#and styx was like 'you should put him back in he's not done yet'
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I HATE PRINTING I HATE PAPER JAMS I HATE INK CARTRIDGES JERMA HAS BEEN TORN ASUNDER
[ID: a printed image of the “sparkle on its Wednesday!” Jerma image with visible scan lines and a noticeable white crack down the middle. End ID]
#there's more scans in the rbs#and styx was like 'you should put him back in he's not done yet'#and then he got stuck and i had to tear the sad beast in half as not to destroy my printer#thank you to @sugargliders-s for the image id!
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of these rushing waves
(you’ll be the oxygen i breathe)
A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.
Like. Really hits her.
(or 2k words of annabeth discovering what she means to percy)
(the biggest of shout outs to @timelesslords for helping me make this coherent, and to @colorguardfreak97 for encouraging me every step of the way. enjoy <3)
read on ao3
A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.
Like. Really hits her.
And after about a day and a half freaking out about what it means and what she should do about it, she decides to go talk to him.
(Because not talking to him about what was bothering her led to the worst year of her life. Progress.)
They’re sitting on the beach, sharing Percy’s too small blanket- they both know he has bigger ones, but it’s an excuse to be almost on top of each other. She’s curled up resting on his chest, and he has one hand secured on her waist tracing patterns on her thigh, the other tangled in her curls. They watch the sunset and Annabeth is almost perfectly content.
Almost.
“How did you know?” The words tumble out of her without context.
He shifts to face her and raises an eyebrow. Annabeth finds it unfairly attractive.
“Know what?”
“When you told me your weak spot. How’d you know I could handle it?” The unspoken ‘because I don’t think I can handle it ’ must be apparent enough because Percy’s expression softens.
“Have you been worrying about this?”
Annabeth’s first impulse is to brush it off and change the subject. But then she hears Silena’s voice in her head: tell him how you feel. So she ducks her chin and forces the words out.
“Well yeah, I mean it kinda freaks me out that I just have this power over you. I don’t trust myself.”
Percy tilts her chin with featherlight fingers and an unadulterated fondness her seven year old self would kill to be on the receiving end of.
“I trust you enough for the both of us,” he said.
“How are you so sure about this?” ‘How are you so sure about me?’
He gives her a ‘duh’ look that she’s so used to giving him, it's a bit shocking to be on the opposite end of it. She decides immediately she doesn’t like it.
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t, hence me asking you why.”
She's watched Percy's face morph to pure amusement. He chuckles, and hesitates. “Well, because...”
He trails off clearly thinking about how to word his answer. As he thinks it over she allows herself to look at him properly.
He’s beautiful. Sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, devastatingly symmetrical features. His eyes are deep and content, looking out at the sea as if it has the answer he’s looking for. He can’t seem to find what he wants amongst the waves, but his eyes meet hers and the words seem to come to him.
“It’s you, Annabeth.”
He says it like it answers not only her question but thousands of others. It does neither.
“What’s me, Annabeth?” She attempts at light-hearted sarcasm despite her impatience.
He looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes and she knows that look. She hates that look. That look means she’s not getting an answer anytime soon.
“Oh my gods, you really don't know?”
She glares daggers.
He smiles winningly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She bites at his shoulder in retaliation.
“You’re the smartest person I know-” Percy starts.
“True, but flattery will get you nowhere-” Annabeth cut him off.
“So figure-’ He presses a kiss to her temple.
“It-’ A kiss to her left cheek.
“Out.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but he kisses her before she can get out the words. And His knuckles are gentle under her chin, and he smells like ocean breeze, and his lips are chapped yet achingly soft, and he tastes like home. Annabeth resigns herself to find out what he means later, and allows herself to get lost in him and saltwater and home.
...
She digs up every legend about the curse of Achilles she can find. She scours Daedales’s laptop until it runs out of battery. She didn’t even know that was possible.
She researches.
And researches.
And nothing.
She has no idea what he means. Annabeth famously hates not knowing.
And. Percy. Won’t. Budge.
She has tried every trick in the book. She tried baking blue cookies (she burned them), refusing to kiss him till he tells (she caves), and asking Grover to get it out of him (something about the bro-code).
Everytime she asks him he just looks at her with his dopey, baby-seal love eyes and says those same two words.
“It’s you.”
She hates him.
...
It’s three more days before she figures it out.
Nico is looking at her skeptically. His all black get-up makes it so he almost blends in with shadows of the Big House’s basement.
“You need my help?” He deadpans, leaning against the wall looking almost bored.
“Sort-of,” Annabeth shifts on her feet, “So, I know you were the one who took Percy to the River Styx, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Well he’s explained to me bits and pieces about how the curse works, and told me where his… you know… spot is.”
“Ok.”
“So my question is-” Annabeth stopped short. “Wait doesn’t that surprise you at all?”
He shrugs noncommittally, “Not really, no. You were saying?”
Annabeth clears her throat and soldiers on.
“Uh yeah. Right, well it sorta freaked me out how readily he told me about it and I asked how he knew I could handle it and he just said ‘it’s me’. And he refuses to elaborate, and it’s kind of killing me so, do you know what that means? And if you do, could you please explain?”
She’s been staring at her shoes while she rambles on and when she looks up she sees…
Is that humor in his eyes?
“So, I'm guessing you've done your research on the curse?” She nods. “So you know that when Achilles mother dipped him in the Styx, she held him up by his ankle, which then became his mortal point.”
“Like a sort of anchor.”
“Exactly. Now what the legends don’t mention is that the mortal point wasn’t just the ankle. When his mother pulled him out she became part of his mortal point. Still with me?”
“Not really.”
“Perfect. Going in on your own is no different. You still need someone to help you out of the river, just not physically. You need to picture someone pulling you out, someone to motivate you, someone to bring you back to earth.”
He looks up at her, silently asking permission to continue. Annabeth nods with urgence.
“It's not just someone who can keep you mortal, but the one person that makes you want to stay mortal. That person and your weak spot become intertwined.” He looks up at her and must still see traces of confusion.
“Your mortal point isn’t just the point of your body that’s unaffected by the River Styx, It’s the person in your life that you saw that gave you the strength to survive the Styx at all.”
Oh.
Oh.
“So when he says ‘it’s...He literally means…” She trails off and looks up at Nico. His smirk is patronizing, but she can’t bring herself to care.
“It’s you.”
…
She vaguely recalls thanking Nico for his help, but how she ended up in her bunk staring at the wall is a mystery. Annabeth has never truly understood the word dumbfounded until now.
...
It’s her.
...
By the time she comes to, it's dark out. Annabeth is already grabbing her invisibility cap and pulling on her shoes. She should probably change out of her pajamas, but her urgency to get to Percy outweighs the little vanity she has left in her. Percy has seen her in far worse conditions than messy hair and sleep wear.
Normally she would climb in through his window, but tonight is strictly business. Percy is still up waiting for her like he has been every night since the war ended. His face brightens when his eyes land on her face then immediately scrunch in concern when he sees what must be a manic look in her eye.
“You ok?”
“It’s me.” A whisper- she says it like she can't fully comprehend the words.
“It’s me?” A question- not necessarily for him just unsure.
“It’s me!” An accusation- this time it’s directed at Percy, who smiles with unnecessary pride.
He tugs at her hand and pulls her to sit on the bunk.“You figured it out.”
She’s briefly tempted to explain the whole visit with Nico, but she has other things on her mind.
“That’s how I knew on the bridge. That feeling that you were in danger, even though you hadn’t told me where the spot was, I knew.”
He shrugs, “It would make sense, but to be honest, I actually have no idea.”
She entwines their fingers and he lifts her hand up to press kisses to her knuckles.
“You saved me.” Percy says it soft and reverent, like a prayer.
“On the bridge?”
“No. Well yeah you saved me on the bridge, but I’m talking about the Styx. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I was burning alive. It was like I was back at Mt. St. Helen’s all over again.”
She feels a swift wave of guilt that she quickly pushes down so she can pay attention to the rest of his words.
“Except instead of the lava being thrown at me, I was dunked in it. And it was ten times hotter. I was drowning.” He laughs mirthlessly, and she squeezes his hand. “I was in so much pain I couldn't remember who I was.”
She knocks her forehead against his, partly to bring him back to reality, partly to remind herself that he did in fact survive to tell her this story.
He looks up at her, green eyes wide with a wonder and reverence she doesn’t believe she deserves.
“Then I heard you. Your voice. I heard your voice and I saw your face and you held out your hand. You didn’t just pull me back. You put me back together. The thought of you put me back together. I took your hand and I survived because of you. You saved me Annabeth.”
Annabeth is stunned into silence.
She has no doubt in her mind that if it were her in the Styx, she would've seen Percy and he would’ve saved her in the same way she saved him. But, it's different hearing it from him. It’s a rare feeling to know that this full-bodied, utter devotion (the kind she feels for him), is mutual. To hear it spoken out loud is almost unheard of.
She doesn’t have the words to articulate the supernova of emotions exploding her chest, so she kisses him. She kisses him with everything she has. Percy kisses her back with the same intensity. Percy’s kisses are safety and contentment and light. He’s so good with words (better with them than she is), and she thinks it translated into the way he kissed. He kisses her like he’s trying to say something--typically some shy declaration of the love that they both know is between them but tiptoe around speaking into existence.
He kisses with his whole body. He clutches at her waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, and she arches her back because she doesn't think she could bear it either. He occupies all five of her senses, the only thing she knows is him. Her hands are buried in his hair. He’s the sun, and kissing him is sunshine personified.
When she finally pulls back, he removes one of the hands gripping at her waist to slip into the junction between her collarbone and her jaw to keep their foreheads together. He keeps pulling her in his orbit, freckles like constellations, breaths mingled like they could survive on kisses and shared oxygen alone.
She thinks she’d like that.
Percy ends up curled on top of her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. One of her hands in his hair, the other on the small of his back like she can protect him with force of will alone. They fall asleep the way they survive- anchored to each other.
...
#my first fic yall so pls be nice to me lol#rbs are appreciated!#ask box is open for prompts#percabeth#percabeth fic#missing scene#annabeth chase#percy jackson#the last olympian#nico di angelo#percy jackon and the olympians#grover underwood#my writing#omg i can use that tag now#fic rec
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To Have And To Hold
Hypnos x female!reader
Word count: 2k
Part One
Warning:War, dead people and children, Ares ( let be real, that guy is a warning all on his own) kissing and sexual themes, no beta
The shade that came in the library was polite but clearly overwhelmed from their work. They handed over the letter quickly and gave a bow before hurrying out.
You pushed aside your own paperwork, "Lady Athena?" You asked out loud to no one but yourself. You typically only get letters from your sisters or parents.
You carefully opened it, a sense of dread unfolded in your chest.
'Dear Y/N.
I wish I was writing to you in better times. Unfortunately, I must keep this letter short. I'm in need of your help, desperately.
I can explain more when I see you. When you reach the surface, call for me.
Athena'
You ran out the library, uncaring about leaving scrolls on the tables.
You made it to the East wing and you glanced to Achilles, only to see empty space. You paused for a second then you heard it, crying and countless voices together begging and yelling.
What in the world...
"Silent!" Hades boomed and a harsh bark followed. The house quieted down, only soft sobs remained.
You walked in slowly and couldn't stop the gasp. You had never seen so many shades all in one place and you even saw some standing in the Styx.
You saw Achilles in front of Hades' desk, facing the crowd. His normally kind face was cold and his grip on the spear was tight.
Hades stood up, "Silent." He repeated. Queen Persephone and Zagreus stood next to Hades, both their faces unable to hide the worries they felt.
"Thanatos, please continue."
"Lord Ares has gone mad with war lust. Hermes nor I can keep up with the amount of dead. And as I speak, Ares and Eris are tearing through another city." Thanatos' tone was hard and flat.
You swallowed, unable to believe what you were hearing.
"What has Zeus done to step in?" Hades asked warily.
"He has yet to do so, lord Hades." Thanatos replied.
Hades opened his mouth but a shade broke past the group. "Please, you have to help us! They will follow us even in death, it won't ever stop!"
"Didn't I tell you to be silent!? And Ares can't come here, no matter how hard he tries."
The shade shook their head, "No, not him-" the other shades joined, all begging and more crying started.
"Be quiet, all of you!"
Zagreus spoke up, "Wait, we should hear them out, Father."
"No. We have bigger problems." Hades rubbed his forehead."Thanatos, give this letter to Hermes. The sooner we can put Ares and his friend down the better."
There was a moment of silence after Thanatos vanished.
You took a shaky breath, and looked around to find Hypnos. You heard him speak in his cheerful voice before you saw him, "Well, alrighty. That sure was something, huh? Line up! Come on everyone, and mind the little ones."
He wasn't in his usual spot but a little past Hades' desk along with Dusa and several workers shades. You walked over, "Hypnos."
He looked up at your voice, his eyes widened in alarm. He dropped the quill and paper he was holding. "How much of that did you see?" He whispered.
"Enough." You whispered back. "I got a letter from Athena, they need my help."
"What?" He asked in a strangled whisper. You showed him the letter. He read the letter once, his face blank.
You waited for a response, frowning at his unreadable face.
Then he folded up the letter calmly as he met your gaze, "No. Absolutely not. I will not allow you to go." He said softly.
"Hypnos!" You replied, no longer staying quiet. "You have no right to tell me what to do." You reached for the letter but he held it out of reach.
"Blood and Darkness." Hades cursed. "We do not need your marital disputes in the great hall especially now. Leave."
You flushed, realizing you could feel eyes on you. Hypnos grabbed your arm gently, "Oh of course, Lord Hades. Don't worry, I will be back shortly after I handle this." Hypnos said pleasantly, " What was the saying? Happy wife, happy life? But hey why am I telling you? You know all about that."
Hades glared down at the both of you and you desperately wished for a hole to swallow you whole.
Before you could apologize for Hypnos' lack of tact, he vanished you along with him.
You looked around, trying to push away the nausea. Thankfully he had chosen to reappear just outside of your bedchambers.
You turned on him, "For blood's sake what was that about Hypnos?"
"Can we talk in your chambers? Or the library, whichever one you want." He asked, sounding guilty.
Good, you thought viciously.
"Oh so I do get a say in something then? Or will you be 'handling' that too?" You snapped at him. You pushed out your door, not bothering to invite Hypnos in. You stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed.
Hypnos closed the door behind him quietly. "I'm sorry but Lady Athena will have to do without your help if it means you have to go to the surface. I cannot let you go up there."
"That is my decision, not yours." You shook your head. "I have to go."
"Didn't you hear how Ares has gone mad? That guy is crazy on a good day, let alone whatever is happening now." Even with the guilty look on his face, Hypnos shook his head. "You have never even seen a war, have you? It's not a pretty sight."
"We don't even know what she needs help with, I doubt I will be anywhere near a battlefield. She knows I'm not a warrior."
"The fact you have to even be on the surface is too much." Hypnos floated over to you but didn't touch you, his hands spread out. "War isn't predictable. One person's decision can cost other people's their lives, well beyond the battlefields. And it never ever ends up the way leaders plan for it to."
You stayed quiet, looking down at the ground. You couldn't get your mind off the letter even with Hypnos’ reasoning. Athena wouldn't ask for anything unless she truly needed it.
