#stygian writes a thing

[dykegeology]

People on tumblr love to be like 'ocd is NOT about washing your hands it's actually about sometimes feeling guilty about things!' and it's like ocd... is primarily about having a disconnect between what you think is correct morally/is happening and what some other bit of your brain is worried about happening, which you end up responding to. e.g. 'I am strongly against stealing a bus and intentionally driving it into a crowd of people. therefore I am going to stay at least 50 meters away from buses because what if I accidentally did that???' If you feel guilty for actually doing things you genuinely think are wrong that is in fact the opposite of ocd in both ways and is generally known as 'having morals'.

[rcdiostcrs]

sheamus is immune to most demigod weapons. due to having no godly heritage, celestial bronze, imperial gold, and adamantine pass right through him. stygian iron and bone steel, however, can affect him. but seeing as how only children of the underworld can wield stygian iron and bone steel is what the norse use, he's pretty safe.

it's a right of passage for new residents to freak out during war games as their blade passes right through sheamus. he just grins as they panic before stabbing his short sword at them.

[not-a-robot-i-swear-really]

Stygian Dawning - Chapter Two: Waking Up

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Eddie Munson x Valera Savoy (OC)

Chapter Summary: Valera calls a friend and Eddie wakes up.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of concussions and animal attacks, but nothing graphic.

“We have a problem.” Valera spoke quietly into the phone, hidden in the bustling crowd of Hawkins General Hospital. She had dropped her spell for only a moment to allow the young man to be submitted, then disappeared again.

"Did you not find Shaw?” replied Adaeze. She was another familiar spirit, much like Tiberius. But unlike him, Adaeze wasn’t connected to Valera. She was an agent of the Veil Guard; people dedicated to maintaining the barrier between the normal and the paranormal.

“I’ve never failed in a mission. The issue is with what he did before I killed him.”

“He bit someone then.”

“Mauled him, actually. I managed to take him to the nearest hospital before he could die. His name is Edward J. Munson.”

“You dove into his mind? You know our policy about telepathy, Valera.”

“Do you take me for a maniac? No, I looked at his driver’s license before he was submitted.”

Adaeze let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I take it you need the Guard to send in operatives?”

“Yes. I have the doctors and nurses working on him in a stupor, but I don’t think I can hold it for much longer.”

“We’ll send in a group of people. ETA is thirty minutes.”

“I’ve already been here for three hours. Holding the stupor any longer would be impossible, even for a vampire as old as me. And you know what happens when we start to starve.”

“Well, you’ll just have to keep it up a little longer then. The closest waypoint is in Chicago, and our runners can only move so fast. And if you really need it...” Adaeze’s voice lowered, “You can take a few bags from the hospital. I’ll just say they were an ‘unforeseen loss.’”

“Fine.” Valera bit back a groan. She had already expended most of her energy keeping people from asking questions – she even let down the glamour keeping her unnoticed from mortal eyes – but she would sooner die than accept a favor like Adaeze’s.

With a huff, Valera set the phone back on its receiver a bit rougher than she would have liked. She turned on her heel, ignoring the apprehensive gazes directed her way, to march out of the hospital to the street. Under the cloak of night, she disappeared into the tree line to stand just underneath the young man’s window.

Fortunately, Valera had no trouble scaling the oak tree and hiding in the foliage. She had always prided herself on being a woman of many talents and being agile without magical assistance was one of them.

Valera sat down on a thick branch, eyes trained through the window to watch the doctors and nurses flit about the young man’s body. There were only four people in total: one surgeon, his assistant, and two nurses. It was a small team, which was to be expected considering that Hawkins General was a small hospital in a small town. They spoke to each other mechanically – their eyes dead under the sterile fluorescent lights – and moved with a precision they would never again have in their lives. The stupor would not allow them to remember anything solid, which thankfully spared Valera and the Guard from needing a complex cover story. All she was left to do was wait.

Valera bit back a sigh and leaned back against the trunk, settling in for the longest thirty minutes of her life.

When Eddie Munson finally woke up, it wasn’t to the sound of distant beeping or of a doctor speaking quietly to his uncle. One moment he was asleep, and the next he was awake. Everything felt hazy, like that moment where you were falling asleep, but you could still hear and feel the things happening around you.

He turned his head to the side; a figure sat in the corner in chair, head lolled to the side and arms crossed over their chest.

“Uncle Wayne,” his mind supplied. Even in this muddled state of mind, he could still recognize his uncle from a mile away.

It only took a second for him to lock eyes with Eddie. Wayne was out of his chair in an instant, his calloused fingers darting to the nurse call button right beside the bed. A laugh bubbled up in Eddie’s chest, but it only came as a snort. Last time he saw Wayne move that fast was when Eddie was four and tried to make pasta by himself.

“Where’s the fire, mister?” Eddie’s words slurred together. His tongue felt thick and heavy, and he had the worst case of cottonmouth he’d ever had in his 19-year-old life. Even the spirits at the Hideout had never been this bad.

Eddie tried to follow his uncle’s fleeting figure out of the room, but he could only catch the back of Wayne’s shirt. It was an old flannel; one Eddie had personally patched up for Wayne more times than he could count on his fingers.

A hand pressed down on Eddie’s forehead. Then a light shone into his eyes.

“Can you look straight ahead for me please?” The doctor’s voice was warped, echoing and ringing in his ears like an old bell.

Eddie complied, but only because he couldn’t do much else at the moment.

“Can you tell me what year it is son?”

“Not my dad,” Eddie muttered in response, “Mm, ‘s 85.”’

“Good, and can you tell me who the president is?”

“Reagan, or fuckin’ something. ‘m thirsty.” The words were barely past his lips before a paper cup was pressed to his mouth.

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be concussed.” The doctor directed at Wayne. “Your son is a very lucky man, Munson. A bear attack of this magnitude is hard to survive.”

“Bear attack?”

“Yes sir.” The doctor began to point at the X-rays and pictures on the wall, continuing, “See the lacerations and the fracture in his leg here? Those sorts of injuries are very common for animal attack victims.”

Wayne furrowed his brows and said, “Ain’t no bears near Hawkins.”

The doctor only shrugged in response. “Sometimes they wander near towns if they get desperate enough for food. It’s not impossible for your son to have just be unlucky enough to run into one at night.”

Eddie kept silent throughout the whole conversation. The morphine kept his mind jumbled, and he couldn’t muster up the energy to say anything. And even if he could, he would still be silent. Wayne was right; there are no bears in Hawkins and that thing at the Hideout was definitely not a bear.

Eddie liked to tell himself that there was something special about Earth. While he would scoff at the alien conspiracy theorists and the clearly fake photos of Bigfoot and other cryptids, some part of him wanted to believe that there was something supernatural here. Eddie wanted a sign – something, anything, to prove that there were things in the world stranger than him.

He got his sign, in the form of claws sunk into his shoulder and a woman with fangs bending reality with just her word.

Wayne couldn’t know about this. He wouldn’t let him know about it. His uncle already had enough to worry about at home - the bills, his job, the house. He didn’t need to worry about Eddie too.

Eddie’s eyes slid shut; he couldn’t look at his uncle’s strained face anymore. With a shaky breath, he left his mind drift off.

He would worry about the truth later; right now, he only wanted to sleep.   

A/N: The second chapter is finally finished! This is shorter than I would have liked but the next one is going to be a bit longer.

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[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (7 – 19 December 2024)

Last week, the Tomarrymort tag on AO3 has officially surpassed 15,000 fics — congratulations to all the authors on their contributions! And the completed fic this week has also been super impressive, including a 152k longfic drop. Onto the updates!

Completed Fic:

Burning the Animal Skin by beetaker (E, 152k, complete)

Harry can't believe he Imprinted on Voldemort, his body apparently so desperate for a guide in navigating these strange Alphan waters that it latched onto the first one it could find. Never mind that this Alpha wants to kill him.

Machine Men by @izharmilgram (E, 5k, complete)

Harry discovers Lord Voldemort is transgender, and he's really fucking hung up about it.

Extenuating Circumstances by Origin_Of_Symmetry (M, 87k, complete)

“You’re really quite a delight, Harry. I can’t believe I went weeks thinking you were useless and boring.” Somehow, unwittingly, Harry finds himself engaged to Tom Riddle. He’s not entirely sure how that happened.

In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain (E, 16k, complete)

Harry sneaks into Lupin’s office late at night, determined to banish his recurring nightmares of a certain devastatingly handsome future Dark Lord once and for all. But things quickly spiral into depravity, and before he knows it, Harry is getting thoroughly railed by a boggart in the form of Diary Tom Riddle... Or is it?

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 1 through 10 of Burning the Animal Skin by beetaker

Complete | Chapters 1 and 2 of Machine Men by @izharmilgram

Complete | Chapters 1 and 2 of Extenuating Circumstances by Origin_Of_Symmetry

Complete | Chapter 2 of In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain

One Shot | misconceiving by @satflesk22

One Shot | To be Watched by @cyandenial

One Shot | Ceaseless Appetence by Lytri 

One Shot | Bay Tine by @cindle-writes

One Shot | Head injuries and hot cocoa by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | Customer Service by lilacscented

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 23 of What In Me Is Dark, Illumine by @telelli-writes

Chapter 12 of Strings of Fate by @solelyseeking

Chapter 17 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3 

Chapter 14 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 10 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapter 1 of conditional decay by @duplicitywrites

Chapter 11 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 10 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapter 17 of Hole in the Wall by @elddrmot

Chapters 138 and 139 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis 

Chapter 5 of Goodbye Evergreen by @v33r00 

Chapters 3 through 5 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 20 of with eyes like these (who sees anybody else) by @cealesti

Chapter 4 of Solitude by TimaeusKosmou

Chapter 9 of Fractured Souls by moonyunoo

Chapter 27 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapter 2 of Part Two - To Grow a Heart by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapters 22 and 23 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapter 1 of Asynchronous by beanclip 

Chapters 9 and 10  of we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee

Chapter 19 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 12 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 2 of baby, turn the bright lights on by @ictyn

Chapter 2 of The Stubborn Hunger by @marrythemonstersao3

Chapter 9 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

*

[inkuinky]

“can I be honest with you?” Austin scoffs before he said; “William Andrew Solace, if you say you miss your boyfriend for the 37th time today, I’ll dismiss myself and leave you alone in this shift.”

Will acted surprised with all dramatic hand-on-chest. “you counted? damn. but seriously it’s been—“

“3 days, Will. ”

“3 days! how wounded i am being left? can’t you see here I’m suffering with all these loving feeling all alone? Austin! please!” Austin rolled his eyes as he open the storage box, lining bandages, gauzes, adhesives, elastics, and triangular in their respective lines. “oh please, what is Nico doing anyway?” Will shrugged as he rolled a tray of scalpels into sterilizer.

