#time to listen to hadestown again

[future-crab]

One of my favorite parts of Hadestown is the way Hermes slips so seamlessly between participant and narrator. The fact that he knows from the beginning how the story is going to go, but still plays his part, surrounded by people who don’t know they’re characters in a tragedy. And he plays his part well. Every night, he tells Orpheus, “You want to talk to her? Go on," and every night, he asks, “Just how far would you go for her?” Every night, Orpheus asks him, “ It’s not a trick?” and he tells him, “No, it’s a test.” And every night, when the cycle starts again, when his voice is so broken with grief that he can barely get the words out to tell the audience - the audience that he and no one else has known was there the whole time - “Don’t ask why, brother, don’t ask how he could have come so close. The song was written long ago, and that is how it goes,” when Eurydice appears - fresh-faced and alive, with no memory of what has just happened - to ask, “anybody got a match?” he wordlessly extends his matchbook to her, and lets the story start anew. Someone’s got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well.

And still - AND STILL - every night, at the very beginning, he says, “Maybe it will turn out this time, on the road to hell, on the railroad line.”

[theatricalmage]

The brainrot took over and so here's a vat7k hadestown au!! Don't know if I'll develop it fully but I liked designing it at least!

More info under the cut:

- Varian, the Coronan royal alchemist, tasks himself with deciphering an incantation capable of bringing the world back into tune. Times are tough, and the royal family + Quirin are doing their best to cope with the meagre crop yields and desolate weather (Corona not really being the sunshine kingdom - hasn't been for a while). He wants to help and do good and I think he'd be a good Orpheus.

- Hugo, having moved about from place to place, still has his interest in alchemy and does what he can to get by. He plans on temporarily staying in Corona before looting, but he encounters a certain like-minded scientist at the Snuggly Duckling. I think him being selfish works especially well in Eurydice's role, having a more pessimistic view of the world. It also works with how he gets drawn to Donella's offer of working for her later on, leading him to his death.

- Ulla as Persephone! I was initially stuck on whether to have Rapunzel (and either Eugene/Cass) as her (and Hades) but I was drawn to the connection that Hugo has to Donella and the Donella/Ulla relationship in vat7k just works too well. In this case, Ulla won't be Varian's mother. She's still gonna be somewhat of an inspiration to him though, being the previous Coronan royal alchemist and for her intelligence. For half the year, she'll return to Corona with food, drinks, and alchemical compounds/inventions, bringing Spring and Summer to the world, if only for a bit.

- Donella would be such an interesting Hades, losing sight of her love for Ulla, heart filled with fear and hurt, leading to bitterness and cruelty. Ingvarr being Hadestown and how by being the esteemed Ingvarrian engineer, she'd be in charge of major technological advances across the kingdoms and so would wield a significant amount of power (like how Hades is literally the ruler of the underworld). Ingvarr essentially being a near death sentence for its workers while also displaying its technological prowess, all still shrouded in mystery and corruption - a place so otherworldly compared to the rest of the kingdoms.

I didn't want to modify the outfits too much nor the personalities,, if anything I imagine the general plot beats being the same as the original musical/story but with slight differences that'd you get inherently as a result of these characters. I wouldn't want it to be the case where it's just the show but the names are changed. I'd want this to still make reasonable sense in this AU, with the actions being understandable for this particular cast of characters.

For Hermes, I ended up picking Xavier, as he's most knowledgeable of old legends and stories, which would work in reference to the Hades and Persephone myth (and so Donella and Ulla)! He'd act as a mentor figure for V, someone who can guide him in uncovering the forgotten incantation. Quirin would still be the good supportive dad he is (even if he doesn't fully understand his son's project).

Last but not least, the fates!! often lurking in the background, I'm still a bit stuck on who it could be? I'm tempted to have it be Raps, Cass, and Nuru as they've had celestial connections at some point (and ya know how stars can represent fate), but I also love the freckled siblings dynamic so much. Also Team Radical... Maybe Raps and Cass can be their normal selves but their Sundrop/Moonstone counterparts are the manifested physical forms of the fates? They wouldn't be visible to the characters though, just voices in the wind.

