all of us. Objectifying medical photography of intersex people with genital differences are shared widely and known to be used for sexual purposes.

Bnuuy was annoyed that Orr seemingly didn't try to talk to or otherwise get input/feedback from any disabled intersex people for their thesis, given that disabled intersex people are not actually that hard to find! (Indeed, four out of five of us are both intersex and disabled.) Given Orr’s emphasis on intersectionality, it’s notable that when they sought intersex texts to analyse, they focused on texts from nondisabled intersex folks.

Orr does not reveal if they are intersex nor if they are disabled. It sticks out. Whether they’re actually intersex or not isn't actually that important to us. We’ve previously read intersex studies works by perisex authors which we loved, and we believe strongly that it is possible for perisex authors to do right by the community if they take the time to engage WITH the community. (See Swarr as an exemplar!)

What we had major problem with is the faux “objective” tone that the book takes on. Orr seems to be trying to hide behind academic language, the “view from nowhere”, and an expensive paywall. This was noticeable to everybody. But Elizabeth, as the only academic in the call, came in with a lot more context as to why it felt gross.

The Misuse of Standpoint Theory

For Elizabeth, Orr's “view from nowhere” became egregious when Orr cites standpoint theorists like Donna Haraway, Nancy Hartstock, and Pat Hill Collins. In a surreal move, Orr explicitly points to Haraway’s famous paper “Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective”. This paper is an evisceration of the “view from nowhere”, “objective” approach to academic knowledge production. Every view is a view from somewhere, and pretending otherwise feeds into the history of how science has been violently used to gaslight and oppress minority groups.

In short, Haraway says:

ALT

Elizabeth explains that as result, feminist methodologies accept subjectivity as part of the process: the researcher is expected to articulate their own standpoint, to be transparent about their subjectivity rather than to hide it behind a pretense of “objectivity”. There’s an emphasis on reflexivity, the fancy word for when scholars reflect on how their own social position affects how they do their research.

Feminist disability studies and crip theory both build on feminist standpoint theory, and Orr claims to be using both. Both frameworks understand disability as socially constructed, and that this social construction is entwined with other social forces such as capitalism, sexism, racism, and so on. Feminist disability studies scholars like Wendell (who Orr cites) clearly position themselves and how their disability (or lack thereof) affects their research.

Crip theory builds further on feminist disability studies, and acts to subvert ideas of ability. It began in the arts - cripping performance art by having wheelchair users perform as dancers, blind people doing photography, Deaf people making music, etc. It spread into other domains, such as crip technoscience. Crip theorists also inherit the tradition of reflexivity, whether it be Eli Claire writing about their personal experiences of disability or Sami Schalk talking about how being nondisabled affects her work as a disability studies scholar.

We provide all this exposition to emphasize how unusual it is that Orr provides absolutely zero information about their positionality nor their personal motivations to this research. 🧐 They provide zero reflexivity as to how their position may have affected their work. Yet their personal biases and subjectivity seemed obvious to us - we were all, in varying ways, set off by Orr trying to pass off subjective opinion as “correct”. As an example, we mentioned how Orr clearly prefers the term “dyadic” and manufactures controversy about the origins of “endosex” and “perisex”, while at the same time conveniently leaving out the unsavoury origins of the term “dyadic”.

Elizabeth pointed out that the ironic thing is Orr didn’t even need to invoke standpoint theory to make the argument that intersex studies would benefit from a disability studies lens. Plenty of intersex and disability studies is done using different frameworks.

Indeed, Elizabeth was surprised that this kind of error made it through a PhD thesis defense. In the department where ze teaches, if a student displays a major misunderstanding about their chosen theoretical framework, the student would be asked to redo the relevant thesis checkpoints (e.g. candidacy paper, thesis proposal/defense) until they get it right.

Some background on academia

Elizabeth brought up a structural problem with the book: it looks like it had zero intersex studies scholars review it prior to publication. 💀

This book originated as a PhD dissertation, which anybody can read for free here. A typical PhD programme is structured as a master-apprentice model of education, where a PhD student apprentices to one (sometimes two) professors. These are known as thesis advisors. The culmination of the PhD is a thesis (aka dissertation), which presents original research done by the student.

To graduate, the thesis needs to pass examination by a committee of professors. The committee acts as a secondary source of support to the student, providing guidance or perspectives to complement the advisors.

Elizabeth explained that when ze assembles a thesis committee for one of zer graduate students, the goal is to ensure any area that the student is venturing into has at least one committee member who is well versed in it. So, let’s say you propose you’re going to do a thesis on “intersex studies meets disability studies” but your thesis advisors are both gender studies people (as Orr’s were). Elizabeth would expect that Orr’s thesis committee would then include at least one disability studies scholar and at least one intersex studies scholar.

Instead, Orr’s thesis committee doesn’t have a single intersex studies scholar on it. Neither the book’s acknowledgements nor the thesis’ acknowledgments acknowledge any intersex studies scholars. Even though Orr is citing intersex studies scholars like Georgiann Davis, Morgan Holmes, and Cary Gabriel Costello, there's nothing to indicate that Orr has ever gotten feedback from any intersex people. This is HIGHLY unusual: normally, intersex studies books have acknowledgments which acknowledge several publicly intersex people, and often one or two intersex organizations.

Research is a highly social activity: researchers are expected to go to conferences, to be in conversation with people working on similar topics. And Orr is clearly social about their research, acknowledging the feminist/gender studies communities they have been a part of. It just seems like intersex studies scholars weren’t a priority for Orr’s academic socializing. 🙃

Orr’s acknowledgments doesn’t even contain the word intersex, which is unprecedented in our collective experience of intersex non-fiction. This is why Elizabeth says that ze was left with the impression that Orr doesn’t think intersex studies is a serious field of research. It appears that Orr views intersex literature as something to be consumed for their benefit, and not a community worthy of participation and a bi-directional relationship.

Early in the book, Orr points to Lennard Davis’ work with the Deaf community on reframing Deaf activism away from the “we’re not disabled we’re a linguistic minority” rhetoric. It’s a great example of disability studies scholars having an impact. Thing is: Davis openly talks about how he grew up in a Deaf family that was part of the Deaf Community. While Davis is not little-d deaf, he took on the project as a member of the capital-D Deaf community. His writing (including book acknowledgments) reflect this.

Elizabeth also pointed out that there are scripts and precedent in academia for how to handle positionality and reflexivity when you’re questioning or closeted. If Orr were closeted or questioning, they would have an excellent way to talk discreetly about it through their very own concept of “temporarily endosex”: Orr could write they don’t know they’re not perisex, frame it around how few perisex people actually know they’re perisex, and retain plausible deniability.

Other notes

Bnuuy was frustrated with the implication that disability studies is The Only Right Way to analyse intersex. It’s a useful lens for understanding intersex, but at times it felt like Orr was arguing it was the only appropriate lens rather than one of a collection of suitable lenses. Theories are analytic tools, and social phenomena are complex and fluid - it’s a matter of finding a suitable tool for a given research question, rather than there being One Correct Way to understand things.

Orr’s use of “bodymind” didn’t quite land. The term was created by Margaret Price to subvert the idea that body and mind are dichotomous: many disabilities cannot neatly fit into “mental” vs “physical”. It’s a term that’s had productive use in disability studies. But Orr’s use of it got a negative reaction. Remy pointed out it felt like it instead it actually reinforced the body-mind distinction. Intersex is, after all, a physical thing, and the idea of “brain intersex” is very poorly received by the intersex community - it’s seen as a way that perisex trans people appropriate intersex and/or live in denial about being perisex. It felt like Orr was using the word on autopilot rather than thinking about when and where it is actually subversive.

Bnuuy was concerned that Orr was reading OII Australia’s information on intersex in bad faith. Orr criticizes them for discursively distancing intersex from disability. Bnuuy points out that OII Australia is not writing for an academic (disability studies) scholarship. This is an advocacy organization speaking to a general audience that understands disability through the medical model. Bnuuy read the quotes from OII Australia as them just distancing themselves from a medicalized understanding of disability.

Elizabeth brought up that Orr’s manufactured controversy of “perisex” may have a classist element. While endo- does make sense as an antonym to inter- if one has formal science background, the term peri- is not conventionally an antonym to inter-. Elizabeth has personally noticed a resistance from zer fellow academics to perisex on the grounds that it’s “using scientific terminology incorrectly”, and thinks that’s a classist take.

Michelle brought up that “it also didn't sit great with me that they [Orr] were very condescending about Tumblr like, ‘aww, look at the baby activists trying to do a scholarship," whereas what I'd describe as ‘folk scholarship’ on Tumblr has been very valuable to me. It's not always correct and there can be misinformation, but it has worth.” Remy was unimpressed with how limited/selective Orr’s engagement seemed to be with intersex Tumblr, as well as Orr’s centrist take on “the future is female”.

Closing thoughts

This was a deeply imperfect piece of scholarship. Orr came across as disconnected from the intersex community, and uninterested in working with the community. The work still has some merits: Orr’s first chapter provides an incisive discussion of how ableism is detrimental to intersex advocacy and that trying to distance intersex from disability only adds to societal ableism. Ableism is a serious force in intersex discrimination and we’re stronger off understanding this and explicitly resisting it.

We hope that the stink of Orr’s voyeurism does not sully the important central message of their book. Work needs to be done to teach more intersex people about disability studies. Disability does not mean disorder. Disability does NOT mean medical problem. The disability rights and justice movements are FULL of disabled groups who, just like the intersex community, are actively seeking de-pathologization, bodily autonomy, patient-led care by respectful and well-informed physicians, and fighting neo-eugenics. We are in good company with groups like the Deaf, neurodiversity, and little people communities.

A lot of thoughts about Cripping Intersex

On 2024-09-29 we met to talk about Chapters 0 and 7-9 of the 2022 book Cripping Intersex by Celeste Orr. This was a book that numerous people had requested we read, and we wound up with deeply mixed feelings about it. 😬

Overall reactions:

Michelle: I found the concept of “hauntology” incredibly compelling. I’m here for some shitposting. 🍵

Apollo: I loved the concept of compulsory dyadism. I found the downplaying of “perisex” as a term to be weird, and the lack of divulging intersex/disability status was weird.

Elizabeth: the lack of diverging intersex/disability status wasn’t just weird, it was anathema to standpoint theory, and so every time Orr cited standpoint theorists, it made me seriously doubt Orr’s understanding of the theoretical basis that they actively chose to use 🧐. I was disappointed by this book. I agree with its central premise, so I should have been an easy sell. Instead I came out shaking, upset, feeling like Orr was a voyeur to our community, that Orr does not actually view intersex studies as a serious research area, that we’re just a theoretical fascination.

Remy: There were a lot of good points about how disability is socially constructed, but how Orr used “bodymind” detracted from their arguments for me. This book had a lot of uncomfortable conversations, some of them I was happy to read, some I need to come to terms with myself, while others I felt were treated a little too artificially equally such as the section with the phrase "the future is female" and the intersex community being involved in the queer community. 🤔

Bnuuy: it's really jarring how they approach the topic. There are a lot of pieces for a good theory here, but it’s kinda like Orr is just like the completely wrong person to go try to assemble them 🫤

As a collective, we generally were receptive (if not enthused!) about the central message that intersex benefits from disability studies/rights/justice perspectives, and that our community would benefit from more interaction with the disability studies/rights/justice communities! 💜

At the same time, we all agreed that Orr felt like a voyeur to our community. Rather than engaging with the intersex community, they seem to have a one-sided relationship where they read a bunch of things by intersex people but never actually conversed with intersex people. Whether Orr is intersex or not matters a whole lot less to us than whether Orr is actively participating in the community.

We made a lot of (unflattering) comparisons of Orr’s book to Envisioning African Intersex by Swarr, an intersex studies book by a perisex author. The latter is a great example of how a perisex scholar can do right by the intersex community: Swarr is clear about being perisex, clearly lays out her motivation for writing the book (she saw medical photography of intersex people, thought it was fucked up, later became friends with intersex activist Sally Gross, and then wanted to honour Gross’ memory after Gross died tragically.) Swarr was clearly connected to multiple African intersex organizations and made an explicit, deliberate choice to publish her book as open access so that the work could actually be read by the African activists she has been working with. Swarr’s perisex status matters a lot less than the fact that Swarr writes in a way that demonstrates personal investment in advancing intersex rights/justice.

Orr may or may nor be intersex. We don’t know. We don’t really care, because Orr doesn’t demonstrate personal investment in the intersex rights/justice/studies communities. That’s what actually matters to us, and it's what a lot of this post is going to talk about.

Underneath the cut we're going to go into a lot more detail about the book. There were things we liked about the book, and want to be fair in our assessment. Some of the complaints we had about the book hinge on an understanding of sociological theory and academic practices, so we'll give some context on those issues.

What we liked

This book had a bunch of things going for it.

Orr coins a term, temporary dyadism, to talk about how people can learn at any age or time that they have had intersex traits all along. (Another way in which intersex can haunt!). For Elizabeth, this helped zer understand why perisex people can be *so* insistent in defining intersex as something visible at birth: because if intersex is something you can become at any age, this threatens perisex people with the possibility that they too could find themselves on the minority side of the tracks.

Fact Checking

There are a number of things that Orr says that we felt warrant an explicit fact check.

Nobody calls it “ipso gender” anymore. It was coined as “ipso gender” but in actual usage has been “ipsogender” from basically as soon as the term was coined.

The Voyeuristic Vibes

The Misuse of Standpoint Theory

In short, Haraway says:

Some background on academia

Elizabeth brought up a structural problem with the book: it looks like it had zero intersex studies scholars review it prior to publication. 💀

Elizabeth also pointed out that there are scripts and precedent in academia for how to handle positionality and reflexivity when you’re questioning or closeted. If Orr were closeted or questioning, they would have an excellent way to talk discreetly about it through their very own concept of “temporary dyadism”: Orr could write they don’t know they’re not perisex, frame it around how few perisex people actually know they’re perisex, and retain plausible deniability.

Other notes

Closing thoughts

#perisex

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

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The Man Before The Dawn

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Gen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Apollo, Outsider POV

There’s a man sat on the broken bridge, but no-one else can see him.

Holiday internet is terrible but I scribbled this out yesterday and it looks like this morning the internet will let me post something, so here it is! Outsider POV is always fun to write.

There’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

There was a man sitting by the edge of the bridge, almost dangerously close to where the machinery for repairing it would soon start moving about. Normally, Shaun would leave well enough alone – it wasn’t his business where other people chose to sit, and it wasn’t quite in the way of the crane he was due to start operating once the sun went up, but something drew him to the man anyway.

Maybe it was the fact that no-one else was disturbing him; not even the foreman had stomped over to tell him to shove off, that work to rebuild the bridge would begin as soon as it was light enough to see the machinery controls.

In the pre-dawn gloom, it was difficult to tell if the man’s hair was black or a very dark brown as it fell in subtle waves about his neck, brushing the top of his shoulders even though his head was bowed over. He was sitting with one knee drawn up to his chest while the other dangled off the side of the bridge, one arm hugging his shin and the other hand pressed palm-down against the ground.

You know work’s about to start here, was what he meant to open with as he walked over to the man, his steel-toed boots loud against the cracked tarmac. You’ll need to move.

“Are you okay?” came out of his mouth instead, surprising him just as much as the man, whose head whipped around so fast Shaun winced in sympathy for the crick his neck no doubt just gained, even if the man didn’t react to it. He wasn’t sure where the question had come from – the man was sitting on a broken bridge before dawn, of course he wasn’t okay – although Shaun didn’t think he looked like he was about to jump. There was something too grounded about the way he was sitting for that.

Wide, dark eyes, their exact colour impossible to make out in the greyness of pre-dawn but likely some shade of brown, fixed Shaun with a startled stare.

“You can see me?” the man asked, his voice quiet and rasping in clear disbelief.

Shaun couldn’t quite hold back the scoff. “I have eyes,” he said. Why did the man think he wouldn’t be visible?

The thought that he might be talking to a ghost flickered through his mind, and it wasn’t so outrageous an idea that he could completely dismiss it. He ought to be able to – he wasn’t really one for believing in the supernatural – but considering where they were, why he was there, tasked with operating a crane as a bridge was rebuilt, it wasn’t entirely out of the question.

There was still no confirmed death toll.

“Ah, yes,” the man said, “so you do.” He said it as though that meant something, rather than just an idle comment that of course Shaun had eyes; everyone did.

Clearly this wasn’t someone Shaun wanted to actually be talking with, no matter that he’d started the conversation, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop, or leave.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he commented, lowering himself to sit next to the man. “Are you okay?”

If this was a ghost of one of those killed on the bridge – although he looked unhurt, and weren’t ghosts supposed to look like they did when they had died – maybe he needed some closure to move on. The bridge was a major one, tales of it being haunted wouldn’t go down too well.

And maybe Shaun didn’t want to be working on a haunted bridge, either.

The man sighed heavily. “I should be,” he said, turning his gaze skywards for a moment before facing the swirling water of the river below.

“But you’re not?”

“I’m not allowed to not be,” came the cryptic answer. Shaun shook his head.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. Part of him was wondering what the best way to leave the conversation would be. The rest of him was still very curious.

The man sighed again. “You know what happened here?”

Shaun was repairing the bridge, of course he knew. “An earthquake,” he said, unable to quite keep the duh out of his voice. No-one who had been in New York – or likely even the entirety of the US – didn’t know about the freak earthquake that had wrecked Manhattan and some of the bridges. The geologists were completely stumped about what had caused it.

“Right.” The man sounded dubious about it, even though he’d nodded slightly. “My son died here.”

The death toll of the collapse of the Williamsburg Bridge was still unknown. Miraculously, most people had escaped their cars in time, but not everyone had. Divers were scouring the waters below for bodies. Some had been found, but several names were unaccounted for. Shaun somehow doubted they’d ever all be found.

He wondered whether the man’s son had been found or not. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s no chance..?” Not everyone had died. There had been stories of survivors washing up on the shore of the river, half-dead but not beyond saving. Some loved ones of those lost had been on the news, insisting that more of the shore needed to be searched, that the lost person had to still be alive.

“No,” the man sighed, his voice shaking. “If he was still alive, I’d know. His soul’s moved on, out of my reach.”

He’d given up, then. Shaun supposed he couldn’t blame him – less painful to accept the probability now than cling to a faint hope that anyone else could see was foolish.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, because what else could he say? The words were routine, an empty platitude, but they were all he had for this strange man no-one else could see.

“Barkley, get that crane ready!” came the shout of the foreman. There was no acknowledgement of the man he was sitting beside. “Sun’ll be up any minute now.”

“Yessir!” he called back, before glancing at the man again. “You probably shouldn’t stay here once the machines start up,” he said apologetically.

The man gave a sad smile. “That’s okay,” he said. “My job starts at dawn, too.” Shaun supposed that explained why he, too, was up so early.

“Unlucky buggers, the both of us,” he offered, pulling himself to his feet. The man gave a light huff that Shaun hoped was amusement.

“Unlucky indeed.” There was a pause. “Thank you for talking to me.”

Shaun shrugged. “You looked like you could do with some company,” he said, still not sure what, exactly, had driven him to talk to the strange man.

The man shrugged again. “I suppose I did.”

Shaun started to turn, another call of Berkley! dragging his unwilling attention over, but one last thought made him pause. “Your son… what was his name?”

The first rays of sunlight passed over them, seemingly focusing on the other man. His hair was black, but there was something warm about the colour, as though it was absorbing the heat of the dawn. His eyes were brown, but there was something golden in their depths.

“Michael,” the man said, with a sad smile. “His name was Michael.”

There was another, impatient, yell of Shaun’s name and he instinctively glanced over at the foreman again.

When he looked back, the man was gone.

#riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #pjo apollo #michael yew #outsider POV #tsari writes fanfiction #the man before the dawn

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

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Sunny Side Up

For my baby @kiwi--bot ! It’s a lil late Valentine’s gift of our Destiny ocs :D

Summary: Honey knows Apollo, she’s so sure of it. She knows that voice, she knows their eyes, she knows their warmth. Yet Apollo strains away, seeming to toy with her it feels like- a possible misunderstanding that can be solved with a bit of sunshine and conversation.

Fandom: Destiny 2

Relationship: Honey (Oc)/Apollo (Oc)

Warnings: SFW, hurt/comfort-esque situation, soulmates, mentions/hint of Apollo getting frisky with people but nothing explicit

Words: 3k

________________________

Apollo was damaged.

That much Honey understood. She’d worked with Exos near all her life, working alongside Banshee in her own shop- she knew the first signs of memory loss and corrupted internal workings. Of course, Exos were just as alive as she was, just as alive as an Awoken, just as alive and breathing as anyone else. Honey had taken to putting sticky notes up for Banshee to ensure he remembered things, jotting notes down and helpfully reminding him whenever she’d pass by.

Apollo? Apollo had been different than just reminding them of things. They seemed attached at the hip to Honey, not that she really minded, company was fine in her book. And having someone so chatty to fill the quiet air while she worked on her mods was rather nice. Especially looking over and seeing them sat up on one of the counters, swinging their legs in their expensive outfits and happily chatting of a story she’d already heard once or twice.

They were flirty, that wasn’t missed by Honey. How their hands would slide into Honey’s curly hair to absentmindedly push it behind her pierced ears, or they’d take her hands and bounce up and down in excitement about buying her new things. Or how sometimes they’d stand a bit too close, not quite looming despite their tall height, but being close enough it made Honey’s cheeks flush beneath the dark grease when she was working.

But. Honey was no fool.

~Rest under the cut~

Apollo flirted quite openly with anyone they found attractive. Hook ups that Honey got to hear of as they happily chatted and swung their legs and Honey could feel the ugly sharp fangs of jealousy enclose around her heart. “That’s nice, sugar.” She’d say while torching a piece of metal and thanking that her blast shield was down to hide her furrowed brows.

Love was...absent from Honey’s life. Getting her heart broken wasn’t on her To Do list. Oswald, her beloved ghost- may the light bless him always- was her companion. When she’d go to sleep, Oswald was right next to her on her nightstand on his own specially made pillow. Often times she’d fall asleep with her hand curled around him lightly, as if afraid he would ever leave her in the night.

Honey didn’t quite tend to take the hints from people if they did like her, and when she did, when she finally gave it a shot, there was always complaints. She worked too much, she didn’t spend enough time with them, she was out on missions, how come she always followed Cayde’s orders to a T? And then the worst was when he...when he passed. A person she’d been seeing at the time had brought up how she had no right to be grieving that long.

So now. Love was absent from Honey’s life. No one ever fit, no one clicked quite that well with her, and she started to believe that her need to work hard would always get in the way of any sort of relationship. So, she didn’t. Happy to just be with Oswald and surrounded by her plants and get up and go be a Guardian where she was needed to lead.

And yet. Apollo was always there. Even if Honey said she was busy, they’d happily twirl in their cute new expensive cloak, “Don’t be silly!!!! I’ll come sit with you- I HAVE to show you all my new cute outfits! Look at this one already!” And they’d follow her, working with her schedule just to spend time with her.

Boreas, Apollo’s ghost and glorified babysitter- according to him- took quite nicely to Oswald in turn. Allowing them both to mingle off to the side. Although Honey is pretty sure Oswald has a crush on the poor ghost, often times hearing the quick shushing of Boreas and Oswald’s soft, whispery laugh.

Honey had awoken in this life with a mission in her heart she never understood. This frantic feeling and whispering in her body of ‘Where are they?!’. All her life she thought this was her need to keep Oswald beside her. And now when she looked at Apollo, she wasn’t...so sure.