“his father called him. saying he needs Nico for the underworld things. complicated applications, judge control and all that stuff. he said he needs to check up on Menoetes’ work too, for the nectar and ambrosia collecting. you know, being the prince of the underworld. he promised not going on Tartarus though. he said to check on Asphodel and Elysium too.” Austin nods on that.

“I just- I just-? you know I’m-“ Will sat down before Austin walks to him. “you’re worrying his safety. Will, you do know he survived two wars with and without us. he went to tartarus twice, Will. he’ll be okay. he’ll be fine.” Will sighed. “he only pack his stygian iron sword and the clothes he wear!” Austin shrugged. “pretty sure he has his own room is his dad’s palace? era, ero?-“ “Erebos. you’re right. but what if he gets hurt? what if-“ graaughhr

“Sweet Apollo! you scar’d me!”

“Will, wha- is this a zombie?!”

Will gives Austin’s weirded out look the same look. “I don’t know? what are you doing here, Mr. Zombie?” graughrhs. said the undead, while holding out a surprisingly clean letter—sealed with black stamp, and a black box filled with two family packs of golden Oreos , enough ambrosia squares and canteens full with nectar. the zombie—somehow shyly—also held out a flower bouquet of night-blooming cereus (which is the flower persephone offer to him), hyacinthus and asphodels.

the Mr. Zombie then take a few space from both Will Solace and Austin Lake and stood there as Will processing of what just happened. “dude, I think it’s from Nico.” Austin gets a hold of the box and bouquet onto the table as he watch his brother holding onto the letter as if it was an ancient victorian fragile artifact. “whoa, do I need to get Cecil and Lou Ellen?” “nah, stay with me, Austin. catch me if I pass out.”

“and fill the shift alone? damn man.” but he agreed anyway as Will undo the stamp after reading the swift writing on the envelope.

to : Will Solace, My significant annoyance.

Dear Will,

I hope you don’t trouble yourself any harm.

I’m writing to you from Menoetes’ farm here. I’m fine and my journey went incredibly well, I might finish the tasks before next week comes. how are you, Night Light? Menoetes and Geryon here say hi. the troglodytes also give hail to Will Solace the Texan Son of Apollo.

Do you miss me? do you like the bouquet? Persephone insists on sending the bouquet, talking about ‘darkness’ and all. next meeting, I need you to tell me your conversation with her, seriously. I asked John to buy golden Oreos and put it with ambrosia and nectar. is it done? those are for you and infirmary needs. do you need me to get you anything for yourself? share the oreos with Kayla and Austin, you greedy dork.

this sound incredibly sappy, I can’t believe you turned me this way, Solace. either way, I miss you. ugh how do you cross words without making the ink spill? you can send me anything in return through John—I mean if you want to, I’m not forcing you or anything. you know that, don’t you?

I’ll soon be back, don’t miss me too much, Carebear. I love you.

Love, Nico Di Angelo

“that’s real sappy. just saying—wait, how come you are so red? it’s been a year and a half and you’re still flustered over him? gods, you guys are so gay” Austin fake gag while Will softly slap his shoulders “oh shut up, you are gay too, dumb ass. now let me write my return letter in peace” “oh please, like a pigeon war love letter? spare me your emotional train-wreck please.” Austin waves as he walk to the beds, to fix up the bed? he don’t know, all he know is he want to avoid Will Solace’s flustered manner as good as possible.

————————————

Months, years later…

“what’s with the pout, Will? it’s only been 5 days since Nico’s next mission! I’m sure he’ll be fine, doing his prince duty and allat” Lou Ellen shrugs as she punch Will’s upper arms jokingly, while Will is still fidgeting on top of the picnic mat near the lake.

“it’s been 5 days, Lou! without any messages!” Lou Ellen rolled his eyes. “oh come on, he’s probably too busy. he’ll send those ‘elite-victorian, love-letter-pigeon-like zombie sooner or later.”

Cecil pops his stolen lolly. “I don’t know, Will. how are you so calm about a zombie being your transpor of sending messages? aren’t you scared?” Will shrugs. “at first, it does. but now? I’m waiting for his presence! to know what my boyfriend’s doing!”

Lou Ellen gives Cecil a look. “he’s down bad, he doesn’t care about the transport and all this undead things” Cecil laughs. “I don’t know, Lou. he fell head over heels, what do you expect him to not like about Nico Di Angelo?”

——————

hc credit and tag ; @princessofghosts-posts

[moonstruckme]

part 3 of sirius x remus's roommate reader when+? +$? $???? ur writing is too good frs

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Thanks sweetheart! I made an inference, so I hope I caught your meaning here haha (upon further reflection, I may have jumped to conclusions....but here you go anyway)

cw: smut, mdni, everything is consensual !

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 900 words

“Come on, gorgeous, make some sounds for me,” Sirius says, and instead you swirl your hips, laughing when he groans. 

“You first,” you tease. 

Sirius tightens his grip on you in response, fingers digging into the fat of your hips. Your breath catches in your throat, but you do your best to keep the effects of his touch from showing on your face. 

It’s always a power play with you two, and this is no different. Sirius is determined to make you finish first, and you’re determined to foil him. That being said, you don’t have all day. Remus has only gone study in the library, and the last thing you want is for him to come home to the ambient noise of his roommate and his best friend fucking in the room opposite his. You quicken your pace, and Sirius’ features tighten, hands moving hastily to your sides, trying to slow you despite what his body so clearly wants. 

“Come on, pretty boy,” you croon, but you’re panting, your clit finding traction with every movement of your hips. 

“Getting tired?” Sirius asks, something close to desperation in his tone. “We can switch.” 

“Not tired,” you say feebly, but Sirius is already stabilizing your hips against his, careful but efficient as he flips you over. He folds himself over you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth while pushing further inside you. His teeth scrape over your lip cruelly as he moves tantalizingly slow, dragging against the back wall of your cunt. You writhe underneath him. “Fuck,” you gasp. “No fair.” 

“Sorry, darling,” he hums, not sounding very sorry at all. He nips playfully at your shoulder, relishing in your unraveling. “Can’t help myself, you just look so pretty like this.” 

Sirius looks rather pretty himself. It’s really not fair for any boy to have eyelashes so long that they brush his cheekbones, or hair so Stygian black that it glows silvery blue in the moonlight coming in through the window. His eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, pupils blown wide enough to nearly eclipse his irises, and the smirk that twists his lips is as hot as it is infuriating. 

You try to regain the upper hand, leaning upwards to kiss under his ear where you know he likes it, but Sirius’s thumb finds your clit, drawing sloppy figure-eights over the bead until you’re arching unwillingly into his touch. 

“Fuck.” There’s frustration to be found even in your whimper as Sirius picks up his pace, rutting faster and deeper inside you. “Fuck fuck fuck—”

“You can do it, sweet thing,” he coos encouragingly. “Cum for me.” 

You could pick any one of the words that have just left his mouth to be your undoing, but together, they’re a fatal combination. You go limp under Sirius, but his cheers are short-lived before they give way to a groan as he finds his own release. Dizzy with your high, you laugh against his lips while his fingers stutter and slow on your clit. Sirius buries his head in your neck, and you blow a piece of his hair—it’s soft as dandelion fluff, the asshole—away from your mouth. 

“What’re you laughing at?” he pants. “I won.” 

“You cheated,” you argue, though you know he had, technically, beaten you. It had felt like a win for you, though. “Doesn’t count. Plus, you were like, two seconds behind me.” 

Sirius chuckles, and you tense as he lifts his head, one dark swath of eyebrow raised impossibly high. “Yeah?” he asks, getting his breathing under control as he slides out of you. His eyes stay on yours, challenge glinting like a single star in the abyss of his pupils while he moves down your body. “I bet I can get you there again in five minutes or less.” 

You try to scoff, but it comes out pitchy as his hands sweep confidently across your thighs. “There’s no way.” 

Sirius’ incisors flash when he grins. “You’re on, sweetheart.” 

You tense in anticipation, but then you hear the distinct sound of a key jiggling in the front door. You and Sirius both freeze, hardly breathing as your finicky lock clicks this way and that. 

“Rain check?” you ask quietly, and Sirius nods, grabbing his pants from your floor and tossing you your shirt. You both tug on your clothes as quickly as possible, and you’ve never been more grateful for the difficulty of opening the door to your apartment, sending a silent apology to your landlord for all the times you’ve bugged him to fix it. You even have time to check your appearance in the mirror, running your fingers through your hair before going to help Remus with the door. 

“Hey, Moons,” Sirius says, sitting casually on your couch as Remus comes in. “How was the library?” 

“It was good,” Remus replies, setting down his book bag and slipping off his shoes. “How has your night been?” 

“Good. You know, fine,” you say, with what you hope is convincing insouciance. Sirius shoots you a look that conveys an eye roll without giving one. “That lock, huh? I can’t believe they haven’t fixed it yet.” 

“I don’t know how you have so many problems with it,” Remus replies briskly, going down the hall to his room. “It always works fine for me, I just thought you might appreciate the notice to put your clothes back on.”

[platypusisnotonfire]

OKAY I FINALLY JUST FINISHED IT AND HO-LEE

What am I supposed to do with ao3 down? Work on my hobbies? Sleep? Sit with my thoughts instead of constantly giving myself stimulation to avoid them? Disgusting.

[monowritestoomuch]

Riptide

Art belongs to @saixria

Notes: I said bet motherfuckers. Never doubt me. I always deliver, even if I end up taking a year (I’ve done that before, we all have) Count how many times I write divine, lmao. Regardless, enjoy this as I’m still locked out of my main writing account. Yes, my Hamilton fic is being worked on, don’t worry. They’re all being worked on. 

Another thing, I’m no doctor of medicine, so I apologize for any medical inaccuracies.

Foretime = yesterday (in context of the story)

Word Count: 2460

Athena sat in one of the many plush beds in Apollo’s infirmary upon Olympus, staring down at the scars on her hands. They resembled lightning, a strike in the night. 

Athena knew how many mortals had received similar scars upon being struck by lightning, but none had it as harsh as herself. The scars, gold in color, stretched out over her body, up her arms and around her neck, the phantom pain of the injury still residing in her memories. 

A shriek sounded down the corridor outside the room, followed by shouting in one voice. Apollo’s voice. He seemed to be scolding whoever it was that had appeared at the infirmary. Sure, Apollo was easy to startle, but to make him shriek like a child, which hadn’t happened in many centuries.

Athena listened as she heard something, likely a body drop on Apollo, likely driven to unconsciousness. She listened to Apollo struggle and drag the body down the corridor and into the main room of the infirmary, where Athena herself lay recovering. 

