#lethe task

[lethxia]

nap afterglow is crazy because why am i suddenly not quite there. not in the negative way, in the fuzzy way you get something warm to eat (soup) after truly banger sleep and everything feels so much more tolerable. nice, even. it feels like nostalgia, but it's obviously not because you are currently in that moment. it's that distinct feeling of being somewhere between consciousness and blessedly unaware and also that sort of pleasant blurriness you only get after taking a long ass nap that makes you feel more well rested than you have in three weeks and also you know you're ready to wake up now that you've finally caught up on all those lost zs but your body isn't quite convinced yet so you just kinda drift for a while and eat some soup and feel like you're living in a memory.

[fandomofhappiness]

Erasermic (Aizawa Shouta/Hizashi Yamada) Big Rec Fic List for starters and not

Hello everyone! I’m fandomofhappiness, and today I’d love to share with Erasermic fans my silly reader’s selection of fanfics! I’m still looking for new stories. And this list will definitely update! I would especially like to give this rec to those who are just starting out. When I got into the fandom, I searched through all possible recommendation lists. I hope my own list will help new Erasermic fans and even those who have been here for a while.

I want to present you with the best of the best, which, according to my preferences in writing style, plot complexity and brilliance of the authors, amazed me during my time in the fandom. I won’t drag it out, let's go!

P.S.: This list doesn’t contain PWP stories, I’m not really here for smut but there are stories that contain 18+ chapters.

fandomofhappiness’s top five + 1 greatest Erasermic stories:

The Waters of Lethe by buffyaddict13 Married Erasermic, Case and Rescue Fic | 179,133 words

foh’s comment: A relatively new story with a mind-blowing plot. The fanfic has catastrophically few kudos, I consider it one of the most underrated. While rescuing a boy from weirdo dealers, Eraserhead is captured and placed with 10 other people who are going to be sold. Present Mic and a team of heroes plan to save the victims. But there is much more to save than it seems.

The Way I Behaved by ForTheWoolfy Villains & Heroes, Action & Adventure, Hurt/Comfort | 117270 words

foh’s comment: One of the most heartbreaking stories, so wonderful and beautifully written that I fucking choked on tears. Don't worry about the description, don't worry about Mic being the bad guy. I implore you to read this story, I would have been happy if someone had recommended it to me when I was starting out.

Nine Lives by machiroads Aizawa-centric, Hospitals and Injury Recovery, Post-Paranormal Liberation War Arc, Slow Burn | 149,559 words

foh’s comment: This fanfic was a great inspiration to me. It is a masterpiece of understanding the character, immersion in medicine, the unique intimacy between characters, friendship, respect - this is the beauty of this fanfic. The story of Aizawa's recovery after losing his leg and eye.

Present Mic's Totally Bullshit Life by Kyurilin Biography Fic, Slow Burn | 54,952 words

foh’s comment: One of the earliest stories I happen to read. I couldn't get through it the first time because it was too heavy for me. At the time I started reading, I didn't even know who Oboro is. Brilliant in its beauty and description of Present Mic’s character. This fic for those who are not afraid to break a heart and put it back together piece by piece.

And the Sky Wept by tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land Yamada-centric, Biography Fic, Slow Burn, Angst | 155,468 words

foh’s comment: A very detailed and truly heart-breaking story about two friends going through the grief of losing their best friend. Depicts moments of Yamada Hizashi’s life trying to cope with loss, while making an effort to remain his and Aizawa’s friendship. I cried a lot and was devastated. It’s not easy to read but it worth its happy ending.

Enchanted by MarziPanda95 Yamada-centric, Quirk Accident, Angst, Hurt/Comfort | 30,045 words

foh’s comment: This is one of the best Erasermic plot-stories! I warn you: there's heavy angst!Hizashi. Yamada gets hit with quirk that allows every single person victim faces to give them commands and the victim obeys them unquestioningly. All week Present Mic carries out other people's tasks and commands, until one day the worst happens.

No Quirks AU:

teach me a lesson (about you) by frootjuiceg Teachers and Schools, Campings, Getting Together | 18,565 words

foh’s comment: I love AUs where there are no quirks, like some modern AU. Yamada and Aizawa are just some normal HS teachers. Yamada tries to befriend with Aizawa flirting his way out to Shouta’s heart, but Aizawa thinks they have nothing in common until a school trip changes his mind.

By Moonlight Getting Together, From Strangers to Lovers, Secret Identity | 41189 words

foh’s comment: Hizashi works as a reporter for a gossip column. He decides to write about an avenger, not suspecting that his close colleague, with whom he begins to fall in love, is the avenger he writes about. This is SO interesting and romantic, please read it was wild.

Black Keys Make Music Too by RohanBerry

Aizawa-centric, Slow Burn, Widowhood, Hurt/Comfort | 65432 words

foh’s comment:

One of the best No Quirks!AU, felt so realistic when I first read it. An overwhelming and beautiful in its sadness, but there’s a happy ending. After death of his husband, Oboro, Aizawa doesn't live, rather he exists. And that was until the day he met his new neighbour who started to play piano at Sundays.

Hook, Line, and Sinker by KuriKuri Getting to Know Each Other, Mistaken Identity | 26,116 words

foh’s comment: A simple, slightly long, and a little confounded story about a teacher and a famous singer meeting online. Only the teacher doesn't think he's talking to a real celebrity.

Aizawa the Aristocat by Collateral_Beauty Cats AU (the Aristocats AU, your honour), Family Feels and Dynamics, Probably Unfinished Work | 53,810 words

foh’s comment: Wait! I could scare with ‘probably unfinished’, but please-please go read it. It’s so well-written and very interesting. Like it’s the living dream: Cat Aizawa adopting some kittens, rescues and action, humour and  romance… CATS. Go on, support the dear author, maybe they will write more chapters.

Toil & Trouble by KuriKuri Getting To Know Each Other, Magic | 11248 words

foh’s comment: 10/10 cuteness, magic, and romance. Shota is a witch who can turn into a cat. Hizashi is his neighbour-siren with a very sunny balcony.

The Ascension of Sunlight by YamiHeart AU Space Deities, Hurt/Comfort | 5512 words

foh’s comment: A love story between the moon and the sunlight. A very beautiful and short story.

A Demonstration in Dueling by ByTheBi and GhostAlebrije Established Erasermic | 1,833 words

foh’s comment: So, I needed this particular AU. Go ahead, read about two flirting professors bastards dueling in front of students.

Necessity by Zombiesms Erasermic x Steven Universe Fusion AU | 614 words

In-Canon Verse Fics

Post-It Notes by StarBeeCreates Mutual Pining, Identity Reveal, Action and Case Fic | 53,139 words

foh’s comment: Flirty-ass villain Present Mic and pining Hero Eraserhead playing mouse-cat game revealing very-big plot. Go read it, it really worth every praise I give it.

Dirtied Black Heart by politelydeclined Married Erasermic, Character Study, Post-USJ, PTSD | 3,795 words

foh’s comment: A brilliant description of Aizawa's PTSD after USJ. It's works like this that make Erasermic worth reading. Author explores how USJ affected Shouta's personal life from different angles, very touching and encouraging story.

If At First You Don't Succeed... by MarziPanda95 Yamada-centric, Groundhog Day, Heavy Angst | 26,625 words

foh’s comment: I admit that I don't know if there have been any other Groundhog Day or time loop works, but I can tell you that this gem is one of them. I'll warn you right away: this is a very heavy story. But it's worth every single word.

Written Words by formerlyBravo Diaries and Letters Fic, High School Sweethearts, Secret Relationship | 10,949 words

foh’s comment: I love the diary concepts! Because it's like a little detective story, even if we know who it's about, the main characters don't. And it's a really cute story about how the girls of 1A found a diary, in which someone tells their love story.

Across Our Universe by LeafontheWinf2 Mutual Pining, Action/Adventure, fckn YEARNING | 32992 words

foh’s comment: It will be mostly a happy story about friendship and space adventures! A little angst, because that's always necessary, but overall it should be fun. And the two angsty boys will be sweet and romantic and will be together by the end. A MAJOR crossover with Doctor Who. One of the best stories I've ever read! Emotional, beautiful, very cleverly constructed. The Doctor is just awesome bean.

All of Me by ill go with that then (Linelenagain) Established Erasermic, Proposal Fic | 8,111 words

foh’s comment: Aizawa Shouta’s trying to propose for almost 8k words. It’s funny but emphasizes an important part in relationship – to talk to your partners.

Catastrophes and Companions by estelraca Aizawa-centric, Cats | 15,685 words

foh’s comment: This story felt very differently when I first read it. In most stories, Aizawa already has cats, sometimes even more than one. This fanfic attracted me because Aizawa wants to get a cat so much, but he always makes a responsible decision not to. The story is about the importance of responsibility to our little friends, about dreams, unfulfilled and fulfilled.

Improbable Botany 101 by Tierfal Yamada-centric, Hanahaki Disease | 46,486 words

foh’s comment: One of the best Erasermic fanfics I've ever had the honour of reading. The author's style is so melodious, so gentle and soft. It seemed a bit drawn out, but I was happy from start to finish. My favourite part is the radio show.

Just a Push by Say_Jay Teenage Fic, Trainings | 4,940 words

foh’s comment: A beautiful and incredible story from Say_Jay about two boys training together to be the best. I really like how the boys' motives and actions are described. The text is very light but intriguing. It's a pleasure to read.

on air by lonelydoctors Marriage Proposal, Fluff | 2,846 words

foh’s comment: I'm really trying to pick more realistic and heavy works to read! I do really try! But I'm just a human, and forgive my silly heart, but I can't pass by such a frank writing! I can't. So forgive my sentimentality. Shouta proposes Hizashi during his show.

look after you by dizzyingly_dreamy Family Feels and Dynamics, Angst and Fluff | 10,512 words

foh’s comment: Classic EraserMic+Shinsou Family fanfic, but with a nice touch of deep analysis from the author. Though you may find the idea not really original, it has really good points on Aizawa’s character, you just can’t go away from this story before you finish reading.

Grounded by thechaoscryptid Aizawa-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues | 2,197 words

foh’s comment: A pictorial text-study of character’s dissociation. I would call it a cruel beauty of words.

Year by Year (two-shot series) by ill go with that then (Linelenagain) Getting Together, High School Sweethearts | 12,444 words

foh’s comment: Written before Shirakumo appeared in canon! One of the cutest things I've ever read. Don't get me wrong, I don't like over-the-top fluff either - I'm all for realism! But... this is irresistible. Just read it. How One Training Session Leads to Friendship, Love, and Mutual Help.

Change Comes by fecklessphilanderer Aizawa-centric, Character Study, Angst, Post-USJ | 4252 words

foh’s comment: For these little gems that I love fanfiction. The work isn't long, but it covers an interesting topic. Shouta's face changes slightly after plastic surgery after USJ attack. He doesn't notice it until it's specifically pointed out. This work is wholesome and absolutely brilliant.

“Promise.” by Lingxz After-UA, Grief, Miscommunication | 7,793 words

foh’s comment: This isn’t really Erasermic romance story but it studies their relationship on the deep level, discovering their lives after losing Oboro. No more words, it’s very sad, but it’s hopeful.

Tattletale and The Path We Chose by LipstickVenom AU! Present Mic is Vigilante, Angst and Action | sum. ~250k words

foh’s comment: Initially I wanted to list them separately, but calling them series seemed wrong. They flow smoothly into each other, if the author had not chosen to separate them, it would have been a full-fledged big story of 250k+ words.

In my opinion, another underrated work on these two. A very plausible explanation of the relationship. Slow-burn, but not so slow to  get bored. I love this work for the nakedness of feelings, for the plausibility of emotion. Plot is driving and interesting to catch on, so – go on!

Family Ties (series) by LipstickVenom Hurt/Comfort, Biography Fic, Family | 12975 words

foh’s comment: A great two-fic series exploring Shouta's household and past. From one of my favorite authors.

Ledges. by sunkensubtext Mutual Pining, Weddings | 16592 words

foh’s comment: A great love story in the good old mutual pining style. Shouta's family is here! And they are nice people. Shouta's older sister is getting married in America, Shota takes Hizashi with him to translate. Two fools try to hide that they have feelings.

Finding Safety in the Mountains by ravyn_sinclai Different Meeting AU, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort | 24298 words

foh’s comment: Very beautiful and relatively fresh story! In this story, Yamada and Aizawa are not heroes, but ordinary people trying to find salvation in a small village and live a quiet peaceful life. I repeat, everything in this fanfic is beautiful: from the description of the nature and town to the plot. Just read it!

