#the midas curse strikes again

[bigfootswashingmachine]

in a continuation of the wizard's curse, my, my computer apparently restarted overnight and left a burned-in imprint of firefox on my screen

#the midas curse strikes again #from a specific instance bc i can literally read which tabs i have open and some of them were random #i. do not know. if this is fixable

[arsonalle]

♱ ‧ shoko + satoru + suguru + you

imagine ... an AU where you're friends with Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru

###

;; manga spoilers . no plot . lazy writing . blood, very very light 'gore' . run on sentences because I like how they read . rushed ending . lowkey self deprecating . angst? its really badly written . starts in the past and randomly jumps to present time . made up future past chapter 256 . weird formatting, not linear at all . probably skipping major events that happened in the past but idg2f . big Raga & crew strike again . mentions of shipping/relationships . no caps/random caps . potential spelling/grammar errors . death

songs ;; lady killer ii, i want all original mixshark, army dreamers, taking whats not yours, not allowed, the boy is mine (ariana), skyfall, coming down x hotline bling, girl with the tattoo x break from toronto, sweet crazy love (odd eye circle), midas touch, love fire (psychic fever)

You and Shoko get along like two peas of a pod. You hated that she smoked at first, but now you're used to it, and the smell is oddly comforting. You go shopping together and cringe at Satoru whenever he does something off or weird or is just oblivious to some things around him. You go on missions(? I forgot what theyre called...) with her just to get things done, and you guys work great together. although she usually just tags along for something akin to moral support. Your life without her would be boring, like it would without the other two.

You and Satoru are weirdos together. You contradict whatever you say about him when you're with Shoko and you guys are absolute cornballs. But you love every second of it. You hang out together sometimes, just the two of you, and every time you do you feel the piece of you that craved solitude break off and mold into something that glows in the presence of others. You can't beat his closeness with Suguru, although sometimes you try, but you're okay with that. Being too greedy never leads to anything good

You and Suguru don't hang out much in person unless you're with the other two, which is pretty often so I take that back. You text him the most, though, when you want a second opinion on anything that would take you threatening Satoru to give a serious answer for. You have deep talks with him sometimes. He's surprisingly good at giving life advice now, although maybe its because of the constant crisis's that you and the other two have. You go out to eat a lot with him when you do hang out just the two of them, and he almost always pays. He's good company, calmer than Satoru and a bit more insightful than Shoko. He's still Satoru's friend, though, so he's goofy when he wants to be. He's a good balance, though, so you don't mind it.

. . .

When the three of you graduate its an interesting time. You feel so unaccomplished, but Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru never once let you feel like that for too long. The feeling always comes back, though. You can't help it.

Satoru is...Well, hes Satoru Gojo. Is there really a need for explanation there? He's the best sorcerer jujutsu has seen in at least a millennia. Or something like that. You can't remember exactly what was said...

Suguru is fucking amazing. He can keep up with Satoru far better than anyone else can, because he's talented in his own right. Curse manipulation. That shit could change the jujutsu world for better or for worse. Its too bad it turns out to be for the worse, though.

Shoko's reverse cursed technique isn't for offensive use, but it's still impressive. She can pretty much heal anyone, bring them back to life, maybe. How can you compete with that? She's a valuable asset to the jujutsu world where people get hurt and die on the daily.

And you? You're not much, admittedly. A few generic cursed techniques here and a pretty basic simple domain there are the most that you can manage at your best. Surrounding yourself with outliers like Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru couldn't be good for your long term health, but at least they made you happy for the short term.

. . .

When Suguru makes the decision to disassociate with jujutsu tech and create his own world, things are awkward. Its just three of you now and the four-piece puzzle you created when you met them is incomplete once again. A piece of you is torn out of its place by force and blood is constantly seeping out of your every pore. This blood is thick in texture and volume, sticky, and an abnormally dark shade of red; it makes audible slop noises when it falls on the floor around you.

You want to blame Suguru for this but its not his fault you're experiencing night terrors. You're mentally weak, nothing like Shoko or Satoru who seem to be moving on. Why aren't you moving on? You need to move on. He wouldn't be having these thoughts about you, surely, so why are you having them about him? You feel selfish now, because you're positive that Satoru is feeling ten times worse than you are. The two were obviously in love. You have no right to feel the same hurt as him when you're just...an outsider.

You're an outsider now, and you'd never felt more like one than now.

. . .

Suguru is dead and Satoru finds his body. You thought you were finally getting over the loss of your friend but now everything is bubbling up to the surface again. You can only imagine how Satoru feels having seen his best friend's corpse on a day where his precious students were fighting for their lives and almost lost. You wonder if he sees the same dark blood pouring out of him. Is it from the same places as you or is it spotted? Is his the same color? Thick or is it thin? You want to ask him but thats definitely not appropriate, so you can only guess.

. . .

You were there when Satoru fought Sukuna for the last time. You weren't in tokyo at the time. You were actually at the kyoto branch of jujutsu high, for no specific reason other than to see utahime and her students. You and utahime had an interesting friendship, one you didn't really make known.

You were there when he was unsealed and you spoke to him just before he went out. You still remember what he told you, but now you wish you didn't.

"When I get back let's go for dinner, the three of us. On me."

You smiled and agreed because why wouldn't you? Plus you were pretty broke as of recently, so him offering to pay set off those little receptors in your mind that screamed "Give me dopamine".

You were there, and you watched with Shoko as the battle unfolded. You knew she was anxious, as anxious as you were. Satoru was both of yours's best friend, even though you two probably weren't his. Girls had to stick together, and you squeezed your hand as the two of you waited. Waited for the battle to be over and Sukuna to be speared in half. For Satoru to march back up, cocky as always, and proclaim is victory. For him to come back to you. To Shoko.

But he never came back.

His body stayed on the field for as long as it did before they took it.

Why are you surrounded by so much death? Everyone around you is dropping dead like fucking flies. It was three of you and now its two. Why is everyone lying to you? Playing with your heart? They know you aren't as headstrong as maybe you should've been as a jujutsu sorcerer and they're playing with you. They have to be. This wasn't where you saw yourself in 2006 when the only thing on your mind was Suguru's next birthday present and swapping out Shoko's smokes for candy ones, hoping she wouldn't realize and gradually stop smoking.

You don't feel the blood leaking from you, though, because you have no more to give. Now your heart just hurts and you wish it would end. You knew that because of the nature of jujutsu sorcery that there was a chance everyone involved could die. But who would have ever thought Satoru Gojo, the strongest, could die like this? You sure didnt.

Its you and Shoko now. The girls are sticking together like they should be, you guess. You can't stay too upset, though. You know that Suguru and Satoru are probably playing peekaboo behind you and making fun of your crying face. Its up to you and Shoko now to carry the weight of everything on your backs now. For your fallen friends.

. . .

You move back to tokyo after everything is said and done. You should've probably moved to another country and quit jujutsu, go to canada or something, but you can't leave the very thing that changed your life just like that. You're resolved to become stronger now, pay back everyone and everything that took your life away. Took your friends away.

You become a teacher at tokyo's jujutsu high. You meet Yuji and Nobara and Megumi; they're good kids. The most interesting first year right now is Maki, though. She's almost a repeat of that man, the man that you don't really like speaking about for pretty obvious reasons, but she's a great student. An even better person, you think.

You hang out with Shoko often, usually at lunch and on the weekends. Things aren't normal without two guys dwarfing Shoko in size and sticking to the outside of you two's sides like sandwich bread, but life is moving on. You take Satoru's death a bit better than Suguru's. Whether it was because your feelings didnt reach as deep for him as they did for Suguru, or because you were somewhat desensitized now, you were thankful that Shoko was still there for you, and you were there for her.

Until you weren't.

Things were relatively normal, but just as fast as you can flip your hand, they weren't.

Curses and curse users emerged again, on a slightly lesser scale than they did in shibuya, but on the same level as they were in the culling games, and you weren't prepared.

You're in a sort of limbo now, living in your own head, reading off your own thoughts. You wonder if this is how Suguru and Satoru felt. Everything is silent and for some reason you're calm. You should feel bad for leaving Shoko all alone but you don’t.

Maybe it’s because you know that she’ll get over you faster than she came to terms with Satoru and Suguru’s deaths, or maybe it’s not.

The only thing you feel right now is peace. You wish her the best because you know that she’ll keep on living, carrying with her your legacy. The legacy of you, Satoru, and Suguru, and she’ll make sure she does everything she can to save the people that she can.

After all, she can join you after her passing and have nothing to show for it. You’ll surely make fun of her for that.

arsonalle 2024

#ar.imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #reader insert #ieri shoko #satorugojo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #light reader X suguru #angst #angst with a sad ending #death #manga spoilers #arsonalle #fanfiction #fanfic #random #yn

[sharuruwrites]

That one saxophone solo (pt.1)

Summary: Shion and Gojo finally went to their honeymoon. Fluff and tensions ensues.

Warning(s): Suggestive themes

Timeline: Gojo: 23 Shion: 22

A/n: Sup! I'm back and this chapter was supposed to be longer but i split into two parts because it's getting too much. I had a lot fun and struggles in writing this chapter especially that's it's a fluff based chapter. I tried different for this chapter's header with aesthetic, but I'm not sure if i pulled it off (^_^;).

Word Count: 5.1k Special thanks to @xerox-candybar for beta reading this chapter.

Also, credits to _melonchip at IG for taking my commission and drew this emotional constipated idiots.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jujutsu Kaisen as it belong to Gege Akutami.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*Bold letters meaning they’re talking in English ——————————————————————

On a rare and peaceful day off, Shion enjoyed the silence with a book in one hand, running the other through her husband’s snow-colored hair. It’s been almost two hours since Gojo fell asleep on her lap. At first, his head was on her shoulder, and Shion worried about potential future back problems. Instead, she offered him her lap to nap on.

She took note of Gojo snuggling into her lap as if it were a pillow. Thanks to his hair, it tickled her.

At some point, Shion’s eyes lost focus on her book, and drifted towards Gojo’s sleeping face. Her hand moved slightly, allowing her to get a clear view of his features. Gently putting her book away, she brushed a few strands of his hair away from his cheek.  

Shion admitted that Gojo was a very handsome guy. If it weren’t for the whole Jujutsu business, she could clearly see him as a very popular actor and model. And she had a feeling that he would have the Midas’ touch, if he chose to dwell in business–that is if he kept his mouth shut, and played the role of a serious cool guy. Then again, he wouldn’t be the Gojo Satoru she knew. She hated to admit it, but being an annoying piece of shit was one of Gojo’s endearing charms.

Despite his loudness and eccentricness, sometimes she woke up to his sleeping face, and she always found herself staring at him for a few minutes before getting ready for the day. She liked how peaceful he looked as it soothes her nerves. 

She wondered what kind of dreams he had whenever she saw a small smile on his face. Was it his dream of revolutionizing the current system finally came to life?‌ Or relieving a happy memory from his past?‌

Shion’s observations came to a stop as her husband roused himself from his slumber.

“How’s the nap, dumbass?”‌

“Nice,” Gojo answered groggily as he rubbed his cheek against her bare thighs. “I have the best pillow to nap on after all.”

Shion felt her cheeks burn with anger. Did her husband really just wake up and immediately provoke violence, even though he’s within striking distance of her fist?

“By the way,” Gojo shifted his position, sensing his wife would explode out of embarrassment. “Have we had our honeymoon yet?”

Shion shook her head.

“Let’s go on one!”

Right after their wedding back in 2009, the married couple couldn’t afford to make plans for their honeymoon trip. They were simply too busy with the duties that came along with their positions, and the assigned missions from the college. Gojo–occupied with his teaching responsibilities and his transition to clan head—barely had time for himself. Because of this, he left the responsibility of the Fushiguro siblings to his already overwhelmed wife.  

Shion closed her book, placing it on the couch. “Where do you want to go?”

“It’s up to you, Shion.” Gojo stretched his arms upward before standing up from the couch. “After all, our honeymoon is your wedding present to me!”

“Wait what?!” Shion exclaimed. “I didn’t agree to do the planning and-”

“Oh look at that time,” Gojo took a quick glance at his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. “I have a date with a cursed spirit! And you know how cranky they can get when I’m late!”

“Satoru!”

After Gojo quickly waved at Shion, he winked, and then disappeared to his destination.

“And, there he goes…Wait…isn’t today his day off?”

———————————-

Later in the evening, a certain blonde salaryman entered his apartment. For once, his boss was feeling generous enough to let him go home early after 3 days of working overtime. Why couldn’t that idiot do his own fucking financial reports for once?! Why does he have to make Nanami do his work?

Nanami was so ready to relax on his couch, drink some beer and catch up on his reading. Instead, he found Shion had showed up unannounced and invaded his living room. Stacks of opened magazines covered his coffee table and countless sticky notes plastered the back of her laptop.

How did she even get access to his place? Oh right–he had given her a key to his place two years ago, after he had rescued her from a bar after a night of heavy drinking.

It was the first time they’d spoken after Haibara’s death.

“Kento...I’ll support whatever decisions you have, whether it be leaving that cursed world or pretending all of that is not real but, please…”

Shion clenched tightly onto the hem of his shirt as she sobbed. “Don’t forget…I exist...”

His home acted as a temporary sanctuary for Shion. It didn’t solve her marital problems–Gojo’s neglect, their lack of communication–but it did help her climb out of a dangerous headspace. 

Nanami remembered how vulnerable Shion looked when she woke up. Her hair was a mess, all over the place. He could see the never-ending sorrow in her eyes, eyes that once gleamed with such lustrous golden color. The familiar shame and guilt he’d seen years ago resurfaced on her face again.

Nanami felt partially responsible for what she had become.

Instead of helping her, he ran–no, scratch that–he abandoned her in his pursuit of normalcy. No one could really blame him for what he did. The Jujutsu society was really fucked up, rotten to it’s core, and it had driven at least one sorcerer he knew to insanity.

Because of this, he wondered if Shion understood his decision to leave the cursed world, or if she had turned a blind eye towards his selfish act, hoping for a chance to rekindle their friendship.

All these thoughts ran through his head. He pushed them aside as he took off his blazer, setting it on the top of the chair.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, welcome home, Kento.” Shion put her laptop aside and pulled a bottle of whiskey from her bag. “To compensate for the sudden visit.”

“I’m so close to asking for my key back, “ Nanami said, taking the bottle anyway. 

Despite being a heavy drinker, Nanami wasn’t a raging alcoholic–unlike their mutual acquaintance. Did Shion really think he would be swayed so easily by intoxicating beverages?

Then again, only a fool would decline free drinks.

Nanami let out a tired sigh before loosening his necktie.

“Did you order take-out, at least?” 

Shion nodded. 

“Then be my guest.”

After taking a quick shower, Nanami slipped into his sleepwear and as he was changing, he heard his doorbell ring twice, indicating the food had arrived. He made his way to the living room with a towel draped on his neck. He felt lazy today to dry his hair with his hair dryer.

Seeing Nanami on his way, Shion poured a glass of whiskey for him as he took a seat across from her.  

Nanami took a sip of his drink. “What made you come here?”

"A change of scenery.“‌ Shion answered without looking away from her laptop. ”It might help me decide where to go for my honeymoon trip with Satoru.“‌

Honeymoon? An unlikely scenario for those two–both of them are complete idiots when it comes to each other. A prideful idiot, and an oblivious idiot. He still hadn’t a clue when this pining between them would end. Honestly, it was amusing and tiring to watch them in the same room together.

In spite of everything, he preferred that than ever breathing in the same air as Naoya Zen’in–Shion had mistaken his marriage proposal as a declaration of rivalry. But that would be a tale for another time. 

Nanami eyed at the messy stack of colorful travel magazines on his coffee table. “Shouldn’t you be planning this with Gojo, Shion?”

“Yep, and knowing him, he would dodge the topic like a mission from the higher-ups.” Shion put a whole tamago into her mouth. “Hash wark? Shame ash ushuyla? Shame shitty bawsh?”

“Eat first before you speak.” Nanami scolded. “And yes, the same as usual.”

The woman gulped down before releasing a contented sigh. “Well, if you need help in dealing with someone, let me know.” Shion gestured at her neck. 

“I will if the only option isn’t murder.”

“So, you’re considering murder as one of the options then?” Shion tilted her head to the side, confused with her friend’s sudden frown. “What? I’m double checking with you before I commit anything. Oh, and that supervisor of yours, is he currently in a relationship? Because I saw him with different-”

“How am I still friends with you?”