Apollo practically dragged the body in, his hair a dastard mess and stygian shadows creasing his under-eyes. He placed the body down on the bed beside Athena, allowing her to gaze on whatever poor minor god who had somehow incurred a wrath so great that they could not heal themselves in their domains. 

Athena’s eyes widened, her body freezing. The god in the bed beside her was no minor god. No, it was her uncle. Poseidon, God of the Seas. Golden ichor dripped from the numerous wounds that had graced his immortal body. The main injury, that dripped golden ichor ceaselessly, was several, repeated stab wounds to the stomach. Three different wounds all dripped in tandem, equal in their intensity and violent nature. The markings of a trident. 

With the profuse intensity the ichor-bleeding wounds held, Athena could only guess that it was Poseidon’s own trident that had injured him. But the question still remained prominent in her mind, who would be able to take Poseidon’s trident and injure him profusely so? Athena didn’t know, not yet, at least, and not while Apollo fervently fretted over their uncle’s unconscious body.

Golden ichor covered practically every inch of her uncle’s injured body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest the only small indication of life still relaying it’s gift onto him. 

Apollo’s hands glowed a soft white over their uncle’s body, the smaller wounds on his body closing, leaving the larger trident-stab-wounds still dripping golden ichor onto the infirmary bed. This, in itself, caused Apollo panic. Athena knew how powerful Apollo was, she knew how capable he was, and yet the stab wounds in his stomach wouldn’t heal, no matter how much Apollo tried, over and over again.

Eventually, Apollo realized he couldn’t heal the wound, for the injury was given by the divine weapon of another god, a god more powerful than Apollo himself. The injury would not heal divinely, so as it was caused by the divine weapon of a god, the god of the seas himself. 

With that being the case, he stitched the wound, spreading a nectar balm over the injuries, before wrapping them up and finishing the wrap around his stomach, going over his shoulder and past his long, dark hair. Another bandage wrapped his left bicep. His head lay heavy on the pale ivory infirmary pillows, his body tucked under the tawny sheets. 

Apollo heaved a heavy sigh, short-term relief echoing in it. He pushed back the long, wavy, golden locks of his hair, a sheer layer of sweat on his forehead, shining in the soft glow of sunshine that graced itself through the windows of the room. He turned to Athena, his shoulders adjusting accordingly. 

“How are you, Athena?” he asked, eyes fleeting between each of his injuries, covered in bandage wraps and nectar balm. “The’ pain any more fleeting than foretime?” he inquired. 

Athena met his golden-eyed gaze. “The pain is–manageable, Apollo,” she answered. Her shoulders evened out as she spoke. “I can return to my duties–” she started arguing once more, being interrupted again by her divine physician half-brother. 

“No, Athena. We’ve had this argument every single day since you’ve awoken from Father’s. . .punishment,” he paused, pursing his lips and crossing his toned arms. “I have told you many times over, it will be another few weeks until you will be able to regain your strength and return to your duties, and until then, you will rest,” he scolded. “I don’t want you trying to sneak out one of the windows like you have tried prior, you are not strong enough.”

Athena shuffled back into the pillows of the infirmary bed, her head pounding and nerves tensing. Apollo’s shoulders sagged as he walked over to the side of Athena’s bed, conjuring up a glass of golden brown liquid. He placed it on the bedside, a wooden straw sticking out of the drink. He sat himself on the oak wood stool beside the bed, elbows on his knees. 

“Understand me, Athena,” Apollo pleaded. “Father’s wrath is hard to incur, and when one does, it never ends well. Father is not one for mercy or peace, and he gets insulted very easily, sister. He was not kind when giving you those scars, scars that I myself cannot heal,” he paused, his chin resting on his tanned hands. “All I ask, all I plead, is that you rest and heal. You cannot heal if you’re dead, sister.”

The word brought a heavy chill over the room. Dead. Death, a mercy for mortals and pitiful minor gods. But Athena dying? It was unlikely and unheard of. The frigid word brought a shiver up her frayed-nerve spine. 

Apollo stood up, walking to the arched doorway and turning to face Athena. “Rest up, sister,” he spoke, the sun emblem on his chiton clasp shining in the sunlight. “-and drink the nectar, you need it,” he finished, walking out of the room and down the infirmary corridor, leaving Athena alone, privy to her own thoughts.

She picked up the glass, placing the smooth wooden straw to her lips as she gulped down the sweet nectar, for it tasted like nothing else ever divinely made, dare most say, more addictive and divine than Dionysus’s own godly wine. 

It had been a few hours since her uncle had arrived gravely injured to the infirmary, the rays of sunlight through the window becoming dimmer, indicating sunset. Athena read a book, her eyes patiently focused on the words, although it caused her mental strain. Headaches, a new feature of her Father’s divine punishment.

Her divine ears perked up as she heard groaning from beside her. The dark-haired figure beside her opened their deep blue eyes, pushing themselves up with a hiss of pain to sit back-facing the infirmary pillows of the bed. Her uncle was alive, and clearly awake, and pained. 

He clutched his stomach, the bandages over them wrapping tightly around his torso. He hissed as his own hand wrapped around his stomach, the bandages unmoving on his body. 

He blinked, taking in his surroundings as his eyes scanned the unfamiliar infirmary room, until they landed on Athena herself. 

“Uncle,” she greeted, closing her book and placing it on the side table. 

“Athena–where-?” he responded, clearly confused, if not surprised at the appearance of his niece, of whom had her right arm in a large wrap of bandages, scars covering every inch of visible skin, bandages over the others. A hand flew up to his lower chest, hissing at the pain moving brought him. “Right, that.”

“That?” Athena questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“I was. . .injured,” Poseidon stated,, avoiding facing Athena, looking her in the eyes as shame echoed in his body language. 

“No doubt,” Athena responded effortlessly. “But to whom caused your injury remains a mystery to be solved.”

“It is none of your concern, niece,” Poseidon admonished.

“On the contrary,” Athena stated blankly. “Considering whoever managed to bring you to your knees and stab you with your own weapon, it could be a threat to all of Olympus.”

Poseidon seemed surprised at first at how Athena knew what had stabbed him, but it quickly faded away to but a feeling of irking. But Poseidon knew better not to question his niece, the goddess of wisdom itself, further than he already had.

“I got into a fight, and I began with the upper hand in my own domain,” Poseidon started, his voice without waver. “Until my. . .opponent used one of Aeolus’s wind bags, releasing a storm of my own creation to be able to battle me, tying the bag to the back of his chiton.”

Now this surprised Athena. Why in Gaia’s name would Aeolus give out one of their precious wind bags to someone to beat Poseidon? And even if they didn’t know it was Poseidon, shouldn’t they have been wiser than to give one of their wind bags to someone? 

But alas, wisdom itself was Athena’s domain, not the wind god’s. 

“My opponent. . .he fought me with a simple sword, but somehow wielded the power of a god, able to defeat me using whoever’s power he had taken, sending the full force of power through. . .five-hundred vengeful spirits, knocking me down onto a small cluster of uneven rocks,” he continued, causing Athena’s eyes to widen. 

Of course a minor god couldn’t have beaten her uncle, that would be both improbable and impossible. But someone wielding the power of a god, a seemingly powerful god, from her uncle’s description, could surely stand a chance. 

“Then how did they get a grasp on your own trident, Uncle?” Athena questioned, noticing a gaping hole in the story her uncle was telling her. 

“Once I had been knocked down, it occurred to my. . .opponent that my storm had been released, leaving them unable to depart,” he continued, a lump rising in his throat as his voice filled with more and more rage. “So he told me to call off the storm, and when I refused, what did he do, you ask? He picked up my trident from where it had dropped. . .and proceeded to repeatedly stab me with it, while shouting.”

This, to Athena, meant many things. One, her uncle wasn’t as strong as she had previously believed him to be. Two, that whoever had the gall to fight him, had beaten him with his own weapon. And three, that her uncle was still withholding information from her on the matter.

“And how did you survive then? How did he stop?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

Poseidon stayed silent for but a moment before speaking. “I told him I’d stop the storm and allow him to go where he needed as he pleased,” he answered. 

Athena could tell he was still hiding something. Lying by omission. 

“And who exactly fought you–and won?” Athena importuned, face as emotionless as she could manage it. She cut him off before he spoke again. “-and if you dare say that ‘it does not concern me,’ it concerns the safety of Olympus, ergo, in turn, concerning me, Uncle.”

Her uncle was silent for many minutes before interrupting the tense silence. “A mortal man.”

“A mortal man?” The words blurted out of Athena’s mouth before she could think properly. 

“A mortal king, who caught me off guard,” Poseidon attempted to justify, but to no avail. 

Athena could perhaps imagine a monster or a god of equal caliber challenging her uncle, but a mortal man? Even if it was a mortal king, his opponent had still been mortal, and he had lost to a mortal.

“Who, precisely, of the mortal kings beat you, Uncle?” she asked, using a tone that left no room for argument.

Poseidon gritted his teeth, aware that he had been checkmated by his own blood. “You might know him as your own student, Athena,” Poseidon answered, disgust clear in his expression.”

Athena’s eyes widened once more. “Odysseus of Ithaca,” she murmured. How long it has been, old friend? Her thoughts asked traitorously.

It was clear Poseidon was embarrassed, both his ego and his pride wounded from the loss to the mortal king of Ithaca, to Athena’s own student. 

Although Athena hadn’t spoken with her student since their argument over a decade prior, but she couldn’t have been more proud of him.

“Pussy,” she thought aloud, the person in question being her own uncle. 

“What did you just call me?” Poseidon demanded, hands curling into fists. He scowled, the pain in his ribs increasing as his anger increased. Deep down, he knew Athena was right, and that there was no way to fight her at this stage. “I am no pu–”

Instead of cowering, Athena chose to stand her ground. To fight in favor of her old friend. “You lost to a mortal king, Uncle. A mortal. You have lost your touch.” She dared to utter the final words, well aware of her uncle’s bitter wrath. 

Poseidon’s expression changed to one of anger. “Why you little–!” 

“That is enough, Uncle,” a newer voice interrupted. 

Apollo. 

“You are not to strain your injury, so until your injuries are fully healed, an argument turned fight is not in your best interest,” Apollo stated threateningly. “Am I clear?”

“Of course,” Poseidon responded, not wishing to irk his own nephew, the one who had chosen to heal him with his divine gift. To anger Apollo in a part of his own domain would not be wise of him, Athena was sure of it. 

“Rest, both of you,” Apollo demanded tiredly, massaging his temples. “And don’t let me hear arguing from either of you or so help me–” His voice raised at the words, before cutting off abruptly, meeting eye contact with each of his patients before exiting the room.