They shouldn’t have crossed her mind as a potential romantic partner. They were everything she was not. Loud, excitable, always wanting to shop and never having to work. Able to flirt and go out. But ever since she’d found them with Calus, it’s like she knew them. Anytime they said her name, it was like her first time hearing it be said. When they chirped their various pet names for her like calling her a flower, how if anyone else were to say those things to Honey, she’d brush them off.

And then just last week, what was putting Honey through all this turmoil, was Apollo showing her a symbol they drew. Explaining fondly that they’d always dreamt of this symbol and that they thought it was pretty. Going so far as to pull their choker from Calus aside to reveal the symbol of a sun on their upper chest.

The exact. Same. Symbol. That Honey had woken up tattooed with on her upper spine.

The same sun. The same pattern. The same one that Honey saw whenever she’d try to dig up research on her old life, assuming it had just been associated with her tattoo. And then she was looking at the exact same shape on Apollo’s chest.

It could have been coincidence, Honey tried to tell herself that day, only offering a few words. It could have been coincidence; She tries to tell herself as she desperately searched through her numerous journals that night of what she’d written down of her findings. Staring at her underlined notes with question marks when she’d found words hinting that she was married to someone in her old life. All the curious articles implying she’d been married to someone just like Apollo.

Apollo liked her, that much Honey understood. Apollo flirted with her just as much as anyone else, but then would go in seek of someone else to have a fling with. Something that always hurt Honey quietly.

And they couldn’t have known- could they? What if Honey was just hopeful? What if her findings weren’t entirely accurate? But a remark from Oswald confirms that she had always triple checked her findings. But if- if Apollo WAS that person she’d been married to- that was the past. That was the past, she’s sure tons of other people walking around had been married in the past and just didn’t know.

Night after night of trying to explain these thoughts to herself, tearing herself apart over it and Oswald pressing his shell to her cheek fondly as she’d let tears spill down her face. Soulmates were just a concept; They were Guardians for goodness sake! She just wanted to know her past for herself. And yet...

Now she’s looking at Apollo twirling their long cloak in their fingers and leaning on a wall as they giggle at some cute titan. Honey has seen this song and dance before, where Apollo bats their pretty eyes and talks someone into something. She’s seen it after they’d tried it on her, where it made her feel like she was just going to be another fling, another story in their book.

It hurt.

It hurt for Apollo to flirt with her, to convince her to go out with them for a few hours of relaxation from work. It hurt for Apollo to flirt, to make her chest flutter, only for them to turn back around and act like it never happened. It hurt, it hurt to be so confused of her own emotions and to have them play with her like that.

They didn’t mean to, that much Honey is sure of. They were forgetful and clearly trying to hide from something in their own mind. They maybe were using handsome and pretty Guardians around to leave those feelings behind. But were they honest with Honey? Was she something they considered special like they said, or was she just someone they wanted to fuck?

Honey doesn’t realize she’d been staring until Apollo’s violet gaze turns to her and she sees them light right up, watching as they totally ignore the titan who was clearly into them as Apollo comes skipping towards her. “There you are, fire flower!!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What were you doin’ in your room for so long, huh? You have guests over?”

It’s spoken with a smile, but even Honey can see the way Apollo asks that question. It’s insinuating something, something that makes Honey glance back over to that titan Apollo just abandoned just to wrap their arms around her arm and speak so excitedly. How Apollo would leave anyone just to come chat with Honey, to wrap around her and gleefully talk about their day.

Were they lonely just like her? Did they feel the same but instead of hiding, they sought company of others out? Was...Was Honey just hopeful?

“We need to talk.” Comes spilling from Honey’s lips in a breath before she can even ponder her worries any longer. Almost regretting it the second it passes her lips and Apollo seems to pause. They normally don’t pick up on serious hints, but maybe those words strike something in them, feeling the familiar fidgeting on her arm.

But before Honey can swallow down her pride and retract on her statement, Apollo oh so cheerily agrees and starts walking with her towards her workshop. Once inside, it’s quiet for once as Apollo releases her to stand closeby, fidgeting with their cloak and a tic forcing them to do a quick jerk of their head in a little shake before they pipe up. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No,” Honey answers quickly, a heavy sigh falling from her lips as she takes a few steps back to rest her lower back on one of her countertops. A hand runs through her curly white bangs, her fingers brushing her bandana tied around her head to hold her puff in place. Her honey golden gaze lifts to look at Apollo staring intently at her, and she feels her heart twist at their soft expression. “No, sugar, ya’ haven’t done a thing wrong.”

Honey must look distressed, her eyebrows knitting and her hand resting on her forehead as her eyes close and she tries to focus on all this information she’s learned. How her feelings for Apollo weren’t just looking at them and thinking they were pretty, but the high sense of longing. That high sense of ‘I found you’ finally coursing through her veins. Did they feel the same? Was she just another thing to flirt with?

Hands rest gingerly on her waist and make Honey hum soft in her throat in a way that makes her throat feel heavy when she swallows. Apollo was rather physical, always touching, and now it hurt even worse to feel them trying to comfort her without invading her space too much. “Honey...?”

The way they murmur her name, their voice box wavering in a way she’d never heard. They were always so cheery, to hear them sound like that just because of her-

A tightening of her already closed eyes forces the tears to spill down her round cheeks. Her throat is tight as the words ache to spill out but all she can manage is her full lips parting, only for them to quiver as she shuts them again. When was the last time she had cried? She couldn’t remember- Oswald always insisted it would make her feel better. One too many times of going ‘I’m fine’ and sucking it up.

“I can’t do this, Apollo,” She finally breathes out, her hand falling from her forehead to wipe at her tears before her eyes open to look up at them. Their violet optics make her heart pound with how gently they look at her, confusion on their features as her fingers wrap lightly around their wrists where they hold her waist. “I can’t take not knowin’ if you’re playin’ with me. If ya think I’m just some fun toy o-or-”

Honey’s voice quivers when their eyes meet, swallowing harshly as she tries to figure out her words correctly. Emotions always got the better of people, no longer allowing rational thought. She was no stranger to natural human emotion. “What is it ya want? Ya have everythin’ ya could ever desire, ya have playmates for days, ya have Calus under ya thumb.”

Apollo’s head tilts in that cute little way they always do, furthering Honey’s distraught emotions. They look so confused looking over her face, their hands lightly squeezing her waist and one coming up to brush the new tears from her cheeks. “I want you, silly! Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” They just sound so honest, only furthering Honey’s frustration.

“Ya say that an’ then go off an’ come back tellin’ me stories of how ya got friendly with someone else. I like you, Apollo, but I’m not some one-night stand o-or toy, I ain’t gonna be someone you just toss aside-” Fresh tears spill down Honey’s cheeks without her wanting them there, feeling ridiculous for crying about a person of all things. But all the information she found out- her feelings, that feeling of ‘I found you’, even now coursing through her in hot waves when they touch her.

Apollo is quiet as their hand cups Honey’s cheek, stroking their thumb across it to wipe her tears, and Honey is helpless but to lean into their grasp. Her own hands shake as they hold weakly to their wrists, unsure whether to push them away or draw them closer as she gathers her breath and her thoughts.

“I messed up didn’t I?” Comes so softly from Apollo that it seizes Honey’s heart. She goes to say something, to calm them, to ensure they don’t fall into another episode, but Apollo continues with something that makes Honey’s eyes shoot open and up to look at them. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew...what?”

“That you’re mine, silly,” Apollo says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. They cock their head again, a twitch in their shoulder when Honey looks at them with what must be a surprised look. “Uhm- I think like. We are- or, were, together at some point? I mean, I don’t think, I know, but I thought you felt the same and I thought you were trying to take it slow-”

“What did you just say?” Honey breathes out, cutting them off as her eyes flicker back and forth between theirs, reaching up to cup their cheeks almost frantically as Apollo’s eyes light up in surprise.

“You were taking it slow?”

“No- no, no, we were together at some point- what do you mean by that?”

“Oh! When I first saw you when we were with Daddy! I knew who you were! I don’t remember things very good,” They pause there to kind of giggle, as if their own memory troubles could be funny to themself. “But I remember you! Or, well, another version of you! I thought you just wanted to take it slow, but I kinda still wanted to, ya know, have sex! So I didn’t wanna pressure you and tada here we are!”

Just like that, they’re back to chipper, only to pause again when they see Honey’s look on her face as if recognition crosses her features. Apollo seems to pout, not having the mouth to do so, but they still try. “Oh, boo! Did I make you upset again?”

Honey chokes out a laugh through her tears, dropping her hands to their shoulder to press her forehead against their chest with this loud feeling of relief coursing through her. And confusion- recognition? Oh, she couldn’t understand her own emotions. ‘I found you’ rings in her head again, surrounded by glowing hot light in the form of a celestial outline of a sun. Her sun-

Their sun.

It’s like their light twirled together in a stream of intricate ribbons that drew them back to each other. And it all makes sense now- the news articles she had seen and read. She’d been married in her old life, to someone she only saw clippings off. Someone who was dressed in the most beautiful of outfits, intricate rings along their nose connecting to their ear, beautiful gauzy hoods, beautiful saris. The face always blurred out or almost burned out.

Honey doesn’t realize she’s crying until Apollo’s arms finally slip around her waist to hug her tight. Something Honey did when Apollo became overwhelmed and incoherent. So many questions ring in her mind, but all leading back to the curiosity Apollo mentioned.

They wanted intimacy with other people because she wanted to go slow- they wanted physical touch, that much Honey understood with how touchy they were. They were never good at wording things quite right, so even Honey understood they didn’t mean they were upset she wasn’t ‘putting out’ so to speak. They just wanted to be physical. Honey couldn’t help but feel the same way.

When the hug is parted and things have settled down, Honey offers for them to sit down and talk about where they want to go from here. They both agree for a relationship, Apollo about near bouncing out of their seat until Honey sets her hand gently on theirs to soothe them. Honey gently mentions that she doesn’t mind Apollo seeing other people, but maybe when she’s a bit more comfortable with them so they can talk more about terms.

It’s the first time Apollo is allowed to stay the night. With the sun carving on their upper chest fitting perfectly against Honey’s upper back sun tattoo when they press together with Honey wrapped in their arms. Finally able to get her first wink of restful sleep.

Honey was just as damaged as Apollo was.

But, together?

They could become whole.

#Honey x Apollo #Honey (Oc)#Apollo (Oc)#Destiny #Destiny 2 #Destiny ocs #Ocs #princess writing

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nauseateddrive · 4 years ago

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4 POEMS by Jake Sheff

Elegy for Dog I: A Failed Acrostic

January was tired when it became king. Apples here love being red in the spring, Casting shadows against the stone architraves our Kapellmeister will never live down. You Stole Apollo’s cows, and let them graze to show me Heaven’s template. Where do failed heroes go? Eucalyptus cupolas and polar icecaps Frame the downtrodden gods. But you weren’t Freakishly wrong, as I so often am, on your

Joyride through nearly twice eight years, Á la someone far from beauty’s stepmom. Copper coin or grimacing sun? I’ve got 20,000 Kor of crushed grief on this threshing floor. Shark-sparks of sadness flood the impetiginous air… How, and why, do clouds cobblestone Entire days, and lakes, when you’re not here? Fixing every broken thing, poets go where Ferns and geraniums baptize the morning.

“Jur-any-oms,” is how you’d spell it; After all, a dog’s a dog, and wisdom knows futility. Cassations make a rusty brew, to drink the truth of truths, and Kill whatever ceases wanting to be new. Stewardship, the color of gravity’s silence, naturally Houses every “glur” (a glittery blur); go chase what plays Eternal games. I hear the swans by Rooster Rock. Your handsome Face, its happy handsomeness, in memory’s eye, goes in and out of Focus; in love’s better eye: your goodness neath its everblooming ficus.

Gravity and Grace on SW Murray Scholls Drive

“Impatience has ruined many excellent men who, rejecting the slow, sure way, court destruction by rising too quickly.” Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome

The traffic lights control the people’s actions, but Not their feelings, as the limits of philosophy Collide head on with the nose of a Dalmatian.

I tell you, the day is stress-testing itself, and these Sidewalks wish that it’d just gone straight. Geese Take this sky-hairing wind for granted, as they

Land on the lake like memorable speech on The sensitive soul. Time is never sharp, but it’s Cutting something in the credit union. Maybe

It’s dancing a back Corte for the woman in line Thinking about the taste of limes from Temecula As she waits for the teller. Air Alaska and that

Haunted pie in the sky are not the only reasons For all the volatility in the air today. Rushing And perfectionism both produce a loss; behind

The Safeway Pharmacy, you’ll see the small Smells of both, sloshing around to the ticking- Sound of the ocean’s tides. I must admit, I am

Frozen in place by the sight of steam from Joe’s Burgers; it is poetry’s pale tongue, rising in And arousing the air. This neighborhood’s street-

Lights are more serious than kokeshi dolls. Lights From its windows outshine poison dart frogs. Maybe to forget about life for awhile, the lamps

Are focused on The Population Bomb? ‘Easy Tiger,’ all these incidents whisper. Each day’s A sign twirler’s dais; each corner a promise

Of something more in a different direction: it isn’t A marriageable daughter or impoverishment, But inguinal ingenuity plays a part, and that isn’t

Bad at all. What oaths and paths went here Before Walmart? What voices were voided by The liquor store? What are vague’s values

When the library shares a parking lot with a 24- Hour gym and a cargo cult? Gas stations satirize The Queen of Hearts; I tell you, it makes every

Question seem incidental. Treaty-breakers in Pajamas swing on the swing sets. Was August That full of angst? It feels like autumn went too

Far on accident. Desertification, in a sugar tong Splint, takes a shot of ouzo and talks shit About the death of Brutus, but my Bible-thumping

Memory – on a ski hill in Duluth – is also too busy Watching some ducks on the lake to notice; and Desertification makes a face at me like a Swedish

Film. Poets make for poorly picked men to Familiarity’s paymaster-general. The Calvinistic Rain is an ill-starred attempt to make mayonnaise-

Fries just for me, but I must admit, it all seems – You know – cybernetic. And step-motherly as all Get out, if you ask the trees. They prefer “You

Can’t Hurry Love,” by The Supremes, to any Changes that take effect in one to two pay periods. Pretext ricochets; a perfect reverse promenade.

At Summer Lake, When the Vegetables are Sleeping

Cruelty drinks all the wine, and never gets drunk On these shores. When Summer Lake speaks, In every word, an introduction to the world. I am

Easily duped. The greatest duper duplicates my pride, Which always lingers, in the hallways of my heart And beneath the surface of Summer Lake. The sky is

Supplicating, it’s literally shaking. An hour passes Faster here, the hour always held too dearly dear In paranoid and ivied walls. The ducks can do

An unwise thing correctly, and it sounds more like Dusty than Buffalo Springfield to the enokitake Sold in Springfield, Illinois, which is the opposite

Effect it has on the wild mushrooms on these shores. On cables capable of love, the geese convince The weather to taste like kvass today. Basically,

Another Cuban Missile Crisis drowned itself just Now. The clouds might ask themselves, ‘Is lowliness Allowed here?’ To which the crows might ask,

‘Does omertà sound like lightning?’ The answer’s Oubliette is ten times worse than impotence. Summer Lake isn’t smart, but it stays quiet, like

Someone too smart to say all they know. ‘Whoa, Sweet potato,’ the capital gains tax mutters To itself, knowing that what matters doesn’t mean

A thing. Some say the lake bottom’s sands receive Commands from Hearst Castle, others say Its hands are King City’s hands, and still others

Maintain more sins have been than grains of sand Times secondary gains, and that explains The beauty and industry that none can see but

All can feel on these shores. (Some possibilities Play possum, or get opsonized by hate; this one snores Like Rip Van Winkle.) This orb-weaver spider is

The Milton Friedman of Summer Lake, the wind On her web is Grenache from The Rocks District Of Milton-Freewater AVA for the eyes. The day is

Stereotypical, although it feels like three days In one…But for the lake’s good counterfactual Questions, I would forget that some die young,

But most die wrong. I’ve tried to pick up Summer Lake’s reflections in three lines or less, but The hardest truth is your own impotence. Oh,

It’s hard to hand your power over to a thing No one can see. Hopped up on distinctions – not The obvious distinctions – Summer Lake is pretty;

Cold, but pretty! In the distance, with so many Intercessory prayers, hot air balloons are rising; Shaped like teardrops, upside down and rising.

This lake re-something-or-anothered me. Are first Impressions wrong sometimes? I am a season’s Golden calf, according to the sunlight, doing

A prospector’s jig on the surface of Summer Lake. If not for the Weimar Republic’s wooden- Headedness, I’d set down my heart-song and

Listen to reason on these shores. I never trust An activist guitar, if the weather is socially clumsy. The future is reflected on the lake: it always

Laughs at us – between its math and gratitude Lessons – and never thinks of (or gives thanks to) Us enough. The presence in the lake juniors

My ears. The day is not too baffling, nor is it Jane Eyre. Space-themed and spiritual, some autumn Leaves are swimming in the rain. The ducks arrest

My attention in the mardy weather, even though they Must know my attention is dying. The barbed wire Around my stated goal is an outcome out of

Their control. Picnickers picnic with acorns and apricots, On blankets covering Holy Schnikey’s death mask. My unsandaled thoughts thrive and increase on these,

And no other shores. They are pets for the days less Important than love, when Summer Lake says it’s Humble, because it knows the right thing to say.

Summer Lake gives the comfort of commonly held And seriously absurd beliefs to the blue heron. Nothing is wrong with this lake or anything in it,

Not even the ghost of Amerigo Vespucci. It’s all so Simple to the stiff-necked molecules of water, made out Of frogs and snails and puppy-dog’s tails. These thoughts

Are fine manna in a fine ditch. Post-structuralist squirrels Can tell my heart’s in Italy, and I’m in the intellectual Laity. Chivalry’s technician sees my shovel, and they say,

‘You’ve got to hand it to him.’ Neurocysticercosis Sets the bar high; it looks at this park, and thinks The smartest monkey drew the perfect landscape.

That’s this maple tree’s previous disease, its precious One. It unfurls the ferns of my firm and foremost Beliefs, I’m told, to partialize insufferable vastidity.

We Install a Sump Pump on (What Used To Be) a Holiday (Take 2)

The oppressive heat was born a fully grown Man. I admire the result of its effort, but Despise the means of achieving it. My wife Asserts her individuality in the gunk; her Body’s allegations aren’t too soft or hard today. Her self-interest seems to have drowned in the vortex.

Our little garden knows flippancy with regards To privacy is unwise. The stepping stones can Only blather, as slugs draw nomograms on Their faces. My wife’s body speaks Proto-Indo- European in the vortex and denim overalls. Marc Chagall’s The Poet studies her. He calls her

‘Innocence: The opposite of life! A criminal with A badge!’ I hand her the tools of a crude and Rudimentary faith, and she says, ‘Jill, great books Make fine shackles.’ Her arms only have An administrative objective in the vortex, but They are where good things come from.

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician in Oregon and veteran of the US Air Force. He's married with a daughter and whole lot of pets. Poems of Jake’s are in Radius, The Ekphrastic Review, Crab Orchard Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. He won 1st place in the 2017 SFPA speculative poetry contest and a Laureate's Choice prize in the 2019 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Past poems and short stories have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing).

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thelanternlight · 4 years ago

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Witchy Asks!

Hello fellow witches! Here’s 50 Witchy Asks written by the-lunar-vixen. Please follow if you enjoy them. Blessed be!

1 What type of witch are you?

A gay one.

2 What deities do you like to work with, if any?

Angels, faery, guides, Mother God, Father God, Christ, saints, and ancestors. I'll also work with deities from various religions as they pertain to a spell or ritual (e.g. I may work with Hathor for a love spell).

3 Have you ever created your own spell?

Absolutely, most of the spellwork I do is original at least to some extent.

4 What’s your favorite time of year?

All the year is beautiful and wonderful for a myriad of reasons but Springtime is sacred to me.

5 Do you have a witch you look up to?

I think I have teachers that come and go in my life. They can be famous or not famous, witches or not, etc. Currently I'm loving Ember Honeyraven.

6 What makes you feel powerful?

Balance and freedom. Knowing that I'm on the side of what's good and right.

7 Do you have a favorite myth?

I'm an author and storyteller so I have many, many favorite myths. Off the top of my head I love the stories of Medusa, Apollo, the Christian Creation myth, Germanic and Scandinavian folklore, Anansi and his stories, Arthurian legends... the list goes on, but yes I LOVE stories. I think have so much meaning and wisdom to share.

8 Which famous/fantasy witch do you relate to the most?

I've grown up watching witches in movies, television, reading about them, etc so I've related to witches one way or another since day one. The Charmed Ones (all four) were role models for me when there were no role models for little, effeminate weirdos like myself as a child. The Sanderson Sisters were person heroes to me and I tried to emulate them from the very first time I saw the film; in fact those three are perhaps the original witches with whom I related the most. Since then there have been SO many wonderful characters in entertainment and in real life that inspired me so incredibly much that they've become a part of me.

9 Are you a wiccan?

I am not.

10 What’s the most unique item you’ve ever used in a spell?

I guess a dildo? I think 'unique' is a relative term.

11 Do you own any witchy books?

Apart from my personal book of spells I've owned many books on witchcraft but have parted ways with the majority of them. I'm currently trying to downsize the amount I have currently as it happens. Anybody want some free books?

12 Which misconception about witches annoys you the most?

That magic isn't real and this is all nonsense. I think it's especially irritating when people of other faiths criticize my own as if a prayer is anything different from an incantation. In fact I would argue that spells direct energy in a more concentrated way to affect change than simply petitioning a deity.

13 Have you ever created your own sigil?

You bet. Sometimes you just need something original and unique for the rite/spell.

14 What element are you most drawn to?

Water.

15 Do you have a familiar?

Some people use the word "familiar" interchangeably with "pet". I do have a pet but she's not my familiar. Other people define "familiar" as "spirit animal" which I'm not entirely sure is correct either. I'm in a bit of a gray area on this subject, but I see question 17 below touches on it as well.

16 Are you a part of a coven?

No. I've tried working with others to do magic but I think the synergy/chemistry has to REALLY be on point to do effective magic. Very often there's a clash of philosophies or practice that sort of spoils things all too easily whereas working alone allows me to concentrate so much better.

17 What’s your spirit animal?

Again this is a vague term that means different things to different people. I consider my spirit animal to be more or less my "familiar". When I was younger I was walking in the woods one evening praying really hard about something that was weighing very heavily on me. Then suddenly I looked up and there was this gorgeous and perfectly white stag looking back at me. He stood there for quite a while before slowly walking off again and the whole situation had such a profound sense of meaning to it. I saw the stag a few more times until finally, late one night while I was walking through the woods by a lake under the glow of a bright full moon I saw the stag one last time on the far side of the water. Ever since then the white stag has been sacred to me. So that's what I consider my spirit animal/familiar. It's a guide of sorts, a good omen, a sign, a representation of Spirit/Soul/God-energy and Self. I identify with it. So that's my spirit animal.

18 Do you do tarot readings?

I do indeed!

19 What’s your favorite witch movie?

I have several, but Hocus Pocus has been my favorite since I was a wee tot.

