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theflashdriver · 1 year

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Six Months of Eternity

I don’t normally put explanations at the start of my fics these days, but this one for sure needs it. I wrote this oneshot with a mind to creating a greek myhtology edition of the storybook series, fitting in with Sonic and the Secret Rings as well as The Black Knight.

All you’ll find within is silvaze fluff but the names and setting are quite different from the norm. I hope you enjoy.

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Flowers growing along the banks of River Styx was still such a fresh sight, Hades wondered if he'd ever tire of it. Unlike that of the spirit filled river, time's flow always felt like such an anomaly to him. How long had he been tending the agapanthus along the river's edge? When had he first allowed them to take root and thrive next to the departed?

Most measured time in twelve month cycles, consisting of four key seasons with contrasting features, or so he'd been told. Hades counted them in pairs of six, one bright season and one dark. By that count, he'd tended these plants for twenty nine bright seasons and what had to be nearing twenty nine of the dark. That thought made him pause in his efforts, he closed his open palm and the eternal river settled back into its regular flow.

He was the god of the underworld; his domain reflected that so very bluntly that it even shared his name. The hedgehog was Hades, lord of Hades. He was surrounded by stone, dwelling within a spiralling cave system that would put the labyrinth to shame, and yet he ruled it all from this single room. Here the land conformed to his will, rather than contorting to torture the bad or reward the good. With a wave he could direct any of the five rives of the dead through his abode, with a point he could transform stalagmites into stone furniture and it'd take no more than a thought to pull precious metals through the earth for use in decoration.

And yet, still the pale hedgehog lived in shadow and stone rather than gleaming gold. The room was only lit by the glowing symbols on his gauntlet covered hands, casting the rocks in a dull blue and never granting him a clear view of his flowers. He wore dark chains and heavy metallic boots, fitting of his station and intended to keep his appearance harsh. He had a helm to complete the appearance, capable of turning him invisible, but it had lain unused on his throne for approaching six months.

Immediately beyond this space, outside his throne room and home, was a cavern that he did not like to tend alone. There all five rivers (Styx, Lethe, Acheron, Phlegethon and Cocytus) met to water and fertilise soil, letting more plants grow. He had only dared visit it to derive what sustenance he needed, not wanting to dwell on all he'd created with his missing companion.

Soon fresh seed would arrive in need of laying, the plants that died on the surface always found their way down here. Autumn was near, his loneliness had about reached its deepest point. Hades hadn't moved from where he was sat in what must have been days... but then, what were days to an eternal being? Prior to that, he'd slumped on his throne for at least a week and done little more than stare at the ceiling through which she would return.

He finally rose from being knelt next to the Styx to give a cursory glance across his domain. Not long after being cast down here, he'd set water filled bowls atop four stalagmites- each representing a different zone within his ruled space. The fiery realm of tartarus held his attention for the shortest time; there all cruel and heinous souls were tormented in macabre manners matching by their misdeeds in life. The Elysian fields fully contrasted this, where those souls who were good thrived on in glory as they had in life and found comfort in rest. Between the two was the Asphodel Meadows, a place for those neither good nor bad and so the largest area of his domain. It was a land of relative peace but no glory, where work was needed but not eternal. It was similar to mortal life... or rather, that was how it had been explained to him.

As was so often the case however, Hades did find himself lingering above the pool that let him observe the Fields of Mourning. It was home to those who died waiting for others, who had lost their life awaiting a love they would now never see again. They would know no peace and no comfort, only the aching of an empty heart and a touchless existence. It was an afterlife of longing, filled with rumination on could and should have beens. Few of that plane's denizens were actually bad people, they'd simply failed to harness their life while longing to combine it with another's.

His eyes did eventually drift skyward again, to the ceiling that separated him from the world of the living. He had tried to pierce it once upon a time, longing for a window into the world above to see all that he was missing. The hedgehog had gathered a great sum of metal, forging a great shining drill and setting it to pierce upwards. He'd worked and worked, spinning and pushing with all his might, but his domain had refused to acquiesce for ten full days. Then, for only a moment, the ceiling finally gave way. A single stray sunbeam had pierced the dark of his domain... carrying a woman upon it.

The woman was Persephone.

She had been enraged upon first arriving, he could remember that moment so clearly. The instant she touched the ground the ceiling had completely resealed itself, leading both her and the other gods to believe she'd been kidnapped. In her fury, the nature goddess had summoned the will of flames, those of forest fires and nurturing sunlight alight, attacking him whilst simultaneously brightening their cavernous surroundings.

He gave up the fight without hesitation, allowing himself to be knocked flying before he began bumbling through an explanation. It had taken him stumbling over a dozen claims that he'd just wanted to see the blue sky and catch a glimpse of grass for her to pause and cease clobbering him. He'd recognised her from the start as the goddess Persephone, daughter of Demeter, and began panicking about the ramifications of what had happened.

He'd been terrified, certain that his foolish lusting for sunlight's touch had doomed him and made a key enemy of a vital nature goddess. Hades was certain she'd chew out the moment others dared to journey along the Styx to save her, that this enemy would lead to others and his isolation would only further. The hedgehog even thought that if he dared rise to his feet, she'd knock him off of them again and the assault would resume.

That was, until the goddess took his words as the truth. Until she begrudgingly allowed him to rise and explain himself further. Until that explanation led into conversation. Until conversation eventually gave way to laughter. Until laughter gave way to venturing through his domain. Until he and Persephone spent some time together.

Hades reputation regularly proceeded him, that he was a figure eternally draped in darkness and that he controlled his domain harshly. It was clear that Persephone had somewhat expected that talk to be more of a day to day reality, rather than how the underworld god handled his work preventing the dead from escaping. Soon however, the harvest goddess was rolling her eyes at his worries and browbeating his lack of maturity when faced with such situations. She'd called him, the god of the underworld, callow. No one had dared do that before!

Days and weeks did pass without sign of rescuers, long enough that conversation drifted to other things. He'd learned of her woes as she learned of his, the feline was practically bound at the hip to her mother and thus her duty over both nature and harvest. Although her role spanned the whole surface world, she had little control over where she went or what she actually did. Her strife was just like his- each claimed a whole domain of their own and yet was unable to do as they so deeply wished. For the first time ever, he was around someone long enough to have fun with them. He'd shown her all of his world, from how the dead were judged to their respective resting places, and been more present across his lair than ever before. Eventually, that had led them to the place where all harnessed crops and dead plants came to be reborn as seeds once more.

That place, a potential garden without the oversight of Demeter, had immediately stolen the cat's attention. He'd made the earth change with the flex of his hand, churning simple stone into soil so that she could plant. With little else to do, the two of them set about the creation of a fresh garden made from once dead plants. Persephone filled the room of barren rocky soil with life so casually, conjuring warm light as the two of them seeded row after row.

At first he'd thought it was due to the growth being so alien to him, to watch a conjured sun rise and the flowers bloom had been undeniably breathtaking, but now he knew the truth. It was seeing her, so free and happy, that had filled his heart with love. He'd felt that vulnerable warmth within his chest for the very first time. It was as if she was the sun itself, the one he'd foolishly sought to see, had actually come to spread warmth through him.

Harnessing his control over their surroundings, he moved that cave to lie just beyond his throne room. Those first six months they spent together soon became truly blissful, they would enchant each other with tales of their so very different lives and yet both were so seemingly lonely. One of them locked to act as an eternal aid, the other simply trapped alone. They lived almost inverse lives and yet he could relate to her as he had no other, and she had claimed the same as him.

Six months however, even to a god, is too long to go fully hungry. For each month that passed without the arrival of her rescue, Persephone had to eat something. Knowing of its potential damage, fearing for the consequences, they settled between themselves to use the bare minimum. A single pomegranate seed for every month, enough that she could survive comfortably and no more. The living were not supposed to eat the fruit of the dead, Hades had feared it might even kill her outright, but she had rolled her eyes and insisted it was preferable to an inevitable death by starvation. Though it made him tense every time, nothing went wrong each time she ate... at least, nothing in the short term.

By the time Demeter and Zeus arrived at the river Styx, Hades domain being the last place they'd thought to check, six months had passed. Though the two were grateful for Persephone's safe return, the ire of Demeter made him all but certain this would be the last time they would meet. Besides, it wasn't as if she truly had a reason to return to his domain. The afterlife was a place without seasons after all.

No, he hadn't expected to see her again, not without some great tragedy and even then only from a distance. The god had considered himself lucky to have even met her; though all may eventually become part of his domain the thought of her in such a position was perturbing. To see someone living and see them dead were very different things. He wanted to never see her again, if it'd mean she'd never suffer death.

That was until six months later, when a sunbeam fell through the slightest of cracks in his ceiling and carried persephone straight to his throne. She had grown sick in the land of the living, owing to the already once dead seeds she'd consumed, but a remedy had been formulated. For every seed she'd eaten, she'd spend a month with him. When he'd flustered and worried, apologising again, she'd just called him callow and led him out toward their gardens to watch the fresh seed of autumn arriving.

The reminiscing faded from Hades mind, this was another stage of his wait. How long had he been stood here? Infinite time with and without her, it was confusing to consider. Presuming the surface world would last in perpetuity, he would always spend six months with her followed by six months alone. Both measures of time would be endless, an endless series of six month chunks, and yet one flew by so much faster than the other. It was foolish to think he was spending an eternity without her, but now he felt it more than ever.

Despite that truth, he wasn't certain what he'd do once she returned. He'd had time enough to plan, even that period it was infinitely less than a blink in terms of his lifespan, and yet he'd come up with nothing... just like the other times she'd been destined to arrive. With that in mind though, he'd always come up with something during these moments. Languishing at his lowest seemed a trigger for inspiration, he'd always come up with something new to do just before she'd returned. Expanding the garden, redirecting the rivers, kissing her for the first time...

Hades eyes lowered back to the dish of water beneath him, catching sight of more mourning figures. They had died awaiting those who had never returned, so now they stayed waiting even in death. Was he all that different? What could he do to separate himself from them? It wasn't as though he could lock her down here and ensure loneliness never returned.

It was another thing he had been refused, just like the domain of the sky which was his birthright. He couldn't love Persephone in the way he longed to love her, for she was a living thing. Even if she wanted to abandon the world of the living, though he knew she would never give up such a duty and he would not ask it of her, the feline could not. In her absence the world grew brittle and cold as Demeter wallowed in her sorrows. All life would die if Persephone left permanently.

To live two eternities in conflict, it was a fate unique to them.

He'd kissed her, and she'd kissed him, but he hadn't found the strength to profess his love... unlike those reflected in the bowl beneath him. It was in part for fear of rejection, that much he could not deny, but mostly the underworld god could not allow himself to ruin the one relationship fate had granted him. While it was true that she was bound to his domain for half of the year, it wasn't by either of their choice. If she could come and go freely he might have been more willing, but the thought of being denied and souring their eternity together was too much to-

A flash of light tore the hedgehog from his thoughts. His gaze was sent spinning in the direction of his throne, just in time to find it filled. Warmth immediately spread through the hedgehog's body, reddening his cheeks and electrifying his heart.

Her garb was just as he'd recalled. A long white robe, tied with ribbon around the waist. Her wrists and ankles were adorned with bangles, each shaped from wicker reed and detailed with etched vines and flowers. Flaxen sandals housed her feet while a floral wreath topped her head; matching the colour of her muzzle with its collection of white flowers, varying from peonies to baby's breath. A second floral band of that same colouration hung from the end of her braided ponytail, positioned just above the small of her back.

She was everything he wasn't, and her outfit reflected that- where he wore rigid metals she wore flowing fabrics. Compared to him, everything about her was bright and shining. She was his sunlight, better than the real thing even. Though the sun itself was Helios claim, its association with plants and their growth was something inherent. The plants needed that light and so she embodied it, from the flames at her disposal to the glowing amber of her eyes. Now that it was within reach, he sought that warmth's embrace more than ever.

But, strangely, the light wasn't shining upon him, despite her return. Immediately upon arriving, the purple furred feline had turned away from him to stare at one of the cave's vacant walls. She'd taken up his helmet, setting it upon her lap, but besides that hadn't moved an inch. From this angle though, with her head turned right, he could see that she was frowning.

Hades stumbled toward her, moving faster than he had in months. He fully tripped before her feet, having to scramble to rise. The hedgehog only actually made it half-way, finding himself still beneath the purple feline. He hadn't seen her like this since the first time she'd arrived, her posture was stiff and her face was sullen.

"Persephone,"His blood felt like ice "Is something wrong?"

Quiet hung in the air for a moment longer, only filled by the trickling of the Styx and the thudding of his heart at his throat.

All his fears fell away at the sight of her eyes, "Still so callow, Hades?"

A relieved grin melted onto his muzzle, "Did you expect me to be otherwise?"

"I suppose not, though I did consider it," The goddess hummed, stroking up and along the ridge of his discarded helmet, "Then again, you've already had more than enough time to grow."

Heat rushed to his face for the first time in what felt like so long, that paranoid pounding of his heart in his throat was fully replaced by a static buzz at his gut and a shot of adrenaline surging through his system. This energy, this spark, he had missed it like he missed the sun. There was an electric tension in the air, more powerful than that generated by her facade. Hades' patience, his want to savour, had fully vanished by the third beat of his heart.

He pushed himself to rise, gripping the arm rests as he leaned in close to her, "I missed you."

"Is that so?" Persephone crooned,"Based on the state you're in, I couldn't tell."

Mirrors weren't exactly commonplace in his domain, and he hadn't stared in Tantalus' pool in some time, but the hedgehog knew he looked awful. With loneliness came the flopping of his quills, the loss of light from his eyes and the muting of his expression. Either way, that didn't stop her from closing the distance and pushing her lips against his. Warmth was finally fully upon him, and it had somehow caught him completely off guard.

Hades reacted as fast as realisation would allow, leaning in to share the effort and unleash what had been pent up for so long. She tasted exactly how he remembered, of the pomegranate that had sealed her fate. He lost himself in her so truly thoroughly, from that lip-lock to hitching of garbs and the mutual brushing of furs.

He couldn't know what had happened in her time away, let alone what all she had thought about, but one thing was clear. He'd been on her mind, just as she had been on his. Their kiss from before, and the kisses that had come after, now felt so simple by comparison. He could feel her convey emotion with contact rather than words, sharing in a way that he had only ever shared with her. This was all purest instinct for him, unbridled emotion made tangible contact and connection, and so he truly had no idea what he was doing.

Hades loved every second of it.

Minutes of lip-lock weren't enough to make up for the time they'd lost, just as quickly as breath was reclaimed that contact did resume. Soon the lord of the underworld found himself hand in hand with her, having blindly tossed his gauntlets aside as their bodies arched to fit each other's. He'd more than happily spend every six months spent like that, soaking up her touch after lacking all contact, but Hades was greedy. As much as he longed for her touch, he needed to hear her voice.

"I missed you," He murmured that phrase again and again between breaths, pushing with his words as he sank deeper into her.

It was only when he was half knelt on the throne's seat, her head pushed against the stone backrest and his helmet preventing them from pressing closer that a response came, "I missed you too."

His forehead found hers as panting claimed him, happy to have stretched beyond the goddess' mental walls and prise those words free. For as close as they'd grown over her sabbaticals from the world of the living, the feline still avoided wasting words. When persephone spoke she was blunt and thoroughly intentioned, more reclusive in conversation than one would think of a nature god. Then again, he was far more open to dialogue than anyone likely thought.

As his eyes reopened, they were met with orbs of amber sunlight. It was common knowledge that absence made the heart grow fonder, that was why he'd sought the sky in the first place, but their endless pattern of being together and apart was somehow more tantalising than more permanent absence. Every time she returned, he could feel them growing closer... only to have that torn away again.

Why was he wasting their precious time with thoughts, he should have been acting.

"So..." For all his thinking, words immediately failed him.

"So?" He could hear the smirk in her voice.

"How are you doing?" He managed to ask, immediately regretting his blandness but still finding his mind blank.

"Better now," She breathlessly admitted, before seeming to catch herself, "And you already look much better."

"You look great," He blurted in response, "Y-You always look great."

Those words did seem to have an impact, Hades felt her hand slip up to his chest. Her head tilted, her cheek brushed against his until a kiss took the place on that contact. He lost himself in her again, his eyes did close, but only so long as to be caught off guard. With a well placed push he was forced to stumble back and to her feet, but Persephone was plainly intent on maintaining their kiss even as he struggled to rise from the awkward position.

She only released the hedgehog, both his chest and lips, once she was fully stood too, "Things on the surface are always so complicated, always so difficult," She mused as she stepped past him with his helmet tucked beneath her arm, "But you're not like life on the surface, Hades. I always know just what to expect from you. I can read you like the seasons, I like that about you," The feline admitted before she seemed to realise she'd over spoken, "Not that I presumed that would be the case at first, of course."

Though her words were complimentary, they reignited the paranoia he'd felt just before she'd returned to him. Unlike those last times, he hadn't arrived with something new to do or offer before she'd arrived. Regret ached in his chest as he watched her walk away, but it didn't last for long.

Realisation stole pain from and replaced it with panic. He had come up with something, he'd just been too afraid to broach it. Could he stand to? Was it right to?

"Come on, harvest has started," She insisted, starting to walk deeper into the caves of Hades, "Let's check the growth before the reaped seed finishes arriving."

Following her and the length of the Styx, Hades soon found himself in the garden they'd made so many visits ago. The verdant space within the otherwise dreary cave seemed to grow all the more alive due to the presence of the nature goddess, flowers came to bloom and almost turn as if to face their arrival.

