#Watching Dionysus cry over him broke me. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therainbowwillow · 4 years ago

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Oh yeah, here’s part 3: https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640227062984130560/therainbowwillow

I’m tired of school, so I’m going to write now. This is part 4/?? of my Hadestown AU.

Here’s the premise/what happened last time so you don’t have to read it all: Hades is having a midlife crisis about the fact that his wife would rather be hungover than speak with him. Instead of getting a therapist, he decides murdering a very tired teenager is a far better coping mechanism. Hermes is so tired of his travel companions, Dionysus and Apollo, he gets hella drunk. Orpheus is blaming himself for the difficulty of their journey. He’s kinda losing it. He feels terrible that he let Eurydice die and now he must ask her to drag him out of Hadestown, given that he was shot in the leg by a would-be assasin. Eurydice is trying to keep Orpheus motivated to get out of Hadestown. It is going about as well as the rest of their escape attempt. Achilles is worrying about Patroclus, who was shot in the shoulder while defending Orpheus. Patroclus is trying to get him to shut up. The workers are taking sides. (Which must be fun because their choices are losing-it Hades or losing-it Orpheus. Then again, Hades wants to murder a kid and Orpheus just wants to not get murdered.)

Here we go:

“Orpheus, how are you doing?” Eurydice asks again. They hadn’t made it very far. In fact, the greenhouses were still in sight. She tries to ignore this fact.

He looks up at her with sunken eyes. “Please... can we... can we rest soon?”

“A little farther,” Eurydice tells him. “How’s your leg?”

“It hurts. Please, Eurydice... can we sit down?”

“Soon, baby, soon.” She’s afraid that if he sits, he won’t stand again.

“I’m so tired, Eurydice. My stomach hurts. I can’t remember the last time I ate. Explain again why I can’t eat with you? I can’t remember what you told me.”

She sighs. “The living can’t eat the food of the dead because they’ll end up stuck down here.”

He swallows. “I... I don’t care.” His legs buckle under him and Eurydice catches him before he falls. “I’ll work for Hades. I’ll do anything. Just something to eat. Please...” he implores her.

“Hold up,” Eurydice calls to Persephone. “We can sit, Orpheus.” She lowers him to the ground. He winces. “Please don’t talk like that. I can’t lose you down here, love.”

“I can’t do this.” She pulls him into her arms.

“We’ll do it together, step by step.”

He shakes his head against her chest. “I... I can’t. I can’t. Every step is torture. I just want to close my eyes and...” he sighs softly. “Never... open them... again.” His voice trails off.

“I know it’s hard, but you can’t give up now! You came all this way!”

“I’m too tired to walk any more. Let me sleep... please...” His eyelids are heavy. So heavy... he closes his eyes.

———————————————

Orpheus blinks. He’s laying on a cold stone floor. Eurydice is nowhere in sight. He calls out to her.

‘Eurydice... Eurydice... Eurydice.’ The walls echo.

“Hello?”

‘Hello? Hello? hello...’

“Orpheus.”

Orpheus shudders at the sound of the cruel, almost harmonic voice. It doesn’t echo as his does. “Who’s there?”

“Who’s there! Who’s there? who’s there...’

“There is no escape.” His breaths are slow and strained. The air is rancid. It smells of death. And his leg hurts. Gods, his whole body hurts. “You belong to Hades now.”

“I’m not dead!” Orpheus begs.

‘I’m not dead! I’m not dead. I’m not dead...’ his echo mocks.

“The King of the Underworld will see you now.”

The door to Orpheus’s cell creaks open. He tries to scramble backwards, but his wrists are shackled to the ground. Hades stands in the doorframe. He smirks. “You failed.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “No... no... I don’t understand! I didn’t break your rules! I didn’t sing.”

Hades strides to his side and takes a knee. He lifts Orpheus’s head to face him. “What don’t you understand? No one leaves Hadestown.”

“Please...”

“Your little muse watched you turn to dust. Must’ve broken her heart.”

Orpheus buries his head in his hands. He lets tears streak down his cheeks as he curls up on the floor. “Let me go. I’m not dead. I’m not dead!” He shouts.

“The girl, Eurydice. And your protectors, Achilles, Patroclus, my wife, they’ve still got a chance. I could call off my shades, boy, if only you’ll agree to my terms.”

“Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt them... please...” he moans.

“That’s up to you, Orpheus.”

“Let me out of here!” He wails.

“Enough!”

Orpheus clutches his head. “Argh!” he cries.

“Do you want to be agreeable, or do you prefer this?”

Orpheus rolls onto his side. His head feels like it’s going to explode. “S-stop...” he groans. The pain fades.

“Do we have a deal or don’t we?” Hades growls.

Orpheus gasps for breath. “What... terms?” he chokes.

“You,” Hades presses a finder into his chest. “Help me get this place under control. Your song’s powerful, boy.”

“H-how?”

“Write a song for the shades. Make them listen to you. And I’ll let your friends go.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “Why should I trust you? You gave me one rule. I didn’t break it, so you killed me.”

“Because if you don’t, Eurydice is mine. Patroclus and Achilles will never see each other again. And Persephone will be left all alone. She’ll be forced to return to me.”

“I’m not yours to control. The workers aren’t yours to control!” Orpheus sits upright. His head spins. “Let me go.”

Hades smiles. “Fool.” He rises and slams the cell door behind him.

“Wait!” He shouts. There’s no reply.

Orpheus strains against his chains. His ankles are bound, and his wrists. He tries to pull the shackles off over his hands, but to no avail. He sinks to the ground. Every breath burns his lungs. He feels like he’s suffocating. The cell is dark as pitch and he can’t see an inch in front of him. The bandages around his leg had been torn off at some point. He feels his blood pooling under him. He wraps his hands over his head and sobs. He rocks back and forth against the icy floor until he has no more tears to cry.

————————————

“Orpheus?” Patroclus places a finger against the poet’s neck. “I can feel his pulse. It’s slow. He’s barely breathing.”

“Unconscious?” Achilles asks.

“I... don’t know. He’s not getting in enough air to keep his heart beating, but he’s not dead.”

“What do we do?” Eurydice whispers. “He can’t die now... not after all he’s gone through.”

“We carry him?” Patroclus suggests. “I don’t see what else we can do.”

“With haste.” Persephone adds, “Like the plants in my greenhouse, he can’t hang on forever.”

“Where do we take him? We won’t be allowed across the Styx,” Achilles says.

“Away from Hades,” Persephone responds. “Hermes can help us get him home, if that message is to be trusted. Regardless, we can deal with the Styx once we get there. It’s a week’s walk. Longer, carrying Orpheus.”

“Can he hold on that long?” Eurydice asks.

Persephone sighs. “I hope so.” She lays out a blanket. “This’ll do for a stretcher until we find something better.” She lifts Orpheus onto it. She takes one end of the blanket and Achilles takes the other. “Eurydice, watch Orpheus. If anything changes, speak up. Patroclus, keep look out.”

——————————————

Hermes stumbles along the road, a much more bearable journey while drunk. Really drunk. So drunk that Apollo’s poetry brings tears to his eyes where normally, he’d probably want to throw himself off a cliff by this point, envying Hephaestus.

He half-remembers what he’s doing. Finding Orpheus. Where had the kid gone? He isn’t sure. He feels bad to come home drunk, though. Orpheus had always hated the scent of alcohol on his breath. The boy’s mother, Calliope, had smelled of wine last he’d seen her. A painful reminder of his childhood abandonment. Of course, Hermes didn’t blame the muse for leaving the boy behind. A single mother, all alone in the rain and storms, with Apollo as the boy’s father? It had been for Orpheus’s good that she’d given him up. Protection from Apollo’s unpredictably.

“Hey, Hermes! We’re here.” Dionysus says, waving a hand in front of Hermes’s face.

He blinks and his intoxication melts away. The railroad stretches out before them, spanning far beyond the horizon. A line of mortals stands along the track, slowly boarding the train. Thanatos takes their tickets. “I ask you again, Hermes, can’t you get out of those damn meetings?” He calls.

Hermes smiles. “I wish I could. Tickets for three, Thanatos.”

“Ah Dionysus, come to see your mother. Say hello to Hypnos for me, if you see him. I’ve been busy lately. And you, Apollo?”

“Working for Demeter,” Apollo says, “Persephone’s late again and she’s tired of waiting. Looks like I’m the only expendable Olympian these days.”

Thanatos nods. “If you plan of convincing Hades to send her back... well, best of luck to you. I wouldn’t cross him like this.”

“What’s happened?” Hermes asks.

“You don’t know?” Thanatos inquires. “Isn’t Orpheus your kid?”

“Mine, actually,” Apollo interrupts.

“Yes, I raised the boy,” Hermes explains. “Is he alright?” He already knows the answer.

“Listen, I’m sure you knew he was going to look for her. He almost made it but... Hermes, we should speak. Alone.”

Hermes nods. Dionysus takes over ticket collection, grinning at the shades.

Thanatos glances over his shoulder. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but you’ve done me plenty of favors. Don’t tell Hades, alright?”

“Of course,” Hermes agrees. “What happened?”

“Orpheus made it to the throne hall,” Thanatos begins. “He sang a song. I’d never heard anything like it. Hermes, flowers bloomed. Flowers. In Hadestown. Hades seemed moved by the boy’s melody. The poor kid was half-starved though. And I’ve never seen someone so exhausted. He passed out. It broke the charm of his song. He woke pretty quickly, but not fast enough. Hades told him he could leave, but his terms were meant to be impossible. Orpheus wouldn’t be allowed to look at his lover, nor touch her. And he couldn’t sing until he’d made it out.”

Thanatos sighs. “Poor boy. He didn’t have a choice. He was far too weary to stand on his own. He was leaned up against the girl. Hades called he deal broken and... I’ve never heard someone scream like that. Persephone talked him down and Orpheus escaped with his life, only singing was forbidden. Persephone left with him.”

“The order went out the day before last: kill him. To every shade in Hadestown, after I refused to do it myself. And yesterday... I wasn’t granted a second choice. It was kill Orpheus, or lose my home. Funny, I thought I commanded a little more respect than that. But I couldn’t refuse so I went and found the poor kid. I saw how desperate he looked, staring up at his lover.” Thanatos pauses for a second. “I gave Hades his soul, but I didn’t end the boy’s life. His mind is locked up in a cell somewhere, but his body is still breathing. I guess he’s somewhere between life and death. I don’t know how else to explain it. Gods, Hermes, I’m sorry. I live with my brother though, and his wife. Hypnos and Pasithea shouldn’t have to reestablish their lives somewhere else, not because of me.”

“That’s worse than I could’ve expected,” Hermes mutters. “Hades cared once. For his wife, for his realm, for his people.”

“I’ll get you as close as I can to your boy,” Thanatos promises. “Hades will eventually notice that he isn’t really dead. You need to move quickly. Apollo’s medical abilities should be enough to return him to life.”

Hermes nods. “Thank you, Thanatos.”

“Now, let’s get going. These shades can wait.”

———————————

Orpheus opens his eyes. It hardly matters. His cell is too dark to see a thing, eyes closed or open. His wrists are rubbed bloody by his repeated attempts at escape. His throat burns with his every breath of the awful underworld air. It’s more smog and death than it is oxygen.

His mind is hazy. He remembers a long walk. He’d been looking for someone. Further details are lost to the fog of the Lethe.

The first night, he’d desperately tried to escape his cage, Orpheus remembers. The second, he’d sang until he couldn’t make a sound. The third, he’d heard voices. He’d begged for food or a sip of water. He’d received nothing. Was this the fourth or the fifth? He couldn’t remember.

He’d forgotten his song, note by note. He’d scratched it into the floor with the edge of his chains, but when he draws his fingers across the lines of his music now, he finds it means nothing to him. Dots and lines, not notes. To think that it had once been a language to him... he vaguely remembers sitting by a fire, scribbling down those very same lines for the hundredth time on crumpled papers, soft from being folded.

This is his eternity, Orpheus knows. He’d given up hope of escape or rescue. Hades would keep him here, alone and in pain forever. No food, no water, his restless sleep woken by the echoing screams of his fellow prisoners. Hades. The only name he remembers. His prison warden.

What had he done wrong? Orpheus wonders. How had he ended up here? What great cruelty had he committed?

“Eternity.” Orpheus rasps.

‘Eternity. Eternity. Eternity. Eternity. Eternity.’ The echo of his voice bounces down the hall.

He shivers. Sweat beads his forehead. His shuddering breaths are heard only by the stones. He lays there a moment, silent and unmoving.

Light washes across his cheeks. He shields his eyes. “You.” The voice that greets him is gravelly and cold.

“Who am I?” Orpheus whispers, desperately.

The man smiles. “A shade like any other.”

“No... I am someone.” Orpheus takes in a shaky breath. “Or... I was.”

“Now you are mine,” Hades states.

“All of those shades were people once.”

Hades nods. “And now they are mine.”

Orpheus blinks. The light spilling in through the doorway is blinding. His eyes slowly adjust to the new brightness. He recognizes his visitor now, Hades, king of shadows, king of shades, a red carnation in his front pocket.

His memories flood back to him suddenly. His song. He sits up, weakly, but he lifts his head and... “King of shadows,” he croaks, “King of shades. Hades is king of the underworld.”

Anxiety flutters through the god’s eyes. “You...”

“He fell in love with a beautiful lady. Who walked up above, in her mother’s green fields.” His voice cannot reach as high as it once did, but still he sings, quietly, in a lower tone. “He fell in love with Persephone, who was gathering flowers in the light of the sun.”

“Enough!” Hades snaps.

Orpheus continues. “And I know how it was because...” he remembers her face. Eurydice, the love of his life. “He was like me. A man... in love with a woman.”

Hades glares at him, but the god doesn’t move, he doesn’t react, so Orpheus doesn’t hesitate. “Singing... la la la la la la la.” He stops singing, smiling ever so slightly. More than he had for days. “You still love her.”

Hades nods.

“Why then, do you take everything from her?”

He is silent.

“Her wedding ring is as heavy as shackles around her wrists.”

Hades opens his mouth, as if to speak. No sound comes out.

The words fall from Orpheus’s mouth before he has a chance to consider them. “Let her go.”

“She would flee.”

“Perhaps.”

“I would be confined to the underworld. An eternity without solace,” Hades says.

“Maybe. But love is... love is doing what’s right. Even if it hurts.” He thinks of his walk to Hadestown. His long, long walk.

“There is no love if she is not by my side.”

“If you care so deeply for her, give her what she desires: freedom. Hades, she doesn’t want to be locked up, the only key around your neck.”

Hades says nothing.

“You do everything for her. You give her everything.” Hades nods. “Except for what she needs. She loved you because she had a choice. What became of your love, King Hades? What became of her choice?”

“She promised me eternity.”

“And you promised her six months up above. Promises are breakable. Now Persephone’s just another slave to your electric city.”

“You know nothing of my wife, boy,” Hades growls.

Orpheus sighs. “I know of your workers,” he rasps. “How they toil endlessly for no reward. Meager rations, and worse pay. They have nothing and you have everything. They flock to your wife because she is a light in the dark. The darkness you created. What happened to justice? Fair contracts? The man Persephone loved is gone,” he finishes. He sinks back to the ground, one hand laid across the music inscribed on the dusty floor.

Hades rises. The door clangs shut behind him.

#hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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moving-blogs-dm-for-new-one · 4 years ago

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T*cc* Toby character and story redesign :D

Toby and his family moved across the states after the accident. They were moving to West Virginia, a more rural town surrounded by forest. He didn't want to be there, but he didn't have much of a choice. Really didn't help his mood when his father basically screamed at his mother for the entire three day trip. He was slumped in the back of the car, ticcing uncontrollably, one hour to go on the drive. He winced when his father yelled at him to shut up, sighing and trying to hold his vocal tics, again. Maybe he could make it until they reached the new house.

They reached the house, and he quietly helped unload the car, gently helping his mom climb out. Sighing, he patched her up quietly later in the bathroom, and let her cry on his shoulder, ticcing quietly.

For the next two and a half weeks of summer, Toby pretty much just laid in bed. He didn't have much energy or will to do anything. He would pull out his computer and play some games, but his father broke hit before their trip even began. He pulled out his old ipod from his 14th birthday, and laid back in bed, staring at the ceiling and looping the same playlist on shuffle endlessly to block out his father. Same old, same old.

When school started, he absolutely did not want to be there. His Tourette's was neigh uncontrollable, and he couldn't help but tic through every day. Of course, the other kids in class were horrible to him about it. He was bullied relentlessly, and was beat up on the first day of school, and many days after that. He went home, his mother patched him up, his father mocked him, and he went to lie in bed again. It went on like this for a few weeks. It was August second when his dad broke his mothers nose. They got into a fight and he slammed her head on the counter. Toby was furious, but he quietly patched her up, ignoring his father egging him on.

That night, he had sleep paralysis again for the first time in a month or two, but it was different this time. His eyes opened, and there was a being standing at the end of his bed. He couldn't tell who or what it is. Could have been his father if it wasn't so tall. They stared at each other for around three hours before Toby fell back asleep. He was afraid, yes. But not much bothered him since Lyra died.

He mourned her every day. He never stopped. His mother mourned in silence, afraid, and his father cursed him to move on, but he didn't. He was never one to pray, but he lit candles for her the way she used to, prayed to a god they'd both loved, Dionysus. He cried for her at night. She never left his mind. He missed his sister more than anything in the world. He had a small alter in the back of his closet so his Father wouldn't find it, candles, pictures of her, foods she loved and special items.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Toby began having hallucinations of the creature he saw. It was everywhere. It was in the reflections of mirrors and windows, across the school yard while he was being kicked, at the end of the street when he pulled down his blinds, and behind his eyelids every night when he tried to sleep. He couldn't understand why it was haunting him.

His mother noticed his extreme paranoia, depression, and unrelenting tics/tic attacks, and scheduled him for a meeting with a local psychiatrist. She talked him up for the whole drive, and he smiled and nodded, not wanting to be there but not wanting to further sadden or worry his mother. Her arm was in a sling today. It was bad enough she was driving him.

He met with the psych, sitting down in the office. She asked him how he'd been. He didn't know how to respond, but suddenly felt bitter.

"Fantastic. Obviously that's why mom brought me here."

"I'm sorry, Tobias. I thought I'd let you give your own input." He felt bad for a moment, before wincing at the usage of his full name, getting more frustrated. He hated this already.

"Don't call me that. It's Toby. I'm Toby." He was fighting his vocal tics as he spoke, but his physical tics were getting worse in response, and he saw her flinch and lean a bit further away in his chair. He felt a pang through his heart, immediately angry. But he wouldn't blow up. He wasn't him.

Then he saw the figure behind her.

He didn't even hear what she was saying. He just stared at it. For some reason for as much as he'd been seeing it, he'd never seen it in such clarity, and it was still fuzzing around the edges, almost as if it wasn't fully there. It towered over the back of her chair, slowly leaning down to him.

"Toby," It spoke, and he could barely comprehend its voice. It was garbled, layered, echoed over itself endlessly and buzzed and burned inside his ears. "I want to help you. Let me help you."

He screamed, grabbing a lamp off the side table next to him and whipping it at the creature. He heard the psych scream and froze, whipping his gaze to where she was holding her arms over her face, ceramic and glass sprawled on the floor behind her at the base of the wall. They made eye contact, and he felt sick. He didn't understand. He wanted to say sorry. He suddenly wanted to explain everything. He wanted to say he wasn't him. He wanted his mother. He wanted Lyra.

He passed out.

Toby awoke later in his room, still feeling sick. The lights were out, his room only illuminated by the moonlight casting in through the blinds and the yellow light seeping in from under his doorway. (tw heavy abuse and murder after this) He could hear his parents screaming downstairs. There was a smash, his mother was crying. He jolted upright, tics coming back harshly as he tried to quietly make his way to the top of the stairs, peering down. His father was screaming about him.

"We have to get rid of him, Evelyn," He screamed, furious. "He's a disaster. He's dangerous and annoying and he's a fucking nuisance anyways!! And now I owe that stupid fucking psychiatrist so much goddamn money!! What is wrong with you!!" His mother cowered away from him, shaking, but angry as well.

"We are NOT getting rid of our SON, Greg! He's just scared and sick!" Toby winced at the phrasing of "sick", but continued watching, listening. He felt static pulling at the edges of his vision, but ignored it, honing his eyes in on his father.

"He goes. Tonight, or tomorrow, your choice, Evelyn, but he's fucking going. He's young enough to get thrown at the orphanage." He took a large swig of beer, stumbling slightly, and Toby twitched, hands tightening so much on the railing bars he thought he might splinter them.

"No. He is not." His mother shook, standing up to him, fists clenched. He stopped, and both Toby and his mother held their breath.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not going. No."

The next few minutes were a blur. His mother was hurt, and hurt bad. She was crying, and his father was screaming at her. The living room was trashed. Toby ran down the stairs and his father heard, spinning around and screaming after him as he darted into the garage, heart thumping almost as loud as Greg's thundering footsteps. He found his fathers old hatchets in the back of the garage, his blood pumping in his ears. Everything was hazy and the static crept further into his vision.

"Let me help you."

He spun around, hatchets gripped tight in his hands as he shook and ticced. His father tore into the room, drunk and furious. He saw Toby bearing the hatchets and laughed deliriously.

"Now what are you gonna do with those, boy?" Toby almost blacked out at the name, screaming and sprinting forwards. A mass fight ensued, the two of them struggling against each other to gain headway, Toby's mother screaming in the background. Toby pinned him down. He spat curses and slurs and all kinds of horrible things about him, his mother, his sister, Lyra. He raised the hatchet, and brought it down on his skull. Blood sprayed and his mother distantly screamed in horror, but he didn't stop. Another swing, another, another, another, another. Tears poured down his face, but he didn't feel it, notice, or care. His arms stopped swinging. He looked up. His mother was holding his arms gently, but securely, the creature standing behind her, looming over the both of them. He was towering.

"Toby," She whispered. "That's enough. He's dead, love." He looked down, sniffling and ticcing, and he was.

She helped him up quietly, and he whimpered.

"Are you gonna turn me in?" She stared at him, then shook her head.

"You're my son. I'm not getting rid of you."

She cleaned him up quietly in the bathroom, and held him close as he cried, openly, for the first time in months. He clung to her, whimpering and ticcing and sobbing, and told her everything. She listened quietly, gently soothing him and brushing his hair. Eventually, she shushed him gently, making him look at her.

"We have to go, love. Quickly. You can tell me more once we're gone, okay?" He nodded, sniffling and taking her hand. They gathered their things, climbed into their car. She paused. Got back out. They lit the house together, and watched it burn for a moment. He felt the presence behind him, and saw his mother take his hand.

"Come on honey," She whispered. "Lets go."

They never looked back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby: (notes)

- 6'3", 17 years old, tall and broad. Always been heavier set and naturally slightly chubby, and decently strong.

- Has a nerve issue from birth where he can't feel a good 70% of his body, mostly the upper half and patches of the lower.

- Nonbinary (He/they/it), and pansexual. Gender dysphoric. Occasionally tucks and wears bras and other things sometimes.

- Has Tourette's, OCD, BPD, PTSD, Manic, ADHD, depression, s/icidal tendencies, struggles with compulsive sh, and has mild paranoid schizophrenia.

- Sees the Slenderman more than his mother, but she can see it on occasion. It doesn't hurt them. Guides them more or less. Helps Toby target similar individuals to his father.

- Stims a lot by cracking his knuckles, flapping his hands, tapping his foot and cracking his neck. (I also have a list of his tics!!)

- Loves his mother and Lyra so goddamn much

Evelyn: (notes)

- 43 years old, 5'2", small but definitely not frail. Will fuck you up if needed. Doesn't take shit anymore after leaving her husband. Also bisexual queen

- Huge soft spot for kids, and Toby. Loves Toby so much and lets him basically get away with everything (not that he uses this for any harm to her or those who don't deserve it)

- Knows Toby is a serial killer, assists him with some cleanup/travel/medical care/etc. Reminds him to take care of himself/cooks for him/helps drive him around/etc

- Takes up cooking and martial arts as hobbies

- Loves her son so so so much he's so stupid and crazy but she adores him and would do anything for him

- Do NOT fuck with power duo Evelyn and Tobias Rodgers they WILL destroy you

#creepypasta #cp ticci toby #ticci toby #toby rogers #tobias rogers #evelyn rodgers #cp toby #my writing #my universe #cloud talks #tw blood #tw abuse #tw abuse ment #tw murder

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kawaii-kozume · 4 years ago

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One Day the Only Butterflies Left(Will Be in Your Chest)

Rated T+. Very heavy themes discussed. Solangelo. 3066 Words.

On the verge of no return, why'd you keep fucking it up?

Don't wanna have to bury you, but nothing seems to get through your skull.

It started after the repairs were finished. Or was it after Apollo showed up? Or maybe it started when Meg disappeared. Or when he found out about Jason. Or maybe, Will thought, it started back before he even first talked to Nico.

It was easy to wave off, especially after Nico told him what he did. What a night that was, sitting on the hard, marbled floor of the Hades cabin, holding the other boy tightly as he sobbed through story after story about his involvement in the wars. Will tried, he really, really tried. Every new realization struck him like one of his dad’s poison arrows and he eventually had to ask Nico to stop. Then they sat in silence until the sun rose.

So yes, Nico di Angelo, the love of Will’s life, was mentally fucked up and Will couldn’t do anything to fix it. He’d done as much as he could. He made Dionysus aware, he provided physical comfort, he let Nico cry on him as often as he needed, he listened to Nico’s mad ravings in the middle of the night when Tartarus’ claws were so deep in his mind. With all of that going on though, Will missed it. He missed the signs and he let the emotions fester and the toxicity bubble up around them.