20 How many crystal do you have?

I actually don't really know. I don't go out and buy crystals but sometimes they come into my life and then go when they've served their purpose. For example, I had a beautiful large quartz that my grandmother had bought me from the nature store when I was a kid. I loved it so much. But one Halloween night I was doing a ritual with a friend of mine in the woods and ended up losing it. Interestingly, that friend was pursuing me romantically unbeknownst to me while also hooking up with the guy I was hooking up with and also really liked (ugh, gay culture). And during that ritual I was speaking with my grandfather (husband to the grandmother who bought me the quartz that I lost that night). So what does all that mean? I have no idea. But I figured all things considered maybe it was just time to let that thing go, along with other things that night.

21 What’s the most unique item on your altar?

I don't really have the privacy to set up an altar but generally I like my "work area" to be neat. Everything has a purpose and a meaning and a function. If I need to burn something I have the item/items, the cauldron, the lighter, oils, and anything else needed for what I'm doing. So nothing in particular stands out as "unique"... unless... Well I do have a small copper cauldron with a handful of dirt from my grandmother's house that I've kept for almost twenty years now. I guess that's unique?

22 Have you ever enchanted anything?

Oh god, yes, lots of things. I've enchanted things so as to protect them, or so that the item will protect someone else or some place... I've enchanted things for love, or to keep something or someone away. I've enchanted things to help in a greater ritual or spell. And so on.

23 What’s your religion?

I was raised Christian Baptist but following one horrible experience after another I've absolutely left that faith well behind long ago. I don't have a particular religion in the sense of organized religion. I'm spiritual and I cast spells. I also believe in science. I don't call myself a witch but I do everything a witch does.

24 Do you have a favorite crystal?

"I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the heavens".

25 What are some of your favorite spells?

Oooo I'd have to say I'm rather partial to love magic. I'm particularly good at it too.

26 What do you like to do to cleanse your space?

After physically cleaning a space I like to use the Violet Fire to cleanse an area as well as cleansing using a broom and a wand and/or athame.

27 When do you feel the most powerful?

When nature and I have our little moments. When the wind is warm and strong. When I'm out in a storm. When I can "feel" things growing during the Spring. The silence of a frozen winter night in the woods... Also when I'm cooking. I fucking LOVE charging a pot of boiling ingredients with good juju.

28 Do other people know you’re a witch?

A few people close to me know I practice witchcraft. Others think I'm just a little bit daffy.

29 Has one of your spells ever gone wrong?

Definitely. Mostly when I was still learning and practicing. Like this one time in sixth grade I cast a spell so that a popular girl in school would like me and we could start dating. Obviously since I was gay I didn't really want to be with her, I only did it because I wanted to be cool (although I did like her and we ended up being fairly good friends until we went to different high schools). That spell backfired and I ended up 1. not getting the result I intended because I was doing it for the wrong reason and simultaneously trying to force another to do something against her will, and 2. I ended up having one shitty fucking love life for the longest time.

30 What outfit makes you feel the most witchy?

Oh I love me a good cape. Even just walking around with a long blanket around me.

31 Have you ever tried astral projection?

Yes, successfully, several times. I like to use it for meditation. Often I go to the artic sea where there's just ocean, ice, and darkness.

32 Do you have any enchanted jewelry?

Probably.

33 What does your altar look like?

A space on the floor where I cast a circle and set up my stuff.

34 Have you ever seen a spirit?

YES! I've seen fairies, spirits, ghosts, shadows, sparks, heard voices, etc.

35 What’s your favorite spell sachet?

I can't say that I have one.

36 Do you have a favorite sigil?

I'm especially fond of the Sigil of Venus.

37 What’s your astrological sign?

Sun sign Virgo, Rising Pisces, Moon in Sagittarius

38 Have you ever interacted with a deity?

Well, yes, of course... per the previous questions.

39 What color are you most drawn to?

Purple.

40 Do you believe in past lives?

Without a doubt.

41 Where do you like to practice your craft?

Wherever I have privacy and calm.

42 What’s your favorite season?

Springtime, as mentioned previously.

43 Have you ever cursed someone?

That's not what my magic is for. Yes I'm familiar with the how-to, but no I don't partake in that kind of thing. The "worst" I've ever done is cast binding spells to keep someone from harming me and/or even coming into my presence.

44 How long have you been a practicing witch?

I'm telling on myself now but I'd say about 24 years practicing in earnest.

45 What drew you to witchcraft?

A natural inclination.

46 In what moon phase do you feel the most powerful?

The Moon itself does not change with the phases of its shadow. The phases are representational, of course, and its symbology can be evocative and meaningful, but otherwise the Moon is what it is. Therefore I'd have to say I personally feel most connected or at least most aware of the Moon when it's full. Else, I would say when it's waxing as that's when most of my spells are done simply because of the type of spell I usually work.

47 What’s your favorite holiday?

Wisterlimas, and then Halloween. Although I love all the holidays.

48 Do you know anything about your past lives? (if you believe in them!)

Yes, wow, I've done extensive work on discovering my past lives. I've lived in San Francisco at the turn of the century, in Scotland, England, France, Japan, China, as a woman, as a man... It's all very fascinating but you can't delve too deep because it's simply not necessary. You're not really *supposed* to know about your past lives. That defeats the purpose of the great forgetting once you're reincarnated. Yes, you can revisit the major themes and lessons learned, but one shouldn't really fret too much about what happened in the past.

49 Have you ever done an energy reading?

Certainly. I think most people do energy readings even when they don't know they're doing it. There's "reading the room" or "getting a bad vibe". There's also reiki and the like. And healing work. And of course magic is all about directing energy so to achieve a specific goal.

50 What time of day do you like to practice your craft?

Usually at night but it has more to do with the individual spell. Astronomical positioning is also important as well as weather, season, personal mood, day of the week, et al.

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adamwatchesmovies · 5 years ago

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The Best of 2019

What a year. By the time 2019 ended, I had seen over 130 new movies. It's actually probably closer to 150 but I lost count. There are a few titles I missed, such as The Dead Don’t Die, The Fanatic and Honeyland so obviously, this is not an all-encompassing, definitive list of 2019’s best, but it should give you a good idea of which films you need to check out if you haven’t already.

I usually like to save the #10 spot on my list for a movie that’s just for me. Normally, this would mean a giant monster movie, an off-beat creation nobody else saw, a comic book movie that spoke to my particular tastes or maybe a Canadian movie I know didn’t get the opportunity to shine like it should’ve. This year, that’s not happening. Trimming my list down to 10 was hard enough. I certainly wasn’t going to sacrifice one more to make it just 9. Let's dig in.

10. The Farewell

It’s been weeks since The Farewell and I’m still thinking about it. If I was put in the same position as Billi, I'm not sure what I'd do? Is it better to tell someone that's dying that their days are numbered, or should you spare them from that burden? Is it really them you’d be sparing, or is keeping the secret for your own selfish needs? Writer/director Lulu Wang asks serious questions about culture I had never contemplated before. There’s a lot for you here and even more if your family comes from mixed backgrounds.

9. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

I heard some complaints about Fred Rogers (Tom Hanks) not being the main character of this film by Marielle Heller, from writers Micah Fitzerman-Blue and Noah Harpster. It was the right choice. The plot has a cyical reporter meet Rogers and through their relatively brief interaction, learn what we knew going in. It delivers a moving character arc without having to stain its subject with flaws we didn't want to see. The quasi-meta presentation is what elevates it into top-10 status. That extra touch means it does a lot more than simply re-iterate what we saw in the 2018 documentary Won't You Be My Neighbor?.

8. Knives Out

Knives Out is one of the most entertaining films all year. There are no profound moments of meditation, no earth-shattering realizations about yourself, just a mystery to be solved. All the suspects are so intriguing they could be the stars of their own movies. Put together in the same house as a dead body and you’ve got no idea who did it. Its screenplay is excellent. The twists are juicy. Everything ads up in a satisfying manner. Rian Johnson is already working on a sequel. I can’t wait.

7. Apollo 11

There are few holdovers from the list I made halfway through the year, which either says something about the strength of the second half of 2019, or the weakness of the first. Either way, you’ve got to see Apollo 11. It’s the closest thing to going back in time and being there when man landed on the moon. The tension and anticipation are overwhelming. Knowing what happened doesn't matter. The way the footage is assembled is nothing short of incredible. Why this documentary wasn't present at the Academy Awards is beyond me.

6. Uncut Gems

Adam Sandler should’ve been nominated for an Oscar. He wasn’t. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts it's because of his association with all of those brain-dead Happy Madison Production comedies. His history with cinema shouldn't matter. The movie is what matters. The fact is, this was the perfect role for him. It isn’t even that Sandler’s doing something different, it’s that he’s being used to his full potential. If you weren’t glued to the screen, eager to see what’s coming next, this movie would have you jumping out of the window screaming - anything to escape the anxiety the Safdie Brothers serve up with devilish grins.

5. The Lighthouse

Next on my list is The Lighthouse. Right away, the aspect ratio and black-and-white cinematography lets you know you’re in for something different. You have no idea. What I love so much about this film is the way it handles madness. At the end of the day, I’m not sure if I could tell you if Robert Pattinson’s character was crazy, if Willem Dafoe’s character was the nutty one, or if they both were. It shows you just enough to make you doubt your own sanity. It’s also unexpectedly funny, which makes it feel oddly genuine. In one scene, Robert Pattinson's Ephraim Winslow gets a hold of the lighthouse's logs. In it, his boss, Thomas (Willem Dafoe) recommends Ephraim be disciplined for masturbating excessively. Considering Thomas has been cavorting with some kind of tentacle creature up in the lighthouse (at least that's what I think I saw, I'm not so sure anymore), all you can do is laugh. What kind of loony bin is this turning into? One I'm looking forward to revisiting.

4. 1917

Shot in a way that makes it all look like one take, 1917 is a technical marvel. It hooks itself up to your circular system and steadily replaces your blood with pure, undistilled stress. As you're about to flatline, it stops and gives you a breather. A shot of a meadow untouched by the ravages of war; a reminder of what the soldiers are fighting for and of how utterly devastating armed combat is on humanity as a whole. Gorgeous cinematography, powerful emotions, magnificent production values.

3. Joker

Along with Godzilla: King of the Monsters (a movie they basically made for me), this was my most anticipated movie of the year. To get ready, I watched Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, two Scorsese films Joker director Todd Phillips drew a lot of inspiration from. For some reason, it seems as though many critics took offense to the similarities. Sometimes I understand differing opinions from mine. This time, I don’t. It’s a great film that warns of the dangers of letting people like Arthur Fleck (brilliantly performed by Joaquin Phoenix) fall through the cracks. Left unchecked, he discovers that by doing terrible things, he becomes a “better” version of himself. It’s not a drama. It’s a horror movie that spins the familiar Batman archenemy in a new direction but also stays true to the character. There are several scenes in this movie that are going to be permanently imprinted in my brain. Those stairs. Need I say more?

Runner-ups

Avengers: Endgame

Even if every single Marvel movie going forward is awful, this caps off the whopping 22-chapter saga epically. A couple of aspects bugged me enough that it could only manage to make the runner-up list but it's a terrific film.

Booksmart

The funniest comedy of the year. I think back to Amy and Molly using their hairs as masks and still can't manage to hold back a few chuckles months later.

Toy Story 4

This one was hard to cut. The only flaw I could find was that it isn’t on the same level as 3… even though they’re both 5-star movies.

Midsommar

I’ve heard the extended cut is even better than the original. I wish I’d had the chance to see it in theatres.

Jojo Rabbit

Audacious and heartfelt. I loved those scenes of Scarlett Johanson being a mom. Her agent might've dropped the ball getting her cast in Ghost in the Shell but she sure knew how to pick great work in 2019.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Quentin Tarantino brings us back to a time when Roman Polanski was simply a good director instead of a convicted rapist, movie stars were untouchable, and the death of someone’s wife under mysterious circumstances was nothing to raise eyebrows about. It’s not a movie that screams “here and now”. If anything, it’s regressive. That said, I cannot deny the experience I had watching it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kinda thing and I doubt even Tarantino could pull it off again. I wonder how many people went in knowing what happened to Sharon Tate like I did.

Marriage story

It’s nothing but raw emotion and powerhouse performances in this drama about two people you love going through a divorce. I always make it my goal to watch movies all the way through without any interruptions. Several times throughout, I was tempted to hit "Pause" so I could catch my breath.

Internet lists are everywhere. You know why, don’t you? They suck you in and when you get down to it, most don’t require all that much effort to put together. Except when I make them, apparently. These bi-annual lists always turn out to be difficult to put together. 2019's proved particularly arduous. I’m fairly sure that my #3 movie belongs there. Out of all the movies on this list, it’s probably the one I’m going to go back to most often. The other two? I’d say that technically, one may be better than the other but I think the other one is “more important” so that gives it the edge. What I’m trying to say is, they’re all winners and on a different day, I might even swap them around.

2. Little Women

I have only seen three of the seven silver screen adaptations of Louisa May Alcott’s novel and I don’t expect any of the others to top this one. The secret ingredient to this one's success is Greta Gerwig. Writing and directing, she does so much more than merely translate the classic to movie form. She re-arranges the story to give the events a greater punch than they would if they were shown chronologically and puts a little more emphasis on a couple of key moments (that tear-jerking Christmas, for example) to crank up the emotion. She also makes it more modern without having to change anything about the setting or characters. Admittedly, the back-and-forth between the past and present is a little jarring at first - makes you wonder what Greta Gerwig could’ve done had she been given the de-aging budget Martin Scorsese was given - but that’s where the performances and costumes come in. It takes mere moments before you get what the movie is doing. I’ve said it already but it made me cry.

1. Parasite

To make this list, I didn’t go through all of my past reviews and check which ones were rated what. I thought back to which movies gave me the most vivid memories, which ones gave me the biggest reactions. I’m still not sure how I feel about the final final moment but there’s so much about Parasite that I admire. This would be a great one to watch with others just to see their reactions to the reveal about the bookcase.

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cloudphillips · 5 years ago

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One

Seungwan should've known better than to wager against Sooyoung.

Considering the Slytherin girl's penchant for mischief and deception, it should've been enough incentive for Seungwan to know that something fishy was going on. But even her long history of pure bad luck and gullible tendencies didn't prevent her from taking the bait. Now she had to sneak around the halls of Hogwarts in the middle of the night concealed under the invisibility cloak to search of the fabled Room of Requirement.

She could've been lounging in the Ravenclaw common room right now writing her essay in Transfiguration and or sneaking into the kitchens to teach the art of Muggle baking to the house elves she befriended but no, she just had to lose a stupid bet.

And now, she had to pay for the price.

She descended from the winding steps of the Grand Staircase and followed the directions leading to the castle grounds. The rational part of her brain screamed at her to Turn back! You're breaking school rules! Retreat before you get expelled! But the other side of her, the small, miniscule and barely-there prideful side of her refused to be cowed. She will not back down from this. Seungwan didn't want to give Sooyoung the satisfaction of knowing that she was a coward all along.

By the end of the corridor, the young Ravenclaw stopped dead in her tracks when the Gray Lady fluttered pass the solid walls. Their gazes met and those lifeless eyes seemed to see past the magic veil of her invisibility cloak. Seungwan briefly wandered if ghosts were immune to its enchantments. Thankfully, the Gray Lady ignored her existence and continued haunting the halls of Hogwarts. Once the coast was clear, Seungwan resumed her task.

Any normal person could pretend and claim about finding the Room of Requirement but Seungwan was such a bad liar so there was no way she could've successfully pulled a deception of this magnitude from Sooyoung. The girl was an experienced bullshit detector and any attempts of manipulation from Seungwan would be for nought.

Besides, Kim Yerim, a young Gryffindor and Sooyoung's evil partner in crime, threatened to jinx Seungwan's flying broom and burn all the books she owned if she ever chickened out. In the end, the Ravenclaw decided that she couldn't risk it.

Lurking behind the statue of a grotesque gargoyle, Seungwan blew off whisps of her blonde hair that obscured her vision as she studied the intricate patterns carved on the walls in the hopes of revealing a concealed passageway. Hogwarts was full of hidden rooms and other enchantments. Many of its secrets remained undiscovered and it would take her centuries to uncover all of them.

There was an unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing along the halls and she hastened her pace. "Nox!" After extinguishing the light from her wand and ensuring that her entire body was hidden underneath the cloak, Seungwan waited with bated breath when she saw the hunched figure of Filch emerge from the Great Hall. His beady eyes scanned the empty corridor, searching for anything suspiciously out of the ordinary. He entirely missed the young Ravenclaw's silhouette standing beside a knight statue and decided to make a quick stop to his office. He found it pointless to patrol the school and catch rule-breaking students without the aid of his precious shackles.

Seungwan released a sign of relief. She was not getting caught today. No sir!

She poked her head out from the cloak, checking to see if he really left the vicinity and cheering internally when he did. Seungwan was really pushing it now. The number of school rules she was breaking must be horrendous and her best friend Joohyun would be so disappointed, especially when she finds out that the invisibility cloak she lent to Seungwan had been used for illegal purposes.

Seungwan knew that she was a bad friend, taking advantage of Joohyun's kindness and lying just to achieve her ends, but a lot was at stake here and she couldn't let the devil duo win. She couldn't let them taint Ravenclaw's immaculate reputation by allowing the spread of rumors regarding her cowardice. Seungwan would rather die than bring shame to her house.

The young Ravenclaw sucked in a deep breath and steadied her resolve. She needed to find this Room of Requirement as soon as possible so she could return to her common room and be done with it. She still needed to read Gilderoy Lockhart's Voyages with Vampires goddamnit!

"The light drives away the void that has long blinded my eyes upon your arrival." Seungwan nearly jumped in surprise when the portrait of a dark-haired woman, wearing a white Grecian dress and resting casually on a rustic bench then holding a cluster of grapes within the palm of her hands, called her attention. The title Embodiment of Love and Beauty: Aphrodite was carved on the base of the portrait's golden frame and it sparked a recent memory of the Greek Mythology book Seungwan was reading a few days ago. "Come yonder and whisper the melody into my ears-" Aphrodite leaned closer to get a better look at the blonde girl. "-the reason why a darling rose like you lurks in the darkness of the night."

Wow. The Ravenclaw was amazed. Who knew that Aphrodite could be so poetic? All the books she read never mentioned how the goddess had a way with words. She could give Apollo a run for his money.

"Uhmm.." Seungwan was bewildered because she thought she was doing a great job of hiding. Apparently not, because she was clearly caught by someone, even if it was just a mere painting. "I was hoping to find the Room of Requirement." The greek goddess ruefully shook her head, tendrils of raven black locks swaying with every movement, and made such a simple act look so elegant.

Aphrodite seemed refined and ethereal and for some reason, Seungwan noted an akin likeness between the goddess and Joohyun.

Huh.

"My lovely rose. Forget such trivialities and allow me to bask in your sweet presence." Aphrodite purred as she batted her eyelashes coquettishly at the innocent girl. The goddess seemed to have taken a liking towards the young Ravenclaw. "You wield the brilliance of the sun within you. Are you, perchance, an offspring of Apollo?" And when Seungwan shook her head no, the deity continued singing her praises. "No matter. I will not let such things hinder us. For I will pluck all stars in the sky and weave them into garments only befitting of your radiance."

The blonde girl didn't know what to do with the sudden attention. She was flattered, really, that the Goddess of Love and Beauty found her worthy of her affections but Aphrodite was a portrait and Seungwan was just not into her.

Seungwan thought of ways on how to gently turn the goddess' advances down without offending her. Sure, Aphrodite was a portrait and held no real power over her but all deities, even ones immortalized in paintings, had enormous pride and easily get injured at the smallest of things.

"I wish to fulfill your wishes O lovely Aphrodite! But my heart is torn and I simply cannot." Seungwan decided to lay it thick and flatter the goddess. The sooner she escapes this predicament, the sooner she can continue her task of finding the elusive room. "For I am a mere mortal unworthy of your affections. Our becoming is never destined and the Sisters of Fate would drive us apart." At times like these, her greasiness was put to good use. All those instances of playfully flirting at Joohyun was paying off.

"We simply cannot be." She whispered brokenly to elicit a dramatic effect and successfully rendered Aphrodite into tears. Who knew that Seungwan had a knack for theatrics?

A part of her was guilty for pulling this cunning move and manipulating someone, even if that someone was just a portrait, but she couldn't deny the rush of excitement it gave her. She was starting to know what it felt like being a Slytherin.

"Alas! You speak of the truth, my darling rose, and my heart has come to accept this. Forgive me for forcing my unwanted affections upon you." The goddess wiped away the last of her tears and gathered her resolve. "Allow me to amend my offenses and aid you in your endeavors." Aphrodite bestowed her godly blessings upon the blonde, which was completely unnecessary because the deity was a painting and she wielded no real power, and Seungwan just obeyed because she wasn't raised to be rude. "You seek of a place which is hard to find. A room that comes and goes."

That piqued the young Ravenclaw's interest and she leaned closer, eager to learn what the deity has to say. Aphrodite smiled fondly at Seungwan before stating a cryptic message. "It only ever appears in times of great need."

Their little chat was interrupted when familiar voices sounded down the corridor. "I think someone's down here!" One of them said and their footsteps quickened. The young Ravenclaw panicked and spurred into action by hiding behind a marble pillar and covering herself with the invisibility cloak. She waited with bated breath and clutched her wand tightly as she prepared herself for an unwanted confrontation.

Seungwan thought she heard the distinct sound of a cat purring and upon glancing down, she was caught paralyzed by the sight of Mrs. Norris glaring at her nastily. The feline's beady yellow eyes sent tendrils of fear to her spine. For a moment, she wondered how the animal could see her through the veil of the enchanted cloak. Did felines have a heightened sense of sight that they acquired the ability to detect invisible objects? "Shoo! Please go away." Seungwan tried her best to treat the cat with as much courtesy as possible because even though Mrs. Norris wasn't the most well-liked among the students, considering she was Filch's pet, but she was still a cat and Seungwan respected all animals, no matter how evil.

Mrs. Norris had other intentions because her hackles rised and lunged to attack the young Ravenclaw. Those razor-sharp claws sank deep into her leg, slightly drew some blood, and effectively tore her trousers. The blonde was unable to stop the groan that escaped from her lips when she felt the stinging sensation.

Crap!

The voices became louder and the young Ravenclaw barely had time to control her agonized breathing when two figures emerged from the dark hall. Upon getting a clearer look on their features, Seungwan stifled a groan and cursed the universe for playing a sick game on her.

It was her friends. Seulgi and Joohyun.

Both of which were Prefects.

Prefects who were patrolling the halls of Hogwarts late at night.

Prefects who, if they somehow caught wind of Seungwan's rule-breaking, had the authority to take away house points and report the said girl to the Head of the Ravenclaw House.

Just her luck.

"There's nothing down here Joohyun." Seulgi directed the tip of her wand to cast a beam of light upon the dark corridor. Joohyun told her earlier that she heard some noises in the vicinity and accompanied her friend to investigate. "It's just Mrs. Norris hissing at nothing in particular." Seulgi nodded at the said feline, who was busy glaring at an empty spot behind a marbled pillar, then turned to regard her friend skeptically.

"That's odd." A minute ago, she thought she heard someone whimpering as if they were in pain. Thinking that a person was injured, she hurried over to check it out, only to find nothing. Did I miss something? Joohyun thought as she squinted her eyes to thoroughly examine the dark hall. She found the cat's actions quite unusual, hissing at the wall and clawing at the empty space as if provoked by the air, but she chalked it up to weird animal behavior. She shook her head and acquiesced. "It must have been my imagination."