Beyond the sloshing of the various rivers, another sound filled the air. Turning to his left, Hades found the great well which grain and seed was set to endlessly fill. The seed didn't slip through a crack in the ceiling as she had, nor did it fall from the already grown plants of his domain. Instead, it was carried on the Styx itself, that river passing through the well's basin and depositing the pips, nuts and kernels perfectly. He could hear the sound of the well gradually filling, the seed rising up the shaped stone to make it not dissimilar to a grain silo.

That sound did not hold his attention for long though, his eyes held more sway over him than his ears. He watched as Persephone rose to her tiptoes to claim a pomegranate, the tree lowering its branch so as to meet her halfway. With a simple flex of her strong hands, preternaturally knowing where to pull, the fruit was brought in two and the seeds revealed. She was in her element, just as Hades was certain she was in gardens on the surface, but now so strangely free despite her entrapment. It was beautiful.

She caught him staring before she could eat, extending a hand with half the fruit as if to beckon him closer, "Hungry?"

"Famished, thank you," He professed, taking the offered half, "Are you sure that you can...?"

"I did some research and consulted the riverboat man," The feline responded, drawing some seeds, "How much I eat while here doesn't matter, just that I ate during the month. I'm free to consume up until a month before my leaving. That should make my stay even more comfortable."

Food in hand, they began a survey of the once dead plants. Things weren't in any worse of a state than how she'd left them, but there were improvements still to be made. He'd purposefully spent as little time as possible in here and it did show in areas of wilt, but frankly he preferred those to the rough hewn stone and dark colouration so ever present elsewhere in his abode.

Although the hedgehog was doing his best to pay attention to their garden, but his gaze scarcely left her. By the time she'd finished her seeds, dropping the fruit casing only for it to turn to mulch, he had barely partaken in six. That idea from before was like lightning in his mind, terrifying and yet awe inspiring. He didn't want to break this, he didn't want to ruin his relationship to the only companion he had, but how long could they go on like this? If every return was like the one he'd just experienced, his heart would only long more and more for her. His want to ask and yet need to refuse himself would endlessly consume him if he didn't act quickly.

"About what you said before," He blurted aloud as she peered through the petals of a crocus, "Maybe I do have something unpredictable for you," He forced himself to offer.

"Do you?" She inquired, turning and raising a brow.

"M-Maybe?" He gulped, immediately regretting his choice to act.

"Go on, I'm listening," Persephone claimed, though she moved on to continue leading him through their gardened space.

Hades scrambled for words, "Since you're going to be spending so much time down here, basically an eternity-

"Exactly an eternity," She stopped him, "Just six months at a time."

"Right, yeah," He felt his brain strain, "I was just wondering if you'd..."

She hadn't had to cut him off this time, words had simply failed him, "If I'd?"

"I know you have important work to do on the surface, I know it's important to you and the world," His hand found his quills, only for him to immediately remember and cringe at the juice soaking his hand, "But," He let the fruit drop as he caught up to walk beside her, "Th-This isn't me talking out of loneliness, Persephone. Accidentality stealing you was the best and most important thing to ever happen to me."

The goddess suddenly came to a halt, she turned to him with a quirked brow raised and an analytical look on her muzzle. Almost immediately however, that expression broke down to reveal a look of realisation. In that moment, panic fully struck him.

Words flew from his mouth, "I just want to make sure that, if you don't want what I'm about to offer, we can go back. We can just stay like this, we can just-

"Hades," She took him by his hands, "Just say what's on your mind, nothing can go wrong that eternity could not mend."

His panic was washed away in an instant. She had processed all he was going to say even before he could think it. The goddess had already foreseen how this would all happen, here amongst sunflowers and fruit trees and all five rivers of the underworld. Regardless of that truth though, Hades wanted the words to stick. He had to say it, just as she'd asked.

"I love you," He finally said it, relief flowed through him like souls along the Styx, "And I'd love you to be the queen of Hades."

She leaned in close, raising to her tiptoes, "The place or the person?"

"Both?" The god of the underworld squeaked.

"Oh, well, in that case," She leaned in close before suddenly pulling back, "I'll consider it."

In one swift movement the feline put her hand to her head, promptly placing his own helm atop it. Before the hedgehog could so much as blink the cat had harnessed the power of that artefact to disappear. All of a sudden he was stood alone atop the soil, frantically casting his eyes all around in search of her and failing to process her cryptic answer.

For just a moment he thought she'd vanished, but before panic could claim his heart he felt the goddess leaning into his back, "Are you certain about this? About what it means."

"I am," He responded, not even trying to turn to her, "I don't know what to do with myself during the six months your away. I perform my roles as best I can, fulfil my duties and do what I think is best but," Hades was shocked he wasn't floundering, "I feel so much more alive when you're around, like I'm actually living rather than just working. You brighten my life more than the sun ever could."

"Is that all that's on your mind?" She quietly asked.

He could feel the heat radiating off of her, a warmth like supposed Summer carried upon her touch. Embarrassment was an emotion that Persephone hid well, she rarely allowed herself to show more than the lightest of cracks. Now he truly understood why she was stood behind him, why she had used that helm. He'd seen enough seasons through to understand her, just as she had predicted this predicament.

"I can't lie to you, I don't want to risk what we already have, but I know what I want and can't deny it. Whenever you return I fall even deeper in love with you, and I'm scared that if I don't ask now I'll fall too deeply. I won't be able to ask out of fear of losing what we already have," Words kept flowing from his mouth, he scarcely had time to breathe, "You have brought light and warmth to a home I thought so dark and cold. I know nothing nor anyone I could compare to you, despite holding dominion over so many souls," That sounded a little too macabre, but the lord of Hades swallowed in an attempt to own it, "How could I do anything but love you with all my heart," His mouth was dry after professing that, in the most blunt and honest manner he could. Was that a sign? "Persephone, please give me an answer."

"You're so very callow Hades," He felt something top his head, it took a moment to realise it was his own helm, "But I suppose I can help to balance that out."

"You mean?" He finally turned to look at her.

She was looking up at him, though not with her usual smugness nor seriousness. The feline was admittedly attempting to maintain the latter, her brows were furrowed and she was trying to keep her expression muted but her muzzle was pink. Hades could see through her facade. The goddess was always beautiful, but there was something undeniably cute in seeing the effort crumble. He supposed this is what she was used to seeing from him; harmless panic and embarrassment.

"Come on, it's been a while," The goddess finally averted her gaze, blush still dusting her white cheeks as she snatched up his hand and half shoved him to move, "Why don't you reacquaint this new queen with her domain?"

A smile creased his lips as he felt his heart pound.

"Why of course, Persephone, queen of Hades," He squeezed her hand, feeling himself glow as he turned to lead the way, "I'd be more than happy to."

#silvaze #Silver the Hedgehog #Blaze the Cat #sonic the hedgehog #greek myth #mythology #fanfic #romance

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smolsirensongs · 1 year

Text

arcade.

Written in July 2020, originally posted on Twitter.

You instantly hear the clacking of buttons and overly enthusiastic voice lines emanating from old machines as you enter Acheron Arcade. What a flurry of audio, light, and play.

People said you could find Charon here, and they weren’t wrong.

You go to say hi.

They’re standing right behind the counter, bored, waiting to offer the cheapest of prizes for the most valiant of efforts. Their hands have calluses from centuries of rowing people across to Hades. Either that, or they’re really good at the games here. Probably both.

---

Charon never liked small talk, so they were very relieved when you asked them bluntly about how many tickets were required to win an obol and get to Hades. You came prepared with a few hundred bucks just in case.

“1000 tickets,” they respond.

---

“An obol is worth at most a few dollars,” you point out, though you expected this. “I’ll have to spend much more than that to win 1000 tickets.” A half-assed shrug. “Inflation.”

You pay for fifty tokens and get to work. ---

There are several people at the tables, all with slices of mediocre pizza and sticky cups of soda in front of them. Figures; winning all these tickets is tiring. Even in purgatory, people need breaks. The cheese pizza seems slightly less sad than the pepperoni.

---

Children are running around, and you both envy and pity them. They trade in their tickets for the stuff in the glass counter--pencils, erasers, candy, bracelets… You wonder who is going to tell them about the obol, and how many tickets they’ve got to save up for it.

---

You’re not half-bad at the multiplayer driving games, and you’re surprisingly good at the dancing games. The claw machines are tempting, but you avoid them for the most part. Too bad you can’t win tickets from these games. You buy more tokens.

---

There’s a man who has been here for years. You’ve only been here for a few weeks, but you already have several hundred tickets. There can’t be more than a hundred in his hands.

“I get obols for the children here,” he says distantly, “while I wait for my own son to join us.”

---

Big Bass Wheel is oddly addictive. You get so, so close to the Jackpot every single time. The day it breaks down distresses you--even without the Jackpot, it was the only consistent way to win tickets in bulk around here. Charon isn’t sure when they can get it fixed.

---

Whac-A-Mole gives you a headache, but it’s also a really great way to vent your frustrations with the machines in this place. It’s better than Down the Clown, at least, even if it gives you less tickets. The line behind you indicates you’re not the only one who feels this way.

---

One day, a woman gives her tickets to a person eating a devastatingly dry piece of pizza, and they finally go to Hades.

“This restless arcade is a better resting place than being in my husband’s arms again,” she explains, fear in her eyes.

---

You go to play Bubble Bobble, but Charon is moving the machine. They gesture to the front of the arcade, where a kid in a wheelchair waits. “Built this place in the 80’s, so we’re not up to ADA standards, but the newer place closed down.” You help them rearrange the arcade.

---

A little over a month later, you finally win the Jackpot at Quick Drop. It’s enough to leave, but you notice that the man who gives obols to children is arguing with another man who looks quite a lot like him. You give both of them all your tickets so they can leave together.

---

Finally, about three months after you first arrived, you have enough tickets. You trade them all in and Charon hands you an obol. You hand it right back. They lead you to the back room, labeled “Employees Only”. You can’t help but feel wrong about entering.

---

The back room leads to a long series of hallways and staircases that Charon escorts you through. Those who enter without paying would surely get lost.

“Interesting take on the River Styx,” you say.

“It’s the Acheron, and I don’t like small talk,” Charon replies.

Noted.

---

You get to the end of the series of hallways and you see a rather big indoor play area with places to climb and slides that lead to a ball pit. Charon tells you to have fun and starts walking back towards the arcade.

The ball pit looks inviting!

---

Sliding into the ball pit gives you a nice sort of childish rush as you fall right through onto a mat in front of a very curious Cerberus. You use your Down the Clown skills to distract Cerberus with some balls that followed you from the pit above.

---

You finally enter Hades, and what a journey it’s been. Some people are waiting excitedly by the entrance, but upon seeing it’s just you, they get disappointed again. There are parents, a bloody husband, and several others. No one for you.

---

You walk deeper. Finally, no more endless loops of 32-bit music or disappointing robotic chirps of loss. No more stuffing tickets into your pockets and buying slice after slice of old pizza. No more machines that break down in the middle of giving you tickets.

---

You didn’t realize how tired your legs were or how strained your eyes have become. You follow the signs until you finally arrive at the Asphodel Meadows. Here, you’re given a blanket and a bottle of water labeled “Lethe” to drink. You down it quickly.

---

You go to place the blanket on a grassy patch away from several others who are here. You lay upon it and watch the clouds drift lazily above you. Strange… why does the faint smell of old pizza and the sound of clacking buttons linger on your mind…?

#it's an old piece and it's okay but it was a fun exercise #i'm hoping to do this sort of thing again sometime soon #writing #creative writing #greek mythology #short story #SmolSirenStory

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lorelarc · 1 year

Text

i hated milk as a child. so much so that i bit the rubber nozzle off of every single one of my bottles. the taste of milk made me want to cry.

i used to sit outside at recess and dig in the ground for snails. they were all over the place in the small key west schoolyard. i took them home in the bottom compartment of my lunchbox and tried to keep them alive in tupperware with holes poked in the lid and random plants from my yard.

i read obsessively when i was young, still do. books are comfort and they provide an imaginative outlet. i would fall asleep with a book next to me or resting on my chest. i read the harry potter series eight times in three years while still reading everything else i possibly could. i staunchly refused to put my book down unless i absolutely had to.

i have loved greek mythology for as long as i can remember. at times i feel almost as if i was born with the stories pre-downloaded into my brain. it was my favorite thing to learn about and remains something i am passionate about to this day. it fascinates me to think about the wonderful stories people used to come up with to explain the things they didn’t have the resources to explain.

certain fabrics make my entire body seize up. crushed velvet, certain types of lace, overly starched papery linens, and anything scratchy or itchy. they’re horrible. with just one touch i can feel the irritation blooming into what can only be described as an unbearable need to rip the fabric from my body and toss it far, far away before i burst into tears. my adverse reactions to things were always over the top and sometimes it’s still hard to keep things under control.

i remember having exactly three close friends when i lived in key west, at least three that i saw often and remember well. emilia, grace, and nico. there were plenty of other friends and classmates that i could spend time with but I always preferred being with one of those three. with everyone else i felt subtly uncomfortable in a way i never quite understood and still don’t. there’s a chance that i will never fully grasp the intricate roadmap of emotional connections between childhood friends.

Marguerite.

when i was young i spent any time not with my parents or friends with Marguerite. she was like my third grandmother. she was my best friend in the world and i wanted nothing more than to be with her all the time. i had so much fun playing carts games and feeding manatees from the garden hose at her houseboat. and then she died, 13 days before my sixth birthday. i remember nothing. allowing myself to remember anything would’ve stirred up the silt at the bottom of my own personal acheron river. the memory of Marguerite settled deep into the bed of that river. everything negative that i have felt since then flows through that river and stirs up the silt. the force of the current varies but it always stirs up a piece of that lifetime of pain that i was given at age six. that i couldn’t hold onto at age six. and, so, i remember nothing.

i was viewed as a strange child by many of my peers’ parents. i never greatly enjoyed the activities that most children adore. i loved broccoli. i hated group projects. my mother sang opera to me and i stopped crying. i read every single book i could get my hands on, every chance i got. i knew every song from the sound of music before i was capable of forming the words to properly sing. my life has become a rich tapestry of inconsistencies and rarities of character. my young self would never have imagined what her life looks like now. it was all so different back then. the dreams, the hopes, the goals, they were all so different before the darker fibers were woven in. i wanted to be a happy shiny person when i was little but we are not shiny happy people. we are darkness and light and all the shades in between, colors and greyscales, blending and harsh lines, sharp corners and fluid, soft edges. a tapestry filled with those we love and those we hate. our favorites and our least favorites. everything that contributed to anyone’s current state of being can be found within their tapestry. and it is beautiful. we are beautiful. and we are worthy of the light that we deserve.

#gays against milk #childhood #reminiscing #nostalgia #i miss my island #is this ASD coded? i can’t tell #tiny Greek mythology reference #kudos to those that understood the Greek mythology reference

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

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Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXX

February 11, 2278.

Ten fifteen in the evening.

I loaded my shotgun and watched the rear, gunfire bursting as the tin cans yelled. This was supposed to be a stealth operation. If only DeLoria hadn’t tripped on that one guard…

Truth be told, this was an absolutely fucking stupid plan. Taking away a comatose patient from the Citadel isn’t the brightest idea DeLoria and I came up with, but we had no other choice. Whatever secret about Percy that Dr. Li wanted us to protect, it seemed important. Seeing how Lyons figured out that she’s a living atomic weapon, I understand her.

DeLoria looks goddamn constipated as he helped me push the gurney with my partner in tow, secured with leather straps so she wouldn’t fly off. In the front, Fawkes soaks up most of the damage.

Of course we had a Plan B if the stealthy approach didn’t work. Thank fuck Fawkes is willing to cooperate, too. This wasn’t the first time we worked together to help Percy out of the tight spot. Then again, Percy got us out of our predicaments first. Knowing her, when she wakes up, she’ll scold us for risking ourselves for her, and for coming up with this awful plan.

Too bad. She can’t stop us now.

“Charon, what now? I only brought a pistol,” Butch yelps, narrowly missing fire.

“We’re gonna let Fawkes soak up the brunt of the gunfire, and we keep pressing forward and watch his six,” I grunted in return.

“Shit, this is a bad idea man! What if they hit Percy?”

“That’s why we’re fucking here to shield her! Are you scared of a little gunfire, DeLoria?!”

The younger man gulped and kept pushing. Our group kept pushing forward, already at the courtyard. How we managed to pull this off is beyond me. I expected to be dead right now.

“Hold your fire!”

Whoever issued the command is old, judging from their voice. Almost immediately, the tin cans stopped shooting.

“Father, what’s the meaning of this?” a more feminine voice called out. “They’re kidnapping a comatose patient! An honorary member of the Lyons Pride! I-”

“Sarah, please, enough. I’ll talk to them,” the Elder says, emerging from the crowd.

Another one of the tin cans interrupts. “Elder, they let in a Super Mutant in Citadel grounds! We-”

The old man gives the soldier a stern gaze, and he backs off. Coming face to face with Fawkes, the elder looks up, a neutral expression on his face.

“Please explain the meaning of this.”

DeLoria rushes over from the rear, facing the old man. “We’re getting our friend out of here! Clearly you assholes haven’t been doing her any good, so we’re transferring her to another hospital.”

“Another hospital?” the younger Lyons interrupts. “Listen kid, the Citadel is one of the few places on the Wasteland equipped to handle Zhou’s injuries.” Armor clinking, she marches towards the greaser, a livid expression on her face.