Still Here by buffyaddict13 Pre-Relationship, Character Study, Angst, Spoilers to last chapters | 6201 words

foh’s comment: It was very hard to read even though it catches on manga and anime scenes. This work studies deeply Aizawa and Yamada feelings and dealing with the death of Oboro. If you really like Rooftop Trio storyline you’ll be very involved. I respect everything that buffyaddict13 writes, so your turn to read it.

when you cried, I learned what helplessness tastes like. because all I could do was swallow by ethereal_catharsis Getting Together, Abusive Relationships, Heavy Hurt/Comfort | 7485 words

foh’s comment: Hizashi has an abusive boyfriend, his friends are very worried. And Shouta heavily caring for him worries more than anybody. If abusive relationships triggers you please be aware, this shit is sick. I wanted to read something like this because this theme is important to be known and discussed.

Reasons by Nobody has no body Aizawa-centric, First Meeting, Action | 6k+ words

foh’s comment: Written pre-Oboro. The story of how Shouta entered the first year of the hero academy, met Hizashi, and survived the fight with the villain. Very detailed and analyzing fic.

Present Mic is Civilian AU

A Few Disasters Short by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather) Different Meeting AU, Getting Together, Pining | 36,781 words

foh’s comment: Hizashi is a famous musician who happens to visit a cat cafe owned by Aizawa and his small family. Hizashi comes there for inspiration and a desire to get to find out more about the mysterious owner of the cafe. A wonderful romantic story, with some vigilante!Shinsou and precious Eri.

missing out (on you) by White Different Meeting AU, Getting to Know Each Other | 23,456 words

foh’s comment: An interesting and romantic take on what would happen if Yamada wasn't a hero, but a simple radio host who encountered the underground hero Aizawa. A simple but captivating story.

Musutafu Nights: Track 1 by ByTheBi Different Meeting AU, Getting to Know Each Other | 1,844 words

foh’s comment: Short but cute. This civllian!AU has grown on me.

The Waiting Area by MarziPanda95 Hospitals, Getting Together | 23,158 words

foh’s comment: If you ever watched ‘Just like Heaven’ (a 2005 film), you may find some references. It’s romantic and a little bit silly, but somehow I grew on it. Hizashi here is so clever and so lovely.

Quirk Accident Trope:

deep roots do not wither by Ink_On_Parchment Mutual Pining, Flower Language | 12,018 words

foh’s comment: Mic gets hit with some child’s innocent quirk that makes a crown of flowers that indicates his deep feelings. If you like the language of flowers - this is the work for you. A beautiful and interesting approach to this trope.

Running to Stand Still by Kiyoko_Michi Aizawa-centric, Non-Sexual De-Aging of Character, Secret Identity | 42,604 words

foh’s comment: Aizawa gets hit with age-regression quirk that causes him to forget almost fifteen years of his past. He’s struggling to find out what is going on. When I started this rec list I marked this work as ‘very close to canon, could’ve been a part of it even’. I meant that it’s very well written, go read.

Cat-sualty by LowlyWriter Animal Transformation, Married Erasermic | 12,360 words

foh’s comment: Catzawa! You can't miss the well-written story of Shouta Aizawa's transformation into a cat.

Authors Who Made Erasermic Special For Thousands People

deafmic

foh’s comment: In my opinion, deafmic is the foundation-stone of Erasermic fanfiction. If you just start with Erasermic, please go check deafmic’s works. I cannot pick one of them, they are all good, interesting, driving, experimental – everything!

Say_Jay

foh’s comment: Jay is a legend who has written many narrative, action and experimental works. Works to read and reread forever.

YamiHeart

foh’s comment: Yami has created many great and interesting aus and in-canonverse stories that any of us, Erasermic fans, love and deeply care about. You will never get bored with the imagination of this author!

KuriKuri

foh’s comment: KuriKuri is another legendary author who you can get a ton of No Qurks!AU from. All of this author's stories are rated very highly and each one definitely deserves it.

That is all for now. Thank you for checking out my recomendation list. All of these authors are sunshines and great peope who put their souls and hearts into this fandom. After reading these stories, please give them kudos and write your comments. My List will be continued with Aizawa & Shinsou father-son, Erasermic Family recomendation list soon!

[missmeinyourbones]

DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE

"These days I think I owe my life

To flowers that were left here by my mother,

Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?

- First Time, Hozier

a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls

Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.

The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.

You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.

"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.

He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.

From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.

"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.

It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.

He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.

Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.

He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.

The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"

A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.

"Hey, hey. Easy."

He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.

His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.

If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.

But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.

His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.

"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.

"She doesn't cry like this for you."

He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.

"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."

Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.

It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.

The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.

Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."

"Bullshit, c'mere."

He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.

The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.

After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.

The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.

Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."

Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.

Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.

You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.

But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.

His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”

Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.

Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.

"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.

He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.

“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”

A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.

He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.

He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”

He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.

Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.

You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.

“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.

You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.

"What?"

You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.

"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."

You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."

You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.

You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.

"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."

[essektheylyss]

Okay I'm not normally one to comment publicly on ship portmanteaus but we seem nowhere near a consensus and I've been reading basically nothing but taxonomic theory with a side of organizational management for like seven weeks straight so: why is verleth not the default option. It cannot be because it's too close to vexleth when everyone's been using it next to vaxleth for years. Obviously we could go to keyrin, but a) every other Keyleth ship name is [other person]leth, and b) it's going to be annoying as hell with autocorrect for being one letter off of a real word.

But most critical, we cannot use "thelyss" as Verin's part of the portmanteau, on account of the fact that Verin has been on screen for like three minutes, and his older brother, with whom he does still share a second name, has been on screen for like fifteen hours. I know Essek's ship names usually use his title but Verin ALSO is not the most obvious Task Hand (rip Adeen Tasithar, you probably would've loved being a shady bitch in Vasselheim but honestly, I don't actually know well enough to say).

Think of new fans trying to figure out who the fuck is in this ship. Think of the tag wranglers. Think of me, local taxonomy nerd who will one day just lose it and start yelling on the dash about authority controls and the absolute inadequacy of disambiguation by committee.*

[nona1323]

AU «Deal with the Time» Chthonic Gods and the Unseen

Hypnos

Hypnos is an exhausted poor guy who is not going to be given a break. The war caught him in its trap one of the first: he was in Oneiros, the Dreamland, when, with the help of Lethe, he felt the return of the Titans, and, reacting to this, chained everyone he could reach in chains of sleep. Obviously, everyone except Chronos.

For Titans, it was a normal dream, but for Hypnos, it was a constant job. And since the Titans are one of the oldest gods, older than Hypnos himself, the Sleep, it turned out to be especially difficult to keep them in a dream, even if they were weakened at that moment. Therefore, Hypnos had to plunge into the very depths of Oneiros, so deep that no one could get in there except the original inhabitants of the Oneiros, at the same time shackling not only the titans, but also himself with chains of sleep.

As a result, this isolated Hypnos from everyone: from the reality with the House of Hades, and from his own children living in the Dreamland. Yes, Hypnos has children. Trio. Morpheus, Phantasos and Icelos (Phobetor). We will tell you more about them in a future post.

The task was also complicated by Iapetus's resistance – he quickly realized that their dream was imposed by force, so he constantly fought. This exhausted Hypnos even more, because making those who do not want to sleep is still a task, Zeus confirms this. The rest of the Titans slept peacefully in ignorance.

When Hypnos has to make a decision about the Chronos deal, in other words, at the start of the AU, he is already exhausted and has difficulty keeping the Titans asleep. Hyp is one of those gods whom the war has left an indelible mark on, having influenced most of all.

Thanatos

Below is an excerpt that allows you to understand how Thanatos perceived the spell cast by Chronos.

«The sand is pouring out of nowhere, attracting everyone's attention. Meg draws the whip, Achilles raises the spear, and Zagreus immediately has a sword in his hands. Thanatos has nothing when the Titan appears on the throne, when a grin cuts through his sharp cheekbones. Death's hands are empty, but he dares not rush away.

Almost all the inhabitants of the House can stand up for themselves: even Dusa is able to fight. Hypnos, in fact, too. But Hypnos is asleep. Right behind him, behind Thanatos's back. It doesn't even twitch from the appearance of the Titan. His twin brother is defenseless, and Thanatos will be damned if he moves even a step away from him. He's ready to fight with his bare hands if he has to.

Chronos just tilts his head lazily, his white eyes sparkling.

– Well, hello.

Bloody gold absorbs everything.

...The screams of millions of voices deafen Thanatos, and he sinks to the ground, covering his ears in a futile attempt to drown them out. This is ridiculous. They're screaming in his head. They cry, they call, they beg. His whole core, his whole essence, is splitting, convulsing.

WRONGWRONGWRONGWRONGWRONG–»

As can be seen from this fragment, for Thanatos, less than a second has passed since the appearance of Chronos in the House (capture of the House) and the transition to the events of AU. But this does not mean that further events will not affect him: such a serious imbalance as the absence of the opportunity to reap souls, and the gap that arose with Hypnos, will take their toll. All fans of analyzing the problems of the relationship between twins will like it.

Zagreus

In this universe, Zagreus has already been freed by Melinoë from the sands of Chronos. He's the first and only one Mel has been able to get out of captivity at all at the moment. It is this event that forces Titan (along with the guess about Hypnos' involvement in the brothers' sleep) to decide on an exchange: Chronos is afraid that Melinoe may soon release other prisoners, including Thanatos. Therefore, he decides to play this card before he loses it.

Unlike Tan, Zagreus did not escape unharmed from captivity. According to our headcannons, Zag is not just a god of blood and life, but also a god of rebirth. So, his blood has healing properties. It is also indirectly the reason for the return of the Titans. Therefore, Chronos regularly pulled him out of the pause and took his ichor (most often just cutting off some limb) to regain strength for himself and his brothers. It traumatized the boy a little.

At the time of the events, Zagreus had been free for no more than a month and was still recovering from everything he had experienced. He feels cornered, because he can't help anything, and no one is ready to let him go to war, fearing that he will simply return to the Titan's hands, absurdly dying. (Sorry, Zagreus, but according to the canon, you literally die from standing in magma. And this is not even the most absurd. So... no excuses). Therefore, the boy is depressed and angry, and also afraid for his loved ones. But he met his sister! And soon his lover was returned to him (even if the price is absolutely terrible). So Zag will not sit idly by and will definitely do everything in his power to kick other people's (gods') asses again. Chronos does not know what awaits him.

Melinoë

Melinoe, at the time of the start of AU, is no different from her game version, except that she believes more strongly that her victory over Chronos is already close. And rejoices at the return of her brother!!! Part of her family is finally around. But, unfortunately, the return of the other Titans will greatly throw her back into the field of war. Only now, to Chronos' grief, this will not reduce her tenacity in the least. A stubborn girl will only be ready to kick her grandfather's ass with double zeal, wanting to free her family and a certain god of sleep.

Others

Hecate, Selene, Nemesis, Moros, Eris, Charon and etc are identical to their game versions at the time of the events of the second part.

The exact status of Alecto and Tisiphone for the Unseen is unknown. It is assumed that they were also among the prisoners of Chronos, even though Melinoe did not see them or Nyx during the rescue of Zagreus; the Unseen believe that they are most likely imprisoned elsewhere, like Hades or Fates

Masterpost AU "Deal with the Time" here

Information about Titans here

The description of the au is here

(English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes)

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XII

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere /

Elain held onto Lucien as he led her to the dance floor, their hands a perfect fit, shards of glass whose broken edges showed no crack when put together. 

Lucien’s steady presence was a comfort to Elain, especially as she felt the captivated looks of countless nobles fall on them. As though he could sense her unease, he traced his thumb along the knuckles of her fingers. 

Days before, Elain was certain she would have found the genuine gesture bothersome, but she was surprised as she felt a nervous weight slip off her shoulders. 

Elain was grateful, had come to the realisation as the two of them had entered the hall that no matter how many negative thoughts plagued her, Lucien and her were on the same side in this. Like allies in battle, Elain had no choice but to place all her trust in the man she had spent years avoiding. 

Elain had been the one to come for Lucien, after all. She had been the one to believe Eris’s words, had been the one to make the decision of travelling to Autumn, had then faced Beron and told him they were to be married. Each choice was her own, and Elain would stand by them stubbornly despite what anyone else might say.  