That’s how he found himself staring at Nico, thinking gross thoughts about walking away from the brunette with the bleeding arms. He glances at the hand hovering around the wounds and bites back an angry huff.

“What happened?” He asks. Stupid, warm your voice.

“The-the-the- sac, the poison, Bob’s gonna burn, I gotta-” Nico brings the hovering hand to his arm again, curling his fingers to scratch the reddened skin. Will softly grabs the hand, preventing it from doing further damage.

“Shh, love, it’s okay, Bob’s going to be fine,” Will didn’t know exactly what Bob was, but it apparently mattered much to his broken lover. “It’s okay now.”

Nico’s eyes were darting around, searching for something, but his eyes were glossy as if he weren’t actually seeing his surroundings.

“No, I gotta get to the door.” He mutters, trying to wrench his arm away. A heavy lump formed in Will’s throat, blocking the little saliva he had left in his mouth. He holds Nico’s hand steady.

“Neeks, baby, if I go get Mr. D, I need to know you won’t hurt yourself.” Will knew if he walked Nico to the Big House, Nico would be upset when he came to. It was just before lunch, the majority of the camp was already at the dining pavilion and the stragglers were sure to be heading there now. Nico doesn’t respond.

“Nico, please. I don’t want to hurt you further.”

“ Percy, please be there. ” Something in Will snaps. It was like a twig in the woods under the foot of a mouse. It was fragile to begin with and even though the final bout of pressure was so small, it broke him. He can’t keep doing this. He’s only seventeen, he’s lived through two wars and lost so much already. Will stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the boy he loved with every fiber of his being, unsure how to move forward.

“ I’m so sorry, Neeks.” Will covers the claw marks, now layered with dried blood, and pushes Nico out the door of his cabin. Will was right; people stare as he pushes Nico forward to the one person who could stabilize his crumbling mind. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Mr. D was already opening the door when he hauls Nico onto the porch.

With a quiet “I can’t stay.” Will leaves Nico in the director’s care and he walks off, away from the pavilion. He has no real location in mind, but something brings him back to the dark cabin on one of the corners of the unit. Will comes face to face with a heavy door and an even heavier feeling in his chest. He pushes the door open and shuffles inside. A year and a couple months of memory lives in this space and Will wants to forget each and every one. He can’t remember when he starts crying, but he moves through the cabin, pulling small items of his to take back to his own.

I hate to say "I told you so," but look how the bruises show

Tell me, how is it gonna feel without my arms wrapped around, wrapped around you?

The light is low and Nico is exhausted. He tilts his head to see the dying embers of a fire in a familiar fireplace. He’s in the Big House, alone. He sits up slowly, trying to remember how he got here. He vaguely remembers his cabin, blood, and Will. But Will’s memory isn’t warm like it usually is. It feels tragic and empty, almost like how Nico feels.

“Good morning.” A deep voice says and the sound of shuffling moves in. Nico looks up at Mr. D, afraid to ask his status. Luckily, he doesn’t have to.

“You had another episode. This one seemed much worse than the previous.” Mr. D gives him a sharp look now. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding me, too.”

Nico flinches at that. He knows he’d been but he didn’t think he needed to continue to check in. He’d been doing okay. Mostly nightmares, less waking blackouts. He moves his arm and hisses as bandages press against a wound.

“You clawed yourself up real nicely. It was kind of Sunless to bring you here.” Mr. D says and Nico’s stomach drops to his feet. Will was there.

“Can he come in?” Nico asks. Mr. D looks at him, curious.

“He’s not here at the moment. He didn’t answer where he was going but he dropped you off and walked away.” He speaks softly, as if Nico were a newborn deer and any sudden noise would send him skittering out into traffic.

“Oh.”

Mr. D sets a mug in front of him and stands.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.” Then he leaves. Nico’s not so sure what happens next because he forces himself to check out. It’s better not to feel than to feel bad things, after all.

You were dead to the world, now I'm dead to you

Haunting your own house, nothing to lose

It’s been three days since the last incident and things return to normal. Or so Nico thinks. Will knows he thinks so because he’s back to holding Will when they nap. Nico tries to engage Will in light bickering and Will tries his best to accommodate it. Will knows one thing though: whatever snapped in him that day hasn’t repaired itself. He finds himself not caring about what Nico has to say at breakfast in favor of asking himself Am I gonna find him broken today?

Nico notices him staring and nudges him with his shoulder.

“What?” He’s got a small smile on his lips, the same pink tinted lips Will adores, and a playful look buried in his eyes that only Will would know to look for. For a moment, Will can almost see who Nico once was.

“You’re playful today.” And apparently that was the wrong thing to say because after Nico’s responding hum, a shadow flits over his eyes and he goes quiet, staring at the bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Will’s chest tightens as he waits for an outburst. He almost cries when it doesn’t come.

“The world must have turned upside-down. I’m playful and you’re glowering.” The sadness in the smile Nico gives Will would be imperceptible to anyone watching, but Will sees it. He’ll always see it.

Past the point of rescuing, why'd I keep pushing my luck?

The hole I wore into your soul has got too big to overlook

“When I lose it completely, will you leave?” Even though it’s a question Will has asked himself many times over, he still finds himself unsure how to answer when Nico asks. They’re sitting in the basement room of the Big House on the concrete floor. Nico is sitting in between Will’s legs, pressed against his chest and clutching Will’s t-shirt like it’s the only lifeline he has. Who knows, in the next moment it could be.

Nico had another episode that morning, this time resulting in a child of Hebe getting cornered by skeletal military men. He was already in the basement after Will showed up to the Big House from the infirmary. The little girl had cried and asked Will many things he couldn’t answer. Did he mean it? Am I a pawn? Why does he hate me? Will he do it again? Will placated the girl before tending to his boyfriend’s fragile state as more ice grew around his heart.

“Do you want the honest truth?” Will sighs, bringing a hand up to push Nico’s hair behind his ear. He strokes Nico’s cheek with his thumb as Nico makes a noise of affirmation.

“I don’t know.” Will inhales. “I’d like to think so. Fuck, I’d like to think you’re never going to lose it completely. That you’ll keep up with your appointments with Mr. D. I’d like to think that you’ll overcome this.”

Something’s making a wet patch on Will’s shirt and causing Nico to shake in his arms. Will’s fighting tears himself, knowing that Nico needs to hear this.

“But I know you. And I know that you’d rather keep your problems to yourself because someone once told you that you aren’t worth the trouble. I know that you tend to sabotage yourself so you’ll never be happy, just in case it gets taken away.”

Nico’s sobs are muffled by Will’s chest but it doesn’t make each one hurt less.

“I can’t guarantee it, but damn it, Nico, I’ll be here until I can’t take it anymore. Can I ask something though?” And Will waits until Nico calms down enough to look at him.

“Can you please, no matter what, get to your meetings with Mr. D? Just because I’ll push myself through this, doesn’t mean that I want to.” Will feels the tears fall down his face and sees it on Nico’s. Nico doesn’t speak but he nods.

That night, Nico lashes out at him and tries to hurt him. Will tells himself it’ll be okay because that’s all he can do.

I thought we had a future, but we ain't got a chance in hell

It starts looking up and Will thinks more and more that Nico can do this. He sees Nico slip into the Big House regularly and sees him start to sit with Dionysus at meals. He sees Nico make real progress. He has less breakdowns and Will starts smiling again.

Will knew it was too good to last.

The sun is setting on our love, I fear

Letting our loneliness out into the atmosphere

Will startles out of sleep as he feels a weight settle on his chest. His eyes open and he’s looking into dark, glossy eyes above him. He takes in the blade pressed against his throat and bites back a whimper.

“Nico.” He whispers. Nico’s crying and he wants to reach out and wipe the tears away.

“Nico.” He says softly. The blade presses into him. He quiets down. He assesses the situation. Judging by the position of the moonlight, he guesses it’s about four in the morning. Nico’s holding his left arm down with his hand and his right arm is pinned under Nico’s knee.

“Where is he?” Nico hisses. Will looks back to his love’s crazed look.

“Who?” Will whispers. Nico scoffs.

“Damasen. I know you know where his lair is. I need to get there and I will kill anything I need to.” Nico spits out. Will thinks about how to handle this. If he answers, Nico may just kill him, no longer needing the information he thinks he needs. If he doesn’t comply, Nico could kill him anyways. There was only one plan Will could figure out.

“I can take you there. It’s really hard for a mortal to try to get to.” Will says slowly. He watches Nico process the answer and prays to any deity listening.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I swear…” Nico whispers. He climbs off Will and Will slowly sits up. He’s only in a t-shirt and boxers but damn it all if he bends over to find pants. He stands with his hands raised and walks out the Hades cabin door. Nico follows him, still in his illusion. Will glances up and sees he’s right. It’s just after four in the morning. He leads Nico to the Big House and stops at the base of the porch.

“This is him, just knock on the door.” Will says. Nico eyes him like he doesn’t trust him and continues to watch him as he walks up the stairs and knocks on the door. Will knows he should feel something seeing his love glare at him like he’s trash. But in all honesty, Will feels nothing. The door opens. Will doesn’t have the time to explain and Nico drops his sword.

“Nico.” Is all Dionysus says as Nico curls in on himself. Will doesn’t bend down next to him. He only walks up the porch and explain to Mr. D what happened. He feels Nico’s pleading eyes on him as he talks and he has nothing in his mind to say.

“I didn’t .” Nico whispers, horrified at himself. Will just looks at him blankly. “Holy shit, Will, I’m- There’s nothing I can say to make this better. I’m so sorry.”

Dionysus brings them both inside and sits them in front of the fireplace, Nico’s Stygian sword sitting in the attic for now. He’s left them to make tea. It’s silent between the two lovers and Will knows the growing ravine between them is too large.

“Have you been going?” Will asks quietly. Nico doesn’t answer. Will looks up at him, making sure he hadn’t gone into another episode, but Nico’s staring at his shaking hands.

“I tried.”

“How long?” Will’s tired. He’s so exhausted running in these circles.

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks.” Will repeats. “Nico, I can’t do this.”

“Will, please, if it’s about tonight, we’ll stop sleeping together.”

“It’s not just tonight. It’s not even about me being in danger. It’s about how every time I see you in the mornings, I ask if today’s going to have another episode. It’s about me being in the infirmary, wondering if any of the campers that come in are going to be from you. It’s about the many times you’ve told me you’ll stop hurting yourself and making yourself fail but then you turn around and do it again. It’s about knowing that the longer I stay around, the more I’ll lose myself. It’s about looking at you and seeing you not even being on the plane of existence. It’s about not putting myself through torture because I love you, Nico. I love you so fucking much and I’m losing myself trying to save you. I’ve lost so much weight, it’s considered unhealthy. I’m jumpy when we’re together because I’m waiting for it. I’m not sleeping, I’m not even really living anymore. We’ve both become ghosts, Nico. And I’m sure you’re trying your hardest, I don’t doubt that. But it’s not enough and I’m not enough to fix it.” Will’s crying, no he’s sobbing. His breathing is ragged and he’s swallowing against the lump in his throat waiting for Nico to respond with something.

“You’re right.” Nico finally looks up at him and Will, for as long as he lives, will never forget the look on his face. “You’re absolutely right. I’m broken and I’m not doing what I should about it and we’re too young to handle this. I’m sorry it came to this. I’m sorry we’re not enough. I’m sorry that we moved too fast.”

“So, what now?”

“For one, we break up.”

Will inhales sharply. He knows that’s what needs to be done. He knows that’s what’s the most healthy and what’s most likely to salvage their friendship. But it still cuts through him like a hot knife.

“We break up.”

“And I’ll move into the Big House. I’ll work more closely to Mr. D. And if I get through it, maybe one day, we’ll be able to be friends again.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Will says. The ice that had been wrapping its way around his heart for the last five months hadn’t gone away and with Nico’s last words, it shattered inside of him.

“The sun is setting on our love, but I will always keep you with me, Will Solace. I’ll always love you.” Nico stands up and leans down, pressing one final kiss to Will’s lips and then leaves for the basement room.

“I can keep you updated on his progress, if you’d like.” Mr. D stands in the doorway to the kitchen. Will stands up and shakes his head.

“He’ll either be better or he won’t. And he’ll tell me when he is.” With those last words, Will leaves the Big House, his chest both heavier and lighter than it had been in the last year and a half. That morning, he breaks. He sobs into his pillow, on his sister’s shoulder and all throughout breakfast that he didn’t attend. He makes a final trip to the Hades cabin and collects the last item he has there. The one item he didn’t take back because he still had hope. He picks up the tiny Apollo mythomagic statue and instead of taking it to his cabin, he takes it to the Hephaestus cabin. He asks Harley if he could make it a small, flat metal token and after it’s pressed down, he punches a hole in it and laces it on his necklace of beads. One last reminder of the boy who loved him and lost his mind.

The tide is turning on our chance to turn it 'round

I never thought I'd see my fingernails fall out

Love isn't in the air, love isn't in the air

#solangelo #pjo #sam writes #written listening to the bring me the horizon song by the same name

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

Text

BTS365 Prompt.Week25

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist]

Beta: @jung-hoseok-s-airplane

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════

June 18th - 24th

═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════

Kim Seokjin - panic @absoluteyoongit (I am so sorry I didn’t get to post it on your birthday, but still Happy Birthday my love)

You were at the BTS concert. It took all your savings, a countdown timer and quick refresh skills and you had scored mosh pit tickets. The concert was amazing. The fans were shrieking, pressing you to the gates and you were a little annoying. Until you were actually elbowed in the face by a fan during Dionysus.

You fell forward over the gate and was grabbed by security, passing out with an apology.

You woke to ice to your neck, you were sat hunched forward, hands holding your shoulders and chin.

You blinked sitting up noticing the two medics were holding a bloody rag to your nose and you apologized taking the cloth and holding it.

"How are you feeling?" The woman asked.

"Uh my head hurts, some girl elbowed me during Dionysus, but I guess you couldn't blame her it's a really good song," it was awfully quiet and you had a nervous sick feeling, "what time is it, am I okay? I don't want to miss the concert"

"It is over," she said and you frowned.

"No it can't be over, I paid so much and I didn't get to even see them perform their new songs"

"I am sorry, but the concert is over, you can head home if you are ready just follow the exit signs," she said quietly you nodded holding your emotions in.

You grabbed your small bag and stepped out the infirmary, tears starting to flow. Following the exit signs the further away you got the more you broke down.

Until you bumped into someone re-injuring your nose and fell back onto your behind, openly crying as you sat like a child, shirt all bloody and nose bleeding once more.

"Oh I'm so sorry" the voice said, it was soft and unsure, "I didn't mean to hurt you?"

A figure crouched in front of you and tilted your head a little to look you over, "Are you badly hurt?"

"I missed the concert," you sobbed and wiped your eyes, “I used all my money for the best seat in the house but I was knocked out. I didn't get to see any of their new songs.”

"Hey shh, neoneun neui jigu, nege nan just a moon, me mameul baikyeojuneun neoui jageun byeol, neoneun naui jigu and all I see is you," he sang and you looked up to see the Kim Seokjin kneeling in front of you holding his handkerchief to your nose and smiling.

The only appropriate response was for panic to set in.

Min Yoongi - picnic

You were planning to have a picnic with your boyfriend of many years when he called and said he wasn’t able to attend but everything sounded suspicious especially the woman giggling in the background. So here you sat in the parking lot of a hotel with a picnic basket full of homemade snacks

You entered the lobby and made the trek to the front desk. The young man at the front desk looked up and laughed at your light sky blue sundress, mismatched red coat and picnic basket. “Hello, little red riding hood, how can I help you?”

“I am looking for my boyfriend,” you said seriously, giving him the name and his face fell looking at your concerned face. “Are you sure he is at this hotel, maybe I spelt his name wrong.”

“The idiot used my credit card, I know he is here with another woman. You will give me the key to the room I paid for.”

“With pleasure little red, I will come with you purely for your protection.” He grabbed the keys and sprung over the desk shouting “I am on lunch, Mister Seokjin!”

The two of you took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, where he asked you about you and your partner. He asked you all sorts of questions and generally being nosey but he was funny.

“Who rents a room at midday to cheat on someone, psychopaths, I am glad you found out now before you got murdered or something.” Making you laugh and taking your mind off the present issues regarding your cheating and lying boyfriend.

“Listen little red, I finish work in less than thirty minutes. Let’s go on this picnic” He gave a cheeky smile showing all his pink gums. And for a moment you were happy with what had happened.

Jung Hoseok - sauntering

Hoseok was walking leisurely through Malta trying to find some souvenirs for the other boys. It was a hot day and he had lost Namjoon in a crowd, the music pulled Hoseok and when he looked back he was alone with only one cameraman. That’s when he saw you working at a restaurant, weaving through tables while dancing to the street music.

You moved so elegantly rolling your head to the side while placing plates down at the tables. You didn’t walk, you glided slowly captivating him, every movement was so simple and yet looked like you were an angel floating and inch above the ground.

In a way he was right, your six-inch heels kept you lighter than air on your feet and yet never let you touch the ground. Your hips swinging in figure eights exaggeratedly and seductively but it was your natural gait.

He adjusted his collar and hat and went to saunter over letting his body move to the music in hopes to impress you like some nature documentary where the male species must impress the female with their moves.

Kim Namjoon - juggling

The circus seemed like a fun idea, he thought the other members would enjoy the stunts and jokes and more. They were only in town for a week so he knew he had to get it over and done with before they missed out. It was a carefree night filled with ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ but then she appeared in a sparkly crimson leotard her lips as red as her outfit and she moved with grace to the music.

Lowered from the ceiling she unravelled herself like a present and he watched her move the lights hitting her figure just right casting a silhouette onto the back of the tent, she rolled her hips and danced on pointed to kicking her legs and she began juggling three became four became five, six, seven and she spun and danced never dropping a single one.

She started juggling both hands above her head and she slid into the splits and caught all the balls raising both hands into the air. He would be back.

Park Jimin - Daylight (this will become a story but the details of the scene and how the reader finds the elevator might be different)

You were being chased by a young woman trying to take your bag, you took a wrong turn in a shopping mall’s parking lot followed by at least four more until you reached an old abandoned floor below the basement you could hear her coming and you looked around finding a door with a faint glowing keypad, you pressed each number four times.

1,1,1,1. No.

2,2,2,2. No.

3,3,3,3. No.

4,4,4,4. Beep. Yes, the reset sequence works on most old pin code machines. You snuck inside and it locked behind you.

Inside the room was kind of dark, you saw small glowing arrows one pointing up the other down, pressing the down arrow the doors opened and light poured in.

It was an elevator and it looked like it was in good condition, stepping inside you pressed the button and headed down. What you saw shocked you; it was like an artificial world. It seemed to go on for a fairway, you could just see walls in the distance but there were lights that created an artificial daylight.

The roof had screens showing a fake sky, there must have been UV lights as the trees and vegetation were growing well. Then of course there was the elevator shaft you were in, the further you went down the more you saw, animals and buildings and people.

They turned to you watching the elevator come to a stop each holding weapons, it was then you noticed how big this underground ecosystem was and on top of that, the people were all handsome young men.

They all looked scared of you except one. Jimin looked at you curiously. He had never seen anything like you before, what were you, you looked like him and yet different?

Kim Taehyung - ring

Taehyung’s ears were damaged and he barely had any hearing left all except for the constant ringing. He decided to just use sign language and live his life that is until he met you. You were like a breath of fresh air and you could sign a small hearing aid in your ear brightly colored for your own enjoyment and for others to notice.

Jeon Jungkook - writer

Jungkook took his monthly wage and ran through the town, he passed a man with a long scar down his face which vaguely reminded him of the king. His thoughts were interrupted by a bearded man hitting him over the head with his fishing pole and Jungkook grabbed him by the collar and punched him.

The scuffle didn’t take long, as both parties had yielded blaming the man with the scar. Jungkook continued on his way and finally arrived at the postal service.

“Any letters for me Jimin?”

“None today,” he smiled, “you here to send another?”

“Only the best for my pretty flower.”

“What would you like it to say?”

“My dearest…” Jungkook poured his heart out and Jimin wrote it for him. And the letter was sealed and Jimin grinned, taking the small silver coin and handing back a few even bronze ones.

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rnufharose · 5 years ago

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears - Chapter 4

Words: 1.5k

Trigger Warnings: Violence and death.

DISCLAIMER: Nothing in this chapter is meant to start fanwars or point fingers at other artists. I am a multistan and I love many groups.

︻デ═一 ♥

The Magic Shop was teeming with life, the patrons sipping their drinks as the lights danced around the club. Inspired by the neurosurgeon James R. Doty, it is a place that exchanges fear with something positive. It was a paradise in the heart of Seoul's violence, where the citizens could escape and have a good time, and the owners wanted them here, safe and sound where they could smile their worries away.

Their hosts were seven of the kindest men in the city: a band of brothers who embraced the path of Dionysus and the Muses. They wanted nothing to do with the mob wars that plagued the city, offering what they believed to be the best modern take on the 1950s Hollywood.

The walls were lined with gold lights, the neon signs etched in cursive with the dance floor painted a shimmering red. The stage was occupied by backup dancers, an electric guitar sounding along with a bass, drums and scratching vinyl. The seven males came out, wearing himation robes over their suits as they broke into song.

[Taehyung, J-Hope/Suga]

Drink it up

Shot glasses (sippin') Link arms (tippin')

One-shot

Thyrsus (grippin') Grape (eatin')

Drink it up

Vibes (Keep it) D style (rip it)

One-shot

Here (Kill it) let's steal it

The illest!

[RM]

Just get drunk like Dionysus

Drink in one hand, Thyrsus on the other

Art splashing inside this clear crystal cup

Art is alcohol too, if you can drink it, you'll get drunk fool

You dunno you dunno

You dunno what to do with

I'll show you I recommend you something different

From my mic made of ivy and rough wood

There is never a sound that comes out in one breath

[Jungkook, J-Hope]

Until the sun comes up, where the party at?!

Until we fall asleep, where the party at?!

Sing it, sing it again

Drink it, drink it again

We're born again

[Jin, J-Hope]

Drink it up (the pain of creation)

One-shot (the scolding of this era)

Drink it up (Talking with myself)

One-shot (Okay now I'm ready fo sho)

[V, Jimin/J-Hope]

Drink, drink, drink, drink up my glass, ay

Everyone all, fall, fall into this crazy artist

One drink (one shot), two drinks (two shots)

Get drunk on art and say onghaeya

[Jungkook, Jimin/J-Hope]

Drink, drink, drink, drink up my glass, ay

Everyone fall, fall, fall into this crazy artist

One drink (one shot), two drinks (two shots)

Hit the gong and say onghaeya

[Suga/V]

Shot glasses (sippin'), linked arms (tippin')

Thyrsus (grippin'), Grape (eatin')

Vibes (Keep it) D style (rip it)

Here (Kill it) let's steal it

The illest!

The silver-haired female had finished pouring a martini for one of the customers at the counter, flashing a smile toward the boys, specifically the male with blue hair. He harbored a heart-shaped face with big eyes and small lips that would spread into a big, genuine smile. Arabella listened to the patrons cry out with excitement at their powerful vocals and difficult choreography, which they executed effortlessly. She knew that if this city was much cleaner, these boys would have been a famous musical group that would take over the world.

"They're having a lot of fun," another voice spoke, and Bella turned to look at the older woman, whose black hair fell past her shoulders. She had soft features that also appeared striking, and she possessed a fondness in her eyes. She looked at her younger brother, who shared her similar features, but they appeared more distinct under the bright lights. "I knew their clothes would go well for tonight's show," Dawon commented confidently.

"You never disappoint with your creations, Unnie," Bella stated, and she watched the boys end their song, seated on chairs with legs crossed as they posed, smirking and catching their breaths as the patrons gave them a standing ovation.

"Yah," the male with pink hair and soft cheeks took a seat at the counter, and Bella handed him a water bottle. "that felt great."

"You did so well," Dawon hugged her younger brother and he towered over her, squeezing her tightly but not so much that he would hurt her.

"Gomawo, Noona," Hoseok's smile was like sunshine.

"Have you talked to Haneul?" she questioned, and the male with black hair and button nose shook his head.

"We haven't gotten a hold of her," Jungkook frowned. "We've been meaning to visit her and pay our respects to her Halmeoni but..."

"We've been pretty busy with the shop," the tall blonde male with full lips and a sultry gaze—Namjoon—finished. "We still feel terrible that we couldn't go to Icheon..."

The male with blue hair--Taehyung--wrapped an arm around Bella's small shoulders and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, "We'll give her our condolences, and we'll also help her get settled. She's our baby sister after all, and we can't have her living alone."

"We have to keep her away from the danger too," the male with sleepy eyes—Yoongi—added. "If anything happens to her because of the crimes outside, Halmeoni won't forgive us..."

"We head for Icheon tomorrow morning to pick her up," the tall male with broad shoulders and black hair—Jin—said. "If it's alright with you, Noona, we'd like for her to share a room with you back at the apartment?"

"That's more than alright," Dawon responded graciously. "And with me and Bella with her, she won't always have to be surrounded by men, not that that's a bad thing."

The boys laughed and Bella looked toward the older woman, nodding in agreement, "We can set her up with a job here too."

"Definitely," Namjoon smiled. "If there's one thing Haneul loves, it's performing."