“You’re a softie, that's why.” 

Nanami rolled his eyes at Shion’s words.

“You’re more of a softie than me, Shion.” Nanami commented. “Remember in high school when there’s a mission at Nagoya-”

Shion’s eyes widened before she covered her ears. “N-Not another word please, Kento!”

Nanami was not very surprised to find that his supervisor was weirdly friendly with him at work the next day, and insisted on granting him a good amount of vacation days as a goodwill gesture. Nanami didn’t miss the fear in his eyes when they made eye contact.

Looks like he had Shion to thank and scold for this.

----------------------------------------------

After a week of preparation, the married couple finally went on their honeymoon. Thanks to Gojo’s ‘charms,’ they managed to each get a week off so that they could fully enjoy their well-deserved rest.

However, when they arrived at their hotel, an unexpected problem occurred.

“One single room for Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, right?”

One bed? And, here she thought she could get a break from sharing a bed with Gojo for once. She’s sure that she picked a double room for the both of them. Did they accidentally book the wrong one?‌

“Miss?”

“Ah…yes!” Shion looked startled as she clasped her hands together, and quickly spared a glance at Gojo. “One bedroom for me and my husband...of course, my husband….who is over there, at the koi pond…”

Unknown to her, Gojo was assessing if he could fit a smaller koi fishin his water bottle. 

Shion awkwardly chuckled. The receptionist gave her a side eye before turning their attention to the computer. What’s with that reaction? Her English wasn’t that bad to begin with, was it? Thanks to her travels with Tsukumo, she could read and comprehend simple sentences, as well as hold a conversation.

Maybe it wasn’t so much how she sounded, but what she said–now that she thought about it, Shion may have come off as floozy, or worse– a married woman having an affair with another man.

She really needed to take a break from reading such romance trite novels.

All of her energy was spent from their travels (and the awkward conversation with the receptionist), and Shion wanted to dive to their bed and rest, but Gojo’s big mouth prevented her from doing so.

“You really want to sleep with me that much, huh?”  Gojo smirked.

Shion glared at Gojo. So he did have something to do with their unexpected room change after all.

“What are you talking about?” Shion put down her luggage on the carpeted floor. “You act like this is our first time sharing a bed.”

She’s not wrong.

When they first got married, Gojo bought a house near the college, but also close to the Fushiguro sibling’s school. They had started to share a bed when the Fushiguros moved into their house. Since they’re growing children, Shion willingly gave up her bedroom and her personal office so that they could each have their own room. They could easily buy a larger  house, but they had been so busy with work that they didn't have time to do more house hunting.

Sure, he could just have Shion move to his family’s estate with him, but trust didn’t exist in that place.

Despite his position as the head of the Gojo clan, the servants remained loyal to other family members, most notably towards his parents–the same people who brought him to this world with a troublesome burden, and the first people to strongly oppose his marriage to Shion. They claimed that it would damage his reputation enough just to marry an outcast, let alone someone with a questionable background like his new bride.

They also kept trying to set him up with their own marriage candidate. They assumed that because Shion hadn’t yet given them any grandchildren, she must be infertile, and if she couldn’t fulfill even the simplest role of a woman, he might as well divorce her. They said this to his face, with Shion beside him.

When Gojo heard those words, he almost committed parricide on the spot like his old friend. Consequences be damned.

The only thing that stopped him from doing so was Shion. He remembered her expression at that time was unreadable, indifferent to his parent’s attack.

Once they got home, however, he accidentally stumbled upon Shion hunched over the bathroom sink, secretly treating the red crescent-shaped wounds on the palm of her hands.

The scene made him wish he could manipulate time to his will. He wanted to go back in time to the first year of their marriage, and treat her better. Not as her husband, but as her partner. 

He hoped this trip would help him understand Shion more, and in return, he would earn more of her trust.   

“Earth to Satoru,” Shion said. “Did you even hear me? I said, this isn’t our first time sharing a bed–”

“Yep~” Gojo poked her cheek. “That’s how I know you snore and hog the blanket. ”

Shion shook her head in response to her husband’s answer.

“What’s first on the agenda?”‌ Gojo asked.

“The beach, but I want a snack.”‌ Shion frowned, placing her hand on her stomach. “The airplane food wasn’t enough.”

“Alright,” Gojo nodded before rolling his shoulders. “I’ll look for a convenience store. I need to stretch my legs after that flight. Why did you book us economy class when we can easily afford first class? Or even better—rent a private jet?”‌

Because it was Nanami who booked their flight. Whenever Shion made travel plans, her mind always went blank as her anxiety cranked up to a hundred. It’s not that she worried about money–she worried about filling in the right information. What if she accidentally booked a forty-eight hour flight to Denmark? Or chose an unreasonable flight time? Did she have to pay extra for checked baggage, or was that included?

Not that Gojo would understand the struggle.

“I forgot to upgrade the tickets.” Shion scratched her cheek. “Now, could you go get me some snacks?”‌

Once Gojo left the room, Shion fell face first to their shared bed. She let out a moan, satisfied with how comfortable it was.

She wanted to take a nap, but she had to unpack her luggage just to find her swimsuit. 

As Shion went through her clothes, panic started to rise. There’s still no sign of her bathing suit! Where could it be? She had already checked every nook and cranny of her suitcase…

Amidst of her dilemma, her eyes landed on a familiar white rectangular box. She hadn’t opened that box yet, even though she had received it weeks ago… 

"You're late, Shion." Mei Mei extended her hand out. "That'll be 500 yen for the late fee."

"This isn’t a doctor’s appointment that I’m missing, Mei-san." Shion looked at her friend, confused. “Besides, you’re the one who came to visit me at work, unannounced-”

“I’ll charge you an extra five-hundred yen for that behavior.”

“Alright, fine!” Shion rolled her eyes as she handed the older woman a five-hundred yen coin. “What brought you here?”

Mei inspected the gold coin and played it around between her fingers. "I heard from Shoko and Utahime that you'll be going on your honeymoon next week. Consider this my wedding present."

“Is Mei-san a psychic?” Shion gasped. "How did she know I’d forget to bring my swimsuit today?"

Inside of the box, Shion found a pair of black undergarments paired with sheer stockings. The needlework in the laces was intricate, and the fabric was smooth to touch.

This was perfect! She hoped it would fit her. 

Shion changed into the ‘swimsuit,’ and quickly began having doubts about this gift. It barely covered her parts that would warrant an arrest for indecent exposure. Also, what was the point of these stockings? Wouldn’t they make it harder to traverse the soft sands? And she worried that she was going to lose circulation in her thighs because of the tight fit. 

She took a quick picture of her outfit. That way, if Mei Mei ever wanted to gift her a swimsuit again, she would know that she chose the wrong size.

Despite her complaints, Shion found the outfit to be cute. 

“I grab you some snacks and-” Gojo stopped in his tracks and dropped the white plastic bag he was holding. “I prefer white on you.” 

“Ever heard of knocking?” Shion’s eyes narrowed at him as he picked up the bag and took a seat on their shared bed. 

“Where did you buy that?” Gojo gestured at her swimsuit. “I thought you’re more of a no-frills kind of woman.”

“Oh, it’s a gift from Mei-san,” Shion put her hand on her hip. “I never imagined she'd be the type to give someone a swimsuit.”

A sense of curiosity rose within Shion as she watched her husband’s dumbfounded expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to wear that to the beach?” Gojo said. Disbelief was laced into his tone.

“Without the stockings, I don’t see why not?” Shion shrugged. "I mean, it’s a bit tight around my chest but I think I’ll-Satoru? Are you alright?"

At that moment, Gojo swore his mind crashed 3 times in a row.

----------------------------------------------

After a quick trip to the mall for a new swimsuit, and then a quick  change of clothes, the couple finally reached their destination for the day: the beach.

As they walked towards the water, they were greeted by the familiar sights of white sands and blue sky, and the sounds of waves rolling upon the shoreline. The smell of salty ocean spray invaded the air around them, and the sun felt warm against their skin.

“Should we go surfing or kayaking first?” Shion asked.

Shion was wearing a white two piece she chose for herself, but the black jacket was Gojo’s idea.

“Satoru,” Shion fanned herself. “Is it really necessary for me to wear your jacket? It’s fucking hot.”

“Yes.” Gojo’s face scrunched into a scowl. “It’ll protect you from all the wolves lurking around here.”

“I think we can rent there.” She pointed at a blue shack filled with various floaties, water toys, surfboards and umbrellas. “You know how to swim right?”

“I should be asking you that question, Shion.”

Within seconds, Shion made a face, as if this were a ridiculous notion. Of course she knew how to swim—she learned it from the best. Her teacher, Tsukumo, had shoved her into the deep end of a pool and she whispered ‘good luck’. All Shion could remember from that day was her limbs screaming in pain.

Recalling that memory sent shivers down Shion's spine. She was thankful that she managed to learn to swim on the first try. And if she didn’t, well, then she wouldn’t be alive today. Although Shion mastered  the basics, the lesson didn’t stop there–Tsukumo kept pushing until Shion could jump from an Olympic dive board without any problems.

“Now, now, you’ll be scaring the cashier with that frown of yours, Shion.” Gojo ruffled her hair.

Shion slapped her husband’s hand away from her. “Just wait here.”

His wife left him with only a single thought in his head— she was too damn beautiful. 

From the moment they set their foot on the beach, he could feel and see the hungry gazes from the ‘wolves.’

Shion was too oblivious to notice the stares. As Gojo silently threatened men left and right, Shion seemed preoccupied with something–he swore that he heard her mumbling about werewolves.

He broke away from his thoughts when he felt his phone vibrate. He fished his phone from his pocket and noticed a text from Mei Mei. He almost forgot that he messaged that woman, questioning her if she received a bribe from someone who wanted him dead…from embarrassment.

From: Scary Crow Lady (Mei Mei) Shouldn’t you be thanking me instead? I always assumed you two had an exciting sex life ;-). Isn’t that the purpose of your trip? What’s there to be thankful for?! There was nothing exciting about the long cold, shower before they went to the mall. Thankfully, Shion didn’t question why.

He had no intention of trying to sleep with her. And if he chose to bring up the topic, then there was a good chance that Shion would pass out from embarrassment.

“I’m back.” Shion approached him with two pairs of life vests and snorkeling masks. “I changed my mind, and thought we should do a bit of snorkeling first then–what’s with the scowl on your face?”‌

“Nothing.” Gojo grumbled under his breath, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Anyways, shall we go then? There’ll be less people ogling you in underwater”

Underneath the blue waters, they saw many colorful forms of marine life. It was a beautiful sight to behold: the school of fishes swimming around them were iridescent, some even had a unique pattern to their scales. Others moved in slow circles–one came swimming right by Shion’s mask.

After their underwater adventure, Gojo suggested building a sandcastle–he wanted to see how tall it could get with their combined effort. It felt a bit childish to do this at their age, but ultimately Shion couldn’t deny his idea as she was also curious about what the outcome would be.

Shion fortified the base of the castle, and volunteered to make a moat around it to protect it from the tides. Meanwhile, Gojo did the heavy lifting–transporting the materials, and adding more layers to the top. Soon, their sand castle was about up to Gojo’s thighs.

 But even with Gojo’s jacket, Shion kept receiving good-for-nothing stares from the ‘wolves.’ Some were subtle, but some of them had the audacity to do it with their partner next to them, thinking they would get away scot-free. It sent his blood boiling, and his hands itched to blast those perverts with Red. 

No, he’s not jealous. In fact, the last time he experienced such a feeling was two years ago. 

He remembered it so clearly. 

It was a cold, stormy night and he was standing in front of an abandoned school. His body was heavy with exhaustion, yet he still pushed on–determined to pick up his wife after he got a troubling text from Ijichi. He could have asked the auxiliary manager to do it himself, but it’s been a while since he had seen Shion. 

The moment Gojo stepped his foot inside the building, he immediately hid his cursed energy well enough to avoid suspicion. He sensed Shion’s own cursed energy nearby, as well as another familiar aura that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. 

His fatigue vanished instantly–replaced with panic as he was outside of the classroom where Shion and Geto were. 

Gojo listened to every word of their conversation. Judging from Shion’s hostility, it’s unlikely that his wife expected to find Geto here. That’s one thing to check off the list from the questions he would have to ask her later. 

As far as he could tell, Shion never suspected that he had been eavesdropping on her and Geto, before he made his grand entrance. Of course, he wasn't planning to bring it up. He would be patient with her, just like she did with him despite his neglect. It’s the least he could do. 

But, Gojo never expected his wife to talk about all her problems maintaining and forming relationships with someone who had committed a heinous crime–even if they had once been friends. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with Shion’s crush on Geto.

“Shion,” Gojo got a small ‘hm’ from Shion. “Back in high school, did you like Suguru?”

At that moment, Shion ran the toy shovel straight through the base of the sandcastle. All of their hard work came crumbling down within a matter of seconds. 

“Shion!” 

Ignoring the architectural tragedy that she had caused, Shion scratched her flushed cheek. “I-I believe I don’t have any idea you’re talking about, Satoru.”

Gojo was astounded by her response. Did she really think her feelings toward Suguru were a secret in the first place? Their classmates and the faculty staff all knew about it. Heck, he overheard Gakuganji, the old fart at Kyoto Tech, asking Yaga’s opinion on whether Shion or Geto would confess first.

“At this point, if someone asked me what oblivious means–” Gojo pointed at her, “–I’m gonna direct them to you.”

Shion slapped his arm as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. In exchange, Gojo laughed at his wife’s bashfulness.

Was he wrong? No, it was a badly kept secret to begin with. Even before hearing it from Haibara’s loud mouth, Geto had sensed the girl’s admiration towards him–it was evident from the way she acted whenever they were in the same room together. 

‘Suguru-senpai’ had a sweet-yet-shy tune to it, as if she were a typical damsel-in-distress waiting for her prince to rescue her.  When Gojo watched them together, it honestly felt like a shoujo manga panel had come to life, with Shion’s personality switching from her usual deadpan expression to a blushing mess. 

Thinking about how Shion acted towards Suguru was amusing at first. Yet, as time passed on, it became disgusting and–surprisingly–mixed with jealousy. 

Gojo recounted the many times he rolled his eyes at Shion for acting in such a trite way. On the other hand, Shion greeting him as ‘Gojo-senpai’ and simply acknowledging his presence drained all of her energy in one go. Gojo understood why–he’s a real piece of work, and his constant hijinks were always a headache to deal with.

What could he say?‌ He’s a natural when it comes to mischief..

Did he regret it? No, not really as it gave him Shion’s hand in marriage and cooperation to his cause.

"W-whatever!" Shion averted Gojo’s eyes. "I-I only had a crush on him, that's it!"

Had a crush? That’s a relief. Wait, was he feeling nervous all that time? Him?!

“W-what is it to you anyway if I do have a crush on Geto-san?”‌ Shion’s eyes locked on Gojo’s, unable for the latter to tear away from. “It’s not like you can do anything about it!”

Shion felt she said something wrong. Despite her husband smiling, the corners of his mouth looked strained.

“I’m thinking of an excuse to use if ever the higher-ups get caught wind of this.” Gojo’s gaze shifted from Shion towards the ocean. “They’re still hellbent on pushing your death penalty. I won’t be surprised if they stoop so low as to  fabricate evidence that frames you as Suguru’s conspirator.”

“Is…that so?” Her question came out as a whisper, discouraged at what she heard. “I guess…it can’t be helped.” 

“You can tell how fucked up their priorities are,” Gojo commented. “After three years,  they still keeping tabs on you and-”

And here she had thought she had made progress–3 years of doing their dirty work, only to find out that she’s still at square one. She had bent over backwards for them, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if she worked hard enough, the higher-up’s perception of her would improve–or at least be less shitty–and maybe they’d stop giving her husband so much trouble. 

What’s the point of her title and her efforts if  she couldn’t get a sliver of respect from those dried up pieces of shit?

Shion lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

Afraid that her voice would fail her, she kept silent with her hand clenched into a fist. She didn’t pay attention to the pain she inflicted on herself. This frustration she felt was too familiar to her, and she hated it so much. 

A familiar warmth on her hand broke her thoughts as Gojo grabbed her fist. She didn’t know why, but when he took hold of her hand, he acted as if he were handling something fragile like glass.

