#beautiful words by Anthea
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#beautiful words#degrade kink#twisted wonderland x reader#cross dressing#strength#love poems#bespoke#bedrooms#anthea page#awekhijab
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Earth & Fire
Chapter VII - In darkness
11/07/2023
Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)
Word Count: 4,625
Warnings: language, fluff, fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex
Summary: With Orpheus gone from the Underworld, the darkness of night finally unveils what has yet been left unspoken between Anthea and Aidon.
A/N: I know it was a long wait, but I needed to get this right. I think you might understand.
Earth & Fire - Masterpost
Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.
Anthea had no idea whether it had been mere minutes or hours since she had left the empty throne room behind and had begun to wander the endless corridors instead. To her astonishment, they were equally deserted. A fact that seemed strange after seeing the throne room bustle with creatures, almost bursting from the seams. Where had they all gone to and how could they have vanished so quickly?
But those questions did not distract her for long before her mind wandered back to the one thought she tried so hard to avoid. And the one person she tried to avoid just the same. For how could she even be in the same room without giving herself away? It would not need any words from her mouth. She was sure he would see right through her, glimpse the very essence of her soul and with it the secret she was carrying inside ever since…their trip to the pond? Or the night before, when he had consoled her so very gently? Or even before that?
Anthea was not sure when exactly it had happened, but she could not deny any longer that it had. If only she knew what to do with that realisation. She had never felt anything even remotely similar to the feelings she now held for him. How did one speak of the things that are barely possible for the mind to grasp?
Anthea had rounded just another corner when suddenly every thought was washed from her mind. And all that remained was the soft melody that wafted through the empty space between herself and a door at the far end of the corridor. It had been left ajar, just a tiny bit, probably unintentionally. Still the faint sheen of blue light seemed to lead the way.
Heedlessly she followed its lure, pulling open the door just enough for her to fit through, and then another, without sparing her surroundings even the faintest of looks. All she wanted was to be close to that melody, to the soft vibration of strings and the soothing hum that accompanied it.
It was only when her eyes fell on the familiar figure sitting on the ground that she knew where she was and the realisation made her stop in her tracks. He had not yet noticed her, far gone as he was, completely lost to the music. His eyes were closed as his face contorted in the most beautiful way, in tune with the notes he coaxed from the lyre in his arms. It was a fine instrument, though not as splendid as the one Orpheus called his own, but it was the last thing she could focus her attention on now.
For he was magnificent, hypnotising her eyes to follow the movement of his hair as the half he had not tied back swished over his shoulders while he strummed the strings. One stray strand of wispy hair must have come loose and caressed his forehead now. Oh, how Anthea would have liked to brush it aside and feel its softness against her fingertips.
There was a certain fragility to him that once again made it easy to forget the power he actually wielded. The power of a god.
Fates, she had been so foolish for coming here. What if he actually did see right through her the second he opened his eyes? What if it upset him? What if she angered yet another deity, and in consequence would lose not only his sympathy, but also the refuge he had offered?
To her horror, she realised that she was bound to find out this very instant, as the lyre fell silent and his eyes open to land directly on her petrified form.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out in her panic. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
But instead of anger or disgust or any other appalled expression Anthea had envisioned, the only thing she found was a soft smile on Aidon’s lips. “You’re not.”
It did not take more to calm her, the warmth of his smile and the honesty in his tone were all she needed. She even allowed herself to take a step forward instead of listening to her flight instinct.
“I had no idea you could play the lyre. And so beautifully at that.”
“Ah, no, stop. It’s not that good.”
His cheeks had turned the colour of a ripe pomegranate even before he had finished his protest, but Anthea just shrugged as if she had not noticed.
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s horrible. Almost made my ears bleed.”
Immediately his expression changed, that flustered little grin turning into the warmest, most heartfelt laughter she had ever heard and Anthea could not help herself but laugh along.
“It looks quite complicated though.”
“It’s not really.” Aidon looked down at the instrument in his hands with a fondness people usually held for a close friend or family member. Still, it was not long before his eyes found her again, and the almost childlike enthusiasm they reflected took her completely by surprise. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Mh-hm, yes,” she heard herself agree without even thinking about it.
“All right. Great.” His smile grew an impossible inch wider. “C’mere to me.”
His hand was warm and impossibly soft against her own as he helped her down. And before she knew what was happening, she found herself sitting on the floor, completely surrounded by him. His legs circled her own, his left hand still holding the lyre, while his right was reaching for hers to guide her fingers towards the instrument and along the strings.
He was everywhere, his cheek lightly brushing along hers while she could feel his chest move against her back with every breath he drew in. She was tempted to close her eyes, to give herself to the moment fully, to enjoy leaving the world behind until it seemed to hold only the two of them.
“See, I told you. It’s easy,” his voice gently pulled her back, but only for an instant. An instant in which Anthea did not hear the soft music they created together, did not even feel the strings brush against her fingertips. All she felt was him. The soothing warmth of his body, the tenderness in his touch.
Between them stood nothing more but a heartbeat, one deep exhale that carried the last shreds of doubt. The rest came easy. A turn of her head, unhurried, and the music died away. A look that said more than a thousand words ever could have. And one last breath, not more than a sigh, before their lips met and they lost themselves in each other.
She had pictured her first kiss a thousand times in her mind already, had envisioned every possible scenario, but this was so much more than she ever could have imagined. She could taste her beloved ocean on his lips, his breath on her skin like the warm breeze of a late summer afternoon, while his scent carried the familiar notes of dry earth—and she was home.
There was no demand in the way his lips moved with hers. He did not claim her or sate his desires, instead he gave himself to her completely and she loved him all the more for it.
For a long time, even after their lips had parted, they stayed exactly as they were, Anthea leaned against his body, her fingers playing with a lock of his hair as he kept on coaxing the most beautiful sounds from his lyre. The faint vibrations of his soft hums seeped into her skin, lulling her in until she felt nothing but peace, the kind that settled deep inside the bones and brought warmth from the inside.
Still, there was one thing that did not leave her be. A seed the God of Mischief had planted earlier, and that now stood very insistently between her and a state of utter bliss. That fucking Hermes. This would be the last time she would let him get into her head.
“Aidon, can I ask you something?”
He stopped humming immediately, but his fingers kept on playing.
“Anything.”
“What did you do to Minthe?”
The second the words had left her mouth, she knew she had messed up. They sounded all wrong and accusatory, designed to hurt, and when the music fell away, it was clear she had once again allowed herself to be nothing but a pawn in the cruel game of the gods.
“What did I…? Why would you think I did anything to her?”
The pain in his voice was unmistakable, still he did not raise it at her or push her away.
“I know it is probably just one of his tricks again and in a moment I will look like a fool, but Hermes insinuated that you removed her from the palace.” Her eyes fell to the ground, the next words coming in a whisper, “and that it was my fault.”
For a moment there was silence, heavy and even more painful than the hurt in his voice had been. But then Aidon moved, slowly he set the lyre aside, before he turned his full attention to her. The warmth of his palm against her cheek almost made her close her eyes, but she knew that now was not the time to look away.
“It’s true. I did send her away from the palace for a while. But it’s not your fault. Nothing you have done has led to this situation. It’s entirely between Minthe and myself.”
His words should have relieved her, still his last remark, however careful he had phrased it, stung and Anthea had to avert her gaze.
“Oh, I see.”
Tender lips pressed to her forehead.
“No, I don’t think you do. Minthe is in love with me, she has been for quite a while now, I believe, and even though the feeling is not mutual, I did something stupid, and I hurt her, deeply. Everything else is just a consequence of my negligence and has nothing to do with you. You’re just…”
Aidon stopped, obviously reluctant to tell her. But Anthea would not have that. Not now.
“I’m just what, Aidon?”
She knew what he was about to say long before the words had left his mouth, and yet she was not prepared in the least for the might of their impact.
“You just happen to be the one I am actually in love with. But that also is not your fault.”
“I see.” She could hardly suppress the unbridled smile that wanted to break free. “Just as much as it isn’t your fault that I am in love with you.”
“Right.” At first there was no hint of any emotion her confession might have sparked. Anthea even began to wonder if he had heard her at all, when a tiny hitch in his breath finally gave him away.
“Right.”
Her voice had been nothing more but a mere whisper. It would have been impossible to speak up anyway, for he had been so close already and then leaned in further still, and by the time his lips met hers again, it seemed like a miracle she had even been able to form a full word after all.
The kiss was deeper this time, more passionate, and she could taste the same need for more on his tongue that she felt in her own heart. Soon he pulled her closer against his chest while her hands wove into his hair to feel him closer still. It was magic, a bliss she had never known before.
He loved her. And she loved him. A truth so simple and yet so utterly unique. For what were the odds of finding someone who made you feel safe enough to give yourself to completely and for them to find in you the one person they felt the same about?
Anthea had no idea how much time had past. It did not matter. Nothing mattered as long as she felt his arms around her and heard the steady beating of his heart against her ear.
“Are you tired, love?”
“No,” she protested immediately. A weak protest, judging from the slur in her voice, and a soft yawn betrayed her even further. “Well, I might be, just a little. But I really don’t want to leave.”
“Who says you have to leave?”
The loss of his soothing heat hurt and she was inclined to scowl up at his now standing form, when she found a hand already waiting for her to take it and a smile so balmy it almost made up for the absence of his body against hers.
They did not have to walk far before Anthea found herself inside a room that was incomparable to anything she had ever seen before. Stunned by its sheer magnificence, she could do nothing but stare openmouthed at the splendour in front of her. It was not that it was pompous, on the contrary. In fact, it held nothing but a bed, huge but rather plain. And still it was inviting her to rest her head on the large, black pillows after slipping underneath the equally black covers.
What really made it stand out against any other room in this palace however, was the myriad of tiny little stars floating above the bed, twinkling magnificently while drowning out the cold blue that illuminated the rest of the Underworld.
“Do you think this will do?”
Would this do? It was perfect. Still she would have agreed to lie on the cold, hard ground if—
“If you’ll join me.”
Of course he did. And soon she found herself in the exact spot she had envisioned, her head gently resting on the fluffy pillow while Aidon held her close, limbs weaving together before they stopped moving altogether. Anthea could not remember a time when she had ever felt this complete, just existing. It was the last thought that crossed her mind before the world around her fell away and, like every night, she gave herself into the skilled hands of Hypnos.
Her senses had caught on to his distress long before she had fully returned from Hypnos’ dominion. Still, by the time she woke, her heart was racing as fast as his own, and she jolted from her sleep. Aidon was sitting next to her, his laboured breaths coming out in violent huffs.
“What’s wrong, darling?” she asked while sitting up next to him, one hand reaching out for his cheek to make him face her.
“Eurydice.”
“What about her?”
“She has returned.”
“Returned? But I thought—”
His face darkened, contorting into a grimace she had never seen on him. And when he spoke again, she knew exactly what it was.
“I should never have granted him his wish. I merely gave him a chance to disappoint twice, allowed him to distress poor Eurydice’s soul even more than she already was.”
“Aidon, please, none of this is your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known that he would fail her.”
“Couldn’t I? I knew who he was when I allowed him to guide her out of my realm. And to claim now that I didn’t suspect he would let her down would be lying to both of us.”
Anthea kept silent for a moment. And Aidon was glad she did. He could not stand facing her disappointment in him when his own disappointment in himself was almost killing him. He had been so stupid, allowing that weaselly Hermes to play him once more, not giving a care in the world that he would harm an innocent soul in the process.
He was surprised Anthea could even look at him. He had known it would come to this. Nothing good ever came from the line of the All-father. And still he had allowed it to happen anyway.
“What made you so sure he would fail her?”
Her voice made him look up again, the gentleness it still held, and that he now also found in the dark brown of her eyes. It almost made him blurt out the truth.
You did, he wanted to say, but he feared it would make him sound like a lunatic. Still it was true. He finally knew now what it meant to truly love someone and he was sure Orpheus would not have felt the need to turn if only he had loved his Eurydice the same way he loved Anthea.
But instead of telling her just that, he merely shrugged. “We all eventually do.”
Her eyes never once left his and he cold see her thoughts racing behind them. But then something about them changed. They were probing now, searching his own. For what, he could not tell yet.
“Will you fail me?”
He could not lie. Not to her. Not even if it meant that he would lose her forever.
“I would love to say I won’t. But that’s a promise not even the gods can make.”
He would have understood if she wanted to leave now. But she did not. Instead she came closer, pulling him down gently until his forehead rested against hers.
“Then promise me you’ll be gentle in failing me.”
“I promise.”
He meant it, with all his heart. And even if the truth tasted bitter, it was all drowned out by the sweetness of his kiss. It held even more honesty than his words and Anthea knew that if he could help it, he would do everything in his power to avoid letting her down.
With a sigh she sank back against the pillows, pulling him with her until she could feel the weight of his body against her own. Their lips never parted, not for a second, not even when their hands worked to free each other from the last barrier that stood between them. It was only the sensation of feeling him skin on skin that made her mouth fall open in a gasp.
“Aidon.”
“What is it, love? Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” she whined. Stopping was the last thing she wanted him to do. “It’s just…I’ve never…been with a man.”
He said nothing, but the soft brush of his thumb against her cheek bone encouraged her to go on.
“Will it hurt?”
“It usually does the first time, yes. But I can take the pain away.”