Anyways yeah!! Those are my thoughts. Do let me know if you've got any cool ideas or questions. I'm really combining my interests at full force and there's nothing anyone, not even myself, can do about it quite frankly. 😮‍💨

[aurieeeeeenyx]

oh yeah also jayvik are extremely orpheus and eurydice coded i don't make the rules

[aliteralactualfactualgremlin]

When the art tells a story but is also a multilayered political commentary

[boimlerkisser]

UGH THE BEST REASON TO STAY ALIVE IS

THERE'S MUSICALS!!!!!!

[crazylittlejester]

sometimes i feel like i am the only guy on this app who’s THIS obsessed with LU Warriors but has never listened to epic the musical

[moltengoldveins]

at some point I am Going to talk about the Christ foreshadowing in Hadestown on this blog. Might write a wholeass essay tbh.

“That is how it ends. That's how it goes.

It's a sad song. It's a sad tale. It's a tragedy… But we sing it anyway.

Cause here's the thing To know how it ends And still begin to sing it again. As if it might turn out this time. I learned that from a friend of mine.

See, Orpheus was a poor boy. But he had a gift to give.

He could make you see how the world could be in spite of the way that it is.

Can you see it? Can you hear it? Can you feel it? Like a train. Is it coming?

Is it coming this way?”

[luna-the-cretar]

Watching Curse of Strahdanya, and falling in love with these ships and characters, is like watching the Hadestown musical to me.

In Hadestown, the first thing the narrator—Hermes—tells the audience is that this tale is a tragedy. There is no happy ending. And yet, as the show goes on, you forget that, somehow. But not fully. There’s still a little voice, lingering in the back of your mind, telling you that it’s always going to end horribly. And if you’re already familiar with the Greek myth, or the musical itself, then you know exactly how it’ll end. And yet, part of you still roots for Orpheus. To save Eurydice. To not turn around. To ignore the voices in his ear. To bring her home with him.

But. That’s not how the story goes. He always turns around. She always returns to Hadestown. And he always returns alone. And Hermes feels for the audience. He, too, yearns for there to be a day where the story changes, somehow. Of course, it won’t. That’s not how the story goes. But every time he tells the tale, some part of him yearns that maybe, just maybe, Orpheus won’t turn around. He would ignore the voices in his ear. He would bring Eurydice home. But he knows this is all in vain, for the tale is that of a tragedy, and it’ll always end the same.

Curse of Strahdanya is the same way. All the way to the title of the prologue; “The Cursed Expedition”. From the very beginning, they tell us that this tale is a tragedy. No matter what the characters do, no matter how strong they think they are, it will always end the same way. Their fates are set in stone. They will never leave, never get out. Strahdanya always wins.

And yet, the audience yearns for this telling to be different. Maybe if this character made a different choice, maybe if they convinced this character to stay, maybe…maybe…

But it always ends the same. It’s a sad tale. It’s a tragedy. Yet we tell it over and over again, as if maybe our heroes will get a happy ending this time

“To know how it ends/And still begin to sing it again/As if it might turn out this time”

[cloggedarteri]

hades hadestown!au 👀

low key not even a au when the whole eurydice and Orpheus thing happened pre game

but i just think its neat to imagine the state of persephone and hades relationship as they are in game while listening to the musical

[inquirenorth]

.

[reflection-s-of-stars]

just saw hadestown for the second time. The killing myself will commence shortly

[secretly-a-catamount]

If you use their practically nonexistent pre-book characterization Malcolm and Annabel are so Orpheus and Eurydice-coded.

If you go by their book characterization they remind me much more of Hades and Persephone.

[pathologicalreid]

come home with me | s.r.

in which you are chosen as the member of the BAU who gets to retrieve Spencer from prison

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: post prison spencer, the events of green light apply, jareau!reader, kiss word count: 1.45k a/n: ohhhh she's listening to too much hadestown again. oh noooo.

The foreboding gray structure that stood before you was much more intimidating than you’d remembered Millburn Correctional Facility was written next to the door in a sans-serif font, still, boring, intimidating.

You hated it here. You despised everything that this building stood for in your life. Above all else, you hated that Spencer had been trapped inside for three months. There was little to no communication between you and Spencer during his incarceration, which wasn’t for a lack of trying. The one and only time you’d gone to visit him in Millburn, your appearance elicited a wolf whistle from one of the guards—Spencer’s discomfort was enough to keep you away.

Waiting outside with Penelope, Luke, and your sister, the four of you were lined up shoulder to shoulder, everyone too nervous to move forward. “I can’t go in,” Garcia said, looking between you and Luke while she shook her head. She hated going to visit Spencer, every time she came back from the prison, her mood had been negatively impacted.

