#tracing orpheus
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It is, thus, this intrinsic association of ivy with Dionysus which becomes evident in the images, leading us to view the ivy as a representation of a heart, or perhaps to view the heart as an actual ivy leaf and to concur that the possibility of identification, and consequently of substitution, lies in their similarity. This ivy/heart or hedera pro cordi acquires then a fundamental significance as a token of remembrance of the miraculous salvation of Dionysus when he was reduced to a heart. Furthermore, if we take it to be the divine heart – in its vicarious thousand-fold recurrence – this allows for a certain “possession” of the god in his more reduced and essential form, opening up a privileged path towards Dionysus for each and every one of his followers in a simultaneous and identical manner. The ivy leaf is thus transformed into a souvenir of the god in his better version, almost aniconic but anthropomorphic by metonymy, lightweight, portable, and even “edible” as was his own heart.
Paloma Cabrera, “Ram, You Fell into the Milk” (in Tracing Orpheus: Studies of Orphic Fragments)
#paloma cabrera#ram you fell into the milk#dionysos#zagreus#orphic mysteries#orpheus#hearts#ivy#quotes#ancient greece#magna graecia#tracing orpheus#the divine heart in its vicarious thousand-fold recurrence#okay I guess I'd better add that in context this is talking about orphic gold leaves found in the mouths of the dead#the ''leaves'' being shaped either like hearts or like ivy leaves or both#so ''edible'' because they were buried in the mouth of the deceased#and not edible because the author is saying you should eat ivy#she's not saying that#don't eat ivy
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Cause
Cause he doesn't eat any dishes in the game
No text version under cut
#actual context: since he doesnt have any dishes in the game I thought i'd be really funny to headcanon during that really awkward breakfast#where orpheus is slandering the Kreiburg name right in front of Fredrick#fredrick greatest concern is that he cant eat because he's too picky and they got his food choice wrong (i imagine its rich people taste)#its a very mediocre joke but its funny to imagine#especially since alice is like hmm he seems to be upset about something#he got no food :(#also I traced an entire background I had no idea what I was doing for this#if anyone points out since ashes of memory 2 is coming out today and he's getting a dish#EHQJEJWq why do you think im uploading this rn (im late)#idv#idv art#fredrick kreiburg#idv orpheus#melly plinius#ashes of memory#sorry alice fans she didnt get in the shot#pwart#illustration#artists on tumblr#also this is my ashes of memory 2 drop artwork now
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Yandere Self Aware Hades (Hades 2018)
So I'm about 5~8 completed escapes in, so please don't spoil anything for much later into the game. If you're worried, please just label your request as potential spoilers when sending them in.
Also this is written from the perspective of the characters, not you the player, so they're rationalizing you as some sort of omnipresence.
masterlist
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Zagreus first felt you when his escape attempts started, leaving the house for the first time in a mad dash, feeling something deep pulse beneath him that was even greater than the deep beating of his heart. It was harsh, and strange, but warm and welcoming. At first, he didn't know what to do, accept the feeling and move on, or reject in, and suffer the unknown consequences.
But, strangely, you gave him a feeling of strength, even after he was brought down time and time again by his father henchmen, the feeling never went away. And eventually, he excepted you, and recognized you as something deeper. You weren't just a feeling, you were a companion of sorts, like his distant relatives, you were there, aiding him on his journey, and he couldn't be more thankful.
HIs feelings started off small, but grew as he felt you more and more within him. He began to crave your presence, despising anytime when you weren't there with him. Eventually, he began to notice when he'd be most likely to feel you, waiting patiently for you so he could attempt to escape once more, when he's at his strongest.
You must've been rubbing off onto his relatives, because slowly but surely, they began to notice you as well. Whenever Zagreus would pick up a boon, they would mention feeling something stirring within him, fueling his escape attempts. Depending on who it was, their words were more or less straight forward, but it wasn't like Zagreus could explain anything to them. Deep down, he wished he could've kept you to himself sooner, but the Gods were smart, so there was no hiding you from them.
And Zagreus soon came to learn that their was no hiding you from the others of the house, whether it was Orpheus, Achilles, or even his father, they all began to notice something change with him. Achilles was the first to bring this up with the prince, asking him who he was talking to when coming out of the pool of styx. Zagreus didn't have the heart to lie to Achilles, as spoke about you for the first time. For some reason, this made you more real to Zagreus, and in a way, solidified your fate as an obsession to Zagreus.
Zagreus often found himself wondering who you were, and his wondering often escaped his mind and exited his mouth, making him wonder if you could somehow hear him. He speaks to you often, mostly during escape attempts, but gets no hint that you are responding, making him wonder if his attempts are in vain. But he's reminded of his relatives, who are only able to sense a small bit of him, his presence growing stronger as he gets closer to the surface. Maybe, in a way, you're the same, maybe he could find you on the surface. That becomes his next goal in an instant. Find his mother, and then find you and thank you for the strength you've given him.
This isn't all to say that Zagreus is the only one seeking you out. The Gods upon Olympus are very curious about you, how you're able to make contact with their distant relative and leave very little of a trace. It's fascinating, but currently, with Zagreus tied to that horrible realm, there is no way of figuring anything else about you. Their only hope is to attempt to contact you through Zagreus, mentioning you when he picks up a boon. It's not much, but it's their only hope.
The people of the house also become interested in you. Some, like Megaera and Thanatos are more weary of you, believing you are something attempting to manipulate Zagreus, even though nothing of the sort has proven to be so. Others, like Orpheus and Hypnos are more welcoming to you, asking many questions to both Zagreus and you directly.
Even Chaos, the oldest being known to all mankind, is curious of your presence. They can sense something in you, something they're not even sure Zagreus is even aware of. It's funny, in a way, watching the Son of Hades attempt to find you, figure out who are, only for you to not be of this world. They wonders how long it'll take for him to dive himself mad from obsession, and it if it's already completely consumed him.
Once Hades gained awareness of you, he attempted to snuff you out from his son's mind. He thought you were a distraction, fueling his son's frivolous attempts at escaping his realm. He realized it wasn't going to be easy, nothing was easy with his stubborn son. But he hoped that if he was able to rid you from Zagreus's mind, that he'd forget about his hopeless quest of finding his mother.
However, eventually Zagreus slays his father, leaving his realm and entering into the cold, strange land of Greece, were he's able to find his mother, Persephone, but there were no signs of you. He could feel you as he entered his mother's hidden abode, but he knew you were no where to be found. And as he collapsed and reentered his home from the pool of styx once more, he knew he would have to continue his journey. He felt you, you were real, and he would die over and over and over again if it meant that one day he'd ba able to find you.
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A/n: don't wonder how I got this out so fast, this has been boiling within me for so long. I really hope you enjoy it.
#yandere x reader#soft yandere#platonic yandere#yandere one piece#self aware hades#yandere hades game#yandere hades#zagreus hades#hades game#hades
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A Requested Birthday Gift
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING NOVELIST MY MAIN MY HEART MY -screaming- also i totally reference this fic lol
Rated Explicit | Warning: threesome, consensual use of drugs
“Hypnos,” You stop midway heading toward your room for a much-needed nap when the Novelist approaches you, “Do you have a moment?” Politely and gentlemanly he strolls over invading your personal space, his hand caressing your cheek giving you the physical affection you much needed. Post-match aches are annoying like it is how you imagine phantom pain is, it lingers and you often seek comfort or nap it away.
“Anytime for you.” Closing your eyes as you tilt your head to the side basking in his presence and touch.
“How easily you say such things,” Orpheus’ hand slips down your cheeks until his fingers dance upon your chin. Tracing your jawline, he moves much closer until his other hand holds your waist, body moving and guiding you, “I shall take you up on your word.”
Orpheus is smooth, well aware, and skilled in getting you to bend to his will, have you pressed against the wall in the hallway to the private guest bedrooms. Your hand goes to his chest grabbing his suit coat tugging him even closer as he kisses you. Sweet, reminding you he misses your presence, and then consuming as wants your attention completely on him.
“Orpheus.” Breathy as he switches from your lips to your neck, “We should go to– Oh!” His leg is between yours applying pressure to your crotch.
“In a moment, allow me to be adventurous, my little writer.”
You nod trying to keep your mind in the presence and not drift off giving into the sensations of his touch.
“I have a request for you,” He is careful not to remove clothes though it is tempting as he kisses your neck and under your chin, “A personal request.”
“A-anything.” Barely able to stay focused.
The Novelist smirks before holding your face to look directly at him, “It pertains to my– Our birthday, my love.”
You blink to regather yourself, “Oh? Do you want to change plans?”
“Of sorts, we would like your permission to try something new with you.”
Something new? You raise an eyebrow while biting your lip as Orpheus rubs your crotch against his thigh, it makes you nearly distracted, “Okay, ah, I am at your ah ah Orpheus!” Covering your mouth when you moaned far too loud.
“At my…?” Teasing you as he keeps going, “Grant us permission.”
“All that I am is yours to use as you wish.” Poetic and romantic, needy and wanting, he adores his little writer.
“I shall hold you to that.” Kissing your cheek as he removes himself from your person, “Find us in the library.” Whispering in your ear.
You shiver both aching and yearning, you wish he would finish what he started but you know the reward is at the end.
Especially when us mean both Nightmare and himself.
Orpheus leaves you after giving you a heated kiss, one that leaves you further flustered than what you are. When he leaves, you adjust your clothes to look decent before moving away from the wall to chase after him.
The door of one the room opens and you turn to see Luchino leaning against the door frame with a casual and clearly known smile.
“Seems you'll be having a bit of fun,” The older man says, it is a bit embarrassing to know he heard all that, “Orpheus restraining himself after such words spill out of his lover is commendable.” A clap before he moves to return to his room, “Good evening, Hypnos.”
God, you are lucky it was the Professor and misfortune it was the Professor who heard that.
The library is well secluded, rarely anyone but the Journalist or Novelist come here. You have a few times but again it is always empty. Yet, you still try to keep your voice down despite the library always being seemingly avoided.
You can wonder about that later, right now you are barely able to keep your mind from drifting to that pleasant numbing abyss brought to you by Orpheus.
Orpheui because there is more than one? That makes you giggle as Nightmare is rubbing his beak against your face, that rough two-tone voice saying your name followed by a chuckle when you try closing your held open legs.
“Such a lovely voice, my love.” Orpheus speaking from between your legs, he kneeling with his hand guiding Nightmare's unseemly large cock against your well prepared hole. “Let us see how long you can keep using it, hm?” The cock, of dark purple coloring with precum glowing purple, catches and enters your wet heat.
“Ah!” You have taken his cock before with plenty of prep, but God, it is always a deep stretch inside of you. Nightmare groans, his grip on your legs a bit firmer as he lowers you carefully.
“Beautiful, truly.” The Novelist made sure before doing this to have your explicit permission before attempting this. There is a drink he used on himself and a mutual acquaintance that he gave to you, a cocktail of an aphrodisiac based along with alcohol— He made sure it is extra sweet for you. It is both to help with handling Nightmare (who is enjoying himself watching you attempt to ride him), and to last longer— You are not very well trained yet in lasting more than a round with either of them.
“Easy, easy,” Nightmare speaks as he rests your legs on top of his open legs, “We have you.” His hands on your waist as Orpheus stands up to hold your upper body, your hands reaching out yearning to be touched again.
“Say what you need.” They both speak to you, your eyes struggling to focus on who is in front of you. When you open your mouth literal gibberish comes out with whiny moans. Your hands gripping and tugging on his open shirt begging, or trying to form words, for them to start using you.
With lack of awareness, you spill easily how badly you are enthralled by Orpheus— Both of them.
“Next time a lower dosage,” Touching your face, examining your dilated eyes, the way you cannot properly form words, and neediness behavior. “Oh, dear one, you are enjoying this quite well.”
His gift is you, you who has given him a new perspective. Orpheus loves you, they both do terribly so, the thought of him once more not having you will never be entertained.
“Orpheus!” The raven creature is not willing to wait for his counterpart to enjoy the sight.
“Good, you can say our name.” Praising you as he pets your hair affectionately, “However, I am going to need to use your mouth for my own pleasure, Hypnos.”
You nod but he doubts you actually know what you are agreeing with, he will only take as he usually does.
Using your mouth on Orpheus’ cock, Nightmare uses your inviting hole, delighting in their gift.
Even better is you stopped caring about how loud you are, all that matters is him him him.
#orpheus x you#idv orpheus x you#orpheus x reader#nightmare x reader#idv nightmare#nightmare x you#identity v x you#identity v x reader#identity v#idv reader insert#idv orpheus#idv novelist#idv x reader#reader insert
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could you write a headcanons for andrew and naib if they’re S/O went missing for a few days
And so the Bun sayeth, Let There Be Angst! I decided to leave it a bit open-ended, so you all can decide how or why you vanished 😉
Naib
-He knows something serious happened to you. It must have. He knows all the hiding places in this manor, all the stupid little hidden doors and rooms that Orpheus and Alice think no one else his privy to, and he’s scoured every corner of this place for any trace of you.
-And he trusts you to not willingly disappear without warning him—you know how he worries, how paranoid he his. And this is why.
-Naib even tries to interrogate the hunters when given half a chance. He could be tied to a rocket chair and he’d still be screaming questions at Ann as she lumbers away from him with a pitying frown and no answers at her tongue.
-He gets as much sleep as answers while you’re gone. That is to say: none. He’s restless without you, wondering what in the world could have happened. And a tired Naib is a cranky, paranoid Niab.