His hand never left her face, so she could not see what exactly it was that he did, but she could feel it. All of a sudden she felt a little lightheaded, the fear that had befallen her heart moments ago cleared from her mind completely, just for an instant, before he pulled his hand away.
She was quick to grab it and bring it to her lips to press a tender kiss to his fingertips. “Make love to me, Aidon.”
And he did, love speaking from every single touch, from every kiss and every moan that fell from his lips as he explored her body. It was only later that she realised it had been just as much for her sake than for his own. But she had enjoyed it all the same, had basked in his rising passion, in the way his hands had tended to her breasts, his lips had pressed to her skin and tasted her soft flesh with the same urgency that surged through her veins. She wanted to acquaint herself with his body just as much, rake her fingers through his chest hair, let them glide along his stomach and real in the shiver that followed in their wake. It was addictive and she never wanted to stop, wanted more, all of him and then keep it forever.
In her enraptured state, she had not felt his hand wander, but now that it slid in between her thighs, it was all she could concentrate on. He was careful but determined, venturing further until his fingers had found her womanhood. Softly he began to caress her, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Does that feel good?”
Good? Oh, fates, yes, it felt good. And so much more than that. But all she could muster was a silent nod, while wide eyes kept on holding his gaze. After a while she could feel moist heat collecting in her core, and her legs fell open with a needy moan. With every circle his fingers drew, he coaxed another heady sound of rapture from her mouth and soon they began to mix with his own as his head dipped down to steal a kiss from her slightly parted lips.
His touch was everything, almost overwhelming her inexperienced body, and yet it was not enough. For a while she tried to suppress the ardent wish that grew deep inside of her, tried to hold on and enjoy what he made her feel for just an instant longer, but she could not help it. She needed to feel him closer still, as close as he could get. She needed to be one with him. And from the way his hardened arousal pressed into her hip, she knew that he felt just the same.
And so she reached for his wrist and stopped his sweet caress. She had expected the confusion she now found on his face, the bewildered wrinkle of his forehead that spoke of his concern, but it eased away just as swiftly as it had appeared when she smiled up at him.
“Please, Aidon, I need you.”
He moved without protest, settling in between her legs, his body hovering above hers. Anthea could feel her heart speeding up with the first press of his head against her entrance. She needed to see him, wanted to look into his beautiful eyes, but his face was almost veiled from her by a curtain of wild curls that surrounded it. And so she reached up, her hands cupping his cheeks and brushing away his hair. He was so beautiful, the placid smile on his lips, the slight gleam in his eyes, and she thought she could not love him more when he turned his head a little and pressed a sweet kiss to the inside of her wrist.
Slowly he dove into the heat that awaited him. The unfamiliar stretch stung, but even before she could tell him, his hand was there, warm and soft against her stomach, and the pain subsided, leaving behind the insatiable desire to feel all of him.
On instinct her legs closed around his hips and pulled him all the way inside of her. A loud moan rose from the depths of his chest, sending a violent shiver through her, but he stayed perfectly still. It took him a moment to collect himself and another to taste her lips again before he finally moved.
Anthea had never felt anything even remotely similar to the sensations that flooded her whole being now. She felt strange, light, as if her soul was about to leave her body. Was this what dying felt like? The soul being at peace while the body was in unmatched agony. The sweetest kind.
It did not take long until the world around her was spiralling out of control. Or was it the world within her? Whichever it was, it was sending her into pure chaos, the same that had been before the beginning of all things. And like the cosmos, she emerged from the void, slowly, step by step, and then all at once, to be reborn in his arms.
Aidon felt the warm breeze of air crawling along his chest with every steady breath she took. She had fallen asleep in his arms a while ago, sated and blissed out, and he was sure that he had never seen anything more beautiful than her flushed face after they had both glimpsed Elysium together.
He could not tell how long it had been since she had slipped away from the world of the conscious, but he knew exactly how often he had debated with himself to kill the lights and let her rest in peace since then, but as always, it seemed impossible. There was only one thing he disliked more than darkness, and that was to disrupt the serene state she was in.
So, with just a flick of his fingers, the stars above them went out, and time seemed to stop. Strangely he felt even closer to her now, so close that in the darkness he felt like melting into her. Even in her subconscious state, it was as if she could feel it too, her body moving until her heart touched his and they became one for the second time tonight.
Darkness. He had never known it could hold such magic. The very darkness he had dreaded all his life. Because it was all he knew.
Like all beings, he had been eager to escape it on the day of his birth, to feel the sunlight touch his skin and fill him with its unmatched warmth, just to be confined to it again by the actions of his own father. After what had felt like a myriad of eternities, unable to even tell day and night apart, he had become sure that this was all his world would ever be. Darkness, and the distant voices of his siblings, wailing in despair and cursing their father for his cruelty. Then, as unexpectedly as it had come, the darkness had been split in two and the bright light that had fallen around his brother’s smirking face had almost blinded him.
In that moment, he had promised himself that there would never be darkness again, not even when Helios vanished behind the horizon and Nyx and Erebus took over to let night fall across the mortal realm. There had not been a single night in which he had dared to blacken the artificial stars above his bed. Especially not since he had come here, devastated that he had drawn the lot he had dreaded most and thus inflicted darkness upon himself yet again, safe in the knowledge that this time, there would be no escape from it.
From that moment on, he had had plenty of time to muse about it, and one day he had finally realised why darkness held such agonising power over him. It was because it heightened everything, isolated him, left him alone with himself until he came to see the very essence of himself. And that wasn’t always pleasant.
But in this very moment, the horrors of gloom seemed long forgotten. Nothing but a vague memory of a former life. And with the heaviness of his trauma lifted off his shoulders, he felt light as a feather, soaring blissfully in the void it had left behind. Because choosing to lie in complete darkness with her was something entirely different to the darkness that had been forced upon him all his life. And for once, it was not the truth of his own self that was waiting in the blackness of night. It was hers, ready to be explored, and he was eager to venture even deeper into darkness if it meant he would find her there.
He felt almost drunk from the absence of light now. Intoxicated to a point that it made him bold, more so with every passing moment, made him hungry for whatever it would reveal about her. He wanted to know it all, her light, her darkness, whatever it was that made her her. And once he knew, he would learn it by heart so that he would recognise every detail about her as if it was his own. Even in darkness. Even without turning to look at her.
Chapter 8
taglist:
@ashesofblackroses
@lowkeysimpinloki
@appreciating-fanfics
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Baby name ideas for the Empires Crew
Cause apparently yall need some now?
SCOTT:
Theme: colors
Scarlet
Amber
Violet
Cyan
Gray
Ash (associated with gray)
Beryl (a pale green stone)
Bianca (means white)
Carmine (crimson red)
Fawn (light brown)
GEM:
Theme: Sun
Citrine (light callback to s1 cause citrine is a stone formed when amethyst experiences intense heat)
Sunny
Apollo
Helios
Crystal
Peach
Flora
Alba (means Dawn)
Soleil (French sun name)
Star
JOEL:
Theme: gods/holy/Greek
Blessing
Hera
Theo (means ‘gift of god’)
Pandora
Ares
Eudora (Greek name meaning ‘generous gift’)
Skye
Achilles
Orion
Ouranos (Greek spelling of Uranus, father of the Titans and also a word meaning “the heavens”
KATHERINE:
Theme: dichotomy of glimmer grove/strength/beauty
Lilac
Lavender
Janus (words with contradictory meaning are sometimes called “Janus words”)
Hecate (goddess of witchcraft)
Persephone
Tempest
Farris (‘strong as iron’ according to the website I’m looking at)
Valentine (both a romantic association as well as having ‘strong’ as an earlier meaning)
Sterling (steel)
Belle
OLI:
Theme: music/independence
Harmony
Lyra
Aria
Viola
Lark
Cadence
Wolfgang
Rhythm
Robin
Spirit
JIMMY:
Theme: strength/common western names
Barrett (mighty as a bear)
Billy/Billie
Oak
Cash (last name if a famous singer)
Dakota
Beau
Daisy
Wynona (first name of a famous singer and a personal favorite of mine)
Cheyenne
Colton (I know so many yeehaw boys named Colton it’s an epidemic)
LIZZIE:
Theme: animals
Kitty
Wren
Leo
Wolf
Draco
Raven
Kit
Dove
Ursula (from ‘Ursa’ meaning bear + light callback to season 1)
Mariposa (butterfly)
SAUSAGE:
Theme: peace/safety/protection/rabbits
Faith
Jack (jackrabbit)
Serenity
Peter (Peter cottontail)
Olive/Olivia (olive bran em has symbol of peace)
Alexis/Alexander/Alexa etc. (All meaning protector of mankind)
Atlas
Angelo
Anthea (goddess/flowers)
Crysanthos (golden flower, name of a Saint)
PIX:
Theme: history, ancient stuff, stones, memory (amendment: I couldn’t find many good names so I just found a bunch of really old names)
Sophia (lover of wisdom/knowledge)
Athena
Beowulf (both a name meaning ‘intelligent wolf’ and the oldest known work of Anglo-Saxon literature)
Sage
Alareiks (gothic name meaning ‘ruler of all’ modernized as Alaric but I think Pix would use the older version)
Áleifir (old Norse form of Olaf and that is such a downgrade on spelling why did we ever stop using the original spelling????? Also means ancestor’s legacy which is PERFECT)
Caecelia (original Latin spelling of Cecelia, means both “blind” and is the name of an ancient religious martyr)
Cúán (“little wolf” in Old Irish and I think that’s just cute)
Demophon (literally “the people’s voice” in Ancient Greek)
Ingo (an old name and also a reference to a character who accidentally travels back in time in Pokémon: Legends Arceus) (I’m running out of ideas can you tell?)
JOEY
Theme: water, treasure
Diamond (it’s not that weird I went to high school with a girl named diamond)
Jade
Cordelia (apparently means daughter of the sea)
Hudson (literal name of a body of water on earth)
Caspian (literal name of a body of water on earth)
Opal
Gold
Sapphire
Tiara
Jasper (a personal favorite + matching initials)
FWHIP:
Theme: names with negative meanings, more stones (no I didn’t use them all on Joey’s list actually)
Lapis
Jet
Onyx
Ruby
Topaz
Deidre (sorrowful)
Kennedy (misshapen head)
Cain (I don’t think I need to explain this one. It’s also a favorite name of mine)
Cameron (crooked nose)
Lorelei (literal translation is ambush Cliff, but colloquially the meaning is ‘a woman who leads a man to his death’ which is metal as fuck)
SHELBY:
theme: herbs/witchy stuff/creepy stuff
Damien
Desdemona (Ill-fated one)
Rosemary (both an herb and a character in a classic horror film)
Nyx
Poe
Salem
Blair
Belladonna (comes with the literal translation of ‘beautiful woman’ as well)
Morrigan (literally ‘phantom queen’ and a figure in Irish mythology)
Dusk
FALSE (if she ever logs in to participate)
Theme: obnoxiously British as befitting a steampunk theme
Silas
Ambrose
Augustus
Eleanor
Gwendolyn
Scarlett
Theodosia
Lysander
Wesley
Luther
#empires smp#scott smajor#solidarity gaming#mythical sausage#fwhip#joey graceffa#shubble#katherine elizabeth#geminitay#the orion sound#I’m half tempted to @ Scott#someone braver than me can lol
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silverjirachi’s Works and WIPs Master Post - 2023
I have a lot in the works and a lot to be completed so I figured I’d put an updated list all in one cohesive place. This will also be available on a page on my blog directly, in case you want to check in.
---
Pokemon Fandom
The Dead Sea Trilogy, @the-dead-sea-trilogy
Pokemon RSE / ORAS
Pairing: Archie & Maxie
Book 1: The Devil and the Dead Sea (complete) - 76,000 words
“So, where would you be, Mr. Sunshine, if the blistering sun dried up the raging sea?"
The first book in my hardenshipping trilogy, The Devil and the Dead Sea, focuses on Maxie's desperation to reach the Seafloor Cavern. After his own plans fall through, he must enlist the help of his enemy in order to reach his goals, and joins hands with Team Aqua in order to reach the cavern.
But along the way, a hidden romance is discovered between the two teams, and Maxie must bring his team - and his own sanity - back under control, lest he lose everything he's ever worked for in the process.
A traditional Enemies-to-Lovers - featuring many parties Maxie does not want to be at. Gossip, nonsense, sad feelings, and sea shanties ensue.
Featured Characters/Concepts: Maxie, Archie, Courtney, Tabitha, Shelly, Matt, Groudon & Kyogre, original Team Magma/Team Aqua crew, Maxie and Archie fighting and falling in love on a ship.
Link to AO3
Book 2: Icarus and the Blistering Sun (being updated actively!) ~ 100,000 words
Thanks for instilling dreams in me, Max. I’m off to pursue mine. See you when I awaken the great and mighty KYOGRE!!
The preqel to The Devil and the Dead Sea, Icarus and the Blistering Sun tells the story of the beginnings of Archie and Maxie's relationship-turned-rivalry, and how there once was a close partnership and even a friendship therein - and how it all went so bitterly, catastrophically wrong.
Follow a young, aspiring, college-age Maxie as he strives to find his calling. He and Archie--along with one other peculiar blue-haired scientist--travel the region to chart and discover the legendary Pokemon--inadvertently feeding this information directly into the hands of Team Rocket.