︻デ═一 ♥

Sehun watched the man topple to the group, his face battered and bruised, blood dribbling down one of his nostrils. He towered over the man, eyes full of apathy as Kai continued to kick the man in the ribs.

"Heh," The third male, with his soft face, slicked hair and deep voice, named Chanyeol, smirked as he watched the younger male beat the injured male. "You really thought you could take our imports, huh?"

The man on the ground coughed, blood staining his teeth as he spat, "Y-You know that wasn't my intention...! W-We formed an alliance!"

"An alliance you chose to break!" Kai growled, crushing his foot onto the man's face, listening to him cry painfully. He lifted his chin, eyes narrow with a devious smirk on his lips. "Funny... I had a lot of respect for BIGBANG... wouldn't want to start a war with G-Dragon but..." he trailed off, looking over his shoulder at Chanyeol and Sehun.

Sehun's dark eyes shifted slowly from the man on the ground to Kai. He crouched, lips pressed into a tight line when he grabbed the man's face.

"S-Sehun," the man begged. "Y-You understand me, don't you?! I would never take your imports! No one even thinks of messing with EXO!"

He contemplated his next move, releasing his face from his grip before huffing, taking a stand and furrowing his thick brows, "Mianhe, Seungri... but this isn't the first time you've done wrong... G-Dragon will think we've done him a favor..."

Seungri watched the raven-headed male take a step back, turning to walk away, eyes widening with terror when he heard those two words fall from his lips.

Sehun came to a stop, ticking his hands into the pockets of his slacks, not once looking over his shoulder, "Kill him."

He ignored his cries, blocking out the sound of anguish in his voice as he made his way toward the car. In his thoughts, he did this city and BIGBANG's leader a huge favor by eliminating a piece of dirt. That was one less piece of scum tainting this world, and who knows if he planned on turning against his own.

Sehun opened the car door, taking the driver's seat and leaning back as he listened to gunfire, and Seungri's pleas ceased for good. He could see Chanyeol and Kai standing over his corpse, eyes lifeless and blood oozing from beneath him. The two of them walked away, taking care to get rid of any evidence that would incriminate them, and joined Sehun in the car.

"Looks like our imports are safe... for now," Chanyeol said as he called shotgun. Kai took the backseat.

"Tell Junmyeon hyung we're arranging a meeting with G-Dragon," Sehun got the car's engine running. "The sooner we tell him what we did, the better..."

He pulled away from the curb, driving onto the street before the cops could come, gripping the wheel as he stared out the windshield with a hardened expression.

Once this meeting was settled, he could go back to focusing on protecting that girl. He just had to find the person responsible for her grandmother's death, and Sehun had a feeling she would appear very soon.

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some-deaths-can-be-prevented · 6 years ago

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Some Deaths Can[’t] Be Prevented

Chapter 2: In which Pollux is sweet Notes: Guess who finally updated. ME. Summary: An au in which Octavian lives.

Pollux.

There is a good chance you have heard of him, or his namesake.

Pollux is one of the twin sons of Dionysus.

Half of a broken whole.

His twin, Castor died in a battle defending camp half-blood. He was very brave.

Pollux in the battle for Olympus, broke his arm and said he could still fight despite this.

They are both very brave

Pollux, as a son of Dionysus, deals in insanity.

He had never been the best at growing grapes, and he didn't wish to touch alcohol knowing how likely it would be for him to become an alcoholic.

Octavian had captured Pollux’s interest.

The stories of the deranged roman both concerned, and intrigued him.

He wondered if he could assist.

He had been told that Octavian would scream and scream.

That whenever anyone entered his prison, he would yell until either his voice gave out or cower until they left.

Like a caged animal.

Pollux, against advice, decided to pay a visit to the camps newest resident. From the rumors and what those who had gone to see him, Octavian was completely insane. Batshit crazy. Screaming and yelling.

So Pollux decided that made him the best person to try and talk to him.

Walking into the basement was ominous.

The stairs creaked with every step, and the silence threatened to swallow him whole.

Pollux slowly pushed the door open.

Now, Pollux, for all he had heard of Octavian, had a pretty sound mental image of him. He had been compared to Luke, so Pollux was expecting someone fit, tall, strong, your typical leader type.

The figure he saw slumped against the far wall was none of those things.

As the door opened, Octavian's head snapped up.

The room was.. Very gloomy.

A single lightbulb buzzed on the ceiling, casting dark shadows across the room.

Octavian had dark bags under his eyes, and he watched Pollux like a hawk.

The moment Pollux stepped into the room, Octavian's form grew rigid. “GO AWAY.” He shouted. “VADE ET IRRUMABO AUFERETUR” ((Latin for go the fuck away))

Pollux calmly closed the door behind him, surveying the empty ‘prison.’

Octavian clearly flinched. “LEAVE ME ALONE, GRAECUS.” Octavian looked almost frozen. A deer caught in the headlights.

“No,” Pollux said calmly, sitting down against the door.

Octavian stared at him for a long moment. “GO AWAY YOU, YOU INFERIOR GREEK SCUM”

Pollux said nothing as he sat there, staring at Octavian. Waiting.

Octavian continued screaming profanities for.. Awhile. Pollux wasn't exactly keeping track of time. But long enough for Octavian to run out of insults to scream in both English and Latin.

Now, contrary to what you may be thinking, Pollux did have a plan. Well, more of an idea of what he may be able to do to help Octavian. By the time Octavian had stopped screaming, his voice was hoarse and his chest was heaving.

Octavian eyes were tearing holes in Pollux's skull. “Why. Haven't. You. Left.” Octavian grit out.

“Because, I am here to help you.”

Octavian looked at him skeptically. “No one can help me. Much less a graecus.”

Pollux sighed, and decided to finally approach now that he was done screaming.

Before Pollux could move even a step forward, Octavian had flattened himself against the wall. “DON'T COME ANY CLOSER. I DON'T WANT YOU ANYWHERE NEAR ME. ” His voice was hoarse and crackly from screaming, eyes wild in panic.

As they said, like a caged animal.

Pollux nodded, and backed up again. “Okay.”

Octavian.. Didn't expect that. He expected Pollux to approach and kill him.

They expected that.

They told him it was dangerous. That Pollux was his executioner. That he was facing his death in the face.

They must have been lying

Octavian stared at him in almost surprise, he stayed flattened against the wall, but looked considerably less panicked than before

Pollux was silent.

“Why are you really here Graecus?”

“I’m here to help you, and my name is Pollux by the way.”

“I don't need help from anyone. Much less a graecus. I will win glory for Rome! Those who are loyal to me will come for me. You cannot keep me imprisoned forever. I will be free and I will win glory! You are all weak for not killing me.”

“How so?”

“I am your enemy. Yet none of you have slain me. It's weak. ”

“Do you want to die?”

“Of course not. But you are going to kill me I'm certain. Why keep around someone who wishes your camp razed? ”

“We have no plans on killing you Octavian” Pollux assured him.

“As if I am expected to believe such baseless lies.”

“I promise, you will be in no mortal danger in this camp.”

“Who am I to trust your word? I am certain there are murderous people who would slay me like a dog.”

“And that will not happen Octavian.”

Octavian curled into his arms, making himself seem smaller.

“Can I come closer?”

Octavian nodded once. Quickly.

“Tell me when to stop, alright?”

Octavian nodded again, quicker than the last.

Pollux took a step forward, and while Octavian flinched, he didn't say to stop.

So pollux took another step.

And then another.

Halving the distance between them.

“Stop.” Octavian's voice was muffled by his arms, yet still audible.

Pollux sat down again.

The silence was palpable.

A hardly touched serving of the camp’s breakfast sat on a plate to Octavian's right. A half-empty water bottle to his left.

“Okay. Do you know what happened when the Argo II attacked New Rome?”

Octavian looked up. “You attacked unprovoked. 16 fatalities including 3 children. 45 injured. Homes destroyed. You attacked a civilian city, a declaration of war.”

“There were Eidolons aboard the Argo II. 3 of them.”

“No.” Octavian looked shocked.

“Do you know what an Eidolon is?”

Octavian felt like ice was running through his veins. Creeping through capillaries and freezing his arteries. “...malicious spirits that can possess you and compel you.”

“Exactly. One forced now late Leo Valdez to fire upon New Rome.”

Octavian looked.. Ghostly pale.

“It was not his fault, nor will to fire upon New Rome. It was a minion of Gaia.”

“Oh.”

“Gaia was the one who attacked New Rome.”

Octavian felt like his brain was crumbling as this information filled holes he hadn't been aware of being there.

There were no comments from Them as this information slotted into place and it made sense.

And he had been too blind and too arrogant to see that the greek’s motives didn't make sense.

Octavian felt shame well up in his chest as tears collected in his eyes. “Oh.”

He pressed his face into his arms attempting to hide his face in his arms. To hide his expression.

They had nothing to say. And the silence was practically deafening.

“Octavian?” Pollux moved to sit next to him. Octavian flinched away but said nothing.

Octavian didn't want to cry.

But the tears in his eyes refused to be blinked away.

And he couldn't just hope Pollux didn't see them. He was right there with a stupidly concerned expression that he didn't understand because he nearly killed everyone here. He would have killed everyone here. He didn't understand why Pollux could even be concerned about him

“Hey.. Octavian. It's alright.” He sounded so concerned and Octavian couldn't understand.

“Are you- were there truly eidolons?”

“Why would I lie?”

Octavian blinked furiously. Trying in vain to stop the barrage of panicked thoughts of what else was he wrong about?

Pollux reached out an arm to touch his shoulder, but decided against it when Octavian started speaking.

“I- That makes so much sense.”

“I mean..”

“I- I brought an entire army against you over a fucking misunderstanding.”

“In the end, it was a good thing because then we could fight together against Gaia..”

“I just- 16 people died. You attacked my home. You declared war. I thought- I was so angry. And now I can't even fault you. Eidolons. Eidolons. ”

Pollux didn't know what to say.

“And now I’m- I’m going to be killed by you greeks and there is nothing I can do.”

“We’re not going to kill you.”

“You expect me to believe that? ” Octavian laughed mirthlessly and spread his arms. As if gesturing to a nonexistent crowd. “I’ve been here chained up like a rabid dog for who knows how long? I am a prisoner and nothing more.”

“5 days. And yes. I expect you to believe we are not going to kill you”

Octavian stared at him, then looked away. Focusing on something across the room.

He attempted to discreetly wipe tears from his eyes, but when it's only you and who you’re talking to in a room that's nigh impossible “Why are you still here? You delivered your.. Message. ”

“Because, as I said, I'm here to help you Octs.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Alright then.”

“...Why would you ‘help’ me anyway? What's the point of ‘helping’ me? Your prisoner?”

“Why shouldn't I help you?”

Octavian stared at him incredulously. “Because I am your prisoner.”

“And?”

“I was going to cut every single person in this camp to shreds. I wanted your blood to stain this ground. I wanted to revel in your demise.”

Pollux blinked at him. “A tad morbid there?”

Octavian’s expression grew somehow more sour. “ Why are you here? I could have killed you without a second thought or a spot of guilt. ”

“Because I want to help you. Honestly, how many times do I have to say that?”

“I am your would be murderer. ”

“Yeah. You are. But I don't see you jumping at my throat to kill me right now, so it's fine.”

“This makes no sense. You make no sense.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I don't recall you ever seeing a healer after the battle. Just the trial thing and then you being locked down here”

“That's because I didn't. And I didn't exactly expect I would. After all, I tried to kill everyone in this camp. ”

“We’ve been over this. I don't care about you wanting to kill everyone right now. Were you hurt in the fighting?”

“Not too terribly no. I had an army guarding me.”

“Thats a yes.”

Octavian glared at him. “I am fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“ Yes. ”

“I heard that's what you said right before you nearly launched yourself into the atmosphere.”

Octavian merely glared at him.

Pollux smiled humorlessly. “Another reason why I am lead to believe you need help. You nearly killed yourself and apparently didn't notice .”

Octavian scowled at him. He didn't know what to say.

“ Fine. I admit that I have some not terrible burns. From my bracelets and such. Nothing terrible. Nothing life-threatening.”

“May I see?”

Octavian glared, but pulled down the hem of his sleeve. “It's fine. ”

The burn was certainly not fine. In fact, it looked rather serious. Pollux had been expecting some blisters, maybe red skin.

Not very obvious burns that look like what happens after lava splashes you.

“Yeah, that's really not fine Octs..avian.” Pollux caught himself.

Octavian looked at him scrutinizingly. “It won't kill me.”

“So?”

Octavian huffed. “It's fine. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Pollux shook his head. “That doesn't mean you should just.. Leave it to fester?”

“it’ll heal. It's fine.”

“Yeah no. I’m going to get someone to help.”

“You don't need to.”

“I am here to help you Octavian. And this,” Pollux gestured at his wrist. “Is why I am certain I need too.”

“Alright. Fine. Go get your ‘healers’ or whatever you call them.”

“You’ll be alright while I'm gone?”

“ Yes. I’ve been alone for days and didn't want you here in the first place ”

“Oh. And I thought we were on good terms now.” Pollux teased lightly. “I’ll be back soon. Bye”

Octavian couldn't muster the will to glare at him.

They had been oddly quiet since he came in.

Mere mumbles in the back of his mind.

It was nice, the silence.

“Goodbye, Pollux,” Octavian muttered more of second nature than anything.

Pollux smiled at him, and stood up. “I’ll be back soon.”

#pjo #hoo #octavian pjo #pjo fanfic #pollux pjo #heroes of olympus #garecc's fics

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nyxshadowhawk · 5 years ago

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Goth Tags

I know this is a YouTube thing, but I wanted to do these two lists, so I’m going to do them.

Ways in Which I’m Stereotypically Goth:

I’ve got the romantigoth aesthetic down. I love spooky, pretty things! I love gargoyles and ravens and black roses and moons and weird occult stuff and dark forests... I’ve got three Joseph Vargo posters in my dorm room, and I’ve run out of space to put resin statues in my bedroom. I wear lots of long, flowy black clothes and the occasional Goth Princess gown. I’ve also got an entire box (made of black wood with pentagrams carved in the top) full of silver and pewter jewelry, and Black Phoenix perfumes.

I really love spooky interior design and architecture. I loved Voltaire’s Gothic Homemaking and I drooled over Haunt Furniture. My dream home would probably be a Victorian-style, Addams-like mansion in the middle of nowhere (for when I become a world-famous writer...). I also REALLY love castles and old buildings, especially with gothic architecture and gargoyles. I really liked seeing old castles and churches in Scotland. Medieval Europe is 10/10 my aesthetic.

I’ve always really liked bats. When I was a kid (around six), my favorite episode of The Magic School Bus (for whatever reason) was “Going Batty.” That set off a bat obsession! Reading Stellaluna in seventh grade just reinforced it. I used to pretend to be one and wrap myself up in my blankets like wings. Bats are cute! I recently got back into them! There’s an adorable little plush one hanging above my bed. “So dark of wing and keen of craft, of all night flyers the master’s a bat.” (Actually, the master of night flyers is totally Prince Astor of Umbragard.)

I like horror stories and gothic literature. Back when creepypasta was big, I’d casually read collections of horror stories on Quotev. Now, I really love Nox Arcana’s “Tales from the Dark Tower,” Poe stories, Grimm’s fairy tales, and the like. I actually have a pretty strong stomach. I also genuinely love gothic lit. The Picture of Dorian Gray is my favorite. I didn’t make it through Frankenstein, though, it was too sad.

I’m introverted and a night owl. I wouldn’t say I have a “stereotypical” Goth personality, because I’ve been trying to be more optimistic and happy, and I’ve attempted to make friends, but one of the reasons I like Raven from Teen Titans is because I tend to be the isolated girl in dark clothes who’d rather be left alone. I’m not exactly stoic-- I’m an emotional wreck, but once you get me talking about a topic I’m interested in, I’m all moonlight and fireflies. I’m also a “tortured artist,” and I come alive at night. I stay up until at least 2 AM most nights. I ate breakfast at one today.

I have a black cat named Edgar. I did not name him! He was given that name at the shelter. All the kittens in his litter were named after gothic writers, because they were all black! (His brother was “H.P.” after Lovecraft.) I was thrilled when my parents said we were getting him, and equally thrilled when they decided to keep his name. He’s such a sweet cat, and I love him.

I like vampires, but I have a complicated relationship with them. You’d think I’d be the kind of girl who’d be obsessed with vampires in middle school, especially if I loved the Vampire Friz episode of The Magic School Bus! But no. I wasn’t into vampires because they killed people and that was disturbing. (That’s why I independently created psychic vampires.) However, since getting into Castlevania last Halloween, I’ve started to really warm up to vampires. I dressed as Lestat last Halloween, read Carpe Jugulum, have been consuming more vampire media than before... I’m still not obsessed, but I like them now. Still would hate to be one, though. SHADOWS FOR THE WIN!

I LOVE Halloween! I was devastated the two years it was canceled (freak snowstorm and Hurricane Sandy. Oh, by the way, my reaction to the current hurricane was, “He put his soul in a hurricane, now?!). I really miss trick-or-treating. I convinced my parents to throw an annual Halloween party, which gave me an excuse to get even more decorations for my room, and they pretty much can’t host it without me. Everyone shares my aesthetic during Halloween season!

I’m really into witchy and occult stuff. The more cryptic and spooky, the better. I was Wiccan-ish for a while, I don’t think I am anymore, but I’m still exploring my spirituality (through books like Nocturnal Witchcraft and Shadow Magick Compendium) with guidance from Hecate and Dionysus.

Whether my music taste is truly “Goth” or not, it is certainly very spooky. Nox Arcana all the way! I really go in for the church organ and glockenspiel and chiming bells and melancholy piano and strings and harpsichords and minor keys. Listening to spooky music makes me happy. I have a whole list of creepy waltzes. Neoclassical is my thing. I also like Adrian von Zeigler, Peter Gundry, Two Steps From Hell, and fantasy music in general.

Un-Goth Confessions:

I don’t like gothic rock. Some would say this means I’m not Goth, and it felt alienating for a while. Siouxsie and Bauhaus just aren’t really my thing. I don’t really like industrial and darkwave, either. The closest I get to traditional Goth music is Voltaire (I love the songs of his that I listen to, but I only listen to a handful), and a few songs by Dead Can Dance. I’m much more into Nox Arcana.

I don’t look stereotypically Goth. I joke that I look like Aurora and dress like Maleficent, because it’s true. My cheeks are permanently rosy and not easy to cover with white makeup (I don’t wear makeup often, anyway.) I have big blue eyes and wavy, golden hair (that I’m not going to dye). I don’t have any piercings— when my sister went for her second piercing, she encouraged me to get my ears pierced, but I broke down crying because I’m afraid of pain. I’m an adult!

I still like horsies and unicorns and other cutesy things from my childhood. I was really into Gen 3 of My Little Pony. I still have some fairy and ballerina stuff, even if I don’t display it. My bedroom is still lavender (and always will be). I definitely wasn’t spooky in childhood, and I’ve still got a non-spooky side. (It was kind of a big deal when I dressed as a rainbow unicorn fairy when I was seven, and then a dark sorceress when I was eight.) I danced in my company’s adapted kiddie production of the Nutcracker until I graduated. I’ve got fluffy stuffed unicorns right next to my Spiral Bat Cat.

I HATE DIY. I don’t trust it! I don’t want to ruin my clothes with fabric paint or rip holes in things or in any way risk it turning out poorly. My style is tough to DIY anyway, but yeah.

I’m not really into the macabre. I only got into skeletons because of Undertale, and I don’t like, for lack of a better phrase, “the death aesthetic.” Blood, body horror art, the zombie look... I don’t really like anything morbid or sad. I’m iffy on graveyards and coffins.

I don’t like most horror films. I like spooky movies, like Coraline, but not horror movies. Although I like horror stories, I don’t like horror films, less because of the horror and more because they tend to end badly. I don’t like “everybody dies” stories, especially if it’s one where sympathetic people get killed off one by one, or slasher flicks that rely on jumpscares. Old-school gothic horror could work, though. I also like psychological thrillers like The Sixth Sense and Black Swan. Is Interview With the Vampire a horror movie? (I probably underestimate how strong my stomach is. Aladdin used to scare me. Look at me now!)

I still wear a lot of color. About half my wardrobe is black, which is still a lot, but not as much as most Goths. I’ve still got a lot of purple, and other colors.

I’m not a huge fan of Tim Burton. The only film of his that I really love was Corpse Bride. Beetlejuice wasn’t my style and didn’t contain enough of Lydia, Sweeney Todd was a bit too dark and gory (although I did like that one), Dark Shadows wasn’t as good as I was hoping, Alice in Wonderland was cool aesthetically but not a very good film, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was a dumpster fire... and The Nightmare Before Christmas doesn’t count because he didn’t direct it (and though I like it, I wasn’t blown away by it, either). My reaction overall? “Meh.”

I still contain a childish exuberance. I squealed and bounced up and down when the new Nox Arcana album was released. I will probably do the same before and/or after watching Season 3 of Castlevania, and when Grimoire of Souls is released. This is how I know that Goth stuff is part of my true personality.

There’s a lot of Goth clothes that I don’t wear, in addition to not dying my hair, not wearing makeup, and not having piercings. I’d wear black heeled boots like Dracula’s, but not platform shoes. I don’t like fishnets. I hate ripped clothing. Not a fan of hoodies. I also will not wear leather clothing. And spiked collars? No no no. I’m pretty much strictly a Romantigoth. Maybe that doesn’t make me less Goth. But it makes me less stereotypical, especially when so much of the Goth stuff online is geared toward that end of the subculture.

And I don’t know if this makes me more Goth or less Goth, but I have one outfit from Hot Topic. And an epic “House of Belmont” t-shirt.

Okay, that was interesting.

“I’M SO GOTH, I LITERALLY DARKEN A DOORWAY!”

#goth #goth stuff #goth tag #stuff about me #facts about me #goth confessions

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fightmechimchim · 6 years ago

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BTS at Wembley 💜

So I had the amazing opportunity to go see them at Wembley on Saturday and it was incredible. The entire time did not feel real, I thought when I'd see them I'll finally know they're real but even when I did see them they felt like a dream, it all felt like a beautiful dream. Ironically I also got to realise how normal after all they are, they moved and talked and sang and danced like normal people, just ordinary guys and that made me love them even more. I also realised how much respect and admiration I truly carry for what they do. Four songs in and I was tired, sweating, my arm was aching, my throat was so soar and I was dying to down a bottle of water, but they kept going and going and going. I thought it was impossible and inhumane to handle such choreographies and sing and rap at the same time, song after song, I felt like watching superhumans. I can really see the practise and the hard work paying off, they were incredible. The way they hopped around the stage, you could see that all of that was so well oeganised and practised and their energy brought a lot of energy to me and I was glad I could sing (poorly) and dance (poorly) with them. The experience was so unique and so beautiful and I kept getting emotional. At times I was distracted by the crowd, and those were the times I got emotional just thinking about how these lovely talented guys brought all of us together to enjoy ourselves, to love ourselves and celebrate a beautiful historical moment that I will always remember. I was sad to let them go but I was happy too, because I know they'll carry the same love and happiness to other people in other countries 💜 Thank you to BTS and ARMY for making up the brightest stars in the constellation of my universe 💜

My fav/memorable moments:

1. Namjoom saying how hard it is to get into UK charts and that he is so happy to have made it there and how happy he is to perform at Wembley. How we helped him get over a wall in his path and how he hopes that BTS could help us get over the walls in our own lives. I felt that.

2. Yoongi was sooooooo squish. I just wanted to snuggle him. He was truly greatful to perform at Wembley, I felt his sincerity and his gratitude from the way he talked and I am so glad to have been part of his dream.

3. Jimin's English was amazing!!!! The man was fluent as fluent can be I was so amazed and touched by his efforts. He also changed his voice to this growly tone and it was so funny! But he was GLOWING I'm telling you the man is an actual ANGEL FAIRY! His smile is contagious and when he said I love you I died.

4. Jin's Rhapsody recreation! This really made me realise that I was a part of a legendary story! The way ARMYS listened and followed and were so intune with him and the boys it was beautiful! We were all united in the best way possible! I am so glad to have been a part of such an amazing ethereal moment!

5. Their bloody British accents made me cackle so much. They were sooo cute. Tae's 'innit' and Jungkook butter rhyme killed meee.

6. Epiphany is a very soecial song to me helping me realise how much love I have and should have for myself, how at times it feels like me against the world, how much I truly appreciate myself. It was a song I sang in my room with my hand on my heart and crying imagining singing along with him and when I got to do it, with him singing along with me, with my hand on my heart, I broke down and couldn't not cry. Thank you Kim Seokjin.

7. YOONMIN calm your asses down! These boys killed me, Yoongi was such a fun personality on stage and Jimin was so adorable THANK YOU FOR THE HUG OF THE CENTURY!

8. Namjoon is a big boy I am telling you the man is big. At times it was hard to tell who was who on stage because I was further away than most but I could see Namjoon's long limbs dancing around. Thank you Mr. President.

9. Legs. I remember their legs. Synchronized legs dancing.

10. It's so hard for me to remember Singularity but I remember my voice singing along with him, I remember being stuck in this place in my mind where I was just holy shit he's really there, he's really there, I legit remember thinking if anyone comes to threaten him I will literally lay down my life for him.

11. Taehyung during Truth Untold. He loves us. He appreciates us. He's not taking this for granted. He loves what he does. He's greatful for what he has the opportunity to do. I watched him watch us. He looked at every side and every level appreciating every light in the stadium. It was in his eyes and it was so pure. I saw it again towards the end. I have no doubt that he loves the life he is leading.