“What makes you think that whatever ‘hospital’ you’ll be transferring her to is equipped to help her, huh?”

A shouting match erupts between those two. Before things get ugly, Elder Lyons intervenes again, placing himself in front of the greaser and his daughter. Grumbling, I reach out and pull DeLoria back.

“I’ll take it from here,” I griped, and shoved past Sarah Lyons. I came face to face with the Elder, and I folded my arms.

“Before she left, Dr. Li told us she doesn’t think that whatever tests you’re running on Percy isn’t for her best interests. Percy trusted that doctor, so I trust her.”

Blondie scoffs, about to go off on us again, but she stops in her tracks, looking at something, or someone, behind us.

“Then, why don’t you ask Zhou herself, if she wants to stay here or not?”

My eyes widen, and I turn around and see Percy, sitting up on the bed, her restraints loose. I checked again, and no, they weren’t loosened. They were pulled away from the bed, and she’s gripping the leather straps.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Percy,” I mumble, taking slow, tentative steps towards her.

She’s looking blankly ahead, eyes glassy. No. Oh no.

What the fuck is happening?

Rough and calloused, my fingers brush against her arm, and her eyes flick towards me. “Percy? Are you there?”

Letting go of the leather strap, her small hand grips mine, and she exhales sharply, panic rousing within her. Through her hospital gown, I see a sickly green glow pulsing below her throat, at her chest.

Barreling her way through, Sarah Lyons points a minigun at my partner, ready to fire.

“Everyone, get back! She’s going to blow!”

“No!” I screamed at her, and instinct kicking in, I scoop Percy’s frail body in my arms and started to run to the exit.

“Move, fucking move aside!”

My lungs are burning as I run through the Citadel gates, Percy still pressed to my chest, unnaturally warm to the touch. Fawkes is following closely behind, footsteps pounding.

Away from the people, I gently laid Percy to the ground, the green glow emanating from her searing now, and covered her body with mine. If I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go holding her.

Screwing my eyes shut, I wait for the inevitable.

Instead, I was pulled aside, and Fawkes crouches over Percy’s body, careful not to crush her.

A bright, blinding light flashes from Percy’s body, and Fawkes covers her completely. Her body erupts, heat and energy bursting outwards, and Fawkes just absorbed all that. I watched the explosion barely made a dent on the mutant’s thick skin, and the mushroom cloud that billows towards the dark sky.

He pulls back, and Percy lies there, hospital gown in tatters.

I rushed to her side, checking for breathing, and felt my heart drop as I heard none.

“We need a medic, get a medic!” I snarl at the bystanders who witnessed the entire ordeal. After the initial shock has worn off, DeLoria weaves through the crowd and runs towards us, kneeling beside Percy.

“Shit man, shit! She’s not breathing, she needs CPR, oh my fucking God I don’t remember how to do it,” he babbles, tears pooling at the edge of his eyes.

Gnashing my teeth, I try to remember whatever first aid I learned from observing Percy in the past. I pulled away Percy’s hospital gown, and with my palms together, I pressed between her nipples, pumping and hearing her ribs crack underneath her skin.

I tilt her head, pinch her nose, press my ruined lips against hers, and blow. Twice.

Then, I go back into giving her chest compressions, and I look over my shoulder. I must’ve looked so feral at that moment.

“Where the fuck’s that medic?!”

I turned back to my partner, and after another set of compressions, I breathed into her again.

“Percy, remember what you told me when you got captured by the Enclave, huh?!” I rasped, gritting my teeth.

“Well, it’s your goddamn turn to listen to me now!”

January 14, 2278.

Fingers clacking on the keyboard, Percy hacked away at the terminal. Once given access, she terminates the hostile creatures in the other holding cells. I wince as I watch one particularly screwed up creature burst into flame, high pitched, inhuman squeals coming out of its… mouth?

Jesus Christ. I don’t want to think about it, ugh.

Then, Percy selects another command in the console, and the doors hiss open.

My partner turned around, footsteps urgent, and I followed her closely behind. Fawkes emerges from his cell, carefully, like an animal let loose from a trap, and he turns to us, towering us both.

“Thank you,” he boomed, and though his voice sounded rough, I felt his gratitude for Percy. “As promised, I will retrieve the GECK for you. This is a debt I am most happy to pay, my friends. Follow me!”

Percy smiles and nods, and she turns to me, looking over her shoulder with a pleased expression.

“See Charon? He isn’t bad at all,” she starts, and I only grumble in response. Percy senses the apprehension that lingered in me, and chuckles.

“To be frank Charon, the first time I met you in Underworld, I might have felt the same thing,” she says, and I look down with a questioning look.

“Dad told me to judge other people by what they looked like, but even then, I felt kind of uneasy around you. Then I heard you beat up Patchwork, and I was really angry for a while.”

I gulped. I never thought about what she thinks of me during that time. It was an entirely different reality back then; her thoughts, or anyone else’s, didn’t matter. Only Ahzrukhal’s did.

“But what Tulip said to me about you being Ahzrukhal’s employee really challenged my perspective. Getting back at you would only end in me getting hurt. You were at Ahzrukhal’s mercy as much as Patchwork was.”

“So is that why you bought my contract back then? You felt sorry?”

“No. I felt your frustration at being powerless. So, I bought your contract to create an opportunity to seize that back. Of course it wasn’t easy after that,” Percy chuckles sheepishly, and I sigh, remembering all the times I struggled with the contract’s hold over me.

But it’s gone, right?

No sense in dwelling over that.

“So, where were you going with this, Percy?”

“Give Fawkes a chance.”

I stop in my tracks, feeling guilty as hell. All this time, all I thought about is Percy, and myself. Meanwhile, she tries to consider everyone around her.

“Fine, Angel, I will.”

I felt a light jab on my ribs; Percy elbowed it playfully. “Whatever, big guy.”

“I don’t think that nickname suits me anymore, Percy. We’ve got a bigger guy now,” I tease her, pointing at Fawkes, who’s taking our conversation in stride as he pummeled a dumb mutie in our way.

“Nah. Fawkes doesn’t need a nickname anymore. You’re my big guy,” Percy teases back.

Is this flirting? Is Percy flirting with me? Goddammit. If I had more skin left on my cheeks, I would have blushed.

I almost ran into Fawkes when he stopped walking. I look to the right, and see the sickly green glow of the irradiated room that the GECK is in.

“Alright. You better not enter, human. This radiation is lethal to you. Stay here, and I will fulfill my end of the bargain,” he grunts, and my partner nods at him.

“Thank you, Fawkes.”

“No. Thank you, human.”

He turns around, and enters the room. On her tiptoes, Percy watches him inside through the window, while I keep watch, guarding her six just in case. Soon after, Fawkes returns carrying a briefcase.

That’s the GECK? What the hell?

“You got it!” Percy exclaims, taking the briefcase off of the super mutant’s hands gingerly. “Again, thank you so much Fawkes. You wouldn’t believe how important this is to us.”

“It’s my pleasure, Percy. Now, I believe this is farewell.”

Farewell?

I turn to Percy and see her somber expression. Good grief, don’t tell me she’s already getting attached to him. This happened with the Big Town kids too.

“Farewell? Fawkes, why don’t you come with us?”

Okay. Okay, I am definitely accepting that Fawkes indeed is good and that I shouldn’t judge him because of him being a super mutant, or metahuman, but this? Had Percy gone mad? Travelling with him could get us killed!

Before I can open my mouth and say something that might possibly anger her, Fawkes already took care of the problem.

“Sorry, I’m afraid a Super Mutant wouldn’t be welcome in the places you frequent.”

“But you said it yourself, you’re a metahuman! You’re different from the other mutants we-”

“All I would do is cause you undue attention and probably get you killed,” Fawkes interrupts, a tinge of sorrow in his grating voice.

“I- you’re right,” Percy sighs, relenting.

“Take care of yourself, friend.”

And with that, we parted ways.

I can tell Percy is sad by the slump in her shoulders. As much as it pains me to see her like this, it’s for the better. The Brotherhood can barely tolerate my presence. Fawkes? They’d shoot him on sight. It’s definitely for his safety too.

“Do you think we’ll see him again, Charon?”

“I don’t think we’ll see him anytime soon.”

“I’m worried.”

“Worry about yourself, angel. Have you seen him? He pummeled that other mutie no problem, like a kid throwing a teddy bear.”

“I guess you’re right. I- Charon, get down.”

Out of instinct, I listen to her. Percy pulls up her PipBoy, and a worried expression is etched on her features. “So many red dots… Charon, I think we’re about to encounter a huge group of muties.”

“Should we go back and get Fawkes?”

Gripping her rifle, she checks the magazine, then she pats at the ammo pouches on her waist. I proceed to check my own ammunition too. Just two boxes of shotgun shells left, and a grenade; the same grenade Percy gave me when she first hired me. I haven’t used it yet, after all these months.

We’re running low on ammo.

“No, no. Stay low. We’ll sneak out of here,” Percy tells me, and she crouches low, the helmet of her stealth suit protracting over her face, then her suit’s stealth mechanism activates. All I can see is a faint silver-white outline.

“I’ll scout ahead. If I raise a fist, move to my location.”

I nod, and she proceeds.

Cautiously, Percy moves through the hall. My grip on my shotgun remains steady, watching her inch slowly but surely to the open area ahead.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

A pulse grenade drops from the ceiling.

It felt like time slowed all around us. Percy sees the grenade landing near her foot, and turns around, movement abrupt, her helmet retracting from her head and revealing her panicked gaze. Her eyes are wide in terror, lips trembling as she yelled at me.

“Charon!”

My feet are ready to take me to her, but what she screamed before the grenade fried her suit’s systems and took her down made me freeze in my spot.

“I order you to live!”

The pulse grenade burst, and so did the walls of the vault. The rubble flew at Percy, who was falling backwards, her helmet thumping against the metal flooring as she hit the ground. Losing consciousness, the GECK escapes her grasp, and skitters a few feet away from her.

From the newly formed hole in the wall, a man emerges. Colonel Autumn. I thought that asshole was dead!

The Enclave is here.

Heart in my throat, I didn’t know what to do. At that moment, I forgot the contract was gone. I turned around, and obeyed, fleeing from the scene with Percy’s words echoing in my head.

“Charon! I order you to live!”

“I order you to live!”

“Live!”

Live.

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sinnamonrolle · 3 years

Text

Headcanons: The Layers of the Devildom [Obey Me!]

Small note: Since this will have a slight relevance in Diavolo’s Little Moment (currently 1042 words let’s gooooo), I decided to share this for now, despite the incompleteness. The angst one-shot that’s coming after the Little Moment series will have these headcanons in play. I will keep this updated.

(Also!!! I think I’ve only played up to around Lesson 23/24, which means I have absolutely no clue if they did eventually explain about the layers in more details. If that is the case, then I’m sorry, but there is no going back. I will go down with these headcanons.)

It’s been established in canon (from the earlier lessons of the story) that there are eight layers of the Devildom. It was Lucifer who said this, although he doesn’t delve further into it.

The entire Devildom consists of all eight layers. However, they do not exactly exist on the same plane. Each layer has its own sky, its own landmarks, landscape, etc. But it is definitely possible to travel to another layer by foot, although the route might be a bit difficult if you are not sufficiently prepared.

Each layer is called a “country” despite all being within the Devildom. They are more like titles than anything else. Each layer is governed by an administrator who reports to the King, in which case would be Diavolo as he is the de facto ruler.

Layer 1: Country of Hatred

Layer 1 is the first and top-most layer of the Devildom. This layer is closest to the Mortal Realm (aka the Human World), and the Underworld’s river Styx runs through this layer.

Administrator is currently undecided. (I haven’t decided yet.)

Layer 2: Country of Anguish

The second layer of the Devildom, located below the first layer. The river Acheron flows through here.

Administrator is currently undecided.

Layer 3: Country of Oblivion

The third layer of the Devildom, located below the second layer. The river Lethe flows through here.

Administrator is currently undecided.

Layer 4: Country of Dreams

The fourth layer of the Devildom, located below the third layer. Instead of a famous river, there is a well-known tree. The Elm of Oneiroi (the Elm of Dreams), also known as the Devil’s Tree, resides here.

Administrator is currently undecided.

Layer 5: Country of Guilty Joys

The fifth layer of the Devildom, located below the fourth layer. Instead of any famous landmarks, there are two popular and well-known buildings.

The first one is the Court of Injustice, of which Lucifer is the head judge. The Court of Injustice is the highest court in the Devildom.

The second is the Order of the Fly, of which Beelzebub supervises. The Order of the Fly is the name of the headquarters of the Royal Army, although sometimes the Royal Army is also called the Order of the Fly.

The administrator is currently undecided.

Layer 6: Country of Tears

The sixth layer of the Devildom, located below the fifth layer. The river Cocytus flows through here, as well as the headquarters of the Navy, of which Leviathan is the Admiral (now this is canon).

The administrator Moloch (demon) governs this layer.

Layer 7: Country of Flames

The seventh layer of the Devildom, located below the sixth layer. The river Phlegethon flows through here.

The administrator Pluton (demon) governs this layer.

Layer 8: Country of Dis

The eighth and the bottom-most layer of the Devildom, located below the seventh layer. The river Oceanus flows through here. The Royal Academy of Diavolo is also located here.

More commonly known and referred to as Dis.

The Demon Lord’s Castle resides here.

This layer is the smallest layer territory wise, but many of the inhabitants are the elite among the elite. High end shops such as Majolish and others are here as well.

This layer is governed by Diavolo.

#obeyme #obey me!#obey me #om swd #obey me headcanons #headcanon #devildom #obey me diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub

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askvectorprime · 3 years

Note

Vector, could you tell us more about Cthonic Maximus? Specifically, the ancient Greeks believed the underworld to contain rivers called Styx, Acheron, Phlegethon, Cocytus and Lethe. Were these also components of Cthonic?

Dear Stygian Soul-Seeker,

Cthonic Maximus was, even for a Titan, vast in both physical and metaphysical aspects. While most city-bots were partnered with only a single Titan Master, or even none at all, Cthonic was bonded with a team of five, each overseeing a different aspect of the Titan's mighty systems.

Styx was responsible for Cthonic Maximus's shields and defensive systems. Her domain took the form of a vast network of energy fields that interwove throughout the Titan's body, a lattice all but impenetrable to outsiders. For any other being to pass through these fields, they would have to be carried by a Cybertronian with the proper access codes—most often, organics we brought into Cthonic's interior would be transported by his partner-drone, Charon.

Cthonic's cognitive circuits were maintained by Lethe. The tripartite nature of Cthonic Maximus required extra care to maintain synchronicity between Elysium, Asphodel and Tartarus, and Lethe worked closely with myself—in my role as messenger of the Primes—in her duties. In addition to cerebral data transmission, Lethe also oversaw data storage in the form of channels of "memory fluid": a suspension of chemicals created by Dionysus, which both stored memory and could draw it out of a subject, making it useful when we needed human visitors to forget what they saw.

Perhaps the most essential of the Titan Masters was Phlegethon, responsible for maintaining the Titan's volatile power and locomotive systems. The burning energon conduits that coiled throughout Cthonic's body required constant adjustment to temper their fury and prevent excess power from spilling over into the city-bot's streets. While those who met Phlegethon were often taken aback by his seemingly-hot temper, in truth, he was one of the most fastidious bots one could hope to meet.

Acheron oversaw Cthonic Maximus's weapons systems—ironic, for he was a pacifist by nature, and deeply regretted whenever the Titan was forced to enter battle. The circuits that powered these weapons throbbed with exotic radiation, and any organic unfortunate enough to approach would feel a burning pain as if their skin was being stripped away. Cruel and terrible as Cthonic's arsenal was, I dare say that without the Ploutonic Cannons and Bident Missile launchers that his body bristled with, we never would have been victorious in the Othrys War.

Lastly, the most reclusive of the five Titan Masters was Cocytus; they had the sacred duty of maintaining Cthonic Maximus's life-giving hot spot, a vast and silvery pool in the depths of Tartarus. While they spoke little even to their fellow Titan Masters, I do believe they had a certain friendship with Bruticus, a vassal of my uncle Hades and one of the first to emerge from the hot spot under their watch.

I'm sure you can see how, through hazy memories and a lack of understanding of what they saw, the people of ancient Greece would come to believe these five systems to be a series of otherworldly rivers. Truly, the human mind is an incredible thing!

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apenitentialprayer · 3 years

Text

Paradise Lost, and the Satanic Parody (Books 1 and 2)

In Book II of Paradise Lost, Mammon, wishing to create a new paradise for the fallen angels in Hell, at one point quips: “Cannot we [God’s] light / imitate when we please?” (269b-270a). This is an explicit remark of how the demons, so caught up in wanting to go off and make something of their own, ironically can only come up with cheap imitations of what God has created. But as interesting as this remark is, what is perhaps more interesting is the unintentional parodies of God’s plan that the demons perform. I can think of four such distorted mirrorings in the first two books: one from Book I (the creation of Pandemonium) and three from Book II (Moloch’s rising army speech, Hell’s four rivers, and Satan’s unholy trinity).

