#lethe: task two

[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."

[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.

[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.

[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.”

[doyouknowthisbook-poll]

FINAL RESULT: The majority of voters haven’t read this book before and didn’t like the excerpt posted. 😔

Ninth House is a 2019 dark fantasy horror novel written by Leigh Bardugo. From Wikipedia: “The novel follows unlikely Yale University freshman 20-year-old Galaxy "Alex" Stern, a high school drop out and homicide survivor who can see ghosts, called "Grays". Alex is mysteriously offered a full ride to university following her trauma despite her background and lack of qualifications. She attempts to navigate her new life at the Ivy League while tasked by her benefactor with monitoring the eight Houses of the Veil, secret societies that harbor dark occult magic and power, as a member of Lethe, the ninth house.

Ninth House was generally well received. It was on several must read lists, including Time’s "The 100 Must Read Books of 2019." In 2020, Ninth House won the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Fantasy Novel.

The first in a series, Ninth House was followed by a sequel titled Hell Bent, which was published in January 2023. On October 10, 2019, two days after the novel's release, it was announced Amazon Studios would adapt Ninth House as a TV series. Leigh Bardugo is set to executive produce the project alongside Pouya Shahbazian.”

Do you know which book this is from?

Please reblog the polls, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people read the excerpt with an open mind 💖📚 Title and author will be revealed after the poll's conclusion.

[lethe-rpg]

TASK 02: FEARS

Everyone has them: those monsters that hide under the bed, those visions that terrorize dreams each night. The residents of Lethe are no exception. For this task, we would like to know what haunts your character. Whether it be psychological, physical, or an unexplainable phobia, tell us the fears themselves as well as the finer details. Some questions to help you find a starting point.

How did these fears come to be?

How do they impact your character’s daily life?

In a stretch of the imagination, divulge what you could see happening with these fears in the future. What could possibly make them worse?

Even if it is in a worst case scenario, what plots could you see originating from these fears?

This may take the form of just a headcanon post, a drabble, or even a thread idea. As always, please tag your posts with lethe: task two and feel free to link them in the new tasks channel in the discord.

Please be sure to tag any potentially triggering material and to use a read more when applicable.

[sapphire-dreamsky]

taste of uncertainty 

Starring: Hades | Reader | Hermes is mentioned | Persephone is mentioned | Kronos is mentioned 

Pairing: Hades x Reader

Type: Angst | Pining 

The skies in Helheim are always dark. The people in the underworld live in constant darkness. It is the Underworld after all: the domain demons call their home; the domain where all those who committed crimes against their brothers and sisters are sent to after paying the price in the mortal realm. Helheim is not meant to be beautiful. It is meant to be practical. The judging of straying souls; a mechanical process. The steps are easy to remember for everyone. It is the same everyday after all. As it was; As it will remain. A duty he had to watch over as the ruler of Helheim.

Hermes brings in the souls. Charon ferries them on the stagnant river. The souls walk through the gates, wait for their turn as the queue slowly moves forward with each passing judgement. It is the same process everyday. Hades is used to this system. He grew more and more jaded with the judging of each passing soul. He saw everything. From the most noble humans to the most despicable ones. Helheim is indeed a depressing domain. The most noble humans end in Elysium, the ones with the most mundane deeds end in the Asphodel Meadows, and the most despicable ones in Tartarus. A fair judgement.

It is incredible really how humans’ lives are much more alike than they would like to accept. No two souls are similar. But the experiences they go through sure do shape what kind individuals they turn into. In some of them, he sees Zeus…well with less opportunities to go on a rampage that would end civilisations, but the patterns are there. A puff of laughter escaped the god of the underworld. If Poseidon could read his thoughts, the eldest knew he would get scolded. He can basically hear his sermon, “Humans and us have nothing alike.” And yet…

Purple eyes glance briefly at his left side. The stubborn woman who accidentally stumbled into Helheim while still alive stood there, by his throne, notebook in hand; taking note of the mortal’s life’s achievements and milestones. This task used to be that of Minos. However, after her insistence of repaying Hades for his kindness as a host, the lord of the Underworld passed this task to her. He found her company much more pleasant than that of the former king of Crete. Her sense of humour makes his long days in the courtroom more tolerable.

(Name) is nothing more than a mortal. Her soul is like many others he judged before. When her time comes, she will roam the Asphodel Meadows, all ties tying her to her current life forever severed with a sip of the water coursing through the River Lethe. She will forget everything. Her life, her parents, him. Everything connecting her to her mortal life will disappear from memory. She will be reduced to another soul, walking around the fields, purpose and ambition stolen away. As it always had been; As it should remain. Her eyes will not light up with recognition when she notices him across the meadows. He will be nothing but a stranger.

His heart squeezed in his chest. ‘Our time together…memories of you sitting there in the Elysium fields, Cerberus’ heads resting on your lap, listening to a tune I composed during one of my sleepless nights, all gone because of a ridiculous system.’ His grip on his bident tightens. This is a dangerous thought process. This…attachment to this mortal…

When did he get attached to her? He can't quite pinpoint when. And yet, this feeling spread in his chest at the mere thought of losing her…it was familiar. A familiar ache that he felt only once in his life, aeons ago, when a certain spring goddess stumbled into Helheim in a similar fashion as (name). A goddess and a mortal woman. One has ichor running in their veins; the other, a dark red liquid that when spilled carelessly could end a lifetime. They should have nothing in common. A mortal woman should never be praised alongside a goddess. It is blasphemy. And yet…in Hades’ eyes, the genuine smiles that grace their faces were similar. They both radiated warmth. It was as if they brought some rays of the sun with them before coming down to Helheim and decided to share it with him.

Gods are rarely loved. They felt the desire to possess anything that accidentally gain their fancy. But real love, the selfless, purest one of them, is a foreign concept. Perhaps, because of their status as immortals, they know they would never really lose their loved ones to time. They take each other for granted. They fall hard and fast, but once the euphoria disappears, nothing ties them to that figure of desire anymore. In the rare cases of exception, the union was rarely easy. Hades witnessed how Psyche was played and tested until Aphrodite relented to spare the young girl.

Hades himself, remembered feeling something akin to love once. But even now, he wasn’t entirely certain it was actually love and not just a mere fleeting affection for a naive goddess. That spring deity will always be the base of his ‘what if’ daydreams. A door they both opened but that he could never bring himself to close. How can he let go of something that showed so much potential but that never came to be because of his unbudging convictions? Every night, he wonders what he could have done differently. What compromises should he have made? How could he have made this relationship work? All of these probabilities remained just that. A probability and possibility amongst one of many others.

And as Hades taps his bident three times on the sparkling tiled floors of the courtroom, his judgement for the soul before him finalised, he wonders if (name) will follow the steps of the spring goddess. Will he be accompanying her to the gates, watching as Cerberus’ heads and tail dropped as yet another being that brought some comfort in their long lives? The words he was never able to say to that spring goddess on the top of his tongue, but with a different future in mind; a different woman by his side. A woman he fears doesn’t want to stay after she finds what she is searching for during her stay with him. A woman who realises that Helheim when compared to Mt. Olympus is grim and devoid of warmth.

‘Will you too leave me craving for the potential of what we could have been if you had decided to stay?’

“Your soul shall reside in the Asphodel Meadows.”

A woman he will see one day, when the Fates have decided it was time for her to go, stands there in the middle of the throne room, waiting to be told to go to the Asphodel Meadows, to drink her memories away. Their days and nights in Helheim spent discussing about their respective pasts and family, the secrets they spilled over the wine they drank, the days she spent with the imposing Cerberus—reduced to a yapping and whiny puppy in her presence— chasing after her in the Elysium fields, the nights he spent teaching her how to play the piano and flute when they couldn’t sleep. All these moments sailing away into nothingness.

‘Or will I be visiting you in the Asphodel Meadows, wishing to go back to the moment we first met. Would I let you stay by my side knowing what I know now, or would I force you to leave to spare me this second disappointment?’

He can hear it now. His father is laughing from Tartarus, shaking the grounds he walks on.

“You brats will never find happiness.”

The curse of a spiteful father.

[alenales]

What was the first mission that Alya go with Nevra? And how was it going?

Alya and Nevra's first mission was easy, as Alya was asked to collect the ingredients for two potions, test her for the blood of magical creatures, and already that no one on Earth would remember her, fending off an attack on them in order to bring her back. This is how it was when Alya met the guy near the door to the headquarters.