12. I was not ready for Dionysus. I was not ready. I saw the dancers and thought oh cool we get an introduction to the dancers but then BAM BTS was there and my legs started shaking like idefk something that shakes like crazy. I was shook. I was lost. I was jssnsksbskabs. But boiii did I scream! My head started swaying and I thought I was going to faint but damn that was a religious experience!!!

13. Hobi's swag and his presence and his entire existance is GOD LIKE!!! There was a part where he wasn't singing and just walking towards the camera and holy shit that alone was so impactful. He literally is so fucking fascinating.

14. Baepsae. Namjoon and Hobi hip thrusting. That's it. I don't remember anything else.

15. I almost didn't see them disappear but then I did and I was okay to be honest. I just knew I'll see them again. Or maybe I'm in denial about not missing them yet and I'll spend the rest of my days crying internally :)

16. Jungkook is so beautiful??? He is so beautiful??? From where I stood he looked like a flying flamingo but he's so beautiful and his smile is brethtaking and his voice is like hello am I speaking to an angel???

17. Getting to scream J-Hope during just dance was like praying to a God thank you for that.

18. We were stomping on the ground and it felt amazing, the sound and the vibrations was like goddamn we are that powerful.

19. ARMY ARE SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL I SAW ALL OF YOU AND ALL OF YOU ARE STUNNING LIKE JESUS CHRIST WHAT ARE YOUR GENES EACH ONE OF YOU WAS BEAUTIFUL!!!!

20. We really are a galaxy, we were so magical with our lights and banners and our voices. Thank you ARMYLEGENDS!

21. "Special thanks to our voices ARMY" I always thought BTS voiced what was in our hearts and minds so perfectly. I didn't think they were speaking with our voices too. Thank you.

22. There's a lot more I might remember later but for now that is it. I cheered and sang to the best of my ability! I did some dope ass moves (I like to think I did leave me alone)

It was beautiful, magic, a dream, and the best day of my life. THANK YOU BTS AND ARMY! 💜💜💜

#min yoongi #park jimin #bts #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #bangtan boys #btsatwembley #btswembley #btslondon #btsxwembley #btsxarmy #bts army #purple army #army

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jikook-love · 7 years ago

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love stall (pt.1)

jungkook x jimin | hogwarts au | words: ?

gryffindor!jungkook x slytherin!jimin

Young wizard Jeon Jungkook had somehow become the ideal role model for all Gryffindors by his fifth year at Hogwarts: a charming and attractive personality, the best dueller of his year, captain of the Quidditch team and the best at trespassing into places he shouldn’t be without getting caught. But even the Gryffindor poster boy holds a shameful secret, a secret that would utterly shatter his reputation should it ever come out:

He had fallen in love with a Slytherin.

Blood pulsed through his ears. The chants were becoming louder and louder, gradually reaching an empowering crescendo.

“Go Go Gryffindor! Go Go Gryffindor!”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a fleeting moment, for that was all he had. The red Quaffle was in his hands, and the goal was hovering in distance, so close yet so far. This was it. Score this and the game would be over regardless of who caught the Snitch (unless the opposing team got another goal in afterwards which was highly unlikely considering their mental state). It was all up to him.

They were already starting to gain upon him, he ought to have felt incomparable pressure. But no.

After all, he was Jeon Jungkook, Captain of the red and gold Quidditch team.

And Gryffindor’s pride.

In a mad dash, Jungkook let out a cry as he pushed forth on his broom, the traditional Firebolt. It was a broom that had been world-class competition standard in its prime, but had since been worn out through the test of time. Regardless, it was still a reliable and solid piece of equipment--and more importantly it was the same class of broom that the legendary Harry Potter had once mounted, which made it all the more suitable for someone like Jungkook.

He heard the familiar screams and cheers as he whizzed across the stadium, his speed unmatched by anyone else on the pit. Usually, it was often the Seeker who was praised for their flying abilities, but Jungkook flew in a way that outshone them all. In fact, despite his remarkable flying techniques, the coach found him more suited to be a Chaser due to his equally impressive strength and reflexes. The way he handled his broom and flying patterns was almost theatrical, a show of speed and agility, unrivalled by anyone else in their generation.

Sweat beaded from his forehead as Jungkook headed straight for the goal posts. It was a one-man show now, and despite that there were two other Chasers on the team, it could only be him who could finish this.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed a Bludger headed towards him at full speed. Anyone else would’ve been hindered at once, as the the offending ball travelled at a much higher speed than their broomsticks at full power. But Jungkook was quicker than that. He quickly arched his back, sliding under the Bludger and using his agile body to avoid what his broom couldn’t. The crowd roared in excitement, realizing the goal was now quite in reach.

Jungkook grinned in anticipation. If he did this properly, the game was theirs, and nothing could possibly stop them. This was it, they would win yet another game, the first win for Gryffindors for this year. He watched in pity as the Keeper was desperately doing Double Eight Loops around the ring as fast as she could, but it was all futile, because he was much faster and his keen eyes could detect her exact trajectory.

And...now!

The crowd went wild as Jungkook suddenly stood up on his broom, ready for the final blow. All he could see was the goal post in front of him.

“OH MY GOD! IT’S THE DIONYSUS DIVE! HE’S GONNA DO IT AGAIN! HIS SIGNATURE MOVE,” he heard the announcer declare loudly and excitedly.

Jungkook’s eyes glinted, he reeled back to throw the red object that was about to become a bullet. Drawing back, ready to punch full force--

A flash of gold.

It all happened in a blur. In spur of the moment, he’d forgotten to watch out for the most unlikely scenario of them all. A sudden impact, as he inevitably collided with someone else. Quaffle falling from his hands as he was knocked completely off his broom.

He could only watch in horror, hands grappling at air as he saw the other team’s Keeper mercilessly seize the red ball, tossing it to her teammates. His own team had cleared out to make way for him, and had only realized their mistake now. But it was too late. Seconds later, a hopeful cheer erupted, indicating a goal.

He grimaced, realizing that that should be the least of his worries right now. He desperately tried to grab for his broom, which was just that much more than an arm’s reach away.

Closer...closer. He contemplated using his wand to retrieve the broom, but that would definitely forfeit the game for his entire team. Jungkook grimaced, deciding he would just get healed later, bracing for the worst as he plummeted towards the bottom of the pitch.

But the impact never came.

He opened his eyes, in shock as he realized that he was hovering barely centimetres above the sandy floor, perched upon another’s broomstick.

It wasn’t the expected red cloak he expected to see--deep green fabric fluttered in the air.

Jungkook turned to his saviour in surprise. “Oh my god. Thank yo--”

He was suddenly dumped into the ground, plummeting face first into the sand right next to his broom. He caught a glimpse of a wisp of blonde hair before his former saviour hovered tauntingly above him.

“You won’t be thanking me in a bit.”

And then his saviour was gone, gaining incredible altitudes at an impressive speed. Jungkook didn’t have time to contemplate.

That game hasn’t been called. That means the Snitch hasn’t been caught yet so...

He quickly climbed back on his broom and rushed back up to the top, desperately wanting to regain his pride. He could still do this. It would just mean two goals instead of one, he could easily--

The sounding whistle.

His heart sank in his chest, a dreading feeling coursing through his veins. There was a silence spreading throughout the stadium, as if something completely unexpected had occurred.

He desperately, quickly flew to the top, wanting to see what the result was for himself.

“Oh my god,” one of the announcers said. “Unbelievable. No way in fu--”

“Oh no, he went and done it!” the other one interrupted before any profanities could be uttered. “The Plumpton Pass! Haven’t seen that one in awhile. A snarky one this new seeker is!”

Plumpton Pass. The one where the Seeker hides the Snitch in his sleeve to confuse the opposing team? But why now of all times--

He froze, the explanation becoming thoroughly evident. A wave of blonde hair caught his eyes, right in the dead centre of the pitch.

Mostly because the light shade of hair, that was now certainly burned into his memory, so well complimented by the Golden Snitch he had clutched in his right hand and displayed for the slowly recovering crowd to see.

Jungkook couldn’t believe what had happened. He--the soul and pride of his generation of Gryffindors--had been absolutely outwitted and beaten. In the worst way possible.

By a Slytherin.

“Well, would you look at that?” The grin was inevitable in the announcer’s voice. “It looks like the new Slytherin Seeker’s way better than we all thought.”

✧✧✧

Jungkook slammed his broom down in frustration, unbuttoning his Quidditch attire in a fury as his friends followed him into the locker, concern written on their faces.

“Hey man, come on, you did great! Everyone knows that,” Jung Hoseok, sixth year Hufflepuff reassured. “You broke an insane amount of records that game, all on your own.”

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Kim Taehyung, also a sixth year Hufflepuff, was gawking. “You got over 100 points from Quaffles goals alone. No wonder people think you’re cheating.”

“Good thing he’s a Gryffindor,” Hoseok chortled. “Can you imagine if he was a Slytherin? The amount of inspections.”

“Good. Those snakes deserve it,” Taehyung muttered. “I’ll never forgive what they did to my toad.”

“What did they do to your toad?” Hoseok asked curiously. He quickly shook the thought out of his head. “Never mind. We should probably focus on Jungkook right now. The boy’s distraught.” The sixth year student patted Jungkook on the shoulder, who was still crouched over on a bench, face buried into his hands.

“Cut yourself some slack, bro,” Taehyung mumbled, sitting down beside him. “You’ve got to lose once or twice in your life. Otherwise people will think you’re some sort of monster.”

“Yeah, it’s not like any of us saw it coming,” Hoseok echoed. “I didn’t even notice there was a Seeker the entire game--he was so subtle.”

“That’s the point, Hoseok,” Jungkook pouted angrily, pulling on his regular school robes. “Usually no one else sees these things but I’m supposed to. I can’t believe I let him get away with that. It has to be the oldest trick in the book.”

“What? The little Snitch trick he did at the end?” asked Taehyung.

“No,” Jungkook frowned. “Blending into the environment and showing up only at the last second.”

“Well, on the bright side, it won’t happen again,” Hoseok shrugged. “People will be keeping eyes on him from now on as the new Slytherin seeker who managed to best Jeon Jungkook himself in a Quidditch game.” Hoseok’s smug smile quickly faded from his face when he noticed Taehyung shooting dirty looks at him, indicating that he was not helping in anyway whatsoever.

“A-anyways,” he quickly recovered. “Namjoon and Seokjin are waiting for us in Hogsmeade. Let’s go have some Butterbeer and take your mind off things, huh?”

“You guys go ahead,” Jungkook muttered without thinking much. Upon looking up and seeing their distraught expressions, he gave a sigh and quickly gave in.

“I’ll catch up later,” Jungkook promised instead. “You guys go get a table.” The comment managed to restore a slight sense of relief to their faces, and was enough to send them on their way.

Which Jungkook to sulk all on his own, which was something he hadn’t done in a long, long while. He hadn’t had such an absolutely demoralizing failure in a long while, not since he’d gotten to Hogwarts. Here, he had friends, and somehow, he was an exemplary example of anything he bothered to give the slightest effort into. People even looked up to him--naiively, of course. It’d be a long, long while since he’d experienced such a crushing feeling in his chest.

He could already see it: the cold, disappointed glances that he would inevitably receive upon returning to the Gryffindor Common Room. After their fervent cheering and unyielding faith in him, all he had given them in return was a disheartening loss. He didn’t know how he was going to face it.

As if waiting for the worst possible timing possible, the doors to the locker rooms suddenly burst open, revealing several windblown green capes. Jungkook looked up to see the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team, still decked out in full Quidditch uniforms and clutching their brooms with smug smiles on their faces.

Idiots, you guys couldn’t even block me once. If it weren’t for your Seeker...

“You’re the only one left?” one of them called out. “That’s a shame.”

“What? Came to gloat?” Jungkook spat back without hesitance. “They're all gone.”

“Well, I think you’re the only one we need to see, captain,” said the female Keeper from earlier. The way she dragged out the last word brought the nastiest goosebumps to his skin. “That’s what you get for underestimating us.”

Despite his insecurities, Jungkook still managed shrug and give them the coldest response:

“You let me score ten goals on your hoops,” Jungkook restated the facts. “And that was just me alone. It’s hard not to judge you guys after that.”

Their smiles were immediately replaced with angry scowls, and Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk to himself. It was amazing--he was feeling his lowest now, but he could still talk back to the Slytherins without a scuffle.

I am a Gryffindor, after all, Jungkook thought proudly to himself.

“Whatever, Jeon,” the girl crooned, her lips curling in disgust. “You and your pompous team still lost, and that’s the final verdict.”

“The scoreboard also says 170-160, a 10 point difference despite your team catching the Snitch, which is also a final verdict,” Jungkook pointed out. “How about you guys just go back to your gloomy dungeon and pretend you deserved the win there? At least there’s probably people there who would fulfill your delusions.”

He didn’t even bother watching their angered and frustrated expressions as they stormed out of the room, throwing swear words behind--he’d seen and heard all that one too many times.

“Pathetic,” Jungkook muttered to himself, shoving away his broom angrily.

“I’d be more careful with that if I were you. That looks expensive.”

Jungkook whirled around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He froze immediately, slightly jolted by who was standing in front of him.

He’d thought the entire team had left after his harsh words but it turned out he was wrong.

One person had remained.

The one person who could probably get to his head beyond anyone else on that team.

That shade of gold...

“Relax, will you?” the boy said, his voice much more melodic than Jungkook could ever imagine it to be, high toned and somewhat pleasant. He tilted his head, a teasing yet charming smile written on his lips. “I’m not here to pick a fight or anything.” Jungkook watched as the boy ran his fingers through his unusually silky blonde hair, fully revealing what was undoubtedly the face of the Seeker who’d bested him only minutes ago.

Jungkook found himself to be surprisingly obediently, as he body loosened immediately, his grasp removed from his wand.

“Why are you still here then?” Jungkook asked, annoyed. “To rub it in my face?”

“Maybe,” came the shameless answer.

Jungkook glared at him, before turning away again. Evidently the only way to truly fight those arrogant assholes was to ignore them.

“Look, I’m kidding,” the Seeker said suddenly, stepping closer as a gentler tone appeared in his voice. “Honestly, I came to offer my condolences. What I did was a bit...over the top and unnecessary, and I just wanted to let you know that I’m perfectly aware of that too.”

But Jungkook wasn’t so easily persuaded, the burning anguish from the loss still eating away at his heart. “Then why’d you do it in the first place?” he fired back, his voice filled with spite.

He watched, as a subtle, mysterious smirk appeared on the Seeker’s face.

“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “The once in a lifetime chance for a measly, faceless Slytherin like me to tarnish the reputation of the glorious Jeon Jungkook, the pride and trophy of the entire Gryffindor House...you don’t actually blame me, do you?”

Jungkook’s chest tightened threateningly upon hearing his casual yet piercing words.

“Don’t tell me you waited until that exact moment to catch the Snitch,” Jungkook spoke, his eyes widened.

His newfound rival shrugged, the mysterious smile so beguiling, almost dangerous.

“You’re so rude,” he said casually. “We all know so much about you yet you didn’t even bother to learn my name?”

“What--”

The boy took one step closer, offering an outstretched hand to Jungkook.

“Park Jimin,” he smiled brightly. “Nice to finally officially meet you.”

On impulse, Jungkook took his hand without thinking. Jimin’s grip was firm and convincing, and Jungkook saw a strange twinkle in his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Also...I’d tell you whether or not I’d planned it all along,” Jimin spoke slowly. “But you probably wouldn’t believe me either way.”

He let go of Jungkook’s hand, turning his back and heading for the door. For the first time in a long while, Jungkook was rendered completely speechless.

But, as courteous as Jimin was, he didn’t leave without leaving Jungkook a few last words:

“I am a Slytherin after all.”

✧✧✧

“Slytherins suck man,” Taehyung hummed, kicking back on his stool as he downed his Butterbeer.

Hoseok nearly spit out his drink. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

In the olden days, Hogwarts students had only been permitted to visit the lovely village of Hogsmeade on the weekend, but for awhile now, that restriction had been lifted, and the students were allowed out for a break whenever they fell fit so long as it didn’t clash with their school schedules--many professors seemed to agree that it would be better for students to buy some sweets or go on dates to distract themselves rather than wander into the more precarious areas of the school grounds in their free time.

The group of five males were comfortably seated at the Three Broomsticks, each well-comforted with their own individual foaming hot mugs of Butterbeer. Taehyung and Hoseok had gotten a table as promised, and was later joined by their close friends and older 7th year Ravenclaw students Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon.

Jungkook didn’t even recall how they even got to that conversation topic, but upon hearing Taehyung’s statement, Jungkook said nothing--partly because of the recent strange encounter he’d had with Park Jimin that he’d chosen to keep quiet about until now.

Another part was due to the fact that he already knew full well of the majority of the school’s views on Slytherins. Ever since the last Wizarding War, Slytherins had suddenly obtained the reputation of being vile, devious, and calculating, and everyone abided by that generalization. Jungkook, on the other hand, was a brave and proud Gryffindor, the house that was considered a direct lineage from the legendary Harry Potter himself. Everyone loved Gryffindors, everyone wanted to be a Gryffindor. They surely were the central house of Hogwarts, their mention always coming hand in hand with the reputable image of their school. On the other hand, no one liked the kind of snakes that was associated with the horrible image of Voldemort himself. Times had changed, and nowadays it seemed even the Hufflepuffs had a better reputation than the Slytherins most of the time.

And it showed in their daily social lives as well. Jungkook, as well as most of his Gryffindor friends, had no qualms in incorporating numerous Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs into their main groups of friends. But rarely did one see a green robe amidst the red. Considering the history of their houses, it was almost taboo for Gryffindor and Slytherin students to associate, with very few exceptions. Besides, it was clear to Jungkook that the Slytherins’ sense of elitism prevented them from dwindling with the “other students”, and it was hard to befriend one in their first place due to their conniving natures--you never knew which one to trust.

“What about Yoongi?” Namjoon asked suddenly. “He’s cool. You all like him.”

“Yeah but that’s Yoongi,” Taehyung retorted. “He’s not in that House by choice, he’s in that House because no one can imagine him anywhere else. He belongs there.”

“Doesn’t that go for everyone?” Seokjin said pointedly.

“How naive,” Taehyung cackled. “That’s what they want you to think. Without realizing that the single choice was literally the difference between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle. Besides, didn’t the Sorting Hat say you had potential in other places? I was a Hat Stall, you know. Could’ve been a Gryffindor. You know, because I’m the main character of every story.”

“Oh yeah. I was almost considered as a Ravenclaw by the Sorting Hat,” Jungkook pointed out suddenly.

“Yeah see--wait, seriously?” Taehyung choked.

“What do you mean ‘seriously?’” Namjoon asked. “Jungkookie is a smart kid.”

Taehyung stared at Namjoon for a good few seconds, trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Well, we’ll truly see when his OWLs come out next year,” Taehyung mumbled to himself.

“Oh yeah, how’s that going by the way?” Seokjin caught on at once. “You’ve been studying well for awhile now, right Jungkook?”

“Don’t look at me,” Hoseok said. “I got through that mess last year. Did alright though.”

“You know people study for that from like third year,” Namjoon noted.

“Relax,” Taehyung drawled, grabbing onto Jungkook’s shoulders suddenly. “He’ll be fine. Besides, no one’s going to call the great Jeon Jungkook anything less than Acceptable--he’s Gryffindor’s prodigy boy. Besides, he’s probably gonna go play Quidditch anyways. Even if he fails I’m sure they’ll give him a slight nudge and let him chug along anyways.”

“You know this is school, right?” Seokjin noted. “Not a popularity contest.”

“Whatever, whatever, Head Boy,” Taehyung smirked, waving his hands dismissively. “Clearly you don’t know the true powers of the incredible and beautiful Jeon Jungkookie~”

Hoseok, in the meantime, was staring at him in disgust. “What is he? A House Elf?” he spoke. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not drruuunk~” Taehyung murmured again, tilting his head over so that he was leaning on Hoseok’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Hoseok sighed. “I think we gotta go. If the professors catch us on the way back to the Common Room, this won’t be good.”

“Just tell them what happened, what’s the big deal?” said Seokjin.

Hoseok gave Seokjin an exasperated look. “Would you believe it if I told you he got tipsy off Butterbeer?”

“...no.”

“Exactly,” Hoseok sighed, draping Taehyung’s arm over his shoulder and pulling him off his stool. “I’m sorry about this, guys. We’ll see you soon.”

Hoseok dragged Taehyung away, mumbling something about how Hufflepuff might’ve actually had a chance for the House Cup this year but not anymore.

“So Jungkookie, what have you been up to?” Namjoon asked. “You’ve been so busy lately we haven’t seen you at all.”

Jungkook shrugged. “Nothing much, really.”

“We heard about the game,” Seokjin said nonchalantly. “I hope you don’t feel responsible or anything.”

Another shrug, indicating his confused state. If he had been his regular self, he probably would’ve gotten over it already, especially with his friends trying to comfort him like this. If it weren’t for...

“Heyyy, Earth to Jungkook,” Namjoon called, waving his hand in front of Jungkook’s face. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest then? It’s been a long day. Sleep has a tendency to heal a lot of things.”

“Oh right, sure,” Jungkook snapped back to attention, trying not to get distracted by the image of that person. “Of course...uh, what were talking about?”

Seokjin sighed. “Go home and get some rest. You seem like you need it.”

“Oh, true,” Jungkook mumbled, his brain still not entirely in the right place.

“Jungkook?” Seokjin called again.

“Hmm?”

“You gonna be alright?”

Jungkook paused for a second, before standing up and giving the obvious answer.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he spoke, grabbing his stuff. “I’ll feel better by tomorrow morning. Are you guys coming with or...?”

Namjoon and Seokjin swiftly exchanged glances with each other. Jungkook, as mentally and physically exhausted as he was, still managed to take the hint.

“No, I think we’ll be good,” Seokjin answered. “We’re just gonna...stay here a little more and just do some talking.”

“Yeah, we haven’t had a decent night out in a while you see,” Namjoon replied.

Jungkook nodded. “I’ll be off then,” he smiled weakly. “Thanks for everything guys.”

Namjoon and Seokjin waved politely, and watched intently as Jungkook waved back one last time before walking out the door, heading back to his dormitories. The both of them immediately leaned back in their seats, letting out simultaneous exasperated sighs as if they had been waiting this entire time to get it out of their systems.

“What do you think it is?” Seokjin said, keeping his tones still slightly hushed, as if he still feared the thought that Jungkook could still be around. “There’s gotta be something else. He’s nowhere near angry enough. He’s...pliant almost.”

Namjoon rubbed his fingers into his temple, attempting to think even deeper. “You don’t think someone got to him did you?” he spoke. “You know how Slytherins get snarky. They might’ve hit his ego in a wrong spot or something.”

Seokjin shrugged, wrapping the blue scarf tighter around his neck to warm himself up a bit more. “Maybe we’re just overanalyzing. Maybe he’s truly mature enough now to not get worked up over such things, being the captain and all.”

A final sip of Butterbeer entered between Namjoon’s lips before he placed his mug down, his eyes glinting as if he was suddenly understanding something.

“Yeah,” Namjoon mumbled. “He’s...growing up, isn’t he?”

✧✧✧

Jeon Jungkook had made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room just in time for his usual curfew, but he found he didn’t have it in himself to crawl into bed yet, despite how exhausted his mind was feeling. Instead, he kept pacing back and forth on the common room floors without changing into pajamas, with some nagging feeling in the back of his head that he couldn’t quite pin down. Something had been left unresolved. His thoughts were restless and there was a strange feeling in his chest. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Before long, he found his feet taking him down the Grand Staircase and out of the main building, taking him towards the one and only place which could bring peace by distracting him. After all, a true Gryffindor always had an uncanny knack for sneaking into the wrong places, at the wrong time, yet always getting out (mostly) unscathed.

Before long, he found himself in the Quiddtich Training Grounds. He quickly made his way over to an abandoned shed where he’d managed to stash an extra broom--one of the cheaper ones they used to train the first year students--for use in times like this. He quickly clambered on it and lifted off into the deep, evening sky, naturally swerving this way and that, practicing his school-famous flying maneuvers, trying to empty his mind of all thoughts. It was the one place where he felt at peace, flying without wings, in the sky where he somehow naturally excelled beyond everyone else.

Before long, he had become accustomed to the cool breeze threaded through his hair and touched upon his skin. His body finally felt calmed, and he had forgotten whatever it was that was bothering him before. He did a final loop before landing gracefully on the soft field, finally ready to call it a night.

“That was some pretty smooth flying, Jeon Jungkook,” a voice suddenly called out of nowhere.

Instinctively, Jungkook jumped, hand into his chest pocket where he kept his wand. But when he looked up, the person he saw was not a professor nor a monster like he’d expected, but rather someone completely unexpected.

The person stepped closer to Jungkook. He pushed back his blonde locks to reveal his forehead, the familiar sly yet simultaneously charming smile plastered on his face like he had been born with it. He, just like Jungkook, was still dressed in his school uniform, though without the black robe adorning his shoulders.

And Jungkook didn’t know why, but as soon as he saw the Slytherin seeker, the feelings which he’d tried so hard to ignore suddenly came rushing back again despite his efforts.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asked, slightly terrified at the certain prospects of his situation.

“I was wandering the halls, when I noticed you were doing the same,” Jimin shrugged. “Curious, I decided to follow to see where you were headed. I never thought you’d end up here.”

Jungkook remained speechless, still worried about the consequences.

“Relax,” Park Jimin spoke, still smiling. “I won’t tell anyone you’re here past curfew.”