-When you finally come back, he’s nearly to the point of pointing accusing fingers at everyone else. But then you’re just there. Safe and sound in your room, and he’s all over you. He clings to you, desperate for any answers you can provide. You can’t leave your bed for another day, let alone your room, because he’s not in his right mind until you’ve made him sleep—something he’s only willing to do if you’re there. And still, he wakes every hour with a terrified jolt to make sure you’re still with him.
Andrew
-His anger is still there, burning, simmering, but anxiety has wormed its way into the mix. It’s odd. He’s used to worrying about himself, his own hurts and injustices…but you’re the one who’s missing and he doesn’t know what that means. This is one of the few times he’ll swallow his pride and outright ask for help. Luca, Victor, Aesop, Norton, anyone he has a modicum of trust in.
-No one knows what to do. But everyone does know Andrew must be terrified to reach out like that, so they try to help. Andrew just about resorts to digging up the whole manor gardens, paranoid you’ve been buried alive as a punishment for his own sins.
-A whole group of survivors search high and low for you and turn nothing up. The academic sorts have their own theories about what happened to you, but those are all bleak and no one has the heart to share them with Andrew yet.
-When you return, Andrew is stunned…and then a wreck. He’s a strong man, and the hug he gives is crushing—like he’s trying to fuse your body to his permanently. He does not shed tears easily, but Andrew falls to tearful pieces with you back in his arms, choking, hiccupping out desperate pleas for you to tell him what happened, where you went, were you okay?
-Like Naib, he steals you away. You spend a long while in the darkness of his bedroom, letting Andrew cry out all the stress he’d built up in your absence. Unlike Niab, he won’t fight to keep you in that room, but he will be your unwavering shadow for some time to come.
#turbulentscrawl#idv x reader#identity v#naib subedar x reader#andrew kreiss x reader#idv mercenary#idv gravekeeper
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Stargazing - Regulus Black
wc: 1.1k
warnings: fluff, established relationship
Summary: Regulus takes your stargazing, showing off his knowledge
The night sky stretched above you like a vast canvas, speckled with an array of twinkling stars. It was Saturday night and Regulus told you he wanted some alone time with just the two of you and had suggested stargazing. So you both found yourselves nestled in a secluded corner of the Hogwarts grounds, away from the castle's hustle and bustle.
As you lay on a soft blanket spread across the grass, wrapped up in both Regulus' jumper and his right arm, Regulus pointed out the constellations one by one, his voice carrying a gentle cadence that seemed to match the serene stillness of the night.
You were so focused on where he was pointing that you didn't even notice the small, love-filled glances that he kept shooting in your direction. He couldn't help it, you just looked so beautiful, your slightly tired face, the reflection of the stars in your eyes, and your own constellation of freckles that kissed your cheeks.
"That cluster of stars over there," he began, his finger tracing the shape in the sky, his eyes shooting back up to the sky, "that's Orion's Belt. According to ancient myths, Orion was a great hunter, and those three stars mark his belt."
You listened intently, captivated by Regulus's passion for the stars and the tales woven within them. His explanations were accompanied by an endearing enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight as he shared the stories passed down through generations.
He continued, pointing out Cassiopeia, Draco, and Ursa Major, his voice laced with knowledge and fascination. Each constellation held a story, and Regulus narrated them with such vividness that it felt as if the stars had come alive in the sky above you.
As the night deepened, you found yourself lost in the beauty of the celestial display, but it wasn't just the stars that enchanted you; it was Regulus's gentle presence and the way he spoke with such reverence for the night sky.
He looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "See that constellation there? That's Lyra, the harp. It's said to represent the lyre played by the legendary musician Orpheus."
You marveled at how Regulus's eyes lit up as he spoke, his passion for astronomy making the night feel more magical. His words painted a vivid picture of the ancient tales behind each star cluster, and you couldn't help but be drawn deeper into his explanations.
The conversation shifted from constellations to more personal topics. Regulus spoke about his dreams, his aspirations, and his deepest thoughts, and you reciprocated, sharing your own hopes and fears under the vast canopy of stars.
Neither of you were 100% sure what you wanted to do when you graduated, but you both knew you wanted to move out from home as soon as possible... the two of you spoke of running off together and then maybe starting a career in Quidditch. Regulus smiled softly as he watched you go on a mini rant about how when you get your shared house, the two of you could get a bunch of pets.
Occasionally, the conversation would quiet down, and you both would just lie there, side by side, enveloped in the tranquility of the night. The peace was punctuated by soft whispers, the occasional laughter, and shared glances that spoke volumes.
Regulus turned on his side, now wrapping both his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, "Reg?"
You were confused by his sudden movement, he had went from looking at the stars to now having his face buried into your neck, his warm breathes tickling your skin.
"Jus' don' want ya to get co'" he mumbled into your neck, his voice muffled
"Mhmm," you grinned sarcastically, yet you still brought your hand up to his head, burying your fingers into his dark locks and massaging his scalp softly.
Time seemed to stand still in that moment, as if the stars themselves had aligned to create this perfect harmony between you and Regulus. It was as if the night had paused just for the two of you to exist within its tranquil embrace.
The two of you wished that it could be like this forever, both in your own little world wrapped in the arms of your love. A world where there was no war, no death eaters, no school and no parents who couldn't care less about you.
As the night deepened, the air grew cooler, and the soft touch of Regulus's lips on your forehead brought a warmth that transcended the night's chill. His tender gesture was a silent reassurance, a whisper of care that made your heart flutter.
With the stars as witnesses, you shifted closer to Regulus, the blanket now cocooning you both in a shared haven. His arm around you tightened ever so slightly, pulling you snug against his chest, a silent invitation to seek solace in his embrace.
In the midst of the cosmic spectacle above, your gazes locked in an unspoken understanding. The night's silence was interrupted only by the hushed exchanges between you both, the soft murmurs and shared confidences blending seamlessly with the gentle rustle of leaves.
In a moment of daring, your fingers found their way to Regulus's, intertwining with his in a tender clasp. It was a subtle gesture, but the electric current that surged between your intertwined hands spoke volumes, bridging the gap between you in a language that words couldn't convey.
Regulus's touch was a comfort, a magnetic pull that drew you closer with an unspoken promise of safety and belonging. His fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, a gesture that sent tingles down your spine and stirred emotions you couldn't quite articulate.
Under the starlit sky, Regulus leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss, his silent declaration of affection warming your entire being. It was a gentle caress, a whisper of adoration that resonated deeper than any spoken words.
Regulus turned to you, a soft smile gracing his features. "Thank you for tonight," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that mirrored the celestial glow above. "I haven't felt this at peace in a long time."
You met his gaze, feeling a connection that transcended words, a sense of kinship and understanding that lingered in the silent spaces between your shared gazes.
"I could stay here forever," you whispered, a sentiment that echoed the unspoken bond between you and Regulus, forged under the infinite expanse of the night sky.
As the hours waned, Regulus shifted closer, his arm encircling you in a gentle hold. His lips found yours in a tender yet passionate kiss, a silent promise of unwavering devotion that lingered in the fleeting moments shared beneath the star-studded sky.
The night eventually bid its farewell, but the memories etched in the fabric of that evening remained—an intimate constellation of shared gazes, gentle touches, and stolen kisses that made the night an unforgettable testament to the love you both shared.
Written by adiraargent
Do not steal, copy or repost on another platform
Requests are open
#fluff#adiraargent#harry potter imagines#slytherin imagines#slytherin x yn#writing prompt#regulus black#regulus deserved better#regulus being regulus#regulus black x reader#regulus black kinnie#regulus black x you#the marauders#marauders#marauders era#the marauders era#reggie black#regulus black fluff#regulus black imagine#regulus black imagines#regulus x reader#regulus black x reader fluff#i love him your honor#harry potter fandom#harry potter rp#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter marauders#hp fanfic#quidditch#request
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𝐀 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬
Here’s the Orpheus & Eurydice AU oneshot I promised - it’s angst WITH a happy ending though because Eddie Munson deserves all the happy endings. I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki ♡
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | With the love of your life dead in your arms and your heart shattered to pieces, you’re ready to make that deal with God and swap places. Everything to bring Eddie back. But the only God in this dark place, frozen in time and filled with monsters, is not a benevolent one. And when you agree to his deal to play the game of gods and monsters and bring Eddie back, you know you it might be a losing game. You heard that story before - and it never has a happy ending. Now it’s on you to trick the fates and rewrite Eddie’s stars.
Inspired by this ask I got ♡
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending, a bit of smut
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | death but not permanent (I mean he has to die first if we want to bring him back from the dead), angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence, contains traces of SMUT as a treat (not explicit but definitely implied so 18+ only please!)
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.
𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡
*whispers* This is for you, Eddie.
You’d known you were too late when you raced towards the swarm of bats pouncing from the sky, a maelstrom of wings and talons and teeth, the air pierced by their blood-curdling shrieks – and Eddie’s scream.
A battle cry fading into a howl of pain that bled into the air.
You’d known you were too late when you finally reached him, tearing and ripping at the beasts pinning him to the ground, devouring him alive while the first of them started to falling from the skies.
Known you were too late when you fell to your knees with a cry of his name, and his dark eyes found yours.
When flashes of lightning bled through the thunderclouds above to paint the skies a deep, dark crimson. The same deep, dark crimson that bloomed on the white fabric of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt, like red roses on fresh snow.
Running from his lips as Eddie’s dark eyes found yours while you pressed your hands over his wounds, a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding, buy more time –
But there were too many wounds.
Too much blood.
Coating your hands, sticky and warm like the tears that ran down your cheeks as you whispered, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”
It wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
You both knew it.
The smile curving Eddie’s blood-smeared lips was a real one. Sad and proud and loving and bittersweet all at the same time. It was an unspoken farewell.
“I didn’t run this time,” he breathed.
It took everything in you to suppress the sob clawing at your throat. “No. No, you didn’t. You’re a hero, Eddie.”
“Told ya it’s gonna be my year.”
“It is. It is, okay?”, you breathed, “It’ll be. It will –“
“When you walk that stage…,” Eddie choked, “And grab your diploma…flip Higgins the bird for me, yeah?”
“You’ll flip him the bird yourself, Eddie. When…when you snatch your own diploma, okay? You’re gonna do it, and then we’re going to run like Hell out of there. Out of this fucking school, this fucking town. Just…away. Together.”
“Hey, sweetheart?”
The sob ripped free at the sound of the term of endearment, so beautifully familiar. “Yeah?”
“I love you. You know that, right?”, Eddie whispered, and the tenderness in his gaze even in death was so him, so Eddie, “I always loved you. It’s always been you.”
“Please don’t say goodbye, Eddie,” you whimpered, the flood of tears choking you, “Please. You…I need you to stay with me. Okay? Stay with me. Stay with me –“
But like the flame of a candle snuffed out by the wind, the light vanished from Eddie’s beautiful umber eyes, still trained on you as if he’d wanted to make sure you’d be the last thing he would see.
For a heartbeat, time froze.
The world stood still as more and more of the bats fell from the skies, hailing down all around you, the whirr of their wings and the thuds of their bodies hitting the ground the only sound to fill the silence.
And something broke.
Shattered.
Deep within your chest, your heart, your very soul.
It took you a moment to realize that the anguished scream piercing the cold air of this forlorn realm was your own.
Because the moment the life had been snuffed out of Eddie’s eyes, stolen, his body going limp in your arms…everything in you turned as cold and dark and dead as this realm around you.
You didn’t feel the cold anymore, the pain in your own body where the dying creatures had hacked teeth and claws into your own skin as you’d started to rip them away from Eddie. You didn’t care anymore why they were dying, or what would happen to Hawkins. To the rest of the world.
Why would you? A world without Eddie was as empty and forlorn as this one.
With the blur of tears veiling your vision, Eddie’s limp form in your arms and his blood coating your hands, you squeezed your eyes shut.
“You took him.” Your voice was broken, barely a whisper, while the shards of your shattered heart were piercing and tearing at your insides as everything in you was falling apart. The words weren’t a plea, but a command as you breathed, “Take me too.”
You waited.
For your bones to snap like twigs.
For the God of this forsaken realm to claim you like he’d claimed the love of your life.
The bats kept falling from the skies, fewer and fewer of them, their tails trailing behind them like lonely paper streamers at the end of a party.
The spores kept floating through the air, like the slow flurry of snow trapped in a snow globe, with you sobbing over Eddie’s body, a nightmare forever frozen in time behind polished glass.
But Vecna didn’t deign to take you as well, out of this world that had lost all its light and all its reasons to be saved because it had turned into a world without Eddie, without his sunshine smiles and warmth and kindness, his singing and his weirdness and his laughter.
The tears kept falling from your eyes while your body went numb with the agony of your overwhelming grief as you bent over, your forehead resting against Eddie’s, and wept.
For the boy who’d always fought the odds with the cards the fates had dealt him.
Who’d chosen kindness over and over again when it would have been so much easier to let the scorn and bullying he’d faced for being different turn his heart hard and cold.
Who’d dreamed of leaving this small-minded little town behind with you. Of walking that stage, and finally snatching that diploma.
For the boy you’d always love more than everything in this world.
You’d sell your soul to turn back the clocks, to unravel the tapestry of time, grasp the frayed ends and weave the threads back together into a happy ending.
Or simply to rewind time like a VHS tape, and press pause in one of the countless happy moments. Maybe to be frozen in a tiny little snow globe world wasn’t bad if the moment was a good one.
And there had been so, so many good ones.
You would have followed Eddie Munson out of this cursed town. You’d have followed him everywhere.