"Y/N, please look at me." Hypnos lifted your chin up, your eyes flicked toward his before you made yourself look away.
"I would give you anything if it made you happy, you know that." Hypnos spoke carefully. "You can help Lady Athena, I'm not saying you can't but you need to do it from here. There is no point in risking your safety."
Hypnos waited for you to respond only to sigh when you shook your head, too upset to speak.
"Send a letter to Athena, and I will help out too, love. Okay?" Hypnos' eyes studied your face.
"Can't you just come with me?" You asked, hating how your voice cracked at the end. "If you're so worried."
"No, I am needed here and I'm doubtful I would be a welcomed face." Hypnos gave a slight grin, "Besides, I already won the last war when I got you as my wife."
he looked at you so softly, it made you blush. You pulled away, you will not let Hypnos sweet talk you. “Oh, yes. Just remind me of another time I was mad at you. That will work out for you.”
“I-i just-“ Hypnos chuckled but he was clearly unamused. “Obviously I have a case of foot in mouth. Y/N, I just want you to be safe. Am I wrong to want my wife to be safe?”
You glared at him, “Well obviously not, Hypnos. Don’t play that game with me.”
Hypnos glared back, both of you silently glaring at each other. Hypnos broke first and rubbed his eyes with a frustrated sigh. You resisted the urge to walk over and smooth away the weight you could see on him.
When Hypnos looked back at you, you didn’t expect the serious look in his face, “Just promise me something.”
“What?” You watched him warily, not used to this reaction from him.
“You won’t try to leave without me. If- and that is a very big if by the way, we have to go up to help whoever, you won’t go where I can’t keep an eye on you.” Hypnos said, his golden eyes stayed on your face.
“I’m not a child, Hypnos.” You muttered.
“I know that. But you have never been in a war and I have and I know how ugly it gets. I hope I am overreacting, really I am.” Hypnos came closer again, “Just promise me. Please.”
“I-i but.. Fine. Okay, I promise.” You said. You glanced at Hypnos and upon seeing the relief on his face, you turned away, guilt
“Just… give me some alone time, okay?” You said, unable to hide how upset you were.
He was quiet for a few minutes. “Alright. I will have tonight’s dinner sent for you. I will check in on you later, okay?”
“Okay.” You agreed, staring at the wall. "Thank you."
Hypnos looked at you a moment, a hand reached up for a second before falling back down, before he left.
You pushed down the guilt you felt, Hypnos was the one in the wrong for not helping you.
You paced around the room, biting your lip nervously as you tried to think.
You couldn't take the path Zagreus does, and you weren't sure if he would or could help you. You didn't have a boat and from the looks of it Charon wouldn't have space anyway.
And Cerberus was…
You groaned and covered your face.
You were efficiently trapped, the realization caused the fading anger at Hypnos to come roaring back.
You sat down on the bed when a knock came. "Y/N? C-can I come in?" Dusa's voice was normally a welcomed thing but right now you don't think you can stomach being around others.
But it wasn't Dusa' fault you told yourself.
You opened the door and she floated in. "Are you okay? I kinda saw what happened in the hall."
You shook your head and explained everything. You reached for the letter only to remember that Hypnos still had it. "Blood and darkness Hypnos." you muttered. You couldn't believe he was treating you like a child.
Dusa was quiet for a few moments. "Well actually, I might know a way. It is the same way Queen Persephone took to return here. She doesn't have to travel the same way everyone else does."
Hope lifted in your chest. "Do you know if Cerberus would be there?"
"Far as I know, he wouldn't be near there since Queen Persephone is here." Dusa frowned with worry, "But you know how dangerous it is, right? Meg told me stories about the last war and the kind of people she had to punish for their acts during it."
"I have to go. My family could be at risk. Can you cover for me? Just a little bit."
Dusa stared at you. "Just promise me you will be careful okay? And if anyone asks, even Hypnos, I won't lie okay?"
You hugged her. "Thank you!"
"Just please be careful." Dusa muttered.
~~
The snow was still there, unmarked and soft. You took a breath, the sharp, freezing air hurt your lungs but it felt amazing.
You weren’t sure if the hallway Queen Persephone took would work for you but thankfully it had just been an unusually long and winding hallway.
When you got back, you were planning on telling Zegreus about it. Let's see Hades do anything about that.
You watched the snowfall, gentle and pure, with a sigh. You tugged your travel cloak tighter, the last time you wore this was during your wedding.
It wasn't the same place you and Hypnos had gotten married. But seeing the snow brought memories. Of the fear, of how you almost stumbled over your vows, how Hypnos' hand holding yours was the only warm thing you could feel. Of the nervous yet serious look on his face when you both said the final vow…
You shook your head, finding your resolve. You glanced back at the opening, guilt rising in you.
And hurt.
You thought Hypnos would understand, it was your family. He was normally so big on family, bending over backward for his own family. You thought he would support you. You swallow and with one last look back, you step out into the snow.
It took you a moment but with the deepest breath you could take, you called for Athena.
Almost immediately, a warm golden light filled the field.
Athena was just tall and golden as you remembered. She didn't smile but she took your hands in her own, "Thank you. I must admit I was worried you wouldn't come."
You decided not to mention your disagreement with Hypnos as you tried to give a comforting smile.
"Of course, I am more than happy to help. But I am a bit lost on what I could offer for you." You watched her sighed and moved away.
"What I am about to ask of you is no small favor. If you wish to have no part of this, I will understand." Athena said gravely.
You nodded. "Let me decide."
After she studied your face for a moment, Athena spoke.
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So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.
(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)
(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)
It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)
It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.
Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.
Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.
There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.
Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.
And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!
But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.
Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.
And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.
Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.
Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.
It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.
But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.
#Hades game#Hades spoilers#driveby meta attack#C plays stuff#I have so much hope!!!!~!#I have so much fear!!!!!#DO NOT TELL ME WHAT THE ANSWER IS GOING TO BE!!!!!
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The Game of Us
Rating: T (gen, no warnings)
Chapter 3: Raphael
Raphael watches, impassive. “Our pain is not weakness, Michael. This grief... it took some time, but I did eventually come to understand. Why I awoke here, that is. You met Gabriel at the Styx? Fitting. Judgement always was her burden to bear. But this... this is mine."
Read below the cut, or on AO3
************************************
With Gabriel gone, the shades begin to dissipate, and soon Michael finds himself alone once again.
It doesn’t last long.
“Well done,” comes a voice from behind him. The tone is the same as before, but now the words are spoken aloud. The entity’s form has shifted. It wears a body that, while still indistinct and hazy, appears far closer to human than it had previously done.
Michael scrambles to his feet. He can feel his own form shifting as well, physical appearance undergoing continental drift atop his roiling grace.
“You took her. Gabriel. What have you done with her?”
“Please try to keep up, my boy. I took nothing and no one. The messenger is safe and well, merely—well, let’s call it offstage, for the moment. And she came quite willingly, as you saw for yourself.” The entity folds its hands neatly in front of it. “I see that she has given you much to consider. I trust your time together was informative?”
“That’s—one way of phrasing it.” The entity moves away, beckoning, and Michael doesn’t fight the impulse to follow. At the termination of the crevice, just outside the circle of crumbling stones, he is unsurprised to see that the path continues deeper into the forest.
As they walk, low-hanging branches catch and drag at his hair, his clothing. Michael feels as though he might be leaving snippets of himself behind, like fur snagged in brambles along the trail. He thinks of Gabriel’s wispy audience with sorrow. “So much of the Host, dead and gone. So many shades. I knew, of course I knew. But seeing them there... it’s not the same.” Regret swirls within him, settling as a tightness around his eyes; he can feel it there, performing the subtle work of reshaping the image he wears.
Into what, though—he doesn’t yet know.
The being at his side nods, curt. “You must understand where your actions lead. Not solely for yourself, but for others. You cannot abdicate your duty to your nature by refusing to choose, any more than you can by making choices.” He gets the impression that it raises its eyebrows meaningfully in his direction. “In your brief period of freedom, you knew the state of Heaven, and yet you turned your back on your responsibilities. On Earth, with that human—that wasn’t choosing. You were hiding.”
The words dig at him, slivers of ice working their way into the center of his grace. Adam. “He needed me. And I needed to keep him safe.”
“That’s a partial truth at best, and I’ve no interest in coddling self-delusion. Try again.”
Being dead, he is discovering, has a way of making it harder to lie to himself. Shame flares low in his stomach. “I... I should have done better by them all. They were my family, and I failed them. I couldn’t face them. Couldn’t face—”
He stops. The path has led them to the edge of another river. Crystalline and clear, smooth as glass, it burbles quietly past their feet. It winds away in lazy curves, disappearing into the deeper shade of the trees.
Michael looks down at his reflection, and his Father’s face looks back at him.
A hand on his shoulder. “I am not without sympathy for your pain,” the being at his back says, gently. “But running from it is no solution. The realm of Heaven is in disarray. Without you and your kin, it will fall, new God or no. And then—whatever it is you love, whatever it is you fear—then there will truly be nothing left to salvage.”
Michael crouches down, touches fingertips to the image of Chuck’s face. Tiny ripples distort the surface, rebounding off each other, spreading and fading away. “This isn’t the Styx. None of this should be here at all. What have you done to the local reality? And to what purpose?”
“Ask your next brother. They always were the wisest of you.”
This time, Michael doesn’t need to turn to know he is alone.
************************************
He follows the river further into the wilds, meandering gradually down the mountainside. The underbrush thins with the change in altitude, and the straggling trees grow steadily sparser. Before long he finds himself among yet more ruins, though these appear considerably more modern than the last. The river glides through the bones of a forgotten city. He picks his way along streets of stone dwellings adorned by grand archways, airy courtyards, monolithic houses of worship. Mist twines in and among the silent remains of civilization, and everywhere he looks he sees the incursion of the forest: trees growing in cracking walls, moss overhanging low rooftops.
Near the center of the city, both buildings and trees grow abruptly denser once again. A thicket of olive trees and creeping ivy, solid and unassailable, tangle up through ruined foundations and collapsed walls. The river seeps between the roots and disappears under a wall, alongside a single narrow entryway into what must once have been a church. It is barely wide enough to permit him entrance.
He pushes forward, through the vines.
An uneasy aura pervades the air within, musty and stifling, heavy across his shoulders and thick in his lungs. The further in he travels, the stronger it becomes. As it intensifies, he realizes that the feeling is not solely physical; a heady and potent psychic residue that he recognizes as grief only when he finds himself choking back a sob, without understanding quite why.
Down an overgrown corridor, and as suddenly as the vegetation had closed in upon him, it clears. He finds himself in an interior courtyard, roof all but gone, open under the sky.
“So, I get to see you again, after all. Hello, Michael.”
He looks around, confused, for a moment unable to identify the source of the words. Then, all at once, he sees.
In the quiet grove that has sprung up to consume this once-thriving city stands a sparkling pool, the termination point of the river’s above-ground course. Here the water stagnates, swirling deeper into a reservoir carved through foundation and bedrock to disappear into the earth. A stand of trees grows about the edge, roots worming deep down to seek the water through cracks in the floor. What he had originally taken for a statue carved into that living wood shifts minutely. Raphael meditates among the trunks, limbs now gnarled branches, head crowned by thick twisting ivy.
They are, he realizes, the source of the pain imbuing this place. He circles the pool and seats himself beside them, back bending under the onerous weight of their distress.
“You’ve taken His face,” they observe. Their voice holds neither scorn nor approval. Only sorrow. “Don’t take this personally, but I don’t think it suits you.”
“I’m not so certain of that,” he replies morosely. He brushes his hand lightly over the back of one of their own, firm and warm as olive wood. “And you’ve given up on a human form at all. I didn’t realize you held any fondness for dryads.”
“I needed—a change of perspective.” There is, momentarily, a hint of wry smile in their voice. Even on their worst days, he reflects, Raphael always held a spark of gentleness. It makes him ache for them; warrior and healer both, the only one among them as truly skilled in restoring life as taking it. They had never needed his protection, but he should have done more to uplift and support them, still. “Hamadryads have no skin to stitch. No bones to set. They neither bleed, nor do they break. They put down roots, and they grow, and they watch the world pass. It’s a peaceable enough existence.”
“Brother, you—you do realize where we are.”
Raphael rolls their eyes. “I’m dead, Michael, not blind.” They shake their head, ivy tumbling back and out of their face. Michael realizes, abruptly, that the ivy is a deep emerald green; like the blindfold Gabriel had worn, it is the only point of color against the otherwise monochrome environment.
“Then maybe you can enlighten me. I was sent to find you. By... well, I still don’t really know by who.”
“Don’t you, though?”
“I don’t,” he replies, adamant. “I can’t see the purpose to this, any of this. We are asked to return to the world, but to what end? What makes him think—” Michael breaks off, defeated.
“What makes him think we’d do any good for it this time around?” Raphael finishes knowingly.
Michael studies his reflection in the water, and says nothing.
They shake their head again, turning to contemplate the pool. “Did you know this pool has no bottom? If you fell in, you’d sink for eternity. There’d be no point in swimming; you couldn’t save yourself.”
“Why do you sound like you’re considering it?”
Raphael sighs. “I tried so hard, Michael. I fought and bled and died for our family, and still, it fell apart. You’re wearing His face, and for what? You blame yourself?” They look down at their palms, loose in their lap. The wood there is stained; in a place with light, with color, Michael wonders with a shiver if the stains might not appear the ruddy brown of old blood. “But I was our healer, Brother. And I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t heal anyone.” The sadness in the atmosphere redoubles, clawing over Michael’s skin.
Their voice cracks. “I couldn’t even heal myself. He wouldn’t even allow me that much.”
Michael’s head drops to his hands. This agony, like a breaking bone or a breaking heart, has been eating at their foundations for so long. Gabriel struck speechless, Raphael in tatters, and himself—what had he done for them? Other than carry out the edicts of a creator who treated his creation as no better than toys, to be discarded when He was bored of them?
He feels tears bead at the corners of his eyes, and overflow. To his astonishment, they do not fall onto his hands. He draws back in surprise.
The tears hang suspended in the air before him, crystalline. Gently revolving, they slowly coalesce, and descend toward the pool. When at last they meet the surface of the water, they merge without a single ripple marring the glassy shine.
Raphael watches, impassive. “Our pain is not weakness, Michael. This grief... it took some time, but I did eventually come to understand. Why I awoke here, that is. You met Gabriel at the Styx? Fitting. Judgement always was her burden to bear. But this... this is mine. The Kokytos is fed by the tears of mourners.” Their voice rings hollow, but there is an underpinning of tenderness there, Michael thinks. Something patient. Something compassionate. “My own contribution was long overdue.”
“How do you know where I came from? And why the rivers at all?”
“My stubborn, immovable brother.” Raphael’s smile is weary, but fond, even in their grief. “This place is his to command, he who sent you here, beyond mortality as it is. Knowledge flows through it. You need only listen for it.”
Michael scrubs hands across his eyes, and takes slow, steadying breaths. “Raphael. You don't belong here, not like this. Please. Move on from this place with me. We can do it together.”
