#hades game fic

[baejax-the-great]

Agua Caliente | Achilles x Patroclus | Modern AU | AO3

“I feel like a teddy bear the way you hold me sometimes,” Patroclus murmurs. Achilles had just been drifting to sleep and hadn’t realized his grip on Patroclus had tightened.

“Oh.” Achilles eases his hold on him. “Is that bad?”

Patroclus grabs his hand before he can pull away and holds it tight against him again. “No. I like it. It gets a little warm after a while, but it’s worth it.”

He likes the feel of him in his arms. He is broad and soft and sturdy and human. There’s a heft to him. He feels right. It feels like his arms were meant to do this. Now when he sleeps alone, he ends up wrapping his arms around a pillow and wishing it were him.

“I hate not sleeping with you.” It slips out, just an idiotic confession. They’ve only done this a handful of times, but that was enough to spoil Achilles’ sleep all other days. The first time Achilles had to confront his empty bed after Patroclus had slept in it, he’d just stared at it blankly for fifteen minutes, as if willing Patroclus to fill it again. Instead, he’d managed to summon Socks who dumped every one of her kittens on his bed, and they just don’t have any weight to them. He’s afraid of crushing them in his sleep. They have no such qualms, pouncing on his feet and attacking his hair at all hours of the night if he forgets to lock them all out.

“Is that why you hold me like I might disappear in the night?”

Achilles laughs against his neck. “I don’t know how I managed it for so long. It’s better like this.”  

“Do you have trouble sleeping?”

“I have five cats. What do you think?”

Read the rest here | Or start from the beginning

[rjhpandapaws]

More prompts feel free to pick from

6, 8, 12

Or Charmes 13 XD

Have fun!

//The chaos of all of these though // I've decided to go with 6: "...I'm going to pretend I didn't see that." and make it Charmes.

With his personal lack of door, and tendency not to knock, Zagreus understood that eventually he would stumble onto something he wasn't meant to see. He had always considered it an issue for some nebulous future version of himself, which of course now meant this version of himself apparently. He'd already been spotted so it was too late to back out of the chamber and come in again and pretend he hadn't seen anything. As it was, the anger in Charon's glowing eyes was pinning him where he stood. Hermes was floating more or less stock still and his eyes were about the size of a dinner plate. Zagreus supposed that it wasn't every day that he got caught making out with his "Professional Associate". The deep purple smoke was still slowly leaking from the crease of his lips as it got to the point that he could no longer hold his breath. Zagreus was torn between turning tail and running and laughing to ease the tension. Well ease it on Hermes' end, he got the feeling laughing about this with Charon present might wind up getting him reacquainted with the business end of his oar.

"Under any other circumstances, I would say it wasn't what it looks like," Hermes began, smoke pouring past his lips with each word, "But you caught us in a rather... compromising position Zag, and it is exactly what it looks like in this case." With Hermes making somewhat light of the situation, Charon relaxed, and in turn so did Zagreus. There was less of a chance of him getting clubbed if Hermes wasn't upset about getting caught, or he was assuming so, since Hermes was talking like this was supposed to be a secret. "I think I'm better off pretending I never saw this." He glanced at Charon, "And a little safer. Just, answer something for me first." "Sure." Hermes said before Charon managed his groan of protest. "Is this," He gestured vaguely between the two of them, " Why your blessing shows up so often in the shop?" He doesn't get the chance to hear Hermes' answer because he's too busy dashing out the door in an attempt to dodge the oar that nearly came down on his head with enough force to send him back to the House. Which was an answer enough in and of itself really.

An answer to a question he didn't ask because he hadn't seen anything out of ordinary in Charon's shop. Nothing at all, no out of place winged gods. He had just left because he didn't feel like buying anything.

@queenoftherandomword

(Prompt from this list)

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Constants - Hades ThanZag Fic

[A small Hades ficlet that I wrote. Started this forever ago and only now finished it. Some ThanZag for the soul ^u^]

There are always constants. Hypnos nodding off while on the job. Charon peddling wares and souls across the Styx. Hades sitting at his desk before a neverending line of souls. Thanatos would call these his constants in his not-quite-alive life. There were always mortals who he would be tasked with transporting to the underworld, it was his job as the embodiment of Death itself. 

However, something he had considered to be constant in his life seemed to no longer be one. Zagreus. 

When Thanatos was a young god, only just figuring out his place in the world, Zagreus was there. They grew up together and became close, closer than he thought he would get to anyone. It was as though they were drawn to each other, and Thanatos found that he didn’t mind at all.

Eventually, Thanatos had to leave and start his role as the embodiment of Death itself. Time passed in a blur, and it wasn’t until he returned to the House of Hades after near centuries of work, he saw just how things changed. Zagreus was nowhere to be found. 

The one constant that he assumed would always be there, was no longer a constant.

At first, he was angry. How could he do this? Doesn’t he know? Of course he doesn’t, why would he?

But then, he was drawn back to Zagreus again. Elysium was where he finally found him, but of course, he was not able to say everything he felt. He challenged Zagreus to a little game, but left as soon as the game was finished. Thanatos returned to the House of Hades, for what reason he couldn’t name. And Zagreus returned. 

Then a new routine developed. Thanatos would use spare moments to find Zagreus in the Underworld, challenging him, and then stopping for just long enough that they could speak. Sometimes he would return to the House of Hades while others he left to return to work. Zagreus would always meet him at the House of Hades with a smile and sometimes even a bottle of Nectar. 

And they’d talk, about everything and nothing until soon, they had nothing left to say. They were drawn to each other once again, and this time, they would not be separated.

There are always constants, and now, Thanatos is glad that Zagreus will always be one for him.

[cthoniccompanion]

Speak, Muse -- my latest Hades fic -- is up on ao3!

hades 2 pre-canon / 1.9k / gen sibling shenanigans

Summary: Zagreus encourages a young Melinoë to say her first word.

[wajjs]

[ Ares / Zagreus ]

18+ | Modern Setting | Ongoing

(twitter thread)

Zagreus steps out of the cheap hostel just as the purring roar of a motorcycle comes to a stop right before him.

Backpack heavy on his shoulders, he maybe should stop being surprised to see his kin out and about in this day and age. No one's truly gone, after all.

Just... relocated.