Poseidon grumbled, laying down achingly back in the infirmary bed, facing away from his niece. He mumbled something so quiet, Athena herself couldn’t hear it, as he adjusted the blanket over his body. 

Athena faced away from him, smiling to herself. For she could not have been prouder of her student–no, her friend. 

Before Athena succumbed to the gift of Hypnos, she remembered how she had been visited by Ares the prior day. He had promised her that he had kept an eye on her favorite little mortal. 

“Don’t worry sis, I’ll take good care of your favorite little mortal. Don’t you worry!”

She should’ve been wary of her brother’s enthusiasm.

Athena never expected Ares to help her, because of their due past. But despite their well established rivalry, he cared enough to help her friend. That alone, made her smile warmly, something she had not done for anyone in mere centuries, as she drifted off to Hypnos’s divine rest. 

Tag list: (none yet, but let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[explosionshark]

2024 AOTY

by me! your pal, bri-bri

originally i was going to just write up the first ten albums or so, but then i had things i wanted to say about the rest of 'em so i just kept going. that made the list really long though. so here's just the numbered list, under the cut you'll find my extended thoughts n feelings :)

What I'll Leave Behind by Void of Vision

For Your Consideration by Empress Of

Sanshi by Ripped to Shreds

Coup de Grace by Seeyouspacecowboy

Aumicide by Atrae Bilis

Children of the Moon by State Faults

Ridiculous and Full of Blood by Julie Christmas

Absolute Elsewhere by Blood Incantation

Lonely People [EP] by Love Rarely

Cutting the Throat of God by Ulcerate

Infinite Mortality by Replicant

I Got Heaven by Mannequin Pussy

Valerie by Tei Shi

Forever by Charly Bliss

You Could Do It Tonight by Couch Slut

World Fighter by Angel Sword

Hicimos Crecer un Bosque by Fin del Mundo

Ephemera [EP] by Ben Quad

Stygian Rose by Crypt Sermon

Infinite Void by With Sails Ahead

Vault of Horrors by Aborted

Revelations by Sarah Shook & the Disarmers

Steps Ascending by Stand Still

The Tower by Urban Heat

AOTY 2024

Full list here: write-ups for specific albums under th cut. Ranked somewhat arbitrarily.

1. What I'll Leave Behind by Void of Vision (metalcore) - absolute bummer that this will be the final album by these guys, but I'm grateful for the fact that I was able to see them a few times before they had to call it quits. Been describing this as like a song missing from the Saw 2 soundtrack or something that should have been playing at one of the clubs in Vampire The Masquerade: Bloodlines or something. I feel like that's accurate - alt metalcore with its nails painted black and a profound love of Nine Inch Nails. Strong lyricism drawn from real trauma, enough fun electronics to make them stand out from more generic metalcore acts, plenty of hooks and some sick breakdowns as well to keep things heavy. I hope Jack Bergin's brain never explodes again and retiring from touring helps him lead a long and healthier life. "Gamma Knife" is the highlight for me

2. For Your Consideration by Empress Of (Pop) - my favorite pop album of the year. Lorely Rodriguez is so insanely talented, this album has a pretty diverse range of sounds without becoming too inconsistent. I love that there's raunchy club bangers like "Femenine" right next to sappy love songs like "Kiss Me" and more introspective tracks like "What Type of Girl Am I?"

3. Sanshi by Ripped to Shreds (Death Metal) - very good year for death metal but I think this is my favorite DM record of the year. I've always enjoyed Andy Lee's projects and Ripped to Shreds has been my favorite of them for years but expanding to a full band has taken them to a whole nother level. Killer riffage throughout, insanely fun lead swapping between Lee and Michael Chavez. "Horrendous Corpse Resurrection" is easily one of my top songs of the year

4. Coup de Grace by Seeyouspacecowboy (Metalcore) - this was a big big SYSC year for me, in large part bc I ended up seeing them live so many times. Honestly initially I struggled with Coup de Grace because it leans harder into the dramatic, theatrical MCR/P!ATD style of emo than any of their other work, and that's not necessarily to my taste. This still makes the top 5 despite regularly skipping several songs on each listen because the rest of it is so damn good. Could not stop listening to it this fall. Safe to say it grew on me. "Chewing the Scenery" and "Subtle Whispers to Take Your Breath Away" were two of my most played tracks for the whole year

5. Aumicide by Atrae Bilis (Death Metal) - one of the most underrated death metal bands active rn imo. No sophomore slump for these guys, this record absolutely smokes from start to finish. It's heavy and it's nasty, but it still grooves. There's enough melody to make it addictive but they're still able to maintain the harshness that makes dissonant death metal compelling. "Hell Simulation" and the closing track "Excruciate Incarnate" are perfect examples of the balance they strike between those two modes

6. Children of the Moon by State Faults (post-hardcore) - 2024 was the year I discovered State Faults. Very much the experience of finding a band that is so much Your Shit that it feels insane that you're almost a decade late to the party. Children of the Moon is the best post-hardcore album of the year imo and it's not even close. These guys draw from an incredible range of influences to create some of the most affecting work in the genre - brutal and beautiful and profound. "Palo Santo" and "No Gospel" absolutely blow me away every time

7. Ridiculous and Full of Blood by Julie Christmas (post-metal? Noise? Julie Christmascore) - anyone already familiar with Julie Christmas' work does not need me to explain why she's such a powerhouse and anyone not familiar will be done a disservice by anything short of listening to her music for themself. All I can truly say about Ridiculous and Full of Blood is that it's one of the most dynamic, interesting albums of the year and I just hope to God she doesn't make us wait another 14 years for her next solo record. The band she assembled for this album is insane across the board, but in particular it was a delight to see her collaborating with Johannes Persson again eight years after the absolutely masterful collaboration with Cult of Luna. If you listen to only one song out of all the stuff I'm recommending today, let it be "The Lighthouse"

8. Absolute Elsewhere by Blood Incantation (progressive death metal) - everyone won't shut up about this album but in this case the praise is absolutely earned. Cosmic, atmospheric, brutal, spacey, heavy as hell. With a Tangerine Dream collaboration no less! Essentially comprised of two long songs, Absolute Elsewhere is a record you need to make time for, meant to be listened to in full to get the most out of it, but it's so, so worth it to take the time. A stunning, transportive piece

9. Lonely People [EP] by Love Rarely (post-hardcore/math rock) - my favorite EP of the year. A very exciting band, they fuse hooky, math rock riffs with post-hardcore intensity. Courtney Levitt's vocals are incredible - a combination of throat shredding shrieks and powerful, emotional clean singing that makes you instantly sit up and pay more attention. "Say Yes" was on repeat for me all year

10. Cutting the Throat of God by Ulcerate (death metal) - an absolutely crushing, depressive, beautiful piece of dissonant death metal. Undeniably heavy, but on this outing we see Ulcerate lean into some post-rock esque melodicism that elevates their sound even further. It's such an atmospheric album - grim and unrelenting, but strangely delicate in places. Top notch musicianship throughout, but Jaime Saint-Merat's drumming is just mind-blowing. The title track is a must-listen song for anyone who gives a shit about heavy music at all

11. Infinite Mortality by Replicant (Death Metal) - I noticed in my write-ups for the other two dissonant death metal albums on this list, I took a moment to highlight and praise the melodicism therein. That won't be happening for Infinite Mortality. That's not to say there's zero melody at all but to emphasize how much that's not the draw here. This album is an altogether darker, nastier, more menacing affair. There's a grime here, a dizzying, sinister undertone of violence. My first time listening to this record was as background music while I was reading Crypt of the Moon Spider by Nathan Ballingrud and there was a scene in that book I was reading during "Orgasm of Bereavement" where the combination of the sounds I was hearing and the words I was reading gave me a full-body sensory experience: goosebumps, a faint sense of nausea, slight dizziness. I can't think of a stronger album recommendation than that.

12. I Got Heaven by Mannequin Pussy (Rock) - ANOTHER BANGER FROM MISSY DABICE AND CO. Mannequin Pussy keep getting better and better and it seems like they're finally (deservedly) starting to blow up with this record. It's a joy to listen to - snarky, vulnerable, earnest, clever, joyful and pissed off in turns. "Loud Bark" is already iconic, easily one of the finest songs they've written in an already stacked career of certifiable bangers

13. Valerie by Tei Shi (pop) - my second favorite pop album of the year! Tei Shi's first independent release. The breadth of songs on this album is incredible - bachata inflected pop kicks the album off with the explosively catchy "QQ (QUÉDATE QUERIENDOME)" and by the middle of the record we've somehow transitioned to intimate, heart wrenchingly vulnerable meditations on a painful miscarriage with "Falling From Grace." Frustration with the major label rat race as well as evergreen pop subjects of love and heartbreak fill out the rest of the album, but no matter the topic or the style of the song, everything feels honest and confident. The Spanglish version of "Mona Lisa" is one of my favorite pop songs of the year

14. Forever by Charly Bliss (Rock/Power Pop) - talking about honest, vulnerable music! Charly Bliss made their comeback this year and it's unsurprisingly one of the best albums to come out in 2024. Forever feels like a great marriage of the sounds on their other two LPs, Guppy and Young Enough. The band is still leaning into the pop sound that clearly enthralls them but there's a welcome return for fun guitar riffs too. Also there's no album on this list that has a stronger opening than the three song run of "Tragic" to "Calling You Out" to "Back There Now"

15. You Could Do It Tonight by Couch Slut (Sludge Metal/Noise) - okay enough pop music time for something gross and gnarly and almost guaranteed to give you some kind of disease. Couch Slut have always been here to upset you - and holy shit are they good at it on this album. Each and every song on this record is a provocative, stomach-churning vignette in its own right but none moreso than "The Donkey" where Megan Osztrosits recounts a horrifyingly fucked up story of a friend's drug-fueled bout of self mutilation in Chat Pile-esque spoken word over massive, dirty sludge metal riffs. It's fucking sick. "Here's what happened when my friends and I got fired from a haunted water park" - tell me you don't want to hear how the rest of this story goes, even knowing it will end in a grotesque, bloody mess.