"Do you want to rest? I could finish patrolling if you want. We've already checked most of the castle anyway." Seulgi asked her friend in concern. Being a kind person that she was, it's quite expected of her to ensure her friend's well-being, even if it meant sacrificing her own. Maybe her good-nature just comes with being a Hufflepuff.

"No, I'm fine." Joohyun declined her offer and adjusted the green scarf wrapped around her neck. The cold air felt like freezing shards that bit her skin but she shrugged her uneasiness off and remained impassive because she didn't want to inconvenience Seulgi. "Let's finish this."

She gritted her teeth when another blast of the chilly night air hit her face. Joohyun longed for a personal heater, probably in the form of a blonde Ravenclaw Muggleborn whose bright smile put the sun to shame.

"Last stop, the Dungeons." Seulgi shivered anxiously when she uttered the word. She aimed the light down the spiralling staircase that led to their intended destination and huddled close to Joohyun partly for warmth and mostly for reassurance. The taller girl felt uncomfortable with dark and creepy places. She had gotten used to the warm and comfy atmosphere of the Hufflepuff common room and stifling areas like the Dungeons made her quite nervous. It was a good thing she had her Slytherin friend to accompany her.

Joohyun furrowed her brows, took one last look at the dark halls, before reluctantly following Seulgi to continue with their patrol.

As soon as the Prefects were out of sight, the blonde released the breath she'd been holding and quickly shrugged off her cloak to check the damage that evil cat had inflicted.

Sure enough, her trousers were torn and there was a trail of blood that stained the rainbow-colored socks she borrowed from Seulgi. Crap! The socks were ruined and no amount of Scourgify could remove those bloodstains. Seungwan used to stock her luggage with numerous bottles of bleach for cleaning purposes but her supplies dwindled after that one particular incident which involved diving under the black lake for some experimental research in Care of Magical Creatures and trying to befriend a Giant Squid for extra credit.

How was the blonde supposed to know that the Giant Squid’s way of showing its trust and getting its stamp of approval was to squirt stinky black ink all over her body?

How was she supposed to know that, by that simple and disgusting gesture alone, she was already adopted into the squid community?

Squid ink was difficult to remove, mind you, and it left Seungwan smelling like seafood the whole week.

And that was the story of how she used up all her bleach.

If only there was some magical equivalent of the 7/11 convenient store in the wizarding world so she could restock her supplies.

Oh well, can’t have everything, can we?

Mrs. Norris poised for another attack and that was enough incentive for Seungwan to run for her life. It was quite ridiculous that she was being terrorized by a cat but in her defense, Mrs. Norris was a demon incarnate. No amount of reasoning would work around that feline so with the influence of her self-preservation, the young Ravenclaw took off. If she were to die, she didn’t want it to be caused by something stupid like being clawed to death by a cat. That’s just ridiculous. She’d be rolling over her grave if that were to happen.

Seungwan dashed along the winding halls of Hogwarts and ignored the burning sensation on her wound. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her sane now and she tried to remain composed while a murderous cat followed her wake. She took a series of twist and turns and ran until she could no longer hear the sound of screeching and purring.

The Ravenclaw stopped short to catch her breath and shrugged off her cloak to wipe the sweat off her face. She had never been more exhausted in her entire life and that was a great indicator that Seungwan needed to do more cardio. It made her wonder if this dare was worth risking her life for. She contemplated of backing out but the mocking laugh of Sooyoung and the sinister grin of Yeri, along with the images of broken brooms and burning books, flashed into her mind and her resolve was back full force.

She’d come this far. Might as well get this over with.

She will not live like a coward. Not today Satan!

But as soon as Seungwan regained some courage, it quickly dwindled when she realized that she was lost, like, really lost. It seemed like she stumbled upon an old abandoned classroom by chance.

Scrolls of spare parchment and splinters littered the floors, unused desks and chairs were stacked haphazardly behind the dust-covered blackboard and marbled statues were blasted into pieces. The windows were smashed and the walls were scorched. It’s as if someone lit the whole room on fire and left it burning for centuries. A few Dementor dummies were broken beyond repair and some of its parts fell to ashes.

Then something caught her attention.

Standing far back into the room and partially covered by a worn red tapestry, there was an ornate and fairly ancient-looking mirror. The base had a clawed foot that served as a support and the gold borders that framed its edges were inscribed with a foreign and probably dead language.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

Due to the fact that she was a Ravenclaw and she had a natural tendency to be curious, Seungwan walked close to inspect the object. She tried to decipher the hidden meaning behind the carvings and moved until her silhouette was reflected in the mirror.

She looked like a hobo.

Due to all the running she had to do, her short blonde locks clung to her neck in sticky waves and sweat dampened her skin. Her robes were askew and trousers were torn. She looked like she took a jolly night stroll at the Forbidden Forest but got attacked by an Acromantula.

Her disheveled appearance reminded her of the time Ravenclaw had a Quidditch match against Gryffindor. It was a pitch-black stormy day and she strayed off the pitch trying to catch the Golden Snitch. She was struck by lightning and landed on the Whomping Willow really badly. Ravenclaw won the match but her broom was pretty wrecked and she was out of commission for nearly three months.

Seungwan tried to smooth out the unruly bangs that covered her eyes when the image shimmered and her appearance changed. Suddenly, she wasn't the only person reflected in the mirror anymore.

Standing before her were her friends and all sported cheery expressions on their faces. They looked older and more refined. Gone was the childlike naivety in their eyes and it was replaced with such wisdom that only comes after long years of being exposed to the world and meeting different people.

Each of them portrayed their dream job. Sooyoung was now a fierce Auror. There was a certain fire in her eyes as she casually draped an arm over a Yerim, who appeared to be the youngest Head of the Ministry of Magic. The Gryffindor girl sported the same mischievous smile and it seemed like she still retained her penchant for troublemaking. Seulgi clutched her latest edition Comet 2500 and posed elegantly like the famous Quidditch player that she is. Joohyun was staring at all of them fondly. A small contented smile graced her lips as she stood as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. Meanwhile, Seungwan had the professional badge of a Mediwitch and cradled in her arms an award from St. Mungo's hospital for her tireless efforts in curing magical maladies.

There she was together with the people she held dearly to her heart, looking happy and contented, serving as pillars of support for each other and carrying with them an unbreakable bond formed by long years of friendship.

Everything she desired and all she had been dreaming about were right before her.

"What are you doing here?"

Seungwan jumped in surprise when she heard the familiar bone-chilling voice that could only belong to one person.

Joohyun.

Judging from the stern expression she was sporting, the Slytherin Prefect was in her no-nonsense mode and she didn't look quite happy catching Seungwan red handed. "Sneaking around the castle at night is forbidden." Her tone sounded accusatory and the Ravenclaw fought hard not to squirm under her intense gaze. If glares could kill, the blonde would be dead right now.

So much for not getting caught.

"Sorry." She offered a lame apology, suddenly finding her shoes very interesting. Oh look! There’s a drop of blood staining the laces! She really needed to get some bleach.

When Joohyun's left eye twitched in annoyance, it didn't take long for Seungwan to break like a dam and quickly spun a tale of how she got into this predicament. "I lost a bet to Sooyoung! I really didn't want to break the rules but Yerim threatened to jinx my broom and burn my books if I chickened out!"

Joohyun remained indifferent the whole time the blonde Ravenclaw pleaded her defense. Her gaze landed on the invisibility cloak that was discarded to the ground. The one she lent to Seungwan. “Is this why you borrowed my cloak? To use it for illicit purposes?”

“No! I mean- Yes!” Seungwan slapped her forehead. She was running out of excuses to tell. It seems like she can’t bullshit her way out of this situation. “I just wanted to find the Room of Requirement and Sooyoung said it can only be found at night.” The blonde sighed in defeat. Even she sounded crazy to herself.

“Didn’t anyone warn you not to play Sooyoung’s games? Anyone in their right minds wouldn’t fall for her tricks.” Joohyun furrowed her brows. How could anyone be that gullible?

“I know! I can be pretty stupid at times!” The Ravenclaw was ready to rip out her hair and throw herself out the window. There would be fewer stupid people in the world and she would be doing the universe a favor. She groaned and stared helplessly at her amused friend. It’s good to know that the Slytherin found entertainment in her misery. “Why do I always make bad life decisions?”

“Honestly? I also ask myself that question.” Then Joohyun noticed the blood gushing on Seungwan’s feet and rushed to her aid immediately. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She forced the blonde to sit down on the floor while she inspected the wounds. Thankfully, it wasn’t that deep and didn’t require a complicated healing spell for it to mend.

“It’s nothing really, just a scratch.” Seungwan tried to shrug it off but Joohyun remained persistent and vigilantly scanned her from head to toe to check if she’d been hurt anywhere else. Once the Prefect was certain that the blonde was relatively unharmed, except for her bloody feet, she proceeded to softly blow air upon the wound in an attempt to soothe the pain. Seungwan blinked twice. Her heart hammering against the cages of her ribs and she had difficulty swallowing the lump in her throat.

There was something about the way Joohyun tenderly cradled her injured leg and traced featherlight strokes on her skin. Her hands were gentle, reverent… cautious. It’s as if she was taking great care not to break Seungwan with her touch. Their gazes met and Seungwan somehow stopped breathing. Something shimmered in Joohyun’s eyes, a message held secret deep within her soul, and the young Ravenclaw couldn’t quite decipher it.

Without taking her stare off the injured girl, the Slytherin Prefect took out her wand and cast a healing spell. “Episkey.” Joohyun whispered under her breath, eyes transfixed on those soft lips, itching to get close…closer.

Seungwan could barely feel the wound closing nor the pain waning. Joohyun was looking at her intensely and she didn’t know how to handle it so she asked a rather dumb query. “Is there something on my face?”

That effectively broke Joohyun out of whatever trance she was in. The Slytherin girl cleared her throat and stood up. She helped the blonde girl to her feet but refused to meet her eyes so she looked everywhere until she gazed upon the ancient looking mirror. Her curiosity was piqued. "What's this?" Noticing the foreign language carved on its golden frame, Joohyun moved closer to examine it. She wondered aloud.

"Erised?"

"Okay, this might sound crazy but I have a theory. Hogwarts is a magical school whose mysteries are still left unsolved. This might be one of those mysteries. You do know that the school never runs out questionable objects." Seungwan voiced out her ideas and it didn't take long for her to start pacing. Her hands making wild gestures in the air as she tried to put into words the thousands of possibilities her brain concocted.

"I think this mirror shows the future." The Ravenclaw declared with such certainty and paused, eyes narrowing as millions of other thoughts swam into her head. "But how far into the future does it show? Maybe not too far." She shook her head and continued pacing.

The Slytherin Prefect stood back and watched the blonde mutter a thousand things per minute. It's like her mouth couldn't keep up with her brain so she compensates by rambling about nothing and everything at once. It was only during times like this that Joohyun would get a glimpse inside Seungwan's mind. The younger girl was usually insecure about being a chatterbox, always carefully watching her words and actions around people. If it were up to her, she'd listen to Seungwan all day. Her thoughts were like lyrics Joohyun would gladly spend her life composing into a song.

"What do you see?" Her internal musing was interrupted when the Ravenclaw stopped pacing and regarded her with an inquiry. Solving mysteries had always been Seungwan's obsession and the Prefect could tell that she was in her element. Joohyun could see it. The way the flames of curiosity burned in those brown orbs and the eagerness to discover the unknown transformed her, giving her an aura of confidence that rarely showed itself.

Seungwan was glowing and it took her breath away.

It took Joohyun a few moments to gather her thoughts. The effort to calm her pounding heart was futile for the blonde proved to be quite distracting so she focused all her attention to both their reflection in the mirror instead.

"I don't see anything." Joohyun furrowed her brows and regarded the blonde in confusion. What was so special about this mirror? It certainly didn’t look so magical to her. Maybe Seungwan was mistaken?

"Are you sure?" Seungwan was bewildered. If her theory was correct and this mirror showed the future then why couldn't Joohyun see anything? She gestured for Joohyun to try again since she was desperate to prove her point. “Can you please look again?”

Joohyun was unamused. It was pointless really. It was just a regular mirror. There was nothing magical about it. Why can’t the blonde Ravenclaw see that? She crossed her arms and glared hard at the reflections on the mirror, particularly at herself for always giving into Seungwan’s wishes. “Have you forgotten how mirrors work?” A minute has passed and she still found nothing in particular.

"I only see us."

The dejected look on Seungwan's features tugged at Joohyun’s heartstrings and the Slytherin Prefect volunteered to stare back into the useless mirror for an hour. Yes, Joohyun was a mess. She was a HUGE mess. She could barely make rational decisions when it came to Seungwan.

The blonde shook her head and declined the Prefect’s offer. "Maybe it's just my imagination."

Seungwan grabbed the abandoned invisibility cloak on the floor and dusted off the dirt before wrapping it snugly around Joohyun to keep her warm. Then she grabbed the raven-haired girl’s hand and guided her out of the room. Her mind running a thousand miles per minute, still trying to make sense of the mystery she witnessed.

Meanwhile, Slytherin girl kept glancing at their intertwined hands, wondering why their fingers fit so perfectly with each other and thinking about how she didn't want to let go.

Not now, not ever.

And deep down Joohyun knew, that she wouldn't mind being cold if it meant that Seungwan would always keep her warm.

***

Seungwan never did find the Room of Requirement and the following day, she had to face the music in the form of Sooyoung's offhanded Honestly? I'm even not surprised. I've heard rumors that the Room of Requirement only ever shows itself to people of worth and, no offense, you are not such person. What surprised me more was that you decided to go along with the dare. I was expecting you to back out since I knew that you could be a chicken at times.

Or Yerim’s cutting What the heck? You're the top of the class! The smartest witch of our age! Out of all the people, you had the best chances of finding it. But I guess we really do cannot have it all. Seungwan didn't know if she should be flattered by the fact that Gryffindor held her with such a high regard or be insulted at the insinuation that she was a failure.

Anyways, the blonde Ravenclaw retreated to the library to lick her wounds and pass the time by doing some light reading. She came across an interesting passage in the book that left her reeling with questions.

The Mirror of Erised

An ancient magical mirror made before the end of the nineteenth century by an unknown creator. It shows the deepest, most desperate desire of one's heart, a vision that has been known to drive men mad.

Below the paragraph was a portrait of a familiar ornate mirror. Seungwan squinted to examine it closer and gasped in shock. It was the exact same one she found last night; the same mirror that appeared in her dreams countless of times. There was no mistaking it. The foreign carvings along its golden frame were identical. She read the passage again and again and stared at the portrait until her vision blurred with images of the reflections she saw.

Joohyun being the Hogwarts Headmistress.

Seulgi became a Professional Quidditch player.

Her own self was a lauded Mediwitch.

Sooyoung training as an Auror.

And Yerim as the youngest Head of the Ministry of Magic.

It made sense now. The young Ravenclaw already putting together the pieces of the puzzle. Seungwan was close to solving everything but there was still one thing that remained a mystery to her.

How come Joohyun only saw them both?

#wenrene #the magic between us #irene #wendy #red velvet #seulgi #joy #yerim

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executive-geneticist · 5 years ago

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Anonymous asked: Could Archer ever forgive Giovanni?

{The short answer is, “maybe.”}

{The long answer is under the cut.}

-The surprising thing wasn’t that Giovanni had found him after all these years. Going by nothing more than his own personal experience, Archer was convinced that a man like Giovanni Sakaki could find anyone he wanted to with ease. Even without the long arm of Team Rocket at his disposal, the former Boss was a man of resources, of cunning, of means. Finding Archer the way he had– sitting in a dimly lit dive drowning his failures in a short, squat glass of amber liquid– must surely have come easy to him. So when a startlingly familiar gait waltzed its way up to Archer’s table and took an unspoken seat, it really hadn’t come as a surprise.

-If Giovanni had deigned to ask for an audience instead of simply showing up, that wouldn’t have been surprising either. The truth of the matter was this: Archer had been expecting the man for over six years now. After all, Archer had taken what scattered remains there were of Team Rocket and claimed them for his own. He’d half-expected to find a crow’s feather waiting from him on his desk one afternoon– a sign that his days were numbered for his treachery. When none came, he’d begun to wonder if his former employer would simply show up and try to reclaim what was his.

-This, of the lot of them, was the bloodiest possibility Archer had ever considered. He had no intention of giving Rocket’s leadership up to the man who’d betrayed and abandoned them. However, while he knew there were those who followed that line of thinking, he also knew there were many who waited with bated breath for their leader’s return. He knew the rift could only end in bloodshed and that was the last thing he wanted, regardless of how he felt about Giovanni’s actions.

-Archer had wondered, briefly, what he might have done if Giovanni had asked to see him. Whether he would laugh in the messenger’s face or send a reply only to refuse to actually show. In the years he’d given it thought, he’d come to the conclusion that yes, he would meet with the man, if only to throw a drink in his face, warn him never to show his cowardly face again, and leave in a stormy rush. So, really, the fact that these two men were sitting across from one another did not come as much of a surprise to Archer Apollo.

-What did surprise him was the complete and utter lack of animosity.

-He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t bitter. He had no intention of storming off in an indignant show of pride. He was just… tired. After losing everything, after failing once again, Archer had little room for his usual flashiness. Right now, at the end of everything, he only had enough left in him for the long-suffered sigh of resignation which left him as he lifted his head to address the man across from him.-

You’re here.

I am.

What do you want?

-Giovanni’s silence belied nothing of what the man was thinking and it was a trait Archer had found both admirable and infuriating.-

Don’t you remember. You called me.

-Archer made no effort to hide the wince that answered that reminder. It was true, of course. He had called for Giovanni. It had gone against everything he’d ever believed– indeed, it went against everything he’d ever wanted– but he’d made that call in Rocket’s eleventh hour, desperate for help when everything was crashing down around them. Now, with his resounding defeat still bitterly licking his heels, Archer realized he regretted none of it.-

So I did. I’m afraid you’re a little late, though. It’s already over.

Is it?

-Archer frowned, uncomfortable with where this line of questioning was going. Either he would have to detail every failure– and therefore relive every failure– or, and he wasn’t sure what was worse, Giovanni was going to suggest they try again. The mere thought of it only added to the exhaustion he felt, to the heavy weight which had settled on his shoulders the moment he’d laid eyes on that dark-haired trainer as they stepped into the observation floor of the Radio Tower. He didn’t know if he could stomach even hearing the suggestion right now, let alone consider it.-

It is. I ended it myself. It was the necessary thing to do.

So tell me. Do you know now why I did what I did?

-That stung and Archer couldn’t deny it. He thought about how it had felt to withdraw, to make a tactical retreat to try and salvage what little of Rocket was still holding together. He tried to imagine how it must have felt when Giovanni had done the same thing. He tried, really, to reconcile those two moments but the longer he thought about it, the more his face twisted in anger.-

What you did was cowardly and unforgivable. You turned tail and ran after you were beaten by a child and you did it all without consulting me, or anyone else for that matter. You fled from your people, your family, without so much as a word to anyone. I at least had the decency to prepare those in my employ for any eventuality. They knew the end would be decided by that battle and when I lost, they were the first to know what was happening. You simply vanished.

-There it was. The indignant, righteous anger he’d felt all these years. He sat up straighter, sure in his assessment. It burned in his gullet hotter than the alcohol and cleared his head, wiped the exhaustion from his brow which turned downward in the boiling heat of his rage. Every time I look at you I don’t understand, why you let the things you did get so out of hand. You’d have managed better if you’d had it planned…-

Archer. Please.

Don’t patronize me, Giovanni. You know damn well what you did and if you came here thinking you could apologize and everything would be the way it was–

I turned myself in, Archer.

-A stunned silence came over him and Archer simply stared, unable to form words for several moments.-

You what?

I turned myself in after our defeat in Silph Co. I realized that if we continued down that path, not only would I be taken but so would you and everyone else who was loyal to me. So, I turned myself in to the League and confessed everything. I’ll spare you the details, but I was given a choice: flee or the entirety of my organization would be turned over to Interpol.

I have… well, had sympathetic ties to the League and throughout Kanto and they were all that stood between me and the chopping block. I was told that if I left the country and swore never to return those in my employ would be given the chance to disappear so long as they stopped all Rocket-related activity. So, to save my family, to save you, I took the fall and disappeared.

-Again Archer found himself unable to speak. He took in what Giovanni had said, tried to process it, and struggled. Some part of him– some petulant, childish part of him– refused to believe it. These were nothing but empty words coming from a washed up old man who wanted desperately to save his own skin. But Archer knew, with every fiber of his being, that Giovanni was many things– many horrible, wonderful things– but a liar was not one of them.-

…I see.

-It was all he could muster, all he could divulge in that strange and unknowable moment. In all his time envisioning this exact moment, none of it had prepared him for this. Even when he’d entertained the possibility that there was some excusable explanation for what he’d done, Archer had still always been the indignant, self-righteous man condemning Giovanni for what he’d done and banishing him from his sight forevermore. But this? To actually hear such words from the man he’d once respected and served so many years ago? Now, when he had nothing left to lose? He simply didn’t know how to feel.-

You were right, Archer. All those times you warned me that we were going too far, that we were getting too loud. All of it. You tried to tell me and I didn’t listen. I let my ambitions get the better of me and because of it, we lost. That was my fault and that’s precisely why it had to be me who took the fall.

-That was the moment Archer was certain he was dreaming. He could accept the explanation was fact, he could accept that his losses were real, he could even accept that Giovanni had sought him out of his own accord to lay it all at his feet. But this? This apology, so very unlike and yet perfectly in character for a man like him, was where he drew the line. Perhaps he’d had too much to drink after all.-

It doesn’t matter, though, does it? What we did and why. It’s over. We both lost and we both ended up with nothing. Team Rocket is over. For good this time.

-An all too-familiar grin slid across the other man’s face and Archer felt his chest tighten. He knew that look and if it had come ten minutes ago, it’s likely Archer would have stood up and walked away without another word. He’d been tired, then, too tired to waste effort on this ghost who’d been haunting him since Kanto. But now? With the rush of sweet, burning alcohol still singing in his head and the air clearer between them than it had been in almost a decade? With the man sitting across from him emerging from the shadows like the dead in some gory horror film? Now he felt invigorated, like the weight of inevitability had been lifted from his shoulders.-

I’ll ask you again. Is it, Archer? Is it really over?

-Despite himself and all the selves that he’d imagined being in this very moment, Archer felt himself s m i l e to damn the devil.-

That depends. What did you have in mind?

#Cowards' Questions || Anon #Long post #Nothing triggering just... long.#There may or may not be references here #to Jesus Christ Superstar.#I'm not apologizing.

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florafey · 6 years ago

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Malogranatum - Part 3

Flight of the Fledgling

“Persephone! Persephone!”

The goddess in question tried her best to glance over her shoulder without turning her head. She could just barely see Eris working hard to get around a crowd of older deities without drawing unwarranted attention to herself. Both her hands were occupied with drinks. There seemed to be no obvious reason for Eris’ urgency and Persephone found herself craning further around to check for her mother in the crowd.

Demanding hands jerked her head forward and from behind Persephone, Nike clicked her tongue impatiently.

“How am I supposed to learn how to braid when you’re moving all around?” She asked. The strands of hair clutched between Nike’s fingers were looking more like knots than plaits. Persephone had braided a small section of her hair for Nike to mimic and it had taken the blonde goddess nearly fifteen minutes to understand how to even begin.