"Lord Ares," he breathes out still. The gesture of a smile isn't a stranger on his face. "Funny seeing you here."

Out of everyone, yes, even Lord Zeus, Ares remains among the few that did not have to sacrifice much.

Wars never end. And so his domain persists.

Adapting to the new methods, the new old enemies, it means nothing to a god when the means lead to the same end and the end leads to the same fate.

Thus Ares remains untouched.

Once they mocked him. Now he's among the main pillars keeping everything afloat.

"Where else would I be, my dearest kin," he tells Zagreus with the sharp end of a grin. Ares' dark skin gleams under the sunlight. Zagreus knees are getting weak, and not because his time's close to an end. "You still smell of fresh blood."

"Ah," clearing his throat, Zagreus dares to take a step closer, then another, and another. With each one he gives, Ares grows all the more compelling. "You've been with Lady Aphrodite, I assume...?"

Ares laughs.

Zagreus wonders if it sounds as great as it must sound in battlefields.

"Come, my dear kin," he tells him, moving with the ease of being in complete control while handing him a helmet. "I'll take you wherever you wish to go next."

--

He's not a fair maiden.

Far from it, actually, when he's fought his way to the surface and try as he might he can't quite scrub off the smell of vermin blood from his hands or under his fingernails.

It does make him feel like he's soiling Ares' thick leather jacket, all black and smooth and framing him so well. Zagreus clings onto him still, he's got his arms wrapped tightly around Ares' waist, fingers closing around handfuls of fabric.

The motorcycle purrs between his legs, spread open and encased around the metal frame, pressed right against Ares. It's hard, sinuous and, blood and darkness, it's so enticing. Something molten stirs up within him, thirsty and demanding, like the bloodlust the blessing of war gives him.

Ares stares straight ahead, hands closed around the long handles of his bike. Pressed all over his back, legs spread around him, Zagreus can see the expanse of the coastal road right over his shoulder, framed by the side of the god's relaxed face.

The wind whipping against his skin, the vibrations, Ares' warmth...

Zagreus thinks it can hardly get any better than this.

--

Kicking the stand into place, Ares takes off his helmet, lets it hang from one of the handles. Each movement is, well, perfect in a way that only a god in motion can be.

Smooth, effortless, natural.

Close as they are, Zagreus feels each shift of muscle and if he were one to feel shame upon the thoughts that ignite in his head, he would.

Yet he's as shameless as they come, so he feels no embarrassment. Only growing interest.

"You may let go of me now, Zagreus," Ares tells him, laying his broad warm hand atop Zagreus' own, still closed around the black leather jacket. "Though I'm not opposed to your embrace."

It's the hint of a smile in the voice, or perhaps the way those vibrations can still be felt between his thighs, but Zagreus takes the chance like a starved man when presented a feast.

"Lord Ares," he starts, heart in his throat, as he's letting go but only to take his helmet off, only with the almost certain promise that he'll get to hold again, "you—"

His vision darkens. From the outer corners to the center, he loses focus just as his heart gives a painful beat. And another.

And it hurts.

It hurts, his leaving the outside world to go back, it always hurts way more than fighting his way to the top ever does.

Sure, it's gotten better. He can stay outside for longer. He can—

"Not yet, my dear Zagreus," Ares speaks and when Zagreus blinks, the god of war is standing in front of him. He's perched against the bike. There's something warm, painful still, like a vortex of anger and bloodshed, spreading all over inside him.

Zagreus breathes. A disarmed inhale, a forceful exhale.

What he's feeling, that is...

"I'm well aware of your condition," Ares' voice is all that Zagreus can cling onto, so he does, bathing in the concentrated pools of blood in Ares' eyes, "with my blessing, we may fool the... deadline of your pact."

"The deadline," Zagreus says.

"I hear you, my dear kin, when you wish for more time," Ares strokes his cheekbone, drags his expert hand down along his jawline until he's holding him by the chin, tilting his head up, pulling him closer. "I'm giving it to you."

[zimithrus1]

🦋On the Beat of Butterfly Wings - A Hades Game Fic🦋

My first Hades fic!! Originally wrote this during DoGoodWeirdly back in early July and finally got around to finishing, editing, and posting it! I hope you enjoy it! 😊

Summary: The flutter of wings is all it takes; for something to stir, to change, to twist and shape into a form unlike its original mold. On the beat of a butterfly’s wing, Thanatos feels the split between him and Zagreus grow, threatening to rip apart the seams and leave them only as shreds – undone. Why would Zagreus want to leave the Underworld? Leave behind all of the good things he had here. Leave him. Didn’t their friendship mean… anything?

Pairing: Zag&Than

Key Tags: Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, ThanZag if you squint

📚 Read it here! 📚

[ink-beneath-her-fingernails]

reach your hand through the everglass (the boat to nowhere gets there fast)

read it on ao3   |   masterlist

Fandom: Hades (video game)

TWs: major character death (canon-typical), graphic depictions of violence, mentions of unhealthy parent-child relationships. please let me know if there are any other warnings that should be added.

Wordcount: 1,748

Originally Published: January 27, 2023

Summary: here is what they do not tell you: running through every level of hell, being reborn in a river of your own blood, experiencing every thousands of ways to die, failing and failing and failing and yet persisting—you will change.

here is what you are scared to ask yourself: how much?

Notes: whoops i thought too much about this game!! idek what the title on this one is. originally it was "persist in the fathomless depths" bc i couldn't find any of the dialogue that inspired this story in the first place, and none of the other stuff was jumping out, but then this just. kinda happened. and now i'm attached to it so.

Transfer Notes: n/a

here is what they do not tell you: running through every level of hell, being reborn in a river of your own blood, experiencing every thousands of ways to die, failing and failing and failing and yet persisting—you will change.

here is what you are scared to ask yourself: how much?