Nodding assuredly, you quickly leaned your head on her shoulder, “We’ll go get him.” In your hand, you gripped a small canvas bag, you’d shoved everything you could think Spencer might need upon release—including some toiletries that had been completely untouched in the apartment, you weren’t sure if he’d been able to keep up with his usual hygiene routine in prison.

You assumed he hadn’t been.

Luke had some kind of ulterior motive in mind while entering the prison, so you and JJ linked pinkies at the same time he gave Penelope’s shoulder a squeeze and started making his way toward the steel doors of the prison. The three of you needed to shed your weapons, locking them up with the guards before Luke jutted his chin down the hallway and promised to meet up with you later.

Your head spun as you and JJ worked through clerical issues with the prison. Spencer was in solitary right now, finally receiving the protection that he should have gotten months ago, but he had to stab himself in the thigh to get there. No one else had been told, but Penelope handed Emily her resignation when she found out. The concrete building was freezing, and you hoped that Spencer had been staying warm enough during his time here.

Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.

Every waking moment for the last three months had been spent trying to figure out how to get him out of this, and the team had finally done it. You resisted the urge to pinch yourself. This was real, you were here.

“Only one of you,” one of the guards said, entirely disinterested in the emotional turmoil you were currently going through.

Your eyes met JJ’s briefly, and her blue eyes widened before she shook her head, “You should go,” she insisted, holding out a hand in the direction of the door.

Tightening your grip on the canvas bag, you nodded nervously and stepped through the metal detector, following the armed guard down the hallway until you reached yet another door. He swiped his badge through the stripe reader and opened the door, holding it open for you.

Against your better judgment, you faltered, scared of what you might see on the other side of the door. The guard cleared his throat impatiently and your feet thoughtlessly brought you forward.

Spencer was on the other side of the door, and you felt ridiculous for thinking you’d be met with anyone else except for him. Hauntingly familiar brown eyes were boring into yours expectantly, and even though you had promised yourself you weren’t going to cry, your throat was sealing itself with proof of a lie. Your eyes burned and you opened your mouth to speak before tears had a chance to fall, “Come home,” you beckoned.

You broke when he did, lips wavering between a smile and a frown as he broke free of the regulations he’d faced in Millburn, and the two of you snapped together like there was a magnetic pull between the two of you. The bag in your hands dropped to the ground as your arms went around each other. He smelled like antiseptic and generic laundry soap, you couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t seen the bandage around his arm from where they’d drawn blood, but you pushed it from your mind in the interim, focusing on repairing your memory. Reminding yourself of the edges of his body. There were more ridges than you remembered, and your chest clenched at the recognition that Spencer was inherently changed. It would’ve been foolish of you to cling to the idea that he could go to prison and come back as the Spencer that had been keeping your mind company—the memory of him that couldn’t match reality.

He sniffled and buried his face in your neck, his hot breath on your skin as neither of you faltered in your grip of each other. Spencer once told you that hugs were inherently healing because of the boost in oxytocin levels, and you’d taken that to heart just in case you ever faced this very moment. You tightened your grip around his shoulders, and he was holding you so tightly around your waist that your feet lifted slightly off of the ground. If it were up to you, you’d stay like this for hours intertwining your fingers between his shoulder blades and holding him together. You’d maintain your embrace until your body heat welded the broken pieces of him back together and his sharp edges were sanded down with time. You pressed your forehead into his shoulder and sighed three months’ worth of worry away, and as that worry ebbed, a new name echoed in your head.

Diana, Diana, Diana.

Spencer’s mother was missing, and he released his hold on you as you drew in a deep breath. Your feet were planted firmly on the ground as the two of you looked at each other, exchanging hundreds of thousands of words between your irises. “Spence,” you whispered, “I brought your things.”

You crouched down and grabbed the bag from the floor, holding it open for him to inspect its contents, his smile made you feel like you were floating. You were sure they were few and far between recently. More than that, you knew exactly what he was smiling at. Instead of picking out two socks for him, you’d grabbed a handful of them and put them in the bag, giving him the ability to choose a mismatched pair to wear out.

He wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his jumpsuit, “Thank you,” he breathed, his eyes flickering over to the guard that was still standing behind you.