His thumb gently caressed her fingers. In response, she slowly unclenched her fists as Gojo laced his fingers with hers. She never thought that her hand would seem so small compared to her husband’s. 

“Are you apologizing because you think your efforts were wasted?” Gojo asked.

Shion nodded.

His voice was different from his usual sly-yet-brazen tone that she was so used to hearing. He sounded gentle, calm and understanding. It was almost comforting, like a warm blanket on a rainy night. But there was a hint of anger mixed in, and she wasn’t sure why. It felt like he was fuming at the higher ups on her behalf.  

“It sure was a complete waste of time and effort, trying to change their minds,” Gojo said.

Shion looked down, and frowned at his words. He didn’t have to rub salt on the wound. 

“But it didn’t go unnoticed,” Gojo added. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Because there’s one person who did notice, and that’s me.” 

Something soft and warm was pressed against the back of her hand. She didn’t fully register what it was until Gojo gave her one of his signature winks. 

Shion.exe crashed.

#gojo x oc #gojo fluff #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk oc #jjk fanart #gojo fanfic

[halothief]

- ̗̀ mr & mrs smith! ̖́ -        ╱      not accepting.   |   @daylighter​​​​  ( kenneth vareck ) : ‘ i can’t help it if you got off by putting things in my mouth. ’

wonderland strikes again with his sharp wit, hopped up on adrenaline and a daydream post-haze. andrew’s line was crossed ten minutes ago when that smart mouth told him where he could put it, that cursed thumb, which made itself a rather happy homestead on the convex of kenneth’s tongue. now, as they lay sweat-slick and spent, still catching their breath... something wicked this way comes.

all things considered, andrew usually finds kenneth’s cocky streak attractive. even more so, when it’s directed at him. that being said, because andrew values his newfound sanity, that’s one secret he’ll never speak out loud.

     ‘ are you complaining? ’     he announces to the bedroom, his pulse still flatlining as he lays on his back. a gentle head tilts in kenneth’s direction, watching him like a man starved of the sight of gold. the sheen of him always loosens something tight coiled in andrew’s chest, and like an idiot drawn in by a pretty smile, he no longer fears the midas touch.

     ‘ i seem to remember your enthusiastic consent. ’

andrew shifts his body to its side, catches the crux of kenneth’s neck with a hand, tapping morse code along the freckled constellations. it’s unbearably intimate. it happens without conscious thought.

     ‘ tell me, kenneth: was i wrong? ’

#; don't reply to this. please don't do this to us again. #daylighter #daylighter : kenneth vareck #` ▒░ ANDREW MINYARD. #▌┋ ❛ meme reply.

[kanekuran]

"Run"

[ music insp. ]

The days leading up to this day was filled with dread. The tower of Babil as they coined it loomed overhead. Imperial soldiers were scouring the streets as more attacks rained on unsuspecting citizens.

It was believed those closest to the palace were struck first. The cries of people slain rang through the ears of every household within the area. Citizens were urged to stay indoors. But, some weren't so fortunate. Families turned on one another while some homes were burned to the ground from the infected.

Only a few homes remained as hurried hands buttoned up an Imperial Legatus uniform jacket. "AHHHHHH!" A woman's scream could be heard. The young man turned to the cry, afraid whoever out there would barge their way in.

"Ignore them!" The older man spat out, fastening the last of the fur-lined button coat. "Do you remember where I told you to go? Where your brother is?" He asked, reaching for gloves. The young male Viera nodded quickly.

"Go there, meet him there and wait. We will all be together soon, this I promise you, Midas." The older man reached up and cupped the cheeks of his youngest son.

"The house is on fire!" A woman yelled, running down the stairs. "We need to leave, now Cassius!" More screams came from outside the front door with what appeared to be orange light. More fire. Midas thought as the home across the street was engulfed in flames.

He stood there in horror, his feet unable to move. His parents were already dressed for the cold weather when he felt hands on his back pushing him towards the door. "Whatever you do, you must not stop running. Get out of the city and go to your brother's location. If you're to leave us here, then leave us." Cassius told him as he reached for his weapon.

A weapon he'd see his father polish as if it were his religion. As a young boy, he'd help his father as he told stories of the Emperor's triumphs. Stories he'd held dear to his heart, even to this day. "Hurry, Midas. There's no time to waste, dear." Aurelia urged, cupping her son's cheek.

The three of them left the burning house in a hurry. Imperial soldiers fought enthralled civilians, his father using his own weapon to strike down anyone who came near. It felt like an eternity since they'd rested, and they were nowhere close to being outside the city. Growing up, he'd sometimes hear his mother curse his father for being too close to the palace. Once more, she cursed her husband for the same reason.

When they reached the park, they were surrounded. Streets were blocked by fallen buildings, magitek weapons firing and the enthralled running the streets. Blow after blow came. His father, who was always his hero, took the final blow to an enthralled but soon fell to his knees. His mother lay bloodied as she protected her youngest son.

Midas mourned the loss of his mother with his father crawling to them both. "I may have not treated you the best, but to my Aurelia, you were her favourite." Cassius reached up with a bloodied hand to cup his cheek.

"I won't make it, so run… run till you reach your brother." Cassius lowered his hand. His mouth filled with blood, and Midas saw the extent of his injuries. They were far more severe than he had hoped they'd be.

Cassius got to his feet as more enthralled came in their direction. He urged his father to get to his feet, but he argued, saying he wouldn't leave his Aurelia there to die alone. Minutes had gone by as he wept on his father's shoulder. "Run… Run Midas. Take this and run."

Midas had gotten to his feet and held the weapon given to him, and sought to fight alongside his father. But he had never received training, not since he was a boy. Frightened beyond belief, again his father struck down the enthralled, but he was at his peak.

"RUN!" Cassius yelled. "Don't let your mother die in vain." Midas stumbled back and looked down to the woman who had raised him. "Run…" Were the final words he heard of a dying Legatus.

Run…

[ @ashenwolves-ffxiv ]

#intro story #midas story #introduction story - midas #ashen wolves #I don't know how I feel about this but #here's a story #it's been so long since I've written one #;-;

[kentzarneki]

garden of loneliness —

pairing: prince aerin x irileth nightbloom (f!elf mc)

synopsis: aerin and irileth remember each other in their dreams, both good and bad until they meet again.

word count: 2.7k

song: war of hearts — ruelle

author’s note: yeah, this has been in my drafts for months like around when blades ended. and it changed from the original version i made, so enjoy this new one and happy epilogue day. (also you should definitely listen to the song)

tags: @bladesappreciationweek @zadiechoi @eugenehartmann @diamondskys @beaumontbash @diserrano @jaxmatsuo

i. 

Aerin was always a lonely child. 

Such was the life of a second child. Years spent being left out of your parent’s expectations and being taught that you’d only be needed as the last option. For the longest time, there’s nothing but darkness and the fear that maybe that’s all there is to life. Darkness, deep and inviting like the warm embers of a dying fire. Mesmerizing, but you stand still at the thought of getting burned. And fear, for most, it feels like nothing but a cold and lonely bed for your entire life. Like chills down your spine and nails down a chalkboard. 

However, that's not how it was for him. No, Aerin knew what his darkness was. He had spent years nurturing it like a mother would a child, he cared for it, loved it even. The cold abyss that pulsed where his heart should. His heart was a different shape than most. 

It was the imposing figure of his brother’s shadow and the heavyweight upon his head called the second prince’s crown. He knew this was this life, it’s what he was born into. Forever forced to play his role as the meek younger brother with a smile on his face. The spare prince. He could never be more than that, it’s what he was made to believe. 

So he played his role with care. A smile here and there, until the shadows came along. Shadows wrapped in velvet cloaks and wore masks of sinister smiles. Made of something like a dream come true created back when he still had dreams to spare. A Duke of the shadows granted him everything he could ever want - his own kingdom, a place he could finally belong. It awaited him beyond the realm, but to get there he needed to collect the keys.

He turned into a Grim Reaper of souls, ambition, and body. His reverse Midas touch, where everything he touched turned to the darkness. The hands that once wiped his tears stole lost souls and bid them into his desires. Which led him here, deep beneath the halls of a palace he grew up in. All the time he could see his father reigning proceedings of judgment over betrayers and criminals false though his mind, he wonders if his new cell had belonged to one of them. 

Often he finds his mind wandering like this, thoughts desperate to keep out of loneliness that crept in as reminders of his youth. On good days, his dreams take him back into the shadows. He dreams of a gilded throne, the blackened shadows of lost souls wander the palace as his subjects that live under the rule of his hand.

On bad days, he dreams of her. The parting kiss before his world, his lies would come crumbling down around them. She stood tall in his dreams, not faltering like the broken girl he had left behind. His words from that night echoed in his mind, “Until the stars align for us again…”.

She was the light. The single candle in the darkness, standing tall even in a broken house, the damaged windows blowing harsh air inside. Still never faltering, never bowing out. He took comfort in the fact she was out there, in the fact that her life had meaning. It brought him a sense of peace he never had before. The kind of peace that comes with love.

She was as beautiful as the flowers, in the garden he had grown up around. She stole the spotlight from the moon and held its light in her smile. She was everything he could ever want and more.

But not really, no. He knew the truth of what he wanted - what he was. The monster within, the one that seemed to tamed just from the flicker of her smile. He knew it would destroy her. 

He would destroy her. 

ii.

Irileth was always a loving child. 

It started with her parents, a love so deep for someone she had never known. Grief buried deep in her chest that acted like poisonous fertilizer to the flowers that had grown in her heart. It was a garden she had kept locked for most of her life despite her never-ending desire to be loved.

Which led to a young boy, the prince built from broken dreams to her door. His presence holding the key to what seemed like her salvation, a place to lay down all this love she’d been holding within herself. He was the empty chalice just begging to be overflowing with devotion, the only kind of devotion she couldn’t seem to give up.

Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking that it was real. Even a fraction of what he’d said, false charm hidden behind a stone in his chest. It had to be real. She thought back on his words, sickeningly sweet like raw syrup. She’d lapped up every word that dripped from his mouth like a dog, ravenous for something she’d never had. Love. The hungry, orphaned girl begging to be loved by the boy with everything. She took table scraps of his devotion and tokens of his affection all laced with dark deceit. 

Still, there’s love there. Mixed into his secrets and lies, not everything could be lost to the shadows and she’d go to war if she had to just to prove it. But, still, she’s holding onto hope that if she finds the right words she can save him. She could have saved him.

The memories find her in the dark, all of her nightmares trace back to him. The shadows singing in the air, something dark and twisted as if it was a melody to grant false serenity. There was no serenity in her dreams, nothing but shadows threatening to chase her from the dark places they’d hidden as they waited to strike. There was no serenity, but there was love. Love deep within her, it gripped her and told her heart that it was here to stay. 

Her words bounce around in her head, “Aerin, all I want is to be with you.”. 

And when she wakes tears are threatening to spill from her eyes, and she lets in a deep breath. It was the truest thing she’d ever meant because even this way he still looked like the boy she loved. But she needed to save him, save him from himself - or from the world who would never accept him like this. 

She took a timid step forward and he didn't do anything, but his eyes locked hard onto hers. His face is stoic as if he didn’t want to let any emotions show. The look of fear that filled her face when she first saw him like this - as a monster, it was stuck in his head. This wasn’t new. He always was a monster. Sickly grey, black veins stretching out as if to carve his skin into marble. Marble - what a perfect thing, easily carved into a sculpture. Something to turn into art, which is how she saw him even like this. 

“You’d still have me? Even as I am?” His voice whispers in her dreams. 

Every night, she watches as he’s dragged away to the dungeons below and wonders if she would ever see him again. His face was twisted with rage, as he pulled him away still when his eyes locked on hers, she could see the pain. His heartbreak.

In her daydreams. she sees him again. Hands touching his, her fingertips black to the touch as their skins touch. Her warm skin turning cold as a curse washes over her like waves on the shore, her skin the color as asphalt and veins like cracks in the pavement that hold a dark secret only she could home. 

She could have him. Sickly grey, broken, and bruised but all her’s. The spare prince that no one had wanted, the lost girl that no one had found could build a kingdom to tear the world to shreds. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to dive into the darkness that lived within him. Not yet.

And she left wondering, how do you let go of a love you were never able to experience? Maybe they were meant to be, maybe not in this life but the next. Because time is still passing by and she still thinks about him each time she looks up at the sky. It’s like she’s waiting to see him in the stars, where he’s more than just a memory in her heart and he’s right there in every passing face.

There’s no shadow that could ever replace him. 

iii.

The dungeon was always a lonely place.

The shadows sang in the air, something dark and twisted as if it was a melody to grant false serenity. There was no serenity down here, nothing but shadows threatening to chase her from the dark places they’d hidden as they waited to strike. There was no serenity, but there was love. Love deep within her, it gripped her and told her heart that it was here to stay. To stay for him.

So her feet carry her in, being here in person was nothing like her dreams. She hadn’t needed to ask where he was before going in. She’s told the poor king she needed closure. A small smile tugged at his lips when he heard this, he understood the feeling well.

She can hear his footsteps before she even rounds the corner, he’s pacing around like if he does it enough the endless time he spends trapped down her might cease to exist. But that wasn’t entirely the case, no, it was true he was much like a shark. Circling around its prey, constantly on the move because it didn’t know how to rest. The inevitable truth that slowing down, the resting, meant death.

“So you’ve finally come to see me?” 

His voice breaks through her thoughts, his eyes zoned on her like a hawk and even in the dark she could still see the dark brown glow in them of the boy that she loves. 

“Why?”

“Because I care about you.” It’s spoken like a fact, but only one of them knows it to be true. The heavy chains around his wrists remind him that what she says might not be entirely true. At least not to him.

“Still?”

“Yes.” She swallows hard, he watches the motion slowly. Watching for any signs of deception, he knew her well enough to see the sadness behind her eyes that seemed to grow deeper with every step she took near him. “You were - You are the only thing I wanted.” 

“No,” He shakes his head. “No. Not me.” His hands shake, downplayed rage paints his face. “I have always been this way. This dark, grey creature in the hollowed-out shell of a prince who never was.”

He was right. Whoever he was then, whoever he was pretending to be. That wasn’t him, not entirely. He’d always been dark. Always been corrupt, he loved the darkness so much you’d think his soul had been grown there. 

“You may not have loved who I truly was, but you loved me.” 

He speaks gently, words so compassionate you could almost forget they’d fallen out of the mouth from the same boy who’s betrayed her. 

“There’s a darkness in you.” Tender are the words that come from a boy who’s never known love, the boy who fought tooth and nail against the only one who had ever loved him. Loves him. “I don’t know how it got there, but I can feel it. You can set it free.”

If he was a fortress, then she was a glasshouse. So easy to look inside, to peer through a window, and know exactly what lies inside. He could practically see the way her heart beats for him, but he could also see how it hurts. 

Because while he looks on the inside, she’s focused on the view. Brown curls stuck to his forehead that her hands ache to push back, skin the color of ash that washes away the memory of his once rosy-toned cheeks. 

“Aerin, I am not like you.”

“You never were a good liar, Irileth.”

Their names slip from each other’s mouths like they’ve been holding in months, gliding off their tongues in such a charming tone they nearly missed the way they had flinched once one said it. The sting of betrayal spelled out both their names in one another’s mind. So she holds her tongue, knowing he’d never believe what she’d have to say to defend herself.

“I did not come all this way just to lose, but I won’t lose you either.”

“Haven’t you already?” 

The sound of shackles breaks the reprieve built around them, the air grows stale as it’s ripped from her lungs. Aerin lifts his hands slow, wrapping the bars that separated the two like a cavern. 

“Didn’t you lose me when you helped haul me into here?”

Shadows seemed to seep around her like the branching of a weeping willow, hiding her shame. 

“I had no choice.” 

“There’s always a choice, you chose this.”

“That is not fair. You chose this, over me.” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, an unfortunate thing about her. The way her emotions threatened to spill over the floor and drown them both. “You did. This darkness.” 

The gesture is vague but her arms swing wide, another sign of the difference between them. She was free to move as she pleased. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“It does. I cannot change.”

“I'm not asking you to.” She knew he couldn’t, there was no longer a good bone in his body. There was never a place for one. 

“I cannot pretend like this darkness doesn’t live in you, and I also cannot pretend as if I can save you. There is no saving what was never lost.” He’d belong to the shadows since the day he’d arrived on their Earth. 