-Nevra, shouldn’t you go back to your work? - Alya decided to clarify before stepping outside the walls. Still, as she remembered, the bosses met with Erica almost constantly, unless they were very busy with missions or sent somewhere. -No, today my mission is to look after you, Miko ordered that you definitely make these potions, and therefore I am completely immersed in our work. - The vampire said with a smile. Such a mission did not seem strange to him and he even decided not to hide it …

-Well, as you know. - Alya answered, sighing, - though I don’t remember what is needed for the second potion, which should erase the mention of me from the locals, and not to be searched for. - She tried to express herself concretely, speaking about the mnemosyne. -You mean pistachio strawberries, living water, Lethe water, a bunch of coffee beans and some royal jelly? So? - The guy himself decided to clarify, although he knew the list better.

-Yes. - After all, she definitely doesn’t have enough mana to acquire everything at once, and even more so, the sabal hasn’t returned yet… -Well, we can buy them on the market or send a familiar to look for them. -Today I sent sabers to the forest, but he never returned… that’s why I’m very worried about him… - she honestly admitted to him, looking away and blushing.

-I understand that it’s difficult for young familiars here, but we’ll look for him during the mission, otherwise there’s nothing to worry about, I took all the ingredients for the second potion myself. - Still, I know if Miko demands it, then it should be done as quickly as possible and I don’t think you would go to Valkyon or Ezarel, so… - He smiled when he said this, but I interrupted him.

-I know, I will have to repay you for all this and thank you, I can’t talk to them at all, it’s a little easier with you. - Looking up and looking into his eyes, she finished, overpowering herself.

-Then it's over. - With the same sly smile, he led me faster through the gate and only then into the forest, where he showed me the right ingredient for the first potion and collected it pretty quickly, and then went further inland to complete my other task. To be honest, Alya was very afraid to be alone with the vampire, because he does a lot of things, even the things that Ezarel told me about, offering to sleep with him … But with him it would be completely unbearable, although it is the same with Nevra, but more tolerant, because if this happens and then she sees him with another, then her nerves will fly off the coils, and Alya will not be able to see the guy anymore. Although even such a sweetheart together warmed her soul very much and a smile could be seen on her face, and the vampire himself smiled at the girl in response. Yes, and he liked it too, because now he noticed the one that was not as shy as it was with others. Yes, and at that moment they were interrupted by a howl from the side of one tree, it’s good that they managed to collect what they needed for the second one … Carefully walking there, Nevra looked at what had happened and held Alya behind him. In front of them was a black dog that killed one adult gallitrot and a small sabal, and the second baby gallitrot was wounded and weak, after his last attack. The expression on Nevra's face instantly darkened, and Alya, almost with a cry, tried to run up to the sabal, because she recognized him as her own, which Keroshan had recently presented. But it's good that the vampire stopped her in time and, covering his mouth, dragged her back. -Hush, hush, dear. - He said, apparently deciding that this would calm the girl, but it didn’t work out, because tears were flowing down her cheeks, Alya could not believe what was happening. -This is… this is my familiar… - Alya was only able to say quietly and Nevra realized that it was necessary to save the situation and even after examining the area, he came up with a plan. -Alya, this is a black dog, he is too dangerous and you better go back to headquarters and warn the others, and I will take him on myself so that he does not chase you. The guy said confidently, looking into her eyes. -No, I can’t leave you alone… - she said through tears and even hugged Nevra, which surprised her in addition. Your life is more important to me. -Hmm… Okay, but then you have to distract him so that I can attack from behind without question, if you want to save these familiars, we must work together, because I have confidence in you. Deciding not to argue with the vampire, she nevertheless moved a little to the side and jumped out from behind the bushes, threatening him with a stick. Of course, this was terribly stupid of her, but it was more important that the Shadow Chief had time to catch the moment and hit him. Yes, and the dog could smell her fear from afar, and therefore the bait worked perfectly. Until Nevra was ready, Alya distracted him, dodging jumps, but then a knife flew past, from which the animal ran away, leaving us with the wounded. The vampire was right next to me. -Alya, are you all right? - He asked, hugging the girl and trying to calm him down, because it was clear from his eyes and shaking hands that he himself was very worried, but why? She is the most ordinary dugout, which could easily be left here, saying that she could not hold out and fought well, but died … But Nevra did not do this and did not leave Alya …

-I … I'm very afraid … - the brunette just somehow said, answering him and still crying … - I was very scared and thought that I would die.

-Hush hush. I'm with you. - The guy said again, holding her tighter and even kissing her on the forehead. Alya could feel his heart beating wildly again, as if he was just as worried about me? So some short time passed and, getting up on my feet, I somehow crawled to the gallitrots and sabers. Nevra did the same, helping her, but being wary of an attack from their side as well. The little puppy whined around the big one, as if trying to call him, but apart from him, no one moved and no signs of life fell … which made her very sad, yet I lost my first familiar. Even a vampire was sorry to see this, and he concluded for Alya. -Unfortunately, your sabal and this adult gallitrot died from wounds inflicted by a black dog. But the puppy can still be helped. It seems to me he is still too young, it seems a couple of days old. - Nevra said bitterly, looking at the girl already. -Although it’s probably dangerous and difficult, but I’ll try. Since there is no more sabal of mine, then he needs to replace his parents. With tears in her eyes, she said seriously, trying to hug the puppy and take it in her arms, although he turned his muzzle towards her and growled a little, but did not attack compared to his past enemy. -Hush, hush, everything will be fine, I'll take care of you. He seemed to obey me and, to the surprise of Nevra, even gave himself up on the handles, from which he then buried himself between his chest. The vampire envied this, but having made a decision, he led me back.

[notmuchtoconceal]

...

.

(they were lined against the wall. they were facing them. the procession moved as though notched in place along a tread -- a creak in the strings of their wooden legs.

one had breath who failed him. across the line, one walked along the wall and went to him -- without hesitation, he went to him.

- buck up, mate. it's time. you weren't brave before. don't dishonor yourself further by refusin bravery now. c'mon. c'mon. what if i gave ya a lil stroke. lookit those luscious locks! there's a good, strong soldier. picture me doin this ta you when i'm over there, facin ya down. hee-hee. hee-hee. c'mon. feels good, don't it?

... i'm sorry it has to be this way, mate. i'd have loved to have met ya under better circumstances. i'm sure it was the pressure -- you know. things get to be so much sometimes. nobody wants to turn away from what they love, but sometimes we got to, mate. even if it destroys us. ... all turns out for the best in the end, y'know.

he walked as though composed of cartilaginous tissue -- a bounce in his step as though the bleak morning air contained some warmth or buoyance.

across the yard, the day had turned to night -- the night had swallowed day. in aspect, rationally discordant. the hyperagitation of spotlights playing over espresso steam in bitter root.

on the stage where the orchestra played, metal cross-hatchings rose in gleams of spectacle gleaming silver modernity. the black velvet billowed before the speakers. the yawns of their eyes beheld a shepherd falling nowhere down some fractal of infinity.

--\\./--

_0_0_0_0_

between the breaths it came --

to provide respite from the faint relief.

the wail of a speared leviathan collapsed the wall of sound -- the clattering of chain ringing on bone -- the jigsaw peels into rinds --

smeared in ambergris warmed personally by the bulbs, the roots and the gloves of the officers who had taken the task of so tenderly arranging them --

the toothed caress loomed in languid mid-parting --

a lotus of men in their racing skins -- stewing for sake of sport and display. elbows coiled around their knob of knee. cheekbones plush around pungence of groin. a mutual recognition -- of their place and their role.

[prokiev - dance of the knights]

-/~_/.\_~\\-

two stood in a crucible off the main-stage -- where one looked out a window into night, and the other into day.

in their den, the lights did play over the karats of their insignias, hexagonal lenses refracting upward ever after.

the velvet trapped the silence inside. they stood inside the speakers.

the gloss of their leather gleamed in the false moon -- a light diffuse through the weight of an impenetrable overcast.

[ … ]

strings fluttered in flight some far off place.

-/~ -/~

now together, they faced the night.

- sir, the musicians have grown impudent.

- the musicians are well within their right to grow impudent, brother -- look at the service in this economy.

- amid these masks, my eyes draw to serious faces.

- malfunctions, disorders, and bears -- a koi pond schooled with red herring.

- against the walls -- we face the walls.

- i cannot abide poor organizing principles, brother -- especially in service to ceaseless brutality. a true patriot ought act with brutality which aspires to be ceasing.

- we bid the cowards adieu.

--//.\--

/. / . / . / .