Featuring Even More Parties that Maxie Does Not Want to Be At, and Colress, who is only there to break rules. There is some light Maxie/Colress content, a peculiar and disastrous ship I am referring to as FeralScienceShipping
Featured Characters/Concepts: Maxie, Archie, Colress (B2W2), Petrel (HGSS), Domino (Team Rocket, Mewtwo Returns), Archie's encounter with Jirachi, Maxie's backstory, and the inception of Team Magma
Link to AO3
Book 3: Mother Earth and Her Infinite Sky (wip) ~ 100,000 words (probably)
“Thwarted by two twelve year old kids."
Maxie paused again. “Hm. I don’t like that this is a recurring pattern for some reason.”
“It’s like every region’s just linin’ up waitin’ for their next apocalypse,” Archie laughed. “Who’s next? Kalos? Alola? Sinnoh?”
“Please don’t talk like that.”
“What? Why?”
“Sinnoh is home to creatures far more powerful than Kyogre and Groudon.”
The third book in the Dead Sea Trilogy, in which Archie and Maxie (and their third wheel, Colress) are working together to build something new from the ashes of their two retired teams. They join forces with their mutual parole officer (Looker) to keep themselves out of jail, and to a stop to an emerging threat in the Sinnoh region.
Featured Characters/Concepts: Maxie, Archie, Colress, Looker, Matt, Shelly, Courtney, Tabitha, Team Galactic, Archie and Maxie's fledgling romantic relationship, Courtney's weird computer thing, and the Creation Trio.
Spinoff: Ophelia and the King’s Madness (wip) ~ 140,000 words
"N's heart is pure and innocent. But there is nothing more beautiful and terrifying than innocence."
This is one of only three quotes uttered by Concordia in the entire game. Ophelia tells the story of Ghetsis' lesser-known children, Anthea and Concordia, and how Concordia came to the conclusion she did. It explores Team Plasma as a cult, Ghetsis as its leader, and the two sisters as sheltered prisoners in their own "heavenly" home.
The story centers greatly on Concordia and the secret, romantic relationship she develops with Colress, who hides a great portion of who he is while continuing to experiment with Team Plasma and Project Genesect behind her back.
Featured Characters/Concepts: Anthea, Concordia, Colress, N, Ghetsis, Project Genesect, the logistics of Team Plasma as a cult, Ghetsis' manipulation of Anthea & Concordia in order to "correctly raise" raise N.
LINK TO PREVIEW: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881342/chapters/70850358
Currently Unnamed: Dead Sea Trilogy one shots collection (brainstormed)
This will be a collection of related stories and one-shots featuring the cast of characters from the Dead Sea Trilogy, similar in vibe and feeling to Stories from Exile.
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The Legend of Zelda
Exile//Vilify (complete) ~ 150,000 words
The boy was special, and he intended to find out why.
An origin story for Astor from Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity, Exile//Vilify tells the story of those that are chosen, and those who are not.
Astor has trained since childhood to become the next Royal Seer, but he is plagued with a dark secret: a prophecy that states that he will one day be expelled from the castle, sent into exile, and devote his life to Calamity Ganon.
General fiction, no extensive ship content. Featuring Astor as the royal seer, Astor having a deep, meaningful relationship with Zelda's mother, and a Fate-worshipping cult that calls themselves the Royal Order of the Seers.
Featured Characters/Concepts: Astor, Zelda's mother, King Rhoam, Master Kohga & Sooga, original Hylian characters, a deconstruction of the concept of fate & predestination, and an exploration of Astor's cult/eventual worship of Calamity Ganon.
Link to AO3
Stories from Exile ~ 50,000 words (ongoing)
In which Kohga and Sooga are really just friends.
Stories from Exile is a collection of one-shots, short stories, and other just general snippets, some much more serious than others, that are related to the world of Exile//Vilify. Majority focuses on "evil" Astor - aka, his time spent in exile - and his misadventures with the Yiga Clan, although there are a handful of stories of Royal Seer Astor in Hyrule Castle, including a few heartwarming ones with the baby Princess Zelda.
The Totally-Platonic relationship of Kohga and Sooga really takes the cake here though, and a great handful of stories also focus on Yiga-Clan shenanigans. There is a table of contents at the beginning so you are able to sort through and find what you'd like.
Updated sporadically as new ideas strike me, all canon or semi-canon to Exile//Vilify.
Featured Characters/Concepts: Master Kohga, Sooga, Astor, Lady Urbosa, Princess Zelda, the rest of the HWAOC crew. Antics.
Link to AO3
Trouble Will Find Me (wip)
"If I stay here, trouble will find me // If I stay here, I'll never leave." -The National, "Sea of Love"
Trouble Will Find Me stands as a prequel to Exile//Vilify. It is a story that focuses on Astor's mentor, Thelem, and what brought him to the Royal Order of the Seers, and to the events that take place right before his first meeting with Astor.
This is Thelem's origin story, featuring the formative years he spends on Satori Mountain, finding himself, his meeting and relationship with Azelphir, and a more in-depth look at the culture and religion of the Order of the Seers.
Featured Characters/Concepts: Thelem, Azelphir, deeper lore of the Order of the Seers, Thelem's origin story, Thelem and Azelphir's underlying feelings for one another. Blupees, Koroks, Hyrule's other supernatural phenoma, and the Lord of the Mountain.
PREVIEW - AO3
Rewoven into the Stars (complete) ~ 8,000 words
And this new king before him, he wasn’t like the old one. He was stubborn and sweet.
Rewoven into the Stars was a gift/commission for a friend, which falls in the Stories from Exile universe. A portal opens through space-time and sends a rather strange (and kind) Ganondorf through. He and the formerly-royal seer spend the following weeks growing closer, even falling in love.
Featured Characters: Astor & Ganondorf from the Born Evil universe by @sherlocktheravencat
Link to AO3
Prophet to a Gerudo King (wip)
“Are you willing to vow your undying loyalty to me? From not just now unto death, but into all your future lives to come?"
A one-shot that muses on the pact between Astor and King Ganondorf, with Astor acting as Ganon's royal seer. Semi-canon prequel to Exile//Vilify, depending on how you look at it.
Featured Characters: Astor, pre-Calamity King Ganondorf
The Rhoam Cucking Chronicles (complete?) ~ 4,600 words
"He fucked my wife." -King Rhoam, in the games (real)
A shitpost about Astor fucking Zelda's mom, the Queen of Hyrule. Based in the world of Exile//Vilify / Stories from Exile. I (might?) add more silly portions to it someday, although it is unlikely. I can be bribed to do it, however, as I can be bribed to do many things...
Featured Characters/Concepts: Astor, Zelda's mom, King Rhoam, Astor fucking Zelda's mom (obviously)
Link to AO3
Hyrule is Doomed! (ongoing)
Hyrule may be in a lot of trouble, yes. But under Link's professional, expert, and yes, even reckless care -- it certainly will not be doomed.
Hyrule is Doomed! is a SILLY collection of one-shot stories that detail my chaotic, shirtless himbo playthrough of BOTW/TOTK. Featuring tales such as Link scaling the castle naked and with six hearts (and beating Windblight Ganon), going west instead of east off of the Great Plateau, and the ever-beloved Guardian Tipping.
Updated as ideas and the memories come to me, or when I do something stupid in BOTW/TOTK again.
Featured Characters/Concepts: Link being silly
"Link" to AO3
#my writing#fic updates#the dead sea trilogy#exile//vilify#hardenshipping#astor hwaoc#loz#fanfiction
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4 and 7 for the writeblr end of the year! - lorenfinch
Hi @lorenfinch! Thanks for the ask💜
(From this ask game)
4. what is your favourite line you wrote this year?
Oh, this is a hard one. I'm also going to go with a line that isn't a spoiler, so, from this vignette:
"Ianim believes that the world's beautiful. He'll look at the pitch-black sky and point out the one visible star, however dim. So you'll not say a word to him about this. You will let him be wrong."
7. what are three songs you put on your WIP-playlist this year?
Full disclosure, I don't really do WIP playlists; I just have one playlist with about 300 songs that keeps me focus (mostly orchestral soundtracks and what Spotify described as epicore). So here are three songs that always make me think of the Days of Dusk cast:
'Living' by Florian Bur (reminds me of Lissan)
'Arise' by E.S. Posthumus (Anthea)
'Never Back Down' by Two Steps From Hell (just generally Days of Dusk vibes - or at least I listened to it plenty of times to associate it)
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(Please don't mind the shitty drawing🥲)
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Please Welcome Anthea Ingacio!
She is an oc I've had for Ages but went through some development in a Encanto Rp server-.
This was for the Encanto oc appreciation... uhm. Yeah I'm sorry if this oc is cringe ;-; anyways this is her Official Uhh....INFO post-. Yeah👍... please don't hate me:).
P.s Ignore my potty mouth I'm sorry it's a habit.
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(50 years ago ✨)From a Filipino Couple going on a fun filled vacation turns into fleeing their inn from the fires and soldiers. The Ingacio Family has been living in Encanto, Hiding in the backgrounds of the Madrigals. With Filipino Blood, all Ingacios Try their best to help out with anything. Almost all of them atleast...
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Full name: Anthea Castro Ingacio.
Nicknames: Thea, Cassy, A.C, Spitfire.
Sex: Female. ♀️
Gender: Girl♀️
Sexuality: Lesbian ✨
Age: 22
Birthday: October 31st
Height: 5'1.
Likes: Fire 🔥 (the look of it), Putting Isabella in her place, reading romance, Being Angsty😔/jk wine ✨, Singing to herself(And or Siblings.), Halloween, Scaring people, The look of Blood, & animal Bones.(She's fascinated by the anatomy and structure!) She LOVES animals.
Personality: Anthea really lives up to her Family name. Ingacio meaning Fire/Flame— when it comes to people shutting her out for her Sexuality and identity she takes it very seriously and starts ranting about how it's none of their business. She is a very competitive and independent Woman who dosent do shit people tell her too :)
except for her Mother, She is scared to death by her.
She's Aware of other people's feelings and WILL stop teasing them when they know they've hit a boundary. Her Thick headed exterior over shadows her Warm cuddly side, she absolutely loves kids and her siblings, she's the overprotective sister of most kids in the village that didn't have older siblings, apart from Mirabel and Camilo.
Other info: Has Anger issues.
Backstory: Growing up in Encanto was difficult for Anthea, Learning Spanish instead of her home language she felt left out by not understanding a word her parents said. She was 12 when she found Mirabel, it was the day after her gift ceremony, some kidsz were making fun of her in the park, So Anthea intervened.
It caused a bit of a scene, Anthea end up getting hurt and Mirabel dragged her to casita to get healed by Julieta, They became friends and Stayed with eachother, when She noticed how badly Isabela was treating Mirabel, she basically permanently made Isabela her enemy, Fighting and snapping at her if she made any mean comments about Mirabel. She purposely called Mirabel Beautiful, perfect, and The best Madrigal infront of Isabela, just to get on her nerves, but she REALLY did think about Mirabel as those things.
Growing up to 22, she is still Snappy and ignorant with a soft spot for kids. When Isabela came around she would make a comment about her saying:"are you going to pick up those petals? Or do WE have to clean up after you prima Donna?". turning it into a conversation or a disagreement. It seemed like she just wanted to Tease Isabela. Isabela gifting her the nickname Spitfire. Sometimes the arguments sound more like flirting which would confuse the people around them. Now that she knows Isabela has 'changed.' She is confused for what to do now that Mirabel and isabelas relationship has changed? She ended up liking this Isabella way more than the last one and often follows Isabella around. 'Annoying her' when they're really having fun banter and talking.
Physical appearance: She has Long Wavy brown Hair that's normally in a bun, wearing a Red-oranges Bandana on her head. Her skin is warm ivory and wears a white shirt and black corset with a red Dress/skirt. Her body shape is Pear 🍐 and her eyes are blue (inherited from an grandparent.)