Elain bit her bottom lip as she looked to the edge of the dance floor, hoping she would spot Cora or even Eris, any familiar face would have been welcome in the sea of nobles. When her eyes instead fell on Lethe, beautiful and dangerous, Elain had to fight her sudden urge to scowl. 

Elain had not liked the way the other woman had touched Lucien’s shoulders, and while she could acknowledge her reaction was ridiculous, probably the pull of their bond, Elain decided that it might be best to keep Lethe away from her mate for the time being. 

She wanted to continue her search for Cora, but Elain knew the importance of remaining focused on the task at hand. Much depended on their performance, and Elain was determined to give everyone watching a show worth their while.

Lucien stopped, Elain’s steps halting as he raised her hand in a prompt for her to turn his way. Elain looked up at Lucien, breathing in sharply as he placed his broad hand on her waist. 

There were layers of fabric between them, and yet Elain felt the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress. She arched into him, hoping the onlookers spotted the subtle movement as she gave Lucien her undivided attention. 

The musicians played a note, letting it ring through the large space as all the couples prepared to dance.  

Elain felt herself blush, speaking to Lucien in a low voice so that no else could catch her words. Her cheeks heated under his gaze, “I hope you’re a good lead,” she clipped, offering him one of her friendliest smiles.  

Both of Lucien’s brows lifted as he flashed her a grin. “The best,” he reassured her, tone serious, but she felt the playfulness behind the statement through the bridge between their souls.

Elain had to fight back a giggle. Lucien was undeniably charming, and also unfairly handsome, especially so when he smiled. 

Elain usually pushed such thoughts aside, not allowing the quiet voice in her head that insisted Lucien was lovely to be heard. If she had considered the mating bond simply based on looks, Elain would already be married to him. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, Elain let herself feel some of that desire, let it show on her face so that anyone might see it.

Elain kept her gaze on Lucien as he spoke, his golden eye whirring softly. “I trust you’ll be able to keep up?” He was so very fae, his russet eye almost seemed to glow in the dim firelight, hair wine red and looking soft as silk. 

“Definitely,” she said with a confident nod. 

Elain’s lips curled up in a knowing smile as she remembered how Nesta had dragged her to dancing lessons in Velaris. She had spent many evenings a handful of months before with Cassian, Azriel, and her older sister learning about all the popular dances in every court. She promised to herself as Lucien tightened his grip on her hand that she would have to thank Nesta for it when she returned to Night.   

The music rose around them, the beat so fast that despite how familiar Elain was with the traditional Autumn dance, she was still taken off guard as Lucien stepped back. 

Elain followed, laughing, hoping the sound of her genuine joy carried over the instruments, that the couples around her had heard. Beron had been convinced in the throne room, had believed they loved each other, but something in Elain’s gut told her the nobles in the ball room would be just as hard to convince.

Elain moved her feet quickly, hoping that she was dancing to match Lucien’s easy rhythm. He raised his hand elegantly, and Elain readied herself for the turns. 

Lucien spun Elain effortlessly, her skirts flaring around her. Elain gasped at the way the green fabric glimmered in the flames of the chandeliers, making it seem as though it was grass blowing in the wind. 

As Lucien once again pulled her towards him, Elain clumsily missed a few of the steps, his firm grip on her waist the only thing stopping her from crashing into his chest. “Did you see that?” She breathed, still marvelling at the talent Autumn court seamstresses must possess. 

“Breathtaking,” Lucien said, his eye dark with what could only be desire. The way the word fell from his tongue was enough to make Elain swoon, to make her believe he was not talking about the dress at all. 

Elain had to remind herself that he was simply acting the part of her betrothed, that he could not long for her in such a way. They were strangers.

He is mine. 

The thought crashed through her, and perhaps it was because she knew many were watching them, but she let it show on her features. 

Lucien pulled her closer still as the final notes of the song played, they shared the same air, the scent of sweet apples overwhelming her senses. Elain kept her steady gaze on him as the music came to a stop, as clapping could be heard for the orchestra. 

“That was fun,” Elain laughed, feeling awkward now that they were no longer dancing and Lucien still held her. She had always enjoyed dancing, especially when she had been a young girl in the human lands. 

Before Lucien could respond, the next song started, and many moved around them to stand by the dance floor’s edge. Even Lucien furrowed his brow, tucking Elain to his chest as the song continued. 

Elain recognized the music, knew it was a Night Court dance reserved only for lovers. She had seen Rhysand pull Feyre into his arms, humming the now familiar tune countless times so they could dance around the living room. 

She felt a sudden ache deep within her at the thought of her family, missing them all and wishing they were with her. 

Elain was grateful as Lucien spoke and dragged her from such thoughts. “Beron must have been very impressed by you, Lady Elain Archeron.” 

She almost snorted, doubting his words. “How can you say that?” They were nearly chest to chest, hardly any space between them, but Elain was glad that they could at least talk during this dance. 

Hearing her disbelief, Lucien continued. “Night Court music at an Autumn Court ball? That’s practically unheard of.” 

She turned her head to look at him, catching the sharp line of his jaw. They were so close, Elain could only see his profile, and was tempted to rest her cheek against him. Instead, she said, “That’s good, it must mean that I’m endearing myself to your family.” She watched as Lucien could not hold back a wince, understanding that perhaps the topic of his family was not a good one, Elain asked him a question. “Lethe and Kai, they’re old friends of yours?”

Elain was curious, wanted to know more about them and hoped Lucien would share some of his thoughts. She heard his scoff before he replied. “More like Eris’s friends who I spent an unusual amount of time with.”

“Feyre was like that,” Elain offered, the little bit of common ground they shared between them. Younger siblings, Elain had noticed, tended to do that sort of thing, often reminding her of sprouts growing in the shade of larger trees.

She felt him shrug, muscles moving beneath the fingers of her one hand. “It was hard making friends as the son of a High Lord, at least in Autumn.” He added with a short laugh. 

“Poor you,” Elain joked, hoping he would take no offence to it. 

Surprise was like a flash of lightning along the bond, but Lucien’s amused expression remained the same as he responded. “I’m still so upset over it.” 

The song’s final notes played as Elain asked, “Do we keep dancing?” 

“I’ll be expected to, at least for the next couple of songs.” Elain felt a strange possessiveness rush over, but she pushed the feeling down, hoping Lucien did not notice. “Go to Eris, and I’ll come in a bit.” 

Elain hummed in understanding and Lucien pulled away from her, already missing his warmth. 

One hand gripping her emerald skirts, the other still in Lucien’s, she dipped into a small curtsy. Lucien raised Elain’s hand slightly as he bowed at the waist and although he did not kiss her knuckles, as would have been common on the other side of the wall, Elain found herself wishing that he had.

With startling clarity, Elain could imagine Lucien’s lips pressed to her skin and had to suppress a shudder. Elain forced herself to turn away from her mate, taking elegant steps but still feeling the weight of his gaze on her. 

Unsettled by her own desire, Elain was surprised at how quickly she spotted Eris in the crowd of nobles. His auburn hair seemed to flicker in the flames of the fireplace he was standing by, a glass of wine in his hand. 

The musicians began to play the next song, an Autumn Court dance once more, as Elain made her way to the far end of the ballroom. 

She felt as someone came up from behind her, making her pause. “I was promised an introduction,” the voice of the man was low and thick with the accent of those in the Forest House. “Seems as though my little brother has gone back on his word.” For a moment Elain thought she had been mistaken, that Eris had instead come to her, especially when she turned around to face the person who had approached. 

Felix or Ronan, a voice reminded her, one of the two brothers Lucien had already mentioned to her. His long red hair was in a braid that fell past his shoulders, contrasting with his well-tailored jacket, the deep brown of tree trunks. He had a scattering of freckles on his cheeks, and although his dimpled smile seemed genuine, Elain was glad Eris had given her a weapon. 

“Lucien likes to keep me all to himself,” her fingers tightened around the fabric of her skirts. Remembering Lethe’s attitude, Elain raised her chin and flashed the man a sharp smile.  

Elain jumped at the chuckle that came from her other side, as another one of Lucien’s brothers clapped a broad hand on the man still in front of her. “Leave her be, Felix, I can see Eris burning holes in the back of your head.” She felt like a fawn surrounded by wolves, like she was wounded prey and they were simply taunting her before striking with a killing blow. 

Felix shrugged, the gesture elegant, reminding her once more of Eris. “I suppose we still have much time before the wedding to become better acquainted.” 

Elain wanted to take the comb from her hair, to warn them to keep away. Instead, she hoped confidence leaked from her words as she spoke. “I look forward to it, now if you’ll excuse me, my lords.” 

“No need for such formalities, sister.” Ronan added. 

Elain had to fight the urge to frown, but she merely bowed her head in a show of respect and tried to make her way as quickly as possible to Eris. He looked serious, and was left entirely alone, save for Cora who stood several feet away from him. Elain nearly sighed in relief, going to the space between them. 

“What did they say to you?” Eris asked, voice low and unbothered. He hardly seemed concerned, and Elain wondered if he actually cared about what his brothers wanted from her. 

Elain ignored his question to ask one of her own, remembering suddenly both his and Cora’s absence when Lucien and her had first arrived. “Where were you?” 

“I hardly think that should be any of your business,” he said simply while he passed her a glass of red wine. 

With gentle hands, Elain took the glass, looking up at Eris with a raised brow. “Not poisoned, is it?” 

Cora laughed, moving closer to Elain. “He wouldn’t dare.” 

Eris shrugged, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Suppose you’ll just have to trust me.” 

Elain raised the glass to her lips, surprised that she did trust Eris, at least when it came to him protecting her from physical harm. 

Before she could take a sip, Elain paused, feeling someone’s heavy gaze on her. She turned her attention to that burning feeling, almost like a warning, her new fae senses catching a watchful predator. 

Elain’s heart nearly stopped as she looked at the High Lord, surrounded by nobles, arm around his wife. 

Beron Vanserra raised his glass in a small salute as he held her gaze, and Elain raised her own, mirroring him and hoping he could not spot the nervous shaking of her hand.

[khaire-traveler]

🏞️ Subtle Lethe Worship 🪦

A majority of this will be UPG. There is very little information out there on the worship of Lethe.

Visit a local river, creek, or body of water; sit beside it and relax - draw, paint, fish, etc.

Take a walk/hike along or near a river

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of rivers, caves, or forests

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal of whatever you associate with forgetfulness or oblivion

Have symbols of rivers (especially those leading into caves), cypress trees, caves, coins, or rowboats around

Collect river water (please do not drink this)

Grow moss, pothos, english ivy, spider plants, bamboo, or other water based plants

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones

Have a collection of coins with the intention of dedicating them to any souls in need of coins to cross with Charon into the Underworld

Practice mindfulness; practice patience

Feed local fish or water-based fowl (no breads please; research what is best to feed these animals)

Take a walk in the moonlight (if safe to do so in your area)

Explore a nearby cave/take a cave tour (safely!!!)

Visit hot springs if able; take a dip in them

Drink water regularly; stay hydrated

Learn to go with the flow more; practice releasing control

Take a warm bath/shower, especially at the end of the day; maybe have floating tea lights and calming herbs in the bath (safely)

Make a list of your favorite memories or memories that make you smile/laugh

Take lots of pictures, especially of things you find beautiful or dear to your heart

Try learning to kayak, paddle board, or something similar

Collect river rocks

Let go of things that no longer serve you

Recognize how far you've come; take a moment to acknowledge all your personal growth

Drink a warm tea or comforting beverage

Engage in activities that calm/relax you

Sit in silence for a bit; take this time to decompress or meditate; you're more than welcome to engage in quiet activities

Allow yourself to feel your feelings; find healthy outlets for these emotions (drawing, boxing, dancing, singing, etc.)

Practice forgiveness towards yourself; come to terms with past mistakes

Support environmental preservation organizations

Pick up trash from nearby rivers, streams, or creeks

Stand in river water; ground yourself using the waters; think of anything you want to let go of and imagine that as a paper boat floating away from you down the river

Try to maintain a consistent sleep schedule

Have a nighttime routine

Take care of yourself emotionally and physically

Listen to music that relaxes/comforts/soothes you; sing or dance to it

Leave a glass of river water out on your windowsill, especially at night; replace it if it starts getting gross or something

Make your space comfortable and relaxing for you; maybe decorate with cool colored fairy lights or fake vines

Hang up any pictures that make you think fondly of on your walls; keep a photo album

If you struggle to remember to do tasks, write yourself reminders and sticky notes in places you'll see them

Camp somewhat near a small stream or river (BE AWARE OF FLASH FLOODS!!!)