- friends, brothers, sisters, siblings without whole or center -- we do not wish death upon the musicians!

(a deathhead flutters

torpid on the acrid mists --)

... for if we draw close, even in their silent hatreds we can hear the resonances which sing at the center of their beings!

(-- and into lethe plunges

stain to slop his wiry gutters!)

... hearts which have known beauty still express themselves in these faces, no matter how well eclipsed by these loom-embroidered roadmaps of blood!

- barreling down the road.

[shrieking far -- ]

- there need be no blood shed today which was not preordained.

(i entrain all

which my pre ordains)

... we are few, and without counting -- we have brought the night and we shall sing to you tonight! we call shadows to the world of men -- and strip men to the call of shadows!

- pierce your lungs -- and breathe the air.

- walk with us and know no fear --

(from out this state of suspension

we broil and peer)

... these columns of smoke you see with eyes so singed have grown blighted to the fires which spew them!

- look to the skies!

[ -- echo of decimation]

- the way we bring the day!

.\ o -/- / ( o ) \ -\\- o /.

... moonscapes like amethyst in fields of glass

- when i level my hand, the bombs always seem to fall.

- hand in hand, you will be as we will be --

( O ) =+= ( O )

- we will rule your airways with two cast-iron fingers.

- WE LIGHT UP THE SKY

- bitch

- IIIIIII'M

- the dog days are upon us.

- LIVIN IN THE ICE AGE

(for the joys of my discontentment --)

- the ides of march have lingered late this year

(i am free to do my loving in the winter)

(o // O)

<O*.*o>

... the calendar spins as a top without surface.

- WITH THIS APPARATUS, WE SLIDE ASIDE THE ORGANS OF THE STATE // CLENCH YOUR EVERY ROOMY BOWEL //

(LEAVIN A SLIME TRAIL AS YOU GET LICKED)

THE PRAETORIAN GUARDSMEN WILL PLAY FOR YOU TONIGHT.

-.-.-.-.-__\ =( \+/ )=/ __-.-.-.-.- o

 . . . ///////// yhe plAV`ers \\\\\\\\\ . . .

(*** ***Arjs *** ***Arjs) / \

hjs Ascende^cV` -- el precede^ye yhe crjyjc lAvreAye | yhe Accvser -- yhe AdvocAye yhe hjgh ivdge -- yhe j^qvjsjyor yhe execvyjo^er | ^^Ai. ********** ******* cpy. brvxer hArvspex cpy. ioeV` schrejber^^Ache^ cpy. lAjkA psychor-rhAx cpy. iAcek psychor-rAgja cpy. vvAllV` hlAford cpy. lvxor dróyyj^.^

. . . ///////// { + + } \\\\\\\\\ . . .

/-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-\\./-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-\

the imperial palace at city hall was a serpentine folly of cubes and facades deadlocked into a number of revivalist styles, including, but not limited to -- neo-atlantean crypto-abstractionism, post-atomic pre-continentalist schizotype, and lacuna-coriolian sans-italic --well in-keeping with the metastasizing brutalism which had been in vogue since the time came when foundations had nowhere to be laid but upon previous foundations, and edifices stacked high upon one another in fossilized substrata which made you seem to careen upward -- or which made you seem to careen downward -- depending on if you were looking up, or depending on if you were looking down -- the exact moment of which had been a point of debate among historians since centuries prior to its occurrence.

- all right, new guy. it's real simple. if ya wanna get into the archives on the fourth floor, ya gotta reach into the throat of the lion fountain on the right wall of the lobby on the left side of the second floor balcony -- that's right wall, left lobby, not left-right, right-left --

... you think you got that?

... it's above the armory, if that most likely makes things easier -- you should see an escalator up to the library if you're in the right place, but if you're in the wrong place, you'll see a closed-down receptionist's booth and the ambiance of a bustling place left abandoned. now, inside the lion's throat you'll find the proof of sir winnifred's red rock, and under the shadow of this red rock, you shall find your way to the carved maidens that are the pillars of the evidence room adjacent to the right-side mess hall (that is, right and left from the orientation of the front door by the way mate, as that's the standard startin location. though considerin our orientation up here -- on the third floor office at the backside of the buildin -- you'd be descendin the stairs from this direction, and so would most likely be needin to reverse these coordinates, unless you, loike me, always orient yourself from startin location and learn to work your way backwards from there) ... so, like i was sayin, when you're in the pantry storage room, find the bust of the busty lass who ain't got any heart left in her and stick it right in. that should detach the chest of spice racks long enough for ya to sprint across the room and stick that brick we got up there in the track. ... that's when ya lean back and enjoy how gooey you're gettin under yer leathers, mates! every day here's an adventure! once the mechanism releases, the rock should drop outta the statue and into the gutter, returnin it to the lionmouth -- if you're with someone, it's best ya just have him stand there and catch it. why ya always gotta bruddy up on guard, mate! really saves us some time, not havin to re-do the retrieval.

the purpose of these architectural enigmas had been to enact the dual function of disorienting spies and other unfit seekers of state secrets in a process synchronous with embedding the deeper truths of our state mythology into stone -- in other words, they were to enforce unceasing ritual pressure on the serviceman who occupied their halls, while lacerating the thinly spread minds of apostates and other anarchists, and in design proved a faultless expression of the style and refinements of the bathing brothers -- illuminating the depthless majesty of our many faced father's inwardly fragmenting and outwardly blooming drive to self-refining perfection --

in practice, they proved a constant hemorrhage of cost, time and manpower.

[the aureole of your radiant, yellow-haired brother

brooding against a bank of dials and diodes --

aching in the throes of an obsolescent control schema]

- where is the centaur medallion, brother? is it in the relief on the balcony, or did you leave it -- still slotted for stray eyes to idle upon -- in the plinth of the statue of the holy dismembered?

[your friendly brother's finger --

slick against his lip]

- if it's not still on my desk, cozily tucked away under my list of conquests, turn-ons, secret longings and recipes, i might have left it in the room with the statues of the monks who cry blood -- y'know the acid blood that melts that ambergris material we use to hold the keys to the prison cells? the acid blood that's not strong enough to melt the key if you can measure out the proper ph?

... not that i had any reason to go into the prison cells, course. i was just reflectin on the wash dissolvin the corrosion of idleness in the mind, as any good serviceman does when visitin the acid cryin room. i'm not cruisin for beat-off material on the dow-low through my implant.

certain passages were accessible only through inlaying the correct ossified material into the correct portion of vacant space -- and for reasons of security, these passages could not remain open, for their obscure beauty and biological hostility would prove hazardous if disseminated without the time for proper absorption.

[the tap of his boot on the tile --

a pirouette to the chop of his point]

- look, look at the tiles -- through repetition we've gouged the most precise solution straight into the face of the riddle itself!

|- _|

|_ -|

from out the sloped embankments of the mortar -- across the plain dredged by the migrating stones, some insect beheld the cliffs.

... it is a route test of endurance, nothing more. see to it that they’re replaced.

[a receiver dinged --

throat cleared]

- i've spoken to the contractor sent by the dean of interior constructive arts. we both agree it would be stupid to replace all the tiles when our able servicemen were so careful as to only scuff within the established gridlines. with the rate of recruitment spikin, and traffic to this hallway only increasin, it's gonna be the same tiles scuffed over and over and they're gonna have to be replaced, so -- let's only replace the ones that've been scuffed!

the fresh tiles shone like quartz in the moonbeam.

- why look at that perfectly styled cube of fresh perimeter!

|- _|

|_ -|

... it's as though the problem were as irrelevant as the solution and we need not ever have made the attempt to strive for one.

(breath and eyeballs, fucker!)

- we better get to work on makin em scruffy and dirty so they match the others!

o-(\ ) ( /)-o

two eager recruits -- lead by strings around their roots -- arms antennae against slunk heads -- stand shed of singlet pressed to damp of pit.

a touch anemic in the prime of youth -- the gelatin of tackle-dummy bodies stripped to dick-splotched rorschachs cradle the boughs of overripe meat in the dinge of their sacral warrior garments.

pinched by the bisected fly -- the sinews of the tether extending. musk of hearty gonads basting the crisp white cotton to the motley gradations of a viscid dawn.

the rib of their torsos, sopping in the other's runoff, pressed over noses to scald eyes pressed shut by stench. disintegrating the ions of awareness in blood flow to the brain. polar lobes in the oscillating kinesthesia of how you stiffened as they brought you to your knees --

bucked and strained.

bone against bone.

bone against marble.