Jungkook gulped. “I could say the same to you.”

Unexpectedly, Jimin shook his head.

“I actually have special permission to be here, unlike you, Jeon Jungkook,” said Jimin. “Hooch noticed my busy schedule and supposed lack of prior experience despite my desire of wanting to join the Slytherin team. So she’s allowed me to use the Training Grounds off hours.” Jungkook suddenly noticed Jimin was also clutching a training broom in his right hand.

Jimin threw another smile at Jungkook’s direction.

“I’m not like you, Gryffindor,” he spoke slowly, the words slipping off his tongue as if he was chanting some sort of dangerous spell. “I was never ‘naturally talented’ at any of this. I couldn’t even control my broom for the entire first semester of my time here at Hogwarts. So I had to work with everything I had. I hope you understand.”

“Why...are you telling me this?” Jungkook inquired, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He was out here in the middle of the night having a conversation with a Slytherin. If anyone caught him, his reputation would be as good as over. Plus, there was no telling what Jimin was actually planning.

“So there’s no animosity between us,” Jimin answered, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes as he gazed towards the dark sky above them. “Like I said, I hope you understand. It was a chance for all my efforts to pay off and be completely noticed for the first time--granted, I had to sacrifice your dignity in exchange. But now, people are finally becoming curious about me. You’d probably do the same in my situation.”

“You didn’t have to do it like that,” Jungkook grumbled before he could help it. He was referring to the way Jimin had clearly hid the Snitch away only to reveal at a climatic moment in the middle of the field. He still vividly recalled the defeating feeling he’d experienced, as that seemingly hopeful moment of recovering was crushed in an instant.

“But that would’ve been no fun,” said Jimin. “I am a Slytherin, after all.”

As he spoke the last words, he tilted his head towards Jungkook, who found himself unable to stop staring. He didn’t know if it was his tired brain conjuring up detrimental ideas, but for some reason Jimin looked strangely captivating with his slightly long golden hair drifting through the wind like that, and that ambiguous half smile with so many mysteries and hidden intentions behind it.

“How about this?” Jimin said suddenly, interrupting Jungkook’s drifting thoughts. “I don’t expect you to forgive me so quickly. I probably wouldn’t either if I were you. So...what if you played a game with me? If I win the game, you forgive me. And if you win the game, I’ll agree to any one thing you request of me.”

Jungkook’s ears perked. He was always one for a challenge. And the stakes seemed to be in entirely in his favour, regardless of the outcome.

“I’m listening,” Jungkook voiced his interest at once.

Jimin smirked. “That’s what I’d figured you would say.” He suddenly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wand.

Jungkook froze. “Don’t tell me--”

“Accio.”

After a few seconds, a red silk bag suddenly rushed out of the school building and into Jimin’s palm. Jungkook’s eyes widened as he realized what it was that was inside, squirming and writhing for freedom.

He gaped in disbelief. “How did you--?”

“I told you, special permissions,” Jimin grinned. “How am I supposed to train to be a Seeker without a Snitch?”

Jungkook had no retort, as he stared at the bag, transfixed, and slightly impressed at how Jimin had managed to convince the professors to give him a Golden Snitch to practice with in his free time.

“So how about it?” Jimin asked. “No destruction of property and no wands with the exception of absolute emergencies. First one to catch the Golden Snitch after it gets a 30 second head start wins. Also, you can’t get caught by anyone otherwise you’re eliminated. It’s gonna be difficult because it’s pretty dark out. Are you still up for it?”

Jungkook contemplated for a few seconds, trying to figure out if there was a catch, though his blood was already pumping at the prospect of being able to have a Quidditch battle at night when no one else was watching.

“Wait a minute, I’m not a Seeker though,” Jungkook said. “I’m just a Chaser. Shouldn’t that give you an advantage?”

Jimin blatantly scoffed in Jungkook’s face. “Everyone knows how you fly, Jeon Jungkook. The only reason why you’re not a Seeker is because your flying abilities are so valuable that they should be utilized at all times, not just when the Snitch is released.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but grinning a little at the fact that Jimin knew this. He could literally feel his ego inflating, even if just a little bit.

“Thanks,” Jungkook responded dumbly, not even sure if it was the proper answer. And from the way Jimin laughed at him, he realized that it was probably not.

But for some reason, it didn’t feel too bad. Not at all.

Jimin reached out as the broom rapidly whizzed to his palm, mounting it promptly. Jungkook nodded as he did the same, his heart thumping eagerly in his chest.

“Ready?” Jimin asked, as he undid the drawstring of the bag. Jungkook watched as the Snitch whizzed excitedly at its freedom, already shooting away at remarkable speeds.

“You know it,” Jungkook answered, his eyes changing. He also had his pride as Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain on this line. No way was he gonna lose this. Jimin and Jungkook narrowed their eyes in anticipation, both of them already shaking on their tippy toes, ready to launch on the count.

“Okay then,” Jimin smiled. “Then...3...2...1.”

They both kicked off and accelerated rapidly, reaching extreme speed and height within an impressive amount of time, despite using training brooms. They both swerved towards the direction they saw the Snitch heading, over one of the stone bridges of the school building, racing neck and neck. They launched themselves over treetops and swerved around corners with remarkable control, refusing to give in even just a little. Though Jungkook was known for his ability to accelerate in record time and impeccable control, he was surprised to find that Jimin was right on his tail.

Hmm...he’s not bad. At all. Jungkook thought. But I’m better.

Without even looking back, Jungkook took an unexpected dive towards what seemed to be impenetrable wall. However, beneath some protruding stone there was a narrow crack which he tilted his body and managed to cut through with an impressive amount of agility. One turn within a narrow, deserted alleyway followed by a quick shot upwards brought him back out to the exterior, with Jimin nowhere in sight and likely left way behind due to his sudden shortcut.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself, trying to imagine the shocked look on Jimin’s face when he managed to pull that off.

Taking a quick breather from his sudden lead, he found himself at a vantage point that allowed him to see quite a large field of vision, despite it being the evening. He squinted his eyes, desperately trying to make out the tiny Snitch. He suddenly understood why Jimin suggested this battle--not only was it a battle of flying alone, but also a battle of vision, as a keen eye was a valuable possession for any exemplary Seeker.

Fortunately, Jungkook also had almost perfect night vision.

And that’s when he saw it. A yellow glimmer in the distance towards where a forest of trees loomed. It could’ve been anything, even a mistake. But Jeon Jungkook was a true Gryffindor, and as true Gryffindors usually were, he wasted no time in following his instincts and immediately accelerated as rapidly as he could towards the sparkling object.

Though it appeared that Jeon Jungkook was shooting at his maximum speeds, he was actually being moderately cautious this time--he’d let his neglect for his surroundings get the better of him once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. So he flew at a speed lenient enough to allow him to still keep a steady eye on every other movement around him.

The twinkle again, but this time, much closer, and this time, he knew for sure that it was the Golden Snitch, sparkling and beckoning him to come closer for the victory. He smirked to himself, as he already started to fantasize about what favours he would make Park Jimin do.

Suddenly super motivated, the Gryffindor Chaser pointed the nose of his broom downwards, accelerating to his maximum speeds at last. He was ready to reach his arm out, literal seconds away from finally gaining back his pride--

A wisp of gold, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and blocking his way.

“WHERE’D YOU COME FROM?” Jungkook couldn’t help but screech in pure disbelief, when he suddenly found himself tailing behind Park Jimin in their pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

He heard a bubbling laughter from the front which did nothing to ease his already tormented mindset.

“You managed to look in all directions, even behind you impressively,” he heard Jimin shout from in front of him. “But you forgot to look above you.”

Jungkook felt the blood pumping in his ears again, as an unexplainable surge of excitement coursed through him.

“Were you circling above me this entire time?” he asked, incredulous.

“Some of us prefer not to use flashy tricks, Gryffindor,” Jimin said, before abruptly gaining speed again.

Jungkook suddenly realized what was going on, and that he was now seconds away from losing this battle. And that wasn’t an option. Gritting his teeth, he used everything he had left to chase after Jimin, until they were finally side by side. The Snitch was still whizzing in front of them, but was slowing failing to shake them of their tail despite its abrupt changes in direction.

“Give up, Park Jimin,” Jungkook growled, as he lunged forwards, trying to grab at the flying ball. “I lost once I’m not gonna lose again.”

“Oh? You finally learned my name,” Jimin retorted. Jungkook was feeling his presence more than ever, now that they were side by side, chasing after a single goal. “I beg to differ, Jeon Jungkook--once you defeat someone once it’s not hard to believe you can do it a second time.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile to himself. He suddenly found himself seeing Park Jimin in an entirely new light--the boy clearly didn’t know when to give up. And somehow, he appreciated that. It reminded him of a certain someone he was all too familiar with.

But there was no time for pleasant thoughts. The Snitch suddenly made an aberrant move, diving madly towards one of the corners of the school building, ready to round it and disappear out of sight again. But Jungkook had seen this before, back when he was training to be the prospective Seeker for the team.

Mercilessly, being the quicker one, Jungkook aggressively cut his broom in front of Jimin, forcing him to the inner side and trapping him as they headed straight for the corner, ensuring that he would round the corner first. But Jimin wasn’t giving up, trying to push as close as possible to the wall without getting hurt. But it was useless, he would have no choice but to back out and go behind Jungkook.

Sorry Jimin, it’s my win this time.

“AHHHH!”

Jungkook suddenly halted when he heard the pained scream shoot through the otherwise silent night. His blood ran cold, as he realized that in his desire to win, he had caused something horrible to happen.

Oh my god, I’m an idiot.

In a deranged fury, Jungkook immediately halted his broom to turn around and expect the worst.

His voice started to cracked as he called out to his opponent. “Jimin, I’m so sorry I--”

A sudden whiz passed by him, his hair and clothes being picked up by the fast wind. It all happened in a blur, and he didn’t even realize what was going on for the first few seconds. He soon noticed that it was empty behind him, where there should’ve been carnage, and in front of him was Park Jimin floating triumphantly on his broom, clutching the struggling Snitch between his thumb and index finger with a glorious smile on his face, as if it was the easiest thing he’d ever done in his life.

Jungkook was in disbelief. Breathing heavily he managed a “You...you...you tricked me.”

Jimin’s smile only widened. “I win,” he declared proudly.

And when Jimin broke out into his bubbling laughter, tilting his head back and simply enjoying the moment, Jungkook felt a surge of something through his heart, and it was in that moment that he finally realized he had messed up in more ways than one.

Yeah, he had lost. Absolutely and again. Probably in the most miserable way possible.

But seeing Jimin laugh like this...it almost felt good.

He almost wanted to do it all over again.

The two of them slowly drifted back towards the Training Ground, with Jimin laughing gleefully all the way, while Jungkook was training to control this strange, confusing and overwhelming mess of emotions which he had never dealt with before.

“Now, you need to keep your end of the promise,” Jimin reminded Jungkook, as he slipped the Snitch back into its pouch for safe-keeping again.

“Oh, right,” Jungkook mumbled, words suddenly not working well with him. “I, uh, I forgive you.” What am I forgiving him for again?

But of course, Park Jimin wasn’t done tormenting him as it was.

“Hold on,” Jimin replied at once. “I never said I was going to accept your apology that easily. Don’t you think you were being much too harsh for someone so soft and fragile like me?”

Normally, Jungkook would’ve scoffed and called him out. Saying that it was Jimin’s problem, not his. But for some reason, his tongue refused to cooperate, and he couldn’t do anything but keep his eyes fixed on Jimin, who, as if by some mysterious incantation, was becoming more and more attractive to him by the second.

“So...uh...what do you...what do you want me to do?” Jungkook asked. For some reason, Jungkook suddenly wasn’t so impartial to the idea of being able to spend more time with Park Jimin after this.

Jimin pushed his hair back and smiled brightly at Jungkook. “Meet me here at the exact same time tomorrow, and every week after that for a month. If you’re so willing to see me, then I’ll accept that you’ve truly forgiven me.”

Jungkook was stunned at the awfully odd request.

“You make a good practice buddy,” Jimin continued. “Practicing by myself has its limit. So help me out for a month.”

“What if I get caught?” Jungkook protested. “I can’t be here so freely. I don’t have ‘special permissions’, unlike you.”

“Well then,” Jimin replied at once. “That’s too bad for you. See you tomorrow night, Gryffindor.” He was already turning on his heels to leave.

“Wait!”

The word slipped out of Jungkook’s mouth before his brain could catch up. Jimin had already stopped his tracks and caught his eyes.

Oh? He has pretty eyes too?

Jungkook gulped. He knew he had wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure exactly what. It seemed that he just wanted to prolong the moment, even for just a few seconds.

“Everything alright, Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin asked, slightly amused.

“I think you’re really good at Quidditch,” Jungkook blurted, instinctively, as the first thing on his mind.

For the first time, Jimin appeared shocked for a few a seconds, but that quickly melted into his usual smile again.

“I couldn’t hear you,” Jimin spoke.

Jungkook stepped closer boldly, as if this was something he suddenly really wanted Jimin to hear when he repeated:

“Park Jimin, I think you’re really good at flying.”

Jimin broke out into laughter, and for a second Jungkook thought an angel had blessed his ears.

“That means a lot coming from you, O Legendary Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team,” Jimin grinned. “But you haven’t seen anything yet. This is only the beginning.”

Jimin was started to walk away again, but this time with a strange little bounce in his steps that Jungkook couldn’t help but notice.

“Sleep tight, Jeon Jungkook!” Jimin yelled gleefully over his shoulders. “Try not to see me in your nightmares tonight.”

And with that Park Jimin was gone. Not realizing that he’d left Jungkook there, alone, barely clutching onto his broomstick with a dazed smile on his face and his heart thumping in a way it never had before. He attempted to take a step back towards the entrance to the school, but found himself to be light-headed.

And when Jungkook briefly recalled those charming eyes and bewitching smile, he suddenly felt strange lurch in his chest.

Oh boy...

✧✧✧

“Jungkook, there’s egg on your face.”

Jungkook immediately snapped back to reality, reaching to wipe his mouth. “Sorry,” he said to Taehyung. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Good. You didn’t hear us shit-talking you for the past five minutes,” Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“What? Seriously?”

“No. You idiot. You actually weren’t paying attention for the past five minutes I can’t believe you.”

Their usual group of friends were sat in the Great Hall for breakfast, the sky above them as clear as day. Over the past few years, the school had finally abolished the year old ritual of segregation by houses, and students could sit wherever they wanted for informal gatherings such as breakfast, lunch or dinner. Students were nowadays encouraged to set their differences aside and mingle between all the different houses, and get to learn good things from everyone. However, despite the mixture of red, blue and yellow amongst most tables, there remained a large strip of green for the long table closest to the doors by the entrance to the Great Hall, as if tradition had never changed for the Slytherins.

Of course, there were always a few exceptions.

“Oi, Jungkook, what’s up with you anyway?” 7th year Slytherin Min Yoongi groaned aloud before munching on a slice of ham.

“Are you ill?” Hoseok asked in concern, from his seat right next to Yoongi.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jungkook muttered. “I just...didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Ah, you’re a sore loser, aren’t you?” Yoongi couldn’t help but snark. “It’s okay, I personally slept like a baby last night. It was a good day for us D-boys.”

“D-boys?” Namjoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dungeon Boys,” Yoongi stated, as if it should’ve been the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, cause our Common Room is a Dungeon?”

“That will never sound appealing to me. Living in a hipster dungeon,” Seokjin commented nonchalantly.

“Shut up. It beats getting stuck outside your posh-ass lily adorned tower cause you don’t know the answer to one of those elitist dad jokes,” Yoongi shot back.

“Those are not dad jokes, those are certified Ravenclaw riddles for your information,” Seokjin grimaced, fully offended.

“Can we focus here?” Taehyung interjected. “Jungkook’s having a crisis here. We should worry about him first.”

“Guys, I’m fine, really,” Jungkook insisted. “Couldn’t have been better.”

“Really? What time did you fall asleep last night?” Seokjin interrogated swiftly.

Jungkook shrugged. “I dunno...like 4 a.m.?”

“What the hell were you doing up at that time?” Hoseok asked.

“I was...uhhh...doing laundry.”

The entire group promptly glared at him.

“That excuse doesn’t work here, Jungkook. a) we’re not your naive parents and b) we don’t do even do our own laundry here,” Taehyung frowned.

“Just tell us the truth man, we won’t tell anyone,” Hoseok insisted.

“Yeah,” Seokjin agreed. “You’re our Gryffindor baby. We would never say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Jungkook considered his options for his seconds, weighing the genuineness of their words.

“You sure you won’t tell anyone?” he spoke.

“Promise,” Namjoon nodded, on behalf of the rest of them.

Jungkook took a deep breath.

“I met up with Park Jimin last night.”

A chorus of gasps echoed amongst the five of them and Jungkook immediately knew he’d made a mistake. The variety in emotional reaction was quite impressive: Seokjin and Namjoon looked concerned and displeased grandparents while Hoseok and Taehyung had their faces scrunched up in disgust, almost as if Jungkook had just sold away their most well-kept secrets.

Yoongi was only one grinning. “Park Jimin,” he repeated the name, playing with it on his tongue. “I know that kid. I like him. He’s a bit too naturally erotic for his own good though.”

Hoseok stared at him in horror. “Why are you talking about real people like that?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Have you seen him?”

“No, but--”

Namjoon raised his head. “I saw him once. Passed by him in the halls. The way he walks though. I wasn’t even trying to pay attention and...” His voice trailed off as he realized Seokjin looked livid, ready to choke the living hell out of Namjoon.

Jungkook was bewildered. “I don’t think he’s like that.”

“Oh, what do you know? You’re blinded by hate,” Seokjin growled, clearly agitated. Jungkook wasn’t even sure if he was talking to himself or not.

Jungkook thought about for it a few more seconds. He never really saw Jimin as attractive at first, too consumed by his competitive desire to dominate and outplay him, and it wasn’t until later that he saw him to be beautiful rather than...whatever it was they were describing. Though, it didn’t take him very long to understand their point of view.

Oh. Yup. I totally see it. Jungkook quickly shook it out of his head, trying not to make his situation even worse than it already was.

“What’d you do with him anyway?” Taehyung spoke up suddenly. “Did you guys get into a scrap or something?”

Jungkook shook his head, starting to think about how much he should tell. “No, we were just...talking.”

“About what though?” Seokjin added. “That’s always the most important part.”

Jungkook was about to answer genuinely, when he heard some snickering from across the table.

“Maybe Kookie was having some moonlight confessions with the Slytherin Seeker,” Taehyung said suddenly. Jungkook froze, wondering if they were actually onto something.

But then he realized--much to his dismay--that they all had fairly amused looks on their faces.

“Ha. Can you imagine? If Jeon Jungkook, the Gryffindor pride, actually messed around with a Slytherin? Oh man, what a knee slapper!” Hoseok spoke in a mocking voice, and finished with a loud, obnoxious laugh.

Jungkook felt his heart sink to its depths, as the vibrant sound of their joyous laugher completely crushed the seedlings of his ludicrous fantasies.

“Stop teasing him!” Seokjin scolded. “Why would even suggest something ridiculous like that? Jungkook would never.”

But even Yoongi was laughing. “Oh man, you guys kill me. Jungkook, of all people, the most ‘Gryffindorest’ person I know. With a Slytherin. That’s actually hilarious.”

“Please,” Namjoon interjected, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “As if Jungkook could ever be infatuated with someone from the very house who did their best to humiliate him yesterday...and all other days to be honest. Everyone’s got pride and self-love. No way could someone ever fall into something so deprecating.”

“Bro, chill. I was just kidding,” said Taehyung, as he tore at a chicken drumstick. “As if Jungkook would even get close to those snakes in the first place. Other than to fight them, of course.”

“Hello? I’m sitting right here,” Yoongi waved, slightly annoyed but simultaneously used to the usual chirps Taehyung (and others) liked to poked at his house.

“I already said you’re different,” Taehyung reassured. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Yoongi who swiftly pushed it off. Before anyone could stop them, they had commenced their usual debate of whether Hufflepuff or Slytherin was truly superior nowadays within the modern social hierarchy of Hogwarts.

Jungkook chose to zone them out, having a whole new set of problems to deal with. He desperately tried to keep a grimace from appearing on his face but he wasn’t sure if it was working, so he tried to cover it up by drinking some more pumpkin juice. His chest was starting to acquire that extremely tight, uncomfortable feeling again, as that conversation wasn’t at all what he’d wanted to hear at all. He’d hoped that he could introduce the prospects of a new friend to the group, but from the way they had all reacted, that was far from reality. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he could keep all their comments from affecting his own personal judgment of Park Jimin.

Jungkook held back a sigh, wondering what to do with himself when the evening would finally arrive again. That fluttering feeling when he was with Jimin had been pleasant, and he’d wanted to explore for a bit longer, but at this rate it seemed that he would have to seal it all off in order to keep all his current relationships as they were.

As Jungkook raised the goblet to his lips again, he noticed someone in the corner of his eye. As if with impeccable timing, Park Jimin had suddenly risen from his seat along with some of his friends, having finished their meal. Before he could help himself, Jungkook was staring again, intent on observing his former acquaintance within his natural surroundings.

He truly had a lovely smile, similar to the one he threw at Jungkook several times last night, but this one seemed more genuine. The way his blonde hair gently toppled amongst itself as he leaned back in laughter was quite nice to look at from a distance. Jungkook continued watching as Jimin gestured for his friends to go ahead of him,s tarting to pack several large books back into his bag.

At last, he was done, and Jungkook quickly tore his eyes away as he realized Jimin was headed towards his direction, or at least passing by the table in front of him. He pretended to indulge in his pumpkin juice again, when he suddenly made the mistake of glancing upwards.

Namjoon was right. There certainly was something mesmerizing about the way Jimin moved, every sway of his hips slightly more captivating than it should be. And then Jungkook was staring again, the goblet still pressed awkwardly against his lips. His eyes raked over Jimin’s pretty guise, his heart thumping way faster than it ought to.

And that’s when it happened.

In a decisive moment, Jimin glanced over towards Jungkook, right when he was passing right in front of him, as if he’d been aware that Jungkook was watching him all along. Jungkook’s breath hitched in his throat. Jimin met eye contact with him for barely more than a second, but it was more than enough to give him a slight smirk and nod to acknowledge their acquaintance.

Oh...wow...

And suddenly, a loud clatter resonated from where they were sitting, causing Jung Hoseok to curse and nearly jump out of his seat.

The sound immediately brought Jungkook back to reality, and when he looked back Jimin was nowhere to be seen. All that remained was his now empty goblet that had evidently slipped out of his hand and crashed onto the floor in his dazed moment.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” Namjoon asked in concern, as he rushed to clean the orange-coloured juice off Jungkook’s robes.

“Um...there’s some juice dripping out of your mouth...” Seokjin commented, half in concern, half in disgust.

Jungkook hurriedly wiped himself down, in order to decrease the amount of attention he was suddenly attracting.

“Sorry,” Jungkook muttered, embarrassed. “I just...um...zoning out. Really sorry.”

“See this is what you happens when you don’t get enough sleep,” said Seokjin matter-of-factly.

“Okay, mom,” Jungkook responded boldly.

“It’s fine. You didn’t miss much anyways,” Hoseok frowned as he waved his hand dismissively. “Those two are still going at it.” He nodded at the Slytherin and Hufflepuff sat next to him, glaring at each other viciously.

“Fight me, Min Yoongi,” Taehyung was growling. “You and me. Duel after D.A. tomorrow. Hoseok’s the referee.

The owner of the mentioned spit out his mouthful of potatoes, much to everyone’s else distaste.

“WHAT?! Why me?!” Hoseok protested. “Get Namjoon to do it. He’d probably be more fair.”

“Nah, we like you,” Yoongi and Taehyung both said simultaneously.

Hoseok suddenly revoked his stance, softening at once and even seeming slightly flattered as indicated by his partial smile.

“What does that make me?” Namjoon muttered, slightly offended.

Jungkook silently groaned to himself. Sure, they were excited about duelling with each other, but none of them seemed to care that he would be dealing with the most difficult battle of them all--an internal battle against himself.

Careful not to let them notice, Jungkook slowly slumped into his arms on the free space on the dining table and buried his head into them.

Their mocking laughter echoed in his ears, followed by the vivid imagery of Jimin’s smile.

Jungkook let out a sigh at last.

His heart was probably going to be torn apart at this rate.

✧✧✧

That evening, Jungkook walked towards the Training Grounds with more bravado than he could ever expect. In the hours between his last conversation with his friends until now, he had somehow managed to convince himself that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t infatuated with Jimin like he thought he was at all.

As Jungkook kept walking, he started contemplating other possibilities. Maybe, it was much too soon to jump to such rash conclusions. Maybe, in the heat of the adrenaline, he had mistaken his excitement for some other feelings. Maybe, it was his first time meeting a slightly strange person so his brain justified for his lack of social skills by making him constantly think about that person. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to worry about causing any turmoil as a Gryffindor after all. Maybe--

A pair of soft, small hands suddenly snuck around his face and covered his eyes. Before he could be startled, he felt a lingering breath on his ear, followed by a familiar voice in the gentlest whisper:

“Guess who?”

The hands removed themselves, and then Park Jimin was in front of him, smiling brightly and standing much closer than he’d ever intended for them to be.

Jungkook’s heart did a complete 180, plummeted in its cavern, rose back up and did a few flips before slamming against chest full force.

Haha, nope.

“H-h-hey,” Jungkook said smoothly.

“You’re awfully timely, Mr. Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin drawled out his name in a way that made him want to slam his head against a wall so it would echo in his brain forever. “Maybe you really do wanna forgive me.”