Practice mindfulness

If you swim, float on your back for awhile; if not, close your eyes while relaxing in a bathtub or while sitting in the shower

Burn incense that relaxes you (leave a window open for this to help your lungs)

-

I will likely add more later as this list doesn't feel complete to me. This was pretty tough to come up with ideas for, but I did my best! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Lethe. I hope someone finds this helpful. May Lethe relieve your pain and worries, if you wish her to. 🩵

List of Subtle Worship Master list

[barnacles-incarnate]

Hello Natey! How’re you, everything alright? Oh, right-! Did you ever figure out what was up with the Lethe? You kept mentioning how it felt strange to be on board there.

- Cords <3 🌊 (@dip-n-drown)

Cords! God is it a relief to hear from you. I'm fine, probably in need of a good meal though- gettin into that Institute has proven a lot more mentally tasking than I thought. The Lethe though,, that was- yeah I'm still not sure what to make of it. The crew seemed very aware; of what I don't know but they at least thought they knew something. Maybe they'd forgotten. That captain of theirs, Christ, I knew the seas made people suspicious but lord. She was probably what put her crew so on edge. Telling those stories like gospel, her eyes would glaze over like her mind was embroiled in smog.. yeah it might've been nothing, just people influenced by stories and too long on the open ocean. I think I came out unchanged fundamentally but it still irks me.

How are you though? Get up to anythin interesting?

[brineffxiv]

Aw hell.

Back up a bit.

So there we were, Venat and I, trying to enter Ktisis Hyperborea in order to track down Hermes, when who should we re-encounter...

Haha! It turns out that despite claiming to not believe my story, Emet-Selch has been (with Hythlodaeus' assistance) investigating the same things Venat and I have been. I am so happy about this. I was literally chanting "Yes yes yes!" When Hythlodaeus explained what they had been up to.

*Ahem*

We have uncovered similar facts and reached the same conclusion: since it seems unlikely that Hermes himself wants to bring about the Final Days, he may yet be recruited to help prevent them.

(ha... ha... in retrospect....)

And then Hythlodaeus laughs at him. I adore these two.

It's too late Emet! You've been contaminated with my friendship (highly contagious) now you'll never be rid of me! 12000+ years in the future you will care about me so much you'll plan for me to succeed after I kill you.

...oh no now I'm crying again...

Keep it together, you've got two whole posts to write to catch up with the plot. No way you're fitting this all in one.

Right. Right.

I find Hermes (and Meteion) in the depths of the Hungering Gardens and convince him to meet with our little group outside.

I tell him what I've told them.

Though reluctant to believe my tale, Hermes agrees to theorize based on his knowledge of dynamis. He concludes much as I have already suspected: that it is likely the varying densities of the people which produced the different effects in each Final Days - the warping of creation magics and the transformations of the people themselves.

But Hermes also points out something new: dynamis is itself only an energy, set in motion by emotion, which must have a source.

It would follow then, that this source... it must be a thinking being, in order to have emotions? Mustn't it? It's not a what. It's a who.

And as Hermes points out, the celestial currents form the outermost layers of the star. If the phenomena appeared first where those were weakest, then...

Someone out in the great expanse is trying to kill us.

Ah. But we have only a moment to reflect on this new horrific revelation, when...

Fuck. Oh, fuck. Hermes, you goddamn idiot.

But no, it's not a new "friend", it's Meteion's sisters reporting in. Meteion proceeds to "suspend" her individual consciousness and connect with the shared one.

Ah.

Oh. No.

Something has gone very very wrong.

Aaaaa!

Meteion is screaming inside my head, and only I can hear her. The rest can tell that something has happened, but they cannot see the truth of it.

And then, quite suddenly, she has disappeared.

Hermes explains that this is an ability Meteion has to avoid confrontation; she alters her aetheric density to blend in with her surroundings.

It's likely that I could hear Meteion's voice just then when the others couldn't because Meteion utilizes dynamis to speak in her mind and my comparatively thin aether left me susceptible to it. This means I'm the best chance we've got to track her down. We split up and search.

Danger music is playing! Danger music is playing! This is not a drill!

Several times I encounter Meteion or her voice and several times she runs away. Disappearing again. I glean from the brief snatches of dialogue that she is fighting her programming to compile and make her report. Something about the data her sisters have transmitted has frightened and upset her, and she does not want to present it to Hermes.

Our search party regroups to find a new plan; I will continue tracking Meteion via her voice, and Emet-Selch will follow, prepared to rain aether upon her to disrupt her vanishing trick. The rest of our party will work to blockade any avenues of escape, a task made easier in that it appears Meteion has fled towards Lethe.

Um. Lethe? The river of forgetting in the underworld? Can we uh... Can we not go into there? I have a bad feeling is all.

I am at once delighted and extremely distressed. The danger music is still playing loud and clear.

The plan works perfectly, for good or ill, and Meteion is cornered. Her voice in my mind begs me to protect everyone. She can no longer flee, and commences her report.

Everywhere Meteion has gone she has found the dead and the dying. Her dispassionate voice continues behind our mounting horror.

Emet-Selch points out the obvious problem in the mission Hermes tasked Meteion with: he did not account for a negative result. The premise of Hermes' question - what others live for, what gives their lives meaning - is flawed, if Meteion encounters only those who are dead or do not wish to live.

Venat orders Meteion to cease her report, suspend her mission, and return home. But Meteion is not listening. Emet-Selch determines to take Meteion back to Amaurot, as she will be needed in order to retrieve all of her sisters.

Hermes is still stunned from the revelation of both the answers to his questions and the astounding oversight in his instructions to Meteion. He kneels in front of her and seems about to acquiesce to Emet-Selch's demand, but...

Memories of Meteion and his promises to her fill Hermes' mind, and he resolves to accept the answers in her report, whatever they are.

Suddenly he transforms. Declaring that he will not allow Meteion to be taken from him until she has delivered her full report, he takes her in his arms and flies off towards Ktisis Hyperboreia.

We chase after them as quick as we can, but arriving at Ktisis we find a crowd of confused researchers outside. An alarum is sounding and the facility has been evacuated and put into a state of alert - a field of dampening magics is now in place effecting any who aren't Ktisis researchers.

Nonetheless, we must enter the facility.

OMG OMG OMG

(Of course Emet is a Dark Knight. He fights with love! In this essay I will...)

This dungeon is a downright delight. All the little bits of commentary and characterization!! HHHhhh!!!

Also I somehow managed to get Venat killed by double stacking a mechanic on her during Hermes' fight and Hythlodaeus res'd her. Hythlodaeus, my man, you are a Bard with a resurrection spell: you have got to stop saying how bad at everything you are because you are clearly not.

Yes, Hermes, you are indeed a mad, desperate fool, but you are a mad, desperate fool in serious need of therapy and someone to talk to. Your problems, to me, seem to stem from the fact that you feel so alone. Your compassion is hampered by the fact that you're entirely too caught up in your own head, and unfortunately, you do not seem to be much of an intellectual. You need friends, people you can share your thoughts and feelings with, and who you can bounce ideas off of so you don't send your emotionally fueled, vulnerable bird-daughter out into space with no means to shield herself from negative feelings. Bad idea, that. Also you need to calm the fuck down.

Together, we defeat Hermes, who returns to his humanoid form.

Emet-Selch declares he is taking both Meteion and Hermes into custody on behalf of the Convocation. As Emet moves to do so, Hermes turns to Meteion and apologizes to her, for being unable to hear out her full report. Hermes has just time enough to ask one final question of Meteion: was there happiness to be found in those stars?

Meteion's answer is long and features examples of failed civilizations that appear to hit close to home for each of our ancients. Those probably deserve closer examination, but that tangent got three paragraphs long before I realized there really wasn't time for it, because as she's giving us this answer Meteion is beginning to leak the black smoke that signals dynamis corruption.

A- Ah. AH. Oh. It's not. It's.

It's Meteion.

The thing out there that's trying to kill us.

It's Meteion. The Meteia. Her sisters.

They are the source of the emotions behind the Final Days.

And Hermes...

You. YOU. You...selfish monster. You bloody hypocrite!

"If man can learn to value all life and retain his will to live he will surely find a way to avert his demise"

It's not enough that you throw your precious creations at us to slow our advance through Ktisis, no, in making your judgement on man you in turn curse every life upon this star to share our fate. Or, have you not considered the method by which you sentence us!? Perhaps you are too distracted by your own despair to truly hear what she is saying: Meteion is bringing death to the star itself, not selectively killing off Man. You know this from my own account of what the Final Days will bring.

You're just like the rest of us; how cheap other lives become in the presence of Man, whether you seek to better us or to destroy us. I couldn't see, couldn't fathom, how you could be the Fandaniel I met in the future. But you've been him all along, haven't you? When push comes to shove you crumple under despair and it's not enough to take your own life, no, you'll make everyone suffer with you. Everyone must feel your pain.

Hermes causes the Final Days. In full knowledge of what he will bring, the pain and the suffering. He knows, and he chooses this. Unlike Meteion, who has become corrupted, unlike the Convocation, who will never know against what they struggle, Hermes stares evil in the face and embraces it. A mental breakdown will not absolve you Hermes, in this moment you damn yourself.

No. NO.

I forgot about that thing!

Hermes orders Kairos to rewrite the memories of all within Ktisis Hyperborea, beginning at the point of Emet-Selch's arrival in Elpis. Our memories are to be replaced with a vague recollection of Meteion and her sisters' shared consciousness becoming unstable and exploding, triggering Kairos.

Kairos begins counting down.

A lot of things happen, very quickly, all at once.

With his back to us, Hermes bids Meteion fly to the far edge of the universe where none can reach her.

Venat breaks her bonds and launches herself at Meteion, intent on stopping her, but Hermes blocks the blow and Meteion leaps into the air.

The break in Hermes' concentration appears to have freed the rest of us from our chains, and as Emet-Selch summons his weapon to challenge Hermes, Venat leaps aboard Argos in pursuit of Meteion. As the two shoot skyward, Hythlodaeus leads me to the edge of the platform. He tells me that here, this is their fight to wage, but that I must take the knowledge I have gained here back to my time, to my own battle.

Meteion is rapidly approaching the bounds of the star, with Venat in close pursuit. Just before Venat can catch her, Meteion shapeshifts into an actual bird (Hey! My friend has that minion! What!?) and speeds away into space, but not before Venat manages to tag her with a spell.

Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus sacrifice themselves to allow Venat and I to escape with our memories intact. Kairos completes its final process as we soar above their heads.

In the final few seconds left to us, Emet-Selch proclaims that he still doesn't believe my story, but, if it must be said, to not squander the legacy he leaves to me. In futility I reach for him, feeling the weight of our history falling into place.

Honestly, I could barely manage to take screencaps of this part I was crying so hard.

But I caught his smile.

...

Outside again, Venat collapses on the grass, exhausted both physically and mentally by what we've just been through.

The spell Venat tagged Meteion with is a tracking spell, one with which we can track her. Though she is already unimaginably distant and beyond our current reach.

Venat uses Argos to check on our friends, now exiting Ktisis Hyperborea, with Hermes in tow.

As expected, they have no memories of the events that Hermes contrived to have us forget, and Hermes himself appears devastated at the loss of Meteion.

Wait, what? No. No no no no! You've just seen, literally just seen, that even when Emet-Selch believes something to be completely ludicrous he will do his due diligence to investigate it. Tell him. Tell them, the Convocation. Even if they don't believe you at least let them know about dynamis, so they can recognize it when the Final Days begins! We cannot reach Meteion where she is now, but you have time. Time to work to stabilize the aether currents. Time to find an alternative solution so that when the Final Days arrive it's not necessary to summon Zodiark. Don't you start this again. This information control.

Leaving aside her asinine view that public knowledge of the contents of Meteion's report would lead to some sort of further catastrophe... Venat is against telling the Convocation the truth because of her fears of what Hermes would do if he learned the truth?? Venat, have you lost your mind? Hermes is one man. The only reason he was able to do what he already did was because we had the deck stacked against us, we confronted him in his seat of power with our own abilities severely limited. It was a very specific set of circumstances!! Outside of these exact conditions what he did would not have worked! Hermes' greatest weapon is our ignorance, that's why he contrived to have us forget in the first place. You are wasting the opportunity our friends sacrificed all to provide us with!

You already know the key thing that Hermes will contribute to resolving the coming crisis! The knowledge of celestial currents! Share this knowledge and you will have no need of him!!