Nodding, you carefully took his hand and let the guard lead you somewhere he could get changed, you planted your feet on the side of the hallway opposite of the guard. You narrowed your gaze at the guard, keeping your eyes open until they dried, and you had no choice but to blink. Other than that, your glare was unwavering.

“Y/N?” Spencer said, opening the door slightly, “Can you help me?”

You slipped through the door, alone in the bathroom with him as he gestured to his tie. You frowned for a moment before you noticed what the problem was, his hands were shaking. Each of them trembling uncontrollably with what was likely a melting pot of different emotions, and without giving it a second thought, you reached out and took both ends of the tie in your hands, deftly tying the double Windsor knot around his neck. You were careful when you tightened the knot, refraining from bringing it right up to the hollow of his throat in case he needed room to breathe. You looked up at him, studying the unreadable expression on his face before you whispered, “I’ve got you.”

Spencer’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his lips parted, and to your surprise, he craned his neck to press his lips to yours, kissing you with three months of pent-up emotions—good and bad. You gasped against his lips before kissing him back, matching his ferocity as your lips moved gently against his, a knock at the door was the only thing to pry the two of you apart.

You tried to get a read on him. You tried to understand the thoughts that were flashing behind his eyes at the speed of light, but you couldn’t get it. You wanted to ask, you wanted to check in on him, but he spoke first, “Let’s go get my mom.”

[emeraldserenade]

It's You, It's Me ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín always looked back to make sure you were there.

tw: fem!reader, reader is shorter than Joaquín, limited use of y/n, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Just a little Hadestown inspired work, and if this makes you cry, like I made myself tear up a little, I am so sorry.

➽──────────────❥

You always walked in front, Joaquín always wanted to make sure you didn't get lost. His hand always in yours or on you in some way, letting you know that he was still there. That you hadn't gotten separated or lost, it was an unspoken rule.

It was a rule you liked, one that made both of you feel better about walking through crowded area. Especially since he became known to the public as Falcon and more people decided to approach him in public.

It was during one of these approaches that you two got separated, it wasn't meant to happen. All you knew was one minute you were standing there watching as your boyfriend talks to a little boy and his parents, and the next you were being pushed around by a group of men who refused to go around you or part to let you through. You found yourself several feet away from where you originally stood, Joaquín not in sight and you heart racing.

You stood still a few minutes, hoping Joaquín would be able to see you as he was taller than you and could possibly see you over the heads of others. But that was when the doubt came in, you couldn't see or hear him calling for you. He hadn't found you yet, and you started to panic. The crowded stadium didn't help your panic either.

"Where is she? Where is she now?" You suddenly heard Joaquín asking someone, you turned towards his voice and saw him. You started to walk towards him, hoping he would see you before you lost him again.

"Joaquín, are you listening? I'm right here," you tried to call for him but he couldn't hear you. And then a group walked right in your eye sight and you lost him again, you stopped moving again. You frantically looked around for him again, your heart racing once again with the fact that you had lost him again.

"It's you," Joaquín showed up right in front of you moments later.

"It's me," you pulled him into a hug. "Joaquín," your voice was unsteady but you pulled away to look at his face.

"Y/n," he didn't mean to mock you, he was just relieved to see you. You two walked hand in hand out of the crowded stadium, you lagged slightly behind him. Not meaning to, you just were still reeling from losing him.

Joaquín looked back several times as you walked, even though he held your hand. He made sure you were still there, even though he knew you would be there. He couldn't fathom not making sure you were behind him, and suddenly he understood why Orpheus always looked back. That even though it was a tragedy, a sad tale, it would be told over and over again. That everyday, people would make the same choice. That if you truly loved someone, you would always look back to make sure they are ok and still there. That's why it's a tragedy, it was always meant to happen.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 30 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇posted this while listening to hadestown

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The wedding feast had long ended, and the palace was finally quiet, save for the occasional footsteps of guards patrolling the halls. In their shared room, Y/N and Telemachus sat on the edge of the grand bed, both silent, the air thick with tension. The room was lit by the soft, flickering glow of oil lamps, casting dancing shadows on the walls. She fiddled with the hem of her gown, her usual confidence replaced by nervous energy. She risked a glance at Telemachus, who was seated beside her, staring down at his hands like they suddenly held all the answers in the world.

“So,” she started awkwardly, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was… quite the wedding.”