Their eyes crinkle at the corners. Gently, they extend a hand down to break the surface of the pool. “No, Michael. In that, you are mistaken. It has been too long since I allowed myself to sit with my pain, and learn what it has to teach me. Give me time. I’ll catch up with you.” They draw the hand to their face. Trace their fingers over their lips. The tip of their tongue flicks out, catching at the water that beads there. “If I am to heal, first I must let myself mourn. Don’t worry too much about me. I know how far the river of lamentation runs; I will not drink so deeply of this well that I drown.”
The thought of leaving Raphael behind fills him with dread, but he nods. Stands. They reach up to him, trace a hand over his wrist as he pulls away.
“I wish I could have done more for you, too,” they murmur. “But you aren’t Him, Michael. Please remember that. You’re nothing like Him. I wish I could have helped you to see that more clearly.”
Michael resists the urge to look back into the pool, to see his reflection there. “I don’t know what I am. But I’ll keep searching until I do know.”
“That’s all I could hope for. See you soon.”
He feels the edges of his countenance shift and blur again. When he exits the room, his companion is waiting.
************************************
(Chapter notes:
- The city in which Michael finds Raphael is inspired by the ghost city of Kayaköy, currently part of Turkey; by its former inhabitants, it was referred to in modern Greek as Levissi. Between World War I and the Greco-Turkish war, its entire population was either forcibly exiled or killed. Despite the horror of that recent history, until that point it had been a relatively peaceful place, its mixed Muslim and Orthodox Christian populations living together harmoniously. It is now officially under the protection of historical conservation, and there have been some attempts at restoration. I think Raphael would consider such a place deeply meaningful, and be able to find healing in the possibility of moving on even in the wake of such tragedy.)
#hugs for raphael <3#spnarchangelweek#day 2 raphael#michael spn#gabriel spn#raphael spn#lucifer spn#my fanfic#spn#supernatural
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The Night Fox - Chapter 2
Based on @royalhandmaidens Vigilante Commander Fox theory. The story will eventually lead into Foxiyo and a happy au.
Sorry for the really long delay. Also, this chapter doesn't have any Night Fox scenes because there's some important background plot, but the vigilante shall return in the next chapter!
Prologue • Chapter 1
Summary: The Night Fox takes a hiatus, and Fox's life is turned upside down, maybe for the better.
Word count: 1374 words
Two weeks after getting the special armor, which Fox stored in a secure vault, where he looked at it at least once a day but never took it outside the safe, the lower levels of Coruscant had changed dramatically. For more than a week now, there were hardly any kidnappings, street fights, or anything even slightly disorderly. Illegal activity seemed to have disappeared altogether, which should have been a cause for jubilation. Yet, something kept nagging at him, and for the first time after the Chuchi incident, Fox was unable to sleep. He hadn't seen the Pantoran senator since that nightly encounter, mostly because the Senate was apparently handling more urgent matters. Not being in command of the Coruscant Guard should have bothered him, but Fox just felt free. Until today. The lack of nighttime activity was making him feel restless, and that night, Fox started pacing and kept on pacing in the barracks.
“How long have you been up?” Thorn asked.
“Uhm… That depends on when you woke up.” Fox said looking up, startled. Judging by Thorn's expression, he guessed that he had paced the entire night.
“Kriffing show-off! Lousy amateur!” Stone cried out angrily.
“Are you all right?” Thorn asked, his tone surprisingly kind.
“Oh, hey! It's nothing, nothing, just the same stupid Holonet hero that's been on the headlines for almost two weeks now.” Stone answered, slightly abashed.
“Don't be embarrassed Stone, these articles are maddening!” Thire interjected. “I know it shouldn't be bothering me, but this is just so ridiculous. Some Night Fox saves some young girl from being kidnapped, and that girl just happens to be the daughter of Senator Orn Free Taa's aide's brother. Listen to this: The Night Fox has succeeded where the Coruscant Guard has failed. If a single man can stop something so horrendous in one night, then what has the entire Coruscant Guard been doing?”
Fox swallowed, and pressed his hands to his face. He had only announced his chosen name twice – once to a Twi'lek mother and daughter, and to Senator Chuchi. The girl and the woman had seemed very sweet, and he knew that saving the child had been the right thing to do. But what was the right thing to do now? The main reason the Coruscant Guard was unable to prevent these incidents was because their main duty was to escort senators and other high-level officials and dignitaries, which was an infuriating and tiring job. If the Holonet was using the Night Fox as an anti-clone mascot, then something needed to be done. Just as Fox opened his mouth to tell Thorn about the Night Fox, Rys rushed in.
“Commander Fox… Senator Chuchi… needs… you… to come in… for a hearing” panted Rys, out of breath.
“What!” Thorn stood straight up. “If this is a practical joke that you and Jek thought up, then you'll—”
“It's all right.” Fox patted Thorn's shoulder. “I'll be fine. Besides, the vacation was starting to bore me.”
Fox dashed out, putting all his energy into running and not thinking about the charges.
——————————————————————————
“Commander Fox, over here!” Senator Chuchi was waving.
“Where's the hearing? I came as soon as I got the message.” Fox asked, his heart thudding, and his palms clammy.
“The hearing, well, it didn't happen. Basically, what happened was more of a statement by a single senator, who claimed that the Coruscant Guard is not doing enough. So, a vote for a change of management was held, and well, I don't know how to say this, but you have been ordered to temporarily leave the Coruscant Guard headquarters, and relinquish your armor and weapons, by the order of the Supreme Chancellor.” Senator Chuchi said, her voice trembling. “I am so sorry, Fox. They didn't even give me a chance to present my argument.”
Fox just stood silently. He had just lost the closest thing he had to a home. What was he going to do?
“Senators Amidala and Organa have arranged for you to stay at an apartment, with meals delivered to you, until your temporary leave period is over.” Senator Chuchi continued, barely holding back tears.
“Senator Chuchi, Commander Fox, I have good news, great news actually!” Senator Amidala was strolling towards them. “The charges of treason against Commander Fox have been dismissed!”
“Wait, did you just say that the charges have been dismissed?” Fox asked, still stunned.
“Yes. Apparently, the senators believe that a clone is too unintelligent and weak to commit treason. While I don't agree with their reasoning, this means that in six months, you will be reinstated in the Coruscant Guard, with your original rank.” Senator Amidala beamed. “However, you will still need to relinquish your armor and weapons for the time being.”
“I guess I'll go tell Thorn the good news.” Fox let himself chuckle. What a relief! “Although, after six months under Thorn's command, I wonder what shape the Guard will be in, or if it will even exist.”
“Senator Chuchi will pick you up in her speeder and take you to your apartment, after her Senatorial duties are finished.” said Senator Amidala, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Sounds good, but I don't want to bother her.” Fox said, his happiness slightly fading.
“Don't worry, it won't be a bother. Your apartment is very close to hers.” Senator Amidala said firmly, in a tone that stopped any further discussion.
——————————————————————————
“Well, looks like I'm in charge now.” Thorn said, haughtily. “You must all obey me!”
“Cut it out, Thorn.” Fox smiled.
“Or else what, He Who Is No Longer Commander? What can you do?” Thire teased.
“Well, you'll see, in about six months.” Fox replied, in an ominous tone.
Stone started laughing, and soon Thorn and Thire were as well. Fox finished pulling off his armor, and gave it to Thorn.
“I'll keep this safe for you.” Thorn assured him. “I'll put it in the vault, unless you would like to?”
“I'd better put it in myself. I am the only one who knows the combination.” Fox said with another smile.
“I know the combination. I just have a tendency to forget it!” Thorn shouted at Fox, as the latter walked towards the vault.
Fox opened the vault, and after checking to see that no one was looking, gently removed the armor that Riyo Chuchi had given him. He placed the armor in his small knapsack, and put his own armor into the vault. He stood there for a few moments, trying to wrap his mind around what had happened.
“I'm here to pick up Commander Fox.” Senator Chuchi was talking to the other troopers. He should probably get to her speeder before someone, probably Thire, says something.
“You sly rascal!” teased Thire. “See you in six months!”
Struggling to keep his face from turning red, and silently cursing, Fox entered the speeder.
——————————————————————————
The apartment was very nice, far nicer than the barracks.
“I hope you like it!” said Senator Chuchi, with an awkward smile. “Here's a comlink to call me, anytime.”
“Thank you very much, Senator.” Fox replied, barely opening his mouth, lest he smile and make a fool of himself.
“Call me Riyo.” said Senator Chuchi, no Riyo, cheerfully. “Good night!”
“Good night!” Fox responded, with a soft smile.
“I hate it when Padméand Mon are right.” Riyo muttered, mentally saving Fox's smile in her memory permanently.
Fox continued smiling, and found an excellent place to hide his knapsack. The food on the table was so much better than any ration bar, the civilian clothing in the closet was comfortable, and the bed was incredibly cozy as well.
He was going to give the Night Fox a night off. So much had happened, and he wanted to analyze every moment. No, he wanted to replay everything that Riyo had said and did. Maybe it wasn't on the same scale as saving innocent civilians from violent criminals, but it still made him smile, and that was enough, at least for tonight.
Tag list: @penguinkiwi, @kris-styx
(send an ask to be added, since I'm having a hard time keeping track based on tags and comments)
#sw#star wars#commander fox#vigilante!fox#the night fox#foxiyo#riyo chuchi#fox x riyo#riyo x fox#swtcw fanfic#swtcw au#tcw fanfic#sw fanfic#sw fic#commander thorn#lieutenant thire#clone trooper stone#clone trooper rys#coruscant guard#padme amidala#mon mothma#orn free taa#the clone wars#swtcw#tcw#my writing
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Blood and... Comfort?
Summary: Zagreus goes overboard during an escape attempt. Thanatos isn’t very fond of this. He decides to pay Zagreus a visit back at the House of Hades.
A/N; Another Thanzag piece! Expect a lot of these coming!!
Zagreus wiped the remainder of the exalted champions blood off his face. His clothing was ruined, blood soaking near to every inch of it, some even his own. He fixed up his hair and adjusted his wreath, keeping a cool expression on his face despite his exhaustion. I could at least keep my face presentable, Zagreus thought.
He looked up at the doors leading to the next chambers, making his decision carefully. Nectar or gemstones, a hard decision. He decided to take the door leading to another bottle of nectar. He thought of who he could give this to as he stepped through the door, but it was quite obvious who it would be. The same person as always.
A few steps into the room, his vision went green and a bell rang. His eyes lit up like the embers of a flame. It's almost as if the Fates read his mind and have decided to present him with the person he was just thinking about.
"Death approaches," The both of them said at the same time, they have gotten used to this. Thanatos faced the prince with shock at his current state.
"Than, it's about time isn't it? I've been waiting for you!" Zagreus said, breathing heavily. He didn't expect speaking to be such a difficult task. Exhaustion slowly started to take over him, but yet still kept the same flare in his eyes as he had when he jumped out the window.
"Zag, why are you still trying?" Thanatos asked Zagreus. The prince's expression slightly faltered at his comment.
"What do you mean? I will continue trying no matter how many times it takes. You know this already, do you not?" Zagreus straightened his posture and kept his hands at his hips. Thanatos sighed.
"That isn't what I meant. You're all beat up, I would dare say even already dead. Why are you still trying when you are in such a condition?" Thanatos gestured to Zagreus' appearance. He wasn't wrong, the prince was a mess despite having tried touching up.
"I don't have a choice Than," Zagreus let out, his expression softening.
"You could just try again-" Than said, but realized how it rang strange to Zagreus' ears. After all, Zagreus would never want to miss an opportunity to go up to the surface yet again, "You know what? Forget it. Let's beat up some more of those exalted champions."
Zagreus didn't need to be told twice. He readied himself, brandishing Stygius whilst holding up his fighting stance. Thanatos blinked to the other side of the chamber, reading his scythe just as Zagreus did his weapon. Slowly, but surely, the champions emerged from the ground, ready for what's to come. The prince dashed towards a Longspear and began slashing his sword wildly. He was used to this type of battle, dash to dodge a strike and find that sweet, sweet opening. He’s done this countless times, some being less smooth and successful as other attempts. Nevertheless, he beat the Longspear with much ease.
The usual exchange between the exalted champions and the two boys went the same as usual after that. Zagreus dashing in, whilst Thanatos remained at a safe distance, striking enemies down with his powers and the occasional swing of his scythe. They would steal each other's kills, Thanatos scoffing when his circle of death went off way after Zagreus had slain the Strongbows. Zagreus smiled wide, the rush of battle entering his veins, empowering each of his moves. The prince stood still for a split second, catching a sharp breath, before being struck right in his shoulder by a Brightsword. His blood rushed like a flame to his head, before hitting the ground, a thud echoing out through the lands of Elysium.
“Zagreus!” Thanatos yelled, voice straining ever so slightly. It has been long since Zagreus died while in the company of Thanatos. Seeing him fall now hurt more than it should have. Thanatos conjured up a large circle under him, surrounding the entire chamber, killing the remaining foes instantly.
Thanatos made sure each of the foes were dead once more before heading over to Zagreus’ side. The light in Elysium basked his body, which was laid turned away from Thanatos. Blood had settled on Zagreus’ shoulder, trailing down his spine. It was horrific to look at so intensely, yet Zagreus made death seem beautiful. Thanatos picked him up and brought him over to the river Styx in a moment’s notice. Thanatos let go of Zagreus’ corpse, his touch deprived of the ever so little warmth it had left. His body was engulfed by the blood of the Styx taking him away further and further away from Thanatos.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾
Zagreus’ eyes opened to chatter amongst shades and the strong smell of blood. He felt the blood soaking his skin, he knew for certain that he was in the pool of Styx. The wound on his shoulder felt as though it never existed, completely healed up. He remained floating atop the pool of blood, enjoying the feeling for a little while longer. He eventually grew bored of floating around in the Styx, getting up and out of the pool. He slicked his hair back, feeling the remainder of blood trailing down his neck. He pulled Stygius out of the pool with him and put it to his side.
“Welcome back, prince!” Hypnos waved excitedly to Zagreus a bright smile covering his face, “Let’s see… You died to another one of those Brightswords! Must’ve sucked, huh? Maybe next time try moving aside when they swing their swords around? That should help!”
“You’re right. I’ll do that next time.” Zagreus sighed. He had gotten used to Hypnos’ snarky remarks, but he was much more tired of them today. He walked away, heading straight to his room without going to see Achilles. He wanted to lay down, for once.
The prince entered his room and was greeted with Thanatos facing away from the door, observing his belongings. Thanatos let out a soft chuckle and turned to face the boy.
“I can’t say I was expecting you, Than,” Zagreus said, approaching the other boy. Thanatos had his arms crossed, with a smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, considering how you died while in my presence, I felt like I had to pay you a visit,” Thanatos moved over to be closer to the bed, leaving Zagreus standing in the middle of his room all alone, “You need to rest and stop pushing yourself too far out there, Zagreus.”
The prince looked down, unable to meet the other boy’s eyes. He knew he was right, he was always going too far to reach his goal. He always faced his mother drenched in blood from head to toe; she always cleaned him up afterward. What else could Zagreus do? He wanted to see his mother over and over again, one time wasn’t near enough. With Thanatos presenting him with this much concern, coming to see him when he’s almost dead in Elysium and seeing him when he’s back at the House of Hades, how could he turn Thanatos away?
“Just lay with me for a moment. It could even be as short as a second, but do not go back out there yet, please.”