“Sorry, Nike. Can you see if-”

“You’re mother is still with Hera,” Nike said automatically. A tug on Persephone’s hair told her Nike had begun her efforts again. “At least...I think so. I haven’t seen either of them for a while now.”

Desperate to avoid her mother after the public game she had won, Persephone and her friends- they were friends to her now, all of them- had snuck around to the front expanse of lawn where they had started their game. Hera had kept Demeter with her around the back, unknowingly giving Persephone some time to pull herself together and worry about when her mother was going to come looking for her.

The festivities of the party hadn’t stopped while they were playing. Groups of younger deities were still lounging around on the grass and in the water, laughing loudly and talking in tipsy voices. Scattered bonfires raged, food was passed around, and joyful singing accompanied the talented musicians that had now migrated out onto the grass.

Eris finally cleared the crowd and reached the two goddess where they were resting by the stone wall. They had chosen this spot strategically; it offered the most cover from the palace and the majority of the yard due to the shadows it created. Not to mention the view. Persephone couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from the mountain peaks and stars that appeared just an arm’s reach away. Everything seemed so different up in Olympus. More amplified, somehow, than the mortal world. More...right.

Nike finished off Persephone’s braid with a huff and turned to take a drink from Eris. Persephone reluctantly hopped down from the wall. “What is it?”

“Your mother just returned inside. Hera isn’t with her.”

Persephone exhaled, her body sagging and eyes closing. Dread threatened to seep into her heart, her bones. She knew what was coming.

“Oh, Honey, don’t look like that,” Nike shook Persephone’s arm. “Not after all the fun we’ve had tonight. It’ll be alright, I’m sure.”

“That’s what I used to think,” Persephone whispered. She was silent for a moment, then shook her head and said, “But if she isn’t looking for me than I don’t see why we have to get into foul moods. The night is still young.”

Her last statement wasn’t completely correct but the three of them knew what she was implying. Deities were known to party for entire days on end, sleeping where they pleased only to wake and begin again. And when Midsummer rolled around, they were especially adroit at wringing every bit of pleasure from it.

“Well, if you insist on rejoining the party, I wouldn't mind taking another dip in the pool.” Eris smiled slyly. “Come on, Hermes and Dio are in the water and I’m sure the girls are around somewhere. Helios was there last I checked but I can’t be sure…” Eris grabbed ahold of Nike’s hand and led the goddesses away from the shelter of the wall and towards the long, gleaming rectangle of water off to one side of the lawn. True to Eris’ prediction, Persephone quickly spotted Helios’ large form amongst the many others by the edge of the pool. Her mood instantly lifted. Helios was beloved by Persephone and she by him. She had never known what it was like to have a father but she suspected it was similar to how Helios protected and cared for her.

She hurried her friends along, trying not to spill their drinks as they went. Helios was sitting with his feet in the pool, leaning back on his hands and facing away from Persephone. He was amusing a few flirtatious goddess swimming nearby him by kicking his feet and splashing them with water. Everytime he splashed them, they giggled uncontrollably and hid behind their damp hair. Persephone smiled. Helios could charm the dress of a statue.

Eris and Nike saw where she was headed and veered off to let her go. They kept close, however, as they met up with Dionysus and Hermes. Athena and Aphrodite winked in unison at Persephone when they caught her eye. Persephone laughed.

She approached Helios and knelt down behind him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. He started in surprise, a hand coming up to grasp her forearm. When her curls spilled over his bare shoulders and down his chest, Helios let out a booming laugh.

“Persephone! I’m surprised you’re still here!” His deep voice rolled like thunder over the hills and Persephone felt the warm familiarity of it soothe the nerves she had been pushing down, down, down. She pecked his cheek.

“I am, too, I must admit. Eris just informed me that Hera and my mother have split apart so I fear I don’t have much longer. Hera was the only reason my mother couldn’t take me home sooner.” “Oh, I see. So you go climb on Helios to protect you, is that it?” His tone was light and his face grinning, but Persephone didn’t miss his meaning. She smiled back shyly and adjusted herself to sit next to him.

“I can protect myself just fine, especially from my mother,” she said lightly. “I’m more worried for the company I’ve been keeping. She might turn them inside out when she realizes they had me swimming in my silk dress and rolling around on the lawn.”

“Oh, Persephone, there are worse things to do at a party. Perhaps you should tell your mother that a few grass stains are the lightest consequences Midsummer has given in centuries. A few years ago- just three, if I remember correctly- Apollo nearly lost both his arms when Ares convinced him to wrestle a minotaur his sister had captured a few days before.”

“A minotaur?” Persephone was skeptical. “Helios, there isn’t such a thing. They only exist in paintings.”

Helios shot her a mischievous look and took a sip from the goblet dangling between his fingers. “Ask Artemis. She captured the damn thing and I watched her do it.” He set his goblet down and let his gaze linger on the goddesses in the water. “Reminded me of your mother, actually.”

A choked laugh was startled out of Persephone. Her laughter grew as the meaning of Helios’ statement sunk in and mingled with the wine already in her blood. It bubbled up and over the brink of her self control until she was bent over in stitches. It was so ridiculous the situation she found herself in, and there really wasn’t anything to do but laugh at herself. They drew stares as they turned a foolish poke of fun into an ordeal so hilarious they had tears running down their faces.

“My mother-” Persephone managed around her giggles, “is going to...commit filicide when she sees me.” She wrapped an arm around her now aching stomach and tried to control herself. “I have grass stains on my knees. Grass stains! And my dress is ruined and wet, my hair is a mess and she saw me running around inside like a barbarian-” She let out a semi-hysterical noise. “Oh, Helios. What am I going to do?”

He was silent. His own amusement had faded as he watched the young goddess at his side begin the downward spiral into emotional toil. A ghost of a smile remained on Persephone’s lips as she watched the deities in the pool, but her fingers were twisting in her lap. Her only sign of distress.

“But you were laughing.”

Persephone looked up. “What?”

“Inside. When you were ‘running around like a barbarian’. You were laughing so hard I was surprised you weren’t crying like just now.”

“Well, I- wait, you saw that?”

Helios frowned and tsked at her. “That’s not my point. Listen to my meaning and forget the rest. This night has given you what you have never received before. Tell me what that is.”

There were a million words Persephone could have used. Friends. Excitement. Freedom. Joy. A sense of belonging. When she slipped off into thought, Helios brought her back.

“Dignity.” The low-spoken word almost didn’t register with Persephone and she had to take a second to make sure she hadn’t misheard. Helios repeated it anyways.

“Dignity. Oh, you’ve always had it, don’t think otherwise. But never in the way you do now.”

“I...don’t think I understand. Dignity?”

The goddesses circling Helios had begun to feel ignored by his lack of attention so he splashed them one last time before pulling his feet out of the water and crossing them underneath him like Persephone at his side.

“Let me explain. A bird in a nest knows nothing outside of the safety of her tree. She can see the outside world, observe it around her, but never take part in it or make it her own. Day after day, the bird remains in the nest that she knows and never strays from it. Now, being a bird, is it usual for her to remain in her nest for her entire life?”

Persephone wordlessly shook her head.

“Is it healthy for her to remain stationary? Never exploring, never stretching her wings?”

Persephone shook her head again. Slower this time. Helios nodded, agreeing with her diagnosis. He settled his weight back on his hands and tilted his head at Persephone, considering her.

“I think that bird will do much better for herself if she makes the world her own place. Perhaps then she’ll be able to hold her head up and puff her chest out and be proud of what she’s done all by herself.”

Persephone fell silent, allowing the sounds of the party around them to dominate for a few seconds. Then, just to see what Helios would say, “So why doesn’t the bird just fly away? Leave her nest and the tree?”

Helios looked almost amused. Something bordering on relief shone in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Persephone glanced down at where her fingers were twisted in her lap. When she looked back up, Helios was still staring at her.

“I don’t…” she trailed off. A deep breath, then, “The bird doesn’t know how to fly.”

“Who teaches birds to fly, Persephone?”

She shrugged. She had never thought about it before. It never seem consequential. Helios leaned forward in a smooth motion, pulling his hands into his lap and holding Persephone’s eye. The weight of the conversation fell upon her suddenly like a caved-in ceiling.

“They teach themselves,” Helios whispered, “by watching the other birds before them. They observe the birds that know how to fly, pay close attention to how they jump and tilt and steer, and then they have to jump out of the nest themselves.”

“That sounds awfully daunting.”

“It is,” Helios said frankly. He finally dropped her gaze, turning to stare out at the lawn and the glowing palace before them. The lights reflected in his black eyes and turned them golden. They matched perfectly with the gold twinned in his hair and hanging in his ears. When he turned back, the golden reflection remained despite losing the light that had caused it. “Although I suppose sometimes the bird needs a push.”

This was not anything Persephone had been expecting. She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know anyone in the business of pushing little birds out of trees, Helios.”

The god laughed, his eyes crinkling. “You’d be surprised at who would do what, little one.”

Persephone huffed, not quite sure where to take the conversation from there. Her mother had not appeared on the lawn and she figured it was only a matter of time. Time that was very quickly running out. She was preparing to rise from the grass when Helios said, “Especially among the gods.”

What? Persephone paused. She tilted her head and frowned, trying to make sense of his words. Stringing them together with his last sentence, they made practical sense, but she failed to see how it related to the metaphor they had been creating.

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to think about it. May I give you some advice?”

“Haven’t you been for the last ten minutes?”

Helios chuckled. “Smart like your father.” They both knew he meant himself. “Now close that smart mouth and listen. Listen well.”

Persephone scooted closer until their legs were touching.

“The bird needs to be wary of who she lets into her nest. There are many reasons a bird would want to fly and many more why she would want to forever remain in her tree. She must sort out what’s what before she takes flight. A hasty jump is always a fall.”

“Alright,” Persephone conceded. “The bird shall be careful.”

Helios was satisfied. He took another sip from his goblet and motioned Persephone closer to him with his free hand. He extended his arm when she pressed against his side, and tucked her into an embrace.

“You are a unique creation, Persephone,” He told her. “I see all of creation, day after day, night after night. All of it. Nothing escapes my sight. But you-” he tapped her cheek, “are the most unique being on my earth. Take pride in that, if nothing else.”

Persephone’s face heated and her nose stung. She dropped her eyes from Helios’ face, not knowing if she could bear to see the raw sincerity in his eyes without crying. She leaned forward until her forehead pressed against his chest.

“Thank you, Helios.” The quietest whisper but he still heard. He hummed, a hand rubbing her arm. “You’re quite welcome. Now, Aphrodite is glaring at me, I assume she thinks I’m hogging you.”

Persephone looked up and saw that indeed, Aphrodite was subjecting Helios to her infamously cold stare. Persephone huffed out a laugh at her friend.

“Overprotective, that one. I should go to her before she flays you.”

Helios kissed the top of her hair before sending her off. By the time Persephone had reached Aphrodite and embraced her, Helios had put his feet back in the water and was amusing the goddesses once more.

As the party continued, Persephone found it harder and harder to push aside Helios’ words. Partly due to the exhaustion slowly creeping up on her, and partly due to the unusual seriousness Helios had exhibited when speaking to her, Persephone simply couldn’t shake the ideas planted in her mind.

She ate with Ares and Artemis, danced a little more with Dionysus whom had just woken up from a nap on the lawn, and even allowed the goddesses to pull her over to one of the smaller fires to tell stories. The gods soon joined them despite Athena’s whines about how this was the “females only” part of the night. That only caused Hermes to throw his head back and laugh, and further prompted Apollo to ask Athena if she truly believed the exclusion of gods brought pleasure to anyone involved. When Persephone tartly replied in the affirmative, Nike’s howls of laughter were so loud that Persephone could have sworn Poseidon looked over in their direction.

Poseidon had appeared on the back lawn not much later than Persephone’s group of friends but he hadn’t ventured into the lawn like he had earlier that night, choosing instead to remain on the stone patio connected to the back of the palace. The glowing lights from inside bathed his sharp features in ethereal light, making him seem right at home. At first, he came alone. He seemed content to hold his drink and lean against the palace and observe the festivities. Then, somewhat to Persephone’s surprise, his older brother had joined him. She had no idea what Hades had done between the time she saw him snarking off to Poseidon near her mother and Hera, and when he strode out of the palace doors and handed his brother another drink.

Persephone had been in the water when she first noticed him. It was the movement that caught her eye; the vastness of difference between the sharp, sturdy angles of the Underworld’s Master and the brightly swathed, easily flowing movements of everyone around him. To his credit, however, Hades did not seem uncomfortable. Perhaps a little out of place, but he moved with a natural ease and didn’t glance twice at the path of wide eyes he left in his wake.

She had been in the middle of wrestling playfully with Hermes in waist deep water, trying to save her hair from being completely submerged, when her gaze was pulled to the palace doors. Persephone wouldn’t ever forget the way Hades extended a hand towards Poseidon, a goblet dangling carelessly from his long fingers, and simultaneously turned his body just so and caught Persephone’s eye. It was like he had already known where she was.

The half second of connection froze Persephone in place. Hermes, oblivious to the change in Persephone’s demeanor as he was to everything else around him, had taken advantage of her temporary immobility to seize her around the waist and pull her into the water with him. By the time she emerged, hair soaked, her mouth open in shock, Hades had turned back to his brother.

But now, hearing Nike’s laughter and seeing Poseidon’s distraction, Hades glanced back over. Persephone imagined she was feeling much like a young schoolgirl; always aware of when he looked over, hoping he would pay more attention than last time. But why? She didn’t understand it for the life of her. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to understand her sudden emotions towards the God of the Underworld. She didn’t know him, hadn’t even spoken to him.

But...they had spoken, hadn’t they? Maybe not with words but with gestures and glances. And she wasn’t completely oblivious to the man he might be. Clearly he wasn’t a usual guest at such parties but he had come this year and stayed this long so that must mean something. He wasn’t immune to festivities and laughter, either- she had seen him smiling at Zeus while the god of the sky relayed a story to him earlier. Persephone had even managed to draw out his participation in a rather playful manner during the game of tag when he decided to help her. She smiled to herself. That was cheating, her sensible side reminded her. But she didn’t care. It had been fun. Worth it. But again, the question of why?

“Nike, it wasn’t that funny!” Apollo reached around Artemis to tug on Nike’s blonde hair. She cackled and smacked his hand away. “Don’t be sore because Persephone dismissed you. I’m sure it hasn’t been the first time.”

“Nike!” But with a glance at Apollo, Persephone burst into laughter. The look on his face was priceless. “Nike, hush. I haven’t before...I mean I didn’t mean it like that, I was just- oh stop it!” The rest of the goddesses had joined in the laughter and Persephone hid her face in her hands, still laughing. Apollo picked up on her mortification and threw himself down on the cushion next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. All hurt feelings, real or faux, had vanished.

“Oh, don’t worry about them, Honey. We all knew you were joking. In fact- agh!”

Artemis had reached around Eris to yank Apollo away from Persephone, pushing him to his feet. He complied, reluctantly, stumbling as he rose.

“Away!” Artemis snapped. She shooed him in the general direction of “away” in case he needed help in his inebriated state. Apollo stuck his tongue out but went, his golden curls swaying. Artemis took his place next to Persephone in a flash and somehow managed to not spill the plate of food she was holding. Persephone helped herself to the small chunks of lamb and Artemis gladly shared.

The eyes were still on her. They hadn’t remained the entire time, glancing away shortly and drifting around the rest of the lawn to briefly land on the gods wrestling, the musicians and dancers, the more refined deities walking arm in arm along the lit paths. The eyes took everything in with a single, sweeping glance. Poseidon was still talking at his side, the wine having loosened his tongue considerably. Persephone wondered if Hades had done that on purpose. Even she knew that a wine-tipped tongue shared considerably more entertaining thoughts. Or perhaps secrets.

Persephone was watching Hades from over Artemis’ shoulder and trying to act like she was simply glancing around at all the guests. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to pretend with the amount of deities now populating the lawn. From around the bonfire, Nike and Aphrodite had jointly begun telling a story that Persephone was only half paying attention to. Something about the elusive Tyche whom Persephone had unsurprisingly only heard tales about. Their voices were rising and falling with dramatic recounting and the other goddess nibbled off Artemis’ plate and listened closely.

But Persephone allowed herself to drift away a bit. She remained tuned in to what her friends were saying, lest she give herself away, but she gradually shifted more of her attention over Artemis’ shoulder. Hades profile was a sharp one and the more she looked, the harder it was for Persephone to glance away. It was sharp enough to cut stone. Strong jaw, strong nose, strong chin. If Persephone was an artist she would have spent days trying to paint his likeness. Standing the way he was in the contrast of light and shadow, she was able to see the shimmer of his eyes as he, too, distracted himself whilst listening to the person next to him.

Persephone watched as his eyes drifted over the guests on the lawn and fell on the rectangular pool. She followed his gaze. Helios was now waist deep in the water, his dreadlocks tied into a thick knot by the base of his neck to keep them dry. There was a dainty goddess in his strong arms and her laughter sounded like a choir of bells as Helios spun her around and around, spraying them both with mist. Hades’ chest shifted as though he had laughed but no smile crossed his face. Until...there. Yes, that was a smile. A small one. Somewhat sharp, maybe harboring other feelings besides amusement, but...still a smile. Persephone found herself following suit.

Until that half smirk dropped and his eyes flashed to hers, catching her red-handed. Persephone froze, her smile shrinking away. She had been in the process of raising a grape to her mouth but it was immediately forgotten, her hand stilling in front of her chest. Hades was unreadable as he studied her from across the lawn. Poseidon was now deep into his drink and talking freely, so Hades’ distraction went unnoticed. And Persephone soon found the fear in her stomach began to evaporate. The nervous energy, the butterflies, still remained, but as Hades raised a single, inquiring eyebrow at her as if to say ‘yes?’, she was not afraid. So, with as much bravado as a young, inexperienced, nervous goddess could muster in the sights of a much older, much larger, much more intimidating god, Persephone shrugged and popped her grape into her mouth. ‘Nothing.’

Hades flicked his eyes up to the sky. Was he...rolling his eyes at her? A sliver of Persephone’s bravado gave way to incredulity. Her smile turned stiff and her once-playful eyes now took on a backsplash of darker amusement. She tilted her head and sent an eyebrow up as Hades’ gaze returned to her from his brief moment of attitude. He absorbed Persephone’s sass from across the lawn and did something that didn’t surprise her in the least. He laughed.

Not loud and booming like Helios, but somehow just as forceful. His mouth split, revealing straight, white teeth to form a grin brimming with arrogance. Just like that, he had gotten a rise out of her without lifting a finger. Persephone realized what he had done, what he had caused her to do, and dropped her gaze to her lap with a smile of her own.

The bonfire on her right was still blazing happily and the goddesses weren’t more than part way through their story. Persephone tuned back in for a moment as she reached for more from Artemis’ plate. She passed a square of lamb to Athena and settled back into her cushion. When she found time to spare another glance at Hades and Poseidon, she found Hades’ demeanor had drastically changed. So much so that she found herself glancing around him to see what had suddenly gone wrong. His entire body was tensed, if only slightly, and his eyes were no longer sparking with whatever wicked amusement Persephone had ignited in them moments before. If she were closer, she figured she would find the grip around the stem of his goblet was now much tighter.

And then all of a sudden she understood. Or rather, she saw.

Demeter had appeared in the doorway of the palace, framed in the golden light spilling onto the grass. She looked...Persephone knew that look. Recognized it from the many times Demeter had found her too far away from home or gone too long after dark. Worry, fear, anger.

Disappointment shot through Persephone like a clap of thunder. Then on its tail, guilt. Who was she to be disappointed in seeing her mother? Demeter was only worried because she hadn’t seen her daughter all night and had no idea where she was or what she had gotten into. Persephone had no right to be disappointed. Demeter on the other hand…

Persephone glanced down at her dress. It was now dry but it was wrinkled and a little dirty from rolling around on the lawn. Grass stains marred her bare feet and she was positive her hair was still damp. The guilt sunk further, nestling down into her chest. Demeter had asked her to do one thing, one, and Persephone hadn’t managed to do so. All her mother asked was that her daughter behave and what had Persephone done? She drank and went swimming in her gown and running through the palace and rolling on the grass. Persephone closed her eyes. She felt heavy. Cold, despite the fire.

“Persephone?” Artemis. “Honey, what is it? Are you feeling well?” Persephone opened her eyes when Artemis gently shook her.

“Yes, I’m sorry. It’s just-”

“Oh, dammit it to Tartarus, it’s your mother.” Eris scrambled to her feet. “Come with me, I can try to hide you. Maybe we can-”

“No, no, Eris,” Persephone interrupted. “No, it’s been long enough. I should go to her. She’s probably worried sick and I told her I would stick close by.”

There was silence around the fire. Aphrodite’s hands were clenched together. Nike hadn’t taken her eyes off Demeter, keeping track of her when Pesephone was turned. Then, tentatively, Athena asked, “Are you sure?”

Persephone nodded. “Yes. It’s been hours. Five, at least. I should explain where I’ve been and try to apologize-”

“You should do no such thing!” Artemis rose when Persephone did, putting a hand on her arm to prevent her from leaving. “Maybe for vanishing for so long, but don’t you dare apologize for having such harmless fun. It wouldn’t be fair. To you, I mean.”

Persephone glanced over to the palace doors where Demeter still stood, scanning the lawn for her lost daughter. Not truly meaning it, she turned to Artemis and said, “All right. I won’t.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No.” Persephone smiled. “She’s my mother, not a dragon. I’ll be just fine, don’t worry.”

Artemis nodded but the concern didn’t budge. “We’ll be here. Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Persephone promised, and stepped out of the safe ring of light cast from the fire, leaving the safety of her sisters as she did so. She worked her way steadily across the lawn towards her mother and tried to make herself more presentable as she went. Thankfully, it was dark, and Demeter wouldn’t notice most of Persephone’s unkemptness until they were home or in the bright palace.

“Mother!” Persephone called out when she was close enough and picked up her pace, forcing a smile she didn’t feel onto her face. “There you are! I’m sorry I wasn’t with you, but I knew Hera-”

“Where have you been?” Demeter rushed forward and grabbed her daughter, pulling her into her bosom. Persephone embraced her, inhaling the familiar scent of Demeter’s clothing and feeling the smooth muscle underneath. “I’ve been worried for hours. And what were you doing running around like that inside? Were you with Dionysus? I’ve told you not to mingle with him, or Nike! Do you have any idea the kind of trouble they get into?”

“Oh, mother, they wouldn’t have made me do anything I didn’t want to. I’ve spoken with them. They’re kind.”

“Until they want something from you-” Demeter’s hand went to stroke Persephone’s hair but jerked away when she felt it. “Is that- are you...did you go swimming?”

Persephone’s heart thundered. “Just a little. Hermes splashed me too much but my dress is fine, I promise.” Lie. “There weren’t many people around, nobody saw us.” Lie. “Helios was there.” Not a lie, but it didn’t necessarily make things better. Demeter seemed unconvinced by all of it.

“Are you lying to me, Persephone? Why in Olympus would you allow those scoundrels to drag you into something like that?”

“It was only a bit of fun, nothing came of it-”

“And- and running through the palace like a child! Persephone, I expected better of you, I truly did. You’ve begged me to allow you to attend these events for years and this is what you have to show for it? What’s next? Soon you’ll be showing me the grass stains on your arms!”

Persephone hardly found that fair. “Mother, I get grass stains at home all the time,” she said firmly. “And please don’t call them scoundrels. They’re kind and everything I did tonight, I did because I wanted to. Nobody forced me to do anything, I wouldn’t have let them. You should know that, of all people!”