You didn’t know how long you’d wept – but it couldn’t have been long. Eddie’s blood had yet to dry on your hands, the warmth yet to fad e from his skin.
And with grim determination, at the frayed dark edges of the grief pulling you under, an idea took root in your mind.
The lyrics of Max’s song echoed through your memory.
And if I only could make deal with God, I’d get him to swap our places.
You would. Without a second of hesitation. Trade your soul for Eddie’s, bring him back, put the life back into his beautiful umber eyes.
If only there was a god.
If only, among all the monsters, there was a god who would listen.
But…there was.
You just needed to make him hear you.
Grim determination flooding you, you slowly raised your head.
Eddie’s gaze, unseeing, was trained on the skies above, the ghost of his smile lingering on his blood-stained lips. His dark hair formed a midnight-black halo around his head, the white particles settling in his curls like tiny snowflakes. Like stars in a night sky.
“No matter how this story ends…I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson,” you breathed, before you leaned down to place one last kiss on his forehead, the soft curls spilling from the black bandana tickling your cheeks.
And with all this love and grief flooding you, sweeping you away, a newfound determination, grim and fierce, blazed through your veins as you slowly rose to your feet.
Where you would go, you couldn’t take him.
Your voice was steeled with the force of your blinding wrath at the unfairness of it all, of loss and grief and that wild, desperate flutter of hope as it rang through the still air of this dark place.
“VECNA! COME AND GET ME!”
The bats had stopped falling.
There was no wind in the air, no noise apart from the thunder in the distance, crimson lightning bleeding through the clouds, the exact shade as Eddie’s blood coating your hands, slowly drying.
“DO YOU HEAR ME?! COME AND GET ME, YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!”
You grabbed the discarded makeshift-spear from the ground. It had fallen out of Eddie’s grip when the bats had sunken their teeth into his skin, forced him down.
“IS THAT ALL YOU CAN DO?!”, you screamed into this frozen void. You didn’t care if it would draw in more monsters. You didn’t care for the monsters of this realm anymore – all you wanted was to face their god. “IS THAT IT?! SENDING YOUR BEASTS WHILE YOU STAY IN HIDING LIKE A FUCKING COWARD?! COME AND FIGHT ME!”
You felt him before you saw him.
There was a shift in the air like ripples across a lake, raising the hair on your necks, a tingle like a swarm of spiders skittering down along your spine.
Max had described him to all of you, after she’d escaped him in the graveyard.
Rotten flesh, covered by writhing creeping vines.
Eyes as cold as the realm he’d made his home.
But nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you as you whirled around, your fist tightening around the makeshift-spear – because the eyes staring back at you weren’t the icy blue you’d come to expect.
They were dark, a beautiful, familiar shade of umber so opposing to the hollow coldness within them, sharp and hard as the edge of a knife. So out of place in Eddie’s eyes.
“No,” you breathed, shrinking back, away from this monster which dared to wear the face of the love it had just ripped from you.
“Is this not what you wanted, girl?”
The voice filling the air as he spoke wasn’t Eddie’s. It was the thunder in the bleeding crimson skies and the shriek of distant monsters in the air. It was the writhing of creeping vines on the ground, the vibration of the earth; an echo of a thousand voices that had become one.
He wasn’t here, not really. You knew how you looked like right now, outside of this illusion Vecna was creating – your body rigid, eyes white, frozen in place beside Eddie’s lifeless form on the cold ground. You’d seen it once, when he’d nearly gotten Max.
Vecna tilted his head, his face – the face he’d stolen – a frozen mask as white spores settled in his dark curls, the lack of light turning the dark chocolate brown into a deep inky black; curls you’d run your hands through countless times, playing with the strands, Eddie’s head in your lap as he read The Lord Of The Rings to you. Curls tangling around your fingers as you drew him closer to deepen a kiss, to whisper confessions of love.
Bile rose in your throat, bitter and burning and acidic, at the cruelty of Vecna’s mask.
Eddie’s eyes – but void of the warmth and kindness and humor they’d been brimming with. Eddie’s lips, void of the tender smile which had always played them when he’d looked at you.
Vecna had taken what you loved the most and twisted it into a nightmare to drive the blade deeper into an already fatal wound, simply because he could.
He was watching you; that predatory, icy gleam shining so horribly misplaced in Eddie’s gentle eyes that you wanted to break down and weep all over again.
“I want him back,” you breathed. “Take me instead. I won’t fight you. I won’t try to escape. Give him back, and I’ll follow you willingly.”
Vecna stepped closer, the expression in his eyes the sharp gleam of a bird of prey ready to pounce, to hack its talons into his squealing, writhing prey as he drew every last drop of anguish from their minds, feeding on their pain like a leech sucking blood.
Your grip around the makeshift spear was so tight that you feared your knuckles might pop with the strain as you refused to shy away any farther.
“I have no need for you to follow me willingly. I can take whatever I want to take.”
Vecna’s hand came up, slowly – the gesture of someone who knew he had all the time in the world – and nausea churned in your guts as the pad of his thumb caught one of your tears, his eyes, these beautiful dark eyes stolen from Eddie, locked firmly on yours.
“You already have,” you whispered. “You can’t take anything else from me because you’ve already taken everything. And I’ll take it back.”
I ran, Max’s words echoed in your mind. I ran, and then I was in that…that place. Where he’d put all the others before me.
Every realm had its god, and every Underworld its king. And every king…had a castle. You only needed to find it.
With a swift motion, you thrust out the spear, the red face of the demon glaring on his Hellfire Club shirt turning into the bulls-eye for your blade.
And with Vecna’s howl – not of pain but fury – booming through the air, you whirled around and ran.
Stumbling over writhing vines, not looking back whether Vecna was following behind, you raced into the looming woods at the edge of the trailer park, towards the fog in the distance, the crimson light seeping through the swirls and wisps like blood.
And when you reached it, hands outstretched, the edge of this illusion Vecna had created in your mind, the ground shifted, sending you stumbling to the floor, the skin on your palms tearing open as you caught yourself and pushed back to your feet to face your new surroundings.
It was just like Max had described. Crimson light, the hollow, distorted ticking of a clock, floating debris. The door with the red flowers made of stained glass like a heart at the center of Vecna’s lair.
Doors and stairs leading into nowhere.
Pillars reaching into the low, crimson skies – and on these pillars…
Vecna’s victims.
All of them.
Their bodies disfigured, limbs broken; hollow sockets where their eyes had been, mouths agape in frozen screams, forever muted in death. Like a horrid assortment of butterflies, their fragile wings pinned and preserved beneath eternal glass cases to decorate a lepidopterist’s walls.
That’s what Vecna was.
A collector of souls and horror.
The scream lodged at the back of your throat ripped free to form his name, Eddie’s name, as you fought for your feet to move, fought your body’s urge to bend over and retch as if somehow, magically, it would chase the cruel images away.
But there was no time.
And so, you stood still, feet anchored to the ground as you spun in a slow circle, eyes scanning the collection of horrors preserved all around you.
The Creels; mother and daughter side by side. Chrissy and Fred and Patrick.
And –
“Eddie.”
Your voice was less than a whisper as you stumbled the last few steps towards him, tears streaming down your eyes in hot rivulets as you reached him.
Eddie was bound to the pillar closest to the solitary stained-glass door; thick, writing creepers wrapped around his wrists to hold him in place, curling around his throat in a deadly chokehold.
Another beautiful butterfly trapped in Vecna’s collection.
But unlike the others, Eddie’s limbs weren’t broken; his eyes not amiss but closed, his features serene as his dark curls spilled around his face. A horrid, twisted version of sleeping beauty.
And in this story, true love might not be be enough to break the curse.
“Eddie,” you breathed, your hands reaching out, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “Eddie, I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here. Just hold on. Hold on a bit longer. Please, please hold on, do you hear me?”
There was the softest of flutters of his eyelids, fleeting and ephemeral enough to make you wonder if you’d simply imagined it.
With a barely suppressed howl of rage, you ripped at the vines around Eddie’s throat, tearing them away as your fingertips dug into the gooey black tissue of the creepers.
They came away writhing and hissing, their black blood seeping over your hands, mingling with the crimson stains of Eddie’s blood on your palms as screeches and hisses rose like a chorus of echoes in the air.
He knew. If Vecna hadn’t already known you were here, he would, now.
And time was running out like sand slipping through your fingers.
One by one, the vines came away beneath your hands, revealing angry red marks crisscrossing the pale skin of Eddie’s neck that only fueled your rage, this blinding, white-hot wrath that felt like it was burning you alive.
You wanted to hurt Vecna, hurt every last thing in this forsaken realm.
When the last of the creepers around Eddie’s throat came lose, his head lolled forward, against your shoulder, and a tremor ran through his body as you moved on to free his wrists, the black blood of the vines cold as it ran over your down your arms while you dug your nails into the creepers to shred them beneath your hands like paper.
It was easy, you realized when they came loose, Eddie’s wrists slipping free as he fell forwards, a limp weight in your arms.
Too easy.
“Do you truly think you can save him?”
There was mock in Vecna’s voice as it boomed through the air from behind you while you sunk to your knees in an attempt to support Eddie’s weight, keep him from falling over as, with a weak susurration, Eddie pleaded, “Go. Leave.”
“Not without you.”
Eddie’s hands came up to cradle your face, his skin cool, colder with every second that ticked by as the life drained out of him, and the tears – of despair, this time – started flowing as he rested his forehead against yours.
“I didn’t die for you to die for me, ya know,” he breathed, his nose brushing against yours as his eyes – his eyes, so warm and gentle and brimming with love – found yours, the ghost of his old humor laced in his voice. “Go. Live.”
“Not without you,” you echoed your own words once more.
Vecna’s chuckle rose in the air like a horrid echo. “You are a fighter for sure.”
A cry ripped from you as something cold and wet wrapped around your left ankle, dragging you backwards, away from Eddie as Vecna mused, “Stay with me, and you stay with him.”
“No,” Eddie’s weak whisper floated through the air as he reached out for you, a desperate attempt to grab you as he sunk to the ground, his mess of black curls spilling around his pale features.
You fought with every last ounce of strength left in you, every remaining dreg of willpower as you thrashed against Vecna’s creepers as they curled around your ankles, your wrists, pulling you away from Eddie and backwards to one of the still empty pillars, rendering you so utterly, utterly helpless as desperate sobs ripped from your throat.
Not for yourself, but for Eddie, cowering on the ground.
“Your suffering,” Vecna droned, stepping closer, the façade of his stolen face crumbling, the pale skin on his cheeks rotting away to reveal tendons and muscle beneath as those stolen umber eyes watched you intently while he drew closer, a predator stalking its prey, “Is almost at an end.”
The vines had reached your throat, cold and slippery, squeezing as your back met the pillar while Vecna’s mask melted away, wilted away, his form decaying in a gruesome, cruel promise of what would happen to Eddie’s body if your desperate attempt to save him failed.
And failing, it was.
Once again, Vecna’s hand found its way to your face, a long, sharp fingernail dragging along the side of your cheek, tracing the glittering streaks of tears as Eddie hissed, “Stay. Away. From her.”
Over Vecna’s shoulder, you could see how Eddie fought himself to his knees, ringed fingers digging into the dirt for purchase as he pushed himself off the ground with every last ounce of strength left in him while the creepers and your own tears choked your voice.
“Don’t try to put up a fight you cannot win, boy,” Vecna crooned, his eyes still watching you and his voice almost gentle as his other hand raised in the air, a flick of his index finger enough to make more creepers sprout from the ground, wrap around Eddie’s ankles to rip him off his feet again – but Eddie didn’t surrender. His dark eyes locked on you, the bandana slipping off his head to release the mess of his wild curls as he struggled and fought against the creepers, he hissed, “I said. Don’t. Touch. Her. You ugly. Fucking. Boogeyman.”
For a split second…Vecna flinched as Eddie called him Boogeyman. As if the insult had actually hit home.
Of course it had, it dawned on you.
All this doling out judgement, deciding who lived and who died, his message for the little girl which had defeated and banished him here – in his own eyes, Vecna was the god of this mirror realm as much as he was in yours.
A banished god, but a god nonetheless.
And if the stories humankind had been telling since the beginning of history had taught you one thing…it was that gods got bored.
Before the creepers slithering up your throat, your chin, could reach your lips to mute you, you spat, “Let’s play a game.”
Your eyes found Vecna’s, icy blue seeping through the warm umber of his irises as his mask kept melting away.
“I don’t play games.”
“Don’t you get bored?”, you choked out, the creepers’ grip around your throat tightening further, “Banished by a little girl. Banished over and over again. Don’t you want revenge? Don’t you want to hurt us all for what we keep doing to you?”
“Yup, um,” Eddie choked, “Sweetheart…you’re not…helping –“
“I am hurting you right now,” Vecna crooned, Eddie’s voice dying with the tightening of creepers around his throat, and rage burned in your chest as Vecna dragged the back of his index finger along your jaw.
“Not as much as you could,” you breathed, oxygen running out. You could see the gleam of cruelty, of interest, in those eyes, fully blue now, like a lake frozen in eternal winter. He was listening.
You needed to make it count.
“Let us go,” you forced out, “And see how far we can run. If you’re as powerful as you think you are – there’s nothing left for you to lose and a lot of entertainment to win.”
The smirk playing on this creature’s rotting lips was sickening, when he crooned his reply. “I have a better idea.”
You waited for the vines to squeeze your windpipe, throttle you, snap your bones – but their grip…loosened.