That first one is probably the weakest of the four mirrorings, but the word choice is interesting; in Book I, the demons create their capital in hell in a way that alludes to the creation of Eve from Adam: “Soon had his crew / Open’d into the hill a spacious wound, / And digg’d out ribs of gold” (688b-690a). Just as God removes a rib from the male Adam in order to create Eve, the demons “Ransack’d the centre, and with impious hands / Rifled the bowels of their mother earth / for treasures better hid” (686-688a). First. notice the difference in gender of the entity being worked upon, and the way it is described; God takes a rib from man while he sleeps, being careful to close up the wound it would leave behind [Genesis 2:21], doing so in order to make the man less lonely [2:18, 23]. The demons force their way into a female Earth in a way that clearly alludes to rape, leaving a “spacious wound” (689) from which they use “ribs of gold” (690) in order to try to selfishly glorify themselves. Pandemonium is a demonic parallel of Eve, an object rather than a person, and one whose creation brings not consolation but pain and wounds to its “parent,” an act perpetrated by a self-serving force rather than a force working for the “parent’s” benefit. Returning to Book II, we have Moloch’s promise that the defeated angels, “from this descent, / celestial virtue rising will appear / more glorious and more dread than from no fall” (14b-16); in other words, the demons will rise from their defeat to even greater heights of glory than was even conceivable before the fall. And, had he been talking about a different fall, he would have been right; because it is true not of the fall of angels, but the Fall of Man. According to some strands of Christian thought, the Fall of Man is ultimately a good thing, because the redemption brought about by Jesus brings man to a greater height than that of our Original Innocence; because Jesus partook in our humanity in order to redeem us, redeem humanity participates in His Divinity. Original Sin thus becomes a felix culpa, a happy fault. Moloch’s big mistake is that he thinks that this rising from defeat is something he can seize for himself, rather than something freely received from God. When the fallen angels explore their new home, the topography of hell is described in a way that directly inverts Eden:

Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge Into the burning lake their baleful streams; Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate; Sad Acheron, of sorrow; black and deep; Cocytus, nam’d of lamentations loud Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlgethon Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.

(575-581)

Compare this series of four rivers that flow into a lake of fire with Eden, where a fountain of water flows from the center into a series of rivers: Pishon, Gihon, Tigris, and Euphrates. Finally, we have the relationship between Satan and Sin, versus that of Son and Father; the Father’s relationship with the Son is that of selfless love, which finds expression in dynamic, life-giving creation. This is not the case with Satan and his daughter. Satan has sex with his daughter, not because he loves her for what she is, but because she is a symbol representing him, a reflection of himself with which he becomes “enamour’d” (762-767a). From this selfish gratification, this almost masturbatory act of affection for the self through the image of his reflection, Death is born.

#Paradise Lost #John Milton #Hell #Eden #Christianity #Original Sin #Redemption

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gagosiangallery · 3 years

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Sterling Ruby at Gagosian Athens

April 8, 2021

STERLING RUBY THAT MY NAILS CAN REACH UNTO THINE EYES

May 13–July 31, 2021 22 Anapiron Polemou Street, Athens _________ And are you grown so high in his esteem Because I am so dwarfish and so low? How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak! How low am I? I am not yet so low But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. —William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream (act 3, scene 2) Gagosian is pleased to present THAT MY NAILS CAN REACH UNTO THINE EYES, an exhibition of new paintings and ceramics by Sterling Ruby. In an oeuvre encompassing sculpture, ceramics, painting, drawing, collage, video, and textiles, Ruby engages art history, his own autobiography, and balances of social power. Creating disruption by contrasting clean lines and recognizable objects with rough and uncanny forms, his works interrogate the canon of art while seeking to critique the institutions and shortcomings of modern society. Ruby composes his WIDW paintings (2016–)—the series is titled after an abbreviated form of “window”—with thick, vibrant coats of acrylic and oil paint, also adhering squares of cardboard and patterned fabric onto canvas. These collaged elements demarcate the canvas into halves and smaller rectangles, transforming the compositions into gridded windowpanes that offer a glimpse into the physical and cerebral strata of Ruby’s working process.

In this new body of work inspired by William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Ruby makes allusions to theater, likening the vantage of a window frame to the proscenium. Taking a cue from the play’s contrasting settings of judicial ancient Athens and the mystical forest beyond, Ruby bisects each canvas vertically with a strip of painted cardboard, introducing a pillar-like barrier that bright pigments rebound against or cower behind. Featuring dynamic bursts of pink, teal, white, and gold, Ruby’s paintings evoke the fertile yet impermanent aura of springtime. Opposing realms—order and chaos, love and violence, civilization and wilderness—are key to his works, which dwell in moments of transformation. Exploring the liminal space between these dichotomies, Ruby taps into the loss of self that occurs when the identities and innermost desires of the play’s protagonists become enmeshed within a collective subconscious. The exhibition is divided in half between both floors of the Athens gallery: visitors enter a suite of black-grounded “night” paintings before ascending the stairs to reach a set of ethereal “daylight” paintings. Passing through physical space and metaphorical time of day, the viewer follows a path akin to Shakespeare’s characters in their passage from luminous dreamscapes to bright-hued works that impart a vivid psychological clarity. Also on view is ACHERON (2021), part of Ruby’s Basin Theology series (2009–). The sculpture’s title refers to a line in A Midsummer Night’s Dream—“The starry welkin cover thou anon / With drooping fog as black as Acheron”—that invokes the name of the river in Greek mythology that carried the souls of the dead through the underworld to Hades. To make ACHERON, Ruby gathered broken pieces from previous ceramics projects in a flat-bottomed vessel, fusing everything through the firing process. Glazed in volcanic black and lustrous turquoise, the fragments emerge from the kiln in a reincarnated form reminiscent of entombed remains. Employing a similar technique for MORTAR. KISSING WALL’S HOLE (2021), Ruby references text from the play in which a “wall’s hole” creates an access point for forbidden lovers, rendering the ceramic work as a symbolic opening between spaces and people. Sterling Ruby was born in Bitburg, Germany, in 1972, holds American and Dutch citizenship, and lives and works in Los Angeles. Collections include the Tate, London; Centre Pompidou, Paris; Moderna Museet, Stockholm; Museum of Modern Art, New York; Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York; Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago; Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles; Los Angeles County Museum of Art; and San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Exhibitions include DROPPA BLOCKA, Museum Dhondt-Dhaenens, Deurle, Belgium (2013); STOVES, Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature, Paris (2015); Belvedere, Vienna (2016); Ceramics, Des Moines Art Center, Iowa (2018, traveled to Museum of Arts and Design, New York); and Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami (2019–20, traveled to Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston). In June 2019, Ruby launched his clothing label, S.R. STUDIO. LA. CA., after debuting at Pitti Uomo Immagine in Florence, Italy. At the invitation of the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode, Ruby presented a collection during Paris Couture Week in January 2021. Concurrently, a selection of ceramic sculptures by Ruby will be exhibited within the permanent collections of the Museum of Cycladic Art in Athens. The installation, Sterling Ruby at Cycladic: Ceramics, will also extend to the museum’s temporary exhibition wing and will be on view from May 12 to June 14, 2021, with dates subject to national public health guidelines. _____ Sterling Ruby, WIDW. KNACKS. TRIFLES. NOSEGAYS. SWEETMEATS., 2020, acrylic, oil, elastic, and cardboard on canvas, framed: 73 7/8 × 53 7/8 × 3 1/4 inches (187.6 × 136.8 × 8.3 cm) © Sterling Ruby. Photo: Robert Wedemeyer

#Sterling Ruby #Gagosian

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thewholesomebean · 3 years

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I really wanna write like a little series on ao3 about the Greek gods in modern life and stuff but I need ideas for each god so please help

The gods I'm planning to use are:

Hades - god of the Underworld

Zeus - god of the sky, lightning and thunder

Hera - goddess of marriage and family

Artemis - goddess of the moon, the hunt, maidenhood, and childbirth

Hephaestus - god of blacksmiths, forges, and fire

Athena - goddess of wisdom and war strategy

Apollo - god of the sun, healing, poetry, archery, plagues, and prophecy

Demeter - goddess of the harvest and agriculture

Dionysus - god of wine, madness, and ecstasy

Hestia - goddess of hearth, home, and family

Aphrodite - goddess of love, beauty, lust, and sexuality

Poseidon - god of the sea, storms, and horses

Ares - god of war, violence, battle lust, and rage

Nike - goddess of victory and Divine Charioteer

Persephone - goddess of springtime and Queen of the Underworld

Iris - goddess of rainbows and Messenger of the gods

Hermes - god of thieves, travelers, trade, merchants, roads and Messenger of the gods

Tyche - goddess of luck and fortune

Pan - god of the Wild

Hypnos - god of sleep

Thanatos - god of death

Nemesis - goddess of balance, retribution, revenge and vengeance

Keto - goddess of sea monsters

Phorcys - god of deep sea dangers

Styx - goddess of the River Styx

Acheron - god of the River Acheron

Eros - god of erotic love, affection, and desire

Ganymede - god of homosexual love and desire

Deimos - god of terror, panic, and dread

Phobos - god of fear

Boreas - god of the North wind and Winter

Zephyros - god of the West wind and Spring

Eurus - god of the East wind and Autumn

Notus - god of the South wind and Summer

Khione - goddess of snow

Britomartis - goddess of hunting and fishing nets

I know there's a lot of minor gods but I was just going through a list (if someone wants to see all of the gods on the list, I can add them as well)

#greek mythology

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flamboyantly-incompetent · 4 years

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Since the World Began (2/?)

Hades!Bucky x Persephone!Reader

Word Count: 7793

Warnings: maybe a little trauma, nothing major

A/N: So, it’s been a little over a year since the first part of this series was posted - I know a couple people have asked to be tagged in this, so I’m sorry this has taken so long! The gifs are, surprise surprise, not mine. This is gonna get hella cute real fast. And then hella angsty. I’m sorry (kinda).

Part 1

When you fell for him, really fell, there was no way you could have known the consequences.

As the time passed, so did many mortals, and Bucky found himself busier by the day with the rising population of the underworld. Sometimes, when you passed by the door in the cliff face, you could see him sitting in the doorway, eyes closed and legs hanging down, bathing in the sunlight so rarely seen.

Joining Bucky in the underworld became a frequent occurrence, and you didn’t mind. For all the weariness slung on his shoulders, his home put him at ease, and his presence did the same for you.

One such occasion, you’d joined him in the tower as he tried to complete some kingly or otherwise morbid sort of task. Enthralled in his work, he began to pay you no mind; you draped yourself dramatically over his bed. When he didn’t look up from his desk, you sighed loudly. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You were gaining ground.

Rolling onto your stomach, you opened your mouth to speak and -

Hermes flew through the open window, rustling every rustlable thing in the room.

“Sam!” Bucky exclaimed, trying to keep the papers littering his desk orderly, “You know I hate it when you do that.”

His wings snapped shut with a whoosh and he grinned, “That’s why I do it, Skully.”

“Cheron hates it when you do that - you’re supposed to take the ferry. Cerberus hates it when you do that; he is especially fascinated by small flying things, he’s gonna be all in a tizzy. Are you taunting him on purpose?”

“Oh, nuh huh I am never going near that thing, he tries to bite me every time I’m down here.”

“Did you hear a word I just said?”

“I am the messenger, proclaimer of things.” Bucky huffed as Hermes turned to you. “Persephone! Fancy seeing you here.”

“Wilson,” Bucky warned. Sam winked at you with a cheeky grin; you laughed out loud through the heat on your cheeks.

Sam ignored Bucky completely and continued, “Anyway, I’d love to shoot the breeze some more but I’ve got five more gods to get to by sunup. Zeus has called a meeting for the Olympians, and I know you aren’t technically on the council, but he wants you both there. Thanks for saving me the trip.” He winked at you again, to Bucky’s chagrin.

“No problem. What’s the meeting about?” you replied, rising to your feet.

Sam only shrugged and unfurled his wings, reaching for a piece of fruit from the bowl by the door. Before his fingers could grace it, though, his hand was struck by a flying object - an ink well, you thought. He stared at Bucky, now standing rigid, in shock.

“You really don’t want to do that,” Bucky said, voice low.

Sam gulped, “Right. Sorry, I always forget that. Uh, thanks.” Bucky gave him a nod before he took off, rustling the room once more.

With Sam gone, Bucky finally shot you a glance. You were smirking at him, altogether too satisfied by whatever thought you had running about inside your head.

“What’s that look for?”

You smiled wider and nudged him in the middle. “The god of the dead is a big ol’ softie.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” you reached up to poke his reddened ears. “Your ears give you away every time.”

“I just don’t want that pigeon stuck down here pestering me for all eternity because of an orange.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, giving in but knowing you were, in fact, absolutely correct. “I wonder what this summons is all about.”

Bucky groaned, massaging his temples. “It can’t be good,” he mumbled.

“What makes you say that?”

He turned to you. “My family is, well, we tend to get into a lot of drama.”

You took his hand in yours. “In any case, we should go.”

“But (Y/N),” he whined pitifully, wrapping his arms around your middle. You giggled into his chest. “We could just not go. What’s Zeus gonna do? Run the underworld himself?”

Still giggling, you pulled out of his grasp. “Probably not, but we still should go.” He was unconvinced. “What if it’s serious?”

“All the more reason to stay down here.”

“Bucky.”

“Oof. Alright, alright. D’think Sam would mind if we brought Rus along?”

On your path back to the mortal realm, Bucky tried his best to placate a disgruntled Charon, who began complaining the second you were in earshot about how “gods these days have no respect for the likes of ol’ Charon.”

“I don’t even ask for a tool from Olympians!” he continued on, rowing Bucky and yourself across the Acheron slowly, “Is it really so much for me to ask, as the ferryman of the underworld, that when in the underworld one takes the ferry?”

Bucky nodded sympathetically, as if dealing with a child. “Trust me, I know. I tell Hermes every time he’s here.”

“All I’m asking, is for a little respect. The whole reason we have the bloody river is to control who gets in -”

“And out. I know; I asked Poseidon to put them there.”

“Right, sorry.”

As the two of them bickered, you watched the wandering figures on the shore; they were as mournful and despondent as ever. You had meant to speak to a few this visit, but the thought of seeing Bucky always seemed to take precedence. It made you sad and ashamed, how often you allowed these pitiful beings to be pushed from your thoughts.

Bucky took your hand when you reached the shore, and you made for the mortal realm when a shade among the moaning fell to his knees at your feet, a river of pleas falling from his open and eerily still mouth. You recoiled from the dead man’s spirit; his presence felt dank and slimy.

“Persephone, my lady,” his partially disembodied voice entreated, “My family, my wife, I’ve left them with no one, please.”

The look of shock evaporated from your face and with one hand you lifted the man to his feet, your heart sympathetic to his plight. “What would you have me do”

Slowly and with much effort, he looked this way and that, as if confused and under water. “Tell them I am sorry, and that I would rather wander the shore than they waste the drachma.” He paused, surprised you listened still. “Please, tell them, lady. I have no other way.”

Bucky, still at your side, simply watched you, waiting for your response. He needn’t protect you, not from these shades; he’d granted you authority enough already in his heart.

You listened to the spirits words, and imagined the twice-mortal blow of death and abandonment, and reached for his hand. When his fingertips brushed yours, you saw it - a house, standing somewhat miraculously on a hill by the sea, but one wrong breath from collapse. In addition, you saw that he had been a pious man, and knew it to be your duty to honor his request in death.

You smiled at him. “I have passed this place many times; I know it well. Your family shall hear your message, you have my word.”

The shade thanked you profusely with his motionless mouth, fading back into the others wailing on the shore.

“I don’t think you should have done that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Given him your word,” Bucky explained as the two of you continued on your way. “You’ll be bound by it now, if you don’t deliver that message there will be consequences. There are always consequences.”

You huffed lightly. “I don’t see why that should matter, as I fully intend to visit that man’s family when we’re done on Olympus.”

He paused, glancing at you with a small smile.

“What?”

He laughed, “Nothing, just, sometimes I’m reminded of one of the reasons I love you and I’m, I don’t know, startled?”

A grin spread slow across your face, conquering you. “Startled? That’s what you want to go with? You’re lucky I love you.”

“You don’t have to remind me of that.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want you to be startled by your good fortune and say something you’d regret.”

“What would I say?”

“Oh I would rather not find out.”

He shook his head, still laughing, and pulled you closer to him.

Rus met you near the door. He was, in fact, in a bit of a tizzy, bouncing around in circles, whacking the floor and shaking the ground with his tail. You handled this one.

“Hey Russy,” you cooed at the dog, who only stuck out his tongue, to pant at you. “Rus, did that big silly bird tease you?” The beast whined in response, flopping over in anticipation for the inevitable belly rub to come.

Mount Olympus lay only a god’s walk away from the entrance to the underworld. You and Bucky were nearly there when you were intercepted by a friendly face.

That face appeared in the form of a wall of water that came leaping out of the river you walked next to.

“Steve?” Bucky asked the open air, agitated and soaking wet. You giggled quietly at the sight and flicked the water off your own hands. “Steve, I swear, would it kill you to just say, ‘Hi Buck, nice to see you?’“

“Where’s the fun in that?” a voice came from the river.

“Get your scrawny butt up here.”

The man called Steve rose from the river, spraying Bucky once more with water. “Hi Buck, nice to see you,” he said, grinning shamelessly.

Bucky smiled in spite of himself, and pulled the man called Steve into a bone crushing hug. “You’re a real punk, you know that?”

“Jerk.”

Bucky pulled back, and gestured towards you, “Steve, this is Persephone.”

Steve reached out to shake your hand; he was quite small, though his eyes held a depth, a sort of ability. “I’m Poseidon,” he said, “But you’re welcome to call me Steve.”

You smiled warmly, “Call me (Y/N).”