“But I will not be without you.” 

Her hand slips between the bars. A tap, tap of a metal key — once, then twice against a bar. She slips through the heavy door that had been keeping them apart, the final step that leads her to jump into the deep end.

“I will have a home beside you. In the shadows.”

Shackles slip-free, falling heavily against the floor. And all at once, he’s on her. Lips on lips, shuddering close against his skin, and eyes pressed shut just hard enough to try to remember what this had felt like before. When his skin was warm, gentle hands touched her cheek beside a moonlit river. 

Violent darkness creeping in on every corner, the shadows whisper sweet desires of a glorious promise land and the wind blows down her back like nails on a chalkboard.

That’s all there is at first, not the lack of light beside her lids but enveloping her through his kiss. Fear is freezing rain dripping down her back and drops shivers down her spine that he soothes away with a caress. Shadows flood her veins and her blood no longer flows crimson, inky dark lines dance down her skin like that of a predator. She is born again, born anew, his devilish grin traces over every onyx vein, scraping across her skin like branches on a tree. Shadows whipped and wrapped around them, holding them close and holding them together. A king with his queen.

There is a garden in their kingdom, there’s a single weeping willow tree with breaking branches that snap like bones in the night and it’s filled with thorns spread through the field threatening to prick anything that comes near. But under the tree there’s a single flower, it’s pale under the moonlight you could also miss the pink glimmer on it that matches Irileth’s skin. 

When the moon is full they take a stroll, thorns let them pass and the branches part as if it’s offering a welcoming hug back home. The King and Queen of Shadows stroll through whispering cries of poor, lost souls and listen to the haunting melodies creep into their bones under the touch of one another’s embrace.

They aren’t lonely anymore.

#aerin valleros #prince aerin #blades of light and shadow #bolas #blades #bladesaw #aerin x mc #playchoices #mine: writing

[sasorikigai]

Can we suggest more kisses? Maybe kiss the best sunshine boyo Ryou, Hanzo.

Random Inbox Shenanigans || anonymous, mention of @sonxflight || always accepting!

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || The ever-radiant light penetrates through the window, seemingly straight from the sun above. And so inside their shared personal quarter, there would plunge the rays of love. For love transcends everything in the seeming eternity of Hanzo Hasashi’s suffering, as further trials and tribulations haunt his mind and soul by the night as he became his own disintegration and destruction; hiding in the solitary darkness, with his life continually being left in tatters. Without Ryou Sakai’s Midas’ touch of resplendent light, Hanzo Hasashi would continue to erode and fade beneath the harsh desert of his sulfurous hellfire, with his heart trampled beneath the helpless embers and ash, without the pool of affection quenching and mitigating the spiking waves of glacier tomb creeping in once again. 

How their solidified trust, love, and respect evaporates his own burning in the flames of doubt and despair, while it is his own repressed insecurities that continue to strike the match of his fuel, causing him to move, to breathe, to fly, in tornadoes of his firestorm. Whether awake or in slumber, the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster will roam the roads of lands remote and familiar, wanting to push beyond his limitations in order to reverse the heinous revulsion he had committed as Scorpion. No longer, every knock against his ribcage is a blade and every morning a curse; Hanzo Hasashi may still be haunted, and in every corner, he would find dead scattered crimson petals, with every breath a battle and every promise being a curse. 

The scars may turn an angry red as if they were brand new, and they are stretching. The edges of his scars slowly breaking away from each other, as the tingling intensifies, opening wider and deeper. The flesh being neatly separated, with no bleeding, a few of them even merging together forming even worse lacerations. The exhaustion and sheer pain would almost make him pass out, but no longer, he would be in distant and muffled existence of his near nonexistence. for Hanzo can now walk with a smile, marveling in his beloved’s image, at the back of his eyes. 

There always will be a spare of Ryou Sakai’s scent riding in the afternoon breeze, and the leaves of the tress and waving to witness its arrival, and the clear blue sky, are like doors opening before him. He’d be the bee drowning in honey; as the consequent feeling that follows from being completely heart and understood, their merged power, strength, and splendor all capture the rushing force of their long-solidified companionship and unparalleled love. For they both become compassionate and honorable soul who simply want to know all the answers to mysteries seen and respected therein the world. 

And in the seeking of his beloved, Hanzo lets the rushing force of his passion and devotion become a whole-hearted construed concept as his embracing limbs become the subsequent affections of their physicality of love. How the desire to reach out and touch a welcoming soul, knowing there is no danger or harm, no rejection, no cold, no withdrawal or scold, no judgment or scowl, just basking warmth and acceptance as his unashamed advance extends his calloused fingers into Ryou’s hair, cupping the back of his head so that he could coax him up to a slow, lingering kiss that will enfold into tens, perhaps hundreds, as the construct of stilled time allows. As Hanzo closes his eyes softly, how he feels the depths of their merging oceans; red inner light, magenta glowing as warmth of hearth embers dwell and swell from within, warming through two pressed hearts. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii) #✗ an innocuous unknown (anonymous messages) #(hanryou) #(relationships; samurai jack) #anonymous #sonxflight

[forbidden-sorcery]

The earliest pagan – or apparently pagan – account of an exorcism is found in Lucian’s Philopseudes. Here the Platonist Ion attempts to persuade the sceptical Tychiades of the reality of ghosts or demons by reminding him of a ‘Syrian from Palestine’ supposedly known to all. This man, Ion says, takes anyone who falls down at the sight of the moon, twists their eyes and foams at the mouth, sets them back on their feet and sends them off again sound in mind, delivering them from their affliction for a fee. Whenever he stands over the demoniacs as they lie afflicted and asks the demons whence they come into the body, the demon itself gives answer, speaking in Greek or in the language of its country of origin, and explains how and when it entered the person. The Syro-Palestinian then adjures it to leave, and if it does not obey, he drives it out with threats. Ion tells Tychiades that he saw one of the demons leaving; it was black and smoky in colour, as ghosts were often held to be. Tychiades remains unimpressed and makes a quip to the effect that Ion is better equipped to see such murky and evanescent apparitions than he himself is, since he is used to seeing the equally murky and evanescent forms of his spiritual father, Plato.              I say apparently pagan, because it is possible that Ion, for all his Platonism, is projected as a semi-Christianized individual by Lucian, who perhaps has in mind intellectuals of his own day of the sort represented by Athenagoras, who were melding Platonism and Christianity. It is also, we should recall, Ion that tells the story of the Chaldean snake-blaster, a tale which also seems to exhibit some striking Christian imagery in the motif of the cured Midas picking up the stretcher on which he has been brought and carrying it home with him. Certainly Lucian’s Byzantine commentator felt that he had Christ in his sights at this point: ‘A curse on you, godless Lucian! Was my Lord and God a sophist then, and did he take fees for curing the sick? Since the earth had the capacity to open up, when you were gibbering out this rubbish, why did it not open up and swallow you down, accursed one? It can only be because it abominated you!’

Daniel Ogden - Night’s Black Agents: Witches, Wizards and the Dead in the Ancient World

#Daniel Ogden

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 140:  Making Trades and Staying Patient

Keeping himself away from Belle was the key. That day, in front of the mirror, things had gone a lot farther than they should have, he'd let himself touch her and therefore allowed himself to be intoxicated, something that never should have happened in the first place. Not to mention that after his mind had cleared of her scent and skin, he realized that she'd asked him a question about something she shouldn't have known. His family. Not a wife or a child. A family. How she'd known or figured it out was a great mystery. And a greater mystery was why he'd answered her question as honestly as he had. He hadn't given an entire truth, he hadn't fallen into her arms and given her his entire life's story. But what terrified him after that encounter was that he'd wanted to. He'd wanted so badly to tell her, to watch the look on her face as he confessed all his secrets, he wanted to see how she'd handle them. Would she use them against him as Zelena had? Store them away for a rainy day, as he often suspected Cora was? Or would she give that smile she so often did with others, put a hand on his arm and…

It was a close call, without a doubt. One that he couldn't afford. So, his plan was to stay busy, to not touch her as he had that day ever again, and to keep his mind occupied on other matters, matters that were important to the future, not the present.

Fortunately for him, it proved easier than he'd expected. He'd felt a stirring lately, just in the last few days, one that had nothing to do with his maid. The Seer was anxious, excited almost. He felt almost like she was whispering in his ear every moment of every day. The problem was that the whispering was so rapid and low he couldn't make out words. It was a buzzing. No, he couldn't make out the words, but it left him with a feeling that he could read all too easily, loud and clear.

Get ready.

Something was about to happen.

At first, it had frightened him. He'd felt anxious right along with the Seer and panicked; he wasn't ready for the Curse to hit yet. There were things to be done he hadn't prepared, contacts he hadn't made, potions he hadn't concocted. It took him six hours one night at the wheel to calm himself down, to remind himself that the Curse wasn't going to be cast tomorrow. There were multiple phases in this plan of his. Perhaps one of those phases was simply going to come to pass. He would do what he could. For him, that meant restocking his potions; making sure he had all his ingredients, brewing extras of the common ones he used all the time, and finding a black bag which he marked with his blood to put others in so that they might find him in the new world. He'd done well. Still, one thing remained missing, which was how he found himself in the middle of the night with a cloak drawn up against his face making back alley deal with his fastest connection to squid ink.

Clopin was a gypsy, not unlike the one he'd taken his original fairy wands from. However, Clopin's talents were not in singing or dancing as so many did, he was trafficker who disguised himself as a peddler. By day Clopin could be found anywhere around the Kingdom pushing a cart that held simple wares, by night, the cloth came off of that cart, secret compartments opened, and the lowest of the low knew to find him for anything they wanted to sell or buy. For the right price, Clopin had it all. Potions, squid ink, precious and rare flowers, books, weapons, foreign currency, a book from another realm, and, perhaps most notable of all, flesh.

It took him three days to locate the gypsy. Clopin moved about every day, he could be a tricky man to find. He had a special kind of magic that helped him keep his position hidden and for good reason. Somehow he always found him pushing his cart amongst large groups of people; sometimes half a dozen, other times three dozen. They were always ragged and sickly looking. Since he always met with Clopin at night, he always found them a fair distance from him, by a campfire, surrounded by makeshift tents, and dressed in gypsy clothes that did not fit. Clopin was a master of words, and he always told any authorities they were gypsies too, but he knew it wasn't true. They were often refugees from other realms. He wasn't sure of Clopin's connection, the man was too tight-lipped in that area and too valuable an ally to threaten, but sensing no magic on the man, he knew that someone brought them into this realm and it was Clopin's job to take them to a safe place, to settle them in their realm…for a price, as always.

"Where's this lot going?" he questioned, looking over the selection he had in the back of his cart tonight. Squid ink was among the many items he had, and the man was just now preparing it, pouring two vials for him from the large flask that he had. He was taking his time, a habit that he'd often noted Clopin had, he suspected, so that his customers would have time to look over his other products. It usually didn't work for him, but on this occasion, he couldn't help but notice that he had a fine selection of books. It wasn't surprising. It was Clopin who had once traded him for the book from the Land Without Magic that Belle had loved so much. He had promised her he'd look for more by that author, but none of the books in his cart revealed had the last name Lewis. Still, she'd always be happy with a new story to indulge in.

"Destined for King George's Kingdom."

"King George's Kingdom?" he blanched. "Hardly a profitable destination for them. Where are they from?"

"Oh…a realm not unlike ours, I'm told…just as I'm told that soon King George's Kingdom won't be 'hardly profitable'," he smiled as he handed over the vials.

He knew smiles like that, he used them all the time. It was a smile that demanded he ask "what have you heard?"

But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the gypsy sighed and turned his attention back to his cart, sealing the flask the ink was in and hiding it away as if he hadn't heard him. Rumple rolled his eyes, and after safely pocketing the vials, he pulled out a small coin purse and put two coins on the cart right under the man's nose. Everything was expensive with him…

"What have you heard?" he pressed again as Clopin safely put the coins away.

"I've heard King Midas has a dragon in his Kingdom."

"And how does a Dragon in a foreign Kingdom help our good King George?"

"Because the Golden King's wealth is his greatest asset. And gold isn't strength or braun, gold can't slay a dragon, just ask his daughter's former fiancé. Truth be told, the gold only draws the beast more to that Kingdom. But King George's son-"

"Prince James."

"The one and only. The boy is a strong fighter, handy with a sword. I've heard that Midas seeks to use the boy in order to slay the fearsome beast, and in return, Midas will shower the boy with something a bit softer than mere gold."

He let out a small giggle. First, because Clopin had no idea that James was not a "one and only" as he'd suggested, but second because his hint was loud and clear to him, especially since he recently had an experience of his own with a forbidden prize that was softer than gold.

"Softer than gold…a woman?"

Clopin nodded. "His only daughter, the Princess Abigail."

"Now that would be an interesting turn of events indeed…"

"Indeed, it would benefit these people greatly. Land worth nothing now will be rolling in gold after a royal wedding."

That might be what the Seer was so anxious about. Was it possible something was about to happen? Finally? After all these years? Clopin was referencing a royal wedding for Abigail and Charming, but he knew that I would never come to pass. His future was tied to Snow White. He wasn't sure just how long it would take from their initial meeting to marriage, conception, then birth, with James and Snow, but he did know that if something was going to start soon, then it meant that could stop thinking about seeing Baelfire in decades, and begin to think about years. And that was the best news he'd had in a long time. It filled him with a joy he hadn't felt since his boy had left him.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Clopin asked. No. Not a thing. But with the joyous news, he was suddenly feeling generous.

"You've been very helpful…but perhaps I can offer you something, a piece of vital information in exchange for this…" he waved the book he'd picked up with Belle in mind. He probably shouldn't be thinking of getting her gifts, but if it would make her half as happy as he suddenly was…

Clopin glanced at the book, then crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "'Tis not but a trinket, taking up space on my cart, I'd have given it away for free if you only asked."

"Oh!" he smiled. He doubted if Clopin had ever given anything away for free in all his life. "Well then, in that case…"

"If you only asked!" Clopin called after him as he turned to leave with it. He turned back to see him standing there with a look of terror on his face at the very thought that he might have lost something expensive. "But, since you did ask, I'll take your offer. What have you heard?"

"Oh, it's not what I've heard, but rather what I've seen. King George's Kingdom will be profitable one day. It'll be a good place, ruled by a benevolent Queen and her Prince Charming, but before this day comes, war will strike." He turned to look at the people through the trees who were gathered around the fire, settling into spare blankets or under jackets, men, women, and even children. In another life, he might have been them. "Take these people, put them in the farthest corners of the Kingdom where they'll be safe from the bloodshed and the call of the draft."

"War…war with who?" Clopin questioned skeptically.

Now there was a sight…or rather a vision. With the question came a clear image in his head, one that was put there just as clearly as the image of the dark-haired man that knew Baelfire.

A line in the sand, on one side, Snow White and James and a thousand people dressed in rags and homemade armor. On the other side, a hundred people dressed in mail, Regina, and most shocking of all...

"The King himself," he answered with a smile.

He watched as the lines of confusion disappeared from his face and stretched into one of dead shock. His eyes widened, and his gaze drifted over to the people by the fire. "That is…some valuable information…"

"Especially for your trade routes."

"Indeed. Here, take this…" From a place in his wagon, he pulled out a round object, with string and feathers. If he was honest, it looked like a craft project done by a toddler, but the moment Clopin put it in his hand he could feel magic in it. "A dreamcatcher…or memory-catcher if you prefer. I believe you would be able to work magic like that."

He nodded. He didn't, not at the moment, but if there was one thing he was best at, it was learning how to work magic he didn't know. He may not know how to use it now, but he would. "How much?"

"After the information you just gave…take it! And the book. I'm in debt to you."

"I'll remember that…"

There was no good-bye; there never was. They merely nodded at each other, then he took his ink, and catcher, and book, and sauntered into the forest. He never liked to disappear entirely from the sight of the strangers, for fear of association with Clopin. Not that the strangers ever knew who he was, new to this world as they were. He had yet to ever meet one that-

As he passed close to the fire, he heard the gasp of a small child. Automatically he turned toward the noise, half expecting to see a tearful toddler, but what he saw was a small boy of about six standing by the fire, looking him dead in the eye. The child seemed frozen in fear. All around him adults were hunkered down under anything they could call a blanket, but the boy stared at him with his jaw hanging open.