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Eehhh— Anthea is potentially Isabellas Girlfriend 😎 bc I'm a sucker for the:
Enemy's to lovers trope🙏
Over all what I wrote is probably stupid and I might take it down later 🙃
If you have any questions just ask me 💕
@encanto-extended-edition
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ooh baby we're back in business for sure
so after my rage-fuelled obsession with the movie had died down i kind of forgot about it for the most part. (that is a lie. i am lying.) but one day i somehow discovered that it was based on a BOOK and set out to read said book out of morbid curiosity. (i expected it to be just a novel version of the movie, and i wanted to see how an author could create something so empty using words. i was wrong of course, but that's not the point.) i figured it would be at the secondhand bookstore, but i looked there to no avail. i did, however, find another novel by the same author (walter tevis); the steps of the sun. i flipped to a random page and it appeared to show the protagonist whining about how his testicles don't work. this was unpromising.
i then read the man who fell to earth on internet archive, where it is available entirely for free. you just have to make an account and then while you're reading you have to click “renew” once every hour. it took me somewhere around 4-5 hours to read i think. and it was really good.
genuinely. it was a fantastic book. (i ended up later buying it from the regular bookstore because it turns out that walter tevis also happens to be the author of the queen's gambit, that book about chess which has a show based on it, so all his books got a new life thanks to one of them being adapted.)
the book, much like the film, follows an alien called thomas jerome newton who comes to earth to save the few remaining people on his planet, except that this planet has been ravaged by nuclear war. it's also got a name: anthea. a minor issue with the novel is that it contains a lot of info-dumps, even right from the start, but compared to the unexplained torrent of bullshit in the movie, this is a fucking relief. after the pawn-shop scene which plays out pretty similarly to the movie but with more fun, relatable anxiety about being an alien and having to talk to service workers, we get some fairly unimportant and rather strange information about the alien's biology, which is also very silly and kind of fun despite being unoriginal and making no sense. remember, the year was somewhere around 1963 and the man who wrote the book was an english professor at a university. for example, antheans don't have an appendix, or wisdom teeth, or fingernails. don't ask me why. they're basically just humans but taller and thinner and with a lot of parts missing. (i like it though, it's silly.)
the rest of the book actually has a plot, similar to the vestiges of a plot in the film, wherein newton becomes fabulously wealthy, moves to the middle of nowhere with the main girl, builds a rocket-ship, hires nathan bryce who suspects him to be an alien, unrelated to this gets captured by the government, etcetera. these things are actually explained as they happen, and make sense without you having to read a guide alongside the book. in addition to the plot, there are also characters with distinctive personalities. i read the book partly aloud to my friend, and gave the characters actual voices (something i never do when reading aloud). the characters have noticeable changes throughout the novel, and each of the main trio forms a connection with the others. there is no romance plot whatsoever, which was lovely. the characters are very human, very relatable, and very ordinary, despite one of them literally being an alien. they have mundane struggles with life, work, relationships, and addiction, which are not, in my opinion, romanticized or used for spectacle. there are also themes, mainly those of isolation and alienation. it may not be the most thrilling book, there may not be a mystery or a romance or action, so if that's what you want, go read james bond. (the movies are even good, for the most part.) but while walter tevis may not have written an epic spy thriller, or a murder mystery, or an erotic romance, he did write a very beautiful little book about humanity. PLEASE READ IT IT'S SO GOOD PLEASE—
so the thing about the book is that while it is a fantastic, genuinely quite well-written (though dated) sci fi novel with a plot and honestly very likeable characters and themes that make you think instead of pretending to make you think, it does have one problem. it puts into high relief just how absolutely fucking awful the movie is, worse than i could have thought, worse than the world could have known. it is my sincere belief that the screenwriter HEARD of the book from a friend and then read it in it's entirety…during an acid-fuelled fever dream. (not as unlikely as you'd think honestly.)
but the problem with that theory is that that upon rewatching the film, there are several incredibly specific elements from the book which somehow ended up in the movie. this includes the painting of the fall of icarus and its accompanying poem, the hundreds of identical wedding rings which newton sells in the beginning to make enough money to meet with the lawyer, the shiny fingernails??? (sidenote i feel like bowie just kept putting on more nail polish as filming went on, his nails seem to get shinier every scene), the fucking oatmeal cookies (why), and probably others. this means that the filmmakers read the book and decided to replace all the themes and metaphors with surface-level spectacle, all of the plot-relevant internal monologue with shots of characters staring at one another or into space, and all of the dialogue with sex. (and everyone else was too high to argue, i suppose.)
this is such a tragedy that i can hardly comprehend it. there are even flashes, within the film, of what it could have been if nic roeg hadn't been entirely absorbed in making a cheap-looking, disjointed, “artsy” pile of garbage with an r rating slapped on to garner some kind of reaction. i would call it a porno, but that's an insult to porn directors. instead i will call it what it is, which is pathetic.
in one scene which appears to be entirely original wherein the two main characters (because nathan bryce is a sidenote of a sidenote in this movie and serves only to make bowie look prettier than he is in the ending scene) are hanging out in the hotel room and mary-lou (in the book she's called betty jo but they changed her name and aged her down about twenty years so that they could make her have sex with the main character) asks what newton does for a living and he replies, “oh, i'm just visiting,” and mary-lou, delighted, says “oh! a traveller!” and newton (bowie) gives this sweet smile and for a moment i could pretend that everything was going to be fine, except it wasn't, and the girl immediately begins blabbing again. i just wish that they had included more lines like these, more actual fucking dialogue, because it was the part of the book which i liked the best, along with the possibly-unintentional comedy.
one final thing to note before i close out this chapter is that in the book newton is constantly described as being incredibly fragile, with bones like a bird's, barely able to withstand earth's gravity (that being 3 times the gravity of his own planet, which actually checks out scientifically, and interestingly implies that anthea is slightly smaller than earth) to the point where even being bumped into would probably injure him. being bumped into. so like. if he had sex like he does in the movie he would genuinely probably just fucking die.
stay tuned for more, hopefully i don't lose this manic pixie dream bitch energy by tomorrow morning.
#the man who fell to earth (oh dear god don't send the fangirls after me)#rambling#ooh baby we're back in business for sure
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Hoping and Dreaming
[The day Anthea's life was torn asunder, something happened. Something she still to this day, cannot explain. Something she hopes someday, she might ]
I remember almost every little detail of the accident, up until I was found by the EMTs in the rubble.
I remember the rumbling sounds of battle outside, of gunfire, cannons, the thundering booms of the Cybertronians running through the city.
I remember the explosion, the loud ringing in my ears as the stadium crumbled to pieces around me.
The sound of short circuiting power, of shattered glass raining down and of water dripping and pooling the ruined space around me.
The hours spent crushed under the debris piled atop me, and slowly feeling my legs go numb, till I could no longer feel them.
Screaming louder and louder, till my voice was almost gone, till it was nothing more than a strained cry and plea for help.
The burning sensation of the wounds on my body, the soreness and pain I wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
It was hell.
When the EMTs arrived, I was so relieved.
I knew my legs were long gone by now. It had been nearly 4 hours, and I had lost all feeling by the second one. I couldn’t move anything beyond my thigh at that point .
Once I had arrived at the hospital, I just…gave up. My body was too weak, I’d given in altogether, and all the adrenaline drained.
After hours surrounded by nurses, doctors and any kind of medical professional , my chest just felt heavy. Not in the way that medicine could explain just… heavy in the manner of realizing what I had survived. And that everything was over.
It was those thoughts that flooded my mind as I drifted to sleep, along the humming of hospital machinery and the somber silence of the tragedy of that day.
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In my dreams, I sat alone, just an endless pool of stars, and utter quiet.
Complete silence, the stars and me. That was all I could think of. This…realm, void, whatever it was, was like the city at night.
Dotted with faint splatters of starlight. Nothing I hadn’t seen before.
I felt…drained.
Hopeless.
Like I could just lie back, and let the pool under me swallow me whole. Just fall under the water and drift off.
It was tempting, really.
I could feel it too, see it.
My hands slowly sinking through the floor, into the water…my legs too, if they were there anymore, which I doubted.
It was almost a welcome embrace and…and I wanted to sink in, wanted to—
‘Not yet.’
It was those words, echoing around me that snapped me aware of what I was doing.
I stood- or at least, sat back up on what remained of my legs…
I looked around, but there wasn’t anyone but me.
… there was a presence.
Someone, something there, just… out of sight. But I could feel them there, just that sensation of something… other.
Not human, that much I could tell, but there was just something… powerful, something watching. Thinking perhaps?
‘I am sorry’
I had to laugh. Sorry? It was sorry? For my loss? My existence now? Why would it even care?
Whatever it was, anyway.
‘I am so sorry, little star. Your spark has been dulled, by a war not your own.’
Well, no shit…
Still, these words felt…comforting, in some manner. Like fresh water in the heat, it was a small relief.
‘You were not meant for the ground, you were meant to soar.’
I looked from where I lay, up above me, where the sky of this dream was dotted with almost no stars.
‘’...I don’t have wings,I-I can’t dance anymore and now I can’t even walk. I can’t…I can’t do anything ‘’
I wanted to cry, to scream, to shout, just…rage but it wouldn’t come out.
Just numbness at everything.
‘You will do all that, and more. In time. ‘
‘’...Will my life ever be normal again?”
‘No. It will be more than you thought it could ever be.’
For the first time, the dark sky lit up. A whole galaxy of stars, that only in my dreams could I imagine of seeing, appeared before my eyes.
It was beautiful, a sight I wished deep down, might come true some day.
‘’I hope that you’re right then’’
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The nurses told me in the morning that, in my deep sleep, my vitals had suddenly dropped and Mami had run frantically to get them.
They couldn’t find why they’d dropped but…just as they were trying to figure things out, they’d stabilized, just shortly before I woke up.
Mami had clung to me for hours after, saying we would get through everything that had happened.
All I had the strength to say was that I hoped she was right.
And I hoped that whatever I’d dreamed of that night, that it too was right.
#transformers#maccadam#maccadams#nova writings#look i wrote fanfic#tf oc#transformers oc#tf astray verse#anthea santos#tf ocs#tf oc tag#transformers ocs
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Febuwhump 2023: her_ladyships_soap’s Mystrade Masterpost
AO3 Series Link
I did Febuwhump this year with a Mystrade theme! There are 17 standalone works with a total of 29 chapters between them. Each chapter answers one prompt, except for a bonus chapter in When You Wake Up that covers the same prompt as the chapter before it. They span just under 50k words!
Please Leave a Message - Febuwhump Day 1 (alt prompt 10): Inferno and Febuwhump Day 9: Voice loss. An explosion on Downing Street and Mycroft’s disappearance sends Greg into a panic. BAMF Greg and BAMF Anthea. Angst with a happy ending. Rating: T.
Look After You - Febuwhump Day 2: Flinching. Mycroft is struggling after the events at Sherrinford. Anthea phones Greg for help. Can be read as pre-slash if you want it to be. Focuses on the beginning of trauma recovery. Rating: T.
Breathe With Me - Febuwhump Day 3 (alt prompt 1): Rope burns. Greg helps Mycroft cleanse his wounds. Literally and metaphorically. Gentle hurt/comfort. Rating: T.
Down on the Cards - Febuwhump Day 4: Knife to the throat. Mild violence warning. Little bit of blood. Greg rescues Mycroft, but it might be too late. Ambiguous ending warning. Rating: T.
Rugged - Febuwhump Day 5: “That’s gonna scar.” Ficlet (500 words). Greg gets slashed pretty bad in a fight and is sad about his new scar. He worries that he’s going to look ugly, old, and feeble. Mycroft, however, has a different opinion. No graphic violence. Rating: G.
Carve Into Your Ribs - Darkfic alert! Febuwhump Day 6: Secrets revealed. Graphic Depictions of Violence warning. Dark!Mycroft and Dark!Greg. This one’s a bit gory. Rating: M.
Static - Febuwhump Day 7: Made to watch, Day 14: Captivity, Day 17: Silent tears, and Day 18 (alt prompt 6): Limp. 6k. Greg is kidnapped. Mycroft does everything in his power to find him. Rating: M with Graphic Depictions of Violence warning.
A Trail of Burnt Things - Febuwhump Day 8: Panic. Follows Greg in the immediate aftermath of Sherlock’s fall. Gen. Hurt No Comfort. Rating: T.
And the Whole World Dissolved - Febuwhump Day 10: Difficulty breathing. Ficlet (600 words). An explosion throws Mycroft into the Thames. Rating: T.
Carry You Home - Febuwhump Day 11: Fever. Mycroft has been missing for weeks. Greg has finally found him, sick and delirious with fever. Rating: T.
When You Wake Up - Febuwhump Day 12: “Can you hear me?” and Day 13, alt prompt 3: Soft words. Greg is in a coma. Mycroft, never leaving his side, speaks to him. Happy ending. Rating: G.
A Gentle Voice - Febuwhump Day 15: Self-sacrifice. Ficlet: 700 words. Greg takes a bullet for Mycroft. Bit of an ambiguous ending. Non-graphic violence. Rating: T.
Stay Awake, Beautiful - Febuwhump Day 16: Semi-conscious. Just under 1k words. Mycroft is losing blood fast. Greg, John, and Sherlock do their best to save him. Ambiguous ending. Rating: T.
Kiss Me Like It’s Sunrise - Immortality AU! Febuwhump Day 19, alt prompt 7: Immortality and Day 20: Knife wound. Greg is immortal. Mycroft, unfortunately, is not. There is a happy ending, I promise! Rating: M, with warnings for graphic violence and some suicidal ideation.
Where the Cinders Blaze - Fantasy AU! 7k. Febuwhump Day 21: Shackled, Day 22 (alt prompt 9): Natural Disaster, and Day 23: "You'll have to go through me." Mycroft is a mage on the run; Greg is his rugged saviour. Rating: T.
All Lives End - Major Character Death and Graphic Depictions of Violence alert! Febuwhump Day 24: Bloody clothes. Mycroft is killed. Greg, covered in his blood, copes with the aftermath. Additional warning for some suicidal ideation. Rating: M.
Missing, Presumed Dead - Febuwhump Day 25: Assumed dead, Day 26 (alt prompt 8): Found footage, Day 27: Survivor’s guilt, and Day 28: "You're safe now." 8.5k. Mycroft goes missing and Greg has to rally John and Sherlock to save him when MI6 refuses to go looking. Rating: M with Graphic Depictions of Violence warning.
#my fics#fanfiction#mystrade#febuwhump 2023#febuwhump#sherlock fanfiction#mystrade fanfiction#my fic
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OCs as Siken Poems
Tagged awhile ago by @statichvm to take this little uquiz for some ocs. Apologies for the time it took as your girl only took screenshots and not copying text directly 🙃 Anyway sending a few tags out to @belorage @florbelles @heroofpenamstan @unholymilf @confidentandgood @jackiesarch @strafethesesinners @themarcspector @indorilnerevarine @adelaidedrubman and anyone else that wants to do it! Formatted so the line from the poem that fits them is first before the result description.