“I take it you’re headed to Olympus?” Bucky cut in. When Steve nodded he looked to you for a moment then offered, “Walk with us?”

For the rest of the journey, Steve and Bucky swapped stories of silly things they’d seen mortals doing, and, to Bucky’s chagrin, you and Steve swapped stories of silly things you’d seen Bucky doing. It was a pleasant change from your typical lonely wanderings.

“I’ll admit, Steve,” you started, “I haven’t met many gods yet. You’re the fifth. Tony - my mother goddes, Demeter - Bucky, Wanda, Sam of course, and you. I’m rather nervous.” You paused, realization flooding through you. “Oh no, Demeter! It hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d see him today. Much has passed since we last spoke.” Though you couldn’t explain why, the idea filled you with apprehension.

Mount Olympus stood the tallest among the peaks in the range. On most days, the zenith could be seen with such clarity any mortal could spot the temple that sat there should they know what to look for. Today, though, the clouds sat low on the mountain, obscuring the gathering from sight. The mountain top was bustling with activity by the time you arrived at its summit; gods you had never seen before rushed around all about, and Steve was doing his best to point them all out to you.

“That’s Ares, god of war, everybody calls him Rhodey - I think he’s actually pretty good friends with Demeter. Oh, that over there is Aphrodite, be careful, he’s got quite the temper, I hear - goddess of passion or, something like that. And that is Athena - wisdom and -”

You cut him off there, “But why is he blue? And why is he the only one wearing a cape?”

“Vision was born out of Zeus’ forehead.” Steve shrugged, “He can do what he wants.” You nodded, a bit overwhelmed.

“Zeus always gets the credit for that,” you spun around to see Tony striding up towards you, “But I did most of the work, you know.”

“Mother goddess!” you let him pull you into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, pumpkin.” He released you to address your companions, nodding his head politely, if a bit cold, “Poseidon, Hades.” They nodded similarly, and he turned his attention back to you, “Come, we don’t want to miss Zeus’ opening remarks.”

“We were just on our way, join us, Demeter?”

Tony gave a thin smile and obliged you, taking up his gait on your left. Bucky remained on your right, though he had allowed some distance to come between you.

The temple where the council held its meetings was designed for twelve, not some odd hundred. As such, Zeus addressed the throng of deities on the stage of an amphitheater.

“Friends! Thank you for joining me, I have a very special announcement!” he said, loud, boisterous, and happy, grinning ear to ear.

Bucky leaned towards you to explain, “Zeus’ name is Thor. He is very...”

“Loud?”

“Yes.”

Zeus continued, “Today, the council says goodbye to its eldest member, and welcomes a new. Hestia, would you like to say a few words?” The god called Hestia held himself with a regal demeanor; a soft warmth wafted off of him.

“Hestia is goddess of the hearth. There’s a people on the African continent that know him as their king.”

“His name?”

“T’Challa.”

Hestia began to speak about the changing of times; Tony took the opportunity to whisper to you, “You and Hades seem rather familiar, dear.”

You blushed and whispered back, “We’ve become friends, yes.”

“I don’t like the idea of you spending so much time together. He’s dangerous.”

How could you respond to that? You were Olympians! All of you were dangerous. Zeus’ voice cut through your argument, “And so, it is with both sadness and joy that I welcome Dionysus to the council, and bid Hestia a happy retirement.” Among the gods there was a hodge-podge of arguing, grumbling, halfhearted congratulations and some well-meaning applause. He continued, unbothered by this response, “Would the twelve Olympians please remain seated, the rest of you are free to go.”

There was a general surge of noise as the whole amphitheater stood. Bucky gave you a look as he moved off with Steve, which you returned with some apprehension before turning back to your mother goddess.

“Why don’t you like him, mother goddess?”

Tony scoffed, “Ask him why he is god of the dead.”

“Because Zeus made it so.”

“That is why he is king of the underworld, dear. Ask why he is god of the dead.” His cold tone struck an uncomfortable chord, and you found yourself unable to look at anything but your hands folded in front of you.

As the gods trickled out of the amphitheater, you bid your mother goddess a strained farewell, making for the home of the shade’s wife. It was not far in god-stride, and you arrived in the face of a beggar with a gift.

When you arrived, a woman still dressed in the dark robes of mourning stood with her back turned to the road, salty win whipping locks of undone hair about her hung head. You called out to her, and asked for a moment to rest for a while. She turned to you, dazed, and invited you inside, where you gave your gift. It was a jar of honey, which the bees had given up freely to you who was their first caretaker.

You both sat down for a meal. There were four chairs at the table, and four hooks by the door, but as far as you could feel there was no one else in the house.

When the meal was done, she asked you, “Where do you travel to?”

“I am on my way to fulfill a promise. It shouldn’t be much longer now.” That answer seemed to satisfy her, so you asked her, “Who do you mourn for, lady?”

She stood, her every movement languid and melancholy. “My husband. I have some wine around here somewhere...?”

“No, I have another gift to give you.”

She looked puzzled and sat back down at the table.

“Where are your children?”

“They have gone. My husband could leave me no dowry, and my time of childbearing has passed. My sons are old enough to find work, so I bid them to.”

“Have you no kyrios?”

“When my sons return, I will know.” She paused, looking worried, “I am afraid I have no gifts to give you traveler. I haven’t even the coin to pay for my husband’s crossing of the Acheron. I will be gone before his hundred years are up,” she continued quietly, “so we may at least speak again as lonely spirits.”

“Ah,” you said. Her head lifted and her gaze met yours. “That leads me to my second gift.” You let the illusion drop about you , the blood red sheen of life on your skin obvious in the dull darkness of the house. “I am the bringer of spring, and I also bring your husband’s words.”

The woman fell to her knees. “Forgive an old woman who mourns, I have forgotten to wash your feet.”

“I will bring no curse upon your house; this is the favor I spoke of.” You knelt in front of the woman, grasping her hands. “Your husband came to me on the shores of the Acheron, and he asked me to tell you that he is sorry. And to feel no shame in his waiting; that he would rather do so.”

She sniffed a little into her hands. “I know that you speak the truth.” The burden of your word was lifted, and you understood what the shade had wanted to ask of you, but hadn’t. It was something you were happy to give.

You stood, pulling the woman to her feet with you. “You have been kind to me, and let me ask my many questions. Your sons will have every beneft I can give to them.” She thanked you as you bid her farewell, donning your beggar shell once more. “Gift to me a good life, and that of your children, so we may be friends in Hades after all.”

You walked down the hill until you were out of sight, and you became invisible to mortal eyes again.

Ask why he is god of the dead. Your mother goddess’ words rang in you ears, persistent, with every step you took back to Hades. It crossed your mind more than once to find some excuse not to join him again, but your feet refused to consider the idea.

You met him in the asphodel meadows and lingered there, watching the shades speak to each other in apathetic and faint tones, wondering how you could ever breach the subject of Bucky’s authority. He walked beside you in silence.

Eventually, you said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Abruptly you stopped and turned him to face you. “My mother goddess, Tony,” you paused, uncomfortable under Bucky’s gaze, “he told me to ask why you are god of the dead.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger. “And is that your question?”

You nodded, guilt already welling in your chest. The pale glow of the drop of sun Apollo had fixed on the smooth stone ceiling of the underworld did nothing to warm your nervous shivers.

“C’mon, this is a conversation better had with wine.”

“Oh, I thought I wasn’t supposed to-”

“No, honeybee,” he said, chuckling halfheartedly, “it’s for me.”

The two of you climbed the stairs to Hades’ tower in silence. He gestured to a long, asymmetrical settee which he joined you on. You took his metal hand in yours.

Before he spoke, Bucky ran his free hand through his hair. “How much do you know?” His face was laced with worry; those lines still made your heart ache.

“Only what you’ve told me,” you answered softly.

He began slowly, tasting each word before it left his mouth, with how he and his sibling gods had wound up in the belly of Cronus. “Cronus lived in constant fear that he’d be overthrown by his children like his father before him, so he prevented a betrayal by swallowing us whole.”

The blue in his eyes held a reserved chill, an icy resentment. You waited for him to continue, holding your breath.

“Zeus couldn’t set us free until he reached manhood, but even then - we didn’t know. There was no hope. Only darkness, and the knowledge that there would be an eternity of it. Hestia was the oldest, he was trapped there the longest and he was alone for years before I joined him there. I don’t know how he stayed so sane. It was... different for me. By the time Demeter was eaten, I had already gone off the rails.”

He withdrew his hand from yours and continued, “I, (Y/N) I could hear him speak to me. Cronus. He spoke terrible, vile things about my mother, my siblings. He swallowed a whole pack of centaurs once to see if he could goad me into murdering them. I suppose you could say I was his favorite.” A rueful smile twisted his face before it softened and his shoulders slumped. “Steve was trying to knock some sense into me when Zeus cut that bastard open. That’s how,” he trailed off, gesturing to his metal appendage. Your hand covered your mouth in distress. “Then suddenly, we were free. There was still work to be done, though. I told Zeus he should just kill me and be done with it, but he said he needed all of our help in fighting the rest of the Titans; it was easy for me, even with only one arm. Zeus just wanted to imprison them in Tartarus, where they could do no more harm. When it came time for Rhea, though, I slit her throat.”

Bucky leveled his gaze on you, still holding your breath. “That is how I came to be god of the dead and death. It has followed me ever since.”

With great effort, you allowed yourself to breathe. Your heart pounded in your ears in rage and sorrow. “Thank you for trusting me with this,” you said.

Bucky shook his head, eyes fixed on his hands. “It is not a secret; any god would’ve told you the story if you’d asked.” He paused, chewing his cheek. “Demeter was right to warn you; I am a dangerous god.”

You bit your lip, thinking. Of course he was dangerous; that had never been a question. How could you hope to explain that, while dangerous, he wasn’t a danger to you. Deciding to climb out on that limb, you asked, “Would you let me show you my home?”

He looked up from his hands with something of relief and curiosity, “I thought your home was wandering the earth conjuring flowers and baby bunny rabbits.”

“That’s not entirely wrong. It is about time for birthing season.”

“(Y/N),” he began, tense.

With a look you silenced him, and took his hand back into your own. “Bucky. Trust me.”

“I trust you. Are you sure you trust me?”

You raised his hand to your lips. “I love you. Will that do?”

He blinked at you. Then he blinked again. He leaned into you, resting his forehead on yours, sea green eyes open wide. “That it will.”

You grinned, hands shaking. “Come on. It’s high time I show you something of life.”

He gulped, but allowed you to pull him to his feet. Bucky held a firm grip on your hand until you reached the other side of the Acheron. Cerberus was waiting for you both on the shore; the shade that had approached you before presumably satisfied as they all gave you a wide berth.

“Hey, Rus,” you cooed at the hulking creature, reaching out to scratch behind the nearest ear. He followed you to the door with silent footsteps that shook the ground, whining softly when you stopped in front of it.

Bucky caught your eye. He was putting on such a brave face, but he let you push open the door. “Do not be afraid.”

Out into the world you ventured. The sun was out in full force; Bucky squinted at the powerful rays reflecting off the waves.

You giggled softly, “When was the last time you went outside?” The wind ruffled his hair and, by Olympus it was lovely. He shrugged. “Come on,” you said with a smile. He followed you obediently across waters and through forests and fields, occasionally glancing back to check the damage of his footsteps, an action that did not go unnoticed by you. You hoped you were doing the right thing. You hoped he would understand.

Eventually, you arrived where you’d planned. To call the patch of grass the doe had chosen a clearing would be an overstatement, but you stopped there nonetheless. You gestured for Bucky to remain where he was, tucked neatly in the folds of the forest, and stepped into the light. The deer was not startled by you, welcoming your presence as you approached and knelt in front of her. Bucky shifted behind you and her head shot up, ear twisting, listening.

You hushed her, “Shh,” and reached your hand out to Bucky. He looked at you with an expression quite similar to that of the deer. They looked at each other, communicating silently for a spell.

With exceptional caution, he approached.

“Is she…?”

“Pregnant? Very. It’s just about time.” He took a sharp breath in; you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Abruptly, the doe got to her feet and began pacing. In all reality, there wasn’t much you could do for her besides keep her company. So you did.

The doe curved her back, releasing the first fawn with little difficulty, and began to lick him clean. Bucky watched, transfixed, as the fawn tried to stand through the resistance of his mother’s care.

The second fawn was born with more of a struggle. When he tried and failed to stand, the reason became apparent - his feet were curved at awkward angles, and when the doe began to clean him, white patches in his fur started to show.

Beside you, Bucky was unnerved. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come-”

“This is not your doing.”

“But,” he started, backing away from the fawns, “he… Something’s wrong.”

You rose to your feet, the sadness of the reality of life weighing your heart. “It is an unfortunate truth, one that even I cannot change.” He raised an eyebrow at you, breath still irregular and nervous. “Trust me a little longer.”

After a spell, the doe and her fawns moved on, the doe keeping a safe distance to distract predators from her new fawns. The piebald fawn had a particularly hard time keeping up with his family, and it was him that you followed closely.

“My presence cannot bode well for this fawn,” Bucky hissed, following close behind you. You shushed him gently, knowing he would soon understand if he could endure a bit longer. “(Y/N),” he started. Again, you shushed him, with more force this time; you wanted him to pay attention. Stopping him with a squeeze of his hand, you nodded your head towards the mountain lion that stalked the fawn.

She was poised to strike at every moment, devastating strength thinly contained in muscular shoulders as she moved without sound. She paid you no mind.

Bucky moved to protect the fawn.

“Just watch.”

His eyes were glossy as he stared at you with confusion, “He will die because of me.”

You paused, looked pointedly at his hand clasping yours and then his steps through the forest. Or, more, the lack of evidence of his steps through the forest.

The corner of your mouth tugged up a bit at the realization that came over him. “Trust me,” you implored, the tone of your voice practically begging it of him. He released a shaky breath and turned his attention back to the predator and her prey.

When she finally did attack, the fawn didn’t even see it coming and it was over as quickly as it had begun. Bucky held onto you when the fawn’s life fled from it and remained silent while you followed the big cat back to her den.

Inside were three young cubs that tore the carcass apart.

“Why are you showing me this?” Bucky asked in a whisper.

“Because life demands some amount of death. It isn’t always as balanced or as poetic as this, sometimes it is harsh and bitterly futile, but it is a fact unwavering. And it does not exist because you made it so.”

“I-I,” he started, pulling away from you, and you wondered if you had made a mistake. You drew the backs of your fingers down his cheek with a sigh, and told him that he would know where to find you before turning to leave him with his thoughts.

His hand circled around your wrist and pulled you back to him until you were once again staring into the eyes that held the horror of truth. You shivered.

“Marry me,” he said.

“What?”

“Persephone, (Y/N), please. Marry me?” Yes, you thought, your heart pumping blood into your cheeks with fervor. “I love you, you love me. Be my wife. Let me be your husband.”

You laughed when you remembered you’d only thought it. “Yes,” you said. The tremor in your voice hinted at tears threatening to spill.

Here you were, Hades and Persephone, harbingers of the living and the dead, in over both their heads in love. There was no force you could imagine that could ever sever what was forged when you said yes. You were right, of course, but not for lack of trying.

You married Hades in early dawn on Olympus, the mountain deserted but for you, Bucky, and Zeus. Cool air rushed through your hair, your hands holding your love’s. Zeus asked you both if the other was your intended. The two of you agreed, and there was nothing more to be said. Each of you had already owned the others heart.

The moment, intimate as it seemed, was not without spectators, and by the time you and your husband reached the foot of the mountain, every god worth gossiping with had heard of your union.

Demeter heard of it while enriching the soil on the land owned by a grain farmer who had been particularly generous with offerings of barley and poppies. He heard from Dionysus, who had heard from Hermes, who had heard it from Poseidon, who had heard it from the giants whose eyes could see and ears could hear for miles.

Tony sank to the ground in defeat, a storm of half lucid memories gusting through his chest. The darkness, and fear, and blood. Malice. And the darkness. It always came back to the darkness. And it had taken his daughter goddess. He knew there was only one thing he could do - one thing that must be done.

Demeter departed immediately, and marched straight for Mount Olympus.

He threw open the doors to Zeus’ home and shouted, “Zeus! You’ve married my daughter to that abomination!” Thor stood, startled, from his table. “Well?”

“I have,” Zeus replied, crossing his arms. “They both consented to it, seemed pretty happy if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Tony snarled. “You have given my daughter to a treacherous beast without asking me or even telling me. I would like to know how you intend to retrieve her, because by Olympus you will.

Poseidon, who had just explained to Zeus how his friends the giants had learned of the ceremony to begin with, stood also. He said cooly, “Your daughter goddess has made her own choice, and she is perfectly safe.”

“Safe?” Tony rounded on Steve, fear and anger heating his face and his words. “How could she be safe? Have you forgotten what he did to our mother?”

Steve shook his head, bewildered, “She let him eat us!”

Long had it been since they spoke of their years of torment. Silence fell thick in the house, though outside passersby could hear most of the yelling, and the noise attracted the attention of a friendly looking dog.

Inside, Tony shook his head in despair. “You always have to defend him.”

“He’s my brother.”

“So was I.” Tony clenched his jaw, and before Steve could reply, said, “I invoke the rights of the twelve.”

Zeus’ face melted into shock and frustration. “You cannot declare their union invalid; what has been done cannot be undone.”

“Hades is not on the council; it is within my rights to take back my own kin. She will be free of his presence tonight.”