“O-of course,” Jungkook replied, mindlessly following Jimin like a puppy. “So, uh, should I get my broom or...?”

Jimin turned on his heels, tilting his head at Jungkook. “Oh? No need for that right now. Follow me.”

Jungkook jolted a little, before obediently following Jimin back towards an alleyway hidden between the stone walls of the school buildings. He was slightly surprised that Jimin knew of a place within Hogwarts that even he didn’t know.

Gradually, Jungkook became more and more aware of how narrow the alleyway was, and more vexingly how close he was to Jimin. He could barely feel the rustling of the other’s clothes on his own, and he was holding his breath, hoping Jimin didn’t notice his hyperawareness.

“Um, what’s in here?” Jungkook asked cautiously.

“What are you waiting for?” Jimin replied with his own question. “Take it off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your robes, take them off,” Jungkook couldn’t help but stare with a gulp as Jimin started unbuttoning his own robe and undoing his tie.

“W-what?”

A tiny laughter escaped Jimin’s throat as he suddenly tapped Jungkook’s shoulder, nudging him aside. It was only then that Jungkook noticed there was an opening in the wall, or rather several missing stones making for a little storage space. And to further demonstrate this, Jimin cast the summoning spell once again, and out came his practice broom and the bag containing the Snitch. He threw his own robes and tie back inside.

“Wouldn’t want them to get ruined, do you?” said Jimin. “Unless you plan on using the hindrance as an excuse when you lose again.”

"Who do you think I am?” Jungkook scoffed. “Are you trying to provoke me on purpose?”

Jimin’s smile only widened. “Always.”

Swiftly, Jungkook immediately followed suit and shoved his own robe and tie into the opening, the competitive spirit already coursing through his veins.

“Also, one more time,” Jimin spoke. “Accio.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened as another broom suddenly hovered in the opening, and he recognized it as none other than the iconic Nimbus 2001 broomstick, the one that Jimin used in game.

“Bring your Firebolt here next time,” Jimin suggested. “I wanna have a battle with no handicaps.”

“Why do you use the training brooms if you have this one safely kept here?” Jungkook asked out of curiosity.

Jimin shrugged. “I guess I like the challenge,” he spoke. “I like using the training brooms because they’re the bare minimum, so when I actually go out to play, it’ll feel easier.” He paused for a second, and then added as an afterthought. “Plus, I guess I like being mildly restrained.”

Jimin gave Jungkook no time to properly process what he’d just said before he brushed past him and headed back towards the Training Grounds.

“Grab your training broom and meet me out there,” said Jimin. “We’ll have the same battle as last time?” He waved the wriggling Snitch bag

“I won’t lose this time,” Jungkook said confidently.

Jimin smiled. “We’ll see about that.”

✧✧✧

Jimin and Jungkook collapsed onto the soft, green grass of the Training Grounds, breathing heavily in satisfaction, with the sweat dripping down their necks and foreheads. Park Jimin laid with his broom falling out of his left hand, while Jungkook’s was still clutched in his right, and the Golden Snitch gripped firmly in his left.

It had been a fierce battle, neck-in-neck and without mercy. But ultimately, a victor had been determined.

“Good game,” Jimin exhaled, turning over onto his side to look at Jungkook.

“Yeah...” Jungkook sighed, his chest heaving as he remained flat on his back, staring up into the dark sky now speckled with stars.

“You really wanted to win this time, huh?” Jimin asked softly.

“What? You didn’t?”

“Fair enough. But you flew especially well today.”

“I had to. I couldn’t let you win again.”

“Mmm. If I wasn’t so busy trying to beat you I might’ve swooned for you...”

Jimin shuffled closer. Jungkook tensed, as Jimin’s eyes suddenly appeared in front of him, glimmering mischievously as Jimin leaned over and pressed a hand into his chest.

“I guess we really do bring out the best in each other huh?” Jimin’s voice was quiet, almost in a whisper.

Jungkook had forgotten about the butterflies in his stomach up until now (as he had been too focussed on winning), and when they came back in a flurry, he immediately became hyperaware of how nervous he was. He couldn’t even move, and it was as if his body was Petrified. He wondered if it was just in his imagination that Jimin was leaning even closer.

“Hey, Jungkook, I think you really have forgiven me, haven’t you?” Jimin asked.

Blood. Coursing through Jeon Jungkook’s veins. Pulse. Rapidly beating. Sweat. Dripping endlessly from his temples. Was it the remnants of adrenalin? Or was it something else entirely?

Certainly, Jimin was definitely leaning closer.

“Jungkook?” Jimin called his name. The way it slipped off his tongue felt so right. “What do you say? Have you forgiven me? This was the whole point of this, remember?”

The way Jimin’s fingers were dancing on his chest was so intensely noticeable, it delayed Jungkook’s response a few seconds.

“I...I already said that yesterday,” said Jungkook.

“Said what?”

“That I forgave you.”

Jimin pulled back, seemingly unsatisfied with the response.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You can’t possible forgive me so easily for humiliating you in front of the entire school.”

Jungkook had no idea what Jimin was trying to get him to say or do, it was bothering him immensely.

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jungkook replied. “Not since last night.”

“Hmm? Why is that?” Jimin asked. “What’s changed since then?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I think you do know.”

And then Jimin had moved closer again, his eyes slightly lidded and lips slightly pursed. And from the way Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat, he realized that he did indeed know after all, deep inside.

“Can you prove it to me, Jungkook?” Jimin hummed.

“Huh?”

“Show me that you’ve forgiven me.”

It all happened in an instant. In reality, Jimin moved slowly, giving Jungkook plenty of time to move should he choose to. But he didn’t. He let Jimin move forwards, feeling the weight of his hand pressing into his chest. His eyes fluttered to a half-lidded state as he felt the fleeting warmth on his lips, a soft, gentle sensation that made his head spin as if he was dreaming.

It lasted barely more than a second, but it was more than enough.

Jimin slumped onto Jungkook’s shoulders, so that his lips were right next to his ears. “I’ll be busy tomorrow night,” Jimin whispered. “But I’ll let you know when I can see you again. Don’t forget about tonight.”

Jungkook sensed a sudden emptiness from within him. “Jimin, I--”

“Sleep well, Jungkook.”

And then Jimin was gone, with Jungkook still lying there, still feeling completely dazed from everything that had just happened. In fact, he wasn’t sure if even happened at all, or his he’d just dreamed it all up in his exhausted state.

It was another good five minutes before Jungkook could even bring himself to move again.

✧✧✧

The answer was obvious. And anyone else would’ve known it. It was about time that Jungkook recognized it himself.

He sighed to himself as he sat up in his bed, barely sleeping a wink last night as he attempted to find alternative answers. But there were none, because the truth was as plain as day. The smile captivated him, those eyes enchanted him, and his words were like an Imperius Curse. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jimin. He liked Jimin. And he could no longer deny that his young, naive heart had fallen for the cunning Slytherin.

Last night, he speculated if Jimin had planned this all along. Seduction seemed second nature to the pretty Slytherin boy, and Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if he was playing right into his palm without even knowing it. Despite it being a very likely scenario, he knew he was already caught deep in the web, and there was no easy way of getting out now.

Dragging himself out of his covers, Jungkook decided the best way to approach this was to ask for someone’s else opinion. Getting himself cleaned up, Jungkook quickly changed into his school robes and headed for the dining hall, where his group of tight-knit friends would surely already be waiting for him, filled with wise and unbiased advice.

As Jungkook rounded the corner, he noticed Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok walking ahead of him as if on cue. With a blazing smile on his face, he quickly rushed towards them, opening his mouth to call them.

“It’s like they put all the assholes in one group and called it a House,” Taehyung was saying,

“Yeah, when are they going to abolish the Slytherin house already?” Hoseok agreed spitefully. “Nothing good ever came out of it anyways.”

“When Min Yoongi graduates,” Taehyung joked. They both laughed happily at the comment.

Jungkook froze in his steps, ccidentally overhearing the conversation they were having. Heaviness weighing down his chest, Jungkook slowly hid behind the one of the pillars in the hallway, heart pounding rapidly as he contemplated what they’d just said.

They surely were not intentionally being hurtful, he was sure--they’d always talked like this, for as long as he’d remembered. And if anything, maybe others in the school shared the same cynical opinion, based on the history that they knew.

It’s none of my business, Jungkook reassured himself internally. It’s the school’s problem, not mine. Anyways, if that’s that case, then I probably shouldn’t let them know about this.

Jungkook was torn, and the already sparse pool of people who he could ask for advice had suddenly diminished greatly.

Think, Jungkook, think! Who would offer you decent advice and not be judgmental...

His eyes widened as he realized that there was one person left, the only person who could effectively aid him in his childish endeavours.

✧✧✧

“So basically, you want me to help you get into Park Jimin’s pants?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel humbled. Min Yoongi’s blunt way of talking somehow always had a way of revealing a person’s true desires in the most crude way possible.

They were sitting in an empty classroom, yet for some reason, he couldn’t help but fear that other students--or even worse, a Professor--could be listening in.

“Well...more or less,” Jungkook mumbled. “But it doesn’t have to be like that right away.”

“I’m surprised,” Yoongi chortled, quite amused at the situation. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t imagine a straight-laced Gryffindor like you falling for any Slytherin, let alone the one who stole your thunder so ruthlessly like that.”

“That doesn’t matter to me anymore,” Jungkook said. “It’s the first time I’ve liked someone like this. And I really want to do something about it.”

Yoongi’s expression softened, and his tone suddenly became more understanding. He reached over and patted Jungkook encouragingly on the shoulder.

“Aw, don’t look so distressed,” Yoongi reassured. “The heart wants what it wants after all.”

Jungkook calmed down at once, grateful for Yoongi’s rare sympathy.

A sudden exhale from Yoongi nearly extinguished the relax mood.

“But I have to warn you,” Yoongi spoke suddenly. “This won’t be easy.”

“W-what do you mean?” Jungkook panicked, stumbling over his words. “Why? Why wouldn’t it be easy?”

“I’m not sure what Park Jimin said or did that made you so head over heels for him,” Yoongi explained carefully. “But you have to realize that he’s a special one--he has that charming effect on a lot of people. You may just be one single red apple in a giant orchard, if you know what I’m trying to say.”

Jungkook remained silent, waiting for Yoongi to elaborate.

“The point is, you have to stand out amongst the rest,” Yoongi continued. “Be that ripest, biggest, roundest, shiniest apple. Make yourself someone he can’t help but pluck. Only then will he truly be yours.”

It took Jungkook awhile, but eventually he understood. “That’s not a problem,” he grinned. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He promptly received a smack on the back of the head.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Yoongi scowled. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you ever hear me going around telling the world I’m Min Fucking Yoongi? No. So put a sock in it. No one cares.”

“Can’t you at least let me down gently?” Jungkook complained, rubbing the back of his head.

“Listen, do you want my help or not?” Yoongi shot back. “I don’t care how much those Gryffindor jocks hype you up but to us Slytherins, being an obnoxious, dick-waving Gryffindor immediately gives you a negative ten points on the datable scale. And you, being the Jeon Jungkook who is the practical poster boy of those people, probably makes you at the very least a negative fifty thousand.” He gave another frustrated sigh before continuing again. “I mean just think about it for two seconds--if he cared at all about you and your name, he would’ve never publicly humiliated you in front of the entire school.”

Jungkook felt utterly defeated. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Yoongi agreed. “But, no worries. Not all hope is lost. I have an idea. We Slytherins tend to respect those who can outsmart us, so that’s all you gotta do.”

“You want me to outsmart Jimin?” Jungkook gawked. “Do you not realize how my brain practically turns into mush every time I talk to him?”

“It’s not like you can beat him with your non-mushy brain either,” Yoongi grinned, clearly having fun with this at this point. “Which is why you’ll be following my plans step-by-step, and not acting on your own.”

Jungkook contemplated for a few seconds. “Okay...let’s hear it first then.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, looking more and more like a mad scientist by the second--and Jungkook was the guinea pig.

“First, you’ll need some Polyjuice Potion.”

✧✧✧

end of pt. 1

pt. 2 will come. eventually. but not until after i finish my exams probably. XD and ofc it gets complicated so take this as like a sort of teaser and whie you’re in the mood for this kind of trope? :3

the houses were my preference of course, what i’ve always imagined them to be. i had the longest time deciding whether or not to put taehyung into hufflepuff or gryffindor but i figured...he has those badger-like qualities and is super popular and friendly so... :)

also. the second part of this fic will focus more on the dynamics of the Slytherin house and people’s feelings towards it in general. Believe it or not, these “hateful” comments are all real comments I’ve heard about the green house, and I just wanted to address them a little. Being my “second house” recently, I think there’s a lot of qualities of Slytherins that people don’t see or appreciate, and we’ll be definitely be seeing something like that in the second part. Also, I hope that you all kind of a see a bigger image for all of this despite being just a happy go lucky Harry Potter AU--no one should be judged on superficial, pre defined categories ;)

hope you enjoyed! and believe it or not i had this started before any of this run stuff came out, so this just happened to be impeccable timing and simply validated the realness of my characters so that got me even more excited ! ^^

don’t forget to come back for the (juicier) pt 2 :P

#jikook #jikook fic #harry potter au #fanfic #secretfanfics #before i go mia for a week. lmao

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tiredofyourbullshitt-blog · 7 years ago

Text

the nightclub

(the old gods are not dead, despite what someone might tell you. old doesn’t mean dead, darling, just like how greek mythology is a mythology now but back then, it was a religion. you just have to look a little closer.)

see, there’s zeus ordering drink after drink and smiling at pretty girls as they dance with their friends. except now instead of falling for his charms, they think of their pepper spray shoved into their pocket and they wonder how they will get home. you can see in his eyes that he misses the skies, but the mortals took those over, too.

and look, standing in the corner with a dress of peacock colors is hera, carefully watching her husband. she wishes she could tell the young girls coming into the nightclub to be careful, but she can’t because they can’t see her now and they wouldn’t trust her. besides, how can she give advice when she herself won’t even follow it, no matter how much she wishes she could?

and if you look out of the window, past the glowing lights of houses shoved next to each other, you can see the dark, raging ocean. poseidon is raging, too, as he walks along to beach and picks up the trash the mortals threw. the moon’s reflection reflects the saltwater of the ocean mixing with his tears. he will never be able to pick up everything. the mortals will keep throwing.

and look there, on the stage, doesn’t that singer look familiar? that’s because he’s been here every night, darling, and he always sings the same song. hear how he sings of heartbreak and young boys and chasing the sun? see his golden instrument and golden clothes and golden hair and how strangely enough, the lights on the stage are dimming yet you can still see him? that’s apollo up there on the stage, you just never noticed.

as the music pauses - but never stops, no, it will never stop - do you hear crying? someone is weeping as she hears the professors go through the motions, as she hears the passion leaving voices and the desire to learn disappears with the coffee students are chugging. someone’s voice is mixing with protesters’ as they fight for what is right because those wild people are athena’s people.

and if you peek over the shoulderof that muscled gentleman over there, you will see tears stain the table. ares is letting people see him cry as he watches the news on mute. the violence in places he used to call home makes no sense to him anymore. the children dying and the shots firing into the sky for each martyr are overwhelming. everything stopped making sense to him. this was not heroic or brave. this was senseless.

behind the nightclub’s brick walls is a young woman. her eyes glint with pain and adrenaline and a quiver is slung over her shoulder. she hesitates at the window, watching the golden singer with a rare tenderness in her sharp silver eyes. behind her are several other young women, all with elegant stances and fury in their fists. artemis and her hunters hunt down a different type of monster now. you remember her now? yes, that’s right, she broke a man’s arm last night. no one saw her move.

it’s dark in this nightclub, yes, but i bet you can still see the burly man helping another to his feet. or, foot, as the other is being replaced by the same burly man. that’s right, it’s hephaestus there. you’re getting the hang of this. he helps the disabled and gives everyone the devices they want. his family hates him no more, because the mortals have made it his age: full of technology and a need for new limbs. he begins to love himself. try to help.

and there - look quickly, look now! slipping through the crowds and then out onto the streets? do you see him, with the curly hair and light bag and feathers on his feet? hermes is young in this age, slipping from here to there to everywhere: london and new york and tokyo and mexico city. there is no place hermes hasn’t been and there is no place that he is turned away. he wears out yet another pair of shoes.

if you listen past the music and the general din, you can hear someone ranting, screaming, begging someone to listen to her. i do. do you? she speaks of global warming and children and monsters in the night. she has sources and proof and her smile is as sharp as her scythe. she tries her best to bring food to the poor. trust me, i’ve seen her do her best. but demeter is fading as more and more people ignore her. don’t let her fade away. listen to her.

hades hovers over everyone, waiting for someone to succumb to alcohol poisoning or an overdose. don’t take it personally, it’s just who he is. but he is strong. one of the strongest here, because people will always believe in death. but there’s another side of him, when the pressure of humanity gets to be too much, and sometimes i see him crying at the graves of those who died before they had a chance to live. but don’t tell him i said that.

some girls and boys and people who aren’t either are dancing with flower crowns. the ones whose innocence fled as the world came crashing down on them. persephone weaves the crowns with her own hands and hesitates before placing one on herself. she dreams of the good-old-days and she dreams of the future. but don’t look for her in the winter months. you’ll never find her.

you see the beautiful lady in the corner, eyes glaring the the disgusting people who don’t know the true meaning of love? her voice is hoarse and eyes are wet and in the centuries her idea of love has changed drastically. but she will still smile when two people kiss for the first time or when two soldiers embrace after months apart. don’t worry, the aphrodite from the stories is still there. but now she’s realized that self love is important, too.

hestia is leaning against the bar - a couple people from you, actually, but have you ever noticed? her shawl is wrapped tightly around her shoulders despite the heat in here and there are flames in her eyes. only no one notices because i don’t remember the last time someone really looked at her. she watches her family and waits for them to come home so she can embrace them and comfort them. but they will never come home. she knows this. still, she waits.

and who am i? took you long enough to ask, but i won’t hold that against you. you’re the first person in a while to ask. i pour the drinks and watch hesita watch everyone else and help the people confused about these pesky things called gender and sexuality. trust me, i have experience with both. and i’m dionysus so i’m used to the long hours and the screaming and the music and the tears. i’ve seen my family drunk more than sober but despite everything, i’ll keep pouring their drinks and maybe one day, i’ll come home.

(so don’t you see? we are the old gods but we are not dead. you’ve just never really looked before.)

#old gods #the old gods #greek mythology #poetry #uhhh idrk what this is but enjoy #olive'spoems

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garecc · 7 years ago

Text

The Hidden Oracle+1

Chapter 11

Chiron the centaur / Meg eats final oreo / I wanted it though

Meg’s eyes just about bugged out of her head when she saw Chiron. “He- He really is a centaur!”

“How observant of you Meg. Do we assume him having the lower body of a horse is what gave you that startling realization?” I joked. Meg glared at me.

“Shut up!” Meg snapped.

My mouth snapped shut against my will, I found myself unable to speak. How to describe it.. I felt like my voice just stopped, and my jaw locked into place.. I can't describe it. I glanced at Apollo helplessly, he took a deep breath before turning to Meg.

“Meg,” He sounded annoyed. “Shut up, is, in fact, a direct order. So unless you want my sister to be mute for the foreseeable future, I’d advise you to allow her to speak.” Apollo’s voice was clipped and furious.

Meg nodded, a surprised look in her eyes.

“Um- You can speak, Artemis” I took a deep breath, Apollo looked something between furious and pained..

“Thank you. Never do that again.” I massaged my jaw, wincing. I turned to Chiron. “ Anyway. Chiron, This is me and Apollo’s new.. master. Meg. Meg McCaffrey.”

He looked amused. Does he find this funny?!

“You were saying something about disappearances? Apologies for taking forever to get here.. We had a slight issue with the fact that I’m hurt.” Apollo muttered sheepishly.

Chiron’s tail flicked as he glanced between us, last I had seen Chiron he had looked much younger, his hair looked greyer and he definitely didn't have so many wrinkles. Whatever is happening must be taking its toll on him.

“Welcome, Meg.” He attempted to sound friendly, and surprisingly, he managed. A feat considering the havoc she has been causing all day.

“I understand you showed great bravery in the woods. You and Artemis got Apollo here in one piece, despite the many dangers you made it. I’m glad to have you at Camp Half-Blood.”

“I helped” I muttered.

Meg snorted. “No, you were crying and panicking and generally freaking out. I got you two here, you just helped carry him.”

Apollo looked concerned, I forced a smile.

“And thanks,” Meg said. “Also! You’re really tall. Don’t you hit your head on light fixtures?”

Why? How was that relevant? At All?

Chiron chuckled. “Sometimes.” Wow. Just… just wow . “If I want to be closer to human size, I have a magical wheelchair that allows me to compact my lower half into…Actually, that’s not important now.”

“Disappearances,” Apollo repeated. “Please continue.”

“What has disappeared?” I added.

“Not what, but who,” Chiron said. Oh shit. “Let’s talk inside. Will, Nico, could you please tell the other campers we’ll gather for dinner in one hour? I’ll give everyone an update then. In the meantime, no one should roam the camp alone. Use the buddy system.”

“Understood.” Will looked at Nico. “Will you be my buddy?”

“You are a dork,” Nico announced.

The two of them strolled off bickering.

If you’re wondering how I saw them as a couple? I couldn't care less. No matter their gender, I’ve sworn off romance of all forms, I know what your thinking, No . Orion does not count. That was one time and resulted in one of the worst mistakes of my life. No , I'm not elaborating.

Chiron led us to the living room, There were two couches arranged in a V facing towards a stone fireplace. Above the mantel, a stuffed leopard head was snoring. Probably Dio’s work.

I steered Apollo to the couches, the trek to the big house had clearly taken it out of him.

He didn't even try to protest when I practically pushed him onto one.

“Lie down ‘Pollo, you look like you're about to fall over.” I plopped down on the couch next to him. He tried to look annoyed but he was smiling.

“Move over, your big ass is taking up the entire couch!” He shoved me over. I fell sideways, I hadn't been expecting him to push me.

“Apollo!” I was laughing too hard to even pretend to be offended. My eyes were watering and I was smiling so wide my cheeks were beginning to hurt, Apollo maneuvered into a more comfortable position as I got ahold of myself, I could hardly remember the last time I laughed like that. Apollo had his head rested on my lap, I felt a smile tugging at my lips.

Meg was throwing things at Seymour the leopard head, trying to wake him up, while Chiron got into his wheelchair. I couldn't care less about what they were doing.

At least, I didn't care, not until I glanced at Chiron. His legs were… very feminine. (Fishnet stockings? Really?) “Chiron- Your er.. Legs” I stared at them. They did not mesh with his professor aesthetic.

Chiron glanced down and sighed.

“Let me guess… The Stoll brothers? Connor and Travis?” Apollo guessed. “I've heard about them from Hermes.”

“No, I doubt it.” Chiron reached for a blanket from a nearby basket and covered his “Legs”. “Connor has mellowed ever since Travis left for college last autumn.”

“I poked that Connor guy in the eye.”

Chiron winced. “That’s nice, dear….At any rate, we have Julia Feingold and Alice Miyazawa now. They have taken up pranking duty. You’ll meet them soon enough.” Those girls in the Hermes cabin doorway came to mind. The ones who were giggling at us.

Meg looked over from playing on the Pac-man machine. When had she even gone over there?

Meg stepped away from the Pac-man game, it entertained her for a full twenty seconds. Apollo spoke up when she began to climb on the walls. Literally. She was scaling it by the grapevines. “Meg, Why don't you go watch the orientation video while we talk?” Apollo asked, pleaded, something along those lines.

I actually wouldn't mind watching it myself, if only to see Apollo’s normal form. It took him ages to make that film. Guess who had to man the camera? Me.

“I know plenty,” she said. Welp, we’re stuck with her. “I talked to the campers while you were passed out. ‘Safe place for modern demigods.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

“Oh, but the film is very good,” He pleaded. “I shot it on a tight budget in the 1950s-”

I cleared my throat. “You shot it?” I asked rhetorically. “Because I remember it differently. Didn’t you come barging into my camp because you broke-”

“Shhh” He reached up and covered my mouth. “As I was saying-” I bit his hand. “ARTEMIS!”

“Don't cover my mouth. How many times have we gone over this.”

He squinted at me. “ As I was saying, some of the camera work was revolutionary. You should really—”

The grapevine gave out from her weight, and Meg crashed to the floor she shot up directly after, her eyes honing in on a platter of cookies. “Are those free?”

Meg. Meg, it's a plate of cookies. Why wouldn't they be free? “Yes, child,” Chiron said. “Bring the tea as well, would you?”

Meg laid down on the couch beside ours, her legs hanging over the armrest. She was holding something like 8 cookies in one hand and was eating them religiously. Throwing crumbs and Seymour when Chiron wasn't looking.

I helped Apollo into a sitting position as Chiron poured us cups of tea. “I’m sorry Mr. D is not here to welcome you.”

“Mr. Dee?” Meg asked.

“Dionysus,” Apollo explained. “The god of wine. Also the director of this camp.”

Chiron handed Apollo his tea. “After the battle with Gaea, I thought Mr. D might return to camp, but he never did. I hope he’s alright.” He passed me my tea.

The centaur looked at us expectantly, Apollo shrugged and I tried to think of where Dio was. “Apollo here can't remember anything from the last six months.. As for me, I was to busy trying to appeal his- our punishment. I guess I was hoping for you to fill us in.” And my memories are startling blurry. Why couldn't I recall where Dio is?