*

here is what you learn:

how to die (stabbed through the heart, body seizing, skin frizzing with magical energy, choking on blood and bile and poison, bleeding out in a quiet corner, crushed by falling debris, at the hands of one of your oldest friends),

never to meet your heroes (of any sort; every olympian you've ever talked to is fickle and proud and angry beyond measure; it takes you three meetings to even realize who patroclus is and he is nothing like any story, tired and drowning in sorrow and apathy and having given up in every way; you tell theseus that fighting him would be an honor and he calls you a fiend, a blackguard, and a coward, tells you he will show you no mercy, relishes more in the crowd and glory than anything else above or below the earth),

how to talk to people (you've always been alright at it but you need it now more than ever before—new people, not the ones you've grown up knowing, ones who will talk back and stick around for longer than their sentencing; you talk and you talk and you give and you give and sometimes you take and this you are forced to realize before anything else: everyone here is your ally, and everyone here is your enemy. they are bound to this house just like you are, want you to escape because they never could, want you to fail because it's their job, want you to die because they'd rather swallow you whole and let your ever-lit feet scorch their insides until they learn not to burn than let you leave them.

you learn to toe a fine line, never show too much of your hand at once, look for double meanings, take nothing at face value; line thin smiles with sharp teeth and honeyed words, and you hate it and you hate it and you hate it and—),

people change (sisyphus tends your wounds, gives you spare obols he's picked up on his perpetual path, slips you gemstones of darkness incarnate that make your blood sing, always offers you an ear to listen and a kind set of words. you ask nyx where his pact might be so you can void it, and she asks if you think that is a wise decision. you tell her you don't know, so she sends you to her son. you cannot look sisyphus in the eye when next you meet, taking his gifts sets something roiling in your gut. he has been here for so very long. you cannot even imagine what he was like living, cannot possibly reconcile the crafty king you've been told of with the bashful, friendly man who offers you encouragement on your runs. you still do not know if you should free him. you wish you'd never thought of it.

your father is a shadow over your entire life, you have learned nothing from him except every painful part of the words blood and darkness. he has tried to teach you how to hate and despite all his wishes, you have not let him. (you still love him, you still love him, why do you still love him, how can you still love him?) you have given him the benefit of the doubt at every turn and still he surprises you, still it shocks you to the core of something you didn't know you had to hear him uncertain, to hear him loving, or trying, to hear him attempting to make the right choice in a way that matters differently from the rulings of the universe and politics and mortality.

achilles tells you he tore the world asunder once but will not say how. try as you might, you cannot picture it.

the shades milling outside the stadium in elysium murmur about how, in life, theseus killed the minotaur with his bare hands, and you spend long minutes wondering if you'd misheard, trying to understand when presented with the information for the first time since you'd actually met the pair how that makes any sense, when they're a team, when theseus bargained asterius out of erebus just to fight by his side. they tell you, again and again, that you could never understand the bond they have, and you believe it every time),

how to use each of the infernal arms (that have found their way crawling from the darkness where they were always meant to be forgotten, that fit your palms like they were always meant for you to wield them, that make your hair stand on end and your blood pump and your muscles pulse and the need for something great and terrible and violent to spring forth from you frying the very air you breathe.

you collect bounties, and they're something awful, something old, something you shouldn't be seeing, holding, using—titan blood. each weapon, without fail, reacts when you do. they shiver, and quake, and whisper, and you think you finally know what achilles must've meant when he told you that they'd hunger for it before long.

you carefully pocket a vial of the ancient ichor, and the trembling of aegis brings you pause. its open mouth is gaping, and you wonder, if it had a tongue, would it be licking its chops, and is it just you, or are its fangs longer now than they were before? you feed them eventually, because of course you do, you're running out of options, and you wonder if, in several hundred slices of agony throughout the depths, your forefathers' forefathers can feel it).

here is what you don't: who actually hired skelly? who was he before?

why do the gods of olympus, who all quietly hate each other so, bother to put up with one another for all this time? (is there perhaps more than one reason lord ares has been kept so very busy on earth recently? is it nothing but a desperate hope that he will not have time to turn eyes to their mountaintop, considering?)

why did your mother come here, and why did she leave?

why does the river phlegethon keep flooding?

why, when you are so very frustrated after a ruined escape attempt that ended slowly and painfully, when meg refuses to even talk to you, when everyone at the house has stonewalled every question you've asked in the hours since, and you throw something—was it a pot? a book? a statuette?—across your room in a fit of rage, does the mirror nyx once gifted you shatter like it never, never should? why does nyx not instantly storm in, having felt it?

why don't you feel any different when it does?

(nyx tells you the mirror will make you stronger, and by her grace, it does.)

(so why is it, when you kneel amongst the shards, trying to figure out how you're going to fix your own impulsive stupidity, that it doesn't feel dangerous? it did, before, even when it was whole, when you first used it. now, you handle the pieces, and don't even make an effort to handle them carefully because some part of you knows they would never dream of cutting you open.

when you press them together, the darkness sings, and where it once made you feel small, like prey, maybe, now it is a comfortable hum in your chest, in your heart, in your soul if you were to have one, and you act without thinking, letting the music of the cosmos you should not hear or feel or taste guide your hands without thought, and suddenly you have one larger piece instead of two smaller ones, and one pair less of jagged edges. you keep on, like it's your purpose, because maybe now it is, and shard by shard, edge by edge, you build something, and the darkness sings ever louder with each joining, until you could swear the whole house is shaking in its foundations. eventually, you press an entire, jagged panel into the frame and what's stayed there, and it's like nothing ever happened. slowly, the music fades.

when you ask nyx if she heard the singing later, she just blinks at you, says she's not sure what you mean, and orpheus still hasn't been much for playing lately.

you don't bring it up again.)

*

this is what it seems everyone has forgotten except you: how gods become.

young gods are a rare commodity these days. they always have been.

more often than not, gods come into existence fully formed for their purpose, or nearly there. gods that are created more than born often have it given to them, even.

their powers are not uncovered through a slow process of trial and error, or by accident. rarely are they a surprise.

people tend to forget that it wasn't always this way. people forget that once, the world wasn't split in three, that the infernal arms exist for a reason, that gods can be made as much as they can be born, and sometimes, they can be both. they forget that gods can die, just not forever; forget that there are things older than them that still watch.

but you don't. you can't. you're living in it.

we're gods, boy. killing one another is our lot.

you wonder, then.

you think that maybe that is how divinity is forged—if it is through resentment, and spite, and battles to the death again and again, and running and fighting and learning and falling into places you aren't supposed to and seeing things from beyond your realm.

the darkness sings, and your blood roars in time with it, and you let it, feeling a sort of whole you didn't know was possible.

make things more interesting, indeed, the being that is beyond time and world and reason murmurs when next you meet. a smile curls upon your face, and you wonder when you stopped finding things like that ominous and threatening.

well.

perhaps it was when you started making your life a little more interesting, after all. or, perhaps, it was when life started making you a little more interesting.

it's hard to say, really.