Hayat Kahdemi (The Wayhaven Chronichles)
The Torn Up Road
There, on the ground, slipping through the minutes,/trying to notch them. Like taking the same picture over and over, the spaces in between sealed up/Knocked hard enough to make the record skip/and change its music, setting the melody on its/forward course again, circling and circling the center hole in the flat black disk./And words, little words,/words too small for any hope or promise, not really soothing/but soothing nonetheless.
“I want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.” poem about having a hard time, the kind of hard time where you don’t want anybody to see you like this, but somebody is seeing you like this. and somebody is doing everything they can to help you but you are reckless and they are young and you both are just trying to get through it one day at a time.
Stasia (VA/Bloodlines, FFXIV)
Saying Your Names
His voice on tape, his name on the envelope, the soft sound of a body falling off a bridge behind you, the body hardly even makes a sound. The waters of the dead, a clear road, every lover in the form of stars, the road blocked. All night I stretched my arms across him, rivers of blood, the dark woods, singing with all my skin and bone Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.
“I came to tell you we’ll swim in the water / we’ll swim like something sparkling underneath the waves.” this is the poem I send excerpts of to the people I love. when I read this poem is makes me cry because it reminds me of the beautiful things in the world and also the beautiful things of love.
Anthea (FFXIV)
Straw House Straw Dog
Four dreams in a row, four dreams in a row, four dreams in a row,/fall down right there. I wanted to fall down right there but I knew/you wouldn’t catch me/because you're dead. I swallowed crushed ice/pretending it was glass and you're dead. Ashes to ashes./You wanted to be cremated so we cremated you and you wanted an adventure/so I ran and I knew you wouldn’t catch me./You are a fever I am learning to live with, and everything is happening/at the wrong end of a very long tunnel.
“I don’t really blame you for being dead but you can’t have your sweater back.” this is a poem about grief, a poem about loss. poem that makes you think about how people leave you but you still have everything you’ve ever known about them and you don’t know what to do about that.
Siberite Akagane (FFXIV)
I Had a Dream About You
In these dreams it’s always you: the boy in the sweatshirt, the boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me from jumping off the bridge. Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued/Your jeep. Your teeth. The coffee that you bought me. The sandwich cut in half on the plate. I woke up and ate ice cream in the dark, hunched over on the wooden chair in the kitchen, listening to the rain. I borrowed your shoes and didn’t put them away.
surrealist dream piece but in a very homoerotic and fluorescent lit way. reminds me of going to waffle house at three am with my friends, or late night road trips. about the idealization of the good wild moments you have with people you love but also about the harshness of living outside of those moments. also kind of about crime, which I think is sexy.
#tag games#these poems and quiz didn't have to go for my kids like this but here we are#hayat khademi oc#stasia e. oc#anthea oc#siberite akagane oc#theas was especially extra mean because what the fuck man#its so rude im still upsetti about it
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WINTER IN PARIS:
Winter's coldness is descending in the city of love,
As the Eiffel Tower is adorned in frost.
The Seine begins to form its waves,
They are covered by tri-colored leaves.
Gardens and parks, once filled with green
Now it is grey and tranquil.
The statues that were once filled with life,
Are now frozen in the dark.
As the outside gets colder,
Cafés embrace warmth with mugs of warm drinks,
Covering in blankets of silk,
A taste of warmth and love, giving a cozy feel.
As the Parisian skies gets cloudier,
The streets are showered with the rain.
In Paris even in cold,
The warmth of love will never fade.
"The landscape painter must study and observe throughout his life; he should never lose the opportunity to consult nature, with always a crayon in his hand." Lecarpentier, 1817. This quotation from The Work of Art: Plein Air Painting and Artistic Identity in Nineteenth-Century France by Anthea Callen was significant and played an essential role in my project development. In the project, as earlier stated, we decided to challenge ourselves and try to impersonate either painters or poems. I developed the poem to get out of my comfort zone, and my partner drew a painting. This quote refers to the importance of a painter always observing and studying nature throughout their life. In the project, I did not have to observe nature to paint but rather to write about it, and I felt it was, as the quote described, very fundamental to study it for a long time with a pen and a notebook in my hand. While developing the project, it took me a few days, maybe weeks, to get inspiration. I would walk around the beautiful city of Paris and write a few ideas about the weather and how the weather was affecting my emotional state. If it was raining, I felt very sad and nostalgic for warmer days; when it was windy, I would observe how the trees would aggressively move and get angry myself; when it was a bit warmer, or at least I felt a bit more cozy indoors I would feel at home and happier. Additionally, I would walk around and observe nature in the city; I would sit in parks and see the absence of color in the city. This inspired me to write a poem about nature in Paris and to sound more like what I felt then. I was also inspired by the text written by Henry David Thoreau in The Journal of 1837-1861. "Nov. 12. It is much the coldest day yet, and the ground is a little frozen and resounds under my tread. All people move the brisker for the cold yet are braced and a little elated by it. They love to say, "Cold day, sir." Though the days are shorter, you get more work out of a hired man than before, for he must work to keep warm." I related to this text, and it felt very similar to what I was feeling and wanted to write; the text felt sad as it talked about being in colder weather and the days getting shorter. A painting that inspired me as I was writing the poem was Claude Monet's Ice Breaking, Grey Weather, 1880. This painting portrayed a very sad and melancholy feel; it felt very dramatic and, simultaneously, very tranquil. Monet focuses on the river in this painting and shows the connection between snow and water, which I also tried to focus on in my poem, speaking about the river's movement and the frost in the Eiffel Tower. This painting, for me, also seems very lonely, as it is a very quiet landscape with naked trees. I tried to portray what I felt about this painting in words in my poem, as winter for me, feels like this image. As I was writing the poem, It made me fall in love with Paris and its nature all over again. Nowadays, I'm not used to being outside as much or enjoying and observing nature firsthand, as we can see everything in social media or images inside our houses. Going out to get inspiration and write the poem enriched me and made me appreciate nature even more.
Claude Monet's Ice Breaking, Grey Weather, 1880
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Gestures
It had been – in a word – a day. Two domestics and burglary that went very wrong. Sherlock had been – Sherlock. Greg’s C.I.D. was on a tear. Mycroft and even Anthea had been unreachable all afternoon. It was not exactly unusual, but it did not help his mood. The only good thing about the day was that it was Friday, and he would be leaving soon.
Greg nearly cursed, seeing C.I.D. Ahlers swiftly approaching his office, already knowing his plans to go home were as fubar-ed as the rest of the day had been. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Sir…?”
“Something doing at Hatfield House. You’re being directly asked for. Come with me, hurry. Helipad.”
“Who asked for me?” Greg immediately rose then stopped. “Sir, did you say helipad?”
“It’s rush hour. Don’t look a gift horse – Lestrade. Don’t know the details. Just that it’s big and someone who apparently knows your name. So yes, helipad. Move it.”
Greg just managed to suppress his annoyed groan as he followed his boss. The man was correct, at that time of day he would be at Kenwood in mere minutes compared to nearly an hour in traffic.
It was not the first time Greg had been in an NPAS helicopter, but it was rare that something was deemed so important that NSY allowed use of the helipad just for his transport. He sent off a quick text to Anthea and Mycroft that he was called on a case and would be late coming home. He was chagrinned at the lack of respond from either, but it had been that kind of day.
He barely paid attention to the required instructions as he boarded, the flight captain and co-pilot already on board and beyond grateful that that his C.I.D. was not coming with them. As the helicopter lifted off, the vista that is London at night spread out before him. It was the tail end of sunset, and the city was lit for the evening. Greg rarely gets to see it from this viewpoint live.
“Such a beautiful view. Does it get old for you?” Greg doubted it but had to ask.
“Never.” The pilot confirmed. The co-pilot shook his head in agreement.
Greg sighed, a part of him wishing Mycroft were there to share the view with him. It would make a great treat on a date night. Greg made a mental note to suggest it, because Mycroft would not think of such a thing.
Having seen the relationship between Sherlock and John, Greg Lestrade understood loving a Holmes brother, particularly Mycroft, was not going to be an easy thing. Mycroft does not mean to somewhat reserved – neither brother can help themselves, that cool detachment is part and parcel of who they are – but Mycroft just is not one for grand romantic gestures.
He knows the man he is in love with. He knows Mycroft loves him deeply. Quite deeply. It took weeks to stop being blushing in front of their household chief of staff when he realized they had been seen in flagrante delicto in foyer because they just had to have each other then and there. Like all good staff, they have learned the talent to not see a thing between Greg and Mycroft when necessary. And Greg is quite happy to say, when necessary, happens often enough for two middle aged men – thank you very much.
Thus, the onus to provide silly romantic things for them mostly fell to Greg. Greg does not mind. Mycroft, like Sherlock slowly had with John, is learning. It’s wonderful to see and feel as Mycroft gets better in how he demonstrates his love in little gestures.
Still, there are times Greg wished for some insane grand gesture - like a sunset helicopter ride for a date night.
Greg squinted as the pilot announced their approach. He only seen photos of the historical country house and its grounds, but he did not recall ever seeing pictures of the grounds near the place being lit as he was seeing.
“Was some event happening on the grounds? It looks like there are a thousand candles--.” Greg started to ask but stopped as they got closer, and he could better see.
The courtyard of the structure was a blaze with light on the ground.
“No….” Greg looked to the pilot. Surely, he was seeing things.
“Yep.” The pilot grinned as Greg’s stunned face. “Circling around so you can see it again before we land below the South Garden and…”
Greg did not hear another word the man said, his attention focused on the lights on ground as the helicopter circled. Logic told Greg it was artificial, real candles would have never lasted in the windy evening. Still, logic could not ruin the beautiful effect of only goodness knew how many candles were needed to spell out a message – well – ask a question to be precise.
Marry me, Gregory?
There was no mistaking the figure surrounded by a circle of candles that knelt on bended knee in place of the dot of the question mark.
Greg was breathless and giddy with joy.
The helicopter landed on the lawn of the South Gardens. It had barely touched ground when Greg was removing his headphones. He instinctively ducked under the whirling blades and ran for all his worth towards the open gate. The light on the other side of the garden drawing him like moth to flame.
“Oh, you bastard!”
A grinning Greg did not stop until he all but toppled Mycroft who braced for the impact and ensuing kiss.
He had wished for a grand romantic gesture, and Universe answered, there was no arguing this was the grandest and best.
“I take it that is a, yes?” Mycroft grinned when Greg finally pulled away.
“Yes, I’ll marry you!”
@flashfictionfridayofficial!!
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Earth & Fire
Chapter VIII - The awakening of earth and fire
02/20/2024
Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)
Word Count: 8,664
Warnings: language, fluff, plotting and scheming, abduction, blood (ichor), violence, cruelty, attempted rape, memories of past sexy times, nudity, blackmail, angst, so much angst, and Zeus (the God of Red Flags needs a warning of his own)
Summary: When the King of the Gods at last finds a way to lure Anthea from the Underworld, nothing will ever be the same again.
A/N: Nothing to say, just grateful you're still here.
Earth & Fire - Masterpost
Picture found on Pinterest
Divider by @firefly-graphics
If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.
His lover’s naked body gleamed enticingly in the golden hues of the fire light and he could not help himself from reaching out for the prominent curve at the far end of the young man’s back. He knew it would be silky as a freshly bloomed petal even before his fingers found the smooth skin. Hermes had never felt anything—or anyone—even remotely comparable to the touch of his beloved mortal, Krokos, and not a single day went by that he did not thank the Fates for the fortunate day their paths had crossed.
The god basked in the pureness of this moment, free from prying eyes, free to give himself to his lover completely and shower him with all the affection he deserved. He was not usually this sappy, he could not afford to be since, even though he was a god, he was well aware that there were far more powerful amongst the Olympians, who would only be too happy to use his enamoured state against him. They were vultures, all of them. Well, maybe there were a few exceptions, but he surely was not one of them. And he chuckled as he recalled the moment he had done to poor Hades what Hermes himself so desperately tried to avoid by meeting his lover in secret.
“Care to share your thoughts with me, my love? You know how dearly I like to laugh.”
Krokos’ words were muffled by the pillows, but he could not hide the drowsy slur they held. Hermes had tired him out thoroughly with their passionate lovemaking, a fact that sparked the sweetest of warmths to spread inside his chest. That alone would have been enough to sway him, but it was the anticipation of Krokos’ beautiful smile that ultimately set Hermes’ tongue loose.
“I just thought about Hades.”
“While caressing my behind? Is there any reason for me to be jealous?”
There was not. And Krokos knew that all too well. It was more than obvious that he was just teasing him as his mortal did not even stir underneath his lover’s tender caress.
“Krokos, please! He’s my uncle.”
“As if that were reason enough to stop you, or any of you immortal beings.”
He was right of course. Gods rarely cared about the degree of kinship when the heat of desire befell them, still Krokos’ remark earned him a pinch to his pliable flesh.
“And besides that,” Hermes went on pointedly, “he is still Hades, the most boring god the cosmos has ever had the audacity to create.”
“And yet the thought of him made you chuckle.”
“The thought of what I did to him today sure did.”
That statement finally made the young man sit up straight. “Oh?”