{- _} -| . . |- {_ -}

... two L-shapes licked where they refused to intersect -- to writhe in the light of the torch that is our guard.

stamping impressions of their grime deep into the pores of the environs. to mark as they have always done where they had been and what they merely were -- a merger of spirit into stone through the lubricants of the animal body --

to in turn soak up the prints of the boots as the soil accrued and in turn give to the compost of the floor which was our nourishment --

tongue to grit -- tongue to gland.

blind eyes rolling queue'd balls in the dark -- clenches of breath between the pain -- as they begged to be left wrecked -- lingering at the edge of their limits --

pump after pump -- man after man -- lining up in the dark -- no trees, only forest -- in the trunks of pertly wrapped thighs -- perched, leaning and heel-speared against the molding.

begging for it to end --

being to be left wrecked -- to linger at the edge of their limits ...

the savory of the sweat, the dribble of the gilded pearls which dripped from the baggy hoods of elephantine cockheads --

a feast of packaging distant as shore shelves as your brother backlit by the hall lead you by a clump of your hair -- so blessed to feel his bare nail dredge your scalp as he went so far as to remove his glove.

- keep those ditches dug, men!

--//.\\-

the lock on the commode of the west wing balcony would remain sealed until two busts of the stars who were right were pushed onto opposing pressure sensitive switches. upon exit, the busts would appear returned to their place of origin by unseen hands.

some days you had upwards of ten or twelve recruits crammed into the vestibule, peeking through the crack of the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the esoteric mechanism which would return things always to the place where they were deigned to be.

the busts themselves stood atop marble plinths, and inevitably proved a drudgery for even the mightiest of men -- which is to say that by the third or fourth time a day, you were done with them.

the pressure on your pelvic floor from a morning's adequate hydration would steep the downy folds palming at the heft of your black walnuts with a more fragrant and herbaceous profile the longer it took to tear yourself away from your duties -- pressing down until the brine would bead among your most tender and quivering divisions -- focused solely on the mechanical task of sequencing one series after another -- knowing that a line has already formed. that you will need to lay your palms flat against the stone -- unclench the crustacean claws that have become your fingers, pinching in finely-honed repetitions -- your whole back engaged in the act -- as you press forward -- slab of ab to slab of ab -- arms alive above the elbow -- a dribble coming down as the dam breaks -- all this self-control -- nowhere left to go -- when you're no longer being controlled.

the heat trapped by the layers of leather and decoration which made up your military dress would lead to you and other men to remove your jackets, pouring streams of perspiration onto the tile -- requiring both an immediate mopping and rehydration, necessitating, in time, a return trip here.

[the irons bolted to his neck --

chained to plinth, the pedestal of his knees

a mist over the lakes of his eyes --

stripped of all armament but tongue]

when your time came, you had a man stationed there at all hours, so with living eyes, the return trigger would not activate.

[angel-archivist]

Ok I’ll bit what’s the Argo incident

heeherheguehuidgigdfhg ALRIGHT so Like i said its kind of a mix of Science Crew and Space Horror two stories :]]] The basic premise is a group of astronauts were sent into space as a part of this private program run by a company who wanted to do the hotels in space, but wanted to make sure they wouldnt get like. fucking sued or whatever because of negative long term affects, they send a group of 10 people and none survived most died grisly deaths on the station, and only 3 bodies were recovered who had died when trying to force themselves into a deep enough sleep. The bodies are recovered by a recon team with Kai, Chelle and a few others, and their brought down with a few strange artifacts that were found in the station back down for Lethe to examine.

N while One of the bodies located on the station is being examined it jerks awake and scares the shit out of the mortician, he's shocked to be back on earth and is immediately brought back to the facility to be examined, n it turns out his body is beginning to heal itself, with a new potential money maker on their hands the boss decides to task Lethe and the others on figuring out wtf is going on. Basically there are like several layers to the story we have the space portion, the facility sections, and the outside the facility scenes. Lethe kind of operates as a field researcher who proposes the idea that the radiation that caused the ex astronauts new condition form and the side affects hes now dealing with, may have originally originated in the town and being thrust into a high pressure situation on the station plus the contained situation resulted in some of those on it to change.

So basically its Lethe trying to figure out the mystery of what happened on the station as the only survivor has no memory, recovering video logs from the station, researching the ppl of the town trying to figure out if anyone else had been experiencing these things, investigating artifacts and doing so so fucking much w/o any recognition from the facility </3 while with the help of the scientists uncovering the shitty human experimentation going on and figuring out that what happened on the space station was SUPPOSED to happen (not exactly but u know. they mostly planned it)

[we-eternal-rp]

☄  𝟭𝟵.𝟭𝟯𝟴𝟱° 𝗦,  𝟭𝟰𝟲.𝟴𝟯𝟯𝟵° 𝗘   →   𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐕       📍 𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗖 𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗, 𝗤𝗟𝗗, 𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗔

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊  𝐕  +  A PAST LIFE, A PAST FACE !  —  putting a number on the amount of lives the deities have, by proxy, lived on earth is arguably impossible. it’s also, for most all deities, impossible and inaccessible for them to remember these past mortal lives due to drinking the water of the river lethe.  however, we all know that your deities have shared the body and mind of innumerable mortals over time, so now comes the task where we ask you to pick a FC* and give us a brief tale about one past life.

CONDITIONS — you may only choose one face and past life, we may do other past life tasks going forward!  this is not an AU task so it is set in on earth, but you may choose your past life from at any time in history.

NOTE — we are not reserving FCs or ‘calling dibs’ in any way on FCs, and as always there is no barriers in regards to age, gender, ethnicity, culture, etc; the reincarnations end up by chance in whomever is born at the time their previous mortal host dies.

FC CHOICE* conditions and notes regarding choosing of FCs for this task.      — please do your best to choose one that is not often used or has minimal/no resources, this is not to say that you can’t use a popular FC if you wish to!      — you cannot chose a FC that is currently in use in the RP.      — there may be double choices of FCs in this task, which we hope to avoid but is by no means disallowed. condition being if there has been two tasks already posted with a FC in a specific role or era (aka. visually similar), we then ask you to choose another unless the role that FC is in that you have chosen is obviously visually different.

&  𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍  𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄:  make  sure  you  tag  it  with  #eternal!  task  and  drop  an  @  to  our  inspo  blog  so  we  can  reblog  it  and  flex  on  our  muses  and  the  talented  muns  behind  them.

[24-guy]

So... Whoever put that rose on the table could have been our missing harpocrates.

In the story of harpocrates, his symbol was a rose and in conference meetings, leaders hung a rose from the ceiling.

So whoever takes our harpocrates put that rose down.

Personally, I don't think it's Hannah, it could be anyone.

But there's probably significance to the wither rose.

Symbolizing death and innocent death at that. Loss of a pure life.

Who do we know, that's around currently, that has access to withers?

They don't have to be aquatinted with techno or Phil.

As long as they have no bad blood, they should be able to come in.

So a mutual neutral or higher relationship.

I'm going off of Techno's page since he seems the most critical of everyone and it should narrow down the list a bit more.

Puffy, dream, ghostbur, lazarbeam, Niki but she's already there, same with Phil, and ranboo as well, skeppy, tubbo is neural negative, vikkstar, wilbur.

Let's get rid of some major contenders, Lazar and vikkstar aren't on the server very much, so none of that.

Niki, Phil and ranboo are already members.

Tubbo wasn't aware of the syndicate.

Wilbur is dead.

Ghostbur has been hybernating.

Skeppy was shipped off by bad.

Dream was in prison, and you know techno would have probably cashed in on that lore. Unless it was to keep it secret.

So this leaves puffy, and skeppy. From the list of people that he's interacted with anyway.

I think the main argument against females as herpocrates is refered to as a male, using he/him pronouns. But let's not ignore that these are codenames of the gods and goddesses. Why wouldn't they be referred to as the same pronouns as the god they hold the name of?

Lethe was a goddess, yet Ranboo is taking that name.

So puffy. Why could puffy be herpocrates?

She was going to talk to techno about anarchy, they gained a minor friendship over a mutual hatred of the egg, pushing the relationship into a neutral/positive.

I have a feeling like techno knows the significance of the name he has chosen. He, protestilaus, was the leader of an army and was the first to die at troy. He knows he is going to die at some point. No amount of chanting that he never dies is going to stop that.

He is also aware he makes his friendships obvious. Ranboo and Phil live with him and he has protected both of them openly to potential threats, most namely the egg and bad. So, other than Niki, he'd need backup Incase something were to happen to him and the other two. Someone that wasn't obvious.