“Yes, I seem to be having trouble getting you to do anything of late, it seems. Well, it serves me right, allowing you to be around such…”

“Please don’t call my friends names.” Persephone’s tone was hard. Demeter stopped, her brow rising dangerously.

“Oh, is that what they are, now? Friends? They’re your friends, Persephone?” She chuckled, finding Persephone’s words amusing. “No, darling, they are not. No deity of such...standing should be, at least. Let alone that many of them.”

Persephone jerked away from her mother and batted off the grasping hand that followed. “Standing?” Her voice broke. “That’s what this is about? You think I’m too good for them.”

Demeter blinked, her mouth twitching upwards. “Persephone...they’re troublemakers, all of them. Of course you’re too good for them.”

“They...they don’t- they’re not troublemakers, mother. They’re kind and loving and accepting. No one is too good for a loving friend. And so what if they cause a little commotion? It’s harmless!”

Demeter’s condescension turned hard, her eyes losing any remaining light. Yelling was not her way, but the softness was almost worse. “Persephone, the impression you have made tonight on everyone around us is anything but harmless. Pure foolishness, petty games, it’s all the behavior of a young child who doesn’t know her place. I never should have allowed you to come.”

Tears stung the back of Persephone’s throat. The hollow feeling in her chest had spread and spread until it was now threatening to swallow her up completely. She wanted to shrink away, disappear. That wasn’t true, wasn’t true...was it? No, she didn’t think so. With effort, Persephone pulled up the memory of locking eyes with Zeus as she pressed against the marble pillar whilst hiding from Eris. He had smiled at her. She had felt like a young girl giggling with her father. And Hades, how he had assisted her on his own accord, without truly having a reason other than he simply felt like it. She remembered the soft laughter from the older deities as she and her friends had gone zipping around the grand floor. No judgment, no astonishment, no....none of this.

Persephone clenched her fingers in the dress and swallowed back the unsteadiness of her voice when she said, “I’m sorry for leaving you for so long when I told you I would stay nearby. But I am not sorry for enjoying my first night out.”

Demeter’s eyes widened and she let out a chuckle that sounded far from amused. “Oh, well, I’m very glad you enjoyed yourself, Persephone. Especially on such a momentous occasion such as your first night out, as it will also be your last. We’re going home. Now.”

Persephone’s heart plummeted. She told herself she shouldn’t be surprised but she still couldn’t help the grief washing over her and turning her skin cold. Swallowing back another wave of tears, she choked out, “Let me say goodbye first.”

Demeter sighed. “Persephone-” “No! If you’re taking me home, then I get to say goodbye.” Persephone was already turning away. “I won’t be gone a minute. I promise.” And before her mother could remind her how her last promise ended up, Persephone had skittered out of reach.

The haze of light around the fire blurred with stinging tears. Persephone wiped at her face, feeling more childish by the second as she kept her head down and made her way to her friends. They had been polite enough to not watch the confrontation but apparently Aphrodite had been peeking over her shoulder; she saw Persephone coming and ran to meet her. Persephone grasped the goddess’s hand and pulled her the rest of the way to the fire. She didn’t wish to be anywhere near her mother.

“What happened, Honey?” Aphrodite pulled her down onto a cushion and held her with strong arms. Tears leaked from Persephone’s eyes and dampened Aphrodite’s shoulder.

“She’s angry. She scolded me for running around inside and getting my hair wet. Called me childish-”

“Oh! That-” Nike sprung from her seat but Eris grabbed her arm. “Don’t,” Eris whispered. With effort, she persuaded Nike to sit.

Aphrodite pulled Persephone away from her so she could wipe her tears. It was the action of a mother towards a child, but the only reason Persephone felt childish was because of the words thrown at her from Demeter. There was relative silence around the fire but the jovial sounds of the celebration still dominated. It was different now, however. A reminder of what Persephone couldn’t have, what she wasn’t allowed to experience. But why not? Something unfamiliar burned deep within the young goddess’ chest, red and dark and hot.

“And your mother is...letting you stay?” Artemis sounded tentative to ask. Persephone let out a wobbly sigh and sat up straighter.

“No. I’m here to say goodbye, as I promised. I won’t-” she faltered, barely able to think the words let alone vocalize them. “About next year...I won’t…”

Her meaning registered in the minds of the women around her, and Persephone watched as a ripple of despair and disbelief washed over their faces. Athena’s mouth dropped, her hand coming up to clutch her heart. Nike had gone very, very still.

“You mean you aren’t allowed back?” Nike asked tonelessly. Persephone nodded.

“Yes. Mother knows best.” Sarcasm cruelly twisted her words. Nike clenched her jaw so hard she might have broken teeth if she didn’t stop to stay, “That’s bullshit, she can’t just tell you not to come.”

“Nike-” Eris’ hand was shoved away.

“I’m serious. Persephone, you don’t need to do what she tells you just because she’s your mother. You’re your own woman, aren’t you?”

Persephone knew Nike’s anger was not directed at her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her mother engaged in casual conversation with Hephaestus, whom she hadn’t seen all night until now. He must have just arrived. Demeter was still keeping half her attention on her daughter, and Persephone turned around before she could catch her eye.

“It’s more complicated than that,” She told Nike. “I can’t just....disobey her. I have nowhere to go on Earth if she turns me away. It’s not like Olympus down there, and it’s my home.”

“You’ll always have a place with us,” Athena murmured. Her soft smile did wonders for Persephone’s raging emotions. “I mean that, Honey. You’re one of us. Our sister.”

Persephone swallowed thickly and blinked back another onslaught of tears. “I need to say goodbye to our other halves,” she smiled. “Any idea where they might be?”

Eris tittered playfully and knelt besides Persephone to embrace her. “They’re always stealing you from us,” she whined. Persephone hugged her, hard. She said tearful goodbyes to her friends with exchanged embraces and kisses, and made a promise to try her best to see them sometime soon. Nobody knew what would come of that promise. When she was done, Persephone slunk around the back of the fire, slipping out of her mother’s sight when Demeter glanced at Hephaestus for a single second and lost track of her daughter. Aphrodite had kissed Persephone and pointed out Apollo and Hermes, to whom Persephone now ran.

Apollo yelled her name and opened his arms to her once he spotted her, but she hushed him with a fierce look in her eye. He frowned.

“My mother is expecting me and I’m not supposed to be with you. Either of you. I’ve come to say goodbye and to tell you I may not see you again for a long while.”

It was Hermes’ turn to frown. “What do you mean by that? Demeter really can’t expect to keep you on Earth away from us now that you’ve met us all.”

“Or perhaps she does. Fuck,” Apollo swore. “Are you sure there’s no way you can sneak away from her? Even if it’s just for Midsummer next year?” Persephone smiled softly at the golden-haired god. “You’re too kind, Apollo. Perhaps my mother will change her mind by next year, perhaps not. But...it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to sneak out.” She winked mischievously, feeling the effort it took to appear so careless, and both gods laughed. Apollo embraced her and Hermes patted her shoulder. He would be seeing her more often due to his frequent tasks on Earth and wasn’t feeling the same grief the rest of Persephone’s friends were.

“Hermes, you tell me everything that happens whenever you see her,” Apollo demanded. Persephone quieted him when she threw her arms around his neck and held him close. She patted his unruly curls and kissed his temple.

“Thank you for being so kind,” she said sincerely. “It’s been a wonderful night. One I wouldn’t trade for the world.”

Apollo squeezed her and let her go. Even through his drunken state, his eyes shone with sadness. Persephone moved on to find Ares and Dio. She found them by a second bonfire. Dionysus, having slept off his first round of drunkness some hours before and was now steadily working towards it a second time, reacted almost violently to her news. He swore just like Apollo had and told Persephone she could always come stay with him if she ever chose to leave Earth. Persephone was touched. She had known these deities for a single night and every one of them had deemed her worthy their hearts, minds, and now their homes.

With only Helios to find, Persephone was drawing closer to leaving the momentous Midsummer for a very, very long time. She was glad when Ares informed her Helios had gone into the palace. Demeter was still on the lawn with Hephaestus and a glance at her old bonfire told Persephone that the goddesses remained in their clumped formation, giving off the appearance that Persephone was still among them. She smirked. Clever women.

The palace light was warmth incarnate compared to the night’s chilly wind and cruel words it had allowed. The large floor was as sparse as it had been the last time Persephone was inside, but not so much so that she spotted Helios at once. She passed the fountains of wine and the base of the large statue she had started her night perched upon. Unfamiliar deities passed around her but no Helios, no Zeus, no Poseidon. Hades was nowhere to be seen as well. Persephone had passed directly by the stone patio and hadn’t seen Hades there either, despite him being there with his brother not half an hour before. Where was he?

A strange pang shot through Persephone’s chest. She wished for...what? Did she wish to say goodbye to Hades like she had with all the rest of her friends? But that was ridiculous; they hadn’t spoken, hadn’t introduced themselves. Hades might not even know who she was. A small part of Persephone- the part that had grown frighteningly larger since the beginning of the night- urged her to go seek out Hades anyways just for the hell of it. When had she had such interesting interactions with someone before? And when would she see him again?

She pushed the thought aside for the time being when she saw Helios. He was leaning against the thick, gilded banister attached to the grand staircase towards the back of the palace. The staircase was a masterpiece of carved marble and polished metal twisting up to the higher levels. The stairs were wide enough for a crowd of deities to stand shoulder to shoulder upon but they were currently empty.

The couple Helios was speaking to looked up when Persephone came into view. She recognized their faces but didn’t try very hard to recall their names. Helios smiled broadly, teeth gleaming, but noticed something was off right away. The unfamiliar couple said respectful farewells and left him with Persephone. As soon as they moved away, Helios placed his goblet on the stairs and extended a hand. Persephone took it, his hand dwarfing her smaller one. His grip was tight, sturdy.

“She’s taking me home,” She spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Yes.” No surprise.

“And I’m not allowed to return.”

“No.” Softer. Sadder.

“I don’t understand. What have I done that was so terrible that I must be kept a prisoner in my own home? I won’t be allowed to even leave the property, let alone visit my friends!”

“Persephone, child…” Helios shook his head. He ran a free hand over his eyes and turned his gaze down to catch and hold her eyes. “You are a smart young woman. You know the situation you are in. I can’t advise you one way or the other-”

“You could!”

“No. What you do and how you react must be your choice. You are old enough to decide for yourself what you want out of your life. Where you want to go, how you want to live, it’s all up to you. But choose wisely. Some deities are slow to forgiveness. Others don’t forgive at all.”

Persephone was perplexed. His words weren’t making sense and her mother would have noticed her ruse by now. She was going to be furious. Perhaps Persephone had made all this worse by sneaking off again but she hadn’t been able to help herself. She hated this- this stupid situation she was in, her predicament. If only she could just shut her eyes and wake up on the lawn next to a passed out Dionysus and hear the laughter of Apollo and Ares teasing her for nodding off.

But the empty hole in her chest was a relentless reminder that her grief and sorrow were cruelly, brutally real.

“Please, Helios, just tell me what to do! I love my mother but I’ve never been so angry with her before. She treats me like a child and all I want is for her to-”

Helios’ face shifted. Whirling around, Persephone knew what she would see before she saw it. Demeter had left the lawn, having clearly figured out her daughter was no longer outside. To Persephone’s strange amusement, Hephaestus was still besides Demeter, happily chatting away. Demeter was ignoring him as best she could but it was nearly impossible to ignore a god that large. Especially as he mirrored your motions.

Demeter had yet to see Persephone due to her position towards the back of the room but she would soon unless Persephone put her big-girl dress on and made a move before then. Persephone cast her eyes around, searching. Not the staircase. It was too large and too empty for her to dash up without being spotted. Perhaps...no, the hallway in front of her was too close to her mother. She would be spotted. She turned and saw an identical hallway behind her, leading around a corner and deeper into the palace. Perfect.

Persephone squeezed Helios’ hand. “I’ll see you later.” With a troublesome smile, Persephone disappeared from Helios’ side. The room was not bursting to capacity as it had been at the start of the night, meaning Persephone could not simply vanish amongst all the other deities, but she took advantage of her slight stature and made it work. Within a few seconds even Helios had to concentrate to find her. And that was only because he knew where to look.

The sun god chuckled to himself and stooped to regain possession of his wine. A wild thing, that Persephone. How she flourished with such bravery under Demeter’s tight leash, he could only guess. He let her disappear from sight.

Persephone was in the hallway and around the corner before she allowed herself to notice how fast her heart was beating. If she hadn’t been in trouble before, she certainly would be now. The hole she had dug herself was getting rapidly deeper and she figured it would bottom out somewhere, but she would worry about it did so.

Feeling somewhat triumphant from her escapade and confident that she won herself a few more minutes of freedom, Persephone allowed her pace to slow. She was further into the palace and was coming upon the more casual rooms that constituted the everyday living. A library door was cracked open ever so slightly and Persephone resisted the urge to enter. Further down the hall was a large sitting room from which Persephone heard soft voices whispering and moving around. Maids. The sounds of the party were muffled now and seemed detached from the secret realm Persephone had entered. Her footfalls were quiet as she walked. Her bare feet did well to muffle her movements but they soon grew numb with cold from the marble floor. Why so much marble? Isn’t that frightfully expensive?

The hallway opened up to an indoor courtyard and split off in two opposite directions. Persephone halted. She was far enough in that the only sounds she could hear behind her was the occasional hoot of laughter and the loudest part of the musician’s songs. Instead she was surrounded by the eerie calm of the palace. Barren, silent, hidden away. A trickle of water from a nearby fountain was the only interruption of silence.

Well, you’ve gotten yourself this far. What are you going to do now? Persephone had to be honest with herself: she hadn’t a single clue. What was there to do? Perhaps she could stay here awhile before trying to sneak back outside and find her mother. Or maybe it would be wiser to rejoin the goddesses and act as though she had been there all along. Or-

She froze. Voices to the left, and not maids. These were deep, heavy voices that didn’t take as much care to keep themselves from being heard. The one currently speaking was unfamiliar to Persephone. The words were rough, the scraping of gravel, but the tone was light as the god attached to it murmured something to his companion. Persephone couldn’t make out the words. The voice was too deep. But she could tell that both deities were drawing closer so she dashed around the padded settees and a set of fountains to swing around the corner of the hallway closest to her, safely out of sight. She was now opposite to where she had come in and cut off from any desperate escape back to the party. Unless she could find a roundabout way through the palace or perhaps through the upper levels but Persephone doubted she could. Besides, her interest had been sparked.

Busybody, her sensible mind chastised. Persephone smiled crookedly at herself and held her breath as the voices came nearer. Daring a quick peek around the corner, she saw that the courtyard was still empty. Footsteps were now audible, however, so she swung out of sight and scooted further down the hallway.

The first and only voice Persephone had heard, the rough one, was still speaking.

“I’m not entirely sure why you’ve decided to ask for my council on the matter, brother. And, coincidentally, I’m not sure why you’ve dragged me away from the party to tell me this.” Persephone frowned. The once light tone had shifted into boredom. But who did she know with a brother? There weren’t many among them. The answer hit her the moment the second god spoke and confirmed her need for the shock now blooming through her chest.

“Oh, it isn’t as if you were enjoying yourself at the party. And you know why. That damned bitch our brother married has ears everywhere.” Posiedon. Talking about-

“Easy, now. Hera deserves your respect. And frankly, you could march right up to her and tell her exactly what you just told me and she wouldn’t bat an eye. You, brother, are far too dramatic for your own good. There’s still no reason for you to have dragged me here.”

“Oh, fine. Be like that. How very like you to abandon me in my time of need.” Posiedon was balancing on the very thin line of tipsy and drunk, Persephone could tell. Hades heaved a semi-tolerant sigh.

“An affair with a handmaiden is not a time of need, Posiedon.”

“Not to you-”

“No. And to anyone else, for that matter.”

“It will be once Hera tells my damned wife!”

Persephone could almost fell Hades shrugging. “You would prevent all this trouble for yourself if you didn’t fuck other goddesses, Posiedon.”

Posiedon was growing exasperated from his elder brother’s lack of assistance. It was still unclear to Persephone what, exactly, Posiedon had expected Hades to do, but she still had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. After a quiet few moments where Persephone imagined Posiedon glaring hazily at his brother, Hades finally said, “Is that all?”

Poseidon scoffed and muttered, “Is that all?” in a mocking tone. Hades’ laughter rumbled low across the courtyard and nearly sent Persephone to her knees. Heat blossomed across her cheeks.

Laughter was not the response Poseidon had been looking for. The watery god sent an exasperated sound into the air before turning and walking noisily away, deciding reluctantly that the conversation had reached its full potential. He briefly came into Persephone’s view as he turned down the hallway she had came from on his way to returning to the party. She waited for Hades to follow, but he remained.

Persephone was still stuck. Without Hades leaving, there was no way she herself could return to the party and thus, her mother. It wasn’t as though she was in a rush to come face to face with Demeter after the stunt she just pulled but Persephone was now aware of the predicament she was in. With Hades, of all deities. She was rolling around the idea of exploring the hallways behind her when Hades spoke again, his voice projecting across the courtyard to slam into her chest.

“Clever enough to hide from Poseidon but not from Demeter?”

Pure shock paralyzed Persephone and it took her mind a few slow seconds to grapple with the idea that Hades was speaking to her. Oh, no. Heat washed over her entire body. She had nothing to say. She was caught, embarrassed, and with no idea as to what would come of this. When moments lapsed into silence, Hades said, “Don’t pretend you aren’t there. It’s rather dull having a conversation with one’s self.”

He didn’t seem angry, but Persephone was still wary. Her heart was pounding painfully against her ribcage and her fingers were quivering with either nerves or anticipation, she didn’t know. Wrestling up the last of her courage and perhaps some that wasn’t even there, she stepped out from around the corner and into view of the God of the Underworld. As soon as she saw him, she was struck with how foolish she had been. What was she doing?

She hadn’t been this close to him before. Hades was leaning against a marble pillar only a few strides to Persephone’s right. His head was tipped back to rest against the structure and his eyes were half-lidded. He looked tired but not in a sickly way. Just...weary after seven hours of a ceaseless party, flowing wine, and perhaps too many deities he hadn’t wanted to converse with. Nonetheless, his striking appearance hadn’t yielded. The opposite, in fact. From this close, Persephone could see the individual hairs curling over Hades’ forehead and down to his ears. She could see the faint rim of his pupils against the darkness of his eyes as well as the sharp contrast of his cheekbones and jaw in the soft, warm light.

Persephone kept a hand on the wall and managed to meet his eye with an air of confidence. The corner of Hades’ mouth turned up in a sinful smirk.

“There you are. I was starting to think I would have to come get you.”

What did that mean? Persephone blinked, currently unable to form coherent words once faced with the sight that was Hades. His voice was somehow different now directed at her; softer yet rougher. Straddling the line between dismissal and playfulness.

She managed, “I’m Persephone,” simply because she had nothing else to say. The smirk grew into a grin.

“Yes, so I’ve been told. Pleasure to meet you, Persephone.”

What did he mean ‘been told’? Who had he been asking about her?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hades. I...I apologize for eavesdropping, it wasn’t really my intention.”

“Don’t sound so nervous, I won’t bite your head off. You’re only down here, I imagine, because you’re avoiding the charming Demeter.” Sarcasm twisted his last sentence. Persephone scoffed with amusement and yielded a slow nod.

“But I don’t think I’ve helped myself by running away again.” She didn’t know why she was telling him this other than the fact that he wasn’t leaving or telling her off. Hades flicked a groomed brow skywards.

“Probably not. She’s always been fierce about her own.”

Persephone did not want to continue this line of conversation. The last thing she wanted her first conversation with Hades to be about was her mother and her protective instincts.

“I won’t tell anyone about...Posiedon.” She was hesitant to use the exact words that Hades had to describe his brother’s affair a few moments before.

“Oh, it wouldn’t matter if you did, flower. Amphitrite is having her own affair with Kratos.”

Persephone’s mouth parted in surprise. Oh. Hot on the tail of the gossip Hades had shared was the realization that he had just called her ‘flower’. She willed herself not to blush. She also wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue this line of conversation, either. It seemed dangerous. So, only partly thinking about what came out, Persephone opened her mouth and said, “Is it true you have a hound?”

Hades looked both shocked and amused. His other brow rose to meet the first. Then a sly smile gradually appeared. “Yes,” he said slowly. “That’s true.”

“And it-he...has…”

“Three heads?” A chuckle. “Yes. That’s also true.”

“Oh.” She swallowed and added, “Does he have a name?” She felt silly asking that until Hades said, “As a matter of fact, he does. I call him Cerberus. He makes my work much easier and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

Persephone smiled despite her pounding heart. “My mother tells me he guards the gates of the Underworld to prevent souls from leaving.”

“Oh, so she’s telling stories about me, is that it?”

Persephone tilted her chin up. “About your dog, not you.”

“Fair enough. And why was dear Demeter telling you stories about my hound?”

“Oh, just to tell me to never attempt to enter the Underworld.”

Hades gave Persephone a strange look. “Why would she have to tell you not to do a thing like that?”

Persephone paused, her false bravado melting away. The real answer was frightfully embarrassing but she had a feeling she would end up telling him anyways. Hades’ look had turned speculative. Like he was reading her mind.

“You heard stories about Cerberus, yes?” It was commonplace enough. Hades knew his hound was well known. Persephone nodded and hoped he would leave it at that. But when Hades rolled his eyes, smiled to himself, and settled back against the pillar, she knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone. “Hermes told you Cerberus was friendly, didn’t he?”

It was so spot on that Persephone blurted, “Did Hermes tell you that?” The messenger god had been chased away by Demeter but the notion had stuck in Persephone’s mind for a long while. Hades tilted his head back and laughed softly.

“No, he did not.”

“Then how-”

“There was a young boy some years ago that was in a similar circumstance.” Hades shrugged, a graceful motion. “He wandered too far where he shouldn’t have and found himself in my domain.”

“What happened?”

Hades smiled. “He got what he wanted, at least. It just wasn’t what he had expected.” His eyes shone with a wet, feral light. Surely the boy….

“You let him out, didn’t you? Of the Underworld?” Persephone asked haltingly.

“Of course I did. He didn’t belong down there. Not yet, at least. I figure I’ll see him again in a few decades.” Hades downed the rest of his wine with a neat flick of his wrist. “Now, something tells me Demeter is brewing chaos trying to find you.”

Persephone’s eye roll was a product of many years’ worth of practice. When Hades laughed again she realized with a jolt that she was beginning to enjoy the sound. But before she could start processing how much trouble that would get her into, both literally and figuratively, Hades said, “She’s her own creature, that one. It’ll be less trouble if you go sooner rather than later.”

“Well, yes, but I’m not sure I can get into any more trouble than I already am.”

“Oh? Mother didn’t like a wet dress?” His voice was stone against stone.

Persephone glared at him, hoping it would distract him from the fact that she was blushing. How had he known her dress was wet?

“Not really, if you must know. Nor was she thrilled about me running around the palace like a child.” Now she was just complaining, but it felt necessary. Persephone was tired and simply dreading to reunite with her mother. Her life had been starting to make her feel like she wasn’t able to breath, but the deities she had met tonight-now including Hades- had been like a punch to the chest that had caused her to gasp and come alive.