You fell to the ground, on your knees in front of Vecna’s decaying, mutated form, your teeth gritted as a claw-tipped index finger locked underneath your chin, tilting your head up to force you to meet his cold eyes when he drawled, “You wanted to make a deal. To stay with me in his stead.”
“Yes,” you whispered.
“NO!”, Eddie howled, but the vines clamped over his mouth, his eyes wide as tears of panic and terror and despair streamed down his face, smearing the soot and the blood on his cheeks.
“Here is my deal, girl,” Vecna cooed. “Run. Run away and leave him here with me and don’t look back. Not once. If you look back before you’ve reached the edge of my realm, I will keep both of you. If you don’t, and if you make it past my army – I will give him back to you.”
You knew what Vecna was doing. You knew the story and you knew it didn’t have a happy ending.
A tale as old as time.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”, you hissed.
Vecna tilted his head, the skin on his cheek shriveling away with the movement to reveal pale bone and teeth beneath.
“You won’t. I might be many things – but I am no liar. But you better hurry if you want to save him,” Vecna droned, trailing his finger down your throat, over the vines that heeded his command, loosening, slithering down to the ground, “Because time is running out. There is only so much even I can do when a heart has ceased beating for long enough.”
With these parting words hanging in the air of his lair, Vecna stepped away from you, and the rest of the vines retreated to set you free.
As if on cue, there was a last deep, distorted tick of the grandfather clock floating in the distance.
With a last glance at Eddie, his eyes screaming at you to run, you did exactly that.
You turned heel, and you ran.
At first, nothing happened.
You’d anticipated monsters, another swarm of bats, vines, something.
The absence of all these things could only mean that Vecna had something else in store for you.
Something worse than his vines and his monsters.
But the one thing you could do right now was continue to run.
And you did.
Breaking through the wall of mist, you were back in the woods, beneath the crimson thunderclouds glaring through the naked branches of the trees, your pants echoing through the air as your legs carried you faster than you’d ever run, the edge of the woods already in sight –
A scream pierced the air. Laced with raw, primal anguish.
Eddie’s scream, calling out for you.
You froze dead in your tracks.
A trick. It was a trick. Eddie was with Vecna. Eddie was still there, left behind because that was the deal, and this was nothing but a trick to make you turn around and lose the bargain.
To condemn Eddie and yourself to eternal Hell in Vecna’s lair.
A second scream rang through the air of the woods, even more tormented than the first one.
“HE TRICKED YOU! VECNA TRICKED YOU!”
No. No, he didn’t. He couldn’t –
Why couldn’t he?
It was the game of gods and monsters you were playing.
You’d left Eddie behind, in this horrible place, among the rotting souls of Vecna’s victims, his collection of butterflies, all for a monster’s promise?
“MAKE IT STOP!”, Eddie’s screams filled the air, “PLEASE! PLEASE MAKE HIM STOP! HELP ME!”
“It’s a trick,” you whimpered. You knew the story. Vecna sure as Hell knew it, too. Orpheus turns, Eurydice stays damned, they both die in the end.
But these screams, the pictures they painted in your mind…they were made from the fabric of nightmares.
He had Eddie. He still had your sweet, gentle Eddie, locked up in this place of horrors.
And with a glance at the trailer park in the distance, the trailers dark silhouettes against the crimson skies, you realized that Vecna hadn’t needed to trick you. You’d done that all on your won.
Because of course you were still trapped in Vecna’s vision.
Without music.
Oh god.
In all your grief and despair, so hellbent on bringing Eddie back…not once had you thought about bringing yourself back as well.
You didn’t have music to break the curse. And Dustin – Dustin was with the others, having sought them out because you and Eddie had sent him there, out of harm’s way.
There was no one left to put a pair of headphones over your ears.
And Vecna had known it all along.
That’s why he’d agreed.
It had been a losing game all along.
“No,” you whispered, slowly sinking to your knees while the tears started falling again, Eddie’s screams filling the air, and your hands pressed over your eyes as if there was any chance to keep the flood of images at bay of all the horrible things Vecna could be doing to Eddie right now, doing to him because you’d left him there. “No, no, nonononono NO! STOP!”
But it didn’t stop.
“MAKE IT STOP!”, Eddie’s scream laced with your own, “PLEASE! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! HELP ME! PLEASE, COME BACK!”
Your head snapped up at these words, breath catching in your throat.
These screams couldn’t belong to Eddie.
It was his voice, but these weren’t his words – because Eddie wouldn’t scream for you to come back. No matter the torture Vecna could concoct for him, Eddie would want you to run, to leave him in that place, because he’d wanted you safe. That’s why he’d cut the rope, had darted out of the safety of the trailer and right into certain death to buy more time. Not for the others, but for you.
Which meant Vecna was trying to trick you right now.
Which, again, meant he knew there was a way out, other than with music.
A hidden path to break the spell from within.
And he was distracting you so you wouldn’t find it.
Hands pressing over your ears to drown out the screams, your mind was going a mile a minute.
What had Max told you?
The red realm, the pillars, Vecna’s victims. The remains of Creel House, the floating clock, the light seeping through the red petals of the flowers in the stained-glass window.
Music, Kate Bush’s voice ripping the fabric of Vecna’s curse, opening a window back to reality.
I thought of when I was happy.
Happy.
Happy memories.
If Max was sure she could hide in a happy memory – maybe a happy memory would be the key to unlock the door even without music.
Your eyes squeezing shut, the screams that weren’t Eddie’s in the air, you thought of him.
How you’d always watched him in English Lit class, the movement of his hands as he drew little doodles to the pages of his books, all over his notes. Bats and guitars and random chords, little demon faces and monsters. Admiring him from afar, this dangerous looking guy with the mane of dark curls that wasn’t black but the soft brown of dark chocolate, with his tattoos and rings and ripped jeans and leather jacket, the guy most people steered well clear of because he was a freak dealing drugs.
How one day, he’d caught you watching him in class – and had given you the most timid yet dazzling smile you’d ever seen.
How with that first smile, you’d known you’d fall for him.
How, a few days later, there had been a little doodle of a vampire bat waving a wing in greeting slipped through the slits in your locker door, the word “hi” scrawled at the bottom with black sharpie. The answering “hi” with a rendition of a waving bat of your own you’d slipped through his locker door – and all the little doodles and notes which had followed.
The first time these clandestinely swapped slips of paper had turned into a real conversation.
Fleeting touches and lingering glances, until one day, there had been one of his doodles of a bat playing the guitar, with a note inviting you to one of his band’s gigs at The Hideout.
The first kiss in the moonlight outside of the bar, and all the kisses since.
Eddie Munson, who was your first kiss, your first love, your first everything, and who’d always be the last because you knew with all your heart that there never could be anyone you loved as much as you loved Eddie.
And with this burst of happiness as these memories flitted to you, like a swarm of fireflies lighting up this eternal night of pain and grief and loss and fear, you grabbed one.
The newest one.
Yesterday night.
His dark curls were tousled, even messier than usual with the way you’d raked your hand through the soft strands as he’d kissed you, both of you breathless. A fresh wave of need flooded you as Eddie’s fingertips wandered down along your spine, the warm, smooth metal of his rings a beautiful contrast to his hands, calloused from years and years of playing his guitar.
His breath ghosted over your collarbone to elicit sparks in its wake; your body turned into a live wire beneath his caresses as his soft lips trailed kisses down the column of your throat. Another moan tumbled from your lips, and you could feel his smile against your sweat-soaked skin as you mused, “Don’t you think they’ll know what’s up if we stay away any longer?”
Eddie chuckled, the sound vibrating through your body with a pleasant shiver that seemed to travel straight to your core, stoking the need for him once more. God, you would never get enough of this. Of him. All of him.
“We’re a couple,” Eddie breathed, teeth grazing the sensitive skin above your racing pulse point as he pressed closer against you, his thigh creating enough friction against your heat to send your senses spinning all over again, and one of his hands came up to gently tilt your chin, granting him even better access to the sensitive skin below your ear. “We snuck away half an hour ago. I’m pretty sure they know exactly what we’re doing.”
“Have been doing.”
“Are still doing,” he corrected mischievously.
“Is this a radio show or a secret make-out session?”, you teased, and Eddie snickered in reply, before he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, those beautiful umber eyes brimming with warmth, his pupils still dilated with arousal as he whispered, “I love you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”
“I love you too,” you breathed, and Eddie’s expression changed as he saw the tears brimming in your own eyes, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.
“What is it?”, he asked softly. His voice was a dark croon, still laced with his afterglow, his breathing ragged, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared to lose you, Eddie.”
He squeezed his eyes shut as he nodded, overwhelmed with his own emotions as your words burst the happy little bubble the two of you had created, reality catching up with you again. Of the plan for tomorrow. And the thoughts of everything that could go wrong.
“I can’t lose you,” you whispered, your voice breaking with the strain of tears.
“You won’t,” Eddie crooned. His breath was warm as it fanned over your lips, his scent wrapping around you like a blanket. “I promise you won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
There was a beat of silence, before Eddie’s hands left your cheeks and he reached up to remove his necklace, a few stray curls tangling in the tiny links as he pulled it over his head.
“Wait, let me –“ you breathed, already moving to help untangle the strands from the necklace, “What are you even doing?”
The last few of his curls were freed beneath your fingertips, and with another of his sunshine-smiles, Eddie gently put the necklace over your head, the guitar pick dangling from the band warm against the skin below your collarbone as your hand flew up you grasp it, eyes widening in surprise.
“You –“
“Keep it safe for me, sweetheart, will ya?”, Eddie smiled softly, pulling you closer before he nuzzled his nose against yours. “And when we’re out of there, safe and sound, and that goddamn son of a bitch is six feet under, you can give it back.”
The lump in your throat was growing, throttling you. “And what if we don’t?”
The expression in Eddie’s dark eyes was stern when he breathed, “Then you’ll have to find me in the next life to give it back.”
“I can do that. I’ll find you in every life. I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”
“Good,” he replied, the softest of smiles on his lips as he gently tilted your head, “Because you won’t get rid of me again, sweetheart. Promise.”
And his lips met yours, to kiss away the fear and the sorrows once again.
Tears running down your face, your hand flew up, fingers wrapping around Eddie’s guitar pick charm resting over your heart, its surface smooth and warm against your skin, love flooding every cell of your body, every corner of your soul, like sunlight piercing through thunderclouds.
And when you lifted your head, it was there, at the edge of the woods, where the trees stopped and the trailer park began.
A rip in the fabric of Vecna’s curse.
The way out.
The screams that weren’t Eddie’s behind you, you climbed to your feet and started to run.
You didn’t turn around.
You were winning, you realized as you drew closer, your ragged breaths filling the air, blood rushing in your ears.
You were winning this twisted game of gods and monsters.
There, beyond the veil of Vecna’s curse, was your silhouette, still as a statue, head raised to the skies. And there was Eddie, his lifeless body on the ground beside you, his heart still as frozen and still as this cursed mirror realm.
Not much longer.
You were close, so close –
There was a shriek in the air, blood-curdling and high-pitched, a million voices forming one.
And then they were upon you.
Bats; hundreds and hundreds of them.
A sea of claws and wings and teeth.
You screamed as they reached you, leathery wings slapping your face, talons scratching and tearing at every inch of your skin, drawing blood, pain shooting through your body as you fought to keep going, to keep pushing forwards.
This was what it had felt like for Eddie, you realized. The last minutes of his life.
Panic and pain, drowning in a sea of monsters because he wanted to draw them away from you.
Only that for him, it had been real while this, right now, was nothing but an illusion.
They weren’t real.
They couldn’t kill you.
Only Vecna could do that.
With a howl of fury and anguish, you darted forwards, towards the rip, towards Eddie, the real Eddie.
Who needed you to run.
To make it, for the both of you, before he was so far gone that not even Vecna could bring him back.
A final cry ripping from the back of your throat, you leapt through the torn, frayed edges of Vecna’s spell.
With a gasp, your eyes flew open the moment your knees hit the ground, hands splayed in the dirt to catch your fall, body racked by tremors as you fought for your lungs to fill with the Upside Down’s toxic air.
The bats were gone, vanished. So were the screams.
You’d made it. You’d actually made it.
“EDDIE!”, you cried out, voice breaking as you scrambled to your feet, towards his lifeless form.
“Eddie”, you sobbed, falling to your knees beside him, your hands shooting out to grasp his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “I made it out. You need to wake up now, okay? You gotta wake up.”
Any second now. He would tilt his head and smile at you and everything would be okay, the rip in your own chest mended, the pain chased away by joy.
You waited.
For Eddie’s chest to rise with an intake of breath.
For the warmth and light and life to return to his umber eyes.
For his lips to tug into one of his sunshine-smiles as he realized that you’d done it, that you’d brought him back.
But nothing happened.
His chest didn’t move.
His umber eyes stayed fixed on the bleeding skies, hollow and unseeing and dull.
“Eddie?”, you breathed. Pleaded. “Eddie, you need to wake up.”
You shuffled closer, your hands running through his dark curls, the strands coated with dried blood as you cradled his head, the pad of your thumb caressing his cheek to swipe away some of the soot and dried blood.
His skin was cold beneath your touch.
“Wake up, Eddie. Wake up. Come back –“
But he didn’t.
It felt like breaking all over again.
Your head thrown back, you screamed at the skies, voice shrill as it rang through this eerie new quiet.
“YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED TO BRING HIM BACK YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
There is only so much even I can do when a heart has ceased beating for long enough.
You’d been too late, you realized.
And Eddie…he would stay in this horrible place.
Alone and scared, another beautiful dead butterfly pinned to Vecna’s wall of horrors.
You had left him there.