Puffy fits into that.

She'd also jump at the chance to protect one of the minors, as is that constant motherly instinct she seems to have.

I also want puffy interactions with my favorite characters.

Not to mention the syndicate could aid in her own task to destroy the egg.

[bailey-reaper]

Okay, okay, hear me out - a drabble about Barok and s/o's first meeting, but it's the Hades and Persephone AU 🙏

Of Life & Death

Notes: Oh anon, believe me, I am listening - I love world mythologies, and this is easily one of my favourites among the Greek Myths! The Hades & Persephone 'trope' is so compelling as a concept!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: abduction; power imbalance; vague/implied coercion

While I love Greek Mythology, I'm going to side step the obviously problematic familial element to the Hades & Persephone Myth by approaching this from the perspective that the Persephone character is actually a mortal who Barok wants to take as his lover.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

They were known in their village for being a young person who bore an 'old soul', for despite their tender years they possessed an impressive amount of perception and intelligence. It was common for others to confide in them and seek out their guidance on what should be done when problems arose. They were trustworthy, too, and kept quiet counsel on behalf of their friends and fellow townsfolk.

As a result, the town were incredibly fond of their dependable beacon of wisdom.

Unbeknownst to them, however, their dear villager had caught the eye of someone else: the very God of the Underworld himself, who grew weary of having nothing but his own counsel to confide in. How he longed for this one, who was a beautiful as they were smart; how he yearned to hold them and be held in turn; how he dreamt of them, and how it hurt when he woke and found his bed empty.

He knew it was taboo for Gods to fall in love with mortals, for the mortals were supposed to be little more than playthings in their grand design, but he could not bring himself to dismiss the feeling that had taken such a firm root in his heart.

The Lord of the Underworld loved this mortal and wanted no other.

For a while he agonised over how he might approach the task at hand – being a God of the Underworld, he could only claim dominion over a mortal when they reached the end of their life. The last thing he wanted was to kill them. Even if death was his domain, he knew it caused the mortals such suffering to think their lives were finite and that one day their flesh would fail them. Death was something that put fear in humanity, and rightly so. It was at the behest of the Gods that mortals were afraid of such things, for fear tempered their souls and made them strong.

Of course, humans were little more than toys and trinkets to the majority of the pantheon – no different to the curios that mortals fascinated themselves with. Yet he saw this one differently; they were not a thing to be used and discarded once the novelty wore off. No. In his eyes, they were far more vital.

"You seem more dour than ever," observed one of his divine brethren when they visited on official business from the heavens, "And I had not thought that such a thing could be possible for a God of the Underworld!"

He snorted, "... There are matters that weigh heavily upon my mind, they are nothing you need concern yourself with."

"Oh? Perhaps I can help, a problem shared and all that..."

". . . ." at first he considered scoffing and telling them to leave, but perhaps some part of him was starting to weaken, ". . . I desire one who is not a God."

"Ah... is that all?" the other divinity replied with a smile, "Then surely the answer is to make them divine."

"Make them... divine?" it had not occurred to him to do so, but it was as simple a solution as could be. If he turned their mortal soul into something all together more celestial, then they could be with him in the Underworld without the usual laws applying – they would not need to die, they would not need to toil in the depths of Hades or wander along the banks of the Lethe. They could be with him, in his palace, as his beloved spouse, "Yes... that is an answer."

"Of course..." the other God mused, "That's no easy feat... appealing to the Fates is quite the challenge..."

Yet, the Lord of the Underworld refused to be deterred. And so, he called for an audience with the Fates and appealed to them.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

Maybe they pitied him or perhaps they were in a mischievous mood, but, for whatever reason, the Fates had agreed to help him and he could wait no longer.

It was a sunny day and his beloved was in the forests that lay near to their simple coastal village. They had been collecting wild berries and medicinal herbs to help the village healer, when the earth suddenly split open before them and an imposing man emerged at the helm of an impressive chariot wrought of black iron and pulled by two jet black steeds with eyes that glowed like the core of a fire.

They fell back, shocked, "Who.. who are you?!"

"... I am the Lord of the Underworld," he replied as he alighted from his impressive transport and walked over to check they were unharmed, "And I have appeared before you today because I have been in love with you for some time... I cannot deny these feelings any longer... I shall take you with me, to my domain, where you will stay by my side as my spouse."

"W...What?!" it was clear the words of this deity were the truth, they had no reason to doubt what he said, "But... why...? I'm not a divine being... I'm just an ordinary human."

"But you will not be much longer, not when I crown you as the one who will rule by my side. Then, you will become divine as I am," he took their hand and lifted them effortlessly into his arms, "Come, my beloved, I cannot bear to be without you another moment longer..."

"W-Wait! Please!" they uttered, but it was futile. He mounted his chariot once more, and the two of them disappeared into the bowels of the earth.

Unbeknownst to the dour God, however, was the fact that his antics had been seen and the villagers would look to appeal to the King of the Gods for the return of their beloved, innocent villager.

But that is a tale for another time...

[all-seeing-ifer]

Greek mythology references in Ulysses Dies at Dawn masterpost

I saw a post a while back by @spacetrashpile analysing all the arthurian references in High Noon Over Camelot, and since I know quite a bit about Greek mythology I figured “hey! I should do something like that for Ulysses Dies at Dawn!” I’m just going to go through each of the songs in order and analyse/explain the references in them - hopefully other people will find it interesting!

“The City”

Starting with the title - Ulysses is the Latin name of Odysseus, legendary king of Ithaca and hero of the epic poem The Odyssey. Interestingly, Ulysses is the only character in UDAD who is given a Latin name instead of a Greek one. There’s a couple of potential reasons for this but the most convincing to me is it’s meant to reflect Ulysses’ opposition to the Olympians, who are all based on the Greek gods.

Jonny calls the story a “labyrinthine task of a twisted tale”, referencing the Greek myth of the Minotaur, which was kept in a labyrinth to hide it from the world. This reference becomes even clearer when we later learn the City’s original name.

This one’s less a reference to Greek mythology and more to like, actual history, but the description of the City expanding to cover the whole planet is reminiscent of Greek expansion in ancient times. Ancient Greece was made up of many city-states, or poleis, which established colonies or “daughter-cities”, mostly in western Asia, or “Asia Minor” as the Greeks and Romans called it.

The story opens at a “run-down gin join” called Calypso’s - Calypso is a sea nymph who plays a fairly major role in The Odyssey, keeping Odysseus/Ulysses trapped on her island for seven years.

Fittingly enough, Calypso’s apparently pays money to Dionysus, whose mythological namesake is the Greek god of wine.

Broken Horses

Ilium is the Ancient Greek name for Troy, the city that Greece went to war against, according to myth,. Part of this war is described in the epic poem The Iliad, in which Odysseus is one of the soldiers laying siege to Troy.

Much like the Trojan War of Greek myth, the siege of Ilium is said to have lasted a decade.

Ulysses’ gambit with the horse statue sending out a signal driving the people of Ilium mad is pretty obviously a reference to the Trojan Horse - the wooden horse the Greeks built as a “peace offering” to the Trojans that they used to sneak their soldiers into the City and that brought them victory in the war. Like in the UDAD version, Odysseus/Ulysses was apparently responsible for coming up with this plan.

“Olympians”

Ulysses’ wife is named Penelope, same as Odysseus’ wife in the myths

The Acheron is the name of one of the five rivers of Hades, along with Styx, Cocytus, Lethe, and Phlegethon

As a sidenote, in Greek mythology Hades is the name of the underworld as well as the name of the God of the dead - fittingly enough reimagined in UDAD as the controller of a vast network of half-dead minds (and also Ashes)

The most powerful families in the City are called the Olympians - the name given to the twelve most important deities in the Greek pantheon

Poseidon Industries is named for Poseidon, Greek god of the sea and one of the twelve Olympians. Jonny calls them “one of the architects of the Ilium War”, which seems like an odd reference since iirc Poseidon doesn’t have a whole lot to do with the Trojan War. I guess that’s just there to give Ulysses a reason to want to rob Poseidon Industries.

In the Odyssey, Poseidon hates Odysseus/Ulysses for attacking his son, a cyclops called Polyphemus. In UDAD this is changed to Ulysses stealing the diamond from Poseidon Industries’ laser, which is also called The Cyclops.