Hades hummed thoughtfully and pushed off the wall to take a few steps closer to Persephone. Now closer, Persephone felt very small indeed. He was tall, almost taller than Helios but with less...gaud. Helios was all bright jewellery and booming voice and intricately braided hair while Hades was sharp, refined edges and the mystery of the ink disappearing underneath his collar and sleeves. Maybe Persephone would ask Hermes about them and see if he knew what they meant. Or maybe not. Hermes had a big mouth.

“Cerberus is friendly,” Hades told Persephone, surprising her. He turned and strode across the courtyard, following the path Posiedon took to return to the party. Over his shoulder, he called, “Feel free to give him some company if you so desire.” Then Hades had disappeared down the hallway and Persephone was left with nothing but her roaring, confused, slightly giddy thoughts.

She looked around the empty courtyard as if asking invisible people ‘what the hell was that all about?’ The only answer was a distant, roaring laugh that Persephone easily placed as Dionysus.

“Oh, shut up, Dio,” she muttered as though he had been laughing at her strife. When the laugh came again a few seconds later, Persephone found her mouth twitching into a smile. She turned on her heel and marched towards the party and the thunderstorm she had caused her mother to become.

#malogranatum #persephone #hades #hades and persephone #Greek Mythology #greek gods #greek goddesses #hades x persephone

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otakween · 5 years ago

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Cyborg 009 BGOOParts Delete (2020) - Volume 1

Whelp. Apparently I picked a good time to get into Cyborg 009 because just as I finished everything, a new serialization started! I don’t know wtf a “BGOO” part is but I guess I’ll find out? Anyways, it’s always cool to be early to a party since I’m always late.

Ch. 1

-Off the top, the art of this manga is GREAT! It somehow manages to look modern while maintaining that 60s style. Not a copy of Ishinomori’s style but kind of like a hybrid of that and Okazaki’s.

-So far, I think the story feels a little too familiar. We’re retreading the same old themes of mysterious ancient civilizations and the Mythos cyborgs. It’s been done and I’m kind of tired of it.

-The centaur Joe fights is obviously a cyborg. Is he supposed to be a Mythos cyborg? The centaur in the original manga just looked like a normal dude but this guy almost looks like an orc or something. Interested to see the designs of the other villains...

Ch. 2

-I’m sorry but “Ricardo Brown” kinda sounds like a name made up by someone who’s not familiar with western names. Like I think it’s supposed to sound intimidating but it doesn’t...Also the dude doesn’t look like a Ricardo

-Dr. Uranus was supposed to be black this whole time!?! Ishinomori basically drew him like a poodle so I couldn’t tell. I guess we’re following his grand daughter in this so that’s kinda cool. Don’t know a lot of French African-Japanese characters...

-Okay so “BGOO Parts” is like “Black Ghost” something something parts. I think the “OO” part is leftover? The cyborgs need to “delete” Black Ghost’s remnants?

-Oh snap! Jet’s beak is missing! It’s kinda weird to draw him with his huge hair but a small nose. It’s like the balance is off or something

-The fact that Jet has to hug people he carries...that’s how ships start lol

-I never thought of this before but it’s pretty funny how Pyunma has the same outfit as everyone else and he’s just expected to swim in that. It doesn’t really seem like it would be good for swimming. I’m just picturing him coming up on land all water logged

-So I Googled it and apparently “Apollon” is more accurate to Greek mythology than “Apollo.” The more you know~

Ch. 3 - Ch. 4

-I don’t really get a sense of what the cyborgs were doing before the story started. Were they in peace time for awhile or is this just an average day?

-Rico’s really cute. Dark-skinned anime girls are always nice to see in general

-I wonder if Joe has any sort of complex about being half Japanese? I know there’s some prejudice towards “half” people in Japan. (Maybe not so much anymore?) Americans are always so obsessed with what percentage of what they are so it’s hard to relate to that mindset

-I can’t remember if we’ve ever seen Ivan teleport a human before. Kinda surprising he would be able to do that since Joe can’t use his powers while touching a human...

Ch. 5

-Okay, I had no idea Jean was supposed to be Francoise’s brother. I did notice Francoise’s picture in his house so...probably should have caught on lol

Ch. 6 & 7

-Seeing a super old version of Dr. Gilmore was a little sad. I don’t really get why he’s gone? The Japanese was too difficult for me so I’m not sure if this is the future, an alternate universe or what...

-So in Call of Justice we were on Dolphin 3 and now we have Super Dolphin. I wonder how many Dolphins there’s been so far? I liked how Gilmore gave a little speech about how this version uses all of the cyborgs powers. Gave it more character

-So this just ends on cliffhanger (well it’s volume one so, obviously). I was kinda disappointed that this was mainly a build up book and we didn’t really see a lot of action. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but I have no idea when vol. 2 is supposed to come out so now I have to wait :/ ah well...I’d call this a strong start. A little generic plot-wise but the art style is awesome.

#cyborg 009 2020 #cyborg 009 #bgoo parts delete #manga

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onhirel · 6 years ago

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To Defeat a Gorgon

The peasant nervously paced at side of the tall woman who was fixing the blindfold around her eyes, knotting the off-white rag behind her vibrant red hair that was done up in a warrior’s braids. When the peasant spoke, concern was clear in his voice. “Are you sure you wish to do this, noble one? So many heroes and warriors have gone up that hill, never to return.”

“It’s not a matter of wishing to do it, Aetius. It is a thing that must be done,” she simply replied, and he looked over her statuesque form, the concern he felt for her only deepening, armed and armored as a Hoplite as she was, with long spear in hand and kopis sheathed at her hip, and heavy bronze greaves and vambraces, with a stylized breastplate covering her chest. A broad, round shield completed her armor, and it bore her symbol, a broad starburst centered on its face.

“No helmet, noble one?” he couldn’t help but ask as he wrung his hands, nervous sweat running down his back, even though the day was mild.

“I think not, at least this time. I will need to hear...it is said that the creature is an accomplished archer. If I can not hear the arrows coming, then I will fail.”

But so many others have failed before, he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. He was, after all, and she was Chariot du Nord, a hero hailing from Celtia, far to the west and north, but already of great renown, and not just for her martial ability. It was even said that the blood of the god Apollo ran through her veins, for it was her singing of songs and telling of tales that she was most known for, drawing both high born and low born everywhere she traveled. It was a lucky man who got to see her perform...who other than the god of song and poems could be the ancestor of the hero who stood before him? The hero who now stood ready to face mortal peril, to go fight the Gorgon now residing in the hills.

Sighing heavily. “May you go with the grace of the gods, then.”

“An odd thing to say, Aetius...if it weren’t for the gods, she wouldn’t be a Gorgon.” With no other words and apparently no concern with the fact that she had just insulted the gods, she turned and started heading confidently up the hill, spear resting on her shoulder, the butt of it well ahead of her stride, sweeping and tapping across the path.

For Chariot, she truly did not want to be doing this, but Aetius had been right. Too many heroes and warriors had perished on the hill. Something had to be done. And so she made her way up into the perilous hills, fabric of her heavy skirt whispering against the skin of her thighs, breeze lifting the sweat away from her skin, her breath coming deep and easy as she traveled further and higher, the haft of her spear acting as her eyes, guiding her way. Birds sang merrily, and her ears caught the sound of wildiife in the woods and meadows off the worn road, most of them ignoring her as her spear tapped-tapped-tapped against the ground. But then...the sound of wildlife ceased, and birdsong diminished, and then vanished altogether, and her mouth formed a grim line. She was drawing near.

Crack went the shaft of her spear against something in the path, and she knew what it was, given what was was going to confront. She reversed her spear, stabbed its long blade in the ground, and took two steps forward, hand raised, only to touch stone. What could have been a wondrously made statue, her hand told her, if not for the expression of anguished terror her fingers ghosted over. The man had had enough time to realize what was happening before the curse claimed him. She said a small prayer for this warrior with no name, who would now stand silent vigil on this mountain path, a still warning for all passersby for what horror used to haunt these slopes.

Two careful steps back, hand finding the haft of her spear, retrieving the weapon, and she once more continued her way, more carefully now, each step deliberate and searching, making sure to pass as quietly as possible, sharp ears alert for any incoming arrow, any possible attack.

She would find many times many more statues on the way, most of them armed and armored as warriors, but also some peasants. Once a whole herd of sheep and their shepherd that took her some time to navigate past, for they blocked the road where it was narrow and steep. But she managed, and on she went.

Soon the air grew bitter and cold, the wind whistling from the high peaks ahead, a barely discernible moaning note that many others wouldn’t notice, but that she knew was from the wind cutting across the mouth of a cave. She had arrived.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and still her pounding heart. She squatted in the road, butt of the spear planted firmly against the ground, its shaft resting against her shoulder as she took some of the dirt from the road and rubbed her hands with it. Underneath the blindfold her eyes squeezed shut, and she took one more deep breath, steeling herself further. It was time.

Crossing into the cave immersed her into a bone deep chill, the warmth of the afternoon sun winking out, and she shivered slightly as she ventured deeper into the cavern. Her foot nudged a loose rock, and it clattered away, rolling down the decline, echoing loudly and strangely, and she tilted her head, biting her lip nervously as she tried to focus beyond the sounds of the rock still tumbling down.

There. A slight hissing, slithering rasp of scales against rock coming from deeper within, and she braced her feet. The Gorgon would see that she was blindfolded and know that the curse would not work on her, would see her spear and know that Chariot would have to draw close to injure her. The Gorgon would thus attack from a distance, with her-

A creak of bow limb, a distant thrum that was almost musical, and Chariot was crouching fluidly, bringing her shield up in enough time to catch the arrow fired at her on its broad face with a reverberating bang. “Hold!” she cried out. “I have come to speak first, and only fight if words fail us!”

There was a pause from further within the cave. “You come garbed for war and state you come to speak? How much the fool do you think I am?!”

Chariot shrugged her shield so that the other could see it. “The villagers expect to see a mighty hero go up to fight, not someone unarmed and unarmored. And without my shield, your arrow would have wounded or slain me. These are the truths laid before you. I would rather speak than fight.”

“And what fool would try to speak with a monster, with a Gorgon?!” the words were spat, a deeper hiss showing the anguish beneath their heat.

“I did not come to speak to the Gorgon. I came to speak with Croix Meridies, the craftswoman of Hephaestus, who drew the anger of the gods when she made a mechanical puzzle that not even wise Athena could solve.”

A shocked silence, then an odd sound, one that Chariot could not place...a sound of stretching and merging, the likes of which she had never heard before, and she had heard a great many things on her travels, things that many others had not. Then, to her immense surprise, she heard footsteps, slow and tentative and not having any of the bitter anger that the earlier sounds had had, and she warily stood, making sure the head of her spear was down and well away from the approaching person. “That...is a name I never expected to hear again.” The voice was soft, troubled, and Chariot frowned as she realized that she didn’t hear the hissing that had been so prevalent before. And there hadn’t been footsteps before. Had she changed somehow? “What words would you have with Croix Meridies?”

“Words of peace. I have come to remove the threat of the Gorgon, not kill the Gorgon. If we can come to an arrangement that you might find agreeable...”

This time the silence was thoughtful. Then, “...you speak boldly. If you came up from the village, then you surely must have seen the results of my curse. Have you no fear of it?” The voice was close now, almost close enough to touch, and if she struck now with the spear, she might be able to slay the Gorgon...but she had no desire to strike in her heart, and so her stance remained relaxed, at ease. Her ears told her Croix’s bow was not drawn, and she’d be able to react if the bow was drawn or if Croix charged with a melee weapon.

“See? No...I did not see them, but I did encounter them. And I have no fear of the curse you bear.” She tilted her head. “They said that your form is that of a great snake merged with a woman, and that your hair is made of serpents. How is it that I do not hear them?”

“My form can change, if I so will it and concentrate very hard. I appear as I was when I was a human. But the one thing that can never be removed is the curse. You did not answer my question. Do you not fear it?”

Chariot grinned. “No. And never will I fear it, for it will have no effect on me.”

Croix laughed, dark and low. “I have heard other brave fools make that same boast before, though generally before they try to kill me. One idiot even tried to bring a mirrored shield. I enjoyed killing that one.”

“But there is one thing that they did not have...they weren’t me.”

This laugh was almost delighted. “You are bold. Tell you what. If my curse does not effect you, as you boast it won’t, then I will go along with any ploy that you have to remove me from these hills.” A step, drawing closer, followed by another, and Chariot could almost feel the warmth from the other’s body in the cold air of the cave. “So tell me, hero, are you brave enough to test yourself against this terrible curse?”

Chariot stood tall. “If it means helping Croix Meridies, the craftswoman cursed by the gods, then always.”

The warmth of a hand mere inches from her face. “You will be the one that I will truly regret killing...”

Then fingers tugged at the blindfold, pulling it away from her face...but for Chariot, the impenetrable darkness did not change, even though she heard torches sputtering in the distance, and the mouth of the cave was close enough that sunlight spilling through should light this area. No, she saw nothing, just as she had seen nothing since she angered Hermes by not going along with one of his tricks. The gods, after all, were petty. And so, with her unseeing eyes, Croix’s curse had no effect on her.

The silence, however, seemed angry. “You tricked me.”

Chariot shook her head. “I did not. The blindfold is to hide my scarred eyes from the world, to hide my shame away. And it is the blindfold that will take you off this mountain.”

“So you expect me to be blind, like you?” The words were spat, and the echo of hissing seemed for a moment to sound, a threat of the form the Croix could return to.

“Only when there are others that may be stricken by the curse in your eyes. Croix...I have a home, secluded and away from others, with a small vinyard, an orchard, a workshop. Your hands can find good work again, work that might aid man once more. There is no need for you to stay on this hill, surrounded by silent death. Please, come with me!”

“You seem rather adamant about this. Why?”

“Because I, too, have been slighted by the gods. They took my sight so that I might not see the beauty in the world to tell tales of, but I refused to let that stop me. They may have cursed your eyes, but they did not take your hands. I offer you companionship, an end to the loneliness, a life worth living where no more heroes test themselves against your might.” She stretched out a hand. “What say you?”

There was a long moment of hesitation, and for a moment Chariot was afraid her offer would be refused, but then a hand clasped hers, and she smiled.

xxxXXXxxx

Aetius was still waiting by the road and would wait there until nightfall, as he had for all the other heroes and warriors that had gone up that hill. But then, the scuffle of feet on the path, and two figures emerged around the corner. Chariot, standing tall and proud, shield now slung across her back and her spear in front of her like a walking staff, tap-tap-tapping as she confidently strode along. At her side, however, was another woman, with pale skin and grey hair, Chariot’s blindfold across her eyes, and her gait was not so confident, stumbling and hesitant, her hands clutching Chariot’s arm for support. Aetius hadn’t expected to see Chariot ever again, and so it took him a moment to finally speak. “Noble one, it is good to see you again!” he called, and the other woman froze, her frame stiffening as her covered eyes turned towards him. “And with another...who is this?” he asked, confused. None of the local families spoke of a missing daughter matching the woman’s description.

“A disciple of Hephaestus, wrongfully imprisoned with the Gorgon, where she was to remain until the curse of the Gorgon was defeated,” Chariot answered smoothly, and he frowned slightly. Something about how she worded that...

“Her eyes?” he asked, more curious than suspicious, the suspicion did nip at him.

“How else could she have survived the Gorgon’s curse, then if she could not see the Gorgon’s eyes? Her curse wasn’t to die at the Gorgon’s hand, after all.”

Ah. This made sense. If she was blinded like Chariot was and still not used to it, it was only natural that she cover her eyes. It was just her luck that a hero such as Chariot was the one to rescue her. Chariot would be a good guide to her. “And the Gorgon is dead?”

“The Gorgon will never bother you again, this I so swear. The way through those hills is now clear, though you’ve much labor ahead of you. The remains of all those lost still need final rites now that the threat is gone.”

“Yes, of course. Will you be staying this evening? I’m sure there will be a feast.”

Chariot did not answer for a moment, instead lifting her head towards the sky, turning it until it was directly facing the sun, and she hummed thoughtfully. “No, I am eager to return home, and can make many miles ‘ere the sun sets. You have my traveling bag with provisions?”

“Yes, noble one, as you requested.” A gentle smile from her at his words, and she strode towards his voice, holding out her hand, and he passed her the bag with some hearty bread, cheese, salted meat, olives, and other food suited for the road. “I wish you safe travels, then,” he said.

Her grin grew wider, and she rested her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Much thanks to you, Aetius, for your aid and guidance. May your fortune always be good.”

The last he saw of them was the two of them making their way down the main road, stepping more freely now that the way was smooth and maintained, and he hummed with satisfaction as he turned back towards the village. He had his own duties to see to.

Soon there would appear clever little machines and finely crafted tools, said to be blessed by Hephaestus himself, and they would be widely sought after. Chariot would still appear from time to time, mostly to sing song and tell tale of epic deeds, but occasionally also to fight a dire foe that threatened the land. But far more important than those clever trinkets and the tales sung was the happiness that Chariot and Croix would find in each other’s arms for many years to come.

#chariot du nord #croix meridies #charoixweek2019 #fantasy #Little Witch Academia #charoix #sorry it's a little late

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jflashandclash · 6 years ago

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Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Forty-Two: Calex

A Boycott on Falling

All of them acted at once. Euna wrapped a vine around the avatar’s shoulder like something out of Tarzan. She swung down, taking Phobetor off guard and kicking him in the face. Quite an alright sight, if you where to ask Calex.

Calex jumped off the avatar’s shoulder, holding his breath to see if Thalia followed through on her side of the bargain. It would be right rubbish if he made it through Tartarus and all this madness only to flatten into a Shrove Tuesday pancake.[1]

Sure enough, as he dove towards the ground, he could see the huntress of Artemis lunging off the other shoulder. She had both her hands outstretched and—

And her eyes were tightly shut.

“GRACE!” Calex shouted at her.

As he said it, a blast of air exploded out of her hands. The gust hit the mashed strawberry field and flooded up toward him. His descent slowed so, by the time he blundered to the mud, he could do a break fall without shattering his body.

Not exactly graceful, but not dead either.

Without losing momentum, Calex rolled into a sprint. He fumbled to withdraw his pencil pouch so he could assemble Soul Pain.

“Did you just do that with your bloody eyes closed?!” Calex couldn’t believe he was using that tone with the Lieutenant of Artemis, but recent events left him a bit more willingness to defend his right to survive long enough to snog Merry.

“No! Shut up!” Thalia snarled. Her face was paler than he’d seen in their entire trip through two underworlds. “Giant snake. Destruction of camp. Focus!”

This was almost as angry as he felt when Euna explained her plan to capture Kaos while they were ascending out of Tartarus—the trial their group called The Eternity of Tortuous Stairs: The Nightmare of a Couch Potato. Then, Euna explained that she had intentionally made shorter vines to snap when he and she were falling towards oblivion, to decrease the burden of deceleration towards Kaos’ pit, and conveniently forgot to tell Calex that they were supposed to snap, leading Calex to believe they were in an uncontrolled fumble towards death.

Now, while Calex dug his trainers into the mud, he grumbled, “Being a demigod: taking life one unnecessary heart attack at a time.”

Calex didn’t dare look back to see how cat-avatar-Axel and Reyna faired. [2]They had other worries.

They raced toward the cabins, where the world darkened without the proximity of the Roman field lights. Now that they were beyond the horrified mass of ghosts, he could better see how massive a problem they had there. Despite the darkness, it would be hard to miss the destruction.

When Calex had seen Python inside of Howe Caverns, he froze up. All he could do was drag his friends to safety when they got knocked out. Then he hadn’t even seen the entirety of Python. However, after saying a quick, “How do you do?” to Kaos, the sight of Python in her whole was much easier to swallow.

The drakon’s body was enormous, her diamond shaped head at least twenty feet off the ground. Her serpentine form balanced atop the totaled Apollo cabin, wrapped several times around the central hearth to consume the flames, then crossed the cabins to rest atop of a pile of silver rubble. With the flick of its tail, it smashed through the walls of the Athena and Demeter cabins.

One of its eyes was swollen shut. The other—

Calex averted his gaze, remembering something Joey and Pax had discussed right before Joey had stabbed the drakon’s eye like the crazy hero she had been. “Don’t look it in the eye. It’ll—”

“—paralyze you. Duh,” Thalia said, giving Calex an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.

“We can’t let it destroy the rest of Hera’s cabin,” he said. Though he couldn’t see much of the half-wrecked structure, he hoped Joey’s statue was safely standing. If there was any hope of changing her back, he assumed the statue would have to look like a proper Greek statue instead of a post modern one.

“Hera’s cabin isn’t really high on my to-do list right now,” Thalia snapped.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s just crush the snake fast.”

At Python’s tail, he could see several small forms darting around. Miranda Gardener and another one of Euna’s sisters were trying to unsuccessfully restrain the tail with a few vines.

By the head, they could see a group of Greeks armed with scattered weapons and PJs, all ducked behind a gigantic metal shield where the Hephaestus Cabin once stood.

The drakon snapped its jaws at the shield, hissing in frustration. Whatever the material was, it was strong enough to hold up against a direct bite, and it was large enough that Python couldn’t get his jaws around it. The drakon either was too thick to think of going around the side of the shield, or the shield was enchanted to confuse it.

Dead ahead, the sickening greenish glow of the Cloven Terror’s eye sockets bobbed as Alabaster’s figure approached Python, far closer than Calex and Thalia.

“Mad bloke is going to get himself killed,” Calex muttered after his quick glimpse of the helm. Although he knew how powerful the child of Hecate was after seeing the fight with Phobetor, this fight seemed a bit different in magnitude.

As Calex finished assembling his bow, Thalia handed him one of her Artemis arrows. They closed in and Calex saw more movement that made his stomach drop.

It was from the rickety, old cabin at the edge of the original twelve.

If Calex counted right, there weren’t many of the original cabins left standing on this side. Poseidon’s was still fine, but Ares’ bunker and Apollo’s cabin were in shambles. Next was the shield left in Hephaestus’ place. Last was the Hermes cabin.

And five figures were sprinting out of it towards the shelter of the Hephaestus shield.

Calex almost choked.

Camp Half-Blood’s three youngest campers, Harley, an energetic child of Hephaestus, the daughter of the sea storm goddess, and two tiny Hermes campers were scurrying behind a slightly taller figure. Drew Tanaka ushered them along in proper Auntie Drew fashion.

“Oh my gods! I know you little thieves and brats can move faster than that!”

Calex could barely hear her. But, Python definitely had.

Calex understood the gamble. If Python was making her way down the cabins, the Hermes cabin was next in line for destruction, and they’d put their youngest in there during all the insanity earlier. But could they make the run to the safety of the Hephaestus before—

Python’s tongue flicked out towards the children and a horrific laugh filled the air. She reared her head back to strike.

Those children would be helpless.

“You don’t want to smash us! We’d be icky to get off your scales or pick out of your teeth! We don’t taste good!” Drew shouted. “Harvey farts A LOT.”

For a disorienting moment, Calex full-heartedly agreed that the running campers were quite nasty and would be difficult to pick out of scales if Calex had scales.

Python also hesitated.

Calex shook off the charmspeak enough to aim an arrow and fire.

Thalia followed half a second later.

Their arrows clinked against Python’s forehead scales and ricocheted off. Python barely seemed to notice.

It dove at the four children and daughter of Aphrodite.

Calex frantically snatched another arrow from Thalia’s quiver, unsure what good it would do. He’d forgotten those scales would be so thick.

Regardless, he and Thalia took aim.

The children screamed.