[triptuckers]

switching teams - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hi there! Could I request an enemies to lovers! trope, where the reader is part of the ares halfgods." Pairing:  Percy Jackson x ares!reader Summary:  percy should know better than to try and fight an ares kid Warnings:  a lot of swearing lol, fighting, mentions of blood & injuries Word count:  1.9K A/N: can't wait to see more of dior as clarisse in the show she's such a good actress. thanks for your request, enjoy!

ever since percy got to camp a couple of years ago he's had it out for you. you don't know why, but naturally you decided to respond with the same energy.

he wants to test the ares kid's patience? fine by you.

for some reason he's always arguing with you and you're all to happy to argue back. somehow he knew exactly which buttons to press, how to get on your nerves.

there's always tension between the two of you, which reaches a high during war games like capture the flag. this time is no different.

you're part of team red, following clarisse's lead. percy is on the blue team.

not that it matters, your team is unbeatable. you're proud of your cabin for coming up with the best strategies. you and clarisse always draw up new battle plans, surprising the blue team whenever they think they cracked your plan.

and today you're going to win again. you know it.

you've been walking through your part of the forest, getting rid of any kids of the blue team you run into.

after a while, you think they've all said to each other to avoid certain parts of the wood, given that you don't see anyone for a while.

then you hear talking in the distance. smiling, you grip your sword tighter and creep closer to them.

'let's move, c'mon, these are y/n's parts of the woods.' says one of the kids. you recognise him as someone from the hermes cabin.

'right about that.' you say, jumping over a fallen log and blocking their path.

all three kids widen their eyes and you quickly count their weapons and cabins. two from the hermes cabin and one from athena. a combined total of three swords and a spear. you'll need to take out the athena kid first, they might be able to analyse your fighting style if you're not fast enough.

'I told you!' says one of the hermes kids as you charge them.

you were right, you can tell by the way the athena kid's eyes follow your movements they're trying to analyse your moves. but you catch them off guard and give them a hard shove after kicking one of their legs to the ground.

you make quick work of the hermes kids just in time for your team to run past, carrying the blue flag. you grin at sherman when he runs past with the flag.

'you know what to do!' he says with a wink.

you nod and take off. you're the best sprinter and best swordsman of your cabin.

the plan was simple. once your team got the flag, they would run through your favorite parts of the woods. you would hear them, join them and then run ahead of them, getting rid of any blue team kids in your way and clearing the path for your team.

so that's exactly what you do.

you run to the river, getting rid of any blue team kids you see.

when you see the river in the distance you can't help but to feel a sense of pride. you won again.

but before you can reach the river, something hard knocks you on your back.

before you can get up, someone appears above you, pointing his sword at you and smiling. it's percy. this fucking kid.

you lash out with your sword but percy is quick to block your blow.

'got ya!' he says.

'no you don't.' you say.

he may be pointing a sword at you, but you're not defenceless. with one swift motion, you kick percy's legs, sending him to the ground.

you're quicker, rolling over and pinning his hands to his side. there's no room for him to kick you with his legs.

percy's fighting to get his sword but this time you're stronger. this time, you smile.

'you need to be quicker.' you say. 'and you need to understand we will always win capture the flag.'

'we can still win.' percy argues.

'no, you can't.' you say. 'you're the strongest swordsman on your team. and I've got you pinned to the ground.

'so you admit I'm a stronger swordsman than you!' says percy.

'I said on your team.' you say.

you look up when you hear people cheering in the distance. your team has reached the river, with the blue flag.

'looks like we win again.' you say.

percy looks annoyed. 'get off me, the game is over.'

'say please.'

'fuck off.'

'say please and I'll get up.'

percy rolls his eyes and sighs. 'please, y/n, will you get off me?'

'because you asked nicely.' you say, pushing up off the ground, making sure to accidentally put your weight on percy's legs.

without looking at him again, you take off to celebrate the win with your team.

the next time you're playing capture the flag is three weeks later. you're excited to keep your winning streak going.

just as you've finished putting on your armour and checking all of your weapons, you see percy putting on a chest plate with a red mark on it.

'hey!' you say, getting his attention. 'you're not on our team.'

'yes I am.' he says. 'I already talked it over with clarisse.

'no the fuck you didn't.' you say.

'y/n!'

you look over your shoulder and see clarisse looking at you. she's your best friend, you always train together and she's a great team captain. but this?

'he's on our team.' she says.

'why?'

'because you two are the best swordsmen at camp. it's the logical choice for capture the flag. work together.'

'I will not-'

'not up for discussion. he's on our team, deal with it.'

you turn to percy, walking up to him and giving him a look of pure malice. 'just because you're on our team does not mean I won't hesitate to fight you.' you say.

'no maiming. no killing. especially not your own team members. those are the rules.' says percy.

'I don't care.' you say. 'don't get in my way.'

you hear percy mumble 'fucking ares kids' as you walk away to get into position before the game starts.

as soon as the starting signal sounds, you head to your favorite spot in the woods. there were always some blue kids who thought they could get lucky, but they always run into you.

you're waiting there, your eyes on the path, when you suddenly hear footsteps behind you.

you're just in time to turn around and block the other person's blow.

'you!' you say as you recognise the eyes looking into yours.

'me.' says percy.

'I'm on your fucking team you idiot!'

'I recall you saying it didn't matter.'

'piss off!'

'no.'

percy takes on a fighting stance. he better be fucking kidding. he wants to fight? fine. you can give him that.

'I want to teach you how to become better.' he says.

'at what?'

'sword fighting.'

that's it. it's one thing to attack you from behind. another to tell you he wants to teach you how to be better.

percy knows it's bad fucking luck to claim he's better at fighting than an ares kid. but you've got a tell, and it will get you killed some day.

'you have a tell. let me teach you how to avoid it.'

the nerve he has.

with two quick strides you're in front of him, bringing your sword down on him with all of your strength.

percy blocks it, but his arms are straining underneath the weight of your blow. you really are good.

he swings his sword to your left side but you jump aside and aim the next blow at his legs. he jumps over your sword and kicks you out of the way.

you spin around and attempt to drive your sword through the exposed part of his arm. percy gets out of the way, but only barely.