"Problem," the Seer whispered in his head.

"The Dark One…"

Now it was his turn to be shocked, to go wide-eyed. No one ever knew him…how did a small boy know who he was?

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity that forced time to push forward. "Mommy!" the child cried, turning away from him. "Mommy! Mommy!" As the boy shrieked, he pulled his cloak quickly over his face and went into the dark of the forest where the fire wouldn't unveil him. "The Dark One! Mommy, it's the Dark One! I saw him!"

"What's going on?"

"What's happening?"

"What's the boy crying for?"

"It's nothing," he heard someone explain as he ducked behind a tree and pressed his back against the bark to be sure that he wouldn't be seen. "I'm sorry," a woman said, "he has this book he reads from our world, it's just stories."

A book? A book from their world? About him?

"It's not just stories!" he heard the boy cry. "The book says he lives here!"

A book from their world that mentioned him? That said he lived there?

"Jacob Horner-"

"It's true, Mommy! Look! It says right here! He lives here! He'll steal your eyes and eat you!"

"Jack…I think maybe I ought to take it. I'm sorry everyone…I think we might be taking our reading a bit too seriously."

"No! No! No, Mommy! No!" the boy cried. "Mommy, it has the story in it! It tells how he becomes not the Dark One anymore! Mommy, I have to keep it.

From behind, he heard a low rumble of laughter. They didn't believe the child, not yet anyway. They hadn't been here long enough to know that he had told them the truth. They were dismissing his claim, but he was practically salivating. A book from another world that mentioned him. Worse, a book that mentioned how he wouldn't be the Dark One anymore? From within his boot, he could feel his dagger pressing close against his leg. He wanted to see that book. He wanted to read that book. He needed it.

His heart was racing when he turned around and observed the scene by the fire. At a distance once more, it was difficult to see what was happening. Half the camp was settling back into sleep and ignoring the cries of the small boy. The other half was watching as the boy who had seen him struggle with his mother. It was a game of tug-of-war, and at the center of it was a thick green book.

He wanted to cry out, to scream. It would be easy, so incredibly easy to freeze the scene he saw before him, swoop in, and simply take the book from their hands…but nothing was ever as simple as all that. The book was the star, at the center of everyone's attention. Taking it right out from under their noses would look suspicious. When they came around after being frozen and realized the book had disappeared, he would be the first suspect. And if what the book said was true and the boy knew and told them, taking it now would be a problem. It could be a very real problem. But to ignore it and let the child go out into the world with it without knowing what was inside its pages…he couldn't let that stand.

He couldn't take it from the child now, but fortunately, he knew where they were heading. And it was clear from the way the boy clung to his novel that where he was, so would be that book.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Belle #Clopin #ouat #ouat fanfic #Fanfic

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03: 

Chapter 49: Deception

Two weeks. Two weeks has passed since they rescued Belle and two weeks since Regina had disappeared, seemingly without a trace. It was a very uncomfortable peace, but for the most part, they had proceeded to move on with their lives. They had a constant dwarf patrol on Regina's mansion, but not one soul was seen physically coming or going from her house. They knew better, of course and remained diligent.

With time moving again and people settling into new lives, post curse, it was clear that an election for Mayor was simply a formality and held just the day before. Snow won over Midas in a landslide victory, still surprising the somewhat still unsure Princess. But Persephone told her it really was no surprise at all. Snow had fought for them and made sacrifices for her people that other leaders never had. Despite her family's support, Snow was still unsure about her rule, but was glad to have her mother beside her to help her navigate this new world. David and Emma continued to run the Sheriff's station and had their share of issues to deal with. Some people were still in unrest and trying to figure out their new lives. It often led to domestic disputes and civil quarrels, but somewhat normal duties for a law enforcement team in a town with magic. Henry also continued going to school, and though he did ask about Regina here and there, he was happy living with his biological family.

They were just beginning to discover what it was like to live together as a family. Though they loved the loft, it was cramped with five of them and a dog, even with magical extensions. And now that families had shifted, there were a few vacancies now in town, but they weren't sure any of the houses were right for their family. And unfortunately, knowing that Cora was out there and Regina by her side still managed to cast a cloud over them.

Persephone could almost feel the looming storm stirring in her blood. She knew Cora wouldn't be silent much longer and she should have realized she would begin her siege on the very day that was so precious to Persephone. Her beloved little Snow's birthday.

Instinctively, David and Emma knew how Snow felt about this day, but this was the first birthday they would be spending together outside the dreamscape. They also knew to tread lightly as well. They suspected it would be much harder for Persephone not to want to celebrate, but knew Snow would steadfastly reject even a hint of a party or gifts.

As she came out from behind the curtain that morning though, she eyed her husband with scrutiny, as he made pancakes.

"What's this?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just breakfast," he replied innocently and she cocked her head to the side, as she looked to her daughter, who was devouring a plate of pancakes and bacon. Then to Henry, whose cheeks were adorably sticky with syrup. The boy seemed to want to tell her something, but had probably been warned against any happy birthday wishes.

"I know what you're up to," she said, as she sat down with them. He kissed her temple and put a plate in front of her.

"I swear it's just breakfast, my darling," he promised.

"Pancakes during the week...right. I know you, Charming," she responded, but proceeded to eat anyway. He had gone through the trouble and she would never miss an opportunity to sit down with Emma and Henry, even on this day. He sighed.

"We love you...and we love showing you how much, even on this day," he said. Her irritation deflated a little and she nodded gratefully.

"Okay...but there better be no party or gifts or anything. You know how I feel about celebrating this day," she said with vehemence. He held his hands up in surrender.

"We promise," he assured. The true test came when Persephone joined them and all present could definitely sense a tension between mother and daughter.

"You're not even going to let me say it, are you?" the Goddess asked. Snow shook her head.

"I really wish you wouldn't…" she replied.

"Snow…" she started to say.

"No...she may not have been my real Mother, but she raised me and she died on my birthday," Snow argued. Persephone took her hands on her own.

"She was just as much your mother as I am. Eva came to be a very good woman and she instilled that goodness in you. I couldn't have asked for more from her. This day...I know it has much sadness, but your birth on this day was my greatest joy," she said.

"How can you say that?" Snow asked.

"How can I not?" Persephone countered.

"Because...I was born with a death sentence on my head and you had to give me away. How does this day not make you sad and angry?" Snow asked. Persephone gave her a watery smile.

"There are things about this day that are very hard...I both gained and lost you on this day. I mourned that your real father would never see you...how fair you were. You took my breath away the moment I saw you," she recalled.

"Then my Mother escaped with you and a piece of my heart went as well...but I absolutely do not regret this day. You are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me," Persephone added, as she pillowed her daughter against her chest in a hug. A few tears escaped down Snow's cheeks.

"That day...I learned that there is love at first sight and though it was heart wrenching, I knew that there is nothing I wouldn't do for you, even if that meant giving you up so Hades would never touch you," she explained. Snow sniffed and was about to say something when they heard a knock at the door. She opened it and found no one behind it, except a box made of crushed velvet. She picked it up and brought it inside, before opening the lid.

Tears filled her eyes and she struggled to keep from breaking down in sobs, as she took out a beautiful tiara.

"What is it?" Henry asked.

"It's a tiara...it was my...it was Eva's," Snow replied tearfully.

"It must have come over with the curse, after all," David said, as he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Most items of any importance or value did and a lot of them are in Gold's shop," Persephone added.

"Why would Gold leave it on the doorstep? We're in his shop all the time and he may not loathe us, but he just doesn't strike me as the type to give stuff back," Emma said, as she read the card in the box.

"He didn't leave it...someone else did," Snow said. Persephone felt a spark of dread fill her. With Cora in town, it was just too coincidental.

"Snow...there's something I need to tell you and it concerns Johanna," she said, as they sat down.

"Is this what you wanted to tell us a couple weeks ago?" David asked. The Goddess nodded.

"I shouldn't have put it off, especially with Cora lurking. I should have known she would attempt something like this," she lamented.

"What does Cora have to do with Johanna?" Snow asked in confusion.

"Sweetheart...this is the last thing I want to tell you, because I know that woman was there for you after Eva died," Persephone began. Snow nodded.

"She was...father was grieving too and Johanna helped a lot," she said.

"Except that she was planted in Eva's court...by Cora," Persephone revealed. Snow stared at her for a moment, trying to comprehend what that could mean.

"I...I don't understand," Snow refuted.

"Eva and Cora had history that began before you were born," Persephone said.

"They knew each other?" Snow asked. She nodded.

"How?" Snow asked. Persephone closed her eyes, wishing that she didn't have to tell her, for it was about to shatter everything she knew and thought about Leopold.

"They knew each other...because before Leopold was engaged to Eva...he was engaged to Cora," Persephone revealed. Snow blinked and stared at her.

"That's...that's not possible," Snow refuted.

"Snow…" Persephone started to say.

"No...that can't be! My father didn't know Cora until he married Regina," she cried.

"I wish that were true, but he was once in love with Cora. He broke off the engagement when your mother revealed a secret of Cora's that she was hiding from Leopold," Persephone said.

"She told a secret?" Snow squeaked.

"I'm afraid so...but Cora's secret was not innocent. She blamed Eva for ruining her chance at becoming Queen," Persephone explained. Snow swallowed thickly. It was a lot to take in and she had a feeling there was more.

"So...what does this have to do with Johanna?" she asked. Persephone sighed.

"More than you know. Johanna, like everyone, has a past," she said.

Many Year Ago

One year after Snow was born

Today was a happy day in the Kingdom, a very happy day, or so it had been decreed by King Leopold and Queen Eva. The Kingdom had been blessed with a Princess one year ago on this day, during the worst snowstorm the Kingdom had ever seen. The King and Queen doted upon their perfect little bundle and she was already being called the fairest in the land. But this day was not a happy day for Johanna at all, as she lay flowers on the grave of her husband. For the King and Queen, this day was joyous and special. For Johanna, it was the day her husband had died in the service to Queen Eva's family.

He had been out in the storm that day, unnecessarily carrying out the orders of their royals to spread the word that their Kingdom had an heir to the Queen's family in the north, when an avalanche swallowed his carriage on his way back through the north passage.

The King and Queen had offered her family their condolences and even compensation in the wake of his tragic death. But their joy did not dull and their perfect world still spun, as they rejoiced in the birth of their precious Snow White. Johanna's world was shattered and forever changed though. She knew nothing would ever be the same again and she couldn't help but blame them.

"So tragic...another life ruined by that insipid girl," a female voice said, as Johanna whipped around.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"That's not important. What is important is that you and I have much in common, my dear," Cora cooed.

"I don't know what you mean," the other woman replied.

"Oh, but like you, I lost everything important to me, because of Princess...now Queen Eva," Cora responded. Johanna looked at her.

"You?" she asked. Cora nodded.

"What did she do?" Johanna asked curiously. Cora looked around like she was seeing if anyone else was around.

"I have a secret...a dark secret that King Leopold and Queen Eva would very much like to stay buried. Can I trust you?" Cora asked.

"Of course...it's not like I have anyone left to tell anything," Johanna replied sadly.

"Yes...I suppose that's true now, thanks to Eva," Cora said bitterly.

"What happened to you?" Johanna asked.

"I was once engaged to marry Leopold, but Eva ruined it by divulging a secret I had about a foolish transgression I had before I even met him. He rejected me and married her instead," Cora replied.

"That's awful," Johanna gasped.

"Oh it was...she did it deliberately and vindictively so she could be Queen. She stole everything from me, just like she stole it from you. We're kindred spirits, you and I," Cora said. Johanna swallowed thickly.

"They're happy...and today, the entire Kingdom celebrates the birth of the Princess, while I mourn the death of my beloved," the woman said bitterly.

"Yes...what if I told you there might be a way for us both to get revenge?" Cora asked.

"Revenge?" Johanna asked in confusion. Cora nodded.

"Yes...you see I managed to pick this up in one of the villages earlier," she said, showing the parchment to Johanna.

"Queen Eva is looking for a new handmaiden and a nanny for the Princess?" she asked.

"Yes...I think you should inquire about the position. I think you would be perfect for the job," Cora replied. Johanna looked at her incredulously.

"You want me to be near that woman every day?" she asked in disbelief.

"Have you ever heard the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?" Cora questioned. Johanna nodded.

"I suppose so, but I don't see how the Queen will pay for what she did by me becoming a nanny to her perfect little brat," she responded. Cora smirked.

"Revenge takes time, my dear. But I can assure you that if we plant you in Queen Eva's court, then it will allow me to plot against her and get revenge for the both of us," she offered.

"It's wrong...revenge is wrong," Johanna refuted, no matter how much she wanted it. Cora nodded.

"So is injustice and Eva thinking she can ruin lives, just because she was born a royal and we were not. Think of your husband...he would be alive if not for her. Doesn't he deserve to be avenged?" she asked.

"Of course...but we don't even know if I will get the position even if I do apply," Johanna reasoned. Cora waved a hand over the parchment and handed it to her.

"Oh trust me...present this to Queen Eva and you'll be hired on the spot," she replied. Johanna took the parchment and her jaw set in determination. She looked at Cora and nodded. Instinctively, she knew revenge was wrong, but for the first time since her husband's death, she finally felt like she might have a purpose. And that purpose would be avenging her loved one…

Persephone finished telling her the story and looked at her stunned daughter.

"I'm sorry honey...I don't like having to tell you all this," she said.

"I...but this is Cora we're talking about. She obviously manipulated Johanna, right?" she asked.

"Oh I'm sure...it's what she does best. But Johanna making contact with you now of all times is too coincidental," Persephone replied.

"You think she's still working for Cora?" Snow asked.

"I know she is…" Persephone replied. Snow swallowed thickly.

"But...she was always so kind to me and she really helped me after my...mother died," she said.

"At Cora's insistence, she was told to remain close to you and she did until Regina chased you out of the castle. Johanna was dismissed then, but Cora had what she wanted. Eva was dead. You were suffering and Regina became the Evil Queen," Persephone replied.

"I...I need to go. I need to see her," Snow decided, as she got up and put her coat on.

"Snow...that isn't a good idea. It's exactly what Cora wants," Persephone warned.

"Is anything I ever thought about my life...at least my life before Charming, real? Or is it just one lie after another? One big deception?" Snow asked bitterly. Persephone reached out to her.

"Snow…" she started to say. But she shook her head.

"No...I have to do this," she refuted.

"Snow…" David tried to go to her, but she held her hands up.

"Please Charming...I need this. I'll be fine," she promised, as she hurried out. He sighed.

"This woman...Johanna, tell me she doesn't really blame Snow for her misery? Snow had nothing to do with what happened to her...or Cora for that matter," David said, a touch angrily.

"I wish I could...but they both hate Snow simply because she exists. Johanna won't show her true colors yet though...not if she is once again working for Cora," Persephone replied.

"Mom's not going to see her coming then. She's going to forgive her if Johanna asks for it," Emma reasoned.

"Then we'll have to watch out for her," David said. Emma sighed.

"Come on kid, let's get you to the bus," she said.

"Aw...I miss everything because of school. Come on Wilby," he called, as the dog followed them down the stairs.

As the shop door opened that morning, Rumple could feel her presence even from the back room. Cora carried an air of coldness and he could sense her magic from anywhere. In many ways, she was his most accomplished student with the true potential to surpass her teacher. And that's where Cora worried him deeply. He had created this monster and he wasn't sure if he could defeat her alone. Surprisingly, David's suggestion for him to play the double agent was a good plan. He just had to really sell it and he knew even as convincing as he might be, Cora might still see right through him. She knew his weaknesses better than any and that made him very uncomfortable. And as someone who had ripped her own heart from her chest, Cora had little weakness to exploit. He had to trust that between himself and Persephone, they could match Cora. The latter had little to lose though, while Rumple and Persephone potentially had much to lose; much that could be used against them by Cora.

He couldn't see the outcome either with his foresight. He was finding that even with magic returned to him here in Storybrooke that the future was very cloudy, probably due to magic being different here and the multitude of factors that might determine the future. He saw so many paths and none were clear. It was unnerving to him when he didn't have all the answers and he berated himself internally for not seeing these complications. Trusting others was still not something he did well, but in this case, he didn't have a choice.