The dog outside, having heard Demeter’s plans to banish Persephone from Hades, ran back to her master. Hecate was on the way back to the underworld, guiding the spirit of a woman carrying the required two coins of silver, when her familiar came bounding up to her, frantic. Hearing the news for herself, Wanda left the spirit to be guided by the dog as she sped ahead to warn Hades.

She found you together on the Isle of the Blessed dancing with the spirits there around the only thing that could grow so deep in the underworld. They ate the pomegranates from the tree with gusto, and you laughed in their merriment.

The joy melted off your faces when you saw her sprinting toward you.

“Hecate!” Bucky said, confused. He jogged to meet her, and you followed closely behind.

She explained in gasps of air that Demeter and Zeus intended to remove you from Hades and the underworld. Bucky took a sharp breath in and drew you into him.

“But,” you said, holding onto Bucky’s hand on your waist, “How can they do that? It must be my mother goddess, but he has no right!”

Wanda shook her head, “He has invoked the rights of the twelve. He has every right. Hades, they will be here soon.”

Bucky nodded grimly, “I did not notice Demeter at first. His authority feels similar to (Y/N)’s, but I can feel Zeus now. Poseidon is with them also.”

“Go,” Wanda said, “Beg for them to reconsider. Persephone, you should hide.”

Bucky kissed your hand sweetly and whispered, “I will do anything I can, my morning glory, I promise.” Then he turned from you and raced off to his tower in the distance. His absence from you pulled your gut like a riptide.

The spirits on the Isle gathered around you, sensing your distress. “What can we do, mistress? What is the matter?” they asked.

“Where can I hide?” you asked.

They whispered among each other. “The only place outside the sight of Zeus is Tartarus, but you should not go there. It is dangerous, even for divine ones.”

You looked from Hecate to the spirits, to the looming darkness you could not see, your heart racing. Your hands shook. Light flashed from the tower. Lightning. “I - I must. Zeus is here, and I must hide. Hecate, will you come with me?”

She stood very still, her eyes fixed on the tower. “(Y/N), we cannot go there; there are dangers there we know nothing of.”

You nodded, understanding her fear. “I cannot leave him.” She called after you as you ran, your mind made up, but all you could hear was the thudding of your own heart and your own feet against the ground. The darkness began as a low presence in the distance, and grew like smoke clouds as you drew nearer. The darkness wasn’t nearly as horrible as the smell, a sickly sweet smell of rot, and the sounds, low rumbling of a mountain turning over and screams the likes of which you had never heard.

The threat of separation from the one you held most dear spurred you on beyond all fear and all reason. You would hide there, dangers be damned. Literally.

Under the cloudy darkness, there was a deep depression in the ground with steep slopes all around, surrounding an enormous grate of enchanted iron. You stood at the edge of this depression and peered into the darkness. Through the holes in the grate, you could just barely make out the shadows of spirits fleeing, and the shadows of things much larger that devoured them.

One giant eye opened up altogether too close to the grate for your liking. A voice spoke, crooked and gravelly, and eternally deep, “Zeus can still see you there, life-walker.”

You looked over your shoulder, afraid you’d see that tell-tale lightning. “How do you know who I am?”

The eye blinked. “I see everything, even from this prison your husband the murderer and his brothers have locked us in. Though, he could not see you if you stood on the grate.”

“Why should I trust you? Who are you?” You asked though you feared you knew the answer.

“By all rights, I am your grandfather, Persephone.” Cronus laughed. “You know that you are the first of my offspring to visit me in this pit?” At your silence, a giant hand swiped at the grate, only to be deflected long before coming into contact with it by whatever enchantment had been placed upon it. “See? You have nothing to fear from me. I could do nothing to you were you not the Queen of this plane.”

“You can see everything?”

“That is what I said, yes.”

You climbed down the slope carefully. “Can you tell me what’s happening in Hades’ tower?”

“I can show you.”

In Hades’ tower, he paced, frantic and running his hands through his hair. “Thor, please,” he said, hands clasped in front of him, “you know she is in no danger - I love her!”

Zeus stood next to your mother goddess, expression pained. Demeter, however, was livid. “No danger? How can she be in no danger when she is here? This is the home of death and monsters, you yourself have seen to that.”

“Tony,” Zeus said, his tone warning.

“I want her home, with me.”

Poseidon gestured out the window with exasperation. “She won’t want to leave. Her husband is here.”

“This is none of your concern, Steve. Where is she?”

Bucky turned to your mother goddess. The expression on his face broke your heart, shattered. “Demeter, Tony, if you do this I will-”

“What, Hades? Huh? Kill me?”

Bucky was taken aback. “I will never recover.”

You could see Tony’s resolve falter, but a second later his expression hardened again and he growled, “Where is she?”

If there was no way you could convince your mother goddess to let go of this fear, to let you love who you did, and if there was every possibility that if you left with him you would never see Bucky again… then hope was lost.

Cronus spoke again, “Demeter is right, this place is filled with monsters, your husband non excluded.” A tendril of smoke had crept through the grate and began wrapping itself around your leg. You recoiled in disgust, climbing out of the pit.

“The only monster here has been locked away, and I hope he rots there,” you spat.

“Be careful, child,” he said, his eye closing, “There are powers here still greater than you, and they do not forget in waking or slumber.”

At his words, you remembered something Charon had said, an age ago. We didn’t make the rules, kid. Once again, you ran. There was hope; it was a desperate sort of hope, but you knew what you had to do. You ran back to the Isle of the Blessed, back to the tree that grew there, and plucked a pomegranate from the branch, four figures on the horizon.

“Persephone!” Hecate said, “No!”

“Wanda, there is no other way.”

“There is always another way.”

The figures were getting closer. “Can you think of one in the next three seconds?” She could not. “Then help me! Please, I know what I’m doing. I will not leave him.”

They were close enough to see you now. “(Y/N)!” Bucky called out to you. Your eyes locked.

“Please,” you begged. Wanda shook her head, distraught. She pulled a dagger from an inner layer of her priestess robes and handed it to you. You only managed to cut twelve seeds from the fruit by the time they made it to you, and you only ate half of those before your mother goddess wrestled the rest from your hands.

“Stop! Persephone, please!” he shouted. “What have you done?”

“I will not leave him. And now you cannot force me.”

Zeus picked up the fallen pomegranate, pale. Bucky had two thin tear lines streaked on his cheeks. Steve put his head in his hands. Wanda backed away into the shadow of the realm.

Your mother goddess, Tony, held both your hands. “You, you are trapped here forever now.”

You squeezed his hands, desperate to make him understand. “I know.”

The weight of what you had knowingly done set in, and your heart began to ache again. It seemed there was no way to win.

“Thor,” Bucky said, “there must be something you can do.”

Tony rounded on him. “What do you care? You got what you wanted.”

“You think this is what I wanted?!”

Zeus held up a hand. “(Y/N), how many seeds did you eat?”

“Six,” you said.

He pursed his lips for a moment, brows creased and stroking his beard. “Yes, I think that could work. It wasn’t the whole fruit, after all,” he muttered to himself. You took Bucky’s hand, fingers interlaced, and held each other tight. “And it is still, technically eternal.”

“Thor?” Steve spoke up, “You gonna clue us in?”

“It’s not ideal, but I’ve thought of a possible loophole. In accordance with both invoking the rights of the twelve and the laws of the Titans before us, Persephone will be banished to this plane for six months of the year, and from it the rest. Does that work for you?”

“No!” Tony and Bucky shouted at the same time. Zeus shook his head and pointed at you.

“Me?” you asked, “That sounds like the best we’re going to get.” You squeezed Bucky’s hand in reassurance.

He looked at you, exhausted and burdened with troubles, his thumb ran circles over the back of your hand. “I think you might be right, dove. I just-” his voice caught in his throat.

“I know,” you murmered. The back of your hand stroked against his cheek. “What about now?” you asked Zeus, “Am I trapped here now? The world is not ready for me to be gone that long.”

“Then we must move quickly,” Zeus replied, gesturing toward the tower, and, further, the Acheron and the door. “We don’t want to press our luck, especially here.”

Nodding, you hid the rogue tears that escaped your eyes from your mother goddess and your husband. Bucky accompanied you to the edge of the Acheron. Zeus followed your mother goddess onto Cheron’s ferry. “I will be back,” you told Bucky, tapping his chest, “and I will be counting the days.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Posieden cut in, “(Y/N), we need to go.”

With leaden feet, you tore yourself from your husband’s arms, and followed Steve onto the ferry. You watched Bucky, standing alone on the shore, until he was lost from your sight. Cheron was uncharacteristically silent.

On the other shore, Rus was waiting.

His eyes were dark, and something in his demeanor changed when he sniffed the air above you.

“Rus?” All six of his eyes snapped onto you and you understood. “I know, I’m going, I’m sorry.” He growled at you, a vicious and low dragging sound, and watched you like prey until you fled out the door.

In your hurry, you missed the step and slid down the steep, rocky slope until your toes reached the tide of the island. Shocked, you blinked at the ocean, expecting it to somehow reflect some, any change.

Your mother goddess slid down beside you.

“(Y/N),” Tony began, “(Y/N), I just wanted to protect you.”

Seething, you rose to your feet. “How dare you decide what that looks like? You have ruined me and doomed this world through your deliberate blindness!” He recoiled from your rage, and you drew back the tendrils you’d loosed. Zeus and Posieden watched awkwardly from the door. You sighed. “Everything I am comes from you, but the next time you presume to make my decisions, don’t.”

You held up a hand to prevent any more of Tony’s words, and set out alone across the sea to begin your half year of banishment.

During this time, you found a small pocket of comfort in nurturing new lives, helping the saplings to find the sunlight and the calves to follow their herds. But you missed him dearly. It was an ache you fancied you could feel in the blossoms you encouraged to open. The only cure for it was to wander as far as you had before you’d met him.

So, you wandered. Melancholy and in love, you wandered. The forest and grassland that sprang from your steps grew in the shape of your heartache. It would have seemed beautiful to you had it not been so irritating in its accuracy.

You watched the mortals build their temples and weave their legends; you watched them live and love with some amount of envy.

When the time came close for you to rejoin your husband again, you reversed your wandering. Sleep, you whispered, I will wake you when I return. As you left the forests, the animals found places to rest, and even the trees fell into their mighty slumber. When you were satisfied, your feet carried you from across the world back to that forsaken and blessed door.

Cheron greeted you as you boarded his raft, and with every push of his long pole you felt yourself drawing closer to your husband. Again, he saw you long before you saw him. You could not see him on the shore when you stepped off the raft, but he could see you. You were just as beautiful as you’d been all that time ago, but you had acquired an age. The steps you took were no longer out of innocent joy but necessity. He squared his shoulders and stepped out of the shadows to speak to you.

You felt his presence before he could speak a word.

He said, softly, in the voice of a broken man, “Lady.”

@thelureabove @slender--spirit @egos-r-life @punkgirl-pinkbows @i-never-said-i-care @elsasshole

#bucky barnes x reader #hades and persephone #Hades!Bucky #Persephone!Reader #marvel?#sort of I guess #this probably makes no sense #I hope someone other than me derives enjoyment from this #AU #greek mythology au #fluff #yeets aggressively into a shrug #freaking finally

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elencelebrindal · 4 years

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Honest Opinion - Pegasus Seiya (Hades)

I try to drop as few f-bombs as possible in these posts, but my god Seiya makes me angry. I’m (not) sorry.

Also, since this series has overall longer posts, I’m putting everything under the cut to make it less annoying for the people who aren’t interested.

Overall score (character, not looks): still bad 1,5/10

Hades Chapter: Sanctuary

Overall score: 2/10

If you’ve read what I wrote for him (according to the classic series) you know Seiya is probably my least favorite character of the whole show. They make him accomplish way too much, even if he doesn’t deserve it, he steals other characters’ merits, and he’s so much of a cliché protagonist that everything has to revolve around him. I hate all of this. And guess what? In Hades, all of this is even worse. From start to finish, Seiya is so annoying every time he appeared on screen I wanted to yeet his fucking attitude out the window.

I know I’m being particularly harsh on him because I don’t like this character at all, but objectively speaking, he was as much annoying as he could be.

Starting off, he interfered in the fight between Mu and the resurrected Saints. I’m not blaming him for not giving a damn about what Athena said, because at this point I’m just resigned to these Bronze(s) sticking their noses in the Golds business, but I will never be tired to say that Seiya should have kept away. By interfering in the fight, he got in Mu’s way. He got in the way of someone who was busy defending the Sanctuary, of someone who needed to concentrate on his opponents and his surroundings. Basically, Seiya forced Mu to intervene against him, distracting the Gold Saint from what he was doing, and if the show was just a tad more logical that distraction alone would have had awful consequences.

He didn’t even learn his lesson. Instead of staying put (and this is something I accuse every Bronze Saint of), he said “screw it, I want to fight” and went back there. This you/ng man has no sense of self preservation, and has no understanding of things that are above him (again, this applies to all of the Bronzes who tried to interfere in this chapter, but Seiya has been doing this since the very beginning, so it’s kinda worse that he didn’t learn his lesson).

Of course, against Myu he proved himself useless. Of fucking course. What did he expect, coming on top as he always does? It was so satisfying seeing him getting beaten up for his stupidity, because finally there’s no protagonist bullshit going on. One of the very few moments of peace.

But fine, let’s move on. Let’s move on to the next bullshit. And I mean it. The Athena Exclamation face-off, as I like to call it. This is not inherently Seiya’s fault, because that’s just a bullshit the show itself pulled off, but... yeah, guess who suggested this. Guess who suggested that four Bronze Saints could stop not one, but two Atena Exclamations. You want me to believe Shun, Hyoga or Shiryu decided this? Yeah, no. They just went along with that, and boy was I disappointed. I’m not blaming the protagonist shenanigans for their intervention working, though. That was just the whole show throwing everything out the window. One Athena Exclamation has the force of the Big Bang, and what was happening was two of that. No way in hell anyone less than a god would have stopped those six from annihilating the entire planet Earth.

And then, everyone’s happy and all ended well Athena died. Shion told them the truth about all the resurrected Specters and their mission, and cue Seiya being entrusted with the deux ex machina of the show once again (aka Athena’s Kamui).

I have to admit, I liked the part where he (and Shun) bid goodbye to Saga. I liked how they showed him really care about him. This is an honest opinion, after all. This doesn’t get rid of all the times he straight up didn’t care about other Saints’ safety (again, see Mu), but I appreciated it.

Hades Chapter: Inferno

Overall score: 0/10

Yes, I gave him a 0. He doesn’t deserve anything better. Since he stepped into the Underworld, Seiya became the most annoying and disrespectful he’s even been on this show. Not to mention he was dumb and blind all the fucking time.

First of all, he straight up attacked Charon. Didn’t even think about it, just “PEGASUS RYUSEIKEN” and that was it. Strike one. Hadn’t it been for Shun, he would have 1. died then and there or 2. never crossed the Acheron. Strike two happened when he (and Shun for being fair) trusted Charon to ferry both of them to the other side. The only one with a token was Shun, I screamed at the screen for five minutes that Seiya wasn’t going to make it. Surprise surprise, Charon tried to throw him off the ferry halfway through the river. Strike three was him deciding to fight against Charon on the other side of the river, which resulted in something that shouldn’t have happened. Seventh Sense or not, Seiya wouldn’t have won so easily against a Specter, especially judging by how much he sucked against Myu. Plot necessities aside, that decision alone showed Seiya’s carelessness and overconfidence.

Moving on, the part I absolutely loved. Balrog Rune judging Seiya for the sins he committed, and me agreeing with every single thing (even though Shun was right and no one has no sins). Sure, most of it was Kanon’s doing, but I think Kanon is just as pissed off at Seiya as me, so it’s a win-win situation. The main reason I loved this part is, believe it or not, not the fact Seiya got annihilated, but the fact Seiya was faced by the truth. The fact Seiya looked back at all the awful stuff he did in the past, and faced the consequences. This scene alone won him the 0/10 score.

I’m not going to concentrate on the part where they meet Orphée, because nothing noteworthy happened, but I will say Seiya’s reaction to everything in this part was appropriate. So... maybe he gets half a point, I don’t know.

And now, what really made me feel good ad frustrated at the same time. Seiya getting the absolute shit getting kicked out of him in the most realistic depiction of a Bronze Saint against a Specter I’ve ever witnessed on this show. I will say: Seiya’s reaction to Shun being possessed by Hades was good. It was genuine confusion and fear, it was him wanting to understand what was going on and wanting to believe it wasn’t real. It was a realistic reaction to shock. This will not be earn him any points, because it’s legit the only time this happens, but I appreciated it nonetheless. I am not, in any way, approving the fact he managed to damage Rhadamanthys, because bullshit, but I approve how this burst of strength was similar to an adrenaline rush. Maybe it’s just my clever thinking, but I liked it.

It’s just... what happened next started his protagonist bullshit™ all over again. I’m not talking about him ticking Valentine, because that was the least he could have done considering he is a Saint and should be a tad smarter than any normal person. I’m talking about him refusing to let go of Athena’s Kamui in his miserable state and in his unconscious state. And Athena giving him (and him only) enough strength to do whatever he needed to do to be a protagonist once more. She was there, she could have helped her Saints along, but nope. Seiya was more important, until the plot decided her intervention was needed elsewhere. This puts both of them at fault, but at the time I was so pissed Seiya had to be the first receiving her help I just cannot bring myself not to blame his very existence.