'you're using your father's strength to guide you.' he says, grunting in between blows of your swords hitting each other.

you don't respond, choosing to save your strength and focus on trying to hit him.

'you're faster than me. you could win.' he says.

fuck him. you are going to win. how dare he question you like this? how dare he question your fighting skills?

you take a step forward, ready to end this fight. but percy kicks your leg out of the way and pushes you, sending you backward.

'you step before you strike.' says percy. 'with your right foot.'

what the fuck?

'I have to give it to you, it took me a while to realise it.'

'been watching me, have you?'

you start to circle him, looking for an opening to strike.

'yes. now start avoiding the step before you strike.'

'I don't need a poseidon kid to teach me how to fight. you're doing this to distract me.'

'is it so hard to believe I actually want to help you? clarisse is right, we'd make a good team. you're almost as good as I am.'

'I can never be a team with someone who insults me to my face.'

'right. never claim to be a better fighter than an ares kid. noted.'

you race forward and strike percy, hoping he doesn't expect it.

he does. he easily blocks your attack.

you're furious. no one is better than you. certainly not percy.

you let your rage take over, going in for another attack, subconsciously taking one step before striking. percy kicks your foot.

you're breathing heavily. he wants to teach you? fine. you keep your footing in place as you strike, catching him off guard.

percy is too surprised and is too late to block your blow. you slice through his upper arm. it's not a very deep cut but it still bleeds. you smile as you see the blood start to slowly trickle down his arm.

you strike again, but only nearly hitting him. you can teach him as well. for instance, his weak point is his legs. you sweep them out from under him. percy falls to the ground as you point your sword to him.

'you're beaten.' you say.

'and you listened to me.' he says.

you hate to admit it, but he did have a point. once you focused on not taking a step before striking, you were able to beat him.

you reach out with your other hand.

percy is eyeing your hand suspiciously.

'I'm pulling you up.' you say. 'the fight is over. I won. I'm not striking an unarmed, beaten opponent.'

percy takes your hand and allows you to pull him to his feet.

'thought you didn't like me.' he says.

'I never said that. you annoy me. but ares kids respect good fighters. you're a good swordsman. and you were right. I have a tell.' you say.

'did you just admit to liking me?' says percy, smiling.

'I also said you're annoying.'

'but you like me.'

'doesn't make you less annoying. now come on, we have a flag to capture.'

the two of you take off to rejoin your team. during the fight, something had changed between the two of you. if percy could point out a flaw you didn't know you had, you're curious to see what else he knows about you that you don't know about yourself.

maybe it's a good thing he convinced clarisse to let him join your team.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[jacqcrisis]

I can't stop thinking about the rings on Hermes' fingers. I can't. Whats the story behind those? Did he start wearing them because Charon gave them to him as a job well done? The weirdest gift imaginable to your professional associate?

Did Hermes steal them to be a cheeky bastard and got them fitted and put them on for the jokes? Did he start wearing them apropos of nothing? Just happen to start accessorizing like his professional associate? Is it part of a shared uniform? Can we see the employee handbook?

Did Charon go out and get rings commissioned to look exactly like his for not one, but two of his partner in crimes' fingers, slide each lovingly onto Hermes' corresponding digits, and then gently hold his now bejeweled hands in his own to see how they match, knowing Hermes will now carry something of Charon with him when he leaves him for his dangerous work?

I'm just. Asking. Questions. But I swear to God, if we get Charon's portrait and he has a feather or an orange ribbon somewhere on his person, I will be inconsolable for days.

[whatthefuckistevvs]

Where I’ll be looking in their eyes when they’re down I’ll be there on their side I’m losing by their side

[argetcross]

wasting beats of this heart of mine by ArgetCross

Chapter 29: The Gods of the Dead

The high-vaulted halls of the House were quiet when Megaera returned from her shift. She cast a glance towards the throne, and, upon seeing it empty, sighed. Lord Hades had returned a few times since their last all-hands meeting, but rarely for long, and the paperwork on his desk had piled up into a small mountain. Nyx was not in her usual niche as well and, with its two pillars gone, the House had sunken into a languorous and subdued mood.  After tossing a doleful Cerberus a new bone, Megaera headed towards the entrance of the hall. 

Read it here on AO3!

[baejax-the-great]

Twin Flames by @johaeryslavellan. Patroclus x Achilles (tsoa, M). Squire AU where Patroclus is just so deeply pathetic I want to shake him and wrap him in a blanket and shake him again. Obsessed.

Sound and Fury by @gloriesunsung. Megaera x Zagreus (Hades game, M). Zagreus needs a door. Like seriously.

Battle Tactics by @johaeryslavellan. Patroclus x Achilles (tsoa, E). Patroclus does the hard work of getting Achilles to focus. Jk, it's smut, and it was written for me 💕

The House Party by red_smear. Megaera x Zagreus x Thanatos (Hades game, M). Written in the style of a play, and absolutely hilarious. Puns and rhymes and completely silly. Please enjoy.

staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer by @irisesandlilies. Patroclus x Achilles (Hades game, tsoa). Achilles learns to read and writes Patroclus letters through their long separation. Heartbreaking in the best way.

[rjhpandapaws]

A Place to Rest Weary Wings

Guess who isnt dead. Tw: for neglect of health, and staying up longer than is healthy.

The first time Charon ever saw Hermes was when the winged god had brought Persephone to the gates of the Underworld. He had known to expect Persephone, she was the whole reason Nyx had sent him to the Temple in one of the rare times that there were no souls waiting to be ferried to their fates. They both moved under her enchanted darkness, so he found it safe to assume they were both seeking sanctuary here. They were much too alive for this place. Persephone had light blue flowers in her hair and similar flowers were blooming all around her from where her bare feet rested on the ground. He hadn’t known his name then, but he was struck that a god with wings so brightly colored in hues of gold that they seemed to be gifts from Helios himself; would seek shelter in a place like this. It seemed wrong somehow, for such light to be buried in this place. He did not step forward with Persephone when she crossed the threshold of the gates, which left Charon with some lingering confusion. Instead, he lingered long enough to see her safely board the boat, then he was gone in a gust of wind and golden light. Charon wanted to see him again, but shelved that feeling. He had a job to do, the last thing he wanted to do was let his mother down.