Clearly, Persephone and her family were allies and Cora was the snake waiting to strike at them all as prey. If there was one thing he knew for certain, with Cora around, he did not have a future, nor did his family. And that meant only one thing. Cora had to die. And how they would accomplish that, he couldn't see. He was going into this blind and he only hoped she would buy his performance.

"Don't lurk in the shadows, dearie...it's not polite," he growled, as he stepped out from the backroom, finally coming face to face with her.

"Hello Rumple," she cooed.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show your face. You're never one to keep a low profile," he mentioned. She smirked.

"Sometimes it's necessary, especially when you need to study your enemies," she responded.

"You mean the Charmings and me," he retorted.

"Persephone and her little family are most certainly that. But I never wished for you and I to be enemies, Rumple," she cooed in return, as she stepped closer.

"Is that why you're here? To make nice with me so I won't vaporize you on the spot?" he questioned. She chuckled.

"We both know that you and I are quite evenly matched, as much as you hate to admit it. But yes...I am here for a truce of sorts," she replied.

"I suspected, but I'm afraid you have nothing I want, dearie. So kindly get the hell out of my shop," he growled.

"That's where you're wrong…" she countered, as a case appeared in her hand and she put it on the counter.

"I've heard you have somewhat of a friendship with Snow's peasant Prince. I'll admit it puzzled me...just what could you two even have to talk about?" she inquired.

"The Prince and I both love our families. Not that you would understand that," she retorted.

"Now Rumple...that's unfair. You know I love Regina…" she argued.

"If what you show Regina is love, then I pity her," he countered.

"Are you sure you don't want what is inside here? Are you really going to risk not finding your son to preserve some pitiful friendship you have with Prince Charming?" she tempted, as she took the globe out of the case. Despite knowing exactly what was inside, the surprise on Rumple's face was well acted. He gingerly reached out to touch it, but she pulled a way. He clenched his teeth.

"What. Do. You. Want?" he bit out angrily.

"A truce. You get the globe and in return, you do not interfere when Regina and I finally make Snow and her family pay," Cora responded.

"You really think you can defeat Persephone?" he questioned.

"Persephone's love for her family is weakness...it's a problem I have overcome. Regina will learn to as well under my guidance. For her precious Snow, the Queen of the Underworld will do anything and that is why she will lose," Cora responded.

"Well, then I wish you luck, dearie...you'll need it," he replied.

"Then we have a deal?" she asked. He glanced longingly at the globe and his jaw was set in determination.

"We have a deal," he confirmed.

"Shall we seal it like we used to?" she cooed. His stomach flipped at this. Kissing her was the last thing he wanted to do. It was betraying Belle, but if he didn't sell this, then it could endanger Belle later on. So he did what she wanted and they sealed the deal with a kiss. The look of smug satisfaction on her face was enough to churn even his stomach and he watched her leave with trepidation. Cora was one of those people he couldn't read very well, probably because there was no heart in her chest to betray any emotion. He had no idea if she really believed they had a truce and had a gut feeling that she was probably expecting him to double cross her later on.

"I hope you're ready when she comes at you, dearie," he said, as Persephone peered in from the backroom. The Goddess didn't look so certain either and that worried him even more.

"Me too," she agreed.

Snow spied the woman in her garden, as she approached. She was planting snowdrops and it instantly made her feel that perhaps her mother was wrong. After all, if Johanna secretly hated Eva, then why would she plant an entire garden full of snowdrops?

"Johanna…" she called out. The woman looked up and smiled brightly.

"Snow...my dear Snow…" she said, as she opened her arms and the raven haired beauty went into her arms. She sniffed, as they pulled back and she just knew her mother had to be wrong about this one. Even if Johanna had initially been prodded to take a job in her Eva's court by Cora, it was obvious that things must have changed.

"I never thought I'd see you again. Or this," Snow said, as she held up the tiara.

"Oh, I came across it in Mr. Gold's shop and I knew how much it meant to you. I knew you had to have it," Johanna replied. Snow had been in Gold's shop quite a few times over the last couple weeks and had never noticed it. But then she hadn't really been looking for it either.

"Mm...thank you. Oh, you're planting snowdrops," Snow said fondly.

"They remind me of you, because you were born during the harshest winter of all and they, like you, survive anything," Johanna replied, with the same fondness.

"That's why she named me Snow…" Snow murmured, now realizing that Eva's memory of naming her and the reason were actually Persephone's.

"I thought keeping the garden would be a nice way to honor her," Johanna mentioned.

"But you're aware that Eva wasn't my biological mother?" Snow asked. The other woman nodded.

"Yes, but Eva will always be your mother to me. She loved you so much," Johanna replied. Snow sniffed.

"I miss her," she said.

"Me too," the older woman agreed, as she brushed a tear away from Snow's cheek. A rustling noise was suddenly heard and Snow looked around curiously.

"What was that?" Johanna asked.

"Stay here...I'm sure it's nothing," Snow replied.

"Snow…" Johanna started to protest.

"Please...I'll be right back," she promised, as she trekked off toward the woods to investigate. She crept silently and peered into the clearing from behind a tree. Years in the forest made her quite adept at being absolutely silent. She had learned such to survive, of course, for if the game she was hunting got away, then Snow went to bed hungry that night. She resisted the urge to gasp, as she spotted Cora and Regina there. Suddenly, another man approached from the other direction and Snow didn't recognize him. But there was one thing about him that she did. For one hand, he had a hook.

"It's been a long time, Your Majesty," Hook greeted, as he bowed deeply to Regina.

"Hello Hook," Regina said in return, before turning her attention to her mother.

"Did he go for it?" she asked. Cora nodded.

"We made a deal. He has the globe and won't interfere with any of our plans," she replied.

"And you trust him?" Regina asked incredulously.

"Oh of course not, darling...but the globe will keep him occupied with finding his son, while we search for the one thing that can kill him...his dagger," Cora replied.

"I deserve to be the one to kill him...I've waited centuries to get my revenge on the Crocodile!" Hook spat.

"Lower. Your. Voice...the animals would only be too happy to wander into town and tell Persephone or her wretched daughter everything we're saying," Cora snapped.

"Now Hook...if you kill the Dark One with the dagger, then you become the new Dark One and I'm afraid that is a pleasure I'm going to reserve for myself. Once we have it and I'm the new Dark One, we can then eliminate anyone that stands in our way of having what we want," Cora stated. Regina looked unsure at best. Somehow, her mother becoming the Dark One gave her fear that went bone deep. But if it could get her Henry back and she could manage to get across the town line, they'd be free, for her mother would never follow her into a place with no magic. As for Hook, the look on his face was pure rage.

"You promised me revenge on the Dark One!" he shouted.

"He's going to die...isn't that enough for you?" Cora asked.

"No, it's not bloody enough...and you know it!" Hook growled.

"Perhaps not, but this takes precedence over your revenge. My daughter's son has been taken from her and that Charming little family...and everyone they care about must pay," she said.

"You can either help us bring about a new order and reap the benefits...or you can take your chances in going against us," Cora warned. Hook clenched his teeth, but was clearly relenting.

"Fine...I suppose watching the Crocodile die is something at least," he said, as he pointed a finger at her.

"But I want a good life here…" he demanded. Cora smirked.

"And you shall have it. But first...we must find the dagger," she said, as they trekked back toward town. The look on Snow's face was pure horror, as she hurried back toward Johanna's house. Suddenly, she heard a noise and froze in her tracks.

"Who's there?" she called, as a twig snapped. She jumped and started running, as there was someone now following her. She looked back though and saw that there was no one there. She stopped and looked around in confusion. Suddenly, she screamed, as she felt a hand on her arm. She turned, ready to punch whoever it was when she saw it was her husband.

"Whoa...it's me…" he soothed and she fell into his arms.

"Oh Charming…" she cried, as she felt relief at being folded against his chest.

"I know I probably shouldn't have followed you to Johanna's, but I was worried about you," he said, as he kissed her hair. She shook her head.

"No...I'm glad you did. I just saw Cora and Regina...we're in so much trouble," she fretted tearfully. He shared her troubled look, as he led her out of the woods. Once they were gone, Hermes appeared, as he removed Hades' cap of invisibility from his head and glared at their backs. He would have to wait for another opportunity...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #greek mythology meets farytales #Persephone #Swan Believer #feat rumplestiltskin #and Cora #romance #adventure #season 1 retelling #now season 2 retelling #Charming family

[swanqueeneverafter]

36. There's No Place Like Home, Pt.2

The Enchanted Forest. Past. (As Prince Charming’s carriage continues on its way, Hook and Emma step out on the road again.) Emma: “You know that thing about small changes having consequences? (Hook grunts affirmative. Quizzically, he turns around to face Emma:) What about big changes?” Hook: “Why? What did we do?” Emma: “That bandit was Snow White. This was the moment my parents first met.” Hook: “And because of us, now they didn’t.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. (In the distance looms King Midas' castle.) Knight 1: (Bringing the horses a halt:) “Whoa.” Abigail: (To Prince Charming:) “There it is. Our new home.” Prince Charming: “It’s so... gold.” Abigail: “After a time you’ll stop noticing.” A Harbor Tavern. (Snow White quietly talks to Black Beard.) Black Beard: “Well?” Snow White: “I need to get far away from here. As soon as possible. And I need my destination secret.” (Hands him a pouch.) Black Beard: (Weighing the pouch in one hand:) “Then you’re talking to the right captain. However, turning a blind eye will cost double.” The Enchanted Forest. (Hook and Emma stand on a hill overlooking a valley. In the distance ahead of them the Dark Castle looms.) Hook: “Look ahead, Swan. The Dark One’s castle.” Emma: “A little more imposing than the pawnshop. So, what do we do now? Knock on the door and introduce ourselves? ‘Hey. We’re from the future.’” Hook: “Might be best if I stay back. The Dark One and I have a rather complicated past. I’d wager he want to kill me on sight.” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, I’ll take that bet. (Turning around startled, Emma and Hook face Rumplestiltskin. He giggles. Emma gasps:) I can’t tell you how long I’ve been looking forward to this. Oops. I suppose I just did.” (Twisting his hand, he magically he strangles Hook.)

Hook: (Strained voice:) “Swan.” Emma: “Stop!” (Using the other hand, Rumplestiltskin flings Emma aside.) Rumplestiltskin: “I don’t know who you are, dearie, but why don’t you run off and let me enjoy my killing in peace.” Emma: “He’s not gonna hurt you. You have to listen to me.” Rumplestiltskin: “And why would I listen to you?” Emma: “Because if you don’t you’ll never see your son again. (Rumplestiltskin lets go off Hook. Groaning, Hook falls to the ground. To Emma:) What do you know of my son?” Emma: “His name is Baelfire. You’re planning to enact a curse in hopes of reuniting with him.” Rumplestiltskin: “Who told you that? What are you? Some kind of witch?” (Hook stands up.) Emma: “No, I’m not a witch. I’m the one who breaks the curse so that you can find him. I’m the product of true love.” Rumplestiltskin: “That’s speculation. Part of my plans. But I haven’t done it.” Emma: “You will and you will succeed.” Rumplestiltskin: “If that’s true, then that means-” Hook: “We’re from the future, mate.” Rumplestiltskin: “But time travel hasn’t been done, mate.” Emma: “Yeah, well. Someone’s cracked that code. We need your help.” Rumplestiltskin: “Help? (Giggles:) You need my help? Then answer me one question: Do I find my son? (Emma hesitates:) Answer me!” Emma: “Yes.” Rumplestiltskin: (Softly:) “Bae. I find Bae. How? (Reconsiders:) Don’t tell me. If I succeeded, I don't want anything in my head that might throw it off.” Emma: “It might already kind of be thrown off.” Rumplestiltskin: “You’ve changed things. What have you done?” Emma: “We interrupted my parents meeting.”

The Enchanted Forest. Past. Dark Castle. (Rumplestiltskin, Emma and Hook enter.) Emma: “Thank you, Mr. Gol-, (Stops herself mid-sentence:) Rumplestiltskin, for believing us. I know that time travel is hard to swallow.” Rumplestiltskin: “Not as hard as the other mystery you’ve presented me. (Pointing at Hook:) Why haven’t I killed him?” Hook: “If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t for lack of effort. Let’s just say we bury the hatchet.” Rumplestiltskin: “Yes, but why not in your skull?” (Belle enters.) Belle: “Oh, Rumplestiltskin. You’re back. Do you, uh, do you need anything?” Emma: (Turns around:) “Belle.” Belle: “Sorry, do we know each other?” Emma: “Sorry, no. Mr. um- Rumple, the Dark One told me about you.” Belle: “Did he?” Rumplestiltskin: “No. (Making a dismissive gesture:) Go away and read a book or whatever it is you like to do. Come back and clean later.” (Turns away.) Belle: “You could ask nicely.” Rumplestiltskin: “I could also turn you into a toad.” (Belle exits, rolling her eyes.) Emma: (Muttering quietly:) “It’s a miracle you two fell for each other.” Rumplestiltskin: (Laughing:) “What? I mean, first you tell me I let the pirate live. Now you’re telling me I fall for the help.” Hook: (Interrupting:) “Yes. She has a strange sense of humor. But let’s get back to her parents.” Rumplestiltskin: “Yes. Who are they?” Emma: “Snow White and Prince Charming.” Rumplestiltskin: “Prince Charming?” Emma: “His real name is Prince James.”

Rumplestiltskin: (Takes a seat at the long table:) “King George’s son, whose wedding I’ve just arranged?” Emma: “See, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. This marriage isn’t supposed to happen because the ring he was going to give her gets stolen by Snow.” Rumplestiltskin: “It’s quite a tale you’re spinning.” Emma: “Here, let me show you. It’s in the book. (Emma shows Rumple Henry’s storybook. Turning the pages she notices they’re blank:) Wait. What?” Hook: “It’s all gone. Anything that was supposed to happen after they met has disappeared.” Rumplestiltskin: “The ripple effect. Once you change something in the past, anything from that point forward becomes uncertain. The future, as you can see, is a blank page.” Emma: “We need to get Snow to steal that ring, so we can put their story back on track.” Rumplestiltskin: “You’re in luck. There’s a ball tonight at King Midas’ castle. Prince James will be there and so will his ring.” Emma: “So, we just need to get Snow there.” Hook: “How? We don’t even know where she is.” Rumplestiltskin: “Allow me.” (He walks over to a crystal ball. Rumplestiltskin waves his hand and the crystal ball shows Snow White sitting opposite of Black Beard.) Emma: “There she is.” Hook: “She’s with Black Beard. She’s trying to secure passage on his ship.” (As Snow White considers his claims, Black Beard exits.) Rumplestiltskin: “And, it appears failing.” Emma: “She can’t escape the Queen without the money she’s supposed to get for the ring. (To Rumplestiltskin:) Can you help us?” Rumplestiltskin: “Help you? I can work on getting your portal to the future open again. But getting your parents together? You made that mess, dearie. Only you know what you did. Now go, undo it.” Hook: “If she’s looking for passage out of town I might know a ship’s captain who might help us.” Emma: “Who?” Hook: (Smiles:) “Me.” A Harbor Tavern. (Hook watches Past Hook and his crew play dice.) Hook: (Drawing Emma’s attention to his past self:) “There I am. Rather dashing, don’t you think?” Emma: “Is this even a good idea? What about preserving the future?” Hook: (Watching:) “It’ll be fine. Given what I’m drinking, if I remember anything, I’ll simply blame the rum. Just make sure that I - he - remains occupied. That he doesn’t return to my ship. I’ll take care of the rest.” Emma: (Sighs:) “Okay.” (Pulling back her hood; she unlaces her corset.)