My Name is No One

The song’s title and chorus is a reference to Odysseus’ famous trick for escaping the Polyphemus’ cave. He tells the Polyphemus his name is “no one/nobody” (depending on the translation) so that when he attacks Polyphemus and the cyclops tries to call for help, he calls out “No one is attacking me” which obviously none of the other cyclopes take seriously. (There’s also a great pun in the original Greek based on the Greek words for “no one” and “cunning” being very similar, but it loses a lot in translation)

However, just like in UDAD, Odysseus messes up this plan badly by calling out his real name when he’s still too close to the island of the cyclops. (although in the Odyssey it’s motivated by him wanting Polyphemus to know his name so he can get glory, rather than just being drunk)

Odysseus bests the cyclops by taking out his eye (there’s debate around it but cyclopes are generally depicted as having only one eye). Obviously in UDAD the cyclops is a machine not a monster, so this is replaced with the diamond at the heart of the laser being called its “eye”.

Also, I’m not sure if this is an intentional reference, but there is a fun irony to the fact that in the Odyssey, Odysseus tricks Polyphemus by getting him drunk so he can then blind him, while in UDAD Ulysses steals the eye of the Cyclops while drunk themself.

“Trial By Wits”

As well as My Name is No One, the whole concept of no one knowing anything about Ulysses’ appearance, gender etc. could also be seen as a reference to the “My name is nobody” trick, or possibly just a spin on Odysseus being a kind of “archetypal hero” - they could be anyone!

Heracles is better known by his Latin name, Hercules (son of Zeus, demigod, inhumanly strong and all that jazz)!

Ariadne is the name of the Cretan princess who helped Theseus slay the minotaur

Orpheus is another of the most well-known Greek mythological figures - the main myth surrounding him says he went into the underworld to rescue his dead wife Eurydice

Oedipus is most famous as the main character of a famous tragedy. His parents are given a prophecy that he would kill his father and have sex with his mother, and so decided to abandon him. As is so often the case with Greek oracles, he ended up doing both things anyway, seeing as how he, y’know, didn’t know who his parents were. The mechs apparently chose to reference this in the most mature of ways by having Jonny call Oedipus a motherfucker. Kind of a lot.

Aside from committing both patricide and incest, Oedipus’ other achievements in myth included winning a battle of wits against the Sphinx, a monster that was killing anyone who couldn’t solve its riddle. This monster is reimagined in UDAD as a disease that Oedipus finds a cure for.

Riddle of the Sphinx

The chorus of the song is taken almost word-for-word from the riddle asked of Oedipus by the Sphinx: “What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?” The answer to the riddle is “man” - crawls on all fours as a baby, walks on two legs as an adult, and walks with a cane (third leg) in old age. The Mechs being the Mechs, this is made completely literal in the world of UDAD.

“Ulysses’ Will”

Like the Oedipus of myth, UDAD Oedipus also ends up killing his father and marrying his mother without knowing. Since he’s replaced his eyes with data sockets by the time he helps kidnap Ulysses, it’s pretty strongly implied that he blinded himself like mythological Oedipus as well.

The “twenty years of sirens” could be a reference to the twenty years Odysseus spends away from Ithaca in the Iliad and Odyssey

Sirens

The sirens were half-bird half-human creatures that Odysseus encountered as part of the Odyssey and that tried to lure him to his death with promises of knowledge.

As well as referencing this story, the line “let the lotus set you free” references another episode of the Odyssey, where Odysseus and his crew arrive on the island of the Lotus-Eaters. Anyone who eats the Lotus fruits falls into a state of apathy and will never want to leave the island, so it’s a fitting episode to reference in a song about Ulysses drugging themself to escape their memories of war.

“Trial By Strength”

Heracles’ backstory is essentially the same in UDAD as in the original myths: one of the many children of Zeus’ many affairs, except in UDAD Zeus has affairs with women from “the lower levels”, instead of just mortal women.

Favoured Son

The tasks Heracles performs for Zeus are a reference to the most famous myth about Heracles - the twelve labours he performs to atone for killing his family.

The song references “the ferryman” who takes people into the Underworld. In Greek mythology the dead travel to the Underworld in a boat rowed by the ferryman Charon.

In both the myth and in UDAD there are...what you might you might call “extenuating circumstances” for Heracles killing his family - in the myth he’s driven mad by Zeus’ wife Hera (bc she’s very angy about Zeus having all those bastard children with mortal women) but since Hera doesn’t play a role in UDAD this is changed to him being framed by Zeus himself.

In addition to being king of the gods, Zeus is also the god of thunder - which is where Heracles’ nickname “The Thunderbolt of Zeus” comes from

“Loose Threads”

Heracles and Orpheus “Backing up Jason on the fleece job” is a reference to the myth of Jason’s quest for the Golden Fleece along with his crew (the Argonauts), which included Heracles and Orpheus.

Hylas was Heracles’ servant and another member of the Argonauts. While on the quest he was kidnapped by nymphs, and depending on which version of the myth you’re looking at, either fell in love with them and stayed there forever, or was murdered by them (Hylas is also the only character referenced I had to google to even know who they were lol)

Heracles telling Ariadne that “Your dad helped me out once” is presumably a reference to the seventh labour of Heracles: capturing the Cretan bull. Now the story of the Cretan bull is actually really long and ties into a bunch of other myths but essentially it was sent to Ariadne’s father, King Minos, as proof that he was the rightful ruler of Crete. However, Minos ended up helping Heracles by letting him take the bull with him to prove that he’d successfully caught it (which seeing as the bull was destroying Crete at that point doesn’t seem like a huge favour on Minos’ part, but ok)

Trial By Song

UDAD Orpheus shares the mythical Orpheus’ main defining trait: his skill at singing that he used to help him on his journey to the underworld.

Trial By Song is a lot more metaphorical than all the others so there’s not that many direct references to the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice in the lyrics - probably the most direct one is “But all the landmarks moved as I walked past/Now I can’t look back”, which references Orpheus’ deal with Hades that he can take Eurydice back to the world of the living as long as he doesn’t look back at her.

“The viper town that bled me dry” could also be a reference to Eurydice’s death from a snake bite.

“Hades”

UDAD Orpheus’ motivation is the same as mythical Orpheus - wanting to bring back their dead lover from Hades.

Ulysses, Heracles, and Orpheus all visiting the “underworld” is taken directly from mythology (although unlike in UDAD, Ulysses/Odysseus never actually speaks to Hades).

Underworld Blues

In Heracles’ confrontation with Hades, he says that “I was sent here your dog to seize/Of my tasks, of my tasks/This was to be the last”. There’s a couple of points here - the mythology reference is to the last of the twelve labours of Hercules: capturing Hades’ guard dog Cerberus. However, I do wonder whether this is meant to be literal (in which case guys, why are we not talking about the fact that Ashes obtained a pet dog while in The City?), or if this is a similar case to all the mentions of ‘horses’ in High Noon Over Camelot actually being about motorbikes.

Orpheus singing to Hades and trying to convince them to release Eurydice is also taken directly from Greek myth, except instead of being moved by Orpheus’ song and agreeing to release his love like in the myth, Ashes just tells him he’s poor for a bit and then says he should go commit some crimes.

“Trial By Love”:

The general concept of Ariadne’s backstory - her helping Theseus fight the minotaur only for him to abandon her - is the same basic idea as the myth of Ariadne and Theseus. Although UDAD Ariadne is at least a bit more fortunate in the sense that she wasn’t truly in love with her Theseus, and he also doesn’t straight up leave her on a deserted island.

Ariadne’s family creating the minotaur is also part of her character in the myth. The difference is that in UDAD the minotaur was created intentionally, while the mythological minotaur was the result of Poseidon making Ariadne’s mother fall in love with the Cretan Bull as punishment for King Minos not sacrificing it to him (I said the Cretan Bull story tied into a bunch of other myths!)

The presence of the minotaur in the City is yet another thing that makes even more sense when we learn about the City originally being called Labyrinth!

Ties That Bind

Ariadne’s family name is Minos, same as the name of her mythical father King Minos.

Ariadne describes her family’s actions as casting a “dark horned shadow” over her, which references the typical depiction of the minotaur as a man with a bull’s head and horns.

In the myth of the Minotaur, Ariadne helps Theseus by giving him a ball of string that he then unwinds as he walks through the Labyrinth, letting him find his way out again. In UDAD this is changed to “strings of code”, that shut down the minotaurs programming. (And if you think that pun’s bad, just wait until we get to Torn Suits!)