16. World Fighter by Angel Sword (Heavy Metal) - okay enough edgelord shit now we're back to having fun. I honestly didn't think there would be a trad metal release that would top Razor Wire by Mean Mistreater, and then I stumbled into Angel Sword this summer. It's just candy, man. Extremely catchy 80s style riffs, incredible hooks, gritty yet charming vocals. This album is dripping in neon, racing down the highway at 90 miles an hour with two topless babes in the backseat telling you how cool your studded denim jacket and fresh perm look. "Vigilantes" never gets old for me

17. Hicimos Crecer un Bosque by Fin del Mundo (shoegaze) - kinda wild that this is the only shoegaze album that made it onto my list this year but it is what it is! And what it is in this case is the killer second album by Argentinian band Fin del Mundo. If you like fuzzy guitars and ethereal vocals, this is the record on this list for you. Although labeling them a shoegaze band is accurate, it fails to account for the ways post-rock, emo, and dream pop elevate the bands sound to another level. It's a record that's soothing and engaging at the same time, well produced, clear sounding without being too polished. "Vivimos lejos" brings a charming kind of ASIWYFA-style combination of gang vocals and emo instrumentals, resulting in basically four and half perfect minutes of music

18. Ephemera [EP] by Ben Quad (post-hardcore) - many bands are doing the throwback 00s emo/metalcore thing right now, but few of them are doing it as well as Ben Quad on this EP. This is basically They're Only Chasing Safety-worship but that's fine by me. Frantic, melodic, scathing and nakedly emotional, I love the intensity of this EP. I'd kill for a full record in this style tbh, but for now I'll be happy with what we've got. It's an incredibly short 11 minute runtime so I'd really recommend just listening to the whole thing but if nothing else, don't skip "Your Face as an Effigy"

19. Stygian Rose by Crypt Sermon (Epic Heavy Metal) - epic heavy metal, I'm sure, sounds like the stupidest genre name in the world. But like, listen to Stygian Rose and you'll immediately understand there's nothing else that describes it as well. Big, heavy doomy guitars, fast drumming, crazy soloing, nimble bass riffage, powerful heavy metal vocals and lyrics about like wizards and evil kings and stuff? Lie to yourself if you want, but I know the truth. This album fucks hard. "Heavy is the Crown of Bone" and "Glimmers in the Underworld" are crushing, face-melting works of fantasy bullshit. I can't get enough of this album

20. Infinite Void by With Sails Ahead (Post-hardcore) - I discovered these guys through a collaboration with Pulses. last year and I spent most of the intervening time eagerly anticipating the release of their debut LP Infinite Void. And let me tell you, it did not disappoint. It's an incredibly confident and fun first record - firmly on the Swancore side of PHC but lacking a lot of what tends to annoy me in that subgenre (insufferable songs about the male ego). Sierra Binondo's powerful and diverse vocal range really takes these guys to another level in a genre where extremely talented musicians are a dime a dozen. Go listen to "Ryn" right now and tell me you're not at least a little bit in love now

21. Vault of Horrors by Aborted (Brutal Death Metal) - it's Aborted! It's a cheeseburger. But it's a really, really, really good cheeseburger after you've been craving one for ages. This record has two gimmicks - all the songs are based on horror movies and each has a feature from a guest vocalist. Admittedly, I find brutal/tech death to be kind of wearying after a while and this tends to affect listenability for me, which is precisely why this album has a place on my AOTY list - I don't get tired of it. It's brutal and punishing but catchy and fun to listen to. Daníel Konráðsso absolutely does not sound like a human being on this. I bet his calf muscles are insane, because the double bass on this record is frankly disgusting. "The Golgothan" has my favorite riff of the record, but there's no bad tracks, honestly

22. Revelations by Sarah Shook & the Disarmers (Alt Country) - haven't really figured out a way to talk about this band that doesn't feel at least a little bit like deadnaming singer/guitarist River Shook but they've yet to change their band name so! Admittedly, not a very country heavy year for me, but if everything I've dabbled in, Revelations is the easy standout. Continuing the band's legacy of clever, honest lyricism and rollicking country rock musicianship, Revelations feels like the best version of their sound yet. "Motherfucker" is a straightforward, righteously pissed off ode to gross, predatory men in the industry, "Backsliders" is a good old fashioned broken-hearted ode to a bad relationship, while "Jane Doe" is the easy standout shot through with emotion, clever lyricism and brilliant guitar work

23. Steps Ascending by Stand Still (Pop Punk/Melodic Hardcore) - I was a teen in the 00s so I'll always be weak to that very Long Island melodic hardcore in 2004 sound that this album is evoking so perfectly. I love fast drums, I love posi philosophical lyrics, I love those melodic, angular guitar riffs, I love a guy shouting and I love gang vocals. Those things in combination just always work on me. "We Know the Score" + "Mysticism" are the perfect 'holler along at the top of your lungs in the car' combo

24. The Tower by Urban Heat (Post-Punk) - one of my most anticipated albums of the year. When they started the album rollout with singles like "Sanitizer" and "Right Time of Night" I had a pretty good idea that the final product would have a good shot at being one of my favorite records of the year. And of course I was right. Most Post-Punk isn't quite capable of keeping my attention, but Urban Heat are so damn good at songcraft. The songs on this record are incredibly dynamic, ranging from the snotty disdain of the aforementioned "Sanitizer" to the surprising tenderness of the New Wave ballad "Seven Safe Places." It's an incredibly strong showing from a really exciting band. I've heard they're killer live, too. Maybe if I'm lucky this coming year I'll get a chance to find out for myself.

And that's it! 24 for 24

Except for these also >:)

Honorable Mentions (aka albums it killed me to leave off this list so I'm cheating by adding them here)

Club Shy [EP] by Shygirl

Prude by Drug Church

It's Inside You by Candy

Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis by Beaten to Death

Verses in Oath by Hulder

Beating the Drums of Ancestral Force by Tzompantli

Agony & Wounds by Obscene

Cure by ERRA

Songs of Blood and Mire by Spectral Wound

The Cycles of Trying to Cope by Like Moths to Flames

Razor Wire by Mean Mistreater

I'll Drown on This Earth by Cold Gawd

Heaven Let them Die [EP] by Counterparts

Dark Superstition by Gatecreeper

[that-howlingdrakesng]

Alright guys. Here's what I got so far for the Pit Bonnie x reader story

[rinasunny]

Canon details of Eros and Psyche tale often missed out by the retellings [Part 4]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Many people think that Zeus/Jupiter is OoC in this tale, but that's really not the case. Aside from not trying to have intercourse with Psyche, he is very much in character. But more on that later.

Up until the fourth task Psyche got help or guidence from nature (animals and plants). As I already mentioned Psyche tries to commit suicide at the beginning of every new task, this time by throwing herself from a high tower. Now, imagine THIS VERY TOWER giving you a speech with suicide prevention PSA, instructions how to enter the underworld w/o dying (while referencing some irl locations e.g. Cape Taenarum) and low-key social commentary (a tower accuses Charon of greed, and how the poor have to save money for their own death).

The only time Eros/Cupid uses his arrow on Psyche is after her underworld quest to wake her up after Stygian sleep. However, the touch of the arrow is described as "harmless".

Speaking of Eros, Aphrodite had locked him up to prevent him from reuniting with Psyche. He escaped by flying out of a window.

I'm personally quite puzzled on why he tells Psyche to deliver the jar to Venus/Aphrodite anyway, given the content of the jar and what else his mother can do to Psyche who is still a mortal.

Though he heads to Zeus/Jupiter to arrange a proper wedding this time. Much like Aphrodite he complains about Cupid's mischiviousness and blames him for his own infidelity, promiscuity and his transformations into animals for intercourse (he acts like it's shameful for him). Still Zeus much makes a deal with Eros by asking for another beautiful girl for himself in exchange for the approval of the marriage. See? Zeus is very much in character. (Also love it implies that a person shot by Cupid is still responsible for their actions)

Perhaps another social commentary but gods must attend the wedding under the threat of being fined hundred pieces of gold.

When the old woman finished narating the tale, Lucius (the protagonist of the Golden Ass) described her as drunken and half-demented (might explain the talking tower thing lol) but he liked the tale enough to wish he could write it down (he was transformed into a donkey back then), thankfully Apuleius was more lucky than his character.

Still if you like this myth I urge you to read the original. Unlike most sources for the myths this one is prose, so quite an easy read (unless the translation is super old). An audiobook will take you about an hour or likely less if you read it yourself.

[rubeau-art]

how did the others react the first time jax shifted big? were they scared, or excited? how did he react?

i absolutely love your writing and art you are UNBELIEVABLY talented.

There wasn't a lot of time for them to process it when it first happened.

They were out on a mission and things had gone from bad to worse. Jax at this point could only shift small, and he could feel panic about to cause a shift, which induced more panic because if he's small he'd be functionally useless in helping the others.

The shift happens, but with that adrenaline from 'I have to protect them', he goes big for the first time to prevent disaster.

It's a blur for him and he doesn't fully grip what happened until he's looking down at his team mates afterwards, and they're all looking at him stunned and uncertain.

More scared for what this might mean for Jax, and at that point unsure if he'd be stuck like that for a while (like his first ever shift when he was stuck small for three weeks), and not excited because this is a pretty freaky thing that's happening.

Not to mention they're aware of stygian at this point, so the thought that could be what's happening to Jax is alarming.

---

And thank you so much!!! I'm glad you found something in it you enjoy~

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hello! ✨

So… hear me out: Nico with a monster reader.

Like imagine he is sent out to defeat him but turns out he’s good and super like chill and relaxed.

Like imagine he goes in and suddenly he is sat down drinking tea and chatting about the weather.

Lol.

So nico sneak him in the camp covered in mist and when asked goes like *cue it’s a smoothie meme* “just found him… nothing weird here”

And if ppl discover the reader is a monster he like defends him like totally?

Like I imagine he’d love a reader that’s like maybe half snake? Idk. ‘Cause I think he finds snakes cute.

Maybe not a harpy or fury (is it called like that? I’m not sure)

Leo could totally pull the same stuff too. Maybe Percy too.

Jason totally not.

What do you think?

You can just answer to this as thoughts in need of an opinion and not a request if u want to/feel uncomfy writing this kind of reader.

Ps: loved the Dionysus one. Love love love it!

Kisses and enjoy that smoothie!

Love this idea, it was so fun to write and off I went a little overboard it's like 3.1k words so production is delayed but whatevs. It was a bit harder to write a totally general reader because of the monster thing but I think it worked. And if figured out that I tend to write character x readers from the perspective of the character requested too.

<3

Chocolate cream and iced honeycomb---Nico di Angelo x Monster Reader

»»————-　★　———

“RACHGAA!”

“AHGHGHAAAA!” Nico snarled back at the sandy green snake.

It reared back a fraction, unblinking eyes narrowed at him as its thin tongue flickered in and out. Nico just stuck his tongue back out at the Ceraste, a horned viper. It would have been an easy fight, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ceraste grew to be about as big as an alligator. 

It bowed to him, but that wasn’t a good thing. Two sets of horns, sharp and spiked, glimmered in the afternoon sunshine as Nico stood his ground, Stygian iron sword ready. “I have other monsters to kill, could we make this quick?”