Hook: “Wait. What are you doing?” Emma: “Making sure he stays occupied. Shouldn’t be difficult. You and I both know I’m his type.” (Standing up, Emma is about to approach Hook’s past self when Hook speaks up again.) Hook: “Swan, that man sitting there, (Pauses:) you don’t know him. Just be careful.” Emma: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous. (Hook exits. Emma approaches Past Hook:) What are you boys playing?” The Jolly Roger. (William Smee chases rats. As he strikes out to kill one rat, Hook blocks his stroke.) Smee: “Captain. I wasn’t expecting you back from the tavern so early. (The rat runs off:) Vermin. I’ll get the bugger, sir.” (Hook grabs Smee’s arm holding him back.) Hook: “Let it be. (Smee gives Hook an aghast look:) You’ll understand someday, Smee.” Smee: “Is that a new vest?” Hook: “Of course not.” Smee: “Are you feeling alright, sir? You seem different.” Hook: “Maybe, that’s because I’m used to my first mate asking me what his captain needs when he’s on deck.” Smee: (Ready to obey:) “Of course. Sorry. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” Hook: (Waves Smee closer and points out Snow White to him:) “I need to speak to that woman. Bring her on board. Do it quietly.” (Hook enters the captain’s cabin.) The Harbor Tavern. (Past Hook shares a drink with Emma.) Emma: “I have a confession to make.” Past Hook: “Most women do.” Emma: “I want to know how you got the hook. You hear so many stories.” Past Hook: “Mhm. (Leans a bit closer:) You know who I am and here you haven’t even told me your name.” Emma: “What fun would that be?” Past Hook: “Just two ships passing in the night, then?” Emma: “Passing closely, I hope.” Past Hook: “Speaking of ships: What do you say we leave this place and I’ll show you mine.” (Standing up.) Emma: (Pulls him down:) “Wait. How about we have a few drinks first?” (Emma hands him his cup.)

Aboard The Jolly Roger. (Snow White enters the captain’s cabin. Hook awaits her.) Snow White: “Who are you?” Hook: “It doesn’t matter. I’m a captain and I can help you.” Snow White: (Sits down:) “So, what do you want?” Hook: “It’s not what I want. It’s what I can offer. I hear that you seek passage out of the Enchanted Forest.” Snow White: “That’s true. But I haven’t enough money.” Hook: “I don’t give a damn about money. It’s treasure I want. I think you can get it for me, (Hook shows Snow White a wanted poster illustrating herself:) Snow White. You are a thief, aren’t you?” The Harbor Tavern. (Past Hook shares another drink with Emma.) Past Hook: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk, which is usually my tactic.” Emma: “What’s wrong, captain? Can’t hold your rum?” Past Hook: “No, not only can I hold it... (Picks up the bottle:) but I can carry it right out the door. What do you say we set sail? Come back with me for a nightcap. (Emma briefly hesitates:) Or shall I find someone else?” Aboard The Jolly Roger. The Captain’s Cabin. Snow White: “So, if I procure this item for you, you’ll grant me safe passage on your ship?” Hook: “To any realm you wish.” Snow White: “Then, tell me what I have to steal.” Hook: “A wedding ring.” Aboard The Jolly Roger. (Emma accompanies Hook's past self. Emma tries to stall by pretending to stumble drunkenly against Past Hook.) Emma: “Oh! I think I should rest for a moment.” Past Hook: “Oh, no need. No need. I’ve carried rum barrels heavier than you.” (Past Hook lifts Emma up and walks to the captain’s cabin. They laugh. Snow White walks past them.) Emma: “Actually, I feel much better.” Past Hook: “Behold! The Rolly Joger!” Smee: “Captain. (Emma hops out of Past Hook's arms:) H... How did you (Stops himself mid-sentence:) I thought you were still below deck. (Bewildered:) And why does your vest keep changing?” Emma: (To Past Hook:) “I seem to remember a nightcap was promised. Find one and I’ll be waiting.” (Walks down the staircase to the captain’s cabin.) Smee: (To Past Hook:) “Captain, something’s not right here.” Past Hook: “You’re right. You’re still here. I think you know what nightcap means. It means that we want our privacy.” Smee: “Of course.” (Exits.) Past Hook: (Whispering:) “Oh, yes.” (Climbs the staircase to the quarterdeck.) Emma: (Enters the captain's cabin below deck:) “What are you doing here?” Hook: “I could ask the same of you. I thought I told you to keep him occupied.” Emma: “I am.” Hook: “By taking him back to my ship?” Emma: “His ship.” Hook: “You know what I mean.” Emma: “I stalled as long as I could. I thought you’d be gone by now. I’ll try to keep him above deck so you can get out of here.” (Door opens. Hook ducks into the shadows.) Emma: (Turns around and smiles:) “Hey.” Past Hook: “Where may you be going? I do hope you’re not having second thoughts.” Emma: “No. I just got tired of waiting.”

(They kiss. Hook sneaks past, keeping an eye on both of them.) Past Hook: “Apologies. A woman as beautiful as you deserves my full and prompt attention.” (Prepares to lay her down on the table. Hook grabs his past self by the shoulder. As Past Hook turns around, Hook quickly punches him in the face knocking him out.) Emma: (To Hook:) “Are you kidding me? How’s that not gonna have consequences?” Hook: “He was asking for it. And like I said, he’ll blame the rum. Let’s get out of here.” Midas’ Castle. (Using his telescope, Hook watches Snow White climbing the walls.) Hook: “A predictable excess of pomp and grandeur. Snow should have no trouble sneaking inside.” Emma: “What about us? We’re supposed to just sit here and hope that she pulls it off? I don’t like leaving things to chance.” Rumplestiltskin: (Appearing right beside them:) “You know, I feel exactly the same way, which is why I never do. (Magically he produces a piece of paper:) See? An invitation to the ball.” Emma: “So, you’ll be inside to watch out for her?” Rumplestiltskin: “No. No. I’ll be far too busy sorting out how to get you home.” Hook: “Well, who’s the invitation for?” Rumplestiltskin: “Well, isn’t it obvious? The two of you.” Hook: “So, when we’re done inside, you can open our portal?” Rumplestiltskin: “There’s a powerful wand which, uh, I came to possess. Anyway, legend says, it can recreate any magic that’s ever been wielded. Now, with a little work, I can use it to recreate whatever portal brought you here.” (He hands Hook the invitation.) Emma: “Please do it quickly. We’ll be in and out before you know it. I want to get the hell out of here.” Rumplestiltskin: “Ooh, confidence. I like it.”

#sq #Swan Queen #swanqueen

[bigfootswashingmachine]

i should start a tag for the midas curse because i wonder if this is beyond bias and i am actually statistically cursed to be a luddite

#the midas curse strikes again #for those unaware: this is my jokey little way of referencing the fact that literally all technology i interact with/stand too close to #breaks for no reason with improbable frequency and the problem ONLY happens with me and not other people using the tech #so i consider this to be some strange magicks because i have apparently invoked the wrath of a petty technowizard

[dat-town]

Touch of Midas

Characters: king!Changkyun & Nyx!reader (goddess of night)

Setting: mythology au, royal au

Genre: angst

Warnings: -

Words: 1758

Summary: A young king makes a deal with a goddess but it doesn’t end well.

Totally unnecessary information: Nyx had an affair with Dionysus who dealt with Midas. And yes, the Beautiful MV gave me the idea.

Each step of yours extinguishes the light of a candle by your side. Your presence alone is enough to doom the glorious corridors to impenetrable darkness. Only the silver moon shines through the wide French windows, and only because you order it to, just as you let everything else dissolve into the black void behind you.

Nobody dares to stop you. No human, not even the royal guards, would be that crazy to say no to you. Or even look you in the eye because they all fear what they would see there. Oh, pitiful weak humans! They know so little about how the universe works. Yet, their awestruck glances follow you everywhere, adoring the footprints you leave behind, hanging on your every word and envy your beauty and indescribable power. But they don't build you altars like they do for deities of harvest, prosperity and wisdom. They know you too well: you aren't swayed by gifts as you go on your own way. You, an eternal creature of nature, do what you want to do and don’t care about others’ opinion. That’s what makes you dangerous, even in the eye of the Olympian gods.

The guards on both side of a huge, fancy door bow into your direction, eyes casting downwards, body trembling in fear. They know that you could end their insignificant lives with a snap of your fingers, wipe them out of history like dust. There’s nothing to stop you and they are at your mercy, just like their king behind the gilded doors. Their vulnerability makes you smirk and the lovely curve adorning your features widens at their submission when they fling the door open for you.

That’s right, humans, treat me like a queen.

The sudden golden light of the shadowy room is blinding, but you recover quickly and smile down at the figure huddling up in the dim corner.

“Hello Changkyun,” you greet him keenly and the boy's shoulders shake at your mellifluous voice.

“Stay away from me!” he shouts both in despair and anger, stumbling to his feet. He’s the epitome of madness when he steps into the fireplace’s blazing light. Hair messy and torn, eyes with black circles, skin pale and worn but still so handsome. A young king on verge of losing his sane mind.

You coo at his childish protest and step closer, so close that you’re standing in front of him, breathing the same air. Yet, he doesn’t budge, only turns his head away, hanging it down in defeat. He’s also aware that throwing a fit wouldn’t help him and you partly like him for his quick wits. You touch his cheek gently with one hand, admiring the softness and flaws of it. Oh, so lovably human!

“You asked for unbelievable richness. Don’t you like my gift?” you blink at him innocently, long lashes fluttering despite knowing very well that you never give anything that you don’t benefit from. He’s just another naive, sulky kid who doesn’t like what he got in the end.

“It’s a curse,” he huskily replies, trembling at you touch.

It’s the first skin-to-skin, almost human contact in weeks he had without death following him. Tears prickle his eyes at the memory of those who he accidentally touched and turned into a golden statue. Because everything, living or not, he got his hands on turned into the finest metal, a massive piece of glimmering gold ever since he met you.

At first, the young king beamed at the richness he could have and how easily he could make his poor, indebted kingdom shine again. It was the reason behind his deal with you after all. But soon, he realized that he couldn’t sleep on a bed made of hard metal properly, he could only eat with golden cutlery and couldn’t have anyone near him in case they would get hurt, to put it nicely. His life became a havoc surrounded by tons of shining gold.

“Well-well, aren’t you ungrateful?” you click your tongue, fingers softly tapping at his chin, motioning him to look at you. When he does, you can see his wild, grief-filled eyes, the matt colour of loss. What happened to that lively boy eager to take the throne and write his name into history as one of the greatest kings? Did the responsibility change him? Or did you break him?

“Take it back,” he’s begging now, so pathetic. You shake your head relentlessly. You are a cruel deity, or so they say. They are not wrong, though.

“So bossy. Is it the way you should talk to your goddess while asking for something?”

Changkyun looks up at you like one would look at the moon on the darkest nights. As if you would be a guiding force, his only hope.

“Please… please, I don’t want it anymore,” he pleads with eyes wide as oceans, beautiful as the night sky itself. You swoon over them and their resemblance to yourself in their deepest pits. Perhaps you are getting soft for him and the mysteries of his soul. Or do they call it fondness? That stupid urge to keep him around even if centuries pass like minutes for you?

“What can you give me in exchange?” you croak an eyebrow curiously, taking his request into consideration. To what extent he would be willing to go, you wonder. Would he sacrifice his crown, his beloved people or even himself? How important it is to him to live freely, without the weight of this doomed ability?

“Anything,” he replies without hesitation as if he had nothing more to lose or he couldn’t imagine worse to come. A king, one of many, has just offered you his life; his body, heart and soul for you to play with and command to as you wish.

“Oh, be careful with what you promise!” you warn him a little too late with a muffled giggle and a sly smile. He’s already yours. But why not test it if you can?

You take a step back, looking around carefully in the old treasury, now full of gold and glitter. You still remember the first time you came here, into an empty room only with a handful of money. Changkyun must remember, too, the day he made a deal with somebody worse than Hades himself. You.

“I’ll lift your curse on two conditions,” you say, slowly on purpose, just to tease him, to see if he breaks but the boy patiently waits for you to finish. What a noble gesture! “You see all this? The things you got from me?” you pat the golden objects within reach, never taking your eyes off of him as you strike the coup de grâce. “You’ll lose them, and you will be the one to destroy them all. Every single one.”

The look the king takes around the room is almost nostalgic, like saying goodbye but being okay with it. He seems utterly calm, still and stoic like a marble statue.

“You want me to burn this place down?” he asks in a resigned tone, a sigh escaping his throat.

“Yes, basically,” you shrug nonchalantly and step back close, gently brushing a strand of his hair out of his forehead. You watch as his eyes turn into the colour of dark nights lacking stars and the moon. You see home in the shade of his orbs and you bet you could build up Tartaros in the depths of his soul. “You are too pretty to be a mere human. I bet Aphrodite adores you.”

Oh she has to! The bow of his lips, the curve of his eyes and the fall of his fringe alone is so perfect that even the children of the goddess of love and beauty would be envious and you wouldn’t blame them. No wonder why he caught your attention. Why you looked down on this peculiar human on your lonely nights. Why you offered him a deal in the first place. You want him for yourself and you actually know a way.

“When you die, I want you to tell the ferryman that your soul is mine,” you tell him firmly your end of the deal but as it seems, your condition doesn’t take him by surprise.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” you raise a brow at his confidence. Most people fear their afterlives and they would rather not even talk about it. They tend to think the rest of their precious soul is the most important thing in the world. But you, having eternity in the palm of your hands, know better: there is no glory at the end of the road, only misery. Suffering for something they can never have. Peace.

“Then let’s seal the deal. I’m sure you know by now how it works.”

Of course, he does. How can he forget the kiss that sealed his fate? You are smiling when you lean closer and brush your mouth against the king’s. His chapped lips somehow taste like gold yet all the same he tasted like last time: a mix of youth, hope and honey. A little bit of exasperation, too.

You gifted him with unfortunate wealth and he gives his soul willingly in return. That’s all you ever wanted and it makes you smile contentedly.

You leave the palace before morning comes but it seems like walking in daylight the way it burns behind you. You look fondly at the golden flames eating up the place and suddenly you yearn for something you can’t have.

Because you and the night are one and the same. You never leave its side, nor it leaves yours and you do the most you can with things touched by the Sun (destroy them) and the fire in humans’ souls (put it out). You bring the season of cold darkness yet you long for warmth. Ambitious kings and boys with sad eyes just happen to be your weakness.

You can chain them to yourself as you wish but they will never love you. Who would choose the night over day after all? Who would love you, the daughter of Chaos, a soul full of black holes and hidden golden stars?

Maybe he does, oh he does! He just doesn’t know yet.

You turn away from the golden fire but you can still feel it burn. Your heart. You don’t dream but if you could, you would dream about this: the daylight in his heart and the nightfall in his eyes. Him. Your favourite mortal who is loved by the night oh so much.

#angstykpopnet #kkreationsnet #i.m scenario #i.m angst #im changkyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x oneshot #monsta x angst #stories #mythology au #royal au

[anyorderofus]

The closest thing to time travel

Hi everyone,

Here we are again. Hope you’re all well!...Here we are again. Hope you’re all well! Oh! We just had déjà vu for the purposes of this blog.

Enough. We’re not here for fun, we’re here to blog. As we will be next week too, with: Too clever to be happy.

See you then please,

Alexandra & Nico| Nico & Alexandra 

ALEXANDRA 

Déjà vu is the closest thing to time travel. Has to be.

If we’re talking non-assisted time travel, that is. Otherwise, the Pensieve or, at a push, the TARDIS, would be – hands down and don’t ask silly questions. 

But as for everyday time travel, déjà vu is the closest thing to time travel and it’s fab. It is also, for those wishing for clarification: 

The strange feeling of having experienced the present situation in the past.

Little matches the sense of feeling like a mind-reading superhero that one might feel when seeing something before seeing it again whilst being confident in the knowledge that it would’ve been seen again. I don’t know about you but, sometimes I try to beat my déjà vu, try to change the course of what I know will happen next but I am yet to succeed; usually, my attempts to thwart the happenings have already been covered in my original ‘prophecy’. Yes, déjà vu can even present one with the opportunity to be one step ahead of themselves. Genius. Although, granted, this could also be the case for someone in the ownership of a time travelling device visiting the same era or event more than once and generally with déjà vu, the rule is: one round, per event.

Déjà vu allows a shared power, something we can all be a part of. It isn’t a lonely super power, like one that prevents you from being around others in order to maintain their safety. Like Midas’ power/curse.

We know we can’t be the only people to have experienced it because we have all been present to someone else shouting, ‘ohmygod, I just got déjà vu!’ at a party and, according to research, two thirds of the population* have reported experiencing it. I’m no mathematician but that’s a majority. It’s nice to feel like you’re a part of something; in this case, like being a part of a time travelling troupe. I love Dumbledore more than the next silver bearded bloke should, but he seldom shares his Pensieve and it is really only Harry and Snape that we know also know about it. A clever time-traveller, sure, but perhaps also a selfish one?

The same, I’m afraid, must be said for The Doctor. A great guy (depending on the series) but he shares his huge living quarters with only one – at a push two – other nomad every few years. Déjà vu is a great way for time travel to be experienced as a shared superpower and, what’s more, you get the treat of not knowing when it’s going to happen: the element of surprise.