“No,” you sobbed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, his curls tickling your tearstained cheeks.
This couldn’t be the end. Not in this cold, dark realm frozen in time. Not now, when there would have been a whole lifetime ahead; when there were so many dreams to live, memories to make.
It wasn’t fair –
There was a sharp intake of breath, a soft shudder running through his body.
Followed by a muted, “Jesus H. CHRIST.”
Your head snapped up – and your eyes met Eddie’s.
Warm and brimming with life and relief and tears as you stared at each other in utter shock and disbelief before his lips found yours, his fingers gently grasping your chin to tilt your head up and deepen the desperate, greedy kiss, so fierce and full of everything neither of you had the words to phrase right now, of heartbreak and relief and happiness and love.
Tell me this is real, your lips moving against his seemed to beg, tell me it’s not just another of Vecna’s cruel tricks.
The kiss tasted of blood, of your tears mingling with his own, of him, and a suppressed sob of relief ripped from your throat as Eddie’s hands settled on your back, trembling when he pulled you closer against him as if he, too, wanted to be sure that this was real.
The dark realm of the Upside Down blurred around you like watercolours running over a canvas while every fibre of your being was filled with raw, radiant happiness.
Because no matter what would happen now, with Vecna, with Hawkins…everything would be okay. Eddie was back. That was all that counted.
Nothing else mattered but this, right here. Eddie’s lips on yours, his skin warm against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he held you close.
Your hands found their way beneath the remains of his torn Hellfire shirt, roaming up his chest – careful not to graze the bite wounds, his skin coated with dried blood beneath your searching fingertips – and Eddie pulled away, a little bewildered. “Um, like…right now?”, he panted, “I mean – here?”
“Your heartbeat,” you breathed, dumbfounded. “I want to feel your heartbeat.”
There was a second of silence before you both burst into tear-stained, relieved laughter.
You’d thought you’d never hear that sound again, the beautiful melody of Eddie’s laugh.
Your favorite sound in the world. It made sobs rack your body all over again as Eddie shuffled closer, his arms coming around you once more to pull you against him as he cooed, “It’s okay. I’m fine. You did it.” With your cheek pressed against his collarbone, you could feel the soft, incredulous laugh rumbling through him as he added, “You fucking did it.”
He moved, one of his hands finding yours underneath his shirt to gently guide your own hand upwards, placing your palm over the warm skin of his chest, right above the steady pounding of his heart.
“See? You made it,” he whispered, a half-sob, half-laugh bubbling from his lips, “You fucking made it. You fucking brought me back. We’re gonna need to have a talk about your crisis discussion with the undead eldritch entity ‘cause I was pretty sure my soul left my body for a second time in a row when you recounted how we all repeatedly sat his ass on fire but you fucking made it.”
“That was pretty metal of me, huh?” you whispered.
“Hell yeah. You totally stole my thunder, sweetheart. Just when I thought my guitar solo was the moment of the day you drag my ass out of the goddamn Underworld.”
You sniveled, the tears still rushing down the sides of your face – of relief this time.
Your free hand, the one that wasn’t resting over Eddie’s heart, flew up to grasp the guitar pick dangling around your neck and pull the necklace over your head, but Eddie’s hand folded over yours to stop you. “Keep it,” he said softly, “Just…I…you went in there for me. You did that.”
“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t saved me first,” you breathed, a smile on your lips. “That was pretty damn heroic yourself, Munson.”
There was a beat of silence, before Eddie said quietly, “I’d do it again to save you. Not a second of hesitation.”
“I know. So would I.”
His hands came up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently brushing away the tears from your face as he whispered, “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so fucking much.”
“And I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”
---
𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢���𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 ♡
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things eddie#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fix it fic#eddie munson imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#stranger things imagine
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List of the most underrated Hozier songs imo while I’m going feral
Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - “Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet. Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile, bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet”
Would That I - “With the war of the fire my heart moves to its feet. Like the ashes of ash, I saw eyes in the heat. Feel it soft and as pure as snow. Fell in love with the fire long ago”
To Be Alone - “I know that you hate this place, not a trace of me would argue. Honey, we should run away, oh someday. Our baby and her momma and the damaged love she make”
Talk - “I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found. I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground. I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around. I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice. Imagine being loved by me!”
Nina Cried Power - “It's not the song, it is the singin'. It's the heaven of the human spirit ringin'. It is the bringin' of the line. It is the bearin' of the rhyme. It's not the wakin', it's the risin'”
To Noise Making (Sing) - “Who could ask to be unbroken or be brave again? Or honey hope even on this side of the grave again? And who could ask it to be sound or to feel saved again? Or stick around until you hear that music play again? So honey sing, and sing, and sing, and sing, and sing, and sing, and sing”
Sunlight - “Each day, you'd rise with me, know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty. Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight. Strap the wing to me. Death trap clad happily. With wax melted, I'd meet the sea. Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight”
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Magnum Opus or Great Work: Alchemical Codes in "Harry Potter"
"I've never wanted to be a witch, but an alchemist, now that's a different matter. To invent this wizard world, I've learned a ridiculous amount about alchemy." JKR. By the way, it seems JKR never became an alchemist because you can't be that evil an alchemist, Joanne. Something went wrong.
The first part about Lily and James
Voldemort – an occult alchemist, Lucifer. Snape – a Seeker who chose the wrong Path. Dumbledore – Keeper of the Tower. Hermione – Hermes Trismegistus. Harry, Hermione and Ron – the three principles for creating the Philosopher's Stone.
Alchemy is the universal path of spiritual transformation. In a literal sense, universal, this code is practically everywhere–from ancient myths and the Bible to the philosophy of Nietzsche (though in his understanding) and Jung's books. Harry Potter himself is a complete alchemist's path, but there's also a well-displayed second path–the path of the occult alchemist.
True alchemy tells us that God is in everything, like a seed present in every person. Through alchemical transformation, a person can be reborn – and become golden, divine, immortal.
Many famous people were fascinated by these ideas – from Newton to Goethe, from Walter to Mozart. Yes, Walter and Mozart were freemasons, but freemasonry is built on the Magnum Opus, it's its foundation. Who has seen the opera The Magic Flute? A completely masonic opera: the surface layer was for the people, and the deeper layer – for the spiritual elite of that time. In this opera, the power of love transforms people and makes them divine. Oh, it seems to resemble Harry Potter, hehe... Harry Potter also has two layers – one as a fairytale about a wizard for teenagers, the other – for those who can "feel" the symbols, even without knowing them.
Each symbol can be interpreted in several ways, that's the complexity of alchemical symbolism. For example, Albus Dumbledore. He symbolizes (in JKR's own words) Spirit ( he's white), and Rubeus Hagrid – Soul (red) – and they're both like two fatherly figures for Harry, distant and warm, judicious and understanding. But all this is at the character level. Dumbledore has other meanings – much more important ones. As I've said before, the symbolic level and the character level are different levels. In interpreting symbols, you don't need to interpret every line, you need to take the context as a whole. Characters operate on one level, symbols – on another.
So, alchemy is an extension of the universal idea – to be reborn, you need to "die." Like Jesus died on the cross, Orpheus on the banks of the River Gebre, and Osiris in the coffin prepared by Typhon, in alchemy, until all the elements (parts of the old personality) die, the work cannot be completed.
The stages of this alchemical process can be traced in the lives of almost all world "heroes" and in the mythology and legends of many cultures. This is a universal code.
“Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again” John 3:3
Alchemy proclaims that without decomposition, the Great Work cannot be accomplished.
The past Self dies on the cross and in the retorts and becomes black during decomposition. The new Self rises from hell, like a phoenix. The phoenix is a pure alchemical symbol.
This is the creation of the Philosopher's Stone.
It is symbolically described in "The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz". The book presents an allegorical story divided into "Seven Days" or "Seven Journeys," which tells how its author, Christian Rosenkreutz, was invited to a castle full of wonders to help with the "Chymical Wedding" of the king and queen. Harry also receives a letter in a storm (like Rosenkreutz) and goes to the castle for 7 years, chooses one of the four paths (Gryffindor), and so on.
Alchemists called the creation of the Philosopher's Stone the Great Work – Opus Magnum. This process consisted of three stages: decomposition (nigredo), rebirth (albedo), and final perfection (rubedo). Each of these stages corresponded to a specific colour: black, white and red.
Nigredo. Albedo. Rubedo.
In Harry Potter, these stages correspond to Sirius Black, Albus (white) Dumbledore, and Rubeus (red) Hagrid. The end of each stage is marked by their death. In the seventh book, it's Hagrid who carries the "dead" Harry.
There is a fundamental difference between "true alchemists" and "occult alchemist."
Tom Riddle is an occult alchemist. For him, the Great Work is also self-creation, but what kind? For him, it is complete mastery of his abilities and his future, and especially the complete liberation of his will.
Tom is a will, but his will not submissive to the will of God. It's a Luciferian will. The will of a fallen angel who began to oppose his own free will to the influence of Divine Love-Light. Instead, he sought and loved his own power outside Divinity, in himself.
"Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven" John Milton, "Paradise Lost"
Baphomet, or the Sabbatic Goat, drawing by Eliphas Levi, on its hands are inscriptions "Solve et Coagula." This is an alchemical principle. JKR, by the way, also has such a tattoo.
In occultism, it is believed that magic is control of one's will, and a will can control matter. After all, what did his followers choose for their motto? Magic is Might. Harry never defeated Voldemort with such magic. Because he doesn't need it.
What does Tom boast about? Tom boasts that he has mastered the deepest depths of dark magic. He went so far in it as no one before. Dark magic requires an iron will, and Tom achieved incredible heights in it. He even achieved immortality in this material universe, literally cursing his soul! Only Tom doesn't understand that Dumbledore (a true alchemist) is not interested in all this. Because true immortality is not there. True transformation is not there. Because their paths are completely different – Dumbledore is going to the "God and divine immortality," and Tom is going to "material immortality."
In general, fans of occult alchemy, the Left-Hand Path, and Nietzschean philosophy probably consider Tom a much more interesting character because here he is – the king of matter, a man of incredible will and strength who destroys the slave Christian morality and proclaims that God is dead, long live the Übermensch (homo superior)! (Nietzsche would have been proud of him…) By the way, Bellatrix is most likely symbolically – Lilith, Adam's first wife according to Kabbalistic apocrypha, who rebelled against Adam. God created them equal, and Adam wanted to have power over Lilith... In short, Lilith is the first feminist in human history, hehe.
The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel. Lilith.
In short, Tom Riddle is such an adept of broken alchemy. Where Tom is his own personal will, Harry is Faith and the will of the Spirit. Harry is also very strong-willed, but his will is different, it's not individualistic. It's a will of sacrifice, a will of love, a will of mercy, a will of trust. The main theme of the seventh book is a crisis of faith. And what kind of will does one need to show to continue the quest for Horcruxes and not go for the Deathly Hallows? Simply put, the will of Harry and Tom is completely different.
And Tom will never understand this. He's an individualist. He's a Nietzschean Übermensch. He's reached the limits of human capabilities. But for what? From dust you are and to dust you shall return, Tom...
Severus Snape — a Seaker who chose the wrong Path
And Snape, by the way, initially turns away from Lily (Lily is love of God, represented in the world). Because he's obsessed with becoming dark magic, his ego and desire for secret knowledge and being proud are very great.
Btw, Lily is a mudblood. In the sense that God is not in shining beautiful armor. This is Lucifer's mask – to be pure, to shine, to sparkle. But the real God can be found by seeking, under the feet of the poorest and "dirtiest" person. After all, for God, everyone is equal. It's the Devil who divides.
And pure-bloods, for example, the Blacks, are "false purity." Luciferian purity. Material purity, purity of shining gold. It's division. And where there's division – there's the Devil.
In short, Snape turns away from Lily because this path is difficult, he doesn't understand how to approach her, he already uses dark magic, has a lot of knowledge, and delves into various secrets, and shows what "bad" paths other seekers (the Marauders) take... (The seeker is not my term, it's from the Rosicrucian manifesto, alchemists call themselves seekers) But Lily still refuses to unite Spirit and Soul. And he calls her a "mudblood," insulting her. For Lily, this is a sign that this soul is almost lost. And there's no sincere regret in him when he asks for forgiveness. He asks her to forgive him, but his soul is still on the old Path. Lily isn't angry with him, it's not about anger or offense. Snape's soul is almost lost at this moment, closed to the divine spark and love. After all, for love to enter your heart, you first need to open yourself to it.
Only when Snape sees true face of Tom's "alchemy," in which Tom is ready to kill Love, the divine spark, essentially kill God in the souls of all people, then Snape, as a real Seeker, realizes that he's going the wrong way... And he runs to the main Alchemist, Dumbledore, to ask to preserve this love, this manifestation of God on earth.
But you can't preserve it without preserving the seeker of the right Path in your soul (James) and without preserving the possibility of the emergence of the transformed soul (Harry).
This is a very important moment, not only because you can't kill people in principle. Dumbledore literally tells him that you can't save love of God, the divine spark in your soul, if you kill in yourself the one who reaches out to God (the deer) and if you kill the POSSIBILITY of becoming this new transformed soul (Harry).
For Snape, this becomes a turning point, and he decides to switch sides to true alchemy. Dumbledore asks in return for Snape's soul, but not in the sense that the Devil demands it, he asks for loyalty to the Path. Below I'll explain the symbolism of Dumbledore and what he means in terms of alchemical symbolism (I don’t think he is God).