When the winter first started, he and Thanatos were the only ones suspicious of it. Too many mortals were dying from the cold. According to Thanatos there was almost a maliciousness to it. This freeze was more than just a changing of the seasons that Hades was trying so hard to make it out to be. Charon couldn’t ask as he wasn’t formerly permitted in the House; as well as the fact that he lacked the vocal structure necessary to speak the hybrid of Chthonic and Greek that had become the language of the House. Thanatos didn’t have any luck finding answers either. Whatever was happening in the House had something to do with the sinister cold of the surface, and Hades was being particularly tight lipped about both. Persephone came to him again, this time with his mother at her side. The life had been in her eyes when she first arrived here was muted by intense sadness and grief. A mix of emotions that was oddly enough mirrored in his mother’s usually stoic eyes when she would glance at Persephone. She did not bother to hide it from her voice when she spoke to him. He had no one to tell of her moment of weakness. It wasn’t a show of trust exactly, but as close to it as Nyx was able.

“Charon, my child,” She said, “Please return Persephone to the surface. She wishes to return home. Her guide will be waiting for her at the gates. Move quickly and speak of this to no one.” He hummed his acknowledgement and turned back toward the boat. There was nothing he needed to prepare, it was simply to give them something akin to privacy in their last moments together. He only turned back when the ferry rocked with the motion of Persephone stepping onto it. She gave him an awkward but kind smile and he pretended not to notice the drop of Darkness she had cradled to her chest. The trip to the Temple was quiet on his end. His voice, if it really could be called such, was unsettling to most. And Persephone seemed well enough occupied in her attempts to reason herself out of asking him to turn back. When the gates open he is surprised to find the same winged god from before. He is once again shrouded in divine darkness but still looking over his shoulder as though he expected to be spotted. They wouldn’t be, given that they were under Nyx’s protection, but it made Charon wonder if there was more to this situation than he was being told. Persephone stepped through the gates and the snow began to melt around her. Charon was certain this was the last he would ever see the two of them.

The first time he saw Hermes without Persephone, he was confused. He is hovering like always - just above the snow - this time much more relaxed with two scrolls in his hand. “Are you Charon?” He asked quickly enough that Charon nearly misses it, “If so this is for you, and this is for Hades.” He barely gets a chance to nod before the two scrolls are shoved at him. He tucked the one meant for him into his robes. “My name is Hermes. It’s a pleasure to meet you - assuming you are Charon - and work with you in a more official capacity.” Hermes winks as though there is a joke they are both supposed to be in on. If there is, it hadn’t been told to Charon. “Anyway I’m not allowed to go any further than the Temple, so you’re gonna have to run that message from Zeus down to the House. Or throw it in the Phlegathon, its just as likely to get answered that way.” He gives another wink, “Anyway, lots to do so I better be off.” Hermes once again vanishes into the wind without giving him a chance to respond.

Charon stayed at the gates until they closed, just to see if Hermes would return. When he didn’t Charon returned to his boat and began the journey back to the House. He debated actually throwing the letter to Hades into the Phlegathon like Hermes had suggested. He decided against it in the end, he didn’t want to be subjected to anymore of Hades’ ire. He was on thin ice as it was for helping Persephone escape. He still wasn’t permitted inside the House, though Hermes likely didn’t know that. So he left the letter by the garden gates, long unused in Persephone’s absence, and continued to Erebus. He had a letter of his own to read. It turned out to be from Persephone surprisingly enough. There is a flower carefully pressed into it, that reminded her of his smoke apparently. He was careful as he set it in a gold vase, one of many to be found in the place he carved out for himself here. It is already dead, as most things that find their way to him are, but no less beautiful. Had it been alive this place would have sapped the life from it until it crumbled to dust. Unlike it’s sender, the flower had no means to escape the Underworld. It would come to be the first of many gifts from the surface. It would remain the first thing to mark this place in Erebus as truly his.

Hermes became somewhat of a regular visitor to the Temple after that. Always with some kind of message for Hades they both knew would go unanswered, and some story from Olympus itself or whichever place on the surface that had caught his fancy. Gradually he went from lingering just inside the Temple gates seeming unsure of himself to confidently flitting about in Charon’s personal space. It’s something Charon is surprised to find he doesn’t mind at all. At least when it’s Hermes. These visits soon become his favorite parts about visiting the Temple. Hermes brings with him a pleasantness that is otherwise absent from the Underworld. More than once Charon finds himself wishing there was way he could bottle the feeling and keep it. So it would stay with him even when Hermes left. Especially now, since the constant overflow of the dead meant that Charon was the one having to leave first for a change. He wanted nothing more than to be able to stay and listen, but the longer he lingered in the Temple the more Shades would pile up. Hermes, at the very least, seemed to understand. He was a busy god himself after all.

Hermes was always full of life and energy. Always chattering and flitting about the Temple. The last thing Charon expected to see was Hermes being still in any sense of the word. Yet when he arrived he found Hermes leaned against a pillar apparently asleep. Or at least he was asleep until Charon’s boat bumped against the dock. Hermes jolted awake and for a moment looked panicked, as though he wasn’t sure where he was. When his eyes land on Charon he scrambled in to motion  to make it seem like everything was normal, but Charon could see the exhaustion that clung to his features. Charon still isn’t sure what compelled him to pull Hermes into the boat. Its empty of Shades for the time being. Hermes settled onto the bench with all the grace of a thrown rock. Once he was sure Hermes wasn’t going to make a break for it, he began to row. He didn’t have a place in mind, and they would both be late after this, but it seemed like something Hermes needed. As it stands, the dead could wait just a little while longer. Hermes is asleep again before they reach Elysium. Charon slows the boat so the rocking motion wouldn’t wake him. He rows at the same slow pace down to Erebus, he is tempted to stay there until Hermes wakes up again, but instead begins to row back toward the Temple. Giving Hermes as much time to sleep as he is able.