Hermes was silent for a moment as the full beauty of his love rendered him speechless. Those sparkly blue eyes never failed to pull him in, and he would have all too gladly let himself drown in them, but he was far more eager to see them burst with pride after hearing the story of his triumph over one of the great three.
“You remember how I told you of the greatest weakness a god can suffer, don’t you, my sweet?”
Hermes cupped the young man’s cheek as he sank deeper into the two pools of blue.
“Love,” Krokos’ whispered as his eyes briefly fell to his immortal lover’s lips.
“Exactly! It makes us vulnerable, even more so if our beloved is a mortal, an easy target for the other gods.”
Krokos’ eyes went wide. “No! You’re not telling me that Hades, of all creatures, fell in love with a mortal?” He chuckled before his eyes suddenly softened. “But then again it is only logical for death to fall in love with life, isn’t it? And so poetic.”
“Hush, don’t spoil it now. I was so proud of myself for playing them both, but if you put it like that, I almost feel bad for meddling with them.”
“Ah, no, my love,” now it was Krokos who reached for his lover and cupped his face gently. “If their love is as true as ours, I am sure it can’t be meddled with, not even by a powerful being like you.”
“That remains to be seen,” Hermes grinned wickedly. “For Hades is not the only one of the great three whose heart this mortal has bewitched.”
The warmth of Krokos’ hands fell away, his sparkling eyes suddenly clouding over.
“I hope you know what you are getting yourself into, Kharidôtês. To do your mischief at the expense of the God of the Dead is one thing, to offend Poseidon or—Fates forbid—your own father—”
“Is something not even the Messenger God would be dumb enough to risk,” a boisterous voice broke the strained silence. “Or would you, son? And don’t disappoint me now, it was me after all who made you the God of Wit, amongst many other things you owe to me.”
No, it could not be. He had been so careful in choosing this place, and yet despite all the precautionary measures he had taken, the figure that stepped out of the shadows left no room for the hope of illusion. It was him. Unmistakably. And he did not blame Krokos for clutching his arm before freezing in place beside him.
The All-father was a fearsome sight to behold, and despite the calm facade he carried himself with, Hermes could feel his fury rage behind those azure eyes. Slowly he came closer and Hermes' own heart froze in his chest as he watched his father reach out for the defenceless youth.
“Aww, are you scared of me, puny mortal?” he scoffed before leaning in closer. “You very well should be. I could end you in an instant, you know. And I will not hesitate a single moment to do just that if my son won’t do exactly as I tell him.”
“I will, father,” Hermes was quick to comply. “Anything you ask of me, but please don’t—”
As long as he could remember, Zeus had never shown even the slightest bit of compassion. He did not know why he had hoped to find it in his father’s heart now. And the All-father’s haughty laughter seemed to prove once more that Hermes had been right not to expect anything different today. But at least he had let go of Krokos.
“Very well then,” Zeus did not waste another moment to state the true nature of his visit as he began to circle the bed. “First, I have a question for you, son, and I need you to answer me truthfully. As simple as that. Understood?”
“Yes, father.”
“So, I couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation and I fear it left me wondering who this mortal woman is that seems to have turned my broody brother’s head.”
Hermes had feared this day would come. He had feared it from the moment Hades had made him swear that oath, knowing that, faced with the impossible, it might very well cost him his life. And he had sworn it anyway in the face of being confined to the Underworld for an unforeseeable amount of time, separated from his lover. How ironic that it might very likely cost him far more than his freedom now.
“I…please, father,” he stammered, “you have to believe me! I would tell you if I could, but I can’t. I swore the divine oath.”
Hermes shifted on the bed, panic leading his body to move to keep his lover shielded from the All-father as best as he could. It would not make much of a difference, he thought as he awaited his father’s godly wrath. But to his great surprise, it never came. And when Zeus spoke again, his voice was completely levelled.
“I see. In that case, I suppose my brother made you swear not to tell anyone the mortal’s name.”
“Yes, he did. I am so sorry, father. Please…please…”
“Well,” Zeus continued, unmoved by his son’s desperate pleading, “did he also make you swear not to confirm should anyone—by pure chance—guess her name?”
It took Hermes a moment to realise what his father had just said, but his mind had understood already, a wave of relief washing over him instantly.
“He…he did not.”
“I thought so.” Zeus had stopped his pacing and was licking his lips in anticipation now. “And is that mortal woman’s name by any chance Anthea, daughter of Hephaestus?”
“It is.”
Hermes could see the spark of triumph igniting his father’s untameable desire anew. Nothing would stop him now, his prey finally within reach once more.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
The Messenger God shook his head, his tongue suddenly too heavy to move as he realised his father was not done with him yet.
“Then there is only one more thing I need you to do for me.”
Hermes swallowed thickly.
“Bring her to me.”
“But father, I…that’s impossible. Hades will rather kill me than let me take her from the Underworld.”
Without a single word, Zeus flicked his fingers and Hermes could feel the warmth of Krokos’ body vanish from his side. In horror he peered down at the spot where he had just been sitting, but instead of the sweet sight of his lover, all he found was a tiny, violet flower. It could not be. It could not. On their own, his fingers reached out, still hoping to feel warm flesh instead of silky petals, but then he hesitated, afraid to damage the delicate flower and cause even more harm than he already had with his unguarded tongue. At least his eyes showed some mercy as tears began to cloud the cruel sight in front of him.
“A mere insurance, you do understand, my dear Hermes, and some motivation for you as well. Bring me what I want and he’ll be back to normal before you can even blink.” Zeus voice had been unnaturally balmy, designed to lull him into a sense of false security, but now his tone changed, piercing him to the very core with its icy touch. “However, should you fail, I will crush him underneath my foot and take comfort in the thought that if I am denied what I desire most, so will you.”
The horror of the thought was enough to make Hermes scream as if Zeus had already made do on his words. “No! Noooooooooo!”
But the All-father was gone, leaving his distraught son on his own. Still Hermes kept on wailing, even though there were no ears left to pick up the utter despair in his cries, no heart to be stirred by his woeful sounds but his own, not even a set of violet petals to shake in the air that left his lungs or tremble under the weight of the teardrops that fell from his eyes freely. It was only him now. Nothing less than a god, but also nothing more. Crumbling in the face of the impossible.
Darkness surrounded her. The eerie kind. The one that made the tiny hairs all over her body stand up straight. And the strange silence did not do anything to calm her growing sense of fear.
A sudden noise made her turn around. And even though it seemed to come from far away, the metallic sound made her shiver.
Anthea thought her mind was playing tricks on her when in the distance her eyes finally caught onto a dim sheen of light. But it was certainly there and the closer she came, the clearer it was to her that she was heading towards the dancing lights of a fire that fell through the entrance to a cave.
She was almost there, ready to face whatever was waiting for her, when a deep, familiar groan made her stop in her tracks. Ready to face whatever was waiting for her, but not this, please, not this. And as she finally stepped through the rounded hole in the stone, her eyes found him immediately.
He was chained to the wall across from her, the solid links leaving angry red marks all over his arms, legs and exposed chest. He was barely holding on to consciousness, his eyes already closed as he released another heavy breath. Besides the marks from the chain, he was covered in dark bruises and his face was drenched in the golden shimmer of fresh ichor. It still kept oozing from two deep cuts, one on his forehead, the other following the line of his cheekbone. She had never seen him like this and nothing could have prepared her for the dreadful sight, the panic that befell her and clutched her racing heart in an icy grip.
She wanted to run to him, free him from his shackles and take him home where she could tend to his wounds and see that he would find the rest he needed to recover. He would. She was sure of it. After all, he was a god and it would not take long until the ichor stopped flowing and his wounds would close. Soon there would not even be a single hint of them left, in fact, she was beginning to wonder why they had not already begun to heal. Unless…
“Anthea!” his blue eyes had opened and must have caught on to her sight. And the resignation she found there broke her heart all over again.
“Father!”
Her feet had started to run even before her mind had caught up with her actions and she crossed the distance in a heartbeat.
“Father,” she whispered again as she sank down beside him, trembling hands cupping his cheeks. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
She could see that he wanted to talk, but his tongue was too heavy to move. And so she got to work without an answer. Feverishly her fingers clawed at the heavy chains, using the full weight of her body as she tried to pull them out of their attachment to the wall. But however much she tried, they did not budge. With the realisation came the tears, making it even harder to focus on her task, still she was not ready to give up. She was groaning and grunting, pulling harder than she had ever pulled in her entire life, when the sudden touch of Hephaestus’ hand made her stop.
It was gentle but firm, and when her eyes found his, even through the salty veil of her tears she could see what he wanted her to do. And with the last strength that remained in his body, he spoke only one word.
“Run!”
Anthea’s eyes flew open and she was surrounded by darkness once again. Surrounded by darkness and him. He was everywhere, his scent invading her nose, his steady breathing breaking the silence and his arm draped around her middle, securing her against his chest. And it was his very presence that brought her to her senses again.
It was just a dream, she reassured herself as she stirred in his embrace to turn around and face him. Sore limbs and the slight ache between her thighs reminded her of the night before and she dreaded the darkness even more for veiling his beloved features from her.
He had been so gentle, so soft spoken, whispering words of desire and affection to her all through their tender lovemaking. Anthea could not hide the placid smile from curving her lips as her hand found the softness of his bearded cheek. Careful fingertips began to trace the prominent line of his cheekbone as he pulled her closer.
Even in his slumber he seemed to know exactly what she needed and so she stopped the exploration of his face and let her head sink against his fuzzy chest instead. His breaths came evenly, creating an enchanting rhythm as they mixed with the slow drum of his heartbeat.
She felt safe here in his arms, a safety she had only ever known in one other place: her home. But that lay abandoned now at the foot of Mount Mosychlos, while her father was at some place only the Fates knew to lead Zeus astray. If only he was well, and her dream nothing more than just a nightmare, one of Morpheus’ cruel tricks.
She could feel the panic begin to rise once more as the images resurfaced. What if he had found him? What if her dream had not simply been a nightmare but a vision? She had heard of that before, people seeing things in their sleep before they actually happened to them. What if Zeus—
Anthea jolted as a dull sound broke through the silence. It must have come from the balcony. On instinct she dove deeper into Aidon’s embrace. She would have to wake him because whatever it was that was moving about the balcony, it should not be here.
But then there was something else, a high pitched noise, like a bird’s chirp, and she suddenly knew what had landed right outside the room. Under any other circumstances, this could have waited until morning, but with the horrible images of her nightmare still fresh on her mind, she needed to know that he was safe. And so she wormed her way out of Aidon’s arms, careful not to wake him. She would be back in no time, calmed by the knowledge that her father was alive and well, ready to fall into blissful sleep once again.
It was not easy to find her way around in the dark and unfamiliar room, and it felt like an eternity until she had finally managed to make out her peplos on the ground and was ready to follow the blue sheen of light that fell through the tiny slit between the door and the ground.
Without the comfortable warmth of Aidon’s body next to her own, the air felt unusually cold as she stepped onto the balcony. Anthea needed to be quick. Find the mechanic messenger, read the news it brought from her father, and then hurry back to the source of heat she missed as dearly as if she had been separated from Aidon for days, not mere moments.
Step by step she moved forward, her eyes scanning the ground for the metallic sheen of the robin, but it was only when she had reached the doorway to her own bedroom that she finally made out the tiny bird—or what remained of it. Its formerly smooth and shiny wings were now crumbled and crushed, like the rest of its body. Trembling hands scooped it up from the ground as it tried to flap its broken wings. Once more it released that high-pitched noise she had heard before, a shrill tweet, and if she had not known better, she would have said it was in utter pain. Then it went limp and Anthea was left in the silence once more.
She did not even dare to allow herself the thought, and still she knew it was true. This could only mean one thing: her dream had been more than just a dream. A nightmare come true. And her father—
“I’m sorry.”
In an instant she stood, her eyes trying to blink through the tears, but when she finally spotted the dark figure leaned against the railing, she did not need to see clearly to identify the god.
“I should have known it is you. Is this your doing?”
Accusatory hands held out the crushed robin towards the intruder.
“No, it is not.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I am merely doing my job, Anthea. I am here to deliver a message.”
“A message? From my father?”
For a brief second a flicker of hope washed over her face, but it died away as quickly as it had come as Hermes shook his head in negation.
“I’m afraid not.”
He could see that her mind was still fighting the thought, but it did not take long before the former hope was replaced by realisation.
“No. No, this cannot be. I have been so careful,” she stammered as she had to lean against the palace wall for support.
“Not careful enough as it seems.”
A dark glare hit him. He had known it would come, and still it cut deep, allowing him a taste of the anger and despair she surely felt. He knew it all too well.
“Anyways, I am here to tell you that he wants to see you. And I was asked to make it abundantly clear to you that, should you refuse, your father’s death will be on your hands.”
Hermes could almost hear the thoughts racing behind her turmoiled eyes, and then it came, the reaction he had been waiting for. It was almost imperceptible, the slightest turn of her head in the direction of her sleeping lover.
“Oh, I wouldn’t even think about it. You’re on your own this time. No sweet Aidon to protect you. Or the deal is off.”
She glared at him again.
“What? Don’t kill the messenger!”
“Ah, shut up, Hermes, you little fuck. Everything that comes out of that mouth of yours is nothing but a lie. You are far more than the messenger in this game. Or how would Zeus ever have found out about this?”