Zagreus was sold by that alone.
He walked over to his bed as quickly as he could and dragged Thanatos down to the bed with him. The sudden movement had Thanatos looking at the prince, eyes wide, but his expression softened immediately at the sight of Zagreus’ sweet smile. The both of them moved closer to each other still, Zagreus resting his head on Thanatos’ shoulder. Thanatos wrapped his arms around the prince, which made him do the same. Zagreus let out a muffled chuckle, to which Thanatos smiled. Zagreus couldn’t see the way Thanatos’ eyes were shining bright with the warmth of his lover taking over his usually cold body. Zagreus found comfort in his cold embrace. He’d always been surrounded by the scorching hot embers of the underworld, but Thanatos was there to provide him with a new feeling he grew to love over time.
Thanatos had his head resting on the prince’s, stroking his hair gently while caressing his back all the same. The warmth reached his hands with even the faintest touch. He would flutter his hands along Zagreus’ back, which made the prince shiver, but he was quick to laugh it off. He gently removed the flaming wreath off the prince’s head. He placed it onto the bedside table. Thanatos ruffled Zagreus’ hair, smelling the sweetness of what he could only think to be the smell of Pomegranates. Of course that’s what his scent was; Zagreus loved those. Thanatos loved that. Thanatos loved everything about Zagreus.
Thanatos laid there for long over a moment, noticing Zagreus’ slowed breathing. He’s fallen asleep, he thought. And he was right; Zagreus was fast asleep in his arms. Thanatos shifted slightly to get himself more comfortable and allowed himself to doze off as well.
Zagreus could always try escaping later, he thought before shutting his eyes and drifting off in his dreams.
[date posted; 20.12.20]
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Whumptober 2021: Day 2
Talking is Overrated
Hades Fanfiction | Choking
Summary: Zagreus has had enough of Theseus, and decides to try something new in their next encounter. In their battle in Elysium, someone goes a little too far.
Until we meet again, mother.
Eager to reach the summit and the snows of Greece, Zagreus takes up his bow and pierces through countless undead denizens, much like every other day before him.
After receiving the great goddess Demeter's blessing, he opens the double doors to the colosseum. This would lead him to the final trial in his journey through Elysium, which he had loathed since the first time he set foot there, not for the challenge, mind you, but for the man he would be facing.
Zagreus is greeted with the cheers of a thousand spectating souls of the Elysian arena. All around him are watchtowers and seats filled to the brim with the shades and shadows of champions and spectators long past. Grand gold banners featuring the visage of a handsome, bronze-skinned man, and a proud, red-horned bull-man, are hung around the arches. They were Theseus and Asterius, and they represented the cream of the crop, the pride and glory of Elysium.
He's rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation before he even looks up at the duo.
"And here he comes, the foul beast! Come to get pummeled by me and my trusted friend, have you? Well, look no further!" Theseus, the oh-so-mighty champion of Elysium, friend of the gods and of the people. If looks could kill, they could, because his personality radiated look at me - his incredibly toned body, shield and spear in one hand. His friend and fellow fighter, the mighty bull of Minos, sneers at Zagreus.
The heart-seeking bow thrums with pure, unbridled energy in Zagreus’ hand, eager for a fight. Bows are not supposed to have feelings, but somehow, he could feel it radiating annoyance from hearing the notorious speaker.
Zagreus pipes up. "I should say the same thing to you, mate. Why don't you let poor Asterius here talk sometime? He must be bored to death with how much boasting you spew."
The man-bull, Asterius, swings his towering axe, its glint dangerous and shiny. “We’ve talked about this before, short one. I’m indebted to him, and there is nothing more to say about this.”
He was not one for words, as experience puts it. So Theseus speaks for him. “Silence,you wretch! I'll have you know that he has no time to talk with knaves like you. You’ll never achieve anything, and if it takes the will of the gods to come and teach you a lesson, then I happily oblige.”
Theseus raises his spear, and the audience cheers in anticipation.
“Now die!”
Asterius huffs and charges down the arena as Zagreus dashes away to prepare a frosted arrow. With not a word, Zagreus’ frozen arrows fire true at the bull. At the same time, he dodges the attacks coming at him from Theseus’ spear. His moves are fluid and efficient - one charged arrow after another, and he smirks as he sees the already-weaking Asterius, the spring in his charge getting slower by the moment. Theseus, on the other hand, seems not to be bothered at all by this, and remains sneering at him, not a scratch on his toned body. Still, that damned champion keeps talking.
“Back, foul daemon, or be vanquished even faster than you've come to expect!"
It has been many attempts before he’s come to familiarize himself with the duo’s moves. Theseus always proves to be a difficult one as he's always kept his distance, and when Zagreus comes close enough to strike, he holds out his shield, laughing all the while. Setting himself between one of the podiums, he easily dodges Asterius’ axe bearing down upon him, but somehow he was grazed by a shockwave of purple energy, scoring him across his right leg.
“Argh! You..” Zagreus winces in pain. He stands up - there was no room for error here - and situates himself in another podium as he takes a bloodstone to cast a fog of thunder and poison. As soon as Asterius charges towards him, he throws the bloodstone in the air and it explodes in a haze of purple and yellow, temporarily stunning the bull-man.
Zagreus then calls upon Artemis to finish the job. In a flash of green, the hunter's seeking arrow bears down on Asterius and he screams as he drops to the ground, lifeless. In the underworld, no one truly dies - so the blood of the river Styx comes to claim his body, to be resurrected once more.
“Asterius, no!”
Theseus growls. Across the colosseum, Zagreus can feel the anger and sadness in his opponent’s voice as he prepares to cast another festive fog in his direction. The crowd roars with anticipation as Theseus throws his spear in Zagreus' direction, and he successfully pierces his shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp.
“What, blackguard, had enough? We're just getting started!” Theseus stops for a moment, and calls upon a favor from Olympus.
“Lord Ares, give me your power!”
The arena suddenly darkens, and there is a chill that makes Zagreus’ stomach drop. All around Zagreus, deathly, bloodstained blades materialize out of nowhere and threaten to drop at his head anytime. Zagreus prepares to fire an arrow, but suddenly feels a pierce at his lower right side. It hurt, but he had to keep pressing forward, finding an opening where he could rest and nock a frosted arrow once more. All the while, Theseus comes nearer to him, taking his spear while avoiding the frenzy of Ares’ blades.
“I could destroy you, right here, right now. But not yet. I want to see you suffer and bleed out across the arena, just like what you’ve done with my Asterius!”
Zagreus was not at his peak performance. His carelessness led him to be struck by another blade as the wind got knocked out of his chest. Theseus closes the distance between them. His spear presses onto his bleeding side, and Zagreus can feel the pain blossom and explode. He screams as he feels life leave him, and Theseus smirks in smug satisfaction.
“There we go--" and the spear presses ever deeper. "--The gods are in my favor, and I will do everything I can to prove that I am qualified for that. Without their blessings, you are nothing. This help from Lord Ares is nothing, as even without it..” The spear in Zagreus’ side connects with the wall behind him, and Zagreus cries out in pain. “I can crush you, like the little vermin you are. I’m here to stop you from accomplishing whatever it is you want to do beyond here, Zagreus, because you’re not worthy--”
Theseus chokes on his words as Zagreus’ screams, darkness enveloping his body as he defies death. He feels life come back to him and his newfound strength gives him the energy to take an arrow and slash at Theseus’ face. In a flurry, Zagreus turns the tables. He takes out the spear on his side and takes Theseus by the neck, slamming him onto the wall of the colosseum. He takes his spear and with much force, stabs Theseus on the heart with it, and into the void Theseus screams.
“Khh.. what--”
“Shut up, Theseus. You’re the vermin. Not me.”
A blade comes down to deal damage to Zagreus but he endures the pain as it slices his right arm. Theseus is on the ground, nearly lifeless, a gaping hole in the middle of his proud chest. In his fury he tries to reach for his spear but Zagreus merely stabs it onto the hole he’s already made, blood quickly pouring out of it. At the same time he raises his foot, stepping on Theseus’ mouth to prevent him from speaking again.
In the same fashion that Asterius had exited, so too did Theseus. There was fear in his blue eyes as Theseus looked up to see Zagreus and his mismatched eyes with a crazed look. There was a fury that was not there before. Perhaps, he thought, he had said something wrong. Perhaps, he thought, he had gone too far. His body gives in as the floor becomes liquid, the river Styx claiming his body.
The crowd in Elysium cheers as only Zagreus is left alone in the colosseum, the indication that he was the victor. But Zagreus does not look up. He remembers Theseus’ words, as he recalls that that was the first time he has ever addressed him by his name. Somehow, that scared him. Perhaps, he had gone too far.
He takes his strides as he collects the bounty of ambrosia in the middle of the arena. He raises a hand towards the singular shade that has a banner with his visage on it, and he wondered what they thought about their actions in the battle. But he cannot talk, as he has much to think about.
As silently as he had entered, Zagreus headed toward the double doors that lead to the Temple of Styx open up to him, leaving behind the audience of Elysium.
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Bitter Revival
[Pairing: Zagreus/Thanatos - Fandom: Hades (Video Game)]
[Rating: Teen+ Audiences]
[Important Tags: Light Angst, Argument, First Run Spoilers]
[Fic Type: SFW Drabble]
[AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493994 ]
[Summary: Zagreus made it to the surface for the first time, only to be dragged back under.]
[Note: This is basically one hour of me being pissed off after my first run, coincidentally the first time I met Thanatos, too! Great timing.]
~~~
Zagreus had been frustrated with dying before – of course it was irritating to be put through excruciating pain again and again, only left to drag himself from the sticky river of blood and do it all over again. Expelling the irritated tension in his body, he would chat briefly with those that supported him, catching them up and once again saying thanks for their tolerance. Then the prince would stop by Cerberus to apologize for this tease of disappearing indefinitely only to come back and give the big mutt false hope.
Afterwards, he would take the berating from his father with an eyeroll and a shrug, and be on his way. A simple routine, mundane and frustrating, but never angering. In fact, more or less it just gave him something greater to undertake than that blasted paperwork.
But this time was different. This time, the prince seethed. The house was quiet at his return, the usual milling number of Shades absent. Even the ever-present scratching of his father’s quill seemed softer, more distant. Hypnos’ snores were not present either.
It was quiet, and Zagreus lie there in the river for a moment before dragging himself up the steps, the wet and sticky sloshing sound grating against his ears, the sound repulsive to his pounding skull. He pushed a hand through his thickly soaked hair, almost cursing when some dripped down his forehead around his eyes.
Zagreus took the few steps out of the Styx, glaring at the ugly trim carpet and how smoke rose from its fabrics when his feet met the floor. The rushing sound in his ears made him feel as though he was still in the river itself; and admittedly, the prince would rather lie down for another moment before pushing forward yet again.
He had made it all the way through – to the surface, past his father, to his mother… and for what? To be gone in moments? It was unfair. Why death always came to him was like a curse, and the thought of putting up with it again made Zagreus’ blood boil for the first time since he set out.
Death approaches. It always did, eventually.
The prince barely managed to stop short before knocking into someone, spotting the hovering, bare grey feet adorned in golden anklets. Of course. Normally, Zagreus would sigh with a fond exasperation, quickly thinking of excuses for his past actions. The leaving, the lies, all that.
But now he resigned to close his eyes briefly, biting back a growl, and raised his head to meet the piercing gaze of Death Incarnate himself.
“Zagreus.” Thanatos said simply, his tone dull and dampened, yet echoing all at once. “You made it to the surface.”
“I did, Than,” Zagreus replied, only his own words came out more scornful, harsher than he had ever intended. Well, suppose it was warranted in his current state. It was the sentiment carried forward from his true feelings.
“I’m sorry to see you back here then, although it possibly could have done some good to mention to me where you were off to. I could have been present along the way.”
“Oh, you were plenty present, Thanatos. I don’t recall being spared any of the pleasantries of a full death ticket,” Zagreus did not have time nor energy for this. He pushed past Thanatos, tried not to notice his gaze boring into his back.
Thanatos followed behind, his own glare then tangible despite persistence unlike his usual disposition. “I risk much for you, wasting my time out there when I have enough to do on my own. The least you could have done was informed me of your departure. Or consult in me about your brief success. Zag.”
“Shove off, Thanatos, I have to go back. I don’t have time for this.”
“You seem to have plenty of time to run out there and destroy things again, things I need to help fix I’m afraid.”
“Thanatos,” Finally halting his pace, Zagreus groaned again and turned around, threading a hand through his now dry hair, pushing it back from his forehead and letting the brief pain of the pull at his roots ground him. “Consider for a moment that I don’t care much for logistical things like that. Consider, maybe, that the only thing that matters to me is reaching my mother, my birth mother, and asking her the questions that have plagued me for… however long it’s been. Please, I’m asking you to see that and maybe leave me be when I go back out there. “
Thanatos had ceased drifting forward to meet him, instead regarding the prince with stoic expression that solidified like the hard edges of a marble bust. A change flickered in the golden light of his eyes, somehow the shade turning slightly darker. “Mother Nyx was just as much a mother to you as she was to us, Zagreus. But is that all we are now, a ‘logistical’ matter? I would have expected more from a lifelong friend.”
“Some life this is then, being lied to.” Zagreus scowled, for Thanatos was turning his words against him. Surely, as his lifelong friend, Zagreus knew that Death Incarnate was aware exactly of his thought process; that he never took his friends and family for granted, that those who cared for him such as Thanatos and Nyx were the few things that made this claustrophobic Underworld experience bearable. But no, Thanatos’ own grudge towards the prince himself for attempting to leave on impulse must take the foreground, always a quarrel with them. “I’ll be frank now, then. Kindly leave me alone, Thanatos, keep your death far away from me. Because I’m going back to her, to Persephone.”
Thanatos did not flinch, but his upper lip twitched in the tease of a scowl, and that was as good as a recoil. Zagreus took little pleasure from inflicting cruel words, but something about this defiance felt good. He raised his chin, glaring Thanatos down, and could have sworn those hovering feet drifted ever so slightly further towards the ground.
Golden eyes darted over towards the great desk of Lord Hades, but the busy deity seemed lastingly unperturbed. Still, Thanatos spoke softly. “You know I cannot help you, Zagreus. I… I have a duty to stick to, and I cannot stray from that. Even for you.”
An unspoken hesitation in his words spoke volumes, and once again a shift in hue of those beautiful eyes made Zagreus’ heart stutter, something beat and clench in his chest. Still, if Thanatos would stew over a grudge for this long, then two could play at that game. Zagreus’ own started today, or night, whenever it was that his presence was ripped from his mother after all he worked for. Dragged under by the cold and cruel hands of death itself, colder than the wind and snow that whipped about Greece on the surface, again and again. But that time it had hurt even more, an injustice for once clearing the prince of blame for his own passing.
Zagreus knew exactly where the sudden surge of anger came from, but not why or how he allowed it to burst out, right to Thanatos’ unsuspecting face. “Fuck off, Than, truly. You do your work, that’s fine – You do what you are meant to do. But I? I don’t know, I hardly do, and here I must find my mother. Maybe, if I had more than a few painful, bleeding moments with her, then I’d feel some sense of belonging and drive akin to how you treat your work, yes? And if considering you as a logistical obstacle hurts, well, I’ll have you know I’m quite insulted to be seen as your work as well then. My constant death is monotonous to you, and for that, I say please fuck off.”