Hermes wakes up when the boat taps against the dock in the Temple. It’s a slow process that begins with the light fluttering of his wings and ends with Hermes rising to his feet looking like he expects to be lectured for resting of all things. “Sorry about that Charon.” For once Hermes isn’t looking at him when he speaks, “I’ve been pretty busy lately and I suppose I haven’t been resting as much as I should have. It won’t happen again.” There is a crowd of Shades in the Temple now and Charon can’t reassure Hermes anymore than to gently place a hand on his shoulder as he moves past. In his absence the shades file neatly into a line and Charon begins collecting their Obol. If there happens to be blankets and cushions in the bottom of the ferry  the next time Hermes arrives, that’s none of his business. As it stands, Hermes falls asleep in Charon’s boat  several more times before Charon clears out a spot for him to rest in the Temple. Away from potential prying eyes and particularly nosy shades of course. He would hate to see Hermes lose the reputation he worked so hard for.

Given that he is not typically allowed into the House, it comes as a surprise to hear from Nyx that Hades wishes to speak with him. When the surprise passes the next thing to bubble to the surface is a deep sense of dread. Had Hades found where Persephone was hiding? Did he find Hermes’ hiding place? He makes it down to the House in record time. He is surprised to see Thanatos waiting before the desk and Hermes as well. A cold fear washes over him again. He knows Than values his place within the House; would he really do something like this just to keep it? Surely after everything they had been through his loyalty toward his family would have outweighed that which he owed to the House. Its Hades’ booming voice that brings him out of his thoughts. “It has been brought to my attention, through the ceaseless nagging of my relatives, and some complaints from members of my own House;” He sends a sharp look to both Hermes and Thanatos; “That the rate at which mortals are dying has become too much for one psychopomp to keep up with.” He sends another pointed look toward Hermes, “Hermes has generously offered to fill the position. Thanatos has already given his approval. Are you fine with this as well Charon?” Charon gives his usual slow nod and doesn’t miss the way Hermes breaks out into a grin.

There is a distinct difference in working with Thanatos and working with Hermes. Than’s drop offs were always quick, he would stay with the shades long enough to make sure Charon had entered the Temple, and they he was gone. Whether or not they had the Obols necessary to gain passage was none of his concern it seemed. Hermes lingered. The shades he brought with him were always neatly lined up. Charon watched him on several occasions produce Obols from who knows where to give to the shades that didn’t have them. The stories he brought with him to tell Charon also helped soothe the dead as they waited for their turn to board. In the times that Hermes was pushing aside his need for rest, Charon would finish with the shades and take him on a ride. Every single time he would be asleep before they reached Elysium. Charon enjoyed the company, even if he was asleep, though he did worry for Hermes’ health. Olympian or not, this couldn’t be sustainable. Hermes needed rest. Not whatever naps he was stealing on ferry rides or in the Temple.

It’s not long before he gets his chance. Hermes had been running himself ragged for quite some time. Between escorting the dead, keeping up with his duties as the Olympian messenger, and definitely not helping Zagreus’ escape attempts. Exhaustion hung off Hermes and held him down to the point that he barely hovered above the temple floor. Charon hates it. He considers Hermes a friend, his only friend really, and its concerning to see him like this. Once the dead were loaded onto the ferry he gently took ahold of Hermes by the shoulders and guided him to what had essentially become his spot on the boat. He didn’t resist at all which didn’t help to ease Charon’s worry. Just like every other time, Hermes is asleep before they reach Elysium. Charon takes his time ferrying the souls down to the House. When the last of the dead have made their way inside Charon continues to Erebus rather than returning to the Temple. Hermes needed more than these scant few moments of sleep. He needed real rest and time to recover. As powerful as Olympian gods were rumored to be, Charon was willing to bet that they could still succumb to the effects of over exhaustion.

Hermes doesn’t stir when the boat comes to a stop, or when Charon very carefully picks him up. He isn’t dead, Charon knows that, yet even after Hermes is carefully placed in Charon’s far too unused bed he finds himself watching the slow but steady rise and fall of his chest. Just to be sure. Eventually, he has no choice but to get back to work. The dead have all the time in world. but Thanatos unfortunately did not. When he gets the chance to return to Erebus again, Hermes is gone. In his place is a thank you note with one of his feathers neatly placed on it. The note assures him that Hermes didn’t pull the feather out, but rather it came out when Hermes preened his wings. Charon doesn’t believe that for a moment, but he takes the feather from the pillow and places it in the same vase as the various flowers he had received from Persephone over the years. It seemed to glow and the sight of it brought a pleasant sort of warmth to his chest. Almost like Hermes was still there.

Things are different after that. Better in Charon’s opinion, but definitely different. Hermes is more vulnerable around him, the act is dropped and he gets to see the god that lies beneath all the pomp and feathers. So Charon does the same. Hermes can sort of understand him by now and Charon is still amazed by that. Something warm begins to blossom where his heart would be if he had one. It’s more persistent whenever Hermes is around. Especially when he is flitting about in Charon’s personal space. It’s not something he has ever felt before. The warmth is pleasant, but concerning. He doesn’t bring it up to Hermes out of fear of worrying him. He certainly doesn’t need anything else on his plate at the moment. Zagreus gives him a bottle of nectar on one of his runs. Given that he can’t exactly drink it he decides to give it to Hermes. The smile Hermes gives him in response is what pushes him over the edge. That warm feeling bubbles and burns until he’s moving, pulling Hermes into as much of a kiss as his skeletal facial structure will allow. When Hermes pulls away to exhale a plume of deep purple smoke he is grinning. “Took you lone enough.” He says with a wink, “I thought you would never catch on.”

Things are different now. Persephone is back, and the House is lively again. Nyx is happier than Charon can ever remember seeing her, and it’s nice. Best of all, Hermes is always there when Charon gets back to Erebus. Either resting or waiting for him there with a fascinating bauble from the surface. His favorite moments though are these. When Hermes is laid out with his head in Charon’s lap letting him run skeletal fingers through his hair and soothe him to sleep. When they are both at peace and he knows Hermes is safe in a place where he can rest his weary wings.

[madwomansapologist]

rocky road — which soulmate!au would be perfect for them? + zagreus

rocky road — which soulmate!au would be perfect for them?

⤷ with: zagreus

See color for the first time when you touch them + Star-crossed lovers. In this essay I will-

Okay, hear me out. Zagreus is the most determined deity. That's a fact. He's literally compared to Sisyphus all the time. Even when things seem to work against him, when people he loves don't support him, when his own father fight him to death: Zagreus don't stop trying.