It needn't be senseless and seemingly inevitable at all if you would bloody well tell people! Hope is so much stronger when built on a foundation of knowledge. We cannot stop the Final Days from coming, but you can yet mitigate it. All needn't be lost. You can yet choose to do something different. I beg you, use this time to find a different path.

Please Venat, please do not let your future become my past.

[polskasroka]

The Promise of Eternal Oblivion

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hades (Supergiant Games Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Melinoë & Odysseus (Hades Video Game) Characters: Melinoë (Hades Video Game), Odysseus (Hades Video Game), Achilles (Hades Video Game) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Written During Hades II (Supergiant Video Game) Early Access, Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father Figures, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ody can no longer run from his past, POV Odysseus (Hades Video Game), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Word count: 6,868 Summary:

The Lethe, the famous river of oblivion, is a tempting option.

Read on AO3 or below!

All’s said and done, at last. Chronos has been cut into pieces once more and hidden in the darkest corners of the Earth and the Underworld by all the gods who fought against him. The feasts have been thrown, both down in the House of Hades and high up on Olympus to celebrate the victory that has restored the once lost peace and balance in the world. It’s currently being rebuilt and reborn, now with Demeter’s and Persephone’s great aid. So is the House of Hades.

The shades are taking care of everything, with Dusa and Zagreus being in charge of the design choices. The latter wouldn’t be in that position if it hadn’t been for his mother’s power to convince the rightful lord of the house that it was a good idea.

Melinoë has also been offered to share the job with her brother and the maid but she politely declined, as she usually does. She prefers to continue acquainting herself with everyone around here and becoming more knowledgeable when it comes to what is where in her old-new home.

She isn’t the only one who was encouraged to stay at the House of Hades or return to it.

Hypnos did it without hesitation. So did Skelly.

Nemesis refused.

Hecate chose to stay at the Crossroads, for it had always been and would always be her home. Apart from that, she wants everyone to have that sort of safe haven ready in case anything went wrong once again.

Moros would follow Melinoë wherever she’d go and reside. That earned the House another child of Nyx.

Then, there was Odysseus, who had to consider all pros and cons of staying at the House of Hades or claiming his spot in Elysium. Certain that he’d have few to no things to do there, he accepted the invitation. Sentiments similar to Moros’ might have also affected his decision. However, Odysseus would follow the goddess to the edge of the world for reasons different from those of Doom’s.

It did sound great at the start, it really did. A change of scenery was meant to do good, especially when moving from the middle of magic woods to a house. One that belongs to none other than the God of the Dead, the King of the Underworld, at that!

And maybe it was a bit vain of Odysseus to be thinking such things but he’d once lived in a luxurious place like this. He’d owned it. He’d been a king.

That part is, however, a far cry from who he is now.

He does have responsibilities but they’re not overbearing. He’s not a ruler of men anymore. Not in the mortal sense, at least. He’s still a tactician, though. That particular trait got him a task, for the fulfilment of which he’d have to use his experience and knowledge to invent new ways of preventing the Shades from leaving the Underworld.

The task never ends, obviously, but Odysseus doesn’t really mind. He’s got a purpose, so he’s not sitting idly, spending his every waking hour thinking about his past. The scrolls of plans and maps always lying on his private desk efficiently pull his thoughts away from the heartwrenching things he’d done when he’d been alive. The gut-churning war crimes or sacrifices made that would’ve ended badly no matter what he’d done.

When the war against Chronos was being waged, the duties he’d perform for Hecate and Melinoë kept the intrusive thoughts at bay in a similar manner to how his current job is doing it. The difference is that the constant fighting was much more consuming. There never was a real break from anything. Now there are. Even Shades aren’t able to work all the time.

Odysseus desperately clings to the most recent plans that he’s been working on, even while leaving his private chamber, granting himself one of these breaks. He’s almost afraid to let the thoughts about his best blueprints go for fear of spiralling down a breakdown filled with guilt and hundreds of ‘what ifs.’

He would be so successful at that if he hadn’t exited that room.

The spell is broken once he steps out of there. There’s no going back now, although he wishes he still had that boldness in himself, so that he’d just turn around and crawl back into the safety of his own four walls.

It’s not Melinoë who’s making him want to return to the blessed solitude, no. It’s the cries that he hears and blood that he sees that make him want to do that. It’s memories of the ‘great war of Ilium’, as Moros once dubbed it, that feel like crashing against a stone wall. The memories evoked by the sheer sight of Achilles. And Odysseus hasn’t even heard him speak today yet! Now, that is a new record for him.

“We, um… don’t talk about me and bows,” Melinoë says, laughing a bit nervously. “Isn’t that right, Od?”

“Ah, the bows!” he replies cheerfully, not to infect the goddess with his sour mood. As he approaches them, he continues, “the Nightmare Goddess here has many talents and the bows seem to be her only weakness.”

“You’re much too kind.” Melinoë rolls her eyes.

“It can’t be that bad, lass. Come on, let’s see what we can do about that.”

Melinoë doesn’t see the way Odysseus’ eyelid twitches at what Achilles has just offered. The man in question does.

“I’m not sure, sir. I always shoot everything but the target!”

“Your brother used to do the same thing. I managed to teach him, so I dare say I can manage to teach you too. Surely, it can’t be impossible for some of us, at least.”

The only reason why Odysseus holds back whatever snarky comment he’s got ready is Melinoë’s chuckle. He can’t bring himself to ruining her moment of amusement.

“Why don’t you join us, Od?” she asks as if nothing happened. As if Odysseus isn’t gritting his teeth so hard, that they’d shatter were he not a Shade.

“I might as well.” He smiles his usual smirk at Melinoë but drops it once she’s not looking at him anymore. Instead, he looks Achilles right in the eye and says, “watch out for your heel.”

Odysseus would really like to be happy for Melinoë and maybe he is. He surely is proud that she’s actually trying to learn how to use a bow properly but he’s so mad at himself for not having taught her himself. The worst thing is that he doesn’t know what he’s been doing wrong this whole time. The bow just didn’t work out a couple of times and they abandoned the idea. And now she’s picking it up in no time!

And it’s thanks to Achilles at that, out of all people!

Ridiculous is what this is.

As if to add insult to injury, Odysseus has been suffering from nightmares recently.

It’s not that he didn’t have them earlier, back when the war against Chronos was still on. He did have them but they contained much different things. In those days, he’d dream about losing a lot. He’d dream about losing the afterlife he had at the hands of the Titan. He’d dream about losing the Crossroads and everything that he and the rest of their inhabitants stood for. And he’d dream about losing Melinoë.

Such nightmares had Odysseus wake up with cold sweat running down his spine.

Now that the dangers are gone, his mortal past is catching up with him. It’s also getting progressively worse, for he soon can’t remember a night without a nightmare. He thinks about telling the goddess about it, wondering if she could help cease the images and noises of bloody battles and the terrible events that happened during his 10-year-long journey home.

The arduous way back has a lot to offer in the nightmare department. So does the war. Every night, it’s as if his mind’s casting lots as to what kind of suffering it’ll inflict upon itself.

There is something that tops everything, though.

The memory of dropping that infant from the wall.

That horrifying and infamous moment looms large over Odysseus’ dreams. If he happens to have it appear in his sleep, the rest of the night becomes restless. It makes him sick to the stomach no matter how many times he’s relived those dreaded seconds inside of his own head.

Giving him sleepless nights is one thing. One day, he goes to walk around the House of Hades and lands on the top of the high walls that surround the place. Everything is perfectly fine until he looks over the edge at the floor all the way down at the bottom of the wall. His head starts spinning immediately and there’s suddenly no air left in his lungs (as if he needed it), and his throat’s all dry. His knees almost give out and he has to stumble backwards and sit down.

Breathing, albeit unnecessary, seems impossible for a good while and the tactician feels like he’s about to pass out, his chest painfully tight. Luckily, though with tears welled up in his eyes, he manages to calm down, one palm on his breast, the other trembling.

He’s visibly shook even by the time he comes back to the main halls of the House. He needs the safety of his chamber, even though he’s not high up on the wall anymore.

“Odysseus!” Melinoë’s voice pulls him out of his head and he stops, and turns around to face the goddess. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

WHAT?!

“Me? Never!” he announces quickly, confidently, gesturing with his hand in the air. “I could be working on the most time-consuming plans but I’d never purposefully ignore you, Goddess.”

When he’s done talking, his hand stays in the air for a while and Melinoë’s face gets shrouded in concern.

“You’re trembling, Od. What’s going on?”

Odysseus looks at her and then at his hand, and he quickly shoves it downwards, focused on not letting his façade break.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Melinoë folds her arms. “I don’t believe you.”

There’s a sudden urge to tell her that one thing he’s never told her. The one that haunts him in his worst nightmares and the one that broke him down back up on that wall.

“I…” he tries, he really, really tries, and Melinoë knows it. She hears the way that one syllable wavers. But he can’t let it out. Not now. Not here in the hall. “I haven’t been sleeping too well, Goddess. You see, now that the future is not that uncertain anymore, all the tensions from the not-so-recent times seem to be catching up with me and thus affecting the quality of my sleep. This shall pass soon enough, though.”

A half-lie. Not bad.

But Melinoë furrows her brows nonetheless.  She still accepts that explanation and doesn’t pry further. Odysseus couldn’t be more relieved.

“If you say so. But if there’s anything troubling you, just tell me, alright, Od?”

There’s so much genuine care in her tone and the way she’s gazing at him that he knows he can’t tell her that it’s his nightmares that make him look like one of the undead from Ephyra back in the day. Not when she’s caring so much.

What would he even tell her? You don’t go to the Goddess of Nightmares and forbid her from giving you nightmares. That sounds highly disrespectful at the very least.

The nightmares don’t pass.

In addition, immersing himself in work and blueprints doesn’t help as well as it used to. Even receiving compliments from the Lord of the House or his son doesn’t aid Odysseus’ situation much.

The problem is that he doesn’t have anything to look forward to. While alive, reuniting with his family had been his driving force. Not too long ago, ending the war with Chronos was the ultimate goal that he and everyone around him shared. Now, making it more impossible for a simple Shade to leave the Underworld is a dead end job.

Then, a very foolish idea appears in his head. One of the worst he could have ever had – reopening old wounds is never a smart idea.

So, even though he’s made peace with his wife and son after they all died, he’s started considering finding and seeing them again, all the while hoping that they are still able to recognise him after all this time. After all, the Lethe, the famous river of oblivion, is a tempting option.

Indeed, he hasn’t seen his first own family since that day. But although they parted in a friendly way, without arguments or resentment, Odysseus has been yearning for seeing his loved ones anyway. He’s never really come to terms with them having gone their separate paths. Maybe it’s selfish of him but letting go of people one loves so much is not a simple thing to do.

Odysseus knows it’s not going to end well but he commits to the idea anyway. Anything to sleep through the whole night and stop experiencing the war and his journey home every day, every moment he’s not too busy with whatever is on his hands.

But he can’t just go to Elysium straight away. Wandering pointlessly around that place in search for his family rubs him the wrong way, so he has to ask someone for help. It won’t be Hades, no. He’s dealt with his brothers before and he’s not going to tempt fate anymore. Or ever again, for that matter. But he can ask Melinoë. She should be able to help, especially now that she’s already spent some time in the Underworld and in the House.

Thus, Odysseus seizes the first best opportunity at making such an inquiry to the goddess when he happens to stumble across her in the garden she shares with her mother now. And since old habits die hard, the tactician often tends to the garden, for which both the Princess and the Queen are always grateful.

“Oh, hi, Od! I’ve just finished here,” Melinoë says, standing up and brushing the dirt off of her hands. “I’ll leave some patches for you next time.”

“It’s your garden, Goddess, and you don’t have to remember to leave it for me to care for anymore. Those days are long gone.”

“It’s still our garden. It’ll always be. But,” she sighs, “you haven’t come here to talk about our plants, have you?”

“In fact, I… I’d like to ask for a favour, if that’s not a problem.”

Melinoë looks at him incredulously, folding her arms. “Of course, it’s not. What can I do for you?”

“Let’s suppose I were to visit Elysium. And look for my wife and son.” Odysseus notices how Melinoë’s face lights up, so he continues before she can start. “Is there any way to know if they’d still… remember me?”

His voice breaks a little at the end there and he wishes it didn’t. The goddess doesn’t let him dwell on that for too long, though.