The song’s title also brings to mind string or thread, so it can be seen as a subtler reference to Ariadne’s gift to Theseus. Same for Ariadne’s line about “heartstrings long since cut”.

“The Daidala”

Daedalus, the leader of the Suits, shares a name with the mythical craftsman and father of Icarus

He is rumoured to “trade as an Olympian under the name Hephaestus” - a fitting alias as Hephaestus was the god of craftsmen and artisans like Daedalus

The rumour that he killed his son for “getting too ambitious” references the myth of Icarus, who famously died after literally flying too close to the sun using wings held together with wax. The heat of the sun caused the wax to melt and Icarus to fall into the sea. The story is often interpreted as a warning about the dangers of ambition.

Interestingly, it could also reference another myth surrounding Daedalus - one in which Daedalus kills his nephew Talos because he was jealous of his achievements.

Daedalus is also apparently the architect of The City, which was originally known as Labyrinth. This once again references the labyrinth which held the minotaur, and which Minos forced Daedalus to design. Considering the labyrinth’s purpose in myth, it seems like an appropriate name for a city that keeps all its inhabitants trapped with no way out.

Presumably the Daidala in the title refers to the City: Daedalus’ finest creation. In Homeric Greek, daidala is a word that refers to finely crafted objects such as armour.

This track also has another reference to the Orpheus and Eurydice myth when Orpehus offers to sacrifice himself to open the vault - “But he can’t see it through can he? Flinches, looks back. And it doesn’t work.”

Torn Suits

This song is notable for having quite possibly the worst pun in Mechanisms history - “Ulysses pulls out their snub-nosed laser and fires the last shot, splitting the beam across twelve axes”. This references one of the climactic scenes of the Odyssey, where Ulysses/Odysseus wins an archery competition against his wife’s suitors by shooting an arrow through twelve axe heads. (get it, axes as in the weapons becomes axes as in the plural of axis do you get it?????)

Another, marginally less bad pun is Heracles getting “the lion’s share” of the beams, referencing the popular image of Heracles wearing the skin of a lion he killed as one of his labours.

“Sunrise”

The code to Ulysses’ vault: Elysium, is another word for the Elysian Fields. In certain Greek religions, this was an afterlife separate from Hades’ world where heroes and those chosen by the gods would go after they died.

Ulysses’ vault is revealed to contain the “sole surviving oak tree”, under which Penelope is buried. While it’s not as direct a reference as some of the others, this is pretty clearly inspired by the way Odysseus proves his true identity to Penelope at the end of the Odyssey - by telling her that he carved their bed from a tree still rooted to the ground, something only the two of them know.

The track ends with an homage to Homer’s use of similes in the Odyssey: “And as the weary hound, once more at its master’s feet after so long, lays down with the sunlight warming its fur, breathing its last – even so did the eyes of Ulysses close forever.” Not only is this stylistically identical to Homer’s similes, it also doubles as a reference to Odysseus’ dog Argos, who waited for him for twenty years and finally died when he saw Odysseus again.

Elysian Fields

This is possibly a bit of a stretch but the image of Ulysses lying beneath the last tree, next to where Penelope is buried, especially with how they say they’re “with my beloved” and “beside my wife” really brings to mind the scene in the Odyssey where Odysseus and Penelope lie in their tree-bed together for the first time since Odysseus’ return. Which, incidentally, is theorised by some to be the “real” final scene of the Odyssey and everything after that was added on later, but that’s another story.

That’s everything I’ve picked up on but it’s possible there’s more I’ve missed so let me know if there’s any more! I’d like to thank the Mechs for giving me an opportunity to put my useless and extremely niche knowledge to good use!

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Chapter 12

Summary:  A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Your library date is interrupted, leaving you to question some things

AN: a tad angsty. Pain is a part of growing, yes?

Previous Chapter here

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The two of you had combed through the stacks quite thoroughly by the time lunchtime rolled around. You had acquired a few legal texts in addition to finding some interesting horticultural books. The books were sprawled out along a large wooden table on the first floor of the library. Most of the morning had been spent in comfortable silence with you and Yoongi each bringing books back to the table, looking for more, and continuing the process over and over again.

The door opened with Lethe and another woman carrying trays. “On the table please,” Yoongi mumbled from his seat, gesturing to an empty space next to him.

“Very well my Lord. Just so you know. Penthos was asking about you sir. He did not wish to disturb you, but he would like to speak with you.” Lethe sat the trays down, taking them from the other silent woman.

“Thank you Lethe,” He responded, not looking up from the book he was reading. The two women took their leave while Yoongi continued reading. Finished with the section, he tore off a piece of parchment and put it between the pages to mark where he had stopped. He ran a hand along his chin in thought. Most of the books had been vague and unhelpful. Not surprising since this wasn’t a law library. He looked at the trays of food. He often forgot to eat. As an Olympian he didn’t really need much in the way of sustenance, but he was fairly certain Earth deities required it.

“Persephone,” he lightly called out. He wasn’t sure where you had ended up. Not getting a response, he pushed back his chair and wandered over to the middle. THe library was big, but not so much that it would be difficult to find you. “Persephone.” He called once again, up the stairs.

 You looked up from your seat by the window. You had gotten lost in what you were reading. You looked at the page number, committed it to memory, and sat it down. You walked over to the railing and saw Yoongi near the main table. “Yes?”

“Lunch is here,” he gestured to the trays on the table.

“Oh. I didn’t even hear anyone come in.” You remarked as you descended the staircase. “Good. I’m starving.”

Yoongi smiled, pleased with himself that he guessed something right about you. He pulled out a chair for you, causing you to blush slightly. 

“Such good manners today. Are you trying to impress me?” You teased him.

“Something like that. Is it working?” He asked shyly, shaking his hair out of his face. He sat down across from you.

You laughed but didn’t give a response, instead you went for the food immediately. 

Yoongi took some food to be polite. “Did you find anything?” 

“No.” You paused while chewing. “I put like three legal  books in the stack and then I found a book about plants of the underworld and started to read it. Did you know the Underworld can actually support plant life? I mean, without me keeping it alive actively.”

“I didn’t. It was dead when I got here. There was the Sea, the Desert, the Caves, and the Mountains.”

“You sir are going to have to take a vacation and do some traveling. The book I read says that some of the mountains used to be volcanic and the resulting ash is actually a somewhat fertile soil base.” Your passion for plant life was clear as you shared these facts with enthusiasm.

“How old is this book you found?” Yoongi raised his brows in surprise.

“I don’t know, but I’m guessing it’s one of the few Underworld books you didn’t write. I’ll go grab it.” You started to get up.

“No, it can wait until after lunch. I’m curious but I’m not in a hurry.” He responded easily. “I guess I don’t know everything about the Underworld.”

The two of you heard a knock at the door. Yoongi straightened up. You hadn’t noticed how casual and relaxed he was while talking to you until you saw the stark contrast. “Enter.” He said, his voice monotonous and firm.

The doors opened, revealing Penthos on the other side. He walked into the library. You suddenly felt your heart rate speed up.

“My Lord. I finished my task from the other day and have news to report.” Penthos’ eyes swept over you for a brief second and then found their way back to Yoongi.

“Which task?” Yoongi asked boredly.

Penthos shifted uneasily on his feet. He looked over at you again. You raised an eyebrow this time, causing him to quickly avert his gaze. 

“Perhaps I should submit my report later.” Penthos said, starting to back out of the room.

Yoongi’s eyes opened wider, “No.” He paused and gestured across the table. “You interrupted me and Lady Persephone. You will give the report now.”

“I apologize my Lord, I had no idea Lady Persephone was in here or I would not have come to give you a report.” He responded quickly.

Ah. There it was. He didn’t want to say whatever he had to say in front of you. You smirked. You weren’t sure yet if Yoongi had put the pieces into place yet. You continued to watch the interaction play out. 

“And yet here you are. The. Report.” Yoongi repeated.

“Yes sir,” Penthos took a breath before beginning. “The catacombs remain intact. Arachne and her children guard the Eastern and Southern Caverns. The golems are mostly in working order. A few seem as though they have rusted over time. I recommend sending for Hephaestus to come and repair them. The timeline on this of course depends on if and when you think they would need to be used.” He paused and looked over at you for some reason. You continued to stare back. He looked away as he began to speak again. “Additionally, The Northern passage is in need of repair. Several natural cracks have begun to form over time. Something will need to be done to keep anyone from tunneling in from the North, under the mountains.” 