To finish this chapter off, as soon as they reached the Wailing Wall, Seiya proceeded to be so fucking annoying I had to pause the show and take a walk around my room. What the fuck was he thinking about?! Shaka, the most powerful of the Gold Saints still alive, didn’t manage to make even a microscopic dent in that wall. But nooooooo, he feels so fucking powerful and entitled that of course the wall will break down under his punches.

I don’t fucking care you’re in distress about Athena being trapped with Hades, you shouldn’t even have though about doing that. No sense of self-preservation, and an annoying behavior that would have killed him. This is not what a Saint should be like. I get you’re terrified for your beloved deity, but that’s not what a Saint should do. I was mad at Shaka for trying to be stupid, and that was Shaka.

But fine. The goodbye to the Gold Saints was good. Seiya put aside his protagonist issues™ and respected them fully. I have nothing to say about the Hyperdimension. Let’s move on before the veins on my forehead explode with anger.

Hades Chapter: Elysion

Overall score: 1/10 for excessive protagonism™

Oh, this is a treat. A very bad treat. An expired treat not even the trashcan wants. The only point he got into this whole chapter is thanks to his sister, because I appreciate and respect how much he loves Seika. All the rest, throw it away.

He was so fucking stupid here, to the point of straight up ignoring a deity and subsequently trying to fight that same deity. He kept being inappropriately “funny”, like when the nymphs (were they called nymphs in English? i don’t know, I’m sorry) ran away in fear and disgust (thank you), and severely underestimated the danger he was in. No wonder he got his ass kicked into oblivion, I saw that coming since the beginning.

I have to admit, the scene of his Divine Cloth finally appearing was cool. Objectively, it was well made. What bothered me was the build-up for that to happen, because the whole scene made me feel like Seiya was the only one who could get a Divine Cloth (even though I knew all the others would eventually follow). The whole “feeling Athena’s presence and friends inciting him” was too protagonist-driven for me to appreciate it. If something, in any show, is going to happen to everyone and not just to the protagonist, it doesn’t seem right to still put said protagonist at the center of it.

I hate Seiya. I would have complained if he would have been the only one to get the Divine Cloth (favoritism aside). I’m biased against him. But, if I have to speak objectively and not subjectively, I would have enjoyed the build-up scene of everyone talking to Seiya way more if no one else would have gotten that sweet divine upgrade. It’s not appreciable anymore if you want everyone to be equal, but still refuse to make things actually equal. This might be something petty, but it bothers me. Here, and in any other piece of media where this kind of thing happens.

I’m not calling protagonist bullshit™ on him defeating Thanatos because, at least this time, there was an actual reason for Seiya to be powerful enough. Realistically, a Divine Cloth’s purpose is exactly that, and neither of the twins was expecting something so surprising to happen. So, for once, it’s fine.

I cannot say I hated his way of confronting Hades, but I did dislike how disrespectful he acted. Even Athena refused to be offensive in his regards. I just don’t like people being disrespectful towards any deity in Saint Seiya (and in real life), so maybe it’s just that. The fight against Hades? Nothing memorable, Seiya was pretty much useless against a major deity, and that was accurate. Divine Cloth or not, that’s not a minor deity or a personification of something.

As for the end... I saw it coming. Even the very first time I learned Seiya was willing to sacrifice himself, I saw it coming way earlier in the series. And you know what? As twisted at this might sound, I would have been happy to learn he died. For one single reason. It makes sense for him to die. He just got stabbed by Hades’ sword. By a divine artifact. He should have died as soon as that sword hit him, if not for the wound itself for the cosmo the weapon definitely imbued with. When, some time later, I learned he didn’t die... well, I just said “Fuck this bullshit” and never appreciated this scene again.

I might hate him, but it doesn’t fucking make sense that he survived, just for the sake of him being a protagonist. He should have died. Period. Even if he was the most perfect protagonist to have ever protagonist, even if he was my favorite character. He. Should. Have. Died.

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #hades chapter #pegasus seiya #pegasus #my opinion #honest opinion

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ashes-and-static · 5 years

Text

A fledgling HP fic

@deadcatwithaflamethrower‘s fic series Of a Linear Circle inspired me, a bit, though this is entirely my own headworld.

The new student among the first years was odd enough to catch his eye; first, they were obviously not 11, he'd peg them as fifteen, or perhaps sixteen. Second, it might've been the lighting but he could almost swear that their eyes were glowing faintly. It was probably the lighting. Thirdly, they were hunkered down, glancing about like they were afraid of something.

He knew that fear. He knew it well, and had had students coming to him for the past five years to ask for help in coping with it. Hell, next year he’d need to get an assistant, because it’d be unprofessional for him to help James when he started -if the boy needed help at all, that is- and he’d rather his assistant be settled for a year before unleashing that kind of chaotic force on them.

Firsties he knew how to help. Sixth years who should nearly be old enough to leave their situations, he didn’t know how to help. What was he supposed to tell them? “Hold out for another year, you’re almost free”? That wouldn’t have helped him, not in the slightest.

“Headmistress McGonagall?” He murmured to the seat next to his.

“Yes, Professor Potter?” Her voice was just as soft as his own.

“Who’s the obviously-not-a-first-year student among the new first-years? And how should I reach out, they look more frightened than the dying unicorn from my first year.”

“They’re a transfer from the Appalachian Magical Community. There was... an incident. The community heads felt that they might thrive better here for their last three years, their birthday fell after the cutoff date for school starting, so officially they’re a fourth-year, even though they’re fifteen. Perhaps just try being yourself? As I recall, the best way to soothe a frightened student is to be nonthreatening. The second best would be to treat them like anyone else in your class, I’m sure their fellow students will send them to you if they see the need.”

---

He saw the new fourth-year, Acheron Morrow (who in their right goddamned mind named a child after the Greek river of Pain and Woe?) in his group therapy sessions about a week after that first feast. He’d seen them in class before that, his defense classes were finally starting to clear of the starry-eyed and hero-worshiping and were giving way to those who asked him good questions. Hard questions. The kind of questions that had driven him from the MLE.

Acheron (who had asked everyone to just call them Ash) had asked the hardest one of all:

“If I know someone can be saved, but the ones I answer to tell me to kill them because they’re irredeemable, what should I do?”

Harry James Potter had been unable to answer, his MLE-trained reaction to listen to orders conflicting with his instinct to save those who could be saved.

Now, Ash was sitting on the edge of his after-class therapy-and-study group. The gathering was good for studying with an accepting crowd, talking about problems, warning people who they should avoid if they had certain triggers, and how to cope with abuse while at home.

Usually, a new participant would introduce themselves and mention any triggers. Ash, though, sat at the edge of the group, looking scared and nauseous and like they might bolt at any time. Harry thought for a moment, debating with himself.

McGonagall’s advice when he had first mentioned the need for this kind of group came unbidden.

“Well, Potter, since you’re so adamant that this needs to be, why not be the person that you needed? The voice of reason against the manipulators and abusers who yet linger in your mind? You’re certainly qualified enough, now that you’ve been through the Aurors’ psychological training. I can speak to Poppy, if you’d like her advice.”

Harry found himself approaching the newest fourth-year.

“May I sit here?” He asked softly. Icy blue eyes met his own -and yes, they were definitely glowing, Hermione would have a field day-, searching for something, but he felt no pressure against his mental shields. Ash dropped their gaze, nodded, and scooted away slightly from the chair next to them. Harry sat, and kept his voice gentle as he spoke. “You asked me a very good question in Defense, earlier. I think I’ve come up with a good answer, but I’m not sure. You asked what I would do if told to kill a person others had called irredeemable, but who I knew to be saveable.”

“I’d spare them and shelter them, and damn the ones who said they couldn’t be saved. Anyone can change, and it takes a lot to be truly irredeemable. Like literally shattering your soul and trying to be wizard-Hitler. That is irredeemable. And even then, it’s not my decision alone. I kind of ended up being the wand of the entire school and the continent with it.”

He saw a brief flash of a smile. “You’d definitely be the one to know that.”

Ash glanced around the room again, shut their eyes tight, and sighed.

“Don’t like large groups?” Harry ventured.

“Don’t want to cause a repeat of what happened back home.” Ashe replied.

“May I ask what happened? All I was told is that you transferred from the AMC.” Harry pressed. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Or, if you’d rather not talk about it in group, that’s fine. Part of my exit-training with the Aurors was in psychology, both magical and mundane, and how to help myself and others; when I brought up to the Headmistress that we’d have a lot of students with PTSD, she let me establish these group therapies, and one-on-one therapy via Madame Pomfrey. After everything about... Dumbledore’s plans came out, Pomfrey went and got the certifications they require for social workers and magical psychologists.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. Long story short, if you want or need help, just tell me or Madam Pomfrey. We’ll help you figure out what works best.”

Ash looked him full in the eye, then, and this time Harry felt a feather-light pressure against the mental walls. Then, as suddenly as it was there, it was gone again, and they spoke before he could ask or reprimand.

"I’m not... not quite where I’m ready to talk. Thank you, though. I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind.”

#harry potter #AU ish #whispers

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headquarters90 · 4 years

Text

Old Acquaintance (Warrior of the Source 10)

Pairing: Darkiplier x French Goddess!Reader, Reader x Original Characters (Platonic/Family), Reader x Greek Gods/Goddesses!Characters

Words: 1,857 words

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, torture, and bad parenting

Series Masterlist

“You know, doll, I’m curious,” Anti stated and you lifted your eyes from your book. “How is Dark-”

“I don’t know,” you answered before he could finish, leaning against your chair. “My true lover is supposed to be somewhat different than me but also similar to me in certain aspects. The only things Dark and I are similar in is reading and training, apparently.”

“And he’s one in three,” he continued and you nodded. “From what I could tell-”

“One of Jackie’s sons,” you answered, sighing. “Each lover comes from a different era, a different generation. One older, one similar in age, and one younger in case one of them died. Gives them years in between, less of a risk of all of them passing away and the Source having to figure out how to get one another lover.”

Anti nodded at the information, walking towards the book that said alone on the desk and another sigh left your lips.

“I should put that somewhere so Dark doesn’t read it,” you commented, hearing it open as your eyes dropped to your book. “I’m going into town,” you suddenly spoke as you stood, heading towards the doors of the library.

“Into town? There’s a town?” Anti questioned as he caught up to you and you raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I said I ran a city the first day we met.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Where are you going?” Dark’s voice demanded and your eyes glanced over your shoulder at him. “Isn’t there more important things to do than what you’re doing?”

“I’m going into town,” you repeated to him, thanking the servant that brought you a cloak. “William and Décembre are being too quiet. They may be lying in wait until we start acting like they’re not going to attack at random. However, they know well that we’re on high alert since Décembre’s appearance.”

“So why go into town?” Anti watched as you tied the cloak around your neck before pulling the hood up.

“I still have to make sure everything is running smoothly and sitting here waiting for an attack is only going to make them wait longer to do so. They like making those fearful of them wait long enough to cause paranoia.” You lifted your eyes to the two, raising an eyebrow. “Going to join me or not?”

“I have research to do. Dark should be able too, however,” Anti stated and you found yourself narrowing your eyes at the smirking glitchy entity as Dark scoffed. “Gives you a chance to see how she runs the town.”

“Maxence, I’m leaving,” you called out, heading towards the front door, your eyes lifting to the demon who bowed respectfully. “You don’t have to see me out.”

“Traditions are to be kept, milady,” he spoke and your nose scrunched at the idea of traditions. “I forget you are not one for those.”

“Certain ones, Maxence. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t let them destroy the place and only Anti and Dark in the library, please.” You patted his arm gently before stepping out, your eyes glancing around before looking back at Dark who followed you out. “You don’t have to come.”

“I want to see how badly you run this so-called city of yours, Goddess,” Dark commented as he followed you down the steps and you shook your head.

“Call me Ziva within the town. I don’t need them catching on that I’m walking through or there’ll be a million questions.” You glanced over at him once more before the two of you stepped out onto the street.

Main of your people greeted you two warmly before greeting others just the same as the two of you began walking down the street. Your eyes danced between both sides of the street, noting every little thing you could see.

Interaction between your people had a smile coming to your lips. Crime rarely happened in Noir and you couldn’t be more grateful for that. You knew a majority of that reason why because your people didn’t want to see you spiral like you once would have before becoming a Warrior.

“This is your doing?” Dark questioned and you turned your head towards him, a proud grin coming to your lips.

“Yes,” you answered, stopping at one of the few stands, smiling at the merchant before his attention turned elsewhere. “There was a good few decades Maxence took care of things here in Noir because I couldn’t handle the pressures of ruling over a city yet but even prior to that, Noir was much like this.”

“Why is it-”

“Called Noir?” You shot him a glance before handing the merchant a euro. “Because of the River.”

“Because of the River,” Dark deadpanned and you smiled softly, holding out a piece of fruit. “Why would I want that?”

“It’s fresh from his garden. He takes great pride in his fruits and veggies.”

“You take great pride in your people.”

“Of course I do. Noir was built by these people – twice. They gathered together to recreate everything after the Great War and they gathered together to create it once we were created by the Source,” you spoke as you lead him down a pathway. “Noir was also the Goddess that turned into the River of Éternelle.”

You glanced over at him before finding yourself kneeling beside the River, your hand gently touching the water with a soft hum.

“Noir gave up her life for the people of Tempête de feu. She was one of the few Monstres that didn’t believe in how my grandparents ruled so she fought against them. She lost and, in turn, Monique cursed her to be a river, this River. Noir was the original Ruler of Tempête de feu and still protects us. She could be considered similar to the River of Acheron. The only difference is, those who enter the River stays alive, no matter what,” you spoke, feeling as if someone caressed your hand.

“Stays alive,” Dark deadpanned and you hummed, nodding as you stood.

“Auntie and Uncle were cut up into pieces and thrown into this River and they were still kept alive because of it. It was until my mother and other Auntie came to their rescue,” you explained.

“Is it wise to be telling someone something that cause hurt someone?”

Tensing at the voice, you soon turned, your staff pointing at his neck as he glanced down at it.

“I was expecting something more…painful,” he spoke, his grey eyes meeting yours. “I mean no harm.”

“You work alongside William and had kidnapped and tortured Isabelle prior to this!”

“I didn’t torture her. I had no interaction with that. I didn’t want too. I was blackmailed and…I’m done being so, which is why I’m here.”

You tilted your head, staring at him as you waited for him to continue and you watched as his eyes glanced towards Dark before returning towards you.

“He had blackmailed me and my lover. If we refused anything he wanted, he would kill us. My...my lover joined your side not that long ago and I wish to do the same.”

You watched him as he shifted on his feet before you began lowering your staff as a realization came to you.

“What are you doing?” hissed the entity beside you as the vampire before you glanced towards him. “This is why I find it hard to believe you are the best as they claim.”

“Shouldn’t find it hard to believe,” the vampire spoke. “She’s as good as they say. She was the one to kill William originally.”

“You’ll tell us everything you know?” You questioned, your staff disappearing. “And if you betray us, you are well aware that you and your lover will be punished?”

“You figured it out?”

“You gave it away. Dark, touch him, will you?”

“What?” Dark hissed, his eyes turning towards you.

“Will you just do it?” You stared at him as he glared at you before doing as you asked and you touched his shoulder, teleporting the three of you to your home.

“You are a stupid, stupid Goddess,” Dark hissed out as the three of you returned to your palace and you looked towards him.

“Maxence, Sébastian, can you gather the rest of the Warriors for me?” You spoke, ignoring the hiss as Anti joined, raising an eyebrow at the newcomer.

“I pray you know what you’re doing, milady?” Maxence glanced towards the vampire before looking at you. “I believe his wanted poster is still floating around after all.”

“Pre-warn Isabelle and Trystan. Oh, and bring in Pierre,” you spoke as Sébastian raised an eyebrow. “I know what I’m doing, great Uncle,” you promised as you looked towards him. “There’s reason why I have files on souls that pass through our Underworld.”

You watched as Charon stood in front of Isabelle, his eyes narrowing at the vampire beside you as Isabelle shifted on her feet, glancing at you with the tilt of her head.

“Would you like to explain what is going on here?” Bellatrix raised an eyebrow as you looked over at her. “I know you see the good in almost everyone but you are aware that he kidnapped and tortured Isabelle.”

“He didn’t torture-”

“Bullshit,” Charon hissed before his eyes dropped to the hand that laid upon his arm. “Sorry,” he murmured softly.

“All he did was kidnap me and stupidly tell the plan, mon espoir,” she spoke softly, her eyes lifting to yours once more before shifting towards the vampire. “But it wasn’t stupidly, was it, Damon?”

“No, milady,” Damon spoke, bowing his head as he shifted. “I would never willingly betray Lord Charon or those in relation to him.”

“Then why did you?” Hades demanded as your eyes turned to look at Pierre, watching as he shifted on his feet.

“Same reason as Pierre. Blackmail on a lover,” you spoke. “It would be wise to put him under the same thing as Pierre, Auntie and Hades, with Pierre.”

“How’d you figure out?” Pierre raised an eyebrow at you.

“He told me his lover joined our side. While many did join our side during the Great War, only one that I know of was also blackmailed. It helps that I also described what you liked about him,” you answered and Pierre snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

“You can be slow sometimes, mon coeur bat,” Pierre spoke, his eyes lifting to Damon who scrunched up his nose before sticking out his tongue.

“I don’t trust him,” Charon called out and your eyes looked towards Damon who bowed his head. The air around him shifted and you frowned, turning to Isabelle who tilted her head, her eyes on Damon as well.