Mortals around them just whispered behind their hands and kept walking, ignoring the battle to the death in the middle of the street. They probably just saw Nico walking an especially spiky and greek dog.                                                                                                                                       He imagined the Ceraste as a poodle for a moment, and then stepped to the side and swung his sword quickly, blocking the violent jab in his direction. 

“You’re supposed to be cute,” Nico hissed at it, stomping down hard on its tail and prodding at the light scales flecked with brown. Blood dripped almost instantly. Its scales were as tough as a normal snakes was, and he took advantage of that. Next time it circled, and shot out with lightning speed, shadows creating an arc through the warm summer air as Nico lashed out. 

There was the sound of tearing skin, and a disgustingly drawn out squelch, that ended with a thud.

Nico kept his eyes squeezed shut until he could wipe the blood off his face, and then stared down at the decapitated ancient reptile. Blood and guts squished into the road, which he had to stomp on a few times before they melted into gold and ran down the drains in the rubbish filled gutters.  

“Uhh,” Nico muttered, flapping his hand about until the sticky dark blood wasn’t on him anymore. “I need a drink.”

He glanced around the bustling New York street, spotting a hippie cafe that wouldn’t have anything stronger than a matcha tea, and a starbucks. A Mcdonalds not in sight, and at least another hour of tracking the final monster ahead of him, Nico opened the door to the busy starbucks. 

As he stood in line behind someone with their hair in a dark bun, and two teenage girls wearing strawberry dresses, he unfolded the piece of paper with instructions for his mission. His target was supposed to be around this district, but Chiron wasn’t sure where exactly. Nico was sent to do the dirty work, because apparently nobody else wanted to see the light drain from something's eyes when they could be finding more demigods or retrieving lost items. 

Monsters had been attacking demigods before they were in danger. Last week an eight year old Iris boy had showed up to camp with half a leg left, and the attacks had only grown in numbers. 

Apart from being around this place, the only thing in common with the spike of violence, was the scales and thin tongues. A few Hydra's, Echidna the she-dragon had made another appearance, and of course, the multitudes of Ceraste.

Nico had just killed four of them, but there were more to come and more demigods in danger unless he found the source. Chiron had his theories, of course, but far-fetched was the idea that one of the snake footed giants had risen from the earth again. Glycon was an option of course, but Nico doubted it was him. 

The queue had disappeared, standing around on the other side of the cafe as they waited for their orders, save one person, who was ordering an ‘iced honeycomb caramel latte’. The boy brushed his hair over his shoulder and turned to look out the window, then back to where he was paying for his latte. 

Nico followed his gaze, watching with dread as the previously dead snake was hissing by the window. Hissing right next to him as well. 

Nico turned slowly, hand on the hilt of his dark sword, but he was only met with the face of a small green python watching him curiously, big eyes shining underneath the bright lights of the cafe. He smiled back at it, immensely confused.

Then the little snake was pulled away and wrapped up into a writhing green ponytail of scales and little puppy-like reptilian faces, flickering tongues and toothless mouths. 

“Is your boyfriend gonna order, or…”

Nico blinked out of his snake induced trance and whipped around to where the girl behind the counter was blinking tiredly at him. 

The boy next to Nico stuffed change into his pockets and shook his head. The head the snakes were attached to, that was. The boy's eyes were covered by circular black glasses. He smiled. “Oh, I don’t know the emo.”

“I…” Nico started, eyes wide as he took what, or rather who, he was seeing. A gorgon. A real life teenage medusa [and a cute one at that], was standing in the middle of a starbucks, snakes tied back with yet another of the small pythons. He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, turning back to the cashier. “I’ll have one of the chocolate cream… frappuccinos, please.”

“Coming right up,” the cashier muttered, typing into their ipad and then motioning for him to move to the other side of the counter. Where the monster was. 

The monster that Nico was starting to suspect he’d have to kill. 

»»————-　★　————-««

“There you go. Have a great day.”

“Thanks,” Nico muttered back just as enthusiastically, and took his drink. He was still holding the hilt of his sword, heart pounding as loud as his footsteps as he stomped away. Was he supposed to find the lair of this teenage boy? Was he immortal? Was there any point killing him if he’d just pop up again? What was Nico going to do? 

He didn’t have a drachma on him to call camp and ask Chiron what he should do, and to be honest, he wouldn’t have listened to whatever instruction he was given anyway. 

The straw was pulled from his mouth as he was yanked sideways. 

Something scratchy brushed his arm, and his middle was grabbed tightly. The breath left his lungs and the world blurred for a moment. Then he gasped, drink flying out of his hand, and landed in a booth on the red leather with a yelp. “What the-”

“Hello, pretty boy.”

Nico stared for a moment, heart racing. The boy [monster. He was a monster, not a person. There was a difference. Maybe] sat on the other side of the booth with a grin, latte in hand. His nails were painted green. 

Nico noticed this as he gestured to the side, where the Ceraste he had just killed sat coiled up next to the table like a dog waiting for its owner. The sharp horns on its head looked a lot less threatening now that there was a pink scrunchie around one of them. “This is Keith, say hi, Keith.”

“RACHGAA!”

“What-”

“Ssso like, I'm just getting this straight, if you’re gonna kill me, just say that now.” The boy said, leaning forward with his hands pressed together and an easy smirk. “Because I havent been killed yet and I'm not going to Tartarusss anytime soon.”

He glanced towards Keith with a serious expression. “You sssaw what happened to Jeremy.”

Kieth’s tongue flickered in and out once. He seemed to take it as an agreement. Nico’s hand left his hilt as he spoke, even though he had no control of the situation and there was a tensed up snake by his feet. “What would you do if I was going to kill you?”

“Keep you asss an ornament in my Auntie Em’s garden.” He said, and Nico felt his legs swinging under the table. He put his chin on the palm of his hand. “You’re very pretty.”

Nico wasn’t sure which part of the conversation he should be worried about at this point. He didn’t really want to become a statue, but his stomach was filled with a pit of snakes and he was more worried that this gorgon could see the blush on his face through his black tinted glasses. He ended up blinking, a bit stunned.

“That was a joke, holy Hadesss you’re a wet mop of a person, aren’t you.”

“You’re the one with the mop head.” Nico snapped back with a sharp glare. That might not have been the right thing to say though, judging by the way one of the pythons sitting on the boy's shoulder wilted a little, ducking its soft looking head. 

It got a pat on the head. “Don’t listen to him noodle, he didn’t mean it.”

Nico looked at the little green snake. Somehow it looked like it was smiling at him, but that could’ve just been the shape of its mouth. “...Sorry Noodle.”

“Noodle saysss thank you.” 

Nico looked down at the floor, where his drink was now a brown puddle surrounded by broken shards of plastic. He glanced back up, squinting at the wriggling pythons that were no longer in a pony [snake?] tail. “Can you actually, you know…”

“Noodle says that Becky said Loch Nessss likes your earringsss, but they think you could do something with your hair.” 

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Nico scoffed, wrinkling his nose. Did his hair look bad? “It looks fine.”

“Don’t asssk me, ask Loch Ness,” he got in reply, then another smirk. Nico’s stomach rolled again, but it didn’t feel necessarily bad. What on Olympus was that supposed to mean? “And I reckon your hair’s pretty as isss.”  

A moment passed, and Nico got the feeling he was being assessed. The boy opposite him sniffed once, and Nico wondered if he smelled like snake guts. That couldn’t be a very good look. “You’re a big three, aren’t you… Wait, no, let me guessss… Poseidon.”

Nico raised an eyebrow.

“That was a joke, if you couldn’t tell.”

“I figured.” He muttered, watching in slight disgust as Keith started to lick the chocolate cream frappuccino off the grimy tiles. “And you?”

“Daughter of Aphrodite.”

“That was a-”

“Joke. You’re catching on, pretty boy.” He grinned, and Nico noticed with a gulp that two of his teeth were sharpened and pearly white. Fangs. He shrugged, chin on his hands. “I honestly have no idea though, I dunno how I’m here. Maybe I sprouted out of her head like that flying horse did.”

“Why are you sending monsters to kill-”

“I wasss just tryna divert the attention, okay? That corpse wasssn’t my fault-” He started, waving his hand in the air to prove his point. ONe of the snakes, maybe noodle, twisted around a few times, tongue flickering out. Nico swore another one with a scar down its scaly spine rolled its soft brown eyes. 

“What corpse?”

“No corpssse. I dunno what you’re on about, no one died.” He said quickly, taking a long loud sip of his drink, ice clinking. After a moment he sighed and looked down at the chipped nail polish on his hands. “Some demigod dude, ugh there's ssso many of you, gods must be like rabbits or something. Anyways, one of them found me and I diverted the attention, so I’d get another few weeksss.”

“Another few weeks of…?”

“Life. I mean, I can hide easily, but I already spent a month in San Fransisssco being chased by pitchforksss and metal dogs, and I didn't get Ssstarbucks for like, years, otherwise sssomeone would just pop out with a spear and stabby stabby no more Gabby.”

The scarred snake drooped sadly a little, slinking back into the writhing mass. Nico shook his head quickly. “Camp Half-Blood’s not like that. And I can use the mist.”

“What, you just gonna follow me around New York waving your handsss about for the rest of your life?” He chuckled, swirling his plastic cup around a few times and taking another sip.

“No, you can come back with me.”

Nico wasn’t even sure when he’d come up with the plan, but there was something about his smirk and his nail polish and his stupid jokes and the puppy-like python faces swirling around him that made Nico wince when he imagined him sleeping on the streets fighting off Romans. 

“Why should I do that?”

“I…” Nico faltered. What reason did he really have? “I dunno.”

He bounced up, snakes swinging. Keith looked up from the puddle on the ground and shook its tail excitedly, like it knew what was happening already. Maybe this teenage gorgon really could mind control the ancient reptiles. 

 “Sssweet, let’s go!”

»»————-　★　————-««

“Ssso you’re like, completely sure I won’t be decapitated on sight?”

Nico paused, turning away from the gap in the shrubbery at the base of Half-Blood hill. He’d been watching as demigods slowly trickled into the dining pavilion, cabins regrouping for dinner and burning meals. He couldn’t promise this [really cute] boy that he’d be safe here, but Nico could promise that he’d protect him from any especially violent and biased Ares kids. 

“If anyone tries to hurt you I won’t let their siblings visit them in the underworld.”

Nico had to look away again, red faced as he did that thing again, leaning forwards with his hand under his chin and his lips quirked up. “How romantic.”

“I- uh…” Nico choked, and then turned back to the now empty strip of green and strawberry plants, finally letting out a tense breath. “If we go now, I can hide you in my cabin until I guilt trip Chiron into letting me keep you.”