Yoongi had picked up a quill and taken a few notes while this was occurring. Meanwhile you were mulling over in your head why Penthos was reluctant to present a report on the Palace’s defenses. Oh. Right. He thought you were a traitor. The word played through your mind again and you found yourself growing more and more angry. Traitor Traitor Traitor.

Yoongi looked up from his paper and over to you for a moment. You felt his gaze on you and you looked away from Penthos for a moment. “Persephone, can you please go grab that book you were talking about?” He asked you quietly. It took you a few seconds to register he was speaking to you, his voice was much quieter and more delicate than it had been a moment ago.

You got up and headed up the stairs to get it.

Yoongi turned back to Penthos. “Very well. I will send for Hephaestus and the two of us will walk the catacombs tomorrow to see what there is to do about the Northern passage.” Yoongi paused and lowered his voice, “Do not interrupt me in the library again. Do you understand?”

Penthos pressed his lips together tightly, his fists balled up behind his back. “Yes sir.”

“You may leave.” Yoongi commanded. He quickly got up from his seat and headed up the stairs. He saw you standing over by the window and closed the distance between the two of you.

You turned around, slight panic in your voice. "I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring the book, I’m...” you opened up your hands which were covered in blood.

Yoongi sighed and reached out,“I know. You started to grow thorns out of your hands. Didn’t you notice?” He asked as he took your hands in his and started to wipe the blood off on the edge of his shirt.

You looked at him in shock. How had he noticed, but you hadn’t?  “Stop you’ll ruin your shirt.”

Yoongi looked at you concerned, “I have a million black shirts. It’s fine.” He continued to apply pressure. “Why isn’t it healing? Can’t you heal yourself?” He asked, examining the cuts.

“No.” You laughed dryly. “Isn’t that weird? I can bring animals and people back from almost being dead, but when I get hurt, there’s not a lot to be done. Why is this happening? " You don't really expect an answer. 

“You were angry at Penthos.” You can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. You remain silent as Yoongi moves your hands slightly against a different part of his shirt. Your face reddens as you accidentally brush up against the skin of his stomach. “That’s why you grew the thorns. You were angry and staring at him.” Yoongi looked up from your hands, his almost black eyes softened as he said,” I don’t think your plant powers are meant to be weaponized, especially if you can’t control your powers.” 

You felt so stupid. What kind of goddess didn’t even notice that they had plants growing out of their body?  You felt like you were being scolded and you wanted to cry. “I know. I didn’t do it on purpose. Like I didn’t grow the vines on purpose. You added quietly, “My powers behave differently down here. This never happened back on Earth.”

 "We can figure it out." Yoongi said, his deep voice laced with worry. 

You frowned as you kept your eyes on your hands. You felt bad that you kept messing things up. Yoongi shouldn't have to deal with this. “Let’s just find a book that will send me home so I can stop messing everything up.” You removed your hands from Yoongi’s. “I’m Sorry.” You walked quietly down the stairs and out the door.

Yoongi stood there for a minute unsure of what had just happened. That’s not what he had meant at all. Shit. But if the Underworld was causing your powers to behave in a way that was hurting you and other people, maybe you should go back to Earth. Yoongi pouted. But he didn’t want you to leave. Don’t be selfish. She said she wants to go home. She only said that because she doesn’t want to hurt anybody. Yoongi felt the thoughts in his head going all over the place. Ugh. It was time for the afternoon reaping. He ran his hands through his hair and down the staircase.

He made his way out of the library. He didn’t see Lethe in the great hall. He walked over to one of the servants who was dusting a chair. A chair? Really? He thought. Oh well. “Excuse me?” The servant froze and then turned around. And then proceeded to do a 90 degree bow. Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Please find Lethe and tell her to check on Lady Persephone.”

The servant looked back up at him in silence. “Can you speak?” Yoongi asked. They nodded yes. “Ok. That’s all. Find Lethe and tell her that? Yes?”

The servant let out the tiniest “Yes sir.” ever. Good enough. He headed out the door and to the reaping.

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As soon as you got to your room you started to cry. You had done a really good job so far of taking all of this kidnapping in stride. You had even tricked yourself into thinking that maybe you could stay here for a while without anything growing wrong. Hell, an hour ago  you found a book saying that plants could grow here. And if plants could grow here, maybe you could survive here too. Maybe Yoongi would have let you stay. But you can’t stay if your powers couldn’t be controlled. You had already hurt Yoongi once and you hadn’t even noticed earlier when you had hurt yourself. If Yoongi hadn’t stopped you, you might have hurt Penthos as well. You started to breath faster, feeling panicked. What if you hurt Lethe? Or Yoongi again? You couldn’t forgive yourself.  Up until a few days ago you had never hurt anyone.

You paced in your room. Hoseok wasn’t going to do anything. Maybe you could just leave. You could transform yourself into a tree or a rock on the mortal realm where no Olympian could find you and live happily ever after. You scolded yourself, knowing that these plans were unrealistic and borderline crazy. You sighed and threw yourself down on the bed. You heard the door to your room open.

Lethe walked in, “Hello Persephone. Yoongi asked me to check on you.” She said quietly from the doorway. This caused you to cry even harder. 

“Oh dear.” She shut the door behind her and walked over. “May I?” She asked, gesturing to the bed. You let out a sad, strangled sounding affirmative sound and she sat on the bed next to you.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened. I mean...I’m nosey so I want to know. But you don’t have to.” She said as she ran her fingers through your hair. You let out a snot filled laugh.

“My powers keep hurting people.” You cried and held up your hands. They had stopped bleeding, but there were cuts and scabs all over your hands.

“Oh my. I’ll be right back,” She said. You assumed she went to get water and bandages. While she was gone you settled into more of a gentle cry than a sob. She returned and sat down the basin and rags on the nightstand. 

“What upset you today? When I was in the library everything seemed fine.”

“Penthos.” You responded, too upset to care about your manners. “He hates me. He thinks I’m a traitor. He didn’t want to say anything in front of me because he thinks I would give a shit about the defenses of the castle. I didn’t choose to come here. Why would I care? And I really like everyone here except him, so why would I do anything?” It all spilled out of you. “I keep messing up and hurting people.”

Lethe took a moment, washing your hands. “You’re a sweet girl [y/n] . You’re kind, and warm, and soft-hearted. The Underworld wasn’t created for sweet girls. It’s hard. And it’s dark.”

“See? I have to go home. I can’t stay here…” you sobbed.

“Wait wait. I wasn’t done.” Lethe continued over your crying. “But it just means you have to be strong. It’s hard to be the light in the darkness. It’s harder to react with kindness than with harshness. And that’s how I know you’re strong. You can blossom wherever you’re planted. You can control your powers if you just remember that you have a choice. There’s room for you in the Underworld if you choose to stay, I’m sure of it.”

Your crying had slowed down so you could listen to Lethe.

“And besides, Yoongi needs you here.” She added. 

You snorted. “Yoongi does not need me here. I tried to kill him the other day and now I’ve ruined one of his shirts with my blood and I almost ruined a priceless antique book as well.”

Lethe finished bandaging your hands and took a deep breath. “He likes you. You know that, right?” 

You don’t say anything at first. Did he like you? You hadn’t thought too much about it. You knew he was nice to you. “I don’t know.” You said quietly.

Lethe looked at you like you had two heads. “You two hold hands. On a regular basis almost.” She squeaked out.

You felt your cheeks grow red. Now that you thought about it, it had happened on a few occasions. “He’s just being nice.”

“Uhh….no. He’s nice to me. He like, likes you.” She rolled her eyes and moved the basin over to the dresser by the door. “I’m sure you two can figure out what’s going on with your powers. If you want to leave that’s understandable, but don’t let it be because of a miscommunication or something like that. I have to go and do laundry. Change out of that dress, it’s got blood on it. Come on...no more feeling sorry for yourself.” 

You appreciated that Lethe was acting more like a big sister or mother to you than a servant this afternoon. That’s exactly what you needed. You sniffled some more and headed behind your changing screen. You threw the dress over and onto the floor.

“There we go. Now get cleaned up and remember, everyone else loves having you here. Got it?”

“Yes,” you agreed begrudgingly. 

Lethe reached around the screen with a new dress in her hands. You took it. “And Yoongi likes you.” She added.

You remained silent.

“You don’t have to agree to make it true. I’ll be by later to check on your hands again.”

“Thank you,” you responded, grateful for the screen to hide your blushing. Did Yoongi like you? Like, like you? You wondered and found yourself replaying several of your interactions over the past few days. Maybe he did.  NEXT CHAPTER