The House was so quiet. Zagreus’ strange eyes burned, and he would be remiss if not to mention that a cruel little vengeful glee spiked his adrenaline when he saw the way Thanatos looked, features stolid but the well-memorized tells of his timidity betraying him. For the first time since they began speaking, Thanatos looked away, another sneaking glance to the grand desk at the forefront of the room.
Hades had ceased writing for a pause, watching his son before a rumbling scoff left with an exhale of breath. Then, the scratching of the quill resumed.
Thanatos swallowed, looking back to Zagreus.
“Fine,” He whispered, that voice steady at this low volume. Zagreus wondered how it would sound should he speak louder. “I shall leave you entirely to your devices. Expect not to hear from me until I come to collect you back to the river. And that means you will receive little of my help, too.”
“As if you were helping from the start.”
“Zag, please don’t take that tone with me again.”
Zagreus wavered then, his brow relaxing as a soft sigh left his lips. But he could not apologize, he could not relent merely minutes after such an outburst. Squaring his shoulders, he nodded so briefly it was hardly caught. But Thanatos saw. And Zagreus turned on his heel.
Death Incarnate disappeared with a burst of green and grey. The prince only fleetingly wondered on what business he originally came to the House, to leave without finishing the original task.
Unless coming to gloat was the initial intent. No, gloating was not in Than’s nature… Zagreus scrubbed a hand over his face with a guilty groan, and marched right through his room into the tiny courtyard to the rear of the house.
And Centaur Hearts were scarce going forward in his escapes; with the added pact from his father, Zagreus cursed the odds he had accidentally and foolishly stacked against himself.
#hades game#hades supergiant#hades fanfic#hades drabbles#again this was supposed to be like 500 words lol#back on my bullshit#ziggyzagreus#hades#house of hades#hades thanatos#thanatos#thanatos hades#death approaches#death incarnate#thanatos x zagreus#zagreus x thanatos#thanzag#thanatos/zagreus#zagreus/thanatos#thanatos fanfic#zagreus fanfic#the river styx#angsty#light angst#arguments#spoiler warning#hades fandom#zagreus#hades zagreus#zagreus hades
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Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.
Chapter Thirty: The Brazillian Business Man and his Silk Suit
Luz stood there on the edge of the mountain screaming out for Amity until her throat was raw.
She hadn’t seen where she landed. Beneath about twenty feet below her, there were piles of rocks and some shrubs covering the base of the mountain. Luz hadn’t realized just how deep the tunnel to the cave ran. The portal had been so deep inside the mountain, it was like they hadn’t climbed it at all.
Amity was down there somewhere. Luz kept hoping, praying, that any moment now she was going to climb out of one of the bushes, call out to Luz that she was okay, and they would meet outside the mountain.
That hadn’t happened.
But she kept screaming. Hoping. Praying.
“I don’t understand,” Hestia mumbled from right behind her. Now that the tremors had subsided and the portal had been shut down, she was more willing to stand near the edge next to Luz. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
Luz felt anger rise in her chest so quickly she couldn’t help but spin around on her.
“Of course it wasn’t! She wasn’t supposed to die! Amity always is the one who sacrifices everything for everybody. Couldn’t she for once get to share some of that burden? She deserved better!”
Hestia seemed surprised by her outburst, and Luz knew it wasn’t a good idea to scream at goddesses, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Amity was gone.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Hestia said slowly, thankfully deciding not to take what Luz had said personally. “I meant that she is not the hero in the prophecy who is supposed to die.”
“What do you mean supposed to die? Nobody was supposed to die!” Guilt was beginning to eat its way up into Luz’s chest. She’d promised Amity things would be different, that maybe the prophecy was misleading. Now she finds out that wasn’t true?
Was Amity the wrong one? Even if she was, would Luz be able to handle Willow or Gus dying in her place? She didn’t have to ponder those horrific thoughts for much longer.
“Luz, you are the hero whose life ends.”
Luz was stunned into silence, her whole body freezing up.
“What?”
Hestia is watching her with careful eyes. They were so much warmer now that she’d been freed and Belos had fallen. She seemed to glow, her whole body illuminating a soft sheen. The healthiest nine year old she’d ever seen. She also shimmered with a sort of power, one that made Luz feel weird about looking down on.
But she was hooked onto Hestia’s words, desperate to understand. Hestia’s bright amber eyes flickered between Luz’s own brown ones, searching for something.
“It cannot be Amity who dies. It was her prophecy that foretold a death, but her hands would only bear the weight of the journey. You, on the other hand, are the most important piece to the puzzle. The escape.”
“It takes four…” Luz murmured softly, remembering her own prophecy, and Hestia offered a little smile.
“Yet I only saw two of you here today.”
“Willow and Gus, my companions… they’re fighting off the demigods,” Luz mumbled under her breath, running a hand through her hair. Luz might be a little dense sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid. And right now she was wracking her brain trying to figure out what was going on. “They bought us time to come down here and save you. And… and we did. And Amity’s gone. The prophecy lied!”
Hestia shook her head. “Luz Noceda, you’re quest is not over.”
“No, it’s not.”
Luz turned her head to the sound of the new voice, and at first, she clenched her sword, worried that she had a new enemy to fight. But this… this wasn’t an enemy.
It was a man, with deep chestnut coloured skin and wavy dark brown hair that was styled neatly on the top of his head. He had a chiselled jaw, and a clean five o’clock shadow covering his face. His eyes were light brown, and as Luz examined him closer as he slowly walked towards them, she noticed that there was a tiny slit in his thick eyebrows.
He was wearing an expensive-looking, slim-fit, dark blue silk suit, not dissimilar to the color of the one Luz wore to the fake prom, which already felt like eons ago. In his hand was a winged staff, with two real snakes curling around the ends of it. A Caduceus.
She would have known who he was without her new knowledge of the Greek Gods. Her Mami had always talked about him this way. A very successful businessman from Brazil, who'd she only met because he was vising the country on a work trip.
Her father, Hermes.
If Luz wasn’t so wired with grief, anger, and exhaustion, she might have been excited to meet him.
The messenger god was walking slowly towards them, towards Luz, and for a moment, she saw what looked like hesitance cross his face. It infuriated Luz. He’d been gone for her whole life, never bothering to show up or be there for her, and he chose now to intervene? Now to make his grand appearance?
A week ago, she would have felt honoured. Now, it felt like a slap in the face.
“Hello, Luz.”
She wanted to scream. To whip out her sword and slash Aletheia right across his face. But Luz didn’t have the resolve she wanted. She was upset, hurt, and heartbroken. She didn’t want to be angry at a father who’d never been around. That felt like an overreaction. She didn’t want to overreact. She just wanted Amity back.
“Hola, padre.”
It was colder than her usual tone, and Hermes didn’t miss it. He winced, and Luz felt a tiny twinge of satisfaction in her gut. He didn’t deserve to feel comfortable around her.
“I… know how you must feel about me,” he said quietly, “and I don’t blame you for it. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Luz echoed, her eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. “Sorry doesn’t cut it! I’ve been on this quest with just my friends without your help for almost two weeks. I’d been alone my whole life before coming to camp. Now Amity…” her voice breaks, and she shakes her head. “You should have been there. You should have helped me!”
“I have done my best to aid you on your quest,” Hermes insisted, gesturing to the sword in her hand. “I guided you to Peleus’ sword, the first key to the mountain. It’s the same one I enchanted centuries ago for him. I granted Aphrodite’s chariot great speed to get you to Indiana. You asked me to bless your throw in Orpheus’ manor, and I did just that.”
“You left my Mami,” Luz said through gritted teeth, even if her brain was buzzing with new information. “You left me to grow up with her alone.”
“Your mother is a strong, brave, and dedicated woman,” Hermes said with a nod. “I wanted to be there for you, but it was not my place to do so. All demigods must grow up alone, without the guidance of their goldy parents. And you are special, Luz. I could not interfere with the prophecy.”
She looked down at her now-battered white shoes, which had been brand new when she’d first come to camp. She wanted to argue with him. To go on and put Hermes in his place for being an absent father. But she just didn’t have the energy to argue with a god.
Hermes stepped forward, reaching out to her. Luz didn’t push him away. He settled his hands on her shoulders firmly.
“Luz, look at me.”
She looked up and blinked. She’d been wrong about his eye colour. They weren’t brown, but a deep bronzy hue. They were narrowed in a determination she thought was familiar. As she looked on, she realized why. It was not dissimilar to the look Alador had given her right at the end of their one on one conversation.
“"Por favor,” he pleaded, “déjame ayudarte."
Luz swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure how she felt about her father, but at the very least, she owed this much to Amity to do her best to finish the quest they’d started, even if she couldn’t.
“Okay. What do I need to do?”
Hermes was quick to step back and give Luz space, this time turning to Hestia, who Luz had completely forgotten was standing there.
“The portal will not be closed until we can make sure Belos will never be able to activate it again. His soul has reappeared in Charon’s office, just as it did the first time he died. He will be taken across the River Styx for trial, but he had prepared for something like this. His portal is on the outskirts of the Underworld, between the Fields of Asphodel and the River Acheron. Instead of wandering past the line with the dead, he will take a secret passageway back to the portal, and will try to open it again from the inside.”
“That makes no sense,” Luz retorted, “we’ve freed Hestia. The portal just can’t reopen without her.”
Hermes nodded, “you’d be right, usually. But the portal was able to fuse with the mountain and lock in Hestia’s hearth. She could be on Olympus, or on the moon, and it still wouldn’t matter. Her divine essence has fused with it.”
“Okay, so how do we stop the portal from reopening?”
Hestia and Hermes shared a look, and reality hit Luz like a truck.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Luz. But you’ll have to be the hero one last time,” Hestia said softly. “The portal must close.”
And Luz agreed. Amity had fallen down a mountain for this. For all of this to be over and done, and for Belos to never be able to hurt any demigod ever again.
“I’ll do it. I’ll go to the Underworld and close the portal.”
Hermes’ mouth twisted into a smile, something between pride and amusement. “It won’t be easy. You’ll have to get past Belos and his army. But I’ll help you in every way I can. You won’t be alone.”
Luz’s brow furrowed. “What, you’re coming with me?”
“Not quite,” he replied with a chuckle. It was deep and grizzly but also somehow soothing and gentle at the same time. “The Olympians cannot cross into Hades' realm without his consent. But I am not just the god of travellers, you know. I am the god who guides all travelling souls to the Underworld. I did not just come here to guide you, Luz. I came here with a message. There is a soul the pantheon has agreed to spare if you complete your quest and stop this portal from bringing the downfall of Olympus.”
Luz's heart started to race. Did he mean…?
Hermes reached out and placed a hand back on Luz’s shoulder. This one was much gentler than the last, firm grip. It was almost fatherly.
“Amity is not a casualty of this prophecy, Luz. The two of you must destroy the portal from the inside, and stop Belos for good. You’ll find her waiting in line to be judged. But a warning: she won’t be the demigod you once knew. Many in the Underworld need to be reminded of who they are.”
Luz wasn’t worried about that. Amity was the strongest person she knew. When they were together, they were unstoppable.
“She must hurry,” Hestia muttered, rubbing her palms together. It was a weird gesture, she was moving so quickly it looked like she was trying to catch a flame between her hands. “I can already feel my powers weakening.”
“I can’t go without telling Willow and Gus,” Luz said, preparing to turn and sprint back up the mountain path from which she came.
“You must! We are out of time,” Hermes said with a shake of his head. “It takes four to escape, and release goddess caged”. They have their own role to play in allowing the portal to open, and guarding it while you’re on the other side. And… they will need to recover Amity if her soul is to come back with you.”
Luz hesitated. She’d come so far with their help, she couldn’t just… leave.
The hand on her shoulder gave a comforting squeeze. “Luz, por favor, se nos acabó el tiempo.
I will stay here, and guide them while you are gone. I swear it on the River Styx.”
“As will I,” Hestia said with a nod. “I swear it.”
Luz took a deep breath. She needed to get a grip. Besides, after all this, what was one more quest to the Underworld to stop an evil demigod from taking over the world?
Easy peasy.
“Okay. When we find the portal, how do we close it?”
“You will need this,” Hestia said, and Luz realized that she hadn’t just been rubbing her hands together for nothing. In her hands was a tiny flame, and she extended it out to Luz. “One touch with this on the portal and it will open for you and Amity to walk back through. When the power of my hearth has touched both sides, I will be able to use it to burn the connection between us. The portal should fall apart.”
Luz was a little nervous to take the flame, but she was surprised how easy it fit in her hand. There was no burning like she thought, but rather a warm tingling sensation right in the middle of her palm. After a moment, it shrank and shifted into an ambered coloured plastic lighter.
“A warning,” Hestia added, and Luz glanced up at her tone. “Only a living soul may harness my hearth. It is yours and yours alone to carry.”
Luz nodded, gently setting the lighter in her pocket. “I won’t give it to anybody else. I promise.”
“Then it’s time,” Hermes said, and Luz tilted her head to look up at him. “I must allow you to pass into the Underworld. Are you ready?”
More than she would ever be. She shrank Aletheia back into a ring, letting it rest onto her finger. She was going to go down there and bring Amity back if it was the last thing she ever did.
“I am. So, how do I get there? Are you going to lend me a flying chariot?”
Hermes laughed. “Not exactly. Take my hand.”
He extended it out for her, and Luz took it. She was surprised how soft it was for a god, but then was somehow equally surprised when he gripped it tightly, not letting her go. His other hand came down to the front pocket of her shorts, the opposite on to where she put the lighter, and he slipped something inside.
“I need you to look at me and not look away. This won’t be pleasant, but it’s the only way for a living soul to travel through the Underworld unscathed.”
Then, Hermes started to glow. At first, it was oddly beautiful, his whole body lighting up golden around the edges of his suit, like a picturesque model of a Bloomberg business magazine. Then, it got uncomfortable, and Luz was squinting, and she knew right away her eyes were starting to burn as it got brighter and brighter.
It was bordering on painful when her head started to get woozy. “Dad, are you sure this won’t kill me?”
The last thing she remembers is his soothing, deep-throated, chuckle. “Well, I've never done this before, but even so I'm fairly confident it will work.”
The burning got so bright she couldn’t see anything but white, and her whole body tingled like she was burning alive without the excruciating physical pain that should have been paired with it.
Then, there was nothing.
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the unseen one - 22
Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: smut
A/N: i’m so sorry this took so long to come out, i got very confused and blocked in my own writing? idk, big writer block with this one so i decided to go watch some mythology documentaries and read some books to get the creative vibes flowing and this is what came out of it.
Next Chapter >>
To say that Bucky was mad at her was the understatement of the year. No, the understatement of the century and it was driving Y/N crazy. She hated to see Bucky mad because he simply never looked it, he never exploded or screamed at her, he’d just excuse himself and be away from her with the look of utter disappointment.However, in normal circumstances, he’d return to her side and only discuss out how he was feeling. Today was not one of those days.
She had arrived from the Elysium with Psyche around sunset, and he wasn’t home or in his office. No candles were light, and there was no smell of smoke either which suggested he hadn’t been home in a long time and despite Psyche offering up to help her look for Bucky feeling guilty over it, Y/N just sent her home back to her husband.