“And Keith.”

“And Keith,” he sighed. One more check to see if the coast was clear, and he slunk out of the bushes, pebbles crunching underneath his boots. He grabbed his new Starbucks [he’d been bought a new one as an apology for nearly being killed by Keith] and waved frantically behind him. “Hurry up, we gotta move.”

There was a scuffling, and then the slick sound of scales moving as the Ceraste followed them past the big house and down to the campfire. The flames were a humming orange, burning brightly in the dusk. It was summer, the mood was always high as campers came from school back to their families and friends.                                                                                 

“Okay, so like, where are you friendsss? Do you have friendsss?”

“Do you?” Nico shot back with a glare, keeping an eye on the open door of the Hermes cabin, but there was no movement inside, except for the pegasus that was chewing on someone's pillow. 

“Yup! Noodle and Becky and Loch Nessss and Keith and Gabby and Fruit-”

“Yes…” Nico whispered back, rolling his eyes, but when he turned a little, Loch Ness [how could he already tell them apart?] was flicking its little black tongue at him, gummy mouth wide. “I have friends.” 

“Great, isss that them?”

“...What.”

Nico whipped around, stepping in front of the boy he was currently smuggling with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Keith rattled its tail and hissed, neck arched. Nico wasn’t sure who was approaching them, the figures covered by the shadow of the Iris cabin. He kept his voice low, “the mist, we have to cover you.”

“Can you use the missst?” He whispered back loudly, over the nervous hissing around him. 

“Of course I can use the mist,” Nico said. Then he realized something and gritted his teeth, face red. “But, just on me, unless I’m… you know…”

“Nope. I don’t know.” He said simply, and Nico turned away, grabbing his hand very quickly and closing his eyes for a moment, eyebrows pinched in concentration. Nico tried to focus on the magic he was weaving through the air and not the weirdly smooth skin of the hand he was holding, and if his own was sweaty or not. 

When he opened them, the boy beside him was blinking with foggy looking dark green eyes that matched the snakes now covered by a dark hood. The only thing still him was that stupid smirk.  “Did it work?” 

“Yeah,” Nico’s voice wavered, and his grip tightened. “Okay, now act normal, they're coming over.”

“I’m not normal?”

“Nico, don’t be rude!” Hazel told him off, a gentle smile on her face anyway. Her hands were in the pockets of a large purple jumper, arm threaded through Franks. He waved nervously at Nico, like he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t about to kill him via skeletons. Hazel turned to the currently covered by mist boy. “Sorry about h-”

She squinted as a door slammed near the big three cabins. Nico’s hand was definitely too tight as his sister stared down the boy next to him. She licked her lips, “why is he covered by the mist, Nico?”

He had almost forgotten she was chosen by Hecate, goddess of the mist. Almost, but not quiet. He ducked his head. “Er, so you don’t… kill him?”

“I prefer to stay out of Tartarusss actually, I heard it smellsss pretty bad down there-”

“You can’t even imagine.”

Nico froze. Oh, could this get any worse? He sighed and turned to Percy, hoping his fingernails weren’t leaving indents in the smooth skin he was clutching. His other hand was cold from the icy drink he was holding. 

Percy grinned obliviously, “who got there?”

“...Starbucks.”

“Ha ha,” Hazel muttered, raising an eyebrow. Nico nodded, pretending he was laughing too, and then sped past them, dragging along the hidden gorgon to the Hades cabin, who waved happily as they left the group.

Frank shuffled, “isn’t there a two demigods not allowed alone in a cabin rule?”

Nico groaned internally. Why did he have to word the [snitchy] question in such a way? He knew what he was going to see before he even turned to the shortly disguised boy next to him. He sighed and nodded, letting go of his hand and taking a long sip of his drink as he watched the chaos go down.

“Good thing I’m not a demigod!” 

Hazel’s expression didn’t shift, she’d seen right through the magic at the very start. She’d seen the coils of scales and the circular black glasses, the strangely smooth skin somewhere between human and snake. She might’ve even seen the tiny fangs. Frank stepped back behind his girlfriend a little, his eyes wide. 

Percy visibly paled, and then gulped. “Oh.”

“No hard feelingsss man. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

Nico watched his gorgon for a moment and then smiled a little. He turned back to the gravel path leading to his cabin. “You ready? There’s a lot of skulls, just warning you.”

“Wait til you ssssee my place."

»»————-　★　————-««

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

when i say i audibly gasped looking at the new demo design i MEAN it. it's absolutely gorgeous. this is one of the wips i can replay over and over and read it as if it's my first time, instead of skimming through the sentences because i know them already. your writing, the options for characterization, the way you portray the characters and their relationships with one another, the nuances between mother/tutor and MC and just the overall vibe of the game is so immersive and flawless. i am IN love with stygian sun: total eclipse, it haunts me in the most delicious way. also, your art is SO GODDAMN PRETTY your characters all look so individual while maintaining aspects that relate them to one another/create distinction (depending on their culture/nationality/station). and I'm in awe with the way you write grief and emotions in general (also would die and kill for farah and farwah, my baby sister and my baby serval) just CHEF'S KISS thank you so so much for all your hard work

as a question: are you thinking of adding more weapon choices? currently there's spear, sword, battle-axe and bow. i understand short-range weapons like daggers and even a khopesh wouldn't be as useful in battle, but I've seen mentions of scimitar (if I'm not mistaken) and although it's a sword and i know this choice means we've inherited Castor's sword, if we'll be able to later expand on what kind of sword? or even choose other weapons, like an urumi or something else you might think would work. i can only imagine how much more work adding the variables/flavor text for this would be, so this is in no way criticism or a demand, just really curious!!!

🥺🥺❤️💕 Thank you so much—that’s such an incredibly sweet and thoughtful message!! I’m really honored you’ve come to love the story that much and that it has that much replay value for you ❤️ I have a few fave IFs/books like that—ones where I just love the story/characters/writing so much I can reread it word for word and so I’m so flattered that my writing has resonated with you that much! I never expected the reactions/support the demo has gotten when I first decided to start writing my own IF 🥺💕 This story and all the characters are literally constantly on rotation in my head like a microwave and I’m glad I’ve been able to infect you all with the brainrot introduce you to them!! :D ❤️ (and yes!! Farah and Farwah are baby certified 👍👍👍 baby sis and kitty cat for the win)

Also thank you!! I really like doing character designs and I’ve had a lot of fun bringing all the characters to life through drawing! :D Originally when I was in my early brainstorming for this story and making the first character designs, I actually was planning on making a VN but I ended up switching to an IF bc it’d have been way too much work to make all the assets for a VN myself and this story will just be way too big for a VN lol. And I can get kinda wordy :P

As for your question, I thought about other weapon types but I ended up going with just four because I’ll have to write variations for fight/spar scenes that take into account how each weapon would be used in a fight and how it measures up against an opponent’s weapon and adding more options/variations would make things too complicated I think. 🤔 I don’t know that I’ll add much variation in the type of sword/axe/etc that mc used either bc those would also come with their own usage differences and adding variations for each weapon would make for a lot of scene variations lol. It will probably be locked in as the same weapon the siblings used, but you can always headcanon it’s a different weapon! And maybe as I’m writing things and I feel I’d like to make any changes to weapons I can always do that later :) But for now I don’t want to overload myself lol :P

Thank you again for reading and thank you so much for your kind ask!! ❤️❤️💕 I really appreciate you taking the time to write it and share your thoughts/questions! It means a lot to me and makes me happy to hear from you! ❤️❤️❤️

( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

[captainmazzic]

The Sith Lord leaned in as far as his chains would allow, his eerie grin curling even wider. He licked his cracked lips, and his voice came as a whisper, silky and almost sensual. “The taste of your fear is all the sustenance I require. More palatable than the most opulent of feasts.”

----

Meet Darth Virulen, Master of Massacres, Duskborne Assassin, the Butcher of Sluis Van. The man so infamous for turning capital ships into slaughterhouses and battlefields into charnel grounds that his genetic blueprint was requested by the Sith Alchemist Lord Fulminiss for the development of the Harrower Sithspawn.

He is a Squamatan by birth, but was raised by a nomadic clan of Nagai that ultimately settled near the Stygian Caldera, and had close ties with the Sith Empire within. He joined the Sith at an early age, and a few years before he gained the title of Darth he engaged in a duel with a, uh, certain fellow apprentice of his master. The duel ended with him receiving a lightsaber blade to the face, permanently scarring him. He wears his disfigurement with pride, and he tattooed around his eyes and nose for his face to even more closely resemble that of a skull.

He knows of the Shadow Imperium and the Sith Tribunal, but his heart beats for the Empire. He is one of the deadliest subtle murder machines the Empire has - his specialty is killing, both en masse and silent targeted elimination. He has been responsible for countless massacres, disappearings, assassinations, and genocides. His strong code of honor that guides his violence ensures that almost all of his opponents face him directly, their deaths personal, rather than behind a screen or the push of a button. His worldview dovetails closely with the culture of his adoptive Nagai, and it was partly this culture and mindset that drove his master to select him as a second apprentice. As his master before him (and his former fellow apprentice), he values honesty and integrity. He keeps his promises, he is true to his word.

The jury is still out on whether that makes him less scary, or even more terrifying. :)

Anyway he's one of the two main characters for the new thing I'm writing (tentatively titled Like a Fine Wine), that (hopefully) won't be very long. I don't intend for it to be much longer than 3 or 4 chapters, and I already have the first two done. It's set in the same AU as Opening Dialogue, but takes place a year or two after.

I'll be drawing the other main character in the new fic probably tonight or tomorrow, in between all the writing XD

[chernabogs]

‘  where  has  choosing  goodheartedness  and  having  golden  hair  ever  gotten  you  ? 

hiii um this prompt with a prince silver au maybe? maybe him being kept in the dark about the war and living a perfect life, but then finding out about what the silver owls are doing / planning to do to the fae?

I took this in sort of a subtle approach, if that's ok! I was writing this and suddenly I was like hmmm what if someone nudged him to begin looking into things himself... and voila. Bean-nighe was the first thing I thought of. I did also tweak the line a little!

RED RIVER

Inc: Silver, his nanny, a Bean-nighe/Washerwoman, Leah & Knight of Dawn mention Warnings: Blood (I mean... washerwoman do that), implications of oppression (fae). AU-verse of Silver being raised by Leah and KoD. C7 spoilers, somewhat. Little bit of Scottish mythos in here too. WC: 2.4k Summary: After his nanny goes missing, Silver finds himself lost in the forests, where he comes across a woman washing strange clothing in a stream.