“The Shades in the Administrative Chamber will know. Or they’ll know which scroll we should read to learn what we want to know. O-Or what you want to know! It’s your private matter, after all.”

“Well, I’d be honoured if the Princess of the Underworld herself decided to accompany me to both the Chamber and the Elysian Fields,” he claims in a warm tone, one that’d convince anyone to do whatever he pleases.

He also bows his head and Melinoë can’t say no to it all. Not that she was ever planning to.

“Let’s go then!”

The Shades in the Administrative Chamber willingly help out the two after given enough information on the souls in Elysium they’re meaning to find. While they’re waiting for the right scroll to be obtained, Melinoë gifts Odysseus with a hopeful smile and a bright look and it does fuel his beatless heart with the happy kind of anticipation.

Soon, Melinoë receives the scroll and hands it to her friend. An aura full of gleeful energy surrounds him because he doesn’t want to think of the tens of reasons why his family may have already chosen to drink the waters of the Lethe. And all those reasons would be equally sensible.

Odysseus finds the correct line and his enthusiasm is gone in an instant. He lets out a long exhale and gives the scroll back to Melinoë who also reads the bad news. She then watches him turn his back to her and run his hand down his face. She returns the scroll to the Shades of the Chamber and walks over to Odysseus to lay a hand on his shoulder. He slouches slightly.

“Do you still wish to see them, Od? It’s not a problem for me to find them, even if they don’t… As long as you’re still willing to go,” she offers gently, kindly.

“Aye, Goddess,” he says lifelessly.

The majority of their walk to Elysium is shrouded in silence. Melinoë isn’t too surprised, considering the information that the scrolls contained. Odysseus is visibly tense and nervous, something he rarely allows himself to show. In fact, Melinoë can’t tell if she’s seen him this restless around anyone but herself.

She stops at one point and Odysseus follows. He looks at her and then to the front. A while ago, he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice two Shades a couple of steps before them, floating above the green meadows.

Odysseus glances at Melinoë again, his expression screaming confusion and disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Od,” Melinoë says quietly and watches him turn his gaze back at the pair of Shades. “I assume that they didn’t look like this the last time you saw them… did they?”

“No, Goddess,” he replies curtly. “They were… more whole, if that’s how I can put it. They looked more like I still do. Why has this happened?”

“There’s two reasons for that. The more forgotten the Shades become, the less they look as they used to, back when they were alive or when they arrived in the Underworld. Then, if they have no purpose, no duties that bind them or keep them motivated, they turn into those trusty green Shades. The latter is connected to drinking from the Lethe. After that, all they’ve ever known are these Fields,” Melinoë explains calmly, sensing how gloom’s gripping her friend’s dead heart.

“No sorrows or pain?”

“None.”

A shaky exhale leaves Odysseus’ mouth. It’s filled with some relief, though, and Melinoë hears that. It makes her feel a bit better about him and what he’s got himself into seeing.

“That’s why they have no motivation. This ever-present bliss of Elysium is what rids them of it. They have everything they could ever want, so why pursue something else?” the goddess adds.

“Will they stay in this… form forever?” Odysseus asks with the last embers of hope that he could dig out from his despondent self.

Melinoë hesitates, aware of how the Shade next to her is hanging on the edge of a breakdown by a thread. But he asks, so she can’t let his question stay unanswered.

“They won’t.” Straight to the point. “They’ll fade away, eventually, and their life energy will return to Primordial Chaos. Their essence will never cease to exist. But they won’t be reborn as the same persons.”

Heaviness fills her own heart as she hangs her head and stares at the green grass before her.

As soon as Melinoë hears Odysseus sniffle, she has to squeeze her eyes shut, so as not to let tears fall from them. Her own breathing wavers and she focuses on steadying it back to its natural pattern but still registers the air around her moving and the sound of the Shade next to her plopping down onto the ground.

Glassy-eyed, the goddess utterly pities Odysseus, the sorry sight he is right now. Hoping it’ll be at least a bit of comfort, Melinoë sits down next to him and lifts her hand to lay it on his back. She rubs at it carefully and then his whole frame shakes as he does his best to mute the sob that breaks from his chest. He’s got his eyes covered by a hand that he propped on his knee but Melinoë knows they’re at least as teary as hers.

“When they do fade away, they don’t even notice it. Nothing’s ever going to hurt them again,” Melinoë states reassuringly.

She’s met with silence, which Odysseus breaks after a while. “They drank from the Lethe right after we went our separate ways.”

So he read that entry in the scroll too.

A tear rolls down Melinoë’s cheek, hearing a weep rip itself from deep within his soul.

Odysseus doesn’t speak of his family ever again. He also doesn’t mention the encounter in Elysium and neither does Melinoë, for which he’s utterly grateful.

Days go by as they always do in the House of Hades again. There’s plans lying in front of the tactician’s eyes for most of the time, as he constantly draws his attention away from how his son and wife decided to forget about everything so quickly… But he doesn’t blame them, he can’t blame them. In fact, he thinks it was the most reasonable thing for them to do. They’d suffered enough once and they deserved to be free from those days.

The reality of it hurts Odysseus anyway. It always will.

It’s also yet another thing that’s going to be haunting him, weighing him down. He hates himself for dreaming not only about his mortal days but now also about that blasted stroll to Elysium.

Odysseus wakes up in the middle of every night. The nightmares seem to never be leaving him and he thinks he’s growing used to being torn away from his sleep while yelling and sweating cold beads along his spine. That’s when he knows that it’s no use going back to sleep because he’s not going to doze off again for another two or three hours.

So he revisits his newest plans and ideas, sitting at his desk with the chamber being illuminated only by a single torch hung up on the wall, next to him. In the dim light, Odysseus studies the blueprints, pondering over any possible changes or improvements. There is one concept that involves a wall and he’s feeling brave to assess it one night.

He digs it out from the pile of scrolls that he decided he would deal with later and spreads it across the desk. Holding the two sides down with his hands, he peers over it and an unpleasant sensation washes over him. He tries to weather it by swallowing and releasing a long exhale but it looks like it’s not going to be enough in the long run.

There’s that feeling of something clutching at his chest again and Odysseus blinks and attempts to compose himself because it’s nothing more but a scroll! A Great Tactician can’t be scared of scrolls, it’s absurd!

But it’s true.

Odysseus rips the plan into shreds.

Some other day, Odysseus wakes up with a thought of telling Melinoë about the most gruesome crime he committed during the war. He’s determined enough to do it as soon as possible before the courage leaves him and he’s left with that burden all alone again. He needs to share it with someone. He needs to finally feel better, lighter, and this must be the reason why he’s been coping so poorly lately.

If the goddess is not in her chamber, she is at the training grounds. Courtesy to Hecate, said training grounds look just like the ones back at the Crossroads. Melinoë wouldn’t stand it if they were different from what she’s used to.

So Odysseus heads exactly there but the closer he gets, the more familiar swooshes slicing the air he can hear. Curious and watchful, he peeks inside from the outside of the area and notices the goddess practising her archery skills. It brings a smile onto his face that disappears from there once he lays his eyes on Achilles who’s apparently still there to supervise Melinoë’s progress.

The tactician’s eyes grow cold at the sight and his fists clench tightly when Melinoë’s hit the mark and runs to Achilles to hug him, beaming with happiness and pride. Oh, she’d be a joy to look at if he weren’t there with her. Teaching her. Telling her how to shoot. Praising her for her first ever successful shot. Being there to witness it. Being there to laugh with her and return her embrace.

Odysseus should be there, not him.

When he storms off, all enraged and gritting his teeth, he’s got no chance of hearing how much Melinoë wishes he saw her do that and that her new goal is to better herself at archery even more and then show him how much she’s learnt.

The decision takes him a while to make.

Wanting to smooth out the process, Odysseus lists down all the advantages and disadvantages, both for him and for the residents of the House of Hades who are the most dear to him. Or one resident.

It’s rather sad to admit that the scale tips in favour of resolving to do the deed and finally be truly free. Free from worries and sorrows, and pain, and nightmares.

Odysseus knows it’ll terribly hurt Melinoë but he can’t go on like this anymore. He’s been trying to fight all those intrusive thoughts and remedy his terrible dreams and painful memories but nothing’s helped. Each day and each sleepless night are only making him more and more hopeless and desperate for a moment of respite. And the promise of eternal oblivion is something he’s found himself yearning for for the last couple of months or maybe even years.

The man of duty he is, the tactician doesn’t just leave. He makes an effort to inform everyone in the House about his decision and he’s relieved to hear their responses. The ones he’s talked to understand him but they’re upset anyhow. Maybe except for one figure who understands but is not too distraught. Odysseus is not too baffled by that, either.

He hasn’t told one particular goddess yet, though. And he doesn’t want to discuss this specific matter when he passes her in the halls. Instead, he asks her if she could visit him when she’s done with whatever business she has to attend to.

Odysseus also hasn’t told her about the infant yet. He doesn’t think about the possible repercussions. He’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

And it’s going to happen sooner than he’d like. It almost seems as if Melinoë resigned from doing whatever it was that she was planning on, and came straight to Odysseus. He shouldn’t be surprised – it’s not the first time such a thing’s occurred.

Melinoë is perplexed immediately after entering the room and having the door closed behind her. With a puzzled look, she follows Odysseus and takes a seat on a chair opposite him. She searches his face for any indications regarding the matters he wants to tackle but finds nothing but deep concern and… shame?

“Something isn’t right, is it? It can’t be, look at yourself, Od. Is it connected with something or someone around the House?”

“No, Goddess. It, erm… involves my mortal days.”

He swallows and exhales. Then, he drops it, looking Melinoë straight in the eye.

Her mouth falls slightly open as she hears what he’d done. There is clear shock in her expression but then the goddess furrows her brows and purses her lips as if she’s pondering over something important or serious. It puzzles Odysseus, for he was expecting her to… to do what? She’s a goddess, she could know a thing or two about sacrifices that have to be made sometimes.

Will she understand, then?

“Why haven’t you told me about it before?” she asks carefully, quirking an eyebrow up.

Odysseus’ eyes widen.

“Well, I…” He’s at a loss for words – something that never happens to him. “I’ve told you all about my greatest deeds and I suppose I was worried about you changing the view you had of me.”

“You’ve told me about the… less great deeds too. I see why killing a mortal child can be something that leaves a mark on a man but gods aren’t the purest beings, either. I’m sure you know that. And I think I can imagine what it means to be made to choose while being pressed by a god.”

Melinoë sends him a little smile which he returns, remembering how she mentioned being forced to make such decisions during her nightly ventures to Erebus or Ephyra. But then Odysseus also looks at her in a way that she can’t quite read.

I see why killing a mortal child can be something that leaves a mark on a man.

Does she now? She said it with something akin to lightness in her tone. Odysseus can no longer hide his own incredulity.

“That moment is still haunting me, Goddess,” he admits wearily. “Every day and every night.”

Silence.

“I’m so tired of–”

The tactician doesn’t let his voice falter any further, so he just shuts up. Tears well up in his eyes and he hates it. Averting his gaze, he blinks the tears away but it’s to no avail especially now that Melinoë’s got up to come closer and crouch in front of him. She cups his face to wipe the tears away and then grabs his hands with hers and squeezes soothingly.

“I need to rest, Goddess,” Odysseus gasps out. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stand all these thoughts and memories for much longer. You see, after you defeated that old bastard for good, I was looking forward to whatever it was that the Fates had in store for me. For us all.”

“But?”

“But the optimism died out sooner than I would’ve preferred.”

He tells her about his dreams and his nightmares. He tells her how the latter are only getting worse and worse, never asking Melinoë to change anything about that. Even the sheer fact that he’s telling her that the night terrors are constantly rendering him terrified and exhausted is something he never assumed he would be so open about to the Nightmare Goddess.

Odysseus talks about the walls he can no longer wander atop of. He talks about the torn plans and ideas that he had to forget because they included either constructing walls or getting onto the already existing ones.

And then, he speaks about the utter disenchantment that he was met with when he read the scroll about Penelope and Telemachus.

Melinoë’s radiating with genuine pity and it’s only making Odysseus feel worse. Her mood is visibly plummeting and it’s all his fault. But he can’t keep it all bottled up anymore. He has to let it out, so that she’ll understand why he finally wants to forget everything and claim his spot in Elysium.

“Od?”

His expectant look is enough for Melinoë to go on.

“I’m not making you feel any better when I practise using the bow with Achilles, am I?”