Hours passed, and she was sat in the living room expecting his arrival, but after he didn’t come home, Y/N decided to go to bed. What a terrible, terrible decision as once she laid down, every single thing came rushing to her. She felt awful for maybe not discussing it with him about going to the dinner, but at the same time, she didn’t want Psyche to get any more impossible labours at the hand of Aphrodite. After turning around at least a couple hundred thousand times, she raised her torso, magically expecting him to be back so she could apologise. He, however, wasn’t, and for the very first time, she found it more soothing not to be in bed.
Carefully, she tiptoed to the kitchen, turning the kettle on and resting her chin against her hands as she heard the water boil. After stem filled the room, she placed a tea bag on one of James’ pristine white cups and added some water, opening the windows of the kitchen to hear the sound of restless sounds which sounded way better than the sound of her overthinking mind. What she wasn’t expecting was to see James sat by the river Styx’s shores, smoke coming from around his figure. Intending to fix whatever she had done, she stepped out of the house, ignoring how cold the meadows were during the pure black night and walked up to Bucky. He was smoking, something she didn’t know he did and in normal circumstances, she would complain about it, but since he was immortal, she guessed it couldn’t kill him.
- Thought you’d be sleeping by now. - he took the liberty of speaking first as she sat on the shore by his side. - A bit late for you to be up.
- I was worried about you. - Y/N tapped her fingers against the ground, slowly reaching towards his to test him. When he didn’t push her finger again, she wrapped her pinky around his. - I’m sorry that I said yes to Psyche, I didn’t know you’d be so against it. I just, I just wanted to help her. Don’t be mad at me.
- I’m not mad at you, sunflower. - he puffed out the smoke that had been in his lungs for longer than it should’ve had, putting the bud off. - I just had a particularly lousy conversation with Hecate. Not feeling particularly useful about it.
- I’m sorry. - Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, the rest of her fingers interlacing it with his. - Penny for your thoughts? Maybe it can make you feel better?
- I don’t think even you can fix it, sunflower. I’m afraid this time Hecate has a relatively stable point.
- Tell me. - she looked at him with the warmest look someone could’ve ever given. He guessed that one way or another she was going to find out, she was a smart girl, and word travelled fast in the Olympus.
- You don’t need to, and I just thought that maybe ... - It’s complicated, but I guess I can start by answering who the man next to me in the photo by the dining room is. - he sighed. - His name is Steve Rogers.
The name rang a bell on her head. Where had she heard that name? Y/N was sure she had heard that name until it hit her. She knew him, well, at least she knew who he was. He had seen his picture in the Smithsonian museum; he was Captain America. Why was Bucky friends with Captain America? Did Captain America roll with the god of the Underworld for fun because if so, it made sense why he was so skilled at avoiding death.
- You’re friends with Captain America, and you never mentioned it to me? - she chuckled, expecting him to do so, but instead, he kept his worried face. - Is that it?
- Steve’s dead, he’s here, and he doesn’t remember me. I had to approve it when he entered the Elysium, sometimes I see him, and he doesn’t know me. I thought there was nothing worse than that, but then Hecate pointed out that’s the same that’s going to happen to you. They’re not going to allow you into the Elysium, you’ll be here in the Meadows, restless, and you won’t know who I am.
- James. - she cupped his face, leaning her forehead against his. - You told me we’d figure it out, so let’s just stick by that. Besides, what does Hecate know about mortals?
- You’re too lovely, Y/N. - Bucky kissed the top of her nose. - Even though you’ve cursed us to dinner with the Pantheon’s couples.
- It can’t be that bad. - she raised from her sitting position, hands still holding his. - We should go to bed. James. It can’t possibly be right for you to stay up all day and night.
- It’s cute you think anything could cause me any harm. - he followed her, hand still connected to hers feeling that constant warmth that always seemed to irradiate from her palm, hair messy from getting up from the bed and a robe wrapped around her.
- There’s gotta be something that can harm even a god, James. No one is safe from harm. - she argued, entering their shared residence, the cup of tea cold and now laying on the dark marble of his kitchen counter. He raised his eyebrow at her statement, eyes moving from her calm yet argumentative complexion to her hand connected to his.
She was right, there was indeed something that could bring any harm to him, preferably someone who could bring any damage to the god of the Dead and that someone was holding his hand, the same hand who’d killed many before and the same hand that had signed off the death of more. She quickly seemed not to care, or maybe be slightly unimpressed by his job.
- You have to stop staring at me like that. - Maybe stop looking like that and then I’ll stop staring at you. - he let go of her hands to place both his palms on her waist, slowly but surely pushing her against his chest.
- I’ll try not to disappear as much, sunflower.
- I’ll try not to say yes to everything in return. - she relished into him, head tucked comfortably into his chest whose cold nature never seemed to bother her. - We should go to bed.
- Maybe we should. - his head leaned onto her uncovered shoulder, leaving a series of kisses where her bra strap mark was. James took her head in his large calloused hands, cupping her cheeks and moving her slowly into their bedroom upstairs, which felt more like stepping into clouds and gradually ascending to the heavens.
His tongue is velvet, warm and somewhat sharp, and it slips in between her lips with ease. His kiss is sickening sweet, almost like kissing someone who had just drank a can of soda. It’s so filthy, so inexplicably right and yet wrong what they were doing and even wronger still was the way he held her throat and chin. A firm hand wrapped around gently around her gentle neck, the tips of his calloused, scarred fingers brushing against it while his thumb held her chin up, just under it, holding it up for better access with a grip only the god of the Death could possess. Y/N fluttered her eyes open to stare at him, finding his narrowed and half-closed blue eyes staring down at her, dirty with lust and desire.
- When I said we should go to bed, I meant we should go and sleep. - she whispered against his mouth, making him chuckle. James stopped kissing her, choosing to peck her skin instead while his hands slid down to her robes to pull them away from her body.
- I thought this would be more up to your liking. - he took her earlobe in his mouth while he quickly slipped his hands to her chest, kneading and caressing her soft breasts in his cold hands, earning a moan from her.
The difference in skin temperature complimented each other so well. She could feel the roughness of his hands against her soft and silky skin making her moan just with the contact of their skins together and as if by a blessing from the Gods themselves, she felt his tongue and lips drift from her neck to her chest as he grabbed her thighs and propelled her up to wrap her legs tightly around his waist to be closer to him. Y/N could feel his large manhood pressed tightly against his underwear, and the mere feeling of his cock pressed up to the middle of her legs so tightly and warm made her wet.
She hadn’t realised how needy she was, the friction in between her legs not being able to compensate for the stimulation he was giving her. His lips and tongue worked wonders on her skin, sucking and nibbling and kissing every inch of beautiful silky skin he could put his mouth on and, once he was finished, she was marked so beautifully by him. Not that Bucky minded that a whole lot, maybe he wanted her to be marked by him at that stupid dinner.
- I can’t wait to feel you throbbing around me, sunflower. I can’t wait to feel you tighten around my thick cock as you scream from the top of your lungs, crying loudly and begging me to make you cum. It’s been so long, sunflower. So long.
She could feel her clit aching, thighs trembling and folds drenched so desperate to be taken by him, legs spread as wide as she could ready to let him use her like he wanted to and enjoyed to. He laid her down in their bed and lodged himself in the middle of her legs, hands on either side of her hips, slowly grinding against her.
- Stop teasing. - she whined. He hummed, undressing in front of her until he’s completely naked like so many times that she had seen him so but, this time, it felt better and right. Y/N felt like this was even better than the previous time they had had been intimate, and when she feels the tip of his shaft slowly enter her, her back rose from the mattress as if she had been possessed.
Somehow, it felt better to do it in no man’s land.
tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319 @nwbstan
#sebastian stan#sebastian stan/reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan x y/N#sebastian stan/you#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan fanfic#sebastian stan drabble#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky/reader#bucky x you#bucky/you#bucky imagine#bucky drabble#bucky fanfic#hades!bucky#hades!sebastian stan
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Healing Touches
Cursed TV 2o2o
Lancewain
Rated T and up but probably actually okay for general audience
sickfic hurt/comfort
Cross Posted to AO3 here
Prompt FIll Healing touches
While Lancelot is away Percival falls deathly ill. There is nothing Gawain can do for him.
Gawain and Percival see Lancelot off. It’s almost a ritual between the three of them. Whoever is not on the mission sees the others off, day or night, rain or shine. They are, for all intents and purposes a family, and all each other has. Plus Pym, but she spends much of her time with the Red spear and her Raiders and in the medical tents, learning. Today is no different, Pym sees him off with basic medical supplies, kisses his cheek, wishes him luck and returns to her tent. Lancelot thanks her with a smile and tucks the supplies into his saddle bag. Percival hugs him tight, tells him he has to come back or he’ll track him down and haul him back by his ass and scream at him till his ears are bloody. Lancelot laughs, hugs him tightly and responds, I’ll miss you too. Gawain looks at him meaningfully, their goodbyes said in the confines of their tent, shared between their bedsheets, steps forward and embarrassed him, whispers in his ear. Lancelot responds in kind, eyes soft and understanding. Its starting to rain again, as it has been all week and likely will continue to do, as Lancelot mounts Goliath and joins the rest of the party. They have orders to follow.
With a sighs and a frown Gawain returns to the camp proper. While he would love to sit vigil with Percival, watch Lancelot and the others disappear from sight, he has duties to attend to. He is Sir Gawain, Green Knight of the Fey, Adviser to Nimue The Wolf Blood Witch, Queen of the Fey, and he cannot afford to sit in the rain and worry for his lover. They are both warriors and it will do little to help bring this war to an end. Instead he pushes away his concern and begins his rounds, leaves Percival to watch. The boy will rejoin him when he is ready, he always does. Percival takes his duties as squire very seriously and Gawain commends him for it, but the boy is still only that, a boy. Percival rejoins him around noon and they continue their rounds, helping where they can, hearing the needs and wants of the people. They help dig trenches to keep the water flowing away from the main parts of camp. Winter will be upon them soon and it is important to prepare everything they can beforehand.
Two days later Percival starts coughing. Gawain doesn’t think much of it, catching a cold this late in the autumn is hardly a surprise. He sends him to Pym for herbs to help with his cough. Percival goes dutifully and keeps up with Gawain the rest of the day, and the day after. On the third day, Gawain notes that Percival looks ill, tells him to stay in bed and rest. He’s no good to anyone sick or spreading the germs around. Percival doesn’t argue just lays back down and sleeps. And sleeps. And sleeps. Gawain and Pym check on him throughout the day. The only time he wakes is to cough, to eat, and to relieve himself. They agree it is only a cold caused by being in the rain and cold so much and do what they can to make him comfortable.
After a week though, his symptoms have worsened and show no signs of improving. Concern wiggles it’s way into the cracks of his armor, like ivy into fortresses. Gawain sits beside Percivals bed and wrings out a cloth, wetting it with cool water as he places it on his forehead. Fever sweat glistens over his skin, and chills convulse his body more violently than shivers. His teeth chatter and then they stop. He listens for his breathing, it stops on occasion for a moment, and then starts again and the instance of silence puts Gawain on edge. Percival has no appetite what-so-ever and barely wakes at all. When he does he suffers severe coughing fits that cause him to vomit, choking on lack of air and gasping, disoriented he asks after Lancelot. Gawain lies. There has been no word from the party and they were to be back the day before last.
Another week goes by and Gawain refuses to leave Percivals side. His duties can wait, Kaze, Korin, Mithela, they take over, cover for him. Check in on Percival and run questions by him, but none of them ask him to leave the boys side. Nimue has tried to heal him, but with no success. None of the medicine in camp has done more than make him comfortable or make him sleep. Now his body is too weak to do anything but sleep. Percival can barely keep his eyes open. Can barely form words. He is lethargic. Thin. His skin the color of corpses and waxy too. Gawain holds his frail hand in his own strong one, watches as he nears the edges of the river Styx. He growls at Morgana when she comes, the woman holds her hands up defensively, assures him she hasn’t come for the boy. Not yet anyways. Gawain tells her to get out. Not to come back. She obeys.
He wakes to light footfalls on the floor three days later. His neck and back ache from being slumped in his chair. When he looks up too tired to do much more, blue eyes meet him. Lancelot is soaked to the bone, the rain turning to snow this last week melting on his cloak as he stands there face contorted with a deep frown. They do nothing more than stare at one another for a long moment and then Gawain breaks. The tears he has been trying not to shed for his son and his lover both breaching the surface of carefully constructed walls. Lancelot shrugs off his cloak and belts and pulls Gawain silently against his chest. They go to the floor back to Percivals bed and stay there until the sun comes up. It's the only comfort Lancelot can give him. His own heart weighs heavy in his chest with concern for Percival.
When Lancelot tells Gawain to go to bed, to sleep, that he’ll watch over Percival, Gawain does as he's told. He knows Lancelot must be exhausted from his own trip due to the delays he still knows nothing about but he can’t shake the weariness that settles in him, around him. He lays back in his bed and sleeps. It is not a good sleep. It is full of dreams and nightmares and a thousand ways Percival, Lancelot, Pym, Nimue, Kaze - his friends die. He sits upright in his bed, breath coming harshly as he wipes sweat from his brow. He peels off his damp, sticky drenched shirt and slips out of bed. He pads anxiously around his tent before dressing and going to see Percival. The sun is high in the sky, and he isn’t sure how long he slept, but he can't help the smile that caresses his face when he enters Squirrels tent.
Lancelot is curled around the boy as though his body can shield him from whatever illness has gripped him. He holds the boy close, tucked against his chest, wrapped firmly in his arms, nose tucked against his hair. Deliberately Gawain closes the distance between them in silence and resumes his vigil in the old, well worn, chair beside his bed. When he wakes again early morning light fills the tent. He blinks sleep from his eyes and then blinks again in disbelief. Lancelot is sitting up on Squirrels bed and sitting up beside him, pressed into his chest is Percival, awake. He looks exhausted, they all do, but he is awake and speaking slowly to Lancelot who speaks quietly back. Neither seem to be aware that he is there, or at least that he is awake. But he doesn’t care. His family is here. HIs family is alive. Pym sets a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, whispers,
“He woke up an hour ago. Won’t let go of Lancelot. He said we should let you sleep. So we did.” She smiles and joins them on the bed, hands Percival a cup of something medicinal, and both Lancelot and Squirrel wrinkle their noses and the boy tries to push it away.
“You’ll drink it.” He says, voice hoarse as he locks eyes with his son.
“Yes Papa.” Percival sighs defeated.
Lancelot smiles at him, holds out his hand to him. Instinctively he stands, takes it and moves to sit on Percivals other side. For all the blood on Lancelot's hands, it was his touch that seems to have brought Percival back and Gawain promises himself that he will cherish them always as he locks their fingers together behind Percival, supporting his weight between them. There is nowhere else in this world he would rather be, he thinks stretching out a hand to include Pym, than welcoming his family home.
#Fanfiction#Cursed TV 2020#cursed fanfiction#Lancewain#Gawain#Lancelot#Percival#Sickfic#hurt/comfort
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Those Three Words
@thestupidhelmet got an ask about the episode “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” that inspired me to write this little thing, so here you go!