He only begins to clue in that something is amiss when his nanny is absent one morning. She’s a fae, with long hay-coloured hair and slate eyes that still hold a twinkle when she smiles at him. She only really smiles at him—her little sun—but otherwise wears a blank expression. Her eyes always fix to the floor whenever his uncle is with him and she shrinks into the shadows, his quiet nanny, only to emerge from her shell when they’re alone again. 

One time he told her that she felt more like a mother to him than his real one. It isn’t Leah’s fault that she’s absent for portions of his life—that goes part and parcel with being a royal, after all—but absence does not make his heart grow any fonder. His nanny had looked terrified when he said this. She had pressed a finger to her lips and begged him not to say that again, not to say that to anyone. 

When she vanishes, he looks for her. It’s what any child would do.  

He straps his wooden sword to his hip and embarks out of the white manor that is his home into the gnarled woods beyond. Where most children would shy away from the shadows, he strides forward, as brave as his father when it comes to facing the unknown. 

Or at least, as brave as he assumes his father to be. They so rarely interact, despite his name being ‘Silver’ after the armour that the man adorns. Silver, like blades that cut through the night. Silver, like the moon's rays that will touch on new land. The absence of him does not make Silver’s heart grow any fonder either. 

“Nanny?” He calls, his small voice lost to the vast space around him as his neat shoes become muddied from the earth. Assistants had dressed him this morning in fine garbs befitting his position as a young prince. Silver didn’t know why they bothered to begin with. By the end of the day, his knees were always dirty, and his palms scratched up from playing in the woods. Nanny would scold him as she washed the cuts clean and kissed them better, making the wounds vanish into smooth skin. 

When no one replies to his call, he pouts a little as his hand rests on his wooden sword. He isn’t allowed a real one quite yet. He’s still too young, according to his trainer, and needs to perfect working with a wooden sword before receiving iron. A wooden sword is sorely inefficient when it comes to creatures in these woods. Dire Beasts, Stygian Boars, Dryads and Elves—Silver has heard of them all through nanny’s stories at night. 

The Dire Beasts aren’t bad. He can probably climb a tree and wait them out if needed. Stygian Boars often just rooted around the dirt and could be easily bypassed so long as you didn’t spook them. Dryads and Elves, though, are more complicated. Dryads can use nature to their advantage and Elves can use their sharp tongues. Silver knows better than to cross paths with either of them. 

But he needs to find his nanny, and quickly. He wonders if perhaps she’s gone into the woods again to collect flowers and strayed off the path. He used to wake up every morning with a new bouquet by his bedside of flowers he’s never seen before—dark purple and tempting. By the evening, the flowers are gone, but the joy of waking up with them lingers in his memory. 

The space grows darker as he continues to navigate over roots of trees older than even his parents. His small hand grasps the wood to leverage himself as the air grows heavy and a new scent begins to invade him. It smells ancient as well and makes his nose curl as he wanders down an embankment. 

His path is soon interrupted by the sight of someone kneeling by the river that runs below, her back hunched as she appears to be washing something in the stream. He can hear her humming a soft, mournful sounding song as her hands work in a rhythmic manner, dipping the cloth beneath the stream before raising it up and submerging it again. It’s a mesmerizing motion that draws him closer to where she kneels. However, when his foot lands on a twig, making it snap under the weight of his body, the woman ceases her motions and turns her head to look his way. 

She’s an older woman, with the beginnings of wrinkles lining her face and a headscarf concealing her hair. Her dark brown eyes seem to peer right through him as her lips tilt down into a frown and she straightens up. “Boy. Why do you watch me from the shadows?” 

Silver feels the flush of embarrassment burn his cheeks as he rises, walking forward until he draws to a stop a few feet away from the woman. The wooden sword hits against his thigh as he moves, and the woman's gaze watches it with interest. When he’s close—but not too close—he wrings his hands together with a down-turned gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you,” he begins, studying the rocks by his feet as he speaks. “Can you help me?” 

“Help?” The woman’s hoarse tone pitches in amusement as he hears water sloshing again. He looks up to see that she’s resumed her washing. At a closer distance, he can also see the wicker basket by her side, the edge of another cloth peeking out from beneath the lid. “What a peculiar request. Most don’t want my help.” 

Silver thinks this a rather odd thing to say, but he rationalizes that perhaps others are just more cautious, and likely don’t have a missing nanny to worry about. The woman washes quietly for a moment before speaking again as she sets her cloth on a nearby rock to dry. It’s a white linen shirt, in a style that Silver had seen a few of his father’s fellow soldier’s wear. “What is a child like you doing wandering these woods alone?” 

“My nanny is missing. She likes to come into these woods to pick flowers, and I think she may have become lost.” Silver inches forward to squat near the woman by the stream. His small hand reaches out to splash in the water as the woman opens her wicker basket. “I was wondering if—”

His words cut off when he sees what the woman pulls out. It’s another linen skirt, like what his nanny would wear, but this one is not just white. A violent, scarlet stain mars the front of it, accompanied by the pungent smell of copper that makes his breath stutter as he falls back on his rear. His wooden sword clacks against the stones he lands on. The washerwoman seems unaffected by his reaction as she submerges the shirt into the stream and begins to scrub it. 

“Wondering if I have seen her?” The washerwoman then prompts as she scrubs away. Silver gawks at the sight. The only time he’d seen blood before is when he’s fallen and scraped up his hands on the cobbles in the palace’s courtyard. Even then, this was just a little blood. The skirt that the washerwoman is cleaning has far more than a little. Mutely, he nods. 

The washerwoman turns the fabric over before looking at him again. Her dark eyes seem far more lifeless and ancient now that he was closer to her side. “What is your nanny’s name?” 

The question makes him blink. He didn’t know his nanny’s name. She had only been ‘nanny’ to him, or ‘servant’ to the other nobles in the court. His hands reach down to nervously wring the bottom of his shirt. “I… I don’t know. But she’s a fae! With gold hair, grey eyes, and a kindest heart. I miss her. I want her to come home.”

His description makes the woman pause as her hands remain in the creek. Her face reveals none of what she’s thinking. “What is your name?” 

“Silver?” His answer comes out as a question as he frowns. He isn’t too sure why who he is has importance here. He’s looking for his nanny—shouldn’t she be the focus of the washerwoman’s questions? 

Still, the woman hums as she resumes her washing. “Your father is a knight, yes? What is it that you think he does?” 

“He helps people, of course. Lots of people like my father. But... I need to find my nanny, and he’s too busy to help me. Have you seen her?” Silver tries to turn the conversation back to his nanny again. He’s beginning to feel worried about how he still hasn’t found her, and soon it will be mid-afternoon. He’s been walking for a while in these woods now. 

“You must think of him as a noble man. What of your mother?”

“She’s a princess. She helps people too.” He can feel his worry growing as the washerwoman keeps cleaning. The creek ran red for a moment before clearing up again. When the washerwoman sets the skirt on the rock and reaches in her basket again, Silver winces and looks away. 

“You must think of her as a noble woman. Do they spend much time with you, or is it just your nanny?” 

“It’s… mostly just my nanny. She’s always with me, which is why I need to find her. Something isn’t right.” He looks back when he hears her hands submerge in the water again. The creek runs red once more as she twists and turns the fabric. “Please, have you seen her?” 

“Does your nanny let you out beyond the palace walls? Let you accompany your family?” The washerwoman’s lips turn to a frown—another brief expression of emotion. “Does she let you know how noble your family truly is?”

Silver feels himself shrinking back as the washerwoman’s voice drops. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No. I don’t see my mother and father often. They’re always busy, and nanny doesn’t like me to find them until they’ve been back for a few days.”  

The washerwoman nods as if this all makes perfect sense to her. She sits back on her ankles again before looking at him. Water drips off her forearms and a strand of dull brown hair has fallen free from beneath her headscarf. The washerwoman wrings out the clothing item she’s holding before tossing it aside with a carelessness that startles Silver. 

“Your nanny will not be returning to you. Your family is not as noble as you think. Go home, and do not let your court placate you any further. I detest having to wash the clothing of a child.” Her voice is dull and monotone as she grabs her wicker basket, now almost empty save for one more article of clothing. She pulls it out and Silver notes that this garb seems more expensive looking than the rest. It’s a silk shirt, and for a moment he thinks it looks like the one his father wore the last time he saw it. This, too, is marred by a brutal red stain across the front. 

“What do you mean she won’t be returning? Please, I need to find her!” His disregards caution as he inches forward, his small hand grabbing for the washerwoman’s arm. When he touches her skin, it’s as though his entire body is plunged into ice water, like it’s him that the woman is holding beneath the stream. She jerks her arm free with a gasp and it’s with this motion that he sees the sharp teeth she’s been hiding. She is not human—she’s fae, precisely like his nanny. 

“You may be young, but I do not believe in blinding the youth. Ask your father what your uncle truly does—ask why your uncle was the last to request your nanny’s presence. Do not go further into these woods. Your golden hair and good heartedness will not provide you the kindness and security that your towering palace walls do.” The washerwoman wrings out the shirt before tossing it into her wicker basket. She grabs the other items from the rock—somehow already dry despite just being set down—and tosses them into the basket as well. “Your nanny was a fae. It would be wise, young prince, to begin asking why so many of the fae that once served you are now absent.” 

Silver stares at the washerwoman in mute shock as she rises, tucking the wicker basket under her arm with a blank expression once more. Now that she was standing he could see other aspects of her indicative of her heritage. Her nails are clawed, her skin unnaturally pallid, and the hem of her skirt is stained like the clothing she cleans. She looks like death incarnate—and despite his child's mind, Silver begins to realize that something is deeply amiss. 

“I don’t…” he begins, wanting to know more, wanting to ask the woman what she knows about his nanny. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes as he scrambles to his feet. The wooden sword attached to his hip now feels even more worthless than before. 

The washerwoman hesitates. Her kind is not apt to console, or express kindness—she washes the clothing of those about to meet their end in a dispassionate manner. But the look of loss on Silver’s face and the harrowing future she sees before him causes her hand to reach out and tenderly brush back a few strands of his golden hair. It’s a brief comfort that she offers before drawing back. “Go home. It will soon be time for you to grow up, and you must not allow yourself to be blinded by those around you.” 

These are the last words she speaks before Silver blinks and she’s gone. The only traces of her are the wet stains on the rocks and the faint, lingering scent of copper. He can feel hot tears running down his cheeks, which he wipes away with a sniffle before grabbing his wooden sword again. 

His nanny is gone, and his family knows where she went. The sting of betrayal lingers in Silver’s chest as he turns heel and begins to run back down the path he came from. Even though he’s still a child, he knows now that something is amiss—and he’s going to find the truth, no matter what may stand in his way.