“Yeah,” Telemachus said, his throat dry. He cleared it, trying to sound more confident. “It was… a good celebration.” Silence fell between them again, both of them acutely aware of the elephant in the room. The expectation. The duty.

“You’re… um, nervous too, right?” She asked suddenly, breaking the silence. She turned to look at him, her brow furrowed.

Telemachus gave a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He turned to her, his dark eyes meeting hers. “I mean, it’s just… a lot of pressure, you know? We’re supposed to—” He gestured vaguely toward the bed. “And then there’s the whole ‘producing an heir’ thing. Everyone’s expecting us to… succeed tonight.”

She sighed, leaning back slightly. “Yeah, no pressure or anything,” she muttered sarcastically, though her voice wavered. She glanced at him again, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “You know, for a future king, you’re not exactly brimming with confidence.”

“Hey!” Telemachus shot her a playful glare, though his ears turned red. “I’ll have you know I can be confident when I want to be.”

“Really?” She teased, leaning closer. “Because you’re sitting there looking like you’re about to face a hydra.”

“I am not!” he protested, but the flush on his face deepened. He glanced away, muttering under his breath, “And you’re not exactly calm yourself.”

She chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “Okay, fair point.” She paused, her smile fading slightly. “I guess it’s just… weird, you know? I mean, I’ve known you for so long, and now we’re… married. And expected to—”

“Yeah,” Telemachus interrupted, holding up a hand. “I get it. No need to spell it out.”

Another silence fell between them, but this time, it wasn’t as heavy. Telemachus reached out, taking her hand in his. “We don’t have to rush anything, you know,” he said softly. “This isn’t about the others, or the throne, or an heir. It’s about us. We’ll figure it out together.”

She looked down at their joined hands, her lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks, Telemachus. That actually helps.”

He smiled back, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Good. Now, let’s just… take it one step at a time. No pressure, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, relaxing slightly. They leaned against each other, the warmth of their bond outweighing the weight of their expectations. For the first time that night, the nervousness began to fade, replaced by the comfort of knowing they were in this together.

——

The soft light of morning poured through the windows of their shared room, bathing the space in a warm glow. Y/n was already awake, lying on her side with her head propped up on her hand. She watched Telemachus, who was sprawled out on the bed, his hair a mess and his face peaceful in sleep. A mischievous smile crept onto her lips as she thought back to the night before. When Telemachus stirred, blinking groggily, Pandora couldn’t help but pounce on the opportunity. “Good morning, husband,” she said, her tone sweet but laced with playful malice.

Telemachus groaned, rubbing his face. “Good morning,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. He reached for her hand, but she quickly pulled it away, sitting up instead.

“I have to say,” she began, stretching her arms dramatically. “Last night was… memorable.”

Telemachus smiled lazily, still half-asleep. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice smug as he sat up, ruffling his messy hair. “Told you I’d be great.”

Her grin widened. “Mmm… I wouldn’t go that far.”

That snapped him awake. “Wait—what?” He looked at her, his face scrunching up in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She bit her lip to suppress a laugh. “Well, I mean… I’ve read stories about passionate nights and lovers who sweep their brides off their feet, but you?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. “You were like a flailing fish out of water.”

Telemachus’s face turned bright red. “Excuse me? A flailing fish?” He crossed his arms defensively. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “You kept apologizing every other minute! ‘Am I doing this right, Y/N? Does this hurt, Y/N? Should I try something else, Y/N?’” She mimicked his voice with playful exaggeration, dissolving into laughter.

“Okay, first of all, I was being considerate!” Telemachus shot back, his blush deepening. “It’s called communication!”

She shook her head, still giggling. “It’s called overthinking, Telemachus. And don’t even get me started on—”

“Alright, that’s enough!” he interrupted, throwing a pillow at her. She caught it easily, grinning like a cat that had just cornered its prey.

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive,” she teased, leaning over to poke his cheek. “You’ll get better with practice… maybe.”

Telemachus groaned, grabbing another pillow to cover his face. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she said smugly, lying back down beside him. “You married me, remember?”

He peeked out from behind the pillow, glaring half heartedly at her. “If you tell Acrisios about this, I swear—”

She burst out laughing again, and despite his embarrassment, Telemachus couldn’t help but smile. “You’re frustrating,” he muttered, pulling her into his arms.