Snape becomes loyal to Dumbledore. But Lily is killed, as is James. The world, despite the fact that Voldemort temporarily goes into hibernation (and the Savior is alive), plunges into despair. Sirius (as a divine symbol of light) is in captivity, Remus (a symbol of a seeker with a "good but not brave" soul) is somewhere wandering the world, and Harry lives very poorly with the Dursleys... Harry doesn't know any God, and the seeker in him is also "dead". And Voldemort will soon rise again, he's just gathering strength.
Harry's path is the path of returning to God through Mother of God (Theotokos). Because it is Mother of God who is the true Spirit. That's why he meets Lily only at the end of the seventh book, when he's almost completed the alchemical transformation. For Christians, this is heresy, but for alchemists, it's not. The Son and Mother of God are one whole. The Virgin Mary is part of the Trinity, because only through the spiritual unity of the Mother and the Son is the salvation of humanity possible.
And who does he meet her through? Through Snape. Who dedicated his entire life to transforming his Soul, merging it with the Spirit, ultimately coming to God.
He spent his whole life hating James, as a Seeker of a different kind, not like him—Snape always leaned a bit towards Nietzschean stories. And James always hated Dark Magic and all dark things (although this doesn't make the souls of this type much better, they can also be egocentric). Snape teaches Potions, he knows how to bottle up Love, Death and Luck... So much power, so much pride in this...
Recently, I reposted a very interesting post. Snape wanted to recover his soul, because he was guilty of Lily's death. A very beautiful meta, but I see a bit different alchemical meaning. His soul is broken not only because Lily partly died because of him. His soul is broken overall because of the Path he chose - that of an occult alchemist, and he remains a "spy" to the end of his days, playing two roles, constantly "here and there". He dies at the hands of his former master.
Snape takes Lily's letter because he needs Lily's love (like people wear crosses), while there isn't enough understanding of where to go (Dumbledore is already dead)
Snape always yearned for Lily. And Dumbledore asks for us, the readers: "After all this time?" And Snape answers for us "Always." You must love God always. And that is salvation for the soul.
In general, Snape only understands towards the end that you cannot love Lily without Harry and even James. Only one Path leads to Lily - the same as James’s path. The path of Ego, pride, thirst for power, secret knowledge, occultism, malice, hatred must finally dissolve. Snape fully exposes himself to Harry, although he shouldn't have (he should only pass on information about death), revealing the good (and the bad) that he always hid. His revelation to him speaks of his complete acceptance. He shows him his soul, literally bowing his head to him - here I am, here is my soul, in some things I have no excuse, sometimes I have justification, but I've been seeking God, seeking love all my life.
Will you accept my wounded soul?
This is confession. The realest confession.
And Harry accepts. Of course, Harry accepts. He looks at him with Lily's eyes.
Because no matter how "bad" you are, if you truly love God in your soul, if you truly seek Him, there will always be a place for you in the City of God. Snape is the constantly replayed plot of the Prodigal Son's return.
At this moment, all the "black" in Snape dies – the nigredo. Tears - the white stage, purification – the albedo stage, purification. Blood – naturally, the red stage. The alchemical transformation for Snape is complete.
(But geniuses from TikTok will still say that Harry shouldn't have named his son Albus Severus, because Snape was baaaad. Ofc he was bad sometimes, that's the point!)
Dumbledore is the embodied Path and Plan
As I mentioned before, Dumbledore asks for Snape's soul in return, but not in the sense that the Devil demands it, he asks for loyalty to the alchemical Path.
Dumbledore, as an alchemist, besides embodying the completion of the albedo stage for Harry with his death, is also the embodied Path. Dumbledore is the highest Guardian of the Tower, who watches over the Paths of others, he is the Man of Spirit, he is the Principle, he is the Master. What is the difference between Dumbledore and Lily? Lily is a more important symbol, she is like pure divine power, God = love, as in what all souls dissolve. Dumbledore, on the other hand, is the Guardian of the Path through which everyone must pass. In short, Lily is the answer to the question "where", and Dumbledore is the "how". And Dumbledore is just a man who also underwent his alchemical transformation and who can also succumb to temptation. But Dumbledore is not GOD, imo. To personify God in a book is too much (even for me, although I’m not religious at all). I don’t like the idea of him being God and... really, where? God is transcendent and pure divine love emanates from Lily that’s why she almost an empty canvas. Dumbledore is a principle. He is the answer to the question "HOW". That's why he asks to believe in him, believe in the ALCHEMICAL PATH AND PLAN. FOLLOW THIS PLAN TO THE END. Ascend the tower, as I once ascended it. After all, he lives up there in the tower. He observes.
For Snape, Dumbledore is so important because Dumbledore is the Path, a new Path that he did not have. And Dumbledore's death is so important for everyone because now no one points them towards the Path. But they must find this Path within themselves. Because the answers are inside them. You cannot become a true Alchemist if you constantly rely on external help. It's time to see the Path independently.
"You must kill me."
There was a long silence, broken only by an odd clicking noise. Fawkes the phoenix was gnawing a bit of cuttlebone. (HP and DH)
After Dumbledore says that Snape must kill him, there is silence and a very clear symbol - the phoenix and the bone. It's time for their souls to go independently, to eat away all the old to come to rebirth. Meanwhile, they also need to save Draco, who, by "Lucifer's" order, is about to kill the Path (although you can't outplay God's plan...). And then Dumbledore reveals that Harry must die.
This shocks Snape. Like any alchemist on the Path. How so, to die? After all, we all do everything to become closer to God, to immortality, and you say – just die? What kind of Path is this?
"I thought…all these years…that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.”
After all, we were protecting Harry for Lily, because as I've already said, only through the spiritual unity of the Mother and the Son is the salvation of humanity possible. Snape is protecting the son for the mother, and Dumbledore wants to kill him? For what?
Simply put, Snape doesn't understand that no one can save Harry until he dies and is reborn. It's painful, but all heroes go through this path for rebirth.
Dumbledore knows that there is a "seed" of "evil" in Harry, as in any of us. After the fall, we all carry Luciferian part within us. This is the last thing that must die in Harry, and he himself must die for it.
No one promised that the path of the alchemist would be easy. It's understandable why not everyone loves Dumbledore, he seems too cold and manipulative, but there is no other way for Harry on the symbolic level.
The Great Work
There are three stages of the Great Work: decomposition (nigredo), purification (albedo) and ultimate perfection (rubedo). These stages for Harry culminate in the deaths of Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore, and his own death, where he is carried out of the forest by Rubeus Hagrid.
And the result of his alchemical work should be Rebis — essentially the alchemical philosopher's stone, an androgynous being. In the collection of dialogues attributed to Hermes Trismegistus, God is depicted as androgynous. (Hermes Trismegistus is essentially the one who created the corpus of Hermetic texts).
Rebis is the unity of opposites. Day and night, Man and Woman, Good and Evil, Light and Darkness. All is one. There is no division. The wholeness of God. After the fall, we are all divided. And after the alchemical transformation, we can finally become whole and find ourselves and God.
In the form of merged men and women, sometimes depicted as the Virgin Mary and Christ, because They are one whole. As I have already said, for many alchemists, the Virgin Mary is part of the Trinity because only through the spiritual unity of the Mother and the Son was the redemption of original sin made possible. As I have already said, although Harry suffers more for James (his father turned out not to be as ideal as he thought), Lily is the main symbol in "Harry Potter".
The Nigredo stage literally means "blackness" - it signifies complete breakdown, decay, descent into the underworld, the trance of grief. It's a descent into the deepest fears, disbelief, denial, loss of self, anger, aggression. And through this - a return to the prima materia. This is what happens to Harry, "The Order of the Phoenix" is a very dark and depressing book, and with Sirius's death, this stage for Harry is completed. Sirius himself also undergoes transformations, but about this in the next part. The nigredo stage, during which a person's ego dissolves, is agonizing but necessary for further development. After the "I" meets its "shadow" and disintegrates into parts, it will need to be purified and recreated.
Albedo ("whiteness") symbolizes purification, transition to another world, change of life priorities, awakening, enlightenment. In alchemy, the transition from nigredo to albedo is achieved through the process of washing. The whole sixth book is misty, "white", "wet". "Washing" (albutio, baptisma) directly leads to whiteness (albedo). Purification. It's also silver, a lunar state. In Harry Potter, there is a character named Luna, which means moon in Latin. In different parts of the books, Luna also symbolizes this stage. With Dumbledore's death this stage for Harry completed.
Rubedo ("redness") - the final stage of the alchemical Great Work. The alchemist must establish a kind of sacrificial relationship with his inner essence. At the final stage, the so-called "alchemical marriage" takes place: the marriage of the Red King and the White Queen - Soul and Spirit. Harry (soul) and Lily (spirit) are united. With Hagrid carrying Harry this stage for Harry completed.
Bu the way, the Golden Snitch is an alchemical symbol also.
Firstly, Harry's position is called the Seeker. Alchemists also called themselves that. Secondly, the winged disc is a very ancient symbol, meaning the sun (God) and immortality.
The Snitch reveals to him the Resurrection Stone, and Harry "encounters" his main symbols, but the main one is Lily. It is her he asks not to leave him.
Harry's death here is read by everyone as the well-known plot of Christ's crucifixion. The path to this death is also a reference to the agony of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane before the Crucifixion. After all, Harry also wanted to end up somewhere, but Hogwarts is his home, and he accepts his fate.
My Father! all things are possible for Thee: take this cup of suffering away from me: and yet not what I desire, but what Thou desirest. Mark 14:36
He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home... But he was home.
Lily's Eyes
To be honest, I can assume that her green eyes was chosen at random. But what if they weren't? Her green eyes may seem illogical, as this is the colour of the snake, the colour of Slytherin, the colour of evil. But this is the occult Luciferian snake, the erroneous snake. Originally, green also dates back to Hermes Trismegistus – the god who gave the knowledge of alchemy. The most famous of the old hermetic-alchemical texts is inscribed on the "Emerald Tablet". According to legend, this document was left by Hermes Trismegistus on a plate of emerald in an Egyptian temple.
"The Emerald Tablet" is very important for alchemists." According to legend, a large emerald fell to the earth from Lucifer's head when he was cast out of heaven. From the same emerald that fell from the crown of the fallen Lucifer, angels made the Holy Grail (which is also the philosopher's stone, and the Snitch...). Emerald is a sacred green stone, and the heavenly divine world - the homeland of the emerald - a precious stone in which information about the heavenly homeland is encoded.
There is also the Ouroboros - a snake that devours its own tail - a symbol of infinity and immortality.
And the Snitch, which is a reflection of Hermes Trismegistus' staff (which has two battling snakes - two opposites, Spirit and Soul, Good and Evil and so on, and Hermes establishes unity between them with his staff).
Occultists, of course, interpret these symbols in their own way.
Hermione is Hermes Trismegistus. Mercury. Ron — Sulphur. Harry— Salt.
Hermione (Ἑρμιόνη [hermi. ónɛː]) is a feminine given name derived from the Greek messenger god Hermes. As I said, Hermes Trismegistus is the main figure of Hermetic teaching, he is also the one who predicted the coming of the Savior (traditional Christianity should not be confused with Gnostic teachings, the Church has always been against Gnosticism). In addition, Hermes is Mercury, and that is knowledge. Hermes Trismegistus shares "secret knowledge" with the world, which forms the basis of many Gnostic directions - from alchemy to Kabbalah.
Hermione is a little alchemist, she shares knowledge. It is Hermione who insists on complete trust in Dumbledore, it is Hermione who often leads Harry in the right direction when Dumbledore is not around. It is through Dumbledore and Hermione that "moral lessons" are often sounded, which often seem completely out of place. Like when Dumbledore says that James would forgive Peter. At that moment, I always want to say, "Are you out of your mind?!" although I understand that it is described on a symbolic, not personal level.
Mercury (Hermione), Sulphur (Ron), and Salt (Harry) were necessary in the alchemical transformation and were the main components. To create the philosopher's stone, all three elements had to be combined, and Harry is next to them throughout all the books.
Both Hermione and Ron are equally important in Harry's development.
Mercury is the more fluid primary principle, more rational, the feminine principle, while Sulphur is dynamic, expansive, unstable, acidic, unifying, masculine, paternal, and fiery principle. Sulphur is emotional, it is desire and passionate impulse that motivates life. Sulphur is desire. And according to Jung's reflections, it can also be foul and dangerous. Complete transmutation depends on the correct application of this variable principle. Sulphur must be of quality for transmutation to occur. And Ron achieves this quality.
Also, in mystical alchemy, Sulphur is crystallized inspiration of Mercury (Mercury).
Mercury and Sulphur are simultaneously antagonists, like the male and female elements, but at the same time Sulphur is crystallized Mercury.
So I have always been and will always be for Romione! Hehe. They were made for each other!
And as for Salt - that's Harry. It's the body. Sometimes it is called earth and body, salt is the essential body (corpus).
Alchemists say that salt was the first substance created by fire, emanating from God. In salt, all creation is concentrated, in salt the beginning and the end of all things.
Salt is associated with the ultimate elevation of matter - with matter that has acquired consciousness, achieved through the unity of opposites, including the unity of fire and water, the unity of what is above and what is below. Salt is the ultimate Philosopher's Stone, representing transcendence and ultimate knowledge.
Thus, salt symbolizes consciousness (thoughts, feelings, material, etc.), which must be elevated through alchemical processes of dissolution and recrystallization. Well, that's Harry himself.