I wrote it in three hours and proofread it once, so sorry if its not great. I just had to write it before I lost interest. it’s just a different take on how scenes from after Hyde cheated on Jackie could have (or should have) gone.
Shit. Why did Hyde have to be so stupid? Why didn't he just take a moment to fucking think? Because now, he had lost Jackie forever over nothing.
Jackie rushed into the Hub. Dammit, she was the last person he wanted to see right now. Might as well rip the band-aid off.
"Oh, Steven, look, okay? Whatever you think happened between me and Michael, did not happen, okay? So, everything's fine," Jackie said.
Hyde wanted to melt into the Hub's floor and escape this horrible situation that was entirely his fault. Since that wasn't happening anytime soon, he said, "Actually, we need to talk."
He took her hand and led her out the door. This would probably be the last time he got to hold her hand. The thought felt like sticking needles in his heart, but he wouldn't put his desires first today. He had hurt Jackie, probably beyond forgiving. Now was definitely not the time to be selfish.
He led her to the Camino and sat in the driver's seat. Jackie sat in the passenger's seat. She looked nervous. Hyde hated being the reason for that.
Hyde had no idea how to start this. He had no idea how to begin a conversation that would inevitably break her heart.
Jackie took his silence as an opportunity to explain again. "So, I was in the den, and Michael came over all upset-"
"Jackie-"
"And, Steven, I asked him to leave. And that's when you saw us. But I swear, nothing happened"
"Jackie. Jackie! Stop talking."
She stopped, looking even more nervous than before. No contest to how he was feeling.
"Look, I know all this now, okay? But before I knew, I was at the hotel last night. And I was really mad. There was this nurse." Hyde swallowed.
"And?" Jackie asked, voice wavering.
"And I cheated on you." Hyde didn't want to look at her, but he forced himself to. "I'm really sorry, and I don't expect you to ever forgive me. You really shouldn't forgive me. I did exactly what Kelso always did to you, even though I know how much it hurt you."
Hyde looked away from her. His vision was becoming blurry from tears, an unwelcome sensation. He hated crying, especially in front of people.
"Steven, I-" Jackie's voice was choked. Hyde forced himself to look at her again. She was crying, tears falling down her cheeks. He hated being the cause of those tears. "It's over."
"I know," Hyde said quietly. "I really am sorry."
"I know," Jackie said. "but I can't be with you anymore. I promised myself after Michael I would never be with another guy who cheated on me."
Hyde nodded. She'd told him about that. He'd known just how much Kelso had hurt her, and he'd done the exact same thing.
Jackie sighed and got out of the car. Hyde watched her walk away. Once he was alone in his car in the alley behind the Hub, he slumped until his forehead hit the steering wheel.
Dumbass.
~
"The thing is, I'm really sorry," Hyde said. He was standing in Donna's room with Jackie. He had come over today to tell Jackie a few things.
"Yeah, you said that already," Jackie said, annoyance evident in her tone. She flipped the page of her magazine.
"I know, but there are a few things I didn't say." Hyde took a deep breath. "Everything I'm about to say, I'm only saying it because you deserve to know it. Not because I'm trying to make you forgive me. I know you don't want to be with me, and I'll respect that."
Jackie looked up at him. He couldn't read her face.
"I'm gonna spend forever trying to make this up to you. Even if you never take me back, I promise I will make this up to you. You didn't deserve a second cheating boyfriend, and I'm sorry that I did that to you. It was really fucking stupid of me."
The corners of Jackie's lips twitched up for half a second. Hyde moved past it.
"And, um… I know you don't want to be with me. But you deserve to know this, 'cause I never told you while we were together." Hyde was silent for a moment. "I love you, Jackie."
Jackie didn't say anything right away. "Well, I don't love you."
Hyde nodded. "That's fair. I just… I needed you to know that. It's knowledge that belongs to you, and it's not fair of me to keep it from you. I'll, uh… I'll get outta here now."
Hyde left the room. He hated himself for the past few days, but it felt good to tell Jackie those three words. If only he'd said them sooner.
If Jackie never took him back, at least there would be nothing left unsaid between them. At least, on his end. Jackie now knew he loved her, which was all he needed.
And he would keep his promise. He would make this up to her, by backing off and giving her time to heal. He wouldn't try to get her back, he wouldn't get angry about her not taking him back, he would just let her think things over.
~
Hyde left the hospital room, walking towards the exit to get back to the Camino. He stopped when he heard Jackie's voice calling him from behind.
"Steven, are you okay?"
He turned to face her. "Why?"
"Well, I heard someone fell off the water tower and I thought it could be you and I just…"
"No, it was Kelso," Hyde said. Something clicked in Hyde's brain as Jackie breathed a sigh of relief. "Wait, you came down here 'cause you were worried about me."
"No, I didn't," Jackie said quickly.
"'Cause you still care about me." Hyde couldn't keep himself from smiling.
"Uh-uh."
Hyde smiled and said teasingly, "Good to know."
Jackie hit him on the chest, but she was smiling. "Shut up."
Hyde opened his mouth to tell her he cared about her too, but Kelso came out of the room then. Hyde didn't take his eyes off of Jackie. He was in shock that she still cared about him, after everything he did to her. Seemed like his making it up to her was working.
If he kept that up, he might just have a chance at getting her back.
~
"Stop it! This isn't fun for me anymore!" Jackie said.
Hyde stopped in his tracks. "What? What do you mean fun for you?"
Jackie's eyes widened. "I didn't say that."
"You're making us fight over you, huh?" Hyde asked. He was angry, but he had no right to be angry about something as stupid as that. "Okay, I deserve that."
"I don't!" Kelso said.
Hyde punched him in the arm, both to take his remaining anger out on Kelso and to make him realize he definitely did deserve that.
"Okay, look, you two," Jackie said. "I need some more time to think, all right? I'm definitely not choosing Michael, because I don't have feelings for him at all. And he's hurt me way too many times. But I'm not sure if I want to take Steven back yet. So just give me some time and space, okay?"
Hyde nodded. "Okay."
"What? No!" Kelso said. "What do you mean, you don't have feelings for me?"
"I mean I don't love you or like you or want to be with you," Jackie said. "Deal with it."
Hyde smiled. It was kind of unbelievable how much he loved her. But it was definitely true; he loved Jackie Burkhart. And he probably wouldn't stop.
~
Hyde flipped through his and Forman's joint record collection. Part of him hated that his Led Zeppelin records were in the same bin as Forman's Styx records, but it didn't really matter. Zeppelin was still Zeppelin.
He placed Houses of the Holy on the turntable just as Jackie walked in. She'd been taking time to think and heal. It had been over a month since he'd cheated on her. During that month, Hyde had treated her with kindness and respect, making it clear that his goal was not to get her back.
"Okay, Steven, I've done a lot of thinking the past month, and… I want to take you back," Jackie said.
Hyde couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Really?"
"Yeah." Jackie smiled back at him. "You cheated on me, but you've made it up to me these past few weeks. You've also been unselfish, which really means a lot to me. And I want to be with you, so I'm ready to take you back."
She leaned in and kissed him. He had missed the taste and feel of her lips so badly. He threaded his fingers through her soft hair, relishing the feeling of it between his fingertips.
When they eventually parted, Hyde said, "Jackie, I love you."
"I love you too." Jackie hugged him tightly. It felt good just to hug her. It also felt good to finally be able to say those three words to her and have her say them back.
He would never let her forget that he loved her, not as long as they were together.
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Last Olympian rewrite from Annabeth’s perspective (part 3)
Part 1
Part 2
(Burning Percy’s shroud)
“It is said that Zeus built mortals with 4 arms and legs, and one head with two faces, but only one heart. These mortals were too powerful for Zeus’ liking so he tore them all apart and scattered the mortals around the world, leaving them with 2 arms and 2 legs, and only half a heart.
For the rest of their lives, mortals tried to find their other half to not only be complete but to ease the pain of only having half their heart. But because the world is so vast and mortals do not have forever. They don’t always find them. But. Those that do. Those people who find their other half are called soulmates, they are your equal in every way.
Percy was- is my soulmate. He was the bravest person I knew. And, and I think maybe with time, I would’ve been his soulmate too.” I took a deep breath and laid a hand down over his shroud, a beautiful blue-green his mother and I had chosen.
“I want to thank the Fates for bringing you into my life even if they’re also the ones who took you away from me.
Percy Jackson, I want to say thank you, for reminding me what a hero is, and the importance of mercy. But most of all I want to thank you for showing me what friendship was, true friendship...and love.” I closed my hands into fists to keep them from shaking but all it did was send pain up my arms, which I welcomed.
“Percy may have been the son of Poseidon but I don’t know how to breathe in a world without him.”
“I’m so sorry Seaweed Brain,” I choked on a sob and took another breath, wiping my tears away, “I will honour you. I remember our promise. And I will fulfil it. I swear on the river Styx.”
I turned to Chiron who stood by me solemnly and nodded.
I finally looked up from the shimmering embroidered trident and into the faces of the campers Percy and I had grown up with.
I had buried so many this past couple of days and hours. But we had saved Percy for last. His body was preserved by Hades.
Chiron handed me a torch and patted me on the shoulder as he did so.
Ash fell onto the ground as it shook in my hand.
“Hades watch over you on your journey to the underworld,” I whispered and I laid the torch on him. I held it for a moment before dropping it and fell to my knees sobbing.
Instantly arms were around me, Thalia’s spiky hair tickled my neck as she held me close.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” I shook my head and cried harder.
The flames began to pick up, heat pricking my skin, but I noticed something odd.
“The ocean,” I breathed.
“What?” Thalia asked, pulling away from me.
“He smells like the ocean.” We stared at the flames, the orange-red turning into a bright blue.
Thalia smiled sadly at me and tucked my hair back.
“That means he’s going back home.”
“His home is with me, here at camp,” I insisted. Thalia pulled me back to her and I tucked myself into her shoulder. Her own body shook as we held each other and I remembered her reaction when we’d gotten back from the bridge.
~
“Where’s Kelp for Brains?” Thalia asked, a playful smile on her lips.
“Thalia-” Malcolm cut in, putting an arm around me protectively. Thalia frowned and stared at me.
“Annabeth?”
“I couldn’t-”
“Annabeth where’s Percy?” I finally looked up at her tears streaming down my face.
“He’s dead.” Her entire body froze, and then all the lights in the room blew up.
~
“I thought I might find you here.”
I looked up and tried to smile as Grover came and sat by me, overlooking the lake.
“Thalia’s left,” I said.
“I know, I said bye to her already.”
I reached into my pocket and clasped my hand around the ballpoint pen that sat inside. It had appeared in my pocket minutes after my fight with Kronos, and I’d risked dropping it a couple of times to see what would happen. Each time it came back. I didn’t know what that meant for me.
“Hey, you don’t have to ever think or wonder what if Annabeth.”
“What do you mean?”
“You speech, about soulmates. It was always you. He loved you. He just didn’t know it yet,” Grover took a deep breath and smiled shaking his head as if remembering a memory, “I felt it, constantly, through the empathy link, that type of bond can’t be broken- even in death.”
I looked at him and felt a real smile on my face.
“Thanks, Grover,”
He nodded and wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned on his shoulder as we watched the sunset over the lake.
~
“It’s interesting I think, how at home you think in this cabin.”
I shot to my feet and looked to the sound of the voice.
Poseidon stood by the entrance, trident in hand and smiled at me as he stepped in.
“I mean no disrespect, I just-”
“It’s okay,” he said, waving me off.
I sat back down on Percy’s bed and stuffed Riptide back in my pocket.
“The sword is yours now, should you want it,” Poseidon said casually as he walked around the cabin, inspecting it like it was his first time seeing it.
“But it’s Percy’s,” I started.
“He gave it to you with his last breath. It returns back to your pocket. It is yours, Annabeth Chase.”
I uncapped the pen and Riptide sprung to life, the bronze glow illuminating the low light of the cabin.
“May I?” Poseidon asked, holding out his hand. His trident disappeared as I handed Riptide over. It seemed to glow brighter.
“When- When he died. And I was fighting Kronos’ army. I realised I was glowing,” I said as I watched him examine the blade and twirl it the way Percy did, “I was glowing blue.”
Poseidon handed me the blade again and I capped it, putting it back into my pocket.
“A blessing of sorts you could say. I couldn’t give you the power over water that Percy has, but I could give you a push for what you did have. And then some. Water is a mouldable element, and you could’ve taken my blessing and done whatever with it. The moment you realised what it was, you chose what you knew you needed,” Poseidon smiled again and placed a hand on the wall that held photos of Percy, Annabeth and Grover through the years.
“You chose Percy’s swordsmanship and skill. Not to say you aren’t talented with a sword, Miss Chase but-”
“No it’s okay, none taken...You’re right. I didn’t realise it at the time, but just- all I could focus on was the way he’d given it to me. I don’t think I deserve to wield his weapon.”
“He would be honoured knowing you have ownership.”
Poseidon came to Percy’s bed and opened a drawer and began shuffling things inside.
“Wait- what are you doing?” I asked, panicking. I hadn’t let anyone touch anything in his room yet, only Sally had been allowed to come in. I wanted to pretend just a bit longer that he was coming back.
“For you,” Poseidon said and dropped something red in my hand.
I frowned down at it and spun it in my hands.
“It’s a piece of coral from my palace, I haven’t the slightest idea when he found it, but I know it was for you, perhaps a gift for after the war. He used to stare at it before he slept every night.”
I looked up to him still confused.
“But how do you know?”
“I may not always be seen but I watched over Percy. My guilty indulgence, he is still my pride. And I will regret it for many years to come that he never knew just how much I did care for him.”
Poseidon held an old framed photo of younger me crossing my arms with beautiful architecture in the background. I smiled at the photo, remembering how Percy had put it on show purely to smite me.
“I think he knew,” I said and unclipped my camp necklace, stringing the coral onto it.
“I wish you well Annabeth Chase. Under different circumstances in another world, I would’ve been proud to call you my daughter.”
#percy jackson#percabeth#percabeth fanfic#angst#AU#soulmates#writing#writing prompt#one shot#headcanon#feels#rick riordan#annabeth chase#son of poseidon#daughter of athena#Heroes of Olympus#Percy Jackson and the Olympians#percy jackson and the sea of monsters#Percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth#Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief#percy jackson and the titans curse#percy jackson and the last olympian#camp half blood#thalia grace#chiron#grover underwood#poseidon#sally jackson
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Wave 2 Cleo de Nile Diary
Ninth Month 15th Day
I didn’t sleep very well last night at all. I had this dream that I was about to lead the Fear Squad onto a stage where we were supposed to perform in front of an undead JV audience with millions of monsters watching all over the world. Only when I looked back Frankie had forgotten her arms, Draculaura had a tiny bat body with her normal sized head and Deuce had turned the rest of the team into stone. He kept saying, “It’s okay we’ll take them home and they can live in the garden with the other gnomes.” Then I realized I was wearing a lunch lady outfit and my pompoms had turned into gravy ladles. Fortunately, I woke up before we had to perform. I told father about the dream and he said, “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.” Well, perhaps I should lessen that unease with more team practice.