It don't matter what separates you both. Maybe you're a nymph that lives with Persephone far away from the Underworld. Maybe you're another chthonic entity that have so much to do to prove yourself for Hades. Maybe you're an hero(ine) on Elysium responsible for killing Zagreus again and again.

When you touched (maybe in accident during work, maybe during a fight, maybe you tried to help him while he died on the surface), colors exploded in front of his eyes. Since that, Zagreus knows he won't give up on you. He won't stop trying. It don't matter if he ends up dying just to see you for a few minutes, if Hades himself declare that you both will never be alowed to have a relationship, if you're the one killing him again and again: Zagreus will never stop trying.

Chaos can say that will never work, Gaia can wake up and separe you both, Cronos can get rid of his chains: Zagreus will never let someone else decide his fate for him. He would never challenge the Moires out loud, but he does beg. And the only person he actually fears is Aphrodite. Don't matter what she demands, Zagreus will do everything to be on her good side and make sure that she also likes you.

After all, the stars and the rest of the world can say and do whatever they want, but Zagreus got plenty of time to make you his. And he isn't a man give up on the first few thousand attempts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[cthoniccompanion]

A DOUBLE FIC UPDATE!

Chapter 2 of my Hades Flower Shop/Tattoo Studio AU, ARRANGEMENTS, is up! (x)

As well, a side oneshot in the same AU, ADVICE, is up as well! (x)

[babyrdie]

Achilles if he was the Champion on Olympus instead of Theseus and Asterius, inspired by a fic (by @baejax-the-great) I read recently.

I ended up drawing Achilles because I wanted to train more metal and Patroclus in this fic doesn't have much metal in his design. Maybe I'll try to do Patroclus too, but I can't promise anything because trying to imitate Hades has already taken me a long time for a train.

I tried to use Hades' style as a kind of observation study. Honestly, I already knew it was going to be difficult all along because I don't have stylization as my strong point, and also the style of this game seemed so unique that it gave me the impression that it would be difficult to replicate. All said and done, it really is. Even if I cheated by establishing a firmer pose on Achilles to avoid the need to draw a good gesture, it doesn't change that the rest is still outside my comfort area.

My conclusion was: the head is the hardest part for me, which I didn't expect. My facial style is very different from Hades' style, so it complicates my life. Plus, using just one brush for the whole thing is surprisingly good. I should practice gesturing instead of avoiding it.

And here I'm going to put some notes about Hades' style that helped me try to replicate it, but that's it: in Jen Zee's case, perceiving characteristic X is more complicated than doing characteristic X! I still think I need to train a lot to really be able to replicate it, especially in the head area. I don't know if this counts as a tutorial of sorts? But that's it, expect lots of images and explanations from here on in this post.

SHAPES

You can easily see "geometric" aspects of the drawing. It's easy to "disassemble" characters into shapes, which is a kind of basic concept often used in drawings.

I think that trying to be "sharp" is a good thing, as most of the shapes I saw on the characters were more sharp than rounded.

I got the impression that Jen Zee focuses on the macro and then goes to the micro, not micro for macro. In other words, she first establishes a visible and well-made shape and then cares about details.

This is very good in terms of anatomy, because a common mistake artists make, for example, is to care too much about detailing things like the face and muscles instead of creating a well-done silhouette. It turns out that the detailed parts are realistic, but the character as a whole has questionable anatomy. Typical case of a perfect face, but too big or small for the body.

I think the most obvious example of Hades' style is its hair. There is no separation of hair strand by strand, but rather making a large, recognizable shape that will later be further molded.

LINEART

The line is always black. Don't paint!

Lineweight: the outer line is thick but the inner lines are thin. There isn't much more line weight variation other than that.

It's mostly consistent but, in some parts, it's purposely interrupted or less polished. It's nothing so noticeable that if you do it completely polished it will greatly affect the result, but if you intend to get as close as possible I would advise you to purposefully "fail" in some parts.

Even with these "flaws", it's a CONFIDENT lineart. This means that you will have more luck copying the style of making your drawings in firm, quick strokes at once rather than slowly retouching stroke by stroke. Draw a line and if it looks bad, just do it again. I don't recommend drawing over it to fix it.

I don't know if this fits in line, but I'll put it here. There are some random lines of striking colors here and there. At first glance, you don't even notice them, although they actually help the drawing stand out, but they are there.

COLORING

Color blocking is your friend.

Don't use blending tools, and use a hard brush and hard eraser. I used one of CSP's default brushes for the entire drawing. It's a style that doesn't require fancy brushes.

From what I saw, Jen Zee doesn't paint this style in grayscale but directly in color. If your fear is getting the color wrong, using layers is a faithful companion because it's easy to change a specific part.

It's IMPOSSIBLE to do the Hades style without inking, which is that part where in the traditional drawing you would apply the ink. In Hades, this is visible in the parts that are shaded black.

Inking is MAINLY used in areas where there is less light, such as the neck, but it's also widely used on metal surfaces.

Don't insist on gradients and blurring the drawing! The shadows here are more solid, quite easy to point out where they start and where they end. In some parts, the transition is made by putting an "edge" on the shadow in a tone that is between the shadow tone and the base tone, not by blending. In others, there is no transition at all. Faces, in particular, seemingly have no transitions.

In the illuminated parts, I particularly found it easier to use rubber to shape them. First paint straight and then start erasing and making the shapes.

Highlights are very important in this style, and they are generally in a more saturated tone.

It seemed easier to follow the order of base color > lighting than base color > shading. That is, first paint in the darkest tone and then add lighter tones instead of painting light and then making it dark.

-Use of complementary colors and analogous colors in certain palettes.

Color picking can make you a little insecure about the base colors, but trust the process because color theory is crazy. The base skin tone of Achilles in Hades is a yellow that is strange at first glance, but together with the other added tones it simply looks like a normal tan. Believe me, I was surprised at first! But, sure, it doesn't all have to be color-picking.

SOME EXAMPLES IN IMAGES

And now trying to explain what I already said, but visually. If you look at the images, I recommend zooming in. Very simple images because some of them were actually loose studies and not something made with the intention of posting so don't expect anything beautiful lol