Just love this stupid moment
Well, that's it, I think I've said everything, and from the next part, we can move on to the Marauders themselves :D
#i'm wondering if anyone but me is even interested in this at all#harry potter meta#harry potter#hermione granger#ron weasley#pro ron weasley#rubeus hagrid#pro severus snape#pro albus dumbledore#pro romione#hp meta#severus snape meta#lily evans#tom riddle#voldemort#tom riddle meta#bellatrix lestrange
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summary: in which jungkook loves much harder than orpheus.
> fluff, angst kinda / wc: 2.6k
> warnings: mentions of death ! if u don’t know the story of orpheus and eurydice, u can read a quick summary on google :]
note: helloooo everyone !! i’ve always been v fascinated w greek myth so i thought why not try writing a drabble around it and this came out soooo . hope you enjoy ! feedback is always appreciated <3
—
“baby? i still can’t sleep.”
you’re not sure whether it’s a yawn or a sigh that you forcefully stifle.
“want some wine?” you suggest with your eyes closed, silently praying that he says no because the bed is too comfortable and warm that the mere thought of climbing down from it already has hot tears forming behind your eyelids.
“not in the mood.” jungkook pouts, turning over to his side to face you. he folds his arm to put it under his head, the other moving to tenderly caress your hair.
“warm milk for my baby boy?”
he makes a noise of disagreement, bordering to a whine. he shifts closer to carefully lift your head so he can slide in his arm underneath, making it your pillow. “don’t feel like waking up again after two hours to pee.”
you snort out a laugh at his words. it’s past three in the morning, and you’re half awake, dipping in and out between unconsciousness and reality. naturally, a person turns restless when they’re having a hard time falling asleep. that’s why sharing a bed with your partner means the both of you will stay awake, or so you’ve learned.
you melt in your boyfriend’s embrace, hanging your arm over his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest, almost purring in contentment.
“sometimes it feels like i’m living with a cat instead of my lover.” he chuckles, stroking the back of your head fondly as you continue moving around.
“i want to be a cat in my next life.” you murmur with a sigh, relaxing once you deem yourself satisfied.
“is that so?” he beams at the new learned information. “then i’ll still be a human, so i can take care of you again like this.”
“sounds nice.” you hum at the thought, and you silently ask your brain to use it as material for an utopian-inspired dream tonight.
peaceful silence fills the air, only the faint sounds of the airconditioner and jungkook’s fingers occasionally scratching your scalp stimulating your ears. eventually, you succumb to the darkness and fall into a much-needed slumber.
the steady rhythm of your breathing is enough to let your boyfriend know you’re already asleep — a rhythm he has memorized like the back of his hand, a rhythm he has associated with what they call serenity.
he kisses your forehead, pillowy lips curved into a smile pressing against your skin. poor baby, you tried your best to stay awake with him for another two hours. he went boxing with his trainer before going home, and the adrenaline from the intense exercise is still refusing to let him sleep many hours later.
he reaches for his phone on the nightstand to check for the time, heedful of his movements to avoid waking you up. 3:23AM.
the hardcover book beside it catches his attention, and out of boredom and curiosity, he finds himself picking it up. he flips it around to read the words on the back, and finds out it’s all about the gods, goddesses, and divine and semi-divine figures of greek mythology.
he opens the book to the page you slotted your bookmark in. you hate stopping in the middle of chapters because you usually get lost when you come back to the book, and just end up reading it again from the very start. this reading habit of yours strings him to the story of orpheus and eurydice.
he holds up the book using the arm under your head (this is one of the trivial moments in life he feels grateful that he works out religiously). his free hand is unable to stay still, to rest in one place. it slips under your shirt to rub your lower back, the curve of your waist, your hips. his fingers trace invisible doodles, mindless confessions, your name. whether it’s you or him he is reminding himself to be real and tangible, he is not quite sure yet.
he returns it to its original place after, the contact between the hardcover and the maple wood producing a thump. he squeezes his eyes shut in fear, holding his breath when you stir in his arms. when you remain motionless for a few more seconds, he breathes again. and then sniffles.
the overwhelming thought comes crashing down on him: i am holding the most important person in my life. in the most vulnerable time of the night, in their most vulnerable state. they are asleep in my arms, trusting and loving me.
he wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, heart getting heavier and heavier at the thought of ever losing you like orpheus did eurydice. not once, but twice. both in his presence, both instances in which he could be blamed. if only he was more mindful of what was ahead of them while they were running, she wouldn’t have stepped on the viper. see, if it was jungkook, he would’ve carried you in his arms. no, if it was jungkook, he would’ve faced that damn aristaeus and got rid of him with his bare hands.
jungkook is crying over the part of the story that made it a famous tragedy — although for a unique reason. somehow, he sees himself in orpheus. considered the greatest musician of all time, with a golden voice and innate talent for the lyre. his music could calm the wildest of beasts and make the trees dance. however, the utter love and devotion he had for his wife felt familiar to him most of all. he, too, would free fall into the underworld and wander among the souls of the dead looking for you. he, too, would strip his soul naked and sorrowfully sing about his insurmountable grief infront of hades and persephone.
and with a lump in his throat that feels almost impossible to swallow down, he wonders: would he, too, make the grave mistake of looking back?
it’s either of the two: out of uncontainable excitement, the daylight shines on his face and he gleefully turns around to hug you, only to realize that you were still in the dark world when he shifted. he reaches out his hand for you, but it’s too late. the dreadful sight of you falling back into the deepest pits of the earth due to his careless miscalculation haunts him forever. or would it be anxiousness? the path leading back to the living world is too dark, too erie. he knows very well that he was instructed to never look back, but the fear that you are no longer walking behind him is gnawing at his insides. and so, he looks back. and he feels entirely responsible for your second death this time. frozen. numb. mournful.
he tugs at his lower lip with his teeth, tongue occasionally playing with his lip ring as he thinks about this. he feels the dried tear stains around his eyes, all the way to his temple. the time is lost on him. his back is facing the windows, where the sky gradually lightening up can be observed.
his stream of thoughts get interrupted when your thigh slumps over his hip. he feels the heel of your foot poking his asscheek and he makes balloons with his cheeks to stop his giggles from escaping. he leans down to place a sweet and gentle kiss on your forehead.
when he yawns, he decides that he has already made up his mind about the matter that plagued him for more than an hour. he tugs up your thigh over his waist when he feels it slowly slipping down, and then he hugs you tighter, finally drifting to sleep.
—
jungkook steals glances at you from the other side of mattress, the white light from his phone screen reflecting on his face. he clears his throat to catch your attention. “baby, do you trust me?”
“with my life.” you answer promptly, without any trace of question or hesitation in your voice. you fix your glasses before it completely slides off your nose, but then you decide to just remove it and put it aside on top of the abandoned box beside you.
somehow, he finds those three words sweeter than ‘i love you’. he smiles, more to himself, because you’re too preoccupied with your 1000 piece puzzle to bother and look at his way. it was delivered barely twenty minutes ago, and he finds the fire of determination in your eyes to finish it at the shortest time possible both hilarious and endearing.
he has finished replying to texts and emails, so he sets down his phone to finally spend time with you. “want some help?”
you only hum in response as you continue sorting the puzzle pieces by their colors.
“why did you set up beside the mattress though? what if we accidentally step on them?” he wonders out loud. he transfers his pillow beside your crossed legs and lays on his side with an arm tucked under his head.
“i didn’t think that far ahead.” you blink in realization before shrugging. “just don’t step on them.”
he laughs out loud, shaking his head at your nonchalance. “alright then.” he takes two scoops of puzzle pieces with his hand, dumping them infront of him. he quickly inspects the colors of each one before tossing them to their designated piles on the floor.
“i read orpheus and eurydice in your book last night before i fell asleep.” he opens the topic in the middle of doing his silly little task.
“really? did it help you fall asleep?”
“not at all.” he chortles. “i was up for another hour.”
“oh, my poor baby.” you frown and halt your movements, facing to your left to stroke his hair lovingly. “did it make you sad?”
“hmm, well- i put myself in his shoes and i- yes, it did.” he juts out his bottom lip. “i would go as far as going to the underworld to bring you back to me, too. but it also made me think that would i also make the same mistake as he did? then i thought about it a lot, and i realized something.”
“and that is?” you encourage him to continue, going back to sorting puzzle pieces to not make him feel self-conscious or awkward.
“that our relationship has made me a stronger person.” a half smile forms on his lips. “it’s true that you’re my achilles heel, but at the same time, you bring out the best in me. i can do everything and overcome anything for you. even things i never would’ve thought i’m capable of.”
“being in a long-term relationship also taught me that certain compromises and sacrifices must be made so we can love each other for a very long time. ah, wait, how should i put it?” his eyes wander around as he racks his brain for the right words that would accurately express the point he is trying to make.
you look down at him with a fond smile. his innocent doe eyes are sparkling with love and wisdom, and you feel your heartstrings being pulled in by them.
he suddenly sits up, stays quiet for a few more seconds, before snapping his fingers in enlightenment. “ah! that’s it.” your gazes meet, and you raise an eyebrow at him. he smiles at you warmly.
“compared to the past when i used to let my emotions get the best of me, i’m way more rational and patient now. but it’s not that i’m being logical for the sake of logic entirely, you know? it’s still emotional. it’s to protect us and our love.” he gestures at the both of you before forming a heart with his hands perfectly in sync with the last word of his sentence.
you burst out laughing, hiding your face in your hands as you burn the image of him into memory. he mimics your sounds, head softly falling on your lap as his body vibrates.
when the two of you calm down, he finds himself playing with your hand. “listen, i guess what i’m trying to say here is, i trust myself enough to know that i won’t look back because my love for you is much more persevering and grounded than orpheus’ love for eurydice.”
“i know.” you say softly, heart brimming with love and adoration for the beautiful man lying on your lap. “that’s why i trust you with my life. your love has been nothing but good to me. you don’t have to worry your pretty little head with such doubts.” you trace his eyebrows with your fingers, another one of your habits you cannot explain. it just feels nice. “i’m really happy to hear you say that you trust yourself.”
his proud smile grows, perfect teeth on display. god, not to be dramatic, but he is the most beautiful being to ever exist in the universe.
“i think i finally understand why you and namjoonie-hyung love reading a lot. ah, it feels great to learn about myself through it. i feel like my brain just expanded.” he mimics fireworks explosions with his hands, eyes reminiscent of childlike fascination and amazement.
you find his last sentence funny. in full honesty, you barely retain any information after finishing a book. it makes you feel so many emotions at the moment, but they eventually slip away. perhaps, that’s why you keep reading and reading, chasing after those emotions and forcing them down your throat.
you pat his head affectionately. “i’m so proud of you, baby.”
he scrunches his nose cutely before pressing a kiss on the back of your hand.
“i’m hungry now. should we eat popcorn while we do your puzzle?”
you grimace. “to get cheese powder all over them?”
he scratches his head in disappointment. “then should i eat popcorn while you do your puzzle?”
you didn’t expect that jungkook would actually do you dirty like that. he looks too pleased with himself, inhaling a bowl of popcorn with a small smirk on his face. he is watching a jurassic park movie on the giant television. you planned this movie marathon in preparation for your biweekly movie theater date, and well, you are doing it together. except you’re not snuggling with him on the living room mattress like you usually do, because you’re on the floor working on the 1000 piece puzzle you purchased at two o’clock in the morning last week.
you breath out a dramatically loud sigh, blinking at the portion of the afternoon sky of venice you’ve completed. you look at it and the television screen back and forth before muttering fuck it, crawling on the mattress to sit beside your boyfriend.
you hit his arm repeatedly when he laughs out loud, making fun of you. “stop laughing with your mouth full! what if they fall back into the bowl? you’re gross.”
you huff in annoyance, grabbing the bowl from him. you snack on the popcorn while giving your full attention to the screen. all of a sudden, he bumps against your knee, and you roll your eyes when he falls flat on the mattress clutching his stomach.
“if you don’t stop laughing, i’ll feed you to a tyrannosaurus rex!” you throw a popcorn at him. he swiftly sits up in attempt to catch it with his mouth, but it hits his cheek and lands on the back of his hand.
he pops it in his mouth with a mischievous grin. “throw just one more.” he puts up his index finger. “i’ll catch it this time. promise.”
you sigh in exasperation, but you do it anyway.
—
taglist! @lolalee24 @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @yoonqki @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader + send an ask or dm if u want to be added (or removed) :D
#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenario#jungkook one shot#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#bts fluff#bts reaction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#bts drabble#bts x reader
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In addition, ideas relating to the state of the ancestral god Kronos, whether he is bound or free, awake or asleep, and sober or not, recur in philosophical texts. Plato uses the figure of Kronos to evoke an era of happiness and perfect government, and along the same lines he writes about Kronos as the ‘archon’ of the world who is responsible for cosmic harmony: such harmony depends on two phases, one in which the god is involved in the government of the world affairs, and another in which he withdraws, bringing on an inevitable state of chaos. The motif cannot be separated from more general concepts about power and leadership, for which we cite only the evocative words of Aischylos’ opening in the Seven against Thebes (1–3): “it is the lot of him who guards the state affairs to say the appropriate things, guiding the helm of the city upon the stern, not resting his eyes in slumber.” Plutarch also follows this cosmologic elaboration on the role of Kronos in his De facie, where he alludes to an oracle of Kronos that operates in dreams, and describes the god as a “transmitter of mantic knowledge essential for the government of the cosmos.” The same idea emerges in the Phoenician History of Philon of Byblos (1st–2nd centuries AD), where Kronos is deliberately merged with the Canaanite god El, and where the god’s vigilance or negligence of the world is represented in the description of Kronos’ ‘insignia,’ in which the god is represented as ever-vigilant, with eyes that look in two directions, forwards and backwards, that is, to the future and past simultaneously (again, compare the association of Kronos with a Time deity): “Kronos saw even when he slept and slept while alert.”