Chiron did a poor job hiding his disappointment. “I see….”

I quickly realized he was hoping that we could assist him, he was looking for advice. I mean, he shouldn't have expected much, especially considering that we arrived beat up, soaking wet and half dead. I mean, just look at us. Bruised, beaten, cold, mortal. Hell, Apollo still looks like a gust of wind could knock him over. I might look the same, forgive me but I haven't looked in a mirror recently.

In a strange way, Chiron looking at us for advice was a little overwhelming. As a goddess, lesser beings relied on me, but now? The idea of people begging and praying for me to assist them felt a tad terrifying.

“So Chiron, what's going on? You look distressed.”

“Like Cassandra when Troy was falling,” Apollo grumbled. I would have elbowed him if not for the fact I feared hurting him.

Chiron didn't comment on his comparison, he cupped his hands around his tea.

“You know that during the war with Gaea, the Oracle of Delphi stopped receiving prophecies. In fact, all known methods of divining the future suddenly failed.” “Because the original cave of Delphi was retaken,” Apollo said with a sigh.

“Not his fault,” I said immediately. Apollo glanced at me warningly, like Do not have a repeat of earlier.

Chiron raised an eyebrow.

Meg threw a chocolate chip at Seymour the leopard’s nose. It bounced off. “Oracle of Delphi. Percy mentioned that.”

“Percy Jackson?” Chiron sat up. “Percy was with you?”

“For a time,” Apollo replied.

“There were some monsters-” Chiron looked concerned. “No, he did not die, don't think like that, he just got a head cold. Nosoi are nasty things.”

“Basically, to sum it up quickly, Artemis saved my life,” Apollo glanced at me pointedly. “Meg used fruit as missiles, Yes Meg, that was you, and Percy also saved our lives with his water bending abilities, and-”

“A demon fruit toddler devoured the Nosoi in the end” I Interrupted.

“A…. Demon fruit toddler..?” Chiron inquired

“His name is peaches.” Meg cut in. “I think Percy called him a carp-oy.”

“Karpoi” I corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Anyway, Percy said he would drive up here over the weekend if he could.”

Chiron looked disappointed. Was Percy that much more pleasant than us?

“At any rate,” he continued, “we hoped that once the war was over, the Oracle might start working again. When it did not…Rachel became concerned.”

“Who’s Rachel?” Meg asked.

“Rachel Dare,” Apollo said. “The Oracle.”

“Thought the Oracle was a place.”

“It is.”

“Then Rachel is a place, and she stopped working?”

Apollo groaned, then sipped his tea.

“The original Delphi was a place in Greece,” Apollo told her. “A cavern filled with volcanic fumes, where people would come to receive guidance from my priestess, the Pythia.”

“Pythia.” Meg giggled. “That’s a funny word.”

“Yes. Ha-ha. So the Oracle is both a place and a person. When the Greek gods relocated to America back in…what was it, Chiron, 1860?”

Chiron seesawed his hand. “More or less.”

“18...1856 I think it was” I answered quietly

“I brought the Oracle here to continue speaking prophecies on my behalf. The power has passed down from priestess to priestess over the years. Rachel Dare is the present Oracle.”

Meg grabbed the only Oreo, the cookie I wanted.

“Mm-kay. Is it too late to watch that movie?”

“Yes,” He snapped. “Now, the way I gained possession of the Oracle of Delphi in the first place was by killing this monster called Python who lived in the depths of the cavern.”

Oh.

I have to feign indifference. How does one pretend not to know that their brother’s mortal enemy nearly defeated him and that he’s terrified of the snake, I have no idea. I made my best slightly worried face.

“A python like the snake?” Meg asked.

“Yes and no. The snake species is named after Python the monster, who is also rather snaky, but who is much bigger and scarier and devours small girls who talk too much"

"That's cold,” I muttered, sipping my tea.

“At any rate, last August, while I was…indisposed-”

I coughed.

Apollo sighed. “While I was stuck on Delphi, my ancient foe Python was released from Tartarus. He reclaimed the cave of Delphi. That’s why the Oracle stopped working.”

“But if the Oracle is in America now, why does it matter if some snake monster takes over its old cave?”

“It’s too much to explain,” Apollo said. “You’ll just have to—”

“Meg, The original site of the Oracle is like the deepest taproot of a tree. The branches and leaves of prophecy may extend across the world, and Rachel Dare may be our loftiest branch, but if the taproot is strangled, the whole tree is endangered. With Python back in residence at his old lair, the spirit of the Oracle has been completely blocked.”

“Oh.” Meg made a face at Apollo. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Apollo looked livid, I set my hand over his. Chiron refilled his teacup.

“The larger problem,” Chiron said, “is that we have no other source of prophecies.”

“Who cares?” Meg asked. “So you don’t know the future. Nobody knows the future.”

She.. really shouldn't have said that.

“Who cares?!” Apollo shouted. “Meg McCaffrey, prophecies are the catalysts for every important event—every quest or battle, disaster or miracle, birth or death. Prophecies don’t simply foretell the future. They shape it! They allow the future to happen.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Apollo. She’s 12.”

He grunted in response.

Chiron cleared his throat. “Imagine prophecies are flower seeds. With the right seeds, you can grow any garden you desire. Without seeds, no growth is possible.”

“Oh.” Meg nodded. “That would suck.”

“So where is Rachel Dare?” Apollo asked, forcing himself to sound calm “Perhaps if I spoke with her…?”

Chiron set down his tea. “Rachel planned to visit us during her winter vacation, but she never did. It might not mean anything….”

Apollo leaned forward. From the little I've heard of Rachel, it wasn’t like her not to show up at all.

“Or?” Apollo asked.

“Or it might be part of the larger problem,” Chiron said. “Prophecies are not the only things that have failed. Travel and communication have become difficult in the last few months. We haven’t heard from our friends at Camp Jupiter in weeks. No new demigods have arrived. Satyrs aren’t reporting from the field. Iris messages no longer work.”

“Iris what?” Meg asked.

“Two-way visions,” I explained. “Demigods throw a drachma into a rainbow as an offering the rainbow goddess, Iris.”

“Iris has always been flighty….” Apollo murmured.

“Except that normal human communications are also on the fritz,” Chiron said. “Of course, phones have always been dangerous for demigods—”

“Yeah, they attract monsters,” Meg agreed. “I haven’t used a phone in forever.”

“A wise move,” Chiron said. “But recently our phones have stopped working altogether. Mobile, landline, Internet…it doesn’t seem to matter. Even the archaic form of communication known as e-mail is strangely unreliable. The messages simply don’t arrive.”

“Did you look in the junk folder?” Apollo offered.

“I fear the problem is more complicated,” Chiron said. “We have no communication with the outside world. We are alone and understaffed. You are the first newcomers in almost two months.”

“Huh. I mean.. I’d assume my relatives have more children out there. But who knows, the titan war sent the population of demigods lower than it's been in generations."

Apollo frowned. “Percy Jackson mentioned nothing of this.”

“I doubt Percy is even aware,” Chiron said. “He’s been busy with school. Winter is normally our quietest time. For a while, I was able to convince myself that the communication failures were nothing but an inconvenient happenstance. Then the disappearances started.”

In the fireplace, a log slipped from the andiron and into the fire. Beside me Apollo practically jumped out of his seat, tea spilled from his cup into his lap. He visibly deflated as he weakly attempted to brush the drops off. A pointless endeavor.

“Oh dear...” I murmured, standing up to fetch Apollo a napkin, then I realized I didn't know where any were. “Do you have any napkins? Paper towel?”

“Yes, paper towel. Around the corner on the counter.”

I had.. A difficult time finding the paper towel, but I managed. I may or may not have required more information from Chiron. But I managed, bringing a few back to Apollo, who was trying to ignore Megs snickering. “Here”

“Thank you.” He murmured, fervently attempted to dry his pants.

“Don't mind me” He grit out. “Please continue”

“Alright.. Three demigods have gone missing in the last month Chiron said. “First it was Cecil Markowitz from the Hermes cabin, One morning his bunk was simply empty. He didn’t say anything about wanting to leave. No one saw him go. And in the past few weeks, no one has seen or heard from him.

“Children of Hermes do tend to sneak around,” Apollo interjected.

“At first, that’s what we thought,” said Chiron. “But a week later, Ellis Wakefield disappeared from the Ares cabin. Same story: empty bunk, no signs that he had either left on his own or was…ah, taken. Ellis was an impetuous young man. It was conceivable he might have charged off on some ill-advised adventure, but it made me uneasy. Then this morning we realized a third camper had vanished: Miranda Gardiner, head of the Demeter cabin. That was the worst news of all.”

Meg swung her feet off the armrest. “Why is that the worst?”

“Miranda is one of our senior counselors,” Chiron explained. “She would never leave on her own without notice. She is too smart to be tricked away from camp and too powerful to be forced. Yet something happened to her…something I can’t explain.”

The old centaur turned to face us, a haunted look in his eyes. “Something is very wrong Letoides, These problems may not be as alarming as the rise of Kronos or the awakening of Gaea, but in a way, I find them even more unsettling, because I have never seen anything like this before.”

Apollo seemed to be lost in thought. “These demigods…” He said. “Before they disappeared, did they act unusual in any way? Did they report…hearing things?”

Chiron raised an eyebrow. “Not that I am aware of. Why?”

I turned to face him, he never did say what happened in the woods.

He seemed reluctant to say more, I understood where he was coming from. Causing a panic was a bad idea. Chiron studied us.

“Nevermind. Our first priority should be helping us regain our divinity. Then we can assist with other problems.”

I couldn't say I didn't agree, but we would be a mortal at least a year. “Apollo. You know these punishments last a year. There isn't much point in trying to sway Father.”

Chiron stroked his beard. “Artemis is correct, but on the other hand, what if the problems are connected, my friends? What if the only way to restore you both to Olympus is by reclaiming the Oracle of Delphi, thus freeing the power of prophecy? What if Delphi is the key to it all?”

That… made sense. Python controlled Delphi. Meaning we had to kill the serpent. Meaning many things that I will think about later.

“In our present state, that’s impossible.” I pointed at Meg. “Right now, our job is to serve this demigod, probably for a year, as Artie pointed out. After I’ve done whatever tasks he assigns me, Zeus will judge if our sentence has been served, and we can once again reign immortal.”

Meg pulled apart a Fig Newton. Why? I couldn't tell you.Those are the best cookies.. Eat them normally child. “I could order you to go to this Delphi place.”

“No!” Apollo’s voice cracked mid-shriek. “You should assign us easy tasks—like starting a rock band, or just hanging out. Yes, hanging out is good.”

I glared at Meg, Strike one. I reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Meg. We are currently in no shape to fight anything. Much less get to Delphi"

Meg looked unconvinced. “You could take a plane”

Apollo stiffened and I laughed humorlessly. “You mean get thrown from the sky by our father so we die in the flaming wreckage of a plane. No.” Chiron glanced at me curiously. I ignored him.

“...well, Hanging out isn't a task.” Meg resorted.

“It is if you do it right. Camp Half-Blood can protect us while we hang out. After our year of servitude is up, we’ll become immortal again. Then we can talk about how to restore Delphi.” Apollo argued.

But I knew immediately after he’d order some demigods to do it for him, and Zeus wouldn’t like that.

“Apollo,” I sighed. “We may not have a year.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“If demigods keep disappearing, the strength of camp weakens, and then they can't protect us. Besides, you are far from helpless.”

“I’m mortal ” He responded.

“I’m mortal.” I repeated, gesturing to myself. “‘Pollo, we are both mortal, we’re in this mess together,”

Apollo gestured angrily. “Artie we can die-”

“and! Apollo, Delphi IS your responsibility.” I added.

Chiron nodded thoughtfully.

Apollo groaned and put his head in his hands. Even he can't argue with logic. “Why us?” He asked rhetorically. “ I didn't open the doors of breath and let Python out! Zeus’s bad judgment got us in this mess in the first place!”

“Apollo..”

“When the giants started to wake, I drew up a very clear Twenty-Point Plan of Action to Protect Apollo and Also You Other Gods, but he didn’t even read it!”

“Yes. I do remember. ‘Pollo. You refused to let me edit.. But, to be honest, your plan was better than Zeus’s ‘wait till the last minute plan’.”

“Thank you.”

Meg tossed half of her cookie at Seymour’s head. “I still think it’s your fault. Hey, look! He’s awake!” Meg spoke in a way that made it sound like the Leopard had woken up in his own, was like he wasn't nailed in the eye with a Fig Newton.

His fault? I bristled at her statement because this so wasn’t his fault. Before I could argue Apollo just looked at me and shook his head. His message was clear. It's not worth it.

“RARR,” Seymour complained.

I felt the same.

Chiron wheeled his chair back from the table. “My dear, in that jar on the mantel, you’ll find some Snausages. Why don’t you feed him dinner? The twins and I will wait on the porch.”

~0~

I helped Apollo to his feet, a task in it'self. He didn't fall like earlier, thank the gods, but he swayed for a moment, almost falling, he steadied himself on the back of the couch.

Chiron looked wary.

“Do you think you can walk?” I asked quietly, he nodded quickly, staggering into a standing position. Once we reached the porch, Apollo started leaned on the railing heavily.

Chiron turned his wheelchair to face us. “She’s an interesting demigod.”

“Interesting is such a nonjudgmental term,” Apollo stated.

I smiled weakly.

“She really summoned a karpos?” Chiron

“Well…the spirit appeared when she was in trouble. Whether she consciously summoned it, I don’t know” Apollo replied.

Chiron scratched his beard. “I have not seen a demigod with the power to summon grain spirits in a very long time. You know what it means?”

Apollo’s legs began to tremble. I immediately took a step closer to him. “I have my suspicions. I’m trying to stay positive.” He muttered.

“She guided you two of the woods,” Chiron noted. “Without her—”

“Artemis would have gotten me out.” He interrupted, looking at Chiron.

“Apollo-” I attempted to speak.

“You would have gotten us out, Artie. I trust you.” He replied I felt my lip twitch upward.

Chiron chuckled. I turned to him. He had this.. Look in his eyes. A look I've seen mirrored in my previous lieutenant’s eyes as she looked over recruit's. The look of someone scanning for new talent, I’d never imagined someone would look at me like that. It felt.. Objectifying.

“Tell me,” Chiron looked at Apollo, “what did you hear in the woods?”

Apollo froze, he laughed dryly. “I- well.. When I was in the woods.. There was a distinctly feminine voice.. And she was.. Screaming. Screaming from inside my head, I think. You couldn't hear it… Screaming stuff about fires and finding her and-” his voice was trembling. “She said- I'm quoting here- “The sun's fall, the final verse” and-” His voice broke, I reached over and grabbed his hand.

“I won't let you die,” I said quietly. “I’ll continue with the dream, okay?”

“That.. That would be nice” He looked out of it, his eyes on the ground. I squeezed his hand, hoping I was reassuring. I'm not going to let him die.

“When.. When I took a nap in the cabin while Apollo was unconscious, we shared a dream. In the dream we were in the sun chariot, a lady was there. She.. Looked like a queen. Not Hera. Hera doesn't smile. She was talking about following the voices and finding some gates.” I said. “Apollo you said something about a prophecy didn't you?”

“Uh- Yeah. I just- I don't know what I meant by that…”

“That's fine ‘Pollo. After that, she disappeared and the Chariot went into bus form. There was this… man in the back. I don't know why but.. He’s bad news. I know he is. The chariot was in a death spiral and he said something about burning down an Oracle. He was laughing.” Apollo’s grip on my hand tightened as I spoke.

Chiron’s hands curled into his lap blanket. He looked about as worried as it is possible for a man to look while wearing fishnet stockings.

“We will have to warn the campers to stay away from the forest,” he decided. “I do not understand what is happening, but I still maintain it must be connected to Delphi, and your present…ah, situation. The Oracle must be liberated from the monster Python. We must find a way.”

I translated that easily enough: Apollo and I must find a way.

Chiron smiled weakly at us.

“Come, come, Apollo,” he said. “You have done it before. Perhaps you are not a god now, but the first time you killed Python it was no challenge at all! Hundreds of storybooks have praised the way you easily slew your enemy.”

I winced. The biggest lie my brother has ever told. Apollo glanced at me curiously.

“Yes,” He muttered. “Hundreds of storybooks.”

As I've said before, Python was not an easy fight for my brother. I saw the aftermath. He doesn't know I know how badly he was injured, but he’s had nightmares about the Serpent forever. My brother told everyone he killed it quickly, called out the serpent, and BAM! A dead snake, Apollo became lord of Delphi, and everyone was happy. From the bit's I've heard, and what I've seen, Python was no pushover. I doubted we could even pose a threat without our divine powers, the ability to teleport and our bows. We would die in mere minutes.

What kind of chance would we have as a sixteen-year-old mortals? We are not going to charge off to Greece and get ourselves killed.

Apollo looked frustrated, anxious, and angry. He looked like he was going to speak but before he could speak a conch horn in the distance.

“That means dinner.” The centaur forced a smile. “We will talk more later, eh? For now, let’s celebrate your arrival.”

[FIRST]

[PREVIOUS]

[NEXT]

#what the hell #the hidden oracle+1 #the hidden oracle plus one #hahahahahahahhaHAHHAHAH #lester papadopoulos #apollo #artemis #trials of apollo #my fic #my ficc #my ficccccc #help me

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therainbowwillow · 4 years ago

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Previous part: https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/640627005428318208/therainbowwillow

Part 9!

Premise/last time on this Hadestown AU: Challenged by the Fates, Hermes scrambles onto the train out of Hadestown just in time. Eurydice and Apollo treat Orpheus’s wounds. Hyacinthus takes a nap. Persephone considers filing for divorce. Achilles and Patroclus silently brood over the fact that they’re sharing a train car with Apollo, who indirectly (okay, not that indirectly) murdered them during the Trojan war. Dionysus encourages his mother to please divorce his homicidal father already. Thanatos and Hypnos flee Hadestown on foot. Hades hides to avoid the riots (that he totally caused by trying to kill Orpheus, this is his fault.)

(can you tell writing a synopsis is sometimes my favorite part of this process? I’m a first time fanfic writer, okay? Let me have this!)

—————————————

Hades slides the last lock into place and begins to barricade his bedroom doors. Being walled up in his living quarters, he thinks, does not look good for his image. Then again... what image does he have left to preserve?

He tries not to remember the pain and terror in Orpheus’s eyes. He was helpless. He hadn’t struggled, only given a desperate plea for his life.

Hades knew Orpheus had escaped. He’d watched Hermes from his tower, as he’d wrapped the wounded poet in his coat and carried the boy away from his confinement.

Hades had been given a choice when the boy arrived: appease the workers by letting Orpheus flee or kill the boy and appear strong. He’d taken the middle route. His shades had no respect for him any longer. Now, they pounded at his bedroom door, chanting Orpheus’s name.

Thanatos had been right, of course. He was weak. Foolish. Everything was far out of Hades’s reach now. Persephone would find her mother. As much alcohol as it might take, she was strong; she’d fight the bindings of the food of the dead. She would not return to him now. Orpheus would survive. Counterintuitively, Hades finds himself hoping the boy had made it out safely. Half of him prays that Orpheus will recover and sing the world back into tune. He’ll never get to see it, Hades realizes. Orpheus’s springtime will be lost on the underworld. Nothing will change. Hadestown will never again see flowers bloom. Eventually, the boy’s song will be forgotten by the dead as the Lethe again took its hold. Orpheus and Eurydice’s persistence may well earn them a seat among the gods. They’d never again return to his halls. All Hades has is his kingdom. And he must keep his grip. He will keep his grip. He always has.

The ground trembles. Another mine collapsed or production line blown sky high, he knows. Hades shuffles through his wife’s dresser, preparing to add it to the barricade. He finds a bottle of wine in the bottom drawer with a note attatched. ‘For when I see you again, Seph!’ it reads, ‘Much love, Dionysus.’ Hades slams the bottleneck against the dresser. It shatters to bits. He pours the wine into his mouth and swallows. It reminds him of the few sweet springtimes he’d spent up above. He finishes the bottle.

—————————————

“Strong enough?” Hermes asks, handing Apollo a bottle of morphine.

“Should be. I’ll give him a dose. It’ll knock him out long enough for me to stabilize his condition. Eurydice, distract him for a second.”

“Hey, Orpheus,” she says. “When we get married-”

“We’re getting married?”

She smiles. “Oh, yes. Anyway, when we get married, you get to help me make the bouquet. And, I was thinking, we could write a nice little poem on the wedding invitations.”

“What would it say?” He asks.

“That’s your job!” She laughs.

“What would you write?”

“I dunno! ‘Roses are red, our love is true, we’re getting married to prove it to you!’”

He grins. “That’s terrible.”

“I told you! I’m not a poet.”

“Okay, so I’ll write the invitations,” he says.

“Let’s hold the ceremony outside. Maybe during cherry blossom?”

“Heads up, Eurydice, he’ll be out of it soon,” Apollo warns her.

Eurydice nods and continues, “Who should we invite?”

“Hermes and Persephone.”

“How about me?” Apollo asks.

“Oh yeah. And Hyacinthus too. Everyone we know can come! We’ll have wine for Seph and I’ll drink grape juice!”

Eurydice laughs. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“A lot,” he says. “A lot a lot.”

“More.”

“All the way to the stars?” He guesses.

“Past the stars and all the way back,” Eurydice corrects him.

His breathing steadies a little. “Can I sleep now?” He asks.

“Yes,” Apollo responds.

“When you wake up,” Eurydice says, “I’ll be right here. We’ll get married during cherry blossom once you’re feeling better and then you’ll teach me how to play the lyre.”

“Tch. Will you actually listen this time?” His words are slurred slightly by the medicine.

“I promise I will.”

“And you won’t try to throw my lyre into the fireplace?”

“I didn’t- okay. No, I won’t.”

“Good. Eurydice, I love you.”

“I love you too. Now get some sleep.”

He closes his eyes and his breathing steadies. Eurydice sinks back in her chair. “He’ll be alright?” she asks.

“Should be.” Apollo winces. “Give me a dose of that morphine or get this arrow out of my ankle, would you?”

“I’ll get Patroclus,” Hermes replies.

He returns a moment later with Achilles and Patroclus in tow. “Well,” Achilles remarks, “looks like karma caught up to you.”

Apollo rolls his eyes. “I saved the kid, now do me a favor and shut it.”

“Fine. Lay down.”

“What, on the floor? I don’t get a bed?”

“Yes, on the floor,” Patroclus snaps. “I’m not dragging you around.”

“Okay, okay.” Apollo puts his hands up in defeat and lowers himself to the ground.

“Listen, your lover boy’s asleep. So how do you want to do this?”

“Quietly,” Apollo says through gritted teeth.

“Alright.” Patroclus stuffs a scrap of cloth into Apollo’s mouth. “Bite this.”

He does. Patroclus snaps the arrow shaft. Apollo clenches his fists.

“Sorry,” Patroclus mutters, unapologetically.

“Mmmph.” Apollo attempts to reply through the cloth.

He yanks the arrow out. Apollo gives a muffled cry of pain. “Alright, there you go. A bandage and you should be fine.”

He spits out the rag. “You’re not even going to bandage it yourself?”

“No. Apollo, you guided a spear through my stomach and an arrow through Achilles’s foot. You let us bleed to death surrounded by the bodies of our fallen friends. Deal with it yourself or find a doctor whose life you didn’t end.”

Apollo stares up at the ceiling. “Take care of Hyacinthus, would you?”

“That I will,” Patroclus replies, honestly. “He’s doing well. He’ll want to see you when the pain meds wear off. So here.” He tosses Apollo a roll of bandages. “I’ll get you when he wakes.”

Hermes kneels at Apollo’s side. “You want a hand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, breathless. “That’d be nice.”

“Thank you. For helping with Orpheus. I know you would’ve liked to see Hyacinthus,” Hermes says.

Apollo half-smiles. “Orpheus is my son too. He’s a good kid, Hermes. You raised him well.”

“He admired you, Apollo. He cherished your visits.”

“I should’ve come more often,” he mutters.

“You were grieving,” Hermes reminds him. “Orpheus knows how it is. He never blamed you.”

“I’ll come by more often once this is all over. I’d like to promise him that.”

“He’d appreciate it, Apollo,” Hermes tells him.

——————————————

“Persephone?” The door opens. She turns in her seat.

“Dionysus. Come sit.” He takes a seat beside her. “What now?” she asks softly.

“You stay with me, Persephone. Demeter and I will take care of you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m bound to that place.”

“You know Demeter would find a way around it. She’d bribe Zeus. Whatever it takes, mama.”

“Remind me this, son. What did I see in that man?” She asks in a low tone.

“He was kind. Reliable. He always treated me well as a boy. Gave me a normal life. As normal as the underworld gets, that is,” Dionysus reminisces.

“What changed? What broke inside of him for him to put a knife through Orpheus? Send shades to hunt us? I cannot say that he is not the man I know, though. I’ve seen this for years.”

“I...” he pauses. “I don’t know.”

“I feared for you, Dionysus. I sent you away to keep you out of his grasp. I stayed longer winters to distract him. It wears on me, even now.”

“Mother, I can handle myself.”

“Not against Hades. I will not have you put yourself on the line for me, son,” she tells him, sharply.

“I don’t want you going back there, Persephone!” he pleads.

She shakes her head. “Hades will contact his brother. Zeus has no pity for a woman’s whining. Hades will keep his kingdom, and he will keep his wife.”