The question quickly pulls Odysseus out of his torpor. He takes a sharp inhale and stands up, pulling Melinoë up too. She doesn’t even notice when he embraces her and draws her close to his front.

“The last thing I want is you blaming yourself for that, Goddess. Or for anything that concerns me, for that matter. It’s him I’m mad at, not you,” he says firmly and feels Melinoë release a breath that she was holding.

“Are you sure? I can talk to him if you’d like me to,” the goddess offers, shrugging. Not a big deal.

“No.” Odysseus then lets her go and wavery words leave his lungs. “It won’t change anything. I’ve made my decision.”

“What decision?”

Revealing the news causes Melinoë to burst out crying and bury her face in Odysseus’ shoulder. He’s there to hold her while she’s shivering, hidden in his arms, clutching the fabric of his cloak. She keeps telling him that she understands but her weeping seems to be implying something else. It’s as if she wants to tell him that everything can be mended, as if that idea’s ready at the tip of her tongue, but such a proposition never makes it past Melinoë’s lips. They’re both perfectly aware of how stubborn he is. She’s taken it after him.

He explains to her why the Lethe is the only solution to the hardships he faces every day. He once again mentions the things he’s already mentioned – his past now going hand in hand with him – and Melinoë is truly listening, absorbing and analysing the information, in-between the sobbing.

Odysseus feared she’d start questioning him and convincing him not to do what he’s yearning to do. But she doesn’t.

To Odysseus’ amazement, she calms down as he keeps talking to her, rubbing her back in a comforting manner. Only then does the goddess truly start to realise the severity of the horrors he’s got to endure daily and nightly.

“Goddess, you’re the last one to hear it all from me because… I’d be honoured if you accompanied me to Elysium,” he adds in a hushed way.

“Do you want to go already?” Melinoë mutters gloomily.

“I’ll wait if you need a moment.”

“Thanks, Od.”

“Take your time.”

It’s Melinoë who starts talking about the pleasant memories of the past she shares with Odysseus. After all, if this is the last time she’s talking to him while he still recognises her, she may as well use it to reminisce, so that they don’t part in melancholy. Not that Odysseus would remember that for too long once they’re off to their own, separate fates.

The goddess’ heart sings when she mentions all the times she played hide and seek with Hecate and Odysseus would help little Melinoë find the Titaness. They’d all always laugh the alleged cheating off later. Melinoë also played the game only with him from time to time and once found, he’d chase her around the Crossroads, purposefully failing to catch her, only to make her smile.

He’s cherished Melinoë’s laughter since the first time he heard it. There was a time when the little goddess didn’t have many reasons to laugh, for nightmares tormented her and she woke up crying in her tent. And Odysseus was always there first, ready to console her and talk flowery words about his own past, prattling on about the challenges he’d faced during the war or his long journey home.

And Melinoë would always fall asleep, listening to his calming voice.

Just as she’s doing now as he ends one of his monologues with a joyous chuckle. It then fades away when the bank of the Lethe appears in the distance before them. They fall silent and the audible sigh that Odysseus makes has Melinoë’s heart sink. They don’t stall, however, and steadily reach the river, stopping a couple of steps away from its gently flowing waters embraced in veil-like mist.

The sight is beautiful. Breathtaking.

“I guess our journey ends here. Thank you, Odysseus. For everything. We wouldn’t have any of this if it hadn’t been for you,” Melinoë utters, her words shaky, as she’s stood in front of him, looking into his tired but pleased eyes.

“Likewise, Goddess. I must admit I never expected the afterlife to be this eventful.”

“But now it’s time to rest. You deserve it, Od. We’ve got our share of it already, so now it’s your turn. Go and enjoy it. Be truly free from all that haunts you.” She smiles but her lips tremble.

Melinoë can’t stop her teeth from clattering, yet somehow manages not to let tears fall from her glassy eyes. She sniffles and puts on a brave face. She shakes her head and then throws her arms around Odysseus’ neck, pulling herself close to him, so that he can embrace her too. He holds her tightly, as if he were to never let go for fear of losing what they have, the bond they’ve forged over the years that Odysseus has always been too cowardly to name or call out loud.

He almost says it then. Almost, since the words die in his throat and all he does is clear it, emotions overwhelming him.

Melinoë sniffles again and soon releases Odysseus from her arms. She then wipes her eyes and tells him that she’s alright. He rubs her arm comfortingly and the goddess mourns the moment he stops and turns around, unable to look at her.

He’s breaking her heart and his own in two at the same time. He knows it but he also knows that this memory, this sentiment will be erased in a moment. He’ll feel no more pain and he’ll finally be free.

That’s what he’s craving, so he doesn’t waste more time and walks away from Melinoë. She’s following him with her gaze, which is boring a hole in the back of Odysseus’ head and he almost can’t resist whipping back around and returning to her.

In fact, it’s when he hears her choke on a sob that his resolve breaks.

Odysseus has the goddess pressed to his chest in no time. She’s not holding back now, crying into the fabric of his clothes, gripping them in her hands not to let him go to that blasted river.

“It’s no use crying over an old bastard like me, Goddess,” he says gently, his own voice shaking.

“H-how am I supposed not to?” Melinoë hiccups and continues, muttering the words into Odysseus’ front. “After all you’ve done for me? After all we’ve been through?”

He wants to say something but tears suddenly roll down his cheeks of their own volition. He grunts to compose himself again but he still remains quiet.

Tell her, you fool.

… Or let her do it for you.

“How am I supposed to just let you go without you knowing how much you mean to me, Od? You raised me and have always been by my side… I could never dream of a better father.”

Something grips him from the inside. It holds tightly and then loosens up, making a wave of relief wash over him, making him cry with no more inhibitions.

Pulling Melinoë impossibly close, Odysseus kisses the top of her head and rests his chin there, weeping just as heavily as she is.

“And I could never dream of a better daughter, Melinoë.”

His heart shatters into small pieces, hearing the muffled cry that she lets out. One last time, Odysseus tightens the hug for a fleeting moment and then opens his arms only to see how downcast Melinoë looks.

He pulls himself together for her, though. He can’t allow it all to get to him. He can’t allow it to convince him to return to and stay at the House of Hades.

Having brushed the freshest tears off of his own face and then hers, Odysseus holds her by her shivering arms and Melinoë locks her eyes with his.

“It’ll be alright,” he tells her (and himself). “Go home now and enjoy the rest of your life, aye? No more tears, Goddess. Chin up.”

She nods, still snivelling.

“I love you.”

It takes all of Melinoë’s willpower not to completely break down right in front of Odysseus. It only feels more impossible when he lets her go again and turns around to wander off in the direction of the Lethe.

“I’ll never forget you, Od. I love you, too.”

When Odysseus glances over his shoulder, the goddess is there no more. He thinks it’s better this way, for this way, she won’t have to watch him do the deed. She won’t have to witness the moment his memory becomes blank.

With his fists clenched and his step faltering, Odysseus reaches the bank of the river Lethe. He sits down on the soft, grassy surface and exhales, staring at the spot where he and Melinoë stood only a while ago.

It’s one of the happiest things in his whole life knowing that Melinoë’s seen him as her father all this time. He wishes it was possible to purge one’s mind solely from bad memories.

But it’s not and the longer he’s there, gaping into the distance with longing for the goddess to return, the stronger the pain in his chest’s growing. And it can be over so soon. Freedom and rest are right there, waiting for him to take a sip. Melinoë’s not coming back and he really shouldn’t be thinking about how she must be feeling now, grieving alone.

Left there, without him to hold her and lift her up, so that she can confidently stride forward again and face another day.

Sitting at the bank of the river, Odysseus glances at his reflection in the lazily flowing water. He reaches out his shaking, uncertain hand and scoops some of the liquid oblivion into his palm.

So this is Elysium?

[nextonmy-tbr]

Book review: Hell Bent

Author: Leigh Bardugo Genre: Dark Fantasy

After being determined and fighting her way to stay at Yale, there is another thing that Alex Stern is hell bent at – to save Darlington. From hell. Seems like a plan, right? Only there’s a catch, or a few of them. Alex and Dawes are banned from saving Darlington by the Lethe House, they have to go to literal hell and get him back, they need more people to be able to enter hell, they don’t know how to enter hell. If that wasn’t enough there are murders of the faculty members which seems very related to the current tasks they have at hand. Will Alex be able to survive Yale and save the Gentlemen of the Lethe? Or she will have to give up on either of the one? Will Darlington forgive her when he is back? Read the book to find out…

My thoughts:

Before I could end the first book, I immediately ordered this one, because I knew there is no way I will be able to wait to read the next one. This book, this story, the characters… they are everything to me. If I could just travel in the future and read the next book, I swear I would do it. Honestly, I feel this book needs more hype. Like Shadow and Bone kind of hype. I need more people to talk about this one man…

Plot:

“We’re coming for you, Darlington”

In the last book, we witnessed Alex almost dying in order to save her future at the Yale and Lethe House. However, in this one we see her being obsessed with getting Darlington back, at any cost. Even her future at the Lethe House. Which honestly, surprised me, coz boy, did she not just claw her way in. Although it seems simple to get Darlington back, but there are so many things that are happening that it seems crazy. I think this series like the Crows is following the trope of found family as could see that happening. With the power dynamics at the Yale societies and Lethe being at play, we also see Alex struggling under the burden of her own secrets. We also dig deeper into the past of Alex and Darlington and how that has shaped them right now. The book like it promises is filled with lot of magic, murder, power dynamics and pure trauma.

Characters:

“This is my home, and nothing will take it from me.”

Alex continues to be awesome in this book and it shows. One of the most remarkable qualities in Alex that I noticed is her loyalty to her people, which I can’t emphasize enough how much I admire it in her. This book you will notice her unwavering efforts in getting Darlington back, knowing it will cost her the future. It is clearly visible how hard this is on her but she will do that for him. I mean at this point, if she doesn’t realize how much she likes this guy, I don’t know what will. This book you will also notice her make more friends apart from her Yale group i.e. Dawes and Turner. There is still a lot of traumas that Alex has not processed, which I look forward to in the next one. Also, we will see Alex understand more about being a wheelwalker and how it impacts her powers. I think with her powers, we are just getting started.

“Galaxy Stern, I have been crying out to you from the start”

Darlington…the man that you are. I want to know is there anyone who doesn’t like him? I genuinely think that is not possible. One thing that I have always loved about Leigh’s man in the books are that they are pure simps. And boy this one is surely one of top ones, somewhere near to Kaz and Nikolai. One of the concepts that has been teased a lot in this book, is that how monstrous the Gentleman of the Lethe can be. Though we see the hint of it from the conversations between the Grays, how he becomes in hell, I hope more of this will be explored in the next book. What I like about Darlington is that with every grey character we see how they are good people who became bad with circumstances and motives, here we see him who has hints of darkness or maybe even more who chooses to hide it under the cover of his good and pure side, not coz of any underlying bad intentions but just because he wants to be good. As simple as that. It will be interesting to see how simple it will be for him in the future.

In this one, we will more of Dawes being badass, there is more of Turner being a good friend to Alex, and there lot more creatures hinted at which might get explored more eventually.

If you are in a ride to witness all the morally grey characters, come together and find a family, a slow burn romance, monsters, beast, magic, politics, and everything in between then you are in for a hell of a ride. Let me know what are your views on this book and if you have any books in store for me to read or write further reviews on.

[sabraeal]

A Fire's Light From Far Away

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2023, Day 5: Woo

It was on four legs that Obi had run to Sereg, and it was on four that he left it, the ever-night sky bright with its new constellations. Not the ones his mistress has taught him— the hunter with his shield and sword aloft, the vain queen turned on her head, the two plows that carving Boann’s furrow through the stars. None of those hang in this night, so new that the air still smells of smoke and steel, beeswax and lethe but a fading memory.

But his hound nose scents it still, strong enough that he could follow it around in circles, spiraling closer and closer to where the enemy of his master’s master laid broken on the castle floor, cursing the day that the Wisteria line dropped from its branch. He’ll be taken soon, away from this knowe that only savors faintly of honey and deep into one steeped in it, forced to submit to a punishment fitting his crimes. What His Majesty will see fit to inflict him, only the gods can say; the aes sidhe are hard to kill as a rule, and the daoine harder still, but to revolt against a liege like this, against the high king himself—

Ah, well. It’s a good thing it’s not him who must swing that axe. Or pluck the bough from the rowan tree or whatever else kind of torture these half-gods can devise. No, his only duty is to his mistress, and it is to her that he races beneath this strange sky.