Carolina López-Ruiz, "A Hangover of Cosmic Proportions" (in Tracing Orpheus)
#carolina lopez ruiz#tracing orpheus#kronos#titans#hellenic deities#plato#aiskhylos#plutarch#sleeping#dreaming#oracles#harmony#ancient greece#cosmos#quotes#time#yes I'm still here on tumblr and yes I'm still a nerd thanks for asking#I'm just finding it interesting that kronos has this other side beyond the whole ''eating his kids'' thing#plus a dream oracle#who loves a dream oracle? me. I love a dream oracle.
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🔆JUNE FIC REC II
✒ a greek tragedy by ash
(I can’t express enough how amazing this is) 4.6K Words
When Steve started drawing the comic, he drew himself before the serum and Bucky as he remembered him when they worked together to keep from ending up on the streets and dreamed of futures with floating cars. He drew them then and now, scenes against a New York he remembered and scenes against this future he didn’t quite fit in, one drawn soft and hazy, the other hard lines. When he drew them in the present, he never drew himself looking at Bucky; Bucky was always behind him, a shadow that followed as he tried to find a trace of the world they used to know in this one. He called them Orpheus and Eurydice.
🦾 Touch Me I’m Going to Scream by buffypeppers
(This is a classic in my opinion. It’s got recovering!Bucky and every trope you can imagine, so very fluffy) 107.5K Words
Only a few days have passed since the Winter Soldier put Sam into a hospital bed but Steve is ready to find HYDRA’s assassin and bring him to justice.
Things won't go according to plan once the Avengers find the infamous man.
🕵️♂️ End of all Days by Minka ( @minka-g on tumblr)
(I was motivated to reread this recently, it kept me on the edge of my seat the first time I read it and it had the same thrilling effect when I reread it too. There’s only one word to describe it: thrilling.)
(Archeological Historian!Steve x Spy!Bucky) (Indiana Jones & Atomic Blonde AU) 116.7K Words
Captain Steve Rogers had thought his military days were behind him, left in the bloody nightmare that was Saigon. Retired and working as a History Professor, the last thing he expected was to get caught up in a cataclysmic Slavic prophesy foreshadowing the end of the known world.
With Cold War tensions running high, Steve finds himself in need of a guide and translator to get him behind the Iron Curtain and into the isolated snowdrifts of Siberia.
It’s deep in the heart of Bucharest’s resistance fighters that Steve finds the ideal candidate, but swaying the enigmatic ex-operative known as The Winter Soldier proves to be complicated. Trust is hard-won, especially in the world of espionage, and with a KGB death squad nipping at his heels, the Soldier has countless reasons to stay presumably dead.
As the lines between right, wrong and the supernatural begin to blur, Steve is forced to reconsider everything he’s ever believed, right from the sanctity of his own country to the very foundations of creation itself.
❤️🩹 Every Door Opens by Notoska ( @notoska on tumblr)
(This fic, the words and the way they were written, not only yanked my heart out of my chest, it also sunk deep in my bones where I was forced to carry it and think of it for days. Fantastic.) Recovery fic. 73.9K Words
Then Bucky licks his lips, tip of his tongue just grazing the sensitive skin of Steve’s ear and Steve moans. Nothing close to the surge of lust behind his ribs, but a tiny, breathy sound all the same. Bucky doesn’t react—he must not have heard. Though a minute later he curls his fingers and extends them again, moving just slow enough for it to be a caress.
Just tip your head into his touch. He’ll take the lead and trace the folds of your ear with his tongue until you can’t keep quiet any more. Then he’ll smother your desperate little noises with his mouth, fingers twisting in your hair. Kissing deeply, tongues reaching to declare your filthy intentions. Find his knee with your hand and slide wolfishly up his thigh until you reach the bulge behind his fly. Palm him through his trousers until he’s panting in your mouth, until he’s pressing his forehead to yours, hips bucking, and you can see his dark eyes, glinting in the screen’s flickering light, pleading—
Steve jolts back to the present. The credits are rolling and Bucky is reading them as well. The screen blacks and two fluorescent lights buzz to life. Bucky loosens his hand from Steve’s head, welcoming the world back in.
#stucky fanfiction#stucky fanfic#stucky#steve/bucky#ao3#stucky fic recs#stucky fic rec#steve rogers x bucky barnes#steve rogers/bucky barnes#stevebucky#fic recs
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"You mean nothing to me"
(From Hit 'em where it hurts sentence starters!)
Hello friend, I hope you are ready for the absolute unhinged angst I am about to unleash on your person!
-------------------
“You dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship,” Dream growls, indignance spreading through him like poison.
Hob looks taken aback by the outrage. But he steels his expression and answers, “Yes, Yes I do.”
They stare at one another in tense silence, neither willing to back down from the stance they have taken. Dream thinks there are possibly more comfortable spaces in Hell. But he does not have to suffer this accusation, this idea that he might be a lonely creature.
“Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong,” Dream finally says, moving to stand and leave the tavern.
“Wait, stop!” Hob yelps, grabbing Dream by the arm. It is only through sheer willpower that Dream does not change shape, does not submit to his Nightmare form and try to claw at the man that holds him.
“Release me,” Dream commands. “Now.”
“I will not,” Hob growls, “Not until you’ve calmed down.”
“This conversation,” Dream insists, “is over. You mean nothing to me, Hob Gadling, and I am leaving you.”
Hob stutters, perhaps surprised at the vehemence of Dream’s tone, and his hold loosens on Dream, who uses the opportunity to walk away as fast as possible.
“I’ll tell you what!” Hob yells at Dream’s retreating back. “I’ll be here in 100 years time. And if you’re here too, it’ll be because we’re friends! No other reason!”
Dream ignores Hob’s taunt, does not turn to look back to offer a biting remark. He walks through the rain without stopping, cold fury making a home within his heart.
It is one of the worst mistakes of his long lived existence.
When Dream finally escapes his glass prison, after he has recovered his tools of office and spoken to his sister, he goes to look for Hob Gadling at The White Horse.
The White Horse is no longer standing in its original location. It has been instead replaced by…a housing development. Flats, as the modern world now calls them.
It is an abomination.
Dream looks into the minds of each of the occupants of the development, hoping to find…he does not know. But he does not find Hob Gadling there.
Dream has lived for eons, he knows that human memory is short, that old things will always give way to the new once they have outlived their function. But Hob and the White Horse had always been a constant for Dream over the centuries. To know that they too have faded in his absence…
Dream has not felt heartbreak since Calliope, had thought himself dulled to pain and yearning after the tragedy of Orpheus, and yet this feeling, this emptiness, this hollowness, cannot be anything but that.
Dream regrets. He regrets his words to Hob in 1889, spoken not in anger, he now realizes, but in fear. He did not wish to be known so intimately by another being, let alone a mortal, of all things. Hob had gotten too close, too fast, and Dream…Dream had rejected him by telling him their time together had meant nothing to him.
It is no wonder then, that Dream cannot find a single trace of Hob anywhere in London. He walks and he walks, and looks into both the sleeping and waking dreams of the populace, but there are no signs of Hob’s face in any of their minds.
His message to Dream is clear. He does not want to be found.
Dream retreats back to the Dreaming and ignores the concerned questions of Lucienne and Matthew, insisting he be left alone in his chambers.
Alone with nothing but the memory of their last conversation together, Dream fashions a table from dreamstuff, careful to reproduce every notch and dent. It takes some time, but soon the setting of the dreamscape he crafts is complete, and Dream stands before the table, waiting.
Finally, the scene begins.
“Hello, old friend,” the apparition of Hob Gadling greets him.
Dream smiles.
“Hello, Hob.”
Send me an Angst Prompt!
#dreamling#dream x hob#hob x morpheus#sandman fanfic#seiya answers#seiya writes#seiya drabbles#friend when I tell you this HURT me to write#thank for the ask! <3#seiya writes dreamling
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Save me Orpheus, save me
Rated Explicit | Warning: prostitution, shady stuff
“This is the only pearl necklace I need from you, Orpheus.” Spoken as cums over your chest, you drag his cock across your collarbone smearing his cock on your skin. His eyes dark with desire as you stand up and crawl on his lap.
“I will still insist upon paying you.” His hands on you waist, your wet cunt dripping all over his still very hard cock. “Dinner.”
“Dinner is nice, but what about the other meals of the day?” You moan as you rock your hips, “I love to have a man at least three times a day, love.”
He pins you down, taking your breath away, “You will not be needing any other man after this, my dear.”
You bite your lip as he holds his cock in place before thrusting himself completely inside of you, your body arching and the moan you let out is the fake loud ones you mastered. No, he fills you perfectly. “Orpheus!” Crying out his name as he barely gave you time to recover.
Your legs lifted up, crossed together and brought to your chest. Fuck, he feels deeper inside of you! Your hands gripping the sheets for dear life. The man is a beast, feral and eager to devour you.
“Say you're mine.” It scares you how calm he is while making you see stars, “Scream it to the heavens and hells you belong to me, (Name).”
Why? Did he mean those words before all this? About giving you the life where you will want for nothing? It seems too good to be true, but you can play along.
“I'm yours! Fuck, Orpheus, you have me!” You feel in a daze as you for the first time in forever actually feel good, properly being fucked by a man.
“Yes, I do.” Opening your legs and putting them over his shoulder, “Let's seal your fate, my vixen.”
You cum before him, new for you. Cumming and unable to recover quickly, you feel drunk. Moaning as he groans long and deep as he paints your walls with his seed.
“Orpheus…” Out of breath and tired. Doing these things all night should not tire you out so fast! After all, this is your job. “One moment and I will leave.”
He laughs, “Leave? Love, you gave yourself to me. There is no leaving.” You are about to question him when he turns you over without pulling on. There on your stomach, his other hand lifting you ass in the air, “You are mine, and I promise to take care of you.”
There are so wild stories back in the Cat House about clients that get possessive, the madam watches out for those but… Only in the establishment.
“How much?” You shiver at the grace of his lips upon your back. He does not move, no, he touches you, savoring you before another feast.
“Enough to pay the debt and keep her mouth shut.”
“You own me.” Could be worse.
“Only if you want,” He holds you, “You can walk away, but I promise you will want for nothing if you stay.”
You hum, “Good cock and money? I suppose I can be persuaded, Mr. Orpheus.” Licking his fingers as he two fingers trace your lips.
He chuckles at the way he knows your mind is made up, he has you finally all to himself.
#idv#anon ask#reader insert#orpheus x you#orpheus x reader#idv orpheus#identity v x reader#identity v novelist#idv novelist#idv x you#idv x reader#identity v orpheus
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hey hey how would nightmare react to that prompt you did of reader dies after a match. This is totally for science i swear
Is this painful enough for you? 😏
He was not a creature easily disturbed. He was an amalgamation of horror, dread given legs and will. His fate was an unfortunate one, but he accepted it without struggle, and used his sharpened quill as he was intended to.
…but he hated the way your body went limp beneath him. It was not the willing submission you had gifted him before, but a kind ripped out of you by the hand of death. He hesitated to continue, at first. He felt the hole through your head was something he needed to witness fully. To commit to memory and punish himself with the lingering image of. But the match called to be completed, and he could speak to you another time.
So he thought.
Orpheus was the one to inform him, but only via letter. He was smart enough to not face his other half in person, especially not with new such as this. News that you were gone. That you had died at his own hand.
Nightmare was an amalgamation of horror. Dread given legs and will! And he…did not know what to do. He was all the bad Orpheus had to offer. But for all that hate, and bitterness, and loneliness that encompassed him, now he just felt…numb. He could not fathom why the manor would do this to you. Or do this to him. Why he had to exist not just as a monster, but the monster with real blood on his hands.
He held Orpheus’s letter for a long time, rereading it. Looking at the lines of your name laid out in practiced cursive. Delicate. Mournful. Orpheus and he were the same, through and through. The letter did not say where you had been buried, or what had been otherwise done with your remains. And that was cruel, Nightmare thought. The two half-men were at odds, but Nightmare had not realized the hatred ran deep enough that Orpheus would keep your memory hidden away from him.
He was angry. So angry…. And he still didn’t know what to do. You had always been his reason, his answer. You helped pull him from the indecisive limbo he so often slipped into. He needed you. He needed you more than Orpheus did.
Nightmare crumpled the letter in his talons and slunk off to his dark corner of the Hunter manor. He knew not what this meant for the whole of he manors. If everyone could die now, if no one would heal. He did not know if your name would stay carved into his flesh, but he cut the letters into his forearms anyway, with Orpheus’s cursive. His cursive.
He yearned for any trace of you he could get, and if that meant slicing your memory into his flesh every day for the remainder of his miserable existence, then so be it.
#idv x reader#identity v#idv nightmare#nightmare x reader#orpheus x reader#if you squint#turbulentscrawl
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Mindflayer Tav makes me so sad. The fact that that's not really the same person, just a flesh-hungry monster wearing their memories. Your romanced companion (especially Gale😭😭) clinging to traces of someone they know is long-dead. Illithids do not have souls, every part of Tav the person slips away the moment Orpheus' protection fades.
#like. gale taking them home and marrying them despite having immense knowledge of ceremorphosis#he's known from the beginning that becoming illithid means death. means losing every scrap of morality and personality#but Tav is the only person who's ever cared for him. he needs them at that point. he's still far too fragile#so he pretends not to know. pretends he can still see his love in this creature puppeteering their flesh and memories.#bg3#gale dekarios#tav#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate
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