“Mother-”

She cuts him off. “Be realistic. We must work out a reasonable agreement. We need to protect Orpheus, first and foremost. If he is not protected by my contract, then I will not take it. I will plead for shorter months stuck down there, but I would hope for very little. You will swear to me that you will follow the rules laid out for us, regardless of how harsh they may be.”

“I will not,” he says.

“This isn’t up for debate. Hades owns me. He owns everything that touches his foresaken realm. I am his queen; I am his prisoner.”

“I’m not letting him have you!”

“I’m not giving you a choice, Dionysus. I bound myself to him. I cannot change the past. All we can do is try, my son.”

#hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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deathbyvalentine · 7 years ago

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Slayers Prompts

Fathers

He knew as soon as he opened the door of course. The way his shoulders were slumped forward, his eyes downcast, no smile on his face. He did the only thing he could think of - he opened his eyes, and his son fell into them. He shook with the force of his entirely silent tears, and clutched at his father as though he was drowning. His father’s first, bewildered thought was that somebody had died, one of his new friends perhaps.

He took him inside, taking his duffel bag from him, noting the shivers from the cold air and lack of jumper. He sat him at the kitchen table, and made him a cup of tea which Tommy curved his hands around, staring into it. He sipped slowly, and ignored the plate of biscuits anxiously provided. Looking at his face, he looked older, tireder. His stomach clenched, suddenly terrified, resisting the urge to lean over and check his temperature.

“Tom... What’s the matter?” He struggled to keep his voice even, reaching over and placing a hand over his.

“He... He left me.” He broke in a was terrifying to watch. He had never seen him like this, not even when he was vomiting blood or delirious with a fever that seemed to be burning him from the inside out. He had always been so good at pushing through the hardest of circumstances with a smile on his face. To tell the truth, through the first nineteen years of his life, he had been their rock rather than the other way around. It had been wrong, but it was the way things were.

“Who love?”

“I... There was this boy. I... I loved him so much dad.” His voice was cracking, and his father was bewildered. Tommy had never mentioned a boy in all his phone calls, his emails, his texts. Neither had Jones or David or any of his other friends. “His... his father has made it so he can’t be with me anymore, but... he didn’t even give me a choice. I couldn’t make him stay.” He put his face in his hand, his shoulders shuddering. It worried him because it wasn’t the loud crying that asked for comfort or a problem to be fixed. It was the silence of someone that just can’t hold it in. He was at a loss. He did all he could think of, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around him.

“You can stay here as long as you need.”

Lost

It had been a while since he had had nightmares. But here he was, the sheet tangled between his legs, his skin pale and shining with cold sweat. The light of the moon filtering in through the thin curtains made him look almost ghost-like, his skin bright.

He was dreaming of the underworld. Of the shadows, of the cold, of the dimness of thought and feeling. It was not just the fact it was full of shades that made it horrifying. It was the sorrow, the wasted potential, the fields and fields of the dead, stretching out as far as the eye can see. An eternity of heartbreak.

Asclepius was there. His heart jumped into his mouth, suddenly terrified he had died. But then he saw the colour in his cheeks and the warmth in his eyes, and realised he was the only living thing in here. Ghosts crowded close, wanting to be near him, as though the life might rub off on them.

He was saying something.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you as soon as my grandfather says I can.” Tommy cocked his head, confused, looking down at their intertwined hands. A snake rested it’s head on the tip of his fingers. Asclepius started to pull away. “I’m sure I’ll be back for you.” Tommy looked down at his hands again, and realised with horror that they were grey and translucent. He belonged here. He was a shade too. He tried to clutch onto Asclepius, but his hands went right through him. He tried to beg him not to leave, not to leave him in this place with no light and no life. He had no voice, and he watched as Asclepius smiled gently, and turned his back on him, walking into the distance.

He woke up, but he felt exactly the same.

Alone/Immortals

It sat on his chest, heavy and painful. He had never felt like this before. This utterly isolated. It wasn’t even quite the same as loss - loss was external, focusing on the fact that people were missing from his world in one way or another. This was completely focused on him.

He felt as if he had nobody to turn to. From this point all the mistakes would be his own. All the responsibilities were now his responsibilities. He felt as if he had aged twenty years in a single day. He supposed he should make plans, take charge, figure out what the fuck he was actually supposed to be doing. He wanted Michael to be here. He wanted someone to tell him what he was meant to do.

Adding immortality into the mix was not a good feeling. He had assumed when he became a Guardian Asclepius would be holding his hand throughout the years. He could survive anything as long as he had him. And now he didn’t. And David and Lydia could say they would be at his side all they liked, but he didn’t believe that. They had other obligations. And worse, almost, Asclepius might at some point be accessible, but they wouldn’t be able to be together. He didn’t think he could handle seeing him and not kissing him, touching him, loving him.

He was on his own. And that was terrifying.

Help Me

Michael,

I’m not gonna send this letter. You’re gone, for the moment anyway. Someone just said that if I needed to talk to someone, writing out my feelings is a good way to go. So here I am.

So, I’m confused. About you. About your ‘death’. The only established fact we really have is that Zeus wants you back. I’m not gonna let that happen because that’s the only thing I know you don’t want. And not giving Zeus what he wants sounds satisfying anyway.

But like, I know you didn’t want to die but that’s not the same as you wanting to come back. And like, should you even get to come back? Dionysus, Lydia, You... If we undo every choice and mistake, even death, does it just stop meaning anything? Who gets second chances? I’m not God, and I feel like I’m the one who might get to decide. You made your choice. If you wanted me to undo it, why wouldn’t you say in your letter?

Nothing means anything Michael. I don’t know what the right thing is here. He did. You would know. But I can’t ask you.

Love, Tommy *******

Asclepius,

I shouldn’t be angry at you, but I am. You’ll never read this, but I can’t talk to you anymore. I shouldn’t.

It’s the first time in two/three years I’ve went to bed without praying. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. It’s the first time I’m not wearing your necklace. I just hope you’re safe, and I have no idea because I can’t feel you anymore.

I’m angry because I never had a choice. It should have been my choice about if I went to Zeus or not, and you didn’t trust me. You tell me to stand on my own feet, and then tighten your grip on my shoulders.

It doesn’t matter. I’m going to get you back, I’ll save you. I’ll save everyone. Then we can be happy again. If you still love me by then.

Yours, Always, Tommy

Beginnings/Changes

Again, he looked at his reflection. Turned his head this way and that. He looked different. His eyes darker, perhaps brought out by the fresh shadows under them. His mouth bitten and unhealed. He looked older, he realised, with a jolt. His jibe about looking twelve for eternity would no longer hold true. He looked his age, a young man, not quite fully grown.

His hand curled around the staff looked quite natural, as though it had grown there. His stance, especially across his shoulders seemed strong, no longer apologetic or shy.

Gods, he felt tired.

Asclepius was both right and wrong about several things. He could stand on his own. He could go on without him or Michael. But he didn’t want to. It would be miserable, an eternity of ‘just getting through’. And he wanted more from his small infinity. He deserved to have someone he loved with him. He deserved his happy ending. And he would get it back with claws and teeth and magic.

But for now, there was just him. This was the start of something - an eternity, a war, a story. Something. He wasn’t sure if he was protagonist yet, but he intended to at least be a player.

One Night of Negativity

The world was falling apart around him, the music was pounding, and every one else was happy. There was only one thing for it - drinking. Right now, he didn’t care about his morals, or his beliefs, or himself. He just wanted to forget, to make his pain tangible, to show that he was hurting.

He knew that he was the positivity of the group. He knew he couldn’t break, not really. They needed him. Asclepius had once called him a ‘guiding light’ and he couldn’t let that drop just for his own selfish reasons. He had to be happy. He had to be whole. He couldn’t ever falter. He had to be better than ever, if anything.

But tonight, he couldn’t. It was as physically impossible as asking him to fly, or lift a car. He couldn’t be okay. Zach looked at him, concerned, and he almost felt a savage satisfaction that swiftly turned into broken sobs. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be furious. But all he had clutched in his hands was his sadness, and the scraps of himself. His head rang with abandonment.

So, time to silence it. He drank, more than he ever had before until his stomach twisted and his throat burnt. He danced until all he could hear was the music, and not the thoughts crashing around his brain with merciless carelessness. If there was anyone to kiss, he would have kissed them. If there were any drugs to take, he would have taken them. He would have done anything to make it stop.

It didn’t help, ultimately. When he got home, into bed, he was still himself, and he was still broken up with, and Michael was still gone, and he still felt as if he was rotting from the inside. But tomorrow, at least he could pretend a little better.

No More Games

He had known the emails were Zack for weeks now. When he found out, he had felt no anger, no rage, just something like disappointment. Disappointment in himself for buying into it, for it not being something cosmic, for it being a friend playing with him. He was too tired to be angry.

He hadn’t banked on Asclepius knowing, but he wasn’t surprised that he did. He was surprised at how contained he kept his anger, how much he had developed in this way.

And then he was outside in the dark with Zack, close and quiet. And there was a rawness there, from both of them. Zack unmasked was a curious thing. Not quite as sharp, not quite as confident. There was a shifting unsureity there. A shifting sense of self that never settled long enough for Tommy to read properly. And honesty. Yes, honesty that shone through.

He liked this version, he decided, as dangerous as it was. But the world around him was also dangerous, and confusing, and obscure. He was watching seven different warfronts all at the same time, monitoring all, putting out fires every two seconds with hardly a second to breathe. He couldn’t add guessing at Zack’s motives to that list of problems. He didn’t have the energy, and he disliked distrusting his friends immensely. Once, he might have said it was better to be deceived, but nowadays he was a little more moderate.

He found, as he often did, when someone was honest with him, or vulnerable with him, with all their flaws and foibles on display, he only loved them more. Such was the case here. All he was told, only made him love him more. He hugged him, as words were not quite enough here.

Conflict of Interests

Okay, let’s look at the choices.

Asclepius - no choice at all. You need to get him back. If you did, his interference in the labyrinth would be minimal. You trust him, and he’s a good person. The best person. His desire not to influence the labyrinth’s fate would ensure he wouldn’t. Ideal. But not until after you’ve done what you need to do.

Hera - Reasonable, likes you. Might even love you, in time. Looks after her family, and you are certainly her family in more ways than one. Negotiable in terms of patronage. You could say what you wanted, she could say yes or no, and if you were respectful there may not be any repercussions. Don’t trust with Labyrinth. Great choice if you want all and all war against Zeus. She beats him every time.

Loki - You love them dearly and they love you but they are literally the last person that should be trusted with anything in the Labyrinth.

??? - You’ve suddenly become interesting to a lot of beings. Wait and see?

Enemy

He had drawn the curtains closed, so the room was dim. With all the candles, it was also stifling. They seemed to hang off every shelf, desk and available surface. It made the shadows in the room jump and flicker, making nothing seem quite static.

He had drawn a seal on the floor in chalk. This wasn’t magic as anybody knew it. This was old, and instinctive. He had scrawled the runes for ancestors, violence and love in the seal. He didn’t pour any magic in but his own rage, his own fury, his own absolute determination and self-belief. He could do this, and he would do this, because there was more than himself at stake.

He took a deep shuddering breath, and drew the blade across his palm, letting it drip drip drip into the seal, and onto the hemlock that sat in the middle of it all, innocently. It was more than a threat. It was a promise. He took another breath, to make sure his voice did not falter.

“Zeus Olympios, God of Gods, Father of the Pantheon, Thunderer, Bearer of the Aegis, Mine Own Ancestor... I name you my enemy.” The candles flickered. There was a reason he had left the electric lights off. He had no power here. “I will not stop until either you, or I have been brought low. I seek recompense for the pain you have caused to me and mine. I seek vengeance. I seek justice.” His palm still flowed with blood - there would be a scar. Asclepius could not heal him now. “Let my will be done. I am Thomas Madding, and I am coming for you.”

Health

So, the curse was gone, with conditions. A spiteful part of him didn’t want it gone at all, if it meant being to Apollo’s whims. He wasn’t an idiot - he knew what the terms meant. Yet another lever for manipulating Jones.

This revelation had little to no effect on him. He realised, dully, that he wasn’t afraid of Apollo anymore. He wasn’t even the worst thing he had faced today. He wouldn’t bend to his whims, if it came back, it came back, and he would find a way to remove it. He was confident in his ability to undo whatever a spoiled brat like Apollo came up with.

He was better than him, and soon he might be able to equal him in other ways. Tommy would never be a god - but he would have responsibilities beyond one, and powers to wield it with.

His health, whatever happened to it, was not a priority right now.

Scars

His first scar since before he was healed. His first scar on a blank body. How fitting that it was a product of both Michael and Asclepius. Michael who inflicted the wound, and Asclepius who healed it.

He traced the jagged and wide mark on his forearm over and over again. He rather liked it - it reminded him of the both of them. Something he could carry and never be rid of. A part of him, like both of them were. He liked the idea of wearing his history on his skin.

And that is why he found himself googling tattoo parlours in the small hours, and wondering idly exactly what magic he could do to them. He already knew what word he would get scrawled over his heart. But he wanted it to be alive, special, more than just dead ink. Magic and responsive.

Deals

The moment had came and went, and he had failed. Call it what you want, he had. He should have offered his life to Hades, he should have died in the Underworld, and stayed there as a shade so Dionysus could live. His fate would mirror Asclepius’s, he would stop living on borrowed time, and he could do something like rest.

He knew the truth now. He couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t theorise or hypothesise anymore. A moment had came where he had supposed to die, and he hadn’t said anything. He had stayed quiet, in the cold and dark, and done nothing but offered his health.

People kept calling him a hero, and he was anything but. He was a coward. He hadn’t done it from nothing but the most animal fear, of not wanting to die, of not wanting to be left in this place on his own. How could he say he would sacrifice himself for somebody after this?

His health meant nothing to him - he had lost it before, he would undoubtedly lose it again. Giving it up had cost him nothing. His life, well apparently it was precious. He hadn’t realised. He had thought he was more than he was.

Well, he got his wish. A coward was going to keep his life for eternity.

You Can’t Help Everyone

Hands tried to clutch at his clothes, and passed right through, leaving him cold and shivering. As far as the eye could see, the dead clamoured, drawn to the life down here as moths to a flame. They did not want to snuff it out, they merely wanted to feel its warmth.

If Tommy looked at them closely enough he could begin to see their deaths. Blood sticking to the ribs here, hollowed out cheeks and thin wrists, broken off arrows... His mouth suddenly felt very dry. These people were beyond saving, and he wasn’t sure all of them even knew it. Some didn’t even realise how dead they were. Some were still searching for what they had lost in life.

Someone clutched at him, and he resisted the urge to flinch. They were asking if he had seen some dearly held lover, if they were down here, if he knew them. His mouth stumbled over questions, but he knew they were futile even as he was asking them. He was useless here, absolutely useless. They were beyond saving.

Is this what waited for them all? Like a shark in the deep, unseen but there all the same? It was awful, it was inhumane, and he couldn’t help, no matter how many tears he shed. His tears were useless, they helped nobody but himself. Guilt beat him in time with his heart as he pushed on deeper amongst the unnumbered dead.

Letters

This was it. He knew as soon as he saw the writing. The slightly messy, archaic slant. Nobody else wrote like that. It was confirmed when he opened it - nobody else called him kid. He noted, almost abstractly, that his hands trembled as he held the heavy pages. Tori glanced at him, at his face, and seemed to think better of making a quip.

As he read, grief rolled over him like the waves of the ocean. Anger chased soon behind, about how unfair this was, how utterly, bastardly unfair. Not his death - they had been planning and preparing for that since the moment Michael met his eyes and fate wove them together. But the fact he couldn’t say goodbye back. That Michael got this closure, this farewell, and he didn’t.

What would he even say that Michael did not already know? Tommy wore his heart on his sleeve, especially around the older man. They had laughed together, cried together, embraced, an entire life in a short series of interactions. Michael had trained him, Tommy had stole his memories, Michael had stolen his pain. There was so much there.

There was one thing, actually, that he had never said. That couldn’t go unsaid. That was too important, too raw, too real not to say to a dying man. Tommy believed that no good thing should ever go unsaid. Life, ironically, was often too short.

“You were a great man, and at the end, you were even a good one.”

Staff

It was an elegant thing, and it sat in his hand like it had grown to fit his palm. No ivy adorned it, no metal handholds. Instead, a snake peered inquisitively at him, wondering who it’s new owner was. It was a pretty creature, scales shining in the light of the dining hall, eyes narrowing at unnarrowing at him. Cautiously he reached out his fingers, and it rubbed against them, hissing with apparent approval. It clearly recognised him as it’s owner, even if it’s eyes still flickered around the room, as though looking for someone else.

There was one part of the staff that didn’t quite match the rest. A small section in the side, jagged and pointed, seemed to be of a different wood. The grain was harder, not the soft cyprus but the solid oak. Tommy found himself running his fingers across that too; almost looking for comfort from it. It was all he had of Michael, now he thought of it. And it was enough. It’d have to be. He could still hear the faintest whispering.

Magical Math

He sat on his bed, cross-legged, frowning, chewing a pen. The papers in front of him covered almost the entirety of his duvet, covered with scrawls, drawings and archaic symbols. He realised, with dim amusement, put this on a wall and it was close to a murderboard.

He wasn’t trying to figure anything out as such, more craft something. A ritual, obviously. It was odd, what he found easy and what he found difficult. Healing spells were second nature to him, he could do them in minutes and in fact, had. Prophecy, he could do in his sleep and often did. Scrying he usually found easy. This was a little different because he couldn’t pin down exactly what class exactly this was. He picked up the vial of his blood and held it up to the light, squinting at it, wondering what he should add.

Shaking himself, he told himself to stop thinking of the ingredients. Honestly, he had mostly settled on those. As he had settled on which runes would be scrawled in his circle. They too were second nature - he understood the language of magic, of those who had tread the path before him.

But then was the question of power. His power lay in places other than his magic, or more accurately, a lot of his magic couldn’t simply be accessed for rituals. This needed power. Just in case he was battling something a bit bigger than him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Oh well. Let’s use it all, shall we?

Trolley Problems

If you had the ability to make someone’s life better, you had a duty to do it. It was a moral responsibility. If everyone did it, the world would be a better place. As it was, hardly anyone did it, which meant it was even more important.

A life for a hundred lives was an easy choice, in his book. It remained the same, the less it became. Fundamentally, he had no more right to life than the next person, but he had a different advantage. He had the ability to make the choice. That is what meant that he should make the choice - the fact he had one at all.

He pretended this was the only reason he’d lay down on those trolley tracks. A question of logic and morality, nothing more. Tommy was adept at pretending. He painted on a smile even when he was terrified, even when he thought the world was falling down. Maybe his morals were a mask for all the fault lines running through him.

Family

Once, he had thought he was counted as family purely because of the love Asclepius held for him. Perhaps family was slightly the wrong sentiment. He was tolerated, like a pet. Gods had their mortal lovers, and soon they would be gone, and in the meantime they were allowed at the table even if they were not viewed as equals.

He felt a change, on two levels. One, he had their blood in his veins. He wasn’t quite a random mortal. He belonged to them, their golden fingerprints dusted all over him. His blood opened gateways for him, literally and metaphorically. He was family now, by blood, not by marriage.

Secondly, the guardian business. He may end up immortal, and combined with the divinity he had within him, and the power at his fingertips, he was suddenly a lot closer to them than your standard mortal. He wasn’t going away anytime soon - civility was suddenly a matter of practicality as well as politeness.

He was grateful though that he had gotten to meet them before either immortality or the question of his blood was raised. He felt they knew him as a person first, and some of them may even like him. The respect they now gained combined well if they were already invested.

He couldn’t help a little shiver of worry though - if he never fixed the Zeus issue, being counted as family would end up hurting him. One, Zeus would be gunning for him for the rest of forever and that sounded exhausting. Two, if he was ever brought closer into the family fold, he would see him again. Again and again. And it would hurt, being close enough to touch but not close enough to kiss. He’d miss him in plain sight.

Resolve

Her grey eyes were stunning, and he was hideously aware of how drunk he was. He had wanted their first meeting to be formal, where he could smile and talk and make a good impression. He wanted Athena to think he was clever, to see him and see the responsibility he could carry.

He was a mess right now. He was scarcely functioning. His hands were shaking and he was clutching the staff as much to keep him upright as anything else. He did note that her composure wasn’t perfect either, something obviously troubling her beyond the drunken child in front of her.

Soon, the despair on his chest was too heavy for him to stay standing. He slid down the wall, quietly, not expecting anybody to notice, not thinking anyone could help. Athena sat beside him, and said nothing. Not at first. She was just there, present and steadying. She made him feel a little more grounded. Her fingertips brushed his head, and he leaned in to listen to her words. Suddenly, he felt blessed. ******* The sun still rose in the morning without him. The earth was still the earth, and he had not died from losing him. He was vaguely surprised by this. Who could have guessed that his existence did not depend on him? He still felt the despair deep in his chest. Perhaps he always would, until he got him back. But he would not cry, he would not beg, he would not do hundreds of rituals as he so desperately wanted to do. He would not apply band aids to the problem.

What Athena had given him made up his mind. He would rip out the source of the problem, and nothing would stop him. He was unshakeable in his belief. His sorrow became his motivation, his shield, his armour. It would be the thing that drove him onwards, that made him topple the king.

Presents

He held the diamond up to the light, watching it cast rainbows on his hands and jumper. God knows where she had gotten it from, or how much it was worth. It was probably from some gangster, or museum, or a turn of the century party. It was probably worth more than his house. Lydia did not do anything by halves.

The tea, intended or not, was genuinely useful. Chocolate and tea leaves. Good for rituals, good for fortune telling, good for comforting a friend who had just been bleeding. Tea had more uses than any non-magical kid knew of, generally.

The handkerchief was precious. Green silk that slipped through his hands so easily, embroidered with an image of his star-ridden lover. It was all he was going to have of him, for a while.

Lydia was not the only one who gave him gifts. Jimmy got him a pair of gloves, thick and cozy, as well as a unicorn lollipop. He was glad his brand was apparently unicorns. Zack got him a book, called aptly, Sentimental Thomas. He couldn’t help but smile at it, though he wondered how sentimental he really was nowadays.

Tori got him the gift of a terrifying ritual. Standard.

Spectators at the Black Mass

So mostly, he was confused.

His rituals were personal affairs, drawing on his own power and beliefs. They would be the same if he did it in a stadium or his bedroom. What mattered was his words, his thoughts, and his power. He kept his general rituals separate from his religious ones. They felt different, inherently. Religion was drawing on something other than himself.

Alistair was... different. They seemed to need an audience, drawing on the thoughts of those around him. And they seemed to mix their magic with religion, asking to be granted power rather than just taking it from themselves.

There was also a more literal sense of confusion. He thought Satan was another name for Lucifer, and Lucifer was separate from Baphomet. He didn’t realise things from the same structure could wear masks of each other. Lydia made “it’s complicated” motions behind their back, and Tommy raised an eyebrow. Apparently so. Did this lot not mind being conflated? He suspected the Pagan and Christianity confusion was occurring once again.

He added his blood. His belief would have to wait.

Sad Gay Storytime

It was inevitable really, as a gay boy dating an ancient God, that he would feel the weight of queer history on his shoulders. He felt like he was a part of something, like he was carrying on a tradition some would prefer to see long forgotten. He cried when he watched Pride, when he read Cloud Atlas, when he listened to Queen. It mattered to him, even as a quieter member of his community. He was too shy to go to clubs, to Pride, to even the small LGBT youth clubs that were spotted around the country.

Listening to Lydia, asking about all the men that were like him fifty, a hundred, a thousand years ago, he felt like he belonged. He felt like he had a place somewhere, not just an outsider in this place and time. He felt grief too, for those that had suffered when they would have flourished. It was a quiet sort of mourning, but there it was. He wished he could have met them. He wished he could have loved them.

It made him braver in his love somehow. Less apologetic. Proud.

Primal Scream Therapy

The anger, no, the rage and sorrow and heartbreak were bubbling underneath the surface like an infected wound. He could feel it festering, spreading into his bloodstream, making him desperate to be hateful. He didn’t want to be understanding, he didn’t want to be sensible, he wanted to feel every single inch of this pain.

And yet it was too much. He felt like his body physically couldn’t contain what it was feeling. He wanted to claw at his skin, to break something, to lash out. To do all the things he had never allowed himself to. To be weak, to be unhappy, to be unreasonable.

And there was Dionysus, smiling, always smiling. Tommy had never noticed quite how handsome he was before, how his words sounded like magic. He felt alive and raw and uncontained and Tommy needed that before the infection reached his already broken heart.

They walked to the dark woods, Lydia behind them both. They found a clearing, the trees whispering above them conspiritally. He had never been more aware of his Apollion nature. He planted his feet, as he was told, but the concept of release was terrifying, too much. He felt profoundly small, and profoundly awkward, and his brain still tick tick ticked, thinking too much.

And then he punched Lydia, his fist hitting her cheek with a satisfying smack. It was a weak punch, untrained as he was, but he heard her hiss, and Dionysus laugh. She clawed him, and he felt blood blossom under his shirt, and he didn’t care as he sunk his teeth into her arm, tasting her blood as sweet as wine.

Dionysus was suddenly behind him, chastising him for his tears. “No, do not curl up. He’s over there. The one who caused this. The one who hurt him -” And Tommy could have sworn he saw him for a second, his ancestor, his patriarch -

“FUCK YOU.”

His breath heaved, and he took Dionysus’s hand to help him down from the clearing. He didn’t feel better; he wasn’t sure he ever would. But he felt cleaner, the infection burnt out of him.

#slayers #larp #prose #prompts

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