Once again she held out the damaged bird to him and even though Hermes did not rise to her provocation, his silence probably spoke louder to her than any answer could have.
“You know very well Hades made me swear that oath. I could not possibly have—”
“Do you take me for a fool? As if you of all gods would not have found a way around this oath.”
Why? Why was it always him who had to take the blame? Why did she not see that he was merely a pawn in this game, just as much as she was?
“I am flattered, but I fear you take me for more than I am. And besides, what reason would I have to rat you out to the boss?”
She huffed. “I could think of a few. Do you want me to deliver them in chronological or alphabetical order?”
This was taking way too long. Any more of this agitated talk and Hades would surely wake and his whole plan would come to naught. He did not even want to think about what this would mean for poor Krokos. He needed to act quickly, force her to come with him if necessary. And so, in a gesture of utter despair, he closed the distance between them and grabbed her arm firmly.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she hissed and before he knew what was happening, she had shaken off his hand with ease.
This…this was impossible. She was nothing but a mortal. How could she…? But Hermes was careful not to let his surprise show as in her rage she did not seem to notice what she had just done.
“You better cut out that bullshit and loose the attitude before meeting my father or you will regret it.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” she hissed.
“No, just a heads-up. And now let’s get moving. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“And I don’t like being raped. Tough luck for both of us it seems.”
Hermes seemed to be completely unimpressed by her words. And why would he be? She probably was not the first he had approached like this on behalf of his father. And like the others, he knew that she had no chice but to accept her fate and let him take her away. To believe she could somehow escape the All-father had been nothing but an illusion from the very beginning.
She just wished she could have said goodbye, not for her own sake, but for Aidon’s. Because even if she should find a way back to him, she would not be the same woman he had fallen in love with anymore.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Hermes move, and this time, she did not resist again as his fingers wrapped around her arm in a tight grip. He dragged her along a few steps before he pushed himself off the ground and even though she felt her feet loosing the ground too, it seemed as if part of her stayed behind to watch herself fly off to finally meet her fate.
Anthea had never felt time the way she did now. Not when she had passed these tunnels for the first time, after she had left the mortal realm behind to hide away in the Underworld, not even in the mere moments she had been alone with Zeus before her father had arrived to prevent the All-father from occupying her body. Because back then, she had still had hope.
After everything he had taken from her, her safety, her home, her freedom, at least hope had remained. But now even that was lost. Or maybe not all of it. If they could make it in time, if she would be complicit, there might still be hope for her father’s life.
“Can we not go any faster?”
“What now? Suddenly so eager to please the All-father?”
Anthea could not see his face in the pitch dark, and she did not need to. All it took was the malicious tone of his voice to picture the haughty smile on his lips.
“Oh, right. How could I ever believe that you of all gods would know what it feels like to have a loved one’s life threatened by Zeus?”
She had never anticipated her words might have any kind of effect on him, and it was more than possible that she was merely mistaken, but all of a sudden the whooshing noises of the passing rocks and cave walls seemed to speed up. It was not the first time that Anthea wondered how Hermes managed to glide through the gloomy caves this expertly, but just like before she would not find an answer to her question. She squinted, just to be sure, and soon the warming of the air around them confirmed what her eyes had not been able to tell without doubt: they were almost there.
Anthea had imagined this moment in her mind over and over again, up to a point that she had been convinced she could already feel the warming rays of the first sunlight on her face, but as they finally left the labyrinth to the Underworld now, she dreaded the golden light that hit her face. The rich crimson of the sky was much more to her liking. She had also anticipated Zeus to be waiting somewhere near by, eager to finally seize what he had been denied for weeks. And yet again, she was proven wrong as Hermes kept on travelling. Further and further he took her away, and when she turned around, the entrance to the cave was nowhere to be seen anymore.
Instead, in front of them the faint shapes of a number of buildings slowly appeared in the morning mist. It was a large site, a sanctuary that held not only one but many temples, and also the destination of their journey as Hermes steps became continuously slower until their feet touched the ground in front of the largest temple in sight.
“Where are we?” Anthea demanded to know.
“Olympia.”
Of course. What other place would he choose to force himself upon her than the very symbol of his power? Every child knew that sacrifices to the gods were best made inside the very heart of their own place of worship. And so she did not even blink as Hermes allowed her no time to marvel at the impressive columns that lined the entrance to the temple and merely dragged her inside without ceremony.
The strong smell of frankincense pushed itself upon her and she could feel herself starting to get dizzy when her eyes fell upon the vast centrepiece of the sanctuary and washed away any other sensation from her system.
Anthea was sure she had never seen anything even remotely comparable to the ostentation right in front of her in her entire life. Its magnitude was ridiculous, despite the shocking resemblance to the original it indisputably held. She had heard of the statue before, everyone knew of it, and still she could not quite believe her eyes.
The body was built from the finest ivory and clad in a gilded robe that was splayed out across his lap and cascaded down the legs, leaving his chiseled chest on full display. They had crowned the King of the Gods with a wreath of olive sprays and made him take a seat on a beautifully ornamented throne. Anthea guessed he was almost ten times her size and if he were able to rise from his throne, his head would easily break through the roof and enable him to take a good look around. Around his feet, a massive pool collected the liquid—probably oil—that covered his whole body in an unearthly shine, his reflection doubling the effect of his divine height.
In his right hand he held another deity which Anthea without difficulty identified as Nike, the Goddess of Victory, to symbolise his triumph in the Titanomachy and the beginning of his reign as the All-father. The meaty fingers of his left hand clutched a huge sceptre, topped off by an eagle which was flapping its massive wings. The sight caused a shiver to run down Anthea’s spine, so massive that she could feel small bumps begin to spread all over her skin.
“Do you like what you see?”
His voice was close and so heavily laced with arousal that Anthea’s heart stopped beating for a second. And when she spun around to face him, he was there, right in front of her, grinning down on her petrified form. For a moment, she could do nothing but glare at him with all her might, and still his eyes kept on shining with the full confidence of his victory.
“I didn’t think you would have your henchman drag me here just to hear my expertise on your temple.”
As a god, and the king of his kind at that, Zeus was not used to anyone talking back at him, but it could not have been more obvious than in this very moment how much it vexed him to be denied his rightful reverence. And the punishment for that was always the same. It was just her luck she was no use to him dead and so he opted for grabbing her chin instead of her throat.
“Humor me.”
“Very well then. I think the likeness is quite true to the original. Whoever is responsible for this has done a fine job, especially the display of megalomania is excellent.”
A rush of satisfaction ran through her as Zeus could not hide the twitch in the corners of his, until now, unwavering grin. His grip on her also tightened just the tiniest bit, but apart from that he stayed excruciatingly calm, no fit of rage she had counted on.
“I see you have lost nothing of your belligerence,” he said calmly before he leaned in. His lips brushed along her cheek and ear in the process, and Anthea could not tell whether it was his scorching breath that crawled along her neck or the ferocious excitement in his voice that caused her to shudder as he whispered, “I can’t wait to see what it takes to drive the disobedience out of you.”
Sharp teeth dug into the soft flesh of her earlobe and Anthea could not suppress the whimper that forced its way out of her throat. It was followed by a guttural chuckle, a mere foretaste of what was yet to come, and still it made her stomach twist violently. It would not need his gloating and amusement upon her pain to make this the most harrowing experience of her life, and even though she knew hardly anything about the All-father, it was enough to predict that there was no need to hope for mercy once he would be alone with her.
And it seemed the King of the Gods could not wait to begin his ravage as he forced his attention away from his trophy to talk to the one who had lured her here.
“I have to admit, you did well, son. I did not expect your return so soon. And successful at that.”
He did not wait for a reply before he reached inside his robes to pull a tiny flower to light. Anthea had never seen a plant like that before, she was sure she would have remembered those delicate, violet petals. But there had to be more to it if it was the reward Hermes was about to receive for delivering her to his father. And once again Anthea was proven right as Zeus placed it in his son’s hands with a rare display of carefulness. Hermes’ eyes flickered treacherously in the light of the young morning as he stared up at his father with such hope that it made Anthea’s heart clench for him. It did not take more than a flick of Zeus’ fingers to finally release him from his anguish and instead of the flower, the Messenger of the Gods held a young man in his arms. Immediately he clutched him to his chest, the tears he had fought so hard to push back now flowing freely.
“Krokos, my Krokos,” he sniffled as he pressed his face into the crook of the other man’s neck and as much as Anthea wanted to keep on hating him, she could not.
“Leave now! I don’t have time for your sentimentalities.”
Zeus did not watch as the lovers did as he had ordered and hurried towards the columns that led them outside. But Anthea did, her eyes glued to Hermes and Krokos as they made their way towards safety. Oh, how she wished with all her might she could follow them, to run as far as her feet would carry her and find a way back into the Underworld, even if she had to give her life to be granted access. But the pity she found in Hermes gaze as he turned one last time before vanishing from view, reminded her more than sufficiently that the Fates had other plans with her.
“Finally alone.”
His teeth were bared in a grin so jubilant that it made her hand clench into a fist, ready to punch it out of his nauseating face should the opportunity present itself. But it did not. Instead she found herself dodging his advance as he reached out for her while taking a step forward.
“Where is my father?” she snarled. There would be no reward without a bargain first.
“Your father?” Anthea had hoped that the change of topic might be just as effective as a punch to the face, but instead of wiping the haughty grin from his mug, her question only seemed to make it grow an impossible inch wider. “We both know the cripple you are talking about is not your father.”
“Hephaestus is my father in every way.” The father you should have been for him instead of getting rid of him by throwing a helpless baby off a fucking mountain, she wanted to add, but bit her tongue instead.
“In every way but one, you meant to say.”
“In every way that matters.” Her voice echoed from the high walls of the temple and Anthea used the short moment of silence that followed to make it abundantly clear that she had nothing more to say on that matter. “And now tell me where he is.”
Now it was Zeus’ turn to fall silent for a while and the longer it took him to answer her, the more she felt her heart sink. But it was only when the first grunt of amusement had wormed its way from his chest that she realised what was really going on. A trick, it had taken nothing more than a measly illusion to lure her from the one safe space in the whole cosmos, and she truly deserved the mocking fit of laughter he spat at her now. All their efforts in vain. The agony she could have prevented by simply giving herself to him on the day he had first demanded to have her. What a waste.
“Did you really think you could run from me, kasalbas? You and your father, you must be rather delusional if you ever truly believed that you could hide yourself away from me in the Underworld forever. Or did you hope for my brother’s help? Is that why you became his whore?”
Aidon’s whore. The thought made her huff. If only the god in front of her knew that she would rather be nothing more but Aidon’s whore forever than be so much as looked upon by this…this creature.
“What is it you want, Zeus?” she hissed at him with all the venom she could muster. “Do you want me to submit to you? To surrender so you can finally do as you please? Feast your sick and twisted understanding of passion and desire on me? If it will free me of you, I will do as you wish.” She took a step closer, arms spread wide so he could help himself to what she had promised. “I will give myself to you. My body. Because that is all you can have. The rest of me will never belong to you and there is nothing you can do about it. Imprison my father? Kill him? Take everything I love from me? Do it. But know that it will only make me hate you more. I will never belong to someone who calls himself the Ruler of the Cosmos, the All-father and yet acts only to his own benefit. The god of moral conduct? Of law and order? Of justice? You’re a fraud Zeus. It couldn’t be any clearer, yet you expect my devoted worship. And you dare call me delusional.”
“Enough!”
He surged forward in pure rage, and Anthea did not know what had happened. All she felt was the violent ache in her back and head where they had hit the column behind her. And the vibration of his booming voice that still shook the building. The rest of the world had gone dark for a moment, tiny stars dancing before her eyes as the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her peplos. He would conquer her body now, the plundering and pillaging had already begun, one eager hand helping itself to her flesh while the other pinned her own hands in place above her head. He was more than ready, his arousal pressing into her stomach hard and heavy and everything that remained was the urgent wish that she had fallen unconscious the second her head had hit the column in his brutal attack.
“I’m going to make you mine now, Anthea,” he grunted before his tongue darted out to leave a sticky path all the way up her neck, “consent or not. You will be mine.”
He was still far gone when he first felt it.
In the beginning there was only warmth. Slowly it invaded his peacefully slumbering form, gently caressing the surface before it sank deeper, and then deeper still, until it settled in his very core, the warmth now pumping through him with every steady beat of his heart.
Next came the colours. Hues of gold and rust, dancing across closed lids, creating shapes and patterns that had been long forgotten. He had banned them from his memory, the images too painful to ever think of them again. Memories from a past life that he had left behind the moment he had become the God of the Underworld.
It was strange, the time they had chosen to resurface, but not entirely implausible. With the first spark of light that had befallen his heart in centuries, it seemed only natural that more light wanted to follow, even if it was only a faint memory.
“Anthea.”
Her name left his lips in a whisper, the hoarse tone of his voice not able to veil all the feelings that surged through him as the memories of last night came rushing back to him. The warmth within her touch. Her scent, floral and intoxicating, making him crave more—more of her kisses, her caress, her sweet song of desire that she had sang for him so ardently.
But it was more than passion that had bound them last night. What he felt for her, words could never do justice. He could hardly believe himself that feelings like these were meant for someone like him, a creature of darkness. And yet loving her was easy. Everything was easy with her by his side, it came naturally, like the first light of morning, soft and hazy, just to burst into all colours imaginable at once. It had altered him completely, had gifted him with a hope he had buried centuries ago, as if the sun was truly shining on him for the first time.