Ninth Month 20th Day
Ghoulia yelled at me today and I must admit that it sort of hurt my feelings. She was sitting by herself in the creepateria drawing something in her notebook and I was going to ask her to sit with the rest of us. When I said her name though it startled her, and she slammed her notebook closed. Then she said, “Oh my ghoul!” “Can you please take your own notes and give me just a moment of privacy?” Then she turned her back on me and started drawing again. I think what hurt my feelings the most was not that she yelled at me but that she thought it wasn’t her company I wanted. She apologized later which I accepted, of course. I like having Ghoulia around because I absolutely trust her. I wish I could tell her that but it’s just not done. I am royalty after all… although perhaps I need to learn to make exceptions for my friends.
Tenth Month 7th Day
Spectra… leave it to her to make a mausoleum out of a molehill. I saw Deuce at the end of the school day, and he told me how everything started. He wrote a song for my upcoming birthday celebration and he wanted Operetta to put it to music and make a recording for me. Of course, there have been thousands of songs composed in my honor but this was different… anyway so Deuce goes into the band room with Operetta and starts reading her the song. Spectra floats through and misinterprets what’s going on, like she always does, and all of a sudden the whole school is in full scale gossip mode. Before I know it I’m being dumped by Deuce and getting back together with Clawd. She even had the audacity to ask me for a comment! I was so angry I shouted at her in Ancient Egyptian… probably a good thing since what I said was not exactly befitting royalty. I even cancelled Fear Squad practice because I totally couldn’t focus. I know that Clawd tracked Spectra down and tried to reason with her but that actually made things worse because if she thinks she’s being persecuted she gets even louder about what she thinks the “real” truth is. I appreciated Clawd trying to stand up for me though. He is an honorable wolf and under different circumstances maybe we’d still be together but undue speculation is something which commoners concern themselves, so I’ll stop now.
Tenth Month 12th Day
Why is it that Headless Headmistress Bloodgood wants us to dredge up the past? The last thing I want to do is write about how my family went from ruling the greatest dynasty ever to being betrayed and dethroned by people we trusted. I will not write about that because even after so many thousands of years it still hurts. What to write then? I have the ability to charm snakes – not with a stupid flute – but I can speak to them and they will do what I ask them to. It’s not something I do all the time – I mostly just use it when Hissette crawls inside a shoe I want to wear and won’t come out. No, I’ve never used it on Deuce although I have been tempted a time or two… just kidding. He likes me for who I am, why would I want to ruin that by manipulating him? I must also wear some of my wrappings at all times otherwise… well it’s not something I really wish to think about. Father also has quite a collection of amulets and charms that will work only for those in my family. Of course, they usually also come with a curse if you overuse them.
Tenth Month 16th Day
I’m beginning to think that allowing Purrsephone, Meowlody and Toralei to stay on the Fear Squad was a mistake. My sister brought them onto the team, she always was a cat person, when she was the Fear Squad captain. If they weren’t so athletic and graceful I would have kicked them off when I became captain, despite my sister’s insistence that I keep them. They definitely have their own agenda and even though on the outside they act like they are sold out for the team I do not trust them. I think if something “better” came along they would leave me up the Styx without a Charon. I even overheard them making fun of Ghoulia one day which they totally denied when I confronted them about it. I on the other hand have one agenda; making the Fear Squad the best it can be. If they get in the way of making that happen I hear Lagoona is looking for new members on the swim team.
Tenth Month 22nd Day
I got an email from Nefera today. Ugh… haven’t had that name haunting over my head since she graduated. Just writing it after so long sends chills down my spine and not in a good way either. She said that she was up for five magazine covers and a spooks model contract. She was also up on all the MH gossip and what was happening on the Fear Squad. Wonder who she’s getting all her information from… not. Of course she gave me a whole list of things I was doing wrong and what I needed to do to fix them. As the older sister she is entitled to correct me if I do anything “unbecoming to one of royal birth.” I am entitled to sit quietly and listen which I did, a lot. The Fear Squad is not about royalty though and as a past captain she is entitled to her opinion but I’m no longer entitled to sit quietly and listen. It’s my team now and even though we haven’t yet won the awards her teams did I believe that we can and will. I don’t know why she should care anyway since her email made it sound like she’s one step away from ruling the world. If I were in her place what’s happing at high school would be the last thing on my mind.
Tenth Month 25th Day
I ran into Clawdeen at the Maul today. We both came out of a dressing room wearing the same thing. I braced myself for some sarcastic comment but she just looked at me and started laughing. I don’t know why but I did as well and before long we were both sitting on the floor of the dressing room howling with laughter. We got kicked out of the store and ended up at the food corpse sharing a basket of fries. She told me that Clawd told her the real story behind our breakup and I told her that I was sorry for not being honest about the situation from the beginning. She apologized too – for not confronting me directly and getting the true tale. We hung out for a while and mocked some current fashion trends and then before we left Clawdeen stuck out her hand, “Frenemies?” she said. “Frenemies,” I said as I shook it. While it is doubtful that two “alphas” can ever be more than that, not have Clawdeen actively against me is a step in the right direction.
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He’d Rather Die [Whumptober 2020]
Note: I’m doing whumptober as a series. Check out the tag #whumptober 2020 v on my blog to read in order. Also on ao3.
Prompt: No. 16: A Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day [Forced to Beg]
Synopsis: Bates finishes Janus’ punishment.
Trigger warnings: Cults, gaslighting/manipulation, restraints, kidnapped, non-con, humiliation, treating people like property, blood, knives, violence/beatings, a person in a cage, guns, body horror/gore, reference to murder/hate crimes/child death/minor character death, vomiting, non-consensual drugging, burn scar mentions and brief descriptions, off-screen dumpster diving, major characters talking about potentially dying (but I don’t write major character death so no worries there), branding/burning, nonconsensual body-modification, murder threat, some gross bodily fluids, let me know if I missed anything
Word count: 1704
October 16th. 11:54 pm.
Janus couldn’t take it anymore.
He couldn’t take another lash on his back, another second of Virgil staring at him like he was about to cry, another taunt from Bates, another drop of blood to hit the stone.
His arms gave out from under him for the hundredth time and he faceplanted. His eyes rolled back into his head. He barely felt it as Bates grabbed him by his hair and hauled him back up.
Ice water splashed over his splash and he gasped. Bates smacked the back of his head.
“Stay awake! We’re not done yet.”
“Please,” Janus wheezed. He refused to meet Virgil’s eyes. “Please stop.”
The whip snapped the air and drew another gash in Janus’ back. He buckled and sobbed, fists clenched so hard they cramped.
“Are you done already?” Bates sighed. “We’ve barely done anything, Janus. Honestly, when did you get so weak?”
Janus’ head swam. He didn’t know how long it had been. Was Bates right? Were the others still at dinner, had he broken so quickly?
“Anyone beaten for three hours straight would be begging for it to stop,” Virgil snapped.
Janus rose his head and looked at him in surprise. His round face was red with anger, stained with tear-tracks. Three hours?
“Janus is the strongest person you’ve got. Don’t you fucking dare-”
“Would you like me to call Styx down here?”
He faltered, then said confidently, “Sure. I’ll get in line and you two can take turns in anger management class.”
“Itching that bad to get out of your cage?”
Someone knocked softly on the door. Bates called to come in, and Remus climbed down the steps.
“You’ve decided to join us,” Bates said in surprise.
Remus flinched when he saw Janus’ back. He cleared his throat and patted the backpack rested on his tummy. “Figured you’d want me here. I’m ready whenever.”
“Why don’t you keep Virgil company? He can’t seem to stop himself from interrupting. Did you bring any tape?”
Remus swallowed. “No, but I have gauze, bandages…”
Bates nodded. “Use a bandage.”
He tossed Remus the key, and Remus knelt to unlock Virgil’s cage. He carefully avoided the roll of duct tape in his backpack to pick up a pack of bandages. His eyes were wide and regretful as he fastened one over Virgil’s mouth.
Virgil crawled out of the cage and collapsed into Remus’ lap. Remus stiffened, surprised.
Bates laughed. “He’s been in there nearly twenty-four hours. Let him.”
Remus sighed in relief and pet him gently as Virgil curled in his lap. “How’s Janus?”
“Almost ready, I think.”
Janus sobbed in relief.
Bates pulled Janus upright by his hair, setting his knees. “Can you tell me what I’ve been trying to tell you?”
Janus’ fried mind churned for the answer Bates was looking for. “I- I’m sorry,” he managed. “I’m so sorry. I won’t be a traitor anymore, I’ve learned. I won’t ever do it again.”
Virgil buried his face in Remus’ stomach. Remus hugged him.
“And?”
Janus didn’t have it in his heart to be embarrassed— He just wanted it to be over. “I’m worthless without you. You’re the only thing that can ever protect me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I questioned that.”
“And you put others in danger. The ones you left with, they could be dead right now. How do you feel about that?”
“I feel terrible,” Janus whimpered. He pressed his forehead to the cold ground, ignoring his fresh burns screaming in protest. “I don’t know how I could ever do that to them, I- I was confused, and…” His chest heaved with his sobs. “Please forgive me, sir, please.”
“I’m thinking about it. You know you’ll have to earn my love back, yes?”
“I know. I understand. I’m so sorry.”
“You ready to be done?”
“Please!”
Bates smiled. Remus’ blood ran cold.
“Almost.” Bates pointed to Remus and Virgil. “You still need to fix your mistake. Get on your knees, face them. Look them in the eye.”
Janus hesitated. He almost disobeyed. The thought of seeing their faces, of knowing their thoughts, of them seeing how broken he was— He’d rather die.
But his punishment latched onto theirs. If he failed, it would be worse for them. They may not survive it.
He cried harder as he met Remus’ eyes. Virgil reluctantly flipped over to watch Janus, Remus’ fingers slowly running through his hair.
“Start by explaining why they should stay. Tell them why I’m better for them.”
Please, please don’t believe me. “It’s safer here,” he choked out. “I was delusional, my…” He swallowed, “my trauma got me confused… I- I thought Bates would hurt me in the way- in the way… In the way my parents were hurt.”
Bates hummed in appreciation.
Janus took in a deep breath, and his voice steadied a little. “But I was confused. Bates is good to us. He- He takes care of us. He doesn’t want to hurt us, I- I deserved this. He had to do it, it was all my fault.”
Virgil said something behind his make-shift gag. Remus’ hand curled around to rest on top of the bandage, and Virgil rested his hand on top of his.
“That’s a very good start.” Bates rubbed his shoulders, and Janus grimaced as his fingers scraped the brands. “What else has this experience taught you?”
Janus knew what he was looking for. The was more lucid now, and the embarrassment burned through his stomach, his chest. His fingers trembled, twitched with his hard heartbeat.
He just wanted it to be over.
“I’m stupid,” he whispered. “I’m so, so stupid for thinking… For thinking you’d hurt us. I’m so sorry, I don’t know- I don’t know why I’m so dumb, I don’t know what happened, I-”
“Shh, shhh.” Bates leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s just how you are, baby. As long as you don’t let it hurt others, it doesn’t matter, we love you all the same. So what have you learned?”
“The way I think is… Wrong. I need to keep it to myself, and trust you.”
“That’s exactly right. You’re such a good boy.”
Remus swallowed. “Is it my turn?” He asked quietly.
Bates put the whip down. “Yes, I think he’s done. I’m very pleased with his progress. Alcohol’s in the desk.”
Remus nodded and gentled Virgil back to his cage. As soon as Bates left, Virgil crawled out and curled up on the ground. Janus doubled over and dry-heaved onto the floor. Remus rushed over to him, uselessness rushing through him— There was nowhere he could touch that wouldn’t hurt Janus.
“I’m gonna get you cleaned up, okay?” Panic quickly set in. He found the bottle of alcohol and knelt behind Janus. “Just breathe. It’ll be okay, we’ll-”
“DON’T!” Janus sat up so fast he nearly fell over. “Don’t, don’t say it, please don’t say it, please-”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Remus came to his front and cupped the healed side of his face— Bates branded the opposite side scarred from the house fire. He kissed Janus’ nose. “He’s gone, okay? It’s over. It’s over. You’re going to be okay.”
Virgil inched over, gripping Janus’ branded hand. “We’re getting out,” he whispered. “This doesn’t change-”
“Please,” Janus choked out.
Remus and Virgil looked at each worriedly.
“You…” Virgil hesitated, “you still want to, right?”
“I want it to stop.”
They all paused. Janus’ ragged breaths filled the air, his mutilated tongue hanging half out his mouth. Virgil pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, then leaned back.
“I’m going to sit here with you while Remus cleans you up, okay?”
Janus nodded numbly. “Thank you.”
Remus cleaned the bloody mess off Janus’ back, then paused. Janus shivered violently, his hair dripping along his arms and chest.
“Janus?” Remus asked softly. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”
“Bad,” Janus slurred.
“Cold?”
“Mhm.”
“Shit.”
Virgil’s eyes widened. He gripped Janus’ hand tighter. “What? What’s wrong? Will he be okay?”
Remus jumped up to pull his jacket off. “I think he has hypothermia. Give me your clothes.”
Virgil hesitated, but stripped alongside him. “How the hell did that happen?”
“His brands. Hey, love, I need you to lay down for me, okay? Slowly. Virgil, help, make sure he doesn’t go down too hard.”
They got him on his side and covered him as much as possible with the three’s combined wardrobe. He was still shivering, but looked calmer.
“How the fuck could his brands cause hypothermia?”
“I assume Bates splashed him with water to keep him awake.”
“Uh, yeah, ice water.”
“Water and burns usually equal hypothermia. Add ice, and Bates was just asking for it.”
Virgil pulled the jacket tighter around Janus’ head, to rubbed the healed side of his face into the fabric. “How are you supposed to treat him now?”
“I’ll just have to wait. This isn’t ideal, but his brands need to be covered anyway before I can work on them. We’ll just let him warm up, then I can clean everything and make sure it’s as good as I can get it.”
Virgil sighed, taking Janus’ hand.
Remus frowned. “What is it?”
“I just… Can’t believe I ever said anything bad about you.” Virgil looked down. “I was wrong. You’re, uh, you’re pretty great.”
Remus blushed bright red. “O-oh. Um, thank you. Right back at you.”
Virgil snickered.
They sat with Janus while he warmed up and napped. Remus constantly checked his pulse, and when he seemed warm enough, cleaned him up and treated his burns and tongue.
“Hey, love,” Remus whispered, gently pulling Janus into his arms. “Bates shouldn’t be back until morning, so I’m going to stay for a bit.”
“What time is it?” He mumbled as Remus settled with the boys by Virgil’s cage.
“Almost 3 a.m. We have time before we can expect anyone to wake up. Just get some rest, okay?”
Virgil curled up to Remus’ side, Janus laid over their laps. Janus rested his head on Remus’ shoulder and yawned. Virgil and Remus smiled.
“I love you,” Janus mumbled.
“We love you, too.”
Kofi and commissions, 1 coffee = 300 words of your prompt
#whumptober2020#no.16#a terrible no good very bad day#forced to beg#sanders sides#fic#janus sanders#virgil sanders#remus sanders#sympathetic deceit#sympathetic janus#sympathetic remus#anxceit#dukeceit#intruanxceit#dukexeity#virgil#remus#janus#whump#angst#hurt/comfort#virgil writes#whumptober 2020 v
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