Something hissed and gleamed through the air, intercepting Python before she could snap her jaws around the campers.

It thunked into the drakon’s good eye.

Python shrieked and recoiled.

The ground rumbled as the drakon withered.

The children and Drew raced into the shelter of the shield.

“Nice throw, Kal—” Calex began to reflexively shout, until something glowed green by the drakon’s head and reversed spin towards the Cloven Terror. The monster—the Alabaster kind of monster, not the serpentine one—caught the discus as it went past, spinning with the weapon’s trajectory to decelerate it.

Horror sank Calex’s stomach to think what could have happened to Kally for Alabaster to have her weapon.

When Python made another horrific hiss, Calex could see its other eye was now tightly closed.

“We should get to that shelter. We’re sitting ducks out here if its hide is too thick to pierce with these arrows. Let’s see how we can back them up there,” Thalia said.

“Right!” Calex agreed.

They continued to race towards the shelter.

Calex’s mind raced alongside with ideas.

When they fought Python last time, Kally had used some kind of solar explosion to ward Python off, and the drakon might have only let them go to fulfill the first part of Eris’ plan. From what he remembered of Annabeth’s monster fighting courses, it took Apollo’s full quiver of arrows to slay Python.

Currently, the sun was down, Will—one of the most powerful children of Apollo—was probably still dead and nearby Nico’s semi-solid body, Phobetor had killed Kayla, Calex hated to know if there were any Apollo children inside the cabin when it got smashed, and he hadn’t seen Kally since they got here—what? 10-45 seconds ago?

Had Python been methodically destroying the few campers that could put up a proper resistance?

For the moment, Python appeared to have forgotten the Hephaestus shield. Its tongue flicked towards the Cloven Terror. “I smell no demigod here! You have the scent of a monster and not that of the foolish Cyclops welp—”

A burst of hope spread through Calex’s chest. Cyclops welp? Was Tyson still here somewhere?

Whatever reason Alabaster had to keep throwing himself into the front of battles, Calex was cheered they could at least use his stupidity as a cover. He and Thalia were close enough to the shield to see several campers frantically motioning them closer.

“—why do you help defend this camp?” Python demanded of the Cloven Terror.

Before Calex dove behind the three-feet-thick metal shield, he caught a glimpse of Alabaster doing something he’d never seen Alabaster do: hesitate.

Somehow, the Cloven Terror looked smaller than usual, though maybe that was due to his proximity to the drakon. Now that Calex had slowed his pace, he saw something else odd. The flare of the green torches along Hecate’s cabin gleamed off something spilling down the Cloven Terror’s back: rosy-gold hair.

Calex’s stomach knotted to ice.

That wasn’t Alabaster.

He skidded behind the metal shield, having too much forward momentum to stop.

Thalia rolled in half-a-second behind him. Already, the word, “Update,” was out of her mouth.

Calex might have tripped and fallen over had a giant Hispanic not steadied him. He looked into the dark, scared eyes of Chris Rodriguez, a son of Hermes and friend of Pax’s. Clarisse La Rue lay at his feet, clutching her leg—one bent at an odd angle. For a moment, hope flooded Calex at seeing Austin, a child of Apollo, laying beside Clarisse, but the boy was out cold, the lower half of his body mangled like a building had dropped on it. Calex frowned; it probably had.

Jake Mason, a child of Hephaestus, was putting aerospace-looking blankets around the shoulders of the four children and Drew. Nyssa and Matthias, two other children of Hephaestus, were stationed at either end of the shield wall. At the center, there was a giant wheel crank—to move the shield wall back and forth, Calex assumed, judging off the massive rollers on the bottom and the circular track on the ground. There was a ladder up the center to a small slit in the shield, where a gigantic stun-gun-thing was positioned.

Tyson and a child of Ares, whose name Calex couldn’t remember, were positioned by the crank, ready to turn it.

“Do we change positions now?” Tyson asked.

“No! He’s talking to the Witchboy. Hold up!” Matthias called.

Calex didn’t realize the shield itself had been pivoting. That would explain why Python struggled to turn the lot of them into afternoon biscuits—well—nighttime biscuits? After being underground for what felt like days and exiting into a starless, moonless black sky, Calex could guess the time about as well as he could guess the Queen’s favorite pair of socks.[3]

“We have to do something! That’s Kally!” Calex said, scrambling for a plan.

“Were you going to just let him die if it was Alabaster?” Chris asked, looking pale.

Calex was alarmed by his own, unhesitant response. “Yep.”

Matthias nervously tapped his fingers together. “Imagine Pax’s whining though.”

“Matt! Eyes outside!” Nyssa scolded.

“Yea, shut up,” Thalia said, “Whoever is outside will need our help and we need to know what’s going on.”

Clarisse growled in agreement. “We’re not sure. I think Clovis is keeping us awake. Phobetor can’t seem to keep all of the campers asleep and puppet people as sleep walkers at the same time.”

“Clovis is napping now. I heard he’s more powerful when he’s sleeping,” Harvey, the eight-year-old, said quickly, “So he can better take on that nightmare meanie.”

“Pipsqueak might be right,” Clarisse said, “Last we heard, the Stoll brothers, Will, Nico, Chiron, Sherman, and Pollux were in the Big House’s infirmary by Clovis. We’re not sure where everyone else is. No one was prepared for the sun to go down early.” Her voice quivered with fury. “Stupid, overgrown snake—”

“The sun only went down a few minutes before you showed up on… um—” Chris hesitated.

“A glowing, giant Axel,” Thalia said.

Chris looked even paler. “That’s terrifying.”

After helping to shove Harvey tighter into his blanket, Drew stumbled over to Calex. He prepared—unwittingly—for her to hit on him despite the circumstances, so was surprised when she clutched his shoulder. Tears rimmed her eyes. “It ate Mitchell.”

Calex’s mouth went dry. Mitchell was one of his cabin mates, a surprisingly shy son of Aphrodite with a good heart.

No words surfaced to comfort his crying aunt. His mind threatened to wander to the bodies lined up under tarps in Kakata. He squeezed Drew’s hand, swallowed, then walked alongside Matthias again to peak out and see if Kally was already eaten or if they could grant her any tactical advantage.

The Cloven Terror was still at a standoff maybe ten meters from Python. The snake’s size seemed impossible next to Kally. Somehow, Python seemed even larger since Calex knew it was her and not Alabaster out there. In the distance by the Roman barracks, a glowing avatar slashed through the ranks of ghosts. Calex didn’t see Phobetor or Euna and only noticed a blur when he tried to focus on the two giants battling outside the boarder.

“Have you no words?” Python demanded.

Kally took a step back, one Calex recognized as a first step to winding up her discus. “I am a child of light,” her voice rang two-toned with a deeper one. It started uncertain, but continued with a scary determination. “Here to reap the scythe of the lion’s labors. And I welcome YOU with this embrace!”

“What trickery is this?!” the drakon demanded. “A child of Apollo—”

Calex balked as Kally wound up and lobbed her discus at the drakon. That girl had more bollux than an unneutered bulldog.

“Holy spirit of Ares,” Matthias muttered. “That’s not Ajax’s meep-squeak, not-girlfriend, right?”

Kally’s discus slammed into Python’s busted eyelid. It hissed in fury, though didn’t look further injured.

They needed to act now.

Calex put two fingers to his mouth to make a piercing whistle. The chances were low but he should have been around—

The drakon snapped downward towards his mate.

A rainbow blur blasted between the drakon’s open jaws as they crushed into the ground.

Calex whooped in excitement.

“What is that?” Nyssa asked from the other side of the shield.

“The best damn unicorn you’ll ever set eyes on!” Calex cheered.

A crimson and black blur galloped to a sudden stop about five meters from their hiding spot. Atop a magnificent stallion with a gold and silver horn sputtering rainbow sparks, Kally sat upright, her helm focused on the incoming green glow that hissed behind Python’s head.

Her discus spun back towards them and Kally snapped her hand out to catch it.

Calex thought he heard something crack, but couldn’t be certain when Vinyl took off back towards Python. The drakon had dislodged its jaws from the dirt and flicked its tongue towards Kally.

Python lunged again.

The unicorn and rider darted under the giant snake. From its blur, a golden discus spun out again.

Once again, the hit seemed to only annoy the drakon as it withered in anger.

“We need to help her find an opening,” Calex said. His eyes flashed around their shield and what they had. “Clarisse, you defeated a drakon before, right?”

“I electrocuted it from the inside of its eye socket,” she growled. “If you didn’t notice, I don’t have an electric spear.”

Calex pointed at the giant stun-gun thing mounted at the top of the shield. “It’s broken, innit?”

Jake frowned. “Python knocked out our backup power and our backup, backup power. We’re working on getting it back online, but we would need a lot of electricity to…”

Thalia grabbed his shoulder, giving him a grin. “How much electricity is a lot?”

Jake’s mouth hung open then crooked into a grin.

“You still need to find a way to pierce the hide,” Clarisse reminded, scowling.

The hope in Jake’s eyes crushed. “The first time we tried, when Python knocked over Ares’ cabin, the prongs just bounced off.”

Calex thought it over. After the stunt he pulled with Kaos and climbing all those stairs, his body felt weak and shaky. An image flashed in his mind: the black, metal arrow he’d almost shot Axel and Thalia with. He’d been scared to shoot them. The two dumb blokes were so naturally compatible, the strength it took to force disinterest or dislike had been horrible. But, to enhance some of Python’s utter disgust with Apollo children? An arrow like that would be easy, right? He thought about Thanatos and Kaos and his confidence grew.

“I can make arrows,” Calex said, “that can piece into anyone’s heart. Even a primordial god’s.”

Thalia’s face went red with rage, but she nodded to affirm this. Her hand reflexively clutched at her chest, where his golden arrow had struck her.

Their shield wall rocked when Python smashed into it.

Vinyl shrieked in pain.

“That’s cool and all,” Matthias said. He’d abandoned his post by the outside of the shield, hands already fumbling with some wires on the ground. No one needed to direct his siblings. Harvey had already thrown off his shock blanket to help him and Jake and Nyssa scrambled over half a second later. “But, can we attach cables to said arrows?” Matthias asked.

Calex already had a hand on the ladder to the turret. He gave Thalia a grin as the sparks erupted at her fingertips. “Let’s find out.”

Hey guys! I’m getting this out before midnight this time XD Still haven’t had a chance to do proper edits on these (I’ll hope to get back to more edits later!) but, I hope you enjoyed regardless!

I’m enjoying Vinyl as a battle unicorn. What do you guys think?

Stay tuned next week for Kally’s chapter: I Get to be Python’s Piñata, where I feel like the writing gets a bit smoother for the ending XD

Footnotes:

[1] A celebration preceding Ash Wednesday where you consume pancakes.

[2] Mel betanote: “Is she going to ride him into battle? That sounds so wrong but I meant it entirely in the form of battle!!!!”

Jack, “( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)”

[3] Apparently I didn’t think Calex was British enough in this chapter.

#Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Traitors of Olypmus #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #ssssooooooooon I'll be able to sleep #I'm so excited......

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sailorsolar12 · 6 years ago

Text

Heir of Prophecy - Ch 2 - ThorinxOC

Hey everybody. Here is the second chapter. I hope that you all like what I put in here for you. Here is a quick recap of what the story is about:

Summary: While Jasmine, daughter of Apollo, is fighting one of Kronos' minions, it sends her through a rift in the dimensional gate to the land of Middle Earth. More specifically: The Shire. She lands in front of the home of Bilbo Baggins as Gandalf the Grey is entering the small home. Clad in her normal wear as well as her weapons, the company of Thorin Oakanshield is hesitant to accept her. As the meeting drags on, she discovers a prophecy that lies on the map that belongs to Thorin. It is hen that Jasmine realizes that she is a part of something bigger than any daughter of Apollo has ever faced. As she travels all over Middle Earth in the company of dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard, she faces her fears and learns to rely on the help of unexpected friends. Through this journey she has become the Heir of Prophecy.

Rating: T at first. M later on for violence, swearing, and slight romance

Unofficial pairings: KillixTauriel and ThorinxOC

Please read, comment, vote, follow, and favorite. Thank you. Enjoy.

Note: I don’t own either one of these series! I mean come on guys…..I would be a billionaire and not have to worry about my finances all the time if I did! And Also here is a quick key that I will be using from now on:

Previously on HOP

*Flashback/Dream/Vision*

Song Lyrics (When i use them which will be scarecly)

Delphi’s Speech

Prophecy

(english translation of any Greek I use)

Previously on HOP Ch 1

Jasmine held up her hand to stop Gandalf from talking. She slowly drew a small dagger that she often used as a throwing knife, and with deadly accuracy, she threw the knife that embedded itself it the front door of Bag-End just next to Thorin’s hand making him jump back. "I may be a woman, but I AM NOT helpless!! I have taken down an entire army of telkines on my own. I have faced my worst fears to receive Achilles's curse. I am one of THE BEST warriors of my whole camp. I have far more powers than any child of Apollo ever known to man." She stared into his eyes her hard expression matching his.

Thorin was silent for a few moments. The air between the two of them was so tense you could cut it with a butter knife. "You will translate the prophecy. I will think on if you will join us. I will need to write a contract for-"

She held up her hand. "I don’t need a contract. I don’t need any payment. Understood."

"Fine." He turned on his heel and went into the house.

Jasmine sighed heavily closing her eyes. People could be so dense. She didn't understand what he had against her, nor did she want to. It would have made her mind hurt more than it already did. The child of Apollo wasn't even back to the dining room when Thorin seemingly came out of nowhere and gripped her arm tightly. She glared at the dwarf, her anger rising. "What is it Thorin," she bit out. Jasmine was honestly 100% done with his haughty attitude and wanted to sock him in the face, but she felt as though the Fates had a part to play in what she was doing here. She couldn’t punch him just yet.

Chapter 2

His blue eyes bore into hers and said, "What is your motive, woman?"

"Thorin I am not sure what you mean, but I was sent here by deep, old, dark magic that my world has long forgotten. An old enemy from eons ago is beginning to rise again….both here in Middle Earth and in y world. I am not sure which evil brought me here, but the one here may have known about this damn prophecy. That was why I was attacked by a weird monster. Unfortunately, it also means that, if I follow you on this quest, I will not be there in my home world for when the final battle takes place. I know for a fact we will lose many demigods, but in the end, I know that my friend Percy will change and save the world. What I mean to say is that I know you don't trust me, and I know we just met a few moments ago, but I can't help but feel that what will happen will be partially my fault. That is why I said I don’t need payment because this world being safe from harm is enough for me. But it also means that any friendships that I make will end when I leave this world….if I am able to return home. I hope that you and the others will learn to trust me Thorin. I know for a fact that you will need my help in some way." She gave a slight smile. There was sadness in her eyes from the pain of knowing many of her comrades may die.

Never before had he seen a human with such compassion. He swallowed the sudden forming lump in his throat, unable to speak. He couldn't understand how such a young girl had seen so much death and destruction. She knew what it was like to lose the ones you love. He looked down not knowing how to respond to her. "You may come with us. But if you die, it will not be my fault."

She simply nodded and went back to the dining room so the meeting could begin. A small smile graced her lips. She was glad that Thorin was allowing her to go. If he hadn't she would have gone anyway. She had a purpose here.

--------------------------- ((PAGE BREAK)) ------------------------------

Jasmine leaned against the window sill as Thorin and the others discussed the game plan. She narrowed her eyes as Gandalf pulled out the map he had mentioned earlier. She stepped up next to him and paled seeing Greek. As she let her eyes skin over the writing, she staggered back hitting the sill again. She looked as if she had seen a ghost.

"What does it say?" Thorin asked.

She swallowed and began reciting.

"With a stroke of Fate,

She will rise.

Gliding on wings

The sound of her voice sings.

Valar will see that

The Great Power

Will be relinquished

Love will form

In the most forbidden of ways

A stronghold in the East stands alone

As it waits for its King and Queen

Durin and Olympic blood shall mix

The scales of fire will die

As the Heir of Prophecy stands

A beacon of hope for All of Middle Earth.”

The entire company was silent as they stared at the young demigod. They couldn't believe that she was to be with Fili, Kili, or even Thorin. How was she? Thorin was the one most puzzled. Himself or is nephews would be with the demi-god. He looked at Gandalf. "How long have you known of this prophecy?"

The wizard was silent for a moment. He has walked Middle Earth for 2000 years and has always known of the prophecy, but he did not truly believe that the prophecy was set in stone until he read the map.

Jasmine looked at Gandalf wide eyed. She was frozen for a moment before shaking her head. The red head knew just by looking at the old wizard he had known about it for some time. It wasn’t being just being the Heir of Prophecy that shook her. It was also what it said about Durin and Olympic blood mixing. Jasmine knew from looking at Thorin, Fili, and Kili that they were royalty. However, because the prophecy mentioned a king and queen, Jasmine did not know if it meant Thorin or Fili. The green eyed 18 year old stormed to the room that Bilbo had let her use before sighing heavily. She sat there on her bed not knowing what to do. She was the Heir of Prophecy. She was supposed to marry either Thorin or Fili in the near future. She ran her fingers over her hair, exasperated. She had no idea what to do. The young demigod wanted guidance not excuses or justifications. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she flung back on her bed staring at the ceiling. She didn’t even care when her door opened and someone walked in. she didn’t even care when that person sat on the edge of the bed staring at her. She glanced at the person who had sat down on the edge of her bed. She had been expecting to Gandalf, but was surprised to see that Thorin had come in and sat down. She sat up and said softly, “What is it, Thorin?”

He looked at her and was silent for a moment. “I know I may not understand how you feel exactly, but I do know how it feels to feel as if you are the only one in the world. I wanted to tell you that I am willing to give you a share of the treasure that lies within the mountain. Although I will not be able to write an official document, do you know of any way in which we can make this official?”

Jasmine looked at him as if he was crazy. “There is a way, but I do not think that you will like it. It is the most common way for us demigods to make pacts or oaths.”

“How do we do it?”

“We must swear on the River Styx.”

Thorin was silent. “I see. If you don’t feel comfortable then we do not have to do it, but I wish to make the oath official and concrete if you will.”

Jasmine nodded and looked at her hands. She looked at the dwarf king and gave a soft smile. “Repeat after me: I, Thorin Oakanshield, swear on the River Styx that I will give everyone in my company a share of the treasure in the Lonely Mountain.”

“I, Thorin Oakanshield, swear on the River Styx that I will give everyone in my company a share of the treasure in the Lonely Mountain.”

There was a low rumble that shook the house slightly.

Jasmine smiled softly and looked up at the ceiling. “Ναι, Gramps. Θα σιγουρευτώ ότι η εταιρεία θα πετύχει, (Yes, Gramps. I will make sure this company succeeds),” she said in Greek.

Another rumble sounded that shook the house more.

Jasmine sighed. “Μην ανησυχείτε. Εντάξει, Gramps? (Don’t worry. Okay Gramps?)”

Silence was the only answer the demigod got. The temperamental god of the skies was always like this. She didn’t understand why he was, but at times it got really annoying.

Jasmine looked at Thorin and gave her signature smile that seemed to light up the room. “Now it is official. The Olympians have heard and I have as well. So if anyone questions this oath then I will give you a friendly - or not so friendly - reminder. It honestly depends what happens at the time when you are to give everyone a bit of the treasure.”

Thorin couldn’t help but nod. This girl was like sunshine, even when he had been extremely rude to her beforehand. He couldn’t understand why she was this way. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was the daughter of the sun god. He mentally shrugged it off, not wanting to dwell on the matter. He stood from her bed and said, “There is some food left for you, if you are hungry. We leave at dawn. I am not sure if you would like to use your flying horse or one of our ponies. It is your decision. Have a good rest tonight.” He turned and left her room without another word.

Jasmine stared after the dwarf and shook her head laughing softly. The people of Middle Earth sure were peculiar, but she liked them. She was glad that the Fates made her the one to come here. She stood and slowly shed her clothes as she locked the bedroom door. She changed into short shorts and a cami. She laid in bed and slept, hoping that she would just have a normal dream for once in her life. Unfortunately, the Fates wouldn’t have that.

*Dream Scene*

Jasmine felt as if her spirit was floating. She furrowed her brow and walked around what seemed to be a Yacht. Where was she? What was she doing here? She landed silently on the deck and slowly walked around. She held in a gasp when she realized where she was: On Kronos' ship. Why in the name of Hades was she here? She swallowed and jumped flying in the air hovering outside the captain's room. She paled when Luke- no Kronos now- looked right at her and smirked.

"You stupid girl you shouldn't be here," he said. Somehow his voice was right behind her in her ear.

Jasmine whipped around seeing him behind her. She swallowed and went wide eyed realizing that it was in fact Luke who had spoken. "Luke how are you able to-"

He placed a dagger at her throat. "If you utter one more word I will not hesitate to kill you now. I know your weakness Heir of Prophecy," he hissed.

Jasmine went completely still and dead silent. Where had the boy that was best friend to her gone? How could he follow someone like Kronos? Why would he betray her? She felt tears well up in her eyes and closed them to try and hold them in. Ultimately that failed. She felt her tears spill over. She felt Luke lower his dagger in confusion.

Luke suddenly smirked. “You stupid girl. Do you honestly believe that I will have pity on you?” he brought the dagger up to strike the part of her neck that was her weakness, but an arrow stopped him.

Jasmine turned and froze seeing Thorin. How the hell was he here? He wasn’t a demigod was he? Why was he able to follow her?

“Jasmine, you need to wake up before he kills you,” he stated as he knocked another arrow to shoot at Luke.

Luke simply smirked and used his free hand to grab Jasmine’s arm and turn her to face him. His lips collided with hers as he began to raise the dagger again, but a bright light enveloped both her and Thorin sending the pair back to the world of the living.

*End Dream Scene*

Jasmine bolted up panting heavily only to see Thorin, Fili, and Kili standing around her with Bilbo and Gandalf. She stared at Thorin. “How in the name of my dear uncle were you able to go into my mind?!”

Gandalf chose to speak up at that moment. “I know a spell that allowed him to. What I want to know is, why did that dream seem more like reality to me. Why?”

Jasmine looked down. “For demigods, when we dream it is real. I was on that boat, but I know that Luke was an illusion that Kronos created to allure me. I....I almost fell for it, if you had not come Thorin. But I want to know how you knew to come?"

Thorin was silent. “I am not sure how I knew, but Gandalf expressed that there was a dark presence around your room, and we decided to see what was wrong.”

Jasmine nodded and held her head in between her hands sighing heavily. “I don’t even know why the Fates made me go there? I am not going to be a part of that battle anymore.” She groaned softly and shook her head. She looked up. “I need some air. I’ll be outside until we leave to gather supplies. Now all five of you out so I can change.” She shooed them out and changed back into the same outfit from before, strapping her weapons to her body. She snuck out the window after locking the bedroom door and sat in the garden inhaling the fresh air. “Gods, this air is so much better to breathe than that shit in New York. No smog, no pollution, nothing at all. I love it,” she said softly as she laid down in the grass. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day. That was for sure. She sighed softly and happily as sleep called for her once again. This time her spirit didn’t wander which was a good thing.

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Well that is the second chapter. I hoped that all of you liked this chapter. I hope that you like this story so far. I know it is not the exact way in which the movie or the book goes, but there will be MANY similarities as the story goes on. I will also look up the script for the movie online and make sure to put some of it into the story.

Thank you again. Please favorite, follow, and review. Thank you so much for reading and I do accept constructive criticism, but please no bashing.

Thank you again,

Sailor_Solar_12

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