“And you’re adorable,” she countered, resting her head against his chest. “But don’t worry, husband. You’ve got a lifetime to improve.”

“Gee, thanks,” Telemachus grumbled, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing along with her. Telemachus tightened his arms around her, a sly grin tugging at his lips as he glanced down at her. “You’re really going to sit there and mock me like you weren’t just as bad?”

She froze mid-laugh and sat up to glare at him. “Excuse me? I was bad?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Telemachus said, sitting up as well and crossing his arms smugly. “You kept acting like you had all the confidence in the world, but the second we got started? You looked so stiff I thought I’d accidentally married a statue of Athena.”

Her jaw dropped. “You did not just say that!”

Telemachus raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, I did. Let’s not forget that you wouldn’t even look me in the eye half the time. I thought I’d have to call the gods for backup just to get you to relax.”

She scoffed, grabbing a pillow and whacking him with it. “I was nervous! It’s not like you made things easy with all your fumbling around.”

“Fumbling around?” Telemachus caught the pillow and leaned closer to her, his voice dripping with mockery. “This, coming from the woman who tripped trying to get out of her dress? Yeah, real graceful.”

Her face turned red, and she lunged to grab the pillow back, but Telemachus held it just out of reach. “You’re insufferable!” she exclaimed, trying to wrestle it away from him.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Telemachus teased, chuckling as he finally let her grab the pillow and smack him again. “Seriously, though. For someone who loves to tease me, you sure weren’t the picture of poise yourself.”

She huffed, crossing her arms and turning away from him. “Fine. Maybe I wasn’t perfect,” she admitted begrudgingly. “But at least I didn’t keep muttering instructions to myself under my breath like I was preparing for battle.”

Telemachus barked out a laugh and shrugged. “Fair enough. I guess we’re both disasters.” He pulled her back into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. “But hey, at least we’re disasters together, right?”

She sighed, unable to stop a small smile from creeping onto her face. “You’re lucky I love you, Telemachus.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, smirking. “And I’m lucky you were just as bad as me last night, or I’d never hear the end of it.” She groaned, playfully smacking his chest, but Telemachus just laughed and kissed the top of her head, pulling her even closer.

——

Y/N sat at the dining table, pushing her half-eaten bread around her plate. She winced as another wave of nausea rolled through her, clutching her stomach briefly before trying to act normal. Telemachus, seated next to her, noticed her pale complexion and furrowed his brows.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning closer. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, waving him off. “Just… not that hungry, I guess.”

Acrisios, who was lounging across from them with his feet kicked up on a spare chair, narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “You’ve been saying that for days,” he pointed out, lazily biting into an apple. “And didn’t you almost puke this morning when someone mentioned fish stew?”

She shot him a glare. “Thanks for bringing that up, Acrisios. Really helpful.”

“I’m just saying,” Acrisios continued, his tone entirely too casual, “you’ve been looking kinda tired, moody… sensitive to smells, even.” He paused, twirling the apple in his hand before taking another bite. “What if Telemachus didn’t pull out?”

The room went dead silent.

She froze, her face turning several shades of red as Telemachus choked on his drink, coughing violently. “What?!” he spluttered, his voice cracking. “Acrisios!”

“What?” Acrisios shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean, it’s possible, right? All this—” he gestured vaguely toward her nauseated expression, “—kinda screams pregnant.”

Her eyes widened as the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “I—no. No, that can’t be it,” she stammered, glancing nervously at Telemachus. “We—um—no, that’s not possible.”

Telemachus, still recovering from his coughing fit, looked just as panicked. “Is it though? I mean, uh—” He faltered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’ve, uh, been… busy.”

Acrisios raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying their discomfort. “Yeah, and by ‘busy,’ you mean—”

“Don’t” Telemachus snapped, his face beet red.

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “This can’t be happening.”

“Well,” Acrisios said with a sly grin, tossing his apple core onto the table, “you could always find out. Or we could just sit here and wait until you start craving weird stuff like pickled olives and honey.”

She glared at him, her cheeks still flushed. “You’re the worst.”

Acrisios smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, I’m just helping connect the dots. You’re welcome.”

Telemachus leaned toward her, his voice softening. “Do you… do you think it’s true?”

She glanced at him, her expression a mix of nervousness and uncertainty. “I… don’t know. Maybe?”