“Don’t say that. He regrets it for one, Charon, and for another, he told us of William’s plan before. He did that because, like he said, he wouldn’t willingly betray you,” Isabelle spoke, looking at her lover as he turned towards her. “Y/N trusts and believes him enough to bring him here. We trust her judgement.”

“Pontíki-”

“I mean it.”

A scowl found his lips before he nodded, turning his eyes back towards Damon who shifted on his feet.

“You may put a blade to my neck if I betray, my lord.”

Hades hummed at the statement as you pursed your lips, turning towards him, and he pointed at you in return.

“Do not give me some bullshit-”

“Hades!”

“-about justice and injustice, Y/N.” He sent you a smirk as you scowled at him and Angel snorted from beside Bellatrix.

“The only one that can get away with ignoring her scowl without apologizing.”

“Don’t believe he’ll be the only one for long,” Deimos commented and your eyes shot to his, watching as he blinked in realization. “You seem to be getting friendly with Anti,” he saved himself and Anti snorted from across the room.

“Doubt it, buddy. From what I can tell, I’m lucky to get away with calling her doll.”

Your eyes rolled at the statement, shaking your head as you made your way across the throne room.

“Library?” Hades mused and you stuck your tongue out at him, hearing a soft chuckle leave his lips. “Study, study, study.”

“Backup plan upon backup plan. I’m sure we’re all praying he isn’t bringing them into it,” you shot back at him, glancing over your shoulder at him. “You all train, I-”

“-read. I know the line.” Hades waved you off. “It’s also your way of saying that we’re overstaying our welcome.”

“You and the Warriors? Never.” You grinned before walking down the hall.

“Sarcasm does not fit you, doll.”

“Keep following me around and talking to me, Anti, and many people will begin to think you have an interest in me,” you commented, glancing towards him as he shrugged.

“You do interest me, doll, just not enough to try and be with ya. Not my type.”

You couldn’t help to raise your eyebrow at him. While you appreciate that, for once, you weren’t considered someone’s type, you still had your doubts for the simple fact that you were a God. Gods were created to look too beautiful for the human eye that they had to dull their appearance and you knew that the innocence that was always seen, even if you never acted as much, caught almost everyone’s attention. You knew that your innocence was a good chance of William’s obsession with you.

“What, doll?”

“You’re the first to admit I’m not your type.”

“Really? Pierre-”

“Pierre flirts with every moving creature, related or not,” you muttered as you walked through the doors of your library. “My innocence piques your interest, however?”

“Actually, the opposite, doll.”

Your eyes lifted to his, watching as he sat in a chair, placing his feet on the table in front of him as you waited for him to continue.

“You, in general, did. The Goddess of Life and Healing turned to a Goddess of Literature and Witchcraft. An apparent Warrior of the Source that the all the Warriors believes that she should be the one with the Crown yet isn’t. You enjoyed Dark’s presence long before realizing he was one of three. You’re different than others seem to realize and yet, they don’t pick up on the very obvious hints,” he continued and you raised an eyebrow. “Your innocence is one that will probably forever be there, doll. Some people just have it with them till the day they die. Some cling onto it. You don’t.”

“I once did,” you spoke and he raised an eyebrow but, like all the other times, you never explained deeper as you moved towards the table that held all the books you needed.

#darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x goddess!reader #darkiplier x french!goddess!reader #darkiplier

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chironomy · 6 years

Text

chthonic worship tip

In my experience, chthonic (underworld) gods really appreciate hearing “thank you.” (This includes Hades and Persephone as well as Hecate, Hermes in his psychopomp aspect, Hypnos, Thanatos, Morpheus, and others.) They all do incredibly dirty, difficult, and vitally important jobs and rarely get recognition for it.

Things you can thank them for:

Sheltering, protecting, and taking care of the dead

Treating everyone fairly, meting out divine justice to people who escaped it in life

Allowing us to extract precious metals and material resources from the earth (I usually pair this with a commitment to do what I can to be a responsible steward of the earth, and follow the principle of xenia rather than hoarding wealth)

Maintaining the boundaries between this world and the next, and allowing people to pass through when appropriate

Making new growth possible by clearing away that which is no longer useful (this can be both literal and metaphorical)

Guiding and looking after people who are going through grief, depression, or “dark nights of the soul,” enabling personal rebirth and transformation

Protecting and nourishing the roots of plants, making all plant life and agriculture possible

Things that come from or are sheltered in their world include: sleep, dreams, precious metals, plant life, reincarnated or newly incarnated souls, magic, purpose and destiny --- and according to interpretation, vaccination, EMDR, anesthesia, X-rays and MRIs, mass social movements, psychology, shadow work**

Also, please do something nice for Charon. I’ve long thought of him as the patron of customer service workers who are frequently yelled at.

*sources: Greek Religion by Walter Burkert, Ancient Greek Cults by Jennifer Larson, The Greek Way of Death by Robert Garland -- these three books are my go-to’s for info about the roles the chthonic gods and the underworld played in ancient Greek religion and culture. Add to this the underworld as metaphor in Jungian psychology and archetypes (I’m less well read in this area, but see also The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell)

**I once read a great series of essays on the rivers of the Underworld (which I can not find right now) that posited the principle of vaccination comes from the Styx. According to myth, Achilles was dipped in the river as a baby and this protected his body from injury --- just as exposure to a dead pathogen grants our bodies protection from a live version of that same pathogen. Along these lines, things like anesthesia and EMDR would come from the Lethe and/or the Acheron, psychology and self-reflection from the Mnemosyne, and so on. And modern astrology understands Pluto (Hades) as a god of invisible forms of power, which makes him also the ruler of things like X-rays and MRIs, nuclear energy, mass movements, and lots of other things...

#pagan #paganism #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hellenismos #dodekatheism #theoi kthonioi #deity work #deities #chthonic worship #hades #hadesdeity #persephone #persephonedeity #hecate #hermes #witchblr #about hades

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

XXVIII

January 14, 2278.

I woke up feeling confused.

Percy?

My wife?

Impossible. A ghoul marrying a smoothskin? Fucking insane.

I don’t think I’m even made for something as… normal as marriage. All my skills are geared towards killing and destroying. How can I even build a life with her?

Some people marry out of love, don’t they? My parents did, and they were happy together. When I was little, during their wedding anniversary, they’d leave me with someone else to look after me. Before she went away to study, Aunt Katya would do that for them. After she’s gone, it was whoever babysitter they can find.

They would always come home the next day with smiles on their faces.

When we started to become poorer, they’d spend the evening in the house, a lone candle illuminating the kitchen, and they’d dance to the radio in silence. My mother would look at my father with uncertain eyes, and he'd kiss the worries away.

“Annika, moya solnyshko, we’re going to be fine.”

Solnyshko. If I recall correctly, it’s a term of endearment in my parents’ language. I think it meant ‘little sun’.

I sighed and turned to Percy, still asleep, resting peacefully as the sunlight streamed from the windows and illuminated her face.

Is that something I want to do with Percy?

Hold her in my arms through thick and thin? Call her silly little things out of affection?

Is it love that drives me to dream of being her husband? Or is she just too involved in my life now for me to think of someone else?

Some people married out of convenience, after all. Like Aunt Katya.

I remember bringing the rings on her wedding day. She was already heavy with child, dressed in white. I couldn’t remember if it was in the year 2069 or 2070, but obviously, it was before I was taken away for indoctrination.

“Tetushka,” I remember addressing her during the reception. “Who is he?”

“Artyom, this is Nathaniel. He’s the man I married, and he’s going to be your uncle. Don’t be shy, say hi.”

The man steps closer, and kneels. He had some stubble on his jaw, square and shapely, and his hair is cut neatly, like the soldiers I see on posters.

“So this is the nephew you were talking about, Kitty. Hey there sport,” he greets extending his hand. I remember reluctantly giving him a handshake.

“I know this is all so sudden, but he’s part of the family now,” Aunt Katya explains, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I think it’s time for the toast, dear. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” Nathan interrupts, whisking my aunt away and giving me a nod and a wink.

That night, as my father drove us home, he spoke to me.

“Artyom, could you make me a promise?”

“What kind of promise papa?”

“Promise me, when you grow up and if you decide to marry someone, make sure that you marry out of love, like I did with your mother. Don’t be like your aunt Katya.”

“I promise,” I tell him. “But what’s wrong with aunt Katya?”

“Ilya, I think we should save this conversation for another day. Our Artyom might be too young,” my mother tells father.

“Nonsense. It’s never too early to let him know. Artyom, your tetushka married that man because she thought she couldn’t take care of a baby on her own. I’m not sure if she loves Nathan, and that’s what scares me. Your auntie is strong. But I’m not sure how she will handle a marriage with uncertain feelings. It could destroy her.”

I blinked a few times. It was too heavy for me to understand back then.

“I think what your father is trying to say, Artyom,” my mother adds, “Is when people marry and start a family, they usually live together under one roof, like your papa and I. When you marry someone and live under one roof with someone you do not love, life can become difficult.”

“I think I understand, mama.”

I do understand now.

My reminiscing got interrupted when Percy cracked one eye open, and reached for me.

“Hey. Good morning, big guy. You slept well?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

After waking Butch up, the three of us packed our sleeping bags and went outside to start a fire. The dawn is just breaking, the horizon hazy. I can’t remember being this up early. Our sleep schedule was borderline nocturnal.

As the Cram sizzled on the clean sheet of metal we used to cook on while travelling, Percy was heating some clean water over the fire as well. She used it to rehydrate the Instamash, and the rest went into a cup. My partner then takes out a small sachet, the label washed out, but I can still see what it was.

“Found this in a coat pocket from Moira’s gifts the other day,” she giggles. “Hot chocolate!”

My eyes widened. Damn, I haven’t seen one of those after the war. Is it even safe to consume?

“Man, I miss the food in the vault. Lemme have some,” DeLoria exclaims, excited.

Percy pours it in the cup and stirs it with a spoon. She takes a sip, passes it to Butch, who wrinkles his nose, then to me. Well, if we can still eat Cram after 200 years of it sitting on some shelf, I think I’ll be fine with this ancient hot chocolate.

It’s hot. Comforting. The flavor is a little rancid, but what else is new with these preserved Pre-War foods? It’s still somewhat sweet. The nostalgia I felt for the life I left behind grew. I look into the cup, the dark liquid swirling, reminding me of Percy’s eyes. Then, I pass it back to her.

“You were smiling in your sleep,” Percy quips, looking at me with eyes still heavy with sleep. “Dreamed of something nice?”

Despite the cold, I feel the warmth spreading through me. Of fucking course I just can’t tell her that I dreamed that I wasn’t a monster, and she is my wife, and we had a son who looked like her while we’re frolicking at a beach in California. I have to think of something else.

“I dreamed DeLoria fell down the stairs.”

Percy almost spat out her drink laughing. Butch gives me a dirty look. “Yeah, real funny, you bastard,” he groans.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own lie, too.

Butch put the fire out with snow, and we’re off again, heading west. The sun’s rising in the east, warming our backs as we pressed on. By the time we got to Lamplight, the sun’s risen, but was blocked out by clouds.

We approached the cavern entrance, and followed the trail inside. There, MacCready is still keeping watch.

“Hey, we got your friends back. Can we come in now?” Percy shouts, keeping a safe distance.

“I guess you’re okay after all, for a mungo. But you better not piss me off!”

As the three of us approached the gate, the kid pointed his rifle at DeLoria.

“Hey wait a second, you weren’t with them when they first came here,” he barks, suspicious.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless. He’s gonna watch out stuff for us while we go in Vault 87,” Percy explains, pulling Butch’s arm hurriedly.

“Who the fuck are you?” the mayor asks Butch, and of course the moron puffed his chest out.

“I’m Butch! I lead a gang called the Tunnel Snakes and I helped them get your friends outta Paradise Falls too!”

“What kind of dumbshit name is Tunnel Snakes?”

Okay, I can’t fucking help it. I am laughing. This kid is just fine.

As DeLoria squabbles with MacCready, Percy sits down in a corner to catch her breath and rest, and I join her. Soon, some of the kids started gathering around us, and among them were the children we rescued from Paradise.

“It’s the ghost and the zombie that saved us!” one of them exclaimed, running towards us.

“Zombie isn’t a nice word to call him, kid. He’s called a ghoul,” Percy tells her, voice a little softer than her usual speaking tone.

“A pretty ghost and a scary ghoul saved you? Wow!”

Soon, the voices of the children grew louder as they chattered about us, the odd group of mungos allowed in the cave.

I felt uncomfortable as the children poked around and asked us so many questions. Some of them are too afraid to come closer to me, while some openly try to climb on my back and gingerly touch some of my scars. I guess the dream I had about having one will remain a dream. These children are exhausting to be around.

Yet Percy takes it all in stride, answering every question they ask her, showing off her stuff, and regaling them with tales from our travels. She’d gently pet the hair of one of the little girls who huddled next to her, and her patience didn’t waver as one of the boys accidentally spilled their Nuka Cola on her jacket.

She reminds me of my own mother. I’m sure she’d be a great mother if she ever decides to be one.

And when that happens, I’m not going to be the one by her side.

“Percy! Tell us another story,” one of the children, who was called Knock Knock, asks my partner, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I think I’ve already told you all of my stories.”

“Well, you can always make one up,” another little girl, the one called Bumble, suggests.

“Hmm…”

Eyes flicking towards me, Percy offers the children a soft smile.

“Long ago, there was a young maiden, living in a fortress with steel walls. The most important rule was one was allowed to go in and out of the fortress.” Percy starts, leaning her head towards me.

“A maiden? Why not a princess? Princesses lived in fortresses, right? Or was it a castle?”

“Shut up, Zip! Don’t interrupt her.”

Chuckling, Percy clears her throat and continues. “She kept to herself, and kept herself busy with plants and books. The maiden was content with living in the fortress, but she always wondered what the world beyond them looked like. One night, while the maiden was exploring the lower levels of the fortress, a horrible beast took her away, and captured her. He put her in an invisible cage, which keeps her under his control.”

I think I know who this maiden is.

“Oh no, is she okay? Who saved her?”

“We’ll get to that soon. The maiden was kept in a cage for so long, that she thought that she'd never get out. Then, one night, word got around that someone left the fortress. In her desire to see the world, she grips the bars of the invisible cage, and bends it, finally escaping.”

The children were listening in awe. “What happens to the girl? Does she escape the fortress?”

“Yes, and she had to face the monster that captured her in doing so. In a show of courage, she wields a sword, and takes his head off in one slice.”

“Coooool,” one of the kids exclaimed.

“Then, she starts looking for her father. But she couldn’t do it alone. There were many dangers in the world outside the fortress. So, she looks for someone who can watch her back.”

“Is it a knight? Or a prince?”

“Hmm. No, her companion is neither of those. He’s something else.”

“What is he?”

“A ferryman.”

“What’s a ferryman, Percy?”

“Have you kids ever heard of a boat? A ferryman is in charge of running that boat.”

“Oh, so they rode through a boat?”

“Yeah. They did. This ferryman, all he knew before he met the maiden was to take the souls of people and deliver them to Death. Kind of like the Grim Reaper. Everyone’s gotta die some time, and it was his job to ensure that they make it to the other side.”

“Yikes! Why would she ask someone like that to watch her back?”

Percy pauses, unsure what to answer. Her eyes flick to her lap, then, she smiles at one of the kids.

“Because, the maiden knows better than to judge a book by its cover. Turns out, the ferryman was one of the most reliable, bravest, and kindest people outside the fortress, but he’s stuck to his job. So, they burn the boat, and the maiden, instead of facing Death, runs away with the ferryman. The end.”

“Wow, that was boring,” one of the boys quipped, which earned him an elbow from one of the girls.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!”

“Aw, that can’t be the end! What happens to them after?”

“Do they fall in love?”

A short chortle escaped Percy. “That’s a story for another day. My friend and I need to get going.”

Bumble looks up to Percy with big, begging eyes. “Promise us you’ll tell the rest when you come back, please?”

A chorus of “Please, Percy” fills the cave. I couldn’t help but snort at the overwhelmed look on Percy’s face. Then, she gave them a quick nod, to which they responded with cheers.

“Alright big guy, time for us to go into the Vault. Wait, where’s Butch?”

On the opposite side of the cave, surrounded by mostly boys, including MacCready himself, Butch was shouting and cheering.

“Tunnel Snakes rule!”

“Tunnel Snakes rule!” the boys echoed.

We laughed at the scene. “Hey, looks like Butch have new gang members in no time.”

Striding towards DeLoria, Percy dumps the gear we didn’t need to bring near his feet. She takes off her leather jacket and scarf, and her sneaking suit’s helmet protracted over her face. It was a curious sight for the children, looking at her with bewildered eyes.

“Look after the stuff, Butch. If we don’t come back in eight hours, get help from the Brotherhood.”

“Got it. What but what if something else comes through the door?”

“If it’s not with us, shoot it. Help the kids defend this place.”

Butch gulps. “I… uh…”

“There are spare guns and grenades in one of the packs. You helped us with Paradise, Butch. You can handle this,” Percy encourages him, rubbing the back of his palm gently.

I look away.

“You’re right. See you in a few hours.”

Following a teenage boy who introduced himself as Joseph, who turned out to be the brother of one of the children we got out of the slave pen, we were led to a terminal which accesses a door to the vault. No one bothered to write down the password, so Percy cracked her knuckles and started typing away eagerly.

Eyes still fixated on the glowing green monitor, she had that determined look on her face again.

The door hisses open, and we step in. It was unnaturally cold and silent.

“This is it, Charon. We’re so close.”

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