Would it always be like this? Every new day beginning with the thought of her?
Hades stretched his long, sleep-drugged form, yearning arms reaching out for his beloved mortal, but all they found were ruffled sheets, the other half of the bed cold and deserted. His lids flew open, just to close again as the golden sunlight burned brutally in a pair of eyes so inured to darkness.
What in the name of the Fates? He tried again, this time carefully squinting against the brightness. One hand lifted to protect him from the blinding light, he sat up. This was impossible. And still it was real. The God of the Underworld could not recall when he had last seen the golden disc rise from the ground, but it was a sight too imposing, too elemental to ever forget. But most importantly, it was a sight exclusive to the mortal realm, never to be enjoyed on the Underworld. In his bewildered state he took a quick look around. Relief washed over him for the tiniest moment when he immediately identified the familiar features of his bedroom, but it was easily drowned out by another heavy wave of unease.
He was up in an instant, hurriedly wrapping his form in the chiton he found at his feet. He needed to see for himself, needed to make sure he was not just delusional, and still, what he found when he finally reached the railing of the balcony, made him question his sanity all over again.
Where he had expected to find the usual rocky wasteland of his realm, there were meadows, woodlands and golden streams everywhere. Beds of flowers grew wherever his eyes went, some already beginning to climb the palace walls, their bloom seeming even more colourful in front of the dark stone.
He could have stared and marvelled at this miracle for the rest of his life, but his ears had picked up the soft patter of bare feet on the marble ground. Anthea. It must be her. His heart beating heavily inside its cage, as if it was about to jump out from all the joy it felt, he turned and in an instant it fell silent.
“Minthe?”
“My lord.” The naiad bowed lowly, eyes respectfully cast to the ground.
“What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear last time we spoke.”
“You did, my lord. You told me not to set foot into the palace again as long as the mortal was still around, and I didn’t.”
She lifted her head, a pair of watery blue eyes gazing up at him, and the hope he found there made his heart freeze in his chest.
“What do you mean?” he pressed out between gritted teeth and when her only answer was a wry smile, he could feel something snap inside of him. He moved quickly, leaving her no chance for retreat. Furious hands grabbed her in a tight hold, shaking the gleeful nymph until her eyes went wide and her insolent grin had faded from her lips. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!”
If she knew anything—or worse—if she had done anything to harm the woman he loved, not even the Fates would be able to help her. And Minthe knew, he could tell from the way she crumbled in his hands, from the way her eyes clouded over, the fire of hope they had held extinguished at once. She was just about to open her mouth and confess, when someone else beat her to it.
“My lord.”
He knew that voice. Dark and soothing. It made him want to set the nymph down, crawl back into his bed to forget about the all-consuming panic that had befallen his heart and sleep, just sleep.
“Hypnos, this is not a good time.”
Hades refused to face the intruder, instead he kept on glaring at the naiad, whose feet had slowly made contact with the ground again.
“I know, old friend. But you will want to hear this.”
The God of the Dead closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to calm himself down. There was no use in enraging the God of Sleep. He was too good a friend and ally, and still he needed him to understand that they would have to postpone their conversation. And so he turned to face the god. Covered as always in a grey cloak, it was hard to make out his face in the shadows of its hood. The only thing he could make out clearly was the pair of gleaming white eyes, and his matching hair that fell down his chest. The huge set of white wings that sprang from his back was crossed in front of him, an unusual sight, but Hades had no time to pay it any mind.
“Right now, all I want to know is that the woman I vowed to protect is safe.”
Hypnos sighed, and before he even opened his mouth to speak, Hades felt the last bit of hope dying inside him.
“I’m afraid she is not, my lord. Quite the opposite.”
And with that he opened his wings to reveal another winged figure. He looked very much like his father, the only difference being, that his hair, eyes and wings were tinted in the darkest of black. Gloomy shadows engulfed him, floating around his body, veiling him and revealing his true nature all the same: Morpheus, God of Dreams and Nightmares.
“Tell him, son. Tell him what you did and hope that it won’t be too late.”
There was no time to lose. If it was true what Morpheus had so ruefully reported to him, it might as well be too late already. The thought almost too much to bare, his heart clenched violently and he had to pause his steps for a moment. Just long enough until he had mustered the strength to push it aside. But unfortunately it had provided her with the opportunity to catch up with him.
“Please, Aidon, I beg of you. Don’t risk your life! Not for her.”
He stopped in his tracks, white heat rushing through him as he turned to face her.
“Don’t you ever dare call me by that name again, Minthe, or I swear I will make do on my promise and turn you into a bloody plant. And just to be very clear about this, I will risk my life for whomever I please, without needing approval from you or anyone for that matter.”
He was about to turn again, mere steps away from the two things the needed before he could leave, when she grabbed his arm.
“But she does not love you,” Minthe almost screamed, yet under his fuming gaze her voice became nothing more than a feeble whisper, “not the way I do.”
Hades huffed. This was ridiculous. They had already discussed this at length and now was not the time to—
“I love you, Hades, I do. I know everything about you, every little detail. I know that figs and goat cheese are your favourite food, and that darkness brings you unease. I know when you are upset, angry or happy from the way your eyes slightly change colour. I know that you sometimes sneak away to the Upperworld just to take a look at the moon, that you love the smell of soil freshly soaked with rain and the feel of Cerberus’ dark fur between your fingers. I know you, Hades. Every little thing about you.”
Minthe had fallen to her knees during her passionate speech, still holding onto him, and he could not help but see her as the dead weight she was to him in this very moment. But he knew that he was not being fair. Then again, neither was love, or life.
“It’s true. You know all these things about me, Minthe.” He found himself crouching down by her side, her chin held up by his fingers to make her face him. “But Anthea, she is the one I want to know all of these things about me. And everything else there is to know, even the darkest parts of my soul. She will know them one day, and if she still doesn’t run, then that, Minthe, that will be love.”
There was realisation in her eyes, and still, Minthe was not ready to admit her defeat.
“How can you be so certain that she won’t runl!? How do you know she does not only see the God of the Underworld and the power he harvests? Even a lovelorn fool like you cannot deny that it is quite convenient in her situation to have a strong protector wrapped around her finger. Although this power of yours might still not be enough to defeat your brother and save her.”
Hades stood, a feeble smile on his face as he took a step back. “Maybe not. But I vowed to protect her and I intend to keep my word.”
“Even it will cost you your life?” Minthe spat, unable to hold back the tears that had threatened to fall this entire time. He knew that his honesty was cruel, but she needed to understand, once and for all, no matter how badly it hurt.
“Even it it would send me right to Tartarus for all eternity.” Minthe gasped. “I love her. There is nothing more to say on that matter.”
He left her there, on the cold floor, silently weeping as he was finally able to grab what he had come here for. His fingers wrapping around the bident, the very symbol of his divine strength, he felt the power he wielded surge through him stronger than he usually did. He would need every last bit of it in the hours to come. But power alone would not suffice. He needed cunning as well, needed the element of surprise to stand even the slightest chance against his brother. And so he reached for the other item, a dark helmet, forged by the Uranian Cyclopses to help win the war against Kronos. Never had he believed he would ever need to use it against one of his siblings, one of the gods who had fought by his side, but times changed. And so, with a heavy sigh, Hades donned his helmet and disappeared from view.
“Goodbye, Minthe,” he whispered, as the ether opened before him with a flick of his hand and the God of the Underworld let the waiting darkness swallow him once more.
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LAST LINE TENNIS
to my dearest Spud, @writingpotato07, for you deserve the world.
I apologize for possible pain in this.
TW: body dysmorphia, mentions and description of ed
The three women left the elevator, Ainsley carrying bags of takeout in her hand. They stepped into the bureau, gaining the attention of the others. Evelyn and Anthea sat together, working on something on the computers. Tommy rose from where he had sat to take the bags out of his wife's hand and disappeared with her in the small kitchen to prepare it all. Alejandro hugged Leticia while James, Rose-Anne and John plated the conference table. Alex stepped away from the kitchen as he saw Romee standing a bit lost alone. He kissed her softly, gently hugging her.
“There is my beautiful and badass wife”, he whispered, letting a shy smile appear on her lips. Yet her heart clenched at his words as the small, evil voice in her head made her wonder if he was speaking truth. “Am not beautiful”, she whispered, causing him to pull away. Furrowing his brow he scanned her face.
Then: “Well, m'eudail, for me you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes upon. I love you.” Instead of a reply she kissed him before smiling at him, a bit grateful and an ounce of her true beautiful smile shining through. Alex would not pester her now what was wrong, he would ask once they were home. For now, he satisfied himself with her small smile before he pulled her to the conference table, pulling her onot his lap which caused her to giggle.
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A small note would be attached to the advertisement for the Garden's opening this week. It reads:
Dearest Friends,
It's been a long and fruitful year for the Garden. We've been lucky enough to have many beautiful souls walk through the doors and some have even stayed long after the kettles have gone cold each night. Ours was a year marked by love, companionship, healing, and the soft but resolute hum of souls simply wanting to show up for one another. I thank you, each and every one of you, from the bottom of my heart.
It was never my Garden, but ours; and I hope that you've experienced as much growth over the past year as I have.
It is with a heavy heart that I must announce that this Thursday is not only the Garden's one-year anniversary, but also the day we must close the doors for good. Come, and let us have one last night together.
Enjoying tea with all of you has been my supreme honor, and although I'd love nothing more than to be with you all in the capacity that I have been, I'm afraid that I still have an immense amount of growing to do on my own.
I will never be far, and promise to keep you all in my heart with every step.
I love you all more than any collection of words can describe.
Anthea Moonglove
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Happy WBW! One of your OCs is tasked with telling bedtime stories for some children tonight. What story do they tell? Where did that story come from?
Thank you💜 This is an amazing ask, and very relevant to my main setting. This world is built on stories.
The tale of the Four Cloaks is one of the best-known ones:
A poor seamstress wanted to sell a cloak. To make it more appealing, she promised to imbue it with the power of a word of the customer’s choice, which she intended to embroider onto the fabric. A young rich man who collected such curiosities bought the cloak with the word ‘beauty’. Within days he gathered many admirers and false friends, while the true ones forsook him. He grew arrogant and faded away out of loneliness.
A thief plundering his house found the cloak and a short note about its origin. They traced it back to the seamstress and demanded a cloak with the word ‘shadow’. It gave them opportunities no one else had dreamt of, and they became the legendary merchant of whispers, who is said to operate still in the City of Light, although other versions say that they were killed by a stray bullet in a duel they'd arranged.
A scholar investigated the legend of the Shadow and found out about the cloak and the seamstress. She requested a cloak with the word ‘silence’, so that she might listen and learn, rather than talk over people. She was the author of countless texts and treatises that shaped the understanding of the world around us. Yet she didn't speak, and her work was discovered only after her passing.
Finally a young apprentice who tidied her study found the cloak and wanted to see how the seamstress was doing. When he found her, she was old, with arthritic hands and faltering sight. However, she offered to make one last cloak as a thanks for his concern. He chose the word ‘goodness’, but there was no symbol for it, no ideograph in the alphabet. There was ‘kindness’, ‘charity’, and ‘good will’, but no symbol for the general concept. The apprentice told her to stitch a rough picture of open hands, and she warned him that it won’t have the same power as the other cloaks. It didn’t matter to him. He didn’t want to be forced to do good, but only to be reminded of what’s right and wrong.
It is said that this young apprentice was later crowned as the Sun King.
'Real' version below the cut:
[As told by the White Dragon, Prince Anthea's predecessor and her grandfather, who effectively created this state from nothing. So you know, not exactly impartial ;) ]
“I know that the Weaveress made it. I also suspect that the fairy tale isn’t true,” Erya said hesitantly.
“No, it is not entirely true. Allow me to tell you what really happened. I assure you, it is relevant.” Erya acknowledged. “My wife was among other things an Elemental Dancer, favoured by Matter. We knew each other before the Battle of the Burning Banners, and the ‘clients’ from the story were all trusted friends of ours. They were some of the wisest, most virtuous people I have ever known. However, only one of them could be the King to unite the people under a single rule. The choice was not easy, and the Cloaks helped us decide. There were six of them, not four: Charity, Wisdom - although a King should rely on their own wisdom, and the person who chose it soon realised it - Patience, Perseverance, the Open Hands, which yes, was the one worn by the Sun King, and finally the Shadow. We had concerns about this choice, but the person explained that they did not want to stand above other people and wished to remain humble, so they wanted to walk among their subjects as one of them. All of these cloaks, except the Open Hands as the story says, were imbued with my wife’s power… and had certain properties which we did not reveal to the wearers.”
Prince Atterius paused, clearly enjoying Erya’s stunned expression. She closed her mouth, but still stared.
“The Cloaks give power to the people wearing them, and the power corrupts, making the people crave it and be unwilling to part with it. We had to make sure that the King would not be corrupted. The people wearing Charity, Patience, and Perseverance realised what was going on, took off the Cloaks as quickly as they could, and admitted that they were not suitable to hold this much power. The Shadow was corrupted and disappeared.”
“The King’s Cloak didn’t have any power,” Erya pointed out weakly.
“No, it did not. After five attempts, we were running out of time, and He was the first one not tempted by the advantages a Cloak could give.”
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