Acrisios, ever the instigator, leaned forward with an exaggerated grin. “Guess this means I’m gonna be Uncle Acrisios, huh? What an honor.”

“Out,” both y/n and Telemachus snapped at the same time, pointing to the door.

Laughing, Acrisios got up and strolled out, muttering to himself, “You’re both welcome for the heads-up.”

The second the door shut, she sighed and rested her forehead on the table. “What if he’s right?” she murmured.

Telemachus hesitated, then reached out to rub her back gently. “If he is… we’ll figure it out. Together.”

She lifted her head, giving him a faint smile. “You’d better hope you’re ready for this, Telemachus. Because if I am pregnant, this is all your fault.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto the table next to hers. “This is a disaster.”

——

The damp air of the dungeon clung to y/n as she descended the stone steps, carrying a bundle of bread and fruit for her brother. The guards stepped aside reluctantly, used to her frequent visits by now, though they always kept a wary eye on her. She could hear the faint clinking of chains and the shuffle of Antinous pacing in his cell before she even reached him. “Back again, sister?” Antinous’s voice rang out, laced with sarcasm but carrying the faintest hint of warmth. “What is it this time? Come to convince me that your dear husband isn’t an absolute moron?”

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the iron bars. “Good morning to you too,” she quipped, setting the bundle down on a nearby stool before kneeling in front of his cell. Antinous sat on the cot inside, his disheveled hair framing his sharp features, his usual arrogance dimmed but far from extinguished. His piercing eyes landed on her, narrowing slightly. “You look… pale. And tired. Telemachus treating you poorly already? Because I’ll—”

“No,” she interrupted sharply, holding up a hand. “He’s treating me fine.”

Antinous’s brow furrowed at her tone. “Then what’s wrong?”

She hesitated, taking a deep breath. This was not going to go well. “I, um… I have news. You’re going to be an uncle.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the weight of her words settling heavily in the small, dim cell. Antinous blinked, leaning forward slightly, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “An uncle?” he repeated, his voice dangerously calm.

She nodded. “Yes…..”

Antinous stood abruptly, his chains rattling as he advanced toward the bars. His face twisted into a snarl, his voice rising with every word. “You mean to tell me that Telemachus—that Odysseus’s son—touched you?!”

She flinched but held her ground. “He’s my husband, Antinous. What did you expect? We’d play dice games during our honeymoon?”

“I expected him to keep his filthy hands off my sister!” Antinous roared, gripping the bars tightly as if he could snap them in half. “That son of a bitch—he—I’ll kill him! I’ll strangle him with my bare hands, throw him into the sea, and—”

“Antinous!” She interrupted, her voice cutting through his tirade. She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply. “For gods’ sake, calm down.”

“Calm down?” he spat, his fury unabated. “You expect me to calm down when you’re carrying the child of that insufferable fool?! How could you let this happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said dryly, crossing her arms. “Maybe because we’re married and that’s kind of what happens in a marriage? So when a man and woman love each other very much.”

Antinous glared at her, his chest heaving with anger. “This is an insult—to me, to our family—”

“You are literally in a dungeon right now,” she snapped, her patience wearing thin. “Maybe you’re not in the best position to lecture me about honor and family pride.”

Antinous slammed his fist against the bars, the sound echoing through the dungeon. “When I get out of here—”

“You’re not getting out of here,” she shot back, her tone exasperated. “And even if you did, you’re not laying a hand on Telemachus. He’s my husband, Antinous, and you’re going to have to deal with that.”

Antinous’s eyes blazed with fury, but she could see the frustration simmering underneath. She softened slightly, reaching through the bars to touch his hand. “I came down here to share this with you because you’re my brother,” she said quietly. “I know you hate him, but… this is my life now. And this child is your family, too.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tight, before finally letting out a sharp exhale. “I don’t care,” he muttered, pulling his hand away. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I didn’t expect you to.”

As she stood to leave, Antinous called after her, his voice softer but still filled with venom. “You tell that husband of yours that if he ever hurts you or my niece or nephew, I’ll find a way out of here, and I will end him.”

She turned back, a tired smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll let him know,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Antinous.”

She climbed the stairs, leaving her fuming brother behind, muttering curses under his breath. By the time she reached the main hall, she felt utterly drained. “Gods,” she whispered to herself. “This family’s going to drive me insane.”

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl @dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[jointherebellion215]

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood. 

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.” 

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid. 

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made