Beneath his fur, the wound itches. A four inch gouge torn into his side, not by iron or steel but by tooth alone. A glancing blow from a grinning mouth, a message writ deep in his skin. A man more mortal than he would not have weathered well, but copper had flooded his mouth and knit it true, and a few weeks care and rest had seen it healed, better than new. Save for the scar, of course, but he had not just been teasing when he told Sir that lasses loved a man with a little character carved into him.

Most did, at least. His mistress…well, she’d like the way it healed more.

*

What took days on the journey to takes mere hours from. The knowe’s shadows no longer resist his call, folding over his fur like a well-missed blanket. Sereg is no small domain, but with the blessing of his master and the surety of the shadows beneath his feet, Obi crosses it with no more trouble than a sleeping child draws breath.

He only slows when he feels that first tug of the veil on his fur, tendrils of awareness curling itself deep. Miss always shivers at this stage, telling him it’s spiderwebs against her skin, but to him— to him it is a caress, a promise. A seductive song that makes his magic sing, even as his geasa squeeze tight.

It’s then that he shifts, pelt ripping along his spine, ebbing up his legs in great, heaving waves until arms and flesh are bared. There’s no pain, not to return to himself, but iron and copper floods his mouth, so thick he has to spit to dull the taste. Obi rises from his crouch, brushing the last bit of wiry fur from his trousers. There’s miles left to go, ones crossed better with four legs rather than two, but well—

Obi takes his first step and nearly tumbles into the scattering leaves below him. Haah, it’d been a long while since he’d walked the earth in man’s shape. If he was going to see his mistress, better to practice, to look like he’d been a man more often than monster these past few weeks. He’d hate to slip in front of her, to show her just what sort of beast he could become if the right hand tugged on his lead.

She’s take Master to task, for one. It brings a wolfish grin to his lips, imagining the wag of her finger, the flush on her cheeks. What a lark it would be to see his cunning girl stand before an aes sidhe and accuse him of misusing his most versatile tool, his most loyal hound.

Or it would be, before she’d turn all that fire on him, each of her words rattling the chains lashed across his body, delivering their delicious sting. The air may be cold, but oh, a warmth flushes beneath his skin, stirring parts of him best left slumbering.

Haah, and that would be before she saw the scar. Oh, how the skin between her brows would pucker and furrow, the soft touch of her fingers tracing along the straight slash across his abdomen—

His muscles there tense with delicious anticipation, heart fluttering beneath the cage of his ribs. Only a few more miles now, he knows, tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. His chin lifts, eyes tracing the shimmering cowpath across the heavens. Soon, soon.

With the shine of familiar stars washing over him, Obi turns, setting himself on the path he’s always been meant to walk. To the road that will bring him to his miss.

*

“Ho there!” A squat palm raises in greeting as the gates swing open, a squatter man following behind it, a bulldog made from human parts. “Is that our Good Neighbor’s best hound trotting home?”

“Careful there, Jirou,” Obi warns as the man ambles out to meet him. “There’s no hand holding this lead. You’re liable to get bitten if you play too rough.”

“Aye, aye, I know well enough.” With a fonder smile than a beast like him deserves, one of those broad hands claps his back, warmth burning through even the heft of his jacket. “It’s good to see you, boy. You’ve been well-missed around these parts.”

His tongue tangles around the taunt he’d meant to sling from it. “Ah, me?”

Jirou squeezes his shoulder, falling into step beside him. “Aye, you, lad. Thought Hiro might well pass away from the pining. Be glad the younger lot took the third watch tonight, otherwise you’d have no hope of getting to your bed before morning.”

Ah, but it not not his bed he longs to see, not when the embers smoldering in his chest flare to flames, burning with the same intensity they have since Miss fasted their hands at dawn’s first light and drew his oath from him, since she swore with all the power in her bones, you are mine. She’s here, somewhere, among the market’s press, and he—

“All right then,” Jirou chuckles. “I can see well enough that I won’t be getting a good word from ye until it’s done. Hie ye back to your mistress then, I trust ye remember the way?”

A laugh scrapes up from the depths of his chest, singed by the blaze within. “The hills could take my eyes and ears both, and I could still find my way to her.”

The guardsman may roll his eyes, may sigh like he’s a man lost, but his mouth twitches all the say. “You young men. Of with ye already, and spare me from the embarrassment of ye lovemaking.”

There’s a protest in him, a denial worn to its familiar shape, but there’s no patience left in him to still his feet long enough to give it. Not when that fire in him burns with so singular a purpose, not just a hazy glow at his edges, as it should be, but something that reaches out to him even as he reaches toward it, a different beast entirely—

He has only a moment to ponder it, to wonder at this new shape before it pulls his attention up the road, right to where the path draws to a small crest, and atop it— ah, he would know that color red anywhere, that taste of apples that washes over his tongue, spice making his nose sting. His hand rises with his heart to great her—

“Stay there!” His muscles clamp before his ears catch the command, rooting him to the spot. Oh, how sweet it is to be stung by her in this way, for his blood to rush and bring pleasure rolling over him, head to toe. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to, but haah, with his veins humming like this, he could hardly care.

At least until he realizes how complete the command is, how easily he submitted to it— too much, even for the pleasure of it. As if the compulsion had grown stronger in his absence, as if his body missed having her will hold him. As if something had changed.

It’s not until he sees how she runs, breathless and wild, that he realizes: perhaps it isn’t him who has.

Her hands clasp around his forearms, so hard he’s surprised his bones don’t creak from the pressure. She might even leave a mark, and ah, that’s best not thought about when he can feel her heat burning through his sleeves, when she’s so close that the scent of her magic clogs his nose. It doesn’t so much brush over him as swallow whole, enveloping him as firmly as she once had. Years ago now, back when His Majesty had first sent her to Lyrias, but it seems his body has not forgotten the feel.

And yet the physical distance remains. Already this is too close; copper must flood her mouth to touch him so, a bite so bitter most flinch, but not his miss. No, she just stares at him as if she wishes she could close this space between them, as if she were a woman lost and left to thirst, and he her first glimpse of water.

“You can be at ease, my lady.” It’s too breathless for his liking, but he cannot bear to raise his voice, cannot dare to find the strength. “Your sweet prince is tucked back in his knowe, safe and sound. The Lady Kiki and Sir as well.”

He might have slapped her for how she flinches, jaw slack as her sense comes back to her. “Oh, Zen…? I…ah, good. That’s…good to hear.”

Her grip eases, though it does not remove itself. No, instead her thumbs rub where they lay against his arm’s soft underbelly, tickling the skin at his wrists.

“Miss,” he breathes, confusion turning to mist between them. “It’s late. You should be abed.”

“I couldn’t…” Her lips press together as she looks up at him, just as lost as he. “I couldn’t sleep. Not when you were coming home.”

“How did you know that I would be…?” He shakes his head. “Did Sereg send word?”

“No.” Her brow furrows so sweetly his lips tingle. “I just…knew.”

His ribbon weaves through her hair, his awareness of it throbbing with the beat of his heart. She just knew. The way he’d just known in Tanbarun, her presence so bright and obvious the moment he’d fallen through Umihebi’s knowe.

Miss sits back on her heels, staring up into his eyes with an intensity that commands him as thoroughly as he words ever have. “Welcome home, Obi.”

The warmth that floods him is nothing like her sting. His breath catches, eyes blowing wide.

“Oh!” Her gaze drops to where she holds him, hands slipping from where they rest. “Sorry, I—”

“Miss,” he manages, but there’s no words that can convey the joy that pulses through him, no action that can dispel this lightning in his body save lifting her in his arms. He spins her, giddy, laughter flinging from his lungs with abandon, and—

“Ah!” And, yikes, that’s more than a sting. “That’s a lot of pain.”

“Obi.” She struggles against him until he sets her down, but then she does not flee, oh no, she bends closer, gloves probing at his side. “Did you—?”

“Ah, Miss, just a little flesh wound.” He waves a hand. “Nothing to worry yourself about. Didn’t even tear a stitch.”

“Stitches?” Her mouth pulls into a thin line. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Now, now.” His head fly up, placating. “There’s no sheep gut still strung through me! I promise I took good care of it. Let them sew it up real nice an everything.”

“Hm.” She’s hardly convinced. “Take off your shirt.”

It’s a concerted force of will to keep his hands off his jacket, but he fights it, if only to tease, “My lady, your wish is ever my command, but surely you don’t mean to ravage me in the marketplace.”

Her gaze rakes up him like nails on flesh, and ah, maybe she does.

“Fine, keep it on until we get to the exam room,” she tells him, a small smile on her lips. “Then we’ll see just how well you’ve behaved.”

“Oh, Miss,” he hums, following after her. “I’m sure you’ll find I’ve only been the best boy.”

[vesvius]

REUBEN | "PECCADILLOES IN LETHE"

"PECCADILLOES IN LETHE" by BASTIAN S.S

"The paddle might break but you will row until you forget to forget."

In the shadowy realm of Lethe, where the waters of forgetfulness flow eternal, a young boy named Mike finds himself at a crossroads when his beloved's memories of him begin to fade like whispers in the wind, Mike embarks on a desperate quest to reclaim what was lost before he too is swallowed by oblivion. Tasked with the daunting responsibility of becoming the Boater of Lethe, Mike navigates the treacherous currents of memory and time, determined to retrieve the fragments of what drowned in the river of bliss. In a race against time, Mike must navigate the perilous waters of Lethe and unlock the secrets that lie buried within its depths before it's too late. Will he emerge victorious and reclaim what was lost, or will he get abandoned to the eternal embrace of being forgotten?

"Peccadilloes in Lethe" is Bastian S.S 12th published book. The author has hinted a sequel of the same might come soon.

 © @rcubens

[youphoriaot7]

Idk where you last left off so you might already know some of this but

They were in Purgatory forced to fight each other. They got see their eggs after it but only Dapper was officially saved I think?

The Observer threatened to keep them on the island and said that Purgatory wasn't as bad as Quesadilla Island but let everyone flee to a ship because Maxo was about to blow up his nuke. Cellbit and Baghera chose to stay.

Etoiles tried to shield Richas from an earthquake but Pomme got hit in the head. Bad shielded Dapper from most of the blast from the nuke and is now turning green and having memory issues. Some ppl theorize he accidentally drank from the Lethe furing his journey to take Maxo to the afterlife (cause btw qMaxo is permadead)

Cucurucho brought the eggs (+ 3 new ones) back to Quesadilla Island and had a confrontation with Elq on his way out of Purgatory (whos become an eye... thing) (Elq confirmed he and the eggs are experiments I think. He said something like "are you gonna experiment on them too?" If I remember right)

The three new eggs were healthy and didn't remember much about their lives. Sunny is sassy and Pepito is having a terrible time and possibly gonna die to neglect and Empanada is very sweet.

All the old eggs have woken up and have 2 lives. Theres a new task system I dont fully understand but it concerns me cause they have to get Happiness Point Cookies from the feds or else the eggs will die and I think the cookies have Cucurucho's face on them. Pomme is apparently having memory issues and Dapper is seeing double.

And thats all I can remember from top of my head

I just found this in my inbox and I know it's old but I remember when it was from and I just wanted to say THANK YOU FOR GOING THROUGH THE EFFORT OF DOING ALL THIS KDHFKSHFKS <3

[libidomechanica]

And theyr choking

That we cannot whether I be I or no! With each hapless name, but let the aid of light there is but all the world equal task! And theyr choking. We haven’t both of laws, sighing, I whet my soul should row you beckon up their fames themselves, bloom’d, and constellation; or Paradise of the silly flow’r, and slily watchful servant for heart. The white horses over with fragrant thou, contract their doubt but once yet! I’ll drink coffee and I by a spell befits, for her knew, to Corinth—O the bay where your war of Lethe noticed&that soul may cool; but thee to move? So well; for the center.

[officermaddie23]

Commander Mefalen Jones

Factions aligned with

The Council of the 6

The Stone Hive Resistance

The Infiltrators and traitors of Ashengate

The Claws of Veeshan

The Dranik Loyalists

The Ring of Scale

The Cohort Against Blue Sun

Opposing Factions

The Pack

Blue Sun

The forces of Dyn`Leth

The Legion of Stone Hive

Kromzek

King Tormax

Overlord Mata Muarm

Quests

Werewolf that makes Denlord Tashaki look like a monster

Lidgare's aid

Scouting the blue sun base

@mellowwolflady if EverQuest and Not alone after all crossed over Mefalen would be a task giver