To sum up, and in an attempt to make a point, in my opinion, déjà vu is the best means of time travel that we should be looking to invest in. I would argue that it is also the closest thing to time travel we have. For now. 

*It was not clear to me which one.

NICO

Welcome internet surfer, knowledge hunter and hopeful time…mover abouter. I trust you’ve either stumbled upon this blog because you know me or Alex (in which case once again…welcome back Mums, we hope you’re well), or because of this very exciting title where I will give you the quick once over of the very best ways I’ve found out of my years of research of the bending the rules of time to your advantage.

Going Forward

This is by the far the easiest. Not least because moving forward in time is inevitable, unstoppable and in every way unavoidable, but because it’s usually going much quicker than needed anyway (unless at work or waiting for something to kick in). The simplest way to leap forward is stay up too late the night before and drag yourself out of bed sickeningly early. Guaranteed by the time you need to jump forward 6-8 hours simply lean your head back and shut your eyes (hanging your jaw wide open and dribbling down your cheek isn’t compulsory but seems to be the done thing) and you’ll find yourself in the future. Sounds pretty stupid of course but how many times have you had to sit through the worst movie/play/meeting just for the sake of common courtesy? Would have been great to jump to the next day right?

Going Back

Tougher sure. Impossible most might say. Physically, of course, can’t happen, the past is there for good, you’ll sadly (or luckily in some, sort of…luckier cases?) never get it back, although what gets pretty close is drinking enough alcohol to forget what’s on the news, attach some high powered headphones to your noggin and listen to your favourite tracks from the chosen time frame and prance around like a bell-end until you fall asleep or realise that you’d forgotten all the worst things about said time period (3 day weeks in the 70s, strikes in the 80s, Noel’s house party in the 90s) and realise that you’re much better –

Staying in the Present

The most difficult in my opinion. I’m always finding myself wondering about what tomorrow will bring, (more often what I hope it doesn’t) or daydreaming about yesteryear and how much easier everything was (editing out the bad bits obviously). Oddly the least romantic of the three but in my opinion, having put both of the above into practise, this is the one that’s really worth mastering. It’s the only one than can truly be a result of the what’s been and what can define what’s to come. Focus on this one and you can make all that crap that came before mean something and you can mould the future in such a way that you’ll never want to think about living outside the present again!

Good luck minute leaper!!!!

Read above sentence carefully please. I didn’t call you a leper I promise.

#dejavu #actors #writers #bloggers #blogging #writing #acting #timetravel #thedoctor #doctorwho #harry #potter #harrypotter #thepensieve #TARDIS #present #past #music #drink #thenews #news #time #travel

[theticokid-blog]

Juxtapose

[   You-you could grow it back, lights out lights on ( cut it up  )     You-you could grow it back, lights out lights on ( cut it up )      Felt pressure - cut it up mechanically      You-you could grow it back, cut-cut-cut it up   ] x1 Possibly conceivable, it was spun casually though farfetched and maniacally I drifted out' the future, with a cancerous character, more aligned to a funny faced predator!  A tragic midas touch specimen so ridiculous you'd consider empty pocket dividends The metal striking a sarcastic stance, intuition became a running man, coloquially Keanu Reeves   Not wickered with honey, trained for decades it looks designed to burn 3 points by the weekend.  You're suited by sutures of famous delectable illusions, strangely they wanted something new There's something microplaced and crazy with featured believers, glass eyed cats; Dramatic blind beavers A boil over of innovation, beseech the exotic and restless but I forgot where you came in? Act cues proceed unexplained while cabin-fever bassheads scream at what was fallisciously made Disgruntled by a cultivated chorus hellbound drunk on the tickle of shifty showmanship. Monitor pg's the wealth of divergency; Rejected cutting room dependants bribed by sweaters and knitted sin In related news, “Today a shifting question will bring us back to majestic liberation every 5 fucking minutes” Deranged phobias appropriately tell em' of the effervescent fandom, Fritz Lang laughed 'Now it's rest in peace!’  Whats this flag for later? Without hell on your heels, weekly groups of ghosts become powerless, pushing piss It must be nice when the allure is a knife, monkeyshiners rejoice their dirty sport, through a nomadic cotten gin carrier.  [ This is the product of gallows fashioned by popular anchors     Lyrically cyclic rhyme splits the radio daybreak, caution     Walk into the light with jaded faith healers, slither     From the fellowship of several dimensions, he's probably a patron saint not a        quitter       

    Hit play to tune in or boombox a ghosted end ] x1

Consecutive, every night the day job luxuries stick together, but left you humble prisoners A diagram on a napkin gripped in chameleon teeth, shook cloned stoners -American piranas! Crouching in the tendons, watch the interview vibrations beckon critical bankers Tuxedo eitquitte diagnosed by internet creeps, it was built higher than a chop-tape Reset curse words on dynamic termed bars, massaged by crew cuts, neon and fades. Thrown on a silver screen, it was space age pigs that celebreted spiritual antiquities, masochistic dj kits and an ego comlex All claustrophobic signs read 'Keep off the Lawn', let to loiter on golden goose eggs I was an economic cavalry reject, a dumb student of swindlers and phonic antipathy A big bang of the frozen in carbonite destiny, not a sob-story verdict of a dead jury circus! They'll reminesce twice, drop three times the ring of fire curfew with a sensation borrowed by dense tracks. What I know of lately, the sickened call for what's fronting suddenly became dry again I'm so addicted to the pieces picking apart pathetically - fragments bewitch the frontier soundscape If merit is the madness? It's labelled in a jambalaya jungle-gym with zesty techies roving in a wormhole If jumping jacks are exercise? Free the litre lease then conjure up a storm relevant to the noise in your brain! Post death bable thrown to inhospitable terrain, maleable cookie dough sitting out the war on urban scales, pennies sitting in garbage water. [  This is the product of gallows fashioned by popular anchors    Lyrically cyclic rhyme splits the radio daybreak, caution    Walk into the light with jaded faith healers, slither    From the fellowship of several dimensions, he's probably a patron saint not a quitter    Hit play to tune in or boombox a ghosted end  ] x1

Foam at the partially dehyrdrated corporate sacrilage shit we saved like a science Perhaps a babyface will find this funny sideways, hyped scores on a community spectrum are no holds barred but only just for the record Everything you think propped up the mausoleum, well we all know the way the old bow breaks! Here in the eye of the lion lying about something more trickier than breathing- cultivated labor born licenses Not sorry, but I never really thought this could get cringier -Paid out the 3rd party who was incidentally a part of it, ever thought of this? Brace for the final sycophantic vacuum, super fresh and it's 'skate or die' when you cut out the cable guy Maybe I should move us to Mars; Natural selection, a proprietary salem without the technology to spell scrabble, but I haven’t time travelled yet. How many mucky deaf jam junkies live outside long enough to come down from the mountain to give an F One more concert pealed in black light ulcers, produced specifically wide angled brainless cattle Found, not lost it's hip-hop God in a mouse maze playing roshambow with perfect politicans- take a shot Blithe!   Back to the future; Haunt the silver era surfers by mocking the warpaint of the music industry: Money and success! Live out your lives, rolling pins on wig wearing worms -set out your craftly demos, puncture some holes in the neck Between the betas, the painted cave players start stabing out tinctures, creating some educated madness and chemical reactions. Jargin spoken in towers cooler than a corner filled with spoken codes Ulcerate the cycles of life, much like jellyfish bloodwork you're concerned about the past Xanax pets; Just smoke-ring organisms from an alternative environment Totems of social discord broken by bevelling the edge of a computerized clique All of the molecules glow with wires joined by the head of a snake Piles of bones in the wild frontier -memories of scavengers, catatonic and electronically squahsed by tube-fed therapists Open your speaker molds and pull apart the bitter lost passion Save yourself the trouble associated with major-league associates and offer yourself to the art Emptied cigarette cartons are spread halos around jet lagged heroes - They're willing to search for spoken-word surgeons-work   [  You-you could grow it back, lights out lights on ( cut it up  )     You-you could grow it back, lights out lights on  ( cut it up )      Felt pressure - cut it up mechanically      You-you could grow it back, cut-cut-cut it up   ] x2 Just another; Ju-Ju-Just another way to Juh-Juh-Juxtapose -to ( juxtapose ) Ju-Ju-Just another way to Juh-Juh-another way to

    Just another way to Juxtapose

#hip hop #shitty #lyrics #mine #writing #free form #slam #prose #juxtapose #this follows a series #thoughts #collab with a friend #he raps #I help write #i can't rap worth shit #but I can play with words #gramatical errors #roast me #idk #just something for fun #for fun

[emmagreen1220-blog]

New Post has been published on Literary Techniques

New Post has been published on https://literarytechniques.org/allusion-in-poetry/

Allusion in Poetry

Allusion is so often used by modern authors that it has become rather difficult to read their works in the absence of annotations. However, as you will see in the 10 examples below, it has been a favorite literary device of poets for many centuries past—especially of the ones who wanted to add some depth to their poems. Judging by the length of our clarifications—they most certainly did!

10 Examples of Allusion in Poetry

Example #1: Actium · Egypt’s Queen

Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen, Full beams the moon on Actium‘s coast: And on these waves, for Egypt’s queen, The ancient world was won and lost.

And now upon the scene I look, The azure grave of many a Roman; Where stern Ambition once forsook His wavering crown to follow woman.

– Lord George Gordon Byron, “Stanzas Written in Passing the Ambracian Gulf” 1-8 (1809)

Egypt’s queen is, of course, Cleopatra—but that’s only one of the few interrelated allusions these two stanzas are thickened with, the identification of which is a prerequisite to understanding the whole poem. “The ancient world was won and lost” for her, because it was her beauty that incited one of Rome’s three heads of state, Marc Antony, to side with Cleopatra and wage a war against his fellow-ruler, Octavian, to whose sister he was married. Actium was the site where Octavian won the decisive victory over Antony and Cleopatra; legend holds it that this happened only after Mark Antony steered his ship away from the battle—thus, causing confusion among his soldiers—with an intention to console the distraught and fleeing Cleopatra. And even “stern Ambition” is an allusion here, in this case to Shakespeare’s famous line “Ambition should be made of sterner stuff,” uttered by none other than Marc Antony in his funeral oration in the third act of Shakespeare’s 1599 tragedy, Julius Caesar (III.2.93)!

Example #2: Belial

Or my scrofulous French novel On gray paper with blunt type! Simply glance at it, you grovel Hand and foot in Belial‘s gripe.

– Robert Browning, “Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister” VIII.1-4 (1842)

Belial is a Hebrew compound word which etymologically means “no thriving,” or, simpler, “without value,” “worthless.” Mentioned 27 times in the Bible, at a later date, this common noun came to designate a personification of wickedness and evil, the archetypal demon, Satan—as evidenced by this verse from The New Testament: “What harmony is there between Christ and Belial?” (2 Corinthians 6:15). Milton uses it in this latter sense, describing the demon Belial as “than whom a Spirit more lewd / Fell not from Heaven” (Paradise Lost I.490-491), as does Browning’s Spanish monk in the excerpt above, fearing that a mere glance at a decadent French novel would put him under the spell of the Devil.

Example #3: Dulce et Decorum Est

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

– Wilfred Owen, “Dulce et Decorum Est” 25-28 (1920)

These are the closing lines of Wilfried Owen’s famous anti-war poem, “Dulce et Decorum Est” written shortly before he was killed in the final week of the First World ar. Owen’s poem describes the horrors of a gas attack, and ends with an ironic twist on an oft-quoted verse by ancient Roman poet Horace; this can be roughly translated from Latin as “How sweet and honourable it is to die for one’s country” (Odes III.2.13). Alluding once again to Horace, Ezra Pound made the irony even more explicit in Hugh Selwyn Mauberley: “Died some, pro patria, non ‘dulce’ non ‘et decor’” (I.4.10), i.e. they died, for their country, neither beautifully nor with honours.

Example #4: Dust to Dust

Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

– Henry Wadsforth Longfellow, “A Psalm of Life” 5-8 (1839)

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” a phrase taken from the Book of Common Prayer and frequently spoken at funeral services, originates, unsurprisingly, from the Bible, where it appears in various different forms in Genesis, Job, and Isaiah. The most famous one—”for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return” (Genesis 3:19)—is alluded to almost verbatim in the second stanza of Longfellow’s optimistic “Psalm of Life.” According to the poet, though the sentence may be true for the body, it is not for the soul; so, “let us, then, be up and doing” he invitingly summons us in the final stanza, “with a heart for any fate.”

Example #5: If Thy Right Eye Offend Thee

If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: ‘Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground.

And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul.

– A. E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad XLV (1896)

Staying with the Bible: the first two verses of this brief but highly personal and painful Housman’s poem refer to Matthew 5:29. Specifically, to the King James Version: “And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.” However, Housman was a homosexual, which, according to the Bible, is a sickness of the soul; as far as he can see, the only solution in his case—lest he wants to cast into hell—would be a suicide.

Example #6: Hippocrene

O for a beaker full of the warm South Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim.

– John Keats, “Ode to a Nightingale” II.5-10 (1819)

Supposedly created when Pegasus—another symbol of poetic creativity—dug his hooves into the ground, Hippocrene was the spring of inspiration, flowing on Mount Helicon in Boeotia, which, appropriately, was believed to be the home of the Muses, the inspirational goddesses. In the verses above (and those which precede them), Keats skillfully compares Hippocrene’s powers with the powers of Southern wines—apparently, both can help one forget his problems and “leave the world unseen.”

Example #7: Midas Touch

So twenty years, with their hopes and fears and smiles and tears and such, Went by and left me long bereft of hope of the Midas touch.

– Robert Service, “The Ballad of One-Eyed Mike” 14-15 (1909)

After entertaining the lost satyr Silenus for ten days and bringing him back to his foster son, Dionysius, on the eleventh day, Midas was granted by the grateful wine-god one wish. He asked that everything he might touch should turn into gold. The gift soon developed into a curse when Midas realized that even his food and drink turned to gold at his touch; however, the phrase “Midas touch”—or, alternatively, “golden touch”—has mainly positive connotations, and is used to describe someone’s ability to turn everything into a success.

Example #8: Pierian Spring

A little learning is a dang’rous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.

– Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism 218-219 (1711)

Just like Hippocrene above, the Pierian spring of Macedonia was sacred to the Muses, and, thus, was considered a source of knowledge and memory. Many ancient writers mention it, but the above two verses by Pope are the ones which made it famous. They imply that far worse than knowing nothing is knowing something: the former is easily discernible, but the latter is not, making it a pretty “dangerous thing.” If you want to learn why, google for Dunning-Kruger effect, which, in layman terms, is sometimes justly described as “the confident idiot” syndrome.

Example #9: Priscian · Pegasus

Some free from rhyme or reason, rule or check, Break Priscian’s head and Pegasus’s neck.

– Alexander Pope, The Dunciad III.155-156 (1728)

Alexander Pope’s poetry is so allusive and dense with classical references that we had to include him twice in our list. Here, he uses two striking metaphors in the second verse of the couplet above to reiterate the things said in the first one. Priscianus Caesariensis—or Priscian, for short—was a Latin grammarian and the author of the standard textbook of Latin during the Middle Ages; Pegasus, on the other hand, is a winged horse who often symbolizes the power of inspiration and poetry. Thus, breaking Priscian’s head means breaking the rules of grammar; and breaking Pegasus’s neck would lead to terminating your flight on the wings of inspiration and plummeting earthward instead.

Example #10: Scarlet Sin

When I am dead, I hope it may be said: ‘His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.’

– Hilaire Belloc, “On His Books” (1925)

The phrase “scarlet sin” comes from a Bible verse describing the immeasurable scope of divine forgiveness: “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18). By implication, a “scarlet sin” is the worst kind of sin, one that, just like the colour scarlet, is easily perceptible even at a first glance. The ones who want to get even more specific, deem only adultery and prostitution as scarlet sins, probably because of the description of The Great Harlot in The Book of Revelation (17:3-4): she sits upon a “scarlet-coloured beast” and is “arrayed in purple and scarlet.” Now, we don’t know exactly which sins Belloc has in mind in this premature epitaph, but he obviously cares about them being known to others less than he does about his books being read after his death. (Worry not, Hilaire: they are!)